Benedict X Reader - Tumblr Posts

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An experienced traveler vs an artist

i need bisexual benedict STAT… somebody write a threesome ITS PRIDE MONTH YALL

Benedict is bi …I WIN !! I FINALLY WIN !!

could you possibly do a benedict bridgerton friends to lovers fic with maybe some jealousy thrown in there? i adore your writing 🫶🏻

this request could not have come at a better time! i finally started my bridgerton rewatch recently and i can feel myself sparking with ideas yet again :) || 2k words, tw benedict is PINING & this is much more suggestive than my usual content, so 18+ please!

can't bear it - benedict bridgerton x reader

He looked bored. It was the first thing you noticed upon entering the ballroom and, in truth, it was often the first thing you noticed upon entering any ballroom. Over your years of friendship, it seemed you had a highly trained eye to seek him out amongst any crowd.

Just as your eyes strayed to him, as if he had similar training, his found you. What had been a dull stare at the ground to avoid any accidental eye contact with the Mamas scattered about the room quickly became a bright and excitable gaze locked to yours and you returned his slow-spreading smile with a rather unladylike grin.

"Hi," he mouthed, a grin of his own now twisting his features. You shook your head at him fondly, biting the inside of your cheek in a foolish attempt to stop your grin from growing any wider.

You were lucky to have a sister with whom your mother was preoccupied. It made it easy to hurry along the sides of the ballroom, exchanging nods with those you passed without stopping to greet them properly, to end up next to Benedict in record time.

You stood side by side, your usual routine, the backs of your hands inches apart but both facing outwards, as if surveying the rest of the room. Each one of your senses was entirely tuned into him as soon as you entered his presence, but it would not look as such to any onlookers.

"You'll start more rumours if you keep trying to communicate across such wide distances, Lord Bridgerton," you began, eyes fixed on the twirling couples so you didn't sneak a glance in his direction, "I thought we were attempting to rid ourselves of the clamours for our engagement."

"They can hardly read into a mere greeting," he responded easily, the words a mere murmur from the corner of his mouth, "I am a gentleman, as you know, and it would be impolite to simply ignore you."

"It would. You couldn't ignore me if you tried, anyway," you mused, "You'd get ever so bored."

"Always so self-important."

His mutter makes you bite back a smirk. Perhaps facing away from each other did nothing to hide your obvious conversation after all. Violet would be sure to notice, you knew, and may once again force Benedict into explaining the lack of proposal between the two of you.

In recent weeks, however, you had been struggling to explain it to yourself. Benedict was so dear to you, so utterly different to the men that regularly bored you, that once you had struck up such unlikely friendship, it seemed you valued it far too much to take it any further.

That, and there had never been any indication that Benedict himself saw marital potential within you. He was by no means a shy man. If he wanted you, you were quite sure he would have swept you off your feet by now.

And what a sweeping it would be, in those strong arms barely concealed by the crisp white shirt, billowing fabric...

"Good evening, Miss Y/L/N," a voice broke you from your spell, and your gaze accidentally drifted to Benedict in surprise before landing on the man interrupting you, "I believe I was promised a dance last we met, and I have heard you are a lady of your word."

You had to fight to keep yourself from frowning as you wracked your brains for his name. Unfortunately, you came up entirely empty and had no choice but to respond vaguely.

"I certainly would not like to gain a reputation for breaking promises," you smiled as taught, taking in handsome features and arms that didn't fill in a shirt nearly as well as Benedict's. You shook that thought from your head as you placed your hand in the unnamed stranger's own, "It would be an honour."

There was a splutter to your left, no doubt Benedict struggling to conceal his amusement at the sudden change in your tone. You allowed the man to lead you to the dance floor, turning subtly to send Benedict a wry smile but finding him staring right through you, expression anything but amused.

It wiped the smile clean off your own face.

His face was thunder throughout your dance, you noticed, however much you tried to focus on the pleasantly mundane conversation provided by your new partner. He really was quite good looking, if only you could appreciate it, but you were entirely preoccupied by Benedict's new foul mood and what could have caused it.

As the dance ended, you bowed politely to your captor, which was the only word that came to mind for him, and hurried in the direction of your favourite friend only to find him gone. This time you did frown, despite your mother's warnings of wrinkles, and picked up your skirt lightly as you slipped out of the ballroom.

Searching side room after side room proved useful. You soon found what could be described as a studio, with large windows to let the light in but currently only cast moonlight across the canvases spread around the room. The moon also lit up half of Benedict, who was stood at the window, staring out into the gardens.

"Be prepared to hide under that desk if anyone should come knocking," you said, startling him as you clicked the door shut behind you, "I shan't let you compromise my honour just because I have to chase after you when you're having a tantrum."

He glowered at you at the mention of a tantrum, the kind of look he usually levelled his brothers with rather than you. It was new territory and you found yourself quickly floundering.

"I did not bid you to follow me."

"And yet here I am," you reminded, taking a tentative step, "So why don't you put a stop to this strange mood and tell me what's wrong?"

"I'd rather not," he said curtly, his voice a little wrong as he turned to face you at last. Were those tears? "Please return to the festivities and I will join you momentarily."

You'd never seen Benedict cry before. In fact, you weren't sure you'd ever seen a man cry in your life, and the sight was terrifying. You wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a long overdue embrace, but you kept yourself stock still in the middle of the room.

