a • she/her • a verified mess
54 posts
Itsmercurial - Tangled Enthusiast - Tumblr Blog
you kept me like a secret but i kept you like an oath
Things that scream gifted kid burnout
Being on Tumblr, Wattpad. or AO3. especially AO3
Having several unused notebooks, that are empty simply out of fear of "ruining" them.
A caffeine addiction that started with you pulling all nighters that has progressed into you living off of monsters and never sleeping.
Having a praise or degradation kink, I'm sorry dear, I don't make the rules,
Saint Bernard by Lincoln If you wanna listen
Buying books and never reading them and or reading classics just to say you've read them.
Listening to Mitski , specifically Brand New city
All of Bo Burnhams Inside
Being the mom friend (you wanna give people the affection and attention you never received outside of your academic accomplishments.)
Your love language being acts of service
Having an academia playlist but also having a "lets burn the government playlist"
Hozier
Wanting to run away to the woods but also wanting to run away to a big city and cut off everyone from your past.
Having an obsession with office supplies/stationary
Notes app rants
since when did tumblr start looking like facebook..
so many story ideas, so many school requirements
october tenth is world mental health day. i’m so glad you’re still here.
two weeks of hell are finally done :))
it's not that i'm stressed, it's just that i'm stressed
spider-man: homecoming spider-man: far from home spider-man: no way home spider-man: seriously, i’m lost now spider-man: calling an uber spider-man: curfew was hours ago spider-man: coming up with excuses spider-man: can’t lie to save my life spider-man: oh shit i’m totally grounded spider-man: homestuck
some days it's just really difficult to find things to be grateful for :((((
great chaotic energy in the group chat today. taking time for yourself is great and when u need it, have it. but talking and spending time with people you care about and care about you is freaking amazing and just— really heartwarming. so if you can, you should, you could :)
“You have such strange ideas about love.”
Enchanted (2007) dir. Kevin Lima
rogers the musical 👁️👄👁️
if you're seeing this, i want you to know that your pain is valid and its okay to cut off people who have contributed to it. at the end of the day, you matter the most. <333
WHY DOES THE MCU HAVE TIMELINE ISSUES WHEN IT COMES TO SPIDER-MAN! like IW apparently takes place in july but peter is still in school and repeats the whole year in endgame???
two characters: *are in love with each other and know the other loves them but they can’t be together because of circumstance*
me every good damn time: oh my god they’re in love with each other and know the other loves them but they can’t be together because of circumstance
i said we’d lose. you said, ‘we’ll do that together, too.’ well, guess what, cap? we lost. and you weren’t there.
v intimidated by notion
Nothing will make you evil like trying to find a specific tumblr post
Marvel: What If be like…
Episode 1: What if Captain America…but girl?
Episode 2: What if Star Lord…but Black Panther?
Episode 3: What if the Avengers died lol
Episode 4: What if the most dark and depressing thing you’ve ever seen from this franchise, sending you into an existential tailspin of horror and despair so you have to just simply sit on the floor for a while and contemplate the futility of your own free will?
Episode 5: What if zombies
I JUST FINISHED THE NEW EPISODE OF WHAT IF AND... MARVEL WE NEED TO TALK
UNTOLD TRUTHS
benedict bridgerton x fem!reader | it is a truth universally acknowledged that there is a perfectly curated image that men and women of the 1800s display to attract suitable matches. one would think that the highly honorable bridgertons do not fall prey or become predators to this dishonesty.... a visit to a certain modiste proves otherwise. (3.3k)
a/n: this is a repost and was requested by an anon on my previous blog, i don't know if i did it justice but i hope u guys like it :)) the gif is made by @catalinabaylors ! also, content warning for fluff? angst? oversharing and not-so subtle “friends”? protective eloise and pen?
It has been brought to This Author’s attention that whilst shopping for her trousseau, Lady Y/N L/N was seen leaving the shop of Genevieve Delacroix in tears after a conversation with the aforementioned modiste and Mrs. Lucy Granville.
Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers, 1816
Three years.
A year of childish ignorance and playful remarks
Another filled marked with painful longing and not-so revealing revelations
And the most recent?
A beautiful year of sensual dancing and endless promenades.
