#Simon basset angst

[hocuspocusbabyy]

A ring of bright light: Chapter 1. ‘It’s happening again.’

Eloise Bridgerton x Female OC.

Description: Eloise Bridgeton is to marry Lord Brennan this upcoming season, following a residency at her familiar home Aubery House. Their betrothal is to be announced in two months. If all goes to plan…

Warnings: None?

Word count: 1k (just an opener don’t panic loves.)

Next Chapter

Eloise tightened her gloved hands on the balcony wall, partially to resist the temptation to leap ahead and greet those who waited on the other side and partially to wake herself from the nightmare to come.

Winter air cools against her skin, the long gown doing little against the harsh country noir exterior that was Aubrey House at night. Buried deeply into the evergreen stitch of her corset, her heartbeat ragged against the confinement. If birds were not built for cages, surely the same logic would be applied to herself? Bare feet making a swift sloshing sound aggravating the gravel below, debris digging into the pads of flesh deeper than any weapon she had known before.

The gardens seemed alive with light as every inch of ground bubbled with people and for a fleeting moment, as more carriages approached the castle. A warmth raised within her chest as undeniable anxiety, familiarity. Turning her back to the on coming guests, the small of her back pressed deadly against the barrier. Shadows filtered through the historic windows, as the dust licked walls still seemed to cling onto the fleeting light of Friday as though an old friend they had yet to have finished talking to. A shaking breath escaped the mouth, caught in a brief moment of admiration towards the dripping sun - for out of all the fires she had seen this hideously biblical form was one she had grown fond of; or rather the flashes of red from within its last moments as through snippets of the passing day mere memories now. Only the future night was imminent.

She was running unusually late, she could tell by the main entrance to the building growing peacefully desolate; as the other inhibitors congregated within the ballroom. Her eyes squeezed shut, desperately clinging to those final moments of silence.

“You’re not considering jumping are you?” A voice asked the approaching footsteps drew closer, heart edging to her throat.

“What would that help? Death has no use for me yet, although I do wish he would.”

“What makes you so sure death is a man?” The voice asked again, their body finding rest beside Eloise.

“Surely only a man could be so cruel, as to hover such a fate in my peripherals.”

“I see.” The voice hummed as though mulling the conversation, “And clearly you see so much with your eyes practically melted closed.” Eloise’s laughter was a welcome sight to her visitor, the brunette's eyes finally opening as her head found rest against the woman’s shoulder. Her mother – Violet. A buoyant woman; complimented heavily by her Angelically crow-like features - coils of ash tamed in a formal updo so different to the style had grown accustomed to as she usually pottered away her hours within the castle greenhouse. Fingers never without the soil beneath them, a relationship with a ghastly old nail brush that lay upon the kitchen sink heavily established. She'd always lecture upon the importance of soil, on how each particle of the earth somehow held its own story and origins - for soil had seen more love, more pain than any human. As she'd place lumps of the material within their hands "Rub it in then the memories never leave you".

It was reminiscent of her father, of his death. Violet hadn’t allowed anyone to tend to the lilacs since.

“Is everyone here?” Eloise asked after a moment, basking in the comfort of her material figure.

“All the ducks are in rows my dear, now they await a leader.”

“You’re their leader.” mumbled the familiar scent of gardenia flowing past her, upon the open air.

“Now for long my little swan.” Violet sighed, a perfectly delicate hand raising to card its way through the princess’ hair.

“Is he here?”

“Your suitor? Yes dear unfortunately for you he has shown” The queen laughed hoping to lighten her daughters mood.

"We have a nasty habit involving men in this family" her mother would often say whilst winking at her father Edmund across the room. He had passed on almost ten years ago; he'd been the best hug giver and secret magician, never failing to pull a coin from an awaiting child's ear. A sometimes overbearingly traditional yet progressive man, his head still surprisingly full of hair till the day of his early demise. Collins is seemingly thinning already.

His passing had wrecked the family. His wife, all the more scornful and ironically loving; the clone of her mothers, and the replica of herself - Lady Violet was no elementary being, her voice like bathwater, every syllable effortless and wise. She played the piano as though it were second nature to breathe air; embraced few but loved many under the guise of something to be feared. Eloise’s most loved and favoured person in the entire world… unless you asked Benedict.

Then there was Eloise, Lou and 'Flower' on the not too rare occasion, for as her mother was prone to say and the people continued, was the "one of the most precious examples of life to ever grow within these gardens.” with her uncontrollable ripples of dark hair, ill radiance and sea filled eyes, the procurement of two fine specimens to create the most poorly formed swan the world was ever to behold.

“I wish he were here.” Eloise mumbled gently, Violet’s lips falling to kiss the crown of her head.

“I know my dear, as do I.”

Father had died in these very Gardens during her seventh year. Leaving behind Anthony as the elder brother to ascend the house.

“Come now. Best to hit the ground running, keeping your guests waiting is a terrible introduction.” Violet stated, stepping towards the balcony doors.

The set of grand doors that almost shook with vigour with the level of presence behind it, the noise and voice of many locked behind it. Eloise came to her mother’s side – she could not run from this, this was her home.

The doors were opened with one swift movement of the awaiting footmen, revealing a ballroom, many familiar inhibitors of the neighbouring families huddled around in festivities, laughing. Drinks not far from hand, and children in clear scheming mode begging their respective guardians to stay up late; while others could be seen playing games in each corner, the low light shining on each face – new and old.

“Introducing The Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton and Miss Eloise Bridgerton.”

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Bridgerton masterlist

Requests are currently open!

Key:

Fluff: ♡ Angst: ♤ Smut: ♧ Headcanons: ◇ May contain triggering content: ☆

~

Anthony Bridgerton

Unchaperoned ♧

Kinktober 2024 Day 13: body worship, nipple play, and begging with Anthony Bridgerton x transmasc reader ♧

~

[luscious-coptic-curls]

Chapter 15: Chapter 15. Honesty box.

"Agatha was utterly fascinated. Watching them was like watching competitive partnered dancers. One moment she was sure the two were performing as two separate dancers, truly out there purely for their own gain. The next, it seemed like they were speaking a language of their own, united. On the surface, she should be happy about this development between them. But her gut told her to feel otherwise. They had committed one another to the experiment, which was good. But their commitment seemed born out of competitiveness rather than belief in all the experiment could give them in terms of actual love, or at the very least, lessons on love."

In which Kate and Anthony discover a lot of new things about one another, and go head to head about what it is that makes them tick.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Pleasing The Duke {6}*

Duke of Hastings/Rege Jean Page x OFC Jemilla “Jemi” Remmington

Warning: Plot, Regency Historical Piece, Angst, SLOW BURN, 

Words: 5.3k

Summary: After your four weeks on the marriage mart and the tumultuous way your and the duke’s budding friendship that turned into a faux courtship, then a real crisis that could have tarnished your name forever, you are now married to the duke. Only this is no traditional marriage. The duke has professed to never fall in love, never get married, and never sire an heir, a matter you know nothing of. Furious that his wanton, lustful desires have gotten him to forego one of those vows, he is determined not to break the other two. That would usually be an easy feat. Only with you, it might be more challenging to keep those vows, seeing as no matter what, you are the only thing on his mind.

Note: Inspired by Rege Jean Page’s portrayal of Simon Bassett. This fic will not have any other characters from the series, except Lady Danbury, mainly the portrayal version of her by the incredible Adjoa Andoh and maybe Queen Charlotte portrayed by Golda Rosheuvel. This series will focus on The Duke and an OFC female character and will be a sultry and erotic historical romance. Anyone under 18 is advised not to read.