"Benedict..." you began, not sure where you were going despite the plea in your voice, "Please. I have never seen you like this."

He laughs, but its harsh.

"You must not be very observant then, Y/N."

"I beg your pardon?"

"In fact, you must be positively blind. Maddeningly so. How do you ever get anything done?"

You could feel tears of your own welling up in your eyes and blinked them away furiously. It was a great effort to keep your voice level when you spoke.

"I have known you to be many things, Bridgerton, but you are not cruel. I am sure I have done nothing to deserve such vehement insult, so-"

"I quite disagree," he interrupted, face fierce as he stalked over to you until he was right in front of you. Your chest heaved as you looked up at him, eyes wide, and felt the rise of his chest almost against your own, "You are observant, Y/N, and far from blind. It is your cruelty at fault here, not mine. It is yours."

He hissed the last word, pointing a finger at you so close to your chest that your head was spinning. His closeness was intoxicating, his scent crowding you out of enough oxygen and his words were making you lightheaded with panic.

"You're not making any sense," you murmured. His fingertips ghosted across the fabric of your dress near your hips, barely there, and nowhere near the skin underneath.

"You must see it," he mutters back, all gritted teeth and barely concealed restraint, "You must see that I worship you. That I always have."

Your inhale sounded more like a gasp. He shook his head above you, moving closer until his chin was pressed hard into your temple and you keened into the touch.

"I know you do not feel the same. And you are not obligated to, I swear it. But taunting me as you do. Playing with me only to dance with another..." he trails off, breath shuddering, and you can hear those tears in his voice again, "I can't bear it. Please, Y/N, I cannot bear it."

Neither can you.

You reach up and take his face in both hands, finding chiseled cheekbones and jawline, thumbs either side of his lips as you pull him until you can look up into his face again. Your gaze flickers across his face, and you wipe the tears from his face with shaking fingers.

"You're blind, Benedict," you say, leaning up on your tiptoes until your lips brush his, soft, like the ghost of his fingertips against fabric. You know what you want him to do and you need him to do it first, need him to take your lead and run away with it.

When he fists his hands in your dress at your hips and drags you into him, your prayers are answered.

He opens your mouth to his, still gentle but insistent, demanding more, more, more of you. You'd give him everything, right here, mainly because you know he'd never take it. He seems more than content with the here and now as it is, especially when your hands slip into his hair and he lets out a low grumble of a moan that you feel everywhere.

He's trying to pull you closer still when you break for air, gasping it in as the two of you pant into each other's mouths. He runs a hand down your hair, your neck, your arm, until he intertwines his fingers with yours, chases your lips for a peck, then another, then another. You meet him with a lazy grin.

"I dance with the Lords of the ton every ball," you breathe out, "I'd have noticed if you reacted like this every time."

Benedict was grinning too. He looked far more like himself when he did.

"They are usually old, ugly fools," he said, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the thought, "I always hate them having their hands all over you, but watching a young charming bastard who may just have a chance with you hold you as I have always dreamed of doing? It was enough."

"He never had a chance, my Lord," you assured, tracing his hairline, his earlobe just to see him shiver, "You are, as already accused, blissfully blind. Blind as a bat, I should think."

"Recent developments would suggest that to be true," he mused, glowing in a way he wouldn't usually when wrong. Then, all too quickly, his face briefly fell, "I truly apologise for all that I said to you, Y/N. There is no excuse, it was cruel."

"Hm," you agreed, "It was. Although, I can think of a multitude of ways you can make it up to me. Would you care to hear them?"

His eyes lit up at the realisation of your teasing. It was familiar, exactly what had drawn you both to each other time and time again. It was likely what would keep you together for eternity.

"I would like nothing more."

"How about I sit right up here..." you began lowly, moving to take a seat on the desk, "-you sit yourself underneath this desk, and we can have a conversation about compromising my honour."

You grinned at him wolfishly. It looked almost as if his eyes rolled back into his head already, but it wasn't long until he was kneeling in front of you, hands on the hem of your dress.

"And what would you know about compromising your honour, Miss Y/L/N?"

You ran a hand through his hair and used it to roughly yank him forward, until his nose was pressed to the fabric of your dress, exactly where you wanted him. It was easy to see it now, as he stared up at you in total awe: the way he worshipped you.

"Let's find out, shall we?"

if you’d like to request something, please do so here! i’d love to hear from you, sunflower <3

It Is Just Tea

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

a/n: I really wanted to write someone new and Bridgerton is the current hyperfixation so enjoy the possible inaccuracies lol. But also look at his hands in that gif, oh my god

summary: you drink some of Benedict’s special tea and now Benedict must take care of you until the effects wear off. With such a tea in your system, you can’t help but bring up some truths you’ve been hiding and Benedict is right there to comfort you.

word count: 2.1k

The Bridgerton’s lounged in the drawing room as they usually did when the days lulled and the invitations had yet to arrive. Spending their day doing various activities that they had been taught from an early age. 

Benedict leaned closer to Colin, whispering feverishly as you walked into the room, going unnoticed by your husband or anyone else as they were all immersed in their own business.

Seguir leyendo

𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 — benedict bridgerton x female reader . in which benedict discovers a lady asleep on his bed after retiring from the annual bridgerton ball for the night.

