i’ve never made a request before so sorry if this is bad but if you could write something about matt murdock with a fake dating trope like that would be so cute, especially if there’s feelings realized during/after it :)
a/n: i swear, i tried to just keep this short and sweet like how i usually keep requests, but then the fantasy i came up with was just too fun and too much like a fucking romcom not to just let myself go ham and turn it into a full-on long fic
word count: 3778
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Leaning your weight against the bar, you waited for Josie to return with another round of beers for you and your friends, who still remained exactly where you’d left them, all clustered around the pool table further into the space.
Absentmindedly, you fiddled with the ring so often glued to your fingers, passing the heirloom from each digit and sliding it onto the next. It had been your grandmother’s, and ever since her passing, the simple golden circle with a little jade embedded at the cusp of it, rarely stayed in your jewellery box as the act of simply glancing down at it on your finger somehow offered you a drop of comfort in moments of mundane gloom.
As the heirloom arrived at your left ring finger and slid down over the knuckle, a familiar voice suddenly emanated like an echo after the bar’s front door had swung open.
“Y/n?” your whole body froze up at the unexpected timbre.
Slowly, you twisted around to discover none other than your ex, wide eyes trained on you as he clutched the hand of a leggy blonde.
“Henry!” you gasped, hoping they mistook the horrified look on your face for innocent shock, “oh my god…”
Without any warning, the next thing you knew, he’d yanked your stunned form into a hug, “how the hell are you?” he clapped your shoulder as if you were old school chums, “it’s been so long.”
“I’m–, uhm, fine,” you managed to reply.
“Yeah?” he smiled, the insincerity in your tone completely flying over his head, “that’s great.”
Simply to be polite, you awkwardly asked, “…how are you?” even though you truly didn’t wish to know the answer.
“I’m good, yeah, life’s been kinda crazy lately because–, oh,” he suddenly paused to glance back at the girl by his side, “Y/n, you remember Rebecca, right?”
“Mhm,” you hummed and offered her a glance, fearing steam might billow out of your ears at any moment, “hi.”
“Hey,” she smiled brightly as she tossed her luscious locks over her shoulder, “and please don’t mind him,” she clapped a palm over Henry’s chest, “he’s just freaking out, you know, usual guy stuff before finally getting tied down.”
“I’m sorry,” you blinked, nearly pinching yourself to test if this was a nightmare or not, “before what?”
Rebecca then held up her left hand to flash you the massive rock nestled on her fourth finger.
“I finally popped the question!” Henry grinned and draped an arm around his fiancé.
“Wow, oh wow, that’s–…” you sputtered as the blonde promptly shoved her hand in your face for you to get a better look, “that’s a really big rock, right there, on your finger…” your touch floated up and tilted her palm slightly, the light from the neon sign close by glinting in the diamond, “congratulations…”
“Thanks!” she smiled down at the ring herself before her fingers suddenly captured your own and twisted your hand around, “oh wait, congrats to you too!”
“What?” you still simply tried to keep breathing through this agonising gut-punch of an encounter.
“I know they say that size doesn’t matter,” Rebecca eyed the tiny green stone that adorned your grandmother’s ring, “and it doesn’t! I mean, that’s so pretty,” she uttered in a sugary sweet and insincere tone that made you feel as if you were back in high school again, “understated, simple.”
“Ah, no way,” Henry peeked down at your hand, “you’re engaged too?”
“Uh…” you let out a shaky breath, “yep,” the lie then suddenly flew out past your lips before you had a chance to stop it, “that’s me! I’m getting married.”
“That’s amazing,” your ex let out an airy chuckle, “who’s the lucky guy?”
But before your lips could part and let out another lie, Josie returned, “here you go, hon,” and slid four beer bottles across the bar to you before adding, “and would you tell Foggy to stop sitting on the edge of the pool table? It’s old and I can’t be responsible if it breaks on him.”
“Sure thing,” you promised and snatched up the drinks.
“Is that your man?” Henry cast a glance to the lawyer Josie had gestured to, “Foggy, was it?”
“Foggy?” a soft giggle couldn’t help but bubble out of your lungs, “no! Don’t get me wrong, he’s great, but no, sadly, he’s already taken.”
“Then who is it?”
“Is it the other guy over there?” Rebecca chimed in as they both sent their glances towards your friends, “the one in the light blue shirt and tinted glasses?”
“Uh, yeah…” you squeaked as you slowly turned to look at Matt as well, “that’s–, uh, that’s him,” you watched as he readjusted his grip on the cue stick in his hand, “that’s my future husband…”
“Hm,” a sliver of judgment slipped out of Henry, “wouldn’t have pegged him to be your type.”
“Well, maybe my type has changed,” you stated, letting your lingering resentment show before you noticed how harsh it had come out and your stomach immediately began to twist and knot in regret, “I–…” you swiftly winched, “sorry,” and averted your gaze, “have a nice evening, uh–, I’m gonna go back to my friends,” you stumbled as you tried to escape.
Though as you turned to walk away, Henry’s voice found your ears one last time, “bye!” before you heard his fiancé turn to him.
“Pookie? Would you order me a cosmo?” her voice began to fade into the background, “I’ll go find us a table…”
You simultaneously felt as if a truck had just run you over as your feet carried you back towards your friends, yet also completely numb, as if you’d been turned into a floating ghost of the person you used to be.
“Who the hell was that and why do you look like you’re about to throw up?” Foggy asked cautiously as he grabbed two of the bottles in your grasp and handed one off to Matt.
Passing one of the remaining drinks off to Karen, you then lifted your own up to your lips before tipping it back and downing around half of its contents. Once you tilted the dark green bottle back down, you were out of breath as you began to explain, “that,” you wiped your bottom lip with one of your knuckles, “was my ex,” you used that same finger to hazily point back over your shoulder, “and his fiancé,” your eyes stayed fuzzy as you added, “who happen to be the girl that he cheated on me with for a year before I one day finally caught them together.”
