it had sent gossip around the ton. everyone packed in for a white wedding and ringing toll bells. only the ring of the toll bell never happened.
you were seized into a pure white dress with a long train and a even longer veil. expensive flowers imported in and violins that made your ears bleed. your watch, gregory’s pocket watch ticking in your clasped hand awaiting for the right timing to flee. as promised, he will be outside with his families’ horse and carriage. a rogue way to escape and not wind up in shackles of a loveless marriage.
the garden walls could not handle a reckless and free spirit like yours. no help over the stone, only pure adrenaline as if you was crawling out of your gravestone. kicking behind your silky flats and veil at the tomb.
it had been an easy escape, your gloveless hand clasping onto gregory’s. your other hand, lifting up the skirt portion of your white gown as you climbed into the carriage. his hand clenching and unclenching after you slipped your hand away from his abruptly. the men on horses behind you had gained, only a short distance. hooves kicking up the dust, leaving statements in the mud. the horses underneath the angry men was the one to suffer from their abuse.
you called out to the coachman from inside the carriage, “faster, please.”
the carriage bumped gregory closer to you as the horses slipped off the beaten path. clear out into a field, filled with shadowed trees and barbed bushes. one that the bridgerton hid behind as the men rode past.
unclasping the harnesses from two horses out of three. you sent the bridgerton coachman back to the wedding. the coachman’s job was simple, conceal and buy the youngest bridgerton and the runaway bride some time. the field had been empty, no movement besides a light breeze. hooking your sock-cladded foot onto the stirrup, pulling yourself on top of the seat. the left behind man had trotted past desperate to catch up to the others.
your unruly hair whipped in the wind as you disappeared into the sunset, running away with the youngest bridgerton.
paring gregory bridgerton x fem!boxer!reader not proofread word count almost 1k masterlist
promenading at hyde park with a bridgerton probably wasn’t the greatest idea. it drew more suitors eyes on you. which isn’t what you want, one mistake could get you out of the ton’s good graces. you wanted no one to know what you do when london isn’t looking.
a man stopped in his tracks, one you’ve probably seen amongst the sea of people that was betting against you. one that you opted to not remember. his gaze darted all across you’re face. “have we met before?”
“i am afraid not.” you smiled sweetly. the man had tipped his hat, apologized for mistaking you before continuing on his cane.
gregory pipped up beside of you. “what was that about?”
“oh, i am certain it was nothing. the man merely got confused.” your hands clasp behind your back in faux innocence, before you continue walking.
in the ring you are named sir henry, hair shaved close to the scalp having used botanical mixtures and sunlight to lighten your hair and sporting the same sleeveless shirt that hides just enough that you’re truly a lady. to the ton, you’re the diamond of the season always adored in jewel colored dresses and extravagant wigs. the broad difference between you and the allise you box under.
later that night underneath dim light. bare knuckles rhythmically hitting the sheen of sweat on your opponent’s skin. a chuck of skin torn from your hand after a sharp hit. fresh bruises blooming on cheek.
the man was good—a offense with a sharp right hook. another round started, you defended blows before a sharp and impactful fist of yours hit his face. underground boxing as no rules. you only stepped back when the referee said you won. whistles and disappointment from the sea of english men watching, silenced into your ringing ears.
you didn’t leave until night fell, bruised and sweaty. hands still bleeding, but you didn’t take a second to address the wounds. just pushing past the heavy crowd, cap low.
“you done well.” the voice popped up behind you, familiar and definitely a bridgerton. daphne. you only spared a glance underneath your hat. her eyes filled with recognition. simon behind her waiting for the carriage. “y/n?”
the first words from you tumbled out, “kill the urge to tell your brother.”
dapahne’s eyes glowed like she couldn’t understand why you would keep this a secret from gregory. “he would be fascinated.”
“i do not wish for him to know that he is engaged to anyone besides a proper lady.”
two days had passed and daphne kept her word. not a muttered word to her brother about the harboring secret. the early sunlight bled into the morning room of the bridgerton’s estate.
“sir henry won again?” anthony echoed from the newspaper, seating on his piece of the settee.
“it’s quite an accomplishment,” daphne pipped up from her macaroon. “apparently it’s never been won like that before.”
“i like to attend at least one.” hyacinth sulked, slumping farther down the settee she shared with eloise.
“do not associate yourself with that kind of person, it’s not a place for a proper lady.” violet’s arm curled around her stomach like she couldn’t bare the thought, pacing by the windowsill.
