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[bridgertoncore]

Accident - [B.B X Reader]

Summary: Bridgerton brothers go on a hunt but Benedict returns unconscious. You realise that you can’t live in a world that Benedict’s not in.

Word Count: 2k 

Warnings: Mention of death, angst, fluff, nice ending :) (not been proof read yet, sorry if there are mistakes)

Requested: Yes! by anon <3

“What do you mean he hasn’t come back? You are supposed to be looking out for him – he is your brother!” You scream at both Colin and Anthony Bridgerton.

Earlier that day all three Bridgerton brothers had gone out on a hunting trip. Their mother had warned them of it due to the bad weather to roll in halfway through the day but in true Bridgerton stupidity, none of them listened.

“We lost him in the storm, one minute he was there and the next he was not,” Anthony calmly spoke to you, “I promise we will find him.”

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[bridgertoncore]

just friends (b.b)

a/n: right i promise i’ll stop posting a fic a night because this is tooo much for everyone hahahaha

allusions to smut, use of the word whore to describe sex work, mutual pining, benedict needs to grow some balls

you’re not just friends, and you both fucking know it

───✱*.。:。✱*.:。✧*.。✰*.:。✧*.。:。*.。✱ ───

benedict bridgerton had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. it was an unlikely pairing - you had initially come to his home as a friend of daphne’s, and whilst you still loved her dearly it had become very clear that you and benedict were a much better match. well, a much better friendship at the very least. 

it was not very common for men and women to be friends, at least not in the society in which you and benedict both partook. you had only managed to get away with it for so long by excusing your constant presence at the bridgerton house with daphne, and, once she married and moved out, eloise, whose company you had come to appreciate more as you spent more time with her favourite brother. at twenty two, you were on your third season, and understood more than most in your position that if anyone outside of your families were to see how much time you spent with a man - an older one at that, even if not by much - your reputation would be left shattered. you often considered whether it mattered to not what people thought. you knew that you and benedict were to be just friends forever, and there would be no tarnishing of any honour between the two of you.

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[bridgertoncore]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔅𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔠𝔱 𝔅𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔬𝔫 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ⋆·˚ ༘ *

💯 super great fic║⭐️ chef’s kiss

𓆤 They’re Not the Only Ones Part. I | Part. II | Part. III by @maximoff-pan ⭐️

Summary: 4 times you and Benedict judge others for their obliviousness, and 1 time they all judge you

𓆤 An Artist’s Eye by @iliveiloveiwrite ⭐️

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton was an artist, even if his inspiration had no idea of what he feels.

𓆤 Words to be Said by @kirascottage 💯

Summary: Benedict finally gathers the courage to court you.

𓆤 Seeing Benedict Again After A Long Time Apart Would Include… by @writeroutoftime ⭐️

Summary: The title says it all…

𓆤 As Poets Do by @scandalous-chaos ⭐️

Summary: When the evening gets a bit too much, ben stumbles upon a stranger.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @delphispoeticals 💯

Summary: Being super in love with each other after being married to Benedict Bridgerton.

𓆤 A Proper Choice by @redheadspark

Summary: As an old friend of the Bridgerton Family, you attend a ball with the family, and an unruly suitor tries to dance with you. Benedict comes in to save the evening.

𓆤 Handprint by @siempre-bucky

Summary: Another season for elegant ladies and overzealous mamas was upon the ton! And you arrived back in London from your art education in Paris to join your family for your baby sister’s debut season. After learning about a beautiful art gallery in the estate from Viscountess Bridgerton, you meet a handsome man with charcoal stained hands.

𓆤 Paint Stains, Bare Legs by @velvetcloxds

Summary: Benedict is a simple man, whenever he sees you wearing his shirt which leaves your bare legs on show for him, he turns into a lovesick fool.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @joline12829

Summary: Benedict and the reader being in love with each other.

𓆤 En Garde by @delphispoeticals 💯

Summary: where you care too much about what your mother thinks, much to your siblings dismay, it almost guides all of your decisions. but when you rely on what you want… you find it to be rather rewarding — starting with a simple game of fencing. En Garde.

𓆤 An Artistic Dilemma by @ithebookhoarder

Summary: Everyone knows an artist is nothing without their muse and thankfully for you, your darling husband is always only too happy to lend you his services. It is in the name of art, after all…

𓆤 I’ll Leave You Words by @bennybridge 💯

Summary: Benedict leaves you notes every single morning and has done since the first day of courting you.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine

Summary: Benedict being so obviously in love with his wife and making sure everyone knows she is with him.

𓆤 Family by @delehosies

Summary: Benedict knew from the start that his family would love Y/N when he’s introducing her.

𓆤 Paper Rings by @wonderlandprose 💯

Summary: Benedict fell in love with a girl he adored so much.

𓆤 Perfection Through My Eyes by @dragon-baron 💯

Summary: Benedict is the reader’s perfect muse!

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine

Summary: One of the reader’s favorite things she enjoyed was Benedict petting her head.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine

Summary: Benedict coming home with a rescued cat for his wife since he knows how much she loves animals.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine

Summary: How would Benedict react to seeing his wife wearing his clothes for the first time?

𓆤 Tulips by @siempre-bucky ⭐️

Summary: The five times Benedict gave you tulips and the one time you asked him why.

𓆤 My Muse by @magicalxdaydream

Summary: Benedict shows the reader that there’s always a little bit of her in everything that he paints.

𓆤 Pall Mall by @tontattletale 💯

Summary: Benedict and his wife enjoys a game of pall mall with the Bridgertons and the Sharmas.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine 💯

Summary: The reader comes over to the Bridgerton house only to be greeted by a very high (and apparently, clingy) Benedict.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine 💯

Summary: Imagine waking up to your three kids painting on your husband’s face.

𓆤 To Be Loved and To Be in Love by @desertno3 ⭐️

Summary: You had been best friends with Benedict for as long as you can remember; however, your first season had come and gone and Benedict had not been as active a participant as his mother had hoped he would be. You had left London betrothed to someone else and that was that. But news about your disastrous betrothal reaches Aubrey Hall in the spring. And it changes everything.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine 💯

Summary: Benedict sitting in the drawing room working on a sketch and pulling you to sit on his lap, not carrying if his siblings see you cuddled up together.

𓆤 Portraits When Writing Failed by @multifailures 💯

Summary: In silent company, Benedict and Y/N would work until Benedict found something he definitely was not meant to see.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @delehosies 💯

Summary: Reader is so proud seeing her happy family.

𓆤 Muse by @thebadgerclan

Summary: You’re Benedict’s muse…

𓆤 The Trials & Tribulations of Pining From Afar by @bridgertoncore

Summary: In which one recounts the trials and tribulations of Benedict Bridgerton when he’s pining after a girl who simply doesn’t give him the time of day.

𓆤 Look For Me by @libraryofloveletters

Summary: In which a mysterious flower was sent to the reader to help her search for her admirer.

𓆤 Beethoven by @cantstoptheimagines 💯

Summary: When Benedict is struggling with his creativity, you’re always there to help.

𓆤 A Secret Romantic by @ijustwant2write

Summary: Eloise, as it turns out, is a brilliant matchmaker!

𓆤 Pain in My Heart by @iliveiloveiwrite ⭐️

Summary: Daphne and Eloise are trying to play matchmaker for Anthony and the reader, but little did they know that the reader is actually pining for another Bridgerton brother.

𓆤 How It’s Made by @iliveiloveiwrite

Summary: When Eloise asks about how babies are made, everyone was left speechless. And the reader is left in a dilemma on whether to tell her or not…

𓆤 Compromised Part. I | Part. II by @vintunnavaa 💯

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton was never the sort to indulge in rakish behaviour, so when the news of him compromising a woman’s honour spread, he must do the right thing. And hope that his betrothed turns out to be the woman of his dreams.

𓆤 My Love by @redheadspark 💯

Summary: Your husband, Benedict Bridgerton, gets caught up in a storm with his brother Anthony while they are out hunting, making you fear the worst.

𓆤 Middle of the Night by @bennybridge 💯

Summary: In where Benedict and you have been friends for years, you are in love with him and Lady Whistledown decides to write about it in her infamous scandal sheet.

𓆤 Invisible String by @purelyfiction ⭐️

Summary: Benedict has always been there to take care of you, but what happens when he sees you with another man who’s just as caring as he is to you?

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine

Summary: Benedict comforting the reader after she wakes up from a nightmare.

𓆤 Oh Brother by @ficnacs

Summary: Y/n’s brother is a student at The Royal Academy of Arts. What happens when he brings along a (rather attractive) friend?

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine

Summary: Reader felt neglected seeing that her husband spends most of his time doing his art.

𓆤 Accident by @bennybridge

Summary: Bridgerton brothers go on a hunt but Benedict returns unconscious. You realise that you can’t live in a world that Benedict’s not in.

𓆤 My Anchor by @ladysharmaa

Summary: Y/n and Benedict had been best friends since they were born, blind to their feelings for each other. When Edmund Briedgerton dies, Y/n is there to comfort Benedict, leaving him to cry on her shoulder.

𓆤 Please by @leydileyla

Summary: You’re in the library late at night sketching when a certain Lord that you have been trying to avoid comes your way.

𓆤 Irreparable by @purelyfiction ⭐️

Summary: After marrying one of the sons of a man your father owes money to, you find yourself finally falling for him nearly a year into your marriage. That is until there is news of a toll to your marriage that might not be salvageable.

𓆤 Just Friends by @pixiehollands ⭐️

Summary: You and Benedict aren’t just friends, and you both clearly know it.

𓆤 Truth Unseen by @make-me-imagine ⭐️

Summary: Benedict and the reader are best friends but he didn’t realize he was in love with the reader, until he saw her with someone else.

𓆤 Duty and Ruin by @murdockbarnes 💯

Summary: Dutybound to marry to prevent the ruin of lady, a party of three enter into a marriage: the lord, the lady and the growing feelings of resentment of being forced into such a situation festering between them.

[bridgertoncore]

✧ ˚ · . 𝔅𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔬𝔫 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ༉‧₊˚

Dearest gentle reader, this author finds herself compelled to share the most exciting news of the season! It has come to the attention of this author that a wedding between Mister Benedict Bridgerton and Miss Y/N Auclair shall take place in the Spring of 1815. I will have my pen ready to report on any and all of their romantic activities.

For the more observant of my readers who enjoy the finer details of an impending celebration, I am delighted to show all of you some crucial observations I have noted of the lovely couple. My findings are as follows…

📰 ➊ | 📰 ➋

I know your hearts are alight with excitement that leaves you wanting more of their love story, but rest assured, dear readers, when another information about the couple is unearthed, it will certainly be published. Until then, be reminded that patience, after all, is a virtue. This author shall have to purchase more ink…

Yours truly,

Last updated: 8th May 2022

[bridgertoncore]

Hey would u be up for writing an Anthony Bridgerton fic where Daphne's bff is distracting Anthony so that daphne could enjoy the balls without him interrupting,and they kinda fall in love?????

Sorry that was a hugeeee request. I've never done that before😅😅

Distractions

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Word count: 3.3k

A/N: This is a fic that I have been referring to as ‘Anthony without his trauma, but he’s still a dumb ass’ and ‘Anthony doesn’t oppose marrying for love, but he’s still wildly emotionally constipated’  so please enjoy! This ended up way longer than I intended and it still doesn’t feel fleshed out *shrug emoji*

Vauxhall Gardens

“Please,” Daphne begs. “I need your help.” 

“It’s Anthony. I need someone to keep his attention away from me,” Daphne continues. “Otherwise I’ll never dance at one of these balls with someone who isn’t related to me.”

You can’t help but sigh. 