3200 words | a fluffy mess ! | masterlist | suggest fics ideas

The last thing that Benedict had expected to see when stumbling into his bedchambers after retiring from the ball for the night, still slightly tipsy, was a lady fast asleep on his bed. But Alas — there you were. Fast asleep, chest slowly rising and then falling again, your lips parted and the material of your ballgown draped in a rather messy manner around you.

He rubbed at his eyes harshly, as if doing so would prove that you were indeed a figment of his imagination, that he was coming down with a fever and therefore hallucinating, that a shadow had taken form on his bed and he had simply mistaken it for a girl. But no. You were actually there. On his bed.

Benedict felt his mouth fall open and shut again – bewildered but slowly coming to his senses. He finally closed the door behind him, so as to ensure nobody would see you, that your reputation wouldn’t be ruined over something which wasn’t anything. “Alright… alright.” he mumbled to himself, taking a few steps closer to the bed and kneeling onto the mattress besides you. Hoping that perhaps his weight shifting underneath would wake you up but… no. Instead you just mumbled something incoherent in your sleep, shifting onto your side as you did so. 

The annual Bridgerton ball had taken place that night, was still taking place downstairs in fact, and was still running into the early hours of the morning. But Benedict decided that he had had enough of the ton for one day, that he would get a somewhat early night. Instead one of his mother’s  guests was napping in his bedchambers. Which he had to admit was something completely new to him, in their many years of hosting balls he had never experienced this. 

“Um… Excuse me? Miss?” he half whispered, placing a light hand on the soft skin of your arm and attempting to gently shake you awake. “You really need to wake… You don’t wish to be caught alone together, hm? Especially not in my bedchamber…” 

Upon further inspection, Benedict noticed that your hair had been lazily removed from its updo, and instead fell around you, framing your face and complimenting your features perfectly. He brushed a piece away from you, tucking it behind your ear and frowning as he stared down at you. He was entirely unsure of what to do, and far too aware of how the situation would appear to anybody else - your reputation would be completely ruined if you were caught in this situation. Benedict wanted to ask his mother for help, but was frightened to leave you here alone. What if something happened to you? What if something had already happened to you? 

Benedict was unaware that just a few hours earlier, you had began to grow incredibly bored of the ball – by the mundanity of it all, the endless stream of men that your mother insisted on parading in front of you, the dances, the meaningless and far too polite conversation. You had instead decided to plant yourself in a corner nearest to the drinks table… where you had been drinking the night away ever since. 

You were unsure of how much you had actually drank, but when the entire room began to spin in a rather unpleasant way you had decided that it was probably time to stop. You had managed to stagger out of the ballroom and into a hallway – though you can hardly remember the journey upstairs and through the hallways into Benedict’s bedchamber, nor can you remember falling asleep, but you know that you certainly didn’t intend to fall into such a deep slumber. 

“Miss?” your eyes fluttered open to the sound of a concerned voice – a man. You sat yourself up quickly, too quickly. You immediately regretted it as the room began to sway again, the unfamiliar surroundings rocking back and fourth. You soon discovered the source of the voice, sat besides you on the bed with his eyebrows pulled together in concern. A Bridgerton. You weren’t entirely sure which one, but you knew that he was a Bridgerton.

“Oh dear God.” the words fell from you before you could stop them, bringing your hands upwards in an attempt to cover your face. Although you were still very drunk, you had enough sense to be embarrassed, mortified in fact, by the entire situation. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Mr Bridgerton.” you mumbled — refusing to meet his eyes, which were burning through you with an undeniably intense curiosity. 

Benedict blinked in surprise, he had never got quite used to the entirety of the ton being aware of who he was — most of the time they cannot tell him apart from his brothers, but they are still aware that he is a Bridgerton, meanwhile he is half asleep when introduced to people by his mother, it can be quite rare that he actually remembers a name.

“Are you quite alright?”

“I’m a little bit...”

“Drunk? I know that. I can smell the alcohol on you. But are you alright? I mean you were hiding in my bedchambers, asleep on my bed. Did something happen? Other than the copious amounts of alcohol.” Underneath his concern, his curiosity, his twenty questions – was amusement. You could tell that he was repressing a smile, perhaps even in a small laugh. 

You felt your cheeks begin to warm, feeling completely and utterly  embarrassed – he could smell the alcohol on you after all. You stood from the bed as soon as you could get up, an action which ended up being a complete mistake, you began to stagger sideways almost instantly. Benedict having to stand from where he was sitting in order to prevent you from falling. He placed two firm yet gentle hands on your arms, holding you in one place. 

“It’s alright… I’m not angry, if anything I’m quite amused…” you were forced to make eye contact with him at that point, and discovered that he was practically gazing at you, smiling as if he was biting back a laugh – he became serious again rather quickly. “But are you alright? Has anybody hurt you? Or was the annual Bridgerton ball just that boring?” 

You shook your head quickly. “I’m quite alright… I didn’t mean to fall asleep, do you see? I just needed a rest.” Your excuse didn’t give you any comfort, here you were, apologising to someone who was practically a stranger for falling asleep on his bed because you… needed a rest. 

“So you’re fine. Just sleepy, I suppose.” 

“Just sleepy.” You confirmed.

“And drunk… Too much of my mother’s famous punch.”

A quiet giggle fell from your lips – he was actually quite amusing. Why couldn’t your mother have paraded him in front of you instead of the magnitudes of bores who she insisted on you at least considering? 

