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onlybeeewrites · 1 year

Note

If you decide to write for Bridgerton, can you write something for Benedict? Maybe like friends to lovers or something x

The Muse

Requested: By anon

Warnings: nothing just pining

Painting: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!reader

Request: If you decide to write for Bridgerton, can you write something for Benedict? Maybe friends to lovers or something

Authors Note: I beg for forgiveness that it has taken me so long to get to this. I had insane writers block, then university hit like a truck and had to put writing on hold. But I have returned and I loved this request. I am currently rewatching Brigderton after watching Queen Charlotte so I hope this to your liking. So sorry again, love <3

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You had grow up beside the Bridgerton Household your entire life—to the estate beside theirs at least. Your father’s had been quite good friends, and as your parents began with their families the relationship between the two had grown. This has allowed you to have direct access to the household since you could even remember. Your were at the young age of four and twenty, just a few years older than the eldest Bridgerton daughter, but still a few years younger than the second eldest Bridgerton who also just so happened to be your closest companion.

You remembered the first time you had met the boy, or at least remembered meeting him. You were but about six years of age, and Benedict was ten. Your mother had dragged you over to the house as she more often did to have tea with the Viscountess Bridgerton as they did more often than not. It was in their tea room where you were interacting with Colin when Benedict had come in rather excitedly to show his mother a drawing he had made. You could remember her cooing her second eldest son, praising his rather interesting art piece. Curiously you had glanced over, interested with all the paint colors and such. Benedict had noticed your curiosity and offered for you to have a closer look. From then on whenever you had come over you had eagerly awaited to see what Benedict had created next.

This little routine continued as you all got older. Of course after the passing of their Father, there was more comfort and reassurance whenever you had visited. Though, even in a time of such great sorrow, Benedict had portrayed that emotion within his paintings and drawings. You had been the one to support him and aid him in any such way possible.

As time continued, the two of your had grown closer. Of course you had grown closer with all the Bridgerton siblings, Benedict was the one you were closest with. The one you could also scope out at balls if you needed to escape another dreadfully boring dance partner, or an attempted suitor that was twice your age. Of course your father was there to ensure nothing of the sort would occur, but there would be times where Benedict was simply closer and much better at conversation.

Often Lady Whistledown commented on the you both, sometimes a bit too often. There would be whispers about you both, how often you dance with each other at balls or are seen giggling a bit tipsy with each other in the corners. Most of the time it had not bother you—when you were younger at least. Though as you blossomed and grew into yourself, you also were able to recognize your feelings. You believed it was around ten and six when you had realized you were doomed. That you had fallen completely in love with Benedict. It was not something you liked to think about nor dwell on for too long. Why would he, a Bridgerton, a most handsome, talented, funny, charming man like himself even think about courting you?

It was not that you felt like you were unattractive in some sort of way, you were rather pretty. But it was the fact that you were best friends with Benedict that caused you to think this way. There was a chance of him not returning those feelings. There was a chance that he would laugh in your face assuming it was a joke. There was a chance of him scoffing in your face and cutting you and your friendship off completely.

There was no chance that you would even consider taking that risk—no matter how often Daphne or hell, even Elouise would reassure you that he had returned those feelings to you.

Though one afternoon, you sat with him in the Bridgerton’s drawing room. You had been having some tea that Rose had gotten for you while Benedict drew. He drew with his charcoaled that made his long fingers turning an odd shade of black within his drawing pad. You had always admired the way he looked to serious when he drew. His eyebrows furrowed, causing wrinkles to cover his forehead. He also had this habit of tilting his head; you assumed it was to get a different angle on whatever his latest creations was. But your most favorite thing was when he would be stuck on something. Maybe it was because he could not draw it correctly, or the art was not coming out the way he wanted it to. But once he figures it out, or it comes out the way that he had wanted and the ways his eyes lit up with pride and eureka was your absolute favorite.

“what is it you are drawing today?” You asked, lifting the fragile porcelain to your lips as you take a small sip of the warm tea. Your eyes flicker from your cup to the Bridgerton across from you. And just in time too because was already looking at you. His body tensed slightly before he attempted to play it off.

