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onlybeeewrites · 11 months

Text

The Violinist

Pairing: x reader

Requested: no

Warnings: none, maybe light sexism

Part 2

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You had not come from a very prominent family. Not near as well known as any of the families of the Ton. Neither were you on the lesser side of money. Your family had more than enough to be comfortable, yet nowhere near the money that was flaunted by the upper class.

No. Instead you reside in a family of musicians. You, surrounded by your three brothers and your father, all enjoy the thrill of performing. They were hesitant to allow you to join them in their endeavors, but with much reassurance they allowed you to join them. The promise was kept as long as you remained in the back, hidden from others while your music echoed through the rooms. They didn’t entirely agree with you playing. A young woman of twenty and three focusing on music instead of finding a husband. But you loved what you did and that’s all that you cared about.

Your well-known family was one of the bands that would preform at the balls through the ton. Set up to one side of the room long before guests we’re ever to arrive, giving yourselves plenty of time to set up and prepare your instruments. You had played the violin. Rather beautifully in fact. Your brothers and Father played the rest of the instruments, some other violins, a cello, and the viola. Together, you all make the most beautiful music.

You had been almost blessed with such a talent from a young age, taking on the violin at about eight and catching on quickly. you were able to hear music and replicate it almost instantly and it was incredible. You absolutely loved it. Your parents had called you a prodigy of the instrument, your elder brothers amazed at how quickly you were able to pick such things up.

This ball was no different. It was about mid season, and the young ladies and gentlemen of the ton were in full sing of the social season of finding the right partner to court. This evening your family had the pleasure of preforming in Aubrey Hall, home to the Bridgerton family themselves. You had heard all sorts of stories about the family both from the whispers of the ball rooms to the scandalous readings of Lady Whistledown. From the rakes that were the eldest boys, to the Diamond that was Daphne, or the bookworm that was Elouise who had seemed to despise these lavish parties more and more with each year.

These people had intrigued you. You have seen people of all sorts within these parties, but those Bridgertons were the most interesting to you. For a family so wealthy, so well-known, they were so kind. It was not like the Culpers where they would stick up their nose at the nearest person who was beneath them. No, they were strangely kind. Though it all made your job much easier.

It never took too long for you and your family to set up and tune your instruments. The servants and such were all rushing around, getting some final arrangements done before all the guests were to arrive.

You, yourself we’re just finishing up your tubing when a younger female voice spoke up behind you, pulling you from your concentration.

“I remember you playing from a few other balls. Are you usually tucked in the back playing?” The voice spoke, causing you to turn to face one of the middle children of the Bridgerton family. Elouise Bridgerton.

You raised an eyebrow before you lowered your head in a greeting. “Miss Bridgerton,” you started before nodding at her words. “I do. I am Y/N Lyndon. I play often at these balls through the social season with my brothers and my father. Though my only place is in the back but I do not mind,” you say, and this leads even more curiosity from the Bridgerton girl.

“Hm. So you’re hidden in the back just playing. Listening to the room. Perfect for….gossip. Is it not?” Elouise then asked, which caused a confused look to come across your face before you had realized what she was insinuating. This laugh caused Elouise to narrow her eyes, “why are you laughing?” She questioned, “it’s because it is true. Isn’t it?”

You shake your head, recollecting yourself before speaking. “Forgive me, miss. Uh no, it is not true. I do not have the luxury of having so much time to write such gossip in the papers as Lady Whistldown does. I spend my time preforming and practicing and I do not have much time to write such things. Though it was a rather clear idea. A preformed hidden in the back? A rather good suspect,” you say before continuing, “though if I do hear anything of Whsitledown I’ll ensure that you are first to know,” you then reassure the young girl.

Eloise huffed softly as she could have sworn that she was close. But she was relieved that you would be able to help though.

Before she could speak, the eldest of the Bridgertons came up and placed his hands on Elouise’s shoulders, “excuse my sister, miss. She often speaks out of turn. Excuse us,” he said and before Elouise could utter another word he pulled his sister away.

