#violet bridgerton x reader

[muxshwriting]

like him

bridgerton!reader (can be read as gn!reader)

summary: the terrifying reality that you’re chasing the ghost of your father || warnings: angst, comfort, grief, daddy issues (in a way?) || word count: 1045 || masterlist

You’d heard the Mamas of the Ton discussing your family more times than you can count. But there were only a handful of times you’d been directly mentioned in those discussions.

The overwhelming majority of those conversations were comparing you to others, to your mother, your siblings and your father. It was when they talked about your father that stabbed a hole in your heart every time.

“She’s so obviously Edmund’s daughter; the spitting image.”

They whisper it when you attend your first ball out in society, after all your siblings had gone on to marry for love. A part of you questions if they whispered about your father then too but the prominence of the gossip makes you stumble. You were being compared to a man you had never known, chasing a ghost of the past that everyone except from you seemed to see.

You’d spent most of the next day hidden in Anthony’s study, sitting on the floor and staring up at your father’s portrait. You picked out every similarity you had, every difference sticking out like a sore thumb. How could you relax before you knew everything about him? Until you had memorised every corner of his face?

Your eldest brother had joined you in the early evening, sitting at his desk and watching you watch the portrait. His chest heaved with the weight of grief that would never shift. You spoke nothing and Anthony left you to your thoughts until the house quietened and the fire dimmed.

He stood from his desk and lowered himself to the floor beside you.

“People tell me I look like him. They say it’s an uncanny resemblance. Did they say that about you?” You spoke softly, turning to face him, finally breaking the contact between you and your father.

Anthony met your gaze. “They said it but not as much as they say it to you.” He paused, collecting his words. “It is true. You’re the most like him out of all of us.”

“A bit hypocritical, no?” It was strange that that was the only thought floating through your head. The person most like him never got to meet him.

“He would like you.” Anthony ignored the comment. “You’d be his little shadow, made of all the best parts of him.”

“I feel like I should be doing something… for him.”

Anthony smiled. “You are. You’re being you.”

He laced his hand with yours as you turned your gaze back to the portrait. The night waned on and the pair of you sat in silence, your head on his shoulder until sleep threatened to claim you and he sent you off to bed.

Anthony shared your concerns with Violet the next morning, half asking for advice and half hoping she would talk to you in a way Anthony couldn’t.

She joined you in the living room, sitting beside you on the chaise. “Anthony told me about yesterday.” She said gently, not wanting to push you.

You nod silently. “Mama-“

“You remind me of Edmund every day.” Violet whispered to you. “There’s so much of him in you that I don’t even think you’re aware of.”

You turn to her, brow furrowed. “Like what?”

“The way your eyebrows furrow when you’re thinking about something, like you are now. You get the same twinkle in your eyes that he did, the same smile, the way you pout when you’re trying not to laugh. And your laugh-”

You’re entranced with every word your mama shares about your father. And the more you listen, you come to the startling realisation that you’ll never be able to properly meet the man you share so much with. You wonder how alike you truly are, and how much more alike you would be if he had lived on to raise you.

“I am sorry.”

“What?”

Violet explained herself. “You’ll never truly know him, beyond what we can tell you. There is no way to compare our memory to who Edmund truly was. I am so sorry that was taken from you.”

You bite back tears, rubbing circles in the inside of your wrist to calm yourself. “It’s alright.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“But it has to be.” You shot back. “I would rather have your memories of Father than nothing at all and although nothing can replace him, you and Anthony have raised me to make him proud. And he would be- proud. He’d be proud of you.”

Now Violet was the one biting away the tears, smiling with a watery chuckle as she pulled you closer. She cradled you in her arms, tucking you under her chin. “He would.” She agreed. “He would be proud of everything.”

When your tears had dried and Violet isn’t clinging to you like you’ll disappear, she stands and motions for you to follow her. She leads you to a spare study you thought was empty or used by one of the valets. Slowly, she pushes the door open with a creak and lights a candle to light the room.

Everything is covered in white cloths or binded into piles to stop the dust from getting on them. Mama starts to look for something, lifting piles and peeking into their contents until she seemingly finds what she wants.

“Everything in here belonged to your father.”

The truth comes like a punch, the knowledge that you are standing surrounded by all of his things.

“And these-“ She holds out a bundle of notebooks, unwrapped from their binding. “-are your father’s journals.”

“For me?” The fact that she trusts you with them speaks volumes.

“You will never get the chance to know your father. I’m hoping that through his journals, you can get even a glimpse of him. Anything in this room is yours as much as it was his.”

The tears spring up again before you can stop them and you let them run down your face freely. “Mama-“

“I know.” She gently rubs your shoulder as she brushes past you to leave. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know it’s all here for when you’re ready.”

Just as she reaches the doorway, you turn and choke out a small, “Thank you,” your father’s journals clutched to your chest like a lifeline.

[tulipatheticee]

i've been waiting for you

violet bridgerton x youngest! daughter

bridgerton siblings x younger! sibling

synopsis; From the moment Edmund Bridgerton passed, leaving his wife widowed with eight children and one on the way, Violet found herself adrift until the arrival of Isadora, her youngest daughter. Isadora, quiet and calm, becomes Violet's constant companion in bustling Mayfair, offering solace and steadfast support at her mother's side.

word count; 1.3k

master list

a/n; i have arisen yet again, this is my first bridgerton fic so hello to the brigderton tag! i have archived all my old stuff because they are old and tbh the fandoms have died SO LET ME INTRODUCE MYSELF

my name is tulippa and im from sicily, im pretty confident in my english now but let me know if you see any errors! i mainly write fluffy family stuff like this, i love it idk. if you like this and want to see more like it let me know and ill provide for you! but its not like i wont write x reader romance cmon of course i will, but im best at parentxchild and siblings (PLATONIC ALWAYS DONT BE WEIRD) anyways i could go on and on but i wont, enjoy!!!

kinda proof read, kinda not, you've been warned

I'll carry you all the way

Violet Bridgerton had weathered many storms in her life, but none so devastating as the loss of her beloved husband, Edmund. His passing left her shattered, a widow with eight children to care for and another on the way. The pregnancy was fraught with complications, exacerbated by Violet's grief and the toll it took on her health.

Days turned into months as Violet withdrew into herself, mourning Edmund's absence even as life continued around her. Her family rallied, but Violet's sorrow was a heavy veil that separated her from them. It was during those long, solitary hours that she felt the weight of loneliness and the fear of losing both husband and child.

And you'll choose the day

The labour came unexpectedly, fierce and unforgiving. Violet's strength waned, her heart weary from loss and longing. The doctors and midwives worked tirelessly, their faces etched with concern. Hours passed like eternity until finally, a cry pierced the air—a fragile, yet determined cry that signalled new life.

Isadora was born amidst tears and relief, a tiny bundle of hope wrapped in Violet's trembling arms. The room, once fraught with fear, now glowed with a soft, golden light as mother and daughter gazed at each other for the first time. In that moment, everything seemed to still, and Violet knew she had been granted a miracle.

When you're prepared to greet me

She named her daughter Isadora, after the delicate Dahlia flower that Edmund had loved tending in their garden—a reminder of the beauty that bloomed even in the darkest of times.

As Isadora grew, she became Violet's constant companion, a beacon of joy and innocence in the Bridgerton household. Her older siblings doted on her, especially Anthony, Benedict, and Colin, who saw in her a reflection of their lost father's spirit. Isadora's laughter filled the halls of Bridgerton House and her curious mind sought solace in the quiet moments spent with her mother.

One afternoon, in the hushed serenity of the drawing room, Isadora sat at the pianoforte while Violet embroidered nearby. The soft melodies Isadora coaxed from the keys wove through the air, a testament to her growing talent and Violet's nurturing guidance.

"Does this sound right, Mama?" Isadora asked, her voice a melody in itself.

Violet looked up from her embroidery, a fond smile gracing her lips. "It sounds perfect, darling. You have a gift."

Isadora beamed with pride, her small hands continuing their dance over the keys. Despite her tender age, she played with a grace that belied her years, a testament to the bond she shared with her mother and the legacy of love that surrounded her.

I'll be a good mum, I swear

Anthony, Benedict, and Colin entered the room together, their voices low with shared memories and unspoken affection for their youngest sister. Anthony, ever the protective eldest brother, approached Isadora and knelt beside her.

"How are you today, Isa?" he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

"I am well, Anthony," Isadora replied, her gaze never leaving the keys. "Mama teaches me a new piece every day."

"Is that so?" Benedict chimed in, leaning over to peer at the sheet music. "You are quite talented, little one."

"Indeed," Colin added with a smile. "Father would have been proud."

Violet's heart swelled with bittersweet emotion at the mention of Edmund. She had feared she might forget the sound of his voice or the warmth of his touch, but in Isadora, she found echoes of him that kept his memory alive.

You'll see how much I care

"Mama, are you well?" Isadora asked suddenly, sensing the shift in her mother's mood.

Violet blinked back tears, her hand reaching out to clasp Isadora's. "I am well, my love. I am with you, and that is enough."

Isadora nodded solemnly, her understanding far beyond her years. Together, they continued their afternoon ritual, finding solace in music and shared moments that bridged the gap between past sorrows and future joys.

When you meet me

------------

In the sunlit gardens of Bridgerton House, where the scent of roses mingled with the laughter of children, Isadora found herself in the company of her older sister, Hyacinth, and brother, Gregory. Despite their lively spirits, they adapted to Isadora's quieter demeanour, creating a harmony that transcended their differences.

You thrill me, you delight me

"Isa, look what I found!" Hyacinth exclaimed, holding a caterpillar in her small hands with excitement.

Isadora approached cautiously, her eyes widening with curiosity. "Oh, wow! What is it?"

Gregory, always eager to share his knowledge, chimed in, "It's a caterpillar, Isa! Hyacinth and I were just talking about how it turns into a butterfly."

Hyacinth nodded eagerly. "Yes, Isa! It's like magic! One day, it will have beautiful wings and fly everywhere!"

Isadora's face lit up with wonder. "That's amazing! Can I hold it?"

Hyacinth carefully passed the caterpillar to Isadora, who watched it crawl across her palm with fascination. Gregory leaned in, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Let's play tag, Isa! You're it!"

You please me, you excite me

Isadora giggled as Gregory darted away, Hyacinth joining in the chase. "Catch us if you can, Isa!"

Isadora laughed, her heart light as she chased after her siblings through the garden paths, their laughter mingling with the rustle of leaves and the gentle hum of bees. Despite their differences in temperament, they found joy in each other's company, weaving memories that would last a lifetime.

You're all that

I've been yearning for

— —- —- —- —-

In the quiet of evening, as the Bridgerton family gathered for supper, Isadora remained close to Violet's side. Gregory and Hyacinth, full of youthful exuberance, regaled their siblings with tales of mischief and adventure, and how Isadora won tag earlier in the afternoon. The three eldest Brigderton men shared the lovely pianoforte they witnessed Isadora performing in the morning and spoke of how she is progressing very, while Eloise, Francesca, and Daphne shared knowing glances over the table.

I love you, I adore you

"Isa, do you have to be better than us at everything?" Eloise teased playfully, nudging Isadora with her elbow.

Isadora looked up, a hint of confusing in her eyes, she went to speak before Violet interjected “ "Eloise is just being foolish, darling, she means well”

Isadora quickly understood and replied "I only wish to be like everyone else Eloise, you are so clever, and Francesca is so graceful, and Daphne—"

"—is the epitome of charm," Francesca finished with a smile, her gaze softening as she looked at her youngest sister.

I lay my life before you

Daphne reached across the table to tousle Isadora's hair gently. "You are quite the storyteller yourself, Isa. Perhaps one day you'll write tales that surpass even Eloise's wild adventures."

Isadora's face lit up with delight at the praise from her sisters. "Do you really think so, Daphne?"

"Absolutely," Daphne assured her. "You have a way with words and a heart as big as all of Mayfair."

I only want you more and more

Violet watched the exchange with a tender smile, her heart swelling with pride at the bond between her daughters. Despite the challenges they had faced as a family, moments like these reminded her of the joy that filled their lives.

And finally it seems

My lonely days are through

Later that night, as Isadora drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the love of her siblings, Violet tucked her in with a sense of peace. The Bridgertons, each unique in their strengths and passions, formed a tapestry of love and support that would guide Isadora through the years ahead.

I've been waiting for you

"You are so loved, Isadora," Violet whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her daughter's forehead. "Never doubt that."

Isadora stirred, a contented smile playing on her lips. 

I've been waiting…

And as Violet watched over her sleeping daughter, she knew that the bonds of siblinghood, and the enduring love of family would carry Isadora through any storm that life might bring.

…For you

pt2

a/n pt2; thats it guys :( i actually had so much fun writing this and if you want anymore of violet and isa or any of the siblings with isa let me know because i'd love for this to become a little oneshot series typa thing! your feedback is greatly appreciated <3

all my love!

~tulippa

[allthornsnopetals]

Being Jealous

:Includes:

E.Bridgerton

D.Bridgerton

V.Bridgerton

:E.Bridgerton:

She simply cannot help it, especially during the debutante season.

She understands that ladies of the Ton are expected to search for Suitors and marry, after all, it is the marriage mart. But it doesn't stop the gnawing at her gut or the heated glares, that she is rather terrible at hiding.

Eloise knows, that you love her, and would 100% dodge every man in and out of the Ton for her, simply because your heart has already devoted itself to her, but again it does not dampen the rage, and her mood.

She would let the feeling simmer, simply because in society she can't do anything.

She does not mean to let it grow, simply wanting to avoid confrontation, and trying to remind herself that what you are doing is simply a ruse, and to avoid suspicion of your relationship, but that all goes to hell at some point.

It builds up over time and eventually blows up, during a ball or gather of some sorts when she finds you dancing or chatting with another eligible Suitor, who is rather obvious with his intentions.

She storms out of the room, of course with you noticing and excusing yourself, searching for her in a hidden hallway, in order to make sure that she is okay.

"El, are you okay? Is something the matter?" Said Y/n, finding her love weeping angry tears.

"Yes, everything is just fine. It's just the dust, it's burning my eyes."

Y/n chuckles, finding her poor attempt to lie, rather amusing. She drew closer to her, wiping her tears away with the pads of her thumbs, and handed her a handkerchief, tucked away in her purse. "I love you Eloise Bridgerton, but you are a terrible liar." She held her close, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

Eloise pulls away, cleaning herself up. "Well, tell that to Lord kiss-my-ass. Tell him that your heart is already full, occupied by another." Her tone was rather blunt, angry and even sad.

But Y/n simply grinned, cupping her cheek, and pecking her cheek. "If you are jealous, my love, we can leave. I can inform my mama that I am feeling unwell. And perhaps I could show you my love in a more private setting."

It takes a lot of kisses, yearning touches, and perhaps a week in the country together to reassure her.

Next time, do better at lowering your number of dances and Lords you interact with, just in case.

:D.Bridgerton:

It isn't jealous but doubt with her.

Daphne is a lot more challenging to convince, in my perspective. She begins to question your love, thinking that you would slip away from her, and marry a Lord, duke or even a prince.

Her desire for love is rather a large part of herself, so when she begins to think that you do not love her, it gets a bit sticky and even messy between you and her.

She isn't angry, like Eloise but sad, feeling as if her heart is shattering, thinking that you have changed your mind about devoting your heart to her.

She might withdraw herself, becoming distant and even avoiding you at times.

But her mama is always watching, and she notices that something is wrong.

Violet noticed her daughter longingly staring at Y/n, clearly missing her, and wanting to be near her dear friend. She does not know what is truly between them but she can tell when someone yearns to be in the presence of someone extremely dear to them.

"You have not spoken to Miss Y/n in sometime. Has something caused a breaking between you and her?" Said Violet, sitting beside her daughter, watching Y/n frolic and interact with a possible Suitor.

Daphne shook her head, but her pout made Violet think otherwise. "Sometimes friends fight, misunderstand, and even begin to feel unwanted by the person they cherish most." Violet held her hand, drawing her attention.

"Whatever it may be that caused such a drift, perhaps talking might just fix it. It might just fix the spoken feelings as well." She stood, withdrawing herself, and allowing Daphne to think.

But that is all it took. She did not want to feel this way anymore. She wanted to know if her love's heart still yearned for her, perhaps even shattered without her. She needed to speak to Y/n, and she was going to do that, now. Pulling her away without another word, Daphne guides Y/n and herself somewhere more private, away from nosy ears and eyes.

Once secure, she turns, going in for the kill. "Do you love me?" She said straight forwardly. "Do you even want me? Or even need me, like I need you?" Daphne stared right at Y/n, never tearing her gaze away from her or spilling for air.

"Am I your air as you are mine? Can you sleep without me polluting your dreams, because I cannot. You are my air, but am I yours?" Her chest batted, heaving to her uneven breaths.

"Well, tell me. Do you love me?"

The shit eating grin, curving Y/n's lips confused Daphne. "This is why you avoid me? You feel as if I do not love you? Does this have anything relating to the men of the Ton calling for me, dancing, and even socializing with me?" Y/n steps closer to her, her smile so teasing it made Daphne's heart clench so giddily, and stomach twist. She was beginning to feel, rather foolish.

"My darling, are you jealous of the men of the Ton?" Y/n caressed her cheek, causing her to draw closer.

"Perhaps a little." She confessed, making her love chuckle.

"Come here, you bimbo." Y/n drew her into her arms, swaying them both, soothing her back. "Let us stroll, I do wish for a break from the Lords and their blistering egos." Daphne chuckled, taking her darlings arm.

It took a lot of alone time together, kisses, and even gifts.

It also meant a visit to the country side for a long while, with her family of course, but mainly you and her, mending the misunderstanding.

In this she learns to trust her love, to build and understand the purpose of talking, instead of avoiding and withdrawing.

A lot of reassuring glances, touches that cannot be read more than something friendly, seeking each other at balls, and spending time together when you are both back in society.

She just wants to be 100% sure in her love, so it does take a lot of time, even after talking about it and mending a few things, to truly reassure her.

:V.Bridgerton:

You and Violet go way back, as in before the marriage mart, and the search for husbands.

Your heart will always be devoted to her, and her alone, but society is cruel, so when it is time for you to marry it makes things a lot more complicated for both you and Violet. Marrying into high dynasties, but yearning for the other.

Violet has buried her jealous glares, heated anger, and built up sadness for more than ten years.

You were both respected ladies of the Ton with children and many eyes on you. But that never stopped the hidden glances, calling hours, and nights spent with each other.

She just wished she could have you all the time and have you like your husband has you, which is why in my perspective she struggles with jealousy.

But she would never voice it of course, because this is how it is supposed to be: A lavender marriage, affairs behind their husbands backs, silent yearning, and performing their duties as ladies of their houses.

The only thing that reassures her of your love is the fact that you name one of your children after her, but this comes about when she is feeling the most insecure, and heartbroken.

"You are expecting!" Agatha squeals, pulling Y/n into a bone crushing embrace, rendering her breathless.

"This is exciting news, indeed. Isn't that right, Violet?" Said Agatha searching for the other woman. Violet blinks, her eyes becoming glassy with her throat running dry. She nods, breaking her trance. "Exciting, indeed." She chokes, sipping her tea, fighting back tears.

She was losing Y/n, sealing both their fates with her pregnancy, something she thought would be a lot easier to digest. She smiles weakly before excusing herself for the chamber pot.

Y/n knew better. She knew that the news would be hard for Violet to hear and even understand. So after the ladies visit, during the night Y/n waited for Violet at their usual spot in the gardens.

Violet was late of course, making Y/n think that she would not show up, but she did and the look on her face said it all. Pulling her into her arms, Y/n reassured her of their love, trying to convince her that it would not change how her heart beats for her.

"Why did you not tell me earlier? Why not inform me alone?" Violet questioned, sitting with her, staring out at the stars.

"I wanted to keep it a secret, until I was sure. And I also want you and Agatha to hear together, she is also my friend, Vi. It is news to be shared with my most favored girls." Y/n explained, holding her hand and resting her head on her love's shoulder.

"Lord Bridger, marries you, sleeps with you, and finally impregnates you. How do you think I am to feel about the news?" Her tone was torn, sounding like shattered glass.

Using her fingers to guide her attention back to herself, Y/n pecks a quick but loving kiss to her lips. "I did not expect you to be happy, but I do hope that you be with me during this journey. Because if there is anyone I want most by my side during my pregnancy, it's you, my love."

She still envied your husband, even after his death when it left you a shattered widow with four children.

You mourned him, as she did Edmund, making her think that you did not just care for him, but loved him.

You named your only daughter after her, as a declaration of your love, which served as a reassurance.

For Violet it is a long process of reassurance, healing her insecurities, and finally talking through it, after so long of harboring her feelings.

Violet is just very sensitive and perhaps insecure, after all, loving some of the fairer sex is challenging in your society.

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐀𝐈𝐑, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 [𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS – Violet Bridgerton x fem!Gardener!Reader

SUMMARY — Violet gets her garden tended to, both literally and figuratively.