Daphne’s brother loves her, and is understandably overprotective of her. As the “Diamond of the Season”, she’s the debutante that every eligible gentleman (and a few non-eligible men) have set their sights on. Someone needs to protect her. But Anthony Bridgerton would not be your first choice for that task either. He may love his sister very much, but he’s also an arrogant man and a rake. He thinks the worst of all men because he is the worst type of man. And if they were you would understand his behavior. He seems to have assumed that each and every male member of the Ton is exactly like him. The type of man that you try to avoid at these types of things.

“Fine. But you’ll owe me for this,” You grumble as you nod. Acquiescing to your friend's pleas.

Daphne’s your best friend. You’d been close since you were children, you were only about a year older than her, with mother’s who were close friends. She’d been your playmate and then your confidante as you both grew older. With your debut having taken place a few years ago, you’d been eagerly awaiting Daph’s debut, and the chance to partake in these events with a friend by your side.

But her older brother had put a damper on the entire season with his insane micromanagement of Daphne’s social calendar. 

Turning away fortune hunters, you understood, but not letting her dance with a single gentleman at Lady Danbury’s ball? And then scaring off every suitor who came to call on her? It had taken Lady Bridgerton stepping in to convince Anthony that she could call on you in the afternoons without being accosted by men on the walk to your family’s home. 

The man was on a power-trip, and was certain to destroy Daphne’s impressive chances at a great match this season if he kept it up.

“Bring me over, and then I’ll talk to him while you slip away,” You tell her as you spy the viscount’s gaze already searching the crowds for his sister.

She grins as she pulls you in and hugs you tightly, a silent thank you before she grabs your gloved hand in hers and pulls you in the direction of her brother.

“Anthony, you remember (Y/N),” Daphne says as she stops in front of her brother, prompting you to bow your head and give Anthony a small smile.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” Anthony Bridgerton greets you politely with a small bow.

“How have you been, Lord Bridgerton? I don’t believe we’ve spoken in several years, since before you graduated from Oxford,” You say politely.

“I’m well, It has certainly been a while, last time we spoke you had not come out yet,” He replies.

“Yes,” You reply with a quizzical look.

You sigh when you realize that you’ll have to keep up this conversation and come up with something to ask him if you’re to distract him.

“Have you read anything interesting recently?” You finally ask. Settling on a topic that is both non-threatening and that you’ll find at least half engaging.

“I’m afraid I haven’t read anything that isn’t a report from our estates in the past few years,” Anthony admits.

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “I suppose I should have known, a man of import such as yourself has far better things to busy himself with,” You tell him, unable to stop the corners of your lips from turning upward. “Like staring down every man who so much as looks at his sister.”

“I- that’s-” Anthony protested before huffing when he realized that the conversation would not be productive. “What have you read recently?” He asks instead.

“Pride and Prejudice and The Heroine were both quite good,” You tell him. Normally you would have continued to push but with the topic of books, you can’t help but give Anthony your honest answers. “I’ve read the recent Byron and Shelley, though I find them insufferable,” You add, your nose wrinkling with distaste.

“I also revisited Shakespeare, I heard the Theater Royal is putting on Romeo and Juliet in May, and I’d quite like to see it.”

“You’ve turned into quite the scholar in recent years, haven’t you?” Anthony asks, a bemused smile across his face.

“I’ve always been invested in my education, Lord Bridgerton,” You reply. “You’re just finally intelligent enough to notice.”

Anthony merely stares at you while you smirk, taking great joy in teasing him. 

“Where did Daphne disappear to?” He asks once he’s recovered from your thinly veiled barb.

“Probably just to the powder room,” You reply banally, the lie easily forming. “I think she was going to try and find your mother afterward.” 

When Anthony’s gaze zeroed on a subject over your shoulder and he seemed to have completely tuned you out you knew that he had spotted Daphne. You turned your own head, searching for Daphne in the crowd only to see her making her way to the dance floor on the arm of the Duke of Hastings. 

“Oh!” You gasp.

That little minx. 

Now you knew why she’d been so adamant to get her brother off her tail. She was interested in his best friend. 

“Did you know about this?” Anthony asks harshly, though his gaze never tears away from the couple making their way to the dance floor.

“Of course not!” You protested. “I-I had no idea!”

“I thought they didn’t like each other,” You offer lamely.

The Trowbridge Ball

“Do you know where Daphne is?” Anthony asks as he appears suddenly at your side.

“Would you care to dance?” You reply.

You know it’s a faux pas. But you don’t really care. Besides, no one can hear you, and you need to distract him with something that will keep him occupied for several minutes.

He looks at you for a moment. Like he’s trying to discern what exactly you’re up to. But in the end, he nods.

“Of course,” He replies as he offers you his arm.

You place your hand in the crook of his elbow and allow him to shepherd you to the dance floor.

“Do you know where she is?” Anthony tries to ask again once the dance begins.

“I’m not your sister’s keeper,” You reply. “And nor, it seems,” You add as Anthony spins you around. “Are you.”

Anthony doesn’t reply and you can tell by his face that he’s still struggling to let Daphne take care of herself. Especially with the Duke’s interest in her.

“I’m sure she is fine,” You finally tell him once you’re facing him again. “Your sister is far more discerning than you give her credit for.”

“I never said she wasn’t-” Anthony begins to protest. “You are baiting me again,” He says as he looks down at the knowing look on your face.

“You’re learning,” You reply with a grin. “I know that you are only caring for her, that you’re overprotective because you love her, but she must marry this season, and you do her no favors if every man with any sense is scared of you.”

“You do not want to let your sister marry a fool, do you, Lord Bridgerton?” You ask him, your tone becoming more serious.

“Of course not,” He replies quickly.

“Then learn to step away,” You tell him.

Hyde Park

You should have expected Anthony to join his family at the park. And with the Dowager Viscountess and Lady Danbury chaperoning Daphne and the Duke, both you and Anthony were left to your own devices. So when he asked you to promenade, seemingly of his own volition you were taken aback.

“Have you ever been out of the country?”  You finally ask after a few minutes of the two of you  walking silently alongside one another. 

“No, I never had the chance,” He tells you. “Have you?” He asks.

“I once went to visit my cousins in Scotland, and the Scottish certainly believe themselves to be another country,” You tell him.

Anthony hums in agreement with your statement.

“How many children do you want?” He asks.

Your eyes widened.

“My Lord?” You ask, clearly taken aback by the question. But he merely looks at you. “I suppose however many I am blessed with, though more than three or four would be a challenge to manage,” You tell him.

“Why haven’t you married yet?” He asks.

“Well,” You say, trying to figure out how to answer such an abrupt question.

“This is your third season,” Anthony says as if you hadn’t known. “You are truly accomplished, and far more eloquent than most of the ladies and the gentlemen in my acquaintance. I would think you would have already made a fine wife.” 

“I think I ought to be offended by what you’re saying my lord,” You tell him with a small smile.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to-” Anthony quickly begins to apologize.

“I ought to be,” You clarified. “But I am not. I suppose I just haven’t given much thought to marriage.”

“Most women are solely focused on the institution,” Anthony points out.

“Most women have no other choice. My family is secure, my parents are in no rush, my brother has a good enough head on his shoulders,” You tell him. “I have a great privilege in that. So I suppose I ought not to waste it by marrying for anything less than happiness.”

“I see.”

“Yes,” You tell him. “Any other questions about marriage I can answer for you? I’d assumed at nine-and-twenty you’d grasp the mechanics of the marriage bed, but I could offer you an explanation-”

Anthony’s eyes widened as his gaze snapped to you, appalled. It was only when he saw the smirk on your face that he realized you were only poking fun at him.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” He replies.

The Penwood Ball 

Distracting Anthony Bridgerton had been much easier than you’d expected. And surprisingly less annoying. You often found yourself surprised by the fact that you were looking forward to spending time with him.

Anthony greeted you seemingly the moment you walked through the door.

“Lord Bridgerton,” You replied with a smirk as he offered you his arm.

Taking it you could have sworn you saw Daphne laughing in the corner with Simon, and so you quickly pivoted on your feet, pulling Anthony in the opposite direction. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last week,” You told him. Once you had put a safe amount of distance between yourselves and Daphne.

“Why I am not married,” You clarify. “I realized that perhaps the truer answer is that no one has ever asked.”

“That surely cannot be true,” Anthony replies.

“But it is,” You tell him. “Most eligible gentlemen see me as a bluestocking, or as merely a platonic acquaintance. No one has ever seen me as more than that.”

“That is not true,” Anthony replies quickly.

“I think I would know better than you do, Lord Bridgerton,” You tell him with a roll of your eyes. “In case you’ve forgotten, we have not spoken in years until last month.”

“Besides, you only prove my point. You are certainly not looking for a wife,” You say.

“What makes you say that?” He asks, turning sharply to look at you.

“Everything about you, starting with the fact that you are wasting your time with me,” You explain. “And ending with the fact that you are the definition of a rake.”

“You can’t tell me that you don’t only spend time with me to get your mama and the other eligible young ladies off your back,” You tell him plainly.

“That is most certainly not the only reason,” Anthony replies. And for half of a second, he almost looks offended by your comment. “I can’t help myself if I find your charm beguiling,” He adds with a smirk.

“My charm? Is that what ruthlessly berating you is called now?” You ask with feigned confusion.

“Your jabs are far from ruthless, my lady,” Anthony replies.

“Then I shall need to sharpen my sword,” You tell him, raising your eyebrows.

Anthony begins to open your mouth and you can see the mirthfulness in his eyes.

“Do not make a double entendre out of that,” You say quickly as the very thought enters your mind at seemingly the same second it does Anthony’s.

“You are delightful company, my lady,” He says with a chuckle.

“And you are a ridiculous man,” You reply, though you can’t help but laugh with him.

The Greenwich Ball

It had been a difficult morning. You’d hardly slept the night before, and your mother, bless her heart, had insisted on you joining her for every single one of her social calls. You probably should have been glad that your mother was not foisting suitors on you left and right, but having to listen to every other mama in town discuss her own daughter’s prospects while you had to sit quietly at your mother’s side was hardly much better. 

It had been exhausting, and now Anthony seemed dead set on making the evening as difficult as possible. He’d wanted to dance and now seemed to think that taking a turn about every room of the party was a worthwhile use of your time.

You weren’t sure what he was doing, or who he was looking for, but when you saw Daphne and the Duke standing in a corner, with the Duke whispering in her ear in a way that was nearly scandalous you quickly remembered your one responsibility and tugged on Anthony’s arm, attempting to lead him back in the other direction.

“What are you doing?” Anthony asks you as you continue to move around him, pushing him into the next room, towards the refreshments table. 

You huff, already annoyed. “I’m supposed to be distracting you!”

To be fair, you and Daphne hadn’t spoken of her little scheme in a few weeks, but you had just assumed you were supposed to continue on with it, as she hadn’t said anything about ending it either.

Your eyes widen when you realize what you just said. Out loud. To him.

“What?” Anthony asks, deeply confused.

You consider lying to him, but your exhausted brain can’t seem to come up with a single plausible excuse. 

“Daphne told me to distract you so that she could spend time with suitors without you scaring them all off,” You admit.

“What?”

“I was supposed to distract you,” You repeat. “And clearly you appreciated the break from your mother’s match-making, otherwise you wouldn’t have put up with me for so long.”

“You thought I was using you?” Anthony asks slowly. His tone is imperceivable. 

“Weren’t you?” You ask slowly. Suddenly far less confident in your assessment of your relationship with the Viscount.

“Of course not!” He replies quickly. “I-” Anthony starts to say before he stops himself.

“But you were spending time with me because Daphne made you?” He asks instead.

You swallow. This was not how you expected this conversation to go at all. 

“Well… yes, but…”

“But what?” Anthony presses

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you would be upset,” You tell him.

