#Bridgerton fandom

[redroses07]

should i make a part 2?

[peachpitfics]

Guilty as Sin

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton asks you to accompany him to his private studio, to show you some of the art he's been working on. You find a little more than you were expecting.

Length: 3k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (female receiving), Penetrative sex, Unprotected sex.

a/n: find pt 2 here!

Bridgerton master list

"Good evening, y/n," A proud voice echoed behind you, discovering your hiding spot in the darkest corner, admiring Lady Danbury's art to appear busy. You didn't bother to turn and greet him, he always seemed to find you at these social events, even if you weren't outwardly interested in him, he persisted. Benedict Bridgerton slid into the space next to you as if it were designed for him, cheekily scanning you face for a reaction.

You met at Lady Danbury's ball 3 seasons previous. Your brother was holding out hope for a match this season, ignoring your contentedness for your own company. Benedict had never shown any interest in any young lady - he did, however, find amusement in torturing you this way.

"Bridgerton," You barely mumbled a response, hoping he would find another to bother this evening. Yet there he remained, exchanging his attention for the painting you were looking at.

"There are far better paintings in this ballroom" He remarked, a little scoff sounding off.

"Yes, I am sure there are. However, this one is positioned perfectly" Still, you avoided eye contact and angled your body away from him. He was definitely not the same as the other Bridgerton men. Benedict was frivolous and artistic, lost in his own hedonistic world of luxury and pleasure. Perhaps it was jealousy that ruled your opinion of Benedict.

"Ah, yes. I truly have never seen a damp, dark corner without you in it, you know?" He chuckled, "Why do you pretend to be interested in art, when you could be watching whatever is unfolding behind you? I'm sure the numerous scandals and embarrassing events you would witness would be far more interesting" He asked, there was even a hint of genuine curiosity in his words.

You paused for a moment, contemplating even continuing this conversation or leaving to find your brother or mother.

"Actually, I rather enjoy art. I am more interested in sculpture or ceramics, but I will endure whatever I have to to get through this evening and every other evening like it this season" You spilled. Benedict was stunned, his eyebrows raised and his blinks steady in shock.

"I didn't know you had a like for such things" Benedict said serenely.

"Of course not, I am certain you thought my only interests were embroidery or pianoforte, like every other simpering mess in this ballroom" You thought your snarky remark was under your breath, but Benedict did manage to hear. He breathed a heady laugh through his nose and took a sip of his lemonade.

"Would you be interested in viewing some of my works?" Benedict pondered aloud, finally dragging your eyes to meet his. It seemed sincere - which was not something you often saw from him. Whilst he was a shameless flirt, you never indulged him like some of the other young ladies. It was obvious that he viewed you as some sort of challenge, but you would never give in.

"Is that a serious invitation?" You asked, taken aback.

"Yes, absolutely. Art is potentially the only thing I do take seriously. I would love to show you, if you would like to see it" He almost bowed, as if the pursuit of his art was the most noble thing about him. This shift in his personality made him less repulsive, it intrigued you. Turning to face him, for the first time in so many months, throwing off his balance slightly, you held your hand out for him to take.

"You would like to see it now?" His brow furrowed, eyes asking permission to take your hand and lead you out to the carriages.

"Why not? We've been to this ball numerous times before, it will not be getting any more interesting" With the softest of smiles decorating your normally sour face, Benedict took your hand and began walking outside with you, watching nervously as people ignored your presence.

"Will this not be damning to your marriage prospects?" Benedict leaned over to whisper in your ear, an element of concern riding along his words.

You gave him a pitiful smile, "What prospects?". Not a single soul noticed the two of you leaving the ball. Benedict held the carriage door open for you and held your hand as you stepped up into it.

"I've never slipped out of an event quite like that" He remarked, closing the door, sitting opposite you.

"Well, in truth, I thought perhaps someone might have stopped us, just because of you… But, I suppose, my power of invisibility is shared with the person I am escaping with" Your eyebrows flicked up. Benedict could not discern whether you were happy or not to fly out of the view of the ton. While it was a blessing most days, you were afforded your privacy and peace. Perfect silence. There were many other days filled with loneliness, the madness of having to hear your own voice in your head just to fill the quiet.

The carriage ride was slightly uncomfortable, the two of you had never had to be alone like this. You were delivered to Benedict's college where he had been studying art and he led you towards his private studio. Benedict's hand reached out for the door handle, stopping short, and spinning to look at you, back pressed against the door.

"I presume you understand I don't bring people here," He paused, his demeanour was soft and vulnerable, "Be gentle with me". He waited for acknowledgment on what he was saying, and with a nod of promise from you, he opened the door. You both walked inside in sweet silence as you took in the most beautiful sight. The room was littered with parchment, sketches, canvases. Drabs of colour, charcoal and lead lit only by low candlelight as Benedict struck the match. This was the most personal gesture of friendship you had ever experienced, it was like peering through window into Benedict Bridgerton's mind - a place he only has the keys to. Several desks were patterned around the room, a small platform in the centre of the room, drying racks on the far left. You were surprised by this unapologetically intimate space, and even more impressed by the immense talent you were witnessing.

"What are you working on currently?" You did not mean for the excitement of the room to fill you up so keenly. Benedict had such a hard time trying to read your reaction, your manner and tone were thrilling to him.

"Oh, please" He gestured towards a far table, where an easel stood facing the window, "I am learning about portraiture this semester. This is something I am doing for my youngest brother, Gregory, for his birthday" His hand sailed past your lower back, shuffling you both around. A deliciously electric pulse passed over your body, goose bumps erupting in a rolling wave quickly trailing behind.

"Benedict, this is incredible" You gasped, your hands covering your mouth with astonishment.

Oddly, he stepped back from you and placed his hand on his heart.

"What did I say?" You smiled uncomfortably.

His face softened, his eyes fluttering peacefully, "My name. That is the first time, you have ever said my name" A flash of teeth in his grin made your heart jump its next beat. There was a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks, your eyes flicked between Benedict's and the floor.

"I apologise" Admittedly, you had never given him a chance to show how utterly human he was. When he had asked you to come to the studio, you wondered whether the room would be filled to the brim of paintings of naked women. How wrong you were - finding yourself surrounded by paintings and scrawling's of every member of his family. You dug around, flicking through sketchbooks, diaries.

"Have you found a favourite?" He meandered around the room after you, hands tucked behind his back like a gentleman, observing.

"This one, is my favourite" You held up a side profile of Violet Bridgerton, done entirely in variants and shades of their family colours.

"I am yet to show her that one, do you think I should?" He asked, and you sensed he truly valued your opinion here.

"Yes! If I had half your talent, I would have filled my family's home with my work" You chuckled, laying the canvas down on the current desk you were visiting.

You moved around the other side of the room, noticing a section of the room more damp, and darkly lit, compared to the rest of the studio. There stood an easel with a large drape thrown over it, and several canvases stacked betwixt it and the wall. This struck a chord of curiosity in you that could not be contained, you almost dashed forward to pull the drape down.

"No! Wait, not those!" Benedict rasped, darting forward to try and stop you. It was too late, the cream-coloured drape had coiled to the floor and revealed what Benedict did not want you to see.

Brow furrowing, you stood back, taking in what you were seeing for the first time. Here, on the easel, an unfinished portrait, of you.

"That's -- That's private" Benedict cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Is this… me?" You didn't know whether to be flattered, impressed, or worried. Had he done this from memory? That was when it occurred to you to look down. Picking up, and flicking through the canvases, they were all you. There were maybe six or seven of them, all in different poses, of differing angles. Had he taken such notice of you to be able to do this from memory? The detail in your face, your hair and even dresses you had worn in past seasons.

"This is…" You shook your head, placing the canvases back. Benedict stood behind you, leaving a distance so as not to make this more uncomfortable than it already was. His hands were pressed together at his lips as if he were praying, wearily hanging on for your next words.

"No one has ever seen me like this, or rather, at all" You sighed.

"I see you as you are" Benedict replied too quickly.

"And how is that?"

There was a long pause, an internal struggle between what he wanted to say and what he should.

"I see… the raw soulfulness of your gaze. The divine sway in your walk. The sensual ruthlessness of your words. The confidence of your acceptance. I have watched, and waited, and wallowed in avaricious longing" Benedict heaved in a deep breath, "Every line, every curve, every shade I fear is a figment of my imagination until I see you again, just so that I might commit a little more to memory".

Benedict's eye cast low, his discomposure becoming more and more apparent. You were not to know that the one person you had been avoiding for the past several seasons had been perceiving you exactly as you had always dreamed. Perhaps it was not Benedict's personality that made you keep him at arm’s length, but rather your own.

You bound forward, slightly tripping on your gown, throwing yourself in the second Bridgerton brother's arms. In the instant he caught you, you planted the shyest of kisses on his unsuspecting lips. Benedict chuckled sweetly, lifting you to stand on your own two feet again, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into to a longer, more fervent kiss. His lips were much softer than you were anticipating, gentle and cool against your own. Benedict's tongue dipped into yours, his kiss still passionately intoxicating. You parted for a moment, both of you breathing a little heavier now. Benedict took a step back, straightening his dress clothes and composing himself.

"I apologise, miss y/n"

"Why do you apologise? I am the one who owes you" You stammered.

"I am just glad that no one saw us, I will not have you ruined. I will not be the one that ruins you" Benedict stumbled over his words, words filled with such consideration and respect for you and your standing in society.

Panting still, bosom heaving over the corset, you thought about what he was saying. You thought about your "prospects".

Taking one large step forward, pressing your body against his, you leaned up as if to kiss Mr Bridgerton's cheek goodbye.

"Ruin me" You breathed, begged, into his ear, hands wrapping around his neck, your breath hitching in your throat as Benedict swooped you into his arms, carrying you to the nearest desk. He placed your behind on the edge of the desk, moving to sweep every piece of art clattering to the floor before turning his attention back to you. Your legs wrapped around his thighs, his lips crashing into you, his tongue fiercely caressing yours. Much to Benedict's surprise, you slipped your arms out of your dress, pushing the fabric down around your hips.

Stunned and dramatic shock shot across his face as he looked upon your upper body in your corset. Benedict blinked furiously, as if trying to regain control of his sense.

"May I?" He took hold of the fabric around your waist, pulling it out from under you as you lifted yourself slightly, signalling a loud yes. Sitting in your undergarments, Benedict wrapped his arms around your body, expertly fiddling with the laces as you nodded fervently into his delectable kisses. You grinned into his mouth, feeling the corset loosen quickly – he had done this before. Your fingers fumbled along the seam of his pants, unfurling the tucked fabric of his dress shirt, fiddling with the buttons of his overcoat.

Benedict stopped, throwing his coat across the room and removing his dress shirt as frantically as possible. It took only seconds for his eyes to widen at your naked body, sitting on the desk before him.