“Oh my god…” Karen breathed, her bottle frozen halfway on its journey up towards her lips.
“It was on easter,” you shared, “he thought I had gone back home to see my family, but I’d actually decided to secretly do this whole big surprise, like I thought I was in fucking rom-com or something,” you sighed at your past self, “but then when he got home from work, and I was all decked out, waiting on the bed, in bunny ears and everything,” you heatedly gestured to the top of your own head, “he wasn’t alone.”
“Wow…” Foggy stared.
“Yep…” you exhaled heavily, taking another swig before you made the mistake of glancing back over your shoulder just as Rebecca shrugged off her coat and slinked onto a stool at one of the small tables, “fuck!” you exclaimed as if you’d just stubbed your toe, “she’s even hotter than I remembered. How is that possible?”
“Oh, she’s not that pretty,” Karen tried, but you swiftly cut her off.
“You shut your face, she’s basically a human-sized Barbie,” your glare roamed one last time from the top of her platinum locks to the bottoms of her high stilettos, “god…” you sighed as you finally averted your gaze and lifted your bottle to drown your sorrows, “I was such an idiot back there. It was like my brain just stopped working and–, oh my god!” your palm shot up to cover your mouth as you then suddenly recalled the lie that had slipped out. Slowly, your wide eyes drifted to Matt, who still remained silent, “oh no…”
“What is it?” Foggy chimed in.
“Matt…” you uttered tensely, knowing your friend well enough to be aware of just how much of the interaction with your ex he had overheard, “I am so sorry…”
“What?” Karen’s glance darted between you both, “what’s going on?”
Paralysing embarrassment churned your stomach and choked out any attempt you made to share the truth. But luckily, as your erratic heartbeat thumped and found Matt’s sharp ears, he eventually filled in instead, “…they thought that she was engaged as well and then assumed that I was the guy.”
“I am so, so sorry,” you gasped, “I don’t know why I didn’t correct them.”
But to your amazement, Matthew simply shrugged and offered you a reassuring smile, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”
“I was just fiddling with my ring and then they just–…” you then snuffed out your frantic explanation and instead repeated once again, “I’m sorry…”
Saddling up beside you, Karen planted a palm on your shoulder, “hey, if that was my ex, then I’d wanna give him some of his own medicine as well,” she stated, “if not just straight up cut off his balls, which is what he really deserves.”
A faint smile then began to soften your expression as you glanced around at your supportive friends, Foggy briefly reaching out to pat your other shoulder.
But as you averted your eyes to the nearly empty bottle in your grasp, a thought suddenly struck you like a bolt of lightning, “wait, I have an idea…” your gaze slowly lifted to lock on Matt, “I mean, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, I totally get it, but would you mind, just while they are here, to–, uhm…”
Cocking his eyebrow, he finished your sentence, “…to pretend to be your fiancé?”
“I know, it’s stupid, and I should probably just go home right now instead of playing some weird and immature game of revenge or whatever,” you uttered as you made the decision to lie in the grave you’d dug for yourself, “but I would forever be in your debt, I'm serious.”
Sucking in a breath, he barely had to think about it before he murmured, “sure.”
“Really?” you gasped, your brows shooting up, “you’ll do it?”
“Yeah, why not?” Matt shrugged, “it’s the very least he deserves for treating you like that.”
“Oh,” you crossed the short distance between you two and threw your arms around him. It took a second before you felt him hug you back, but when the alcohol got to your head and made you mutter, “I love you,” into his shoulder, a low chuckle rumbled in the lawyer's chest before you parted ways.
“So,” Karen then began to fish out the colourful spheres and roll them back into the green felt, “do we still wanna play another game?”
“Hell yeah,” Foggy picked a cue stick back up before adding a playful threat, “you’re not beating me again this time, Page.”
Once the table was set up for another round of pool and you were a few turns in, your gaze couldn’t help but wander back towards the other end of the bar too often to keep track of. Though, soon on one of the fleeting looks, your eyes grew wide as you discovered you weren’t the only one sneaking glances.
Discreetly, you shifted closer to Matthew and leaned in to whisper, “he’s looking over,” however, when he then draped an arm around your frame, you couldn’t help but stiffen up, as you hadn’t thought that far in the plan yet, “what are you–”
“Shh,” Matt hushed your squeak, “just lean into me,” he shifted to stand tall behind you, arms enveloped around your form as he slowly drew you back against his chest, “smile,” his low voice tickled the shell of your ear and caused goosebumps to erupt across your skin, “and don’t look at him.”
Redirecting your vision back towards the game before you, you narrowly managed to catch sight of the silent slut-shaming the other lawyer flashed his friend with but a glance, before he went back to the mischievous mission he was on.
“Foggy, would you quit it?” Karen grumbled at the man beside her as he wildly waved both of his hands in her periphery, successfully knocking off her concentration as she tried to line up her shot.
“No way,” he kept up his flapping, even causing Karen’s golden locks to get picked up by the breeze he produced.
“You’re cheating.”
“Nope, I am not touching you nor the table,” he stated as if he was in court, “distracting you doesn’t break any rules.”
And as she finally made her attempt, the ball didn’t go in, causing her to explode in a roar, “damn it, Fog!”
“Ha, ha, yes!” he jumped as she straightened back up, “you know, I taste something right now, what could that be? Oh yeah, victory. And it tastes sweet as candy store.”
“Urgh,” Karen rolled her eyes at him before her glare landed upon the both of you, “Matt, your turn. Would you please set him in his place?”
“Gladly,” Matt chuckled, and as he shifted closer to the pool table, he nudged your side and asked, “hey, would you give me a hand?”
Swallowing a chuckle as you already knew he very much didn’t need it, you cocked an eyebrow, “you want my help?”