WORD COUNT — 7.1K

WARNINGS — 18+ NSFW MDNI, just lots of longing and touch straved themes

NOTE — This fic I think may be one of my favourite things I've ever written. I don't want to say too much about it, but I hope it makes all you feel the same things it made me feel as I was writing it. A special thank you to @mystic-writings for beta'ing and cheering me on and @loveindiravarma for providing the video for the middle GIF

Violet never liked when she had to let go of staff, but sometimes it just had to be done. Anthony was tremendously busy (with his impending wedding to the elder Miss Sharma) and so in the end, the responsibility fell on Violet.

She had to say although the whole ordeal was rather unpleasant, she somehow seemed to be graced with an easy decision when it came to filling the position of gardener. 

Violet would admit she was a little surprised by how it all played out. First, she wasn’t expecting a woman to come and speak with her about the job, but every single quality she was looking for in an applicant was met. She didn’t waste her time in making a decision and decided to hire on the spot.

She found herself more willing to go out into the garden, to explore while work was being done, unafraid to get in the way or be curious because she never felt like she was imposing. She did know it was technically her family’s home, but there was something about watching someone while they worked that just seemed rather intrusive and she usually avoided it. 

“Lady Bridgerton,” your voice pulled her out of her thoughts and she looked up at you with a smile. “I just started pruning and was going to come and ask you a question about how you wanted the bushes. You seem to have saved me some leg work.”

“I’m much obliged, miss. How can I be of assistance?” she asked, coming closer to you and the bush of flowers you were working on. 

“I was thinking perhaps to pick a few peonies to put inside the house in vases and then trim down the size a bit so it isn’t overtaking the garden quite so much, what are your thoughts?” 

Violet pressed her lips together and gazed at the bush for a moment. The peonies did seem to be in such a bloom, reaching out on every side almost running completely wild. She supposed that was part of the reason she got a new gardener in the first place. 

“Trim it,” she nodded. “They do seem like they need to be…controlled.” 

You chuckled a little and clipped one of the flowers, handing it to her. 

“If I may, my Lady, I don’t think controlled is quite the right word,” you said. “Moreso…guided, manicured, taken care of.” 

Violet smiled at what you said, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips, “Yes, quite right,” she nodded. “Thank you.” 

“Of course, my Lady. Your company is always welcome.” 

She pressed her lips together and wished you a good day before continuing to walk through the gardens. 

As the day passed, Violet found herself carrying the peony you had given her to everything she did around the house, playing with the stem, feeling the petals between her fingers until in the evening she sat in her chambers, alone and dressed for bed the flower sitting on her vanity staring back at her. 

After staring at it for what seemed like hours she finally picked it up and brought it to her nose, inhaling its scent and perfume, closing her eyes and just letting her mind wander along with the intoxicating scent, feeling a warmth grow in her core, causing her breath to hitch and for her to abruptly open her eyes. 

She took in a couple of shakier breaths, placing the flower back down on the vanity and standing up, turning away from it, unable to justify her own thoughts in her head. 

She moved to the pitcher of water that sat next to a bowl and poured some of it inside, gently splashing her face with the water, before resting her hands on the table and leaning over the bowl, letting small droplets drip from her nose and chin back into the bowl. 

A pressure began to build up in her chest and all of a sudden she was taking deeper, more laboured breaths until she grabbed the towel and wiped her face clean with a certain roughness and frustration before letting her arms drop to her side while her back leaned against the table. 

She looked over again at the peony and licked her lips, her hand moving to her chest, rubbing back and forth to try and rid herself of some of this ache, or rather distract from it. 

It wasn’t much use, so instead she closed her eyes and took in a deep, shaky breath, discarding the towel on the table and moving towards her bed, slipping underneath the covers and begging for sleep to wash over her. 

—

“Mama, when are we going to join Anthony and Kate at Aubrey Hall?” Hyacinth asked one morning over breakfast.

“Soon, dearest,” she assured her youngest daughter. “Lady Danbury will be joining us there, I just have a few more things I have to arrange for before we can leave.” 

“I do not want to go to the country,” Gregory pouted. “We’ve been there three times already this year.” 

“The country air will do us all some good,” Violet told her children. “We will go spend time with your brother and his wife as a family and we will all enjoy it. Understood?” she gave Gregory one of her looks that wasn’t so much threatening as it was lovingly stern. 

“Yes mama,” Gregory nodded and looked back at his food with a sigh making his other siblings chuckle. 

Violet finished up her breakfast and excused herself from the table, going to take care of things with the staff who would be left at the house in their absence and going out for an appointment with the modiste, unable to do her own alterations at the same time as her daughters. 

When she returned she had one thing on her list to complete before finalizing all of the packing to be ready to leave tomorrow. 

She made her way to the garden and saw you diligently working away at pulling some weeds from the soil around the rose bushes and while she was busy admiring your work, you caught her gaze and welcomed her with a smile on your face. 

“Lady Bridgerton,” you stood up and bowed your head, removing your working gloves and tossing them to the side. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes actually there is,” she nodded. “As you know the family and I are going to join Anthony at Aubrey Hall tomorrow and I was wondering if you might join us to help tend to the gardens there.” 

You looked a little surprised at her proposition, but nodded your head. 

“I would love to, my Lady, but may I ask a question?”

“Of course,” she pressed you to go on. 

“I thought there was a gardener who took care of Aubrey Hall, it was my understanding that my responsibilities would not extend past Bridgerton House.” 

“Under normal circumstances they wouldn’t,” Violet agreed with your sentiment. “It is just that our other gardener has, like my son, recently gotten married and Anthony was in a generous mood and gave him time to spend with his new wife so the gardens there have not been tended to in some time. I feel as though the plants here could surely survive a while longer in your absence, especially since you have done so much work with them already.” 

“I see,” you smiled. “In that case I would be more than happy to join you at Aubrey Hall, my Lady.” 

“Splendid,” she let out a small relieved breath. “I have arranged for you to come in a carriage with my maid Mrs.Wilson. There are quarters for a gardener on the far end of the property that you will be most welcome to stay in during your time in the country. It hasn’t been used for quite some time as Mr. Henry lives in the village and walks to Aubrey Hall every day.” 

“Wonderful, I shall finish with these weeds then begin packing,” you motioned to the soil below you and Violet nodded her head with a smile before wishing you a good rest of your day and heading back inside to arrange some packing of her own (and make sure Gregory and Hyacinth in particular were doing the same…and come to think of it Eloise, Benedict, and Colin as well). 

She was content that evening to be stressing over her impending travels instead of allowing herself to drift into madness like she felt she had been doing so often these past few days. As she lay in bed, the blanket pulled up to her chin as she curled underneath the covers, she really did hope that the country air might provide her even with a moment's respite. 

—

“I never knew you to be interested in gardening, mama.”

Violet turned her head upwards at Eloise’s voice as she had caught sight of her staring out of the window at you while you took out some potted plants and re-planted them into the soil. 

“Oh, yes,” Violet nodded her head. “Gardening, it’s very…” her voice trailed off and she didn’t even attempt to finish her sentence, her eyes still closely watching you. 

Eloise gave her mother a look of confusion, trying to gather what was going on, but clearly not understanding the situation at all. 

“It’s very what?” she asked, pulling her mother out of her thoughts once more. 

“It’s an art,” Violet ended up saying, turning her head to face Eloise, a polite, albeit slightly strained, smile on her face. “To tend to a garden takes knowledge, care, and an eye for a certain…” 

“Je ne sais quoi?” Eloise offered and Violet nodded her head. 

“Exactly.” 

Eloise watched you with her mother for a moment before leaving her to her own devices so she could go read for a bit before playing pall mall with her siblings and new sister-in-law. 

Violet thought a little more to herself about what it took to take care of a garden. It was true that it required knowledge and care, but gardens also flourished with love and tenderness, with touch and air and sunlight. 

Just as she thought of the sun, it peeked out from behind the clouds, just for a moment shining in through the window and Violet allowed herself to bask in its warmth. Shutting her eyes and letting each golden ray envelop her and touch her skin and set it aglow. She took in a deep breath and let out a soft sigh, relishing that feeling of something against her body, some warmth. 

“Lady Bridgerton?” 

“Hmm,” Violet bore a soft smile on her face, her eyes still closed for a moment before she turned her head and opened them, seeing her friend standing before her. “Oh, Lady Danbury. You must excuse me I was just-” 

“Basking?” she asked with a raised brow, leaning on her cane. 

Violet chuckled a little sheepishly. 

“Yes,” she nodded. “Would you care to join me?” 

“I think I would,” she said as Violet moved over slightly so that she could join her on the small couch that faced the window. “Miss Eloise has told me that you’ve been observing the gardening that is happening.” 

“Yes,” Violet nodded again, she didn’t have many words to say as her eyes fell on you again, watching your every movement. 

“Or perhaps there is a gardener that has caught your eye?” 

“Yes-Wait Agatha!” Violet turned her head as soon as she’d realized how she’d answered, shocked her friend could even suggest such a thing. 

Lady Danbury’s face was not one of shock or even intrigue, she just let her hands simply rest on the head of her cane and continued to look out of the window. 

Violet was so flustered she could feel her cheeks growing more red by the second as she figured out what she was going to try and say to cover up her answer. 

Before she could think of something, Lady Danbury spoke again. 

“I suppose a gardener has many admirable qualities,” she began. “They are very meticulous, they know how to…tend to things.” 

Violet pressed her lips together, she didn’t dare look over at her, instead just focusing on her hands in her lap.

“You wouldn't tell anyone, would you?” Violet asked quietly. 

“What is there to tell,” Lady Danbury shrugged. “You are simply a Lady who enjoys her garden.” 

Violet smiled a little to herself and looked out of the window ahead into the field, placing a hand on her friend’s which still rested on the head of her cane. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

Lady Danbury nodded her head. 

“There is no harm in looking, Violet.” 

She continued to press her lips together, there may not have been a harm in looking, but what about when that fuelled some sort of desire she did not know how to control. 

Violet removed her hand from Lady Danbury’s and smoothed out her dress, standing up. 

“I should go. I think I can hear Hyacinth and Gregory arguing. Probably about something pointless.” 

Lady Danbury gave Violet a compassionate smile which she returned, but it left her face as soon as she turned away and headed towards the voice of her children. If she couldn’t seem to control her staring when you were around then perhaps she’d just have to make sure she wasn’t around you. 

—

When Violet was in the country and she found herself needing to clear her head she often sat on the bench next to her husband’s grave. She was usually better prepared, bringing flowers and maybe something special to leave there, but she didn’t have the wherewithal today to do anything other than sit.

Her children would all make their rounds eventually, especially the older ones, but often they liked to do it alone, taking the quiet moment as one of reflection, or perhaps they took the silence as an opportunity to talk with their father. 

Violet preferred to reminisce. 

To close her eyes and play through scenes in her head, a memory, a feeling until often she stopped herself before tears could stream down her cheeks. 

Today she felt her eyes flutter shut as the wind blew against her face, her breath was caught in her throat as she swore she could feel her late husband’s arms wrap around her. Ten years and she could still remember how his hands would mould to her sides, how his chin would rest against her shoulder from behind, the feeling of his breath like a gentle warm breeze against her cheek. 

She heard the crunch of twigs off to the side and she opened her eyes to see what had made the sound.

She saw you with your back turned to her and she frowned out of confusion for a moment before calling your name, encouraging you to turn around and face her. 

“I apologize, my Lady. I didn’t realize you were here,” you said quietly. “I just noticed there weren’t any flowers so I thought I might bring some by. The staff has told me you normally bring hyacinths.” 

Violet felt her lips pull into a sad soft smile as she nodded her head. 

“Yes…I was just a little preoccupied today,” she admitted. 

You tested the waters and came a little closer, and then a little closer until you could rest the flowers down by the large headstone. 

Violet watched as your hands moved to adjust a few things, not moving from your position until the flowers were perfect. 

When you stood up, you didn’t take the time to admire your work like you normally did and moved away to give Violet her privacy, and despite all that she had told herself a few days ago, she found herself speaking before her mind could catch up. 

“You could stay for a moment, if you’d like.” 

You paused and looked over at the Viscountess, she didn’t necessarily meet your gaze, her eyes still on the flowers you had brought. 

“I could stay if you’d like me to,” you said softly, not wanting to overstep her politeness. 

She nodded her head, her eyes still on the flowers and placed a hand on the empty spot next to her on the bench. 

You pursed your lips and clasped your hands behind your back as you walked towards the bench, lowering yourself down next to her and moving your hands to your lap. 

You didn’t say anything, simply watching Violet and waiting for her to make the move, to start a conversation if that’s what she wished, but perhaps she just wanted someone to sit in silence with her to offer a hand of comfort and before you realized what you were doing your hand had inched over towards hers that was still resting on the bench next to you. 

When Violet felt the warm touch of your hand against hers she had to keep her head turned for a moment, not expecting you to do such a thing. 

Confused by her reaction, you quickly retracted your hand in case you had overstepped, but as soon as the contact was lost, Violet turned her head back to you. 

“Is everything alright, my Lady?” you asked. 

She bit the inside of her cheek and nodded her head, not trusting herself to speak and instead looking straight ahead out into the field. She closed her eyes only for a moment, simply feeling the warmth radiate off your skin only for it to be blown away by the cool breeze. 

When she opened her eyes she noticed your hand in front of her, holding a handkerchief. She moved her own hand to her cheeks feeling the wet streaks against her skin. 

She took the handkerchief from you, with one hand, but then reached out with the other before you could pull away. You carefully brought your other hand and clasped hers between them. She could feel every callous along your palm, a rough exterior for such a gentle and caring touch. 

She sniffled and moved her free hand over her mouth, her fingers curled as if in contemplation. 

You stayed like that until you could hear the thunder rumble in the distance. You removed your hands from around hers, noticing how she almost shivered at the loss of warmth. 

“We should go before we get caught in the rain,” you said quietly. 

Violet nodded her head and watched as you wished her a good rest of her day before leaving and she sat there a while longer, looking down at her hands in her lap, the handkerchief still wet with tears, and she imagined that this wasn’t the last time this cloth, this piece of fabric would be witness to her sorrows.

—

Violet was never one to sneak around, but when the house was filled with her family and their staff on occasion she would find herself waiting for a moment where she could be away and for no one to know where she was. 

It was practically impossible to slip out unnoticed during the day, so she went through her usual evening routine with her maids, but sat at her vanity, waiting until the sun had just set and everyone was fast asleep to open the door of her room and peek down the hallway, stepping into it and making her way to the doors that led outside. 

The air nipped at her skin, making the hair on her arm stand on its end, despite the cover from her robe which she now wrapped tighter around her as she walked down the stairs and through the garden. She didn’t really think about what she was doing or where she was going, perhaps it was just simply away. 

Darkness fell upon the country and she appreciated the privacy it gave, but clearly it could only give so much.

It seemed as though she had walked all the way to the edge of the property where the gardener’s quarters were and there was still a shadow of a figure outside bent over what looked like potted plants. 

She watched curiously as she got closer and possibly hearing the squish of her feet against the wet soil, you looked up and saw her. It was safe to say you were a little confused at the sight before you and quickly dusted your hands off on a towel. 

“Lady Bridgerton is that you?” you called, squinting into the darkness, trying to get a better look. 

“Yes,” she called back. “What on earth are you doing gardening at night?” 

“I suppose I might ask the same of you and your promenade, my Lady,” you said. “These flowers bloom at night, I was just coming to take a look at them.” 

You beckoned her to come closer and take a look at what you were observing. As she came towards you, you noticed similarly to yourself she was dressed in a nightgown, only she had a robe pulled over top of her as well. 

It was interesting to see her in this light, or perhaps this darkness, her hair falling into loose curls on either side of her shoulders. There was no rouge on her cheeks, but the cold air seemed to do the trick regardless, welcoming a rosy colour on her skin. 

She bent down to examine the flowers you spoke of, gently touching the petals and smiling seeing how they reached up towards the moonlight. 

Before either of you could speak you were interrupted by the rumble of thunder and a trickle of rain which quickly turned into a downpour. 

You opened the door to the small cabin and ushered Violet inside, slipping in after her, lucky you were close by and did not get caught in the worst of it.

“I’m not sure it will be a good idea for you to go back, my Lady,” you looked outside. “It’s pouring, you’d catch a cold.”

You looked back over at her and she was wiping a few drops of rain from her face, but after seeing how hard the downpour was she came to the same conclusion. 

“I know it’s hardly as glamorous as what you have in Aubrey Hall, but you can take my bed,” you said. “I have a mat I can use to sleep on the floor.” 

“Are you quite sure?” Violet asked. “I know you did not plan on having a guest tonight, I do not mean to intrude.” 

“It’s not an intrusion, my Lady. Simply unconventional company,” you shrugged, pulling the mat out from where it was kept and laying a sheet overtop of it along with a blanket and a pillow. “Your family won’t worry about you out here?” 

“They don’t know I’m here,” she said. “I’ll be fine for one evening.” 

You nodded your head and sat down on the mat, watching as she followed your lead with the bed. 

The fire flickered a soft warm light into the room and you sighed, wrapping your hands around your legs. 

“Goodnight, my Lady.” 

“Goodnight,” she whispered and turned to lay back down on the bed and you allowed yourself to do the same. 

You tried to close your eyes and fall asleep, after a hard day of working outside usually you didn’t have much trouble. You stayed still with your eyes closed for what felt like hours before you really began to give up and open your eyes. 

When you did, you looked over at the bed and saw Violet seemingly in a similar predicament, tossing until she landed on her back, staring up at the ceiling, not noticing your gaze on her. 

It felt wrong to watch her, especially when she must have assumed you were fast asleep, but there was something that forced you to stare, to not turn your eyes away. 

You saw her hand reach out to touch her neck, like she was trying to remember a feeling. One hand rested just below her breast while the other hovered for a moment, hesitating to come down, but when it did, both hands wrapped themselves around her midsection as she turned back onto her side, facing the wall. 

You bit your lip and wondered how many nights she’d spent like this since her husband had passed away.

Alone. 

Aching. 

Lady Violet Bridgerton was a woman who the ton saw as constantly surrounded by others, but in the times you had seen her, you’d seen past the crowds of family and friends that encompassed her. You saw a woman who longed for something she didn’t feel she had the right to ask for. 

You turned onto your back and closed your eyes again, the sound of the rain crashing down on the house drowning out any further thoughts you might have, and as the smell of fresh soil, grass, and newly potted plants filled your nostrils, you closed your eyes and hoped that Violet would find whatever it was she was looking for. 

—

Violet stared up at the intricate design of her four poster bed frame. A kaleidoscope of shapes, diamonds and triangles carved into wood, dizzying in their patterns. 

She felt her hands move from where they rested against her chest, tracing along her skin before moving overtop of fabric, down her chest, towards her stomach where the fabric of her nightgown was already bunched up, having fallen from her knees down to her hips. 

She let her eyes flutter closed as she began to put pressure at the base of her stomach, gathering the courage to let her hands go lower. 

Just as her hand was about to slip past the point of fabric, to touch skin again, she felt someone gently grasp her hand. 

She opened both her eyes and her mouth to let out a gasp of surprise, but a finger came to her lips, quieting her.

“Shh, shh,” it was a gentle hush, her mouth unable to shut as she saw you lean over top of her, the shapes and patterns surrounding you from above sending her into a spiral. “Let me take care of that for you.” 

Violet could feel her bottom lip begin to tremble against your finger as she felt your other hand start its path from her ankle, moving up her shin, past her knee, and onto her thigh. 

She let out a light gasp as your fingers reached closer to her core, her own hand pressing against her stomach in some attempt to steady herself. 

She knew she had to do something while she still had her wits about her, so she lifted her other hand to wrap around the back of your neck, holding the side of your face, bringing you down so your forehead was pressed against hers, your noses touching as your fingers slipped inside her. 

She gasped with each movement, pulling you closer, her eyes closed, her nose scrunched, her mouth unable to shut, her breathing and quiet moans the only sound that filled the room. 

Violet couldn’t gather her senses, teetering towards the edge of something a long groan caught in the back of her throat.

Violet opened her eyes, taking in a gulp of air and quickly pushing herself up in her bed. 

She looked around her room, it was dark and empty. She looked up to her bedframe, the shapes causing her mind to spin as your face flashed before her. 

Her skin was sticky with sweat, the fabric of her nightgown clinging onto her as she covered her face with her hands for a moment, steadying her breathing before running her hands through her hair and pulling her knees to her chest, trying to ignore that pit of need in her stomach. 

She rested one arm across her knees, the elbow of her other arm using it as a rest while she ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at it, hoping the pain might pull her away from her thoughts. 

Moving on to pinch the bridge of her nose, she fell back onto the mattress, staring at the wall, too afraid to look up and be reminded of her dream, too afraid to close her eyes and let her subconscious gain control once more.

So she stayed like that, in bed, staring at the wall until the sun leaked into the room telling her she was finally safe, or so at least she thought. 

—

A few days had passed and Violet had barely left her room. She told her family she was feeling unwell and needed to rest, but in reality, she spent most of her time still dressed in a nightgown, sitting on the chaise lounge, looking out at the clouds that loomed overhead. 

When she opened the window to allow for some fresh air to enter the room, she could smell the rain in the air, the clouds making their way towards Aubrey Hall seemed to match her suspicions and she knew that evening she wouldn’t confine herself to her room any longer. 

