Could You Do Something With Damian And A Really Cuddly, Clingy, Touchy-feely Reader? I Feel Like His

Could you do something with Damian and a really cuddly, clingy, touchy-feely reader? I feel like his brothers would be v confused about the whole situation bc Damian's just chillin and always seems neutral to what's happening while reader is just like, koala bear hugging him and stuff all the time.

Firstly. I love this concept with every fiber of my being because, oh good god, it's me. Thank you so much for bringing this to inbox, because I've been lacking on inspiration lately, and this is just what I need right now. Thanks doll!!

Prompt List // Masterlist (in bio)

Tim stops dead in his tracks, cereal bowl nearly slipping from his hand as he halts in the doorway to the huge living room. He pauses, before cautiously asking, "What is this? What am I looking at?"

Damian's arm twitches against your back, the only give away that he's been caught off guard. You seem just as relaxed, sprawled on top of him like you've been there your whole life.

You don't even look at him, eyes still glued to the phone screen shining up at you from the floor, which you're facing with your face pressed against Damian's shoulder. "You've known me for five years and you still haven't learned my name? Rude."

He blinks. "Sure, sure. Right. Because it's absolutely normal for anyone to successfully get within a foot of Damian and not get knocked out."

You snort, but it still isn't enough to pry your attention away from your phone. Damian either, as he reads a book over your shoulder, which is settled under his chin. He must be tired or in a terrifyingly good mood, if he hasn't shoved you off in hopes of hiding emotions from his family. That's what he usually does when he gets caught with you, anyway.

He's been tiptoeing around the subject of you for a solid year and half now. It wasn't exactly easy, seeing as you're also a family friend, what with being a vigilante and all. You're Damian's partner, have been for three years, and you're in the manor often enough that you have your own room, right next to Damian's.

Still, even with no clear answers from either of you, the whole family has suspected a relationship for a long time.

But Damian isn't very touch oriented. In fact, he's been known to go to nearly astonishing lengths to avoid being touched at all.

And now here he is, you laying on top of him, out in the open, absolutely unbothered by Tim catching it.

Tim decides quickly not to risk Damian's mood spoiling while he's around, so he backpedals and heads for his room.

• • •

Jason doesn't come to the manor often, but when he does, there's usually a decently concerning reason for it. This time, he's waiting out a possible kidnapping by one king pin or another. You haven't been paying as much attention as you probably should.

Now, he's trotting down the steps from Bruce's office to fix a suspicious rattling noise his motorcycle has been making for a shameful period of time.

However, he stops beside the super computer, looking a little aghast and far too dramatic for the sight.

Damian side-eyes him, still typing away, but his head doesn't move. It really can't, because you're resting your head on top of it.

You're resting your full weight on the back of the chair, which Jason now realizes isn't the tall backed chair that usual sits there, with your cheek buried in the soft looking bush that is Damian's hair. Your eyes are closed, and your arms and draped over his shoulders, hands laying on his chest.

Jason catches himself staring when Damian's side-eyeing turns into a curious glare. Tentatively, Jason points to you, and raises an eyebrow.

Lowly, Damian somewhat patiently answers, "She's half asleep."

Your eyebrows slant together. "Hmm?"

Jason's expression becomes more confused. "She sleeps standing up?"

"Apparently," Damian mumbles.

Jason, more than a little perturbed but Damian's oddly placid demeanor and your absurd sleeping habits, shuffles the rest if the way to his bike, grabbing the toolbox on his way.

• • •

Dick sitting on the floor, wrapped in a blanket—correction, three blankets, facing the rest of the living room, where Damian sits on one couch, and Duke occupies the other.

"No no, I'm not saying Bella wasn't smokin, I'm just saying that those facial expressions and life decisions were questionable enough to make a guy think twice," Dick tries to reason.

Duke makes a face. "Bro, are you kidding? If a chick stares at you from across a lunch room and you've never spoke to her, you don't even try."

Damian scoffs. Duke raises an eyebrow, and just when he's about to beg for the story of who tied him to a steel chair and forced him to watch Twilight, you shoulder the double door open.

Damian doesn't look up from his newest book, which could be deemed rude if you weren't so close and comfortable with one another. "Evening, Beloved, how was your drive?"

You say nothing. You drop your bag by his feet, crawl the rest of the way onto the couch, and collapse. Your head in on a pillow between Damian's thighs and the arm of the couch, the rest of you divided unevenly between his lap and the rest of the couch.

He glances away from the pages briefly. "Traffic?" His hand slips under your shirt to gently run blunt nails up and down your spine.

For a moment, you're quiet, and neither of the two older men know how to react.

Then, without warning, you wail into the pillow. "Who the everloving fuck drives a Winnebago through central Gotham at six o'clock going fourteen miles an hour?"

Duke barks a loud laugh, before he claps a hand over his mouth in fear of a punishment. But a man can only do so much, so he sits with his hand over his mouth, giggling like a fifteen year old listening to a dirty joke with his parents in the room.

Damian chuckles lightly, white teeth peeking through a little smile that he's trying to suppress, much for the same reason Duke is doing his best not to let you hear him laugh.

Dick is more focused on the two of you, and the fact that his baby brother has grown up and changed for the better so much—

• • •

Cassandra climbs the stairs with some difficulty, thanks to two new sets of stitches and a few too many fresh bruises.

It's nothing a few days of relaxation won't fix. It was worth it, to see Poison Ivy put back behind bars—even if it did take four of you.

Shortly after arriving back, you and Damian had disappeared up to his room, after you'd both been checked over by Alfred. Aside from some intense bruising and a fee cuts and scrapes, you'd both been spared.

She knocks on his door a few times. With no answer, she loudly turns the handle and pushes the door open slowly, giving you enough time to correct her if need be. She knows at least one of you are in here, because the light is on. "Alfred sent me to tell you that there's dinner, if you want–"

She stops. You are, in fact, both in the room. However, neither of you are conscious.

Damian is sprawled haphazardly across his bed, face half squished into a pillow.

You're flopped across his back, horizontal across his bed, likely also with a pillow, but she can't see your face to be sure.