“Yeah,” he uttered clearly and let his real message seep through his tone, guiding your gaze to flicker back toward Henry, who’s stare was still locked upon you both, “so come help me.”
“Oh!” it finally clicked in your brain, “right,” and you swiftly slid in beside him.
With bated breath, you grabbed Matt’s hand that wasn’t clutching the pole, and guided it over the ivory ball that rested close to one of the corners. As you began to map out and tell him where each of the other spheres were, your eyes flicked over to notice just how close you now stood, as your nose nearly grazed against his stubbly cheek as you murmured guidingly. When you retracted your touch, you barely noticed how a few of Matt’s fingers reacted, faintly following your fading palm for but a second before it floated back down to the white orb below it.
Once he’d made his shot, you lingered in the proximity and whispered, “do you think they’re buying it?”
“Hm?”
“This,” your eyes momentarily flickered back towards your ex across the bar, “us.”
Matthew’s brows then floated up as you reeled him back in to the matter at hand, “oh, I–, probably.”
“Or should we do something else?” your mind kept on spinning, “I don’t know, I feel like I’ve completely forgotten how all of that works,” you shared, “kinda just numbed and cut off that part of myself after he broke my heart, it was just how I had to get through it, shut down a little bit because suddenly romance was terrifying…”
“...can I ask you something?” he asked quietly after a breath, and when you offered him a hum in confirmation, he uttered, “are you still in love with him?”
Time stretched out before you finally replied, “I was, for a very long time…” your voice stayed small, “…but no, not anymore… I kind of thought I was, but then seeing him again cleared it all up. All I feel when I look at him now is rage,” you exhaled, “and pity, just because I know him too well, know everything that’s messed up about him…” silence encumbered you both for a moment before you then opened your mouth once more and said, “so, should we hold hands or something?” you asked plainly, though when a genuine laugh then began to billow out of Matthew, your eyes blinked up at him as your brows swiftly knit together, “what?”
“You know,” he tried to snuff out his chuckle, “if I was actually your fiancé, I wouldn’t just stand around and hold your hand all night,” he then leaned in the short distance till his lips nearly tickled the shell of your ear, “I would have dragged you into the bathroom by now and forced the whole bar to hear us fuck.”
“I–, u-uhm,” you flusteredly stammered as your face began to heat up, “y-yeah, yeah, that’s good too,” you barely registered your own words as they slipped out past your lips, “if that’s what you wanna do–, I mean! Shut up!” you squeezed your eyes shut as soon as you regained your own senses, “just hold my hand, you dick,” you cursed over his laughter as he swiftly slipped his palm into your own.
“Cut it out, Karen,” Foggy’s voice cut through your haze and caught your attention.
Glancing over, you spotted as Karen was giving him some of his own medicine, pettily leaning into his eye line, “what? You were the one saying that distractions weren’t against the rules,” she continued to glare in hopes of throwing him off his game, “why? Is this not working? Do you need me to scream directly in your ear instead?”
“Oh, would you?” he sarcastically looked to her, his pitch climbing up high at his words, “going deaf in one ear is exactly what I need to beat you.”
As your wandering gaze then flickered back towards the opposite end of the bar, your eyes grew wide as you spotted only Rebecca still seated at the small table, pink cocktail in her grasp.
“Shit,” you spotted Henry as he crossed the room, confidently walking precisely in your direction, “he’s coming over,” you hissed, and in your muppet-like panic, your hands clasped each side of Matt’s face and yanked him in for a kiss.
At first, he froze up as you continued to freak out, but then, as his broad palms slowly slid over your waist, all of your alarm began to melt away. It felt as if you were drifting off to sleep as you relaxed into the kiss. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined that kissing Matt would feel like this, not that such a fantasy was something you pondered often or even at all, but as you felt his tongue flicker out to dance softly against your own, your knees beneath you wobbled as you lost yourself completely. How long the peck drew out remained a mystery, as when you eventually parted, the reasoning behind it wouldn’t emerge in your memory no matter how hard you tried.
Though as you stood there, blinking back at Matt, still utterly spellbound by the unexpected feelings currently bubbling and bursting inside of you, the man now standing off to the side cleared his throat and brought you back down to earth.
“Bunny–, I mean, Y/n,” you whipped your head around to catch sight of your ex, “just thought it would have been awkward if I didn’t come over here to introduce myself before me and Becca took off,” he muttered before his gaze fell to Matt, his arms slowly fading from your form, “I'm Henry, nice to meet you,” your ex then offered his hand, though the lawyer by your side didn’t grasp it, even if his heightened senses had lent him to pick up on the gesture.
“Matt Murdock,” he uttered on a cold exhale.
Stuffing his rejected palm into his pocket, Henry then asked, “what do you do?”
“Matthew’s a lawyer,” you took over, slotting yourself into Matt’s side before you dramatically clasped a hand over his chest, “saves people for a living. That’s actually why we’re out celebrating tonight, he just won yet another case.”
“Oh, well congratulations then,” Henry offered in well-forged petty politeness.
“Yeah, I was there, watching him do his thing,” you uttered as some bitter goblin of resentment then took over your soul and caused you to say, “and oh boy, I tell you, if only it would have been socially acceptable for me to interrupt the trial just to rip his clothes off, because wow.”
A scoff then rippled in Henry’s chest, “okay, sure,” his stare upon you narrowed as he then grumbled, “we both know you’re not exactly the groupie type of girlfriend.”
“Well, maybe your sorry ass was never worth her supporting you in that way,” Matt suddenly cut in, “maybe because you never bothered treated her that way in return,” his guess hit the bullseye, “and maybe that has a little something to do with why I was the one to put a ring on her finger and not you,” your heart thumped in your chest as Matt’s touch returned to the small of your back, protectively sliding over your waist as he continued to speak in a low and chillingly stern tone, “that or you really are as terrible of a lay as she told me you were, during those very first nights when she finally learned what it was like to be with someone who wasn’t a complete fucking idiot.”
