#queen Charlotte fic
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Tending a Garden in Bloom | A Violet Bridgerton Fic
Fandom: Queen Charlotte/Bridgerton (TV)
Rating: M
Summary: A one-shot of self-discovery and sexual re-awakening
A/N: There was going to be a part one to this in which Violet processes her grief and confusion about moving on from Edmund in her sexual reawakening that was based on that small scene in episode 5 of Queen Charlotte where we see her alone in bed. Unfortunately, I just was never able to capture it the way I wanted, and decided to go ahead and publish this on its own. Perhaps I'll be able to get it right in the future, but for now I'm happy with this. I fell in love with Violet's sexual reawakening and the complicated feelings that must come with it, and wanted to explore that without throwing her into relationship. This one-shot is the result of where I thought the private discussion between Violet and Lady Danbury at the exhibition was going to lead, but even though the show didn't go there, I still felt compelled to give it to Violet, anyway.
~
Violet stared up at the canopy above her bed, her blankets pulled up to her chin while the dwindling fire cut dancing shadows into the sapphire blue glow of the moon. Lady Danbury’s words still echoed in her mind, hours since leaving the exhibition.
It is alright to want it.
It felt like a revelation. Permission she had not yet been able to grant herself. She loved Edmund, and she always would. As long as she lived and for eternity after. However, loving him did not keep her from being lonely, and remaining devoted to a man who was no longer able to return her love only made her loneliness inevitable, and utterly inescapable. It was her who remained. Her who walked the earth, living, breathing… wanting.
Sunlight.
Air.
Touch.
She closed her eyes. Images from the exhibition conjured before her—bodies lounging, open and bare, limbs tangling together, and hands. So many hands…
At the time, surrounded by the crowd and still clinging to denial about her feelings, she had refused to allow her imagination to wander beyond the static figures. Now, she made no such effort. They came to life before her and she watched, enraptured, as two lovers moved together, consumed entirely by one another. As their passion reached its climax, her own heartbeat quickened in her chest, and she threw the blanket off of herself, sure she would overheat despite the chill in the air.
She tried to think of something else, anything else, but her mind was persistent. For weeks prior she had been desperately avoiding it, because if she did not think about it, she could not want it. But now that she had thought about it, and she did want it, imagining it was not enough. Quite the opposite, in fact. She needed more. She needed to feel it. She needed…
Featherlight, she touched the backs of her fingers to her cheek; it was hot beneath them. She turned over her hand, feeling the pressure against her face as she leaned into her palm. It wasn’t quite the same as being touched by another, but still, it made her skin tingle. She dragged her fingers over her lips, and down the length of her neck. At the base, she could feel the rapid pulse of her heart when her finger slipped into the hollow spot there. It beat harder when she imagined lips being pressed against it. She let her mind dwell there—lifting her chin and extending her neck, feeling her belly tighten at the thought of being kissed. She wished she could remember what it felt like, but she had pushed those memories away for so long that her body had not stored them. Now, for the first time since she lost Edmund, desire coursed through her, and she wanted to remember it. She wanted to remember everything.
She raked her fingernails gently across her chest, one finger dipping just below her neckline. Her hands slid down over her bosom and across her stomach, gripping the cotton of her nightdress as she pressed her fingers down into her belly beneath. It was soft from age and growing babies, but also sensitive, twitching beneath the slight roughness of the fabric. When her hands continued lower, she pulled her knees up, causing the hem of her nightdress to fall into a pile around her hips. As she slid her hands up towards her knees, she squeezed her thighs together, tightening her inner muscles against the pulse that had so persistently ached there. Of course, that only resulted in it pulsing even harder.
With her knees pressed together as tightly as her eyes were closed, Violet inhaled slowly. It felt like she was standing at the doorway to the future, but was unable to open it and take the first step over the threshold. She could stop. She could lock that door and remain where she had been all those years…
It is alright to want it.
She did want it. She wanted it so desperately that she was sure her want would burn her up from the inside out if she did not satisfy it. Touch. That was what she craved. A lifetime had passed since she had felt the touch of another, since she had felt another’s flesh against her own, and although she had thought she would never have such desire again, now she wanted, more desperately than she had wanted anything in a very long time, to be touched.
Violet opened her eyes. Looking down over the curves and slopes of her body, she took another deep breath before letting her knees fall open. She slid her hand down the inside of her thigh. Her skin was smooth and supple beneath her fingers. Pausing when her hand reached her mound of curls, she hovered for a moment before slipping her fingers, shaking slightly, down into the folds beneath.
She explored tentatively, reacquainting herself with the feeling after not being touched there for so long. She had never done anything like this before. Everything was slick and warm and soft, and just the light pressure of her fingertips made her ache for more.
Her fingers moved instinctively towards the source of her pulsing need. She thought it might be difficult to find, since she’d never touched it herself and only had her memories of Edmund doing so to guide her. However, she knew she’d found it when her breath caught in her throat from the sensation. Sliding her finger over it again sent a ripple of pleasure up through her body. She licked her lips, catching her bottom one with her teeth to keep herself silent as she did it a third time and her toes curled into the mattress.
It felt as if that one tiny spot was connected to every nerve in her body. She moved her fingers across it in various directions, until finally determining that slow, rhythmic circles were most pleasurable.
For a moment, as the sensation deepened and began to spread, Violet wondered if it was improper, which caused a flutter of anxiety to tighten in her chest. It was not as though she was a virgin, some unmarried young girl who knew not of marital relations. Her husband had touched her this way. It had never felt improper then. Of course, that had been intimacy between a man and his wife, and this was… Well, she didn’t know what this was, but if it was alright for a husband to do it, then surely it was not so different for her to do it herself. Besides, it felt good. So good, in fact, she believed that stopping now might cause her, quite literally, to perish.
She pushed the thought aside. It did not matter. What mattered was the way her skin burned as if she laid bare beneath the high summer sun. How her breathing turned to gasps like rushing wind through her parted lips. How every stroke of her fingers washed over her like lapping waves at high tide.
Sunlight.
Air.
Touch.
She pressed her hips down harder against her hand, intensifying the sensation until her eyebrows furrowed in concentration and her legs began to twitch. She could feel herself building towards an edge that had once been so familiar, but now felt strange and new. Her heart beat like a storm against her chest. She grasped at her pillow, turning her face into it to muffle the cries she was unable to contain any longer. Pressure built until her back arched and white-hot lightning streaked through her body while she crashed like thunder over the edge, feeling as if she had become one with the heavens.
She felt herself sink back down into her trembling body, and for a moment, she didn’t dare move. Her chest heaved with every breath, and her limbs felt both weightless and leaden as the tension melted out of them. After another minute, she straightened one leg and turned her hips so her other leg fell over it, her knee resting against the mattress. Her nightdress was still gathered in a pool around her hips. Unwilling to let go of the moment just yet, she laid with her eyes closed, listening to her barely slowing heartbeat rush in her ears while relishing in the sense of relief. Physical, yes, but also more than that. She hadn’t known it was possible, that she could do that herself. For weeks she had been tortured by desire, wrestling with guilt and confusion because she thought that the only way to satisfy that unrelenting need was to remarry, or, heaven help her, take a lover. But now… This discovery that she could satisfy her own physical needs granted her the precious gift of freedom. Freedom to make the decision that was right for her, on her own time, without fear that her physical desires would rush her into a choice she would later come to regret.
She was not yet ready to consider another marriage. Violet had known great love, and she did not take for granted the blessing it had been, nor was she foolish enough to believe she could ever find another like it again. The most she would hope for from another marriage would be companionship, and even with the kindest man, marriage would undoubtedly bring significant change, and loss of control that she was not sure she wanted. Aside from this most recent development, her life was rich and full, and she was quite happy. On the other hand, taking a lover certainly had its advantages, allowing her life to remain virtually unchanged. However, as a woman, especially one of her status, it required secrecy that came with great risk and potential for scandal that could lead to ruin for not only her but for her entire family.
Now she had the freedom not to choose until she was ready, or in fact, not at all. She could go on with life as it already was and, at the very least, have her most urgent physical needs satiated. She did think she would want more in time. Even now, she still ached to feel another’s touch—to be held, to be kissed, to be desired. But knowing she didn’t have to choose, and that her mind was finally clear enough for her to trust her own judgment, was immensely freeing.
Turning onto her side toward the fire, she nestled down into her pillow, feeling practically giddy. She did not know what the future held in store for her, but as she considered the possibilities, she had to cover the grin growing across her face as mirth bubbled out into laughter. One thing was for sure. Whatever else happened, it seemed she would be taking up gardening, because Violet was most certainly in bloom.