For a moment that feels a little intrusive, she stares, eyes wide. Not because he's in only boxers and you're in shorts and a sports bra (neither are necessarily a new sight, with one makeshift locker room in the Cave and a city with way too many privacy-surpassing emergencies), but because she's never witnessed Damian allowing another person to be so close to him while asleep.

Even on week long stakeouts that confine them to one room, he claims one corner for himself and doesn't tolerate that invisible boundary to be broken, especially when he's asleep.

She wouldn't even be so surprised if you were passed out in his reading chair, or even on a pile of blankets in the floor, or hell, even if you were on opposite sides of the bed. But you're literally as close to him as you could possibly be. And he's still sound asleep.

She closes the door and backs away slowly, a little smile on her face, even though she was too tired to laugh at the joke Bruce tried to crack a few minutes ago.

• • •

Bruce sits, almost impatiently, on a stone bench by the fountain the middle of Gotham City Gardens. The whole family had come here for the day, on invitation of the organization's owners. Of course, not everyone was officially recognized as family by anyone outside the Manor, so there were quite a few plus ones—you being one of them.

Of course you were. You're always invited. Over the years, it's become a running joke. A trip to the grocery store? (Y/N) must be invited. Walking from the W.I. building to an ice cream parlor and back? I bet (Y/N) is invited. At one point, Damian became so simultaneously annoyed and amused by it that for a week, you really did join him on every single outing. No one knows how exactly you made it across Gotham in six minutes flat to help him pick up cereal but by golly you managed it.

Bruce is currently waiting on you and Damian, who swore to meet him here for a few pictures (at Alfred's request). The pair of you had gone off on your own after about an hour of meandering around with his family, and no one has heard from either of you since. He would be worried, but you were both too excited about this to get into any trouble that would risk being sent home early.

Your laughter finds him before you do. It comes from around a corner of tall hedges, and shortly after, so do you.

You're smiling ear to ear, giggling like a school girl, elbows balanced on Damian's shoulders, about as precariously as you are on his back. That is to say, quite stable. Damian is grinning as well, his arms linked around you're knees at his sides to keep you as stable as you are. You've got an ice cream cone in each hand, one obviously having had more attention than the other.

Bruce's heart swells in his chest at the absolute joy on his son's face.

Damian stops not too far, shifting your weight to free one hand. You help, carefully resituating yourself to hold yourself up easily. You hand him the neglected ice cream, resting your now free hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, Father," Damian sounds a little winded, and Bruce wonders if the running he heard earlier had been you two. "Somebody found an ice cream bar and insisted we stop before meeting you." He doesn't sound apologetic in the least.

"Hey!" You laugh, flicking the back of his ear as payback.

As payback for payback, he takes the edge of his cone between his teeth, and uses his free hand to give the back of your knee a quick pinch, before he occupies his hand again to tilt the odds in his favor.

You squeal and jerk. "Damian! You're gonna make me fall, and if I go down, you're coming with me!"

Bruce laughs loudly.

• • •

Alfred is on his way to the library to finish the afternoon chores. All he needs to do is straighten up in there, and he can call it an evening. Just in time, too, as one of the local channels is running a Downton Abbey marathon tonight that he doesn't particularly want to miss.

He pushes open the doors to get a little extra fresh air, but pauses just inside the doorway.

Damian is stretched out in one of the plush leather chairs, his long legs propped up by his ankles on the coffee table, head resting limply on the back of the chair. You're curled up in his lap, head on his shoulder, legs folded up on either side of his thighs, arms wound around his back. His hands are folded together on your back. You're both fast asleep.

The elder man is suddenly flooded with memories of the boy's first few months in this manor. In this room, even. He was politely feral, as Bruce had once put it. He was so uncomfortable all the time, though he fought not to show it. It was so new to him, to be openly cared for the way his family tried to care for him. Most people he met back then treated him as the cold, rude, trained assassin that he presented himself as.

So many overlooked the terrified ten year old boy that shook beneath the armor and the weight of the mantels he was expected to take up in so few years.

Of course Alfred had been paying attention to him all this time, all the growing he's done and the man he's becoming. He's always been proud.

But it's here, in this exact moment, that Alfred really takes in how different he is now, compared to then.

Not only did he find the strength and the trust to forge a close bond with you, one that would arguably outlast just about anything it was forced to endure, but he'd fostered such a sweet affection for you. He's found the space within himself to make room for a great love for you, and his family, and his friends.

And you're so good for him. You remind him of the things he could be, if he wanted, and not of what he should be or could have been. You provide him a sense of normalcy when he needs it, and battle ready companion when he needs that.

You look past the blazing armor of controlled aggression and lessons learned to reach the beautiful soul he is. And most importantly, you love him for all of it. You manage to dig so far beyond what he's been taught and the walls he's put up, that you look at what was meant to be the perfect soldier and you see a pillow to sleep on. You trust him with everything, including your vulnerability, just as he trusts you.

Alfred marks the page of the open book on the floor, closes it, and leaves it in the table for you later. He leaves as quietly as he came, in hopes of leaving the two of you undisturbed.

Hi :) I wanted to ask if you could write something about Benedict B. x female reader x Anthony B. (Maybe readers’ mother had originally planned for her to be courted by Anthony, but the reader has strong feelings for Benedict and he does too). Something about that, If not, that’s okay. Thank you 💖

Second Sons

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader. Minor Anthony Bridgerton x reader

Word count: 5.7k

Summary: in the middle of a dull courtship with Viscount Bridgerton, forced upon you by your imposing mama, you find yourself falling for the second Bridgerton son.

Warnings: none (A little bit of Anthony bashing but we still love him here)

Authors note: i’m sorry for how long this took to write. I kept on wanting to add more to the story!



“Remember y/n, Anthony Bridgerton is hoping to find a wife this season, this is your one and only opportunity to have a viscount as a husband.” Your mother was more excited for the upcoming social season than you were. And when news broke loose of Viscount Bridgertons expected endeavors, her eyes practically popped out of her skull.