***Glossary of terms at the end of the chapter for period-specific words/items for greater comprehension.

***Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Julia Quinn’s characters, nor the Characters established by Bridgerton.

I own the rights to the original characters created in this story.

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘  

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 

           Chapter Six: A Gentle Hand

Cold air raced up your spine, but a warmth was settled in your gut. The combination sent a shiver through your body. Moaning, you moved closer to the solid frame you felt against you. The warmth you found there was searing—comforting. Again, you moaned and tried to get closer. You wanted to be so close that the warmth was all your own. You draped a leg over the solid frame and settled falling back into a slumber. However, it was not restful. Your mind was plagued with visions of a storm. Raging winds wracked your person sending you this and that way. Thick, cold mud clung to you, almost pulling you deeper into the earth.

 When your visions calmed, you were met with hypnotizing eyes, full lips, and strong hands. Those hands touched you so possessively, so urgently. The face that came with those features was Simon’s. You could not make much out, but his words came to you in disorganized speech that was difficult to comprehend. When you thought you could make something out, the images changed. His lips remained and they were pressed to yours.

 Slowly, your eyes batted open. It took several moments for your vision to clear and steady. Once it did, you recognized your bedchambers. All was silent, only the soft crackle and pop of a fire could be heard. Early mornings were usually your favorite time of day. Everything was quiet, but you knew that everyone was on the move preparing for the start of the day. You liked to laze around in your bed listening to the birds chirp and watch the sunshine dance across your bed.

 You could hear the sounds of the chirping birds but though the sun brightly beamed through the windowpanes, it did not dance across the bed. Instead, you took notice of something else in your bed—or someone. You trailed your eyes up from the midsection of a body up, up, up until the bare chest of a man peeked from under the bed sheets—a very well-defined bare chest. Your breath caught then your throat tightened. Bringing your eyes higher, you found Simon’s glued on you. He did not move or speak, matter of fact, he seemed to be staring through you rather than at you.

 It took only a few seconds to realize he hadn’t realized you were awake. You glanced around again trying to understand what in the world had happened. On the floor beside the bed, you saw discarded clothes and your imagination went into hyperactivity. Again, you glanced up into Simon’s eyes. They were bloodshot with dark circles around them. He looked downright exhausted. Had he not slept?

 Just then, you recalled the storm and it slowly dawned on you that it had not been a dream, but a memory. Were you ill? Simon sucked in a breath then his body tensed.

 “Jamilla,” he breathed reaching over to you to press his hand to your forehead.

 The touch felt foreign but familiar. An image of him doing the same before filled your mind. Had he done it before? Simon continued to assess you with concerned eyes.

 “Someone come forth! Quickly!”

 You caught his eyes and noticed they looked tear filled. Simon avoided your eyes looking every which way. He tucked you tightly, so you now shared deep resemblance to a log in a lake. The doors opened and in came Mrs. Butler with your maids.

 “My lady,” Leesil began on a shriek. “Thank heavens we all were so worried.”

 Worried, you thought. Had things really been that bad? It was after all, just rain. You’d been caught in plenty of rainstorms. You looked to Simon again, but he still avoided your eyes.

 “My lord, the doctor has come,” Bridget announced as a tall man dressed in plain clothes entered the room.

 “Good. Come doctor, see to my wife.”

 With those words, Simon slipped from the bed whilst grabbing a discarded blanket that rested at the foot of the bed. He used the material to wrap himself from the waist down which told you he was very much nude while he was lying beside you. Oh my, you thought. While the doctor slinked to the side of the bed to tend to you, your eyes roamed Simon’s frame for a few moments taking in every inch of skin that was on display for you. Before long, Simon sprang into motion, excusing himself from the room entirely on some hushed whisper. What in the world was the matter with him?

 ~~~~~

 -Simon-

Blast it!

 The anger he felt was leagues past mere anger. He was fuming. This was all his fault. After hearing a detailed account of the events leading up to your disappearance, he’d learned just how at fault he truly was. If only he’d been more attentive, more accommodating rather than avoiding you. If only he’d been warmer perhaps there wouldn’t have been quite so many misunderstandings. Your words from your drunken delirium in the rain came back to him.

 “Th—they must all la—laugh at—at—m-me seeing you ca—cann—cannot stand to b—be near m—me.”

 Taking the steps two at a time he dashed down them needing to feel the cold morning air whipping against his flesh.

 “Do you not. You have said such in every way since I stepped beside you in that church. You have said such in every move you make, every word you speak no matter how nondescript. In every breath you breathe you wish me gone.”

 His chest hurt from the rapid beating of his heart and no matter what he did to hold the air in his lungs it never worked. He ended up feeling as if he hadn’t gotten any at all. Seeing the door across the stone lobby, he sped his steps.

 “You already hate me so this should be a blessing for you. Wifeless, free to resume your rakish ways.”

 Once the ornate metal doorknobs were tightly clasped in his hands, he yanked them open thrusting himself out into the elements. As soon as he stepped out, the crisp morning air slapped him in the face like a welcomed awakening to the new day. Taking gulp after gulp of the air he forced it into his lungs hoping that chased away the panic surging through his body.

 It did not take long to realize this would not be enough.

 “Horse! F----F--Fe--Fetch—my hor--horse!”

 “Yes, my lord.”

 He did not know who’d said it, he could hardly focus on breathing let alone whose voice he’d heard. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the tips of the doctor from his childhood. He had not had a bout of hysteria since he was one and six, He thought he was long past this stage especially having faced his father regarding his abandonment. Apparently not, he thought.

 Before long, a footman approached with his horse, Zeus. Not waiting for the horse to stop he took quick steps and leapt up swinging himself onto his trusted steed.

 With the reins in hand he shouted, “Hiyah!”

 Zeus took off into the open greenery much like a fast-traveling lightning bolt as it split the sky before rainfall. The breeze was now whipping around him sending his banyan flapping behind him. Lightly he flicked Zeus’ reins prompting him to go faster. For as far as he could see it was open land—his land and he had not one worry.

 “Then why have you abandoned me? You hate me so much you would rather not eat with me, not sleep beside me, nor see my face. Just admit it.”

 He clenched his jaw thinking of that word. Abandoned. He wanted to throw himself off the horse. Never in his plans had he wanted to ever make someone feel the way he’d felt his entire life. Discarded, neglected, repulsed, abandoned. You felt abandoned by him because of his actions.

 “Hiyah!”

Turning Zeus toward the dense tree grove, he steered him through the dangerous low hanging branches and broken wood. He only had seconds to make the right decision to keep his head firmly attached to his shoulders and it was what he enjoyed. He had learned long ago that he was somewhat of an adventure seeker. It was evident in his travels to exotic and distant lands and even his interest in boxing, fencing, archery, hunting and a few others. Many of his friends suspected he had a death wish and liked to see which sport would claim his life. Perhaps they were right.

 Giving Zeus a heel to the abdomen, he signaled him to jump over the coming fallen branches. Seconds later he had to duck to avoid his cause of death being beheading by wood. No matter the speed he was going or the danger he was thrusting himself into he still was not going fast enough to outrun your voice or the pain he saw in your eyes.

 He could not believe you did not know. It was in this moment as he ducked and from doom and leapt into the air from danger that he realized just how innocent you were. He had never entrained an innocent, never bothered, or dared to even attempt to. He knew he was far to damaged to be trusted to not twist and morph another to mirror himself. Horror filled his heart, but it was not from the shattered tree trunk that was in his path fiving him no way to avoid it.

 As Zeus’ impulses took hold skidding himself to a stop, he went flying through the air, over the broken wood and flat on his back several feet away. The collision knocked the wind right out of him making him see spots and fog. By the time his vision cleared he was leaned against the tree taking steady breaths.

 “Blazing Devils!”

 Flinging his head back he groaned as it collided with the tree which sent another torrent of curses from his lips. He deserved the pain; he deserved the agony he was in right now. Your face came to mind as did the memory of your body pressed against his all through the night. The ache coursing through him died down and was replaced with the fire of his desire for you. Gods help him he desired you more than he had ever desired any other woman. It baffled him beyond measure.

 Sitting there he slowly went over every detail of the night before, every feeling, every fear and came to terms with them. He was at fault in this situation, and he had to rectify it. He knew his mother would be ashamed of him and how he’s behaved around you. He also knew his father would probably be proud seeing his own coldness and aloofness in him. Perhaps he would finally accept him then.

 “Sod it all,” he mumbled.

 “You must conquer the past Simon, either you conquer it or it will make a fool of you in your present and all the days of your future.”

 Lady Danbury’s words never went too far from his mind. He had heard them echo all through his childhood at the most inconvenient of times. It was as if she knew way back then the struggles he would continue to have well into adulthood. Turning his head upward he caught sight of the sun that was now beaming down on him through the branches of the trees he was surrounded by.

 With the intense glare, more of Lady Danbury’s words flitted to his mind. These words she had uttered on the day you had wed.

 “She hath a kind and quaint heart, tread carefully and be gentle with her. Do not snuff her light out, let it in.”

 She was the closest to a mother he’d had, and he loved her dearly. She had often teased him asking how he could love her but swear to never love anyone. She understood the difference but enjoyed teasing him by pointing out he was capable of the emotion. He still needed proof and if the last few weeks were to be it, only one thing was clear, he was more capable of destruction than love. Something deep inside wished of him to be proven wrong. It was a wish he had never allowed to see the light of day. It lived in the darkest alcoves of his heart.

 After returning to the estate, he had a better hold of his emotions and thoughts. The guilt still wracked him, but it was easier to hold it at bay. As he jumped off his horse, his steward informed him of the doctor waiting in the drawing room to discuss your health. With haste he found the man in the midst of a cup of tea admiring the roses.

 “My lord.”

 “Please, no need for formalities doctor. Thank you for coming with such haste.”

 “Tis a pleasure to serve the Duke and Duchess of Hastings.”

 “Please continue your tea,” he said as he sat across from the man and allowed him to take another sip of tea.

 “To your liking?”

 “Very much, my lord.”

 “Good. How is she?”

 The doctor cleared his throat then set his cup and saucer down before he began.

 “The duchess’ breathing is quite labored, quite too labored if you ask me. I am inclined to believe she has some pulmonary infliction, and a minor draft. She has coughing bouts which is slight worrisome for me. If this is left untreated it could lead to more serious conditions.”

 “Will she recover?”

 “I believe she will. my advice is to keep her warm, ensure she gets plenty of rest, I have written the recipe for an herbal tincture that I wish to be made into tea for her to drink three times a day for sennight. Sun will also do her good. With this there is no reason the duchess will not recover.”

 The relief he felt must have been evident. The doctor smiled.

 “Tis refreshing to see a man who loves his wife so.”

 He nodded but did not reply. “I assure I will bring the duchess back to good health.”

 “Happy to hear it, my lord!”

 After allowing the doctor to finish his cup of tea he relayed the orders to the house instructing them on the proper way to care for Jamilla. Once that was squared away, he retired to his chambers to clean himself up from his impromptu ride.