Utterly stunned, you watched Henry’s expression as he scrambled his brain for a way to crawl back from that, but eventually, when no suitable words came to his pea-sized brain, his feet slowly began to shuffle back till his hand had snatched up his fiancé’s and he’d yanked her with him out of the bar.
As the door swung closed behind the pair, a celebratory squeal burst from your lungs, “oh my god! Matt, that was incredible!” you jumped in place before throwing your arms around him, “I don’t know how to thank you.”
Tangling his own arms around you, he uttered, “I’m sure we’ll come up with some way you can make it up to me.”
And as you withdrew, just enough to smile back at him, your gaze began to drift back down towards his lip just before Foggy’s voice cut through the palpable tension.
“Do I need to remind you guys that you’re not actually engaged?”
“No,” Matt then murmured as the two of you parted ways, quietly enough for his words to be completely inaudible, “but we could be...”
“What?” you glanced over at him.
“What?” he echoed in return, though a bit too quickly.
“Did you say something?”
“Me? No,” he tried to conceal his lie with a cough, “I-I, uh, think it’s your turn,” he then changed the subject, gesturing to the pool table behind you.
Imagine Dean having to help you undress after an injury and cuddling with him afterwards.
TW- mentions of injuries, fluffff.
"There you go, sweetheart," Dean smiled as he helped you descend the final stair. He kept a steady hand at the small of your back, ready to catch you if you falter.
The recent hunt took a lot out of you. You had broken your wrist, sprained your ankle, not to mention the horrible headache making your head throb.
The first thing Dean did after you two killed the monster was rush you to the hospital. He stayed with you all night, making sure you were comfortable. After being discharged, he brought you home, picking up your favourite chinese takeout on the way.
He would've carried you up the stairs, but the plaster on your hand would've made it painfully uncomfortable. Thus, you had to walk all the way down to your room with his help.
"Does anything hurt?" he asked you, helping you sit on your bed.
You shook your head, half-lying. The painkillers had dulled the pain, but it still hurt like a bitch.
"Liar," he rolled his eyes, kissing the top of your head gently. "You need to change, okay?"
"It's kinda impossible to do with..." You held up your arm, watching realization dawn on his face. "Unless you'll help me,"
Dean paused for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. Ofcourse," His hands gripped the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up and rolling it over your head. "There you go,"
His eyes fell on your now exposed skin, your heart beginning to race in your chest. Dean averted his eyes, reminding himself to be respectful. He helped you stand up, undoing the buttons of your jeans in a matter of half a second As his fingers undid the zipper, you held back a shudder, focusing your attention on his face instead of where his hands were on your body.
Being as gentle as ever, Dean pulled them down, falling to his knees. You supported yourself on his shoulders, trusting him to not let you fall as he helped you out of it.
He made you sit back on the bed, picking out some clothes for you from you closet. You couldn't help but grin at what he picked out. A pair of shorts and his t-shirt. The one you kept for days you felt like wearing something baggy and more comfortable.
"Figured they'd be easier to function in," he said, falling to his knees in front of you again. You blushed as he spread your legs apart just a little bit to help you put on the shorts.
You held your arms up for him to let his shirt glide over your upper body, falling down just above your knees. It smelled exactly like him, warming you from the inside out.
"I like it," Dean smiled, eyes roaming over your fully clothed body. "You look nicer in my clothes than I do,"
"I don't know... You look pretty good in them standing over there," you bit your lip, clearing your throat almost instantly. "Cuddle?"
He looked horrified, wiggling his finger at you. "Oh no,"
"Oh yes!"
"Noooo,"
"Pleaseeee," you gave him the best puppy eyes you could muster, doing a little victory dance when he gave in.
Dean chuckled. "Alright, alright. Don't hurt yourself now,"
He tucked you in, disappearing out of the room for a few minutes. You waited for him as he returned, having changed into a t-shirt and sweats. He climbed in after you, switching off the lights. You rolled onto your side, deciding on a comfortable position.
Dean inched closer to you, snaking his arm around your waist. His face was right against yours, the light scruff tickling your ear and making you giggle.
"This good?" He softly asked, breathing into the crook of your neck.
"Perfect," you mumbled happily, welcoming a dreamless sleep in his arms. And you meant it when you said it.
Summary : Benny sees you at your presentation to the queen and becomes infatuated with you
A/N : My DMs are open for requests x
NO WARNINGS
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Your arrival at the Featherington residence is met with a whirlwind of activity. Aunt Portia is determined to make you the belle of the season, and Penelope, sweet and supportive as always, assures you that you will shine. Despite their assurances, you can’t help but feel a twinge of anxiety as you prepare for your presentation to the Queen. This is your first season out, and the weight of expectation is heavy on your shoulders.
The day arrives, and you find yourself in the grand palace, standing among a sea of debutantes. The air is thick with anticipation and the scent of roses. As you wait for your turn, you try to steady your breathing, smoothing the delicate fabric of your gown and brushing a stray curl behind your ear. Your heart pounds as your name is called, and you step forward, curtsying deeply before the Queen.
In that moment, as you rise and meet her gaze, you feel a pair of eyes on you from across the room. You glance subtly to the side and see him—Benedict Bridgerton. His piercing blue eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, the world seems to fade away. There’s something about the intensity of his gaze, the way he looks at you as if you’re the only person in the room, that sends a shiver down your spine.
The presentation continues, but you are only half-aware of the proceedings. Benedict’s gaze haunts you, lingering in your mind long after you’ve left the palace. That night, you find it difficult to sleep, his image replaying in your dreams, leaving you restless and yearning.
The first ball of the season is a grand affair, the Featherington’s ballroom adorned with glittering chandeliers and fragrant blooms. You stand near the edge of the dance floor, feeling both excited and apprehensive. The music swells, and the room is alive with colour and movement.