“Yes, clearly you did not,” Anthony replies, his words clipped as he searches your face. “I need to have a conversation with my sister. Good night,” He states abruptly before walking away from you.

“Wait, Anthony, please, I’m sorry!”

You’d never felt so awful, so guilty before. Or so confused.

“You have a caller,” Your butler announces as you and your mother sit at the breakfast table the next morning. 

You’d hardly slept, but your mother refused to let you sleep in, your shared breakfasts were a tradition that she would not let you get out of easily, and as an early riser, she didn’t understand why others struggled to wake as early as she did.

“A caller? At this hour?” Your mother asks. Clearly surprised.

“A Lord Bridgerton, asking for Miss (Y/L/N),” He replied.

Your entire body froze as you tried to imagine why Anthony could possibly be calling on you. And at nine in the morning. 

“He’s in the drawing-room,” Your butler adds.

“Yes, I’ll go right in, thank you,” You reply as you stand from the table. You merely give your mother a slight shrug of the shoulders as she looks at you curiously. 

When you entered the drawing-room you found Anthony standing in the middle of the floor, seemingly pacing the room.

“Anthony, what are you doing here?” You asked as you made your way towards him. 

He stops completely when he hears your voice, turning so that his entire body is facing you.

“I needed to see you,” He tells you.

“Why?”

“I love you,” He says.

Your heart stops when you hear those three words. Of all of the things you’d imagined Anthony coming to say to you, this was never on the list, not even in your wildest dreams.

“What?” You ask, thinking you might have misheard.

“I love you.”

“I don’t- What is happening?” You flounder as you laugh in disbelief.

“You said last night that I wouldn't have put up with you unless I was using you to get away from my mother and her matchmaking,” He explains. “But you’re wrong. I spent time with you because I liked it, and when I wasn’t with you I was thinking about when I would see you next. It was never about my mother, or my sister, or anyone else for me. It was about you, and how I want to spend my life with you.”

“You do not have to return these feelings, or say anything at all, but I just wanted you to know,” He says. “To me, you’re my person.”

“Oh my,” You finally say after a moment as you look up at Anthony’s tentatively hopeful expression. 

“I think I’m in love with you too,” You tell him, a smile spreading across your face.

“Is your father home?” He asks, taking your hands into his own and squeezing them tightly.

“It’s nine in the morning, of course he’s home,” You tell him.

“I will speak to him at once,” He replies.

“Anthony,” You begin to protest.

“No,” He says quickly. “We are going to get married. And I don’t want to have to wait any longer.”

“Anthony,” You try again, pulling on his hand so that he focuses back on you and on the present moment. “You haven’t even proposed yet.”

“Oh,” He says before dropping down onto one knee.

“(Y/N) will you make me the happiest man alive and agree to marry me?” He asks.

You can’t help but laugh at his ridiculous antics before nodding.

“Yes, yes, of course,” You tell him.

Anthony grins as he looks up at you before he’s pushing himself back onto his feet and taking your face into his hands. 

Anthony couldn’t help it, he kissed you.

[bridgertoncore]

Hi everyone! I have opened back up requests, so feel free to submit any ideas!

[bridgertoncore]

Anthony Bridgerton Masterlist

“A man with charm is an entertaining thing, and a man with looks is, of course, a sight to behold, but a man with honour - ah, dear readers, he is the one to which the young ladies should flock.”

One Shots:

make me be true, make me be blue

A Truth Universally Acknowledged

winged cupid painted blind

baby, baby, sweet baby

Fallin’ For You

Card Games and Cocktails

Meeting the Family

Gretna Green (Part 1)

at the end of the day

Smoke and Flame

Days with Love

Blurbs:

Once in a While

The Heart Wants What It Wants

To Wait For You

Early Morning Cuddles

Champagne Kisses (smut)

Lessons Learned (smut)

Headcanons:

Coming soon!

[bridgertoncore]

HONEY, I CHOOSE YOU. — A. BRIDGERTON  

word count. — 2.5k+ 

sum. — jealous!anthony being in absolute idiot, but an idiot in love nonetheless. 

Keep reading

[bridgertoncore]

#thecutest

[bridgertoncore]

Am I like him at all? Or was he more like you? Father. He was, um… He was like both of us, really. He had my seriousness, perhaps. He shared your love of a prank. Did he? He once put glue in Benedict’s shoes. I wish I could have played a prank on him. I wish so too. We do not talk about him enough, do we? I do not know much about him at all. That is because I have shown up far too late for far too many things. Your father was the best man I’ve ever known. He was good for a laugh, of course, but… he was courageous, and never afraid to fight. Not just for his family, but for everything else too.

[bridgertoncore]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 & 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 — 𝐁.𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 → in which one recounts the trials and tribulations of benedict bridgerton when he’s pining after a girl who simply doesn’t give him the time of day.

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 → @parkerbarnesx ; Benedict having a thing for you but you don’t notice him because your always busy reading or writing until someone is bugging you and he asks you for a dance or something like that

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 → @flourishandblotts-inc , @freyathehuntress , @mostly-meg , @s-u-t , @fairydxll , @evqans

BENEDICT BRIDGERTON WAS BEYOND CERTAIN that whatever plane of existence Y/N Y/L/N graced with her presence, it was one that he could only yearn to graze with the slightest touch of his fingertips, both a desire from the artist within and just that of a lonely soul. The word divine played along the curved edge of his tongue when the prospect or sight of her was incited; from the delicacy that slipped from her touch along the spines of books arranged on a high shelf, to how a sunny smile would adorn her face as she spoke hushedly to Eloise within the Bridgerton’s ornate library with a book held to her chest, her eyes coming to a comparison with that of perfect buds freshly opened in a golden dawn as they peered over at him politely. There were so many things about her that were just right, and it was the sort of discernment that terrified Benedict Bridgerton. 

It was a stream of agitation that pooled around his very ankles, casting tidal waves that soaked through his skin. The second eldest Bridgerton boy would never decree it, to himself or unto an audience, that he was utterly intimidated by the young woman. Yet, from the gods above to the mortals that roamed in his own presence, could all attest that he most certainly was. 

Y/N could silence every shred of notion and synapses in his mind by merely entering the room, her intellect and opulence in the very manner she holds her shoulders. He’d, rather shamefully, observe from beyond the rim of his canvas as she’d read alongside Eloise, her brow poised in a gesture of meditative contemplation for the ink furnishing the ivory pages that she flipped with discretion. She would laugh at Eloise’s varied, offhanded jests - a laughter, to him, that was utter gold that the likes of Aphrodite herself would sparkle within. A few droplets of forgotten paint would drip away onto the white starkness of his vacant canvas as his mind would swarm with thoughts beyond that of his artistic pursuits. 

His agape mouth and broad doe eyes would become the victims of Eloise’s cavalier remarks as they spent an evening on the wooden swing set, his young sister essentially laughing in the crimson of his face at how dumbed by love he was - and how Y/N couldn’t have spared less of a care in favor of him. 

In spite of Eloise’s blatant observations, Benedict would discern his love for the young Y/L/N woman on his own volition. It had been beneath the humbleness of stark moonlight that the realization wandered about into his realm of thought, when Y/N herself had wandered onto his lonesome figure on one of the wooden swings, him nonchalantly swaying about with the twist of rope suspending the plank of timber. The moonlight served to only spin as a heavenly companion to her beauty as she settled herself on the vacant swing alongside him, poising her hands around the frays of the rope. It was a silver ballerina that pirouetted across every curve, slant, and angle of her face to her doe eyes. He’d further recall how she nudged his shoulder whenever the pry of exhaustion would cross into their conversation by way of a crooked smile on his part with the dulling of his blinking, how she flicked away the cigarette pendant on his curved lips, musing with a simper of how she could only manage one Bridgerton boy being a hothead. And, by God, he always wanted her to smile like she had that evening. 

It was an evening that would never come to be repeated, as it was vanquished to the tides of obscurity. Eloise, as always, was right. Y/N Y/L/N frankly could never give him the time of day despite the damnable spark that flitted between them in those fleeting interactions they did hold with one another. 

Such interactions only occurred by way of pure decency and politeness towards each other; she’d amble pass with Eloise on her elbow in the estate’s corridor, casting a courteous smile towards him as he walked towards his art room, or he’d greet her if he crossed upon his mother, her mother, and Y/N herself having tea in the drawing room. In those mannered exchanges, was weaved stolen stares on his part that reflected his truth in a single moment - never perceived by the eyes of his desire, and never would be because that yearning was all his own. And, this was never a position that he sought to be in, where the destiny of his heart was within falling for the likes of a woman who existed just beyond his reach. 

And, this evening of one of his family’s revered balls, did that truth exist so profoundly and deafening to him. 

From the outskirts of the flowered, ornamented dance floor and whilst forcing down the warmth of whiskey, Benedict watched - more so gawked if Eloise were to be by his side, mocking him mercilessly as always - as Y/N danced with one of the numerous suitors that would never quite be enough for her by his rather greedy standards. 

As if a human companion to the flit of the piano forte, she glided from place to place in precision with childhood teachings of the waltz, her dress that is a hue of the endless pinks of a rose garden, whirling around her ankles nearly teasingly with its lace and silk. 

In a rare moment induced by that of a twirl, did her stare then wander across that of his poignant gaze from over the shoulder of her suitor, yet there was a remarkable absence of a distancing politeness. For him, it was a swift, bewildering transition from nothing to everything - this had not been incidental from the agitated glint within the swell of her eyes, and how they casted towards the man that danced with her, an implicit plea for Benedict’s interference. 

It was unlike him to behave without a degree of consideration spared to it, yet there he was, a haste in his step as he thread his way through the throng of swirling ladies and their partners. 

“And, yet here you are in your third season, not betrothed, rather you’re mingling with the minds of the deranged progressives,” the clipped voice of the lord partnered with Y/N, pierced through the din of music and conversation. 

“Amusing, coming from you, Lord Edwards, considering that you are nearly of nine and forty, yet still believe you’ll find yourself a wife by bullying a woman into submission when it clearly hasn’t worked,” Benedict swiftly chimed in from behind the stout man, mischief adorned in the curve of his smile, “Or, perhaps, it’s just a consequence of your unfortunate hairline and crooked nose.” 

Y/N sobered the itch of a laugh that came within her chest, a subtle hint of it emerging as a quirk at the corner of her painted lips as her hands fell away from the lord’s shoulders. 

“The pluck of you Bridgerton boys-” Edwards started to spit after wobbling himself around to only level with the navel of the taller Bridgerton man, crimson as the lobster plattered nearby. 

“— Is something you wish to not aggravate any further,” Benedict curtly concluded to oust whatever ramblings would spout from the peeved lord in the coming moments, further dispeling him by turning towards Y/N, “Do you perhaps have any room on your dance card for this evening, Miss Y/L/N?” 

The young woman settled her hand unto his offered palm, his nerves heaving at the grazing touch though it didn’t reach onto his impassive expression. Indifferent to the utter frazzlement wreaking havoc upon the sensible mind of Benedict, she replied whilst poised in her stare on Lord Edwards, “A spot seems to have just become open, Mister Bridgerton. Good evening, Lord Edwards.” 

The perturbed older man sauntered off from the amused duo, his footfalls and crimson cheeks more alike to that of a disciplined, soured child. In his absence, did Y/N relent to the bout of laughter that had churned within her throat at the expense of the rather childish lord, her free hand settling beneath her collarbone whilst she did. 

Glancing to her, he observed her softly laughing with the evening sun a beam of subdued colors inching onto the linings of her prominent features. Her supple bone structure rose with her smile, her intelligent beauty stretched beyond that of her physique and to that genius mind she evidently possessed, the fire in her eyes that spilled into a hundred golden urns beneath the sun - and with those eyes, she could have set the sky ablaze, but she had opted to burn him instead. He wanted to forgo her hand in that second, keep every bundle of complex emotion in check. Not look at her a moment further and see what he had been trying so desperately to ignore - to prevent the free fall that would spring to life if he catered to his desires. It was a sinking feeling, truly, to allow himself to love her. 