“Nothing you must worry your head about,” he said in a teasing tone, as he most often did. But he was just trying to play it off when in reality it was you. He was drawing you, in your beautiful soft green dress, your hair done up into a neat braid to keep from your beautiful face. You looked stunning and he wanted to capture it like he had done many time before.

It was always you that he drew, especially when you plagued his thoughts in the late. Hours. Oh if you only knew that you were his muse. The very figure and image of you filled pages and pages of his work. Two of the things he loves most wrapped into one. But what if you were to find out? You would never return and that would break his heart. He was so in love with you it ached to not be able to hold you, kiss you when he wanted. He felt this especially at balls and suitors would come up to your constantly, it made his blood boil. But he had hoped he kept it well hidden. Well, enough to keep it from you. His family on the other hand seemed to know or notice it for quite sometime. According to his mother, both of your mother’s knew of it. Everyone seem to know. Everyone but you.

Too busy in his thoughts, he did not feel the dip in the sofa until it was too late. You had seated yourself right next to him with a small huff as you tried to peak at this new creation before he was able to hide it. But he managed, which caused you to pout slightly. Of those lips…he wanted nothing more to cup your face and kiss you right then and there.

“Benedict. You always show me your drawings,” you had insisted, which just caused the other to shake his head.

“Nonsense. There are plenty of work that you have not seen. Besides it is no good anyways, there is no point in showing it off if it is no good.” He said, giving his best friend a look. This only made you want to see more. “you always saw your work is no good and it is always beautiful. Let me see, please?” You pleaded as you took hold of a part of his drawing pad. There was some back and forth, some ‘no’s’ and ‘oh please’ as you both struggled to take proper hold of the pad.

Eventually his hands slipped and lost its grip on the pad, landing it right into your smaller grasp. “ha! I have got it now. Now, let us see what you have been working so hard on,” you tease before looking at the drawing Benedict had been working so hard on. It was a lady, a rather beautiful one. But the longer you looked, the more you realized that this lady in the charcoal had the same features as you. the same face shape, body type, hair—even the little scar that was right on the bridge of your nose that you had gotten as a child. And you face began to redden as you slowly looked towards Benedict. “Are…is this of me?” You ask in wonder, amazement and without a single sound of disgust or hated—this reassures Benedict a bit more at least.

He nods and before he could utter another word, you flip through pages; more drawings of you. “You make me look beautiful..” you say in wonder and this causes Benedict to furrow his eyebrows once more but not in concentration but confusion.

“Because you are beautiful. I draw what I see and what I see from you is…” he stopped himself from speaking another word, too afraid to come across as too forward. He took a breath, figuring now is a better time than ever. The Bridgerton boy took the drawing pad from your hands and placed it next to him before giving you his full attention. Your face is covered with blush, flustered from this whole thing.

“I suppose now I must explain myself before it comes across strangely. But I do draw you. More times than not because you plague my every waking moment, you have since we were children. You have captured my heart from years and you have refused to return it to me. My dearest friend…..my feelings for you grow into one where I want you by my side forever, not just in my drawings. You are my muse for everything I do and I cannot bear it being another nor you being with anyone else..” he said, “So I suppose-“

You cut him off by leaning forward and giving him a kiss. Your soft ones pressed against his own. It was bold and improper. But his words were moving and your heart would not stop its fluttering. So you had kissed him, hoping no one would see. The kiss was everything you both had imagined it would be like and more.

So once you had pulled away to his surprised but smug reaction, you simply nodded, “Of course, it would be delighted to court you, my dearest. I have been waiting so long for this moment.” You say, still almost not believing that your love was also your best friend.

“I suppose we both were a bit too blind and afraid to admit it, hm?” He chuckled, taking your hands in his, getting a bit of the charcoal onto your hands. You giggle and nod,

“Yes I suppose so. But I also would love to see these other drawings of me that you have mentioned,” you teased him, now making it his turn to blush as he realized what he had admitted.

“Perhaps another time…?” He asked hopefully and you grin mischievously, almost impishly.

“Or perhaps we can give you something else to draw,” you said suggestively continuing to tease him about such thing.

“Oh I quite like the sound of that,” Benedict grinned as he pulled you in for another quick kiss. Perhaps it was a good thing you had seen the drawings after all.