You however had other plans. While your mother saw this as a chance to marry into a higher status, you wanted to find love. True love. With a Lord, a Duke, a common peasant, or a servant, you didn’t care.  

The first ball of the season was rapidly approaching, and before you knew it, you were smoothing out the wrinkles of your dress and trying to calm yourself on the carriage ride to Lady Danbury’s house.

Your very first ball. The adrenaline was starting to kick in and your heart was beating louder and louder. From nerves or excitement, you didn’t know.

But once you entered the grand ballroom with the sparkling chandeliers and twirling dresses, you knew this would be a night to remember.

“There he is.” Whispering in your ear, your mother motioned to the tall Viscount standing several feet away from you talking to his Mama. “Violet Bridgerton and I are well acquainted, I made sure to put in several good words for you- I better stop talking, here they come.”

“Miss and Mrs. l/n. We are so delighted to see you.” The Bridgerton matriarch said with a genuine smile.  

“Your feelings are returned. Has your son met daughter y/n?” Taking your arm, she pulled you in front of her to face Anthony.

“Miss. l/n, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’ve heard wonderful things about you.” You offered him your widest smile.

“Thank you Mr. Bridgerton. Your words flatter me.” You did your best to remain composed in the presence of lord Bridgerton. Catching the eye of a lord could perhaps mean catching the eyes of others.

“Would you do me the honor of a dance later this evening?” He asked.”

“She would be delighted.” Before you could even open your mouth, your mother responded for you.

“I look forward to it.” After he left, you turned to face your mother.

“I didn’t need you to intervene. I am perfectly capable of speaking for myself, you know.”

“You just need to be reminded of how imperative this match is. A marriage to Lord Brodgerton would mean wonders to our family.”

“Well what about love?” Your mother took a step back. As if just saying the word was contagious.

“Love?” She laughed. “Love may come, but what is important is that you secure yourself a proper and wealthy husband to provide for you, and luckily Anthony Bridgerton is just that. Now prepare yourself for the upcoming dance.” Taking a few deep breaths, you steadied yourself in preparation for the rest of the evening.

–

Benedict didn’t want to be there. It was Anthony’s idea in the first place to have him leave the house and attend the first ball of the season.

“It will be fun. Who knows what ladies might be in attendance.” Benedict highly doubted he would find any sort of fun in this sort of social activities, but Anthony would not stop pestering him until he agreed.

“I’m glad you could join us brother. The night is still young and the drinks are still fresh.”

“I knew I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I didn’t.” Taking a flute of champagne from a tray, he drowned half of it down in one gulp.

“Please remember to enjoy yourself. That is the whole reason why people come to these balls. Now I must be off, but remember-”

“Yes yes, have fun and drink. I know, brother.”

“Good.” giving Benedict a pat on the back, Anthony went off to find his mama and discuss other possible ladies to dance with.

That was when he saw her. She was standing on the other side of the room talking with what he assumed to be her mother. While several of the ladies tonight were ravishing, she was beyond ethereal. Instantly capturing his gaze and pulling him so far in that the orchestra seemed to fade away and everyone else seemed to disappear.

Soon, the beautiful figure was approached by someone who was reaching out their hand to her.

She accepted it gracefully and the couple made their way to the dancefloor to begin a waltz.

Now standing in a closer proximity to Benedict, he was able to make out who exactly the woman was dancing with. His brother.

-

“You are light on your feet Ms. l/n. By far the best dancer I have come across.”

“Thank you Lord Bridgerton.” He had a tight grip on your hand and waist as he almosted pushed you across the dance floor.

It was evident that Anthony Bridgerton had a little issue with control and power. He was a Viscount and the oldest of his eight siblings, so it is fair that he was used to constantly being the figure of authority. But being suffered by the hands of your merciless Mama for so many years, you hoped that marriage would be a point of freedom, not further constraint.

“Thank you for the dance Ms. l/n. I look forward to more in the future.” The music couldn’t end soon enough, and before you knew it, you were out of the clutches of the Viscount.

“As do I.” Nothing wrong with a little white lie.

Stepping away from the dance floor, you took advantage of the freedom to refresh yourself.

This evening was going to be exhausting. From the endless stream of possible suitors to captivate, to your Mama's comments, how could any young lady handle all of this?

“Excuse me, would you do me the honor of a dance?” Turning to see who it was, you saw the face of a man you did not recognize.

He had a kind smile and had his hand out, ready for you to take it.

“If you would prefer not to, I understand.” He pulled his hand away after you paused for a tad too long, not responding.

“No no. I’d love to dance with you sir.”    

Immediately, the man seemed far more relaxed and breezy than your previous dance partner. Something you already admired.

“Would you be so kind as to tell me your name?” He asked.\

“Y/n l/n sir.” “Benedict Bridgerton. At your service.” Bridgerton. No doubt Anthony’s younger brother.

“I was just dancing with your brother actually.”

“Oh yes. You were actually the first person I noticed when I walked in.” Butterflies started to swarm in your stomach. “I hope you don’t believe I asked to dance with you out of jealousy.” His voice was in a light panic.

“Not at all.”

He twirled you across the room as your fingers danced around in his hand, his face in a wide smile the entire time.

“Are you enjoying the season this far?” You asked.

Benedict's smile ever so slightly faltered. “Not too much if I am being entirely honest. Eventually these balls start to become endless and tiring. Of course not you that is.” He added at the end. “And what about you? This is your first season is it not?”

“It is. It’s a bit overwhelming if I am being entirely honest. I’m scared of saying or doing the wrong thing and disappointing my family.” It was the truth, no matter how much you hated the reality.

“I’ve only known you a while, but I highly doubt you could do anything to disappoint anyone. I know the pressure that exists on you ladies is wildly unfair, but don’t worry, your honesty has already impressed me.” His words of comfort instantly soothed you. It was exactly what you needed. Someone to reassure you that you weren’t alone in this new environment.

“Thank you Lord Bridgerton. It means a lot to hear those words from you.” This dance felt unfairly shorter than the last. Time flies when you’re having fun.

“Till the next time Ms. l/n.”