“Y/N,” his voice had emerged in a whisper within the dwindling notions of his affection. 

She turned to him with that seraphic, endearing smile that could render him gauche and a foreigner to any of the emboldenment the Bridgerton boys were gawked at for. 

“Yes?” the gold of flaring candlelight fluttered across her delicate features, nearly playful amidst the sheen of rouge and her natural complexion yet discreet around the quirk residing at the corner of her mouth. 

This damn woman had him memorized. 

Benedict fleetingly amused the wonder if she could see how he was essentially sweltering under his tailcoat at that moment, feel how his palm echoed with the slightest of trembles that sought to release every notion firing through his mind at present. 

“I-I must be taking my leave for the evening,” was all that his tensely occupied mind could filter out from its chaos, the warmth of humiliation extending its tendrils up the rigidness of his neck. 

The poignancy of perplexion rippled its presence over her previously serene expression, their haphazard sway to the plucking of orchestra strings halting accordingly with the alter in her features. A swell of questions settled amidst her glance that she held with him, yet all remained leaden upon her tongue as Benedict essentially tossed her hands from his own, as if they were burning him through the silk of her gloves. 

The departure of the second eldest Bridgerton boy was rather graceless for a few servants nearly had their platters hurled onto them by Benedict’s hastened, desperate strides. 

And, rather than remain mortified and forsaken on the expanse of the dance floor, Y/N promptly pursued him into the shadows of the estate’s garden. 

-

“BENEDICT BRIDGERTON,” she beckoned in the echoes of his overwrought saunter through the carved path of the garden, the platinum of moonlight flickering through the gaps in the shrubbery to grace over his silhouette in the gloom of night. 

Benedict didn’t have to hear it twice before he halted his frenzied meander; his stubbornness wasn’t as poignant as Anthony’s, and could never raise a candle to that of the young woman keen on his heels.

“I believed you to have more decency when it came to women - not completely forsaking her in the midst of a dance after behaving all high and mighty towards a potential suitor,” Y/N’s footsteps were pert with frustration as she halted within mere inches of him, allowing a perception as to just how agitated she presently was. Granted, Lord Edwards was far from anything resembling a suitor, yet her words had been such for the purpose of kindling this confrontation. And by how Benedict’s jaw subtly tensed right then, she knew the words had struck something - somewhere. 

Satisfaction, perhaps, in her own mischievous interpretation, is what then rose across the flush on her expression.

“Pardon me but Lord Edwards made a mockery of you far before I even came into your presence,” Benedict cooly retorted - oddly levelheaded, much to her vexation.

Y/N took that as a forthright attack unto anything varying from her judgment to her own intelligence. 

“Unlike you lot of Bridgerton boys, some people have to make effort to secure a future for themselves, even if happiness has to be a victim of such circumstance,” she bluntly remarked, almost disquieting with her ignorance of the dark crimson sheen of wrath on her nerves, the agitated churning in her chest, her soul. 

“Yet, you so easily tell Eloise of what she deserves in the concern of love without allowing the same for yourself. As a writer may pen, you have destined yourself to be a martyr - a sufferer in a mediocre existence,” foreign to his nature of being not the disputing sort, Benedict opted to chase the rabbit that mockingly sprung around the air amidst a trek of tension, such a decision reflected in his words. 

“And, what of you? The second eldest who could be viscount, who could be the patriarch of his family - always tip toeing in anticipation for a chance to be something but never quite striking a landing in any endeavor for such success,” Y/N fluidly challenged, a tasteless amount of frustration radiating from her, evident in bromide stance of her settling her arms across her chest. 

“Then I suppose we are both one in the same!” his cadence breezed into an uncharacteristic exclamation, currents of exasperation glitching beneath the brown of his eyes as he stared towards her through the pool of moonlight. 

“I suppose so!” she returned as fervently, and there’s an abrupt shift in the humidity of the summer evening air - as if a destiny was finally fulfilled with their fraught exchange of words just then, that the likes of the Greek Moirai were now smiling upon them. Yet, such a reality wasn’t a realization that dawned so fluidly upon either of them, rather it was a gradual wash over their agitated nerves as their expressions were rinsed with paleness that a ghost could envy. 

“Forgive me,” he rushed out, eyes swarming to the likes of the encompassing shrubbery, the poetry of stars overhead, to the opportunity of departure in the pathway leading back to the ball. But, he was a gentleman with a faulty obedience to honor, and to resign himself to the behavior of a little boy by running off now, may as well snip the string of honor that he hung onto.

In contrast to him, Y/N made the tolerance of humiliation seem so effortless — graceful. Figures why she is the master she is at pall mall, he reflected briefly with a sweeping gaze over the impassive expression that had replaced her exasperation. Perhaps, it was her pride that couldn’t allow too much emotion to leak out, making her no different than the typecast of women that the ton had crafted. 

He could waste a lifetime struggling to figure out this woman — and even that would be too little of time spared to his wandering mind. 

“I suppose I should be content that, in some measure, you can acknowledge that your behavior begs for the chance of forgiveness,” Y/N evenly asserted, taking a step towards Benedict - nonchalant for her, yet fateful to him. 

In a haste, he cleared his throat, nearly relenting to the urge to retreat a step back from her. If she were to draw any closer, he was certain that he’d lose his nerve. Yet, he had done away with a good part of her evening by stringing her along with behaviors and words that would perplex anyone of his intentions. The truth was owed to her now - even as tempting as the pathway out of the garden proved to be for his screaming conscience. 

“Forgive me,” Benedict reiterated, though now he coerced his evading gaze to settle upon her, how her brow fell with a furrow at his repeat of words.

“A guilty conscience doesn’t quite flatter you-” she started to chide with a dismissive shake of her head, each rather fleeting as he essentially leaped to interject on both her words and gestures. 

“No, forgive me for what it is I am about to do,” he exhaled, voice far more labored than he anticipated it to be as he decisively came to stand before her. 

His hands rose with a subtle quake at his sides, the collar of his tailored waistcoat abruptly and overwhelmingly unyielding against his throat. 

Her mouth drew apart to question for elaboration on his words, yet it was a cumbersome gesture as his own mouth came onto hers, stifling every inquiry to a harboring on her tongue. Against the distinct heave of his chest, she tensed as bewilderment struck her with impressive debris, the hairs on the nape of her neck shocked straight with the flashes of contemplation brilliant in her mind. 

Feeling her leap against him was enough to flounder the spurt of confidence that had coiled around his impassivity. He bounded backwards as the flare of tenacity was extinguished within his core, forsaking him to be a broad-eyed, breathless disaster in the humbleness of moonlight. 

Then, she laughed. 

It’s laughter that danced with the poise he found himself envious of repeatedly and desperately. Any other flustered man would have deemed it to be an ambush to his already deflated pride - the ultimate needle to poke a gaping wound in his adored pride - yet Benedict solely set his brow in humiliation. Because he too would have laughed at himself. 

“I surely never took you for someone of spontaneity,” Y/N mused with a teasing tilt of her head, juxtaposed by the subtle buzz that trembled through the flesh of her lip, how her heart sang with sheer elation. 

“Evidently, it doesn’t compliment me,” he murmured, the benevolence she adored absent from every edge of his expression and the curve of his eyes — and she had never quite witnessed it before. He didn’t even compel himself to look in any regard towards her, staring pointedly into an existence where his chagrin couldn’t reach him as he spoke, “Am I to be so effortlessly forgiven now? Now that I have allowed the desires of my heart to spoil your honor - an honor that exists within an extraordinary woman with an entire constellation woven into her soul? A woman who speaks fondly to me of passions and the books she reads…whose very presence demands honor because nothing less would do. It’s absolutely terrifying how I wouldn’t hesitate to choose you in every lifetime, yet don’t even know if you’d choose me in this one.”

The amused curve of her lips drew threadbare as her brain stuttered; if anything were to compliment Benedict Bridgerton, it would be his capability of a wordsmith, how he had a mastery for the soul with the poetry that came from the abstractions of his mind. And it was damn difficult to string together a fit response for such words. 

Had she been entirely blind to the brazen affection Benedict held for her? Certainly between the evening conversations and time spent in the presence of the Bridgerton brood, she would have taken more regard of his longing sidelong glances or the cheeky-half smile he’d greet her with when she’d enter the drawing room to make the acquaintance of Eloise or to join for afternoon tea. How could she have allowed a man to make her so daft? Eloise would surely make a mockery out of her for that. 

Y/N sucked in her cheeks - a reflection of the racing contemplations that coursed through her mind, attempting to compose together some semblance of a reassuring answer that wouldn’t devastate him. 

“My honor would only be spoiled if it were a man that I didn’t care for,” she ultimately decided upon, easing her tone to offer sincerity to her words and simultaneously regarding how he halted with the fitful fumbling of the curves of his lapels. Similarly, was she fretting restlessly with the edges of her sleeves as she had her own hands settled at the small of her back, mind and chest stirring with impetuosity for his response. 

Yet, Benedict Bridgerton didn’t have to muster any verbal retort for the satisfaction of her ardor, his expression and the glint in his brown and bold eyes betraying him on every front; how he stared upon her as if she had the entire galaxy woven into her soul. As if she was all he’d ever desire in this lifetime. 

With bated breath, did she then fatefully stride forward to settle just mere inches away from him, such subtle separation further flustering Benedict but he didn’t retreat in step from her proximity. 

Y/N eased her hand onto the fisted hands of the young man, clenching with a ginger pressure to disrupt the trembling of them, “I would choose you as well.” 

One of her palms then shifted to his tousle of shadowy brown hair, tugging lightly at the frayed ends, noting how his agitated breath vanished within his chest. 

His eyes - copper against honey in the moonlight - were concealed as his eyelids fluttered shut for a fleeting second, flushing out the unadulterated forebode from his core for a second of serenity, a second where all he fixated on was the sensation of her fingers as they flexed and trailed through his hair - nearly as a master pianist would upon the keys of his beloved piano forte.

And shut did his eyes remain as her lips fell upon his own, whisper thin to quietly meet the passion rife in their souls. 

Now, behind the close of his eyes, was he at last able to step into that plane of existence with her, even if it did burn him alive.

[bridgertoncore]

UNSPOKEN DEVOTION | A.B.

Pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 2.5k words

Warnings: mutual pining, mention of parental death, breaking of societal rules (this sounds so serious gosh, they hug and whatnot)

Summary: your horse falling ill derails your traveling plans and leads you to dinner with your childhood best friend and his family, what confessions will be made when anthony aims to comfort you?

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The living room hummed with laughter as Anthony descended down the stairs, confused as to what could possibly have encouraged such joy on an otherwise quiet night, no more planned than a simple dinner with Lady Danbury, though all made sense when he turned the corner to see you rocking his nephew on your hip, laughing at something that Colin said.

“Miss Y/n,” he smiled, moving his hat to his other hand to prepare himself for your embrace, your lips mimicking his as Daphne took the baby from you.

“Am I to address you as Lord Bridgerton or Anthony while I curtsey?” you mused as you sauntered towards him, knowing that your smile would merely grow the closer you got.

“Anthony and you shall do no such thing, please, less you offend me greatly,” he warned and laughed lightly when you fell into his chest, an action so familiar, so comforting that he almost wished to keep you there for a moment longer. “You look lovely,” he noted as you pulled away, actions clearly as hesitant as his own as you stepped back to remain as proper as possible despite your relationship.

“You charm me.”

“Only slightly. I did not know that we would be having you as our guest.”