Three years that brought her the greatest amount of joy could be ruined by the weight of untold truths. Because how is one lying if they simply wished to withhold what was true? How is one called a liar for not telling the other of something they never cared to ask for?
“I swear on all of my writings that I truly believed that he had told you, Y/N,” Eloise said as she held your hand while your head rested on Penelope’s lap. The two were stroking your hair to provide comfort as Eloise also rambled about her idiotic brother.
It was completely humorous of how life can make you crumble and dissolve into tears in merely four-and-twenty hours.
Because four-and twenty hours ago you had found yourself on your way to the modiste to acquire items for your trousseau. Four-and-twenty hours ago, you had been so elated and excited for it made your upcoming marriage more real to you.
Because then, you had sighed, madly and deeply in love as you stared at your beloved’s extremely expressive blue eyes that reflected the same intensity of emotion your own held. Happiness, that was what it felt like and that was what it was supposed to feel like for the rest of your lives.
“I certainly hope that the clothing you choose to include would… be the most satisfactory,” Benedict had said, his hand resting on the one you had placed on his cheek, a lopsided smile on his face that you could not help but match.
“Satisfactory for whom? For you or for me, Mr. Bridgerton?” you had responded, chuckling when he feigned to think for a moment, his eyes had closed as to what he must have believed to be the look of one deep in thought.
When he opened them, those blue eyes engulfed you with the passionate heat it suddenly possessed. “By all means yours.” He then pressed the softest of kisses on your palm. “But if my lady would allow, then perhaps for me too.”
Before you could have answered him or leaned a little bit closer, a cough had interrupted your rather intimate moment. You both withdrew from each other and stepped ever further once under the scrutinizing gaze of your families.
You had cleared your throat before anyone could remark on how lovesick the two of you were or of how close you were on causing a scandal in the middle of Mayfair as you both stood in front the doors of Bridgerton House. “I-is Eloise joining us?”
The desperation of avoiding a scolding from your mother of the virtue you were taught to remain intact must have shown through your eyes as Eloise nodded frantically. “Yes, of course I will be coming.” She had hastily walked to you, grabbed your arm and dragged you towards the carriage. The raised eyebrows of your mother and Lady Bridgerton led you to believe that your close friend had not been invited or accepted an invite to join. “And we must make haste as we ought to stop by Gunter’s for flavored ice too!”
You had managed to wave to Benedict and your families before you entered the carriage and was met with the disgusted face of Eloise. “In front of our very house? Really?”
You merely laughed in response while your mothers entered the carriage, they had seemingly forgotten the scandal that nearly occurred as they began to talk excessively about the shops you were to visit.
Madam Genevieve Delacroix’ popular dressmaking shop had been the last place you were to be at. You had smiled, excited for she was to craft the dress you were to wear at your wedding ceremony.
You wished you knew then that once you left, there would be the possibility of the union to not happen.
You had entered with an optimistic smile on your face, the joy brought by Eloise’s hilarious commentary while moving from shop to shop still evident on your face. Other than matters regarding your awaited nuptials, you had also missed the modiste. The last time you were in each other’s presence was before the season began when you were getting fitted for your outfits.
“Mrs. Granville, it is such a surprise to see you here at this time of the year…” your mother said and the three of you followed in greeting her. It was quite odd to find anyone who was not a mother and a debutante in the modiste when the season was already ending.
Mrs. Granville, a beautiful lady with the kindest of smiles, agreed with what your mother had said. “I am not purchasing anything at the moment, I only missed Madam Delacroix and wished to speak with her about events that happened lately."
Minutes later you found yourself standing on top of a small platform with the mirror in front of you as your mothers sought for fabrics and Eloise read the book she brought. “Mademoiselle Y/N, I feel that I am obligated to express my felicitations,” Madam Delacroix had chimed with a kind smile while she took your measurements. Mrs. Granville was quick to tell you the same.
“Thank you, Madam Delacroix, Mrs. Granville.”
“How is your relationship with Mr. Bridgerton, ma chérie? You two appear to be a very beautiful pair,” Madam Delacroix had asked. You assumed that she was trying to start a conversation to fill the silence in the shop.