“Do you care to tell me your name?” Benedict questioned, his head tilting to one side as his eyes scanned across your features, not making an attempt to hide his curiosity. 

“Y/N.” You replied, raising your head in the most confident and self assured manner that you could muster. 

“Well… It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Y/N.” He removed his hands from each of your arms, instead taking your hand in his and pressing a soft kiss to the bare skin, before gently releasing you. “I’m Benedict — You don’t have to bother with the Mr Bridgerton stuff, I’m just Benedict afterall.” 

“I must be getting back… Benedict.” You smiled, hesitating at first but ultimately enjoying the way that his name sounded on your tongue. Benedict — you decided that you could get used to it. “I am sure that my mother will be worrying.” 

Benedict raised an eyebrow, sitting back on the edge of his mattress. “You can hardly stand, Miss Y/N. I’m not sure that you’re in any fit state to return to the ball just yet.” He stretched his legs out, removing his waistcoat and discarding it somewhere across the room.

“I appreciate the concern but I am perfectly fine.” you crossed your arms across your chest, feining irritation as you stared down at where he now practically laid across the bed. Unbeknown to you, your words were still slurred – very slurred. 

He was now laying back, gazing up at the ceiling. “You’ll be the talk of the town! I can picture it now… Do you think that you’ll be the main feature on Lady Whistledown? Or instead one of the more minor segments?” You stayed silent, arms staying tightly crossed. “Miss Y/N…” He held out an arm dramatically above him “drunken disaster…” 

“That is very rude! Were you not taught never to speak to a lady in such a manner?” you exclaimed, picking up what was nearest to you and throwing it across the room, where it landed on his chest – luckily, it was quite a small book, and did no damage when it came into contact with him. 

Benedict seemed utterly unfazed, laughing quietly to himself and opening the book to a random page – where he seemingly pretended to be utterly engrossed in the chapter. “Apparently not… I have four sisters so I am quite used to bickering with these so called ladies that you speak of.” He paused for a moment. “I will find something to sober you.” he stood, suddenly serious, his gaze turning to where you stood. “But only if you promise to stay here for the time being. If someone sees you leaving my bedchambers it would look most suspicious.” 

You nodded quickly, knowing that as much as you wanted to disagree,  he was most definitely right. “Just sit.” Benedict pointed to the bed, and you did so without hesitating, being very obedient. “And stay there. I won’t be gone for very long.” 

Benedict managed to leave his bedchamber without being spotted – using the servants staircase in order to avoid seeing anybody, and making his way down to the kitchen in order to fetch tea and biscuits for you. Meanwhile, you sat on the edge of Benedict’s bed, inspecting the surroundings the best you could without moving. You noticed an easel in the corner of the room and raised an eyebrow – you wouldn’t have guessed that he was a painter, but then again, you hardly knew him.

The minutes dragged on for what felt like eternity, waiting for Benedict to return to his room, and when he finally did you weren’t expecting him to return carrying a huge tray in a rather clumsily manner. He placed it down on the table besides his bed, shutting the door behind him as quick as he could. “Sorry that took me so long I…” He hesitated for a moment, seeming to carefully think his words over. “If I’m being completely honest I couldn’t work the stove to heat the water… but I got there eventually. Tea and biscuits, for you.” Benedict smiled sheepishly, before beginning to pour you a cup of tea. He handed it to you, and you gratefully took it. “You actually stayed sat there, how obedient!” 

You rolled your eyes, attempting to pay no mind to the way that particular comment made you feel – deciding to ignore it completely. “Thank you, Benedict.” Silence fell between the two of you, Benedict pouring a cup for himself before sitting besides you. “You’re an artist?”

He glanced over at the easel in the corner of the room before looking back to you, nodding as he did so. “Something like that… I like to draw, but whether I am an artist or not is most likely up for debate.” 

“Are you any good? Would you be able to capture my likeness? Can I see one of your sketchbooks?” You inquired, questions falling from you with zero difficulty. You thought that perhaps you might be speaking too much, but Benedict entertained every question that you asked him. 

He paused for a moment, eyes scanning you up and down – you couldn’t help but shiver underneath his gaze. “Hm… I’m certainly not a bad painter, though sometimes I doubt myself – I suppose we all doubt ourselves at times.” He was quiet once again, choosing his words carefully. “I’m unsure whether I’d be able to capture your beauty, but I’m always up for a challenge.” Benedict began to search through his bedside drawers, holding multiple sketchbooks in his hand. “I’m not sure if all of my sketches would be exactly… appropriate for a lady.” 

Once again, your cheeks warmed in embarrassment, and you turned your attention quickly to your tea to hide just how flustered his words made you – trying to ignore him as he began to flick through the pages of the filled books, tossing a few aside as he deemed them as being too inappropriate for your eyes. Of course you were curious, but you chose not to press on. 

You crossed your legs underneath you in the best way that you could manage whilst still wearing your ballgown, leaning forwards with interest as Benedict opened a sketchbook on the bed in front of you – pointing to the charcoal sketches. “My sisters… Daphne, Eloise, Francesca and Hyacinth.” he pointed to each picture, smiling proudly as he did so – proud more so of his actual sisters than he was of the drawings (although he knew that he had captured them well.)