“Till then Lord Bridgerton.”

–

“I wish to court Ms. l/n.” It was the very first thing Anthony announced in the morning as his mother and two younger brothers sat in the parlor.

“You made up your mind quickly. Are you sure you don’t want to see any other potential young woman?” Violet Bridgerton tried to pull the reins on her son's bold proclamation.

“She seems like a perfectly acceptable lady Mama. Well worthy of the title of Viscountess. You danced with her, Benedict. What did you think of her?” Eyes darted to the second Bridgerton son as his family awaited his response.

“I-I I found her the most compelling.” (To say the least)

“Excellent. I’ll invite her for dinner as soon as possible.”  

“Already brother? Isn’t it a tad too soon to start thinking about a family dinner?” Colin remarked.

“Might I remind you who exactly is forcing me to marry in the first place?” Anthony added with a suggestive look to his mother. “You need not to worry, I already searched into her family history and background, her record is practically perfect.” His brother's words made Benedict feel uneasy. It was clear that he was only looking at y/n from a surface level, offering no regard to her character and person.

“I better tell Gregory and Hyacinth to be on their best behavior when Miss. l/n comes, I best be off to work, till then brothers.” With that, Anthony abruptly left the room, leaving everyone positively stunned.

–

Dearest gentle reader,

It appears so that the infamous unwed Viscount Bridgerton has finally found a woman worthy of his time. A Miss. y/n l/n of a well respected family of the ton might be the newest addition to the Bridgerton family. A surprise no doubt to the rest of the ton, as she was practically unheard of until she was caught dancing with Viscount Bridgerton at last week's ball. Will she continue to captivate Lord Bridgerton, or is their more to this match than meets the eye?

You felt uncomfortably small as you stood in your family's parlor, reading the latest addition of Lady Whistledown.

Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine ever being mentioned in the gossip columnists article. But being wound up in the Bridgerton family already meant instant attention and attraction. Something you weren’t exactly sure you could handle.

The season was already overwhelming enough, but now, with being mentioned in the first few sentences of Lady Whistledown, meant that you certainly weren’t going to fade into the background any time soon.

“Isn’t this wonderful y/n? First a dance, and now a dinner invitation. Anthony Bridgerton has been taken to you more than I ever expected.” And no more was more excited by the prospect than your mother. “Y/n, do put that silly article down. Whatever Lady Whistledown is writing, good or bad, is of no importance. You must prepare for tonight's dinner. You want the Viscount to like you do you not?”

“Why should it matter if he doesn’t. There are hundreds of other ladies in the ton who I am sure would be more than happy to be his bride. And have you ever considered Mama, that I might not like the Viscount?” Your words puzzled your mother. Your opinion on Mr. Bridgerton was of the least concern.

“What is there not to like about Lord Bridgerton? He is wealthy, well to do, a serious man, and comes from a wondrous family. A marriage to him would ensure your happiness, I promise you.” Arguing was pointless. Status and wealth was all your Mama cared about when it came to potential suitors, and whether you like it or not, her opinion would not change.

–

“What are your hobbies Miss. l/n?” Dinner was going surprisingly better than you expected. In addition to Anthony, his mother, Benedict, third younger brother Colin, fourth younger brother Gregory, and younger sisters Eloise Francesca, and Hyacinth also had their own seats at the table. Each sibling was more exuberant and opinionated than the last. While the family dynamic was a bit chaotic to say the least, it was still a family nonetheless.

“I enjoy reading. An author by the name of Jane Austen is among one of my favorites.”

“A female author? Never heard of her.” The Bridgerton sister, who you recognized as Eloise, spoke.

“She is just brilliant. I Highly recommend her writing.”

“Was she the one who wrote Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice?” The words came unexpectedly from Benedict.

“I never took you as a woman's reader brother.” You noticed the disdain in Anthony’s voice.

Hiding your grimace, you stifled a polite remark. “Clearly Lord Bridgerton, you have yet to pleasure yourself with the writings of female authors. I believe you will be beyond impressed by the quality of the novels they publish.” A sly smile escaped Benedicts lips.

He was impressed by your wit. Not everyone had enough nerve to challenge a Viscount's opinion.

After the lavish five course meal, you were escorted to the drawing room where you sat down comfortably on the love seat.

“I’m afraid Anthony has contracts that need his attention. But do stay for a while longer if you please.” Violet Bridgerton said as her eldest son failed to follow her.

“I’d be delighted to stay Mrs. Bridgerton. You have been the most kind hostess.”

“Y/n, would you like to hear my song on the piano forte?” Hyacinth, the youngest bridgerton daughter, ran up to you, almost colliding, with eagerness.

“Be careful now Hyacinth, we don’t want Ms. l/n to be scared of us.”  Benedict warned.

“No need to worry Mr. Bridgerton. Your family is affectionately lively. I’d be delighted to hear your song Hyacinth.” Squealing, she sat down on the chair and began playing a light melody. Her skill was imposing, once she struck the final chord, you applauded her work.

“Very impressive Hyacinth. You are a future pianist in the making.”

“Thank you.” Running on a motor, she ran off to play marbles with Gregory.

“Did you always have an appreciation for the arts?” Benedict asked.

“For as long as I can remember. There is something so majestic about taking in the work someone put hours or days, or possibly months into. I hope to decorate my own house someday with art and splendor once I am old enough.”

“I take it you enjoy visual arts?” You noticed the excitement in his voice as he was bouncing in his chair.

“Absolutely! Painting and murals never fail to amaze me. How about you? Where do you fall in the world of artistry?” It was easy to tell that there was something Benedict wanted to say that was looming on the surface.

“It is mostly a hobby, but I do draw every now and then.” He looked away bashfully.

“Then you are an artist.”

“I wouldn’t consider what I do professional enough-”

“If you draw and make art then you are an artist.” You spoke firmly and silenced him.

You never expected to find an artist in the world of the upper class.

Painters, actors, and singers were always second class citizens from the comments you heard from Lords, Ladies, Barons, and Earls throughout your years.