“Thank you, uh, I do believe it is going very well… He is very… transparent. Most of the time, he is utterly easy to read which is very interesting,” you had explained, a fond smile on your face as you recalled his eyes. For the longest time, the expressions they held made you feel like you knew him, truly knew him. And when he had professed his longing and desire to court, and eventually marry, you through showing you a sketchbook of his. You had never known that he drew… and from that realization came the promise of finding out everything about him during your courtship.
From his favorite color of paint to use to the dreams that made him restless at night, you had been sure that you knew.
“Oh, so Mr. Bridgerton has told you… everything?” Mrs. Granville inquired, she looked quite shocked and you were not surprised. Most men only displayed and shared carefully selected pieces of themselves while courting debutantes. Of course, most debutantes do the same.
“I believe so.”
“Y/N and my brother have known each other since she moved here four years ago and they are completely and utterly besotted with each other,” Eloise had interjected, her tone appearing to be proving a point that you did not know of. “You should have seen them stare at each other earlier, they gazed upon each other as if they had both hung the stars in the sky.”
“Yes, of course. All of London has been made aware of it, Miss Eloise,” Madam Delacroix had responded with a smile on her face as she draped the fabrics your mother and Violet chose in the few minutes they had been gone. You slightly turned your face to find them looking at more which had made you chuckle. The hint of jealousy in the modiste’s tone flew by your head but Eloise heard it clearly. “Lady Whistledown has only written numerous things about the two of you all season.”
“He has been attending balls and events all season with you and the look in your eyes makes my own heart flutter,” Mrs. Granville had complimented, well you had thought that she complimented your relationship with Benedict. “Although he is dearly missed in some ventures that occur during my husband’s parties.”
“Oui,” Madam Delacroix added with a knowing look on her face which made you assume that she was participating in those parties for artists. You exchanged a confused look with Eloise. You had both wondered what other ventures were there for them to do while they paint or sketch or mingle.
“What other things do you do during those… parties?” You had asked, your heart picking up slightly as if you had anticipated the answer. Eloise, who had known of her brother’s friendship with the modiste, was about to interject when Violet called her to try on a particular dress in preparation for her next season. She reluctantly joined the two mamas, squeezing your hand before she grumbled unladylike words while walking over to them
“I thought…. Mr. Bridgerton must have told you the main purpose of the parties and the things he does and used to do as you said he was open with you?” Mrs. Granville was polite in her tone and she beamed once you nodded. Madam Delacroix began sewing a particular part on the fabric your Mama had said was in the color that put emphasis on the color of your eyes. “Well then you must know that our artists always find themselves with paint in all kinds of peculiar places.”
That was when you knew that something was wrong… there was a sudden tight feeling in your chest as you took in the suggestiveness in her voice. You were innocent, but not naive. As if there was a frog that lodged itself in your throat, no words left your mouth although you had wished you had spoken.
“And oftentimes… there are those who put them there,” Madam Delacroix said.
“Oh.” It was the only thing that you managed to say as Mrs. Granville and Madam Delacroix began talking about some of the thrilling things that have happened during those parties, oblivious to how you had gone pale and still. Oblivious to how you had not even kissed your beloved nor done the things they had said. Oblivious to how he had not even told you that his passions were also involved with other passionate activities.
Within a few minutes, you quickly made your way out of the shop, a small thank you and excuse me coming from you.
“… Lady Whistledown has also written about it, hopefully she does not find out the reasons for your abrupt exit,” Eloise added and Penelope nodded, agreeing with her. The two were quite shocked when you sat up with a frown settled on your face.
“Leaving was pathetic and careless and foolish of me,” you said after some pondering of the recent events and the two hesitantly agreed. Well, Penelope did. Eloise already mentioned that somewhere during her rambling. “And I am not… It is not… It is not even his companionships that have made me upset, well not entirely.”
“Is it because he did not tell you?” Penelope inquired as the two looked at you intensely, noticing how you began playing with the ends of your hair, something you only did when you were anxious.
“No, yes, no, well that’s part of it. You both know that I wished…” They both nodded, understanding you easily. “Trust is vital in a relationship. There is trust in love and love in trust, there is beauty in that. There is beauty in having one trust you with everything they were, are, and shall be. To confide your mind, your soul, and your heart with them and to be assured that they would hold on to that and—”
A knock interrupted your monologue of sorts and the voice of your Lady’s maid could be heard on the other side of your door, “Lady Y/N, Mr. Bridgerton is here and he wishes to talk to you…”
“That fool! We all told him to give you time.” Eloise stood up, Penelope following her actions. “Pen and I shall straighten him up and have him leave.”