#violet bridgerton#bridgerton#queen charlotte#bridgerton fanfiction#queen charlotte fanfiction#bridgerton fic#queen Charlotte fic#written by lifesizehysteria#fanfiction#yikes i am so nervous posting something for this fandom
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Mistaken Identity
Edwina visiting St James' for tea with the Queen leads her to another encounter with King George.
set during QC: ABS
#queen charlotte: a bridgerton story#queen charlotte fic#bridgerton#bridgerton fic#one shot#fluff#angst#edwina sharma#queen charlotte#king george iii#george x charlotte#set in the present timeline of qc#pre relationship#edwina x prince fredrich
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How would George behave while you were pregnant?
a/n;; a little headcannon about how George would act while you, his queen were pregnant.
summary;; George caring for you and how I believe he would treat you throughout your queenly pregnancy.
contents;; sickening amount of fluff, almost smothering amount of love, pregnancy, birth,
!!W!!;; vomiting
wc;; 566
music inspo;; falling in love
In the early stages of your pregnancy he would be an excited mess. Constantly asking if you were sure you were pregnant, just because he wanted to make sure he was being blessed with a little baby.
When a doctor would arrive to confirm the pregnancy, he would be at your side. Peppering your knuckles and cheek with kisses. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear, only loud enough for you to hear.
He would demand you move to his room so that he may take care of you. He wouldn’t trust the staff to care for you and would adopt the jobs of helping you dress, get baths etc. Nothing would stop him caring for his wife and the mother of his child.
The morning sickness would break his heart, seeing you convulsing above a toilet bowl. He would be by your side in moments, in fact if he was busy and heard you weren’t feeling well he’d sprint to be by your side.
He’d hold your hair back as you are sick, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back. Giving you gentle encouragement.
“That’s it dearest, you’ll be okay.”
“I am here my love.”
“Once this has passed I’ll wrap you up and lay with you.”
He’d be an absolute fiend when it came to baths. He’d be so doting, carefully filling the bath with warm water and topping it off with different (safe) dried flowers.
He’d wash you, allowing you to just relax.
He’d constantly be touching your growing belly, speaking to the baby growing inside.
“Hello my little darling. I am so excited to meet you.”
At night he’d hold you close, even in his sleep he’d be reaching for you and pulling you to be flush with him. His hand would almost always be splayed across your stomach.
He’d pay special attention to foods which made you sick and the cravings. He’d take it upon himself to go and retrieve your cravings from the kitchen, even going as far as too learn how to make them. He’d take lessons with the chef to make sure they tasted great.
Anything you wanted, whenever you wanted you can be sure he’d be making it happen.
He’d set up a comfy nook in the observatory, as the pair of you lay down he’d point to different stars and tell you their names. He’d trace constellations with his index finger.
When it came time to give birth he’d race to your side, probably coming from a meeting or a kingly duty.
If anyone tried to stop him from entering the room he’d diminish them to nothing, ripping into them. How dare they try to prevent him from being by your side, he’d push by them and deal with them later.
As you would be in labour he’d be on the bed at your side, holding you and brushing your hair out of your face. He would encourage you to no end.
He’d be nervous, but extremely excited to see his little family grow together.
He would be so proud of you, pressing little kisses to your forehead. His heart would break at seeing you in pain, though.
When it would be all said and done and the baby would cry, he’d cradle it as he lay beside you. His heart swelling with love at seeing his perfect child and beautiful wife at his side.
#bridgerton#bridgerton series#bridgerton smut#bridgerton spoilers#king george bridgerton#king george iii#king george x f!reader#king george x reader#queen charlotte#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton men#bridgerton fic#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton family
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The Venus Muse
Princess Y/n has no desire to be just some man's wife. She wishes to explore the world and all the way up to the stars. And she may get her once in a lifetime chance when her mother, Queen Charlotte invites the Bridgerton family to the castle. The artistic Bridgerton son might possibly sweep the princess off her feet.
1 - Welcoming the Bridgerton’s
2 -Interesting Conversations
3 -
???
Comments really appreciated ❤️
Tag list - just ask to be added @abq654 @your-musicguru @imgondeletedis @eruannaaa-blog @cherrylovers-world @benedictbridgertonss @callmedarlingsstuff @carrotcaratsworld @sillynilly27 @emmampl-blog2 @bright-molina @erynel1zasworld @ynbutbetter @stranger-chan @blckbarbiedoll @sanaar3006 @urmoom12345 @ritz-hell-hotel @ritz-hell-hotel
#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x princess reader#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x female reader#bridgerton#eloise bridgerton#queen charlotte bridgerton#king george bridgerton#ask box is open for anything#comments really appreciated#benedict bridgerton fanfiction#benedict bridgerton fanfic#benedict bridgerton fic#benedict bridgerton x female reader#royalty#buckingham palace#benedict bridgerton series#benedict bridgerton x y/n#secret relationship#lady whistledown#penelope featherington
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Hello!
Do you think you could write an anthony x reader angst turned fluff/smut fic?
They’ve married out of duty but both have feelings for each other they refuse to admit
Hi! This is also my first fic for this fandom and I got kind of carried away with it, hope you don't mind :) Thank you for requesting btw <3
dont worry the next request i post will have smut in it and im posting that one this weekend >:)
Anthony Bridgerton x F!Reader
Warnings: reader and Anthony are married, pining, death of parents (reader), angst, kissing, fluff at the end
Word Count: 2.4K
The day dawned crisp and clear, sunlight peering through the flowing curtains and illuminating your path along the long hallway of your lavish home. The sounds of maids bustling through the estate and the gravel crackling beneath the horse's hoofs from outside filled your ears. Your mind raced with the many tasks at hand for today as you straightened out your dress. The last ball of the season was a significant one indeed, and you had the honor of hosting it tonight. The last few days were filled with overseeing that every detail of the evening, no matter how small, was managed and executed perfectly.
As the maids fetched accessories and floral arrangements for you to approve ahead of the festivities, you pondered how your life had drastically changed. A mere three months had passed since your wedding day. Still, it seemed a lifetime ago. You had every reason to be happy, you had married well, living more than comfortably, and your husband was not unkind towards you like others you've heard about. But your marriage to the viscount wasn't exactly the love story of the century, to say the least.
After the passing of both your parents, Lady Danbury had taken you in as one of her own. Raised you to be a lady of society in every way she saw fit and even sponsored your coming out last season. The very same season, the Queen appointed you as her diamond. Not long after, none other than Anthony Bridgerton set his sights on you, surpassing any honorable suitor that even thought about appearing at your doorstep. The entire courtship, along with the proposal, felt purely transactional. Anthony berated you with questions, encounters feeling more like interviews than any courting you were used to. It was not as if you were not attracted to the man if you were being entirely honest with yourself; you'd spent the better half of your time bottling up whatever it is that blossoms in your chest when he is near. And you hated yourself for it. For feeling something you couldn't even name for a man who treated as nothing more than an object. Every public outing where he was caring towards you, even kind and every bit of charming you could ever hope for, raised your hopes high only to see them crashing down at the indifference towards you the moment you were alone without the peering eyes of the ton on you.
Your wedding and honeymoon came and went in a blur. Not even able to consummate the marriage properly due to an argument that left you both enraged and unable to look each other in the eye in the days that followed. The following months were a string of simple greetings in passing and only speaking to one another when absolutely necessary. The empty house you now lived in was becoming your own personal void without so much as the company of your supposed husband.
"Viscountess Bridgerton, are you alright?" Your maid questioned as you snapped out of your haze and directed your attention back to the bouquets before you.
"Yes, this one will be lovely for tonight, thank you." You made your final decision as Anthony strolled into the room. Your maids quickly making themselves sparse, leaving the two of you alone.
"My family should be arriving any second; I assume everything for tonight is in order, is it not?" The underlying sarcasm and questioning of your ability as the lady of the house crawled right under your skin, any lingering feelings you had been contemplating only a moment ago for the Viscount gone in an instant at his distasteful manner.
"Yes, Lord Bridgerton." You replied dryly.
"Dear, we are married and have been for some time now. I would very much like it if I did not have to tell you to address me by my first name while we are in our home." You audibly scoffed at his command while standing from your seat.
"And I would very much like it if my husband would not treat me as though I do not exist." You snapped. Anthony's jaw clenched as he tensed before you. "Seems like neither of us shall get what we want. Now if you'll excuse me, my lord, I have some preparations still pending for tonight. I am sure you can see your family to their rooms for now."
"Now, you will not even greet my family. Do you have a distaste for them as well?"