“Would you care to ever see my work? I can’t promise you it will be like the paintings in the galleries but I think you would like them.”

“I’d be delighted to see your work Mr. Bridgerton.” Your heart jumped to your throat.

It was a rather personal thing to show one’s work to someone else. It could only mean that Benedict has a great deal of trust in you to do so.

Walking upstairs to his room, he returned quickly with dozens of papers and sketches in his hand.

“Some of these are incomplete.” He rummaged through the papers trying to stack them neatly. “Over here is just a sketch of hands, they are a menace to draw. Some silhouettes, animals, furniture and landscapes. I want to try my hand at everything.” You were shocked by Benedict's drawings. His skill was enough to rival that of any professional painting or drawing you have seen.

“You are far too humble Mr. Bridgerton. These sketches are positively glorious.” He was beaming at your words.

“Do you really think they are that good?”

“I am an honest woman. I know talent when I see it and you sir, are most certainly talented.” It wasn’t a shallow half true compliment.

Passion was something that so many lords that you have encountered lacked, but Benedict was the only exception.

You turned your body completely to face him. “Perhaps you would like to come over for tea this Saturday?” It was a bold claim. But the heart wants what it wants, and at this very instance, it wants Benedict.

You knew there has to be some unwritten rule somewhere that it was improper to invite one over to tea as their brother is courting you, but couldn’t care less.

“I’d love to.” And it appeared neither did he.  

–

You have been pacing back and forth for what felt like hours. Benedict was supposed to be here five minutes ago.

Patience is a virtue after all.

Lucky for you, your mother was going to spend the rest of the afternoon with madam Delacroix discussing and altering dresses leaving you with hours to spend with Benedict if you so desired.

When it seemed as though he would never arrive, a confident knock was heard at the door.

“I’ll get it!” You proclaimed before a servant had the chance to open it before you.

Giving you a moment to compose yourself, you opened the door to see the man of the hour.

“Mr. Bridgerton. So happy you could make it. Do come in.” You stepped aside to allow him full entry.

“I apologize for my tardiness, Gregory was having some trouble listening to his governess.”

“You are a very doting brother.”

“Unfortunately my siblings have reason to believe otherwise.” You laughed at his off hand comment.

“I’ll show you to our drawing room.” Feeling blunt, you took his hand and led him to the room where the tea lay steaming.

Once you two sat down comfortably, Benedict wasted no time jumping into conversation.

“How have your literature expeditions been lately?”

“I just started reading a collection of a Greek poet named Sappho. She is one of the most famous Greek poets, and a woman at that, but most of her work has been lost through the years.”

The rest of the afternoon went better than you could have ever imagined. Butterflies flew around your stomach and you felt the most at ease now than you have all season long.

You never knew it was possible to feel his way with a man. From the way your mother and other Mama’s put it, you must always carry a prim and proper demeanor and uphold your grace. But with Benedict you could finally be yourself, an unexpected, but welcoming change.

“And what ambitions do you hold for the future? A man with your talent is sure to accomplish whatever you set your mind to.” Benedict's cheeks turned pink at the compliment.

“I do hope to make art my career someday. Perhaps you could serve as some inspiration.”

“That would be a great honor Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Benedict, please.” It felt strangely wrong and right at the same time for Benedict to allow you to address him by his first name. He wasn't the one courting you, nor had reason to build up a stronger connection between you two, but some sort of inexplicable bond was forming nonetheless, and it was a wonderful comfort to know that he trusted and liked you enough to permit you calling him by his first name.

“Only if you call me y/n.”

“I think I can manage that, y/n.”

The conversation inevitably turned to art.

“I must admit, I am disappointed by the selected pieces in the drawing room.” Benedict was gesturing to the walls of the drawing room where mundane and repetitive pictures of flowers hung.

“I wasn’t the one who selected them mind you. Flowers can be lovely, but if they become too many, then… it can be overwhelming to say the least.”

“If you could decorate the drawing room what would you put?”

“Landscapes as a start, perhaps some greek art interpretations, oh, and animals and still life paintings.”

“Impressive lineup. But I do see there is one painting that doesn’t include some type of flora.” Pointing up and behind you, you turned around to see the painting he was referring to.

“Oh that.” You looked down and smiled. It was your portrait. Just before your society debut, your mother insisted you get a portrait of your own.

While the idea was exciting at first, you were a tad disappointed at how it turned out. The artist didn’t mess up your proportions or facial features, he just lacked… your spirit. A true artist was able to look at a subject and see more than just a person, but look right into their souls and capture it along with it.

“The paintwork is magnificent. However, it’s just missing something and I can’t quite put my finger on it.” His eyes darted across the painting as he tried to find the missing piece, rising from his seat to face the painting up close, you trailing close behind.

You stared at him entranced watching as he studied the painting eyebrows furrowed and eyes focusing while he remained concentrated.

“Your spirit. That’s what's missing.” he started to stroke his chin, still looking aimlessly at your portrait.

“If you ever desired, I could paint another for you. I could use the practice anyway.” Your breath got caught in your throat.” If you so desire.” He added at the end.

“That would be splendid Mr. Bridgerton. I would be honored to be the subject of your work.”

“I just hope I will be able to capture your beauty all in one painting.” he instantly winced at his word choice as you felt your cheeks heat up with flusteredness.

“You think I’m… beautiful?” The last word came out barely audible.

“Ms. l/n, you are the most beautiful thing I ever laid eyes on.” Looking up from the ground, you allowed your eyes to get lost in the sea of Benedict's blue.

You were so focused on his gaze, you failed to notice that his face was now mere inches away from yours, and he was getting closer.

“But, your brother.” You whispered.

“I don’t care.” He closed the gap that was between you two and you allowed yourself to melt into a magical kiss.

Anthony, the courtship, your Mama, all of it just disappeared. And neither one of you cared one bit.

“What will happen now?” Escorting Benedict to the front door for his departure, you asked him the one question plaguing your mind.

“We don’t have to dwell on that now.” He said caressing your head. “Let us enjoy our company while we can.” His response didn’t give you much confidence, but it was all you got.