Penelope tried to muster up confidence for her friend, she exhaled deeply. “Yes, we shall. You can stay in here, Y/N, he does not deserve to stress you any further.”
Before they could depart, your voice rang within the room, “Thank you, Jane, and please tell Mr. Bridgerton that I shall see him in a few minutes.”
Looks of disbelief lit your closest friends faces as your Lady’s maid left to relay your message.
“You most certainly are not going out of there!” Eloise exclaimed, her eyes wide and hands descriptive. “He may be my brother but he has hurt you! He knows how much trust and communication mean to you!”
“And he is still attending Sir Granville’s parties, does he not? While Mrs. Granville did say that he does not engage in those activities, who’s to say that he does not watch?” Penelope shrunk once her comment made you and Eloise look at her weirdly. She blushed, realizing what she had implied, and it caused a small chuckle to erupt from your chest.
“The two of you are the best friends that any person could ever ask for and I am forever thankful for your protectiveness but I think that the matters in which my heart is involved can only be resolved by the two people involved? And I do not wish to let the situation last longer…”
The two relented and you had them stay within your quarters.
You entered the drawing room and Benedict’s pacing halted. His eyes connected with yours and you could see the anxiety and guilt swirling in them. You suspected that he wished to reach out to you as you stood still near the door but he seemed to stop himself.
“I-uh-I,” he stuttered, squinting as he internally scolded himself for it.
You broke the silence and his stuttering, which was painful to watch, by asking, “Have you been…”
“No! From the moment that I saw you dancing with Lord Kingston during Lady Cowper’s ball, I have attended only to hone my skills,” he admitted and you could not help but give him a small smile which made his heart flutter with love and hope. During your first year as a debutante that you spent with Eloise and Penelope mocking the other ladies and mamas, Lord Kingston was your most respectable suitor that asked you to dance every night.
The most memorable was during Lady Cowper’s ball when the season was half-way finished. You had been serious in your contemplation of Lord Kingston’s proposal and to see if you could ever love him with a slightly longer courtship, you danced with him twice, laughing at the stories he had of his horses in the country. Two days later, you had received numerous bouquets of flowers from an anonymous suitor and that continued until the end of the season.
“Oh,” you breathed. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, not finding the right words to say to you. “I wish to inform you that it is not even your pursuit of pleasure that causes me great distress.”
“Then…”
“I knew that you were quite rakish, most men are. It is my fault for not inquiring about it during our courtship, you were not obligated to tell me—”
“I am. I should have told you from the moment I knew that you were the only one I wanted to be with in my entire life. You need not have to ask it from me, you need not have to ask me anything about me… I should have been honest with you about everything.”
“Then… why were you not?”
“Fear, I suppose. I know that you value trust above all else, even love, and I always felt like I betrayed the trust you bestowed upon me by attending Henry’s parties.”
“You were only there to practice your art… I would have understood that even if your surroundings were invested in other things,” you said and his eyes were brought back to stare at yours. His hands were shaking as he sighed.
“I know but it did not mean that it would still remove the guilt in my chest every time I stare at the bare bodies I draw,” he admitted and you had to look away, your face heating up at those words.
“Well… I believe that resolves everything, thank you for being honest w—”
He cut you off, the guilt in his eyes fading into the background with a certain form of determination overwhelming you. “Please stop falsifying your happiness or content with my answers. I know that you are still unhappy with me so I implore for you to listen while I share all of my untold truths.”
So, there are more, you thought with a heavy heart. You nodded with a tight smile.
“I often get irritated whenever I draw you,” he elaborated and a smile formed on his face at the offended look on your face. He began walking to you, as he talked and you listened to his odd words. “My sketches used to be abominable due to the harsh lines I always seem to make, so when I draw you… I could never replicate the softness of your smile nor the tranquility in your eyes. I never do your presence justice.
“I also abhor how close you are with my sister. I truly believe that I am her most favorite brother and, do not tell Hyacinth, but she is also my favorite sister. But with you… all sense seems to leave me and I forget about familial ties. I keep vying for your attention when you visit as it was always fixated on Eloise and her endless Whistledown theories.”