Across the property, you had the Sunday off and used the time to enjoy the clear skies while they lasted, finding company in yourself, bouncing between a book and cooking a few things for yourself to eat while you mentally planned how the rest of your week would look like, assigning areas of the property based on priority and need. 

Gardening was hard work, there was no question about it. But the results were always worth it, every single time without fail. Looking at the finished product and being able to see beauty and order in something so wild and free. 

As the evening rolled in, and the grey sky was replaced by the deep navy that visited every night, you made your way back inside, boiling the pot of water for a cup of tea while you heard the rain begin to patter outside, drop by drop until it was continuous and loud against the roof of your cabin. 

You didn’t expect to do much else aside from sit and enjoy your drink, perhaps read a few more chapters of your book when you heard a knock at your door. 

Not knowing who was on the other side, you grabbed your robe and wrapped it around yourself before going to the door and opening it.

Your hand immediately flew to your mouth, “Lady Bridgerton…” your voice trailed off as you took in her appearance, in nothing but a nightgown, completely soaked, mud lining the bottom of it, her hair stringy and stuck to the sides of her face. You quickly opened the door wider and pulled her inside and out of the cold, closing the door behind you. “What happened?”

“Mistimed my evening promenade,” she said quietly. “I-I was closer to here than the hall…” 

You nodded your head and moved her over towards the stool in front of the fire, sitting her down and moving away to rummage through your things to find a towel, bringing it to her and wrapping it around her shoulders. 

She looked up at you, her lashes still dripping with water and you bent down next to her, tucking her hair behind her ears so it didn’t stick to her face, lifting the towel slightly to help wipe away some of the water that was still dripping down her face. 

You didn’t even think twice about the familiarity, unable to bring yourself to just leave her alone like that. And perhaps you didn’t think twice because she didn’t so much as flinch with your touch, if anything she leaned into your hand. 

“My Lady, you risk catching a cold in such weather,” you said softly. 

“I know,” she whispered. “I should be more careful.” 

“Does your family not know you have come outside?” you asked and she nodded her head. 

“I just needed a moment alone.” 

“According to your daughter, moments alone are all you’ve had these past few days,” you said. “Miss Eloise said you were unwell.” 

“I-I was,” Violet nodded. “What I meant is that I needed some fresh air after being in my chambers for so long.” 

You nodded your head and respected her answer, standing up from beside her and bringing her the cup of tea you had made for yourself in hopes that it would speed up the process of warming her up as the towel and fire helped to dry her off. 

When you saw her finally begin to get back to her normal temperature you realized there was no way she could stay in her current clothes, the bottom of her dress now caked with dry mud. 

You stood up again and went to the dresser, looking through a few things before finding what it was you wanted and bringing it to her in exchange for the empty cup. It was a nightgown, left in the cabin perhaps by a previous gardener’s wife, but it looked like it would fit Violet and it could do the trick for the night. 

She took it from your hands and slowly stood up, removing the towel from her shoulders before going into the small washroom to get changed. 

You hung the towel to dry by the fire while you waited and just as she exited the washroom with her dirtied nightgown in hand she saw you reaching for the mat you had slept on last time. 

“Why don’t you stay with me on the bed,” Violet said. “I could not impose on your kindness more than once.” 

You pressed your lips together and looked down at the mat in your hands. 

“I insist. It is big enough for both of us.” 

“Just barely, my Lady,” you looked at her just to make sure that she was absolutely certain. 

“Either we both sleep on the bed or I shall take the mat this time,” she said. “You’ve already done a lot for me tonight, I cannot possibly take your place of rest as well.” 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek and let go of the mat, sliding it back into its place between the bookcase and the wall. 

You motioned for her to take her spot on the bed, and she did so after folding her gown and placing it off to the side, sliding underneath the covers and moving to the side next to the wall. When she was settled you came in next to her, turning your back to hers, staring out the window at the rain pouring down on the property. 

The sound brought you back to that previous evening, under similar circumstances. 

You recalled the way she wrapped her arms around herself, how she tossed and turned and it made you think about tonight, how incredibly still she was lying, how she had melted into your touch. 

You felt your mouth begin to open and before you could stop yourself you asked, 

“My Lady, why were you outside tonight?” 

“I-I told you I wanted some fresh air,” she repeated her response from before. 

“What I mean to say…is why were you really outside?”

You could hear Violet swallow thickly. 

She fumbled over an excuse, her mind unable to give her a good enough lie to cover up. 

You turned so that you were on your back, now staring at the ceiling. 

“You must have known it was going to rain tonight,” you said quietly. “You saw the clouds and you still came out…” 

Your tone was not accusatory, but instead more of a query, like you were trying to figure out her logic, how this all worked out in her mind. 

Violet went silent at your comment, the only sound in the room was that of the rain coming down outside over the cabin. 

You are now turned fully, facing her back, the quiet intimacy of the moment giving you all the courage you needed to ask. 

“Why are you here? What is it you want, Lady Bridgerton?” 

When she did not respond to you, you whispered again, 

“Violet…What are you-” 

“Touch me…please.” 

Her voice was so quiet and strained, it was the most desperate plea you’d ever heard. 

Violet lay there, curled so tightly, the silence following her request so deafening, but anything was better than sitting like that for one more moment trying to figure out what to do with herself. She would rather sit in utter mortification than go another second with that fire burning in the pit of her stomach. 

And just as she thought nothing would come, she felt a brush against her neck, moving her hair back, over her shoulder, tracing a line that burned like hot metal on her skin. 

The hand moved back over her shoulder towards her chest, tracing a path that was so familiar, following every movement she had once done herself, from below her breast, across her ribcage until she felt a wall of warmth all across her back. 

Her breathing grew shakier with each prolonged touch, as an arm slipped under her waist, wrapping around her fully until she was held, until she could no longer feel that ache in her bones, that clenching in her heart. 

She focused on your hands, how they held her, how your body pressed against hers felt like sunlight. 

Your hand stayed where it was for a few moments, but before long, Violet felt it move from where it was draped over her waist and across her stomach, coming to her hip, your fingers gently grabbing the fabric and tugging upwards. 

One. 

Two.

Three. 

Four times. 

Four times was when the hem of the gown was finally between your fingers, when you could slide your hand between skin and fabric, making Violet shudder as you followed the curve of her body upwards, higher and higher until her breast was cupped in your hand and she turned her head towards you as much as she could, her breathing coming in heavier, needier. 

Your chin rested in the crook of her shoulder, your breath against her face felt like air. 

Your other hand, still wrapped around her, took advantage now that her nightgown was lifted so high, sliding lower, across the skin of her abdomen, under the fabric of her underwear, her breathing coming in anticipatory gasps until you finally reached where she was expecting, a moan escaping past her lips. 

Your touch felt like care, like water on the dry soil of a dying plant. 

You moved your hand in such a way that you could run your fingers along her before gently sliding them into her, you looked up at her, pushing yourself up, putting more pressure against her breast, her mouth open but nothing leaving but pants and sighs. 

You continued to move your fingers in and out, a slow rhythmic pace at first, watching with each movement how her chest heaved, how she moaned and whimpered when she wanted more. 

Your touch satisfied that hungry need in the pit of her stomach, but it also soothed the ache in her heart as you didn’t loom over her or sit next to her. 

You held her, her back pressed into your chest in a hold so familiar yet different it felt dizzying, especially when your thumb brushed against a sensitive spot as you moved your fingers prompting Violet to let out a loud gasp of surprise just as you moved your thumb back to continue its movement and pressure against her. 

Violet tried to find words, but none came out of her mouth, the only thing escaping was breathless want. 

Seeing her as she was, you could only think of the flowers you tended to, reared from mere bulbs into bright, colourful, plentiful bushes. How each year you would wait patiently until there was that one tipping point and the flower would open and from there it would bloom without bound.

Here Violet was, in that delicate stage, at that tipping point and you were ready to see the finished product. 

You pressed onwards, giving her more, listening as her moans and whimpers that she desperately tried to hold back came out needily, higher and higher until her eyes screwed shut, her nose scrunched, her mouth open as it let out one last sharp sigh before the waves of pleasure had finished washing over her and her face relaxed, her eyes still closed, lips still parted. 

You carefully removed your fingers, conscious of how sensitive she was, taking your hand out from underneath her, while the other gently let go of her breast, slipping out from underneath her nightgown to come and turn her face back upwards, towards you. 

Your hand was gentle in its caress, in its guidance, and Violet felt her eyes fluttering open as her head was turned. 

The fire crackled in the background, but its sound was drowned out by the rain, its light shining over Violet’s skin in a golden hue, every freckle illumined and sparking. The light that struck her eyes hit her irises in a certain way, giving warmth and life to their cool blue colour. 

You leaned down a little closer, admiring all these small things about the Lady that was lying in front of you. You leaned down until your forehead rested against hers and her eyes fluttered shut again, as did yours, her lips still parted, her breathing still heavy. 

You guided her chin up a little more, closing the gap with your own lips, pressing against hers so faintly. Everything about the kiss felt cautious whereas every other touch felt assured, that was until Violet lifted her head more, fully pressing her lips against yours, relying on your hand to hold her, to keep her steady until she could reach out with her own arms holding your neck, your waist, feeling the shape of you against her hand, her fingers. 

There may have been no harm in looking, but surely touching was much better. 

As your lips parted and you moved away only slightly to look at her once more, your hand brushing aside some hair that had come to cover her face. She moved her own hand to hold yours that was against her face, turning her head to kiss it. 

You moved to lower yourself next to her on the bed and she made the effort to turn and face you. From there it was easy for her to be wrapped up in your arms and to wrap her arms around someone other than herself. 

A few months ago Violet had hired a gardener, but little did she know that gardener would eventually tend to her.

[midnightscramble]

unsure if you’ve already been asked this or it’s planned but would love to see a part 3 for good luck, maid! if you’re open to it 😆 not picky about what’s in the plot but might be cool to get a situation that forces either one to confess their attractions to each other ☺️

Good Luck, Maid! Part 3 (Violet Bridgeton x fem!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

The Masterlist

Author’s Note: I only write based on requests left in my inbox, this is the first formal request, and thank goodness for it, I was itching to write more for Violet! Thanks for the detailed ask (if it's not to your liking feel free to request again, don't be shy!) Happy readings to you.

Summary: Violet implores a friend to find out the circumstances around Y/n's previous employment. Y/n and Violet have another accidental meeting late at night. Violet's feelings manifest.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut, touch starved Violet, fingering (Violet receiving), technically they do it in public, period typical homophobia, brief discussion of skewed power dynamics, no Beta read

Lady Danbury had been quick to agree to Violet's request for tea, and by midday they sat across from each other in the Danbury estate's drawing room.

After the exchange of usual pleasantries and talk of bubbling gossip around the Ton, Lady Danbury had surmised the true purpose of their meeting. "I take it you are ready to discuss the unspeakable?" Palming her cane in one hand and delicately bringing the teacup to her lips, Agatha raised her eyebrows in her usual prompting fashion.

Violet suddenly went to stand. Wringing her hands together she walked towards the piano, admiring the vase of flowers which sat upon it. She nervously rearranged them and cleared her throat, "Yes, it seems as though I have developed uh, how do I phrase this..." Violet turned to look at her. Patient as ever, Lady Danbury raised her chin and let a soft smile grace her lips.

"I have developed feelings for a member of my staff."

Lady Danbury threw her head back and cackled in response, "By the way you were behaving, I had thought you were going to say you had developed feelings for a criminal of some kind. To have feelings for a member of staff, while frowned upon publicly, is surprisingly common. Nothing to be embarrassed about, Dear." It never ceased to surprise her the shame that Violet Bridgerton would inflict upon herself for being like the rest of high society.

Inhaling through her nose and feeling her eyes start to sting, Violet lowered her gaze to the ground, "And if these feelings were criminal, then what, Agatha?"

Humming, Lady Danbury pondered the question. "You are no criminal, Violet..." She put her teacup on it's dish. Sitting forward with both hands on her cane, she motioned for Violet to sit on the couch across from her.

Violet sat and smoothed her dress as Lady Danbury openly stared at her. "Violet, do you mean to tell me that you are experiencing a liking of the fairer sex?"

By instinct, Violet opened her mouth to deny such a notion and then swallowed the words before they could escape, and instead answered with a simple "Yes." The woman across from her lent back in consideration. Briefly, they sat in silence.

"You are right. In this country, if you were to even speak of such things, it would be reprehensible by the law. However... in this house, such is not the case," she reached forward and grabbed Violet's hand, "You are no criminal to me, Violet, regardless of what society may say."

Choking on a sob, Violet covered her mouth with her free hand. "Thank you, Agatha. You have no idea how dear you are to me," she sniffled and tried to collect herself, "I was worried you would not find me suitable for your company once I told you."

Releasing her grip on Violet's, Lady Danbury spoke light heartedly "Nonsense. You may worry no more. Now, tell me, who has caught your eye?" Violet chuckled lightly, of course the woman would not be concerned with the controversy of the matter at hand, always more keen to hear the details of romance.

"Eloise's maid, we had to let go of mine, and Miss Y/n replaced her" Her cheeks tinted pink as she continued, "Just last night we had an encounter in the kitchen. I was restless and wandering and there she was. We spoke and it was as if we really saw each other. By the way she looked at me, it was almost as if she could see through me."

"And you are sure she was not looking through your night dress?" Lady Danbury laughed at Violet's Gasp.

"Oh Agatha, you are terrible," Violet swatted at Lady Danbury and they fell into a fit of laughter.

Once they regained composure Lady Danbury wondered out loud, "You seem quite taken with her, and with such haste, how is that possible?" Violet nodded in understanding, she had been wondering the same thing herself.

"I can't be sure, I find myself thinking of her frequently. It has become undeniable. In fact, I find myself concerned with her well being..." Violet looked imploringly at her friend, "Particularly her past."

Narrowing her eyes at Violet's words, Lady Danbury felt a smugness settle within her. She knew that Violet was tempting her with a challenge, and oh, how she loved to play games. But of course, this was mostly to help quell Violet's anxieties, not flex her own societal prowess.

"What do you know of her already"

...

The sun had set in the Ton by the time Violet returned home. The chilled night air prompted the fireplaces to be lit and extra blankets to be spread across beds. Although satisfied with her day and comforted by the support of her friend, Violet was still buzzing with anxious energy.

Knowing she would be tired the next day if she did not seek rest soon, she decided to brave the cold wood floors with bare feet in an effort to get to the study. She would read herself to exhaustion if she had to. Descending the grand stairs she squinted through the darkness, overhearing giggles coming from another corridor. Focusing, she made the voices out to be Hyacinth and Gregory, no doubt snooping through the letters that Colin had sent Anthony about his travels. She smiled softly, and listened to their childish joy, until the sound of the study door creaking open forced her to veer down the opposing hallway.

Colliding with something, she gasped. Strong hands gripped her waist, and they tumbled towards the wall as her own hands landed upon lean shoulders. Y/n pulled Violet flush against her, in an effort to keep them both from falling. With a shaky release of breath and heart beating out of her chest, Violet's eyes flickered across Y/n's face.

As Y/n went to move away, Violet's grip tightened, her fingers flexing into the material of Y/n's uniform as she steadied herself. Her heartbeat had slowed slightly, but not settled as the excitement of their position dawned upon her.

The woman's eyes took in the pink dusting of Violet's cheeks and quickly dilating pupils. Violet's hands shook as she slid them across Y/n's shoulders and toward her neck. With bated breath she waited for a response of any kind. Would Y/n push her off, tell her she was as bad as the Lord she worked for before, and leave the Ton in fear of Violet ruining her? Before her thoughts could spiral anymore, she felt Y/n's hold on her waist loosen and her hands migrated up towards the sides of her breast, stopping before making contact. With the slightest of pressure on her ribcage, she was guided backwards a few inches until she was pressed against the wall.

Shooting forward, she brought their mouths together. Every thing she had imagined in no way measured up to the soft caress of Y/n's lips against her own. With one hand she cradled the side of Y/n's face, smoothing the apple of her cheek with her thumb as she tried to commit the very feel of the woman to her memory. Her other hand grasped at her neck like an anchor.

With greater confidence, Y/n snaked her hand inward and cusped the woman's breast, causing Violet to release a gasp into the kiss. She slowly swiped her tongue across Violet's lower lip and gently prodded into her mouth. Y/n ran her thumb over Violet's raised nipple, feeling it tighten at her ministrations.

Despite the cold night air, Violet's skin was hot to the touch and the all too familiar warmth of arousal grew in her lower belly. Her legs clenched together in need as she tried to relieve the aching. Once Y/n noticed Violet's squirming she broke the kiss and lowered herself slightly to lick and suck at Violet's neck. Perfectly positioned as to not break contact, Y/n dropped her hands to Violet's legs. Through the soft fabric of her nighty, Y/n felt her way from the outside of Violet's leg to the inner crease of where they strongly pressed together. She swiftly parted them with force, filling the space with her own leg. Violet sighed heavily and let her head thud against the wall as she tried to catch her breath. Not allowing the woman a moment of reprieve, Y/n's hands wrapped around her waist and forced her upon her leg. Violet's hips involuntarily bucked at the first contact, and a hearty moan clawed its way out of her throat.

Overwhelmed by the sensation, she dropped her forehead to Y/n's shoulder and breathed heavily. She could feel the slick of her arousal cling to her night dress at the point where Y/n's leg pressed into her. She could hardly believe herself, rutting into the other woman like a wild animal, out in the open, with only the protection of darkness. She flushed at her own indecency. Y/n tugged on her nightgown, causing her breasts to become exposed. Her head shot up as she quickly searched the hall, it was useless, the pitch black of night was thicker than tar. Lips enclosed around her nipple, licking softly at the peak and then tugging it sharply with teeth. She yelped and immediately bit into Y/n's shoulder to quiet herself. Breathing through her nose, she felt Y/n's fingertips drag the bottom of her nightgown up towards her. With great anticipation, she felt Y/n gently remove her leg from between her thighs and continue the slow drag of fabric upwards.

She raised her head and met the other woman's eyes, "Please, touch me, I-" Y/n's hand cupped her radiating sex and she ground the heal of her palm into the Violet's clit and traced the opening of her lips. Not knowing what to do with herself, she laid soft kisses on the column of Y/n throat, mewling slightly as Y/n's fingers entered her wetness. Her eyes shut as Y/n rhythmically entered her, her own clenching creating a delectable drag when Y/n removed her fingers.

"Ohh, please, Y/n please," Violet begged in a whisper. She whimpered as Y/n's pace increased and her fingers started to curl into her as if she were searching for something. And indeed she was, Y/n felt for the spongy texture of her walls and ran her finger tips against it with pressure. Violet nearly choked at the sensation, even with all her experiences with Edmund, she had never felt such delight. Her legs closed, as if she were worried Y/n would suddenly remove herself. Violet's mind became hazy as she lost herself in their love making. She could feel Y/n everywhere, Y/n's mouth had consumed her entirely, her long fingers had graced her insides, and she was sure that the woman had somehow penetrated her mind.

Her hips began to stutter and Y/n could tell she was close. She watched Violet's face contort in pleasure as she played her like an instrument and listened for the beautiful music she emitted. Her gasps and whines were enough encouragement for Y/n to double her efforts and add another finger. Violet's back arched and Y/n could feel her walls quake with her release. Slowing her ministrations, she continued to guide her through the entirety of her completion.

Once she was sure Violet had finished, Y/n gently removed her fingers but kept one hand flush with her still pulsing sex and the other moved hair out of her face. Violet looked at her owlishly, face burning from the activity. She looked something out of the paintings that her and Lady Danbury had par-oozed the day she admitted her desperation for touch; breasts proudly displayed and nipples now raised by the cool air, skin reddened with arousal and hair tousled from the friction of the wall.

"We should go to my room, and talk," Violet offered breathlessly.

...

Back in the safety of her room, Violet offered Y/n a nightgown to change into. Sitting on the bed, she watched as Y/n undressed in front of her. All the bravado she had moments ago vanished, and she sat on her hands to keep herself from reaching out. When the other woman finished changing, Violet opened the bed invitingly, "Since I have no obligations tomorrow and you are the only one permitted to enter my room, you can stay the night and we will be unbothered." She smiled softly and Y/n smiled back.

Her heart fluttered with contentment as Y/n climbed into bed and opened her arms to the other woman. With her head laid on Y/n's chest, Violet released a deep breath as she settled. Her eyes began to close in relaxation until a thought crossed her mind, "was that your first time with a woman?"

"No," Violets chest tightened and her heart picked up as she listened intently, "The last house I worked for, the Lady and I became close..." Their earlier conversation came to the forefront of Violet's mind as this new information clicked into place. It was not a Lord per say who had misused Y/n, but a Lady. A Lady who Y/n undoubtedly got caught with and thus came the termination of her employment.

Her hand went to Y/n's, "It is quite a miracle you are here today," Violet thanked her guardian angels for bringing Y/n safely to her. Of all the things that could have happened to Y/n, for her to only lose a job rather than her head was an act of divine intervention.

"It is, it really is. I heard that the Lord of the house had actually passed recently, and now there are only three people who know this secret, including you and I." Violet hummed, her eyes slipped closed and right before sleep took her an offhanded thought drifted through her mind, she vindictively wished that number would be reduced to two.