"Holy God" He exhaled, lunging forward, thrusting his hand into your hair, pulling you into a devilish kiss. His hands curved under your behind, lifting you forward to the very edge of the table before falling to his knees before you as if you were divine, and he, a devout worshipper at the altar. Littering kisses down your inner thigh, his nose nestling into the soft nest of hair at your mound, he breathed heavily, groaning with pleasure. Benedict's tongue slipped between your folds, circling the most sensitive spot on your body, your hands sliding into his hair, pulling gently as his pace quickened and steadied in a repetitive manner. Never had you felt so safe and yet so powerful, holding Benedict's head in place between your thighs. Letting out soft, melodic moans, tangling your fingers amongst his hair, finding your hips having a mind of their own as they ground against him. The sheer coarseness of Benedict's dawning facial hair and the soft, warmth of his darting tongue were plenty enough to push your mind to the edge of the human experience. Your head turned dreamy, light, whilst your body convulsed and squeezed Benedict's head between your thighs.

Panting softly, Benedict remained, placing delicate kisses where his tongue had just performed. As your body relaxed into him again, Benedict appeared from the floor, kissing you again, to lay you backward on the table, your own sweetness on your tongue now. He stood before you, bare torso, undoing his dress pants. Excitement pulsed through you, propping yourself onto your elbows to watch. You had heard other ladies discuss this in the depths of their personal conversations but had never really learned anything from them. It was a topic of great interest.

Freeing himself before you, your enlarging eyes took in his length as he held himself in his hand. "Allow me?" Benedict looked down at you, sordid passion aflame in his eyes. You gave a clear, concise nod. Benedict moved closer between your thighs, adjusting your legs, and placing himself at your entrance. With both hands sprawled over the space between your belly and your hips, Benedict slowly pushed forward, eliciting guttural moans from your lips. But he never looked away from you, he never closed his eyes for more than a half-second. His desire burned out of him, his eyes searing down on you and in helplessness, you exuded wanton need in return.

You wished this act were eternal, completely unending. Every thrust an indiscreet attempt at conveying his affections for you. His hand found its way to caressing your cheek, his teeth nipping at your neck as you moaned his name.

“Benedict” You sighed without inhibition. The sound of your voice sent Benedict into a frenzy, his thrusts harder now and full-fledged. His sinful grunts, echoing across the studio, came to a hot, explicit apex as he buried himself as deeply as possible inside of you.

He looked down at you dreamily, his eyes heavy with pleasure, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Benedict stepped away, reaching for his dress pants, and sitting on to the ground in front of you – you moved to sit next to him, surrounded by the tables previous contents.

“You are wonderful. I could never capture such an essence, in any art form. You are transcendent” Benedict’s words were slow, the ruse of his silly exterior worn away.

“I much prefer this version of you” You gave a smug smile, both of you avoiding eye contact.

“As I do you” He retorted, chortling alongside you. The long, comfortable tired silence between you was broken only when Benedict cleared his throat.

“Y/n,” Benedict spoke up, “I think—No, I am quite certain, I love you” He admitted, holding his hand out, bridging the space between your mostly naked bodies, waiting for you to take it.

“I do believe I too am guilty of loving you” You responded, laying your hand gently in his. Leaning to meet in the middle, sharing a sentimental, sweet kiss and smiling into each other. Benedict jumped up, pants still undone around his waist, he pulled you to your feet.

“Come, I should like to draw you” He posed you naturally on the platform in the centre of the room. You watched him scramble about the room, looking for his implements.

“Like this!?” You gestured to yourself, completely nude on the dais.

“Yes, precisely like this” Benedict growled ardently, putting his pencil to his parchment.

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

If you would like to be tagged in any upcoming Bridgerton fanfictions written by me, please let me know and I will add you to a taglist!

[ladyolivia689]

Are we not Friends? 👀

[lqveharrington]

I’m so glad your requests are open😫😫 could I request an Anthony bridgerton x wife reader angst where he’s really stressed so he becomes distant and hardly speaks to her while she’s being all nice to him so he ends up yelling at her. With a happy ending😭 sorry if it didn’t make sense English isn’t my first language

Enough | A.B.

Summary: When stress pushes Anthony Bridgerton into silence, his gentle wife tries to hold them together with kindness. But one outburst changes everything—until love brings them back to each other.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader

Includes: use of Y/N, smoking, arguing, angst, fluff at the end

a/n: I can’t believe we have to wait one year until the next season of Bridgerton drops 💔

It had been days since you last spoke to Anthony. He was always cooped up in his office, worried about so many different things that you didn’t even know what exactly was worrying him. He would be up before the sun in the morning, then get back right at midnight.

He never took a break.

Whenever you tried to pull him away from the letters consuming his every move, he would click his tongue and wave you away, telling you he would be there in a minute. You couldn’t remember the last time he actually had dinner with you or his family.

Even his siblings began to question his sudden disappearance.

“Where’s your poor excuse of a husband?” Eloise looped an arm around yours, finding you strolling in the garden with a blank look on your face. “Isn’t he always attached to you in some way?”

“Your brother,” You jump out of your stupor and correct her with a weary smile. “Is busy tending to all his duties as head of the household.”

“Yes yes, but he’s gone more so than usual now.” She plucked a hyacinth from the garden and carefully placed it into your basket, not noticing your far off look.

You thumb the small petals of the flower, blinking away the worry for your husband. “I’ll talk to him today. I’ve been meaning to anyway.”

“Get him to join us for dinner.” Eloise stopped walking and fiddled with the bow on her waist, taking your hands in hers and squeezing softly. “I don’t miss him, but I do miss bugging him whenever he’s around.”

“I’ll bring it up.” Your smile softens into a genuine one as she walked back toward the house, your lips instantly turning down into a frown when her figure disappears.

When Anthony had his mind set on something, he would make sure it would get done. No matter what force tried to pull him away, he would ensure that everything was done the same way he planned it in his mind. He was calculated with his actions.

And maybe that was the reason you couldn’t get through to him. In the center of a hurricane filled with chaos and uncertainty, it was silent. Perhaps Anthony couldn’t hear you, only the pressure of worry and stress echoed through him.

You stepped up to his office door and knocked. You waited a beat before slipping your hand on the knob and turning it ever so slightly, pushing inside to see him slumped over piles of letters and parchment.

“Anthony?” You call for him quietly, taking slow steps further into his office and closer to him.

He didn’t budge nor look up at you, he simply continued to scribble away in his oh-so familiar cursive. His eyes were locked onto the ink, words tumbling from his lips with each sentence he finished. He tapped the end of his quill on the desk, his leg bouncing in anxiety before breathing out and going back to writing again.

“My love, I think that’s enough for today.” You move to stand beside him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. When he didn’t move again, you squeezed, “Anthony—“

“Y/N, can’t you see I’m busy?” He whipped around to face you, tone laced with tiredness and irritation. His voice grew in volume as he accidentally spilled ink across his letter, making him huff and stand. “Great. It’s ruined now.”

“I’m sorry, I just—“

He snapped his head in your direction, his eyes seemingly red from all the pent up frustration he kept quiet about. “You’ve done enough.”

Your hands curled together as you felt the glass ball drop and shatter, mind and heart pounding at how clear and sharp his tone was. You bit your tongue and bowed your head down, removing yourself from his office.

Even after you shut the door, you could hear him cursing about his ruined work.

It was like his job as a Lord and head of the Bridgerton household was much more important than the relationships in his life. You couldn’t bear staying in the same room—same house—as him when he was locked in a state of distress and distraction.

So you left.

You only wanted to take a breather away from the suffocating air Anthony left. Yet somehow, you ended up at the park. Your feet had dragged you far from home and in front of the bench you first encountered Anthony all those years ago as a child.

“Of course.” You muttered as you took a seat on the bench, popping open your bag for a cigarette and lighter.

It was so rare for you to ever smoke. You only had it in your bag because Eloise kept sneaking away with several packs, so you took them from her. But you knew Benedict would give her the damn cancer stick anyway.

The sun had already set when you lit the end of the cigarette, the orange light glowing underneath the night sky. You inhaled deeply before releasing a breath, the smoke blowing softly through the air.

You were so tired.

Tired of always wearing a smile whenever someone asked where your husband was; Tired of watching Anthony drown in all the work; Tired of pretending to be okay. The world weighed on your shoulders and the outcome you got for carrying it was a scolding from your husband.

You tilt your head and let out a shaky breath, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment before you heard someone clear their throat beside you. Your eyes snap open and move to stomp out your cigarette when you met familiar brown eyes staring back at you.

“What are you doing here?” You ask softly, watching him as he moved to sit. You were upset with him, and he knew you were, but you still loved him. “Did you finish all your work? It seemed pretty important.”

He sighed and spun his wedding band, looking at his ink-stained hands. “No, it’s not finished. It won’t be for a while.”

“Really? Because you’ve been working all day and all night recently.” You reply coolly, taking another drag and blowing the smoke to the side.

The feeling, taste, and smell made you want to gag, but it was the only thing that kept you sane with how close Anthony was to you. He hurt you, telling you that what you had done was enough when all you were trying to do was help. It always was his least favorite thing. He never asked for or accepted help even when offered freely.

Anthony Bridgerton did not want to be viewed as unfit.

He looked over at you and frowned when he saw your glazed eyes, watching the gears in your mind tick with every passing second. He wanted to get down on his knees and plead—beg you for your forgiveness. But given the circumstances that you were out in the public eye, a man would never be caught doing such absurd things.

So he did the next best thing.

Gently, he took your free hand in his and began to trace patterns on your palm, feeling your tense figure relax under the familiar sensation.

“I’m a terrible husband, aren’t I?” He said softly as you met his eyes, the small smile forming on your lips making him chuckle quietly. “Yes, I figured. I was completely out of line today… And the past few days.”

You nodded, still watching his fidgeting. The cigarette burned faster, but you didn’t dare take another breath nor did you put it out. It just stayed burning under the darkness of the black night.

“You were just trying to keep me sane.” Anthony closed his hands around yours and squeezed softly. “I hurt you today and I will never forget it, nor will I forgive myself for ever raising my voice at you.” He met your eyes and watched your gaze soften at the sight of his tired and longing eyes, the dark circles more prominent than ever. “All I’m asking is for your forgiveness, my love. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

For several seconds, you simply stared at Anthony, trying to collect your own thoughts on his gesture. It wasn’t every day Anthony Bridgerton asked for forgiveness, and in the most intimate, loving way.

You squeezed his hand back as you threw the cigarette to the ground and put it out with your heel, watching the burning glow fade away into the dirt. He watched you in curiosity as you stood up, following suit after you dust your hands off and fixed your dress.

“You’re smart, Anthony.” You begin to say, looking over the lake as the moon shined across the small ripples the different living creatures were making. “I’ve seen what you can do and what you have done, but you push yourself far too hard. Your siblings miss you, your mother misses you… I miss you.”

He looked away in shame. He didn’t think anyone would ever miss him while he was working. Occasionally, he would make appearances to dinner or a small event. But, now, he knew five minutes were never enough to catch up with everything he’s missed, staying cooped up in his office all day.

You turn back around and face him, moving to stand directly in front of him. Tilting your head up, you met his eyes and sent a small smile, cupping his cheeks and softly thumbing the areas as he melted into your touch.