“They’re beautiful, truly. You’re quite gifted.” You turned the page, smiling as you took in each sketch. 

You certainly didn’t miss how Benedict’s cheeks flushed a reddish hue with each compliment, how his lips turned up at the corners into a shy smile. He was clearly passionate about his work, cared more than he wanted to about what others thought of his art, that he valued your opinion. “Thank you… it means a lot. Truly.” 

The two of you spent as long as possible, talking, laughing, looking through Benedict’s sketchbooks, discussing books you had read recently – until you had sobered up… at least a little bit. The tea and biscuits soaking up some of the alcohol in your system, though there was nothing wrong with being a little bit merry at an event. 

“I suppose you truly should be off now.” Benedict sighed, helping you to your feet. “Most people will be leaving soon…  and you don’t want your mother to end up sending out a search party to find you.” You were certainly a lot more steady on your feet this time around, taking a few hesitant steps with the help of Benedict and feeling fine. 

You nodded, sighing quietly to yourself – you had had a much more enjoyable night, with better conversations in the short amount of time spent with Benedict than you had had at any other ball. “Thank you, for being so kind… and I’m sorry again.” 

Benedict shushed you, pressing a gentle finger to your lips – apparently feeling rather more bold than he usually would. “There’s no need to apologise – as strange as it was, I’ve had a lovely time. A better time than I would had I spent more time actually socialising.” 

“Me too.” You admitted, smiling sheepishly at him. Benedict turned from you, creeping to the door of the room and slowly opening it in order to prevent it creaking — he peered out, eyes scanning the hall to ensure that nobody was around. “It’s clear.” He reached out his hand to guide you to the door and you gladly took it, enjoying the warmth of his skin on yours as you were lead from the door. Benedict walked you to the end of the hall, pointing as he gave you directions back to the ballroom. 

You couldn’t help but feel a sadness within you as you walked the halls, taking in every tiny piece of detail: the paintings; the wallpaper; the furniture; the flooring – certain that you wouldn’t be returning. “Well… Goodbye.” You whispered shyly, offering a small wave before turning and beginning to descend the grand stairs. 

“Wait…” Benedict mumbled, turning and taking your hand in his and spinning you around to face him. You felt your eyebrows furrow together in confusion, watching as he hesitated with his words before finally blurting out the question – “Can I see you again?” 

“Of course you can… Mr Bridgerton.” You smiled, and in a feeling of unnatural and rare moment of courage you leaned up to kiss his cheek – pressing your soft lips to his skin before pulling away and watching as his face began to flush to a pretty shade of rosy pink. Unbelievable. You had managed to make Benedict Bridgerton blush. 

Before he could speak, you practically ran from the scene, gathering up your skirt in your hands to ensure that you wouldn’t trip. You knew that it was probably quite a dangerous thing to do, considering the fact that you weren’t exactly sober.

Benedict watched as you ran from him until you were completely out of sight, his lips slightly parted in surprise as he struggled to process all of the events from that night — it  all felt very much like a fever induced dream.

On returning to his bedchambers, Benedict flipped to a new page in his sketchbook and began to draw – wanting to sketch you to the best of his abilities before his memories began to fade. Despite his previous desire for an early and long night of sleep, he ended up staying awake for most of the night working on the portrait, ensuring that it would be ready before you awoke that morning. 

And when you awoke one of the first things that you discovered was a grand bouquet of roses left on the table besides your bed, made up of all sorts of different shades and sizes… alongside a note. Your lady’s maid had brought the flowers into your room whilst you had slept, creeping along the wooden floor so as not to wake you. She was secretly excited for you, having sneakily seen the note which came with the bouquet – she had unfolded it before tucking it back into place.

Hours after the flowers had arrived, you finally awoke. Still in your nightgown, half asleep and still in your nightgown, half asleep and sporting a small alcohol induced headache - you had leaned over to inspect the flowers before reaching for and unfolding the note — discovering a drawing of yourself. 

 A small gasp escaped you as you took it in. Benedict. He had made you look beautiful, so beautiful – he had captured you perfectly, all of you, seeming to even capture the soul behind your eyes. You just seemed so alive. His signature was at the bottom of the portrait, alongside the words “Sketched with love and care for Miss Y/N. – Benedict Bridgerton.” 

You ran your finger gently across the words, careful not to smudge any of it – the words repeating in your head again and again. A contented sigh falling from your lips, you fell back onto your mattress, holding the drawing close to your chest as the night’s events really sunk into you. It was hard to believe – yet the words on the page were there as proof — sketched with love and care for Miss Y/N. Benedict Bridgerton.

That's my wife! - a drabble

paring: Benedict Bridgerton x wife! reader

warnings: none, cheesy af, fluff really

summary: Reader gets married to Benedict a week ago. He drinks 'special tea' and couldn't believe he really married her.

a/n: gif credit

Dearest gentle reader,

An artist must be free to follow their muse. It appears Mister Bridgerton followed his muse and his heart. The wedding of Lord Benedict and Lady Y/n was was quite remarkable event of this season. Congratulations to Mr and Mrs Bridgerton. This author wishes them well.

Lady Whistledown's society.

You tucked that issue of Whistledown in the bottom drawer of your desk, a hint of smile at the words 'Mrs Bridgerton'. You married the love of your love and you couldn't be more happier.

You finally looked at your reflection in the mirror, before leaving for the family dnner with the Sharmas.