"Never. I adore your mama and siblings as if they were my own." Anthony searched for any sign of deceit but instead found honest eyes staring back at him, making his heart ache. "If anything, I am grateful. Alas, there shall be a Bridgerton in this home I do not dislike."
Your thoughts betrayed you abruptly exited the room and returned to your bed chambers to prepare for the evening, shutting the door and leaning against it in an attempt to steady yourself. Damn him. His scent blurred your thoughts and inhibited every one of your senses as you attempted to concentrate on the anger portrayed in his words. Instead, your mind wandered to how his white shirt hugged every curve of his chest, the plumpness of his lips, and the curve of his jaw. It was alluring in the most intoxicating way. You knew you had to compose yourself before the night began; the last thing you needed was to be distraught at your own ball.
------------------------
You stepped into the ballroom in your new dress gown the modiste had spent a significant amount of time making especially for this occasion. The staircase was beautifully adorned with white roses and touches of lilacs cascading down onto the main area. Candelabras and other flourishing arrangements were stationed around the refreshment tables your guests gathered at, and the thrumming rhythm of classical music whispered into your ears as you took notice of everyone enjoying themselves before greeting them.
Unbeknownst to you, Anthony stood at the opposite end of the ballroom, observing how you conducted yourself gracefully amongst the guests—making light conversations while extending your kindness to everyone. He marveled at your ability to make each person feel as though they had your undivided attention; although he would never admit it, he found himself yearning for that same attention from you.
Early on, Anthony knew you fit all the requirements he had given himself for a wife. Someone honorable and suitable enough to hold the role of his Viscountess. It was precisely why he had chosen you, but that wasn't the only motive. You were the only lady's company outside his sisters; he did not particularly hate. Every potential partner he sought that season out had come up empty, whether it had been on the conversation or any other unfulfilling matter they discussed. You were different. You carried a conversation like no other, educated in far more areas than he could've hoped for, but none of that quite captured his heart in an unsuspecting manner like your character. You were kind and compassionate in a way he admired; you challenged him in ways that irritated him to no end, yet he found himself entirely enraptured by you. This is precisely why he had no choice other than shut you out completely. Anthony knew letting you get too close would be going against everything he wanted for himself. He couldn't let himself love another or have another love him; with love came loss. That he knew for certain.
"All seems good with the two of you, I see." Daphne smiled while moving to stand by Anthony as she spoke, breaking his train of thought.
"Good? I do not follow, dear sister." Anthony cleared his throat.
"Yes, good. With the way you were just openly admiring your wife, I assume it is only because the two of you have finally gotten over yourselves and admitted whatever it is you feel for one another." Anthony practically rolled his eyes at his younger sister, beginning to regret ever being forthcoming with her about the circumstances of his marriage early on. "Oh, do not tell me you are still playing this game? At this stage of marriage? Anthony-" She began scolding him, but he interrupted and led her to a more private area of the ballroom.
"There is no game. We married because it was our duty to do so. Nothing more, nothing less. You will have to accept that, Daphne." Anthony's voice grew stern as he furrowed his brows at his sister.
"And I do. What I will not accept is the way your love for each other goes unspoken when it is clear to everyone around you." She spoke her following words in a hushed tone as to keep anyone who may be standing near from listening to them. "There is no doubt you hold love in your heart for her, brother. But if you do not tell her soon, I fear you will lose her and your only chance at happiness forever." With that, Daphne offered him a soft smile before walking towards Simon, who busied himself greeting Lady Danbury and her mama.
The night went on better than you could've hoped for. The dances and mingling were without a flaw, and even Lady Bridgerton and the Dutchess were quick to praise you on how well everything had turned out. Soon the guests started to filter out, making their way home after a long night of celebration. You strolled over to your husband after bidding goodbye to her majesty the Queen and ensuring everything had been to her liking. Anthony couldn't help but take notice of how stunning you looked tonight. How your dress fell perfectly over your figure, gems scattered throughout to match his mother's necklace laid in the most alluring way on the supple skin of your neck and chest. He was entranced in a way he'd never been before. Perhaps Daphne had been right. There's a sentence he never thought he'd utter, he thought to himself. Perhaps he had let his fears control him for far too long.
You had barely noticed your ring slipping from your fingers to fall at Anthony's feet as you approached him. Both of you leaned down to reach for it in unison, fingers ghosting over one another, making your breath catch and your eyes meet as he placed it upon your finger once again. The intimacy of such a small moment becoming too much to bear far too quickly.
"I must go." You could not bear to withstand one more moment under Anthony's intense glare, the part of you that wanted to finally divulge all the feelings you'd fought so hard to suppress after all this time threatening to break through at any given moment. You suddenly stepped back, picked up your dress the best you could, and walked hastily to avoid attracting unwanted attention from lingering guests. As you paced through the gardens, an overwhelming and uncertain feeling washed over you before you overheard Anthony's steps behind you.
"Why? Why is it that you distance yourself from me?" Anthony shouted in a hushed tone toward you.
"Me? I am not the one stuffed in my office all day, coming to bed at late hours of the night when I am asleep and gone once I wake. Avoiding me day in and day out as if I am a plague to you." Tears welled in your eyes, making Anthony's breath hitch. He could not stand to see you like this. Every nerve in his body burned to fix whatever was troubling you, even if he was the one who caused it. Every feeling he had worked so hard to bury all this time, convincing himself he did not love you, could not love you, surfacing with every word that escaped your lips. "You treat me as though you do not care for me." Your voice was just low enough for him to hear, eyes cast downward, unable to give him so much as a glance through his silence.
"Do not care for you? It is as if I am being consumed when I am with you. I cannot hold a breath or do the most ordinary task without you racing across my every thought. I feel as though I am losing my sanity because I cannot bear to be without you for one second. And when you are near me, it is positively intoxicating in ways I did not know to be possible." Anthony stepped cautiously toward you, fingers ghosting over your cheek, eyes dancing along your features with adoration filling them. "I love you. I love you as much as a person can love another. I do not wish to hold it inside anymore. I love you."
"I love you too." A sob wracked your chest as you responded without hesitation. The reflection in your eyes conveyed the devotion and tenderness he yearned for. It was as if you indeed saw the pieces of him but only sought to love him as he was, incomplete and perfect in every way in your eyes. As your husband.
Your heartbeat quickened as Anthony stepped close enough so that your noses practically brushed against one another—a familiar desire spreading from your heart to your chest.
Anthony cupped your face, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek. Chills spread along your skin at the warmth of his touch. Unbridled affection flowed freely and filled the space between you. Your lips met for what felt like the first time; his other hand settled at your waist, prompting you closer to him and deepening the kiss. His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency. It was as if nothing else mattered, the past becoming more of a distant memory the further you melted into him. There was only this moment. Anthony unwillingly pulled away, leaving your foreheads pressed against one another, his hair slightly disheveled from your fingers running through it, lips swollen and thoroughly kissed. A deep sigh escaped him before he spoke.
"I would marry you again if I could. Do it all over from the very beginning." His voice slightly wavered at the sentiment; it suddenly weighed on him how much he truly meant it. He wished nothing more than to turn back time and love you the way you deserve from the very beginning. Things would have been so different.
"Anthony, you do not need to embellish. We already married." A chuckle escaped you, a knowing smile gracing his lips. "What?"
"You called me Anthony."
I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. if anyone sees my work anywhere that is not ao3/tumblr or under any other username that is not whispersoftheton, it has been reposted without my permission
#bridgerton#anthony bridgerton#bridgerton netflix#anthony bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton smut#anthony bridgerton fluff#anthony bridgerton imagine#anthony bridgerton fic#bridgerton fic#bridgerton fanfiction#daphne bridgerton#queen charlotte#lady danbury
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The lucid moments of Queen Charlotte & King George:
they sometimes hide from the heavens under the bed and George asks how their kingdom is doing. Charlotte quietly confesses how sometimes, the world seems to close in on her too & she feels like she might just hide from the heavens forever. George cradles her hand whispers lovingly:"You've always been the stronger one of us." Charlotte:"Only because you gave me half of your strength."
George sometimes escapes his confinement and bursts into meetings, but he's lucid. Charlotte is momentarily stunned, but relaxes when George speaks normally with the higher members of the ton. She smiles and watches her husband, the king, attend to his duties. In these little moments, she feels like the paintings didn't have to add George in later, she feels like he was there all along for the still sitting.
