i love that abby jimenez's books are all set in the same universe and have so many overlapping characters because it means i'm reading this fluffy romance series like
JUSTIN FUCKING DAHL THE MAN YOU ARE. He is absolute perfection and I’ve never wished more for a man to be real. Women should go to jail for writing men so well cause now I’m in despair knowing there is not one man out there who is like Justin Dahl
benedict bridgerton x fem!reader, 1.4k words
summary: the reader is one of eloise's closest friends... and madly in love with benedict bridgerton. at a ball, he reveals his true feelings to them.
a/n: the only mention of the reader being female is the dress and corset they are wearing. so. if you pretend to not read that, it could be gender neutral. this was an old draft with like two paragraphs that i started looking at. idk why it’s written in lowercase but the vibe is there and i'm not changing it. GIRL I JUST CHECKED AND I STARTED THIS IN APRIL OF 2022. bye. absolutely insane. (thank you past me, i actually really appreciate the inspo)
if there was anything you knew for certain, it was that you were madly in love with your dearest friend’s elder brother.
being near him made your heart thunder against the confines of your chest, threatening to be loud enough for all to hear.
your hands began to tremble, your voice began to waver.
the love you felt for him was so very obvious to everyone, it seemed, save for benedict.
eloise poked fun while penelope scolded her (for she, too, understood what it was like to love a bridgerton who didn't love her back). but deep down, eloise knew you would love her brother like no other. marriage might have been a fine prospect for benedict, but if he were to marry you, he would never wish for someone to love—you would be everything that he would need.
eloise had even quipped a time or two, teasing her brother and goading him into thinking about you. not that she would tell you, of course.
but love was a fickle thing. it worked in the oddest of ways, and quite frankly, it was hard to tell who benedict truly loved, if he loved at all.
he loved himself, and he loved his family. but eloise’s friend? the girl whom was just a few years younger than he, the one he saw blossom into a woman after several years of puberty? how could he possibly love her?
you wished he did. oh, it was a wish you made on the stars above more often than not. at any point in time, when you saw the first stars dot the sky, the wish would leave your lips.
let him love me.
please let him see me.
please let him know.
was it odd? perhaps. but in this world of expensive balls and beautiful debutantes, it didn’t seem too farfetched—especially when you loved someone. it would hurt to see them go off and love another, would it not?
your heart wasn't kind.
time wasn’t kind.
neither was your father or the corset you wore or the ballgown that seemed to itch in every crevice possible.
of course you had to choose the worst dress of all the ones you owned for this accursed ball! a repeat dress, to say the least. someone would snitch—you were sure it would be raved all about in lady whistledown's next pamphlet.
your mother was nowhere to be found while your father mingled with some of his military friends. eloise was hiding somewhere, most likely with penelope or by the buffet, and most of the bridgertons’ that had come to the ball were out in the ballroom floor, including anthony and colin.
but where was benedict?
you wouldn’t ask him to dance, despite your dance card being blank. you just wanted to see him—see his handsome face, his pretty smile.
lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize a man was creeping up behind you until a hand found its way to your back. you nearly dropped your flute of champagne, wide eyed as you looked back at the culprit. champagne splashed by your gown, and you said a silent thank you to whatever the universe had done to prevent your repeat dress being ruined by none other than the very man of your thoughts—benedict bridgerton.
“what on earth are you doing?” you asked, quickly turning to face him.
“just coming to see my sister’s friend,” he said, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. “am i not allowed to come and talk to you anymore, miss y/n?”
your eyes widened a bit. “you—of course you’re allowed. i will not tell you what to do. but to scare me like that? what if i had spilled this on you?"
“oh, i beg your pardon,” he said. “i didn’t know you were so jumpy. had i’d known, perhaps i would’ve tried to actually scare you.”
“you are a fiend, benedict bridgerton.”
he grinned. “and you love me for it, do you not?”
your cheeks burned in embarrassment as you looked away. you cleared your throat, avoiding what you truly wanted to say: yes. “why aren’t you dancing?”
“hm. well, i was, but when mother wasn’t looking, i slipped away.”