You looked to them a bit in confusion, but assumed he either didn’t want Elouise to distract her before her performances, or maybe the Viscount didn’t want his sister interacting with a worker. Either way she didn’t mind. She lowered her head as Anthony came and went, turning and getting settled in her spot just beside her brother.

“You need to stop bothering people with that Lady Whistledown nonsense,” Anthony said as they approached Benedict and Colin as well. The two were already a few glasses of champagne down.

The two shared a look with each other before glancing to the other two siblings, “who are you bothering now with your hunt for Lady Whistledown?” Colin asked in an exaggerated sigh.

Elouise rolled her eyes, “I am not bothering. Just inquiring. And it was Miss Lyndon. The violinist,” she said, subtly gesturing to you who had just started to warm up amongst your brothers.

This seemed to catch the attention of the brothers as they took in your form. Hair done up simply but elegantly and a dress proper enough for a ball. Though it wasn’t anything extremely elegant or very outlandish. It was simple, but it was intriguing. A rather beautiful young lady playing an instrument instead of dancing.

“Intriguing…” Benedict hummed, obviously intrigued by a fellow artist. He was always drawn to such people with such creativeness. Then again, Colin was as well.

The brothers made a note to keep an eye on this certain violinist, hopefully they would see her preforming once more.

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mrsbbridgerton · 3 years

Text

A Gentleman’s Eye

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count : 1264

# = your first initial

You’d heard a Bridgerton had started coming to Lord Granville’s parties but you’d never seen them there before. You yourself had only been to one once before. Henry had insisted you came as soon as your obligatory year of mourning had finished. Your old and lecherous husband had kept you practically locked away at your estate since he married only a few years previous. His greasy, sweaty palms had only touched you once or twice – trying to produce an heir, before breathed his last in some East End brothel and left you with an estate and your title.

You wandered the halls of the party for a while, wearing a half mask that just about concealed your identity. Still thinking about the Bridgerton in attendance you occupied your mind trying to decipher which one of them it could be. A brother, obviously – no unmarried lady of standing would risk being seen here, lest she completely leave behind her reputation. So, a brother. The eldest was a known rake, but an artists den didn’t seem like the type of establishment he’d frequent judging by the last conversation you’d had with him. The younger, Colin? If you recalled, perhaps the poor boy had been led here unawares. No, you had your money on the second son, he’d always had a wandering eye when it came to society and you were fairly sure of your guess as you thought on it more.

Slipping through the gatherings of small groups with your wine in hand, you could have missed him – being obscured by an easel, where it not for Sir Granville calling out for you and guiding you into the artists den. Henry talked away, explaining the theme of the evening and introducing you to some of the artists as you payed no mind at all. Caught in the captivating image of Benedict Bridgerton, illuminated by the glow of the fireplace, concentration clear on his furrowed brow and curved lip.

‘My dear, I have lost you’ Sir Henry jested, seeing you otherwise occupied.

‘No n… not at all, I am sorry’

‘Don’t be. Had he not had that effect on me I doubt he would have found his way here at all’ he chuckled, sipping at his glass. You both looked on. The concentration he gave to his work was undeniably attractive, but the open waistcoat and rolled sleeves made your corset feel tighter that it had before entering the room.

Feeling warm all of a sudden and completely out of your depth you made your excuses and returned to the hallway, feeling cooler already as you went in search of another glass of wine, and more platonic company.

Your husband had never spent much time with you, thank the lord, only the occasional weekend where he would lock himself away in his study with his steward. It left you a lot of time to read, and drink, and wander the painted halls alone, and untouched.

The evening wandered on and the few glasses of wine you had indulged in had taken slight effect, leaving you rosy and less guarded than before.

Benedict leant against a wall as he watched the hoards around him, leaning back to take a drag of his cigarette. Deciding on another glass of wine to fill the void left by his art he turned for wherever the source of the wine had been previously and almost toppled over a figure in his path.