 ~~~~~

 -Jamilla-

“My lady.”

 Snapping your head to the right you found Brigit and Leesil both standing there with concerned looks on their faces.

 “Y—Yes,” you rasped before clearing your throat ignoring the tightness in your chest.

 “Do you feel well? You gave us quite a fright,” Bridget added.

 “I am sorry to have worried you. But surly it was not that bad.”

 Leesil’s eyes widened even further. “Ma’am, it was a horror. You were unconscious, shivering cold one moment, hotter than a flame the next, your lips were quite blue. Mrs. Butler was certain the estate would have claimed another Duchess of Hastings.”

 Your curiosity piqued then. “An—,” A cough wracked your body that quickly escalated into a bout lasting longer than you liked. Both Bridget and Leesil approached you attempting to sooth and assist you any way they could. When the coughing finally passed you took the glass of water that Leesil held out for you.

 “Goodness.”

 You fanned your face and hoped that the burn in your chest would subside sooner rather than later. When it finally dwindled to a slight ache, you looked at Leesil needing to know more.

 “What do you mean the estate would have claimed another?”

 Leesil looked to Bridget hesitantly before she looked back to you. “Leesil please,” you urged.

 “Do you not know of the history of this estate or the Hastings’?”

 “I have heard the basics. The Duke and Duchess married and eventually had a child, but the duchess passed away.”

 “The previous Duchess did expire—shortly after she delivered the duke, in this estate in a room that has been blocked off for decades.”

 You’d heard that his mother passed on, but you did not know it was during childbirth.

 “She passed on alone, save for Lady Danbury,” Leesil finished.

 Your eyes widened. “Alone? Why? What of the Duke? Where was he?”

 Leesil’s face twisted into a scowl of disgust. “Flaunting his long awaited, newborn son to anyone with eyes. He cared not for the wellbeing of the Duchess. Quite shameful! Me mum loved the Duchess and has never forgiven the man for how her last moments went.”

 Your heart broke hearing the accounts of the past. The late duke sounded like a heartless man. Part of you wondered if that was who Simon aspired to be. Was the way he treated you the way his father had treated his mother? Suddenly a flash of a memory came to mind. It was a memory of Simon treating you completely different than he had for the last several days.

 “Is something the matter?”

 “Was—Was I alone while I was ill?”

 Again, Leesil and Bridget glanced at each other before they turned back to you.

 “No ma’am. The duke accompanied you,” Bridget informed.

 “All night,” Leesil added.

 Your eyes widened again as another image came to mind. Simon’s arms were wrapped around your body pulling you against his very much nude one.

 “The entire night?”

 “Yes, my lady,” they answered in unison.

 You squinted your eyes trying to press the edges of your mind to give you more memories. The more they came the more you did not understand. None of what you imagined made sense because none of it revealed more than flashes. Hands on your body, chest pressed to yours, your face buried in a neck, lips, fabric, and heat, plenty of heat.

 “I would say the duke must possess healing powers to have revived you within one night,” Leesil teased making Bridget giggle.

 Before you could reply, the door opened and in walked Simon like a ray of sunshine on a gloomy morning. Your eyes could not help but follow him as he walked in and around the four-post bed to you. Everything and everyone else faded.

 “Bridget, Leesil I will take it from here.”

 “Yes, my lord,” they replied in unison reminding you that they were there in the first place.

 Once the door closed behind them, you looked back to Simon who was now seated on the side of the bed he’d gotten out earlier in the morning. His eyes were on you as he was trying to read every hidden emotion or thought behind your eyes.

 “Are you well?”

