#bridgerton fic

[lydiimae]

Strains and Stresses

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x !fem reader

Warnings: Light hints at sex, mentions of drinking, the ton being cruel to the reader, Anthony fighting with the reader, old concepts about class and womanhood, a very icky insult thrown at the reader by Anthony, fluffy fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.8k

A.N: Hello my sweet loves <3 I am so sorry I have not updated in a while, I just finished finals so life has been hectic. Also- I got a job FINALLY T-T and, more importantly, the class that I was going to take during the summer fell through so I will have much more time to write! BTW THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLOWERS HOLY \^-^/. You are all so kind to me. Anyway, this is a fic based on a request that you can find here and here. I decided to mix the two, as it is a semi-angsty Ant fic that ends in fluff. I hope you enjoy my darling Anons. For those who have requested a fic, I promise they are coming! I am planning on knocking another one or two out next week, but I wanted to write a Ben fic before as he is a big comfort character for me and I need some of that energy lol. P.S. I listened to the slowed version of Futile Devices while I wrote this, because it is just what I imagine falling in love and loving would feel like. Enjoy <3

You adored working for Lady Danbury, who wouldn't? She is an incredible woman, and so very strong. You admired her, for being so independent. You thought that that would be the life you lead, alone and working out your days as a maid. Then, you met him.

Met would be the wrong word, it was more of... stumbling into him after a young debutante 'accidentally' ran into you. You knew who Anthony Bridgerton was, of course. His reputation preceded him. Many of your friends and fellow maids had spoken of how harsh, how blunt, how much of a rake, the Viscount was.

For you, however, he had never been brash nor cruel, nor had he ever lived up to his reputation. For you, he was kind, gentle, and even sweet. He had placed a steadying hand on your back and met your eyes and you knew it was over.

From then on at every ball Lady Danbury held, you would always follow him to the gardens, stealing kisses in her in-home library, and sharing stolen glances from across the ballroom. After the balls, he would take you to his townhouse and you would both spend hours speaking of your lives, your dreams, your troubles. He was nothing but a gentleman.

You tried your best to ignore the strange warmth that bloomed in your chest when you were with him. In a way, you always knew that you would end up with him. You believed that your lives were intertwined, like a string wrapped around your soul that only stopped tugging when you were near him. It was comforting.

He had expressed his love to you about seven months in, on a Sunday morning in bed. The yellow hue of the morning sunrise made it feel like you were in heaven, his hands running against your sides like you were made from the finest porcelain. He said it easily as if it was the most simple thing he had ever had to do. A simple "I love you." was murmured into your ear before his lips pressed against your forehead. Just as easily came the proposal, more of a promise, right there in the same bed.

It was simple, perhaps even plain, but not to you. To you, it showed he was comfortable enough to express his feelings, and his deepest wants, just to you. It was intimate, the light cascading down upon his skin as if he were a god, bringing out every contour and mark on his body.

After the announcement of your engagement, rumors spread like wildfire. Every house in Mayfair was a spark that made the fire grow, little trails of flame splitting off along the way until the fire was all-consuming. He had warned you that the rumors would be bad, that not many would express their support for the union of a maid and a Viscount. You just did not expect it to be so suffocating.

You found solace in his embrace, as you always did, spending countless nights wrapped in the silk sheets at his townhouse, listening to his whispers of affection and praise until they eased the tears that had spilled down your cheeks.

It went on like this for the three long months leading up to the wedding. You were married in the spring, surrounded by his loved ones as yours had passed long ago. It was small enough to feel the heavy weight of the ton lifted off of your shoulders, if only for a moment.

You honeymooned in Bath, spending time in the hillsides on worn blankets for hours, allowing your skin to be tanned by the sun. When you would go back to the villa you were staying at, you would spend the night wrapped in his bare embrace, relishing in the feeling of his skin upon yours. It was the most calming, loving, and divine three months of your life.

It has been almost eight months since the honeymoon ended. Six months of putting up with the cruel words spoken by members of the ton, of sticking to his side at balls just so you could try and shake the feeling of the many glares sent your way. Six months of learning not only what it is to be a Viscountess, but what it is like to be a noblewoman.

Anthony had spent a month teaching you the proper etiquette that came with being a noblewoman, a lot of it being common sense thanks to Lady Danbury's way of ruling around her home. However, there were some things you found to be too niche to remember. One thing was that a lady could not go out on a walk by herself.

As a maid, walks alone in the gardens of Lady Danbury's estate had become a part of your daily routine. You would often spend countless hours sitting beneath a willow tree flipping pages of a new book or you would walk around the grounds, seeking solace in the fresh air to clear your mind after a particularly hard day. You never snuck out alone, except to see Anthony, and even then you did nothing untoward, which is why it was so hard for you to remember this silly rule. It was one you forgot today, too.

"Thank you, Rose." You hum to your lady's maid as she finishes your hair. She smiles and curtsies in return. "Of course, my lady. You need only ask if you need anything else." She says before she walks out of the room. You sigh, the title the servants address you with will never not feel strange. You adjust your jewels before standing up and walking to the window.

You had been told as you woke that your husband would be in his study today, claiming he must work on the financial affairs, meaning you have the day to yourself. The view from the master bedroom was a gorgeous one, the windows overlooking the entirety of the lands that Aubery Hall encompassed. You smile to yourself, deciding to take a stroll, perhaps even find a spot to enjoy your new book of sonnets Anthony's brother gifted you.

You pluck the book in question off of your bedside table before walking down the grand staircase. The house, other than the footsteps of the servants, is quiet. No one around to stop you from enjoying some time outside, alone. You grab your parasol and open the door, stepping out into the summer air before making your way around the lands of the estate.

Anthony leans back in his desk chair, stretching out his limbs after finishing the last piece of paperwork he has on his desk. He takes a large swig of bourbon before standing up and moving to the window, pulling the curtains open.

He glances out over the sprawling hills of the estates, swirling the copper liquid in his glass as he takes in the view. As his eyes roam, he spots a small figure making their way up one of the hills. At first, he thinks it a servant, probably out to collect fresh flowers for his bedroom upon his wife's request, but when he glances again he sees your parasol. The one he brought back from one of his ventures to France.

He can feel himself getting angry. He had drilled this into your head one too many times, never be anywhere alone, not in public and not on private lands. The servants whisper, and their gossip spreads even faster than the gossip of the bloodthirsty Mamas of the ton. He downs the rest of his bourbon before slamming the glass on his desk. He rounds it and grabs his velvet jacket from its place on the back of his chair, slinging it around his shoulders before stomping out of the room.

You are just about to sit down when you hear the calling of your name from towards the estate. You look over your shoulder, leaning on your closed parasol, to find your husband hurriedly making his way over to where you stand.

At first, you think that something bad might've happened, perhaps he found something in the many documents that was awry, but you know that is not the case from the way he is walking. Stomping, rather. He is angry, furious even, so you try and wrack your mind to find what you have done to make him this angry.

Before you can he is upon you, one of his large hands encircling your wrists and dragging you away from the hill. "Anthony, do not grab me like some sort of brute!" You yelp, trying to tug away from his bruising grip, which he only tightens upon your plea. "I shall grab you however I wish." He snarls, making your eyes widen. "Be quiet until we are inside."

He tugs you along until you are both inside of his study, where he slams the door and locks it. You begin to speak but he quickly interrupts. "Have you any idea of what you could have just done by being out there, Y/N?!" He shouts, making you take several steps back in surprise. "I was only going for a walk." You whisper and he scoffs. "A walk alone, you foolish woman!" He continues, his voice only getting louder.

The insult sends anger through your veins. "You shall not insult your own wife for merely going outside!" You shout back and he narrows his eyes almost dangerously. "I have told you hundreds of times that you are not permitted outside without a proper companion, Y/N! Going against that is indeed foolish as I have hammered it into your head countless times!" He shouts. "I am not foolish! This is all new for me! I-" You start but he is quick to respond.

"New? That is rich! Utterly rich, because to me it has been eleven months! Eight of which you have been here, doing your duties as my Viscountess!" He shouts louder, on the verge of screaming. You press yourself against the wall opposite to him. "Did they not teach you anything in your time as a maid?! You still act like a common whore even though we have fought about this too many times to count! I am tired of it!" He shouts.

Common whore. The title cuts straight through you like a hot knife, the burns making your eyes well up with tears. The title has been used to spite you at every ball, in every gossip letter, and in every whisper you have heard in the last year. It does not hurt coming from them any longer, but from him? From your husband? It feels like he has damaged your very being.

You stand there stunned, watching his mouth move but hearing no words. "You think I am a common whore?" You whisper and he stops, looking at you. You are pressed against the wall, your arms hugging your frame, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. His body language visibly changes from that of an angered husband to a guilty one.

"Y/N I did not mean-" He begins but you shake your head. "You most certainly did mean it, it came out of your mouth!" You sob. "I was angry! I am angry!" He shouts, more in a desperate act now, wishing he could reverse time. "So?!" You shout, your gloved hands pressing into your bare arms. "I have never once insulted you like that! Never once used what has been said about you as a weapon for merely-" You laugh bitterly, shaking your head and looking away. "For merely going outside." You scoff.

He falters and visibly slumps in defeat. "It is foolish, but they will talk, Y/N. You know-" He begins quietly, but again you do not let him finish. "Yes, Anthony. They will talk, they will say the words you have just spoken to me." You say, wiping your eyes. "I forgot, and I know you have drilled every rule into my head but this is not the norm for me." You whisper

"When I was a maid, no, even when I was a little girl, I would go wherever I wished alone. I would pick up food at the market for my family, and take my brother to his job at the factory, and now I cannot even go outside alone? Upon my husband's private lands, no less?" You whisper. "So forgive me, Anthony, for forgetting rules that you and your siblings have grown up abiding by. I am trying to learn and remember them now, after living a very different life." You say, looking at your feet in an attempt to stop the tears. As if not looking at him will somehow ease the sting of his words.

He scoops you into his arms without thinking about it, pressing his forehead to yours. "Y/N, you know I did not mean it." He whispers and you frown, trying to tug away. "No, no. I might've meant it in the moment, and I know I cannot take it back." He amends, his hold on you tightening. Still, you refuse to meet his eyes. "Darling, please look at me. I swear I shall never say anything as cruel as what I did ever again." He whispers, his fingers curling around your chin so he can bring your gaze back to him.

When your eyes meet his he offers a sad smile, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. "It was cruel. No, no. Cruel is too kind of a word, it was vile, for me to utter such a word when speaking of my own wife." He whispers, his hand coming down to your cheek. "I swear to you that I mean it when I say I am sorry, you shall never know how sorry I am for saying something so disgusting to you."

He continues, his thumbs swiping away the tears that have now begun to flow again. "You are the most important thing to me. I have done a terrible job of showing you that today. I shall spend every day trying to ease the pain of my foolish words." He vows, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I know this is hard for you, the rules of society are so... foolishly strict for women and even I cannot imagine how much stress they are adding upon everything else" He murmurs, and you tug at his sleeve, willing him into an embrace.

You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and allow yourself to cry. "Shhh, Y/N. You are perfect, no matter your status." He whispers in your ear, running one of his hands up and down your back as the other rests on your hip. "I am not a good Viscountess, Anthony." You whisper and his grip on you tightens. "Hush. You are the perfect Viscountess, Y/N. The perfect Bridgerton." He promises.

"You have been learning so quick, one slip-up of an utterly foolish rule does not discount the many months where you have been perfect." He whispers, pressing his lips to the side of your head. "Neither do the words of your brutish husband." He teases quietly and your lips turn up a bit. "The gossiping Mamas will find another topic in time, my love. They are merely jealous that their daughters are still stuck without a husband while you are here." He murmurs and you nod.

He pulls back and cups your cheeks, watching your eyes flutter shut. "Better?" He whispers, running his thumbs along your cheekbones. You nod and he sighs in relief, bringing you closer to his chest. "I will never be able to express how sorry I am for saying that to you." He whispers. You smile, leaning into his touch and nodding.

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and wipes the remainder of your tears away before pulling back a bit. "We shall have a picnic." He whispers and you open your eyes, laughing. "We do not have to" You giggle and he grins, shaking his head. "Nonsense, we must. I have been cooped up inside all day and I wish to spend time with you, in the sunshine." He hums, pressing his lips to your nose.

An hour later you are both lying down on a lacy blanket, a picnic basket full of sweet treats. Two glasses of wine stand abandoned on the grass, being forgotten in a mess of kisses. Your head is resting on his chest, your hands clasped together over one of his legs. "I love you." He whispers, pressing a kiss to your brow. Your eyes are shut but you smile. "And I love you." You whisper back, falling asleep while bathed in sunlight.

How divine it feels to be loved by Anthony Bridgerton.

[newtonsheffield]

Chapter 9 of

head on the pillow, i could feel you sneaking in

Is on Ao3

[igotanidea]

Stuck: Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader

A/N: seriously, I almost titled this chapter "idiot" , XD (and that's also the spoiler alert XD)

part 1 to too much

part 2 : not enough

part 3 : almost there

***

One year ago

„When will you get those irrational thoughts out of your head Y/N?”

“What irrational thoughts?”

“About marriage out of love. No such thing exist in the world, my dear and if you do not start living in reality you shall become a spinster!”

“Mother!” Y/N’s eyes grew wide at the harsh and unjust words. She was still so young and to almost be called an old maid—

“Do not raise your voice young lady. You shall marry this season otherwise you would be putting our noble house in a very compromising position.”

“But-“

“Ah! Do not object your mother Y/N. You’ll do as I say. I know what’s best for you and you shall follow the lead. And that is precisely why you’ll accept when Lord Bridgerton proposes to you.”

“Lord Bridgerton!? Which one!?”

“The viscount, dear.” Her mother fluttered her fan imperiously. “Lord Anthony Bridgerton.”

“There is no possibility that I-“

“Hush!”

“Mother I –“

“You’ll say yes.” The tone of voice became much more commanding, leaving no space for discussion. It was like Y/N’s fate has already been decided.

“And why shall I? Because the viscount has decided he has enough pleasantries exchanged with modistes and actresses and other ladies free of the burden of the title. Because mighty Lord Bridgerton decided it is time to tie bounds with a young noble lady, who will be naïve and foolish enough to look at his antics without as much as a blink of an eye. Who will – dear lord – bear him an heir to the title and be the perfect little wife he would order around.”

“Y/N Y/L/N!” her mother raised from the chaise longue with cheeks flushed due to her daughter impertinence. “You will accept the proposal!”

“I will not!”

“Your father has already made the appropriate commitments!”

“Commitments!?”

“You shall be courted like a young lady should and get married in the fall.”

“Mother!”

“It has been decided. Now, you go and make yourself presentable. Lord Bridgerton has announced his visit in the afternoon.”

***

The visit was a disaster, to use the light words.

It was clear as day that neither Anthony nor Y/N were fully content with this arrangement and subconsciously tried to discourage the other. That way, when one of them would actually break it off, said one would be to blame for the disgrace, that would undeniably fall on both families.

However-

Despite some many character discrepancies they were both pertinacious and individualistic, ready to go the greatest length to have one’s own way. Neither of them was even thinking of surrendering easily.

Therefore, during his first appointment as a suitor Anthony was met with cold stares, minimum exchange of words and very noticeable distance on his future bride’s part.

Immediately matching the atmosphere and repaying in kind, only doubled in intensity.

Getting burned with the tea in response.

Causing a lot of havoc, many fake words of apologies and even more words of assurance that is must have been an unfortunate accident and he holds no grudge.

For obvious reason the time spend in L/N;s household was cut extremely short and Y/N was send to bed without supper to think about her erratic behavior.

Next few visits were no better.

Especially not the one when Anthony and Y/N were to reveal to a wide audience the nature of their acquaintance by strolling on the promenade, beaming with happiness due to their soon-to-be marriage.

“Dear lord, you are to be enthusiastic.” Anthony hissed in Y/N’s ear grabbing her arm with a bit more force than needed “Smile.”

She put on a fake grin when they were passing by some familiar face, but as soon as the woman was gone she turned to Anthony throwing daggers at him.

“Giving me orders already, Lord Bridgerton?”

“Hopefully you can be tempered if we start getting you used to it this early.”

“Oh! Perhaps it should be you to change the perspective my lord. See the real face of a lady you decided to meet at the altar?”

“And here I though your wonderful mother raised you better.”

“Do not dare speak of my mother the ill way!” she almost yelled, almost yanking her hand free from his grip, stopping the walk and challenging him to do something reckless.

“Forgive me.” He became serious in an instant and the words of apologies actually seemed honest. “You are right, I overstepped.”

“Thank you.” She responded with a deep sigh. God knows how much it took for her to stay calm. Regardless of the on-going conflict and differences in views between Y/N and her mother, the young woman would never let anyone offend her family. Not even Lord Bridgerton. And he should know that straight away.

“Perhaps we have started off the wrong foot, Lady Y/L/N.”

“I believe so. Seemingly we have a way to bring out the worst in each other, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Is that a way to tell me I have already seen you on your lowest behavior?”

“Compliments, Lord Bridgerton, you have endured my greatest efforts to cause you dispiritedness.” Despite herself she let out a chuckle.

“I am known for my endurance even in the least favorable circumstances.”

“I shall keep on my efforts, nonetheless.”

“I am deeply convinced that this will be the case”

***

Dearest gentle reader,

It has come to this writer’s attention that the affection between Viscount Bridgerton and young lady Y/L/N is in full bloom.

Despite the initial misunderstandings and noble behavior, that hasn't deceived any member of the ton, even if have been well played, recent news and observation has shown that maybe there's less pretending and more truth to it. 

Much to the ton’s discombobulation, young pair has been seen laughing together while the viscount resorted to courting in the way that resemble his late father and Lady Violet Bridgerton manner.

This writer daresay that no elite member would have ever do as much as dream of Lord Anthony Bridgerton picking meadow flowers for his chosen one while walking in the fields, away from prying eyes. Neither anyone would ever think about the forever dreamer lady Y/l/n actually so close to fulfilling her dream of marrying out of love. Irrational thoughts, as someone may put.

It is yet to be decided whether the on-going courtship between lord Bridgerton and lady Y/L/N will be a source of impending scandal in the society or whether those two will actually succeed in keeping this lovable atmosphere for following years.

After all – real love is not easily found and even less easily kept once the obstacles arise.

***

Now.

“You are to be enthusiastic.” Anthony murmured taking Y/N;s arm and bowing to the passing nobles “Smile.”

Those words brought back some memories and she couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of the history that was in fact repeating itself.

“What is so funny?”

“Your memory does seem so be failing my lord. Won’t you remember the last situation when you told me to express my happiness and contentment to the ton?”

“I—” Anthony cut off, letting out a deep, frustrated sigh.

“Seem like you do after all.”

“Y/N…”

“Been a while since I had to pretend I was content though, given the fact that I truly was, of late.” The hint of sadness and melancholy was not to miss and did not make it easier for Anthony to pursue on the apologies he was tirelessly pursuing.

“Y/N…”

“Good job on choosing the right name since the person, whose hand you are now holding for display seem to be too much for you, my lord. To say the full truth I am fairly surprised you chased me here instead of focusing on spending time with one of your-“

“Don’t you finish that sentence.”

“Oh, I shall not, god forbid. I shall keep the pretenses as any lady married into a good family will.” She send the brightest smile to some kids that were running around, preached by their parents, holding her walls up.

At this point, mockery and distancing herself from the entire unfortunate events, if not fight, was the only way to prevent the emotional and mental breakdown and falling into tears. She was hurt. She was deeply hurt on a level she never thought existed. Anthony’s behavior hit precisely in all the sensitive spots, leaving her overthinking and wailing inside. Reminding her of all the years in her family’s household, being forced to act according to the standards, which she constantly broke, defying all the rules of ossified society and paying a heavy price for being herself despite the odds.

Being called too much, constantly.

Until she met Eloise, which was freeing. Y/N could finally feel like herself, spending a lot of time with Bridgertons.

And then meeting Anthony.

And actually creating a happy story with him, believing she would once and for all be free of the typecasting and tag putting.

But he started behaving in the same way to which she was exposed her entire life.

Too much.

Not enough.

And it made her angry.

“Please do forgive me for not easily being shaped in the wife you want me to be.”

“Shaped? I never wanted you any different!”

“Is that so?” she raised an eyebrow teasingly and it got her furious glance of her husband’s and the tightening bruising grip on her wrist. “you’re hurting me. Again.” The emphasis put on the last word actually made Anthony realize that he was not made of stone, but the words he wished to say were not coming easily.

“Y/N…” he clenched his jaw. She was mocking and challenging him even now, when he was trying to admit he was wrong and trying to apologize for the wrongdoings.

“Yes, my lord?” she took a step back, smiling in that light way that made him even more furious.

 “I believe you wanted to spend time on an intellectual conversation with my sister. Forgive me-“ he bowed in a distant manner reserved for strangers rather than spouses “-for being as impertinent to interrupt ladies’ time. I shall withdraw and leave you to continue on your – surely important- exchange”

And with those words, much to the shock of not only Y/N, but also Benedict and Eloise, who were still following them, Anthony bowed again and started walking away, raising clouds of dust due to the speed with which he rushed off from the place where he left his beloved wife.

Feeling the weight of failure and heartbreak on his shoulders, without a single way to make up for his mistake and keeping the face of a viscount at the same time.

Convinced that she hated him and there was no way to regain her favor and affection.

next part (finale!) : Just right

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[infiniteimaginings]

Could you write some angsty Anthony bridgerton x wife reader. Maybe he took his anger out on her cus he was stressed or something.💋😭😫🩷

A Loving Marriage (Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Anthony had married you, he adored you during your courtship. He showed his affections through floral arrangements, joyous laughter, your dance card always had his name first. When he married you though, some things changed. He would be warm, but it slowly dimmed. He was always in his office, he never spoke to you, why does he do so? Pronouns: You/Yours, She/Her Warnings: Angst Word Count: 4.0k A/N: I love angst, I love it! I looked at this request three times, midnight struck, and I turned into a writing goblin.

It had been a nice day, you had finally drawn your husband, Anthony Bridgerton, out of the house to have a delightful picnic with you. The two of you were discussing anything but pressing matters, laughing, eating the small sandwiches, drinking the sweet but tart lemonade. Occasionally your fingers would touch, a burst of energy escaping into your bodies until your fingers interlocked, accepting the warmth with open arms.

The sun was shining brightly, the clouds perfect white and fluffed into shapes the two of you pointed out and playfully teased each other for. The slight tilt of his head when you spoke of a cloud being shaped as one thing, his squinted eyes and scrunched nose were all that mattered to you. The way the sun kissed his skin and a few freckles had come to light, it was so beautiful to you, he was so beautiful.

When Anthony turned his gaze to you from the heavily brightened sky, the corners of his eyes crinkled with the smile he gave you. His toothy grin was matched with him asking, “What is it?” You paid no mind to the question, simply smiling at your husband, your heart warming as you stared at him in adoration. You shook your head, “I just love you.” You told him, the comment making him smile wide, his teeth showing in his grin. The day was beautiful, and neither of you could deny that fact. To make the day even more beautiful, flowers were spread around your blanket on the ground, showing proof of spring.