#bridgerton imagines #onlybeeewrites #bridgerton #Benedict #benedict bridgerton #Ben Bridgerton #Benedict Bridgerton x reader #Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!reader #anon post #send anons #friends to lovers #cute imagine #onlybeeeanswers #onlybeewrites #open asks

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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.

#onlybeeewrites #x reader #onlybeewrites #bridgerton imagines #cute imagine #onlybeeeanswers #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #open to all #open requests #requests open #x fem!reader #benedict x reader #Benedict x fem!reader #The Violinist #The Violinist pt 2 #musician!reader #violinist!reader

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onlybeeewrites · 11 months

Text

OPEN ASKS AND REQUESTS

Hi everyone!

I just want to apologize for my previous absence. There was a lot going on but I am back and would love to be able to write for you lovely people. Currently I am on a bridgerton kick so anything for that would be awesome! Though I am open to write for any other fandom that I am able too <33

So like I said my requests are wide open as are my asks if anyone needs anything! Thank you all so much!

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onlybeeewrites · 1 year

Note

Hi! Can I request a ship for The Maze Runner with male preference?

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘: 20 years old, 5'1", Southeast Asian. Chubby with brunette bob cut hair, chocolate brown eyes, and a small beauty mark on my forehead. My style is in between soft grunge and soft punk but loves to wear Korean makeup style

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬: Muggleborn Ravenclaw with a patronous spirit of Hummingbird, an INFJ (last time I checked at MBTI test), my enneagram is 4w5 and my moral alignment is Neutral Good. I may have a slight introverted tendencies and awkward nature, I describe myself as fiery, swears like a sailor, confident, jokester, and, passionate. Religious, super talkative, sometimes hyper (because of excitement), giggly (I always laugh for stupid reasons), nerdy, actually sweet and nice though I can be aloof, intimidating, and scary when I get so angry. I tend to become really fiesty, stands boldly on what I believe (claiming myself as a realist though some of my views doesn't makes sense), and unbothered to be true to myself, clumsy, stubborn, young-at-heart, unfortunate and inattentive. I have "no bs" towards the people that I hate, sarcasam and savagery is my main language. But on the other side, I overthink a lot and cry over small things many times, small mistakes leads me to provoke me even more that sounds like a drama queen, yet recognizes a soft spot for dumb jokes, cheesy pickup lines and prefer people with a good sense of humour who see myself as equal. Chill in academics, but very competitive that manages to the top even for my dreams---I'm very dedicated on what I want for my life, and have modesty towards some people that deserves respect. One notable feature about her is her multi-potentiality due to being naturally gifted in artistic fields (this includes singing).

𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗦: Arts, choir, poetry, karaoke, literature, history, makeup, beauty pageants, fun/deep/dumb conversations, expanding my knowledge in Christianity, documentaries (about saints), reading interesting stuffs, talking about social issues, and creative writing, chilling both indoors and outdoors.

𝗛𝗢𝗕𝗕𝗜𝗘𝗦: Drawing, singing, dancing when nobody's around (I'm very bad at it), sharing nerdy or opinionated thoughts, walking like a model (if I ever feel so confident), sleeping, listening to music (from rock to kpop), chatting or browsing on social media, watching videos on YouTube, making terrible jokes/puns, watching cartoons, writing, reading interesting things, and conceptualizing my artworks. I also used to study Italian language a bit

First if all I would like to apologize for how long this took me to get around to. The last few years have been crazy but I hope this is still alright! <33

But I would pair you with…

Thomas!

I think the two of you would be an amazing couple. I see a sort of sunshine and grumpy sort of vibe with you two. I think he would be super protective over you but once he saw how you can handle yourself, he’d be impressed and would know that he would only help when it would be needed. And also considering how clumsy he is too, I can see you both teasing each other of or tripping over yourselves or something like a tree root. He would love your laugh and sense of humor, bringing out that laugh that he would just adore. I also think he would think your dancing is adorable and pull you in for one of those romantic dancing moments when no one else is around.