George still goes to the fields, he's old now, but he can pick at the weeds and plant some vegetables at least. Brimsely swore he would always attend to Her Majesty the Queen, but whenever her husband is outside, he temporarily serves the King, on orders of Her Majesty. Brimsely knows the Queen trusts him above all to protect her king in Reynold's place
George sometimes draws her, draws her face, his artistic skill curiously weakens when he's of sound mind, but Charlotte doesn't seem too offended when she spies her likeness on their wall. She smiles brighter than the sun
They reminiscent of their youth together, George remarks on the make of Charlotte's dresses, they look just like they had when they were younger. Charlotte is too prideful to admit she still orders these dresses to be made because it's the only thing of George she can have with her everyday to keep her grounde
Amelia's passing wounded everyone deeply, George had still been lucid enough to have learned of it, which ultimately crumbled the pieces of his sanity over time. His lucid moments grew fewer and farther in between and Charlotte felt like she had not only lost a daughter, but her husband as well
George has his observatory in his residence at Kew, and sometimes when he gazes at the stars and searches for a glimpse of Venus, his clarity returns with full force. In those moments, he quickly writes down whatever thoughts flood his clear mind, to not forget them, forget that deep down in his madness, there is still a man. Charlotte occasionally visits his observatory and she always checks his journals for new notes. Little things he intended to remember. The names of all their children and their birthdays. Thoughts of Charlotte and how much he misses her. Most of them speak of Venus, how much he loves and adores her. The Queen learned early on that Venus has quite a few names. The Great Star. Goddess of Love. Charlotte. Lottie. And sometimes, his Queen.
"Tell me, Lottie, how are the gardens?". She smiles, "In full bloom, my dear.". There was an uncharacteristically but not unfamiliar grin on the king's face. "And tell me... how is your garden?" Charlotte laughed, spying the mischievous twinkle in her husband's eye. "It definitely could use some tending. Some watering. Some fierce plowing." Brimsely knew better than anyone to immediately send the guards and attendants away once the Queen hitched up her skirts and moved over to sit on the King's lap.
"I'm sorry, my dear Lottie." George spoke softly into their quiet bedroom. Charlotte tried to discern his expression through the darkness. "Whatever for, George?". George sighed deeply, "For not giving you as much comfort and support as you do for me, once my mind wanders again.". Charlotte can only hold her husband close to her and kiss his forehead, whispering softly into his thinning hair. "You do give me comfort, my dear. So much."
George often has nightmares during the night, whenever he calls for his attendants, more often than not, it's his wife that hurries to his bedside. She always manages to quench his demons. He's heard the whispers in the halls, about how cruel and cold his queen was. But not to him. To him, she was soft and warm. Oh, so warm.
At the birth of their last child, George worries for Charlotte's health and urges her to not have anymore babies. She tries to argue with him, but George snaps:"We have enough heirs! I know what it is that you try to do, I know my...my madness may pass down to any one of our children, but if I were to lose you while you give birth to another child madness shall consume us all! What shall I do mad with fourteen children to care for instead of enjoying the moments I have left with you by my side?"
George sometimes reads manuscripts of the love stories between older kings and their queens, he sometimes forgets them and discovers them anew, but he always remembers what each of these stories lacked to him. None of these love stories could come close to describe the endless well of love he harbors for his wife, in madness and in sanity.
Charlotte finds reading poems to be a waste of her time, but she keeps the small, crumpled pieces of papers very close to her heart. The handwriting is not always neat, not always eligible, but she knew them all by heart anyway. Even though he may not be physically near her, Charlotte knew she was never alone in ruling their kingdom with George's heartfelt poems tucked safely into the sleeves of her dress.
They sometimes run into each-other in the kitchen at night, it's always a fright at first, Charlotte doesn't know if George is in his right mind, but he always quells her fears with a boyish smile. "Fancy meeting you here, my queen. Care for some of the best pudding in all of Britain?" Charlotte smiles, her eyes misty. "Oh, you old fool. You'll upset your stomach if you continue eating pudding every night.". George caressed her cheek. "That never stopped you before, has it?" Charlotte sighed. "Oh, just give me that spoon."
Sometimes, in his calm state of mind, George wonders if his body subconsciously enters into madness on purpose. Not to drive him mad, no, a much simpler reason. Sometimes, George wonders if he falls back into madness because he knows if he does, Charlotte would always come to visit and spend time with him. Somewhere in the deepest corners of his mind, George doesn't mind being called the Mad King if it meant spending time with his dear wife.
Charlotte is Queen during the day, but when she visits George at night, she turns young again, the ache in her bones recedes and she's just a simple maiden with her farmer. Just Charlotte. Just George. Just them.
#bridgerton#bridgerton headcanons#queen charlotte spoilers#queen charlotte a bridgerton story#queen charlotte x king george#queen charlotte#king george iii#king george#charlotte x george#chatty charinette#my fic#my fics
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Married Off to a Beast?! (Or Troll)
Pairing: King George x Fem!reader
Characters: Charlotte, Fem!reader, King George, Adolphus (briefly mentioned)
Warnings: A memoriable scene, fluff, Charlotte doesn’t approve of running away, George is a simp, Reader and George are enamored with each other, Charlotte is a hypocrite, George regrets nothing, reader knows she can’t resist him now, reader showing skin O:O
Word Count: 1,356
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You walk back and forth in front of the wall. You take a deep breath and step closer. "Charlotte help me."
"No," she shakes her head, wanting little to no part in your escape.
You spin around to look at her, your body visible for anyone to see if they walk down this path to the garden. "Your brother married me off without my consent, you will help me."
She huffs, scratching the side of her head. Out of the two of them (her and her brother), she's always had a harder time saying no to you.
"Fine."
George watches as you call for her assistance and decides to walk further down. Neither of noticed him, not until he cleared his throat. “Hello, My Lady.”
You glance over your shoulder to find a charming man standing a few feet away.
He turns to your cousin. “My Lady.”
Her eye twitches, you know it did; you didn’t have to look at her to know. “Are you in need of assistance of some kind?”
“Uh, I am quite fine, thank you.” You return to your mission. “You can go back inside and wait with all the other gawkers.”
Charlotte whispers your name. She understands your feelings about the situation but there is a better way to address someone.
"I… will. What are you doing?"
You huff, “nothing.”
“You’re doing something.”
You internally groan, not wanting to berate some man for something he had no control over. “I am not.”
“You are.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“I am not.”
“You are!”
You jump down from your place and spin around to face him. "If you must know, I am being shipped off into a marriage I did not give my consent to and one I had no prior knowledge of, therefore I am leaving before it can happen."
"Oh," his brows shot up in surprise.
“Yes, so I am currently trying to find the best way to climb over this damned garden wall so that I may live my life the way I choose to.”
He mutters a few things, trying to understand this new information he’s been given. “Whatever for?”
"For the love of-" She mutters, hearing the wheels turning in your head.
"I believe he may be a beast.”
"He isn't," she assures you.
"How do you know? I mean, do you know what he looks like?"
She rolls her eyes, knowing you’ve been on edge since... well, since you were informed of your future role.
“You think he is a beast?”
“Or a troll.”
“Uh, who are we discussing.”
You furrow your brows, “no one who concerns you.” You study the wall, sighing to yourself. “The King. Only because no one will speak of him. No one. So, he can only be a beast or a troll if that’s the case.”
“Understood.”
Charlotte shakes her head, lowering it so George doesn’t see the disappointment on her face.
“If I grab there,” you point to an ideal spot. “You can assist me by lifting me up.”
“One question. You do not like beasts or trolls? What he looks like matters?”
You shrug, “I do not care what he looks like. I care about my sanity… and the not knowing. That, that is what I do not like. I do not like the not knowing. Now come here and help me.” You gesture for him to come closer. “She will not help me. You grab here,” you hold your waist, “and lift me.”
“You want me to lift you over the wall so you may escape?”
“That is what I said, is it not.”
You shake your head, mumbling to yourself, “it’s as if he isn’t listening.”
“Won’t people notice you are missing?”
“Her brother will make her take my place, I’m sure.”
“What?” Charlotte nearly screeches.
“I have little care to worry about that. Now, if you please. I just need a little assistance from a more cooperative audience. Make haste.”
“I have absolutely no intention of helping you.”
You’re baffled. You step off the wall and march towards him. “Do you not see I am a lady in distress. You refuse to help me? Again, a lady in distress.”
“I refuse when that lady in distress is trying to go over a wall so that she does not have to marry someone I think you'll find rather appealing."
You furrow your brows, "and why's that?"
"Because I am... his majesty."
You take a step back, realizing the many errors you’ve made leading up to now.
“Hello,” he says your name.
"Oh, no," your cousin mutters. She takes a step closer, pulling you towards her. "Be quiet and bow."
You start to apologize. “I am deeply s…”
And then your training (from when you were a young girl) kicks in and you bow, "My King."
"No, no. Just George."