You began to ramble a bit about the newest items you saw in the shop, Anthony just listening with loving eyes. A bee had hummed and buzzed as it circled around your head, when Anthony noticed he straightened up, his eyes widening a bit in fear. He went to move the dreadful creature from you but the bee had found its attention with him instead, buzzing around his head. Anthony had fallen still, horrified.

Anthony had just returned from shooting with his father, Edmund Bridgerton. The elder man had clasped his shoulder, telling him that in due time he will be able to show someone his best. He gave him a truthfully meaningful message about having to show someone your worst before you can show them your best, but the message didn’t stay in Anthonys head very long.

The elder had noticed a group of vibrant purple Hyacinths within their gardens, his wife's favorite flower. He decided to pick the flowers with a hum, expressing how Anthonys mother would love them. The younger boy laughed and began to pick a few himself, his father standing up, swatting a very persistent bee, Anthony shaking his head playfully. He expressed how his younger sister would be quite jealous until he noticed his father had not responded.

”Father?” Anthony spoke, turning to Edmund, the man was touching his neck. “The bloody thing stung me.” He told his son, moving his hand a bit with a twitch of his mouth. A bee sting didn’t mean much, so Anthony nodded and continued to pick a few flowers until his father began to gasp for breaths. Anthony stood, walking to Edmund, “Father, what is it?” He asked, and that question would be repeated a multitude of times with no verbal response.

Edmund Bridgerton had turned to his son, a bright red patch on his neck where the bee stung him, his face extremely pale, his eyes almost black as he struggled to breathe. Anthony watched his father struggle for air and collapse into his arms. He couldn’t even hear when he yelled for someone to help, he didn’t even hear when his pregnant mother, Violet Bridgerton, had come running down the small hill after seeing them through the open door in the back of their home.

Everything happened so fast and all Anthony could process was his father reaching up to cup his mothers cheek one last time, before his hand fell and the light left his eyes. Edmund Bridgerton died that day, Violet Bridgerton became a widow that day, he and his siblings lost their father that day.

Anthony was abruptly snapped out of his thoughts when you swatted the bee away mindlessly. You hummed with a breathless chuckle, “You know it’s spring when the bees are out.” you spoke, looking in the basket for another small snack, unaware of the daze Anthony had just been in. He blinked a bit, looking around as he deeply inhaled, trying not to ruin your nice moment. He clapped his hands to his knees, “Well then.” He began, “I think I have some paperwork to attend to.” He told you, standing up and brushing himself off. You looked up rather quickly from your spot on the blanket, “Can’t it wait? We were having such a nice time.” You said, pouting ever so slightly.

He shook his head, leaning down to you, pressing his lips to yours in a short kiss. “Unfortunately it can not, enjoy the rest of the picnic.” He spoke hastily, walking back into the home, leaving you alone to watch the sky.

Days had passed, Anthony had not joined you again for a picnic, nor had he joined you for any sort of meal after that day. You didn’t understand why he felt the need to lock himself in his office, what was so interesting about paperwork he could tend to at any time? You were worried for him, you knew the footmen in the household brought him food, you just weren’t sure if he ate any of it.

With that, you decided to pay your husband a visit. You dismissed the footman at the door and simply knocked, a muffled ‘Come in’ came from the other side of the door. You gently opened it, smiling sweetly at Anthony who looked up at you, expressionless. You closed the door behind you, observing your surroundings and your husband who sat behind a desk, papers piling it. He looked like he hadn’t slept, if he had then he looked like her hadn’t slept well.

You walked to him, slow steps, the heels of your shoes sounding muffled as they clicked upon the polished floors. “You’ve locked yourself away.” You told him, standing in front of his desk, fingers twiddling in front of you. Anthony kept his eyes on you, quill pen in hands, plenty of papers around that needed signatures. He cleared his throat, “Well, some matter can not be left.” He told you simply, head looking back down to his work.

You walked around the desk, hands smoothing along his shoulders, he tensed more than relaxed. “You need a break.” You hummed to him, gently pressing your hands into the blades of his shoulders. Anthony leaned his head back into the chair, sighing, “I’m sorry my love, I just have so much work to do.” He told you with closed eyes, his mouth in a frown. Your expression mirrored his and you turned his chair a bit, taking his hands in yours. “We should go to town, go for a walk.” You suggested, “Maybe we could pick some flowers and visit your family.” You continued on, hands holding his slightly larger ones in yours.

You saying that seemed to invoke some sort of reaction from your husband, he removed his hands from you, “No.” He spoke harshly, turning back to the papers. You huffed, trying to get him to look at you, he wouldn’t budge. “Why do you refuse to spend time with me? Is your paperwork that important?” You pressed on, standing at his side, pure disbelief on your face.

Anthony put his clenched fists on the desk, “Yes, it is!” He spoke loudly, not looking at you. “You are interrupting very pressing matters, so go.” He told you, head turning to you ever so slightly, one hand raised to point to the door.

The outburst had shocked you, you stood there with a hand to your chest, a frown on your face, tears threatening to prick your eyes. “Anthony I merely hoped…” You began, trying to find the words, instead you found yourself stumbling over them. Anthony shook his head, hand to his temple as he looked back down to the papers, “I care not for your wishes, leave!” HeYou stood up straight, swallowing harshly with a small sniffle. You bowed your head to him, “Of course Mr. Bridgerton.”You spoke, walking out the room, hands clasped together and head held high as you left him alone to his work.

Anthony had not come to the bedroom that night and you had not visited his office for the rest of the day. Neither of you had come down for dinner, eating respectively in separate rooms.

The next day, mid afternoon, you walked into the office area with a tea tray. Typically, a maid would bring it in for you, but you had seemed to reject the idea and believed you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself. Anthony had heard the sound of the door opening, no knock, no announcement. He looked up and saw you setting the tea tray on the low table in front of the seats in the office. The tray had two teacups and saucers, a teapot with freshly brewed tea, a sugar bowl, a milk jug, and a strainer. All of which were porcelain with multicolored, delicately painted flowers and the Bridgerton name along the side.

Anthony sighed deeply, he didn’t look irritated, he just looked tired. “ Did I not tell you to leave me be?” He asked since you had not greeted him. You didn’t look at him as you prepared your cup of tea, “That is such a way to speak to your wife Mr. Bridgerton.” You spoke sarcastically, stirring in your sugar and taking a small sip to see if it were to your tastes. A warm smile formed on your face after you drank the warm liquid, sitting comfortably in the chair a little ways across from Anthony's desk, a table in the way of you being directly in front of his desk.

Anthony clasped his hands together, elbows on the desk, “What are you doing?” He asked, lips pursed. You placed your cup on the saucer, “If you truly believe I will let you sit in this office and rot,” You spoke, finally looking at him, “you are gravely mistaken.” You told him, expressionless. Anthony tilted his head to the side, he didn’t believe he was ‘rotting’ in the office space, but he couldn’t speak since you beat him to it. “I shall remain here and tend to you until you see fit to conduct yourself as a gentleman.” You stated, hands in your lap, straightening your posture, “Or to put sourly,” You began, “an adult.”

“Do not treat me like a child.” Anthony told you, hands dropping back to the desk, no movement towards the quills.

“Then do not act like one.”

“What has prompted this?”

You pretend to think for a moment, pulling up your hand to count, “Your blatant disregard for your wife in your own home,” You spoke as you put up a finger, “your refusal to acknowledge her presence or engage with her” you continued, putting another finger up, “or even talk to her.” You finished, putting up the last finger, slightly glaring at him.

There was silence from Anthony as he bit the inside of his cheek, twitching his nose. Due to the silence, you continued to speak, “I vowed to cherish and support you through all, but I will not endure your silence.” You explained, shaking your head a bit with your words. Anthony sighed, moving a few papers out of his way, “You are aware that traditionally wives do not-”

“You did not marry me due to my traditional nature.”

There was more silence from your husband until he ran a hand through his hair. “You will not leave until I discuss ill with you?” He asked, seeming to be contemplating the idea that he just spoke into existence. You nodded, “Precisely.”

“Very well, let’s discuss ills.”

The Bridgerton man stood from his desk and strode to sit next to you. You gestured to the tea and he shook his head, leaning forward, clasping his hands. His leg shook and tapped the floor as he struggled to find the words, “My fathers death left my mother heartbroken, she never remarried.” He spoke suddenly. The words confused you a bit, was that why he had been so closed off? You turned to him fully, crossing your leg over the other, “Your mothers strength,” You began, taking a breath, “is commendable.” You commented, the Brdigerton in front of you chose not to look at you but he nodded. “She said her love for your father was true and her devotion for your father lies strong.” You continued on, thinking about the older woman and how powerful she was for standing strong for her children. “She does not need to marry if she does not wish to.” You completed your thought at his words about his mother.

Anthony put his hands on his knees, straightening himself. He sucked his teeth, “I understand that,” He told you, “but you do not understand how she flinches when they refer to her as Dowager.” He continued on.

At parties they would announce Violet Bridgerton as Dowager VIscountess Bridgerton, and they have for the many years since Edmund Bridgerton had passed.

“My mother remains a widow.” Anthony continued, voice slightly cracking when he thought about the way his mothers hand would tighten around his arm when someone greeted her as ‘Dowager’.

You nodded in understanding, no matter how strong Violet was, it still hurt. You just didn’t process why that caused him to pull from you. “Nevertheless, I am not,” You told him, the words causing him to look put his face in his hands, “hence my lack of understanding of your coldness and sudden refusal to be with me.” You spoke, staring right at him, hands in your lap picking at your nails.

“What if you find yourself a widow?” Anthony asked suddenly, now fully turned to you.

“Pardon me?” You asked blankly, brows furrowed, lips slightly parted.

“What if you find yourself to be a widow?” He repeated, slightly differently.

“If you suspect you may act recklessly, you must inform me at once." You told him cautiously, hand moving towards him, but he pulled back. "My father's passing was but a consequence of being outdoors.” He stated blankly, eyes staring forward, distantly. He never talked about his father's death, it wasn’t a topic he was very open about. “He committed no recklessness, yet the heavens saw fit to claim him.” Anthony's hands were beginning to shake before he clenched them into fists, “A virtuous man, struck down."

“Anthony-”

“What if I do not live a graciously long life?” He asked, head snapping to you, “What if I meet my end, just as young as my father?” He asked another question that you had no answer to other than, “Anthony you will live a long life-”

He stood abruptly, face red, eyes watering, “How could you possibly know that!” He yelled at you, “You do not!” He continued to yell, face such an angry red it almost scared you. He didn’t seem angry though, his eyes were filled with fear, he was scared. You did not expect him to yell or be so emotional, it hurt you deep in your heart to see him look so terrified about what could happen.

Anthony began to pace, hands in his hair and desperately pulling at his collar. “I didn’t even wish to marry,” He told you, seemingly muttering to himself. “I feared leaving my wife alone, especially if we were to have children.” He continued, not gazing at you at all.

You stood, slowly walking to him, “Yet, here you continue to stand,” You said, “alive,and wed.” You reminded him, concern flowing through you as he paced.

He stopped walking, looking at the wedding ring on his finger. “My mother was left with eight children to raise alone.” He mumbled, having to clear his throat from how low he was speaking. “I, the eldest, lost my father when I was eighteen left to carry his title and responsibility.” He spoke to you, reminding himself of all the information he didn’t know when he was eighteen and how he had to figure it all out, how he had to be the man of the house at such a young age. “I do not wish for you and our future child to endure the same fate.”

You were quiet, “Then why did you marry me?” You whispered, your expression was slightly crinkled but you were listening. Anthony had turned to you, a soft but sad expression on his face. He gently held your hands, looking into your eyes. “My affection for you was undeniable.” He confessed, cupping one of your cheeks with his large hand, a bit of sweat dripping down his forehead from being so worked up. “It was so difficult to be inexplicably in love with you and watch for you to have other suitors.” He continued, drawing a breath, “I was drawn to you, as a moth to flame.”

You licked your lips, “Yet, you still harbor fears of leaving me-”

“The responsibility of children and a title you cannot shed unless you remarry.” He interrupted you, thumbs rubbing at your cheeks. He looked at you desperately, desperate for you to understand how he was feeling, but you could not. “Which I have no intention to do.” You retorted to his comment, he is the only man you believe you’ll ever love and nothing will change that.

Anthony nodded, dropping his hands from your face. He remembered how he wasn’t there for his mother, for his family sometimes. “I acknowledge that I was a challenge to deal with for my mother.” He spoke, and you were aware of such things. He had admitted these feats to you during your courtship, during small corners of vulnerability. “I just do not wish for you to face similar struggles alone.” He finished his thought, ultimately refusing to meet your gaze as he found the bookcases to be far more interesting.

You shook your head, “She did not endure it alone.” You stated matter-of-factly. Anthony looked up, eyes blinking in confusion, “What?” He asked you, so you continued. “Your mother, she had you, she had Benedict, Colin, Daphne. All of her children were her solace and support.” You expressed to him, reminding him of all of his siblings. They all had each other, they were all her shoulder to cry on just as she was theirs.

Anthony sighed for the thousandth time within that conversation, “We were not easy children.” He told you. Eloise didn’t wish to marry, he had been such a terrible man of the house in the beginning, Benedict did not wish for the responsibility, Colin rushed into things too quickly, Daphne had so much going on when she was named the diamond of the season, his younger siblings couldn’t even fathom the world they were in.

“No child ever is.” You told him simply, holding his hand gently. This time, he did not pull away.

You smiled at him, kissing his cheek gently and pulling back to look him into his eyes. “Now,” You started, letting out the puff of air that was compressing your chest the entire conversation. “I’d prefer if we do not speak the subject of your demise as if it were to greet us at dawn.” You told him, the comment causing him to chuckle a bit, holding your hand a little tighter. “You will come down for dinner and we will enjoy a meal together.” You told him and he nodded, “I will be down in a moment, I shall see the papers are put away first.” He spoke, looking around to all the papers scattered on his desk and some even on the floor.

You left him to the papers and asked your maid to get dinner started, the woman asking if there were any preferences you wanted. The door had closed and Anthony was soon left alone.

Once the door had closed Anthony had begun to gasp for breath, unbuttoning the top of his shirt for air. His chest began to have as he leaned against the door, tears filling his eyes. He furiously wiped at them, trying so hard to push them back but he couldn’t stop them when a choked sob left his lips. His hands were shaking when they reached his face to wipe at his eyes hurriedly. The topic of conversation was difficult, you were so sure that the two of you would grow old together with your children, that you would not have to worry about being a widow, but Anthony was not so sure.

Everyday he saw a little bit of his father in himself and it terrified him. Such a good man was taken from the world by something as simple as a bee and it scared Anthony of everything around him. Sure, before he was not scared of death, even going as far as to call for a duel where he was prepared to die for his sister's honor. But now, he had you, and he did not wish to leave you.

Anthony shakily clasped his hands in a prayer, praying for all the time in the world to be with you. Praying for more time than his father had, praying for a chance. He muttered small prayers, “Please, I just wish to be with her, I will never ask for anything else.” He cried out quietly, eyes closed, tears pouring from his eyes. “I just want time, time with her, please.” He begged quietly, his prayers in reflection to how lonely he saw his mother was. She had so many children but he knew that his mother wished for his father to be there to help her everyday.

A knock had sounded at the door, the noise caused Anthony to stand quickly and rush to the other side of the room with documents, back to the door. He cleared his throat, sniffling one last time, “Enter.” He spoke, the door opening.

“Lord Bridgerton, dinner is served.” A footman had announced, standing in the doorway.

Anthony put the documents away, wiping his tears without the man noticing. “I shall be there in just a moment's time.” He told the man, putting some documents into the drawers. The man nodded and closed the door, going to inform you of the comment.

The door closed once more and Anthony felt his legs were so weak that he had almost collapsed into the furniture. One of his hands gripped the edge of the drawer, the other clawing at his chest. He felt as if every time he took a breath his chest would tighten, he felt nauseous, dizzy. The room was spinning and his vision was blurry from his tears. It almost seemed as if he were dying, but he was not, everything felt like so much but nothing was happening.

It all felt like too much.

He tried to take a few more deep breaths, the pain ceasing and his vision returning back to normal. He slowly exhaled, blinking and wiping his tears. He clenched his jaw as he stood up straight, muttering some words of ‘man of the house’, ‘loving husband’, ‘time’. He couldn't connect the words even if he tried, all he knew was that he was going to dinner.

All he knew was that his father's words rang in his head, but he kept shaking them from his mind. “You cannot show someone your best without allowing them to see your worst.” If only his father had told him how difficult it was to show someone your worst. How frightening it was to show true vulnerability, to find the words to explain feelings you don’t even understand fully yourself.

[sixx-sixx-sixx]

LADY BRIDGERTON - Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader (smut)

Summary: Reader has been married to Anthony Bridgerton for too long, it feels, although it has only been a few years. In that short time, not only has he only touched her naked body once, but he comes home most nights smelling of sweat and another woman’s perfume. Lady Whistledown has caught wind of this, and the gossip sends Lady Bridgerton over the edge. Anthony takes the time to give his wife exactly what she’s asking for.

Warnings: smut; badly written smut lol; infidelity; arguments about infidelity; possibly out of character anthony; I’ve only watched season 1 of Bridgerton; breeding kink; unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it but this is a married couple); female reader/use of she/her pronouns; as always, proofread to the best of my ability

“Do you wish to make a fool of me?” Anthony leaned down to whisper in his young wife’s ear, a firm hand grabbing her elbow as he interrupted her conversation with a young man from Russia, or Hungary. He didn’t pay much mind to the boy so much as the woman who bore his last name, fully aware of the way she had been subtly flirting with many men that night. Taking count of the glasses of bubbles she had — she was nursing her fourth flute, Anthony had decided it was enough.

Don’t make a scene.

Lady Bridgerton felt an intense urge to strike her husband across his cheek, how dare he accuse her of making a fool out of him. All evening she had overheard whispers of Anthony’s name from nasty gossipers. The young Bridgertons had been the central characters in the latest edition of Lady Whistledown. Rumor has it that Lord Bridgerton had continued an affair with a certain singer, without bothering to hide it from his young wife. Even worse? Lady Bridgerton knew, as they all knew, and never seemed to let the truth affect how she presented herself to those around her.

“Would you like me to answer that truthfully, my dear husband?” She turned her gaze towards him, her eyes alight with a burning fury towards the unfaithful man she had devoted her life to. She jerked her arm away from his grip and started to lift the glass to her painted lips. Anthony grabbed the dainty piece of glass and shook his head, “I think you’ve had enough. It’s time for you to go home.”

A bitter laugh escaped her mouth before she could stop it, as a few heads turned to observe the titular couple. “If that is your wish, Mr. Bridgerton.” She turned on her heel and started to make her way out to the cold air, cursing herself for leaving her coat in the carriage. She didn’t even bother to wait for her husband to catch up as she informed the valet they would be leaving.

The carriage ride to the estate wasn’t anything special. She would sit and seethe in silence during the ride, her eyes burning a hole through Anthony’s forehead as he sat across from her. The argument began once the couple was behind the safety of their bedroom door, standing in front of each other with defenses up. “We have been married for two years, Anthony! Two years and the only time you have touched me was on our wedding night. Yet every night you come home, to OUR bed, smelling like some whore’s perfume! I am left to listen to the ton gossip about MY empty bed!” She nearly hissed the words to punctuate her accusations. Anthony had never seen such an outburst from the young woman, she had never spoken to him like that before. She was standing before him, the drinks she had at the ball fueling her anger and simultaneously allowing the anger to sober her head.

“I know that I wasn’t who you wanted to marry, I understand that this was just a beneficial arrangement for you. But I expect that as the woman who now holds your family name, who will one day bear your children, that you could at the very least respect me!” She was angry that he had just stood there and watched her yell, but at the same time, she wouldn’t let him get a word in.

“You cannot expect me to be a dutiful wife and lady if you refuse to grant me at least the tiniest shred of dignity. You, sir, make a fool of yourself, I am merely seeking that same kind of attention you seek from Siena.” Her voice dripped with sickly sweet venom as she spat the woman’s name.

Anthony allowed the woman to speak her mind on his infidelity, finally admitting to himself that he had been unfair to her. He frequently came into their room in the middle of the night when he expected the woman to be asleep. In the beginning of the marriage, he had at least tried to hide the evidence, changing his clothes before he climbed under the blankets next to her. Now, she was accustomed to him laying down beside her without even taking off the shirt that was stained with Siena’s stage makeup and that reeked of her pungent perfume.

“I do not understand, Anthony. I can come to terms with a loveless marriage, but I am so exhausted by knowing you’re giving her that kind of attention, and I have remained loyal to you despite the obvious signs of your affair-“ her rant was abruptly cut short when Anthony floated over to her, his hands gripping her cheeks with fervor as he crashed his lips to hers. Taking only a moment to stand in shock, she pressed her lips back against his, her hand reaching to grip onto the front of his overcoat. Desperately reaching for more, trying to edge him closer to their bed but ultimately allowing him full control over her mind, body and soul. She let out a disappointed whimper when his lips parted from hers, his face inches from her own.

“What is it that you want from me, woman? You wish for me to touch you the way I touch her? Or do you believe my hands to be too stained?” She hated how close his lips were, desperately trying to reach forward as he spoke his mind. She didn’t really care how improper the words sounded as they came from his mouth, because she DID want him to touch her- not just touch, she wanted him to fuck her the way he fucked his mistress.

She took a moment to find her words, not expecting her confrontation to lead to this moment. “Anthony, I am your wife. All I want is for you to- to fuck me the way a husband fucks his wife.”

Understanding that he had a year’s worth of missing passion to make up for, and seeing that deep down he had no other choice than to obey the woman before him, he easily obliged. In this moment, Siena didn’t exist to him. He was purely focused on making sure his duties as a husband were thoroughly taken care of. Tonight, he would go to sleep smelling of his wife’s soft scent, making sure to cover the woman in marks of his affection.

Little time was wasted in getting their clothes off. A mess of hands clashing together to try and undo buttons and layers and loops, the couple grasping at each other as though they were desperate for the other as a life source.

Anthony paused for a moment to admire his lady’s body in the soft candlelight, letting his hands first run over the delectable curve of her hips, trailing up her sides before settling on her supple breasts.

“I’m sorry that I have spent so long torturing you, making you only imagine my hands touching you like this. I promise, my lady, I will do a much better job at attending to whatever it is you wish from me.” Anthony promised as his eyes stayed locked with hers. Her pupils were blown wide, and he realized he didn’t even know what color her irises were meant to be. He told himself he’d be a better husband to her after this, wanting to ensure her place in society as his wife. He’d fuck her full of his seed tonight, and every night after that, to make sure that Lady Whistledown could never accuse him of neglecting his wife’s desires again.