Falling off your heel you were saved from toppling completely by two large hands coming around your waist to save you. As you pulled the fallen mask from your face you saw you were mere inches away from the face of Benedict Bridgerton, the man who had taken over your thoughts for the entire evening.

‘Lady Y/N’ Benedict exclaimed ‘I do apologise, I didn’t see you’

‘The fault is all mine’ you interrupted as he pulled you to your feet

‘No, I insist. I payed no mind to where I was going’ he carried on, taking your hand in his. You noted his other hand was still holding the small of your waist. ‘t least let me get you another glass’ he noted, looking down at the crystal shards strewn on the floor. He looked up at you through his lashes and you locked eyes, his crooked smile making your chest flutter as he led you gently through the halls to another glass of wine.

His conversation enthralled you – for the brother of Anthony Bridgerton you half expected him to know nothing of art and culture, however his knowledge and charm exceeded all expectations and you practically hung on his every word as you discussed the great renaissance painters. Your quiet corner of the house remained so as you talked between yourselves, only candlelight to accompany you as talked about your passions and wants in life.

The closer you became the more you enjoyed the warmth Benedict’s body emitted, his scent surrounded you and you wanted nothing more than to curl into it. Benedict was leaning in to you as well. Although he usually attended these parties in the hopes of forming more intimate relations with a woman for the evening, he found you utterly captivating. Your mask long gone he took the opportunity to drink in your features, mulling them over as only an artist could.

As you continued talking about an exhibition you had seen at Somerset House the year previous Benedict took it upon himself to brush a stray curl away from your eyes. The action took you both off guard and your closeness became apparent to both of you when his soft fingers trailed slowly down the side of your face.

‘You are unutterably beautiful; do you know that?’ Benedict whispered lowly.

‘Do you say that to everyone you bump into?’ you quipped back, wine slowing your speech

‘Never in my life’ he growled, towering over you as you pressed a palm to his chest.

‘I am a Lady’ you sighed – his closeness enough to set every hair on your body on edge. His breath bringing goose bumps out on your skin.

‘And I a Gentleman… My Lady’ Benedict whispered into your skin as he laid one solitary soft kiss to the bared skin of your shoulder. Your breath caught in your throat. Never in all your years had anyone treated you with such softness. As he pulled back, he brushed the tip of his nose gently across your jawline, separating you both mere inches as you had been before. ‘I have never met a woman like you before.’

‘You shouldn’t have met me tonight’ you smirked, knowing that this couldn’t go any further than you both wanted it too. It was already dangerous enough being here without your mask, but in a darkened corner with a gentleman, you could be ruined.

Benedict leaned back, wiping his hand over his face to sober himself up. Of course - he could ruin you like this, and however much he desired you he couldn’t be your downfall. You slipped out off of the bench and out of the soft grasp of his fingertips, fleeing through the open door; holding your mask to your face before your carriage swept you away into the night. Benedict watched through the frosted window as you were carried away into the night. Already missing your presence he turned to see you had left your handkerchief on the table – Initials decorating the corner read #P. Pocketing the item as he stood to retire for the evening he determined that he would find you again.

#my writing #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton novels #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #elouise bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #Sir Henry Granville

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onlybeeewrites · 11 months

Note

Hi!! I was wondering if you could do another part to the violinist?? I really loved it!!

Hi lovely! Absolutely! I hope you guys all enjoy part 2 :)

The Violinist: Pt 2

Requested: yes :))

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader ???

Warnings: none

Some information/things I made up for the story so don’t be too harsh :)

(I suggest playing this to hear what the reader was playing to be more immersive :))

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Benedict

The Delaney House was a well known home for artists. It was owned by a wealthy contributor to the Royal Academy of The Arts. This house in particular was not residential, however. No, this house was more of a center of the arts within London.

It was open to all people of all status and from all sorts of lives. Men, Women, rich, poorer. Everyone who loved the arts were welcome. There were singers, painters, actors musicians.

