#bridgerswift

For the longest time, Sir Phillip Crane believed his love to be cruel. Cruelty was all he'd ever known from his father, and it made everyone look worse in the light. There were so many lines he thought he'd crossed unforgiven. Marina, his children, Eloise.

But no more. He wanted to tell her the truth, but never goodbye.

They were heaven, and he needed her to know that, needed her to know that he never wanted to look at anything else, not now when he saw her. He didn't want to think of anything else, except her and their family, now that he thought of her.

It was like he'd been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night, and now, he sees daylight, only sees daylight. Eloise Bridgerton made him realize the sun rose every morning. It was a constant, just as she would be forevermore.

For so long, his life had been luck of the draw, only drawing the unlucky. His brother's death, his marriage to Marina. Unlucky circumstances, though of course, they had brought him the best gifts of his life, his children. And yet he felt he was the butt of a cruel joke, being given those beautiful creatures to raise and feeling like he was failing so miserably at it.

He wounded the good and trusted the wicked. Phillip sometimes swore he would never forgive himself for the pain he put his children through at times, from his distance to the evil nursemaids. It was like when he tried to clear the air, he breathed in the smoke.

Eloise had run with the wolves and refused to settle down; he had stormed out of every single room in this town.

But now, their cloaks and daggers were thrown out. It was morning now...it was brighter now.

She brought so much light to their lives, that it was hard for him to believe no one else had had the privilege of marrying her before he did. He could never look away from her, for things would never be the same, now that he was wide awake. He only saw daylight.

He could still see it all in his mind, all of her, all of him, intertwined. After confessing his love for her, it all dawned on him. He once believed love would be black and white, burning red. But it's golden...like daylight.

It was time for Phillip to step into the daylight, and let it go. Let go of the fear and the shame and the hurt he'd been holding onto for so long. It was time for him to love. Love his wife and their children and their beautiful life.

No longer would he be defined by the things he hated, the things he was afraid of, or the things that haunted him in the middle of the night. He would be defined by love and daylight, by Eloise, and Amanda, and Oliver.

Because you are what you love. They were daylight, so he too, he realized all of a sudden, was daylight.

She'd always been a private person. In a family the size of hers, you had to keep some things to yourself or everyone in the world would know.

That's why she sees him in the dark. Francesca and Michael.

All eyes on him, her magician, it seemed. She saw the way women, and men, looked at him. And she couldn't blame them; he was unbelievable.

But when she was with him, even if all eyes were on them, he made everyone disappear, cut her into pieces.

It's like her body was a gold cage, she a hostage to her own feelings.

Her back was against the wall, tripping when he was gone.

After the ravenous public was done with him, not truly knowing him, they'd breakdown a little.

But when he got her alone, it was so simple.

He slams her up against the wall, and she sucks in a breathe before his mouth is on hers.

All the pieces fall right into place. It was so easy to get caught up in a moment, caught up in Michael.

Lipstick on his face, so it goes.

She was his to keep, and his to lose.

Her thumb is toying with his lips, her other hand pulling his head back so she has access to his neck.

She whispers in his ear, "you know I'm not a bad girl?"

Michael can only exhale and nod, too busy touching her everywhere he can.

"But I do bad things with you."

So it goes.

They'd met in a bar.

He would never forget the night, all eyes on her, his illusionist. He knew all eyes were on them.

Francesca made his gray days clear. She wore him like a necklace.

Michael had always been chill, but she made him jealous. The Bridgerton's were perfectly handsome and perfectly beautiful, and Francesca was no exception. He knew there were so many men who wanted her; but at night, when she was in his bed and not theirs, he knew he had her heart, knew it skipped when he was gone.

Tonight they are at some event for her older brother. She's wearing a black dress, and even though they are in a crowd of thousands, and her family, he wants nothing more than to rip it off her.

10 minutes into Anthony's speech, of which Michael just doesn't care about at this moment, she saunters by him and tugs on his hand, slinking the both of them through the crowd.

He's always thought people who sneak away from parties and have sex in supply closet's had reached a low level of desperation.

But, with her fingernails sending scratches down his back now, he knew. That's just how it goes.

As they finish, standing there in a supply closet, the rest of the world oblivious to the two of them and their desperate need for each other, Michael tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

"You did a number on me," he laughs, knowing his back looks like a warzone. "But honestly, baby, who's counting?"