“she’ll get onto you.”
“perhaps,” he said, scrunching his nose. “but if i’m talking to you, she will excuse it.”
you rolled your eyes. “and why is that?”
“you’re eloise’s friend. she’ll excuse it.”
you purse your lips. right. just eloise’s friend. you let out a soft sigh and nod, looking out at the ballroom floor. the song was soft and light and the party-goers danced slowly with their partners. it was a sweet song, if you had to admit to anything that night.
you wouldn’t admit your love for benedict. you couldn’t. you wouldn’t. not now, not ever.
something catches benedict’s eye and he would have up and left had he not been thinking. he cleared his throat as he looked down at you.
“come with me,” he said.
eyebrows furrowed, you glanced at him. “what?”
“you heard me,” he said. “come with me.”
you do as you’re told. you follow him, and he leads you in to a hallway. there are a few other patrons, so you are not alone with a man (oh, god, imagine the scandal), but he specifically leads you to a painting in the middle of the hall.
“a painting?” you asked.
“not just any painting,” he said. “look at it. what does it remind you of?”
you shift where you stand, looking up at it. the oil pastels are beautiful, yes, but it’s a simple painting of a beautiful woman. what’s it to remind you of?
“it looks like your sister,” you said.
he snorted softly. “no,” he said. “it’s beautiful, yes, but that’s not what i wanted you to look at.”
he pointed towards the background. just beyond the portrait of the woman lay a field of beautiful flowers, each one meticulously painted by whomever the painter had been. it looked like it must have taken a painstakingly long time to paint each individual one.
“it reminds me of all the time i do not have,” you simply said.
“oh, you are no fun, y/n!” he said. he looked down at you and smiled. “they remind me of you.”
you blinked slowly. “what?”
“beautiful and yet so unattainable, hm?”
you blinked again. “i beg your pardon?”
“look at them,” he said. “each one unique in their own way, each one hand painted by someone with enough gumption to keep on with it. whoever did it wanted their painting to be utterly beautiful and difficult to recreate. all the fine detail makes the painting that much more extraordinary.”
“wait, wait, benedict, unattainable?”
“right. well if i wanted to recreate this, it would take me some time, wouldn’t it?”
“benedict. how would something like that remind you of me?”
he smiled at you for a moment before he softly said: “you’re eloise’s friend. i couldn’t do that to her.”
“do what?”
“have you the way i want you.”
it’s simple—those seven words seemed to change everything, and it was one of the most simple things you had ever heard.
your lips part in mild shock and you took a slight step back, looking at benedict in confusion. “are… are you—“
“yes. i am in earnest, y/n.”
“why did you—“
“not say anything sooner? have you seen how aggravating eloise has been recently? i did not need to fuel her ammunition.”
“since when did—“
“for some time now.”
“will you let me—“
“no, i will not,” he interrupted again.
“i swear to the lord above that i will—“
“no swearing,” he said. “just self expression, hm? like the painting?”
“what? benedict, you’re not making any sense.”
“maybe not.” benedict smiled down at you. “come. we should head back. perhaps fill in your dance card for once.”
you frowned. “what will eloise say?”
“i do not care,” he said. “it seems to me that you care far more than i do. besides, do you not hear how she speaks to me? i think she'd be honored."
he’s right—perhaps he’s yet to say anything because the way his life had been. perhaps he hadn’t said a word because of everything he and eloise had talked about. there was always timing, and sometimes, it was just a bit off.
whatever it may be, he was here, and he was true to himself. he wanted you, and he would have you, heedless of your thoughts and what eloise wanted from either of you.
oh, the scandal, dear reader. but as long as the two of you plan to marry, whatever scandal could there truly be?
summary: you and Fiyero mistake your attraction to each other as loathing.
From the moment you laid eyes on Fiyero, you loathed him. Your classes were important to you and it seemed like all he cared about was having fun which was obvious by the way he never paid attention in class and the fact that he had been kicked out of every other school he had been to. Everything was a joke to him. He never paid attention in class, always giggling with Glinda about whatever they talked about.