...

Violet and Y/n awoke as a knock sounded on Violet's door. Startled, Y/n leapt out of bed, ducked towards the ground and shimmied underneath it. Violet's heart raced as she dawned a robe and opened it just a crack.

Before her stood Hyacinth with a letter in hand, "Mama, you have been asleep all day," she drawled, "I know you haven't been sleeping well, however I figured you should sleep no longer as we have received word," the young girl shoved the letter towards her mother, "that Colin and Penelope will be returning from their honeymoon this afternoon."

"Oh, thank you Hyacinth-"

"And I took it upon myself to invite the Featheringtons over to celebrate their arrival. It is rather perfect timing, Eloise and Francesca are yet to leave so we will have ample conversation. I have alerted the staff of all preparations needed, don't worry a thing Mama," She leaned forward and kissed her mom on the cheek before skipping off. Violet scoffed and closed her door.

"It turns out I do have obligations." The women laughed at Hyacinth's behavior. Y/n got out from under the bed, and immediately started to arrange Violet's outfit for the day.

...

Calling hour arrived and Lady Danbury swiftly made her way through the long halls of the Bridgerton estate. Her heels struck menacingly against the wood floors. The butler guiding her to the drawing room felt as though if he did not keep pace with her, she would strike him with her cane.

“Lady Bridgerton you have a caller, the fine Lady Danbury is here.”

“Let her right in, thank you.” Violet stood from the couch and clasped her hands in front of her. She was sure her friend would have quite the shock when she told her of last night’s tryst with Y/n. The moment Lady Danbury had crossed the threshold, Violet could tell the woman was eager to speak.

“Violet, thank goodness I have caught you alone. I found out about your...friend's previous employment.” Violet cocked her head to the side, she had such a blissful morning with Y/n that she had nearly forgotten about the wild goose chase she had sent Lady Danbury on.

"Oh, what did you discover."

"She was working for the-" a footman cleared his throat as he entered the drawing room.

"My Lady, the Featheringtons have arrived." He announced. Violet nodded and waited for him to exit before resuming the conversation.

"You were saying Agatha?"

"Well that’s just it. The Featheringtons."

[infiniteimaginings]

VIOLET BRIDGeTtON PLEASE PLEASE

A Courtship? (Violet Bridgerton x GN!Reader)

Summary: You court the dear Violet Bridgerton and she is surprised, but quite flushed at the idea. Pronouns: You/Yours, They/Them Warnings: Slight angst Word Count: 4.8k A/N: I've had this idea for months. Months. I love this woman with my whole heart. There will be a part two because this got too long. Tagging: @etherynn @theonefairygodmother @ignaciocv

The Bridgerton home was a home that everyone wished for. The structure itself was beautiful, multiple floors, dozens of rooms, chandeliers, paintings of the family. It wasn’t the structure itself that the people of society were necessarily jealous of, no, it was the family themselves.

The Bridgerton family were blessed with handsome sons, beautiful daughters, all from a gorgeous, loving pair of parents. They were blessed with talented children in the arts, in the mind, and even in the heart. 

When the new season arrives for daughters to find husbands, mothers are already preparing their own children for the Bridgerton daughters arrivals. Daphne was the diamond of the season, she was almost engaged to a prince, and she is now a duchess. Eloise consistently gained the attention of each suitor on the floor, and Francesca was named the ‘Sparkler’ of the season for her intelligently beautiful compositions on the piano, which everyone knew the meaning of. The Bridgertons were a family that could not be out-charmed.

That wasn’t the only reason that society was jealous of the Bridgertons, they were jealous because the family seemed to love each other so dearly. Whenever they were seen out in the gardens, at the lakes, at balls, they were all laughing with one another, dancing even. Not many families can reflect such a powerful bond, that is why everyone is jealous of the Bridgertons, because they have each other.

It was an early afternoon where the birds were chirping, the sun was shining warmly through the windows, and everyone was ready for the day. The family were all in their day clothes, already having eaten breakfast and practiced any compositions, writings, and or drawings they wanted to complete that day. Due to that, the Bridgerton home was lively and bustling with laughter as it typically was in the day. 

Gregory and Hyacinth were up to their usual troubles, swiping sweets from their siblings plates, discussing future plans that were way too far out for them to worry about, and playing games that they couldn’t understand how they were losing to each other.

Anthony was teasing Colin for his activities at the prior party quietly, away from their mothers sharp ears across the room. Though they hid their whispers and scolding, anyone could see how Anthony gently hit Colin in the back of the neck before shaking him by his shoulder with a gracious smile.

Francesca was practicing one of her pieces, creating a peaceful background to the activities at hand. This was also known as her not wanting to involve herself in the activities of her siblings, which everyone was quite fine with. Kate was enjoying the music as she sat on the bench with Francesca, enjoying her cup of tea as she listened to the melodies. 

Two others who weren’t invested in what was happening with the rest of the house were Eloise and Benedict, who constantly looked as if they were planning something. Eloise would point to something in her book and Benedict would chuckle, rolling his eyes as he looked away. The brown haired girl would close her book and smack her brother in the shoulder with her hand and he simply laughed harder. No one knew what they were talking about, but everyone knew that it was just how they were.

Watching all of the Bridgerton children happily tending to themselves within the same room, within the comfort of each other brought a smile to someone's face. That someone was Violet Bridgerton, the mother of each and every one of those beautiful children. She had her hands rested on her lap, her eyes shifted from the couch across her where Benedict and Eloise sat to the piano where Francesa and her daughter in law Kate didn’t speak, but enjoyed each other's company. She watched her youngest children run across the room, almost knocking into their older brothers who stopped their conversation to grab hold of them and join in on the excitement. 

Violet Bridgerton loved her family, and they all loved her dearly as well. That’s why they fit together, that’s why they always worked.

It wasn’t unusual for the Bridgerton home to receive visitors, so when the footman walked in no one paid him much mind. The only person who turned their head was Violet, as she had been the one to pay more mind ever since Daphne's first season.

The footman stood tall as he entered, hands at his sides, the door now open. “My lady,” He greeted, not looking anywhere in particular, “a noble has arrived to call upon you.”

The Bridgertons focus was now set to the footman before they all looked at one another, more specifically they all looked at Eloise, the girl who has yet to find a husband. 

The brown haired girl looked around for a moment before turning to look at the footman, “Me?” She asked hesitantly, grabbing hold of Benedict to hide herself from whoever may have walked through the door. The brother, in response, shoved her from him with a teasing smile, causing the girl to only pull him even more to shield herself.

The footman didn’t look at Eloise when she spoke, he looked at Violet for a moment before speaking. “For the Viscountess Violet Bridgerton.” He announced slowly, no clear expression on his face.

The Bridgerton children all went back to their typical tasks, a little quiet since they had a visitor, but they did not mind the visitor at all. It could’ve been anyone, Lady Danbury, any of the neighbors, or simply her friends. It didn’t necessarily concern the children, so they continued with their afternoon.

Violet clapped her hands and stood with a smile, “Please, send them in!” She spoke happily, walking from the couch to the center of the room to be able to greet the visitor.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t a known person on a personal level who had walked into the Bridgerton drawing room, it was someone Violet had only ever spoken to for a few moments at balls or other parties. 

You were a noble who was well known within society for your estates, businesses, your family lineage, and overall your general charm. There were no rumors about you, but there were also no praises within Lady Whistledown nor from the queen, you were simply a sharp noble who kept up with expectations.

Though it was a bit surprising, Violet still greeted you with a gentle smile and sparkle in her eyes. “How unexpected!” She announced, causing her children to turn their heads to the door where you stood with a soft expression. “It’s wonderful to see you, Noble.” She spoke as she curtseyed, greeting you.

Her children all followed suit with a collective, “Good day”, all bowing and/or curtseying to greet you.

You walked in a little further, facing Violet as you bowed, “Good day, Viscountess Bridgerton.” You spoke softly, soon turning to face the others before greeting them as well, “Good day, Lord and Lady Bridgertons.”

After greetings ceased, Violet tilted her head a bit, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She asked, gently turning her body as she awaited your response. 

You finally remembered that you hadn’t expressed why you had found yourself at the Bridgerton home, you bowed once more as a sign of apology, “Dearest Viscountess-” You began to speak, but Violet soon filled the room with her laughter, waving your words off politely, “Oh, please, call me Violet.” 

You nodded, taking a bit of a deep breath. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as all of the Bridgerton eyes were on you, something you should have expected, but you did not account for. “Dearest Violet, I’ve come to inquire if…” You trailed off, seeing if you could find the right words to let this visit go smoothly.

“If?” She asked expectantly, shoulders raised high, polite smile still gracing her face.

She was met with no answer for a moment before you let out a shuddered breath and stood tall, your eyes only meeting hers. “If I might seek your favor in courting you.” You finally spat out, your voice stronger than you expected, but as long as you didn’t stutter, you didn’t mind.

The room filled with silence. Francesca abruptly stopped playing, the children all stopped their giggles to stare at the doorway, any conversation was paused at the sudden announcement.

Anthony walked to stand next to his mother, getting a good look at you, “Court?” He asked, brows furrowed in a bit of confusion. 

Kate quickly stood from the piano and walked to Anthony, grasping his arm gently, “Anthony, I implore you.” She mumbled into her husband's ear before turning to smile at you, “I apologize.” She spoke on his behalf, trying to stay as polite as possible.

You bowed gently to her, “There is no need for that Viscountess Bridgerton, I do understand why he would ask.” You assured her, standing straight as you made eye contact with the man of the house who you had yet to answer. “To answer your concerns, Viscount Bridgerton, indeed. I wish to court the Lady Violet.” You spoke, turning to the subject of the matter, the subject who held a shocked expression on her face.

Violet couldn’t even respond, she could feel her face warming but she was unsure if that was because she was flustered at the sudden position she was in, or if she was flattered. Before she could open her mouth to speak, someone else weaved their way into the conversation.

“You’re asking her?” Gregory asked from the side of the room, voice filled with confusion as he stood next to his sister. 

The room seemed to murmur with agreement, typically if you were courting a dowager, you would go through the eldest son to ask for permission. Anthony seemed just as confused as Violet, so it seemed you didn’t ask him.

You let out a nervous laugh as you finally noticed all the eyes boring into your figure, all you could do was stand awkwardly as you tried to think of an answer for your choices.

Violet noticed your sudden pulse of anxiety and clapped her hands, “Children, could give the noble and me a moment, please?”

Anthony began to shake his head, “Mother-” 

Kate gently tugged at Anthony, “Of course.” She spoke quietly with a nod, looking at Anthony sharply as she led him out the room.

Gregory and Hyacinch were ushered out by Colin who followed behind, Francesca stood from the piano quickly and quietly to walk out the door. Eloise stood with a slightly impressed expression and Benedict did the same, holding out his arm to her to which she took, the two walking out, turning their heads ever so slightly to observe you a bit more.

Soon enough, you and Violet Bridgerton were alone in the drawing room, sure that all of the children were listening at the door. You didn’t mind, you just couldn’t handle all of their eyes on you at once.

Violet laughed a bit, turning to sit on the couch, “I beg your pardon for my children’s behavior, we are all deeply involved in each other's lives.” She spoke softly, turning her head to see you standing in the same place stiffly. “Please, come sit.” 

You nodded with a tense smile, walking to the couch and sitting a respectable amount away from her, turning to face her. “They’re remarkably kind to be as protective as they are.” You responded to her, thinking about how even the youngest was concerned for the break in societal norms.

“I love them dearly.” Violet stated a bit awkwardly, placing her hands in her lap as she looked down at them. “Um, I do not wish to be impertinent, but why are you asking me, initially?” She asked you, looking over at you hesitantly, a bit scared to look at you fully.

You paused for a moment to gather your words before you adjusted your clothing, “I wanted to inquire directly, as I was unsure of your interest.” 

“In you?”

“In a caller who holds interest for you.” You specified, taking a deep breath. “I would never want to place you in a situation where I inquired of another if you were comfortable with someone courting you.” 

Violet hummed, her eyes crinkling as the corners of her lips gently upturned, “So, you sought to ensure that I was… ready?” She tried to confirm, licking her lips slightly.

“If you are not, I completely understand.” You responded, your body relaxing slightly now that you were comfortable in the conversations. 

The woman in front of you thought for a moment, “I shall be honest, this is all so-” Her words were interrupted when the doors broke open, shocking the both of you. Violet let out a small surprised gasp and you clutched the side of the couch in shock of the sudden interruption.

Hyacinth rushed in, looking around before locking onto her mother, “Mama! The noble brought gifts!” She announced, looking behind her and running when Benedict came to collect her. 

“Hyacinth!” Benedict spoke through gritted teeth before giving you both a sweet smile, turning to grab his little sister.

Due to the interruption, everyone filed back in, as did carts and carts of presents for the Bridgerton family.

Violet stared, wide eyed, at the collection of different items, some of which she had never seen sell in their town. “This is too much!” She spoke, standing, hand over her chest as she watched more gifts appear. 

You stood as well, dancing on your heels slightly, “Having developed an interest in you and your family over these past few years, it only felt appropriate to present gifts.” You expressed, looking to make sure everything was there.

“You neglected to mention that you brought gifts.” The woman told you, an unexplained feeling being expressed on her.

“I will be honest,” You began, chewing the inside of your cheek, “your family is beautiful as well as intimidating.” You breathed out a chuckle, looking to the floor before looking over at Violet, “I did slightly forget.”

The woman couldn’t hold back her laughter at your words as she placed a hand on your shoulder, “This is all so beautiful.” She told you, watching as the children all went to separate carts before she herself walked forward to one filled with flowers. “These are gorgeous.” She told you, hand gently running over the petals of them.

“I did not know which were your favorite.”

She turned to you, “Hyacinths are my favorite.” 

“I shall note that.” You told her gently, standing back as they all admired the presents.

Eloise stumbled upon a cart filled with books, strange material dawning the bindings, “I’ve never laid eyes on such books before.” She commented, mostly to herself. 

You overheard her musings to herself and spoke up, “They are from my expeditions. Journals penned by philosophers and doctors I have encountered.”

She spun to face you, “Oh, how delightful. More men regurgitating the same ideas they’ve echoed for ages.” She spoke sarcastically, sighing as she returned her attention back to the books.

You nodded a bit at her blunt response, “Most of the writings are by women from different cultures.” You responded, walking over to where Benedict was eyeing another set of gifts.

Eloise watched you walk off and tilted her head thoughtfully, “Oh.”

Benedict lifted a polished wooden box, opening it to reveal a spectrum of vibrant paints within it. “These paints…” He began, marveling at the richness, his gaze shifting to the other boxes, a few engraved with his name, “They’re extraordinary!” He complimented with a smile, examining all the different shades and colors. 

Hearing footsteps approaching him, he assumed it was a sibling and turned to tell them about the paint sets with enthusiasm, but it was you. You grinned at him and asked, “Do you enjoy them?”

Surprised, Benedict responded with, “How did you know I like to paint?”

“I’ve seen your pieces.” You responded simply, not elaborating further.

Benedict scoffed within his laughter, “Where on earth-”

“I cannot divulge that information, unfortunately, I do hope you like them.” You interrupted gently, walking over to the others, leaving the conversation to hang.

This is the way that most of the conversation went, from the sweet treats for the children, the jewelry for the women, the saddles for the men. When you reached Francesca, on the other hand, she wasn’t drawn to any of the items necessarily.

You stood next to her, “Do none of these catch your eye?” You asked, gaze fixed forward rather than towards her.

The girl looked over at you briefly before returning forward, “Everything is lovely,” she replied in a soft voice. 

“None of them catch your eye?” You repeated, your tone calm, almost peaceful.

Francesca shook her head, “They do not.”

Acknowledging her response, you nodded. Leaning forward to one of the carts, you picked up a rather thick box and handed it to Francesca. 

“I do not paint.” She informed you, anticipating what was inside of the wooden boxes due to Benedict's reaction.

Leaning closer to her you whispered, “They are not paints,” before walking back over to Violet who was still looking over everything, unsure of how you were able to get so many items into her home in a short period of time.

When you walked away, Francesca sighed and settled at the piano bench, opening the box you had given her. She was surprised at the sight, they were indeed not paints. A smile broke out onto the girl's face as she eagerly scrambled through the wooden box. It was paper, they weren’t blank sheets, but they were intricate piano compositions. They hailed for composes she had never heard before, but they seemed just her pace, she couldn’t wait to try it out.

Once you finally reached Violet again, the woman seemed calmer than her originally nervous stature. She met your eyes and thanked you over and over again for the gifts, she spoke about how happy her children looked, she spoke about all the beautiful things you brought.

You looked at her with a gentle light in your eyes, not speaking over her, simply listening. When she finished her thankful rambles she awaited you to speak but you gently took her hands and kissed them, almost feather-light. 

Your eyes flicked up to her and stayed in her gaze as your head lifted to its original position, “Please, do think about it.” 

That was the final thing you said to Violet Bridgerton before you took your leave, removing yourself from the Bridgerton home, your mark being made on the family.

The Bridgerton home was now filled with conversation about the almost mysterious noble who filled their drawing room with gifts, and basically asked for their mothers hand. The only topic of conversation at dinner was everyone expressing the presents they had been given, their reviews, how interesting they all were, and more. The only person eating in silence was Violet herself.

After dinner Violet found herself in front of her mirror, brushing her hair quietly as she prepared herself for bed.  A knock sounded at her bedroom door gently, almost too quietly. She rose from her seat in front of her mirror and opened the door, greeted by the face of her eldest son, Anthony, who appeared troubled..

“Anthony, darling, is something the matter?”

Anthony had a deep frown on his face when she asked such a question, “I should be asking you that.” He told her, silently seeking permission to enter the room. 

Violet opened the door wider and walked into her room, sitting on her bed as Anthony closed the room door quietly, opting to stand rather than sit. 

His mother hummed quietly, “Something seems to be wrong.”

The eldest son huffed as he looked at his mother intently, “How do you feel about this?”

She blinked, slightly taken aback, “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean,” Anthony began, sitting next to her, “the noble asked to court you.” He reminded her, looking at her a bit confused on how she would have forgotten. “It doesn’t matter how they’ve charmed the family, they’ve asked to court you, personally.” He told Violet, crossing his arms slightly, “How are you feeling about that?”

Violet turned her gaze to the wall in front of her, contemplating. She had thought the initial shock had settled when you had left, but it was evident that it was still there. She gently placed her hand over her heart as she took a deep breath, “I find it quite flattering, unexpected, but flattering.” She whispered, avoiding her son's gaze.

“But, are you going to accept their request to court you?”

There was a pause as Violet pondered deeply, “I do not know.” She admitted honestly, shaking her head as she imagined the possibility, “I do not know if I can.”

Anthony sighed, gathering his thoughts. “What do you mean, if you can?”

Violet shook her head again, her hand still pressed against her chest, it suddenly felt painful to breathe. “I do not believe I am allowed to.”

“Allowed?”

“Am I able to just…” She took a breath, tears welling up unexpectedly. “Am I able to just move on like that, so easily?” She asked, her vision fogging as a sob quietly choked out. “Would Edmund ever forgive me?” She covered her mouth with one of her hands to stifle any further cries but it proved ineffective.

Anthony had witnessed his mothers vulnerable moments and it had always been difficult. After his father's passing, he had assumed the role of head of the household, yet he had never seen his mother so distraught.  She was giving birth to his youngest sister, and she was devastated at the mere idea of his father not being there. Anthony froze in the moment, he didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know how to be there for his mother…and he realized that now, he still didn’t.

Seeing her cry over the guilt of moving on from her first love, questioning if she deserved to be loved by someone new, shattered Anthony's heart into pieces. He slowly wrapped an arm around his mothers crying figure, letting her lean into him as she wept. He smoothed her hair with one of his hands, cheek to the crown of her head as he slowly rocked them both. 

She had every right to feel this way, he just never expected it to hit her all at once. It must’ve been overwhelming, so Anthony just held her quietly, smoothing her hair until her cries quieted down to small hiccups.

“Mama,” He whispered to the woman, waiting for her to respond.

She hummed to let him know she was listening, but she couldn’t find the strength to say anything more in that moment.

Anthony nodded, still holding her close, “I think father would just…” he tried to speak but the words caught in his throat as he thought about his father. 

He remembered how kind his father was, how he wanted nothing but the best for all of their family, how he was never a man to raise his voice. Anthony considered a world where he could speak to his father one more time, where he could ask one last question. He wouldn’t ask if he missed them, if he wanted to be with them, because Anthony knew he would want to. He would ask if his father would truly forgive his mother, and after a moment of contemplating the idea, Anthony believed he knew the answer.

“I think father wouldn’t forgive you.” He suddenly declared, feeling his mother shift her head to look up at him. He knew she would try to speak, but he stopped her with a gentle hand, “I think he wouldn’t forgive you, because there’s nothing to forgive.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, her voice trembling.

Anthony blinked back his own growing tears as he spoke about his father, it was always hard, it would never become easier. “Father always wished for us to be happy, to live, to love, to enjoy ourselves…” He trailed off, trying to find the courage to continue.