“Neither did I, I am afraid. I was traveling from the funeral and heading towards France when one of the horses fell ill, I thought all hope to be lost but was surprised to find we were but a town away from here,” you explained and was aware of the way the gentle buzz of excitement floated from the room almost instantly. “My mother would have scorned me for not writing to inform you of my plans to stay, I hope I am not imposing.”

“You could never,” Anthony promised, and your fingers fiddled with the hem of your gloves as his eyes raked over your face, carefully sifting through the emotions it held to determine what to say next, knowing you well enough to decipher which expressions were true and which were merely for his family’s benefit. “We were saddened to receive news of your parents,” he began and lifted a hand to your arm, squeezing lightly. “I wished to ride down and see you- “

“You need not explain yourself to me, Anthony,” your fingers formed around his wrist, thumb moving slowly against the material of his blazer. “Your letters were comfort enough,” your words though sincere, felt incredibly empty as they met his ears, and he would be sure to press you for the truth when he had a moment alone with you.

“Will Y/n join us for dinner?” Hyacinth asked after the silence in the room grew heavy, excitedly turning around with her knees planted on the sofa to see you. “She must come, Anthony, please?” she added and managed a perfect pout to sway the both of you in your answer.

“I do not wish to be any more of an inconvenience than I already am,” you objected for only him to hear, both of your hands falling out of reach as you cleared your throat.

“You are doing no such thing, Y/n. I am sure if Lady Danbury knew that you were in town, she would have invited you on her own accord, we shall be delighted to have you accompany us,” he promised and nodded lightly to encourage you to not decline the offer any further before you turned to his family with a smile.

“Very well, but I shall insist on riding with this little angel,” Daphne smiled as her son reached for you, giggling as you placed him on your hip, small hands gripping your dress as he giggled.

“It seems he insists as well, though I fear we are to be late,” Benedict noted as he ushered everyone out of the room, Anthony’s gaze lingering on you as you fell into step beside him, far too distracted by the child in your arms to notice him inspecting you once again and it was as though he could feel it, your pain, feel how tired you were from hiding it and he wished nothing more than to take it away from you completely.

There was an odd understanding amongst the Bridgerton family that no one was to say a word of the love you two shared until one of you were to acknowledge it. It seemed that despite years of friendships and countless troubles passed only by the other’s comfort, neither of you had the slightest idea that you were helplessly in love. There were moments where Violet would see it so clearly, in the way he held you but seconds longer than he should, in the way he smiled when you said his name or laughed when you acted silly and there were moments where she could feel it, in the way you lingered at his side as if you belonged there or the way he felt what you felt without much thought. She saw it tonight more than ever as you trudged through dinner with them.

You had no appetite, barely had the stomach to eat a single thing since your parents passed, but aside from that, it was clear that you were tired, there was no wit in your replies, no skip to your step, the children were the only ones to earn a true smile from your lips, the others were merely a notion, a gesture that was expected of you. You had grown up with her own children, she had considered you part of her family and if it hurt her seeing you like this, she dared not imagine what her son must have felt. He had not looked away from you all night, had not added to the conversation except for speaking on your behalf and he was dreading every second he could not pull you into his arms and promise you it would pass, the darkness would pass, and your light would return- his light would return.

Once the table had been cleared and compliments had been given to the cook, everyone had departed to the lounge for a drink and you stole a moment to get some air in the gardens, eyes closed, and arms wrapped tightly around yourself as your head leaned back to appreciate the wind that cut through your dress. It was not long before Anthony joined you, you had expected as much, but it was a relief to know that he was still a constant in what felt like a whirlwind.

“You looked as though you were cold,” he breathed as he stilled behind you, tapping your arms to guide them into his coat and you smiled as you fixed the collar, hands falling into the pockets as soon as you were done.

“You could not see me.”

“I had no need to, I simply know you,” he protested, and you shook your head at the loving arrogance, closing your eyes once again as you looked back to the sky, waiting for him to begin speaking, he had been waiting to speak since the moment he saw you and you had denied him of such for long enough. “I wish you would allow me to assist you in this time,” your eyes opened at that, head turning to look at him, dare him to say more though he did not, only frowning lightly at your state.

“You have, Anthony. I know it may seem trivial, but your letters have kept me sane, kept me grounded, truly, I need no more from you than to know you are here.”

“I can do so much more, Y/n, if only you would not object so stubbornly. If you would allow me your hand- “

“I do not wish to be pitied, Anthony, not by you.”

“You think this an offer of pity? I could never pity you, not when I know you. You persist on denying that fact, but it does not make it any less true. It is because I know you so well that I can tell you have reached your end, you had been strong and you had been graceful, but you cannot continue down this path on your own. Allow me the opportunity to be strong on your behalf?” you could see the tenderness in his eyes, the care, you could hear words spoken from a place in his heart he reserved only for you and it was yet another moment of many in which you doubted your friendship, because how could this be merely two people who care for each other when his words felt like an invite home after years lost at sea.

“Do you love me, Anthony?”

“What?”

“There are times that I convince myself that you do, that this persistence you have to take care of me is harboured out of love, but I can never be sure,” you sighed, turning away from him as you started down the trail of rose gardens, knowing that he would follow. “I echo the seconds we are alone and the world around me fades away, ponder the times you call me darling in your letters or write to tell me you miss me, I wonder if every lingering gaze or wondering hand means more to you as it means more to me,” you shook your head, turning to him in a rush as your gestured to him with a sigh. “I wonder if loving you would feel any different than it does right now, for I cannot remember a time when I did not feel as if I would crumble without you, without your presence in my life and I am terrified by the thought that you do not share my devotion, do not share this maddening, almost sickening desire to never part from you as long as I live,” your voice had been louder than you intended, desperate eyes meeting with his as you furrowed your brows. “So, I must know, before you ask me that question ever again, I must know if you love me, Anthony Bridgerton.”

“I do,” he began and stepped towards you slowly, trailing his eyes over the features of your face as he nodded, “But only when I look up at the stars. Only when the sun creeps into my windows when I wake. Only when the birds sing your song or the butterflies hover around the daisies mother had planted just for you. Only when I hear your voice as I am reading your letters or when I see your face in my dreams. Only when the children ask for you or mother tells me to invite you for dinner. Only every waking hour of every single day. Only when my heart beats in the cages of my chest. Only when I breathe,” he smiled as he gently removed your hand from the flower, holding your fingers within his own as his other hand tugged gently to free you of your gloves. “I knew love to be a myth, a feeling exaggerated for purposes of art or poetry. I had considered any man a fool for playing victim to a force so strong it robbed them of their rationality. Only, I was the fool, for I had not merely played victim to it, I surrendered to it so completely that I could no longer identify where I ended and where my love for you began. All my life I had loved you, Y/n, it was merely the question of when you would allow me to confess it.”

“All the times you asked me to marry you?”

“Were sincere,” he smiled, lifting your bare hand to his lips as he kissed your ring finger two times, looking at you through his lashes as you released a shaky breath.

“I am not a viscountess, I have not the faintest clue how to run a household.”

“It does not matter,” he protested and reached into his coat as it hung around your frame, shrugging at your questioning gaze. “You are what my family needs. You are what I need,” he pulled a small velvet box along as he retrieved his hand, flipping it open to reveal a ring you had heard multiple stories about, had adored from afar as Violet showed it to you while growing up. You gasped softly as you realized that he had it ready for you, waiting for you, always. “Allow me to be what you need.”

“You could have any woman in the world.”

“None of them would be you,” he protested and dropped the box to the floor as he held the ring in his hand. “Marry me?” he began and shook his head when you wanted to say more, only smiling as delicate tears cascaded down your cheeks. “Marry me, Y/n.”

“You love me?”

“More than a rational man should,” he noted and laughed softly when you rolled your eyes at him, breathing out lowly as you nodded, allowing him to slip the ring onto your finger, another kiss placed to the area as he squeezed you hand softly, humming when a gloved hand lifted to his chest.

“I love you,” you breathed and leaned into him carefully, throwing caution to the wind as you connected your lips with his, the feeling was magnificent, addictive, his hands moulded around your cheeks, attempting to savour the softness of your lips, the taste of you, the way your body melted against his as if he was created merely to be this close to you. He had no desire to end the kiss as you pulled away to breathe, soft pecks left to the side of your mouth, the peak of your cupid's bow, he wanted to have you like this forever and it drove him mad knowing that he could.

“Do not go to France,” he mused once you pushed him away slightly, needing a minute to ground yourself as he looked at you in the way you had only seen if your dreams. “I do not think I could bear watching you leave.”

“Am I to cater to your demands now, Lord Bridgerton?” you teased, and he scoffed, shaking his head as his hand managed to find yours once again.

“Only the ones that make you happy as well, Miss Y/l/n,” he teased in return and relished in the little gasp that fled from your lips when he stole another quick kiss from your lips, smirking as you hummed at the sensation.

“I have merely been your betrothed for a few seconds, and I am already under your spell,” you sighed, looking up at him as you rested your forehead against his. “Whatever have you done to me?”

“The very same that you have done to me, darling.”

all fandoms: @scandalous-chaos @the-blue-forest

bridgerton: @mirclealignr @saintlike78 @wrathspoet @esposamultifandom @murdockcastleslut @golden-hoax @littlsstuff @joline12829

other: @sarahisslytherin @leydileyla

[bridgertoncore]

Whatever the Poets Say | b.b.

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Terrible regency-like speech patterns. Reader’s last name is Everly but otherwise nothing labeled.

Author’s Note: Am I starting a new series? Maybe. God only knows.

Talk to Me!

Dearest readers,

With another season upon us, it is this author’s duty to remind you all that while you do not know me, I certainly know you. It has been quiet in the ton, but with a new season comes new gossip. And hopefully new scandals. The Queen’s introduction to this season’s debutants is just around the corner, and that means our Diamond is hidden amongst the fray.

It it this in author’s humble opinion that there are many prospects for this season’s Diamond, but we all do know how the Queen and I rarely share the same opinion. Perhaps our Diamond this year will be Miss Eloise Bridgerton, who is making her debut this season. She does have the Duchess of Hastings’ excellent example to follow. Or perhaps Miss Cressida Cowper, who is in her second season. Perhaps her second time's the charm?

In more important news, this author has it under excellent authority to say that the Viscount Bridgerton is looking to marry this season. Whoever our Diamond may be, surely they will be happily matched soon enough.

We shall see.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

She rolled her eyes at the scandal sheet, tossing it onto the table in front of her. The society papers of Whistledown’s were delivered early that morning, left with the maid, and then promptly given to her when she sat for breakfast. Her mother, Lady Priscilla Everly, mentioned that the very least the woman could do was publish new names and not the same ones always mentioned.

“Perhaps I don’t want her to mention my name, mother,” she pointed out, pushing the strawberry around her plate absently. “I would very much prefer if Lady Whistledown never knows who I am.”

“Oh hush,” Lady Everly said, waving her hand dismissively. “Any attention is good attention, darling. Do you not wish to be noticed?”

She shrugged in response.

Truthfully, she did want to be noticed. But not the way her mother meant. What she wanted was to be noticed for her writing; for her ability to tell a story and paint a picture in the mind. But, even if she did manage to get her writing to a publishing house, the likelihood of someone wanting to publish her work was unlikely; especially if she wanted her name on the spine.

“The Queen’s ceremony is at the end of the week,” her mother continued, as if the conversation hadn’t ended. It never did when it came to Lady Everly. “We will need to go to the modiste and get you new dresses for the season. Are there any colors you’d prefer this year?”

She looked up from her breakfast, surprised her mother asked for an opinion. Those were few and far between. A smile spread across her cheeks. “I do very much like purples; any shade, really. I also like green —dark greens, though. Like the grass.”

Lady Everly hummed, sipping her tea as she nodded. “I think you would look lovely in lavender, dear.”