“Please, my lord, please--“ Lady Bridgerton sounded deliciously desperate, and it excited Anthony in a way that he had never experienced in his years-long affairs with Siena. It spurred him to plunge his cock deeper into his wife, his hand pushing her thigh down to her shoulder as he positioned her to angle himself deeper. She would probably think about the pressure against her cervix for the rest of her life, praying to God that she’d be able to experience this side of her husband for the rest of their lives together.

“What is it that you want, Lady Bridgerton? Tell me with words, my love, I want to hear you say it.” In this close position he could make sure she could look into his eyes to see he was genuine in this moment.

She was surprised at his stamina and determination tonight, focused more on her body than chasing his own release. A complete contrast to their wedding night, she felt like he treated the consummation as a chore. This was a much, much better experience. She had lost count of the times he had made her cum tonight, and the ways he had coaxed her orgasms from her.

“Anthony- Christ! Please don’t stop, want you to fuck me full til i’m round with your child-“ her voice was ragged and on the verge of giving out after not holding back a single sound. She didn’t care how pathetic she sounded begging for what seemed like the bare minimum from her husband.

Anthony leaned down to capture her lips in a messy kiss, reaching down to grab her hand that was tangled in the sheets beneath her. He caught any noises that escaped her, the sounds muffled against his own mouth, moving to hold her hand above her head. She clutched at his hand and whimpered his name as his hips stilled after a few sloppy thrusts, thick ropes coating her walls.

Anthony stayed put for a moment so as to not waste a drop, pulling his lips from hers before ghosting them over the hammering pulse in her neck. He gently maneuvered her pliable body into a resting position, slowly pulling himself from her and getting up from the bed.

After he had gently cleaned up the mess he had made of the woman, Anthony peppered soft kisses over her stomach as he made his way up to lay down next to her. She instantly curled into his chest and closed her eyes, taking her time in coming down from the cloud she was on. She could feel his fingers gently combing through her mussed hair, the sensation slowly bringing her back to earth.

“Are you alright, Lady Bridgerton?” Anthony spoke softly to not spook her, his arms locked safely around her keeping her pressed to his body. Her lips quirked into a smile and he took notice of the way her cheek dimpled, his thumb moving to stroke over the small impression.

“I am absolutely content, Lord Bridgerton.” She opened her eyes to look up at her husband’s face. Anthony smiled as he kissed her again, a kiss so tender that nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“I may not be the perfect husband, but I vow to do better by you. I will end things with Siena and tend to the parts of you that I’ve been neglectful of.” Anthony made a promise to her after he had pulled away. His wife reached up to grab his hand in hers, moving it to press a gentle kiss to his knuckles before she spoke.

“You can use all of the sweet words that you want, you’ll still have to prove yourself with actions.” She squeezed his hand gently, “But I think this has been good start.”

[daughterofyore]

How would George behave while you were pregnant?

a/n;; a little headcannon about how George would act while you, his queen were pregnant. summary;; George caring for you and how I believe he would treat you throughout your queenly pregnancy.

contents;; sickening amount of fluff, almost smothering amount of love, pregnancy, birth, !!W!!;; vomiting

wc;; 566 music inspo;; falling in love

In the early stages of your pregnancy he would be an excited mess. Constantly asking if you were sure you were pregnant, just because he wanted to make sure he was being blessed with a little baby.

When a doctor would arrive to confirm the pregnancy, he would be at your side. Peppering your knuckles and cheek with kisses. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear, only loud enough for you to hear.

He would demand you move to his room so that he may take care of you. He wouldn’t trust the staff to care for you and would adopt the jobs of helping you dress, get baths etc. Nothing would stop him caring for his wife and the mother of his child.

The morning sickness would break his heart, seeing you convulsing above a toilet bowl. He would be by your side in moments, in fact if he was busy and heard you weren’t feeling well he’d sprint to be by your side.

He’d hold your hair back as you are sick, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back. Giving you gentle encouragement.

“That’s it dearest, you’ll be okay.”

“I am here my love.”

“Once this has passed I’ll wrap you up and lay with you.”

He’d be an absolute fiend when it came to baths. He’d be so doting, carefully filling the bath with warm water and topping it off with different (safe) dried flowers.

He’d wash you, allowing you to just relax.

He’d constantly be touching your growing belly, speaking to the baby growing inside.

“Hello my little darling. I am so excited to meet you.”

At night he’d hold you close, even in his sleep he’d be reaching for you and pulling you to be flush with him. His hand would almost always be splayed across your stomach.

He’d pay special attention to foods which made you sick and the cravings. He’d take it upon himself to go and retrieve your cravings from the kitchen, even going as far as too learn how to make them. He’d take lessons with the chef to make sure they tasted great.

Anything you wanted, whenever you wanted you can be sure he’d be making it happen.

He’d set up a comfy nook in the observatory, as the pair of you lay down he’d point to different stars and tell you their names. He’d trace constellations with his index finger.

When it came time to give birth he’d race to your side, probably coming from a meeting or a kingly duty.

If anyone tried to stop him from entering the room he’d diminish them to nothing, ripping into them. How dare they try to prevent him from being by your side, he’d push by them and deal with them later.

As you would be in labour he’d be on the bed at your side, holding you and brushing your hair out of your face. He would encourage you to no end.

He’d be nervous, but extremely excited to see his little family grow together.

He would be so proud of you, pressing little kisses to your forehead. His heart would break at seeing you in pain, though.

When it would be all said and done and the baby would cry, he’d cradle it as he lay beside you. His heart swelling with love at seeing his perfect child and beautiful wife at his side.

[frost-queen]

All about the heart (Reader & Bridgerton Siblings)

Requested by: @mariexoxosblog, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @cherrysxuya

Summary: Reader has a heart defect where you have a hard time breathing whilst running with your siblings.

Chatter filled the park as the Bridgerton’s arrived. Anthony in the front, looking over his shoulder to reply to Colin’s remark. Francesca running past him with Gregory. Eloise and Benedict walking side by side in silence. Francesca with mama as Daphne had her arm around you. Some gents and ladies turned their heads at the sudden disturbance of peace. – “Gregory! Hyacinth! Stay close!” – Violet called out seeing they were running off.

Hyacinth giggled loud, turning around to run up to Anthony. Anthony paused, blocked her way and picked her up to her dislike. She called it out when she got lifted up. Her complaints ending in laughter as Anthony set her back down. Gregory ran up to the tent, claiming the first chair as his by letting himself fall into it. Benedict jogged over to him.

Whistling loud with a nudge against his leg to get off. – “This is my seat.” – Gregory said stubborn. Benedict set his hands on the arms of the chair, leaning in. – “Go help mama.” – he replied with a cheeky smile. Gregory stared annoyed at him as Benedict kept nudging him to get up.

Gregory got up going over to Violet as Benedict sat himself down smiling. Francesca rounded him with crossed arms. – “You are the worst.” – she commented with half a smile. Benedict shrugged his shoulders, glad he had a good chair. Daphne saw another one of the folding chairs leading you to it. She sat you down happily.

She then went over to Colin to assist him into spreading out a blanket. Benedict grabbed the arms of his chair, hopping his chair closer to yours so that he could face you. – “Comfortable sister?” – he asked. You nodded. Benedict held his hand low with a luring smirk. You slapped your hand down on his with a laugh.

Benedict grabbed for you, tickling you. You squirmed against his grip, already feeling it come up. Feeling how hard your heart was pumping to get the blood flowing around your body. Your breathing becoming deeper, getting worn out. Anthony noticed it, running over. He slapped Benedict against his back to stop.

Benedict moved his hands up, looking questionable at Anthony’s glare. It gave you the time to seat yourself better and catch your breath. Immediately you were worn out. Anthony knelt before you, laying a hand on your knee.  – “Are you alright Y/n?” – he asked. You hummed loud, still trying to steady your breathing. It always took a while to do so. – “I’m not fragile.” – you said to your big brother with a smile.

Anthony took your hand, looking fondly up to you. – “No, but you mustn’t forget your limits.” – he reminded you. Benedict felt a bit guilty. He just wanted to have fun, like he did with Hyacinth or Gregory. You saw the sudden silence and guilt on his face. You moved Anthony aside to get to Benedict. Wrapping your arms around him. – “Thank you for not treating me any different.” – you whispered to him. Benedict hugged you back.

It wasn’t easy being different from your different. A heart defect they called it. A default in the heart that made it easier for you to get worn out. Your heart needing to put in that little extra effort to get the blood flow around your body. Gregory came over, tugging at Anthony. – “Come play!” – he said, pulling Anthony away. You waved him away, letting him know, you would be alright. – “I’ll just settle with my notebook.” – you told him.

Benedict re-arranged the chairs so that you were sitting beside each other. He took out his sketchbook and pencil. You opened your notebook scribbling down words. Poets. Little stories you loved to write out. Colin joined Anthony, Gregoy and Hyacinth by the tent for a game. Violet was sharing tea with Daphne and Francesca. Eloise laid down near them, trying to catch some more sleep.

Hyacinth and Anthony stood before each other. Gregory and Colin to the side. Hyacinth signalled to Anthony that she was ready to throw. She threw the hoop at him. Both Gregory and Colin trying to grab it. They missed as the hoop hooked around Anthony’s arm. He pulled his eyebrow cheeky up, making Hyacinth laugh. Anthony threw the hoop back as Colin shot his hand forwards, hitting the hoop with his fingers as it landed against Gregory’s head.

“Au, what was that for.” – Gregory called out, rubbing his head. – “Sorry.” – Colin apologized. Gregory picked the hoop up from the ground, giving it back to Anthony for another try. Benedict moved his head to the side, trying to peak at your notebook. – “Writing a poem about me?” – he asked teasingly.

You busted out in a laughter. – “You have to admit I am very interesting to write poems about.” – he brought his hands behind his back, stretching his legs out. His comment made you roll your eyes in a sarcastic way.

 “If Y/n wrote about you it would make people scream.” – Eloise commented with one eye half open. Benedict looked behind him to her on the blanket. – “Scream with terror.” – Eloise filled in with a loud laugh. Benedict moved his hand behind him to playfully slap at her but he couldn’t reach her. Gregory came running over to you. – “Y/n do you want to play with us?” – he asked.

“I would love to.” – you answered putting your notebook away. – “Be mindful Y/n.” – Violet called out as you went after Gregory. – “Yes mama.” – you responded getting pulled away by Gregory. You joined the others. – “Let’s play tag.” – Hyacinth suggested. Anthony looked over to you. – “Suggest something else Hyacinth.” – he spoke. 

You immediately knew he referred to you. – “I can handle it. Let’s play tag.” – you expressed not wanting to give your family limitations. – “Y/n are you sure?” – Colin spoke as you didn’t want to hear any more pity. – “Yes! Now let’s play.” – you said a bit annoyed. – “I’ll be it.” – Anthony moved his hand up, his other pressed to his chest.

Hyacinth and Gregory started to run away. Colin waited for you. You started easy, jogging off as you immediately felt it. Your breathing becoming shallow and loud. Anthony started to run as you staid still for a moment to catch your breath. You saw your brother run over to Gregory as he made his way over to you. With Gregory nearing, you had to run as well. You kept going feeling the pounding of your heart in your head.

Your legs feeling like it carried sandbags. The immediate feeling of tiredness in your legs as you knew you couldn’t hold it out any longer. You needed a moment to stop. Anthony noticed it slowing down. He looked around, going after Colin as he deliberately left you alone. – “Hey you could’ve tagged her!” – Colin called out taking a run for it.

“I choose whom I tag!” – Anthony breathed out. Anthony was able to tag Hyacinth as she was bummed out by it. You were near Colin, standing a bit still as Colin was shielding you a bit. Hyacinth came running over. Colin darted to the side as she focused her tag on you instead.

Squealing loud, you leapt aside, starting to run to avoid her. Hyacinth kept running after you. You weren’t a quitter so you kept running. Feeling your body tire out from the exercise. Breathing loud that it was more like panting. Your head turning a shade of red as you felt warm. Heart pounding in your head. – “Tag you’re it!” – Hyacinth called out touching your back.

The moment she tagged you, you stopped. Legs feeling sloppy as you let yourself fall to the ground. – “Y/n!” – your brothers called out. Benedict’s eyes widened, jumping out of his chair to run over. You laid yourself on your back, panting loud to catch your breath. Anthony and Colin rushing over to kneel at each side of you. – “Are you alright sister?” – Anthony asked worried. – “I’m fine.” – you answered out of breath.

“I just… need to catch… my breath…” – you replied, feeling your heart pound loudly in your chest. You noticed your siblings looked frightfully at you. – “I’m alright. I just need a moment to recover.” – you reminded them. Colin helped you sit up straight as you were still breathing loudly through your mouth. – “How about a game of cards?” – you suggested with a laugh. Benedict shook his head playfully. Anthony and Colin helped you up to your feet. Leading you back to the tent for some calmer games.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[wwinterwitch]

right person, all the wrong times - anthony bridgerton

summary: you and anthony have been in love with one another from the moment you met, but it seems as though nothing will ever happen between you. after you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader word count: 7.3K tags: mutual pining, best friends to lovers, angst and fluff, period-typical topics (marriage is everything, gender roles, all that stuff), daphne being match maker as always, kissing, it gets briefly suggestive like once, if i skipped anything please let me know. note: i started this show two days ago and i'm already halfway through season 2. i couldn't hold myself from writing whatever this is and i thought i'll share since it's the longest fic i've ever written. english is not my first language so writing in a way that resembles the show was a whole challenge for me!

a reblog and/or comment really helps me out as a content creator so thank you in advance if you take the time to do either!

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You and Anthony have been best friends for years now. Even when he's a few years older than you, the two of you became inseparable shortly after knowing one another. No one seems to know or understand you quite like he does, and you've become the person he always turns to when he needs someone.

It happened just a few months after you were introduced into society. You were lucky to bump into him that night in Ms. Danbury's ballroom, and after repeated apologies and quick introductions, you stayed with him for the rest of the event.

Your families were excited to see the two of you talking, already picturing the moment when he shows up to your house and asks for your hand in marriage. However, as time passed, it was evident for everyone that nothing was ever going to happen.

And as embarrassing as it is to admit, you were just as disappointed to realize Anthony considered you to be just a friend. From day one, you were absolutely captivated by him, and you truly thought he was as interested as you were. Unfortunately, it seems as though your feelings have never been –and never will be– reciprocated.

Of course, you never let that stop you from trying to find in others what you so effortlessly found in Anthony from the moment you laid eyes on him. It hasn't been easy, but you continue to look for that special someone.

Despite everyone knowing about your proximity to the Viscount, a fair share of suitors were always there available for you. Some move past the mere privilege of dancing with you if they prove to be interesting enough, but none of them have made it far enough.

Perhaps the search would be easier if you weren't deeply in love with your best friend, but there's no way you'll ever be able to control how you feel. You can't control the butterflies in your stomach when you notice him approaching you, or how it seems as though everyone around disappears when you two are together.

Anthony doesn't contribute to making your situation any easier. His friendship is one of the greatest gifts you've ever received, but it has caused you a great deal of pain and confusion. Even when he's nothing but your friend– even when he has confided in you many times that marriage is the last thing on his mind, you can't help but notice certain things. Certain gestures, certain stares...he has surely given you reasons to believe your feelings might be reciprocated.

One of the many things he does that inevitably lifts your hopes up is the fact that he absolutely despises every possible suitor you've ever had. Whether he claims to know them and they're the worst person imaginable, or he starts speculating based on his own prejudices, it seems as though no man is worthy of you in Anthony's eyes. You've always wondered why he's so adamant about that claim.

"There you are!" Daphne excitedly greeted you one evening at yet another social gathering. "I was afraid I'd miss the chance to spend even a moment with you tonight, considering how busy you seem to be with all your suitors," she smiles, quickly glancing across the room.

"Well, I could say the same thing. I've seen you dance for most of the night," you remark. "I bet your brother is furious."

"Oh, believe me, he is! But I'm not the only one he's concerned about," her smile only grows after her insinuation. It's no secret that Daphne has always hoped for you to officially join their family, as she's convinced her brother is ridiculously in love with you. "I was only able to escape from him because he couldn't stop telling Benedict just how awful the men you were dancing or talking to are."

"He does have that habit, yes. Poor Benedict," you joke, turning around to spot the two brothers still talking.

Before Daphne could say a thing, a man approached the two of you. As you laid eyes on him, you recognized him as the first gentleman you had a dance with tonight. Both of you smiled at him as he extended his hand your way. "May I have another dance with you, my lady?"

You look at Daphne, who quickly takes a step back to let you know you can go. He gently grabs your hand once you've accepted his invitation, guiding you to the dance floor.

Mr. Demrick is a fine gentleman. He's been nothing but kind, charming and attentive, not to mention he's ridiculously handsome. This isn't the first evening you two have crossed paths, having the honor of dancing a few times before. He seems to have a strong interest in you. Your Mama has expressed many times that it's a matter of time before he's asking for your hand.

You do, however, notice a big flaw in this seemingly perfect man. He's no Anthony Bridgerton.

And speaking of, as you're dancing with Mr. Demrick's hand on your back and the other gently holding one of your own, you can't help but notice Anthony exactly where he once was. He's already looking your way and even from a distance you notice he's as stiff as ever, arms crossed, muttering things to Benedict.

It leaves you to wonder once again if he's being protective over his friend or if there's a deeper meaning to his apparent disgust for all the men that have ever shown interest in you.

After that night, Mr. Demrick's interest in you was more evident than ever. All Daphne could talk about with Lady Bridgerton and your Mama during supper the next day was the different bouquet of flowers he sent you and how breathtakingly beautiful they were.

"Needless to say, I'm very happy for you," Daphne seems to be finished with her talk about the flowers, turning to look at you from across the table. "You two make a very lovely match."

"No doubt you'll be very happy with such a nice and handsome gentleman for a husband," Lady Bridgerton agrees.

Everyone quickly turns to look at Anthony when he lets out a quick chuckle, looking down at his food and pretending he was barely listening.

"Something wrong, Anthony?" Lady Bridgerton asks shortly after with a rather serious tone.

He finally looks up, smiling at his mother. "Not at all. Please, continue with your...delightful chat."

You glared at him and despite you trying to ignore it, something deep within you made it impossible not to say something else regarding Mr. Demrick just to upset Anthony further. "He has invited my family to a picnic to meet his own," you say, noticing the way your best friend immediately turns to look at you with a horrified expression.

"We're really looking forward to that," your mother chimes in, trying to keep the conversation going after Anthony's interruption.

"Cheers to that!" Eloise exclaimed ironically, and you noticed she was looking directly at her eldest brother. "A man brave enough to pursue the heart of a lady is always a reason to celebrate, right?"

Now it was Colin and Benedict the ones who couldn't hold back their laughter after noticing their brother's reaction to that comment.

"What's so funny?" Hyacinth asks, looking impossibly confused.

Eloise's comment evidently made everything a lot worse. Little Gregory joins his sister in their inquiry to know what was going on, until Lady Bridgerton ordered them to stay quiet.

You didn't like El's insinuation one bit, as it does nothing to help with your delusions, but at least you were appreciative of the fact that she was willing to be with you on this one despite her disgust towards the whole idea of marriage and the position a woman is put in because of it. Perhaps she's willing to overlook that detail for the sake of upsetting one of her siblings.

As soon as dinner was over, Anthony offered to accompany you and your mother outside to your carriage. You didn't protest, and quickly calmed Daphne and Lady Bridgertons worries after they started apologizing fervently for his behavior during the evening.

Anthony immediately knew you were upset. It was evident in the way you walked in complete silence without acknowledging he was there next to you.

"Can I have a word with you before you leave?" Anthony asks as soon as the three of you are outside the Bridgerton home.

"Is it okay? If you're too tired we can leave right away."

"It's perfectly fine, dear. I'll wait in the carriage," your Mama replies. "Thank you, Lord Bridgerton, but there's no need," she quickly added when Anthony offered his arm to help her walk down the steps of the entrance. "Please reiterate my gratitude to my dear Violet for having us today."

"Of course," he nodded, returning your Mama's smile. Even when he behaves rather poorly, your mother absolutely adores him. It warms your heart to see how good they get along.

Your Mama walks to the carriage, leaving you and Anthony alone. "I apologize for my behavior tonight."

"I don't think your apologies are sincere."

"I don't know what else do you expect, if I'm being honest," he replies, and immediately knows he has to say something because of your reaction to that comment. "That man is not a good match for you. He's not on your level, and I'm quite certain that he won't be able to make you happy."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I know you. And I know when someone is not right for you."

You scoffed. "No one ever seems to be good enough for me."

Anthony nodded. "Yes, exactly."

"Can't you just be happy for me? Or at least pretend that you are?" you ask, exasperated. It's one thing that he doesn't reciprocate your feelings, but to stand here and claim to be your best friend when he acts like this is something entirely different. Something you can't and won't stand for. "I don't understand why you have to try to ruin every chance I get to find someone."

"Because," he says sternly, as if it was obvious. But is it really that obvious? Is it obvious to you, or even to him?

A dim light of hope shines through in the depths of your heart, knowing very well how dangerous that has been in the past. "Because what?"

He stood there in front of you, looking rather troubled. You notice the way he hesitates and for a moment you almost could've sworn he wanted to take a step closer to you.

But that never happened, and instead all you got was a "because you're my best friend, and I care about you," from him. The same thing you've heard over and over. That godforsaken phrase that has shattered your heart into million pieces over the years.

You try to hide your disappointment, looking up at him with a stern glance. "If I'm truly your best friend, you'd support my decisions instead of brutally questioning them like you always do."

With that said, you didn't wait for any sort of answer as you quickly walked towards your carriage, barely acknowledging your driver and your mother as you headed back home.

Anthony watches as you walk away, once again feeling like a complete fool for not saying something else. For not daring to take that extra step and reveal the real reason why he won't accept anyone else as your husband. It's quite simple, really. The real reason is that he wants to be the one you marry.

But he didn't say anything yet again, and all that's left for him to do is go back inside his house to listen to Eloise and Daphne calling him a fool while the rest agree with them. He doesn't say much about their claims, as they couldn't possibly be more true.

This is exactly what he deserves for acting so cowardly. He gets shamed by his siblings for not doing something about his feelings while you go home, probably thinking about that absurd picnic with Mr. Demrick until you go to sleep.

Next day, you try to forget all about Anthony Bridgerton and focus on your date with Mr. Demrick. Your families were sitting around all together while he asked if you would like to take a walk with him.

He's lovely. Offering his arm for you, complimenting you every chance he gets, making you laugh with his endless anecdotes and quick remarks. He's everything you should need, yet your mind wanders back to your best friend. You can't help it. All you want is for him to be the one kissing your hand and telling you you're the most captivating sight of all.

Your Mama could barely hold her excitement when she read what Lady Whistledown had to say about you and Mr. Demrick after the families were seen spending time together. "The union of the season", she called it. And it shouldn't come as a surprise, as both of you come from wealthy and respected families. It's evident everyone takes a great interest in the possible union.

Still, you were very much intimidated by it, as all eyes will be on you until there's news about an engagement.