“He did always want us to enjoy ourselves, what does that have t-”

“I believe father would want you to remarry if you were ready to love again.” Anthony interrupted, his words were rushed and emotional. It almost seemed as if he struggled to get the sentence out, as if it were hard for the reality of the situation to be accepted.

Violet blinked at Anthony, taken aback “Pardon?”

“Father would want you to live happily; he always wished for it.” He spoke, looking at the floor as he cradled his mother, “I believe…no…” Anthony interrupted his own thoughts, “I know he would want us to remember him fondly, but he would never want to be the reason we hold ourselves off from moving on.”

“Anthony, I am happy with all of you…”

“If you truly had no intention of accepting, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Anthony stated firmly, pulling back from his mother to look her in her eyes. “If you really weren’t considering it, you would have declined the noble’s offer.” 

The words rang in the air for a moment and Violet found herself unable to respond. She couldn’t articulate her thoughts because Anthony was right, she wouldn’t be agonizing over Edmund if a part of her didn’t yearn to accept the courtship.

Seeing as his mother wasn’t ready to reply, Anthony gently withdrew himself from her embrace, “Think about it a bit more, Mother.” He urged gently, walking to the door, “Goodnight.” He bid her, closing the door behind him and leaving Violet Bridgerton alone in her bedroom.

The only thing the woman could think of as she laid her head on the pillow were her son's words, “I think he wouldn’t forgive you, because there’s nothing to forgive.”

A week later, and there had been no sign of you. Violet seemed quieter than usual, but the children didn’t necessarily comment on it, neither did Anthony as he had seen how conflicted his mother was.

In the drawing room, only Violet sat, she would sit alone for a few more moments, even after her family had left. No one questioned her sudden solitude or asked if she wished to join them, they knew she would in due time

Lost in thought, Violet was absently playing with her fingers. She gazed at the windows where she could see people walking the streets, the sun shining on them heavenly. After a while, she stood and brushed herself off with a soft smile, making her way to the door to rejoin her family.

She would’ve continued had the footman not arrived at the door, hands at his sides when he entered. “My lady, you have a caller.” He announced, awaiting her response.

Violet straightened, her eyes widening briefly before she composed herself, “Yes, of course.” She mumbled slightly. “Please, send them in.” She told him quietly, standing in front of the entrance. 

You entered with a warm smile on your face, holding a bouquet of the most exquisite flowers Violet had ever seen. 

Violet curtsied graciously, “Good day, Noble.” She greeted, looking up nervously, her demeanor resembling a debutante in her first season.

You bowed in return, “Good day, Viscountess Bridgerton.” You replied, standing tall as you approached her, gently presenting the bouquet. 

“My favorites…” Violet whispered, observing the Hyacinths with lightly sparkling eyes.

“I took note.” You responded quietly, admiring her reaction.

Violet lightly laughed in response, turning to arrange the flowers in a vase. “Um, do you have time for lunch?” She asked somewhat hastily, attempting to be welcoming, but she was overall fairly nervous.

You shook your head regretfully, “Unfortunately not, I’ve come to bring you a gift and thank you for accepting my invitation.”

“Oh, well, you’re welcome.” She spoke a bit solemnly.

You stepped closer, gently taking her hands in yours. “I have business this morning, but I would like to return tomorrow. Perhaps we could take a walk in the afternoon, if you would enjoy that?”

The woman gently nodded, a stray curl from her pinned up hair gently escaping, “I would enjoy that…” She responded, her voice falling off as you tucked the curl back into place.

“I shall look forward to it then.” You said, bowing gracefully before making your way out of the Bridgerton estate.

Once you were gone, Violet couldn’t help but gently smell the flowers you had gotten for her. You were quite thoughtful and she recognized that early on, but the flowers only reinforced the sentiment.

The brown haired woman smiled to herself, “Maybe this really will be good for me.” She whispered, walking out of the drawing room to join her family.

The beautiful hyacinths rested on the ledge amidst the family portraits, appearing as though the space there was meant for them all along. As though they belonged there.

[anastasiareadsnwrites]

Navigation: Below are a sorted of names that you will be able to choose from and links ( Ex. Part 1 but underlined) beside them will take you to stories that are already written. IF you do not see someone that you want to request please still request it and I'll add the name to the Masterlist.

Authors Note: You request and I'll write it up for you. If you do NOT like how I written or there was details missing. Just DM and I'll solve it by either editing the current story or by writing a whole new one. My requests are OPEN♡ = NSFW content

The MAIN Masterlist

Violet Bridgerton

Good Old Fashioned Lover girl (Violet Bridgerton x Fem! Reader): Part I, Part II, Part III

Anthony Bridgerton

Baby Hotline (Anthony Bridgerton x Fem! Reader): Part I

No one does it like Ant (Anthony Bridgerton x Male! Reader): Part I, Part II

Be Wherever You Are (Anthony Bridgerton x Male! Reader)♡

Every Breath You Take (Anthony Bridgerton x Fem! Reader)♡

Call Me(Anthony Bridgerton x Male! Reader)♡

Benedict Bridgerton

Only way is up (Benedict Bridgerton x Fem! Reader): Part 1

I Put A Spell On You (Benedict Bridgerton x Fem! Reader)♡

Daphne Bridgerton/Basset

Colin Bridgerton

Eloise Bridgerton

Maneater (Eloise Bridgerton x Male! reader)♡

Portia Featherington

Fancy Cherries (Portia Featherington x Fem! Reader): Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV♡

Hey pretty, Mama (Portia Featherington x Fem! Reader): Part I, Part II, Part III♡

♡At Last♡ (Portia Featherington x Fem! Reader): Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV

Penelope Featherington/Bridgerton

Phillipa Featherington/Finch

Prudence Featherington/Dankworth

Agatha Danbury

Cressida Cowper

Mary Sharma

Kate Sharma/Bridgerton

Edwina Sharma

More to be added

[lifesizehysteria]

Counting Freckles | A Violet Bridgerton Fic

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV) Rating: M Pairing: Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader Summary: No plot, just freckles and sex. An ode to Violet Bridgerton's freckles. Notes: First attempt at this POV. We can all thank @cptn-nash and @sleepyfireball for convincing me to give it a try. Also another thank you to @shmaptainwrites for permission to steal her formatting style because I fell in love with her visuals. 💜 AO3

When Violet Bridgerton took up residence in the estate next to yours, her two youngest children in tow, you had no idea what to expect, but you had been hopeful, at least, for a friendly neighbor with whom you shared some commonalities. It wasn’t often one came across another young dowager widow, after all. She was reserved but friendly, waving whenever she passed by, and her children were well-mannered, if rather lively. You had no idea that a chance meeting out in the garden on a particularly sunny spring day, when you invited her in for some lemonade, would forever change the course of your life, and your heart. 

What began as an easy friendship quickly turned into a passionate affair that took you both by surprise, but your mutual attraction was undeniable and refused to be ignored. At first you were quite discreet. Careful to never be caught, always locking doors, never spending the night, stifling moans with hands and pillows and mouths so as not to be overheard. Eventually, though, once Violet’s youngest children flew the nest and you found yourselves alone aside from the servants, both of your patience for playing pretend wore thin. Your houses were modest, minimally staffed, and rarely frequented by any of your adult children. There was little risk by then, and what risk remained was worth the comfort of waking up every morning with the one you loved. Who was really paying attention to a couple of old widows, anyway?

You woke to the misty blue light of a cloudy early morning, and the sound of rain pattering against the window. Turning onto your side, you could see Violet asleep on her stomach, her long hair sprawled, wild across her pillow and over her neck. Its rich brown was streaked with silver like veins of sparkling moonlight. She would have hated you for thinking it, but you would swear there was more gray in it every day, which you did not mind because it just added to her beauty. Smiling, you brushed it away from her back, twisting a lock between your fingers as you did so, revealing the freckles smattering the skin across her shoulders. You had them memorized by now, the way they were sprinkled down her back, over her chest and arms and face, like stars scattered across the night sky. You would never understand how anyone thought them an imperfection.

Her breathing was still deep and steady, so you ran your finger featherlight along a trail of them next to her spine. When you reached the neckline of her nightdress, unable to follow them down below, you dragged your finger back up, connecting freckles like constellations. She began to stir, her shoulder twitching as your fingernail traced along its top. Sleep continued to hold her, so you began to follow your finger with your lips, placing slow, delicate kisses along as much bare skin as you could find.

The warmth of your breath washed over Violet until it made her shiver. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep, but her body was rousing quickly, each kiss from your lips drawing more tension into her muscles. A sleepy moan rumbled in her throat while she aimlessly sought out something, any part of you to touch. After several unsuccessful pats that landed on the blanket bundled between you, she found your waist. Gripping it, she used your body to help roll onto her back so you hovered over her, taking away all of those delicious freckles as she did so.

Her face was relaxed, her blue eyes half closed as she gazed up at you through her lashes. The flush in her cheeks matched the pink of her pouting lips, the sight of her irresistible. You brought your hand to her face, sweeping hair away from her forehead to reveal more freckles there. You traced your fingertips down her temple toward her cheek, and she turned her face into your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. You bit your lower lip as you smiled down at her, marveling at how, after so many mornings together, she could still take your breath away. 

Violet inhaled deeply, arching her back to stretch the sleep from her spine, drawing your eye to the white cotton of her nightdress pulling tight across her chest. A current of arousal spread its way through your body and you had to swallow the pool that had formed in your mouth. 

“You are awake early, my love,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep. 

You nodded your head, unable to clear the fogginess that had begun to settle. “I think it was the rain that woke me.”

Her eyebrows lifted, her face perking up. “Is it raining?” she asked, tilting her head to listen. Once it registered, she closed her eyes for a moment to take in the sound. “Do you not just love the sound of rain?” The serene smile that pulled across her mouth was too much for you to resist any longer. 

“Among other things…” you muttered with a devilish smirk before dipping your head to kiss her.

She gasped against your mouth, her grip on your waist tightening. After her surprise waned, her lips fell into your rhythm—slow, almost leisurely. This was not a morning for frenzied passion, but for tender lovemaking. You had awoken beside an angel and you intended to take her to heaven. 

A hazy desire built around you, swirling in both your bellies, your hearts beating gently like the rain against glass. You traipsed your fingers down her neck and around to cradle her head. Burying them in her hair, you encouraged her head to tip back, exposing her neck so you could drag your lips down its length. You dipped your tongue into the hollow at the base, the wet heat making Violet’s breath hitch as she pulled you closer.

You nipped at her collarbone before devouring your way down her chest, delighted to have found more of your favorite freckles. Violet let out a lilting laugh when you grunted upon reaching the fabric of her nightdress, only to start tugging at it unsuccessfully with your free hand. 

“Let me,” she said, maneuvering herself so she could help. Mischief shone in her eyes as she locked your gaze in hers, enjoying the frustration on your face as she slipped the sleeves off of her shoulders, then slowly slid her arms out through the wide neckline. 

You did not realize your mouth hung open, staring while she pushed both the dress and blanket down below her breasts to her navel, until her warm fingers brushed along your jawline. “You stare as though you have not seen them hundreds of times before,” she laughed again. 

“I stare because they are perfect. The eighth wonder of the world.”

“You mock me,” she playfully accused, running her thumb along the edge of your lower lip. Of course, she knew better, but how she loved when you worshiped her. 

“I have never meant anything more,” you promised in a throaty whisper. You pulled the tip of her thumb into your mouth, sucking gently. At the same time, your free hand slid up and over her belly and ribs to cup one of her breasts. The weight of it was blissfully familiar, the freckle-dusted flesh spilling over your hand slightly while her nipple tightened against your palm. You took it between your fingers, rolling and pinching until her eyebrows drew together, her lip clenched between her teeth. The two sensations at the same time threatened to overcome her. Desire seared through her body, making her whimper when the muscles between her legs tightened against the ever persistent pulse beating there. 

With a kiss, you released her thumb, which left a cool wet trail along your chin and neck as she dragged her fingers down to the base of your throat, fingernails lightly scraping your skin. Kissing her lips once more, you then marked a path with kisses, growing more open-mouthed, down her neck, over the freckles on her chest, and down the pillowy, stretch-lined flesh of her other breast. You let your breath rush over her nipple before taking it into your mouth, sucking and nipping, rolling your tongue over it in unison with your fingers on the other. Her hand pushed around to the back of your neck, her fingers plunging into your loosely braided hair and urging you closer.

It wasn’t long before Violet began to squirm. She pressed one hand against the headboard, arching her back and driving her hips down into the mattress. You knew her and her body fluently, and while you could have stayed right there forever, you recognized the quiet desperation for more. With one more tender kiss, you sat up on your knees, slipping her nightdress down the rest of her body, slowly revealing her deliciously soft belly. Your hands skimmed down her sides and over the flare of her hips, the fabric bunching around them until she lifted them away from the mattress. You shimmied the garment further down, grazing the sensitive skin of her thighs as you tugged it off. For a moment, you sat admiring her. It didn’t matter how many times you saw her body in the flesh, nor the number of ways time had managed to carve itself into new details. Every time, you found yourself in awe. Your fingers brushed along her stomach. There were freckles here, too. Dark against the palest parts of her, they were larger and spread apart, but just as beautiful. You touched them as you went—beneath her breast, near her navel, atop her hip. You bit your lip as you admired them.  

“If you are going to continue to stare, you could at least afford me the same view.” She tugged at your nightdress. “Remove this. I want to see you.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Yes, my love.” You did as you were told, gathering the skirt in your hands and pulling it off over your head, tossing it to the floor beside hers. “Better?” you asked, sitting back, allowing her the view she so desired. Her eyes swept over your body, the intensity of the lust in her eyes making your breath catch.

“Perfect.” Pushing herself up onto her elbow, she slid her hand up the length of your arm and to your neck. She urged you closer, kissing you deeply, pouring her love directly into you. 

Her hand wandered, finding all the most sensitive spots she knew would drive you mad. She ghosted a finger along the edge of your ear, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Her fingernails grazed over your pulse point, then continued down over your chest. She brushed her thumb over your nipple, teasing it as it hardened until you moaned into her mouth. The sound made her laugh against your lips; how easily she could turn you into a whimpering puddle. Satisfied, her hand continued down and around to the small of your back, pressing your hips down as she laid back, pulling you along with her, your kiss unbroken. 

You drank in every taste of her, every breath, because there would never be enough to fill your desire for her. She delighted in the familiar weight of your body, and the warmth of your skin against hers as she got lost in your embrace. She was gasping between kisses, little whimpers catching in her throat at every touch. You reached down to the outside of her thigh, your fingers pressing firmly into her petal-soft skin as you bent her knee so it was up against your hip. When Violet felt you against the apex of her legs, a wave of pulsing heat burned through her body. She thrusted her hips forward, trying to make more contact, but it wasn’t enough.

“Touch me,” she panted, your lips just a breath apart. 

Desire pooled in the pit of your stomach. There was nothing else you wanted to do more. You shifted so that you were draped over only half of her, hooking your leg over hers and drawing it towards you so she was open for you. She watched, her eyes darkening as you slid two of your fingers into your mouth, thoroughly wetting them in order to assist with the inconsistency she had experienced in the year since her courses had stopped. When you pressed them down into her folds and found her already slicker than usual, a wicked grin curled your lips. 

“Oh my,” you muttered against her ear, making her skin tingle. “Someone is certainly ready this morning.”

Your name slipped from her lips, her voice shaking, “Please.”

“Is there enough?” you asked. 

“Yes.” She blinked quickly, then added, “I think so.” 

“Do you want it?”

“Yes.” She was breathless with want. 

You kissed her parted lips, then whispered against them, “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

She was nodding when you pulled back so you could see her face. You entered her gently, as you always did now, watching for any sign of discomfort. There was no resistance, and Violet let out a shuddering sigh, eyes closing as her head pushed back into the pillow. 

You worked her slowly, paying careful attention to everything—her face, the sounds she made, the ease with which your fingers moved inside her—diligent in ensuring every moment was one of pleasure. When you thought perhaps there was more friction than there should have been, you removed your fingers, causing Violet to whine in displeasure.

“It is only for a moment, sweetheart,” you assured her. She watched with bated breath as you took your fingers back into your mouth. The taste of her musky sweetness caused a tightening in your own core and your mouth to water, which aided in your effort. A quiet moan escaped as she watched you lick your lips. A louder moan followed when you pressed your fingers into her again. Her eyes rolled closed as you returned to your former pace, confident now that you would not hurt her. She clung to you, her fingers gripping your shoulders and your back, nails digging into your scalp, anywhere she could hold because you were the only thing anchoring her to Earth.

Sensing she was close but not quite able to make it over that edge, you pressed the heel of your hand against her most sensitive spot, eliciting a primal sound from deep in her chest while she rocked down to get more pressure. As her hips moved against your hand, you followed her pace, watching the tension build in her body until she could no longer hold on, finally crashing over the crest, straight into heaven.

You let her come down slowly, remaining inside her while her inner muscles grew still and her body relaxed into the mattress. The freckles on her chest and face now laid on a bed of pink and you couldn’t help but kiss a few of them. Violet’s eyes fluttered open and she placed her hand beneath your chin, drawing your face up to hers and kissing you with a satiated hum. 

“Come here,” she urged, touching your leg that was still wrapped around hers. You withdrew from inside her, taking her offered hand so you could reposition yourself over her, straddling her hips. You fingers laced with hers while you leaned on your other arm, hovering over her face. Violet captured your lips again, at the same time as her hand burned its way down the length of your body. She knew you well enough to know you would be so primed that delaying any longer would be torturous. But while you had taken her to heaven, she had decided to dance with the devil because instead of touching you where you so desperately needed, she grazed the backs of her fingernails from your navel to the edge of your curls. She continued, reaching between your bodies to take hold of the supple flesh of your inner thigh. It was one of her most favorite spots. She raked her fingers up, closer and closer while your muscles twitched beneath her fingers, and you sucked in a sharp breath between your teeth. 

“Violet,” you growled, dropping your head down to her shoulder when she cradled her hand against you, just close enough for you to sense it there, but not enough to feel it. 

“Oh, very well,” she chuckled, as if she were not holding your very sanity in her hand. She pressed her hand to your soaking curls, making you arch harder against her. Pulling three fingers through your dripping heat, she drew it up with her fingertips as they found the place that you ached for her to touch most. She moved her fingers in slow circles, each pass making your body jolt, forcing a shuddering sigh from your throat that spilled onto her shoulder over and over. 

She kissed the top of your shoulder, her lips and tongue mapping their way to your neck. Your body began to shake, your grip on her hand tightening. She quickened the pace of her circling, adding pressure until your body curled around her, caught in a vise of pleasure that radiated out to every nerve in your body. 

You collapsed down onto her, your breathing labored, your mind blank. She dislodged her arm from between you and wrapped it around your back, bringing your clasped hands to her lips to press kisses along the tops of your entwined fingers. 

Both of you were already spent and the sun had not even finished rising, so instead of facing the day and preparing yourselves for breakfast, you burrowed back underneath the blankets. Wrapped in each other's arms, you spent the morning counting freckles and tracing smile lines, laughing and dozing, surrounded by love and the gentle sound of rain. 

[multifandomfix]

Trick or treat! 🍬 I'd like Violet Bridgerton and "practice."

“I’m afraid I rather have two left feet,” you admitted.

“Oh, that’s nothing that can’t be remedied,” Lady Danbury said, though a mischievous glint twinkled in her eye. “Violet is a wonderful teacher. You should practice with her.”

Violet smiled, in easy agreement with Lady Danbury’s suggestion. She opened her arms to you, ready to teach you some steps.

You hoped the color that rose to your cheeks didn’t show, but you suspected that it didn’t have to, as Lady Danbury had already figured out that your affections were reserved for the Bridgerton matriarch and she had set you up entirely on purpose.

If you’d like to participate in my trick or treat event, please send a character + a word to my inbox and say trick or treat!

[lucid-heart]

Hi!

I read your Violet Bridgerton fic and I was just absolutely moved by your writing so I was shooting I could request a Violet x fem reader?

Absolutely no rush whatsoever that is if you do choose to accept this request ☺️

Premise:

Reader was daphne's best friend as a small child always running around the house causing mayhem in the Bridgerton household, everyone in the family absolutely adored reader . She was like sunshine in human form. Due to family circumstances she had to move away and lost contact much to the devastation of the family .

Years later she's moved back and is in search for a husband shocking all members of the Bridgerton household for she's bloomed into a beautiful young woman and yet the most shocked of all is Violet the matriarch of the family by the electricity she feels when they first meet again. It feels wrong to harbour such feelings and avoids her at every turn .

Reader thinking that Violet now detests her existence accepts a proposal and as soon as word spreads of the marriage Violet confronts reader and angst and smut ensues .

I hope that was descriptive enough , I didn't want to be too vague ☺️❤️

hello gentle reader, thank you so much for your request 🙏 it's certainly took me a LONG time to finish but here we are 👀 it's a little too long to post on Tumblr imo so here's the link, I hope you enjoy!!!