"Your majesty."
"Not your majesty, George."
"Your-"
Your cousin rolls her eyes and sneaks away (not wanting to listen to you two anymore). She’s off to find her brother. Not to mention the fact that she needs to hide from her betrothed as well… which explains why she willingly followed you.
"George."
"You-"
"George."
"Y-"
"George."
"Your-"
"I mean, yes your majesty to you, just George… For you, I will be your George, I like that," he smiles.
“I- I need you to accept my apology. You see, if I had known-”
“You would have what? Not told me you were trying to escape?”
“Yes- wait no, I mean…” You huff, “I do apologize your majesty.”
“George… Your George. The “King” situation towers over us and I was hoping as my wife, I could be just George to you. I mean, that was of course, before I found out that you do not want to be married to me.”
You furrow your brows, “I did not say that.”
“You did.”
“No.”
“Many times, in fact.”
You purse your lips in anger, knowing he’s right. “I do not know you.”
He raises his arms, “I do not know you either… other than finding out… how terrible you are at climbing a wall.”
You scoff, “you try climbing in this,” you wave to your outfit and lift the skirts of your dress, showing him your ankles. “These garments and shoes. They’re terrible, but if I don’t want to hurt myself, I must.”
His constant stare worries you.
“What?”
“I- No one told me you’d be this beautiful. Perhaps, you’re too beautiful to marry me. People will talk… given I’m a troll.”
“I believe I said beast.”
He chuckles.
Your face twists as if you’re in pain but only thinking of your future marriage. “Your majesty.”
“George.”
“George. I- I still do not know you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“Ev- fine.” He gives you information to help ease you into knowing more about him and potentially help your future marriage.
“It sounds like you’re bragging.”
He chuckles, “another to know about me is that… I am- well, nervous about marrying a girl I’m only just meeting minutes before our wedding. Only, I cannot show it and climb over a wall because I am the king of Britian and Ireland and that would, cause a scandal. But I promise you, I am neither a troll, nor a beast. Just your George.”
The corners of your lips twitch.
Charlotte’s voice interrupts you two. “My brother is on his way, so we must leave now.”
“I-”
“I have one question.”
“Yes?”
“Have you decided whether you wish to marry me? Or would you prefer to go over the wall?”
You gulp.
“As much as I would love to hear your answer, I have to go because I believe there are some anxious guards who think I’ve been kidnapped.” He grabs your hand and whispers your name as he places a kiss upon it. “I hope to see you in there.”
You watch as he walks away. “Have you decided? Because there will be a scandal one way or another.”
“I-” you take a deep breath. “Come with me, you impatient brat.”
“I am not a brat.”
“You are.”
“Am not.”
#Bridgerton#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton fanfic#queen charlotte#queen charlotte fanfiction#queen charlotte fanfic#king george bridgerton#king george#king george x reader#king george fanfic#king george fanfiction#king george x you#king george fic#king george bridgerton fanfic#king george bridgerton fanfiction#king george bridgerton fic#king george bridgerton x reader#king george bridgerton x you#crazyk-imagine
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For Aegon III/Jaehaera's requests: Aegon being nervous because Haera is having their first child and heir after a decade.
He can hear her screams of pain from behind the doors of their shared chambers.
He starts to pray the gods, despite Baela and Viserys' tentative reassurances then Haera calls for him and Aegon's feets lead him in front of the doors; the guards try to stop him and he orders them to not touch him.
They woke the dragon and the dragon will be protective of his mate and hatchlings.
When he enters, he is quick to be by Jaehaera's side
"My king you shouldn't-"
"I can and I will"
They had their baby boy🥺 and you bet that Aegon cries for the first time out of happiness, then Haera is there like: "Give him to me! he's mine!"
And doesn't allow anyone to touch their baby and you vet Aegon will wash his baby boy, much to the horror and amusement of the masters, midwives and Aegon's siblings
Aegon paces around the hallway in an attempt to calm down. He has been banned from his bedchambers for the better of half an hour now. The Grand Maester and his accompanying midwives have tended his wife as she gave birth to her firstborn; their firstborn.
He is not a religious man, by any means of the word, but he prays under his breath. The gods had long forsaken him, laughing as they planted him on a throne of swords that had cost him nearby everything. But his wife had a woman of more faith, despite all she had been through herself. If the Seven are true to them, they would protect her.
Aegon hopes so, begs so, his stomach turning up and down. The toll of the birthing is clearly heard beyond the doors that separate them. Jaehaera is eight and ten, and they both grew plenty since their wedding, but she has remained a smaller woman to this day. Her pregnant belly had been big for her frame, he can’t help the dark thoughts his mind leads him to.
“You are going to have to breathe, dear brother,” Viserys tells him. “Births do not ever sound pleasant. This is a fact of life.”
Yet they never sounded so difficult for Larra, either, he wants to say, but he only frowns. If it wasn’t for the fact Lady Larra Rogare had left court a year prior, he may have said it aloud. Little Aegon, Aemon, and Naerys were left alone with only their father. The pit in Aegon’s stomach grows exponentially. This is a possibility, for Aegon too, and he had never trusted his odds.
Baela takes him by the shoulder. If it wasn’t his sister, he may very well flung that hand away. “You are going to look more dreadful than your wife when she gets out of that room,” she says straight to his face. “Calm down. I have done as much twice. Rhaena had done so six times. Your little wife will manage, she’s resilient, for all it’s worth.”
She’s neither you nor Rhaena. Resilient Jaehaera had been, but it hasn’t been without struggles. Aegon doubts she had ever said as much to anyone else but him, but this court had been a lonely place for her besides for him. She’s been changing it, step by step, and now labouring to change it definitively, but how alone must she feel in that room?
Another pained wail comes from within the room. I can’t take it anymore.
“I am entering,” he finally says, escaping his sister’s grip. There are protests from all sides when he steps away from his siblings and to his Kingsguards. The bumbling fools in their white capes move to not allow him to enter, citing the instructions of the Maester, but he glares them down. He’s a full head taller than both, with a crown on his head. He has abandoned the days the Keep could rule him when he fired Lord Torrhen Manderly. “You serve the maester or the King, now? Move aside, or else.”
The doors to the room open for him while Jaehaera is pushing, forehead wrinkled and sweatied as she does. All her attendants turn to him, but he ignores them and their words entirely. Aegon only needs a few long steps to reach his wife, sitting beside her on their very bed.
Jaehaera lifts her eyes to him, panting as he wipes her forehead and moves silver strands from her red-hued face. Grand Maester Munkun swallows as he moves to him. “Your Grace, you shouldn’t like to stay. Births are stressful occasions—”
Aegon does not listen to a thing the man says. “Aegon,” Jaehaera pants, fingers coming to clutch his sleeve. He gives her his full palm to squeeze.
“—To both parents…” The Grand Maester slowly falters in his words.
“As I’ve noted,” Aegon answers, cutthroat. “I can stay and I will. Now mind your Queen before I find someone who does.”
The old man gulps in response, and scurries to his seat at the edge of the bed nodding. Aegon fixes the pillows under his wife’s head. The calls to push are difficult on his wife for a while, and he feels her using all her strength, the squeeze on his hand a testament to all her efforts.
Their child’s cradle is ready, standing by the window and illuminated by the sun. So many blankets woven for a child not yet born are laid within. Jaehaera had been waiting on the babe for so long, talking to her belly at times even, hoping the little one would hear.
In comparison, Aegon had been almost afraid. He had worried and angered and anxiously dealt with the idea of a child coming under his wing. Broken wings, by most accounts. He has never known how his siblings had been able to heal the way they were, raising their own family in swift pursuit. Jaehaera’s losses, his losses, had made them become ghosts in the shells of their bodies for the longest while.
But he had grown into this shell, just as he had grown into his crown, and now it is their turn to rebuild.
Jaehaera lets out a sharp yelp of pain, and Grand Maester Munkun lifts his head. “The babe is crowning,” he looks to the midwives. “Prepare the bath!”
Aegon squeezes his wife’s hand harder. Jaehaera’s eyes are bleary from tears of effort, but he feels he is the one who is in whirls of uncontrollable emotions. Jaehaera inhales in determination, readjusts her position and groans loudly one last time.
A babe’s cries deafen all other voices in the room.
“It’s a boy,” Munkun announces to the room amidst cries of new life, and then looks at him. “A healthy prince, Your Grace. An heir for the Iron Throne.”