“I forgive you, Anthony, but promise me one thing.” You say barely above a whisper, the quiet wind almost blowing too loud for him to hear.

“Anything.” He said softly and in the same tone, bringing his hands up to cover yours, kissing your palms.

“Spend more time with your family. Work will always be there, but your family won’t be.” You look between his eyes and watch him nod ever so slightly.

Anthony pressed a kiss to your lips, not bothered by your cigarette taste at all. He dropped his hands to your waist and pulled you closer before resting his forehead on yours, breathing you in for the first time in so long.

“I promise.” He murmured, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “And don’t you dare let me get mad at you again. Hit me on the head if I ever do it again.”

“Well, if you insist.” You tease before laughing as he gently tickled your sides. “Hey!”

“Hey, you.” Anthony laughed along with you before pulling you in for a hug, burying his head in your neck. “I’m forever going to be sorry, my love. I’ll keep my promise for as long as I live.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[hazzashouse]

The Weight of a Name PART I

Author’s Note: This was my first attempt at writing for Anthony Bridgerton, and I loved delving into his intensity and passion. I’m considering writing a part two—let me know if you’d like to see where this story goes!

Triggers: Emotional confrontation, feelings of rejection, societal pressure

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,703

Summary: When Anthony Bridgerton’s relentless pursuit of you reaches its breaking point, a fiery confrontation reveals the depths of his feelings.

PART TWO: here

The soft hum of violins and lilting laughter echoed throughout the ballroom. It was a scene of perfection, one carefully orchestrated by the host to impress even the most critical members of the ton. You moved with grace, your every step measured and deliberate, but your mind was far from composed.

Anthony Bridgerton was watching you.

You had felt his eyes on you all evening, and no matter how hard you tried to shake the weight of his gaze, it lingered. It wasn’t just that he watched—it was the way he looked at you. As if he already had you. As if his claim was inevitable.

But Anthony Bridgerton wasn’t the kind of man you trusted easily. His reputation was whispered about behind fans and through veiled glances. He was handsome, yes, and powerful, but he was also dangerous. The stories of his past were enough to make even the boldest debutantes wary.

You had no intention of falling for a man like him.

————————

Later that evening, you had sought refuge on the balcony, eager for a moment of quiet. The cool air kissed your skin as you inhaled deeply, savoring the temporary escape. But your peace was short-lived.

“You’re avoiding me.”

The low, irritated voice made you stiffen. You turned to find Anthony standing just beyond the balcony doors, his jaw set and his dark eyes locked on you.

“I wasn’t aware I was obligated to seek you out,” you replied evenly, though your voice betrayed a hint of exasperation.

Anthony stepped closer, his movements deliberate. “You know precisely what I mean,” he said, his tone clipped. “I’ve been trying to speak with you all evening, but you’ve been too busy entertaining every other man in this room.”

Your temper flared, and you straightened your spine. “Perhaps that’s because every other man in this room doesn’t believe he has some divine right to my attention.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed, and he took another step closer. “Is that truly what you think of me?” he asked, his voice low but seething.

“What else am I to think?” you shot back, your voice rising. “You stride into every room as if the world should bow at your feet, as if no one could possibly resist the great Viscount Bridgerton. Well, I’m not one of your conquests, my lord, and I won’t be treated as such.”

Anthony’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. But then he stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “You think I’m trying to conquer you? That this is some sort of game to me? I have been chasing you for months. I’ve ignored every other debutante, turned down every match my mother has pushed my way, and still, you look at me as if I’m nothing more than a rogue.”

Your chest heaved as his words hit their mark. “And why shouldn’t I?” you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion. “Do you deny it? Do you deny the countless women, the scandalous liaisons, the reputation you’ve so carefully crafted? How am I to believe you would ever honor a vow made to me when you’ve broken so many others?”

Anthony flinched, and for a moment, his mask slipped. There was pain in his eyes, a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. “I am not proud of my past,” he said quietly. “But you—you’ve made me want to be better. To be more than what they say I am.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “And I’m supposed to believe that? Because you’ve paid me a few compliments and danced with me a handful of times? Forgive me, my lord, but I’ve seen how easily you charm others. I won’t be another name on your list.”

Anthony’s temper snapped, and he grabbed your wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to stop you from walking away. “You don’t understand what you’re doing to me,” he said, his voice rough and urgent. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t think of anything but you. Every time I see you with another man, it feels like a knife to my chest. And yet, you look at me as if I’m nothing, as if I’m unworthy of even your consideration.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. His grip on your wrist softened, and he took a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he continued, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “To feel so completely undone by someone. To want them so desperately, so utterly, and to know they see you as nothing more than a mistake waiting to happen.”

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, but you refused to let them fall. “Do you think this is easy for me?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Do you think I enjoy rejecting you, knowing I might be giving up on something—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “But I can’t ignore the part of me that’s terrified you’ll hurt me. That I’ll wake up one day and realize I was nothing more than a passing infatuation to you.”

Anthony stared at you, his chest heaving. “You think I would hurt you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “After everything I’ve done to prove myself to you?”

“What have you done, Anthony?” you demanded, your voice rising again. “You’ve watched me from across ballrooms and interrupted my dances, but have you ever truly shown me who you are? Or are you still hiding behind the charm and arrogance that the ton has come to expect from you?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Anthony’s jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You’re right,” he said finally, his voice trembling with restraint. “You don’t know who I am. But that’s because you’ve never given me the chance to show you.”

Your heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice, but you refused to back down. “Perhaps I would have, if I believed you were capable of being the man I need.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But then he stepped back, his expression hardening into one of cold resolve. “You’ll regret this,” he said quietly, his voice laced with both pain and anger. “You’ll regret not taking the chance when you had it.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone on the balcony with your heart pounding and your hands shaking.

As you stared after him, a single thought echoed in your mind.

Had you made a mistake?

————————

PART TWO: here

[elizabethmerck]

It’s been a while since I posted Bridgerton funny memes. Here’s another product series (medications this time). Hope you have a giggle! 🤭

[ladywhistlewrites]

Hiiiiiii can I request a wife x Anthony bridgerton story where they are newly married and back from their honeymoon so Anthony works a lot where reader nearly never sees him so when she goes to talk to him he snaps at her and takes his stress out on her and reader gives him the silent treatment until she feels like it’s enough. Pls make him work for her forgiveness 😭😭😭😭😭

hii thanks for sending an ask!!🩷 hope you like it :))

Anthony Bridgerton x wife! reader

***

The morning sun casts a golden glow through the windows of your shared home, a beacon of warmth and new beginnings. You and Anthony have just returned from your honeymoon, the memories and whispered promises still fresh in your minds. Every corner of your home feels infused with the love and joy of your new life together, a life that seems to stretch out before you with infinite possibilities.

The first few days are blissful. You and Anthony spend lazy mornings entwined in each other’s arms, sharing laughter over breakfast, and planning your future with excitement. His touch, his voice, everything about him fills you with an overwhelming sense of contentment. You are his, and he is yours.

But as the days turn into weeks, you notice a change. Anthony, ever the diligent worker, begins to spend more time in his study, pouring over documents and attending meetings. At first, you understand. You admire his dedication and are proud of his accomplishments. Yet, gradually, his presence becomes a rarity. He leaves early and returns late, often slipping into bed after you’ve fallen asleep and rising before you awaken.

One evening, after another long day of waiting for him, you decide to confront him. The house is quiet, the only sound the ticking of the clock in the hallway. You find him in his study, hunched over his desk, the dim light casting shadows on his face.

“Anthony,” you call softly, stepping into the room. He doesn’t look up, his attention firmly on the papers before him. You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “We need to talk.”

He finally glances up, his expression a mix of exhaustion and impatience. “What is it, my love? I’m very busy.”

The endearment feels hollow, and your heart aches. “I know you’re busy, but I miss you. We barely even spend time together . It feels like you’ve forgotten about me, about us.” you murmur

He sighs, rubbing his temples. “I haven’t forgotten. I’m doing this for us, for our future. Can’t you understand that?” he says with venom in his mouth.

“I understand, but what good is the future if we’re not happy now?” The words tumble out, your voice rising with emotion. “You’re consumed by your work, Anthony. You’re neglecting our marriage.”

His eyes flash with irritation, and before you can react, he snaps. “Just mind your own business, will you? I’m doing what needs to be done.” he spats.

You stand there, stunned and hurt, his harsh words cutting deeper than you’d imagined possible. Without another word, you turn and leave, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the silent house.

In the days that follow, the pain of his outburst lingers. You decide to give him the silent treatment, unable to bear the thought of speaking to him. You avoid him, your interactions reduced to strained silences and cold civility. He tries to reach out, but you turn away, your hurt and pride keeping you at a distance.

Anthony, realizing his mistake, begins to make amends. Each morning, you find fresh flowers on your bedside table, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the dull ache in your heart. He sends you beautiful gowns, their fine fabrics a reminder of his thoughtfulness. Every day, he apologizes, his voice earnest and filled with regret.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he says repeatedly. “Please forgive me.”

A week passes, and you find yourself missing him more than you can bear. The sight of the flowers, the sound of his apologies, all begin to chip away at your resolve. One evening, as the sun sets and the house is bathed in the soft glow of twilight, you find him in his study once more.“Anthony,” you say quietly. He looks up, hope flickering in his eyes. “I forgive you. But you must promise me, promise me that you will never speak to me like that again.”

He pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he might never let go. “I’ve missed you too, more than you can imagine.”

You stand there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the world outside fading away. In that moment, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you will face them together, bound by love and the promise of a future filled with happiness.

[frost-queen]

Persevering love // part 3 (Male!Reader x Bridgerton siblings)

 Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @floatlosers,  @alex–awesome–22, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23, @melsunshine  , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis, @slythetic, @bitchybananaflower, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @winter-solstice24, @how-what-why-huh

Summary: After the Sharma's have visted, you start to feel more like your old self. Even daring to go to your first ball even if it was just to see that one person once more. [part 1 & part 2 & part 4]

The door swung open as Gregory ran inside. Startling Violet, Francesca and Colin. Not a moment later you stormed in after him. Gregory laughing loud and screaming in delight. They all blinked confused when you ran up to Gregory.

Wrapping your arm around him and lifting him up with a groan. Gregory kept laughing as you set him back down. – “Got ya!” – you called out with a chuckle. You noticed your family staring in confusion at the two of you. – “Sorry mama.” – you breathed out at the disturbance.

Violet smiled. – “I’m glad to see your smile again.” – she responded. Colin approached you, ruffling his fingers through your hair. It made you smile, lowering your head. – “You’ve become more childish.” – he teased. You removed his hand from your hair, giving him a playful shove.

Gregory pressed his hands against your lower stomach. – “I’ll race you to the other side!” – he called out. – “On it!” – you replied pushing Colin out of the way. The two of you started running out of the drawing room. – “Be careful!” – Violet shouted loud afraid you would not hear it anymore.

Gregory and you were racing. Running through the house whilst laughing loud. Anthony appeared from his study, immediately jumping back at the two quick figures nearly knocking him over.