[idontevenknowwhatt]

MAIN MASTERLIST

My masterlist for everyone I write for currently, there will be more added later on. Feel free to request anything, I hope you all enjoy :))

Law and Order: SVU

Olivia Benson

Amanda Rollins

Criminal Minds

Emily Prentiss

JJ

Penelope Garcia

Greys Anatomy

Addison Montgomery

Callie Torres

Arizona Robbins

Bridgerton

Anthony Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton

Colin Bridgerton

Violet Bridgerton

Bridgerton Sister

Once Upon A Time

Regina Mills

Emma Swan

[muxshwriting]

blessed to be

Violet Bridgerton x maid!reader

summary: as her maid, you can't help but grow close to the Bridgerton matriarch || word count: 1293 || masterlist

REQUESTED: can you please make a Violet Bridgerton x maid fanfic?? I'm literally so hungry for some Violet fanfics.

Violet Bridgerton needed a new lady’s maid. Her previous maid was getting married and would be released from the household to start her own with her new husband. Therefore, Violet was in need of a new lady’s maid to aid her, leaving the troublesome task to her loyal housekeeper.

A week later, Mrs Wilson approached the drawing room with a woman following behind her. "This is your new lady’s maid Ma’am." She announced.

The woman behind her lowered her head and offered a small smile. Violet returned her smile, introducing herself and learning your name. "I'm sure you'll do splendidly in this household. Mrs Wilson will tend to your needs and show you your duties."

"Yes Ma'am." You hesitated as you turned to leave. "Thank you."

As you settled into your duty, you couldn't help but be grateful for your fortunate position. Yes, you were a maid but you were a maid to one of the wealthiest families in the ton, a family that had (at least) a basic respect for their staff and took care of them. Most importantly, Violet cared. The matriarch would ask your opinion on fabrics and hairstyles and jewellery before deciding.

"What about the emeralds with this dress for Eloise?" Violet softly asked, holding a blush coloured dress.

You scrunched your eyebrows in concentration, weighing up the combination. "Perhaps something less colourful for Eloise? Something like crystal or quartz, perhaps white sapphires. She doesn't wish to stand out by wearing something like emeralds." You suggest, hurriedly adding the honorific at the end, "Ma'am."

Violet thinks for a second before nodding handing the dress back to you to hang up, reaching for a diamond necklace to compare. "I quite agree. Eloise will appreciate your concern." She paused for a moment, "I appreciate your concern."

"Just helping however I can Ma'am."

It was a quiet day where Violet was sitting in the drawing room with her embroidery, and had requested you to join her. You never had time to learn the special embroidery stitches, learning the basics to sew patches into clothing and fix tears. Instead, you carried a few napkins that had sprouted holes, working on them as Violet embroidered.

"Why did you never marry?" Violet began the conversation. The two of you had discussed the topic before, but not the why.

You stuttered out a response. "Having a husband never appealed to me Ma'am. I'm very fortunate that I don't have to marry. I got to focus on my studies, teaching all the local children how to read and write and calculate simple sums. It's not a brilliant education but it's something that quite a few children never get to learn."

Violet smiled. "Perhaps you could finally persuade Hyacinth that her education is important then."

"Nothing will change Miss Hyacinth's mind once she has set it. I'm sure the Governess you employ will do a brilliant job with her education." You laughed slightly. "Besides, I couldn't leave you to-" You cut yourself off, suddenly embarrassed at what you're saying.

Violet isn't bothered. Without looking up from her stitching, she silently reached over a hand to hold yours. Both of you ceased your work, enjoying the silence and comfort of each other's company.

"You're very dear to me Y/N." Violet said quietly, also seeming embarrassed at her own words. "You mean a great deal to the family as well." She was stumbling for the right words to say, dancing around the main subject.

"I feel very fondly of you to Violet." The woman lightly gasped as you said her name gently. You spoke her name, not her title, not ma'am, not mistress. You had called her Violet. Her reaction had you second guessing everything you had ever done as you bundled your napkins into your arms and stood, pulling your hand from hers. "My apologies Ma'am. I shall be in the servant quarters." Your eyes were trained to the ground, inspecting the dust on your shoes. "If you need me for anything, I am simply a call away."

You had just broken one of the biggest class rules of society. Never ever address a person of higher standing by their name. You show respect, you use their title or honorifics, never their name alone and certainly not their first name. By doing so, you were equivocating yourself with her family or her lover.

And you were not either of those things. You couldn't possibly be.

You kept your distance from Violet thereafter, performed your duties perfectly. You never spoke out of turn, offered your opinion only when it was asked for and didn't add any more detail than your mistress required. Violet had an tinge of pity in her eyes whenever she looked at you now and it made your blood boil. You did not need her pity, why was she offering you pity?

In her own mind, Violet was scheming. You thought you were in trouble, that you had overstepped. But Violet wished you would overstep more. She did not mind that you used her name, it stirred a feeling inside of her she had never experienced before, certainly not with another woman. She wanted that feeling to return.

The glowing, pulsing warmth that came when you used her name, when she held your hand. The shivers that tumbled down her spine and sizzled into darkness and dread when you had pulled away. She didn't know what was happening to her, she had never considered anything like this before.

Violet Bridgerton was a mother, she cared for her children above her own needs and desires, right? She had done so for over a decade. But what was stopping her from pursuing her own desires? Anthony was married, there was new Viscountess to herd the Bridgerton debutantes through the marriage mart. Violet could relax, she could breath.

Most importantly, she could chase that consuming feeling she felt when she was with you.

Violet had cornered you in her bedchambers after getting dressed, asking to speak with for a moment. You kept your head down, terrified that you would lose what you had started to cherish, this family and her.

"I don't know how to say what I want to say correctly." She began.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the conversation led down a vastly different path than what you had thought.

"But I cannot remain silent." She continued, taking a deep breath and wringing her hands together. "There is a feeling, deep in my chest, whenever I am with you. It is like a string pulling me towards you and filling my heart with warmth and love and-"

"The feeling like you cannot breath when they are not near. The world seems to slow and mysteries make sense..." You trail off with uncertainty after interrupting her, trying to help her find the words.

"Do you feel it?" Violet had taken a step toward you, her hands hovering by her side, begging to reach out and hold yours.

Silently, you indulge her, reaching forward and taking her hands in yours. Instantly, it's like there is a weight that had been lifted. "This feeling is why I could never marry." You whisper to her, sharing your secret. "There has never been a man to make me feel this way."

Violet sighed. "It was different with Edmund. He was my everything, possessing my every thought and corrupting my mind. He was the air that we breathed, when he- When he died, I locked that feeling away, never wanting to be hurt that way again. I continued to live for the sake of my children, teaching them that love is worth all the pain it might bring."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You don't hurt me my dear." She confessed. "You heal me."

the request is finally here!!! I've got a few others in my inbox rn and I promise I'm getting to them. I just got back from a stunning cruise around the mediterranean so am just settling back into my work routine for the summer x

[tulipatheticee]

never grow up

violet bridgerton x youngest! daughter

bridgerton siblings x younger! sibling

pt1 dont need to read pt1 to read this but it'll give you background understanding

synopsis; Through scenes of Isadora's first moments—her siblings meeting her for the first time, her first word, first steps, and precious family outings—their unbreakable bond deepens. In the bustling life of Mayfair, Isadora remains Violet’s constant companion, offering comfort and unwavering support at her mother's side, embodying the enduring love that holds their family together.

word count; 1k

master list

a/n; thank you so much @kitkat27 for this idea, i had a lot of fun writing this!

once again, kinda proof read, kinda not

Your little hand's wrapped around my finger

And it's so quiet in the world tonight

Your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreamin'

So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light

In the dimly lit room of Bridgerton House, Violet held her newborn daughter for the first time. Isadora's tiny fingers curled around her mother's, and Violet felt an overwhelming rush of love and relief. Her heart ached with the absence of Edmund, but in Isadora's delicate features, she saw hope and a future.

The Bridgerton children quietly entered the room, their eyes wide with wonder as they approached their mother and the new addition to the family.

"She's so tiny," whispered Daphne, leaning in to get a closer look.

"Can I hold her?" asked Anthony, his voice soft yet protective.

Violet smiled, tears in her eyes. "Of course, Anthony. Just be gentle."

As Anthony cradled Isadora in his arms, the rest of the siblings gathered around, each taking a turn to hold their baby sister, their faces filled with awe and love.

To you, everything's funny, You got nothing to regret

I'd give all I have honey, If you could stay like that

At the age of 10 months, Isadora's first word filled the Bridgerton household with joy. Violet was in the drawing room, playing with Isadora on a plush rug, surrounded by her older siblings.

"Mama," Isadora said, her voice a soft, sweet sound that made Violet's heart soar.

"Oh, Isa! You said 'Mama'! You are so clever!" Violet exclaimed, gathering her daughter into her arms and peppering her face with kisses.

Eloise clapped her hands in delight. "Clearly she’s taking after me"

Colin laughed, ruffling Isadora's hair. "You think quite highly of yourself"

Oh, darlin', don't you ever grow up

Don't you ever grow up

Just stay this little

Isadora's first steps were a family affair. At one year old, she stood unsteadily in the middle of the nursery, her siblings forming a supportive circle around her. Violet knelt a few feet away, her arms open wide.

"Come to Mama, Isa," Violet encouraged, her voice filled with warmth.

With a determined look on her face, Isadora took a tentative step forward, then another, and another, until she tumbled into Violet's waiting arms.

"You did it, my darling!" Violet cheered, hugging Isadora tightly.

Hyacinth danced around them, her excitement palpable. "Isa walked! Isa walked!"

Oh, darlin', don't you ever grow up

Don't you ever grow up

It could stay this simple

When Isadora was three, the Bridgerton family prepared for an outing to the park. Violet, with Isadora’s small hand firmly clasped in hers, led the way. Isadora, at three years old, was a petite figure with wide, curious eyes that took in the world with a gentle wonder.

The Bridgerton children followed, a lively group that drew admiring glances from passersby. Each sibling had their own distinct personality, but they all shared a fierce protectiveness over their youngest sister.

“Look, Mama!” Hyacinth exclaimed, pointing to a beautiful flower bed bursting with vibrant blooms. “Aren’t they lovely?”

Violet smiled. “They are, indeed. Spring is such a wonderful time to be in the park.”

The children eagerly ran ahead to explore, their laughter echoing through the air. Isadora stayed close to Violet, her little hand never leaving her mother’s.

As they walked, Violet pointed out various sights to her youngest daughter. “See those tall trees, Isa? They’ve been here for many, many years.”

Isadora nodded, her eyes wide with interest. “They’re very tall, Mama.”

“They are,” Violet agreed. “Just like your brothers and sisters. But you’ll grow tall and strong too, my love.”

They reached a large, open grassy area where the older children had already begun a game. Isadora watched them with a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Would you like to play with them, Isa?” Violet asked, gently encouraging her.

Isadora hesitated, then shook her head. “I like being with you, Mama.”

Violet knelt down and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “And I like having you with me, my sweet girl. But it’s also fun to run and play with your brothers and sisters. Would you like to try? I’ll be right here.”

Isadora looked at her siblings, who were having so much fun, and finally nodded. “Okay, Mama.”

Violet called out to the others. “Gregory, Hyacinth, can you include Isadora in your game?”

Benedict, with his infectious energy, bounded over and scooped Isadora up, twirling her around. “Come on, Isa! Join us!”

Hyacinth joined in, her laughter ringing out. “We’ll be gentle, Isa. It’s lots of fun!”

I won't let nobody hurt you

Won't let no one break your heart

Isadora giggled as Gregory set her down, and soon she was running alongside her siblings, her earlier hesitation forgotten. She might not have been as quick or agile as the others, but their encouragement and patience made her feel included and loved.

Violet watched with a contented smile, her heart full as she saw Isadora’s face light up with joy. Despite the sorrow and challenges they had faced, moments like this reminded her of the strength and love that bound the Bridgerton family together.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the park, the family gathered their belongings and made their way back home. Isadora, tired from the day's excitement, was carried by Anthony, her head resting against his shoulder.

Violet walked beside them, her heart full. Despite the trials they had faced, days like this reminded her of the strength and love that bound them together. With Isadora’s quiet presence always near, Violet felt a sense of peace and gratitude that carried her through each day.

And no one will desert you

Just try to never grow up

At four, Isadora was ready for her first schooling lessons. Her mother with her to support her on this significant day. Violet, holding Isadora’s hand, walked her to the schoolroom where her governess awaited.

“You’ll do wonderfully, Isa,” Violet assured her, smoothing a stray curl.

Isadora looked up with wide eyes. “Will you stay with me, Mama?”

Violet smiled and knelt down to her level. “I’ll be right outside, my love. You’re going to learn so many exciting things.”

Gregory and Hyacinth peeked in, waving enthusiastically. “Good luck, Isa!” they chorused.

Never grow up

a/n pt2; GOD am i loving these isadora fic's so much, to those who sent requests just know they are all WIP right now and i will get them out for you as soon as i can! to those that havent sent a request, why not!!! my ask box is always always always open!, do you think i should make a post regarding rules when requesting?

[allthornsnopetals]

Fire on Fire E.Bridgerton

With this much desire, together we're winners They say were out of control, and some say we're sinners But don't let them ruin our beautiful rhythms

A/n: This was requested from an anon, long ago. Sorry for the wait.

Warning: Lady Violet x OC mother of reader (their gay, for each other), not proof-read

This is wrong, all of this is wrong!

Y/n's thoughts roar, her eyes glued to the ceiling, bare in the sheets of the woman she loves most: Eloise Bridgerton. Another day, another night. Her heart ached for her, her air being her, whom she should not have.

This is wrong!

Eloise had her heart long before she even knew it, before her first kiss with a noblemen's son, out of curiosity. It were as if, it were made for her, made for a woman and not a man. Y/n stiffs a sob, clasping a hand over her lips, as to not wake Eloise. This was wrong and she knew it. If she were to live like this, she would bring great shame to her family. But if she did not, her heart would be in great pain.

But she had made up her mind. She would wed and bring great pride to her dynasty.

"I am so sorry, Ellie." Said Y/n, trailing from her sheets, dressing herself and departing without a final goodbye or kiss to her beloved's head.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"Mama, did Y/n decide to have breakfast with her own family, this morning?" Eloise asks, entering the drawing room.

Violet draws her attention to her daughter, thinking and forgetting her tea. "No, my dear. She had left during the night. She seemed rather upset... Eloise, did you do something to upset miss Y/n?" Her eyes hardens with her lips drawn into a thin line, interrogating her daughter.

Eloise huffs exasperatedly, slumping on the couch opposite her. "No, mama, I have done nothing to upset her." She says, opening her book and beginning the first page with her mind occupied with her love, hoping she had not done anything to upset her.

Her mother, cocks a brow, skeptical like always, but letting her curiosity lay to rest. "It is to be calling hour in just a few moments, eat and do try. I want you to try." Violet ignores Eloise's groan of annoyance, returning to her tea and breakfast.

"If Y/n can stand calling hour, than so can you."

I already have someone to call on to, and it is not a Lord or noble.

Eloise thinks, allowing herself to smile, missing the scent of her better half. Once calling hour is over, she is to pay her a visit and perhaps visit the library and enjoy a picnic in the park. Her love is never bored of food or books, she is rather the eater and could never stop herself from indulging in what she fancies. Eloise had learned the hard way, many times.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"Miss Eloise, what brings you here at such a time?" Said Maria, Y/n's mother: Lady Clearwater.

Usually a footman answers the door or even Y/n, but something important must be taking place for the lady of the house to be answering her own door. Eloise tilts her head, her brows drawn in confusion. "Lady Clearwater, I am here to spend my afternoon with Miss Y/n. Is she in?" She asks, trying to peek through the rather small opening.

Maria cages the door to her body, closing any opportunity for her to peek. "I am afraid to inform you that, Y/n cannot join you at the moment. She is sitting with a Suitor, something that you are unfamiliar with." Her tone was bitter and sour, like always. But it was always sweet for her daughter, and not for Elosie, someone she loathes.

Eloise knew it but she did not care much, after all her daughter loves her and she loves her daughter. "But calling hour is but over, Lady Clearwater." Said Eloise, sounding confused and lost.

Why, would Y/n be sitting with Suitors. She never sits with them, never.

"Well, she had many calls today. Y/n is simply unable to join you, perhaps your plump friend, Miss Penelope can accompany you today. And not my daughter, whom I have informed you to stay clear from, many times before. Now, never darken my door step with your stubborn presence again." She slams the door in her face, leaving Eloise stunned and confused. Had she done something to upset her beloved, Y/n?

No, matter. She will unmask the true intentions, regardless of the events in front and ahead. She will make things right.

Or, so she thought.

Eloise has sent letter, after letter. In each letter, she wrote of apologies, love and the longing her heart yearns for with the absence of her Y/n. At this point she is breaking, missing the girl who smelt of raspberries and limes. Who saturated her days and nights. Her dreams, stained with her face, with her love.

What did I do wrong? Did I finally say something, I should have kept to myself?

Does she not love me?

Eloise wept into her hands, hunched over her desk, staining her gloves with tears.

"Eloise are you read-." Violet pauses at the door, gasping and gliding to her daughter's side. "My darling, girl, what is the matter?" She embraces her, guiding her out of her chair and to her bed.

Eloise shook her head, seeking comfort in her mother's chest. "It seems I have upset Y/n. She hasn't spoken to me since late last week." She hiccups, rendering her voice weak and frail. "I went to visit her during and after calling hour, but her mama, a terrible woman, refuses to let me see her." Violet's nose screws up at the thought of Y/n's mother, who was in fact a nasty woman and close friends with Lady Cowper—both nasty and cruel.

She rubs comforting circles on her back, trying to sooth her. "I miss her, mama. I want her near, not far. I want her as one needs air... I want her back." Eloise sniffles, suffocating in her mother's bosom.

"She will come back to you and do not worry about her horrid mother, I will settle her dismay." Violet reassures her.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/n danced with yet another Suitor, feeling rather sick of this and the stench of his man stink. He smelt unpleasant and musky, something she was not used to. She was used to the scent of lavender and tulips, which reminded her of Eloise, who watched on the side lines, itching for an opportunity to speak with her. Y/n noticed, so she dragged out the dance, making a show of false intentions, waiting for someone to steal Eloise away or waddle off in search of Penelope.

She did not want to see or speak to her. She wanted her to be less stubborn, leave her be and see what she is clearly doing.

"Lady Clearwater." Said Violet, watching Y/n dance while her daughter stood watching, clearly yearning for a moment with her. "Oh, Lady Bridgertion, how are you on this fine evening?" She returns her greetings with a ruse of a smile, offering her a slight bow.

"Good, but it seems my Eloise is having a rather poor time at the moment." She watches Lady Clearwater and her smirk, clearly caring very little. "Well, that is to be expected without a Suitor or company. Is she to be called on soon or-."

"Don't disrespect my daughter. You and your nasty comments can be kept to yourself and your nasty crony friends. You have no right to speak about my daughter behind her back or make her feel less then. She has every right to see her friend, for they have been glued to the hip before Edmund's passing." Violet takes a breather, pointing her finger in her face, making sure her voice is low enough for only them to hear.

"Your daughter has saved my Eloise. Saved her from herself, from her anger, from her distaste for society and especially her bad luck with her debut. And as for your daughter, you do not deserve her. You don't deserve her kindness or her intellect. She is my girl's sun and she is her moon. They will not part, simply because you do not-."

Maria grabs Violet, dragging her to an empty room, making sure they were not spotted or followed. She pushes her in, shutting the door behind her. "How dare you, pull me along without my con-."

"Be quiet, Violet!" Said Maria, hushing the other woman.

Maria breathes through her nose, calming herself. "Your daughter and my daughter are... They are..." She stutters, finding it difficult to manage the right words.

"They are what?" Violet says, clearly impatient, growing tired of her used to be a friend's antics.

"They are going through what we went through." Violet's brows knit together, trying to understand what Maria is implying. Maria huffs in annoyance, irritated by her slow brain. "Our daughters are seeing each other behind our backs, as we did before our husbands." Maria finally explains, waiting for Violet to finally understand.

Violet's mouth falls open with her eyes blown in understanding and shock. "They are romantically involved with each other?" Said Violet, pacing the room, consumed in thought and worry.

Maria taps her foot, impatient and irradiated. "You did not see it?" Maria cocks a brow, still so arrogant and short-tempered as she was when she were but a young lady without title. Violet glares at her, stocking towards her with hell in her eyes. "You did not inform me!" She points her finger accusingly to her.

Maria scoffs. "You did not speak to me after my marriage to Lord Clearwater. Please enlighten me with an explanation of how I was to inform you."

Violet deflates, recalling her past and her decision to ignore and vow to never speak to Maria again. "Right." Said Violet, backing away and fiddling with her fingers, embarrassed and feeling rather foolish.

"They gaze, only at each other... As if it were only them. My Y/n, seeks your Eloise, as if she were the moon and the stars." Maria chuckles faintly, staring at her feet with a small smile. "I am beginning to think, that queer traits are genetics." The ladies make eye-contact, acknowledging the other for the first time in many years.

Silence fell, like sheets cascading over a mattress. They both wet their lips, a shared trait of awkwardness and loss of words. It was as it should be for the ladies of separate dynasties. One found a love match after the shatter of her lover's heart, while the other found a political match, that had its romance in its own way.

They were both aware of the cracks, scars and bruises their love had left. The rumors, the dent their families received and the long lasting yearning for the company- the love, that only they found with each other.