And just as you predicted, every lady turned to look at you as you went to visit the modist for a new dress for the next ball. You must look absolutely perfect to earn the approval of everyone and capture Mr. Demrick's heart for good.

At that point, the realization finally started to settle. You're soon becoming a wife, moving to your own home and starting a family. And all of that with a man that you respect and care for, but are incapable of loving.

But perhaps this arrangement will make your feelings for Anthony become nothing but a memory. A memory you won't even care to think about when you have such a wonderful husband by your side.

Days passed and Mr. Demrick continued to send all sorts of gifts to your house. You made the choice of inviting him over so the two of you could spend more time together before the next ball. He was sitting on a couch with your mother while you played the piano for them.

"That was certainly a very beautiful performance," he says once you're done playing. "And you said you composed that yourself?"

"Indeed. I like spending my days playing the piano," you smile brightly.

The entire reunion was quickly ruined when someone burst inside the room. You turn around in your seat to find Anthony standing there, barging in completely unannounced and unexpectedly. It was unclear to you why you felt the need to stand up from your seat to greet him but you did, feeling your heart rapidly beating in your chest at the sight of him.

Oh, how badly you've missed him.

"What are you doing here, Anthony?" you ask, immediately remembering your soon-to-be fiancée and your mother are also in the room. "I'm afraid I'm with a guest right now. Whatever it is, it'll have to wait, my lord."

You never call him that, ever. It was evident by his reaction that he absolutely hated the fact that you refer to him as such.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to disrupt, but I believe it's an urgent matter."

"My lord, I–"

"I must insist," he quickly cuts you off, looking rather desperate.

You try to come up with something to say, knowing you should stand your ground and make him leave, but you were so happy to be in his presence again that the feelings completely clouded your judgment.

"No worries, my lady," you hear Mr. Demrick say, standing up from his seat and sending you a reassuring smile. "I'm sure whatever Lord Bridgerton is here for requires your immediate attention, given his insistence," he added shortly after, giving Anthony a not so friendly look. "I'm sure we can visit the gardens while we wait?"

Your mother nodded after his question. "Of course. That should be more than enough time for Lord Bridgerton to communicate his urgent matter."

Neither Mr. Demrick nor your mother were pleased by Anthony's presence, but you couldn't thank them enough from sparing you this one time. You know this man like no one else does, and you're certain that he wouldn't take a no for an answer and that would've made the situation a lot worse.

"Perfect," Mr. Demrick says before gesturing for your mother to lead the way. Before he leaves the room, he gives Anthony one last look before turning his attention back to you. "Perhaps we should discuss where you'd like your new piano to be in our future home once I'm back. I'd love for my wife to continue doing what she enjoys, especially when she's so extraordinary at it."

You smile after his comment, trying your best not to look at Anthony until Mr. Demrick is officially gone because you can imagine his features are clearly expressing his thoughts regarding that last comment. Once both of them are out of sight, you finally look at him.

"What is wrong with you?" you snapped almost immediately. "I'm glad Mr. Demrick is a patient and understanding man! He could've easily decided to leave the very instant you walked through that door demanding to have a word with me."

"I think he's captivated enough, my dear. I doubt you'll ever get rid of him," he replies, evidently disgusted by the thought of him.

"I don't intend to get rid of him. And do not call me that again."

"Why not? I've always called you that."

"That was before I met Mr. Demrick. Now, it is completely inappropriate."

"Oh, please. It's not like you're already his wife."

"But I will be soon," you point out. He's quiet after that, which gives you room to continue talking. "You must understand that a married woman cannot have other men calling her such things."

"So am I supposed to start addressing you like you're nothing but a stranger? Or perhaps you'd like me to already start calling you Mrs. Demrick? Is that how things will go? You marry this insufferable man and I have to just accept the fact that I no longer have my best friend?"

"I don't know what else you want me to say," you mutter, feeling like you could cry any minute now. "This was going to happen sooner or later."

"It was never supposed to be this way," he sighs, and your soul aches for him when you notice the way he's looking at you. Defeated, exhausted, disappointed, frustrated. You've never seen this particular mixture of emotions reflected in his eyes before.

"And how exactly it was supposed to be?"

Anthony was quiet, too quiet for your liking. You see his hesitation once again and you brace yourself to hear yet another confirmation of the fact that you're nothing but a friend. It doesn't matter that he glances at you from across the room like he can't help himself. It doesn't matter that all the Bridgerton siblings have made insinuations about you and Anthony's relationship. It's all in your head, because you're nothing but a friend.

In a surprising turn of events, you watch as he takes a few steps closer to you. He's cautious of every move, not wanting to scare you– or himself. The beat of your heart speeds up and your hands shake slightly when he's finally in front of you.

You look up at him like a deer coming face to face with a hunter, but in this case you're unable to run away for your life. He's dangerously close to you, gently moving his hand up to touch your face.

The second his fingers brush against your cheek, a shiver travels down your spine and you can't help but close your eyes because his touch is absolutely heavenly. Your breath hitches in the back of your throat when his digits trace down your neck until his hand settles there, holding you with his fingers behind your ear and his thumb still caressing the skin of your face.

"It should go like this," he whispers, and you finally open your eyes to see him looking at you with such adoration, you were certain your legs could betray you any second now and completely give in, causing you to fall straight to the ground.

He leans slightly closer after seconds of just contemplating you, and even though you closed your eyes again, feeling his nose brushing against yours, you're able to snap out of your trance before he could actually kiss you.

"It's not right..." you're able to say, pulling back from him but not nearly enough. He's still very much holding you.

"It is, my dear. I can tell you wish for this as badly as I do."

"Please, Anthony..." you try, but your body betrays you when your hand is resting on his bicep.

"I've always adored the way my name sounds when it's you the one calling me," he confesses, and your stomach fills with butterflies.

You realize he's leaning closer again, but before he can do so you manage to gather all traces of self-control that were almost stripped from you to move back, setting free of his touch.

Anthony stands there, absolutely confused and heartbroken, and is right then when you can't keep your tears in any longer.

"I'm afraid it is too late," you mutter. This has got to be the most painful thing you'll ever have to do. "I'm getting engaged soon."

"But you're not anyone's yet. There's still time if you haven't accepted any proposals."

"Please, don't make this any harder than it should be," you sob, wiping your tears away.

"Darling–"

"Believe me, no one would want this more than me," you interrupted. "You have no idea how many times I've found myself fantasizing about this very moment. For you to say all of this, to be yours forever..." Tears continue to roll down your cheeks and the sight is too much for Anthony to endure, as his own eyes are starting to fill with tears as well. "But it is not possible anymore. I'm sorry, I really am. I won't ask you to understand or accept my decision, but I'd appreciate that you can at least respect it."

"I won't. I refuse to let you marry someone else when we both know we belong together."

"Anthony, Mr. Demrick–"

"You still can't even call your future husband by his own name?"

You sigh, frustrated. "Charlie will become my husband. I don't doubt that he'll be an excellent companion, and that you'll find someone else in time. Soon enough, we'll be nothing but a memory."

"Is that really what you want?" he asks, and your heart sinks when you notice his voice breaking slightly.

You take a few seconds to answer. Of course that's not what you want. You want Anthony to be your husband. You'll always want him and him only. But it's already too late for any of that.

Feeling more heartbroken than ever before, you have to look back at Anthony and fight the urge to run to his arms. "Yes. And I also want you to leave."

Anthony was barely keeping it together, not wanting to cry in front of you. He's once again taking a few steps closer to you, but stops at a reasonable distance to grab your hand to kiss it. "Very well, my lady," he says with a quick bow of his head. "I apologize for wasting so much of your time. Let me assure you, I'll never bother you again."

He let your hand go and immediately turned to the door to leave. As soon as you no longer hear his footsteps, you fall to your knees and allow yourself to cry, feeling like the sorrows from this conversation will haunt you for the rest of your days.

Knowing Mr. Demrick and your mother could be here any minute, you decided to stand up from the ground as soon as you could to lock yourself in your room, where you could be away from everyone for a while until you feel ready to go downstairs and pretend you're content with this life that you've chosen for yourself today.

You really know you shouldn't, as you've played a part just as big as his in the downfall of everything you could've had together, but you can't help it as you curse Anthony for taking so long. You curse him for deciding to do something about his affection for you when it's far too late. And most importantly, you curse him because despite knowing it's over, you are certain that there's nothing you can do to ever get over your feelings for him.

As soon as you realize you're being unfair by putting all the blame on him, you also curse yourself for being as blind and coward as he was. And you curse life itself while you're at it, because you feel like making everyone and everything responsible for not being able to live the life that you wanted.

―

It's been a few days after the last time you and Anthony spoke. Just days, but it has felt like years and years without him. He hasn't reached out to you, and you couldn't deny that not having him around was absolute torture. There was no greater pain than this.

But you were hopeful that you could see him again at tonight's ball. It was all you could think about as you were getting ready.

"You look lovely, sister," the youngest of your family says, watching as one of the maids is finishing with your hair. "I can't wait to join all of you next season!"

"Thank you, my dearest," you smile at her. "I cannot wait for that either. Perhaps I can help you choose your dress and do your hair for your first ball."

"Yes, please!"

Your youngest sister stayed in your room with you until it was time for everyone to leave. Your father waited by the door while your mother put all of your siblings in line to check their appearance and make sure everyone was looking flawless.

Like the Bridgertons, your family was also quite large. Your older sister is already married so she no longer lives with you, but your parents still have a handful of children to take care of. Your two older brothers haven't married yet and neither have you. There's also your little sister, who's debuting next season, and your baby brother who's barely ten years old.

To this day, you have no idea how they were able to handle the chaos that six children can bring. For that, you admire them deeply.

Once your mother made sure everything was in order, you and your brothers followed her and your father to the carriage. They start a conversation, but you're barely paying any attention, as Anthony is keeping your head occupied again.

Eventually, you reach the residence where the ball's taking place and the five of you make your way inside. As all of you are standing outside the doors of the hall where the event is taking place, you feel a hand reaching out to grab yours. You turn around to look at your mother staring at you with a sympathetic smile.

"I'm so sorry, Mama," you say out of nowhere, though it's practically the only thing you've been able to say to her lately.

"You made the right choice, dear," she reassures you. "Are you ready?"

You nod, inhaling deeply before your mother lets go of you, standing with your father as they wait for you to take the first step. As soon as all of you are entering the room, you notice everyone staring your way, their eyes still filled with expectancy and excitement.

They still believe you're going to marry Mr. Demrick.

You quickly scan the room as you walk down the stairs, the familiar feeling in your stomach appearing when you spot Anthony along with his siblings, his eyes never once leaving you. Despite everything that has happened, he still looks at you like you're the only person in that room.

Your parents go off one way to mingle with other parents attending the event while your siblings scatter around the ballroom to greet their friends and find possible matches.

Having a chance to talk to Anthony was the only reason you decided to attend. Still, you didn't know how and when it'd be okay for you to approach him. Things didn't end on the best of terms, so it's normal for you to have your doubts.

Instead of immediately approaching him, you walk around the room, never losing sight of him. You couldn't help but smile to yourself the first time you catch him looking around the room, unsuccessful to locate you.

"I was hoping to see you tonight," you hear Daphne's voice next to you, sending you back to reality. "You look as beautiful as ever."

"Thank you, so do you."

Your friend smiles at you, briefly looking to where you previously were. "Are you looking for someone?"

"No, not at all," you immediately shake your head, imitating her smile.

"I apologize for what I'm about to say. I don't believe it is the time nor place, but I cannot hold myself back," she says with obvious concern as her smile is replaced with a frown. "My brother told me everything that happened the other day. I don't think I'll ever be able to express how sorry I am."

"Oh, Daphne, that's really not necessary..."

"But I think it is. As ashamed as this makes me, I'm afraid I was the one responsible for his actions."

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't help but notice the way you two look at each other, or the way you smile when you're together. Believe me, I've never seen my dear brother so infatuated with anyone else before. To see you slip away from him and him doing nothing about it was not only painful, but it angered me enough to intervene," she explains. "After much convincing to do, I finally made him realize he needed to do something about his feelings. Evidently, I stood out of line and got myself involved in something I never should have, and for that I'm terribly sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong. I know you had good intentions. There's absolutely nothing to forgive."

Daphne reaches out for your hands, relief evident in her features. "I was afraid you wouldn't want to talk to me again. You had all the right to do so, but I'm happy to see I was mistaken."

"I would never do such a thing."

She nodded, glad to know you two are still friends. "Well, with that situation out of the way, allow me to say I'm still very happy about you and Mr. Demrick. My love for my brother won't change the fact that I support your decision entirely."

You debated whether or not to say something, but the hesitation quickly slipped your mind when you looked at Daphne. She's been a great friend, you know there's nothing wrong with confessing this news to her.

She looks a bit confused when you grab her arm to guide her to a corner of the room, as far away from other people as possible. "I appreciate your words, but I'm afraid Mr. Demrick and I are no longer courting."

"Really? Did my imprudence make him change his mind?" she asks, worried she was to blame for this.

"Not at all. He actually proposed to me that very same evening."

"And...you said no?"

"I couldn't marry him, Daphne," you sighed. You'll never forgive yourself from breaking a good man's heart in the way you did with him, but deep down you knew it was the right thing to do. "I couldn't doom him to spend the rest of his life with a woman that doesn't love him the way he deserves."

"I don't judge you for it. My Mama has always taught us that marriage should be formed out of love. It's the only way a union like this can work," you friend offers, immediately wanting to show her support.

"If anything, my dear friend, I should be thanking you for your intervention," you quickly add. "If you never had that chat with your brother, I would've been engaged to a different man by now."

"I...Oh my, are you–?"

"I was as much of a fool as him. I could've said something a long time ago and yet I remained silent. And when he went to my house to give us a chance, I was once again deciding not to do a thing about my feelings. It was only when he left that I realized I made a terrible mistake."

Daphne is once again reaching for your hands, looking more excited than ever after your words. "You have no idea how pleased I am to hear you say all of this."

"You don't think it's too late, do you? I came here to talk to him, after all."

"No, no, not at all! He was devastated when he came back, I've never seen him like that in my life. We got to talk a little– and it's probably best if he's the one who confesses his true feelings in detail to you personally, but there's no doubt in my mind that from everything he said to me, he's deeply, madly and truly in love with you."

"I assure you I love him just as much."

"I don't doubt it either. And I think I speak for all my family when I say there's no one else we would like to be Anthony's wife but you."

"That makes me so happy to hear," you say with obvious excitement. Even Daphne looked like she could start crying any second. "Should I go talk to him now?"

"Please, I'm sure you can't wait any longer! He's over there, with Benedict and Colin."

"I shall tell you how it goes then."

"It'll go wonderful," she assures you, giving you one last smile before she allows you to leave.

Every second of that walk towards Anthony felt like centuries. Your mind spins with all the possible scenarios and everything you're going to say to him, but by the time you're in front of the three siblings your mind is completely blank.

"Gentlemen," was all you could say. The three of them immediately greet you with a quick bow. You notice Benedict and Colin exchanging looks, while Anthony's eyes are fixated on you. "I'd like to have a word with you– alone, if that's okay."

"Of course, my lady," was all he said.

"Oh my, you could cut the tension with a knife," Colin says suddenly. Anthony is so focused on you he barely acknowledges his comment.

"Shush, brother!" Benedict quickly warns, lightly pushing his little brother so he would start walking. "Excuse us," he smiled your way, starting to follow Colin.

You and Anthony are finally alone, but the people around you are still bothering you. "Is it okay if we go outside for a walk?"

"If it's okay with you," he says, a bit confused at first since you two had apparently agreed that you must keep your distance.

Anthony follows you to the gardens in complete silence. The music and chatter could still be heard. You were glad to realize it was only the two of you outside.

"What is it that you wanted to say to me?" he immediately asks, starting to walk next to you.

"I wanted to apologize for everything that happened."

"No need. Like you said, you made your choice and I'll have to respect it."

"It was the wrong choice. I see that now."

He was a bit surprised to hear that, but agreed with you nonetheless. "I'm afraid I can't say otherwise. At least I hope you find comfort in the fact that Mr. Demrick will be a fine husband, as you so fervently claim."

The two of you have reached a part of the garden that surrounds the two of you with large hedges decorated with beautiful flowers. It was then that you stopped walking and turned to look at him, knowing no one would be able to see or interrupt you here.

"I wanted to let you know that Mr. Demrick proposed and I said no," you blurted out simply, not wanting to keep it from him any longer.

"Why?" was all he could say.

"Because," you say, and this time it was painfully obvious.

Anthony couldn't believe your revelation at first, which would explain why he didn't move from his spot at first. As the realization of it all starts to sink in, he immediately walks closer to you and grabs your face with his hands. This time, you let him touch you as your hands move up to place them above his own.

"You're not marrying him?" he asks, barely above a whisper, still not entirely believing it. He really thought he had lost you forever.

You shake your head, unable to hold back your smile any longer. "There's only one man I'd like to marry."

Anthony smiles wider than ever after your comment and he's not able to control himself any longer, immediately closing the space between the two of you as he kisses you.

His kiss is everything you expected and more. So gentle, yet so passionate. It makes you feel like you're the most delicate thing in the entire world, but he must take a taste, so he does eagerly, yet carefully.

The moment doesn't last as much as you expected as he's abruptly pulling away. "Forgive me, I shouldn't have done that."

He takes a step back but he's gladly surprised when you wrap your arms around his neck to stop him. "Don't," you immediately say, "I want you close."

"I really shouldn't, my dear," he insisted, but you can tell it takes everything in him not to kiss you again at that very same moment.

"Is that so?" you tease him, inching just enough. "So you won't continue to kiss me? Not even if I'm so clearly desperate for you to do so?"

He's really trying to remind himself to be a gentleman. "I don't...it's not appropriate."

"Alright, them. It's perfectly fine, Mr. Bridgerton," you promptly agree, moving back from him entirely as you start walking away from him. "Perhaps we should go back then, before anyone notices our absence."

You're barely able to turn around to face him before he's one again in front of you, grabbing the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss.

This time, the kiss is anything but gentle. His tongue explores your mouth with a hunger completely unknown to you as his hands explore your body. The hand previously holding the back of your neck trails your collarbone before it explores further down, cupping one of your breasts while the other holds you close to his body, resting dangerously close to your ass.

His lips move down to your jaw until they settle on the skin of your neck. You close your eyes as you enjoy the way he explores you, a few moans escaping past your lips that only seem to encourage him further.

"Anthony," you whisper into the darkness of the night, holding onto his shoulders for dear life while he kisses all over your neck.

"You're such a delight, my love," he mutters against your skin. "You drive me absolutely mad."

He moves back to your lips now, your mind clouded with desire for him and making it impossible for you to think of anything else other than how badly you need him to continue to touch you and kiss you. You could never get tired of this.

But much to your disappointment, he's pulling away from you again shortly after. His forehead rests against yours as both of you are gasping for air. You open your eyes when he's no longer leaning against you, just to catch him looking down at you with a smile.

"You're so beautiful," he comments, one of his fingers tracing your lower lip. "I could kiss these lips all day if I could."

"And I'd have no complaints about that."

He chuckles after your comment before taking a second to contemplate your beauty under the moonlight. "I deeply regret wasting so much time we could've spent as husband and wife."

"We have many years to make amends for that."

"Is that so?" he asks with a smile, his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you close.

"Well, that is if you ask for my hand."

"We'll go back to the ball and I'll talk to your father right away."

You fake to be offended by his comment. "Without asking for my opinion on the matter, Lord Bridgerton?"

"Forgive me, how rude of me," he follows along with your theatrics, but you immediately notice the shift in his eyes before he continues. They look softer than ever and shine as bright as all the stars in the sky combined. And you feel warm, at peace, so loved by the man standing before you. "My dearest, from the moment I met you, I knew we were destined to be together. You not only captivated me with your beauty, but with everything that you are. And as I started to know you, you kept proving me right. I saw it in the way you'd stay practicing your music for hours with such intent and passion. I saw it in the way you care so deeply about the ones fortunate enough to have you in their lives. I saw it in the way my mother instantly adored you, and how Hyacinth wouldn't stop asking me to invite you over so she could play with you. There's no doubt in my mind that you are the one for me."

You were completely speechless, absolutely mesmerized by his words. He takes a moment to gently wipe a few tears falling down your cheeks. He has always said to you how he's terrible at things like this, yet here he is proving himself wrong.

"If all previous words hold any room for confusion, allow me to clear it all right away. I've been yours from the moment we met and I couldn't possibly be more in love with you. And there's nothing that would make me happier than spending the rest of my life with you," he continues, finally taking a step back to grab both of your hands as he kneels in front of you. "Would you make me the honor of accepting me as your husband?"

You couldn't stop smiling at that point, immediately nodding after his question. "Yes. Now and forever, it'll always be yes."

Anthony kisses both of your hands before standing up to pull you in for a hug. "It pleases me to hear you accept. For a moment, I feared the tears were a bad sign."

You laugh at his little joke before breaking the hug. "Perhaps we should get back. I'm afraid we've been gone for quite a while now."

"That shouldn't be much of a problem now that we're engaged. I shall ask to have a word with your father as soon as we get back– and ask my mother for her ring."

"Is it okay if I inform Daphne?"

"I have absolutely no objections if you decide to announce the news to every person inside that ballroom, my love. Let everyone know you'll be the next Viscountess. Nothing would make me happier."

He offers his arm and you immediately accept it, starting to walk back to the ball with him– your future husband. At that very moment, you've sworn you've never been happier.

[whispersoftheton]

Hello!

Do you think you could write an anthony x reader angst turned fluff/smut fic?

They’ve married out of duty but both have feelings for each other they refuse to admit

Hi! This is also my first fic for this fandom and I got kind of carried away with it, hope you don't mind :) Thank you for requesting btw <3

dont worry the next request i post will have smut in it and im posting that one this weekend >:)

Anthony Bridgerton x F!Reader

Warnings: reader and Anthony are married, pining, death of parents (reader), angst, kissing, fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.4K

The day dawned crisp and clear, sunlight peering through the flowing curtains and illuminating your path along the long hallway of your lavish home. The sounds of maids bustling through the estate and the gravel crackling beneath the horse's hoofs from outside filled your ears. Your mind raced with the many tasks at hand for today as you straightened out your dress. The last ball of the season was a significant one indeed, and you had the honor of hosting it tonight. The last few days were filled with overseeing that every detail of the evening, no matter how small, was managed and executed perfectly. 

As the maids fetched accessories and floral arrangements for you to approve ahead of the festivities, you pondered how your life had drastically changed. A mere three months had passed since your wedding day. Still, it seemed a lifetime ago. You had every reason to be happy, you had married well, living more than comfortably, and your husband was not unkind towards you like others you've heard about. But your marriage to the viscount wasn't exactly the love story of the century, to say the least. 