 “Yes,” you whispered.

 Simon pressed the back of his hand to your forehead then hummed. “You are not as hot as you were in the night. That is a bit of good news. I have brought your breakfast and medicine. Would you be interested in eating?”

 Slowly you nodded. Simon began uncovering the dishes and bowls on the trey that was now on the bed. As he revealed the food your hunger awoke reminding you that you had not eaten since the previous day.

 “What shall we begin with? Perhaps a spot of tea?”

 Again, you nodded. As you moved for the teacup, Simon beat you to it and lifted the porcelain to your lips. You hesitated for a moment but took a sip from the cup and rejoiced inside as the fruit and floral notes hit your senses.

 “I found it a delightful surprise hearing you add rose and mulberries to your tea.”

 “It gives it sweetness and turns it--.”

 “Delicate,” Simon finished.

 Your eyes lingered for a few moments before he lowered the cup back to the trey. A soft scoff escaped him, “It suits you.”

 Bit by bit Simon raised fork and spoonfuls of food to your lips, taking care to not give you too much at once and to keep your face clean. You were practically beside yourself seeing this side of him. It was so unlike anything you’d seen from him before. Surly when you’d first met you’d made up your mind of him labeling him as a rake, then it slowly transitioned into him being a libertine. There is where it remained no matter how quickly you found yourself becoming mesmerized by his charm and alluring maleness. He was so unlike any other man you’d met before, so delectably unique. The more you learned of him, the more traits he begrudgingly revealed of himself you found him bearable and quite tortured. Along the way you got it into your mind that perhaps all he needed was a true friend, or someone to heal whatever tortured him so. Was it silly? Perhaps.

 Over the last weeks, his distance, aloofness, and complete avoidance of you of course changed your perspective of him entirely. You had begun to see how silly you were during those weeks of the season where you paraded around with him in hopes of steering prospective suitors away from the both of you. It was clear he was suffering from the ghosts he carried with him, and no one could save any man from that torment, he himself would have to best them.

 Here he was though, sitting across from you taking care of you with such gentleness it made your heart ache. His actions were not hurried, they were the opposite, it seemed as if he wished this moment to stretch on for as long as possible. Even the way he spoke telling you news from the residents of the acreage, well wishes for your health and the distinction between what the residents did for the land was different.

 His tone was softer, there seemed to be a calm melody to his words that relaxed you. It had been weeks since you felt this at ease with him. It was an ease that you did not worry what he was thinking of you or if he disliked you. In this moment you could read him clearly. He was behaving like a man who actually cared about his wife. You would be lying if you said having him there didn’t make you happier.

 Once breakfast and your medicine were finished you rang the bell for your maids, wishing for a bath.

 “Open water is forbidden while recovering.”

 You sighed at Simon’s words dropping your shoulders in disappointment. You’d gained an affinity to regular bathing. There was something peaceful of sitting in scented warm water and being left alone with your thoughts and the sunlight.

 “Yes, my lord, my lady?”

 “Worry not, Mrs. Butler,” you informed.

 “Mrs. Bulter, please begin preparations for the duchess’ evening medicine.”

 “Yes, my lord.”

 “Also, warm a basin of water and bring it here please.”

 “Yes, sir.”

 You were curious what he needed the water for but did not question him. He held up two books before you with a smile on his face.

 “Idealistic poetry or swashbuckling tales of adventure?”

 You smiled and leaned against the wooden headboard. “Only if this swashbuckling adventure you speak of is of a heroine and not a hero.”

 Simon chuckled. “I dare say I have learned my lesson and have steadfastly filled the library with plenty of tales of heroines thrust into in a variety of adventure, some more lewd that genteel company would not dare speak of.”

 Your eyes widened as you gently swat at his arm. “Simon!”

 Again, he chuckled. “Forgive me my lady, a swashbuckling adventure it is. Are you comfortable?”

 “Quite.”

 “Then we begin. “Ahoy, who goes there,” Lady Philomena Vanquest shouted with her sword in hand.”

 You sighed watched him as he read to you. Within the first few pages your eyes closed and you envisioned the story playing out before you. His voice serving as the perfect tool to bring everything to life. His voice was easily your favorite thing about him. He had a voice that could work magic on a lady in the dark pressed against a wall--the voice that could seduce even the most unwilling bedfellow. His voice easily conjured feelings of lust and desire and it had been this way from the very beginning.

 “Jamilla? Jamilla.”

 Your eyes fluttered open and there he was peering at you with concern. The sun that was once beaming in the room was slowly disappearing.

 “Are you well?”

 You moaned then sat up. “I fell asleep.”

 “You did. I did not know my voice bored you so to catapult you into unconsciousness,” Simon teased.

 “I promise it does not.”

 “No?”

 Your eyes met and locked. “No,” you whispered.

 Simon smiled then nodded. “Good to hear.”

 A knock at the door brought both of your heads to watch Mrs. Butler, Bridget and Leesil walk in, each carrying different things. Mrs. Butler carried a trey of clothes, Bridget a basin, and Leesil a stack of fresh clothing and small glass bottles.

 “What is this?”

 “While I cannot in good faith allow you to submerge yourself into water, I can offer a compromise,” Simon said motioning for the items to be put down.

 The steam from the large basin told you it was freshly heated. Across the surface of the water rose, daisy, peony, lilac, sweet briar petals danced while filling the room with the aroma of the garden you loved to spend your time in.

 “My lady, I have also added the honeysuckle and jasmine oils you enjoy,” Bridget added.

 A smile spread across your face as your heart warmed. “Thank you.”

 “I take it this option is to your liking?”

 “Yes, very much so.”

 “Good. Thank you everyone, you may leave.”

 Alarm rushed through you at the meaning of his words. Did he intend to stay as you did it yourself or would he do it himself?

 “Seeing as this terrible predicament is my fault entirely, I offer my services. Tisn’t been a fortnight since we married and already you are battling illness. I fear your mother and brothers would skin me alive.”

 “Twas I who--,” you began only for Simon to cut you off, claiming the blame for himself once again. Accepting defeat, you nodded.

 “Thank you for your consideration.”

 “Bridget you may stay to assist.”

 “My lord,” Bridget replied.

 You watched Simon roll the sleeves of his half unbuttons white shirt and dip his hand into the basin to swirl the water around. He did it so slowly that your eyes could not look away. When he dipped a clean cloth into the water, the flower petals clung to it. Once he’d wrung the water out, he came closer and brought the cloth to slowly wipe your face with gentle strokes.

 Your senses elated from the smells enveloping you. They should have calmed you, made you feel at ease but the way your heart was rapidly thudding in your chest said they were doing the opposite. However, you believed the culprit this time was not the flowers but the nearness of your husband as he for the first time assisted you with something so intimate as a wipe down.

 You wondered if he could hear your heart. Could he hear the horse hoofs’ gallops going off inside of you as loudly as you heard them? He dipped the cloth into the water again and repeatedly his actions then brought the cloth to your neck. Everywhere he trailed the cloth, the heat from the water soothed your muscles taking some of the ache of your ordeal away. When you felt him slip to the back of your neck you lowered your head giving him easier access. The feel of his fingertips along the bone at the back of your neck had you gasping and clutching the blankets across your lap.

 Simon slowly brought the cloth around and dipped inside the lite material of your shift to your shoulder. As he went over it a few times goosebumps broke out over your flesh.

 “Bridget,” Simon uttered, his voice sounded clouded, as if he had to force it out.