"It was, rather painful, Mia. Having you marry another, while I watched... It left a mark, that not even Edmund could wipe away." Violet muttered, her lip beginning to quiver. "I had wished it were a bad dream or a mistake when I heard you were with child. I wanted to believe that you'll come back. Come back to me and tell me it were all but a cruel joke, a prank, perhaps a misunderstanding." Violet croaked, straying her gaze to the floor.

Maria cups her cheeks, wiping away her tears with the pads of her thumbs, shushing her. "I am truly sorry for the hell I dragged you through, but Vi you knew the cost, th-"

Violet silenced her with a kiss, dragging her close by the waist, wanting her to shut up and fill the void Maria had left. Maria pulls back enough for air. "Vi, what on earth are-." Violet backs them both into the wall, finding her lips again, and only parting to speak.

"We can't do this to our girls. What we had, left a wound on my heart. I don't have the strength to put my daughter through the exact pain I went through, and I am sure you can't do such a thing to your darling daughter, can you Mia?" Violet pants, gazing at her lips, silently begging her to reconsider her thoughts.

At the sight of her old love, her heart wallowed. How could she have let her slip through her fingers? How could her heart move so quickly and swiftly? Has it always been for her? She shook her head, pecking Violet on the lips, testing the waters, and feeling the sparks she had assumed belonged to another, calling for a show of fireworks and dazzling colors.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Maria took her daughter's arm, dragging her to the nearest exit. "Rest, stroll, take this time to breathe and enjoy the cool of the evening." She lures, ushering her to walk the gardens. "But mama, I am to fill my dance card, sir phi-."

Maria raised her head, hushing Y/n as she spots Violet prompting her daughter to do the same. "Nonsense, this night has been quite filling. Now go, enjoy some peace alone." She grinned, swatting at her to leave.

Y/n allowed her shoulders to relax, weakening her posture with a thankful smile. "Thank you mama, I will return before the night is to end." She props a kiss to her cheek before waddling off.

She strolls mindlessly, before coming to a stop at the lake side, observing it and its endless solitude. Her mind has been in shambles and glass, since her departure from the Bridgerton house. She missed her lady of lavender and tulips. She misses the way her skin felt against her own, the sound of her laugh, and the intricate works of her mind. She wanted her girl back. She wanted to be near her, that is, if it so weren't wrong.

She needed to clear her mind. Needed her heart to stop pulling, stop squeezing the life from her being when Eloise polluted her mind. She wanted everything to stop, to pause and give her peace.

Y/n coughed, using the pebble path as a place of rest, sitting and cradling her legs to her chest. She released a tired sob with her head deep in her knees.

Go, away Eloise! Leave my mind and let me rest!

But Eloise did not want to. Her steps quicken at the sight of Y/n, running to her, wanting to be near her. "Y/n, what is the matter?" She slid beside her, and without thought, pulled her into her arms.

Once she realized who it was, Y/n was pulling away, shoving Eloise away. "You are what is the matter. You cannot leave me be!" Said Y/n scooting away, and finding her feet.

Hurt crossed Eloise's face, feeling as if she was stabbed or shot by the one she loves. "I do not know of what you speak? Am I the matter? I do not understand... Have I done something to offend you, or hurt you?" Her usual confidence and stature has gone, stripped from her within just a moment.

At the sight of light losing its life in her sapphire eyes, Y/n's heart winched, with her throat running dry. She wanted to avoid this. Avoid the pain of ripping off the band aid, the prick of thread and needle, stitching a wound or the pour of alcohol on an open gash. It felt like lava, washing over her, like rain, drenching her and even drowning her. It gave something in her, something rather sore, perhaps raw.

"Do not speak to me Eloise. You are the problem." Y/n swallows dryly, walking backwards. "If we are seen here alone, we are to be dragged through the mud, the dirt, the very gutters of lower London!" She inhaled harshly, glaring pained daggers at the woman she loves, and pausing in her steps.

"They speak and you ignore their whispers... Their nasty comments. Do you know of the tons thoughts. How they believe us as sinners. Women bedding the devil!" She exclaims, fiddling with her gloves.

Eloise rolls her eyes, amusing herself with an empty laugh. "I do not care for what the ton has to say. These men and women are just-."

"But I do! I care!" She drives forward, pointing her finger at Eloise. "But you do not! You skip around with your skirts above your ankles, living a life of sparkles and ponies." She spat, shoving her finger into Eloise's chest, accusingly. "You care very little about others, and that is what the problem is." She scoffed, backing away, shocked and irritated.

"I care very little? You left my letters unread and unanswered. You left me alone, hurt and you hurt me more, now! You stabbed me! Marked me!" Said Eloise, grabbing hold of Y/n's hand and holding it against her chest.

"You branded my heart. You, Y/n Clearwater strangle my heart and make it bleed. You feed it blood cells and provide it with chambers to feed the body. You have something, that I cannot afford to give away, simply because of silly gossip. And I will not let you walk away with it." She pleaded with her, begged her with nothing but desperation in her words and eyes.

"Do not let me bleed."

But Y/n was not her mother. She will not be so easily swayed, not like this. "Lord Philips has asked for my hand and I have accepted." Said Y/n, drawing back her hand, walking back to the ball.

"But do you love him!" Eloise yells, following Y/n and yanking her back. Y/n frees herself with Eloise quickly snatching her by her forearms, forcing her in place.

"Do you love him. Say it and I'll leave you alone."

"And what if I said, I did not? What would you do then? Cage me? Keep me hostage?"

Eloise, now grinned. "Perhaps I should cage you, like a song bird. Keeping you from society, forcing you to stay with me." She jokes, drawing her closer until her arms were encased around her shoulders, trapping her in, keeping her from running away, basically hugging her. Y/n laughs, finding her lips curling into a smile of her own.

Eloise always had a way to make her laugh or feel anything but anger or sadness in heated situations like this. They could argue for five to ten minutes until Eloise said something witty, clever or comical. Eloise would never end an argument with tears or brewing anger. She is too hopelessly in love for that to happen.

"I do not sing." She perched herself on Eloise's shoulder, gazing at her with an easier tone and lacy smile. She laughed, cupping Y/n's cheek, rolling her thumb over the smooth skin. "Perhaps not very well. But that can be fixed with the candles turned down and an empty house." Eloise winks suggestively, rewarding her with a pinch to the side. "Dirty Bridgerton." Y/n pokes, soothing the spot with the pad of thumb.

The pair relish in the solace of the arms of their lovers, relieved to have the other back in their respective positions. "My love, don't let the whispers of the ton ruin us. They know nothing, of our love. Nothing about what it means to yearn for someone, quite like we do." Eloise pressed her forehead against hers, content on keeping her near.

She drew her voice to a whisper. "Do you love me, miss Clearwater?" She finally asked, waiting with steeled breath.

"Yes, stubborn Bridgerton, I do love you. How can I not when you make me a fool for thinking to wed another."

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐈 [𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!seamstress!Reader

SUMMARY — Madame Delacroix expands her business with a French seamstress and Violet is the first customer.

WORD COUNT — 6.2K

WARNINGS — 18+ NSFW MDNI, it’s just gay sex guys idk what to tell you, French dialogue used throughout (minimally but context helps explain)

NOTE — I feel obligated to tell you that this fic is in part inspired by a song I listen to on repeat, although I don’t think the French guys that wrote it realized it would be the catalyst for a sapphic fanfic

Lady Violet Bridgerton was never one for last minute endeavours. That wasn’t to say she didn’t appreciate a little spontaneity every now and again, but surely she preferred when things were planned and she was prepared. 

So it shocked her, of all things, that she could be the reason for her own unpreparedness. In reality, her family’s circumstances — with Francesca’s departure to Scotland, Anthony and Kate’s travels to India, and Colin and Penelope’s honeymoon — were the real cause of her scattered brain, but she still blamed herself of course. 

It was with a very apologetic look that she entered the modiste, hopeful that Madame Delacroix might be able to fit her in for a last minute appointment so that she could have a dress made for an upcoming ball. 

“Unfortunately, I will not be able to help you, Lady Bridgerton,” the seamstress said and Violet cursed internally, “but I have a colleague who has just arrived from France to help me since business has been so-err plentiful.” 

“Oh!” Violet was pleasantly surprised, blinking her eyes a few times, thinking something was better than nothing at this point. “Would she be able to see me?” 

“She is just getting settled, but I am sure she can make some time for a very loyal customer who I am sure has been just as busy as me recently,” Madame Delacroix gave Violet a friendly smile which was bashfully returned. 

She asked Violet to wait for a moment, going to the back where Violet could hear some quiet chatter before Madame Delacroix returned with you by her side. 

“Lady Bridgerton, this is Madame Bisset.” 

Violet had to remind herself to move her head up and down in a polite nod, her eyes glued so intensely to yours. She wouldn’t be surprised if her mouth was slightly agape like that of a fish, but she could have sworn she’d never seen anything as beautiful in her entire life.

“I have a space upstairs,” you explained. “It is still a little messy. I hope you do not mind.” 

“I-” Violet’s voice came out strained and she coughed and cleared her throat. “No, that will not be a problem.” 

“Perfect, right this way, Madame,” you motioned for her to follow you, going into the back of the shop, climbing up a set of narrow stairs until you reached the top, revealing to Violet another workspace she hadn’t seen before. 

Like you had already mentioned, it was a little rough around the edges, fabric was still pouring out of boxes, a few mannequins were tucked away in the corner, but there was a nice carpeted area in the middle of the room with a raised platform and a large mirror.

“Um, Madame Delacroix said you came from France recently,” Violet found herself beginning to talk. 

“Yes, I arrived just one week ago,” you explained. “I heard there is quite the market for dress making in London and I was looking for a bit of a change.” 

“I hope you enjoy it here,” Violet smiled. “Lord knows the ton cannot get enough of a good modiste.” 

“That is what I am relying on.” you chuckled, and motioned for her to step up on the platform. “Now, what is it you are looking for, Lady Bridgerton?” 

“Just an evening gown, for an upcoming ball,” she said, finding herself unable to break her gaze from you, watching as you brought out a measuring tape and looked through some boxes of fabric. 

“Any preferences?” you asked. “We just had this lovely fabric come in, I think it would look quite stunning on you.” 

Once you had found it, you pulled it out of the box with a smile and came to drape it over Violet’s shoulder so she could see it on herself. You smoothed out the fabric along her front and she almost felt herself stagger back at the gentle and light pressure over her chest and midsection. 

“What do you think?” 

She blinked a few times, like she was trying to get her eyes to work again, taking in the blushy pink fabric with darker pink paisley embroidery. 

“Yes, it’s quite nice,” her voice came out a whisper. 

“Perfect,” you smiled. “Then I will take your measurements and you can be on your way.” 

Measurements. Violet wasn’t sure if she’d be able to make it through that. 

There was something electric about your touch, even when your fingers were simply hovering over her, she could feel sparks sending signals to her heart, beating faster until she could hear it pounding in her ears. 

Violet had always known attraction to be strong and forceful, but this was bordering on violent. 

She watched as you adjusted the measuring tape in your hands, first starting with the length from her shoulder to her ankle. You worked with much concentration and diligence, and for that Violet was grateful, because it meant that maybe you wouldn’t notice how each time she felt your hands against her she would have to centre herself and remind herself how to breathe, repeating the words in and out over and over again in her head. 

Eventually, you needed to take the measurements for her hips and bust and Violet knew if she didn’t distract herself somehow she might faint. 

“Um when will I-uh need to come in for adjustments?” she asked, just as your hands wrapped the tape from around her back to the front of her chest. 

“Currently you are my only customer,” you said. “I believe two days will be more than enough time for me to finish. After the adjustments are done I can have the dress sent to Bridgerton house if that is agreeable.” 

“Oh, um, no there is no need for that,” she shook her head. “I can pick it up. The home is quiet nowadays with most of my children off in every corner of Lord knows where,” she chuckled nervously. “It’s nice to get out of the house and get some fresh air, perhaps get some tea, go for a stroll.” 

“Yes of course, whatever suits you, Madame,” you nodded your head. “And I believe we are finished for today.” 

Violet gave you a sheepish smile and stepped down from the platform. 

“Thank you, Madame Bisset. I am not normally this-uh disorganized,” she explained. “I promise next time I will plan things much better.” 

“Lady Bridgerton, I love what I do, really it is no trouble. Come any time to see me.” 

Violet lightly chewed on the side of her bottom lip, looking down at her feet, her hands moving to her stomach, perhaps to remind herself that she was standing. 

“I will keep that in mind,” she nodded and wished you a final goodbye before walking down the stairs and exiting the modiste, grateful now for the air outside more than she thought she had ever been in her life. 

—

Two days later, Violet returned anxiously for her alterations. When she entered the modiste she was surprised to see you already downstairs, looking through some drawers for something. 

You heard the ring of the shop bell and looked up from where you were hunched over, a welcoming smile gracing your face. 

“Lady Bridgerton,” you greeted.

“Madame Bisset, it is good to see you.” 

Her mind drifted back to the image of you moments ago, bent over an open drawer. It certainly was good to see you. 

“Did I drop in at a bad time?” she asked. 

“Not at all, I was just getting some lace for the hem of the dress and around the sleeves and neckline. I thought it might be nice to try, no?” 

Violet nodded, she would simply say yes to anything that either gave her an excuse to be with you longer or to come back more often. 

You led her upstairs to your workspace again, and this time when she entered she realized it was noticeably cleaner and more organized than last time. 

Boxes were replaced by racks of fabrics and shelves had been uncovered to host a myriad of little things, all of which she was sure you’d find use for in due time. 

“Should I help with the dress, Madame?” you motioned to her outfit and Violet gulped. 

“Y-yes, I suppose that would be…necessary,” she nodded her head and you moved to close the door for the workspace and lock it to ensure privacy while Violet stood up on the slightly raised platform in front of the mirror. 

You had come to stand behind her, your fingers carefully fitting themselves between her sleeve and shoulder, helping her slip one arm out at a time before pulling it down slightly over her chest and guiding the fabric to the ground so she could step out of it. 

It was something she’d done in front of other women countless times, but never had she felt this vulnerable and exposed. She looked down and saw the hairs on her arm stand on end, only to be followed by a slight jolt when she felt your hand against her corseted waist.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized with a chuckle. “I just need…” your voice trailed off as you looked down at her feet and she realized she needed to step out of her dress. 

A rosy colour quickly made its way onto her cheeks as she stepped out of her dress so you could hang it up for her and bring the new dress for her to try on. 

She stepped into the pink fabric and tried to make sure her body made no involuntary movements as she felt your hands graze along her sides, helping each bare arm slip into a sleeve, now finally covered again. 

“Hmm,” you stood in front of her and analyzed the way the fabric fit. “It is a little loose here, no?” you asked, tightening the fabric around her chest slightly so that it was more in line with the shape of her corset. 

“I suppose, maybe, yes,” she nodded, “I-I’m sorry, but do you have any water?” Violet asked.”I-I’m feeling a little parched.” 

“Oh of course,” you nodded, letting go of her dress and walking to a pitcher and some glasses you had set to the side, filling one up for her before bringing it back. 

She tried her best to drink it graciously, but there was nothing more she wanted to do than down the whole glass in one shot. Once she was finished, you took the glass from her and set it aside, picking up the lace you had brought up with you, to present your suggestion.

“I was thinking maybe we can put it around the hem of the dress, like this,” you showed her, bending down and lifting the skirt just slightly to tuck some of the lace under it so it was peeking throughout the bottom. 

“Oh,” Violet raised her brows as she looked in the mirror. “I actually quite like that.” 

“So do I,” you nodded, standing back up, “And I thought maybe the arms…” 

You tried the same thing with the sleeves and, again, it suited the look of the dress. Lastly, you placed it around the neckline, moving to hold it up from behind her so she could see. 

Violet thought at that moment it was probably better not to breathe at all considering if she did, with the restriction of her corset her heaving chest would be quite obvious. 

“Mmm, je n’aime pas ça,” you shook your head, your voice soft and close to her ear. 

“I-I’m sorry?” 

Violet had spent most of her younger years learning French, but for some reason, the entirety of the language had escaped her. 

“I do not like the lace here,” you switched back to English, removing the lace and pulling the fabric a little tighter around her bust, pinning it in place with the pins from your pin cushion. “It is better like this.” 

“You think so?” she asked quietly, feeling herself swallow harshly after she finished speaking. 

“I know so, Madame,” you nodded. “Why would one hide such perfect skin?” 

Violet looked in the mirror at what you were referring to, her chest littered with freckles and spots. 

“I hardly think it is perfect,” she shook her head. 

“It would be like covering a starry sky with clouds,” you offered. “One cannot gaze at the stars and wonder about the universe on a cloudy night.” 

Violet chuckled nervously and looked down at the floor for a moment.

“Madame Bisset, I think you mistake how many people are gazing.”

“You would be surprised,” you gently placed your hand on her arm, rubbing up and down in a reassuring motion. 

She could feel the fabric of the sleeves move against her arm in response to your touch and it caused a warmth to spread in the pit of her stomach. 

You moved to grab a container with a few more pins and began seeing where adjustments needed to be made and dealt with the fabric accordingly. Violet felt herself easily growing restless, her fingers fiddling around with the small bits of thread sticking out of the end of the sleeves. 

“So, um, where does the name Bisset come from? What I mean to say is what area of France?” she quickly clarified. 

“Bisset does not belong to a region,” you explained. “It means one who weaves.” 

“Oh, how fitting,” Violet hummed. 

“It is not my real name,” you admitted. “Just something I picked up for work.” 

Violet bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to let her curiosity get the best of her, but when she heard your quiet chuckle from behind her, she tried to turn her head to look back at you. 

“What is it?” 

“It is okay, you want to know what my name actually is,” you said. “You can ask.” 

And so she did, and for the first time she heard your name. She tested it in her own voice, like she was savouring having your name on her tongue, burned into her mind. 

“Mine is Violet,” she said quietly. 

“Violet,” your French pronunciation of her name made her feel a shiver behind her neck, or maybe that was simply your breath against her skin. “Un nom joli pour une personne même plus jolie.”

Violet blushed at your admission, and you grinned. 

“So you understand me then?” 

She nodded her head. 

“Then what did I say?” you teased her a little, while adding a few more pins, now along the length of the sleeves. 

Violet looked at you as if to ask if you were really going to make her say it out loud, and when you didn’t seem to back down she caved. 

“You said that it was a beautiful name for a beautiful person,” she said before pressing her lips together. 

“Close,” you looked up at her. “A beautiful name for an even more beautiful person.” 

“You flatter me too much,” Violet shook her head. 

“In my experience, a dress is only as beautiful as the person wearing it,” you said. “It is always a pleasure to make something for someone who shines just as brightly as the fine fabrics and silks. Even more so when they believe it.” 

You put in the last pin and looked content with your work. 

“I should have this ready by tomorrow,” you told her. “You still wish to pick it up?” 

“Yes,” she nodded with a smile. 

“Alright, let me help you change so that you can be on your way.” 

Carefully, you helped Violet take off the dress, conscious to make sure none of the pins pricked her, and after she stepped out of the dress, you put it on your work table, getting what dress she came with and helping her slip back into it. 

“I will see you tomorrow then, in the afternoon, in case anything comes up,” you said and she smiled. 

“Tomorrow afternoon it is, Madame.” 

“Au revoir,” you gave her a small wave and again, she held her hands against her stomach. 

“Au revoir.” 

—

Violet wasn’t sure she’d ever gotten so many compliments on a dress as she had on what you’d made for her. There was something new and cutting about it and much to her surprise, it became very hard to book an appointment with either you or Madame Delacroix afterwards. 

News had spread to the rest of the ton of you and your talents, and everyone wanted a piece. 

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Violet managed to get herself in for another appointment, needing a dress for a wedding along with a few odds and ends she thought with all this uncertainty she may as well get done now.

When she arrived at the modiste, it was overflowing with people. She never thought she had seen it so busy and she wondered if it was really all from that simple pink dress. Although the dress itself wasn’t necessarily simple, it was elegant in its style, its function, and of course, it had a certain je ne sais quoi.

“Lady Bridgerton,” you grinned, seeing Violet enter the shop. “I believe I have you to thank for all this business. Both Genviève and I do.” 

“Oh, I didn’t do any of the work,” she shook her head. “I simply wore it.” 

“And you wore it well, which is half of the battle,” you chuckled. “Come, I am always happy to see my favourite customer.” 

Violet’s heart warmed when you called her your favourite, a sense of pride overcoming her. Still out of all of the young debutantes and busy mamas, she somehow remained at the top of your list. 

When you arrived at your workspace, closing the door behind you and walking further inside and let out a small breath of air, a bright smile came over your face. 

“How can I help you today?” 

“I need a dress for a wedding,” she began, “along with a few other things.” 

“Such as?” you pressed. 

“Some clothes for the country, a few dresses for home, and some new night clothes. I was thinking perhaps a robe and a nightgown or two.” 

“Madame, you are keeping my hands busy,” you smiled. “Now I already have the measurements I will need for the dress, so we can pick fabrics, then maybe I can show you some things I have already made in case something catches your eye and we can make alterations and then fill in any gaps after.” 