After the passing of both your parents, Lady Danbury had taken you in as one of her own. Raised you to be a lady of society in every way she saw fit and even sponsored your coming out last season. The very same season, the Queen appointed you as her diamond. Not long after, none other than Anthony Bridgerton set his sights on you, surpassing any honorable suitor that even thought about appearing at your doorstep. The entire courtship, along with the proposal, felt purely transactional. Anthony berated you with questions, encounters feeling more like interviews than any courting you were used to. It was not as if you were not attracted to the man if you were being entirely honest with yourself; you'd spent the better half of your time bottling up whatever it is that blossoms in your chest when he is near. And you hated yourself for it. For feeling something you couldn't even name for a man who treated as nothing more than an object. Every public outing where he was caring towards you, even kind and every bit of charming you could ever hope for, raised your hopes high only to see them crashing down at the indifference towards you the moment you were alone without the peering eyes of the ton on you.

Your wedding and honeymoon came and went in a blur. Not even able to consummate the marriage properly due to an argument that left you both enraged and unable to look each other in the eye in the days that followed. The following months were a string of simple greetings in passing and only speaking to one another when absolutely necessary. The empty house you now lived in was becoming your own personal void without so much as the company of your supposed husband.

"Viscountess Bridgerton, are you alright?" Your maid questioned as you snapped out of your haze and directed your attention back to the bouquets before you.

"Yes, this one will be lovely for tonight, thank you." You made your final decision as Anthony strolled into the room. Your maids quickly making themselves sparse, leaving the two of you alone.

"My family should be arriving any second; I assume everything for tonight is in order, is it not?" The underlying sarcasm and questioning of your ability as the lady of the house crawled right under your skin, any lingering feelings you had been contemplating only a moment ago for the Viscount gone in an instant at his distasteful manner.

"Yes, Lord Bridgerton." You replied dryly.

"Dear, we are married and have been for some time now. I would very much like it if I did not have to tell you to address me by my first name while we are in our home." You audibly scoffed at his command while standing from your seat.

"And I would very much like it if my husband would not treat me as though I do not exist." You snapped. Anthony's jaw clenched as he tensed before you. "Seems like neither of us shall get what we want. Now if you'll excuse me, my lord, I have some preparations still pending for tonight. I am sure you can see your family to their rooms for now." 

"Now, you will not even greet my family. Do you have a distaste for them as well?"

"Never. I adore your mama and siblings as if they were my own." Anthony searched for any sign of deceit but instead found honest eyes staring back at him, making his heart ache. "If anything, I am grateful. Alas, there shall be a Bridgerton in this home I do not dislike." 

Your thoughts betrayed you abruptly exited the room and returned to your bed chambers to prepare for the evening, shutting the door and leaning against it in an attempt to steady yourself. Damn him. His scent blurred your thoughts and inhibited every one of your senses as you attempted to concentrate on the anger portrayed in his words. Instead, your mind wandered to how his white shirt hugged every curve of his chest, the plumpness of his lips, and the curve of his jaw. It was alluring in the most intoxicating way. You knew you had to compose yourself before the night began; the last thing you needed was to be distraught at your own ball.

------------------------

You stepped into the ballroom in your new dress gown the modiste had spent a significant amount of time making especially for this occasion. The staircase was beautifully adorned with white roses and touches of lilacs cascading down onto the main area. Candelabras and other flourishing arrangements were stationed around the refreshment tables your guests gathered at, and the thrumming rhythm of classical music whispered into your ears as you took notice of everyone enjoying themselves before greeting them. 

Unbeknownst to you, Anthony stood at the opposite end of the ballroom, observing how you conducted yourself gracefully amongst the guests—making light conversations while extending your kindness to everyone. He marveled at your ability to make each person feel as though they had your undivided attention; although he would never admit it, he found himself yearning for that same attention from you.

Early on, Anthony knew you fit all the requirements he had given himself for a wife. Someone honorable and suitable enough to hold the role of his Viscountess. It was precisely why he had chosen you, but that wasn't the only motive. You were the only lady's company outside his sisters; he did not particularly hate. Every potential partner he sought that season out had come up empty, whether it had been on the conversation or any other unfulfilling matter they discussed. You were different. You carried a conversation like no other, educated in far more areas than he could've hoped for, but none of that quite captured his heart in an unsuspecting manner like your character. You were kind and compassionate in a way he admired; you challenged him in ways that irritated him to no end, yet he found himself entirely enraptured by you. This is precisely why he had no choice other than shut you out completely. Anthony knew letting you get too close would be going against everything he wanted for himself. He couldn't let himself love another or have another love him; with love came loss. That he knew for certain.

"All seems good with the two of you, I see." Daphne smiled while moving to stand by Anthony as she spoke, breaking his train of thought.

"Good? I do not follow, dear sister." Anthony cleared his throat.

"Yes, good. With the way you were just openly admiring your wife, I assume it is only because the two of you have finally gotten over yourselves and admitted whatever it is you feel for one another." Anthony practically rolled his eyes at his younger sister, beginning to regret ever being forthcoming with her about the circumstances of his marriage early on. "Oh, do not tell me you are still playing this game? At this stage of marriage? Anthony-" She began scolding him, but he interrupted and led her to a more private area of the ballroom. 

"There is no game. We married because it was our duty to do so. Nothing more, nothing less. You will have to accept that, Daphne." Anthony's voice grew stern as he furrowed his brows at his sister.

"And I do. What I will not accept is the way your love for each other goes unspoken when it is clear to everyone around you." She spoke her following words in a hushed tone as to keep anyone who may be standing near from listening to them. "There is no doubt you hold love in your heart for her, brother. But if you do not tell her soon, I fear you will lose her and your only chance at happiness forever." With that, Daphne offered him a soft smile before walking towards Simon, who busied himself greeting Lady Danbury and her mama.

The night went on better than you could've hoped for. The dances and mingling were without a flaw, and even Lady Bridgerton and the Dutchess were quick to praise you on how well everything had turned out. Soon the guests started to filter out, making their way home after a long night of celebration. You strolled over to your husband after bidding goodbye to her majesty the Queen and ensuring everything had been to her liking. Anthony couldn't help but take notice of how stunning you looked tonight. How your dress fell perfectly over your figure, gems scattered throughout to match his mother's necklace laid in the most alluring way on the supple skin of your neck and chest. He was entranced in a way he'd never been before. Perhaps Daphne had been right. There's a sentence he never thought he'd utter, he thought to himself. Perhaps he had let his fears control him for far too long.

You had barely noticed your ring slipping from your fingers to fall at Anthony's feet as you approached him. Both of you leaned down to reach for it in unison, fingers ghosting over one another, making your breath catch and your eyes meet as he placed it upon your finger once again. The intimacy of such a small moment becoming too much to bear far too quickly.

"I must go." You could not bear to withstand one more moment under Anthony's intense glare, the part of you that wanted to finally divulge all the feelings you'd fought so hard to suppress after all this time threatening to break through at any given moment. You suddenly stepped back, picked up your dress the best you could, and walked hastily to avoid attracting unwanted attention from lingering guests. As you paced through the gardens, an overwhelming and uncertain feeling washed over you before you overheard Anthony's steps behind you.

"Why? Why is it that you distance yourself from me?" Anthony shouted in a hushed tone toward you. 

"Me? I am not the one stuffed in my office all day, coming to bed at late hours of the night when I am asleep and gone once I wake. Avoiding me day in and day out as if I am a plague to you." Tears welled in your eyes, making Anthony's breath hitch. He could not stand to see you like this. Every nerve in his body burned to fix whatever was troubling you, even if he was the one who caused it. Every feeling he had worked so hard to bury all this time, convincing himself he did not love you, could not love you, surfacing with every word that escaped your lips. "You treat me as though you do not care for me." Your voice was just low enough for him to hear, eyes cast downward, unable to give him so much as a glance through his silence. 

"Do not care for you? It is as if I am being consumed when I am with you. I cannot hold a breath or do the most ordinary task without you racing across my every thought. I feel as though I am losing my sanity because I cannot bear to be without you for one second. And when you are near me, it is positively intoxicating in ways I did not know to be possible." Anthony stepped cautiously toward you, fingers ghosting over your cheek, eyes dancing along your features with adoration filling them. "I love you. I love you as much as a person can love another. I do not wish to hold it inside anymore. I love you."

"I love you too." A sob wracked your chest as you responded without hesitation. The reflection in your eyes conveyed the devotion and tenderness he yearned for. It was as if you indeed saw the pieces of him but only sought to love him as he was, incomplete and perfect in every way in your eyes. As your husband.

Your heartbeat quickened as Anthony stepped close enough so that your noses practically brushed against one another—a familiar desire spreading from your heart to your chest.

Anthony cupped your face, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek. Chills spread along your skin at the warmth of his touch. Unbridled affection flowed freely and filled the space between you. Your lips met for what felt like the first time; his other hand settled at your waist, prompting you closer to him and deepening the kiss. His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency. It was as if nothing else mattered, the past becoming more of a distant memory the further you melted into him. There was only this moment. Anthony unwillingly pulled away, leaving your foreheads pressed against one another, his hair slightly disheveled from your fingers running through it, lips swollen and thoroughly kissed. A deep sigh escaped him before he spoke.

"I would marry you again if I could. Do it all over from the very beginning." His voice slightly wavered at the sentiment; it suddenly weighed on him how much he truly meant it. He wished nothing more than to turn back time and love you the way you deserve from the very beginning. Things would have been so different.

"Anthony, you do not need to embellish. We already married." A chuckle escaped you, a knowing smile gracing his lips. "What?"

"You called me Anthony." 

I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. if anyone sees my work anywhere that is not ao3/tumblr or under any other username that is not whispersoftheton, it has been reposted without my permission

[atlabeth]

(not so) simple pt 4 - anthony bridgerton

pt1 pt2 pt3

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: SO. UM. once again this took fucking forever to come out which is kind of insane when you think about it because i've had 7000 words of this chapter written for like 4 months. truly wild. 2 babies have been born in the time that it's taken me to write this mini series but anyways there’s a lot happening here, shoutout to anthony for finally getting some more pov parts, the fun thing about your mc being out of commission for a while is that you have no choice but to write for the other characters. equality we love to see it. anyways most of it is angst, but it’ll all be wrapped up with a little regency romance bow i promise

wc: 7.6k

warning(s): aftermath of the end of last chapter which is angst. stab wound, talks of death, mentions of edmund's death, quite a bit of crying, anthony bridgerton's inner angst, miss worthing makes poor decisions. not a happy chapter but WHAT CAN YOU DO

“What were you thinking?” Violet demanded.

Anthony could barely hear his mother over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears, the pure terror gripping his heart. He’d no idea how to respond to her. He doubted she would like to hear that he, indeed, was very much not thinking. 

And he was certainly not thinking much now, what with you on the brink of death with their doctor and his apprentice the only thing there to stop you. He could be of no help to you, bent half over in his chair, head in his hands, the image of you collapsing burned into his mind. 

“Anthony Bridgerton, answer me.” Violet stood over him, her face flushed and eyes filled with anger and fear. “What were you thinking, bringing Miss Worthing out into the city?” 

“I cannot deal with your questions right now, Mother!” he snapped, something letting loose inside of him. Anthony would have been ashamed had he any sense. “My future wife is in that room fighting for her life, and it is because I was not able to protect her. I am hardly able to form words at the moment, Mother, so please—” Anthony’s voice broke, and he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Please just be quiet.” 

It took a bit of nerve to be such an ass in front of his very own mother, but Anthony apparently had plenty of nerve at the moment. After you collapsed, he’d done the only thing he could think of in the moment and brought you back to Bridgerton House—it was closer than your residence, and if their physician had been able to keep his mother alive through eight pregnancies, then surely he could bring you back. 

Now, though, he was not so sure. Every other option seemed to be plaguing his mind, for your blood still stained his hands and his clothing and Anthony didn’t know if he would ever be able to get it off. 

His father died in his arms from something so small as a bee, and yet you had been stabbed. How were you meant to come back from that?

The door suddenly slammed open, and when Anthony glanced up, his insides twisted. 

“Where is she?” Eloise demanded. Her windblown hair matched the wild look in her eyes, and the flush of her cheeks and haggard breathing told him everything. She was meant to be promenading with Penelope Featherington—her speed on foot was admirable. 

“With our physician,” Violet responded. She seemed more subdued now, and though Anthony knew he would apologize profusely later, he could not find it in himself now. He could hardly find anything in himself apart from panic.

“With our physician—” She turned on Anthony, her gloved hands clenched into fists. “What in God’s name happened, Anthony?”

He allowed himself a moment to breathe before he responded. “She was stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” Eloise cried. “She was with you! How could she have been stabbed?”

“I was not with her when it happened—”

She scoffed. “That is a likely fucking story.”

“Eloise,” Violet said, “language.”

“I do not care about my language,” Eloise spat, gesturing wildly with her hands. “My best friend has been stabbed— I will say whatever I please!”

And then, as if to just add fuel to their fire, Benedict rushed in. Anthony held back a slightly unhinged laugh and shook his head. You were dying and they were out here arguing. 

“I’ve made sure this hallway is off limits like you said, Mother.” Benedict looked just as shaken as the rest of them, and in a strange way Anthony was grateful. You’d grown closer to his family than he’d known. “Your lady’s maid is outside the door alongside a footman ensuring privacy, and your driver is on route to the Worthing residence to alert her parents. They’ve all been sworn to secrecy—no one will be disturbed, least of all Miss Worthing.”

“Thank you, Benedict.” Violet sighed, and she collapsed into an armchair. “At least one of us is in order.”

Benedict sat down on the sofa, his words coming out in a mumble. “I am hardly in order.”

The fire seemed to have died down in Eloise, for however temporary a time, and she settled down next to Benedict. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her.

“She’ll be okay,” Eloise whispered, “right?”

No one answered for a moment. At last, Anthony looked up, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Yes,” he rasped, hoping with everything in him that his words would be true. “She will be okay.”

He would not have been able to live with any other outcome, not when it was his fault in the first place that you were in this position. 

Anthony didn’t know what he should have done, but he should have done something. He should have brought you to your senses and suggested a promenade in the park instead. He should have called on you at your estate, safe and sound in your drawing room. He should have been arm in arm with you, his heart steadily melting as you smiled and laughed and made him aware of all things good in the world. 

He could not lose you. Not when he still had so much to tell you, so many words left unsaid. 

Not when you didn’t know he loved you. 

“I’m sorry, Anthony.” He looked up at the sound of Eloise’s voice—though she did not look at him and her arms were still crossed, the sincerity of it was not lost on him. “I know it was not your fault.” 

His chest tightened. It was his fault. 

“You clearly care about her,” she said. “It is not fair to pin this on you.” 

“Sometimes we hurt the people we care about,” he said, his voice hollow. 

“Sometimes,” she agreed. “But not this time.” 

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Eloise had been at odds with him for nearly this entire season because of their ruse. Though she knew of its falsity, she still chastised him for taking up time that could have been spent with her, still rolled her eyes when he announced his leave to go see you, still questioned why he had to go after her best friend. 

But Eloise was driven by her emotions, no matter how red hot or icy cold they may have been. At this moment, her concern for you outweighed anything, and she recognized the same in him. 

So Anthony nodded. Once, twice, hardly moving but a clear acknowledgment. He glanced at his mother and brother, both unfocused with glassy eyes. His mother’s were red-rimmed, and she held a handkerchief tightly in one hand. The guilt hidden from earlier struck. 

He silently thanked their governess for keeping Gregory and Hyacinth occupied, thanked that Francesca was on an outing of her own. The last thing he needed was for his littlest siblings to find out that the woman they believed to soon be their sister was one misstep away from death. And thank God for Colin’s decision to spend the day with Mondrich—one of his younger brothers in the heat of the moment was enough. 

Anthony let out a shuddering sigh, screwing his eyes shut for a moment before he ran a hand through his hair then planted his palms on his knees. He could hardly sit still but he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to get his nervous energy out. 

All he could think of was you. Of how the last word you spoke was his name. Of your dried blood on his hands, staining his clothing where he had held you. Anthony barely kept you from hitting the ground when you collapsed, and he nearly did the same once he reached his residence. 

Yelling at any servant in the proximity to call for the physician, unaware of his mother trying to calm him until she shook him by the shoulders, having to literally be forced out of the room by the physician’s assistant once they arrived because he refused to leave your side.  

It all felt like a blur, and yet he remembered it perfectly. It all played on repeat in his mind no matter how much he tried to block it out. 

The door slammed open this time, and when Anthony looked up, he felt as if he could wither away.

“Where is my daughter?” Cecilia Worthing demanded, her husband trailing after her. She was all out of sorts, with an even wilder look in her eyes and a deathly grip on her skirts. Mr. Worthing’s expression made his heart sink, with his haunted eyes and taut lips. 

“I am so sorry, Cecilia,” Violet rasped, and she crossed the room and enveloped her in her arms. It took a moment for your mother to respond, but she returned the hug as a sob escaped her. 

“Your footman said she had been injured,” your father said levelly, though his voice shook ever so slightly. “How?”

“She was stabbed,” Anthony spoke up, forcing himself to look at your parents. “Some zealot in the city. I brought her here as quick as I could.”

“The city—” your father started.

“Stabbed?” your mother interrupted, halfway into hysterics. “How?”

“We got caught up in the midst of a riot,” he said quietly. “We were separated, and I assume it happened then.”

Mrs. Worthing let out another sob as she pulled her husband into her arms, and though he kept a semblance of solemnity as he whispered to his wife and held her close, Anthony could see the fear in his eyes. 

How could he possibly offer reassurance? It felt different, staring at the desperation of your parents. The horrific realization that they might leave a family of two, might have to bury their only child. 

His stomach twisted and Anthony’s head fell into his hands again. He couldn’t. 

Eventually, Philip helped his wife onto the couch, and she remained curled into his side. No one said a word—how could they?

Apart from whispered reassurances between your parents and even shorter conversations between Benedict and Eloise, their saddened group continued in silence for the better part of an hour. No one spoke louder than a whisper, no one rose and left—they just sat together in their fear, hoping and praying that the inevitable could be denied. 

Until the door creaked open and each of their heads snapped towards the noise. Anthony shot up at the first glimpse of their physician’s assistant. 

“What news?” he asked immediately. The tension in the room had grown to be near palpably thick. 

“The surgery went well,” the assistant said, and all the air dissipated from Anthony’s chest. “Miss Worthing lives. The doctor is ensuring a final few things, but provided our treatment is followed, we believe she will recover fully.”

Anthony fell back against the couch with a breathless laugh, and Mrs. Worthing sank against her husband, wrecked by thankful sobs. Eloise’s smile was enough to brighten the whole room, Benedict’s relief just as obvious. Violet just let out an exhausted sigh, her hand pressed to her heart. 

“Thank you,” your father said. “Can we see her?” 

“Miss Worthing is resting,” he said. “You will not be able to speak to—” 

“We do not care,” your father asserted. “I need to see that my daughter is still alive.” 

The physician’s assistant nodded after a moment, and the tension lessened in his shoulders. He helped your mother up, their hands clasped tightly together, and Mrs. Worthing looked at Anthony. You truly had your mother’s eyes. 

“Will you come with us, my lord?” she asked. 

“Oh, I—” 

“You are family,” she said softly. “You’ve a right to join us.”

Emotion swelled in Anthony’s chest, and it took a moment for words to come to him. 

“Of course,” he finally said, inclining his head. “And it is just Anthony between us. Please.” 

The slightest smile spread across her lips as she nodded, and they all stood up together. Anthony took her offered arm and they started down the hallway together, your father on her other side. 

How strange it was to be arm in arm with your mother. She thought the man beside her would be her future son-in-law, when he was truly nothing but a liar. 

No, he thought, not wholly a liar. Not anymore. Because they believed that Anthony was to be your husband. And if there was anything this had proven to him, it was that he wanted nothing more than for it to be true.

Anthony just had to figure out a way to tell you. How strange that it would be the most difficult part of this ruse. 

Violet’s maid and the footman stepped aside when they arrived and the assistant opened the door. Anthony followed your parents in, and his heart nearly stopped upon seeing you.

Your mother’s eyes filled with tears as she approached your bedside, and, after a nod from the doctor, brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear and laid the back of her hand against your forehead. 

“She’s burning up,” she whispered. 

“It is typical after surgery,” the doctor said. “With any luck, she will sweat it out. I will monitor her throughout.” 

Your mother nodded, a shaky sigh escaping her, and she took your hand. 

“I am so sorry, darling,” she whispered. “I am so sorry I was not there for you.” She brought your intertwined hands up and lightly kissed the back of your hand. “I love you more than anything. Please, come back to us soon.” 

Your father joined her, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I do not know if you can hear us,” he said, voice slightly shaky, “but we are here for you. We will be here when you awaken, and every moment onwards.” 

Mrs. Worthing looked back at Anthony, inclining her head towards you. Anthony swallowed his doubt as he moved forward, but the breath was stolen from him when he could fully see you. 

Your eyes were closed. Your chest rose and fell just so, hardly noticeable, thin linens provided by the doctor rested over you, and sweat beaded on your brow. Alongside the discoloration of your skin, you looked… 

You looked as if you were dead. 

And Anthony knew that you were not—for God’s sake, you were breathing—but all he could think about, all he could see, was his father, all those years ago, dying in front of him while he could not do a single thing to stop it. And he felt that same helplessness with you; just standing there, watching, unable to do anything but hope. 

“We are here for you,” he whispered. “...I am here for you. No matter what, I am here for you. Just know that, if nothing else.” 

Your mother’s watery smile made him look to the doctor for fear of the same emotions eliciting even further in him. 

“When will she wake?” Anthony asked. His voice sounded almost foreign to him. 

“In a few hours, with any luck,” the doctor said. “At the very most, it will be the end of the day.” 

“We will gladly host her until she is able enough,” Anthony said, looking at your parents. “And we have plenty of spare rooms for you to choose from if you wish to remain by her side during those days.” 

“Thank you, Anthony.” Your mother placed her hands on his shoulders, though she had to look up at him, and she smiled. “You make her so happy. It will be my greatest pleasure to officially welcome you into our family.” 

Anthony’s throat bobbed. God above, he hoped that was the truth. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. “She… she means a great deal to me.” 

“You’re a good man, Bridgerton,” your father said. “I’m thankful my daughter will end up with someone like you.” 

“Your approval means the world,” he said, and he found he meant it wholly. 

The doctor cleared his throat. “It would be best for her visitors to be limited as of now. The parents can stay, but…” 

Anthony nodded, smoothing his lapels. “Of course.” 

“We will alert you of anything,” your mother said. Anthony nodded again, and he allowed himself one more moment to look at you before he left. 

You were alright. You would be alright. That was all that mattered. 

Still, when he found himself alone in the hallway, finally able to breathe again, he still had that weight on his shoulders. 

A revelation such as the one he’d had should have been a blessing, a relief. A man in love was meant to be a happy one. But a man in love did not usually find his feelings in the midst of season-long ruse whilst his beloved fought on her deathbed.  

Anthony blew out a loose sigh, shaking his head as he continued through the halls. Being on his own, he found, was worse than sitting in silence with his family. He was trying to think of something to say, trying to gather his emotions and push them aside so he could be the man of the house as he was meant to be, but when he reached the room from before he was only met with Eloise. 