 You wanted to look at him so badly, wanted to see if his face gave anything away to how he was feeling or what he was thinking, but you could not. Something inside of you prevented it. As Simon busied his hands in the basin again, Bridget came to your side of the bed and began lifting the shift you wore off of your body replacing it with a lite muslin cloth.

 It was then your heart beating really took off. You were now nude in front of him for the second time and this time was not any less nerve wracking. Albeit this time you were still covered, even the thin muslin left little to the imagination. suddenly an image of your nude body underneath Simon’s came to mind. His lips were pressed against yours as was every inch of his hard, lean and powerful body. The feel of cool air brought you back to see your lower half exposed to Simon’s sight. The muslin rested atop you, but he brushed it aside revealing one leg. Bringing the heated cloth to your ankle he slowly wiped upward then down only to do it again and again until he wiped all around. Your belly was in flight and your heart was seconds away from bursting. How could one man elicit such a strong reaction?

 You watched as the cloth returned to your knee and trail a torturously slow path up your thigh. When Simon’s hand dipped to your inner thigh you noticed a shake. Bringing your eyes to him, you saw the focus on his features. It was as if he were pressing every inch of your skin to memory to revisit later. You could not help but wonder when later he would think of this? In bed perchance?

 When his hand made it several inches up your inner thigh he retreated and moved to your other leg. You watched every move he made but not because you did not trust him to respect you, but because you wanted to remember this for your own revisit. You wanted to watch his hands roam across your body as you envisioned the cloth not there.

 After Simon finished your lower half a new basin that mirrored the first came. On Bridget’s instruction, you leaned forward revealing your bare back for him to wipe. The chance of his fingers raking down your back made you arch, dipping it inward. A groan escaped Simon then, it was a groan that made a part of you that you’d never knew of awaken. It felt like part of you deep inside your gut had fallen and it ached. Oh, how it ached.

 Simon brought the cloth up and again his fingertips made a trail. This time that ache made you moan. Simon sighed out suddenly sending a puff of air across your flesh. Another image came to mind of the same thing happening only along your breast. That made you press your fingertips to your lips. Were these memories? Dreams?

 “My lady.”

Looking to your right you met Simon’s eyes, but he did not speak. You saw the action he inquired in his eyes. Consent. Hesitating you took several breaths, none of them worked to slow your heart, none of them helped to calm your nerves. Your governess’ words rang in your head.

 “Ones husband is entitled to look upon his wife in any capacity he chooses.”

 Before now you’d always wondered just what she meant. Look upon how? Now you understood. Your throat was dryer than barren land in the prime heat of the summer months. You swallowed then slightly cringed hearing a small gulp echo around you. He must think you such a naïve wallflower, you thought. He didn’t budge, he just waited and waited and waited for you to grant him said consent. biting your bottom lip, you chewed at it until you were certine it was raw. Then you released the muslin you grasped so tightly at. The fabric fell to bunch in your lap revealing you in the setting sun’s light to your husband. As it fell you felt his warmed breath brush against your newly exposed breasts.

 Before it was candlelight he’d seen you and from a distance. They both afforded you some mystery but now he was inches away from you with ample light. He could look as he willed. You watched Simon’s eyes lower and slowly rake over your bodice. Every second his jaw jumped showing the definition of his jawline. He was handsome from the front but from the side—his profile was a thing of beauty.

 As he dipped the cloth into the basin again you heard him mumble a curse, you’d heard plenty a time.

 “Blast it.”

 When he raised the cloth to your collar you held your breath. It was not intentional but you felt the only way to get through this without leaping off of the bed either into his lap or out the door was to restrict your brain of oxygen so it would decrease its ability to think. It was perfectly logical, you theorized. The folly in your thinking did not occur to you until halfway through when you realized Simon’s movements were so slow, so torturous that he hadn’t even made it past your collar before white spots danced behind your eyes.

 “Breathe Jamilla,” Simon whispered.

 On command you did just that and that was when you felt the cloth swipe across your breast. Immediately, you felt your nipple pebble as another huff of warm breath skirt across your skin. Simon wiped over, around and under your breast then did the same to the other before dipping the cloth down the center of your body to your stomach.

 Alarm rushed through you. Was he really planning on going that far? Your governess had not given you any tips or information about this. Was he going to touch you? The anticipation made you shiver and just when you were certain you would shoot off the bed into the air, Simon’s hand stopped just below your navel. His eyes were squeezed closed, jaw clenched tightly and hand shaking. Seconds later, he pulled away and held the cloth to Bridget.

 “You can assist the madam better than I.”

 With that, he abruptly stood beside the bed then bowed his head to you.

 “I bid you farewell, my lady. I shall return for dinner—if you will have me.”

 For far too long the silence stretched in the room when Simon’s eyes met yours and his thick brow shot up you realized you’d been sitting there incapable of speech. A nod was all you could muster. Simon’s eyes dipped to your bare breasts and again his jaw went haywire. He turned then strode to the door leaving you alone with Bridget, a body full of anxious energy and a head full of thoughts definitely not suitable for a woman from genteel society. 

One thing was clear, within these images you were having and the current encounter there was one commonality—he had not persisted. He had in fact pulled away from you. He really did not want you at all—in any capacity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glossary:

Term “One and Six”: In Regency Era it was common among some to refer to ages over single digits as both numbers. EX: 16 = one and six. Of course, this isn’t always the case, it would depend on the region and the class of people.

Hysteria: Commonly referenced in Regency time which we in modern times would call panic. Could also be referenced to regency word Vapors which is usually when someone is going through a “panic attack” with the hyperventilating, agitation and or bouts of fainting.

Banyan: A men’s dressing robe usually worn at home. Think of a woman’s robe but for men. Could be elaborately designed, thick, or as thin as preferred.

Sennight: A time lasting one week.

Blazes: Euphemism for hell or the devil.

Blast: Equivalent to the modern terms sh** or damn.

Sod It: Equivalent to the modern statement "F**k it" or "Damn it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged/untagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@shar74nettt @soapjay @ashanti-notthesinger @caramara3 @caplover22 @blackpinup22 @areubeingserved @your-chaotic-neutral @zejess93 @reignandrain @ovohanna24 @ramp-it-up  @littlepreciousangel @msblkfire84 @id-do-it-for-free-babe @my-rosegold-soul @sadthotsonlylove @arination99 @wondersofdreaming @veganvampre @ohsoverykeri @mery-be  @insanitytreason @mauvecherie @xximpressions @turnthepageandbeburnt  @turn-thy-paige @reignandrain @brownsugarcoffy​ @udeadass

[ktanissevrdeen]

Bridgerton Fic: Poor Puzzled Moon

A story of fear, loss, friendship, family, and love during the second World War.

Chapter 9: A Perfect Gentleman

“Let me go, Benedict.” Colin gripes once Alfred turns the corner, twisting his shoulders aggressively, freeing his jacket from the grasp his brother apparently had on it.

“I thought you were going to lunge at him.” Benedict grumbles. “You look wild.” 

Colin shoots him an agitated look. His eyes and energy are mad, unbalanced. Ready to come undone.

Anthony smacks him upside the head.

“Ow! What the fuck, Anthony?” He yelps.

“Yes, Colin. What the fuck?” Anthony seethes, grasping his shoulder to lead him down the hallway.