And then, you see him. Benedict Bridgerton, looking as dashing as ever, his eyes scanning the room until they find you. He makes his way towards you with a purposeful stride, and your heart races in anticipation.
“Miss Y/N,” he says, bowing gracefully. “Would you do me the honour of this dance?”
You nod, unable to find your voice, and place your hand in his. He leads you onto the dance floor, and the world around you seems to blur. The music, the other dancers, the whispers—they all fade away. It’s just you and Benedict, moving together in perfect harmony.
“You’ve been on my mind since the presentation,” he admits, his voice low and earnest. “I couldn’t wait to see you again.”
Your cheeks flush at his confession, and you feel a flutter in your chest. “I’ve thought of you as well, Mr. Bridgerton,” you say softly.
His smile widens, and he draws you closer as the dance continues. There’s a connection between you, something deeper than just the steps of the waltz. When the music finally stops, he doesn’t let go of your hand.
“Would you care for a walk in the gardens?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.
You nod, and he leads you outside, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the ballroom. The garden is bathed in moonlight, the flowers casting gentle shadows on the path. You walk together in comfortable silence, the sound of your footsteps mingling with the distant strains of music.
Suddenly, he stops and turns to you, his expression serious. “Y/N, there’s something about you that I can’t ignore. You’ve haunted my dreams and my waking moments since the first time I saw you.”
Before you can respond, he closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a gentle, yet passionate kiss. The world seems to stand still, and you lose yourself in the moment, in the feel of his lips against yours.
When he finally pulls away, he looks stricken. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice filled with regret. “I shouldn’t have—”
You place a hand on his arm, stopping his apology. “There’s nothing to apologise for, Benedict.”
He looks at you, relief and something deeper shining in his eyes. “I must go,” he says, stepping back reluctantly. “But know this, Y/N—I’m going to marry you. I won’t rest until you’re mine.”
With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing in the moonlit garden, your heart full of hope and promise. As you watch him disappear into the night, you know that this is just the beginning of your story—a story that will be filled with love, passion, and the unbreakable bond that has already begun to form between you and Benedict Bridgerton.
Summary : Benny sees you across the ballroom and cannot help but offer you his hand.
A/N : My first Benny one shot, please be kind
NO WARNINGS
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The ballroom is a sea of color and movement, the light of a hundred chandeliers sparkling off jeweled gowns and polished boots. You stand on the edge of it all, feeling both overwhelmed and exhilarated. The air is filled with the sweet strains of violins and the murmur of conversations. You smooth the folds of your lavender dress, fingers brushing over the delicate lace at your sleeves, and take a deep breath. The evening is just beginning, and the possibilities feel endless.
Across the room, you notice Benedict Bridgerton. He’s laughing at something his brother Anthony has said, his eyes crinkling in that charming way that seems to catch everyone’s attention. You’ve admired him from afar, but never had the courage to speak to him. He is, after all, one of the most eligible bachelors of the season, and you are just Y/N —shy, quiet Y/N
You watch as he glances around the room, his gaze sweeping past you. For a moment, you think he hasn't seen you. But then his eyes flick back, and his smile falters ever so slightly. There’s a spark of recognition, and he begins to make his way towards you, weaving gracefully through the throng of dancers and onlookers.
Your heart pounds in your chest as he approaches. You try to look away, to focus on anything else, but it's impossible. Benedict Bridgerton, with his piercing blue eyes and easy smile, is coming straight towards you.
“Miss Y/N,” he says when he reaches you, bowing slightly. “Would you do me the honor of this dance?”
You hesitate, glancing around as if to see if he might be addressing someone else. But his eyes are fixed on you, earnest and kind, and you can’t find it in yourself to refuse. You place your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours, and he leads you onto the dance floor.
The music changes to a waltz, and Benedict guides you effortlessly into the steps. You’re aware of the eyes on you, of the whispers that follow in your wake, but all of it fades into the background. It’s just you and Benedict, moving together as if you’ve done this a thousand times before. He smiles down at you, and you feel your nerves begin to melt away.
“You’re a wonderful dancer,” he says, his voice low and sincere.
“Thank you,” you manage to reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “You are too.”
He chuckles, a sound that makes your heart skip a beat. “I’ve had quite a bit of practice, I must admit. But I think this might be my favorite dance yet.”
You look up at him, surprised. “Really?”
“Really,” he says, and there’s something in his gaze that makes you feel like the most important person in the room. “There’s something about you, Y/N. Something that draws me in.”
You blush, unsure of how to respond. The dance continues, and you lose yourself in the rhythm, in the sensation of his hand at your waist and the way he looks at you, as if you’re the only person who matters.
As the music comes to an end, he draws you closer, his lips near your ear. “Thank you for the dance, Y/N. I hope this won’t be the last.”
You nod, unable to find the words to express how you feel. He releases you with a reluctant sigh, bowing once more before stepping back. You watch as he rejoins his family, your heart still racing from the intensity of the moment.
For the rest of the evening, you find it hard to focus on anything else. The memory of his touch, his smile, the way he made you feel like you were the center of his world—it all lingers with you, a promise of something more.
As the night draws to a close, you can’t help but wonder what the future holds. But one thing is certain: you’ll never forget the night Benedict Bridgerton saw you across the room and couldn’t help but dance with you.
Did Pen really choose to write so much about the Bridgertons in Whistledown or did she kind of have to constantly write about them because they’re the messiest bitches in the ton?
The One with the Drunken Confession (Chandler Bing x Reader)
Request: Can you do one with chandler and its based off with ross, Rachel, and the drunk phone call?
Character: Chandler Bing
Fandom: Friends
Word Count: 3879 (woah, that’s loooong for me….oops)
A/n: So this is based off of season 2 episode 7 but with Chandler and the reader and the majority of it doesn’t follow how Rachel and Ross got together other than drunk phone call portion. I’m sorry that this took so long, but I hope you like it!! There also may be some grammar mistakes because I didn’t have a ton of time to edit this!