She looked up from the floor, and he noticed the puffiness of her eyes, her slightly blotchy skin. His heart sank yet again. 

“Benedict helped Mother to bed,” she explained, her throat bobbing. “All of this exhausted her. I’ve no idea where he is now.” 

Anthony nodded, his mind still wandering. “Ah.” 

“How is she?” Eloise asked, her brows knit in concern. 

“As well as she can be.” Anthony sighed. “She has a fever, but she’s resting. Her parents are with her and the doctor is watching over her. He said she should awaken before the end of the day.” 

The furrow softened as she smiled. It was good to see her smile. “Good. That— that’s good. I’m glad.” 

“And how are you, Eloise?” Anthony asked, folding his arms. 

“As well as I can be,” she responded wryly. Anthony’s lips twitched in a momentary smile, but she leaned against the couch and let out a sigh of her own. “This all certainly ended in the best way it could have.” 

“The best way would have been for it to have never happened,” he said. “I should have prevented it—I was meant to keep her safe.” 

“Brother,” she said wearily, “I already told you that you cannot blame yourself.” 

“And I’ve never been one for listening to you,” he said dryly, “have I?” 

Eloise huffed a laugh and shook her head. “I am not a fool, Anthony. I know what is happening between you two.” 

Anthony frowned. “Eloise—”

“You love her,” she said bluntly. “Do you not?” 

He tried to say something, but no words would follow. He could only stare at his sister and her nerve, resulting in a small smile from her. 

“You are not that talented an actor, brother,” she said. “It is easier for me to believe the two of you are truly in love than that you could actually trick me in such a way.” 

He blinked. “You believe she loves me?” 

Eloise laughed, turning her head slightly. “I do,” she said. “And seeing as you are not denying it, I believe that means you love her.” 

Anthony bit the inside of his cheek. So the two of you could fool the entirety of the ton for over half the season, but apparently not Eloise. How typical. 

He walked over and took a seat on the couch next to his sister, leaving a bit of space between them. He took a deep breath before he spoke. 

“I do.” He glanced at her. “I love her.” 

Saying it aloud—admitting the truth of feelings he’d been fighting for so long—brought him an unexpected lightness. One other person knew both truths: that they had been lying about their love, and that Anthony had been lying about his lies. 

It would have been laughable had he not been so unsure of everything else. 

It took Eloise a moment to say anything back. For a while, she merely looked at him, unreadable depths in her eyes. He didn’t think he would ever be able to fully decipher his sister. 

“I know my blessing means very little in the scheme of things,” she finally said. “But know that if this does come into fruition… I will support you two. Every step of the way.” 

The smile that spread across Anthony’s lips was brighter than anything he’d experienced today, and he inclined his head. “Truly?” 

“Yes, truly,” Eloise said, a smile of her own growing though she tried to hide it as she glanced away. “It is not a big deal. Do not make it out to be one. There are far worse men that she could end up with.” 

“Alright,” he said, unabashed in his joy. For such a solemn day, Eloise had turned his mood around. 

“And I will also keep your secret,” she said breezily, “again, so do not worry about that.” 

“You say it does not mean much,” Anthony said, “but you are wrong. Your support means more to me than you know.” 

She shifted, seemingly bolstered ever so slightly by his praise. “...I’m glad.” 

He smiled as he stood back up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his outfit. Anthony grimaced as his hands came into view. He was in dire need of a bath and some new clothes. He could not deal with your blood on him for much longer. 

“I must be going,” Anthony said. “I need to clean up. And,” he sighed, “ensure that none of this has spread to the rest of the ton.” 

Eloise hummed, and Anthony was nearly at the door when she spoke up again. 

“...Thank you. For being here for me.” 

His expression softened as he glanced back at her. “I will always be here for you.” 

Her lips curved just so. Anthony had never been so thankful to no longer be at odds with one of his siblings. 

-

Your head hurt. 

That was the first thing you could truly understand as your eyes slowly cracked open, squinting while you came to. You blinked a multitude of times, trying to regain your bearings and relieve the dryness of your eyes. 

It took another moment for them to adjust to the darkness—the curtains were closed, but no light filtered through. How long had you been asleep? 

You grimaced as you shifted ever so slightly, a dull but constant ache in your chest leaving you stiff, but there was a weight of a hand in yours. You glanced over and recognized your mother, asleep but still grasping your hand. 

You smiled. She came for you after all. 

But as you tried to shift further in the bed, you groaned, a sharp column of pain shooting through you. Your mother’s eyes shot open, her body starting from instinct, but it took a moment for her to truly realize it all. 

“Nice of you to wake up,” you said wryly. 

“You—” tears sprung in her eyes, and her lips spread in a grateful grin— “You must be alright if your first words are to antagonize your mother.” 

“I am still here,” you said. You didn’t want to tell her you didn’t think you would make it. That you thought your fate was sealed when you pulled your hand away to nothing but blood. 

“That you are,” she said breathily. “Are you alright, though? How do you feel? Does it hurt?” 

“I believe I am alright,” you responded, “I feel… tired. And my chest aches.” 

“The doctor said that would be expected,” she murmured. “What do you remember?” 

“...That depends,” you said. “What do you know?” 

Your mother gave you a look as she said your full name. “This is not the time for games.” 

Your cheeks heated and you averted your eyes. “I was in the city with Anthony. I was stabbed after a riot broke out. That is all I remember.” 

“Lord Bridgerton is the reason you are alive,” your mother said. “He brought you back to Bridgerton House, and their doctor saved your life.” 

Somehow it was possible for your face to burn even more. You dragged Anthony out to that meeting, and you repaid him by making him drag your near lifeless body all the way back to his estate. 

You were the worst fake fiancee a man could have. 

You felt your eyes begin to fill with tears and you rapidly blinked them away. 

“Where is he?” you asked quietly. “Where is Anth— Lord Bridgerton?” 

Your mother gave you a knowing look. “It is alright to call him by his name, darling. It is quite clear how much he cares for you.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You could not do this. “Where is he?” 

“He is with his family,” she said. “You caused everyone quite a fright.” 

“I can imagine,” you said hollowly. 

“Would you like to see him?” she asked. “Because I am sure he—” 

“No.” The haste with which you sat up drew out another wince. “No— I…” 

You closed your eyes, biting down on the inside of your lip. You could not do this. 

Your mother said your name softly. “What is it?” 

You opened your eyes, ignoring the wetness around them as you looked at her. “Anthony and I cannot marry.” 

She blinked. It looked as if it took a moment for your words to sink in. “What?” 

“We cannot marry,” you repeated. “We— we never could marry. Our courtship is a ruse.” 

Your mother blinked again, this time wholly taken aback. “What?” 

“It is a ruse,” you repeated, more forcefully. “I wanted to escape the baron, and Anthony wanted to escape a thousand desperate debutantes. I proposed a mock courtship between us, and he accepted.” 

Her brows furrowed deeper than ever before, as if she still couldn’t fully believe it. “You lied to me.” 

“To everyone,” you said. You hadn’t a clue what had gotten into you, tearing apart a story carefully crafted throughout nearly the entire season, but something burned inside of you. You couldn’t keep going with this—you couldn’t keep stringing Anthony along, not when your feelings were far more real than they had any right to be. 

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would you do such a thing?” 

“Because I did not want to marry,” you repeated. “The baron is nothing more than a lecher, and the thought of any sort of marriage to him disgusted me, but you and Father refused to listen to me. The only way to get out of it was for you to believe I had caught the affections of someone better. Anthony Bridgerton’s word was certainly better than mine in the eyes of the ton.” 

Your mother stared at the floor for much longer than you anticipated, and you could not tear your eyes away from her. 

“Mother,” you said quietly, “say something. Please.” 

“I do not quite know what to say.” She finally looked at you, and your throat bobbed. “All of our plans have hinged on this marriage for the entirety of the season. What am I to tell your father?” 

“Do not tell him,” you begged. “Please. It is enough that you know— I could not handle the shame if he were to as well.” 

“I do not keep secrets as well as you,” your mother snapped. “Marrying into the Bridgerton family would have saved us, both in riches and name. Even your dowry would have gone to use for something of your choosing.” She shook her head, clasping her hands together.  “And now you have almost died and we will have to control this and I just—” 

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you interrupted. 

That ceased her arguments quite quickly. “What?” 

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you repeated. “He has both riches and name.” 

Your mother frowned as she gripped your hands tighter. “You despise him. You got yourself into this entire mess in order to avoid him—you’ve said so yourself.” 

“What choice do I have?” you asked desperately. “His name is enough to weather the scandal I’ve created. His money will secure a life for you and Father, and he has a fine pedigree. It is the only way to save the Worthing name.” 

“Have you not considered the very man who has been courting you this season?” Your mother gestured with her hand. “Look where you are, darling! Lord Bridgerton has offered up his estate to us so we can be near you as you heal. Your courtship may have started as a ruse, but the man clearly feels something for you!” 

“We have become very good friends over the course of the season,” you said, “and I am thankful for it. But I cannot taint the Bridgerton name further.” 

“Dearest—”

“It is necessary,” you interrupted, but your quick movement brought on a sharp thread of pain in your chest and you winced. 

“Do not push yourself,” your mother whispered, and you nodded. 

“It is necessary,” you repeated, though slower. “My rebellion was just… naivete. I will not be the reason for our family’s ruin borne from my own stubbornness. I will secure our legacy, I will secure my future—I will marry Lord Cardew, and… and I will finally stop trying to resist my fate.” 

Your mother stared at you, and you stared back. “You said it yourself—our family’s well being hinges on my marrying into wealth. What sane man would consider me after what I’ve done?” 

She continued to look at you long and hard, her expression one of unreadable depths. “You are sure?” 

No, you wanted to say. You had never been less sure of anything in your life. But you could see no other choice. So you nodded. 

Your mother glanced away from you with a sigh, eyes searching the room for a moment before she nodded as well. “...Alright. If that is what you wish, your father and I will contact him once you are recovered.” 

“Mother—” 

“That is non-negotiable,” she said, and she smiled at you. “You may be blossoming into a true lady, but you are still my daughter. And I will not allow my daughter to do anything until she is fully healed.” 

You nodded. “Alright.” 

“I am sure that it goes without saying that you are never going to be allowed out of our sight until you are married and settled?” your mother said, and though it caused a sharp pain in your chest, you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I assumed just as much, Mother.” 

-

Dearest Reader,

It is a fact well known throughout Mayfair that the social season requires the full attention of every single person, frantic mamas and bored bachelors alike. It is a game of wits unlike any other, and this season has proven no different. The middle of our merriment marks many of the most eligible debutantes as engaged — this author pays special attention to the season’s diamond, Lady Adelaida Kennington, who has found her happy ending with the young Earl Pembroke.

Though congratulations may be due to another lady of the ton, one of the simple yet highly discussed Worthing family — as it seems, Miss Worthing has tossed aside the much desired Viscount Bridgerton for the hand of the Baron Jonathan Cardew. One can only be left to wonder what Lord Bridgerton must have done to go from an obviously incoming proposal back to his rakish ways in little more than a night, but it most certainly has to do with Miss Worthing’s recent disappearance from society. Word has passed around of her frequent visits to the lesser parts of London, engaging in activity that can only be described as scandalous. Perhaps it was not the fault of the viscount indeed—Miss Worthing may have finally pushed Lord Bridgerton to his limits. 

No matter the reason for the ending of the courtship, this author must extend her thanks to the pairing for providing such material for my pen. It is not every day a nobody in the ton manages to bring down two families at once. Perhaps Miss Worthing deserves congratulations for conducting this fantastical feat all on her own. If it was outrage she was searching for, she has certainly earned it. 

Yours Truly, 

Lady Whistledown 

You huffed a sigh and threw the leaflet across the room, letting your head fall back against the wooden headboard. It was one thing for Lady Whistledown to criticize you, it was another thing entirely for her to bring your family and the Bridgertons into it. You deserved everything that came towards you for what you had done, but your parents, the Bridgertons, Anthony— they were not a part of any of it. 

Especially when all your father had done was visit the Cardew estate to have a conversation with the man, see if he was open to the possibility of a marriage with you. Nothing was at all set in stone, but the way Whistledown told it, you were already steps from the chapel with a ring on your finger. 

So now, as if it weren’t enough that you were bed bound until your physician deemed you recovered for regular activity, as if it weren’t enough that you were likely set to be married by the end of the season, as if it weren’t enough that you were constantly denying Anthony’s requests to visit you, every single one of your idiotic mistakes was revealed to the ton through a woman too cowardly to write without a pseudonym. 

If you ever found Lady Whistledown, you thought bitterly, you would strangle her. 

The silence in your room was broken by the door opening, and when you looked up you were greeted with Julia’s face. The usual smile she bore when around you was not there, but before you could ask she answered your unspoken question. 

“I apologise for the interruption, my lady, but you have a visitor. He insisted on seeing you.” 

A small part of you knew who it was even before she stepped aside, but when Anthony Bridgerton walked into your room your breath still hitched the tiniest bit. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked immediately, holding back a grimace as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. 

“I had to see you,” Anthony said. 

“And you chose to do so by invading my privacy.” 

“I have not heard a single word directly from you nor your pen since the accident,” he said, his voice not without a slight barb. But underneath it all, an uncommon hurt festered inside of him. You could not see it, exactly, but you could sense it. “Forgive me for wanting to confirm with my own eyes that you were still alive.” 

“I will remain here as a chaperone,” Julia said, closing the door behind her. “You may talk as freely as you please — I will not repeat a single word.” Anthony nodded and pulled the stool away from the vanity so he could be closer to you, then sat down. 

Despite Julia’s reassurance, neither of you spoke a word. The silence began to weigh heavily, the tension growing so thick it could be cut with a knife. For so long you had been rejecting Anthony’s requested meetings, not wanting to see him after what you had done. You feared for how he would react, both to your complete ignorance of him after your nearly fatal injury and your acceptance of Lord Cardew’s courtship. 

You left Bridgerton House without a word mere hours after your ill-fated decision despite the protests of your parents—you could not stay there for another moment under Anthony’s good graces, not when you had doomed any possible future with him. You did not deserve a single millimeter of Bridgerton good will. 

You stared down at the covers you laid under, fidgeting with your hands in your lap as you focused on everything except your visitor. You could not bring yourself to meet Anthony’s gaze, though you’d felt his own on you for the past five minutes. 

“Is it true?” 

You finally looked up at his sudden question, meeting the intensity of those dark brown eyes you’d lost yourself in so many times. “Is what true?” 

“Your marriage to Jonathan Cardew,” he said stiffly. “Is it true?” 

Just as quickly, you glanced away. It was near impossible to even be in the same room as the viscount since you had made the decision, even more so to think of the reason why it was that way. So instead, you just nodded. 

“Yes. If all works out, we are to be wed at the end of the season.” 

“Why?” Anthony leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as his hands clenched into loose fists. “You openly despise the man—you asked me to court you to avoid him. Why in the name of all things rational would you willingly enter a marriage with him?” 

“He will provide for me,” you said. “He has money, he has land, and he is a respectable member of society. He has already been content with the possibility of marriage once, and his name is enough to weather the scandal I have created. It is the smartest choice available.”

“And what of us?” He had an almost wild look in his eyes, and the worst desire took root in you to root your fingers in his hair and ease the troubles you’d caused him. “We have spent the near entirety of the season becoming closer, and you are willing to just throw it all away for a man like Cardew?” 

“I could not trap you in a marriage you do not want,” you insisted. “You deserve more than a woman you share no love for, Anthony, and to be married to the woman who made a fool of your entire family. Lord Cardew is the only option.”

“Even if all of that is true, that does not mean it is a smart choice!” he exclaimed. “He is not a safe man to be around! If he has been pursuing you so strongly and only backed off because of my influence, what do you think will happen when you are his legal wife with no sort of protection?” 

You swallowed thickly at his words. “He is not that sort of man, Anthony. He may be… horrid, and a complete egoist, but it will be a life of comfort. And that is the life that I need.” 

Anthony laughed breathlessly, completely devoid of mirth as he frowned. “You cannot be serious. I have been by your side for an entire season of feminist rants and marriage complaints, half of which revolved around Cardew himself, and now you are telling me that you are just— just alright with this sort of compliance?” 

“Nearly dying because of my own idiotic choices has forced me to reexamine my life,” you said plainly. “If I had been even the slightest bit unlucky, I would have perished on those streets, and what would I have had to show for myself? A rebellion that I was only able to take part in because of the privilege I so often fought against?” 

“You have made a difference,” Anthony insisted. “You provided for women that no one has the gall to look out for. You’ve spoken out for your own rights, you’ve stood up for your own interests rather than sit around and take what you have been given.”

“I have been fighting against a life that so many less fortunate than myself would kill for,” you said. “I believed death to be a better fate than being forced to marry a man I did not love, but when I was on death’s door, I realized how foolish I was— how utterly selfish.” 

“You are not selfish,” Anthony said, but you shook your head. 

“I am. Unbelievably so.” You huffed a mirthless laugh as you looked at him. “My parents did not love each other when they married, but they were friends. They could tolerate the other’s presence, and neither of them were fortunate enough to be able to care about anything else. They have grown to love each other in their own way, of course, and they are in a better situation now, but they could not have known it would turn out that way. They did what they had to for the sake of their families and themselves, and it is time I do the same.” 

“Love matches are rare,” you murmured. “And even if I were granted the opportunity… I would not deserve it.”

Anthony shook his head. “Do not say that.” 

“It is the truth,” you said, letting out yet another humorless laugh. “I have been horrible to my mother when all she has ever wanted is a better life for me than she had. I have fought her for every step of the way for no other reason than my hubris and the dim belief that I deserved different than everyone else simply because I wanted it, no matter what the greater good was. How can that not be selfish, Anthony?” 

“You do not have to do this,” he insisted. “You said you dreamed of unmarried life! You told me your fantasies of escaping from society, of living on your own and depending on no one but yourself. You are willing to give all of that up, just like that?”

“I was a fool for ever doing so!” you exclaimed. “Anthony, this world is hard enough on its own for married women — what do you think will become of my family if I do not marry? What do you think will become of me?”

“But you are strong.” Anthony leaned forward, his brow knit in determination. “You are strong, and intelligent, and fully capable of managing on your own. Spinster brand be damned, if it is what you wish, you will flourish completely!”

“Will I?” you questioned, and you gestured at yourself. “I am bound to this room of my own doing because I refused to see the truth of the world around me. I was young and naive to believe I could achieve anything of the sort I dreamed of without consequences, and I will be naive no longer.”

“If you insist on marrying, at least find somebody else,” Anthony begged. “You will be miserable for the rest of your life if you marry Jonathan Cardew.” 

“I cannot afford to marry for love, my lord,” you said simply, “and even if I could find a man who loved me, I could never love them back. I would not force anyone into a marriage they did not want, not when…” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

You shook your head, choking them down. “It is not important.”

“Please do not marry him,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I beg of you.” 

“Then who should I marry?” you asked, almost brazenly. “Who should I marry, if not him? I am certainly not one for options.”

You did not know what you wanted Anthony to say. To marry him? That he felt the same for you as you did for him? That, while you were indeed a fool for falling for him, he was one as well. That he would not leave you, not now, nor ever. 

But instead he just stared at you with those dark brown eyes that even now could make you melt, a million emotions brewing inside of them yet none of them being given an outlet. 

“I do not know,” he murmured, and your heart sank. “But I beg of you, do not let it be him.”

“It is not your decision to make,” you said quietly. “Soon I will be engaged to Lord Cardew, and I will be out of your life.”

There was an underlying desperation in Anthony’s eyes as he looked at you now, that storm of emotions thundering inside of him begging to be expressed. “I do not want you out of my life.”

The words felt like poison leaving your lips. “You do not have a choice.” 

Before Anthony could protest any further, you stood up and looked over at your lady’s maid. “Please escort Lord Bridgerton outside. I wish to be alone.” 

“My lady, are you—” 

“Julia,” you said, your voice strained, “please.” 

She nodded and she gestured for Anthony towards the door, but he did not move a centimeter.

Anthony said your name with such pain that you could not even stand to look at him, the inside of your lip drawn so tightly between your teeth that you could taste blood all in the effort to prevent tears from emerging.

“Do not make this harder than it has to be,” you whispered. “I beg of you, Anthony.”

“Lord Bridgerton,” Julia said quietly, “please obey my lady’s wishes.”

He stared at you with desperation before he finally nodded and walked out the door, Julia closing it behind him. 

You screwed your eyes shut as you dug the heels of your palms into your forehead, letting out a frustrated sob as your hands dropped back down. The pinpricks of tears were already starting, and while you were thankful you were alone, you already longed for Anthony’s presence. 

You wished, more than ever, that things could be how they used to be. You wished you’d never even made this ridiculous deal with him—then you would not be in such pain, yearning for a man you could never have while the reputation of you and your family was destroyed and your life fell to pieces around you. You could not do a single thing about it, and you could not blame a single soul for it other than yourself. 

You’d never felt so useless.

-

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[lydiimae]

Infatuation

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

MDI!! 18+

Part 2 <3

Warnings: Heavy drinking, mentions of opium use, mentions of prostitution, rough sex, fingering, oral sex, semi-public sex, squirting, marking, thigh riding, vaginal sex, dom benedict and sub reader, brief spanking, possessive benedict, LOTS of dirty talk

A.N: hi again, i'm back on my bullshit <3 first of all, thank you so very much for the love on my first Benny fic AND my first fic ever. liiiiike seriously, that was so sweet <3 T-T. anyway, this fic is another Benny fic- a smutty one at that. it is vaguely based off of the infamous party where Ben has his threesome, however, i changed it up quite a bit so take it at face value hehe. i am planning on making an Anthony one next, probably some more filth so I can practice getting my wording to a place i am proud of. also, i think i will maybe make this into a series??? so do let me know if you like it so i can get an idea >.< enjoy, ily, and THANK YOU AGAIN <3 ^-^

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You were never one to go to parties, especially the ones your dear friend Genevieve Delacroix invited you to. She had a knack for finding the most raunchy, wanton, artists who would throw parties full of courtesans, sex, opium, alcohol... the whole of it.

Being a maid for such a wealthy and well-known family, the Featherington's to be exact, meant you knew the secret lives that many lords and ladies lead outside of the stuffy confines of the ballrooms.

You were lucky to be the lady's maid of the sweetest Featherington, Penelope, and therefore you were even luckier to hear about the Bridgerton family. From what she told you, they were all kind and polite, just like anyone else. She had also hinted, quite shyly, to the men of the family being gorgeous. The third born being her favorite.

You had seen glimpses of pearly white teeth, dark blue tailcoats, and their chestnut brown hair but were never lucky enough to see a full image of any of them but Eloise and her sister, Daphne.

When Genevieve insisted on you tagging along with her and a friend from a higher-up place, you begrudgingly accepted. It was lucky that the young debutante you worked for insisted on having something important to do, so you snuck out and walked through the streets of London to the modiest's shop.