“She surely has a lot of those,” you commented, the way the corner of your mouth lifted made Benedict melt every time.
“She does,” he agreed but then continued, “Lest not forget how I do not like the attention that Lady Whistledown has given me during our courtship. My privacy has never felt that invaded yet whenever I see your joy in reading the scandal sheet, I do not seem to care at all.”
He now stood in front of you, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist and your own around his neck. Other than the close positions you two had been seen in on the dance floor, this was the closest you two had been to each other. And you were also unchaperoned, how scandalous, you thought.
“I suppose that is all, Mr. Bridgerton?” you asked and he thought about it for a moment before shaking his head.
“Well, no, Lady Y/N.” You felt his warmth breath fanning your neck as he leaned, his lips brushing off the tender skin which made you shiver with an unknown feeling, your heartbeat picking up. "However, all of my other… impure thoughts and truths are only reserved for the future Mrs. Bridgerton.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat as you choked out, “Well, whoever she may be, she is truly lucky.”
“As am I.” He removed himself from your neck and went back to simply gazing into your eyes, the feeling you experienced only moments ago left, leaving you yearning for more.
You did not know how long you stood there, simply staring at each other, in an embrace that was truly the most improper. Thank heavens that the curtains were drawn.
“When shall we ask Eloise and Penelope to stop listening in on our conversation?” you whispered, both of your eyes glanced at the door for a short while and Benedict laughed.
“Perhaps a few more minutes, I do believe that I have something I have wished to do for so long,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes that shone with mirth once realization dawned on you.
Before you could say another word, he leaned in and closed the gap, locking lips with yours.
UNTOLD TRUTHS
benedict bridgerton x fem!reader | it is a truth universally acknowledged that there is a perfectly curated image that men and women of the 1800s display to attract suitable matches. one would think that the highly honorable bridgertons do not fall prey or become predators to this dishonesty.... a visit to a certain modiste proves otherwise. (3.3k)
a/n: this is a repost and was requested by an anon on my previous blog, i don't know if i did it justice but i hope u guys like it :)) the gif is made by @catalinabaylors ! also, content warning for fluff? angst? oversharing and not-so subtle “friends”? protective eloise and pen?
It has been brought to This Author’s attention that whilst shopping for her trousseau, Lady Y/N L/N was seen leaving the shop of Genevieve Delacroix in tears after a conversation with the aforementioned modiste and Mrs. Lucy Granville.
Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers, 1816
Three years.
A year of childish ignorance and playful remarks
Another filled marked with painful longing and not-so revealing revelations
And the most recent?
A beautiful year of sensual dancing and endless promenades.
Three years that brought her the greatest amount of joy could be ruined by the weight of untold truths. Because how is one lying if they simply wished to withhold what was true? How is one called a liar for not telling the other of something they never cared to ask for?
“I swear on all of my writings that I truly believed that he had told you, Y/N,” Eloise said as she held your hand while your head rested on Penelope’s lap. The two were stroking your hair to provide comfort as Eloise also rambled about her idiotic brother.
It was completely humorous of how life can make you crumble and dissolve into tears in merely four-and-twenty hours.
Because four-and twenty hours ago you had found yourself on your way to the modiste to acquire items for your trousseau. Four-and-twenty hours ago, you had been so elated and excited for it made your upcoming marriage more real to you.
Because then, you had sighed, madly and deeply in love as you stared at your beloved’s extremely expressive blue eyes that reflected the same intensity of emotion your own held. Happiness, that was what it felt like and that was what it was supposed to feel like for the rest of your lives.
“I certainly hope that the clothing you choose to include would… be the most satisfactory,” Benedict had said, his hand resting on the one you had placed on his cheek, a lopsided smile on his face that you could not help but match.
“Satisfactory for whom? For you or for me, Mr. Bridgerton?” you had responded, chuckling when he feigned to think for a moment, his eyes had closed as to what he must have believed to be the look of one deep in thought.
When he opened them, those blue eyes engulfed you with the passionate heat it suddenly possessed. “By all means yours.” He then pressed the softest of kisses on your palm. “But if my lady would allow, then perhaps for me too.”
Before you could have answered him or leaned a little bit closer, a cough had interrupted your rather intimate moment. You both withdrew from each other and stepped ever further once under the scrutinizing gaze of your families.