Benedict was your escape, only for how long, you did not know.

–

“Perhaps a little too straight forward, but at least she possesses rational thought and a clever mind.” It was late into the night, and after his third drink, Anthony tended to let slip whatever was on his mind.

The fire was burning in the Viscount’s study as the two brothers sat down on the plush leather chairs.

“But you like her as a person right?” After kissing y/n, Benedict should have been more aware of the consequences. How could she possibly continue her courtship with the man whose brother she kissed? More importantly, what would Anthony do if he found out?

“I am only doing this to satisfy our mother.” He said drawing another glass. Besides, y/n would make a fine wife and mother. She is caring and considerate.”

“Is that it? Are there any other traits about her that you find captivating?”

“Such as what?”

“Her smile, her wit, her character-”

“Brother,” Anthony leaned forward to place his forearms on his legs. “Is there something you wish to tell me about you and miss. l/n?” Benedict’s heart froze and neck stiffened.

“Because if I failed to acknowledge a spark between the two of you, please know that I will immediately back down.”

“No no.” Benedict spoke a little too rapidly. “I just want to make sure she will make you happy.” Anthony was his elder brother, the heir to the Bridgerton Viscountcy, who always got the first pick, and first say. He was the one who deserved the best wife of his choosing.

“Thank you brother. After tomorrow's ball I plan on proposing.” Benedict’s blue eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

“Tomorrow? Why so soon? Don’t you want a little more time to get acquainted with her family and get to know her better?”

“I see no point in waiting. The sooner there is a ring on her finger and a Viscountess by my side, the happier Mama will be. Thank you for your concern Benedict.” Anthony gave his brother a firm pat on the shoulder before standing up to reside in his room.

The moment the door shut, Benedict shot up from his seat and ran his fingers through his hair.

This was all moving too fast. He thought he had time to spend with y/n before the inevitable happened. Was he being selfish? Or was your happiness just as important as his?

–

The Duke and Duchess of Hastings were throwing a very exclusive and very extravagant ball. Anyone who was anyone would be there and your Mama was head over heels at the sight of your invitation.

“The Duchess is Viscount Bridgertons sister! This is a monstrous step in your courtship. He could even propose.”

“Please don’t get ahead of yourself Mama.” Usually, an invitation to a ball would excite you, but you had a bad feeling at the pit of your stomach that you just couldn’t shake away.

“I am going to run to Madame Delacroix to pick up your new dress. You must look like the picture of perfection for the ball.” Your Mama rushed out of the house, practically floating, all caught up in her excitement.

A few moments later, rapid and loud knocking was heard from the door.

Wondering what the urgency was, your eyebrows rose in surprise at the sight of Benedict Bridgerton.

“Benedict. I did not expect you, but please do come in.”

“Y/n, Anthony is going to propose to you after my sister's ball.” He appeared to be catching his breath, which could only mean he must have ran all the way from the Bridgertons residence to yours.

“What do you mean?” It was a stupid question. He meant exactly what he said. Your worst fear comes true.

“Anthony isn’t going to waste time in getting what he wants.”

“What about what you want?” Your voice started to tremble.

Taking two steps up, you walked outside the threshold of your house to face Benedict.

“I am the second son. It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“That isn’t true.” You whispered.

He started to lean forward, and for a moment, you believe he was going to kiss you. Alas, realization took over and he leaned back. “I’m sorry y/n. I just thought you ought to know.” Without saying goodbye, he turned and walked away leaving you standing outside your front door.

–

The day of the ball came and the sinking feeling in your stomach only grew. Your dress looked ravishing on you and your hair was styled to perfection, but the looming event that was waiting for you at the end of the ball made you feel like throwing up.

This was the last thing you wanted for a proposal. You wanted it to be by a man you loved and who loved you, not someone whose marriage would only increase your status.

“Miss. l/n, how beautiful you look tonight.” And there was the man of the hour himself.

“Lord Bridgerton.” You curtised politely. “So pleased to see you.”

“Do save your last dance for me if you would please. I heard it will be a waltz and according to your Mama, it is your specialty.”

“I would be more than happy to do so.”

For the next hour, you kept looking over your shoulder for Benedict. Praying that he at some point would make some appearance. You had to see him again before your fate was sealed. And if you could muster enough confidence, maybe even tell him the very thing that you should have told him yesterday.

But Benedict did make a habit of being late. And just before your dance was due with Anthony, he walked in.

Feeling relieved, overjoyed, and terrified all at the same time. Beginning to run to him, Anthony stepped right in your way.

“I believe you owe me a dance Miss. l/n.” He raised his hand waiting politely for you to take it.

“Of course.” Throughout the entire dance, you felt oddly hot and uncomfortable, Anthony’s grip on you was entirely too tight and the dance went far too fast.

“Are you alright Miss. l/n? You seem oddly stiff.”

“I’m fine.” Nothing could be further from the truth.

The final note was soon struck, but before you could excuse yourself, Anthony spoke.

“Would you mind if I escorted you to the gardens? There is something I need to tell you and it would only be for a moment.

“Certainly.”

This was it. Everything that happened from the moment you met Anthony was leading up to this inevitable disastrous ending. The laughter and conversation fell silent on your ears. All you could hear was your thumping heart, beating so loudly you were certain the Viscount could hear it.

Leaving the ballroom, you didn;t see the pair of blue eyes following you and Anthony out.

“My sister planted these Tulips herself. Aren’t they beautiful? I always wanted flowers like these in a house of my own.” It wasn’t difficult to see what Anthony was alluding to.

“I hope to find someone to share that kind of life with, and I believe I may have found that person in you miss. l/n.” Bending down on one knee, he took out a small velvet box from his pocket.

“Y/n l/n, I believe few are worthy of the title of Viscountess, but you have proven to me that you are worthy of that and so much more. Will you be my wife?”

All you could do was fixate on the ring in the box. The symbol of your sealed fate.

But not today. Your mother would be beyond furious, the ton would eat up the gossip like animals, but you didn’t care.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Bridgerton. I-I can’t. I just can’t. Not when I love someone else.” Gripping your skirts, you turned around and ran, leaving Anthony stunned and confused. He wasn’t quite used to not getting what he desired.