There was singing rooms for people like Siena Roso practiced singing sometimes—or to show off that voice of hers. Or similarly, there were large acting rooms where groups of actors or inspiring actors would gather and practice together.

There were music rooms, private and group ones. These held chairs and music stands for those who would bring their own instruments, in the larger rooms pianos were available.

Then there were painting rooms. Small and large alike for group paintings, or more private rooms. This is where Benedict always went to when he could.

This House was an escape for him, to blend and mingle with like minded people to find inspiration. To get honest feedback about his work instead of his family constantly praising him just because. There he had gotten feedback about his work before, genuine feedback about what he could do instead, ways to improve it all.

It was his escape from the pressures of society, where he had seen such talent from people who had to work for each meal every day. Fantastic work from pig farmers, but hey cannot do much since it is not affordable to be an artist when it does not pay well from lower statuses.

The the beauty of it was that, at the Delaney House, you can. Or at least have an escape where people only cared about your abilities and talent; not how rich your family was.

So there was a sense of relief to know no one would see the second eldest Bridgerton and treat him any differently.

It was a Sunday morning when Benedict had decided to visit the Delaney House, his family usually would not question when he would slip out of the house for a few hours.

He entered the front doors and made his way down the long corridor that led to other halls and wings of the building, like a spiderweb of artists. It was early so there were not entirely a lot of people there, though to the ones he had seen he gave a polite nod of his head.

Benedict was making his way towards his usual painting room when he heard something that made him stop in his tracts. It was some sort of violin music? It was not like any formal performance he had attended. The quick sharp, perfect notes filled the hallway to the right, and drifted presently to his ears.

It was never odd for a violinist os such to be here either, though for some reason this music intrigued him. So he took a little detour and followed the sound of the music. He walked further down the hall until he stopped outside one of the smaller practice rooms where the door was just slightly ajar.

Benedict peaked inside and a grin grew on his face as he just recognized the person playing. It was a young woman, in her twenties. As the mysterious player slowly turned, her face was exposed and he realized he had recognized the young women. It was the young woman who he had seen Elouise talking before his family’s Ball just a week or so ago.

It was the young violinist that had instructed himself and his brothers. For some reason, knowing that she had attended the same artistic building as him made his chest swell. It was like a little secret place, that only they knew about. It also told him that she was passionate about her music.

Benedict watched as her fingers moved carefully against the strings to make an array of beautiful notes that was so different that was usually played.

As she came to the finish of the song, Benedict couldn’t help but open the door a bit and speak up.

“Forgive me for interrupting, Miss. But I heard you playing and your melody is truly enchanting,” he praised the stranger, smirking as he watched the girl jump, clearly all lost in the music she created; Benedict knew how that was.

Y/N jumped, quickly turning towards the voice that had startled the silence that filled the room once she had finished playin the song.

“Mr. Bridgerton! You frightened me, I had not heard you approach.” She said as she caught her breath, carefully placing her bow and violin in her case for a moment. Though while she turned to place her instrument down, it gave her a moment to collect herself from his compliments. “And thank you, that is incredibly kind of you to say,” Y/N said before returning her attention back to the second eldest Bridgerton.

Benedict gave her a look, “you know the rules here Miss. Formalities are barred at the doorway to this building,” he playfully teased her, leaning against the door way.

Y/N then raised an eyebrow, “then why do you?” She questioned

Benedict let out a laugh, “Because I am yet to properly know your name,” he hummed, watching as the realization grew over the girl.

Growing ever more flustered she cleared her throat, “Oh forgive me. Y/N Lyndon. A pleasure to…properly meet you,” she said with an added chuckle.

Benedict smirked and bowed his head, “An absolute pleasure Y/N.” He said rather boldly. Y/N. Y/N. It was a beautiful name. The painter only worried if it would ever leave his mind.