Grand Maester Munkun is holding their son. Aegon doesn’t know how long he has been waiting on letting his tears fall. It could be from the moment he has been told Jaehaera’s water broke, and it could be from moons prior, when he had been first told Jaehaera is with child. There is some spell cast on him when he sees his boy writhe for attention, tufts of silver hair sticking to his head. It’s my…
The umbilical cord is cut, Jaehaera, despite her pain and fatigue, rises into half-sitting in a bolt. “He’s mine,” she yells at the Grand Maester, paralysing all attendants in the room. Queen Jaehaera, as the court knows her, hardly ever raises her voice. “Give him to me!”
It’s their boy, first. Before he is an heir, before he is thrust into his royal position, it’s their son.
Aegon comes up from his place, and takes his son from Grand Maester Munkun before he could give him to any of the midwives. He is a big baby, eyeing Aegon with a stare of indigo. He has small, pouty lips, and squishy cheeks as red as all of his body is.
“Our son,” he says, placing the boy in her arms. Jaehaera holds him close to her chest, and finally, the stress on her face dissipates. Tears escape her eyes, but she smiles so widely. “He has your nose.”
“Hello. I am your mama,” she tells the newborn softly. The babe’s cries calm as they speak. Aegon brings a hand to caress his face. Does he recognize their voices? Aegon hasn’t spoken to him during the pregnancy as much as Jaehaera, but the nights he did, does the boy recall them? Aegon had been so afraid for his upcoming arrival, but now he has him and he can’t look away. “And this is your papa.”
It’s my family.
And he loves it, so dearly, he will never let it go.
“Congratulations, little brother, and good sister,” he hears Baela’s voice from behind him. Both her and Jaehaera look up to her. His sister is mindful of their space, but ogles the little boy with a grin. Viserys is further back, trying to catch a glimpse of the child too. “The midwives are afraid to ruin the moment, so I must. Our prince needs to have his first bath before the water grows cold.”
Jaehaera licks her lips, rather hesitant to give the boy away. They share their reservations with only their eyes. Aegon thinks for a moment and kisses his wife’s temple before looking at all the attendants in the room. “Bring the bath here. I’ll do it.”
There are many variations of his title that come about in exclamation. ‘Your Grace’, ‘Your Highness’, ‘Your Majesty’ and so on and so forth, all complaints and concerns and whatnot. None of it matters, not even a smidge, when Jaehaera smiles at him, and gives him their boy in full trust. He holds him, swearing his arms would be secure for the boy evermore.
Because I am your father, above all else.
#andddd jaehaegon requests cleared!#this was so sweet it reminded me of the queen charlotte scene in the netflix show#i didn't know what to name bby boy so I didn't drop suggestions in the tags if you'd like lmao#jaehaegon#jaehaera x aegon iii#aegon iii x jaehaera#jaehaera targaryen#aegon iii targaryen#hotd#hotd imagine#hotd fanfic#my fanfics#my fics#reqs#answered#tremendouswolfsaladranch
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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ Bridgerton Masterlist ୧˚｡˚ ⋆
ᥫ᭡ — Welcome to my Bridgerton Playlist.! // All fics are marked with genre keys. Before deciding to read a fic please read warnings/content labels carefully before continuing further, you're responsible for what you choose to consume. smut is recommended for users over the age of seventeen.
New Release — Music is pending!
Last Updated — February 21st 2024
・King George lll
・Queen Charlotte
・Simon Basset
・Daphne Bridgerton
・Colin Bridgerton
・Anthony Bridgerton
#❖ — 🖇️: 𝑰𝑵𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯𝑷𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶𝑹𝑨 ~ 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻.!#queen charlotte a bridgerton story#queen charlotte and king george#queen charlotte#king george x reader#king george iii#simon basset#simon basset x reader#daphne bridgerton#daphne x simon#daphne basset#bridgerton#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton fic#bridgerton fandom
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Imagine the Queen decided to throw out a challenge to the ton with the promise of a title to whoever discovers the identity of Lady Whistledown.
Once the hunt is on and Lady Whistledown is the prey. Colin Bridgerton would decide to make a name for himself by discovering who Lady Whistledown really is. But when he discovers it’s Penelope he offers to forgo the title and glory to protect her and her secret.
Colin would be increasingly worried that he won’t be able to keep Penelope safe because someone will eventually trace Whistledown to her and he confesses that he cannot bear the thought of anyone finding out or hurting her. So he offers to marry her so they can leave London together. Colin tells her that protecting the people who love and care for you matters more than anything else and he loves Penelope because she’s his dearest friend and her security and safety matter to him more than anything.
Penelope tells him that he should not have to sacrifice his future happiness to save her from the consequences of her own decisions and actions, even though he assures her that he has given this decision a lot of thought and he wants to marry her. He is sure that they would always do whatever was necessary to make each other happy and he swears to her that what he wants more than anything in the world is her happiness.
Unwilling to alter the course of Colin’s life forever with the burden of her secret, Penelope decides to gamble and to out herself in the hopes of catching the Queen in a clever checkmate because her majesty never said Lady Whistledown could not reveal herself to claim the title for her husband. Penelope offers to work with the Queen by keeping her informed on all the latest gossip exclusively and to stop writing her column in exchange for protection and a title she can pass on to her husband and future children. The Queen agrees but reminds Penelope that she does not have a husband, simultaneously annoyed by Penelope’s daring and impertinence, but also amused by how clever she is for a girl who isn’t even 20 years old yet.
Then when Penelope is announced as Lady Whistledown by the Queen and she is given her title, multiple gentlemen approach who are eager to earn themselves a title. But rather than entertain even one suitor, Penelope announces she’s been secretly engaged to Colin Bridgerton and he’s caught off guard because he’d realized he had fallen in love with her but now that she had her pick of gentleman he was not sure she would want him.
As Colin takes her hand to kiss it, Penelope insists she would choose him over any man in the world. Because she wants a husband who will protect and look out for her even when it’s hard. But first and foremost, she wants him to be her husband because he is her dearest and most trusted friend, and she loves him desperately. Colin who was sure he’d never love anyone more than he loved Penelope, is so happy that he completely disregards all rules of society and kisses her right there in front of the entire ton and the Queen herself, and they celebrate with a dance.
#quotergirl mini fic#polin#bridgerton#netflix bridgerton#bridgerton season 3 speculation#shondaland#bridgerton netflix#penelope featherington#Colin Bridgerton#colin x penelope#penelope x colin#she fell first he fell harder#lady whistledown#queen charlotte
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just george
summary - he will be the king to everyone, but to you he is just george
word count: +1k
a/n: first bridgerton fic but i just love george and his story too much to not post something!! i hate the ending but if you have any concepts send them my way xxx
Being in love with a man that is promised for someone else is the most devastating thing a heart can endure.
Especially when that man is the King of England.
King George has been King since birth and is the strongest, most bravest, man you have ever had the pleasure of meeting. He is kind, smart and beautiful. If only you could tell him these things to his face, but you have sworn to yourself that you must not let your heart show to him.
It will only end in heartbreak.
For you are only one of the Royal housemaids.
You were pulled from the workhouse at a young age and have grown up as George has. Even though you could never publicly play together, George always managed to find a way to sneak away into the gardens with you, or the castle turrets, to talk about the stars.
It was only when Reynolds rushed into the room where you had been cleaning did you realise something was very wrong.
George hadn’t been seen all day, which was unusual, but you just assumed he had been visiting his mother or some other. It never occurred to you he might have run off because his new bride was arriving today.
“The King is missing.” Reynold’s speaks to Brimsely, but loud enough for you to hear.
You carry on dusting, whilst trying to overhear their conversation.
“Since when?” Brimsley asks, trying to remain calm.
“Since this morning. No one has seen him and no one can find him.” Reynold’s stresses.
Even though you could not speak, you had a multitude of thoughts racing through your mind about where you knew George would be. George may live in one of the biggest estates in England, but if you properly know him and where to look then the palace grounds suddenly become quite small.
You excuse yourself from the room, passing it off as a chamber pot break. The duo don’t even recognise that you’ve gone.
Looking over your shoulder you check to see if there’s anyone behind you. You know there shouldn’t be, because this side of the castle is not well staffed. The King requires privacy in some areas of the castle, just for moments of quiet. You know this, because George told you when you initially started to sneak off together.
Every time you sneak out you worry that you’ll get caught and that your life is on the line, yet every time George reassures you that nothing will ever happen to you.
You pick up your skirt and run down the corridor, before stopping at a wooden door. Normally it is locked shut, but by the slight crack in the opening of it you know that you’re on the right track. You push it open, slide through, and shut it tight again.
Then up the 168 stairs you go. Right to the top of the turret.
As the stairway lightens towards the top you hear panting and panting. You run a little faster and take the stairs two at a time.