[sukibenders]

Being a woc fan of Bridgerton can be a struggle, especially when it comes to liking the poc characters on the show, especially the woc. Like I remember when s1 came out and the blatant microaggressions and just plain racism coming from this fandom was atrocious. You had people spewing very hateful things about Charlotte, Marina, and Simon and undermining the latter two's pain and trauma at the hands of the white characters---Marina was treated terribly by the Featheringtons and, whether you like Penelope or not, you cannot deny that she also played a part by releasing that letter to the Ton and Simon was violated Daphne no matter how people try to spin the story to offer her some form of sympathy (it still blows my mind that people would want to though).

S2 is just as bad (not even including how they changed the Sharma family's storyline than how it was in the books when that wasn't necessary) and the racist undertones many of the fans have towards Mary and Edwina (as well as Kate but for her it's carries more brown woman needing to be saved by a white man when Anthony is involved because a lot of you all in the fandom are quick to use this trope such as "oh, he's the only one who truly knows her"). The lack of screen time for this family really ends up hurting them to but even with that, whether you like Mary and Edwina or not, it would be a lie to deny the racism a lot in the fandom hold towards them (and how that falls onto the actresses because it was very apparent how many in the fandom couldn't let two Desi women shine without having to bring down the other and Netflix played into that too for drama) and paints every small thing they do as being terrible crimes but in the same breath will not have the same smoke for the Bridgertons, who have their own set of problems (but because they are also the main family, among other things, they are provided more grace without consequences).

[apinchofm]

All I Think About is You

T, 8.3k words, one shot, Fluff, humor and angst!

Secrets, friendships and love triangles - because nothing was simple for Miss Edwina Sharma.

Or Edwina meets a Prussian prince who has to go to war and an English Lord who hates said Prussian prince when she debuts.

This started as a one shot for @angel-starbeam and developed - enjoy!

[salvawhores-world]

Tolerate it - Anthony Bridgerton x Oc

Anthony bridgerton x Emma Norwood

Warnings - Angst, Childhood friends to lovers, Anthony being a bitch.

A/N - This is my first lore from the series Taylor x bridgerton. I was begging for some Anthony angst here we are. Mothers song from her most underrated and favourite album is here.

Do not Steal my work.

Anthony Bridgerton and Emma Norwood, now Emma Bridgerton, had been married for years, their love blossoming since childhood.

Their friendship, nurtured by Viscount Bridgerton and Earl Norwood, their fathers laid the foundation for a deep and enduring connection. Even before understanding the complexities of love, they were inseparable.

While their marriage was far from perfect, Emma devoted herself to being a dedicated viscountess, committed to her family and to Anthony.

Emma expected reciprocation from Anthony. She longed for his complete presence in their marriage and for him to cherish their bond as deeply as she did. Yet, despite her fervent efforts, she found herself wanting. The last two pieces of the puzzle were missing—the heartfelt acknowledgment of her contributions and the unreserved affection that she craved.

“I sit and watch you reading

With your head low

I wake and watch you

breathing with yourEyes closed

I sit and watch you

And notice everything

you do or don't do”

“Eloise has suddenly developed a keen interest in witnessing the race. I thought I might accompany her there. Besides She's also mentioned running out of books to read. I'll check if there's an exhibition where I can get her some," Emma uttered, delicately pouring a cup of steaming tea for herself.

She sat across from Anthony, who remained immersed in his newspapers, brooding in silence, responding merely with a faint hum. It felt akin to conversing with an unresponsive wall.

As the days drifted by, with each morning finding Anthony deep in slumber, his countenance peaceful, Emma would gaze at him, his breath flowing steadily.

In the presence of her husband, she would awaken, yet a chill clung to the bed—a frigidity that mirrored his heart, their union. A silent witness, she would sit, observing the unraveling of everything they held dear, crumbling into disarray.

“You're so much older and wiser and I

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

Use my best colors for your portrait

Lay the table with the fancy shit

And watch you tolerate it”

"Sister, focus your attention here," Gregory exclaimed, his notebook spread out before him, jolting Emma from her reverie.

Her gaze, fixated on the door where her husband engaged in conversation with Daphne, was interrupted. She had known Anthony since their earliest days, certain that even as a two-year-old, he had attempted to cradle her tender newborn self in his tiny arms. Observing him now, her heart swelled.

He appeared older, wiser, and handsomer than she had ever known him to be throughout the passing years.

"My apologies, Greg. Now, where were we?" she apologized, returning to her task of aiding him with his studies.

Emma sensed Anthony's presence behind them. "How is your Latin progressing, Gregory?" Anthony inquired of his younger brother, who replied with respectful deference.

“Emma, may I have a word with you?" Anthony stated, nodding curtly. The couple excused themselves from the young boy's side.

"How are the preparations for the forthcoming ball progressing? It marks our first grand event since Colin's engagement," Anthony questioned.

Emma reassured him, "Worry not, Anthony. I have personally overseen every aspect. Rest assured, everything shall be executed flawlessly, precisely as you prefer." Emma's countenance brightened.

As she relayed the ball's particulars, Anthony merely responded with nods. No matter what Emma did, it never seemed to be enough. Would she ever experience the same love from him, bestowed upon her as it once had been?

“I greet you with a battle hero’s welcome

I take your indiscretions all in good fun

I sit and listеn, I polish plates until they gleam and glistеn”

“Please, please, PLEASE, Em, what must I do to persuade you? Aren't you my best friend?" Benedict exclaimed dramatically, pacing around Emma with a palette and a few brushes in hand.

“No, Ben, I cannot. I have an abundance of tasks to complete, and besides, I lack the patience to sit idle for hours," she replied, ticking off items on her to-do list as she moved about the drawing room.

“Be my muse, my inspiration!" Benedict shouted, now on one knee with his arms outstretched. Ever the dramatic soul.

“Ah, so my viscountess serves as your muse, I presume, brother?" Anthony interjected rudely, peering up from his newspaper.

Emma rolled her eyes and placed a plate of cakes and a cup of tea in front of her husband. "Your wife happens to be my closest friend, brother," Benedict retorted, his words dripping with resentment.

Anthony's voice dripped with underlying insinuation as he grumbled, "I care not for whatever attachments my wife may hold with you, Benedict, so long as she remains mine."

His words carried an unnerving implication, fueling Benedict's frustration and leaving Emma heartbroken, struggling to hold back her tears.

Benedict was livid. How could Anthony speak of Emma in such a manner, reducing her significance? Being only a month older than Emma and of the same age, Benedict and Emma had been inseparable since childhood. How could Anthony entertain such unsettling thoughts?

The first thing Benedict sketched was Emma adorned in a pristine white wedding gown, with Anthony as the groom and himself as the best man—a depiction of a joyous, harmonious family. It pained Benedict to witness his cherished friend enduring such anguish because of his own brother's actions.

“While you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Where’s that man who’d throw blankets over my barbed wire?

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky

Now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life”

Sitting before the crackling fire, Emma completed the final strokes of her latest letter, sealed with utmost care. It had been a week since Anthony's departure to France, lending his aid to Colin with an investment.

Throughout this time, she had heard little from him about his whereabouts. His sparse correspondence consisted of a mere few lines, informing her of his well-being and the status of his return. As the flames danced, memories flooded her mind.

"EMMA!" Young Anthony's voice reverberated through the verdant hills of Kent as he dismounted his horse and hastened toward his beloved.

Emma immediately abandoned her embroidery, leaving behind a beautiful napkin and her friend Daphne, running into the embrace of her dear boy. "At last, you have arrived," she murmured, her words muffled by the tightness of their hug.