“You can’t catch me!” – he heard Gregory shout loud. Making Anthony scratch the back of his head, staring back at you with a smile. Normally he’d comment on it that running was not allowed in the house, but this time he didn’t.

Not when he saw how happy you were. How more and more you started feeling like your old self again. The brother he knew from before the war. The goofy brother that had a care-free spirit. You picked up Gregory with one arm, letting him fall on your bed as you couldn’t uphold the weight any longer.

Exhaling out pants, you let yourself fall on the bed beside him. Gregory rolled over to his side, coming to lean on his elbow. You breathed out a laugh, turning your head to him. – “Something on my face?” – you asked wiping it.

Gregory chuckled, shaking his head. You dropped your arm over your eyes, catching your breath. – “I’m just glad to have my brother back.” – he responded poking your cheek. You lifted your arm up from over your eyes, looking cheeky at him. – “Am I your favourite brother?” – you asked him teasingly.

He laughed loud as you waved your hand. – “No, don’t tell me.” – you said looking back up at the ceiling. Cracking up a smile. Gregory lifted your hand up to look at your face. – “You are the most fun one.” – he told you. Humming loud, you were pleased with his answer. – “Good enough.” – you spoke coming to sit up with a loud groan. Gregory came sitting up as well.

Letting his head lean against your shoulder. – “Thank you for staying with me.” – you told him, taking his hand. Gregory curled up a saddened smile. – “I’ll do anything for my brother.” – he responded. – “Truly?” – you answered quirking your eyebrow up with a cheeky smile

Gregory lifted his head up, chuckling nervously. He got up slowly backing away from the bed. You got up as well with a finger held up. – “Will you give me all the chocolate macrons?” – you said teasingly. You knew just how much he loved those. Gregory swallowed hard. – “Yes…” – he said after some time.

“You hesitated.” – you replied with a smirk. He quickly shook his head. – “Your macrons are mine.” – you called out. – “Mother!” – Gregory shouted loud, running out of your room to save his precious macrons. Unable to hold it in, you started laughing loud.

“Something funny?” – Benedict questioned when he came peeking in your room as the door stood open. You sighed soft, pinking some happy tears away. Nearing Benedict, giving him a pat on his chest before leaving. You followed him downstairs back to the drawing room.

After diner everyone got up to prepare for tonight’s ball. They were all standing in the hallway when you came down the stairs. Dressed up in a suit. – “Y/n?” – Anthony said confused. You cleared your throat nervously. – “Got room for one more?” – you commented avoiding eye contact. Your brothers gleaming with pride for you.

“Always.” – Benedict responded throwing an arm around you. Giving you a sturdy pat on your shoulder. – “What made you decide to join us tonight?” – he asked curious. You smiled sheepishly, hand disappearing into your pocket. Clenching around something long.

“It doesn’t matter.” – Violet said coming nearer. You removed your hand from your pocket when she placed her hand under your chin. – “Even if it just for one ball, I am glad you have found the confidence to show yourself. For you should not be ashamed.” – she spoke.

You cleared your throat nervously, looking briefly away. Grabbing for the rolled up sleeve that hid your stomp. Anthony walked up to you, throwing his arms around you in a hug. – “My brother!” – he let out smiling. – “No one needs to dare comment about you brother.” – Colin pitched in, knowing how insecure you were about your limb.

You had lost your under arm during the war. Something you could not easily hide. Knowing many people would stare at it or ask questions about it. – “If they dare, they’ll have to face us.” – Anthony added patting you on your cheek. Violet cleared her throat that it was time to leave. Your brothers surrounding you. Practically carrying you on hands outside.

Blessed that you were still amongst them. You joined the carriage with your family. Sitting nervously by the window. Your gaze went up to the skies. The carriage wobbling over cobblestone. Exhaling nervously at what was to come. A ball. Your first to be exact. Since you have returned from the war, you had not attended one.

It was foolish considering what you went through. Also you felt too ashamed with your battle injury. Exhaling deep you let your hand slide in your pocket once more. Grabbing firm around the long thin object, hidden away. 

The thing that gave you strength to put yourself out there. Something a kind heart had blossomed inside of you. Your gaze went towards Anthony, sitting across from you. Biting your lip hesitantly. Anthony noticed you were watching, showing you a smile. You smiled partly back, turning your gaze back to the outdoors.

Your nerves spiked up when the carriage came to a stop. Footman opening the door. All of you getting out one by one. You let your mother and Anthony go first. Wanting to hide somewhere in the middle of your siblings.

You swallowed nervously when the doors to the ballroom opened. Several heads turned in the direction of the Bridgerton’s. Seeing a curious figure amongst them. You lowered your head, rather wanting to disappear than remain. It would be the first time everyone has seen you since you left for the war.

Anthony looked over his shoulder, seeing you shuffled backwards for an escape. He wouldn’t let you, grabbing you by your arm. He pulled you to the front with him. – “Everyone cheer for my brother!” – he called out proudly, swinging your arm up. You could die on the spot from fright. The ton all raised their glasses, shouting ‘hear hear’ for you.  Clapping and bowing at your presence.

Anthony smiled proudly rubbing your chest playfully. Keeping an arm around you. Proud to show off his brother to the ton. You gave him a playful shove for humiliating you like that, but secretly you liked it. Your brothers hyping you up with such proudness.

Glad to have you by their sides. Colin came joining in throwing his arm over Anthony and yours shoulder. – “Let’s drink brothers.” – he said patting you on your shoulder. You followed your family down the stairs. Several lord and ladies bowing when you walked past. Your eyes met with some girls as they smiled bashful.

It made you smile uncomfortable at the sudden attention. Benedict nudging you with a cheeky smile. You shoved his head away with a roll of your eyes. Anthony handed you a drink. All raising a toast to your first ball. Your brothers and you all laughed, feeling Eloise wrap her arm around yours.

Letting her head rest against your shoulder. Allowing her to squeeze her head against you. You raised your arm wanting to pat her on the head. Mid-way you stared at your rolled up sleeve. Seeing you were missing your underarm and hand. It made you laugh at how easily you had forgotten about it.

Lowering your arm, you let your gaze go around the ballroom. Some ladies came blocking your vision, suddenly standing before you. – “Mister Bridgerton.” – they said with a curtsy. It made you look nervously away. One of them rose her hand, showing you her dance card. – “Would you be so kind as to sign mine for a dance?” – she asked rather boldly.

Eloise quirked her eyebrow up, looking up at you. Clearing your throat, you felt warm. – “I… apologize ladies, but I… wouldn’t be such a great dance partner.” – you told them referring to having an arm less. – “You still got your feet.” – another one pointed out. It made you look down at your feet, knocking the sides to each other.

Chuckling nervously whilst touching your ear. – “I do…” – you responded. Eloise rolled her eyes stepping in. – “My brother also still has the ability to choose and he says no.” – Eloise called out, shooing them away. The girls pulled up their noses, taking their leave. You mouthed a thank you to her.

Turning your head, your eyes widened seeing her from across the ballroom. Glorious in pink. Clearing your throat, you straightened your posture. – “I’ll be right back.” – you told Eloise, taking your leave. She blinked confused, shrugged her shoulders and went to the buffet to stuff some cakes in her mouth.

You moved across to reach your destination. Taking in a deep breath, the closer you got to her. Seeing that charming smile on her lips. She lightly turned her head, eyes twinkling even more at your presence. – “Mister Bridgerton!” – she called out. – “Miss Edwina.” – you responded with a bow. – “I did not expect to see you here tonight.” – she responded rocking her body a bit from side to side.

It made you smile sheepishly, hand diving in your pocket once more. – “I…I… uhm…” – you felt yourself stumble over your words. Feeling like a blathering fool around her. Her eyes fell on your arm, gasping in delight. – “You rolled it up.” – she said touching your sleeve briefly. – “I.. I did.” – you spoke.

“Well I am very proud of you.” – she said with a sweet smile. It made you rub the back of your head nervously. – “I… I uhm… I still needed to give you this.” – you said taking out the object from your pocket. – “My pin!” – Edwina called out. – “The one you had given to me for my sleeve.” – you responded.

Edwina accepted the pin from you with a bashful smile. Her eyes fell on your sleeve once more. You looked down as well. – “I’m afraid this pin is rather boring.” – you told her with a laugh. Edwina reached for your sleeve. – “Then you must keep it.” – she spoke pricking her pin through the fabric to keep your rolled up sleeve in place. – “But…” – you responded. Edwina giggled finding you sweet.

It made you smile back at her. – “Tell me mister Bridgerton, are you here to show off your dance skills?” – she asked touching your arm. The arm that was wounded from the war. It made you look at it as not many people dared to touch it, besides your family.

“Or have you been saving them only for me?” – she added with gleaming eyes. Your eyes locked with hers. – “Only for you.” – you blurted out before you could think properly. Edwina giggled even more scrunching her nose as you exhaled at how beautiful she was. Further away stood Violet and Anthony.

“Now they seem very matching, don’t you think Anthony.” – Violet spoke. Anthony turned his head to watch you chatting with Edwina. A smile curling up his lips. Despite that he was courting Edwina, he didn’t really felt much for her. Violet glanced up to him, watching him smile. It made her smile as well that her son was finally realizing that Edwina was not the girl for him.

That his heart was elsewhere. With another Sharma girl. Anthony couldn’t deny feeling happiness when watching the both of you. – “They sure do.” – he responded, looking back at his mother. His gaze than drifting away locking with Kate somewhere in the crowd.

Edwina giggled loud taking you by the arm. Before you could protest, she pulled you to the dance. – “Edwina.” – you chuckled out nervously as she kept dragging you. She put you to a stop on the dancefloor. Coming to stand before you with a smile on her lips. The music began as she hopped forwards.

You felt a bit nervous with so many eyes observing, yet Edwina didn’t seem to be affected by them. Taking you by the arm, pulling it up. Keeping her hand up to twirl underneath your wounded arm. Not caring that she was not holding onto a hand. She then set her hand on your shoulder, her other on your back.

You touched her lower back as she led you into a waltz. She kept giggling, enjoying every moment of the dance. Each time she needed to hold your hand, she kept her hand on your upper arm. Unbothered by the watching eyes. It didn’t take you long to smile as well. Enjoy the dance with her as you have never felt more alive than now.

Edwina twirled a few times before you. Ending with her hands pressed against your chest. Looking pantingly up at you. You were out of breath too. Reaching your knuckles up to her. Touching her cheek lovingly. Edwina leaned into it, closing her eyes to cherish the touch more.

You cleared your throat, looking nervously around. Hoping you wouldn’t anger Anthony with this. It was something you did not anticipate. It simply happened. You fell for her caring and kind heart. You found your brother amongst the crowd, clapping with a reassuring nod your way. Letting you know it was alright.