Barging on to the top of the turret you find George pressed against the side of the wall, sprawled out low so no guards can detect him. His hand are over his heart as his chest heaves heavily. He is still wearing his night clothes - a basic black shirt that V’s down his chest and black trousers made of the finest linen.
“George!” You whimper as you fall to your knees before him. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. I am here.”
Your hands move to atop of his and his gaze moves from the heavens to yours. His eyes are bloodshot red from tears and his dark circles give away how little sleep he has had.
“Y..Y/N...” He speaks so softly.
“I am here. You are okay.” You nod your head at him confidently. “I am here.” You’ve found that with most of George’s attacks you have to reassure him that you’re there and that you have no intentions of leaving. Not that you would ever. Even with his new bride, you will always be there for him still.
“Y-You are h..here.” He breathes out jaggedly.
“And you are okay.” You smile warmly at him, moving one of your hand up to cup his cheek. His skin is slightly clammy from his attack. His head moves to the side your hand had just touched his face, making you think he was having an episode of twitches, but instead his face melts into the touch of your hand. He closes his eyes as he nestles into the warmth of your touch.
“Th-ank you.” He says - like he always does, no matter how many times you’ve told him it is unnecessary.
You are about to tell him that he does not need to thank you, but he cuts you off before because he knows you well enough.
“As your King, you will a..accept my thanks without quarrel.” He opens his eyes to look at you and you press your lips together to prevent you from arguing. You nod softly and he thanks you again.
“She is arriving soon.” You speak softly so you do not cause him to be anxious again. “But you do not have to meet her if you would rather not.”
George laughs with little happiness, “Nothing would make my day better than not having to meet her.” One of his hands goes to hold yours against his cheek harder - grounding him. “But I am the King and I have duties.”
“You come before them. Your health comes before–” You try to argue.
“No. No, Y/N, it does not.” George’s eyebrows furrow.
“George, listen–”
“No, Y/N, you listen. I must meet this woman as she will be my bride and she will be your Queen. It is what I have to do.” George cut you off firmly, leaving you speechless.
You took your hands out of his and moved to sit back against the wall beside him, with a solemn face. You wished it didn’t have to be like this. You wished in another life George could be promised to you instead. Instead, he was already someone else’s. Not that he ever was going to be yours.
“I wish you were not the King.” You say quietly, not even thinking he would hear you.
George reached for your hand and interlaced his fingers with yours. You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried your best to make it look like you were okay.
“If I were not King a lot of things would be different.” He agrees with you.
“How so?”
“Well, most importantly, I would already be wedded to someone I actually love.”
Your heart dropped and your chest heaved a few heavy times as you tried to hide the heartbreak. You were foolish to think you would even be his second choice after his future bride.
“Is she kind?”
“Well...”
“I hope she is kind, George. I hope she loves you and all of you. I hope she farms in your vegetable gardens with you. I hope she is funny, because God do you need some laughter in this life. I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you and that she tells you every morning.” You quickly wipe some stray tears away from your cheeks with your free hand, “Because that is the kind of love you deserve, George. And no less.”
“Well, apart from the fact you are not funny...” George says simply, like he has not just confessed his undying love for you out loud.
You turned your head to face him with a shocked expression, jaw relaxed and mouth open. Your eyes watered and so did George’s. He granted you a small smile when he saw your cheeks blush.
You had no idea what to say. This could not be. He was bound to another bride. You would be committing crimes if you were to even be seen touching him as you are now, let alone accept him to be yours.
“George...” You whispered into the wind.
“It has always been me and you. That will not stop with the arrival of my new bride. I may not be able to call you my Queen, nor my bride, but you will always have a place here,” he holds a hand over his heart, “A place that no one owns but you.”
“Oh why could you not just be Farmer George!” You laugh out a sob, tears running down your cheeks as he laughs at your reaction. It makes you want to cry all over for a positive reason. “Or even, just George.”
“I can be just George, just for you.”
#kind of hate the ending but meh#bridgerton#bridgerton fic#queen charlotte bridgerton#queen charlotte george#bridgerton george fic#corey mylchreest#corey mylchreest fic
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there goes the last great european dynasty - part two of three
An unmarried Diamond would not do and luckily for Queen Charlotte, she has an available nephew and a young woman jaded by London society.
Post S2, canon divergence, fluff and arranged marriage au!!
#fic writing#edwina x friedrich#prince friedrich x edwina sharma#bridgerton#edwina sharma#bridgerton fic#kate sharma#lady danbury#arranged marriage au#queen charlotte#mary sharma#simon bassett#daphne bridgerton#lord sheffield#lady sheffield
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I did not think that I would be so gung-ho about Lady Danbury and Lord Ledger’s relationship but here we are…
#i just want them to be happy together#but that’s impossible and i HATE IT#they’re literally just like anthony and kate#in public they’re SO OBVIOUS like pls just kiss 😭#i need fics like NOW#I’m begging#queen charlotte#lady danbury#agatha danbury#lord ledger#lady danbury x lord ledger
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{{Drabble}} George and his anxiety.
wc;; 661
summary;; George has anxiety about an upcoming speech and you calm him down.
contents;; fluff, sweet nothings, loving caresses, stressed George and signs of mania.
a/n;; although I do write smut mainly I wanted to start filling up my repertoire of work. So, I decided to add in a very small lil drabble for ‘just George’. :)
!!W!!;; none really, signs of his mania? (Shaking hand) and anxiety.
George, sweet loveable George. He sat in the upholstered leather chair at the large mahogany desk in his study, his thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn’t raise his eyes to meet yours, he didn’t even glance up as you walked into the study. Your dress hissed along the ground, it’s brilliant floral design cascading down the sides, bedecked with jewels and your hair in a very fashionable up-do. A very classic Georgian era outfit.
You approached his desk, placing a gentle hand on his back between his shoulder blades. “What troubles you dearest?” You question him softly, beginning to rub small circles on his back. He looked up at you, brows scrunched together and eyes glassy. Had he been crying?
“I am… frustrated my dear.” He slapped a hand on top of papers, a quill lay discarded to the right. Ink leaked along the table, threatening to spill off the edge and onto the expensive carpets below. “I have to ready a speech for government. Make my presence known and make sure they remember me.” He scoffed incredulously, shaking his head as if it was hard to believe. “Yet, my nerves will not settle. I am beginning to panic and-“ you noticed his hand began to shake, the tell tale sign of an episode threatening to take hold of him. You squatted down at his side, gently placing a hand on his knee, demanding his unwavering attention.
“My love, I will help you be the best you can be. I know you will do excellently for there is nothing you can’t do.” A small smile tugs at your lips and his quiver in response, fighting back a wave of emotions. “You will be amazing, an excellent king and a wonderful speaker. You need not worry about how they perceive you. You are George, King of the United Kingdom’s.” You stood, taking his face in your hands. Cupping his cheeks and whispering, “And you are my husband.” His shoulders slumped and he stood, now towering over you. He held your gaze, smiling.
“My beautiful wife.” He brushed his fingers along your cheek, they no longer shook. “What would I ever do without you?” His voice broke a bit, but he held firm in not allowing tears to fall. You reached up and squeezed his hand.
“I’m sure you would be fine, I am merely a help.” He shook his head, making a disgusted face.
“You are absolutely not! Yes, you may help me but you are so much more. You are my wife, my love, the mother of my children you-“ He sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you to be flush with his front. “You are everything and more. Venus could not compare to your divinity.” You hid your face in his chest, trying to conceal the blush creeping along your face.
“Come darling, let’s go and get some tea to settle ourselves.” You spoke into his chest and he chuckled at your shyness, tenderly grasping your shoulders and pushing you back so that he may see you.
“I love it when you blush. You look so cute.” He smirked, pressing a kiss to your forehead and taking your hand in his. He began to walk towards the parlour. He told Reynolds to bring you tea and confectioneries, once he had vanished down the hall and around a corner George spun to you and scooped you into his arms. He began to rush down the hall, eliciting screams and giggles of joy from you.
He pushed the door open with his foot and lay back on a chaise longue, placing you on top of him. He began to trace lazy circles over your stomach once you were both settled. His other hand playing with your fingers. Before the servants knocked on the door with the tea he whispered into your ear, his breath hot and titillating.
“I love you, my beautiful wife.”
#bridgerton#bridgerton series#bridgerton smut#bridgerton spoilers#king george bridgerton#king george iii#king george x f!reader#king george x reader#queen charlotte#bridgerton fanfiction#king George drabble#bridgerton x female reader#bridgerton fic#bridgerton men#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton family
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1 - Welcoming the Bridgerton’s
Part 2
The Venus Muse
Here's the first chapter y'all! I am sorry to say that I couldn't tag some of you that asked to be added. If you could give me an update profile tag I will add you that way.