“Chandler!” Phoebe exclaimed. “Don’t look!”
Of course this exclamation only caused Chandler to raise his head from his New York Times newspaper, to see you and your boyfriend kissing outside Central Perk’s window.
“Great going Pheebs.”
Chandler immediately shook his head placing his paper onto the table to face the group. “No no no no no guys, I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m so cool with it that I don’t even feel anything at all. No jealously, no regret, nothing.”
“Chandler. You don’t have to pretend in front of us.” Monica placed her hand on his shoulder. She’d felt terrible after she’d found out you’d started dating another guy. You’d spent months telling her how hard you’d fallen for the sarcastic, lanky friend of yours that she’d convinced Chandler to tell you how he felt….only he’d realized it too late.
“I’m not pretending. I’m just deflecting.” Chandler meant for it to come out as a joke, but no one laughed, because to them, it wasn’t a joke. It felt like any time you or Chandler would get the courage to tell the each other how you felt, something got in the way. This time it happened to be your boyfriend Jack.
Jack was a nice guy (who Phoebe also claimed was incredibly hot, and no one in the group, including Ross, Joey, and even Chandler could deny her that), which meant that all your friends hated to admit how great he seemed because each of them knew how perfect you and Chandler would be together.
“Chandler honey, it might be good for you to go on a date,” Rachel continued almost worried she’d over stepped her boundaries by suggesting it, “you know, find a distraction to take your mind off of her. I know how hard this is for you, believe me.”
Chandler shook his head. “Thanks guys, but I don’t think I’m quite ready for that. Unlike Joey, it doesn’t take me less than five minutes to get over the woman I’m in love with.”
That caused Joey’s head to snap towards his best friend. “Just because you’re upset you didn’t have the balls to tell (Y/n) how you feel doesn’t mean you get to question how long it takes me to get over a woman. I am a gentleman.”
The door to the coffee shop opened and Chandler watched as you walked in, arm linked to Jack, feeling his heart drop. Suddenly, Chandler didn’t care that Joey had snapped at him, and now all he could focus on was you. Joey took the opportunity to nudge Ross’ arm and discreetly whisper on the verge of laughing, “No he’s definitely right, I am an asshole.”
Ross didn’t laugh at his friends comment. “Quit being such a child Joey. Chandler’s really broken up about this.”
Ross and Joey turned to get a glance at the scene before them. While they knew you wouldn’t notice, they could tell by the way he was looking at you as you walked into the coffee shop, that he wasn’t joking when he said he was in love with you.
“Hey guys.” You spoke cheerfully, taking a seat on the couch, as Rachel and Monica made room for you and Jack. They all had either replied with a hello in return or a simple nod, except for Chandler, who couldn’t seem to muster either.
“What have you two been up to?” Monica asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing. Any time Jack hung out around the group, they never knew what to do. It was hard for them to be supportive of your relationship when they knew how much it was hurting Chandler, and how much they knew you felt the same way as him.
“Jack took me to visit his grandma Jean.” You smiled at your boyfriend lovingly. “It was really great getting to meet her.”
Chandler’s heart sunk even further. When had your relationship gotten so serious? The last time you’d said anything to him, you hadn’t even met Jack’s parents, but maybe things had changed. Meeting the family, is a huge step, isn’t it? Chandler had never been good at relationships or commitment, and to be honest, you are the only person Chandler could ever think of him taking to meet his parents. Besides, you’d already met his parents and you hadn’t run out on him like everyone else did. And that meant something to him, but that also meant, if your relationship with Jack worked out, it would take him an exponentially long time to ever get over you.
He felt utterly stupid knowing that at one point, you had felt the same way. You were the best of friends. That’s all Chandler ever thought you felt about him. And for some reason, as hard as he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to be happy for you, even though that’s what he desperately wanted. Monica had told him that you’d had feelings for him for a few years now and to be quite honest, that only made him feel worse. You’d said nothing when he was with Janice…and he and Janice had been off and on, and somewhat serious. God, if you had felt half as heart broken as the way he was feeling in this moment, he wouldn’t know what he’d do. How did you get through it? It wasn’t like he could ask you.
///////
The night was only getting started for Chandler. He had the apartment to himself, Joey on a date with God knows who, and enough beer (and maybe something a touch stronger) to help him forget all about the pain he felt.
It only took him about an hour, a couple beers (and some vodka) before he was feeling more than tipsy. If he thought getting drunk would help him forget about you, he was sorely mistaken. It only intensified his loneliness.
Sitting on the floor with the duck and the rooster, he half smiled. “You know what? You’re right! I should call her.” He nodded his head as the duck walked aimlessly around the apartment. “I-I just need to….to…tell her I’m over her. Yeah,” he pointed towards the wall, beer in hand, “I am over you.”
Picking up the phone, he dialed your number, only to get your voicemail. Deciding he wanted to leave a message, he waited for the sound of your voice, letting him know that this was your voicemail box, your sweet and cheery tone, causing him to smile, only for a moment, to be interrupted by that ever-so-annoying beep.
“Hi (Y/n). It’s Chandler, your best friend in the entire universe.” His tone dropped at the word friend, feeling how wrong it felt to say. He felt the need to mention how much being only your friend, was hurting him. “Because we’re not a couple….you know? Even though I really wanted to be.” His voice let out a dejected squeak that he wasn’t intending on, but it really didn’t seem to bother him. His mind was whirling with all he wanted to say to you that he knew he couldn’t face to face.
“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that whatever feelings I had for you, I’m getting over them. I am over you. Utterly and undeniably over you, so you don’t have to worry.” He chuckled, the knot in his chest tightening. “Oh and I’m happy for you. So so so happy. You and Jack make an amazing couple….I just always saw us being together one way or another.” At this point, Chandler knew he was rambling, but he really wanted to get his message across, despite it being a lie. He was hardly getting past the fact that you’d never be together.