Edwina took you by the arm, pulling you away from the dancefloor. – “I only have so much fun with you mister Bridgerton.” – she let out. – “As do I.” – you responded, taking her dance card in your hand. – “So I only reserve my feet for you.” – you told her before writing your name in big letters across her dance card.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[girlkisser13]

colin bridgerton being obsessed with eating you out

pairings: colin bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings/tags: smut (18+), oral sex (r receiving), pussy drunk colin, pussy eating, dirty talk

divider by @plutism

colin won't take your virtue before you're married, but he will eat you out.

he'll spend the long hours of the night and the short hours of the morning with his tongue lapping between your folds and his lips sealed around your clit. he'll drag his mouth over your sopping slit and dig his fingers into your soft thighs to keep you spread open for him.

a slow and gentle exploration, a treat for doing this properly, for making a proper woman of you like you deserve. it's for him more than it's for you, but that doesn't mean he doesn't wiggle his tongue against your clit or push his thick finger into your tight hole, easing you to the edge of orgasm just so he can slurp at the mess you make.

he's obsessed. the noises you make, the short breaths and soft whining moans, it drives him crazy. he finds his trousers soiled with come one too many times after he's worked you through orgasm after orgasm.

your legs shake under his tight grip as he refuses to leave your pretty pussy until it's puffy and aching from all his attention. you writhe and wriggle, but he keeps holding you where he wants you. he drags his broad tongue over your slit as he spells his name on your clit.

"are you oversensitive my love? you can take it darling. let me have this. let me enjoy you. just one more for me gorgeous."

it was never just one more.

[skyrigel]

I’m so glad you take requests for Anthony bridgerton. I’ve been in the mood to read angst with happy endings for so looong😫 so could I request Anthony bridgerton x wife angst where they have an argument/fight because he is stressed so he takes his anger out on her so she ends up giving him the silent treatment while he basically begs for her forgiveness

Say nothing then || A.B

Pairing: Anthony bridgerton x wife!reader

Warning: hurt/angst, superstitious thoughts, Anthony doesn't think he could outlive his father. ( Happy ending and little comfort, i promise.)

Rigel's note 🪩 : Thankyou so much for requesting, absolutely heart breaking to write this one, I took inspo from book, Anthony denying love because he saw his mother going in depression when his father died and taylor swift's lyric I said, "I love you" (I said, "I love you") You say nothin' back . I hope i did justice with this one sweetheart <3

That's the way you loved Anthony, truly and completely and sometimes it was so hard to keep it in, it slipped through your lips everytime you kissed him. Pressing down in his skin and tickling his heart that was yours.

It gazed at him, dusk or dawn, ever so lovely, it scribbled down in your ink, leaving your love trailing down behind him.

When Anthony told you he would give you anything, you believed him, when he said he just wouldn't love you, you didn't.

That's not how it goes, perhaps you were naive and blinded but that, it was love that glinted in his eyes everytime he looked at you. When he would smile and reveal the book you yearned to read, hidden behind his back. When he danced more than any husband did with his wife so you didn't believe when Anthony said he wouldn't love you, that was only a matter of time.

However, there's difference between wouldn't and couldn't, Anthony was scared to love, for he knew it's a force and he would be damned if you were to be left heartbroken just like his mother, he would curse himself if he didn't wake when you would call out for him when he was dea Because Anthony was sure, he bloody knew he wouldn't be able to live past his father and in no universe he would want to see you begging, crying and slowly drifting away. Lost and sad, no.

So he wouldn't love you and he would save you from the greater grief, of getting left behind while the other is gone.

But love became too much sometimes, held too much of your heart and body and soul that it demanded to fly and then one such night, all the chains tattered and it was bleeding raw and fresh—

" I love you." You said, like you did every passing moment but oops you had said it now, in words and sound as Anthony kissed the back of your ear, it was the first time the words ever experienced by the nature, no doubt you had said it with every kiss, every touch, every gesture but this was new.

Anthony freezed above you, hands dropping whatever mischief they had in tow.

He pulled away from you in a blink of your eye and it took you a moment to realise what went wrong.

" Anthony ? Are you..you are okay honey ? " You whsipered, he didn't look at you, staring at his hands as he could see a story you couldn't.

" I.. Anthony ? " You said again because it scared you, Anthony wasn't the one to look away, all the things that scared you was nothing against the terror, the sinking gut wrenching feeling you felt when Anthony fliched at your touch and you shivered in ache. No, don't leave me. Please, please.

It was another pain to see Anthony like a stranger, like he didn't know you. He would, he promised he would know you anywhere but this, it was threatening.

" What did you say ? " You almost thought it was the voices in your head, the agony that coated the words could never be from him.

Never to you, he was drifting away with each heavy moment and the person who was at the edge of your bed, in your shared chamber, smelling like you, wasn't the person you knew.

" Anthony—" you tried, you couldn't help the choking of your throat as those eyes were fuming in rage, maybe there was love, hiding somewhere but you couldn't find it and it broke your heart. Anthony couldn't be right.

" You don't mean that ! " He was screaming, his whole body shaking as his fist slammed the mattress in fit of rage.

A strangled hiccup escaped your throat when Anthony gripped your shoulder, hard but not bruising, like he wanted to shake you out of this feeling. He couldn't.

" You don't understand, love, love, love—" he almost cried, his nose reddening, his whole face was burning.

" —its stupid ! Means nothing, does nothing, it takes away everything..." His voice tore down deep inside you, like breaking membranes and dropping vases, it could never be the same.

" You don't understand... don't say it ! You stupid woman ! " He bellowed when you worked your jaw to say something, Don't say it, I love you—

I love you, please, please, let me love you—

But just as he said it, it wasn't Anthony, it was like your mama reminding you how stupid you were, stupid, stupid girl, she would say.

Stupid woman, he had said and everything else was slowly fading, it was starting to slow down, like watching it from away, in different bodies, like you were the doorknob or the painting on the wall because you were crumbling under his touch.

Anthony mere few inches away and you wondered what he would do if you kissed him just then, would he stop this torment?

Would he pull away, back then he didn't when they were your silent ' I love you's ' instead he drank them in, tasted your love raw and wild and now refused them in sound and wave.

" What should I say Anthony ? " You were sure they never made it out, lost somewhere in void, perhaps still coiling around your cartilage but the shocked silence that echoed between the little space between you reminded you how words crawled out after all. Even those meant to be quiet. I love you.

" Say nothing then." His voice is so small that barely register and before you could, he's inhaling large gulps of air, drifting back and back and his eyes not quite meeting yours until he turned his back to you.

He was gone for the night.

Say nothing then.

He wasn't there for the breakfast.

Say nothing then.

He wasn't there the next day.

Say nothing then.

And the day next, and one that followed—

Until you reasiled you haven't said anything in days, it wasn't so bad afterall, it was, very, very bad and lonely but it was okay, as long as Anthony would come back, it should be.

It was very quiet when Anthony stumbled back, his steps shaking and vision dizzy.

He was terribly pissed. You turned the page you only half read and focused hard on the words, Anthony stripped his clothes as he climbed the bed next to you, in an attempt to kiss your forehead like he did every night.

He wasn't there to do it for days and you didn't sleep, it could surely go on, you pulled away.

Something hurt flashed through his eyes and he looked down at the sheets, chest heaving with untaken breaths.

" Good night Viscountess." He whsipered softly and You said nothing back.

Say nothing then.

You weren't sure how you did it but you managed to untangle yourself from Anthony by dawn, you slept for the first time in days and it was over with a series of dreams, each ended with you saying I love you and Anthony saying nothing back.

Silence was louder than words, it was also harsher than words.

Watching Anthony sleep was like playing we're good with him , you weren't sure if you could cry anymore than you had already.

It felt like nothing happened and it could go back to be like before, you could press your love to his skin and it wouldn't burn and leave scars.

But you didn't want that, that was something it had became unbearable, when love bled through you, it was unstoppable and you realised how you will love him enough to make it up for both of you but he wouldn't let you. He wouldn't love you either.

The hurt was visible when his hand trembled, he tried hard to catch your eye, you focused at the honey, so sweet. Anthony didn't know but it hurt you all the same. How much burden you felt in your bones when you couldn't tell him all the things you woke up with, to tell him about your dreams — nightmares now, to tell him that you hate him so much, to kiss him until he couldn't breathe and tear everything wrenched out of him, but you couldn't.

All the more heartache when Anthony brought out the third part of your beloved novel and when the smile never came on your lips, only tears that blurred your gaze so much that you turned away from him, Anthony was shattered.

It was the second day, you hadn't said anything at all, inside screaming didn't count as one. You watched ahead as the far, far away trace of green rolling grass from your balcony. It occurred to you how horizon was made, where earth met the sky and here you were, with souls of something same, whatever they were made of, and yet you and Anthony couldn't mingle.

" Isn't it beautiful ? " He looked at you like you would answer him, he hoped too much.

Say nothing then—

" Huh.." he tried to smile, it was so small.

You stared ahead because looking at Anthony only added salt to your wound, it was aggravating.

It was after some slipped moments when he spoke in a strained small voice, hurt and broken and it shivered you.

" I was so scared...still am," he said and his voice broke, a muffled cry escaped him and you looked at him, really. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and shush away every cry, every pain, every sadness.

Say nothing—

" I thought...I thought i could just keep it away, keep you safe..from me, from love—" and he was crying, not sobbing, not whimpering but crying as big warm tears steamed down his face and he dropped to his knees in front of you, hands reaching for you like moth reaching flame and you took him, held him.

Say—

" I..I..I thought.. could—" he sniffed," couldn't, i can't pretend anymore, I don't want to leave you in pain... don't want to leave you in hurt... can't can't can't keep it in." He cried more and more and more matter how much you wiped his tears, but more fell and it was then you realised, they were yours. You were crying too.

" I am sorry, I am so, so sorry for ever hurting your my sweet love—" he swallowed hard.

" Anthony.. it's okay.. it's alright." You assured him, maybe you and him could go with your love only pressed between silence and gestures and eyes and it would be enough.

But you couldn't watch him break, wouldn't and couldn't.

" I love you." He said, voice not shaking, eyes sincere behind the gleaming tears, " I love you, always had, always would." He brought your knuckles to kiss, love pressing down in your skin. It was golden in the last rays of sun.

" Anthony you don't have to say it." You understood, atleast you did. He shaked his head and smiled through his wet face.

" No, no...let me, " he exclaimed, " I love you my baby, my lady." He smiled and it reached his eyes, you giggled softly when he pressed open mouthed kisses on your hands.

" I love you, I love you and I love you." He said, " I am a fool for ever denying it, I am a fool for you my Viscountess." He inhaled, breathing after a very long time.

" I am sorry, I love you so much baby." His lip trembled and you wanted to steady them so bad.

" I love you too Anthony, truly and completely." You kissed his forehead and he melted in your touch, and you didn't know how much time ticked away with loud and whispered and blessed I love you's and that's the way he loved you, truly and completely.

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

Rigel's note 🪩 ( again) : I hope this was good, I am such a angst sucker myself<3 request through my ask box :) and can you reblog ? Please, please.

[d-targaryenshoe]

Blissful Banter- Luke Thompson

Word count: 1432

Summary: Yet a lie detector brings fun to one's connection even the truth likes to be discovered.