Genevieve dressed you in a tight but, incredibly beautiful, dark blue corset and a pair of black pants, to which you raised an eyebrow. "I look as if I am soliciting, not as if I am curious about this party you have been nagging me to go to." You comment, looking in the mirror.

"What if you solicit, hm? Where is the harm in spending a night with a lord or even another servant?" She returns, tightening up the laces on the corset before stepping back and looking over her work. "Besides, look at yourself. You have a body that would make any one of those silly debutantes jealous, why not show it?" She grins.

You sigh and turn to her, a small cheeky smile on your face as a result of her teasing. "You owe me for this, Viv." You tease and she laughs, putting on her cloak as she hands you your own. "There she is. The Y/N I know. We will have fun, I swear it." She says. Once your cloak is tugged over your shoulders, the both of you make your way out of the shop and towards the house where the party is being held.

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Benedict never snuck out, not before he got invited to Lord Granville's house. The man was nice enough about him completely insulting his art to his face, nice enough to recognize an artistic eye and even the hint of talent that Benedict possessed through merely speaking about art. He thought the gathering was going to be one where he would meet artists and practice his craft. He was wrong.

Of course, he was experienced in the world of sex, drugs, and drinking. He attended the gentleman's club with his brothers after almost every ball he attended, much like every other lord in the ton. He has shared his number of passion-filled nights with nameless women, some of which he cannot remember. The only remenice being the ache of a hangover, and the taste of expensive whiskey still lingering on his tongue.

He would have never thought that the artist had such a scene hiding behind such an unassuming townhouse.

He followed the artist in and was met with quite the scene. The room was hazy with the smoke of expensive cigars, the candlelight casting a low gold hue on the entire house. He followed the artist deeper and was met with courtesans soliciting men at every turn, to which he grinned.

Even further and he was led into a room where women were posed naked, in quite compromising positions, for eager artists who were trying to master the anatomy of a naked woman. Or so that is what Granville claimed.

He grins crookedly at the sight. "Quite the room, is it not?" Lord Granville piques up from behind him. He turns to face the man and nods. "Quite. Might I stay here? I have found myself needing practice of anatomy as of late and this is the perfect place to do so." He says, a playful glint in his eye.

Granville, of course, picks up on it and nods. "Of course, Lord Bridgerton. Do enjoy yourself." He returns with a knowing smile and a wink before exiting the room. Benedict sits at one of the free easles, one of the other men lighting a cigar and offering it to him. He accepts, and puffs on it as he begins to work.

He could get used to this.

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Genevieve leads you through the party, grabbing two glasses of what looks like scotch off of a passing servant's tray. She settles for meeting her friend, who you quickly learn is the wife of said artist who is throwing the party, on the stairs.

After a while of chatting you learn that the young woman's name is Lucy and her husband is Henry Granville, an artist whose work you always found interesting. You also are clued into the fact that their marriage is one of convenience, rather than love, as Lord Granville has no romantic nor sexual interest towards the opposite sex. You find no issue in what the young couple has, after all, you have seen much worse when it comes to marriages in the ton.

"Viv, might I go explore, or am I to only solicit?" You tease as you push off the wall. She laughs and shakes her head. "I am not your keeper, Y/N. Go and do as you wish, just be careful." She says, a hint of genuine protectiveness seeping through her tone of voice. "I promise. I will find my way back to your shop if anything goes awry." You assure before walking down the steps with a quick wave to both of the women.

You duck into a small room with a door that leads to a balcony after grabbing another glass of scotch from a passing servant. However fun it is coming to these things with Viv, you find them quite overwhelming. You are more attuned to the quietness of your servant's quarters, spending countless hours curled up with a good book that your young mistress so generously gifts you from time to time.

You walk out on the balcony, leaning heavily on the metal railing as you look up at the stars. The scotch, and the fact that you get much drunker much quicker than most, is making a delightfully warm feeling bloom in your chest. You take a deep breath of the fresh air to calm your senses before ducking back into the party.

You make it all of two steps before colliding into a broad chest, which sends your alcohol down the front of your torso.

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He was in that hazy, alcohol-filled room, long enough to get just drunk enough to where he was clumsy. He catches the woman he so foolishly clambered into on his way out of the room he was painting in by the waist, which sends her drink out of her hand and down her front.

"My God, I am so incredibly sorry my lady." He rushes, gazing down at the mess he made. His eyes widen at the sight that lies in front of him.

She's a young woman, young enough that she can not be past the age of two and twenty, in a very revealing corset top and black pants. Her hair is tucked up elegantly, yet a few unruly waves have fallen as a result of the night's activities. Her cheeks are pink, probably from the embarrassment or perhaps even the anger, of getting drenched in scotch.

The liquid drips down her neck, and he follows a drop from her neck to where it travels right between her breasts. The tops are peaking out from being hugged so tight. They are full, so very full. He wonders what it would feel like to run his tongue over the smooth skin, what it would feel like to roll her nipple between his teeth and suck.

He shakes himself out of it and meets her eyes once more before he gets any more aroused than he already is.

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You recognize him immediately as a Bridgerton, though you have no idea which one. He has a silly crooked smile on his face that you cannot seem to draw your eyes from, he also sports the undoubtedly Bridgerton chestnut brown hair.

He has longer hair than the one Penelope speaks of, but only just. Your eyes roam from his face to his chest, where he is wearing only a loose undershirt, his waistcoat long forgotten in drunken activities you're sure. His suspenders hang loose on his shoulders, just barely hanging onto his black trousers.

"You're a Bridgerton." It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, the effects of three glasses of scotch. He grins wider, chuckling a bit. The noise makes your entire body heat up. "I am. Benedict Bridgerton in fact." He says, his eyes never straying from yours.

"And you are?" He ponders after a moment of silence from you. You jump at the question, having been too distracted by the look of his lips to even notice he was speaking. You clear your throat and adjust your posture. "Y/N L/N." You answer shyly.

"Well, Y/N L/N, can I take you to a room and clean up the mess I made of your top, or is that entirely too forward for a gentleman to ask within mere moments of meeting?" He grins, the alcohol he consumed only ebbing on his already large confidence when it comes to women. You only nod shyly, afraid that if you speak you will make a stuttering fool of yourself.

He offers an arm, which you take happily, and begins to lead you through the party.

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He pulls you into a room and, almost immediately, his hands encompass your waist. "You... are the most stunning woman I have ever had the pleasure of looking at." He murmurs, sending your heart soaring. You rest your hand on his chest, newly emboldened by the liquid courage you have been sipping on the entire night, returning his cheeky smile. "Is it too forward for a lady to say the same within mere moments of meeting?" You return.

He lets out a chuckle when you parrot his past words and he leans down. "A witty woman as well as a beautiful one, what else do you have up your sleeve Miss L/N?" He purrs, running a flattened hand up your back until it meets your hair. He tugs it down from its pins, sending it tumbling over your shoulders.

"Perhaps, if you are lucky Mister Bridgerton, I shall show you." You whisper, leaning in so your lips are but a hair's width away from his. Something dangerous and incredibly intoxicating passes over his features as he lets out a noise, a growl, that causes your core to dampen.

"You are a very forward woman, Y/N. I find it quite... infatuating to say the very least." He whispers before capturing your lips. You close your eyes and tangle one of your hands in his thick hair, the other finding his collar and giving it a slight tug.

He groans into your mouth, his hands enveloping your bum cheeks and pulling you even closer. He wants to feel the rise and fall of your breasts as he makes you pant. And by god does he.

You moan into his mouth as his hands squeeze the soft skin of your ass through your trousers, which gives him the perfect chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes smoky, like cigars and whiskey. It makes your clit throb painfully.

As if reading your mind, and body, he spreads your legs with his knee and slides his leg between them. His thigh presses against your closed cunt and you gasp, breaking the kiss to throw your head back. He smirks and holds you right where you are by moving his hands to your hips.

"So sensitive." He whispers and groans as you begin to move your hips back and forth against his thigh, chasing the feeling it gives you. "Fuck, you are just full of surprises aren't you darling? I did not even have to tell you what to do, you just did it," He praises, his eyes locked on the place where your clothed core meets his leg.

"Riding my thigh like a bitch in heat. I might have to keep you." He gusts over your shoulder as he begins to kiss the exposed skin there. Oh God, how you would love that. To be able to fuck him whenever you saw fit, yes please Mister Bridgerton. "Please." Is all you manage to strangle out as you begin to grind down on him harder.

He bites down on your shoulder, leaving a bright red mark there, which he smirks at before he slowly guides you to the dark red chaise that lies in the corner of the room. He lays you back, slowly unlacing your corset with his slender fingers. He throws it across the room when it is off, his mouth immediately taking in one of your hardened nipples.

You cry out when he sucks, watching him look up at you with a shit-eating grin that makes your cunt even more soaked than it already is. He sucks and bites your bud before turning his attention to the other, giving it just as much attention. "The least I can do is clean up the mess I made." He whispers over your nipple, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure straight down to your core. Cocky bastard, you think to yourself as you grip his hair.

You are a whimpering, moaning mess by the time his face returns over yours. He presses a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your lips before sitting up and stripping himself of his suspenders and his shirt before returning his attention to you. He takes off your shoes and then unbuttons your trousers, slowly sliding them down your legs.

He groans lewdly at the sight. Genevieve had insisted quite heavily when she was dressing you up that you forgo panties. She said it made trousers more comfortable, less tight, so of course you agreed. You decide tonight, that if wearing no underwear will illicit that pretty noise from his lips, you will never wear them again.

"God you are soaked. Drenched from riding my thigh and a quick suck to your nipples." He whispers as he kisses the insides of your thighs. You whine and buck your hips up toward his face, which results in him quickly grabbing your hips with one of his hands and pressing you down into the cushion so you are unable to buck and writhe. "Perhaps I was right in my assessment of you, Miss Y/N. You really are just a bitch in heat. So desperate to be full of my cock, painted with my seed." He murmurs before licking a stripe up your slit.

You cry out and grip his hair with both hands, needing something to ground yourself as his tongue swirls around your clit. He lets out a growl at the taste of your dripping cunt, so sweet and yet so tart. Utter perfection. The noise you make in return has him wishing he could drink from your body for the rest of his days, die with you sat atop his face. Riding his mouth to oblivion.

He moves his hand down to his trousers, fumbling with the buttons to free his aching cock. He slides two fingers into your body without warning and you keen, your eyes rolling back as he collects your juices. He pulls his fingers out just as quick as they went in, and spreads your wetness on his length, stroking himself hard as he drinks from you.

"Ben... oh fuck.... so close." You babble as his tongue presses inside your hole, drawing the most heavenly noises from your body. He pulls away just as you start to see stars and you grasp at his hands, tears forming in your eyes from your denied release. "Please... Please..." You sob, desperate for the feeling to come back.

He chuckles deeply, hooking your knees over his shoulders. "I've got you, love." He assures, kissing away your tears before pulling back with a cocky grin that sends your heart fluttering. "You look like a masterpiece, crying for my cock. All flushed and swollen." He murmurs. You do not know if he is talking about you or your pussy, but you never wish for him to stop.

"Please, my lord. Please, please... I need you. I need..." You babble, completely free of any thought other than his pretty dick plunging inside of you. He curses and bends down, claiming your lips with his before thrusting into you without warning. He bottoms out, and both of you moan, the kiss becoming a mess of tongue and tooth alike.

He begins at a brutal pace, slamming into you so hard that the chaise creeks against the hardwood floor. You scream at the heavenly feeling of pain and pleasure, the sound muffled over his lips. Sweat splashes from his collarbone to yours as the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, the sickly sweet smell of sex enveloping your senses.

He grunts and breaks the kiss, holding one of your legs by the calf, his other hand cupping your jaw. Your mouth falls open as soon as his lips are gone, a loud moan coming from somewhere deep within slipping out before you can try and stop it. He grunts and sticks his thumb past your lips, afraid that someone will hear from outside the thin walls.

You happily oblige and close your lips around his digit, swirling your tongue around him to the rhythm of his thrusts. He moans at the sight of you sucking on his thumb like it's a cock, as his cock slams into your pretty pussy. "Fuck. I am keeping you. You are mine," He accentuates the word with a slap to your ass cheek, causing you to cry out over his finger and clench down on his cock. "Forever. No one else will ever-fuck.-be able to fill this sweet hole of yours. It is all mine. You are all mine." He grunts as his thrusts become sloppy.

He yanks his thumb from your mouth and attacks your swollen, throbbing, clit. He rubs it hard and fast, to match the rhythm of his thrusts and you cry out. He quickly intuits that you are as close to climax as he is and bends down, covering your lips with his own so that you can scream freely.

You do as he expected, letting out a long scream into his mouth as stars rush over your vision and your body burns hot. Your juices soak both his pant-covered leg and the velvety fabric of the chaise below. The feeling of your fluttering cunt tightening even further sends him over and he releases deep inside you before he goes limp over your body.

He pushes himself up after a moment, relishing in the sight below him. Your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen and bruised. You have a bite mark on your shoulder, your hair surrounding your head like a messy halo. Perfection. A ruined, beautiful, masterpiece made solely by him.

He brushes the hair out of your face and presses a sweet kiss to your brow. "Might I be privy to those many secrets you were so keen on hiding, Miss L/N?" He teases softly, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket and beginning to clean the mess of mixed juices on your thighs.

You giggle. "The next time we meet, I promise to tell at least one." You return, your heart fluttering at the way he so delicately slides your trousers back over your legs after cleaning you up. He grins as he buttons them up, his hands encompassing your waist to pull you up to a sitting position.

You use the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck, and it is his turn to laugh. "Next time, then. I will wait with held breath until then, I assure you." He whispers, helping you into your corset. "But for now, I owe you a lovely night, hm?" He murmurs as he pulls the laces of your corset tight. You sigh and nod. "I would like that very much." You whisper back, resting your head on his shoulder.

He smiles cheekily, "Is it entirely too forward for a gentleman to say he would like to do this every night from now on, mere hours after meeting?" He whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

No, Mister Bridgerton, it is not.

[mayfieldss]

Messy - Anthony Bridgerton

Synopsis: What was supposed to go as a smooth business meeting ends rather the opposite, thanks to Anthony's great distraction; you.

Content Warnings: written at 1am and not proofread. Proceed at your own risk.

Anthony was trying his best to be a gentleman. He prided himself on just that, after all, and would be mortified to be seen as anything else. That is why, when things got particularly disastrous, Anthony could not stop the apologies spilling from his lips.

The day had begun simple enough. The sky was the perfect shade of blue, matching the theme of the Bridgerton household without fail, and the sun peeked through thin clouds enough to cast its warmth in a comfortable manner. Your family had been set to meet with the Bridgerton's at noon, a business deal that would hopefully provide wealth and further status to both families alike. And when you'd arrived, carriage and horses pulling to a stop on the gravel, nothing had been amiss. In fact, everyone involved had been more than confident in the speed at which the deal could be made. There was much to discuss, yes, but without interruption, time would pass quickly, and you'd be home before you knew it. And yet, that wasn't the way things occurred.

Anthony takes the blame himself, for if he had kept focused perhaps nothing would have gone awry. But when his eyes landed on you, stepping down from the carriage with the help of your older brother's hand, he was stuck. It was as though his gaze was caught on you, like a thread hooked upon a nail, and he couldn't cut himself loose.

"Lord Bridgerton," your greeting was lost, as were everyone else's as his ears roared with shame. He was flustered, it seemed, and you had done nothing yet to cause it.

He sent you a smile, welcomed you, and your family, to the estate, trying wholeheartedly to snap himself from this trance. And for a while he thought to have succeeded.

Inside his home, everyone sat in the living room, and across from Anthony sat your oldest brother, in the place of your father who Anthony could only assume would not be joining you. Perhaps the man had passed like his own parent, or maybe some other reason was behind it. But Anthony had no troubles with a man closer to his age, and he was more than ready to converse in the gentlemanly manner he had trained himself to default to. You sat near Anthony's mother, discussing the rose gardens and other rather lady-like things, but there was something about your posture that told Anthony you could not care less about the flowers outside the large windows.

You held a pleasing smile, and to any passer by you might appear interested in such a topic, but to Anthony you were anything but convincing. Your eyes were distant from the conversation, and your hands were occupied fiddling with the folds of your dress. You were nodding along, with nothing much to say other than compliments toward his mothers gardeners. He was an actor himself at times, in fact this business deal required an almost theatre like performance to sell, and he could see his own tactics as well as some his siblings strategies coming through in you.

"Lord Bridgerton," This time, his title did not come from you, but rather your brother, whom Anthony had been unknowingly ignoring in favour of examining your actions.

Anthony clears his throat, and he can feel the heat rising up his neck underneath his collar. "Yes, sorry, go on." He doesn't have a clue what the man before him had been saying previously, and even as the conversation continues he is hardly listening. He's scolding himself internally, trying to keep it together.

He's able to hold focus on the matters at hand for awhile after that, and everything seemed to be running smooth enough—until the tea arrived.

Mrs Wilson had meant no harm when she entered the room, and in truth, none of the following events had been her fault. She was simply a housekeeper, and Anthony should have been paying more attention. He was attentive to some things, the way you moved included. The smile you sent Mrs Wilson when she offered you tea, and the way strands of your hair fell forward into your vision at the nod of your head made him want to get up and cross the room to you. It made him want to brush them back and touch the skin that he could see. He wanted to speak with you then, he realized, and had he held any sense, he would have pushed the idea back into the depths of his mind. In a pause of conversation between you brother, Anthony decides to stand and cross the room, to where you and his mother reside. Your own mother sits beside you, bewildered at his sudden approach, and yet it doesn't occur to him that this could go wrong.

"Let me, Mrs Wilson." Anthony doesn't know why he takes the teapot from the housekeeper, nor does he understand why he finds himself pouring tea for the set of women before him. But the way your eyes run over him, the upturn of your lips to his actions makes it all worth it. Of course, until it all goes wrong. Again.

"Anthony, the tea!" his mothers voice rings in his ears, and when he looks back toward the teacups his eyes widen. He's overfilling the cup you hold as she speaks, and the hot liquid spills onto your hands. You yelp in surprise, seemingly not having noticed his mistake until you felt the burn, and drop your cup abruptly. The sound of it shattering is sharp, echoing along with Anthony's embarrassment.

"My apologies Miss L/N, I did not intend to—are you okay?" he watches as you scramble to your feet, trying your best to avoid the other splashes of the hot tea, and the shards of the cup upon the floor.

"No, I am sorry Lord Bridgerton," Your eyes move quickly between the broken teacup and your dress, now stained. He can see embarrassment in your own movements, and can feel it in his.

"I was the one at fault, Miss. Please allow me to apologize," Anthony had not realized how close he had come to you until this moment, his eyes scanning over your figure trying to find any way he could help. But it struck him suddenly to know that he had taken your hands in his own. He had been checking for burns from the tea, but now the feeling of your skin on his brought heat to his cheeks.

He drops your hands abruptly, casting his gaze to your brother, who stands disapprovingly to his left. "I am sorry again," Anthony takes a step back, though now your eyes have met with his, and he can see something in him that suggests he might not be the only one flustered by the encounter. "Are you harmed at all? Did you need assistance, perhaps by one of the maids, or a doctor?" he can still feel the weight of your fingers held in his own, even now as space lies between you.

"I am okay, my Lord, though I am rather embarrassed." the way your eyes sparkle seems just for him, and when you shift your gaze towards the maids, now cleaning up the mess from moments before, he watches the small and bashful smile you once held fall.

"My apologies, I should have been more careful." You say to the maids and all others in the room, though Anthony is shaking his head before the full sentence can even dare to leave you.

"It was me who was careless. You are not at fault." he places a hand over his heart, once again ignoring all other surroundings in favor of absorbing you. "I am sorry if I caused you any pain, and given the chance, I would love to provide funds for a new dress to replace the one my incautious behavior has ruined." his words cause a small, almost inaudible gasp from his mother, though he can see her expression in his peripheral. He will not hear the end of this for a while, he thinks. Once word got out amongst his siblings that he had found a soft spot for a woman he hardly knew, enough to pay for new garments, he would be endlessly teased. And yet he didn't care. Because the look on your face, one of shock, and fascination made him feel important.

That however, was the moment where your brother cleared his throat. Breaking through whatever connection Anthony had made with you.

"Are we to continue with business, Bridgerton?" He sounds irritated, and it's clear he can see exactly how the viscount is feeling. It's not hard to notice by now that Anthony's gaze is hardly able to break from you for a second.

"Yes, of course." Anthony is still looking at you when he says it, and only when a hand is placed on his arm, his mother's, pushing him back toward his seat, does he break free of the spell you so effortlessly place.

A few weeks later and the carpet has been cleaned, no stain has been left from the tea, and the teacup broken has long been replaced. The Bridgerton estate is bustling with noise, its latest ball bringing the entire ton and more to the premises. As Anthony's eyes scan the room, cautious of making any wrong moves, as usual, his heart wanders, leaving him behind. You stand with a drink delicately in hand, ivory gloved fingers with a gentle grasp upon the glass. Anthony, once again, can not look away.

When you finally meet his eyes, he is unable to stop himself, moving through the ballroom swiftly, even as many others try to stop him for conversation. The other women of the ton pause their own movements in the hopes the viscount may be coming to speak with them, and with each lady is passes, disappointment, and envy fill the room.

"Miss L/N." He greets you with a smile, partly because he can't help himself at the sight of you.

"Lord Bridgerton." you attempt a short bow, one that is barely there at all, but he doesn't mind. Somehow he knows you're teasing him. Testing him perhaps, in the way you smirk.

"I am pleased to see you again. You look wonderful tonight." his usual flattery makes you scoff, partly in shock, though there is humor there too. It is not at all lady-like, nor what your mother trained of you, but Anthony finds a thrill in the behavior, as inappropriate as it may be.

"Do you not believe me?" he asks, watching as you take a sip of your drink. You do it almost to fill the gap between his speech, and it seems practiced. As if you have done the same to pause conversation between many men before him.

"No, I do believe you my lord. I am aware of my appearance. Though I should thank you, for this dress is the one you paid for."

"It seems to me that it was money well spent." Anthony is a gentleman, though he can picture himself with his hands tangled in the dress you wear tonight. Knowing that he was the one to gift it to you somehow makes his feelings grow stronger.

"It does seem so." There's a quiet between you after your words, partly because he can not think of anything more to say, and you laugh in the space of the silence. A gentle sound, not loud enough for many other than him to hear, but the grin that accompanies it is what makes Anthony's stomach flip. It's something he had never predicted occurring within himself, and yet, now he can feel it.

"Would you like to dance?" he asks, and somehow he knows you'll say yes, if only to continue the tension between you. You nod at first, handing off your glass to a passing waiter, before taking his hand.

"I would love to."

[igotanidea]

Not enough: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

(Part 2 to too much)

„I am so terribly sorry for the inconvenience I might have brought on you with my sudden appearance-” she started while walking inside the place of her destination or, to put it more bluntly, after fleeting from her own house upon not-so-subtle fight with her still-husband.

„Y/n! Nonsense my dear, your presence is always welcomed here.” she heard in response and for the first time since the argument she managed to look into the eyes of another person as well as take in the scene in front of her.