You had cleared your throat before anyone could remark on how lovesick the two of you were or of how close you were on causing a scandal in the middle of Mayfair as you both stood in front the doors of Bridgerton House. “I-is Eloise joining us?”
The desperation of avoiding a scolding from your mother of the virtue you were taught to remain intact must have shown through your eyes as Eloise nodded frantically. “Yes, of course I will be coming.” She had hastily walked to you, grabbed your arm and dragged you towards the carriage. The raised eyebrows of your mother and Lady Bridgerton led you to believe that your close friend had not been invited or accepted an invite to join. “And we must make haste as we ought to stop by Gunter’s for flavored ice too!”
You had managed to wave to Benedict and your families before you entered the carriage and was met with the disgusted face of Eloise. “In front of our very house? Really?”
You merely laughed in response while your mothers entered the carriage, they had seemingly forgotten the scandal that nearly occurred as they began to talk excessively about the shops you were to visit.
Madam Genevieve Delacroix’ popular dressmaking shop had been the last place you were to be at. You had smiled, excited for she was to craft the dress you were to wear at your wedding ceremony.
You wished you knew then that once you left, there would be the possibility of the union to not happen.
You had entered with an optimistic smile on your face, the joy brought by Eloise’s hilarious commentary while moving from shop to shop still evident on your face. Other than matters regarding your awaited nuptials, you had also missed the modiste. The last time you were in each other’s presence was before the season began when you were getting fitted for your outfits.
“Mrs. Granville, it is such a surprise to see you here at this time of the year…” your mother said and the three of you followed in greeting her. It was quite odd to find anyone who was not a mother and a debutante in the modiste when the season was already ending.
Mrs. Granville, a beautiful lady with the kindest of smiles, agreed with what your mother had said. “I am not purchasing anything at the moment, I only missed Madam Delacroix and wished to speak with her about events that happened lately."
Minutes later you found yourself standing on top of a small platform with the mirror in front of you as your mothers sought for fabrics and Eloise read the book she brought. “Mademoiselle Y/N, I feel that I am obligated to express my felicitations,” Madam Delacroix had chimed with a kind smile while she took your measurements. Mrs. Granville was quick to tell you the same.
“Thank you, Madam Delacroix, Mrs. Granville.”
“How is your relationship with Mr. Bridgerton, ma chérie? You two appear to be a very beautiful pair,” Madam Delacroix had asked. You assumed that she was trying to start a conversation to fill the silence in the shop.
“Thank you, uh, I do believe it is going very well… He is very… transparent. Most of the time, he is utterly easy to read which is very interesting,” you had explained, a fond smile on your face as you recalled his eyes. For the longest time, the expressions they held made you feel like you knew him, truly knew him. And when he had professed his longing and desire to court, and eventually marry, you through showing you a sketchbook of his. You had never known that he drew… and from that realization came the promise of finding out everything about him during your courtship.
From his favorite color of paint to use to the dreams that made him restless at night, you had been sure that you knew.
“Oh, so Mr. Bridgerton has told you… everything?” Mrs. Granville inquired, she looked quite shocked and you were not surprised. Most men only displayed and shared carefully selected pieces of themselves while courting debutantes. Of course, most debutantes do the same.
“I believe so.”
“Y/N and my brother have known each other since she moved here four years ago and they are completely and utterly besotted with each other,” Eloise had interjected, her tone appearing to be proving a point that you did not know of. “You should have seen them stare at each other earlier, they gazed upon each other as if they had both hung the stars in the sky.”
“Yes, of course. All of London has been made aware of it, Miss Eloise,” Madam Delacroix had responded with a smile on her face as she draped the fabrics your mother and Violet chose in the few minutes they had been gone. You slightly turned your face to find them looking at more which had made you chuckle. The hint of jealousy in the modiste’s tone flew by your head but Eloise heard it clearly. “Lady Whistledown has only written numerous things about the two of you all season.”
“He has been attending balls and events all season with you and the look in your eyes makes my own heart flutter,” Mrs. Granville had complimented, well you had thought that she complimented your relationship with Benedict. “Although he is dearly missed in some ventures that occur during my husband’s parties.”