Again, this was the first ship I have done so I hope it was alright, and I sincerely apologize again for such a long wait

#maze runner #ship #ship request #Thomas #onlybeewrites #onlybeeeanswers #onlybeeewrites

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onlybeeewrites · 2 years

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Home again (Pt. 3 of Gone series)

A/N: This was so much fun to write! Also, I would love to write for more of the Madrigal family so make sure to send in some more different requests besides Bruno! Hope ya'll enjoyed this series, I loved it<3

Pairing: Bruno Madrigal x Fem!reader

Warning: angsty but with a happy ending

Find Part 1 here and Part 2 here

Raising children was difficult. You knew this. But raising two children whose father was Bruno Madrigal, was much more difficult than you pictured. Of course, you imagined they were a mix of you both. But no. both Carina and Pedro were carbon copies of their father. So the look in their eyes, and their mischievous laughter as they got older. They were just like him.

And a part of you hated it. That you had two little reminders of him running around hurt a part of you. Now, it wasn't that you hated your children. You loved them more than anything in this world. There truly was nothing that you wouldn't do for them, to protect them. But you longed for your husband to be there, to see and raise them. It was a missing piece, that you were trying to fill, but nothing seemed to fit properly like he did.

As the years went on, the two little rascals grew up. The more time spent the more their personalities grew. The twins were best friends, truly attached at the hip. Pedro was just like his father, rather why at first. While Carina was incredibly outgoing. She was bold, adventurous, and fearless. You weren't sure where she had gotten that from at all.

But Pedro would get comfortable as long as his sister was there to coax him out of his shell. Around your family, they loved their cousins. Making noise and up to no good.

Years and years continued as you watched your babies grow. But inside the walls of Casita, so did Bruno.

He watched every day his two children grow more and more into themselves. Discovering who they were and their personalities. Bruno would agree that his son was just like him. But looking at the two of them, they were just like you.

Pedro was kind, considerate. Always wanted to make everyone smile and laugh. He would do small things. Like gift his Abuela little arts and crafts things he made or made little friendship bracelets with Mirabel. And he had your smile. Your beautiful smile. Bruno was glad that such a feature was passed down to his son.

And Carina. His sweet Carina. What a little spitfire she was. She was fierce and never shied once for telling anyone what she truly thought. It was just like you. She had your personality, even if you didn't see it, or recognized it. And she had your eyes. The same ones that shinned at him when he said some stupid joke.

And you. Oh, you. His wife. Who deserved so much better than what he was doing to you. He watched you juggle taking care of the twins, chores, cooking, laundry, cleaning, everything. And at the end of the day, once the kids were down, you would sit alone. Exhausted. He knew you were too stubborn to send the kids to your parents. And even with his family's help, you were exhausted. All the time.

He wanted to do nothing more than to climb out of the walls and give you the true break you deserve. Maybe one day he would be able to, but for now, he would just have to continue to mumble apologies on the other side of the wall.

Five years then passed.

It was the twin's birthday and you had been getting them ready for their gift ceremony. Alma was eager, but everyone was tense, including the townspeople. The last gift ceremony...didn't turn out so well. And Alma was eager to see if it was the end of the miracle or just some....mistake. But you told your kids, the moment they were born: Gifts do not define people.

You had told that to Bruno so many times, and even over the last few years, you've told that to Mirabel as well. You knew Alma put too much pressure on the need for a Gift, prioritizing it as well. It always put unnecessary pressure on the kids, so you always made sure that gift or no gift, it didn't change anything.

Carina rolled her eyes dramatically as she nodded, "I know, Mama! Are you almost done?" she was clearly eager. Her green dress fit her well, as you finished putting her curls up into a braid. Pedro had a green dress shirt on, and tan dress pants. To represent their father's side.

You chuckled as you nodded, "Yes, amor. Just finishing." you hummed before looking at them both, letting out a sigh. "You both look perfect. I am so proud of you," you say as you pull them both in for a kiss of the forehead.

"Mama? Do you think Papa is proud of us too?" Pedro asked in a more quiet voice than his sister's. And his question brought tears to your eyes as you nodded immediately.

"Si. I told you, your Papa is always proud of you. I know if he could be here tonight he would be in a heartbeat." you reassure, as you gently push his messy mop of curls out of his face. "So let's go make your papa proud hm?" you ask before leaving the room and going downstairs.

You stood on your own next to Alma, as your twins walked through the crowd. Past the townspeople, and passed your family up to their doors.