“Of course,” Y/N said as she gathered her sheet music placing it away in her bag that held a bunch of other sorts of music. “I am to assume you come here often? I am not surprised with he word of how good you are with your drawings and paints. I think I am just surprised I had yet to see you here before today,” she commented.

Benedict adored the rather casual conversation. It was like a silent agreement that within the walls of the Delaney House that there would be no formalities regardless of who you were. It allowed everyone to be almost on an even playing field.

“Yes I don’t usually come Sundays, often I attend during the week, usually later in the days.” He explained.

Y/N nodded as she closed the case to hr things. “I suppose that makes sense. I am only here Sunday mornings. It is the only time I am free to practice what I wish,” she said with a smile.

Benedict hummed and nodded, “I see. Perhaps I will have to start attending Sunday mornings then,” he said with a grin.

“if that is the case, Benedict, you must come rather early. I come when the sun comes up in the sky. Because…” she glanced to the clock that was handing in the corner. “I must be returning home within the hour.” She said, and she could see Benedict’s grin slowly grow into almost a pout.

“Oh truly? You cannot stay just a little bit longer?” He asked, almost like when a child wishes that their mother would allow them to stay up late.

“Unfortunately not this time. I have family visiting from the country and I have to go get ready. Though perhaps next week you can find me at the Featherington’s Ball on Friday. Or early next Sunday,” she said as she passed him in the doorway, a smirk on her face as she playfully brush against the taller man.

Benedict small pout grew into a smirk at her playfulness and almost minx like behavior. He turned and watched her. “Oh truly you can bet that I shall.” He said. Y/N laughed a bit and gave him a wave over her shoulder before walking down the hallway.

Benedict watched, almost enchanted by ht violinist as she made her way down the hallway and around the corner until she was completely out of sight. Benedict never imagined himself with another artist. But then again, he never knew a violinist could be so enchanting. He knew he would be looking forward to the upcoming ball next week, and he knew exactly who to look for.

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mrsbbridgerton · 3 years

Text

A Second Chance

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Part Two of A Gentleman’s Eye

Word Count : 1184

Thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged the first part, I don’t know how many parts this is going to be but I hope you enjoy them :)

Benedict sat on the swing in his garden, swaying slowly as he sucked on his cigar. Since finding Elouise out here doing just that, months ago he had found it to be one of his favourite places. Pulling the handkerchief out of his waistcoat pocket he inspected it in his hand for the thousandth time in only a few weeks. A twig snapped behind him and he jolted to hide the kerchief.

‘Brother.’ Elouise smiled as she swung onto the seat beside him. ‘Spare one for me?’ she asked cheekily. He rolled his eyes and handed her one out of his case, lighting it for her as she leant over to take it. ‘So…’ She said, puffing on the cigar to ignite it properly. ‘What’s in your pocket?’ she said matter of factly.

‘There’s nothing in my pocket’ Benedict defended all to quickly. Elouise chuckled at her brother’s reaction, knowing he was hiding something from her and already loving the challenge.

‘What’s in your pocket? You may as well tell me now I’ll find out anyway’

‘It is of no concern of yours’ Benedict strained, taking a puff of his cigar.

‘If it is bothering you brother then of course it is of my concern. You have been moping and withdrawn all week and every time someone enters the room you jump, so what is it?’ Elouise’s stare was burning holes in the side of his head – already knowing she would persist until satisfaction anyway Benedict reached into his top pocket, pulling out the soft silk fabric and passing it over to her, sighing in defeat of his search.

‘It’s a handkerchief’ Elouise stated, rather disappointedly.

‘Yes’ Benedict smirked at her disappointment, waiting for her deductions to begin.

‘A Lady’s handkerchief’

‘Again correct.’ The smirk on Benedict’s face turning into a full grin as Elouise stood from her swing and paced with her evidence.

‘Then why is it of importance to you?’ You questioned warily.