"Being away from you feels like a cruel punishment. I detest Oxford," he grumbled, their gazes locked as they pulled away from each other.

Emma's smile illuminated her countenance. "You cannot fathom how weary I have grown of reading words. Hearing your voice is truly enchanting," she confessed, his forehead meeting hers as he leaned forward to gently kiss her brow.

"I am sorry for leaving you behind. If I had the power, I would abandon my studies or…or find a way to smuggle you in with me," he gasped, his breath still uneven from his exertions.

Emma laughed, a melodic sound that echoed through the air. "It is merely a matter of one more year, Anthony. Soon, you shall be here, And find me waiting for you, and we will be together," she reassured him.

"Together forever," he whispered, their foreheads touching in a tender embrace. "Together forever," she nodded, the young couple venturing forth into the sunset, their hearts entwined.

Overwhelmed by the memory, Emma found herself breaking down, tears streaming down her face as she gazed at the sealed letter and clutched the same old delicate napkin with the exquisitely embroidered "A." It was the sole remnant of so many cherished years.

“You assume I’m fine, but what

would you do if I

Break free and leave us in ruins

Took this dagger in me and removed it

Gain the weight of you, then lose it

Believe me, I could do it”

"I am fearful” Emma whispered softly as the couple prepared themselves. Her mind was awash with countless thoughts, and she felt like she was drowning.

Emma feared that if this torment continued any longer, she would shatter her wretched excuse for a marriage and flee. The burden had become unbearable.

The person she loved more than anything didn't even acknowledge her existence, breaking her spirit day after day.

"Fear not, my love, for it shall be a splendid occasion," Anthony assured her, adjusting his cufflinks before the mirror glass.

The fact that he didn't even inquire about his wife's distress infuriated Emma. In that moment, she entertained the idea of packing her belongings and escaping under the cloak of night, returning to her parents' residence in Kent.

Her father would undoubtedly welcome her with open arms, allowing her to indulge in her passion for reading and sketching.

Would Anthony come to fetch her? Would he realize his grave mistake and rediscover his love for her, prompting a fresh start? If she dared to voice her grievances, her father would surely confront Anthony and defend her honor, for that was precisely what Edmund would have done.

"I shall meet you outside when you are prepared," Emma stormed out of the bedroom, leaving her bewildered husband gazing at his own reflection in utter confusion.

“If it’s all in my head, tell me now

Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow

I know my love should be celebrated

But you tolerate it

I sit and watch you”

Emma pleaded for him to take action, to salvage their marriage, their love, and her very being.

Anthony remained oblivious, trapped in the mechanical motions of life. Emma yearned for it to be a mere figment of her imagination, longing for Anthony to stand beside her, embracing her, easing her worries, and drying her tears.

She wished to scale walls, shatter barriers, and bridge the divide between them, perhaps desiring him to reach out and yearn for the depths of her love. Yet, all Emma could do was watch him tolerate it.

_______________________________________________

Do not steal my work.

[winxanity-ii]

SIMON BASSET

╰❝𝓣𝓸 𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓪 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝔀𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓲𝓼 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓫𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝔀𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽.❞

🇰‌🇪‌🇾‌: 🔞 = smut | 🔥 = heated/spicy | ✿ = fluff | 🕷 = angst | ✰ = personal fav

FICS

ONE-SHOTS

𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 | 🕷 ✰ | Simon x Fem!Sister!Reader / Bridgerton!AU

HEADCANONS

[lookingfts]

Friday Fic Rec 9/6

Thanks for your submissions! Here are the recs for our first week. (Titles are links to each fic)

All the magic we made by @iwishyouwouldstop

"I'm always shocked this fic doesn't have 1000 kudos. It's so damn good."

Description: Kate and Anthony grow up together, learn to harness their magic together and are certain nothing can tear them apart. Until something does. Now they are strangers who occasionally publicly humiliate each other in between finding means to survive in a world that is increasingly hostile to their kind. Then Anthony commits the ultimate betrayal and Kate's retribution results in a life-threatening curse that forces them to work together.

Status: WIP (18/?) Rating: E

Love Doesn't Burn. by magicalmenagerie

"This fic isn’t finished, and the author hasn’t updated it since 2023, but it’s still one of my favorites. I love how it mixes the past and the present, and how the two characters were involved during the worst phase of their lives and then reconnect when they’re more mature."

Description: Anthony is trying to forget his past. Kate is trying to remember as much as possible. They’re both too young to know what they fall into is not love. Until much later, they finally do. (A second chances au riddled with miscommunication, infatuation, and incomprehensible philosophical musings)

Status: WIP (11/14) Rating: E

The Hope That Keeps You and One Last Weekend by @helenakwayne

"They have very different vibes but they’re both soo good and I think they’re less known fics in the fandom. I would say read the hope that keeps you if you’re looking for something more fun and fluffy, and one last weekend if you want angst (with a happy ending of course)."

Description: The Hope That Keeps You: Kate Sharma loves football because her father loved a certain West London club, so she made it her job. Anthony Bridgerton loves football because his father loved a certain West London club, so he bought it—or at least some of it. They’re all supporting the same side, so there should be nothing but harmony, right? It’s not like they unnecessarily complicate everything for no reason.

One Last Weekend: On the weekend of Simon Basset’s and Daphne Bridgerton’s wedding, Anthony Bridgerton and Kathani Sharma try to finally get what they both need after years of pursuing what they thought they wanted.

Status: Both Complete Rating: E

I'd Give All I Have, Honey (If You Could Stay Like That) by @newtonsheffield

"23 year old Anthony is a himbo and causes a LOT of tears for Kate but ends perfectly."

Description: The one constant in Anthony Bridgerton's life was Kate Sharma. They'd spent their entire childhoods together, she was as part of him that could never leave him. But the time to grow up came sooner than he thought it would. And he doesn't know why the sight of men queueing outside the Sharma's townhouse makes him sick to his stomach.

Status: Complete Rating: T

LFTS rec: A Devil's Love by FormerlyIR

Someone asked me about a mafia fic recently, and my mind went straight to this masterpiece. I had to reread it and honestly - it was even better than I remembered. Crazy hot passion wrapped in the most creative, evocative prose.

Description: When Kate's sister goes missing, she gets herself a waitress job at the Pebble Lounge to track her down, working under London’s seedy underbelly to find the only person she has left in this world to love. And Anthony Bridgerton? No matter how alluring and distracting he may be, he’s just a means to an end, his life defined by his family business built on corruption. Kate won’t dance to that tune. She’s just trying to find her sister.

Status: Complete Rating: E

Thanks for your submissions! This will be a weekly thing, so keep your recs coming, and I'm open to suggestions about the format!