And Fiyero felt the same. He hated how seriously you took everything, never wanting to have just a little fun, which you think he had too much of. You were always either studying or taking some sort of notes. He didn’t understand why you were always so focused on your studies, why you were so tightly wound. He was wondering if he could help you with that somehow.
It seemed like the two of you made your rivalry everyone else’s problem, constantly arguing during meals or in the class you had together, always disrupting the peace between all of the other students. It seemed like everyone but the two of you thought that your feud had been a little silly. And maybe it was, but neither of you saw it that way.
What you didn’t know, though, was that Fiyero was only doing the whole thing just to get a rise out of you. He just wanted to push your buttons, partly because of how easy it was to rile you up, but mostly because you were just so hot when you were angry. There were so many times when he was close to pushing you up against the wall and kissing you stupid. But he never did. He couldn’t. You clearly didn’t like him and a kiss between the two of you would have only ever remained a fantasy.
And because of how obvious it was how into you Fiyero was, Glinda made it her mission to make you no longer a romantic option for him. So she made multiple attempts to set you up with other students at Shiz, but to no avail. You could see what she was doing and didn’t know why it was so important for her to get rid of you when you didn’t even like Fiyero like that anyway. How clear did you have to make it to her that he was all hers.
But still, because she wasn’t totally wicked, Glinda invited you to the Ozdust Ballroom where a lot of the other students were going to do that night. And even though you were suspicious of her intentions, you still decided to go, putting on your prettiest dress and hopping on the last boat that was going to take you to the destination.
The second you got inside, you descended the stairs, completely fascinated by the place, completely unaware of the way Fiyero was looking at you, like you had hung the moon. He was so captivated by you and the pretty blue dress you were wearing that caught the light perfectly. He had to have you and he had to have you right then. It was killing him knowing that you could have possibly gone back to someone else’s room and slept with someone who wasn’t him.
You were distracted by his outfit as you approached him. It was covered in different shapes and bright colors and you couldn’t believe how good it looked on him, almost as if it were made for him specifically. And knowing Fiyero, it probably was.
You’d never tell him, but he looked good, hot, even. He always did and you hated how good he always looked on everything he wore, how he made the school uniform work for him.
“Y/n,” he and Glinda said at the same time, his tone soft, his smile bright, while Glinda looked very unhappy to see you there, sounding nothing but surprised to see you there despite being the one who invited you.
“What are you doing here?” She asked as if reading Fiyero’s mind. This didn’t seem like your kind of scene, but then his eyes caught onto the book in your hand and he couldn’t help but smile at how cute he thought you were. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and you brought a book? The two of you couldn’t have been more different.
“You invited me,” you reminded the blonde and Fiyero whipped around to look at her in confusion.
“Did you?” He asked, genuinely confused as to why she would have done that since she had been about as subtle as a gun about how much she had disliked you.
“I did,” Glinda nodded with a smile, hoping, praying that it will score her some brownie points with the man standing next to her. Her arm hooked around his, but he quickly pulled away, offering his hand to you, completely catching both you and Glinda off guard.
“Would you like to dance with me, Miss l/n?” he asked and you leaned to the side to lock eyes with the blonde, silently asking if it was okay. She nodded, accepting defeat and Fiyero led you over to the floor where the other dancing bodies were gathered.
You didn’t know what you were doing nor why you were doing it with Fiyero, but you had to admit that you were intrigued. You thought he was into Glinda so you didn’t know why he had offered the invitation to you. That was one thing you were finally going to figure out. Well, two, since you wanted to know so badly why he had disliked you.
You tried to move to the beat as you hugged your book to your chest, wanting to protect it as you moved back and forth, trying to not get hit by the people around you. Fiyero let out a laugh and gently took the book from you, stuffing it into the pocket inside his jacket for safekeeping before taking your hands, pulling you to him.
You tried to follow his dancing as he moved so fluidly, something you could never do. And Fiyero wanted to help, wanted to show you just how easy it was to move the way that he did, especially when he was holding onto you.