‘It is Lady Y/N Portland’s handkerchief’ Benedict said, holding his hand out for the return of the item ‘She is the Duchess of Pembrokeshire’ he dejectedly gave the information with a sigh. Holding the handkerchief in his hands he felt to soft silken fabric and remembered how you had felt in his arms; all to briefly but he couldn’t forget you.

At least he knew your name now. He had had the forethought to ask Sir Henry that evening before he left. If anyone were to know it would be him, he had seen the two of you that evening as was sure you had to be a personal friend of his for him to give you a full tour of his artist’s studio.

‘And you met this Lady Portland where exactly?’ Elouise’s question broke him from his daze.

‘None of your business.’ Benedict stood to meet her gaze ‘I am going to bed’ he stormed off in the direction of the house, leaving Elouise both stunned and titillated at this new information her brother had granted her.

Benedict hadn’t seen Lady Y/N at Granville’s parties since they met, despite his searching. He remembered every detail of her; from the softness of her skin on his lips to gentle smile that pulled at her lips. Every detail was stored in his mind and provided constant distraction as he sat in front of his easel, yet again trying to focus on the scene in front of him: but his charcoal just didn’t know where to go, every move he made was wrong and it was drawing Sir Henry’s attention. Pulling up a chair, Granville sat next to him.

‘You are distracted friend.’

‘It is the light, I cannot get a grasp of the shadow’ Benedict huffed, setting down his charcoal. Sir Henry smiled and stood, setting a hand on his shoulder.

‘Perhaps the shadow you fail to grasp is not on your canvas’ he whispered into Benedict’s ear before leaving him to his struggle. Benedict furrowed his brow and tried to concentrate on his art. Eventually he managed to lose himself in the blending and shading of charcoal on canvas.

You steeled yourself as you entered Sir Granville’s home again. Cautiously skirting around the other guests, your eyes swept over the faces of the gentlemen there, longing to see one face in particular again. After that first night you had been terrified of your feelings – one half of you wanted so desperately to see Benedict again, to talk to him and be as close as you had been that night; and the other half absolutely forbade you from ever setting foot in Granville’s London home again for fear of your reputation. But your feelings couldn’t be denied and after Granville told you of Benedict’s enquiry of you, you knew you had to see him at least once more.

‘Your hands have improved greatly’ the soft caress of lips to the shell of his ear made Benedict inhale sharply, turning his head only a little to see you looking over his shoulder at his canvas. Were it not for his shock at seeing you again, after having given up any hope that you would return, he would have leapt to his feet to kiss the back of your hand. However, your proximity and the gentle touch on his shoulder forced him to stay seated.

‘I have returned every week to practice. I had hoped you would continue your critique of my work.’ Benedict whispered lowly so that only you could hear. He tried to return his concentration to the page in front of him, but the feel of your un gloved hand softly toying with a curl behind his ear and your scent surrounding him almost made him lose consciousness. At her lack of response Benedict continued. ‘I must see you tonight. Stay’ he muttered, not looking up from his work but reaching up and placing his hand over hers.

Benedict search inside every open doorway, eventually finding her in the place she had left him last. Settled in the darkest corner of the room, lit only by the glow of the fireplace from the far corner. They spoke for hours; Benedict having so many questions, why hasn’t she returned since that night? Why did she leave so hastily? He waited patiently as Y/N explained her situation: her struggle to stay in her late husband’s home, the lack of any heir to be found to replace him, as well as her struggle to maintain order over her staff and land without a man at the helm. Benedict waited patiently for her to finish, his eagerness to see her again put to one side in order to console her sadness.

‘But that has been rectified now. My brother has seen to it that I am able to stay and that my home will always be my home.’ She said matter of factly, clearing her throat.

‘So you are Lady of your land once more.’ Benedict smiled, trying to lighten her mood and the conversation.

‘Yes. And I have something to ask of you.’

‘Anything’ Benedict breathed.

‘I want you to paint me.’

#my writing #bridgerton #bridgerton xreader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #elouise bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #colin bridgerton

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