Luke glanced at the lie detector machine with skepticism and amusement.

You sat across from him with a playful smile on your face.

You had been together for a little over a year, and despite your age gap—Luke being thirty-six and you twenty-five, you had developed a deep and affectionate relationship.

However, you both had a teasing nature, often poking fun at each other in a way that only made your bond stronger.

Today, you decided to put your playful banter to the test, literally, by trying out a lie detector test.

"Are you sure about this?" Luke asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched the technician prepare the equipment.

"Absolutely," you replied, your voice light with excitement. "I’ve always wanted to see if you could lie to me with a straight face."

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. "I don’t lie, love. I’m an open book."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "Sure, and I’m the Queen of England."

The technician, a stern-looking man in his fifties, adjusted the sensors on Luke’s wrist.

"Remember, the machine will measure changes in your physiological responses," he explained in a monotone. "So try to relax."

"Easy for you to say," Luke muttered under his breath. He caught your amused gaze and winked. "Bring it on."

With the machine ready, the technician nodded at you to start.

"Okay, let’s start with something simple," you said, crossing your legs and leaning back in your chair. "Who’s your favorite character in Bridgerton?"

Luke smirked. "Benedict, of course. How can I not."

The lie detector remained steady, confirming his truthfulness.

"Really?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Your own character."

Luke laughed, shaking his head. "Anthony’s too uptight. And Colin is the opposite of Ben, cool, confident, and irresistible."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. "Alright, Mr. Confident. Let’s see if you’re as honest about other things."

You leaned forward, your tone turning teasingly. "Do you like my cooking?"

Luke hesitated for a fraction of a second, a split-second that didn’t escape your notice.

"Of course I do," he replied, his voice a tad too enthusiastic.

The machine beeped softly, indicating a small spike.

You gasped, your eyes wide with mock indignation. "You liar! I knew you didn’t like my quinoa salad!"

Luke chuckled, shrugging. "It’s not that I don’t like it, I just... prefer your lasagna."

"Mm-hmm," you said, squinting at him playfully. "I’ll remember that next time you ask for seconds."

The atmosphere between you was light and full of affection, with the lie detector test turning into a fun game rather than a serious interrogation.

You both knew that these little white lies—like Luke’s opinion on quinoa—were part of what made your relationship so enjoyable.

"Alright, my turn," Luke said, sitting up a bit straighter. "Do you secretly think I’m too old for you?"

Your expression softened as you considered your answer. "Truthfully? No, I don’t think you’re too old for me. I love that you’re a bit older. It makes me feel like I have someone who’s mature and knows what he wants."

The machine stayed silent, confirming your truthfulness.

Luke’s heart warmed at your words, and he smiled, reaching across the table to take your hand. "I’m glad to hear that."

You squeezed his hand in return, then leaned back with a mischievous grin. "But just to keep things interesting… Do you ever get jealous when I talk about how attractive Simone Ashley is?"

Luke’s grin turned into a mock scowl. "Jealous? Me? Never." But the lie detector’s soft beep betrayed him.

You burst out laughing. "I knew it! You’re jealous."

Luke raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, fine, maybe just a little. But can you blame me? She's an absolute gem."

"True," you agreed, still giggling. "But don’t worry, you’re the only one for me."

You shared a tender moment, the banter giving way to genuine affection.

Luke realized that despite the light-hearted nature of the test, it was reaffirming what you both knew deep down—that you were crazy about each other, quirks and all.

"Okay, back to business," Luke said, clearing his throat. "How much did you actually know about Bridgerton before we started dating?"

You blushed slightly, biting your lip. "Honestly? Not much. I might have watched a couple of episodes before, but I wasn’t really into it until I met you."

The machine remained silent, and Luke smiled. "So, you started watching it just because of me?"

"Maybe," you admitted, your cheeks still pink. "I mean, it was worth it to understand your character."

Luke laughed, feeling touched. "That’s sweet. I’ll give you that one."

"Your turn," you said, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "Did you really think I was into you on our first date, or did you think I was just being polite?"

Luke chuckled, remembering your first date. "I was pretty sure you were into me. I mean, who wouldn’t be?"

You raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for the lie detector’s verdict.

The machine, however, remained steady, backing up Luke’s confidence.

"Wow, someone’s cocky," you teased, though you were impressed.

"What can I say?" Luke replied, grinning. "I’ve got a sixth sense for these things."

You shook your head, as though you were smiling. "Alright, Mr. Sixth Sense. Here’s a tough one—have you ever lied to me about something important?"

Luke’s smile faltered slightly as he thought about the question.

He wanted to answer quickly and truthfully, but the seriousness of the question caught him off guard.

"No," he said finally, his tone sincere. "I haven’t lied to you about anything important."

The lie detector agreed with him, showing no signs of deception.

You smiled softly, your eyes filled with warmth. "Good. I believe you."

Luke exhaled, realizing just how much your trust meant to him. "I’d never lie to you about something that mattered. You’re too important to me."

For a moment, the playful atmosphere shifted to something deeper, a reminder of the solid foundation you had built together despite your age difference and different life experiences.

"Okay," you said, clearing your throat and lightening the mood again.

"Let’s end on a fun one. Have you ever pretended to be interested in one of my hobbies just because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings?"

Luke laughed, knowing exactly what you were referring to. "You mean like when I pretended to enjoy that pottery class?"

You gasped, your eyes wide with faux outrage. "You didn’t enjoy it?"

"The clay was all over the place, and I made a bowl that looked more like a pancake," Luke admitted, grinning. "But I did it because I wanted to spend time with you."

The lie detector stayed silent, indicating that he was telling the truth.

You giggled, shaking your head. "Okay, I’ll give you that. But I actually thought your pancake bowl was pretty cute."

"Thanks," Luke said, smiling. "But let’s stick to your cooking from now on."

You laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "Deal. But only if you promise to keep watching Bridgerton with me, even when there’s no more Simon Basset."

Luke leaned across the table, capturing your lips in a quick, affectionate kiss. "Deal."

As you wrapped up the lie detector session, Luke realized that the test, while initially just a bit of fun, had brought you closer.

The playful teasing, the honest confessions, and the laughter reminded you both of why you worked so well together.

Despite the differences in your ages, your relationship was built on trust, understanding, and a shared sense of humor.

"Well, that was fun," you said as you stood up, stretching after being seated for so long. "We should do this again sometime."

"Only if you’re ready to admit that I’m your favorite Bridgerton," Luke replied with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, as though you were smiling. "We’ll see about that. Maybe I’ll start lying just to keep you on your toes."

Luke laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist as you walked out of the room. "As long as you keep laughing with me, I think we’ll be just fine."

As you left the building, the sun setting in the distance, you both knew that the little adventure with the lie detector had only strengthened your bond.

After all, love wasn’t just about being truthful, it was about finding joy in each other’s quirks, teasing, and growing together—even when a lie detector was involved.

With that thought in mind, Luke and you walked hand in hand, ready to face whatever challenges—and jokes—your relationship might bring next.

[redroses07]

tagging everyone who wanted part 2: @aiolos-7 @peachplumeachone @darlinglittlemeg @thebuni @copiouscouples

[peachpitfics]

Cruel Summer

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Following your romp with Benedict Bridgerton in his art studio, he asked your brother for your hand! Now you're on your honeymoon, and you're getting a little bored, posing for him. A lady must find ways to amuse herself!

Length: 2.1k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), Penetrative vaginal sex, unprotected sex, light bondage, food play.

a/n: This is an anonymous request for a continuation of 'Guilty as Sin'.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Benedict Bridgerton escorting you to view his artwork, at his private studio, was just the beginning of your story. After sneaking around behind your family’s backs for a small while, Benedict gathered enough courage to ask your eldest brother’s permission for your hand. This seemed strange to the y/l/n family, not one of them had ever seen the two of you together, which showed how much attention was paid to the middle child. Benedict made sure to ask you in the Bridgerton drawing room, just before family tea, for everyone to see. He made such a big to-do, confessing his love to you, before every member of the Bridgerton family in attendance. It felt particularly safe there, amongst people who took interest in who you were as a person.

It was bittersweet to have siblings who offered their time, their attentions, and their hobbies freely. You learned so many new things from each of them, from pall-mall, to sewing, even horse riding.  In six months, you were married and moved into the Bridgerton house for the meantime, until after your honeymoon. You would never outright tell Benedict you did not want to move out, but he felt it, he knew.

“My love” Benedict whispered, shaking your shoulders gently. Honeymooning in Paris was something the two of you had instantly agreed upon. So far, two weeks of sleeping late, making love, and eating copious amounts of divine food was your only concern. Of course, there were a lot of other lovely things Benedict had planned for your honeymoon – river boat rides and romantic dinners, every moment between locations filled with fine bread, wine, and cheese.

“Yes, my love?” You grumbled, rolling away from him, clearly having not had enough sleep.

“You must wake up, it is midafternoon!” Benedict exclaimed with a chesty laugh, rolling you back into him and tickling your sides. You howled with laughter, pushing him away playfully, leaning up to distract him as only you knew how. His lips were warm and wet against your own, seductive, and luscious.

“You must come downstairs! The housekeeper has left us a feast and I wish to paint my gorgeous wife” Benedict slid his hands around your naked body, lifting you out of bed as you groaned.

“Again?!” “My darling, I’ll be painting you until death takes me” Benedict chuffed, sliding sideways between doorways and down the stairs to the sitting room.

“What if death takes me first?” You smirked back, figuring you had him cornered here.

“I have made God promise I am to go first. And even so, I’ll have every detail committed to memory and these paintings and sketches of you now to keep me company” Benedict squeezed you in his arms, he didn’t like to joke about parting ways, in any sense. It was his truest nightmare, his deepest fear.

Benedict set you down in the sitting room and gestured to what he and the house keeping staff had readied. Paint, canvas, a staging area - littered around the room were bowls of fresh fruit, bottles of wine, candles surrounded by plates of cheese, oil, and bread. You relaxed back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, cupping your breasts sweetly. You giggle a little, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He nodded to your position for the rest of the day, a chair with the back faced to a very high window, casting a streak of sunlight down upon the spot.

There you sat, for hardly an hour before your mind began to wander, circling Benedict in your mind like a shark in open water. You had learned to become comfortable being nude for long periods of time these days, however Benedict had learned nothing of your persuasion or power when your attentions were dashed. Your movements started slowly, daintily taking your hands to your knees, and spreading your legs wide upon the chair. Resting a little, relaxing your back and cupping your own breasts. Your fingers gently grazing your nipples. But nothing, no attention from your husband. He sat close to his canvas, squinting into the detail of his work, his realm of perception clearly inhibited. With a huff and a light moan, you continued to palm at your own breasts, fingers trapping your nipples in a pulling motion- you decided to pretend Benedict wasn’t here. Suddenly, taking notice, you watched as his brush left the canvas, his mouth hung open a little and he removed his glasses, almost tossing them to the floor.