A pair of arms snaked around your waist from behind, "You look lovely". You smiled at your husband's reflection in the mirror. "as always" he added, kissing your neck and your right shoulder blade.

"Charming as always, Mr. Bridgerton"

"Only for you, Mrs. Bridgerton", he turned you around to cup your face in his gentle hands, a warm smile of his own filled his face, eyes crinkling with unhidden warmth and love.

You leaned into his touch, kissing him tenderly.

Benedict pulled your body closer, as if to merge completely with you. He bit your bottom lip slightly and pulling in down, a gasp escaped your mouth. His skillful hand lowered and slowly hiked your dress up.

"Ben" you breathed in, managing to pull away from him remembering your agenda. "We have dinner in an hour, remember?"

"I can think of few ideas to keep my wife occupied"

It's been just a week since you got married, you and him cut your honeymoon short in the events of his Art Academy application. You didn't complain, you knew how important this was to him.

"You know we won't be able to stop" you smiled at him, teasingly. "Besides, i would like to catch up with your mother and sisters, it's been a while we talked"

A groan escaped his lips.

"Alright, alright"

.

.

You greeted everyone who greeted you a smile and a welcoming nod. The dinner began.

"The twinkle of the candle is...it is as if we sit among the stars....", Benedict rambled.

You looked at your husband on your left, he spoke differently, like he was not fully aware the surroundings.

"It is too bright, isn't it Y/n/n?"

You looked at him with absolute amusement in your eyes. He is definitely not sober.

"What is wrong with you?" Eloise enquired her brother.

"I was just telling Benedict how brilliant the stars were in Greece" Colin swooped in before anyone would ask more questions about his brother's behaviour.

Ah. Now you understood.

Now, Benedict moved his hand knocking over goblet of wine.

"Oh, Benedict, dear-" started Violet.

You bit your lip from smiling. You put down your fork and grabbed your husband's hand from knocking more things over, and placed both of your hands over his.

"Benedict" your voice was so soft.

He looked down at your hand, and looking up at your face with gentle expression. "Oh, my sweet Y/n/n, when i look at you, all i have in my heart is you!" he confessed loudly.

Everyone stopped and stared at you and him at his outburst. Your cheeks heated up at the sudden attention.

"I wish to marry you..." he interwined his fingers with yours, "We shall be married tomorrow!" he stated as a matter of fact.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Benedict, Benedict" you said his name slowly to get his full attention, "Ben, my love, we are already married. Look." you pointed at both of your wedding rings.

His face switched from longing to the utmost love. "We are married?"

"Mm hmm"

"We are married. We are married!"

Mumbling apologies, you grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the table.

"That's my wife!" he yelled proudly as you linked your arm with him, trying to drag him to your room.

"Aren't they lovely" Violet looked at your both with affection. It reminded her of own love with Edmund.

"They are so adorable, I'm feeling nauseous" Eloise made a gagging face.

"You all shall witness my beautiful wife!" he tried to go back and show you off to his family.

You heard everyone's chuckle and laughter.

"Ben!" your face turned red. Laughing even more, you pulled him inside your room before locking the door.

You couldn't help but smile at your adorable husband.

You did really get lucky.

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

Aww so sweet and lovely! Thank you for sharing!

forgive me - benedict bridgerton x reader

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: friends to lovers, a lot of pining, some slight steaminess but it’s just built on intense longing and intense kissing

A/N: My first Bridgerton fic, which is slightly out of my comfort zone but has been a total joy to write! Feel free to send in any ideas you might want to see me write in the future. Hope you enjoy a good old friends to lovers confession with our boy Benedict <3

—

“You cannot seriously be considering such a thing? I shan’t hear of it, brother!”

It could never be said that the Bridgerton household was a dull one, a fact that you had witnessed firsthand ever since you were a child. Each time your mother had been invited round for tea with Lady Bridgerton, which seemed to happen far more frequently than was truly proper, you would attend too, following quietly behind her skirt. You would always begin with a shy smile towards the Bridgerton matriarch but once you were encouraged to join the children in the gardens, your inhibitions soon deserted you.

When you were first invited, Daphne and Eloise were just slightly too young to play with you properly and so you were forced to form friendships with the three eldest brothers. Whilst Anthony had largely grown out of such youthful things as friendship and Colin had travelled so extensively that your exchange of letters had grown thin, there was one Bridgerton brother that had provided a constant ever since childhood.

Lees verder

Trust me

Summary- Benedict has been acting weird because of an incident involving one of his muses (she attempted to sa him). Reader tried to gently coax him out of his ‘bubble’ though it was no use until she tried to touch him, earning her a jolt.

Rating- Mature (16+)

Paring- Benedict Bridgerton x female!reader

Warnings- Angst, talks of se***l assault, fluff, slight language, established relationship, happy ending (hopefully that’s all)

Words- 1,841

“Daph, may I ask you something?” you quipped quite unexpectedly. Both you and Daphne were basking in this season’s summer heat from inside Clyvedon Castle’s drawing room, enjoying a rather nice cup of tea. Daphne had decided her time being a Duchess was well-earned for now and was in desperate need of her family’s boastful laughs and silly jests—not to mention their hectic dinners—to indulge her once again. You were especially excited for her visit, not only because you had a chance to see Daph’s little bundle of joy, but because you and she were very close, even before the Duke himself. Childhood friends. You remember all those years ago when you tried to encourage her relationship with the Duke, supporting him over the charming but ‘bland’ prince. She reciprocated her feelings, knowing your deep affection for her big brother, Benedict, and desperately tried to get both of you to admit your stubborn feelings for each other. Her efforts successfully paid off, resulting in the love-bird couple getting married two weeks after their confessions.