And before she captures his lips again, she laughs and smiles up at him, "so it goes!"

Sophie Beckett enters the large office building. This is usually how her day starts; elevator buttons and morning air.

The strangers' silence makes her want to take the stairs.

She's been working in this building for some time now, just temping while finishing her degree.

If he were here, they'd laugh about all the strangers' vacant stares...but right now....her time is theirs.

He was away on a business trip, something she'd grown used to in their time together. Benedict Bridgerton was the VP of Marketing and Design for his family's firm. The Bridgerton's were one of the most successful families in the world. Their offices occupied the top three floors of the building where Sophie worked. It's how she first met Ben.

It seems like there's always someone who disapproves. People couldn't believe a high-born Bridgerton would spend his time with a no name temp. They judge it like they knew about Sophie and Ben, a verdict coming from those with nothing else to do.

But Sophie knew they had no idea about her and Ben. The jury was out, for Ben often told her, "my choice is you."

This morning when she gets to her office, there's a note and a bouquet of flowers waiting for her; it makes her heart swell. Ben is a romantic, constantly reciting poetry and painting her, so she's not surprised to see what he's written.

Don't you worry your pretty, little mind. People throw rocks at things that shine and life makes love look hard. The stakes are high, the water's rough, but this love is ours. -B

Their relationship began rocky; you never know what people have up their sleeves. Ghosts from both of their pasts, jumping out at them. Exes, step-mothers, old employers, one-night flames.

They lurked in the shadows with their lip gloss smiles; but despite it all, Sophie doesn't care, because right now, he's hers.

Their relationship was not anyone else's to speculate, whether it was wrong. His hands were tough from the hard work he put in daily to support his family, but they are where hers belong. Together, Sophie and Ben would fight everyone's doubt, give each other faith.

It was the moments of just the two of them she loved most, tangled up in bedsheets.

He'd brush a stray hair from her face, "I love the gap between your teeth."

She would laugh and place a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"And I love the riddles that you speak."

Her father, estranged as they were, Sophie being the product of an affair he didn't wish to remember, had made snide remarks about Ben's tattoos the first (and only) time they'd met. Ben was an artist in every sense of the world, and it showed.

Not even being a Bridgerton seemed to be enough for Sophie's harsh, judgmental father.

But those snide remarks would be ignored, because Sophie's heart was Ben's.

With them, the stakes would always be high, the water rough. They were from two different worlds, which most people would never understand. People throw rocks at things that shine, but they can't take away its beauty.

They couldn't take what was theirs.

When Ben proposes to her, she doesn't even care about the size of the diamond. It's the inscription on the inside that makes her heart swell.

This love is ours.

Benedict stood there like a ghost, shaking from the rain.

She opens up the door, says "Ben, are you insane?"

Standing in front of him, Sophie was shocked to see the man she loved, but had to let go, at her doorstep. She couldn't believe he'd found her. When she left his mother's residence, she ran far to the country, hoping to rid herself of the pain of losing him. But he was there now. He'd found her.

He licked his lips and took a breathe in anticipation.

"It's been a long six-months, Sophie," Benedict said, inching just a step closer to her. "I was too afraid, then, to tell you what I wanted."

Sophie just looked at him, and he wished more than anything he could take the pain out of her eyes.

"I'm sorry that it's taken me this long. I never should have asked you to be my mistress."

He said it in the most earnest way, she'd felt herself pull slightly closer to him.

And then he said, "I want you. For worse or for better. I shall humble myself, wait for you for ever and ever," Benedict went on. "I know I broke your heart, but I will put it back together, even if it took for ever and ever."

Sophie ushered him inside the small servant's corner of the estate she was working on. She grabbed his hand and rushed him to her room before anyone saw them.

When the door was shut, he continued.

"I have something for you," he said reaching into his pocket. "I hope it is not too damaged after the rain."

In his hand is a miniature. She can see immediately that it is the two of them, her kissing him on the cheek.

"I lost my mind Sophie," Benedict said. "How I essentially left you all alone, my reasoning why daft and stupid."

She was practically on the verge of tears now, staring at him.

"Sophie, please say something," Benedict said. "I wish for nothing more than to marry you. No matter what the ton or the queen or anyone else shall think. But if you do not wish the same, I will go, and I shall never bother you again."

It was then when she rushed into his arms.

"Ben, you know, I don't want you to go," she said as she rushed in to kiss him.