Fiyero hesitantly hovered his hands over your waist as if asking permission and you nodded, deciding to give it to him. His hands rested on your hips gently and he moved them back and forth the way he was, both of you looking down at the way he was helping you dance. It wasn’t a way you had ever done it, so fluid and…pretty.
“Just like that,” he said and went to let go, but you grabbed his arms, holding his hands in place. You couldn’t let him go, not then.
“Stay,” you tell him, your voice soft for the first time when it came to speaking to him. “Please.”
“Of course,” he nodded, not able to fight the smile on his face as the two of you moved together around the dance floor.
Before that night, you never would have imagined talking to, let alone dancing with Fiyero as he spun you around the dance floor, the two of you laughing as you did so. You were actually having fun and you realized that when you weren’t arguing with him, Fiyero was actually really funny and sweet.
He spun you out and once he spun you back in, you found yourself pressed up against a wall, gasping as you took in the position he had put you in. You watched his eyes ick back and forth from your lips back to your eyes and you pressed yourself against the wall even further.
“Can I kiss you?” He asked and even though it should have been obvious by his staring at your mouth, your eyes widened at his question.
“Fiyero-“ you cut yourself off, unsure how to answer him, unsure as to why you wanted to let him kiss you.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes immediately. “I should have-“ before he can get too far, you grab onto the collar of his jacket and pull his face down to yours, slotting your lips between his before pulling away, fully aware of what you’d just done.
“I’m sorry.” Now you’re the one to apologize and Fiyero smiles in response.
“Don’t be,” he shook his head. “That was-do that again.” You do as he says and grab onto his collar, kissing him again, but this time for longer and with more intention. He was quick to respond, wrapping his arms around your waist as he smiled against your lips since this was what he’d been wanting for a while now.
His lips were pillowy soft and you’re convinced that you could kiss him for hours and not get tired of it. And Fiyero seemed to want the same as he helped you wrap your legs around him as he licked into your mouth, letting it roam around.
You let out a moan, your hands moving to his hair as he pulled you away from the wall, the two of you disappearing down the hallway as he took you somewhere more private. You were still holding onto him as he pressed you into a corner, trying to hide you from the other party goers. He wanted you all to himself and couldn’t bear the thought of you in another man’s arms.
“What are we doing?” You asked and Fiyero didn’t like your tone. It was demanding, almost accusatory. You were so sweet just a moment ago and now that fire, the pure hatred was back in your eyes.
“I thought we were kissing,” he replied with a laugh, his hands resting on your waist. Your face twisted into a glare and that only made him want to laugh more, but he was more set on making you smile again. He liked seeing it and wished you would do it more often. At least, for him.
“I mean this,” you referred to him then yourself. “We hate each other, Fiyero.”
“I’ve never hated you,” he corrected. “In fact, I really like you. I was only teasing you because you’re pretty hot when you’re mad, especially at me. I actually happen to think you’re sweet.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “And smart.” Your other cheek. “And fucking gorgeous.” This time, your lips, a gentle, featherlight touch, giving you every chance to push him off. But you didn’t. You just stood there, letting Fiyero kiss you before he pulled away.
You were glad he was still holding onto you because if he hadn’t been, you would have melted at his words. You never thought he felt that way about you and knowing he was just trying to get a rise out of you because he thought you were hot when you were mad only made your panties damp.
Your arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled away, an apologetic look on his face. Now you felt silly for being mad at him when all the hating was one-sided. And deep down, you didn’t even really hate Fiyero. As you had gotten to know him, the hatred quickly faded, but you were forced to pretend that you disliked him because feeling any other way towards him felt odd.
But now that you were looking at him, that soft look on his face, everything but comfort and fondness melted away and all you could do was kiss him, smiling into it as soon as your lips touched his.
“What is this feeling?” You asked against his lips and Fiyero chuckled.
“I believe it’s called love,” he replied, setting you down on your feet and taking you by the hand. “Now come on, my love, let’s go somewhere more private.”
And Fiyero led you somewhere you could be alone, talking about everything and nothing between kisses, holding each other in your arms, deciding that was the only place you wanted to be for the rest of your lives.
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