Oh dear lord!

Her timing couldn’t be more wrong.

Apparently the only person who was missing from the widow viscountess Bridgerton household was the queen herself, since not only the lady of the house alongside with all her unmarried daughters were enjoying the afternoon tea, but - to Y/N’s very well hidden terror - the duchess and lady Danburry were present as well.

„duchess.” Y/N bowed in the most polite manner she could even though her knees were shaking „lady Danburry.”

Act like nothing happened.

Behave like a lady and not like a little kid, who came her to pour all her worries and tell on her husband who happened to be mean. The last thing she needed was for everyone to talk about her nervousness and giddiness. None of those ladies would be easily fooled and most definitely not lady Danburry with her nosy nature and piercing gaze.

The point was to visit her favourite sister-in-law Eloise who- luckily - were free of any marriage troubles and gain some perspective but that scenario flew away with the gentle summer breeze faster than Y/N could think.

And now she would be kindly invited to join the tea and the respect for widower viscountess alongside with the obligation to the higher positioned duchess (even if family) would forbid her from declining.

„Y/N.” Daphne sent her that tiny, quite shy smile that didn’t calm the nerves even in the slightest. Yes, the duchess was one of the most polite and subtle person in the society, but she was also happily married with another baby on the way.

„Viscountess Bridgerton.” the oldest, lady Danburry on the opposite was known from her sharp tongue and straightforward attitude. That one did not pull her punches.

„My dearest Y/N.” Violet Bridgerton, the mother in law stood up from her place and hugged the girl close. Obviously she was the most open one with her emotions. And the simple warm welcome made Y/n feel a bit strengthened to the point when she even gave a little smile. Tiniest, but honest and still visible.

„Is Anthony with you my dear?’

„Unfortunately my husband is absorbed with the matter of the household today.” Y/N explained, taking a seat next to Violet. „I was rather confused with all the men’s affairs, which brought me here.”

„confused?” Eloise, of whose presence everyone seemed to forget scoffed from her book „You are way smarter that Anthony is, Y/n!”

„Eloise!” her mother friendly scolded her second daughter

„It’s true mama!”

„Even though-’

„Did you come baring notices by any chance, viscountess?" lady Agatha cut into the family exchange innocently taking a sip of her tea, those sharp eyes of a predator glistening

„Notices?”

„Yes viscountess, notices. It;s been a fair amount of time since the marriage, surely something should happen soon between two people who are lucky enough to be in love as much as yo and the viscount?”

Oh...

Oh, she meant that kind of notices.

„May this be so, Y/n?” Daphne asked seeming uncharacteristically brisk. „shall we expect?”

„I certainly hope she won’t be burdened with the heir to the title any time soon--”

‘Eloise!”

„Is it the only purpose of a woman to be obedient to a man and give him children?!”

All the four older woman in the room went quiet and Eloise realised she might have had said a little bit too much. Not only for the lady but in general.

„I suppose our dearest Y/N would love to become a mother and bless us with the little boy or girl, am I correct?”

Of course I would love to, Violet.

I would love to.

Unfortunately so it happens your oldest son refuses to even speak or look at me, let alone performing his so-called marital duty. Which is even more tragic, since I became one to him. Here is the essence of my existence - forever being reminded of the burden I put on his shoulder with storming into his life.

Obviously those thoughts were something the newest viscountess Bridgerton could not form out loud.

„I shall send the regards to my husband ladies. Certainly will not omit to inform him of the expectation placed upon us both.” was the only thing she managed to say with confidence before her voice broke and she covered the sudden wavering by reaching for the sweet placed on the nearby platter.

„Oh my dearest Y/N, it’s no obligation!” Violet seemed quite hurt by the words spoken by her daughter-in-law „Regardless - a child is always a miracle that-”

„Maybe Y/N wouldn’t have to worry about it, if Anthony were taking more interest in her rather than spending time with Benny and Colin.”

„Eloise!”

„It’s just a simple observation! Benedict and Colin are still bachelors, even though the ladies of kind are sharpening their claws for them both, considering the fact the viscountess title is not longer available. Nonetheless, neither of them seem to be interested in taking in marriage-”

‘Eloise!” Violet called upon her daughter once more

„Perhaps if they weren’t spending their times in the club, effectively convincing Anthony to go with them--”

‘Enough, young lady!”

„But-”

„Enough Eloise.”

Y/N went pale at all the words spoken. Not because of their truthfulness, but due to the fact that the word already got out. This was a calamity she was trying her best to cover up and now her favourite member of the family announced them to the world, not thinking about the possible consequences of aforementioned action.

„Y/N, are you quite all right?” Daphne was the first one to take some action „that sudden pallor cannot be good for you. Shall we take a walk?”

Naturally the little stroll around the room will be something to make her feel better. Luckily the most perceptive Eloise noticed the torpid expression on the viscountess face and, not giving her sister any chance to press the matter further, vigorously explained that Daphne certainty meant an actual promenade outside on the manor grounds and that was something y/n was more than delighted to engage in.

Presenting a perfect opportunity to actually indulge in a meaningful conversation not regarding children and submission due to a woman.

***

On the other side of the city Anthony didn’t even notice his wife’s actual absence.

How could he, when she was always present and vivid in his mind, leaving him with her image in front of his eyes even when she was away from him.

Y/N’s face and silhouette, her smile and her resonant, joyful laughter were forever carved in his mind, ever since the day she laughed at him at the lake upon their first meeting, through the first moment of stolen forbidden intimacy, up to the moment looked into her eyes while vowing to love and to cherish her.

His beautiful bride.

His beautiful wife.

Strong willed, hot headed, always having an opinion of her own and doing things her own way, capable to charm everyone with the cheerful character and most natural humor and intelligence.

All the traits that could not be bought by any of the obedient, quiet and shy ladies from high society.

All the traits that put him under her spell and made him want to spend the rest of his life with Y/n.

Only with her.

And he didn’t want to fight, he wanted the same kind of marriage his own parents were joyful to share.

It was all so perfect, until the moment those bright memories got covered with storm clouds of how he behave towards her.  

Not that the viscount gave them much thoughts, too lost in his own meaningless settlements that were not due till the fore-coming month.

It was easier this way.

Forgetting about all the words he said int he moment of anger and of fear (if not mere terror) of his own emotions.

Emotions that, unfortunately, refused to be closed in a hard shell of harsh, obsessive behaviour and being ignored.

Once let out, they wanted to run free.

And oh, so they did, causing the viscount to feel dizzy and giving him palpitations.

All the marriages had their bad moments.

It was impossible to continue for years keeping the same flame that started years ago.

The wife was supposed to be obedient and comply with her husband wishes, especially not bothering him with her presence and whimsical needs or fairy-tell beliefs.

A lady was a diamond in the crown but a wife became a part of the estate, of the livestock. Forever in her husband’s hand to rule.

He was the the man.

He was the viscount and before he met her she was just another long-forgotten by admirers débutante desperate to--

No.

No this was not true and as much as it would be comfortable for Anthony to dwell in all those thoughts, his heart was still in the right place giving him a very clear signal it was time to stop justifying his previous action. Those were the foundation for a very unstable and fragile house that could be blown away easily.

Maybe it wasn’t that his emotions were too much. Maybe it was that his heart capacity was not enough to contain the amount of affection he held for his one and only.

His Y/N.

And he couldn’t have that.

He had to find her wherever she might have been.

He had to fight for her and make it all right.

Even if that meant getting back on his knees, making a scene straight out of those unrealistic romance novels ladies loved and putting it into practice.

„Where on earth is my wife?!” he yelled to the servants, opening the door to his office, his voice loud enough to make the walls shake.

I’m coming for you, my viscountess.

My love.

***

It's not over yet!

Edit: part 3 : almost there

@pietrawebster @chrissisheadisinclouds @fuzzym4m4

@gloomysel @urfavnoirette @dd122004dd @milkbummm

@bevstofu @taniasethi @syraxnyra @cat-lockwood @pr3ttyfac3jaelyn

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Clematis - Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Clematis (Clematis) - Meaning: Ingenuity, cleverness

Summary: Anthony's lover comes up with a way to see him after the ball.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count: 1504

Warnings: SMUT, probably poorly written cunnilingus (F receiving), reader has female anatomy, Regency era gender politics, Anthony loves giving head

Day 15 and not sure how I feel about this one. Getting it in under the wire, it's almost midnight where I'm at. I just want a man to come in through my window and eat my 😼 okay???

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated! ❤️

If this was how Anthony Bridgerton kissed, you couldn’t imagine how else he could make you feel. His lips were firm against yours, but gentle, coaxing, his large hands tracing down your neck and along the line of your decollete which made your breath hitch. 

Part of the intoxication was the danger of the situation — you were the daughter of an Earl, a respectable lady of the Ton, and if you were discovered with Anthony Bridgerton’s hands and lips all over you, you would be ruined. 

You broke the kiss, needing an influx of air or you would surely faint. Anthony rested his forehead against yours. 

“I need you,” you breathed out, “Anthony, I need you.” 

He ran a delicate finger down your chest, “Not here, dearest.” 

“Then where? When?” You couldn’t help the whine that escaped you as you pressed your pliant body against his firm one. 

He sighed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “If only I could whisk you away from here without drawing suspicion.” 

An idea came to mind — it was risky, but if he agreed you could continue feeling like you were on fire, and oh, how you wanted to burn. 

“Come to my home, tonight,” you whispered, gasping a little as his lips pressed against your neck, licking over your jeweled necklace. “There’s a trellis just under my window, you can climb right up.” 

“You wish for me to defile you in your own bedroom?” Anthony growled against your neck, “Naughty girl.” 

He agreed to the plan nonetheless, and you straightened yourself before heading back to your parents, claiming a headache and asking for the carriage. 

“But dear, you haven’t danced with Lord Hollingsworth yet!” your Mama declared, having selected the oh-so-boring yet oh-so-available man as your best hope for marriage at the beginning of the season. 

“Now, now Cecelia,” your Papa chimed in, “if the girl is unwell we shan’t force her to dance. I’ll call the carriage, dears, you two gather your things and say your goodbyes.” He nodded at you and ducked away, eager to get home as usual. 

From across the ballroom, you caught Anthony’s eye and nodded slightly. He winked, sending the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. He was to give you ninety minutes to make sure your parents were asleep, then scale your trellis like a hero in a romantic novel. 

Immediately upon your return home, you excused yourself upstairs. Your maid helped you undress, but you dismissed her quickly, claiming you could handle taking the pins out of your hair on your own. Over the next hour, you listened as your father retired to his study and your mother to her bedroom. 

Once you were sure your parents were in for the night, you placed a candle in your window — his signal that the coast was clear. Unable to remain still, you started pacing your room. Would he show up or leave you twisting in the wind like this? 

Only a few minutes of pacing later a knock came from your window. You dashed over, unlatching it and moving the candle for Anthony to pull himself up. He did so athletically, like letting a tiger into your bedroom. When he was inside, you closed the window and he was on you in a heartbeat, hot kisses along the back of your neck while his hands slid around your waist. 

Your hand came up to grip the back of his head, your fingers lacing through his silken hair. You pressed back against him, turning your head to meet his lips with your own. He tasted like whiskey and sin. He spun you around in his grasp and tugged you close to him by your hips. 

You gasped as you felt his cock pressing into your lower tummy — he was large. For a moment you hesitated, wondering how something so large would fit inside you, but Anthony’s insistent grip on your hips turned into him grabbing handfuls of your nightgown and pulling the cool silk up, up, up. 

“You came,” you gasped breathlessly.

“You didn’t think I would? Tsk, tsk,” he joked, clicking his tongue at you. “My dear, now that I’ve had a taste, I cannot get enough.” 

He emphasized his point by kissing your lips once again, licking his tongue into your mouth. You responded with a soft moan, which only seemed to spur him on. 

Before you knew what was happening, Anthony had tossed you back onto your bed and was  crawling over you, bringing the hem of your nightgown with him. Your breath hitched as you felt his warm, large fingers tracing trails of fire up your legs, teasing your wetness through your undergarments. 

“May I taste you,” he asked, and you moaned your response which prompted him to stop his fingers only an inch from where you needed him most. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and whined. He rose to meet your lips with his. “I need you to remain quiet, otherwise I will stop. And we don’t want that, sweet one, do we?” 

Anything. Anything he wanted as long as he kept touching you. When he saw you nod, he hooked a finger beneath your gusset and ripped it, baring your wetness to him. With eyes dark as obsidian in the light of the single candle burning, he gazed up at you with such heat as you had never known. 

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, then licked a long stripe into you, sending a lightning bolt up your spine. His lips curled around your clit and you shuddered. A moan threatened to slip past your lips but you clamped your hand over your mouth to stop it. The noise was caught in your throat, fluttering like a canary in a cage. 

Anthony hummed a, “good girl,” against you, making you clench around nothing. 

You moved your hands, making an effort to keep your tone low, “More, please!”

You felt him smirk against you before he redoubled his efforts, this time breaching your entrance with a thick finger. Moaning at the intrusion, Anthony took this as an invitation to add another finger, stretching you deliciously. 

You were close, so close, his fingers pumping and hitting a spot within you that you couldn’t reach, his tongue flicking against your clit. Each movement made the knot in your lower tummy tighten, threatening to snap at any moment. 

“Anthony, please,” you whined, unable to control your volume.

He slowed his fingers and removed his mouth from you. “Quiet,” he hissed, “Or do you wish for your parents to find me here?” 

Unconsciously, you clenched around his fingers. The danger of being caught added something you couldn’t name to the situation. Anthony smiled. “Mmm, does my sweet want to get caught?” He teased, and you clenched again, “I think she does. Such a wanton little strumpet, tempting me into a dark corner to kiss me, then inviting me to her bedchambers in the middle of the night, and squeezing my fingers at the thought of someone coming in…”

His words, said in his tantalizing baritone, were pushing you closer and closer to the edge. If only he would put his mouth to better use and—

As if reading your mind, his lips landed back on your clit and his fingers picked up their pace once more, again finding the spot within you that made you see stars with every pass. 

You clamped your hands over your mouth again and moaned his name, which only spurred him on. He drove into you, his tongue and lips reciting an ode against you, dedicating it to you and your pleasure. Having the entire focus of this season’s most eligible bachelor was intoxicating to say the least — and inevitably what pushed you straight into your climax. 

You writhed against him, held in place by his strong forearm as he worked you through your orgasm, the aftershocks lasting much longer than they normally did. Anthony remained between your legs and cleaned up every drop of your release before withdrawing. 

The clock in the hall chimed thrice. Anthony joined you when you reached for him, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You let your hand drift to the front of his trousers, palming his length until he guided your wrist away. 

“As much as I wish for it, I have an early appointment and must be on my way.” 

You pouted up at him, but he placed a sweet kiss to your forehead before slipping off the end of your bed with a promise to see you again soon. 

You watched as he made his way back down the trellis. When he got to the bottom, he blew you a kiss before disappearing into the dark Mayfair night.

The early appointment Anthony had, you would find out later, was to meet with your father. He asked for your hand that afternoon. And, knowing what awaited you in your marital bed, you happily said yes.

[anglbby444]

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader smut.

Warnings; none, vanilla sex <3

After bidding your maid farewell for the night with a kiss on the cheek, you nestle yourself into the soft comforters of the bed, which is surrounded by a room that is beautifully decorated thanks to your family’s maids, you feel a familiar crater form next to you. With a grin, you turn over and look into the eyes of your husband, Anthony Bridgerton. “Hello dearest.” He says after placing a gentle kiss on your bare shoulder, you humming contently in response. “Did you have dinner yet, my love?” He questions between more kisses to your shoulder as he leans over your figure. You murmured out an “mhm” as you take in and attempt to memorize the feel of his lips on your skin. “Mm, good good, so did I…although I must admit, you look rather delectable tonight, for a lack of a better choice of words.” He mumbles against your skin, drawing a playful scoff from you. “Anthony! How scandalous..” A smile finds its way onto your face as you sit up and turn around to face your husband, connecting your lips with his.

His hands begin to wander, fingers tracing every inch of skin he can find. Starting from your shoulder, his nimble fingers leave a trail of goosebumps down your arms, chest, breasts, and tummy as his teeth gently latch on to your earlobe. Although most of the skin he’s touching is covered by a soft pink silk nightdress, that doesn’t stop the goosebumps his touch creates on the soft flesh. A moan threatens to escape from your throat as his fingers begin to move lower and lower, eventually hovering above your mound as you feel him chuckle against your skin. You can feel his smirk grow as his fingers find their way into your panties. “A-Anthony!” You cry out.

It is no secret that Anthony Bridgerton likes to make you beg for him to fuck you. No matter if he knows exactly how you want him to fuck you, take you how he pleases. However, as you'll soon find out, that dosen't stop him from wanting to hear it from your pretty litle mouth. "Is your pretty little pussy wet for me? Hm?" Anthonys voice is a devilish one at that, his hot breath tickling the outer shell of your ear. He continues to kiss down towards your neck, lips suctioning a soft portion of skin as he chuckles when he feels you try to buck your hips up. In true mean Anthony fashion, he firmly grips your hips and pushes them down with a growl. "I take that as a yes.."

You let out a sharp breath as his fingers curl into your skin, ever so slightly gliding against your cunt. As Anthony felt the pool of dampness on your heat, he groaned and let out a laugh. "I guess I was right, wasn't I?" He drawls, softly twirling his middle finger around your sensitive bud. You attempted to come up with some sort of sassy remark, but find yourself failing to collect your words. Instead, you let out an almost pathetic sounding whimper. "Anthonyyy...." You call out his name, running your fingers through his hair as you try to buck your hips up once more. This time, he dosen't dissapoint. His forehead presses against you as he shakes his head in playful disbelief. "Say my name like that again and I might just break.." And you took that as a challenge.

"Oh Anthonyyy..." You mewl out his name again, giggling softly as you see him tilt his head and give you a deviant smile. To your surprise, he rips the blanket off of you, exposing your body to him. Although you still have your nightdress on, you can't help but get a bit flustered whenever he sees you so vulnerable. "Well...I think its time to get this pesky dress off of you..." You nod in response and begin to climb out of bed and slowly lift up the dress covering your legs. You know he wanted you to put on a little show. And that you did. Your hair falls down over your shoulders as you let the sleeves of the silk dress slip down your arms. The cold chill that washed over you was a familiar feeling to your already hard nipples. Anthony licked his lips as you fully step out of the nightgown and sashay over to him with a cheeky grin on your face. You crawl onto the bed and look at him with pleading eyes, waiting for him to make the next move. "How do you want me, darling?" His voice became soft, the voice he knows make you feel the safest. Even when hes going to fuck your brains out, as he usually does at least five times a week. "I want you inside me, Anthony.."

Fuck, he CANNOT say no to that. "Guess its a good thing you aren't wearing any panties tonight...Seems like you already knew you wanted my cock tonight." You nod at him with a crooked smile. To your pleasant surprise, he firmly gripped your legs and pulled you closer to him. He let out a chuckle as he placed one of your legs onto his shoulders, spitting on his hand and stroking his already hard cock. Your chest heaves, biting your lip as you look up at him with an already cockdrunk gaze. He leans down and places a passionate kiss to your lips. The two of you exchanged a knowing look, giving him the ok to slip his hard cock into you.

He grabbed onto one of your legs as he gave you a few gentle thrusts, letting you get used to the preassure his cock created inside her. God, you felt like you were in heaven every time he fucked you. He rolled his hips, his tip hitting you in just the right spot. The sensation made your eyes roll back. That sight and your high pitched moans told him all he needed to know. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoded through the room as he started to speed up his movements, his hands finding their way up to your breasts. His large, gruff hands squeezed the pink and plump flesh.

{You’re pretty sure you came four times that night,,,}

[daughterofyore]

{{Drabble}} George and his anxiety.

wc;; 661

summary;; George has anxiety about an upcoming speech and you calm him down.

contents;; fluff, sweet nothings, loving caresses, stressed George and signs of mania.

a/n;; although I do write smut mainly I wanted to start filling up my repertoire of work. So, I decided to add in a very small lil drabble for ‘just George’. :)

!!W!!;; none really, signs of his mania? (Shaking hand) and anxiety.

George, sweet loveable George. He sat in the upholstered leather chair at the large mahogany desk in his study, his thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn’t raise his eyes to meet yours, he didn’t even glance up as you walked into the study. Your dress hissed along the ground, it’s brilliant floral design cascading down the sides, bedecked with jewels and your hair in a very fashionable up-do. A very classic Georgian era outfit.

You approached his desk, placing a gentle hand on his back between his shoulder blades. “What troubles you dearest?” You question him softly, beginning to rub small circles on his back. He looked up at you, brows scrunched together and eyes glassy. Had he been crying?

“I am… frustrated my dear.” He slapped a hand on top of papers, a quill lay discarded to the right. Ink leaked along the table, threatening to spill off the edge and onto the expensive carpets below. “I have to ready a speech for government. Make my presence known and make sure they remember me.” He scoffed incredulously, shaking his head as if it was hard to believe. “Yet, my nerves will not settle. I am beginning to panic and-“ you noticed his hand began to shake, the tell tale sign of an episode threatening to take hold of him. You squatted down at his side, gently placing a hand on his knee, demanding his unwavering attention.

“My love, I will help you be the best you can be. I know you will do excellently for there is nothing you can’t do.” A small smile tugs at your lips and his quiver in response, fighting back a wave of emotions. “You will be amazing, an excellent king and a wonderful speaker. You need not worry about how they perceive you. You are George, King of the United Kingdom’s.” You stood, taking his face in your hands. Cupping his cheeks and whispering, “And you are my husband.” His shoulders slumped and he stood, now towering over you. He held your gaze, smiling.

“My beautiful wife.” He brushed his fingers along your cheek, they no longer shook. “What would I ever do without you?” His voice broke a bit, but he held firm in not allowing tears to fall. You reached up and squeezed his hand.

“I’m sure you would be fine, I am merely a help.” He shook his head, making a disgusted face.

“You are absolutely not! Yes, you may help me but you are so much more. You are my wife, my love, the mother of my children you-“ He sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you to be flush with his front. “You are everything and more. Venus could not compare to your divinity.” You hid your face in his chest, trying to conceal the blush creeping along your face.

“Come darling, let’s go and get some tea to settle ourselves.” You spoke into his chest and he chuckled at your shyness, tenderly grasping your shoulders and pushing you back so that he may see you.

“I love it when you blush. You look so cute.” He smirked, pressing a kiss to your forehead and taking your hand in his. He began to walk towards the parlour. He told Reynolds to bring you tea and confectioneries, once he had vanished down the hall and around a corner George spun to you and scooped you into his arms. He began to rush down the hall, eliciting screams and giggles of joy from you.

He pushed the door open with his foot and lay back on a chaise longue, placing you on top of him. He began to trace lazy circles over your stomach once you were both settled. His other hand playing with your fingers. Before the servants knocked on the door with the tea he whispered into your ear, his breath hot and titillating.

“I love you, my beautiful wife.”