“Sounds splendid to me,” she nodded. 

“Parfait,” you grinned and clapped your hands together. “What colour are you thinking for the dress you will wear to the wedding?” 

“I usually stick to blue,” she said. “It was the colour my late husband’s family used a lot, but…” she paused. 

“You’re thinking of something else,” you put your hands on your hips. “Purple.” 

“How did you know?” she looked at you a little astounded, a small chuckle coming past her lips, lacing her words with a certain playfulness. 

“A suspicion,” you shrugged with a teasing wink. “Now light or dark?”

“Light, it is getting warmer outside after all.” 

You rummaged through some things and pulled out a few swatches of fabric for her to choose from. 

“They are all nice,” Violet chewed on her lip while trying to decide. “What do you think?” 

You took a long look at the collection in front of you and then looked up at Violet, sizing up each swatch to the woman in front of you, fabricating the dress in your mind’s eye until you figured out which one you liked the most.

“This one, I think.”

You held out a simple silky fabric for her. 

“I can add something to it, a design, some beads,” you said. “But I like this colour on you.” 

“I will leave it up to you,” she said. “I am sure I will be happy with whatever you make. Surely, the rest of the ton is.” 

You chuckled and placed the fabric back down. 

“Now some of those other things,” you motioned for her to follow you. 

You showed her a few dresses to see what ones she might be interested in taking with her to the country. Some were made with simple cotton for days spent resting inside the house in the off season. Once she had decided which she liked, you set them aside to make sure they were properly fitted for her. 

“And nightclothes?” you asked. “What about something like this?” 

You pulled out a particularly sheer gown, probably meant for someone on their honeymoon, or maybe at the very least with someone to share it with. 

“Um,  I am not sure I am the right fit for that,” she chuckled nervously, knowing her resolve with you already wore thin, hoping you would accept her reasoning and move on to something more modest. 

“Why not?” you asked.

“I am a widow, Madame, I wouldn’t have anyone to wear it for,” she said truthfully. 

“You could wear it for yourself,” you said. 

Violet tilted her head and blinked, “Myself?” 

“Ben oui,” you nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Who said you have to wear something for someone else?” 

Violet chewed on her cheek. She supposed she wasn’t really wearing anything for anyone but herself at the moment. 

“It is okay to wear something that makes you feel beautiful even if you are the only one to see it,” you reassured her. “If you do not think you would feel beautiful in this, now that is something different.” 

Violet pressed her lips together. It had been so long since she had worn something other than a simple cotton nightdress, but there was something alluring about wearing something that matched her desire, even if she would end up being the only one to see it. 

“And the fitting for this?” she asked. 

“We could do it right now, if you wish,” you said. 

“L-Like for alterations?” she looked at you wide-eyed.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, draping the dress over your arm, ignoring her surprise. 

She looked between the dress and herself a few times, contemplating whether or not she should do it, or more, whether she could handle it. 

Wearing it for herself was one thing, but wearing it in front of you was something else. 

She nervously scratched behind her ear, thinking in her mind that it might be best to pass on this for the moment, but when she opened her mouth to speak, she said,

“Alright then.” 

You smiled and turned to go back to where you would do the alterations and Violet blinked hard, processing what had just left her mouth. 

“Are you coming, Madame?” 

Violet looked over at you and nodded, slowly walking over to the platform. 

Similar to before, you helped her out of her dress, and she stood in front of you again in her corset and undergarments, but this time after her dress was placed off to the side, your fingers nimbly worked on the laces on her back, deftly loosening the material and unravelling it until it was loose around her. 

Violet, not quite ready to let go, held it up from the front, noticing her breathing becoming shakier by the second. 

“I can take that for you,” you extended your hand out for her corset and she swallowed thickly. 

It took her a few moments to remember how to work her hands again, carefully peeling the material away from her chest and handing it to you, unsure of what to do with her arms before deciding her best option was to cross them over her chest. 

When you returned, you came to stand in front of Violet, the nightgown in your hands, ready to help her put it on. You looked down at her crossed arms then back up at her blue eyes and her cheeks flushed before moving her hands and lifting them above her head so you could slip the fabric over her. 

The hem of the dress stopped at her knees, much shorter than anything she was used to wearing. The slight blue colour almost enhanced the sheerness of the fabric and Violet tried to take it all in, running a hand down her midsection, noticing how she could see her bellybutton.

She tried not to focus on how she could feel your gaze burning into what felt like her very soul. 

“What do you think of the fit?” she asked quietly. 

You pursed your lips. 

“I like how it fits around here,” you ran your hands along both sides of her waist down to her hips. “Less, up here.”

Your hands migrated to the fabric barely covering her breasts and she could have sworn she let out a small squeak, feeling your fingers brush against her. Her suspicion was confirmed when you spoke. 

“Everything alright, Madame?” you looked up at her. 

“Fine,” she whispered. 

“T’es sûre?” you murmured, stepping a little closer and adjusting the straps over her shoulders. 

“Mhmm,” she almost whimpered, pressing her lips together and looking up at the ceiling. “I’m fine, it is just a little chilly up here,” she said. “You know when you get cold, you um…you feel things more.” 

You nodded your head. 

“That is not to say it was cold before, I am just cold now because-” 

“Tais toi.” 

Violet blinked. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me,” you looked up at her and placed a finger under her chin. “I said tais toi.” 

Despite Violet’s shock that you had essentially told her to shut up, she found herself speaking still.

“Really?” she began. “You won’t even use le vous poli?” she asked, referring to your less polite and more informal grammar choice. 

“Why would I use that when everything I want to do to you is very, very impolite?” you whispered, merely millimeters away from her mouth, your breath mingling with hers. 

Violet wasn’t sure what overcame her, she grabbed your hands, placing them over her breasts, her mouth agape as shaky breaths fanned over your face. 

With that permission, you brushed your thumbs on top of the fabric, over her nipples, her whimper deliciously clouding your senses, encouraging you to do it again. 

“If you are really so set on wearing this for someone,” you gripped her tighter, eliciting a surprised gasp, your lips travelling closer to her ear. “You could wear it for me, ma belle.” 

Violet hummed and leaned her head against yours, feeling you move along her until your foreheads were pressed together, noses brushing against each other. 

“We shouldn’t,” Violet breathed. 

“We shouldn’t,” you shook your head, still moving closer until you captured her lips with yours. Her hands found their way to your waist, narrowly avoiding your pin cushion, pulling you against her, your thumbs still gently massaging over her breasts, content hums and soft moans echoing in your mouth as you kissed her. 

When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against Violet’s again, your eyes shut. 

“You have another appointment don’t you?” Violet whispered and you nodded and she had to bite back the whine that wanted to escape. 

“Come back tonight,” you murmured, your hands moving to hold both sides of Violet’s face, a reassurance. “Two doors down.” 

“W-What would I tell my carriage driver?” 

“Pick your most discreet one,” you whispered, pressing your lips to hers again in a much softer kiss. 

She nodded her head and when you pulled apart further and she opened her eyes, she could see you smiling back at her and she thought if you were so certain, maybe everything would be okay. 

It wasn’t until much later in the evening when Violet was standing outside your door, waiting for you to come and open it, that the reality of the situation fully set on her. She was caught in such a haze before, her stomach swirling with an all consuming nausea that was almost delightful. 

She felt her arms wrapping around herself tighter, nervously looking around to make sure there were no unwanted eyes watching her, until she heard the door open in front of her, bringing her attention back to the present. 

You were quick to wordlessly take her hand and bring her inside, closing the door behind you. 

“You are tense,” you remarked, holding her hand in both of yours, gently massaging its back with your thumbs. 

Violet was unsure of what to expect, but she did know wherever this led, she wanted to follow it, to chase that staggering violent feeling until she couldn’t take it any more. 

“I just didn’t want anyone to see,” she whispered. “I am fine.” 

You smiled. “Bien.” 

You helped her take off her cloak, biting your bottom lip when you saw what she was wearing underneath. 

“C’est jolie,” you hummed. “But I think I am more excited to see what is underneath.” 

Violet chuckled nervously, feeling a certain heat come to her cheeks. She let herself be pulled into you when you took your hand in hers, melting into the kiss that followed, allowing you to lead her through the hallway and into what she assumed was a bedroom. 

Her suspicions were fully confirmed when she felt the back of her legs hit a plush mattress, making her fall back, only to be gently lowered the rest of the way by you, now leaning over top of her. 

“W-Wait,” Violet whispered.

“Hmm?” you looked at her patiently. “Ça va?”

“What happens next?” she asked. 

“Do you want me to explain it to you?”

You tilted your head to look at her and she nodded. 

“First I take this off,” you murmured, working at the series of ribbons in the front of her dress that kept it tied shut. 

She watched as you undid each one, single handedly, revealing more and more of her bare skin until your hand came and fully pushed both parts of the fabric aside, leaving her exposed in front of you. 

“Then I listen,” you kissed her jaw. “Your breathing, your body, it…tells me things.” 

One hand moved to cup her breast and she sighed. 

“Like that,” you smiled. “And I follow that, I see where it takes me.”

You pinched her nipple between your thumb and pointer finger and she arched slightly into your touch. Carefully, you twisted it between your fingers, your mouth trailing its kisses down her neck and chest, until eventually your mouth replaced your fingers, tongue swirling and teeth grazing against the soft and sensitive flesh. 

Violet let out a breath of air, a whine caught in the back of her throat as she arched further into you, her hand coming to hold your head against her. 

With a gentle kiss, you paused your mouth’s movements, taking your hand from where it rested against her waist, dragging it across her stomach. 

“Next,” you began, “No, it is too vulgar in English,” you shook your head. 

“Tell me in French,” she begged. “Dit-le moi, s’il vous plaît.” 

You smiled and kissed her breast again. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” 

Your finger trailed a little lower, now tracing lines across the base of her stomach, the skin there soft and stretched from many pregnancies, and oh so precious. 

“Je prends mes doigts,” your fingers moved even lower, the blood pumping to Violet’s head so fast she thought she might faint. “Et je les appuie ici.”

“Oh!” she moaned, her head turned to the side, your thumb firmly against her, massaging in slow tantalizing and tortuous circles.

“Mais, je préfère les mettre comme ça.” 

Violet gasped, your name on her lips as she felt your fingers inside her, beginning a slow and steady pace that her body seemed to match with the movement of her hips. 

“Is this good, or do you want more?” you asked her, not stopping the movement of your hand and fingers. 

“More, please,” she breathed. 

“En Français, ma belle.” 

“S-S’il vous plaît.” 

“Bien sûre,” you smiled and increased your pace, fingers carefully searching until they found the intense response they were seeking from Violet. 

“There,” she nodded her head, eyes squeezed shut. “Mmm.” 

She pressed her lips together so tightly you could have sworn they went white. 

You listened to her instructions, continuing to work at that spot, leaning over top of her, feeling her breathing pick up with each fan of warm breath over your face. You pressed a few kisses to her jaw, your ear right next to her mouth, listening intently as breathing turned into moans that didn’t stop. 

You could feel the heat radiating off of every part of her, clouding your own senses, encouraging you further to push her over that edge, eager movements guiding her until her mind went blissfully blank, her back arched towards you while you slowed your hand, her breathing much more ragged than before until you carefully removed your fingers. 

Wiping them carefully on the sheets next to her, you then took her face in your hand, pressing a slow kiss to her lips. 

Violet hummed into your lips, like she wanted to say something so you pulled away, watching her finally open her eyes once more. 

“Can I?” she whispered. 

“Can you what, chèrie?” 

“Do that for you?” she asked. “Teach me.” 

You grinned, leaning down and capturing her lips in another kiss. 

When you pulled apart this time, she pushed herself up on her forearms, watching as you moved to sit next to her. She knew the first step, her hand brushing against the sleeve of your nightgown, pushing it off your shoulder, studying how your skin felt against her fingers. 

You took your arm out of your sleeve and waited for her to do the same with the opposite side before tugging the sides down until the fabric pooled at your hips. 

She leaned in to kiss you, guiding you to lie back on the mattress before her hands came back to the fabric, pulling it completely off of you. 

She took a moment to admire you in front of her, feeling that same intense pull towards you as she did when you had first become acquainted. 

With her lips against yours once more, she hooked her fingers around the top of your underwear, pulling it down as her lips detached from yours so she could finish the job. 

She leaned over top of you, her brown hair falling in waves on either side of her head, the soft fabric of her robe-like dress, creating a curtain around her, but her body still on full display for you. 

You couldn’t help but reach out and snake a hand around her waist, your thumb brushing back and forth in small motions. 

“Tell me,” she whispered. “What do I do next?” 

You moved your hand up from her waist tracing along her side and down her arm, until her wrist was in your hands. 

“You can touch me here.”  

You placed her hand on your breast. “Or here.” 

Your hand moved hers lower, only hovering over your core. 

“Or anywhere that feels right when you listen.” 

She nodded her head slowly, your hand finishing its guidance as she watched with bated breath, your eyes closed anticipatorily, small shaky breaths coming past your lips as her fingers made contact and you finally let go of her wrist. 

Violet tucked some of her hair behind her ear with her free hand before letting herself feel and explore you. 

She paid close attention, listening to what sounds filled the air, a small smile coming to her lips when you moaned her name. 

She moved so her thumb replaced her fingers, continuing to brush against that spot that seemed to make your face twist and contort in beautiful ways she’d never seen before. 

Violet became curious, her other hand moving to cup your breast, brushing her thumb over your nipple, noticing the new reaction it had brought, a groan and a plea for more. 

Both of her thumbs worked in tandem on different parts of your body, pulling your focus in two directions, back and forth with no end in sight.

Violet was entranced by you, squirming slightly under her touch, the fact that she was the one making you feel this way, like you had no control. The only thing possible for you to do was let her know how much you wanted, no, needed her. 

“Violet,” you whimpered. “Please, m-more.” 

Violet smiled devilishly and leaned down, her lips ghosting your ear. 

“En Français.”

“S’il vous plaît, Violet, mon Dieu,” you groaned before she increased the intensity of her ministrations. 

Her hand moved from your breast up to your face, holding it up so she could kiss you as her thumb worked against you, a warmth spreading in her stomach as you moaned into her mouth, your hips meeting her touch until you were gripping onto Violet for dear life as the only hope of reminding yourself you were, in fact, still on earth. 

She stopped a little more abruptly than you would have liked, still thrumming with pleasure, and holding her close. 

“Was that right?” she teased and when you finally looked up at her, grabbing her chin with your thumb and forefinger, pulling her down in a kiss, your last words, a mutter against her lips. 

“Tais toi.” 

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[midnightscramble]

Heyy, could you make an Violet bridgerton x maid please??

Good luck, Maid! Part 1 (Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

The Masterlist

Author's Note: So, so many creative liberties were taken, if it is not to your liking feel free to request a part 2 with a more detailed ask (don't be shy!) Happy readings to you.

Summary: Violet is in need of a new maid, Eloise implores the help of Miss y/n. Violet turns to a friend as she digests the new feelings being spurred on by y/n.

Warnings: slight internalized homophobia, age gap relationship, SFW, no Beta read

Anthony stormed into the drawing room in a fury, causing the rest of the Bridgerton family to look up from their places and the mindless chatter to cease.

“Mother, I’ve fired Miss Smith- she has irrevocably disrespected our family name. I’ve heard talk amongst the staff that she has been selling old clothes and pocketing the money.” 

Somewhat still startled, Violet looked upon her son with a grimace, “but what shall I do about the Kent’s ball tonight? I still need to get ready, and I hardly look presentable as is.” She pursed her lips in thought and turned her gaze to the rest of the room.

Before she could speak again, a very eager Eloise offered, “well that is simply unacceptable, you should have Miss Y/n help dress you tonight. However, dressing both you and I would pose a challenge to a timely arrival…So it would be most sensible if I did not accompany you tonight-“

Violet gently raised her hand, and smiled fondly at her daughter’s blatant attempt to weasel her way out of going, “That is a very generous offer, Eloise. Although, don’t let my acceptance be misconstrued, I am aware you look for any excuse to avoid these events.” Eloise shrunk slightly at getting caught but a closed mouth smile pulled across her face at her own victory.

“Thank you, Mother” she patted Violet’s hand and went to stand, “and not to worry, I will tell Miss Y/n of tonight’s change.”

…

Violet sat on her bed awaiting Miss Y/n’s arrival. She had only ever caught glimpses of the young maid. Eloise preferred to be alone most of the day and used her brothers as chaperones, so Y/n’s job had been significantly reduced, allowing her to spend the bulk of the day in the staff quarters.

She knew her daughter despised having social responsibilities, and with her upcoming trip to Scotland perhaps she would relieve her from forced outings until the departure. Such would free Miss Y/n to be the semi permanent solution to Miss Smith’s firing. 

In quiet reflection, she smoothed her hand across the comforter, tracing the designs. As busy as she kept herself, she could not ignore the subtle emptying of her house. While winter brought shorter days to the Ton, days spent by herself seemed to drudge towards the sweet relief of sleep. Although she loved Hyacinth and Gregory, their company could become quite tedious when their insistent arguments became less amusing and more predictable. Benedict was rarely home and when he was he joined the sibling banter. No matter where she went, a dreadful feeling of isolation followed.

Lost in thought, she did not respond to the initial knock at her door, “My lady, may I come in?” The muffled voice of Miss Y/n broke her from her trance. She rose from the bed in a hurry, “Yes, please do.” 

She stood with her hands clasped neatly in front of her, watching the door open with great anticipation. Miss Y/n’s face was revealed, and Violet’s mouth opened slightly. As if the world had slowed she watched Miss Y/n enter. Eloise’s maid was quite pretty. Her eyes held a wisdom that was uncommon for her age, and lacked the cruelty that usually accompanied it. 

Time quickly caught up with Violet as Miss Y/n stood in front of her, awaiting instruction. Violet smiled awkwardly and lowered her eyes, which proved to be a mistake as she looked upon Miss Y/n’s figure.

Stuttering slightly, “let us start with hair shall we”, Violet motioned towards her vanity and in a few short strides took a seat.

“Yes, my lady,” with expertise and nimble fingers Y/n plucked the pins holding Violet’s hair up, causing waves of the light brown locks to cascade down. 

Violet watched the young woman work through the mirror. She found herself entranced by the graceful movements of hands and suddenly envisioned them tangled in her hair, tugging her head back to expose her neck. She took in a sharp breath, surprised by the vivid imagery. Her eyes closed as she tried to ground herself. She felt her face get hot and opened her eyes quickly, and to her utter horror, her cheeks burned a bright red. 

It confused her, how could the simple presence of Y/n make her imagination run errant? Violet sat dumbfounded, perhaps her loneliness had caught up with her. She made a note to spend ample time with Lady Danbury after this, she was obviously feeling a deficit in emotional intimacy if her mind was playing such tricks on her.

…

Once at the ball, Violet let Hyacinth and Gregory run off with the Kent children to the garden, while she herself made haste to Lady Danbury.

“Ah Violet, wonderful to see you.” Lady Danbury smiled lightly and looked out at the crowd of young people dancing, “interesting how they can touch and dance so openly, yet it would be the talk of the Ton if they were to hold gazes too long in the courtyard.”

Violet laughed absently still thinking about the way Y/n hands flittered through her hair, “Yes. Interesting indeed, Agatha.” 

Lady Danbury glanced at her from the side, sensing her distractedness, reaching her hand out to Violet’s shoulder in concern she said “Violet, is something the matter…” 

It was the clear affection from a woman so formidable to the Ton that made Violet realize she was in fact not in a deficit of any kind. What she had felt for Miss Y/n today was a rather unique, isolated experience.

“Actually…” Violet pursed her lips and looked over her shoulder briefly, “shall we tour the gardens?” 

Catching on, Lady Danbury hummed in agreement, lacing their arms together as they began their walk, getting away from prying eyes. Once in the garden, Violet let out a sigh, unsure of how to phrase this.

“I felt something strange today,” Violet’s whispered words were almost carried away by the wind.

Ears peaked, Lady Danbury widened her eyes in questioning, “Should I presume this is about our earlier discussion of a certain garden being in bloom?”

With a guffaw, Violet nodded abashedly, “You always shock me with your blatancy, but yes, in a way it is about…that.”

In jest, Lady Danbury motioned towards the flora and fauna of the Kents grounds, “Well, have you found someone to tend your garden?” 

Violet laughed, “Not quite, I am afraid things are quite complicated.”

“Do you like them?” Lady Danbury questioned. 

“I am not sure…” came Violet’s quiet response. 

“Do they like you?” she tried again.

“Good heavens, most likely not.”

“Hmm complicated indeed.” She finally agreed. “I can only advise you to pursue what makes you happy, but you must know what that in itself is, Violet.”

Violet nervously sucked in a breath of the cool night air, “What if it were something unspeakable?”

“Why, Violet, I’d be impressed,” she laughed and grabbed Violets hands in sincerity, “We have all done unspeakable things, however between friends the unspeakable can be spoken without fear of judgment.”

Looking into her friend’s eyes, she squeezed the other woman’s hands, “You are a good friend, Agatha. For now I have nothing of tangibility to speak of... However, I may ask you to tea in the near future if that would be alright?”

“That would be perfectly fine, my dear, shall we head back to the party?”

“We shall.”