“What are you doing, darling?” He mumbled, swallowing hard. Your hands ran down your mid-section, over your belly and down your thighs sensually, soft mewls slipped from between your lips. Benedict loved the sounds you made.

“I’m just amusing myself, continue on with your painting my dear” Your replying comment was nonchalant in the best way. Benedict almost looked offended that you would suggest he could go back to painting.

“How do you suppose I paint, while my wife ravages her own body before me?” He blinked at the audacity of you.

“Well, dear one, this is what you have chosen for this afternoon’s activities… Now, you must endure” You smiled, sliding your hand between your legs, dipping your finger in the wet warmth there. Benedict shuddered, wishing any part of him were exchanged with your finger.

If there was anything you had learned about Benedict in the last six or seven months, it was that his desire for you was consistent and all encompassing. Benedict watched on as your fingers circled your clitoris, you moaned and exhaled gently - his paint brush never did return to the canvas. Beads of sweat formed on his brow line, the hot, French summer finally taking its toll in the late afternoon. You reached to the small stool next to you, extracting the tiniest jar of honey. You looked into Benedict’s eyes, holding the jar above your body, dangling your head back and pouring a steady stream of honey over your chest. The sun glistened, reflecting little pools of light off your sticky, sweet skin.

Taking your finger, you swept up your belly from your navel, placing your finger on your tongue in clear view of him, and that was his very last straw. Benedict threw his paintbrush to the ground, thrusting himself up and out of his chair, to march across the room to you.

“What do you think you are doing, wife?” Benedict’s voice rasped, his eyes were so dark, the colour had all but gone.

“Playing, my love” You replied cheekily, sucking another nip of honey off your finger. He all but growled watching your finger slip between your lips, his breath quickening in sheer lust for you.

“Are you punishing me for getting you out of bed?” Benedict’s face was so close now, his nose tip to tip with yours. There was such tension in his jaw, his teeth clenched hard in his fierce need of you. You fluttered your lashes back at him, refusing to answer with your words.

“Do you have even a semblance of an understanding of what you are doing to me? This is unbelievably cruel,” He breathed heavily down on you, desperation flooding his body and adrenaline surging behind, “You can’t begin to imagine the things I want to do to you right now” His stubble gliding across your ear and cheek, making you shudder.

“Show me then,” You challenged, “You are my husband after all”.

Benedict’s hands slowly moved to his shirt, shedding it, and throwing it somewhere behind him. He acted with a sureness and a strength you hadn’t yet experienced, but it was drawing you in. Undoing his pants, Benedict took his hard member into his hands, stroking himself against your chest, lathering it in honey. His other hand wove into your hair, tangling the perfect hold, bringing you forward.

“Oh. Goodness. Seems I’ve made quite a mess of myself… Wife, help me clean it up” He smiled smugly down at you.

 Something feral, untamed, was unleashed inside you, your eyes darkening, “Certainly, my lord”. As your tongue reached out to meet his tip, his head lulled back in pleasure, his hand still wrapped around the base of him. Your lips parted slowly, encasing his first inch, and swirling your tongue around to suck the honey from him. Benedict exhaled headily, his breaths deep, but quick with the slightest grunt mixed in. The way he sounded, even now, made you wetter and wetter.

There was something maliciously keen in Benedict’s eyes as he watched from on high, your pretty mouth sucking all the honey off him and then some. His body gently rocked forward, his hand heaving your head forward, onto him in a more perverse manner. His head hung back in greedy caution, grasping to the very last straws of his gentlemanly nature as you sunk to the base of him, your tongue wriggling slyly underneath.

His fingers grew taut in your hair, reefing you backwards. His laugh was low, both impressed and challenged by your ministrations. In the next moment, Benedict had hauled you up and over his shoulder, he was charging up the stairs, mad with temerity.

Entering the bedroom, he threw you down on the bed, scrambling for any piece of material in reach, he began ripping. Four pieces of silk fabrics in his hands, he loomed over you in profound ownership. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, Benedict taking each wrist and ankle, tying them to each to their respective corner post of the bed.

“There” He stood, hands on his hips, proud of his work, “There’ll be no more of that”. Clearly touching yourself had had a dire effect on Benedict’s work ethic.

Kneeling between your thighs, his naked body unjustly out of reach, Benedict’s supercilious smile sick with goofy dominance. He thumbs over your folds, his finger descending, extorting whines of pleasure you never knew existed within you. Broad strokes of the most painful, unapologetically evil gratification. Benedict’s tongue flicked over his lips hungrily.

“I need you” The words escaped you violently, the thrill of his touch, his charming smile becoming all too much for you. He ignored you and continued another moment or two, reducing you to a begging mess beneath him.

“Shall I oblige you, my marvellous bride?” His grin was jubilant and all knowing, his hands came down on your wrists, pressing them into the bed. Benedict’s brutal, familiar kiss sown into your lips permanently, as he pushed inside of you with surprise.

“Y/n” He groaned, growled with unrepentant lust. Your eyes cast wide, the length of him stretching you mercilessly while he thrust in and out. His villainous face claiming your entire consciousness as he used your body to his pleasure, decadent facial expressions, and damnable sounds he was delivering straight to your right ear.

“You feel unimaginably perfect” Benedict groaned, your moans joining in alongside his.

Hands grasping for silk to hold onto, you longed for your own release, grinding your hips back against Benedict’s. His movements became more ferocious, keeping up with the sounds you were making. Frenetic energy began to move through your body, your ravenous thirst for him finally quenched. Every muscle in your body engaged in vivid contortion, Benedict pressing into you as deeply as he possibly could before his own body found its own powerful release.

Covered in sweat and honey, you laid tangled together for a moment before Benedict recalled your wrists and ankles were tied. He chuckled with giddiness, sitting up to admire his knots.

“You look fantastic like this, perhaps we should do this more often” He suggested sweetly. His thumb caressed the side of your face, your panting, tired body unable to give a response. Benedict littered your face and neck with loving pecks.

“We could be one person and I still would never be close enough to you. No amount of time with you will ever satisfy me. You are the centre of my world” Benedict whispered gently. Every day you were reminded of the intoxicants his poetic mind dabbled into every sweet thing he said to you.

In another instant, Benedict had sprung from the bed, running downstairs. You laughed, thinking he must be returning with some of the food the housekeeper had left strewn about his romantically planned afternoon. Instead, Benedict returned with a new canvas and his implements. Your mouth fell open all on its own, blinking furiously in his direction as he set himself up off the side of the bed.

“If you could just stay there, like that, that’d be great!” Benedict’s grin, excruciatingly exquisite, and concocting. He held himself with such pride in his agendum, cockiness seemed to fill the room in a potent manner.

“BENEDICT!?” You squealed, tugging frantically on his bindings, your laughter filled with rich resolve.

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

tagging: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr //

If you'd like to be added to this tag list, please let me know!

[thecrayonindisguise]

Bonds and Barriers masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Original Female Character

Rating: Teen and up

Status: ONGOING

Ao3 story link

Summary:

When the Medici family, Duchess Marie and her twin daughters, Caterina and Teresa, leave their serene Italian estate for the glittering chaos of London, they are thrust into the heart of British high society.

Named the Diamonds of the Season by the Queen at their very first ball, the sisters are immediately thrust into the whirlwind of high society’s glittering world. But beneath the surface of this dazzling debut lies Caterina’s true intent: she's searching for a wealthy suitor, not romance. Her heart bears the weight of past heartbreak and scandal. Haunted by the memories, she struggles with guilt and distrust in matters of the heart.

Enter Benedict Bridgerton, a man who defies Caterina’s expectations. Charming and passionate, Benedict finds himself irresistibly drawn to Caterina. Their first encounter is a serendipitous clash of worlds, setting the stage for a connection neither anticipated. But as their lives entwine, their shared passion becomes both a bridge and a barrier.

Amidst the glittering balls and whispered gossip of the ton, can Caterina and Benedict overcome their personal barriers and embrace the bonds they’ve forged? Or will their pasts keep them apart?

CHAPTERS

Chapter 1: The Arrival

Chapter 2: An Unexpected Connection

Chapter 3: Shared Passions

Chapter 4: Unspoken Bonds

Chapter 5: Breaking the Boundaries

Chapter 6: Tangled in Desire

Chapter 7: A Heart’s Retreat

Chapter 8: The Ball and the Burden

Chapter 9: Breaking the bonds that bind

Chapter 10: Rebinding of Hearts

Chapter 11:

[lqveharrington]

My Wife | A.B.

summary: It was arranged for you and Anthony to marry for convince, but it seems as if the both of you find it much more than just a marriage of convince.

pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

includes: use of she/her pronouns, minimal use of Y/N, kissing, mentions of sex, some angst

a/n: i’ve been watching too much bridgerton and reading too much books to not write about him

After being wed and having one of the best wedding lunches, the new viscountess and Viscount Bridgerton found themselves with a dilemma. Although the two had known each other for quite some time before having to wed, they had not considered how they truly felt for one another. They merely saw each other as close friends through the years. So when their wedding night came — along with the added nights of their honeymoon — the newly wed couple did not know what was to come of them.

“You mustn’t leave us yet!” Hyacinth wraps her arms around your middle, smiling brightly toward her newest sister-in-law. “I still have so many things I need to ask you and so little time!”

“I’ll be back in a month, Hyacinth.” You press a kiss to her temple and squeeze her in your arms. You tuck one of her curls behind her ear and rub her cheek. “Besides, I’ve seen you grow into an amazing young woman so far, I doubt it’ll change in one month.”

She happily takes the compliment — albeit shyly — and took your hands in her. She swings them by her side and looks at you with all seriousness. “You must promise to be back in a month. No more and no less.”

“I promise.” You give her a soft smile. It wasn’t uncommon for Hyacinth to make you promise such things, she truly loved you even before you were betrothed to her eldest brother. You squeeze her hands gently, giving her a reassuring gaze. “But you must promise me that you’ll tell me all those stories of your adventures when I come back.”

“Of course.” She gives you a bright grin.

You give her an equally bright smile as she wraps her arms around you one last time before letting go, off to bother Gregory. The young Bridgerton boy gave you a hug, murmuring softly about how much he’d miss you before following his younger sister to stand by the front gates. They both were truly lights in the Bridgerton family, and you were happy that they both officially became a siblings to you. Even after practically raising them along side Anthony and Violet.

You move to walk over to the carriage when Eloise rushes over to you, eyes glazed and puffy.

“Eloise?” You stand in front of the young woman, catching her wipe her tears and sniffle. “Are you alright?” You bring a hand up to wipe her tears, giving her a look of remorse.

“I’m not bloody fine.” She sadly chuckled before pulling you into a tight hug. Eloise buried her head into your shoulder, sniffling loudly. “I can’t believe you married my prick brother.”

You quickly embraced the brunette, holding her close as her tears were soaked up by your white dress. You rubbed her back softly, murmuring a quiet response. “I can’t believe you’re crying for me and not Anthony.”

“Like I said, he’s a prick.” Eloise wiped her face with her bare hand, no decorum whatsoever. You handed her a handkerchief, nodding when she thanked you. She glanced back at the carriage awaiting you and Anthony before meeting your eyes again. “When I was younger, I thought that the easiest way for you to become my sister was to marry into the family.”