You didn’t bother entering the ballroom. You felt too sick and overwhelmed to face the hundreds of people who would stare and look and speak to you.

Opting for the carriage instead to take you home, you made your way to the front of the grand manor before you heard a familiar voice call out.

“Y/n wait.” You immediately stopped running once you heard his voice. “Benedict?” Turning around, his tall figure was running to catch up with you.

“You didn’t say yes.” It was a statement not a question.

“I just couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to Anthony or myself. How can I marry a man while my heart lies with another?”

“Y/n, but what will happen to you? Everyone in the ballroom is talking about you and my brother's failed proposal your reputation-

“To hell with my reputation. I don’t care. I don’t care.” You expected to feel scared or anxious, but you felt surprisingly free.

“My only question is, do you?”

“Y/n. You have captured my heart and soul more than I ever expected anyone to be capable of doing so. You make me want to act outside the bounds of reason and expectations. I do hope you don’t make it a habit to reject the proposals of Bridgertons.” You laughed through the tears that were now down your face.

“I don’t have a ring, but-”

“Benedict, I’d marry you with paper rings with that's what it took to be with you.” Not wasting any more time, you grabbed the sides of his head and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Let's get out of here.”

Dearest gentle reader,

It appears that even the tempting title of Viscountess isn’t enough to persaud Miss. y/n l/n to accept the proposal of Anthony Bridgerton. After the ball, thrown in the lavish manor of the Duke and Duchess of Hastings, we were all waiting for the upcoming proposal from the Viscount to Miss. l/n. However, the night ended with the lady running from the gardens to the front of the manor, when none other than Benedict Bridgerton started to run up to catch her. And mere moments later, the two were found in a scandalous kiss and engaged!

It didn’t take long for the wedding to commerce and the new Bridgerton couple to move in together in an allegedly perfectly decorated house.

The rest of the ton is understandably, positively stunned to the core over the recent scandal. And while usually such unexpected and moving behavior is looked down upon, this author cannot help but congratulate the newlyweds over their act of bravery in defiling societies expectations.

And to the new Mr and Mrs. Bridgerton, I wish them a happy and prosperous married life.

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

Unwritten Masterlist

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: Writer and pen pal of Eloise Bridgerton, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had no plans to come out in society. Her family could hardly afford it after all. And she doesn’t need to marry, not when she can support herself and her family with her writing. But ever the hopeless romantic, (Y/N) embraces London society with hopes of finding inspiration for a new story. Only to find herself the subject of a love story right out of one of her favorite romance novels.

Prologue: The Letters 

Ch. 1: The Wanderer 

Ch. 2: Don Juan 

Ch. 3: Practical Education

Ch. 4: Self Control 

Ch. 5: Vanity Fair

Ch. 6 - coming soon

Ch. 7

THE BATMAN (2022) 🦇

Robert Pattinson as Bruce Wayne/Batman in The Batman (2022) dir. Matt Reeves

such a genuine headcannon, that damian just loves jason’s and yours baby.

but this story needs to start somewhere, and that somewhere his damian’s behavior towards you.

everyone always thought he despised children of any age, including yourself, as he was very tough exterior really only soft when he came around you and that was due to the fact you gave off a very maternal aurora, one his mother gave off, a woman he respected.

but every other time, around everyone else, he’s tough, annoyed, and spiteful, all the time.

and seeing everyone shocked by damian being rather docile, sweet even around you the moment jason had introduced you, was a cultural reset.

so much so in fact, his siblings would bring you around each time they needed to ask him something, deliver bad news, or even just wanting to talk to him. they seemed it easier to hold a conversation when he was so snappy, and well he seemed to respect you enough to not be snappy when you were around.

but that was just the start.

damian really liked you as a big sister and enjoyed spending time with you often. so much so he eventually loved hanging out with jason as well over the other siblings, though not dick, everyone knew the relationship dick and dami had was much different than everyone else’s.

but he also knew how you and jason acted around each other, he practically lived at your shared apartment and he’s a born wayne, he’s good at picking up on things.

so when you and jay had shown up to family dinner, both of you dressed rather sweetly, homely looking, damian’s interest immediately peaked.

but none the less he tried ignored it, sat himself in between grayson and yourself.

he tried to ignore the way your hand was encircled jason’s under the table and the way your nose twisted up when alfred brought out the first course for dinner that night.

he tried to ignore the way jason’s knee was bouncing almost shaking the floorboards of the whole dinning room.

and he tried to ignore the aurora both seemingly to radiate off you and his bother  simultaneously, but he’s a hot headed wayne, he can’t ignore things for longer than he absolutely has to.

“todd.” damian roughly interrupted the conversation bustling around the table about your new job and bruce’s disdain for you not coming to work for him like he offered so many times.

and in usual demon head fashion, the youngest wayne waited until all eyes were faced on him, staring waiting for him to continue. “care to explain your nervousness?”

your boyfriend scoffed, a defensive mechanism he picked up from bruce when in the confines of his family. “i’m not nervous demon spawn.”

damian’s eyes turn to you with a slight jaw hung, his head snapping away from your worrisome gaze briefly scanning the table to see if someone had been missing, yet the table was full, alfred and his father sitting at the heads with the siblings scattered in between.

damian speaks your name, his gaze taking a final look around before settling his emerald green eyes on your own bare ones, flat. watching as your lips turn down into a straight lipped expression, one that’s unreadable. (that was a trick you learned after dating jason for two years now, how to turn your expressions off and on.) “why are you nervous?”

damian was getting frustrated the longer he attempted to study your features. you were completely flat, like a white canvas waiting for depth and dimensions. your eyes didn’t sparkle in the light though the chandelier of thousands of crystals shone right above them. your lips without a glint of upturn or frown, like a zipper being pulled taunt by its owner, though the owner didn’t seem to be anyone but yourself.

he couldn’t figure out if you were thinking or even reacting. it looked as if you were in slow motion, or like the rest of the family was frozen and damian was stuck within the mind watching like an outsider.

that was until jason gave a small squeeze of your hand, a movement he barely caught from the slightest downward peripheral view, and the world began to regain traction, color coming back into the faces of those looking around between the young boy and the person who changed jason’s life.