“Oui,” Madam Delacroix added with a knowing look on her face which made you assume that she was participating in those parties for artists. You exchanged a confused look with Eloise. You had both wondered what other ventures were there for them to do while they paint or sketch or mingle.
“What other things do you do during those… parties?” You had asked, your heart picking up slightly as if you had anticipated the answer. Eloise, who had known of her brother’s friendship with the modiste, was about to interject when Violet called her to try on a particular dress in preparation for her next season. She reluctantly joined the two mamas, squeezing your hand before she grumbled unladylike words while walking over to them
“I thought…. Mr. Bridgerton must have told you the main purpose of the parties and the things he does and used to do as you said he was open with you?” Mrs. Granville was polite in her tone and she beamed once you nodded. Madam Delacroix began sewing a particular part on the fabric your Mama had said was in the color that put emphasis on the color of your eyes. “Well then you must know that our artists always find themselves with paint in all kinds of peculiar places.”
That was when you knew that something was wrong… there was a sudden tight feeling in your chest as you took in the suggestiveness in her voice. You were innocent, but not naive. As if there was a frog that lodged itself in your throat, no words left your mouth although you had wished you had spoken.
“And oftentimes… there are those who put them there,” Madam Delacroix said.
“Oh.” It was the only thing that you managed to say as Mrs. Granville and Madam Delacroix began talking about some of the thrilling things that have happened during those parties, oblivious to how you had gone pale and still. Oblivious to how you had not even kissed your beloved nor done the things they had said. Oblivious to how he had not even told you that his passions were also involved with other passionate activities.
Within a few minutes, you quickly made your way out of the shop, a small thank you and excuse me coming from you.
“… Lady Whistledown has also written about it, hopefully she does not find out the reasons for your abrupt exit,” Eloise added and Penelope nodded, agreeing with her. The two were quite shocked when you sat up with a frown settled on your face.
“Leaving was pathetic and careless and foolish of me,” you said after some pondering of the recent events and the two hesitantly agreed. Well, Penelope did. Eloise already mentioned that somewhere during her rambling. “And I am not… It is not… It is not even his companionships that have made me upset, well not entirely.”
“Is it because he did not tell you?” Penelope inquired as the two looked at you intensely, noticing how you began playing with the ends of your hair, something you only did when you were anxious.
“No, yes, no, well that’s part of it. You both know that I wished…” They both nodded, understanding you easily. “Trust is vital in a relationship. There is trust in love and love in trust, there is beauty in that. There is beauty in having one trust you with everything they were, are, and shall be. To confide your mind, your soul, and your heart with them and to be assured that they would hold on to that and—”
A knock interrupted your monologue of sorts and the voice of your Lady’s maid could be heard on the other side of your door, “Lady Y/N, Mr. Bridgerton is here and he wishes to talk to you…”
“That fool! We all told him to give you time.” Eloise stood up, Penelope following her actions. “Pen and I shall straighten him up and have him leave.”
Penelope tried to muster up confidence for her friend, she exhaled deeply. “Yes, we shall. You can stay in here, Y/N, he does not deserve to stress you any further.”
Before they could depart, your voice rang within the room, “Thank you, Jane, and please tell Mr. Bridgerton that I shall see him in a few minutes.”
Looks of disbelief lit your closest friends faces as your Lady’s maid left to relay your message.
“You most certainly are not going out of there!” Eloise exclaimed, her eyes wide and hands descriptive. “He may be my brother but he has hurt you! He knows how much trust and communication mean to you!”
“And he is still attending Sir Granville’s parties, does he not? While Mrs. Granville did say that he does not engage in those activities, who’s to say that he does not watch?” Penelope shrunk once her comment made you and Eloise look at her weirdly. She blushed, realizing what she had implied, and it caused a small chuckle to erupt from your chest.
“The two of you are the best friends that any person could ever ask for and I am forever thankful for your protectiveness but I think that the matters in which my heart is involved can only be resolved by the two people involved? And I do not wish to let the situation last longer…”
The two relented and you had them stay within your quarters.
You entered the drawing room and Benedict’s pacing halted. His eyes connected with yours and you could see the anxiety and guilt swirling in them. You suspected that he wished to reach out to you as you stood still near the door but he seemed to stop himself.
“I-uh-I,” he stuttered, squinting as he internally scolded himself for it.