Buckingham Palace was always busy with something going on. The royal castle had many children over the years running around it. I knew this place better than anyone else could imagine. And that truth will help me change my life forever.
“Your highness, which tiara would you wish for today?” One of my handmaidens named Sunset asked me.
She was standing by my table vanity that had quite a few tiaras sitting on top of them. Sitting on my bed the fabric of my golden dress swayed when I walked up to her. “The one with three center jewels and the pearl necklace.”
“Of course, my lady.” She nodded where I lowered my head and she set the tiara in the center.
The tiara sparkled when the light bounced off the light coming through the window. I stood in front of the tall mirror eyeing my gown that was golden, short sleeves decorated in lace and was long where you couldn’t see the short brown boots I wore unless my dress flew up from the wind. “Sunset, do you think my mother shall begin pressuring me this year?”
“It is not my place to speak on.”
I reassured her otherwise. “Don’t worry about prying ears. I am asking for your opinion.”
“I would say she seeks what is best for you, Lady Y/n.” Sunset answered with a shrug of her shoulders.
Someone knocked on the outside of my door before another lady in waiting peaked her head inside. “Princess, your mother is coming this direction.” I nodded brushing my hands down the front of my dress.
The door of my bedroom opened for me to see my mother, Lady Danbury and Brimsley all walking up to my room. “I yearn for someone fresh, someone unexpected, to turn this season on its head. That is what we need. There is no room for indifference. Apathy is a blight the monarchy simply cannot endure.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. But remember, a young lady cannot be a diamond until you anoint her as such. So if for any reason you do not find one among the candidates today…”
My mother cut off her friend. “Do you think she will return? We have heard nary a peep from Lady Whistledown since last season ended. Perhaps the writer came to her senses. Perhaps she realized taking on her queen was a bad idea, and she will never publish again.”
Lady Danbury responded. “It is a convincing theory, ma'am.”
“Or she simply left for the country, as the rest of us did in the off-season, bored by the lack of any real gossip.”
Lady Danbury made a noise. “Hmm. “
“You do know what that would make her, then?” My mother Queen Charlotte trailed off.
I finished her sentence being fair too noisy, needing to listen to the conversation of the famous gossiping writer. “One of us.”
“My darling daughter, you look radiant as ever.” My mother turned away from her friend to face me.
I sent her a smile waving to Lady Danbury to not be rude. “It’s good to see you, Lady Danbury.”
“Good to see you too, Princess Y/n.” She smiled.
My mother clasped her hands together in front of her puffy white dress. “I have been needing to speak with you and what this evening needs to entail for you and your happiness.”
“You wish for me to marry a prince and provide heirs for the crown.” I rolled my eyes already thinking of the answer she would say.
Yet to my surprise she said almost the opposite. “I wish for you to have happiness and many children. It would help if your husband was royalty, but it is not a requirement.”
“It isn’t?” Knitting my brows in confusion.
She takes my hands in hers. “I didn’t get the chance to search for love on my own. My brother arranged my marriage with your father. So I secretly hope that you, my firstborn daughter, can have some fun.”
“Mother, I…that means so much to me.” I smiled through some happy tears.
Footsteps came down the long hallway and around the corner before we saw my father’s servant named Reynolds. “My Queen, my princess. I have news.” He bowed with a hand behind his back.
“What is it, Reynolds?” I asked him.
He shifted his gaze to mine. “You're father is having an episode, Princess.”
“Oh…” I made a noise in discomfort. I knew of his illness
That was the secret my mother and the rest of my siblings and I kept hidden from thr world. They needed to believe that the king was just always busy and so his wide made the appearances out on the town. “Hmm it appears we may have to cancel the ball tonight for the Bridgertons.” My mother sighed in defeat knowing her husband came first.
“We shall not cancel.” My mother and Reynolds’s both shifted their attention over to me when I had spoken up the opposite of what they assumed would need to be done. “We should not cancel because I can represent the family in your place, mother.”
She tapped her chin in thought. “I suppose that could solve our problem. I don't wish to cancel the months of preparation that were put into this.”
“Exactly that would be a tragedy.”
The queen turned to her husband's helper with instructions. “Inform my husband I will come to his aid. Brimsley?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
She gave him a different set of orders. “Inform the Viscount Bridgerton that my daughter shall be appearing tonight before myself.” He bowed and went in a different direction then Reynolds.
“Thank you, mother.” I smiled curtseying to her before we parted for the evening. It was quite a few hours before the ball with our castle subjects and the Bridgertons would even begin. By the evening the moon was shining up in the sky and the grand ballroom was lit up like a christmas tree.
Standing silently outside the currently shut double doors I stopped fiddling with my dress when one of the royal guards gave me a head nod saying it was time. I could hear the announcer's voice before the doors had even begun opening. “May I present to you her royal highness. The daughter of King George and Queen Charlotte, Princess Y.n of England.”
“Thank you, sir.” I whispered to another guard that came to me when I had made my entrance through the doors feeling all eyes on me. Sucking in a tiny breath he escorted me to the small throne before we unlinked arms leaving me on my own. The small crown on my head had never felt so heavy as it did right now. “Greetings my subjects. I am here to announce that my mother got called away tonight for an emergency. But she saw no reason why this event couldn’t go on as planned. So with that in mind let me extend a warm welcome to Violet Bridgerton and her family for traveling here for a few months.”
Everyone began clapping and cheering with an older looking woman who had dark brown hair up in a crown on her head that came up to me and gave a lovely curtsey. “Princess, it is a pleasure to get an invitation.”
“I hope I can get to meet your family greatly over your stay, Lady Bridgerton.”
“Princess Y/n, may I ask you something?” Someone called my name causing me to lift my gaze up noticing someone moving through the crowd. The figure paused beside the Bridgerton woman who seemed to give the man a confused but amused depression on her face.
I clicked my tongue and answered the stranger's question. “What is your question, my lord?”
“I was wondering if you would accept my offer for a dance together this evening.” The stranger seemed similar to the woman he was standing beside him. I was fairly certain they were related, but which son was he if they were.
He extended his hand up to me and I smiled, placing my smaller hand in his larger one. “I accept so long as I know which Bridgerton are you?”
“Benedict, Benedict Bridgerton.” He replied leading me out and onto the dance floor with the entire room having theur eyes focused on the two of us.
Comments really appreciated ❤️
Tag list - just ask to be added @abq654 @your-musicguru @imgondeletedis @eruannaaa-blog @cherrylovers-world @benedictbridgertonss @callmedarlingsstuff @carrotcaratsworld @sillynilly27 @emmampl-blog2 @bright-molina @erynel1zasworld @ynbutbetter @stranger-chan @blckbarbiedoll @sanaar3006 @ritz-hell-hotel
#the venus muse#benedict bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x female reader#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#Benedict bridgerton fic#ask box is open for anything#wattpad fanfiction#comments really appreciated#benedict bridgerton series#benedict bridgerton fanfiction#benedict bridgerton fanfic#penelope featherington#eloise bridgerton#violet bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x princess reader#royal family#buckingham palace#queen charlotte bridgerton#king george bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x y/n#lady whistledown#secret relationship
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Im so very confused at the amount of King George x Reader Fics , though I haven't done any deep diving to find King George x Queen Charlotte fics, its almost weird that its not the first thing that comes up when I searcf up QC in tumblr, to this day I have yet to see a single King George x Queen Charlotte fics and I am utterly confused as to why, when they have one of the most beautiful portrayals of love I have ever seen on in any netflix show,
I don;t know but I feel like it's because Charlotte is Black, I could be completely wrong but this is what it feels like and if you have come across any good fanfics with these two as the pairing can you please recommend them? I'd love to read some
Nothing on this app confuses me anymore. Your instincts aren’t wrong, we all know why there aren’t many King George x Queen Charlotte fics. It really doesn’t surprise me at all. They can’t even write a a simple reader insert properly without some kind of white!coding thrown in there, you think they’ll be able to write Queen Charlotte?? Of course not. They don’t even try to use a mix of gifs/pics of her for their “aesthetics” for the reader but they will surely use only non-POC women.
Unfortunately I haven’t come across any good George x Charlotte fics. But when I do, I’ll make a recommendation link for them. Until then I’ll just continue reading the Queen Charlotte book, which I highly recommend. It’s written by Bridgerton author, Julia Quinn, and also Shonda Rhimes. The book is 98% word for word of the show but it’s much deeper.
#ask me anything#king george x reader#king George x Queen Charlotte#Queen Charlotte fics#corey mylchreest#india amarteifio
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