You listened intently, rubbing her shoulder.

“I didn’t think that you needed to marry after you helped raise us. You were practically family. I guess I never saw Anthony nor Benedict enough to marry such an amazing woman.” She fiddled with the bow at the front of her dress as she explained her thoughts for you. “When you came over one day and told us you were getting married to dear old Anthony… I think I was elated that you would really be our sister.” She looked up at you again. “I was happy that you and him came to your senses and that you would become the new Viscountess.”

Your eyes widened slightly. You forgot that no one else other than Anthony and your father knew that marriage was for convience. That the marriage was for the Bridgerton heir. Quickly, you mask your face. “I’ll let your mama handle being Viscountess for as long as she wants. I still have much to learn about that role.”

“Nonsense, you learned so much about it when you came over to help with Gregory and Hyacinth.” She nudged your side before pulling you into one last hug. “I won’t keep you long because Anthony keeps glaring over, but I truly believe you would be the best Viscountess the ton will ever see.” She pauses and looks over at her mother. “Well, besides mama.”

You shake your head with a playful grin, “I’ll see you in a month, El.”

She smiles softly as you step away to your carriage. You soften your gaze as you look back at her and the rest of the Bridgerton family. They were practically your second family and now they truly were family. You gave them a short curtesy for being a home to you when an arm wrapped around your waist. Without even looking, you knew who was next to you.

“Are you all done with your goodbyes?” Anthony teases, recounting how each of his siblings had a personal farewell from you. “I want my wife back.”

You scrunch your nose at his teasing words as he lays his hand out to help you into the carriage. “Jealous, Viscount Bridgerton?” You steady yourself as you enter the carriage, hand delicately placed in his. You adjust yourself in the carriage, pushing strands of hair off your face.

He squeezes your hand as he takes a seat next to you. He gave you a gentle look, eyes roaming around your face. “I would never be jealous of my siblings. Besides you’re stuck with me, Viscountess Bridgerton.”

You send him a soft smile at his words before waving toward the Bridgerton family once more as the carriage pulled away. You lean your head on Anthony’s shoulder like you usually did when you were younger, keeping your hand in his.

“You know, you don’t need to bow down to them.” Anthony gave a short peck to your head, rubbing his thumb on your hand.

You hum before speaking, “Your family has earned my respect over many years. I owe them at least one bow before I’m officially the Viscountess.”

He continues to rub your hand as he processes your words.

As the trek to Aubrey Hall began, you kept your hands intertwined with Anthony’s the entire time, occasionally one of you squeezing the other’s hand. You spoke mindlessly about the recent books you’ve read or how the visits to the modiste went with his sisters. You honestly did everything to keep your mind off from the impending wedding night that was to fall on the both of you.

And as if he read your mind, Anthony did the same. While he listened intently to your words, he added comments where he deemed it necessary and rubbed soft circles into your hand when he asked for more information. He would also tell his own tales, although they ranged from being drunk with his brothers to filing papers.

The tension between the both of you became apparent as you started to feel warmth lingering on your skin from his touch. It became even more ignited when you saw how he looked at you. He gave you such an amorous gaze, like you hung the stars up just for him.

You arrived at Aubrey Hall during nightfall, the lights outside just being lit by the staff already waiting for the both of you. No matter how many times you saw the place, you marveled at how beautiful it was.

Anthony stepped out of the carriage and dusted himself off before extending his hand for you to take. He led you through the house where the both of you would be staying, your things arriving well before your carriage came.

You let go of Anthony’s hand as you sat in front of the vanity, gently taking your earrings out and your jewelry when you saw him staring at you intensely. You raised a brow and opened your mouth to comment on it when he spoke.

The both of you quietly laughed at the unexpected mixing of your voices. You finished pulling all your jewelry off and stood to face him properly. He nodded for you to go first, taking your hand in his again.

“Anthony…” You say softly and thumb his pulse. “Can I ask you something?”

He hummed and met your eyes, creasing his brows when he saw the hesitation in them. “What is it?”

“I… You…” You pause, looking away and spinning your wedding ring anxiously. You rubbed your face before continuing, slowly meeting his eyes. “Did you truly only agree to marry me for convenience? For an heir to the Bridgerton name?”

Anthony let go of your hand and rubbed his jaw, sighing. “Yes… And no.”

You looked at him in confusion before he spoke again.

“I knew I had to marry someday. I thought it would merely be for an heir, but mother wanted it to be of love since Daphne found her true match.” Anthony chuckled softly at the fond memory of his sister in a now very happy marriage. “I wasn’t too sure how love with someone other than family was supposed to feel like. I wasn’t sure exactly how I was supposed to find someone to marry for love.”

The idea plagued your mind. You never knew what love from a significant other was supposed to feel like either. You knew love from your family and what the Bridgertons’ had shown you.

“I saw how mother was with father when he was still… I never really felt it.” Anthony gazed into your eyes with something you couldn’t place. “Not until recently. You,” He sucked in a small breath before continuing. “You lit up a room whenever you came by and my siblings adored you, I adored you.” He cupped your cheek softly. “There were countless nights where I couldn’t sleep because I knew you were available for any other man of the ton and you only saw me as a friend. A friend from childhood.”

You parted your mouth slightly at the confession, feeling the heat from his hands.

“When your father came up to me and proposed the marriage with you, I thought it couldn’t be bad. I would marry the woman who stuck with me my entire life. I accepted for the convenience of it all, but I truly felt more even before this arrangement was brought up.” Anthony brought his other hand up to your face and stared intently, rubbing the apples of your cheeks.

“What are you…” You trail off as he gives you a look to listen.

“I’m saying I love you, Y/N. With all my heart and soul. You showed me what love was and how it was supposed to feel.” Anthony says before pulling your face to his and capturing your lips.

You let out a small noise of surprise before melting into the kiss, letting your arms wrap behind his neck. He trailed a hand down to your hip and pulled you closer to him as you smiled into the kiss.

Panting, you part from the mind searing kiss and rest your forehead on his, eyes shut. “Anthony?”

Anthony slowly nodded, “Yes?”

“I love you too.” You kiss him again.

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[hazzashouse]

The Weight of a Name: Part II

Author’s Note: I couldn’t resist writing the second part of “The Weight of a Name”. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Triggers: Angst, emotional conflict, unresolved tension.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female Reader (You)

Word Count: 2.4k

PART ONE: here

Reader’s POV

The days following your confrontation with Anthony Bridgerton left you unsettled. You had told him exactly how you felt, had made it perfectly clear that you wanted nothing to do with his charm or his arrogance. You should have felt relief—vindication, even.

Instead, all you felt was irritation.

You told yourself it was because he had been so dismissive, storming off without so much as a second glance. Or maybe it was because, for the first time, Anthony had done exactly what you asked—he’d left you alone.

When you crossed paths on the promenade days later, he barely spared you a glance. You had expected at least some reaction, but his indifference left you with a strange, sour taste in your mouth. You watched as he conversed with his siblings, perfectly at ease, as if the confrontation had never happened.

At the next ball, the pattern repeated itself. Anthony danced, laughed, and mingled with the crowd, his demeanor effortlessly charming. But he didn’t look at you. Not once.

It was infuriating.

You told yourself you didn’t care—that you had no reason to care. You were the one who had rejected him, after all. He had simply accepted your wishes, just as you’d demanded.

So why did you feel this gnawing sense of unease? Why did your chest tighten every time you caught sight of him across the room, acting as though you didn’t exist?

It was maddening.

Anthony’s POV

Anthony couldn’t sleep.

Since that night on the balcony, his mind had been consumed with thoughts of you. He had replayed your words over and over, searching for some way to make sense of it all.

He had done everything right—or at least, everything he thought was right. He had pursued you with every ounce of charm and determination he could muster, had shown you the respect and admiration you deserved. But none of it had been enough.

You had turned him away, your words cutting sharper than he’d expected. He had been rejected before, of course—but not like this. Never like this.

He thought ignoring you might help. If he distanced himself, perhaps he could regain some control over his emotions. Perhaps he could convince himself that you didn’t matter as much as you did.

But it wasn’t working.

Every time he saw you at a ball, his resolve wavered. You were beautiful, poised, and maddeningly out of reach. The way you carried yourself, so composed and confident, only deepened his frustration.

He hated how much he wanted you.

And he hated himself for not being able to stop.

Reader’s POV

By the time Lady Danbury’s ball arrived, your patience had worn thin.

Anthony’s indifference had become impossible to ignore. You told yourself it shouldn’t matter, that you should be glad he had finally backed off. But the truth gnawed at you in the quiet moments between dances, leaving you restless and unsettled.

Wasn’t this what you had wanted? For him to stop pursuing you? To finally leave you alone?

Then why did it feel like a punishment?

You couldn’t stop your gaze from drifting across the ballroom, searching for him. When you found him, your breath hitched in spite of yourself. He was talking with Lady Delaford, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable.

You hated the way your chest tightened at the sight of him.

You hated it even more when he turned slightly and your eyes met for the briefest of moments. There was no recognition, no spark of acknowledgment. He simply looked away, as if you were nothing more than another guest in the crowded room.

The audacity of it left you fuming.

You had spent weeks avoiding him, pushing him away, trying to convince yourself that his attention was unwanted. But now that he was ignoring you, you couldn’t stand it.

Why?

Why did it bother you so much?

The thought haunted you throughout the evening, building until you couldn’t take it anymore.

As the waltz ended, you finally made your move. Anthony was standing near the edge of the ballroom, his attention seemingly focused on the glass of champagne in his hand.

“Lord Bridgerton,” you said, your voice steady but laced with irritation.

He turned to you, his expression calm but distant. “My lady,” he replied, inclining his head politely.

His detachment only fueled your frustration.

“Are you truly going to pretend I don’t exist?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.

Anthony’s brows lifted, a flicker of something—surprise? Amusement?—passing across his face. “I wasn’t aware that I was pretending anything,” he said evenly.

Your fingers clenched at your sides. “You’ve been avoiding me,” you accused. “You haven’t said a word to me in days.”

“I was under the impression that was what you wanted,” Anthony countered, his voice cool but not unkind. “Have I misunderstood?”

His words struck a nerve. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came.

Anthony stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “You rejected me,” he said softly, his voice carrying an edge of bitterness. “You made it perfectly clear that you wanted nothing to do with me. So tell me, my lady—why does it matter if I give you exactly what you asked for?

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening under his scrutiny.

“I—” you began, but he held up a hand, silencing you.

“Forgive me,” he said, his tone suddenly distant. “But I was just about to take my leave.”

You stared at him, stunned, as he turned and walked away.

As Anthony reached the doors of the ballroom, he hesitated, his hand resting on the gilded handle. For a moment, he glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes locking with yours across the sea of dancers.

And then he was gone, leaving you standing in the middle of the ballroom with your heart in your throat and a question you couldn’t answer:

Would you let him go? Or would you follow?

———

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