It was almost the reason you set up a little date with your friend. Your relationship with Benedict had somehow…shifted? You didn’t want to jump to conclusions before talking with your husband; you knew he preferred some space at times, especially if an idea popped into his creative brain and he wanted to sketch or paint it out before the thought could disappear as soon as it came. But this time…this time felt off. Your first hint was waking up to a cold and empty bed, though you passed it off as a little accident from him staying up late painting (it’s usually when he feels most creative), but then those cold mornings became continuous. You felt it was best to leave it as it was, for now—not exactly avoiding the situation but analyzing it for a deeper reasoning. In the afternoon, when the family mostly had time to take a break from important activities, you would greet your husband with a simple “Hello love” or “Have a wonderful evening, Ben,” but it only resulted in brief nods and odd grunts he never let out before. It was a breaking point when he stayed out the whole evening, never coming back until early morning, only making eye contact with you for the first time at breakfast. You never wanted to jump to conclusions with him, but there was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that whatever was troubling him could not be good and would only be revealed if you gently guided him to confess.

“Of course, dear sister,” she said with adoration. “What has been on your mind?” You played with the embroidery on your dress, encouraging yourself to say what had been on your mind for the past week.

“Has Benedict been acting a bit…strange around me?” You could tell your husband had no problems with his family; in fact, you noticed he’d been engaging with them more than he used to. It only added more slight hurt and suspicion to your heart, knowing the problem was most likely you. Your friend only added more salt to the wound when a poorly concealed look of guilt was etched onto her face. Shaking your head, you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to pour from your burning eyes. So it is you. You’re the reason he’s been acting this way; you're the reason he can’t so much as look you in the eye with adoration and instead, uncomfortablene-

“Now, now, I didn’t say I know the reason why he has been acting this way…just that I have noticed,” she said, placing a gloved hand on top of your fidgeting bare ones.

“Have I done something wrong, Daph? Did I disrespect him in any way? Could it be the time I accidentally took the last blueberry tart that one day? I swear I didn’t know that was the last of them!” You remembered his frustration when he found out who ate his favorite dessert that only came seasonally, but he told you it was perfectly fine, blaming himself for not getting to them fast enough. Daphne only smiled at your silly accusation; this was a serious matter, of course, but it was nice to see you deeply care for her brother and his feelings, even going as far as to think of the tiniest times something conflicting had happened between you two.

“It couldn’t possibly be because of something so little and, dare I say, pointless,” Daphne moved closer to you, grabbing both of your hands in the process. “Tell me, when was the last time he acted normal towards you?” You tried to recall, surfing past a week of old memories until focusing on a time when he told you quite happily about a new art project that consisted of a new muse he met at one of the diversified functions he (now rarely) went to. You knew where Benedict’s heart lay and had no problem with who he used for his artistic designs whatsoever, so using another woman for his professional acts never triggered you.

“Well, he was boasting to me about finding a new muse for some artwork before going to bed, and then after his first encounter with the woman, that was when he started to act strange.” Daphne hummed, understanding your words carefully.

“Now, I don’t want to worry you, but maybe his actions have something to do with this muse.” You tried to ignore the deep pang of nervousness within your chest. No. Ben is never the type of person to commit such a vile act.

“I won’t jump to conclusions, but somehow I need to talk with him.” Your dear friend only nodded in agreement.

“It is all you can do, sister. Benedict can have some trouble confessing things that do not relate to others, but with a gentle push, he’ll pour everything he’s tried to conceal out like a waterfall, so don’t try to drown.” She teased with a slight squeeze of your hands, trying to lighten the dark conversation.

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

It was now late evening. Most Bridgertons had called it a night, preparing for the next activities that awaited them the next day; meanwhile, you awaited your husband in your shared chambers, sitting on the foot of the bed in your cream nightgown, one of Ben’s favorites. Your husband awkwardly met with you after another time at the bar with Anthony. He stood in front of the entryway, tugging on the collar of his suit as if a hand was wrapped around his throat, stubbornly staying there. You immediately arose from your position, too nervous to say anything that would get him to abruptly leave like other times.

“Ben…” you whispered softly, unintentionally reaching out a delicate hand in the hope he’d grab it and hug you like he never had before and all would be well, but instead, you received a firm nod and a fast-paced walk toward the water closet. “Benedict!” you demanded more firmly, grabbing his hand in the process, but he instantly removed it from your grasp like it was the hottest thing in the world. Benedict stumbled back, wide-eyed with unstable breaths, heart pounding from the touch. You stood where you were, not knowing what to do. Never had he purposely removed your touch; never so quickly and with a face of horror. “What have I done?” you mumbled more to yourself.

Benedict hesitantly said your name but was quickly cut off by your pained voice. “What did you do that day in your art room with that…woman?” you cautiously crept closer to your husband, too afraid he would jerk away once again. Benedict looked as if he was on the verge of vomiting, cringing when you mentioned ‘woman.’