First, Pedro went first. Placing his hands on the candle, glancing at you nervously. Only after a reassuring nod from you, he turn to his door placing his hand on the doorknob. It took a moment, before the door glowed with his name, along with showing his gift. Alma let out a small breath of relief, along with a bright proud smile.

On the door, of course, it was him but also what looked like a happy and sad face. Pedro looked at the door confused before looking at you, seeing the tears in your eyes. "Oh, no...Mama don't cry!" he said as he reached and held your hand. Almost instantly you felt a rush of happiness run through you. He could manipulate emotions.

"Sorry, baby. I'm just so excited," she said, as everyone watched in awe at his new gift.

Then it was Carina's turn. After the same speech, she placed her hands on the candle before touching her doorknob, right next to her brother's room. Soon, her name and image showed up along with her hands up, almost like Bruno's. But there were flames coming out of her hands.

She raised an eyebrow before holding out her palm, her eyes widening as a small controlled flame came from it. Oh boy, that will be fun when she has tantrums. You thought to yourself.

Alma smiled proudly, "We have our new gifts!" she announced as everyone cheered. You knelt down and held both children in your arms. "I love you both so much,"

Bruno could hear it all happening. The cheer for his kids. He should be there. He should be there...

Another five years passed, and Casita had crumbled to the ground. The last effort got everyone out. You held your now ten-year-olds in your arms, checking them over and over to make sure that they were alright.

"We're okay, Mama," Pedro said, placing a hand on you to try and calm you down but he couldn't. Their gifts were gone. "I know." you said with a sigh before looking up, "Mirabel's missing?" you had asked Julieta, "Come Mijo, Mija, let's look for your Prima," you instruct before you all rush to find the missing Madrigal.

Little did you know that she had been found, along with your husband. And as they returned, he was truly the last thing you had expected to see. Bruno finally met your eyes after ten, very long years.

Neither of you knew what to say, but you just ran to him sobbing. Your arms wrapped around his waist tightly as you cried in his chest. You had tried to convince yourself he was alive. But after so many years you had thought he was gone. So to have him alive, in your arms, actually here...it was almost too much for you to take.

Bruno sighed as he finally had you in his arms again. He held you tightly as he kissed your head, rubbing your back softly. "I know...I know, amor. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I will explain everything. I will make it up to you and the kids. Mirabel told me...I promise. I love you," he reassured in a nervous ramble as you sniffled and nodded in his chest.

Pulling back slightly, you wiped your eyes as you cupped his face. "You have so much time to make up. Especially for our kids. If you left, I know it was for a good reason. Just don't ever leave me again okay?" You believed him. You trusted him. You always had, and even after all these years that never faltered. You were too good.

Bruno smiled and nodded, "Pinky promise."

"Mama?" Carina asked as she and Pedro slowly approached the two of you. Bruno suddenly got incredibly nervous. What his they didn't like him? Hated him for being gone?

You just smiled and pulled away. "Niños, this is your father. Bruno. He finally made his way home," you said in a slightly teasing tone. But your kids saw the look in your eye before looking to their father. Carina and Pedro shared a look before the two raced over to hug him tightly.

"Mama said you would come back. We knew it," Carina said as the two hugged him. Bruno stood there awkwardly before he embraced his children for the first time. He never wanted to let go. You did such a good job raising them so far, but now you wouldn't have to do it on your own.

"I promise. I am never going anywhere again," he reassured before Pedro pulled back, "Papa, what's moving in your shirt?" he asked in confusion before the little rat popped out of his poncho, causing the kids to look at the little creature in awe.

"Oh, this is uh, Hernando."

"Cool!"

You laughed and shook your head as your kids marveled at the rat your husband had. They were his kids alright. And seeing them all together filled that void in you. That spot that left that night with Bruno. Your heart swelled seeing your family finally together. It may have taken a while to get there, but Bruno was finally home again. And you could not be more grateful.

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Taglist: @bambi-laufeyson @mit-suri @shipper--mania @ccoffeeholic @brunosswife @staygoldsquatchling02

#bruno my beloved #bruno madrigal #Bruno #bruno imagine #bruno x reader #reader insert #onlybeeewrites #encanto imagine #encanto #x reader #x fem!reader #bruno x fem!reader #bruno x female reader #disney imagines #disney's encanto #disney imagine #onlybeewrites

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