“I know we’re constantly dancing around each other. It’s kind of a funny story.” He let out a sad laugh as he heard it pierce out of his throat. “Monica, she told me how you felt about me. And I’m really sorry you had to do that….watch me with Janice I mean. I know how hard it is to have to watch the person you’re madly in love with, be with someone else. Anyway,” he trailed off, “I won’t make this message any longer than it has to be. I should have told you how I felt, and I’m sorry.”
Chandler hung up the phone and maybe it was because he was drunk, it didn’t quite seem to sink in with him just how he’d ended the message.
“I’m going to regret that in the morning, aren’t I?” His slurred words were directed at the rooster and the duck, but they didn’t seem to be listening to what he had to say. Chandler, still decently drunk, followed behind them as they waddled into his room, somehow, Chandler taking that as their response to his question. “I agree. I definitely am.”
/////
“Shit.” He felt like screaming. “Dammit. I don’t….I don’t know.” He paced for a moment before rubbing his temples in anger and exhaustion. “Why would I do that?” Chandler began to panic, remembering what he’d said in the message he’d left for you.
You’d probably be at Monica’s place and hopefully for his sake, you hadn’t checked your messages yet.
/////
“Hey!” You greeted Chandler as he briskly walked into the apartment. “How was your night?”
“It was okay.” That was a total and utter lie, but what was he supposed to say?
“You think Monica would mind if I checked my messages here? I didn’t have time to last night but my boss said he was going to leave a message for me about an upcoming client.”
Ah yes. With you being a lawyer, Chandler knew all about your boss and your clients, considering that when you needed to complain about work, he always listened. (And vice versa).
His long voicemail to you slipped his mind, and he found himself nodding. “I don’t think Monica would even notice.” He gave you a smile, but almost as soon as it was on his face, it had dropped. Shit. What had he done?
You grinned at him, pressing the button on the machine to play your messages, the first one from your boss. As the voicemail came to an end, Chandler knew what was coming and raced towards the machine, hearing his voice begin to emit from it.
“Hi (Y/n). It’s Chandler, your best friend in the entire universe.”
“No no no. You do not need to hear this!” Chandler tried to turn it off before you stepped in front of him.
"Why?” You asked. “I’m sure it’s harmless. Besides, I love the messages you leave me.”
“Not this one.” He grimaced. “I was drunk and it was really stupid.”
“If you were drunk then I definitely need to hear this.”
You meant for it to come across as a joke but Chandler wasn’t laughing, and all you could see was fear in his eyes. While you two had been speaking (Chandler trying to get you to not listen to the message, and you insisting that you wanted to hear it) you’d missed a small part of it.
“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that whatever feelings I had for you, I’m getting over them. I am over you.”
It was Chandler’s voice, clear as day, but it almost didn’t seem real. It wasn’t like any of the other voicemails he’d ever left you and the words he spoke surprised you. You were listening to the voicemail so intently that you hadn’t noticed him anxiously move towards the door in shame.
“I know how hard it is to have to watch the person you’re madly in love with, be with someone else.”
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be, not for a number of reasons, the main one being that Chandler had never been in love with you. Ever. It just didn’t make any sense.
“I won’t make this message any longer than it has to be. I should have told you how I felt, and I’m sorry.”
The machine clicked. All of your new messages had been played. You turned to Chandler, seeing how scared he looked. “You’re over me? What the hell is that supposed to mean. When were you ever into me?”
Chandler couldn’t even look at you. He was too afraid, and judging by your tone, you weren’t too happy with him either. (Not that he didn’t think he deserved it). “I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to do. I was just really really drunk and I didn’t realize I’d done it until this morning.”
You felt angry, and hurt. Why hadn’t he told you sooner, before you’d gotten into a relationship with Jack. This man….He’d broken your heart more than once, and now he accidentally proclaims his love for you, just as soon as you’re in a stable, healthy relationship. You had left him alone. When he was with Janice, and you saw that it could’ve been something serious, you hid your pain and you let him be happy, despite Monica, Phoebe, and Rachel telling you otherwise. All these emotions that had died down were now resurfacing. It had taken you months, possibly even years to get over Chandler, and now once you thought you had, he pulls a fast one on you and rips the ground right from your feet.
“You know what Chandler? I don’t think I can deal with this right now and I sure as hell don’t think I deserve to have to deal with this right now.”
The door opens as Monica, Rachel, Ross, and Joey walk into the apartment, only to see tears on your face, and Chandler absolutely distraught. Pushing past your friends, you walk out the door, directing your words at Chandler, ignoring the look Monica gives you, “Don’t follow me. I need some time.”
/////
“God Chandler. What the hell happened?” Joey asks incredulously, each member of the group sitting on the couch, ears ready to listen.
“I did something that I shouldn’t have. I said some things that (Y/n) really didn’t deserve to hear right now, and I just hope I haven’t screwed everything up.”
Monica gives him one of her all-knowing looks. “I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad.”
“Monica, it had to be, or she wouldn’t have been that angry with him.” Joey unnecessarily points out, essentially prodding at Chandler’s guilt. “So,” he immaturely grins, “what’d ya do?”
Chandler grimaces at his friends words and begins to mentally prepare for their scrutiny. “I told her I loved her. Not that I still do, but that I did once, and that I’m completely over her. Although I kind of implied that I’m still in love with her. I…I don’t know anymore.”
Rachel splutters. “You did what?”
“Dude.” Ross utters. “Do you know how long it took for her to get over you? And now you tell her how you feel.”
“I know.” He places his hands in his face in frustration.
Chandler couldn’t have looked any more ashamed if he tried. He’s upset at the fact that he could ever hurt you and even though he was drunk, he knows how badly he’s messed up.