“N-Nothing, love.” Love. The kind and adoring word felt forced and bland coming from him. It only made you inwardly cry once more.

“Benedict, you must tell me. Whatever it is; I won’t get mad. I swear it.” It was like a wave of guilt, hurt, and resentment came crashing out of a dam he tried so desperately to hold back. His eyes were now red and irritated with tears threatening to spill. It was as if his knees had a mind of their own and felt the need to give out, and before he came crashing down, you were there to hold him and gently place yourselves on the carpeted ground. You cradled him, caressed him, gently whispered comforting nothings in his ear—anything and everything to ensure he was alright and safe.

“I-I never meant to hurt you, angel,” he croaked out through his sobs. You shook your head, almost on the verge of tears yourself.

“You can never truly hurt me, Ben; who did this to you? Was it the woman? What did she do?” you questioned wholeheartedly. Benedict cleared his throat while lifting his head to meet your eyes, your slight nod encouraging him to release the burden that had been locked up within his soul for the past week.

“She…She touched me.”

“Touched you?” you repeated, knowing exactly what he implied. You couldn’t bear the culpability to engross your body. You selfishly thought, though very little, that whatever was going on between him and the muse was…intimate, but in true reality, your husband had been assaulted. Your hold on Ben tightened, silently apologizing to his heart over and over again.

“I tried to tell her to stop…I tried to yell, scream, shout ‘stop,’ but every time the word formed in my mouth, it…it melted. I was scared, only thinking about how you would feel if I,” he paused, “if I told you what she tried to do to me. My mother knocked on the door before anything further happened, and I never felt more grateful in my entire life.” You speechlessly cradled your hands on either side of his face, connecting your heads as one.

“Don’t ever be afraid to come to me when you need help, my heart,” you soothed. “I’m sorry for trying to touch you, and I respect it if you would like more space. I’ll find a guest chamber tonight if I have to,” you said before releasing your hold from Benedict, though he grabbed one of your hands and rested it on top of his.

“There's no need. I think I’m alright now, a little jittery but okay. I need you by my side more than ever now.”

“And I’ll be there every step, Ben.” Your smile slowly turned down at the thought of that imbecile of a woman. “I will kill her even if the whole ton watches. Fuck society, fuck Whistledown,” you seethed. Benedict breathed out a chuckle at your antics.

“Though I would have loved to see that, it’s already dealt with.” You ‘awed’ in partial defeat, making your husband laugh more.

“I love you, Benedict. Never forget that,” you demanded sincerely with every nerve and fiber in your body.

“I love you. Never forget it either.”

Authors note: Hey guys! This is my very first complete oneshot and I’m pretty proud of it. It might have some flaws in there but hopefully, I can learn about them and get better. Please tell me if there are any errors or actions that don’t align with the character's personalities and I’ll fix them as soon as possible! Thank you!

Ps, I don’t really know Benedict’s feelings when sad/hurt since he’s kind of a genuine, playful, and overall comfort character in the show so hopefully I got that down but like I said please let me know if anything’s wrong with the short story!!

THE VOID

Anthony Bridgerton x Female Reader

saw an edit of alicent with static by steve lacy and got inspired . “hope u find peace for yourself”

you’ve known anthony since you were fourteen, back then you used to fawn over him but he only saw you as elosie’s best friend but that all changed when you had been named the diamond of the season, he now saw you as a potential match. a potential bride.

eloise told you how much she hated that you and anthony were courting. she told you that she’d never speak to you again if you married anthony, so you were acting dumb so he wouldn’t be interested but when your father caught on to your scheme he beat you for how you acted in front of anthony.

so to avoid anymore punishment you acted on your best behavior. anthony danced with you thrice and promenaded with you a couple times and that was enough for him to propose. after he asked your father for your hand, he asked you in front of both of your families. in front of his mother and his siblings and your father and uncle. you said yes because you knew if you said no your father would be livid.

you’re only eighteen years old and he is one and thirty so you didn’t really have much in common other than you both liked to read and you both hated losing in pall mall but he was decent to you. he gave you a huge allowance so you’d go shopping if you got bored.which was very often. after your honeymoon you took up the role of the lady in the house, dowager bridgerton moved to another home close by with eloise, francesca and gregory. though you and anthony told them that they could stay they left to give you guys space. well almost everyone.

hyacinth stayed because she “liked the room she has already and she had no need to move”. so it was the three of you most of the time, she became kind of like a friend to you even tho she was only twelve. you wouldn’t call yourself her mother figure because she already had a great mother who was only a few houses down but you knew she looked up to you. you and hyacinth would go gown shopping and would go for strolls in the park. that was the only time you felt joy. anthony would barely speak to you. you didn’t share a room with him. you two would only have sex twice every month so you could try to produce heirs.

dinners were quite. silence only broke if hyacinth spoke. after a while you gave birth to edmund jack bridgerton, so your days were less boring. you’d spend most days with baby edmund and hyacinth. once in a while daphne and violet would visit you. eloise would only speak to you if it was necessary. she called you “lady bridgerton” or “viscountess bridgerton”. most days you cried yourself to sleep.

you felt empty. you missed the girl you used to be. lady y/n was free and fun whilst viscountess bridgerton was a bore and trapped. you had finally had enough when lady whistledown called you a broodmare. a horse who’s only purpose was to breed. you were hurt because it was true.