“Good morning,” Lord Kenneth Everly announced, smiling brightly at his daughter as he walked in.

Lady Everly and her stood, both smiling politely as Lord Everly kissed her temple and sat down. Both ladies returned to their seats.

“And what are we chatting about today?” He asked, picking up the scandal sheet and looking it over with feigned disinterest. Her father was far more interested in the scandals than any one in the house, though.

“The dresses that we will be getting from Madame Delacroix for the ceremony,” Lady Everly explained, giving her husband a sweet smile.

Sometimes she wondered how her parents did it. Her mother wasn’t necessarily a cold woman; she was kind when she wanted or needed to be. But Lady Everly didn’t seem to care one way or another about what her daughter did, so long as it didn’t disparage the Everly name. While Lady Everly was very prim and proper, with all her ducks in a row and followed society’s rules with ease, Lord Everly was the opposite. While he followed social norms, he was very much involved in his daughter’s life. He asked about her days, talked to her about the books she read and the lessons she took. He insisted she be educated, as she was his only child. And he was simply a happy gentleman; content with life and all it had given him.

She often wondered why they married; but then she would remember when she was young. When she had very bluntly asked why her father loved her mother; and Lord Everly explained that Lady Everly balanced him out very well. That they had grown to love one another over time, and while he wasn’t the picture of perfect society, Lady Everly was. And so their family was perfectly balanced.

She quite liked that explanation. Marriage was about balance.

“Are you excited about your debut this year, love?” He asked, leaning close to his daughter.

She glanced between her mother and father, and simply nodded. “Of course, father. I cannot wait to find my match.”

But he gave her a knowing look, picking up a blackberry from her plate. “I’m quite sure you’ll find a lovely husband; does the Duke have a brother?” He joked.

Lady Everly rolled her eyes. “No, he does not. However, if Lady Whistledown is correct —“

“She usually is,” she interrupted.

Her mother gave her a warning look, causing her to shrink back into her chair. “The Viscount is looking to marry. Perhaps you could woo him.”

“Lord Bridgerton is a rake, mother,” she reminded Lady Everly, brow raised as she took a bite of her eggs.

“A rake can make a fine husband; look at me!” Lord Everly argued, grinning deviously at his wife.

Lady Everly choked on her tea, turning red as she coughed. “Kenneth! You were certainly no rake!”

She laughed at her father though, covering her mouth as she did. Lord Everly just smiled and leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. “My dear wife, you know very well that I was a terrible rake before we wed. You told me yourself. ‘I would be a fool to marry a man such as yourself.’” He quoted.

Lady Everly gave him a pointed look, brow raised. “And what else did I say?”

He grinned at his wife. “I do believe you said, ‘And yet, I would love nothing more.’”

She looked between her parents, realizing suddenly she was no longer in the room with them as they gazed at one another. It wasn’t often the two shared moments like this in front of her, but when they did —it was a wonderful reminder of what she wanted one day.

After a few moments, though, she cleared her throat. And the two finally returned to the dining room, looking to her. Lady Everly looked away, blushing as she stood but Lord Everly just grinned brightly, standing as well.

“We will go to the modiste this morning, then after, why don’t we meet in the park to promenade?” Lady Everly asked, looking between her husband and daughter now.

“An excellent idea,” he responded, looking to his daughter now. “I will see you two around one, then? I am quite sure that is more than enough time to get fitted.”

“It is; thank you, father.”

Lord Everly bowed his head, taking his leave. Lady Everly glanced at her daughter, giving her a smile that she had never seen before. Like it was a secret.

“I hope you find a husband like your father, darling.”

So did she.

*****

Spring in London was a lovely sight, especially at the start of it. Everything was in bloom, the sun was out, and the rain stayed at bay more days than not. It was her favorite time of year, even if this year would be spent trying to find a husband and parading herself in front of the entire ton. The air always felt crisper in the spring, and it smelled of the flowers that bloomed in the park and around the house’s gardens when she returned. It was wonderful.

She held her father’s arm as they walked, listening idly as he talked about the meeting he had with Lord Featherington and a few other members of the ton. Lord Everly was very open about his business pursuits; he felt that she and her mother needed to be aware since they all benefited. It was a big reason he kept her lessons going, even after she grew out of them. He provided her education from then on, two nights a week until she was sixteen.

It was what started her love of writing.

Lord Everly insisted she was a natural talent, and encouraged her to write whenever she could. He even went as far to buy her a journal and a set of pencils so that she could write whenever she truly felt the urge. ‘For when you feel inspired, no matter where you may find yourself,’ he wrote on the first page. She read over it each time she wrote, simply for the reminder.

“Lord Bridgerton!” Her father called out, smiling brightly as the Viscount walked with his family towards them. Her father leaned over, whispering to her, “May as well make introductions, hm?”

“Father!” She exclaimed, hitting his arm as she flushed.

“Kenneth, dear, she hasn’t even debuted yet,” Lady Everly scolded, but it was too late as the Bridgerton family stopped before them. “Lady Bridgerton,” she greeted, bowing her head.

The families exchanged their greetings, all smiling and bowing their heads to one another. Lord Everly shook the Viscount’s hand, expressing his delight in seeing his family out and about.

“This is my daughter,” Lord Everly introduced, motioning to her at his side. “She is making her debut this year.”

The Viscount nodded in greeting, though he and her father returned to their conversation about business. Her mother was speaking to Lady Bridgerton, and the two youngest children were chasing each other around. Eloise was chatting with Penelope Featherington, though both girls waved happily at her. She stepped away from her parents, moving towards the ladies.

“Miss Bridgerton, Miss Featherington,” she greeted, smiling softly at the two. “It’s lovely to see you both; I’m sorry for interrupting your walk though.”

“Oh please; anything that distracts my mother long enough to let us a bit of reprieve is wonderful,” Eloise insisted, waving her hand at her.

“Are you excited to come out this year?” Penelope asked, voice soft as she smiled.

She shrugged much like she did this morning at breakfast. Then she glanced at her mother, ensuring she wasn’t listening. “Truthfully, not at all. As much as I do wish to marry one day, I am not terribly fond of the attention.”

“Pen and I are going to be spinsters; you may join us, if you’d like,” Eloise teased. Or, she thought Eloise was teasing. Something told her the Bridgerton may not have been though.

“If I don’t find a suitable husband, I may take you up on your offer,” she said, smiling at them.

“Oh, excuse me,” Penelope murmured, stepping away as Collin and Benedict Bridgerton joined the group.

Penelope and Collin broke away to speak as Benedict replaced her at Eloise’s side.

“Hello sister,” he greeted, grinning down at her as he offered his arm. Then he turned to Miss Everly, bowing his head. “Good afternoon, miss. Excuse my interruption.”

She waved off his apology, smiling at him politely. “There’s no need to apologize, Mr. Bridgerton. This is your sister, after all.”

“Benedict, have you met Miss Everly?” Eloise asked, looking up at her brother.

He shook his head, “No, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”

She introduced herself properly, bowing her head once. Benedict motioned for her hand, and she lifted it carefully as he took it and kissed the top of her glove. Her breath hitched in her throat as she looked up at him, unable to do anything other than smile at him. He had a crooked grin on his face, boyish and charming, as he released her hand. It was an odd moment; as if she could focus on nothing but him. Words had escaped her.

“It is very nice to meet you, then,” he concluded, hand resting at his side once more.

“She debuts this year with me,” Eloise explained, glancing between the two with a wicked grin on her face.

Benedict’s grin only grew as he looked at his sister then back at her. “Well, I do hope you’ll save me a dance this season.”

She nodded a little too quickly, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “Of course, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Benedict!” One of the children called out, taking his hand and dragging him away. Benedict laughed, waving goodbye as he took off with the children. She watched as he ran off, as Eloise linked arms with her as their families started to walk together, still chatting idly.

“You know, he is available,” Eloise whispered to her.

“Miss Eloise,” she scolded playfully, looking over at her. “I thought we were to be spinsters together with Miss Featherington.”

“If Benedict married before Anthony, I’m quite sure my mother would have a fit anyway.”

She watched as Benedict chased his younger sister and brother, picking them both up and laughing. Her head tilted to the side as she followed their movements, unable to help herself. Marriage was, of course, on her mind. It had to be. But she had never really interacted with Benedict Bridgerton prior to today. And his sudden introduction to her life shouldn’t have been unexpected, but with Eloise on her arm, teasing her about her brother…

Well, he was very handsome.

———

[bridgertoncore]

stubbornly, irritatingly — anthony bridgerton

summary: it’s not easy to help the viscount find a wife when he continues to reject every woman you introduce. it turns out he has a better reason for it than you realize.

a/n: okay so my other anthony fic is taking far longer than i thought it would because it has literally turned into a 10k word monster and it is still growing so here is this shorter thing i wrote in a day to placate you all until i finish the other one lol. i hope you enjoy

wc: 2k

warning(s): a whole lot of frustration and a short argument that is resolved in fluff

You stood on the side of the dance floor, watching with bated breath as Anthony moved through a waltz with your best option yet. Anthony had officially declared his intentions to find a wife this season, and he’d asked you to aid him in the journey. Knowing the likelihood of his search ending in either dissatisfaction or the literal opposite of a love match, you agreed. 

It may not have been the most brilliant decision, helping the man you were in love with find a wife, but you knew you did not have any chance at his affections. Anthony saw you as a friend and respected you immensely, but there was nothing more there — you were sure of it. You figured if you had a hand in Anthony’s search for a wife, he would at least end up with a woman that he liked, or even loved. He was far too pragmatic to go for a love match and far too stubborn to admit he deserved one, and so you took the responsibility yourself — Violet certainly appreciated your help after all the years she had spent on her own trying to find her son a match. 

But Anthony was pushing your patience to its limits. His list of demands for what he desired in a lady was far longer than you thought, but you'd still managed to find and introduce him to several eligible debutantes. You had been quite proud of them all, finding each lady to be lovely in her own way and definitely good enough for what Anthony wanted, and yet he refused every single one. Whether it be her poor dance skills, her lack of intellect, an inability to voice her opinions, or just his own ‘bad feelings’, Anthony consistently found a way to shut down every debutante you found. 

But this time, you had a good feeling. Lady Delilah Addlebury was of good breeding from a respectable family and considerable wealth. She was an excellent dancer, she spoke English, French, and Mandarin and could hold an intellectual conversation in any of them, she could play the pianoforte and the cello with such skill she rivaled the musicians hired to play at the balls, and she, if you dared to say so yourself, had fantastic hips, perfect for childbearing. Surely, Anthony would be satisfied with Miss Addlebury — she was not only perfect in every way, but she was perfect for him.

The waltz came to a close and they bowed to each other, Anthony touching her arm lightly and saying a few words before they separated. Delilah returned to her mother and Anthony started towards you, and you could not contain your smile. This had to be it.

“Well?” you said as he came to a stop by your side. “What did you think of her? Isn’t she—”

“She is not the one,” Anthony interrupted, and your smile immediately faded. 

“What?”

“She is not the one,” he repeated as he folded his hands behind his back. “She wants five children; that is far too many for a woman like her.”

Your brows furrowed as you crossed your arms. “Anthony, you have seven siblings and you played a part in raising each one. I should think you could handle five children.”

“I can,” he agreed, “but she cannot. I can tell — she is not fit to be a mother, nor a viscountess.”

You nodded, your annoyance rolling off of you in waves. “And how exactly can you tell?”

“It is just a feeling I have,” he said. “After all these years I have learned to trust my intuition.” 

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, and before you could question what you were doing you grabbed Anthony’s arm and stormed out of the ballroom, all but dragging him behind you. 

“What— what are you doing?” he protested in hushed whispers, too much of a gentleman with far too much honor at stake to cause a true scene. “Have you lost your mind?” 