Weeks later, at their wedding lunch, in the presence of just their closest family and friends, Ben recounts the story of his utter foolishness.

But Sophie interjects, telling the crowd of how he sought her out, confessed his love and his mistakes.

"And that's how it works," she says turning to him. "That's how you got the girl."

an old school friend once told him he was crazy for letting his heart be taken over by a woman.

he'd said, "don't blame me, love made me crazy, if it doesn't, you ain't doing it right."

and now, down on his knees in front of her, he thinks, "lord, save me, my drug is my baby, I'd be usin' for the rest of my life."

Francesca was addicting, and Michael was an addict.

he'd been breaking hearts a long time, toying with older gals, just playthings for him to use.

but something happened for the first time in the darkest little paradise, when they first connected...shaking, pacing, "i just need you."

for her, he would cross the line, waste his time, lose his mind.

they'd say he's gone too far this time.

but

his name is whatever she decides, and he's just going to call her "mine."

now

with her hands on his shoulders, he kisses the inside of her thighs, whispers into them

"i'm insane, but i'm your baby."

francesca, francesca, francesca, francesca

echoes, how he loves her name inside his mind.

a halo, hiding his obsession, dropping the instant he sees her, his lover, naked, in his bed

he once was poison ivy, a vermin to society, but now, he was her daisy; pure and innocent only for her

"baby, for you, i would fall from, just to touch you face," he says as he moves up her body, her hands tangling in his hair.

"michael," she can barely say it.

"if you ever walk away, i'd beg you, on my knees, like I am right now," he breathes into her waist, "to stay."

he got so high off of her

"oh"

everytime, yeah everytime she was loving him, the trip of his life

"oh"

every time she was touching him

and now, before they take that plunge, the one they've taken so often before, yet never ceases to bring them the highest of euphoria, he looks francesca right in the eyes before turning his head up, as if to utter a prayer

"Oh Lord, save me, my drug is my baby, I'll be using for the rest of my life"

and before he can capture her lips, take what he so desires, she yanks his head back, and into his neck says

"using for the rest of my life"

and thus, a cacophony of two becoming one

"ooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

and who could blame them, love made them crazy. after all, if it doesn't, you ain't doing it right.

Taylor Swift Bridgerton Drabbles

Their coming-of-age had come and gone; neither of them were naïve to the hurt of the world. Suddenly the summer; it was clear.

But Anthony never had the courage of his convictions, as long as danger was near. And it was just around the corner, because it lived in him. No, he could never give her peace.

He was broken, battered, and blue, while Kate was everything good and holy about the world, though of course he didn't admit that at first. With his family name, came the prying eyes of The Ton, and with his title of Viscount, came responsibilities too. No woman who married him could every truly let their guard down, he believed.

But he was a fire to keep her brittle heart warm, if her cascade ocean wave blues came. Fire and Water. Two things that should not, did not mix.

All the people, The Ton, they thought love was for show.

But Anthony would die for Kate in secret.

The devil was in the details, but she had a friend in him, above all, if he couldn't give her anything else, he could give her that.

But would it be enough if he could never give her peace?

Her integrity made him seem small; she painted dreamscapes on the wall, while he talked shit with his friends. It was like he was wasting her honor.

But, surely, she had to know he'd swing with her for the fences, sit with her in the trenches. He could give her his wild, give her a child.

He could give her the silence that only comes when two people understand each other; they could family each other chose. She saw his brother as her brother.

But is it enough?

In London, there were robbers to the east and clowns to the west, who never wanted the drama to cease, for true love to win.

But Kate could give him her sunshine, Anthony could give her his best, but the rain would always come if she was standing with him.

Would it be enough if he could never give her peace?

"Yes," she softly whispers.

Anthony rolls over in bed, waking up from what he now realizes is a nightmare. She softly brushes the hair off his forehead and kisses him.

"Was I talking in my sleep again," he asks, worried he woke her .

"Yes, my darling."

"What was I saying?"

Kate lets out a soft sigh.

"You asked if it would be enough if you could never give me peace?"

Anthony closes his eyes and bites his lip, preparing the walls to go up.

"And I said, yes," Kate looks at him. "Yes. I don't need peace. I need you."

And for the first time in his life, Anthony didn't question whether he deserved what he had; he merely accepted it as he softly kissed her, and peace overcame them both.