“lady whistledown.” a handmaid disrupted the bridgerton’s swaying conversation, the latest lady whistledown on a platter.
you question to no one in particular, “has anyone discovered who this new lady whistledown is?”
“no.” eloise shut her book, being the first one to pluck a piece from the tray. she started reading out loud, causing a few groans amongst the bridgerton’s.
“can you not keep it to yourself?” gregory complained, right before eloise froze.
“you’re sir henry?”
eloise’s eyes met yours from across the room, right before the rest of the bridgerton’s stared at you. you snatched lady whistledown’s paper from her hands, eyes skimming it quickly. the diamond of the season is shining more brightly than just one way this season. the soon-to-be bridgerton is hiding a striking secret. she is not as much of a proper lady than she is sir henry, the boxer who has won another match.
“this is…” false. “true. i run under a allise.”
it was pure silence. five seconds felt like a lifetime under the microscope. violet exhaled sharply, anthony blinked like he couldn’t believe it.
“at least your kids will be successful.” hyacinth pipped up, which caused a wave of laughter.
gregory’s eyebrows furrowed, his hand grazing the bare skin of your arm. “you believed that i would be upset with you?”
“gregory, i doubt this is a proper conversation in front—“ violet started.
“we shall marry sooner, that shall overweigh this rumor. together, we could convince the ton that this new lady whistledown is untruthful.” gregory’s voice cut through, more determined than you’ve heard.
you questioned, “you truly believe this will work?”
“i am certain it will.”
hyacinth jumped up from the settee, circling your arm with you. “very well then, my future sister-in-law. we shall get you fitted for a dress while mama plans the wedding.”
your gaze met his while you was being dragged away by the youngest bridgerton sibling, gushing about truly being sisters. there was certainly going to be a white wedding.
Wild how "I want the character defined by defiance of convention and a focus on her mind and accomplishing something beyond marriage and children to have her story arc be more than her love story" is a controversial take in the Bridgerton fandom.
You would think that alleged fans of Eloise, who has expressed repeatedly that she is not interested in love, would want her arc to involve her getting to be more than just deciding "actually I'm okay with it because of this one guy," but apparently...not? I'm not opposed to her finding love too, but it doesn't seem unreasonable to hope she has more character stuff than that. She has just as much potential on that front as her older brothers did, so if they waste it...
Idk. Hopefully this post finds its way into the right feeds lol.
And what if I said: Since non-watching Franchaela shippers and sapphic/solo Eloise stans came into the fandom, it's been hard to express nuance or incite any logic of this fictitious 19th century world, despite the existence of two truths for homophobic fans and genuine criticism of the writing, which leaves me not enjoying the fandom of my favorite show altogether
I can never take the thought of Violet and Edmund having an entire alphabet of children at all seriously because I just picture going to a ball and Violet is literally hurling Bridgertons at you because she has had twenty-six children and the house is FULL so she needs to marry them off. She’s even presenting them like a carnival barker or something like “there’s a lot of them and they each have their own unique interests! We’ve collected every peerage now so you’re marrying into the best possible family, good track record for Diamond of the Season as well, please just take one!” 😭
fan entitlement mixed with a complete misunderstanding of the business of film and television is a scourge in modern fandoms today. no, your favorite actors aren't obligated to drop everything in their careers to be sure to film ten months out of the year for an anthology-structured show where they are no longer the top bill, and no, that doesn't mean there's always a conspiracy involved or that the actor is arrogant and selfish. it's a job, beloveds. these actors do not owe you a thing.
getting frustrated by the number of comments/posts online of people- i can only assume willfully- misunderstanding this interview:
as if this is somehow yerin and luke dragging luke newton? When that's clearly not at all what they are doing at all?? Yerin saying 'look at him you don't need one' is very specifically her hyping up Luke T right after he's been a tiny bit self deprecating- it is very much not her saying "ew Luke Newton really needed a glow up"
And since this interview, Luke T has even gone into more depth about how its actually a story/character point that in Colin's season he had been on a journey and come back changed- and that for Benedict's season the starting point is that he hasn't changed at all- he's stuck in his same routines
Either way- fans online using this ridiculous misinterpretation as an excuse to be kinda awful about yerin and luke t? grow the fuck up. I guarantee you Luke N will not thank you for talking shit about them 'on his behalf' when they clearly adore each other