You ignored him as you ducked into the first spare room you found, and you shut and locked the door before you stalked to the other side. You knew it was improper to be in here without a chaperone, especially with Anthony’s reputation, but right now you simply did not care. 

“What in God’s name was that?” Anthony demanded, staring at you completely bewildered as he rubbed his wrist. “How is your grip so strong?” 

“I have quite a bit of practice dealing with half-brained men,” you fumed. “You ask me what I am doing — what are you doing?” 

He huffed as he walked over to the mirror — you’d ended up pulling him into a guest bedroom, it seemed — and adjusted his lapels, very pointedly avoiding eye contact. “I am attempting to find the woman I will spend the rest of my wife with, which you apparently see as a very light matter.” 

“You know I don’t; it is just that I do not understand what you want from me!” you exclaimed in pure frustration. “I am sure that I have introduced you to every eligible lady in all of London, and yet you refuse every single one!”

“None of them are right,” he said simply. “I have given you my reasons; are they not enough?”

“Your— your reasons?” You huffed a laugh as you threw your hands up in exasperation. “There is no rational reason to reject a woman like Lady Addlebury! She is beautiful, intelligent, an excellent dancer and musician — I cannot imagine why anyone could turn her down!” 

“She is just…” Anthony trailed off and shook his head. “She is just not right.” 

“Then who is right?” you cried, your frustration reaching a peak. You loved Anthony in every way, shape, and form, and yet he was simply the most infuriating man you had ever met.  “You have gone through the entire ton by now — I do not admit this often, but I am at a loss. I truly have no idea what will satisfy you.”

“That is where you are wrong,” Anthony said, and you raised your eyebrows. “There is still one woman you have not yet entertained.”

You laughed in disbelief as you shook your head. “Oh, pray tell! What woman is perfect enough for Lord Bridgerton’s endless list of needs that I have overlooked?”

Anthony let out a loose breath, adjusting the fit of his vest before he turned around. “You are.”

It took you a moment to process what he had said, and when you did you blinked and took a step back. “Excuse me?”

“You are the perfect woman for me,” he repeated, his words crafted so easily and so surely that you could hardly believe it. “I have known it for a very long time, but I have only just now allowed myself to accept it.”

“I… I do not understand,” you floundered. 

“What is there to understand?” he questioned. “I love you. I want to marry you.”

There was so much buzzing around in your head that you opened and closed your mouth at least thrice before you managed to form any semblance of a word. “How long? I mean— how long have you known this?”

Anthony cleared his throat, tugging at his collar. “Since the beginning of last season.”

“Good god,” you whispered, pressing your fingers against your temples before setting your glare on him. “Are you completely inept?”

He frowned. “Excuse me?”

“In what world does a man ask the woman he is in love with to help him find a wife?” you cried. “Anthony, have you anything at all in your head or is it all just empty space?” 

“I had a perfectly good reason for doing things in this way!” he defended, and you huffed an incredulous laugh as you crossed your arms. 

“You have my full attention.” 

Anthony sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head once again before his gaze returned to you. “You must understand that I have never thought I would get a chance with you. You are a wonderful woman of good standing, a lady that any man would desire. A lady that wishes to marry for love, a love that you so completely deserve. A love I was convinced I could never give to you.” He paused for a moment, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he looked back at you.

“But the more time we spent together, the more I began to feel for you. Every time you sang while Francesca played the pianoforte, every game you played with Gregory and Hyacinth, every conversation you held with Eloise over the analysis of poetry—” Anthony managed a small laugh. “I almost considered asking you to stop visiting, for I knew every time I watched you merge so flawlessly with my family the harder I fell. I could not stop imagining you as my wife, as Viscountess Bridgerton, and so I did what any foolish man in love does and threw myself into my work. My work just so happened to be a search for a woman that would allow me to get over you. I admit that… asking you for help was not my wisest idea.” 

Not his wisest idea. He simplified it far too much. 

“I cannot believe what I am hearing.” You shook your head yet again, still completely incredulous. “You are stubborn, and irritating, and—” 

“In love,” he interrupted with a smile. “I am stubbornly, irritatingly in love with you, so much so that you consume my every thought, and I cannot seem to make even one rational decision around you. I do not expect anything in return, but you should know how I feel about you.”

You let out a loose sigh as you crossed your arms, more than slightly miffed. “Well, you should try harder to have a conscious thought when around me. It would have saved us both quite a bit of pain had you the simple foresight to not ask for my aid in your search for a wife.” 

It slowly dawned on Anthony, his eyes widening as a rarely seen hopefulness emerged on his features. “You mean to say…?” 

“I am in love with you too, you idiot,” you huffed, more than a little frustrated that you had to spell it out for him. “There is a reason I have gone three seasons without ever accepting a proposal. I cannot believe how long it took you to figure it out.” 

A wide grin bloomed on his lips as he drew nearer, a palpable weight off of his shoulders. “Perhaps it took me so long because of all the insults you insist on throwing my way.” 

A smile tugged at your lips as you shrugged. “Someone has to keep you humble. It clearly has not worked.” 

You heard a noise from the hallway and you blinked, your senses coming back to you as you realized exactly where you were. It was your idea to come here, but it truly was not a smart one. 

“It is improper for us to be in here together,” you said, focused on the door as if you expected someone to break it down and catch the two of you. “We should head back to the event.” 

It was then that you felt Anthony’s arms around your waist and his breath against your neck, and you craned your head back to look at him with a barely contained smile. “Did you hear anything I just said? We have to return to the party.” 

“Must we?” Anthony asked as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.  “We will be engaged soon anyway; I believe we can have some fun after all the trouble we have caused each other.” 

You raised your eyebrows, attempting to bite back your smile. “You so readily assume I will accept your proposal after the agony you have put me through?” 

“Of course,” he responded with a cockeyed grin. “Where else are you to find the stubborn and irritating husband you desire so?” 

-

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator 

[bridgertoncore]

i. first impressions | anthony bridgerton

summary: all is fair in love and war, so when a young man approaches you and begins to interview you, you feel the need to challenge the egoist, the war starts brewing between you but who will win?

ratings: is this angst? is this enemies to lovers?

warnings: period typical sexism, men being idiots

a/n: first time writing anthony/bridgerton so i hope it’s enjoyable!! the form of writing changes at the beginning from (she) to (you) because anthony is yet to be introduced hope that makes sense;)

Their eyes first met on one of Lady Danbury’s balls.

She was standing by the wall, her glove clad hands nursing a glass of the sweet lemonade that was served that night. She sipped the drink with her soft pink painted lips and observed the ball room carefully with gentle eyes that held a bit of mischief in them. She wore a soft violet dress with delicate flower embroidery that he sooner than later discovered to be the same flower as the colour.

But it wasn’t the dress nor the look in her eyes that made him look at her. No. Anthony would probably not notice her at all if it weren’t for his sister, Eloise, talking his ears off about a certain woman that she met just a moment ago and shared so many thoughts with her. Eloise pointed her out for him after she mentioned how charming she was in brain and looks. He partly doubted the first part but he couldn’t call his sister a liar for the second. You were rather pretty. Eloise would later argue with him that he whispered the word, “breathtaking,” but right now he didn’t spare that a thought.

“She seems to share my intentions to not dance the whole night,” Eloise said rather confidently.

“Is that so?”

“Ehm. She said all the men here looked boring and she would much rather do something more useful with her time and I couldn’t agree more.”

He still didn’t look at his sister. Too captured in the wallflower standing near the refreshments. “She seems to be enjoying herself just fine.”

“But that is the point, Anthony! She has to look that way because she is expected to! Have you not listened to me at all?” Eloise pulled him from his thoughts.

“Um– What?” he shook his head, making Eloise groan loudly, making a few people turn their heads in their direction. “Dear sister, we are in this season together. So I shall go to that woman and make conversation,” Anthony said as if he didn’t hear Eloise say you weren’t looking for a conversation with a man, just a moment ago.

“But Anthony!” Eloise whined. Jealousy surely burning behind her words. You were, after all, her new friend. Not Anthony’s new target. But it was too late. He was already marching confidently to you. His head held high and his shoulders broad as ever.

“Miss,” the gentleman greeted you with a small bow and held a gloved hand out for you.

Slightly startled by the sudden appearance of a man before you, you greeted him back politely. You were sure no one would approach you after you rather rudely declined the last lord for a dance. Only Eloise Bridgerton seemed to be amused by the situation and made it known to you that she shared your boredom. You talked with the young woman for quite some time before you became thirsty and excused yourself to the refreshments. You shared some ideas, hobbies and mindsets, and it was a pleasant change from the dreadful ladies who only enjoyed being paraded around by their mothers for men to grab and then parade them around some more. But here you are now, with another man before you, trying to make conversation.

He was handsome, you wouldn’t lie. His chin and jawline was sharp, he had a clean face and his hair was styled as it was expected from honorable men. He had a pretty cream waistcoat with small flower embroidery, lavenders and hyacinths. His posture was straight and broad and confidence radiated from him.

And then you saw Eloise again, hoping she would save you. Only for her to disappoint you. “This is my brother, Viscount Bridgerton,” she stated and she stood next to him and gave you an apologetic look.

“Anthony, please. It is a pleasure to meet you. Eloise has been talking my ears off about you and I thought it right to make my acquaintance.” The man took your hand and let his lips brush your own glove.

“Pleasure,” you let out and held the annoyed huff in as you told him your name and he immediately started the dreadful small talk.

“Do you play any instruments?” he asked. His words seemed interested but his eyes seemed to trail elsewhere, probably not interested in the topic as much as his question implied.

“I can play the pianoforte, but is not my hobby nor am I particularly good at it.”

“Do you speak any languages?” he asked again, finally meeting your eyes.

“I can speak French, German and am learning Latin, the old language seems to take an awful lot of effort from me.” He seemed pleased with your answer. And Eloise grimaced at her brother’s still incoming questions, looking like she knew something you did not.

“Are you well read?” That did it. You knew of the gentlemen’s ways of finding a wife these days. They’d ask a simple question first and then start from there, wanting to know if the lady they were persuading was up to their standards. You contemplated yelling at him, telling him you weren’t here to get interviewed. But you chose to hold your tongue, wanting to know his so-called standards. And perhaps scold him much more greatly afterwards. Two could play that game.

“I seem to be, but I don’t seem to enjoy the male authors as much as the females. They have much more interesting ways of words.” Eloise grinned at your words, possibly beaming with proudness.

“So romance novels it is,” Anthony mentally checked out. You imagined the list of your up to standard traits thinning out.

“Not only romance, Mr. Bridgerton,” you challenged. The game is on.

“Is that so? What else do women write?” Anthony challenged back, as if he ever stood a chance.

“Opinions.”

He smirked, smug. “About what?” You and Eloise exchanged annoyed looks.

“The world, politics, society, war. The list goes on, Mr. Bridgerton. Women can be truly well read even with reading mostly other women’s works.”

The man seemed to be speechless for a moment. But a quirk adored his brown eyes almost immediately. “Now, I have not said it is not possible, nor did I doubt it.”

“But you thought it,” Eloise said and wiped the amusement from his face entirely.

“I did not!” he furrowed his brows. “I–”

“Do not worry, Mr. Bridgerton, it is not uncommon for an average man to think he is superior to the opposite sex. It is rather sad, if I say so myself.” Eloise’s burst of laughter did not go unnoticed by the both of you. Anthony’s confidence faltered, but not his pride, nor yours.

“If you excuse me,” he seethed.

“I do. Excuse you, I mean.”

Brown eyes met yours, war it is. The both of you held the stare for a moment, challenging the other to break it first. Anthony and you, both too proud to back off.