Phoebe turns to him with empathy in her eyes. “Ross is right. But I also know that I’m more right than Ross is.” She smiles, flipping her hair over one shoulder, something that she does frequently as a display of her self confidence. “So, here goes.” Thus began a characteristic Phoebe, ‘pick me up’ speech. “You belong together. The two of you have been chasing circles around each other for years, and now is your chance. She already knows how you feel. Now talk to her and get her to believe it, because she’s not going to take a chance on a relationship between the two of you happening, unless (Y/n) believes that you truly mean it.”
“And we all know you do.” Monica chimes in reassuringly, a bright and wide smile on her face.
He faces the group, a contemplative gaze in his eyes. “You really think I should go after her? She just told me-“
Joey grins. “She told you not to follow her. She didn’t tell you not to come after her.”
Somehow Joey’s stupid comment makes him smile. He knows telling Joey that following you, and going after you are basically are the exact same things will get him nowhere. And maybe he, and especially Phoebe, have a point. If he doesn’t go after you now, he might regret it for his entire life.
You’d known each other since Ross brought Chandler to their house back when you were all in college (Ross and Chandler your seniors by a couple of years). You hadn’t known Joey and Phoebe, none of you had, but Rachel, Ross, and Monica, they’d all been in both of your lives for quite some time.
He’d felt different than he ever had when he’d first seen you. Different, but good. It took a good few years for him to figure out that it wasn’t just some silly crush, but that he was in love with you, and once he did, nothing seemed to be the same around you. Clearly you hadn’t noticed his feelings for you, or you would have said something to him. He hadn’t noticed how you felt and hopefully still feel for him, assuming that you would never fall for a guy like him: awkward and unable to commit to anyone.
Standing up, Chandler makes a decision. “I’m going to go find her. I need to at least have her hear what I need to say, and if she doesn’t want anything to do with me, I’ll just have to accept that.”
“Trust me Chandler. It may take her some time, but she’ll come around.” Phoebe smiles. “(Y/n) loves you too much to ever let you go.”
Chandler stands still for a moment, his thoughts getting to him, before Joey nudges him harshly in the arm. “Go get your woman Chandler.”
Ross grins, mocking Joey. “Yeah Chandler. You,” he points at him enthusiastically, “you go get your woman.”
//////
Chandler knows you well enough to know that when you’re upset, you always head back to your apartment. Being a homebody, you don’t tend to go out to think, or to soothe your pain, and luckily for him, you live in the apartment exactly above Monica’s.
Knocking on the door seems easy. Very easy. But what if you slam it right back in his face? What if Jack is there? And what if Jack ends up wanting to get into a fight with him because it’s all too real….too raw. Raising his hand up to the green painted wood is terrifying, but almost as if he’s in auto pilot, Chandler knocks anyway.
You look through the peep hole when you hear a firm knock at your door. ‘What have I done? Why did I do that?’ Your past actions running through your mind like a wildfire.
You’re not surprised that that is what goes through your mind. You’d spent almost 6 months with Jack, and you’d given it all away, for something that might never work out. You’d broken up with Jack…for Chandler. You also know that you shouldn’t want to see Chandler, but for some reason, you can’t help but hope that he hadn’t listened to you, and that he decided to follow you. Somehow your heart always leads you back to him, whether you like it or not.
“Chandler?” Opening the door, he pushes in without you offering, clearly upset about something. “I thought I told you to not follow me.”
He looks scared, but utterly determined, with a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen from him before. “And I told you that I loved you (Y/n). Drunk or not, that means something to me.”
“You can’t just do that to me and expect me to drop everything for you.” Even though that’s exactly what you had done, you couldn’t let him in that easily. “I was happy with Jack. For the first time since you, since I’d fallen for you, I was happy. When I was with him, I wasn’t thinking about what I didn’t have, about who didn’t want to be with me, or what it could be like if you had wanted me back. It was just him, and me, and it was what I needed.” You push yourself further away from him as he stares intently at you. “Why can’t you understand that?”
“I can. And I will.” He gestures between the two of you. “But I need to know that you’re fully committed to Jack, and that you don’t love me. That you are over me.” He pauses. “Because I am not over you….not even close. But if you want to be with Jack, and you want a life with him, and not me, I will move on as best as I can.”
“Hold on a minute.” You stop him, feeling all the emotions come out at once. “You had no right to tell me that you had feelings for me. Everything was perfect with Jack. Whatever we had with each other, maybe that ship has sailed.”
“What,” Chandler asks, seeing your irritation only fueling him, “so you’re just going to put away your feelings? Hide them away like none of this ever happened? Like we could never happen?”
“I’ve been doing it since the day I met you.” You exclaim in anger. “I’ve gotten pretty damn good at it.”
You didn’t know why you were being so stubborn. You’d broken up with Jack, more so, he’d broken up with you, because even he could see that you still had feelings for Chandler.
“And you’re committed to him?” Chandler’s tone softens. “Jack?”
You wanted to say yes, just to throw it in his face. You’re still angry, but every second you look into his eyes, you can feel yourself becoming less upset. “No.” You say dejectedly. “I don’t think I could ever be fully committed to Jack. Not with you always on my mind, and he noticed it too.”
Chandler takes a few steps towards you, nervous and scared. He cups your face in his hands, waiting….looking into your eyes before he leans down to capture your lips with his. When he does, you feel a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. You had been waiting for this kiss for years and now that it’s happening, you feel free.
Taking control, you run your hands through his hair, and you can feel him smile. His hands move down to your waist as his mouth leaves your lips to place a kiss on your neck. You let out a breath, and a laugh, Chandler beginning to tickle your sides. The kiss had turned from passionate and heavy, to silly and giggly in a matter of seconds. But it felt right, because Chandler was nothing if he wasn’t making people laugh.
“I meant what I said.” His voice is higher than usual, and his cheeks are flushed as he tries to catch his breath. He looks dazed, and you smile at the look he’s giving you. “I love you.”
Happily (happier than you’ve ever been before) you grin. “I love you too.”
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