You broke the silence and his stuttering, which was painful to watch, by asking, “Have you been…”
“No! From the moment that I saw you dancing with Lord Kingston during Lady Cowper’s ball, I have attended only to hone my skills,” he admitted and you could not help but give him a small smile which made his heart flutter with love and hope. During your first year as a debutante that you spent with Eloise and Penelope mocking the other ladies and mamas, Lord Kingston was your most respectable suitor that asked you to dance every night.
The most memorable was during Lady Cowper’s ball when the season was half-way finished. You had been serious in your contemplation of Lord Kingston’s proposal and to see if you could ever love him with a slightly longer courtship, you danced with him twice, laughing at the stories he had of his horses in the country. Two days later, you had received numerous bouquets of flowers from an anonymous suitor and that continued until the end of the season.
“Oh,” you breathed. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, not finding the right words to say to you. “I wish to inform you that it is not even your pursuit of pleasure that causes me great distress.”
“Then…”
“I knew that you were quite rakish, most men are. It is my fault for not inquiring about it during our courtship, you were not obligated to tell me—”
“I am. I should have told you from the moment I knew that you were the only one I wanted to be with in my entire life. You need not have to ask it from me, you need not have to ask me anything about me… I should have been honest with you about everything.”
“Then… why were you not?”
“Fear, I suppose. I know that you value trust above all else, even love, and I always felt like I betrayed the trust you bestowed upon me by attending Henry’s parties.”
“You were only there to practice your art… I would have understood that even if your surroundings were invested in other things,” you said and his eyes were brought back to stare at yours. His hands were shaking as he sighed.
“I know but it did not mean that it would still remove the guilt in my chest every time I stare at the bare bodies I draw,” he admitted and you had to look away, your face heating up at those words.
“Well… I believe that resolves everything, thank you for being honest w—”
He cut you off, the guilt in his eyes fading into the background with a certain form of determination overwhelming you. “Please stop falsifying your happiness or content with my answers. I know that you are still unhappy with me so I implore for you to listen while I share all of my untold truths.”
So, there are more, you thought with a heavy heart. You nodded with a tight smile.
“I often get irritated whenever I draw you,” he elaborated and a smile formed on his face at the offended look on your face. He began walking to you, as he talked and you listened to his odd words. “My sketches used to be abominable due to the harsh lines I always seem to make, so when I draw you… I could never replicate the softness of your smile nor the tranquility in your eyes. I never do your presence justice.
“I also abhor how close you are with my sister. I truly believe that I am her most favorite brother and, do not tell Hyacinth, but she is also my favorite sister. But with you… all sense seems to leave me and I forget about familial ties. I keep vying for your attention when you visit as it was always fixated on Eloise and her endless Whistledown theories.”
“She surely has a lot of those,” you commented, the way the corner of your mouth lifted made Benedict melt every time.
“She does,” he agreed but then continued, “Lest not forget how I do not like the attention that Lady Whistledown has given me during our courtship. My privacy has never felt that invaded yet whenever I see your joy in reading the scandal sheet, I do not seem to care at all.”
He now stood in front of you, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist and your own around his neck. Other than the close positions you two had been seen in on the dance floor, this was the closest you two had been to each other. And you were also unchaperoned, how scandalous, you thought.
“I suppose that is all, Mr. Bridgerton?” you asked and he thought about it for a moment before shaking his head.
“Well, no, Lady Y/N.” You felt his warmth breath fanning your neck as he leaned, his lips brushing off the tender skin which made you shiver with an unknown feeling, your heartbeat picking up. "However, all of my other… impure thoughts and truths are only reserved for the future Mrs. Bridgerton.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat as you choked out, “Well, whoever she may be, she is truly lucky.”
“As am I.” He removed himself from your neck and went back to simply gazing into your eyes, the feeling you experienced only moments ago left, leaving you yearning for more.
You did not know how long you stood there, simply staring at each other, in an embrace that was truly the most improper. Thank heavens that the curtains were drawn.
“When shall we ask Eloise and Penelope to stop listening in on our conversation?” you whispered, both of your eyes glanced at the door for a short while and Benedict laughed.
“Perhaps a few more minutes, I do believe that I have something I have wished to do for so long,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes that shone with mirth once realization dawned on you.
Before you could say another word, he leaned in and closed the gap, locking lips with yours.