“i’m pregnant.”

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 <3<3<3<3

still after months, damian can’t believe the encounter, how you blurted out major life news without blinking an eye, in fact you stared at him the entire time your lips moved and people congratulated you and your lovely boyfriend, his big brother.

he was dumbfounded, pure shock, he in fact needed to ask dick multiple times if he had heard you right.

and on top of that he was already having conflicting feelings from having to be around roy harper’s daughter and hearing you may have one of your own almost frightened him.

what if he was scary? what if he couldn’t be an uncle like he has seen all two of his older brothers successfully do with Mar’i and one be the father of such a thing….a baby he means.

but that was months ago. (it still haunts him that he couldn’t figure it out, don’t let it fool you)

and now he is sitting in your living room making silly faces and noises directed toward the small baby, who’s curly dark locks spread across his knees as she gazes up at her uncle dami.

“one day” damian’s now very deep voice, seeing as he had successfully made it through puberty, sounded causing your daughters ears to perk up, eyes glittering in the light “you will be apart of the legacy, an heir to the-“

“that’s enough, give me my daughter back demon spawn.” jason was quick to interject taking two large strides in his direction. both of you had been watching from the corner of the hallway with such love in your eyes from the interaction, though as soon he damian mentioned legacy your lips fell play into a solid line.

it was rare to see damian so relaxed, so childlike even. and each time he was with your daughter he had a new found tinge in his emerald eyes, his whole demeanor would change, not an eye roll or insult was wafted in the direction of anyone.

in fact, jason joked often that it was like the plot of twilight, damian thought he loved you but in reality he was just gonna he up loving our daughter.

but thinking about it two long makes jason mad because we all know how the movie ended, and jason doesn’t need to think that his kid, demon spawn, brother was imprinted to his daughter.

jason was quick to grab his daughter, scooping her up into his large arms, her babble shooting a destined smile to his lips, turning up with a small coo in her direction.

damian was quick to his feet, reaching and snapping his voice in a low tone “todd give her back.”

“she is my child d.” jason kept his eyes glued on the curly headed girl in front of him, god how she looked like you. “i am allowed to take her from whomever i please, it’s law.”

damian did exude an eye roll at this, though you did too as you sprung from your place against the wall only to find yourself being wrapped in jason’s other very muscular arm, staring down at the most perfect human anyone had ever seen.

“well, technically yes.” damian shockingly agreed with his brothers dumb statement, hoping that his compliance would allow him to be able to hold his niece again, his goddaughter.

that had been an honor you and jay had come to a conclusion on when you were skyrocketed off the epidural, though jason didn’t really feel the need to question it or wonder if it was the drugs talking because in all honesty he wouldn’t want anyone else being the one to look after his daughter if he couldn’t.

damian may be young, but when he loves someone (which is the majority of his siblings even if he doesn’t admit it) he will do whatever for them.

and for your sweet babygirl, damian would lay his life down for her.

a proclamation he made the night you announced your pregnancy.

“don’t agree just to get to hold her again.” jason scoffed, he knew his tricks, all of them.

damian had decided you may need help once the baby was born, so when you lived at the manor for the first month he practically slept outside your door in hopes of being able to help the two of you in anyway.

he really did love his niece, though he never will truly understand why he had such a love for babies (a very hidden love that never really carried much past the age of three, though with your sweet girl he had a feeling this would be different)

(dick also was extremely salty because damian didn’t act like this with his baby girl but yet again damian didn’t act the way he does with you with kori.)

then you both moved out and he all but lived there, he there’s at least 3-4 times a week, which no one complains and your daughter does love him back, so in all honesty it hurts no one.

damian tested your name as jason handed your daughter back to you, hands extending reaching to hold your face. “didnt you have the meeting to attend? i can watch her.”

damian was trying so hard, it had been a few days since he last saw her. he had been away on a mission with bruce, a long mission that was tedious and annoying, and with jason constantly calling bruce for advice or just to talk about his daughter really made him miss his niece even more.

you sighed, knowing damian missed her and knowing you had a meeting that was very important for yours and jays new home that was underway, and even though jay wasn’t going he did patrol last night and looked like he was hit by a bus.

in fact jay was still in his uniform, his gloves rubbing small circles into the sides of your hips as his head rested on his shoulder watching his sweet baby girl being held by the truest form of a pleasing he could receive.

“yeah, i won’t be more than an hour.” damian smiled at this doing grabby hands for the small babbling 6 month old in your arms, whose eyes were bouncing around from person to person, smile planted on her lips as if it belonged there.

with a heavy jason on your back and a million plans running through your mind you began the pass over to the teen eager and willing to watch your baby, but your body pulled her back into your chest, a giggle fluttering from her lips to the air as you did so.

“but if you even mutter the word demon head, or heir, or assassins, or-“

damian had already seen this coming, the comment he made early wasn’t malicious, for him it was his way of life, being raised to know your place.

but your daughter’s place wasn’t his and he understood that now, he really did. watching both his older brother and his partner hold this angel of a daughter in their arms, he knew better than to project his own life into an innocents one.

he is still learning and he’s thankful you and jason will never hold that against him, that you understand.

“swear it.” he pounced on your words, stopping them before they could even finish leaving his lips, nodding feverishly.

you place both a kiss to your daughters head, jason leaning over and doing the same as damian reached his arms out accepting her with a smile and silly face waiting for her eyes to gaze upon.

and there jason and you stood, his body engulfing you from behind as you leaned into his physic, smiles painted to match that in damian’s face.

“god i love you” jason spoke, tilting his head down to press a kiss to your collarbone, “i love her, my angel” he spoke again, smiling now against your skin, sleepy heavy eyes barley peeking through to see his daughter reaching for the face of a boy he used to find an annoyance (still does from time to time), “thank you for giving me a life, a beautiful, perfect life, my darling.”