Luckily you didn’t have to lose the first battle as a lord, you did not bother to remember the name of, interrupted and called for the viscount before you.

“We shall see each other again, I believe,” he nodded, pretending to be polite for the ton.

“We shall,” you mirrored his actions.

[bridgertoncore]

wisteria & weariness

anthony bridgerton x female reader, fluff, angst

description: once upon a lifetime ago, anthony bridgerton found himself encapsulated by one siena rosso, but would it last forever? with his new wife by his side, would he fall for her charms?

notes: this was requested by a lovely anon, and probably has fifty mistakes, so please ignore them lol. also: all i need is anthony bridgerton to give me a long, dramatic, 'i have always loved you" speech in the rain.

-

anthony bridgerton would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. his clothes felt far too warm, despite the chilly london weather, and the rattling of the carriage made him feel nauseous. despite it all, he couldn't help but relish in the warmth radiating from the girl beside him. he smiled down at his wife, momentarily forgetting the negative thoughts that lurked in his mind. feeling his stare, she turned her head to him, smiling at him brightly.

"you were staring," she muttered, now resting her head on his shoulder.

"am i not allowed to gaze upon my own wife?" he retorted back, a smile forming against his face. y/n chuckled, interlocking her arm with his, and returning her gaze back to the window. looking over at his wife, the unsettling feeling returned.

it had been y/n's idea to go to the opera tonight. they had just returned to london from the countryside to celebrate his mother's birthday. they both decided it would be nice to stay for a few days, but after two short days stuck with his multitude of siblings, they were both growing stir-crazy. when daphne had mentioned the new show at the opera, y/n's eyes had shined like stars. anthony knew there was no way he could deny her request.

of course, his new wife knew little about the clandestine affair he had shared with the lead soprano just two seasons previous. in all fairness, anthony had hoped to keep it that way for many years to come. anthony was confident that he had no lingering feelings for siena rosso, but he wasn't sure if the feelings were reciprocated.

there had been hushed rumors among the ton that she had been looking for him during his time away from london. asking his mother and hyacinth about him at the modiste, and cornering his friends at the gentlemen's club to ask about his new wife. upon returning to london, it had been his plan to approach her, and ask her quite flatly to keep y/n's name out of her mouth. however, thinking it over, he knew it would only trigger the opposite reaction: he and his wife would be splattered on the front page of whistledown-a fail safe way to have all of his secrets exposed to his love.

what anthony had failed to factor in, however, was his wife's own ability to find things out on her own. as a prominent member of london society, y/n read whistledown just as much as any other member of the ton. she knew about the infamous bridgerton family and their infinite spill of ruins. she knew about anthony bridgerton long before he knew of y/n y/l/n. she thought she knew everything there was to know about the viscount, but with one look into his warm eyes at lady danbury's ball, every notion had been wiped. suddenly, he was not the borish, rakish, bridgerton patriarch, who had managed to make his way into dozens of women's beds. now, he was anthony, who had a shy smile, a witty sense of sarcasm, and the biggest heart she'd ever seen. throughout their short courtship, she saw a side of him that no one had ever seen in whistledown: dancing with hyacinth in the drawing room, doting over his nephew, and helping gregory tie a proper necktie. when he asked y/n to marry him, she agreed without hesitation. he was undeniably the love of her life.

perhaps she understood siena rosso, it was so easy to fall in love with anthony. however, she and siena had two very different of the same man, and she much preferred the version she had wed. she knew anthony was sweating under his tailcoat, nervous about seeing the singer again. no matter how badly she wanted to ignore it, his nervousness had planted a seed of doubt in her own heart, making her grip onto anthony's arm tighter.

her thoughts were interrupted with the sharp stop of the carriage, allowing anthony to hastily pile out before her. grasping onto his arm once more, the couple made their way into the music hall, immediately being spotted by the duke and duchess of hastings. the conversations flourished immediately between the duke and the viscount, and y/n felt herself being pulled away by the duchess. finding a more quiet place to talk, daphne's eyes were warm but blazing, letting y/n know that she surely had something to say.

"you must know, y/n, that my brother, he-," she paused, now looking directly into her eyes. "well, there's no easy way to say it. the singer performing tonight, siena rosso, she and my brother had a rather, prolonged affair. i-"

"daph, i'm well aware. i was reading whistledown long before meeting any of your family, and, well, with all due respect, your family seemed to frequent the column."

daphne's brows furrowed, "you mean to tell me that you know about anthony's affairs? he told you?"

"well no, but that doesn't mean that they're a secret! i am not above a ladies gossip circle."

"anthony is completely under the impression that you have no idea of him before your first meeting of him. he's practically bursting at the seams with nerves, terrified that someone will bring it up again since she is performing tonight."

"perhaps they will, but that does not change the way that i feel about him. i love your brother, he's my true love match. previously, he may had deep fellings for miss rosso, but it does not seem that way anymore."

daphne's eyes were glossed over with sympathy, knowing her friend all too well. y/n loved anthony infinitely, and vice versa, but daphne knew she harbored doubtful feelings.

"you don't have to be the strong one all the time, y'know. it's okay to be unsure. i mean, anthony's actions practically warrant your doubt. it could-"

"love?" simon's voice interrupted, causing both of the ladies to turn their heads to their husbands. daphne met simon's eyes, and nodded, flashing y/n an understanding smile. soon the couple had taken off, going to find their seats.

"ready to take our place, darling?" anthony spoke to y/n, extending his elbow for her to take. y/n smiled at him, his own smile not quite reaching his eyes. her eyes cast down towards her feet, suddenly feeling anxious as daphne's words seemed to finally seep in.

now seated between her husband and sister-in-law, y/n's heart began to fall directly down at the sight of siena rosso. her long, brown hair fell elegantly over her shoulders, and her dress looking like angels themselves had crafted it specifically for her. of course she had the perfect voice to match her stunning outward appearance. the light surrounding her seemed to give her a fitting halo above her head. y/n could not bear to look and see anthony staring directly at the beauty onstage, so she chose to stare at her shoes. perhaps daphne had been trying to warn her, to let her know that she'd never compare to one siena rosso in anthony's eyes. y/n could feel her eyes flood with tears, swallowing harshly in hopes to keep her own emotions at bay.

-

beside her, anthony's heart had reached his own feet, his stomach twisting in worry. from the moment the musicians took the stage, y/n's eyes had been glued to the stage, a permanent frown etched on her face. anthony was not entirely innocent, his eyes had not left his wife's face for a mere second. however, it wasn't until he noted the quivering of her bottom lip did anthony see the tears streaming down her face. just as he reached to grab her hand, she had taken off from their box. racing down the staircase, anthony followed her, directly on her heels. finally reaching the small gazebo, he caught her hand.

"my dear, are you alright?" anthony spoke, concern lacing every word.

y/n's eyes flashed with hurt, withdrawing her hand from his grasp. she turned, her back facing him, her shoulders heaving with silent sobs. anthony's own eyes filled with tears, his heart was so full of love for her, and seeing her like this nearly killed him.

"has she always been this beautiful?" she whispered, not trusting her full voice.

"i-i'm not sure what-"

she quickly turned around, face now red with anger, eyes blazing.

"do not lie to me anthony, you cannot anymore. i-i really don't even know why i'm so distraught," she paused to breathe. "it isn't your fault, not really. my own cruel thoughts are taking over. it's just, siena is, she's beautiful. far more confident and bold than i ever could be. she's got the voice of an angel, and i guess i just feel, lesser. maybe-"

"lesser?" anthony's voice came out almost cold. "lesser than siena?" he chuckled in a sarcastic tone.

y/n took that as a direct attack.

"it is fine if you still want her more than me, but there is no need for you to make a mockery of me. just let me go and you can have her, i knew i was far too naive for any of this to be true." y/n stomped down the steps angrily, chastising past her for not heeding daphne's warning.

anthony's hand caught her arm, now staring into her eyes. despite her anger, she noted the hurt set in his own dark brown eyes. traces of shed tears rested on his face.

"you think i came here to see her? to gaze upon her for hours?"

"well, i imagine before i stomped out of the room that's precisely what you were doing." anger flooded y/n's veins, she was in no headspace to reason with him.

"have you gone mad?" anthony spoke, causing y/n to fume. before she could retort, his voice spoke:

"i came because my wife wanted to enjoy the opera. i couldn't care if the world collapsed on top of siena rosso at this very moment, because i've got everything i've ever wanted right in front of me! i do not love siena rosso, and after truly experiencing what true love is, i know that i never truly did. the only woman's hands my heart has ever sat in is yours, y/n bridgerton. I cannot change my past, and i cannot remedy any of the foolish mistakes i made then. the only thing i can do is ask for your forgiveness for what a young, confused, and angry anthony bridgerton once did, and if i have to grovel on my knees before you that is what i will do," anthony's eyes met hers, neither one as angry as before. allowing anthony to take her hand, she finally felt the weight of every worry subside, now completely blinded by the feeling of love for the man before her.

in an act of complete foolishness (and perhaps, desperation) anthony bridgerton fell to his knees in front of her. his big eyes met hers, and with no prompt, he spoke.

"i will swear to my father's grave to promise you i have only loved you. that i have done, over and over, a million times. i loved you when i set eyes on you in lady danbury's ballroom, and when i saw you chatting with francesca two weeks later at our own ball. i knew for an absolute fact that i was madly in love with you when i fell asleep on the grass on primrose hill because you were reading your favorite book aloud to me. i told myself i wanted to fall asleep to that voice every night for the rest of my life. i love you when you're the one to constantly pose for benedict's paintings, because no one else will, and you don't have the heart to tell him no." they both chuckled at the statement. "i love you when you always tell my mother her needlework is beautiful when we both know that it's far from worthy of the title. i love you when you're happy, when you're sad, and most of all when you're mad, most of the time at me. i love you, and i always will, dear heart. i'll never stop until my own heart does, and even then, i'm afraid you are stuck with me even in our life past this earth. never doubt my love for you, i'd stop the world from spinning if you asked me to."

anthony had fifty more instances to spout out, and possibly a hundred more, but he was cut off swiftly with y/n pulling at his hands, beckoning him to stand. with no warning, her lips met his, colliding in perhaps their most passionate act of affectionate to date. breaking apart, she rested her head on anthony's chest, the couple circling the gazebo in a sort of sway. surely it wasn't the most appropriate display of affection for a respectable couple, but the thought had not crossed either of their minds.

"tony?" y/n's small voice broke the silence.

"yes, my love?"

"do you know the moment i knew you were my love match?"

"i suppose i never asked."

"it was the first time you came to call upon me. i was shocked, initially, because i never had callers. the ones i did were for money prospects, hence the large dowry. i really had given up, and i figured i'd just marry whoever mama and papa picked for me, but then in comes this dark haired, disheveled viscount, carrying a bouquet of irises and wisteria. at first, i thought it was a mere coincidence that you had guessed my favorite flowers. it made my heart flutter, sure, but then i remember the most peculiar conversation i had with daphne the ball previous. then it all clicked, as you were there babbling about your sibling's favorite games to play, and something about you drew me in. i loved you from that very moment. knowing you had hounded your younger sister to figure out my favorite flowers, caught me off guard. it was simple, so simple, but no one had ever done that for me."

anthony chuckled, "i'd buy all the irises in the world, and grow wisteria over every brick on our home if it meant i got to keep you forever."

"you don't need that, anthony. i'm already yours forever."

[bridgertoncore]

Hiya! I saw your post for Benedict requests, so here I am! Can you please do an imagina where the reader is his wife and Benny is a wonderful father to his diamonds of children? I just imagine Ben to be the most perfect dad, having tea parties with his kids and teaching them how to paint 🥺 Thanks in advance! Xx

Thank you for sending this in! I love these sort of requests — I can’t wait to write it! I’ll get to writing it soon!