[aphroditelovesu]

❝𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙇𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙄𝙄 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏❞

Historical Characters

💕 Yan!Alexander the Great w/His Twins!Children (Platonic)

💕 Yan!Alexander the Great, Yan!Julius Caesar, Yan!Napoleon Bonaparte and Yan!Henry VII w/Cheating!Wife (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Napoleon Bonaparte and Yandere Marquis de Lafayette w/Wife!Reader (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Alexander the Great and Yandere Mehmed the Conqueror (Romantic)

💕 Reader Love Letter for Julius Caesar (Romantic)

💕 Yan!Julius Caesar to Yan!Cleopatra

💕 Yandere Mehmed the Conqueror (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Pompey the Great (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Catherine of Aragon (Platonic)

💕 Yandere Catherine of Aragon w/Brother!Reader (Platonic)

💕 Yandere Baldwin IV (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Elizabeth I w/Lover Male!Reader (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Edward Seymour w/Pregnant!Reader (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Caesar Augustus (Romantic)

A Court of Thorns and Roses

💕 Yandere Helion (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Bat Boys w/Cheating!Mate

💕 Yandere Nesta Archeron, Yandere Amarantha and Yandere Lucien Vanserra (Romantic)

Greek Mythology

💕 Yan!Apollo w/Cheating!Wife (Romantic)

💕 Yandere!Cheating Hermes

💕 Yandere Hephaestus w/Pregnant!Reader (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Achilles (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Eros w/Soulmate!Reader (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Dionysus (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Persephone (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Athena

Bridgerton

💕 Yandere King George III w/Pregnant!Reader (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Anthony Bridgerton w/Pregnant!Reader (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Simon Basset (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Edmund Bridgerton w/Mistress!Reader (Romantic)

Percy Jackson

💕 Yandere Percy Jackson | Prompts 3, 4, 12, 26

💕 Yandere Annabeth Chase (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Percy Jackson w/Daughter of Aphrodite!Reader (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Jason Grace w/Nymph!Reader (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Will Solace (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Piper McLean (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Nico di Angelo (Platonic)

💕 Yandere Nico di Angelo (Romantic)

Marvel

💕 Yandere Gamora (Romantic)

The Originals/The Vampire Diaries

💕 Yandere Elijah Mikaelson (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Elijah Mikaelson (Angst)

💕 Yandere Damon Salvatore (Romantic)

Wednesday

💕 Yandere Wednesday Addams (Romantic)

Miraculous Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir

💕 Yandere Cat Blanc (Romantic)

Heartstopper

💕 Yandere Nick Nelson (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Charlie Spring and Nick Nelson (Romantic)

A Song of Ice and Fire

💕 Yandere Cersei Lannister w/Male!Reader Lannister

💕 Yandere Laenor Velaryon (Platonic)

💕 Yandere Maegor the Cruel (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Jaehaerys I Targaryen (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Rhaena Targaryen/Black Bride (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Maegor the Cruel w/Pregnant!Reader (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Alicent Hightower to bby!Reader

Harry Potter

💕 Yandere Tom Riddle (Romantic)

BTS

💕 Yandere Jimin (Romantic)

Egyptian Mythology

💕 Yandere Seth and Yandere Horus (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Horus w/Princess of Egypt!Reader (Romantic)

The Hunger Games

💕 Yandere Peeta Mellark (Romantic)

K-Dramas

💕 Yandere Jeong Gu-Won (Romantic) || My Demon

Castlevania

💕 Yandere Vlad Dracula Tepes, Yandere Trevor Belmont and Yandere Alucard (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Vlad Dracula Tepes (Romantic)

Disney

💕 Yandere Prince Charming/Kit (Romantic)

💕 Yandere Prince Charming/Kit after Midnight (Romantic)

One Piece

💕 Vinsmoke Sanji (Romantic)

Attack on Titan

💕 Yandere Levi Ackerman (Romantic)

Hannibal

💕 Yandere Hannibal Lecter w/Wife!Reader (Romantic)

Maze Runner

💕 Yandere Thomas (Romantic)

[bellebridgerton]

Bridgerton Masterlist

Hints:

📚 - Chaptered Fic

📖 - One Shot

🔥 - Smut

💐 - Fluff

🥀 - Angst

Anthony Bridgerton

His Diamond 📚🔥💐🥀 (Complete)

Benedict Bridgerton

Best Buddies (Modern AU) 📚🔥💐🥀 (Complete)

Colin Bridgerton

N/A

Simon Basset

N/A

King George

N/A

I'd love to take requests!

[luscious-coptic-curls]

Kanthony fanfic - Married at First Sight tv show

I was inspired to write a fanfic in which Kate and Anthony take part in the tv show Married at First Sight (UK). Just posted the first two chapters, and excited to see if others are interested in this concept.

[girl-in-new-york]

Hello!!

get to know me !

she/her - pisces - movie + book nerd - shifter - writing as a hobby !

i’m kamryn, but i go by kam. I love reading and writing and would love to share that with people :)

rules and the fandoms i write for below:

Rules:

all kinds of people are welcome here, my only rules are that you are respectful and kind.

i write smut, fluff, angst, and i’ll usually will only write headcanons, blurbs, etc. not really full fics, seeing as i struggle writing about one thing for so long.

I am open to writing for fem, masc, ftm or mtf, and non gender specific readers, along with any other requests! (florist!reader, fem!reader, autistic!reader, etc).

Feel free to correct me or let me know if i have written something that is inaccurate or if i make any mistakes, but please be polite about it.

I do not write for: beastiality/anything romantic with animals, bodily fluids (other than blood, + cum), no feet kinks please, oc x reader, non con.

There will be others but feel free to request and if it makes me uncomfortable i will add it to the list and politely decline

I write for

Wolfbloods

• Rhydian Morris

• Maddy Smith

• Tom Okinawa

Teen Wolf

• Scott McCall

• Stiles Stilinski

• Derek Hale

• Allison Argent

• Lydia Martin

• Liam Dunbar

• Malia Tate

The Maze Runner

• Thomas

• Newt (only mlm)

• Gally

• Minho

• Frypan

• Brenda

• Teresa

Bridgerton

• Anthony Bridgerton

• Eloise Bridgerton

• Daphne Bridgerton

• Simon Basset

• Colin Bridgerton

• Theo Sharpe

• Benedict Bridgerton

Deadly Class

• Saya Kuroki

• Marcus Lopez

• Willie Lewis

• Maria Salazar

• Billy Bennet

• Petra

Marvel

• Pietro Maximoff

• Remy LeBeau

• Tony Stark

• Loki Laufeyson

• Natasha Romanoff

Scream

• Billy Loomis

• Tatum Riley

• Stu Macher

• Sidney Prescott

• Ethan Landry

• Amber Freeman

• Wes Hicks

• Sam Carpenter

• Mindy Meeks

• Chad Meeks

• Tara Carpenter

Extra

• Andrew Neiman (Whiplash)

• Mason Freeland (Thirteen— 2003)

• Dead Poets Society

• Harry Potter (canon and fanon characters like the slytherin boys or marauders era)

• OBX

• DC

• Criminal Minds

• COD

• Red Dead Redemption 2

• Sturniolo Brothers

I will be updating this list, but feel free to request any characters or fandoms you’d like me to write for and i’ll happily look into it!

I also am happy to write for celebrities! (Jack Champion, Evan Peters, Dylan O’brien, etc)

[checkoutmybookshelf]

You Have My Attention: The Polin Fic 'Verse First Lines

Fanfic is no less valid in terms of the craft of writing than trad or indie published authors; we all have the same 26 letters to work with, and we all play with the same set of tools and narrative structures and devices. Which, naturally, includes first lines. So I had to catch readers too. How did I do it?

If she didn’t have to get another edition of Whistledown out this week, Penelope would have feigned illness to avoid attending the queen’s ball. Colin’s proclamation to Fife and the other eligible young men of the ton still rang in her ears. Are you mad? I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington. Not in your wildest fantasies, Fife. To be in the same ballroom as Colin—not to mention Eloise, whose fury practically radiated from her person to such an extent that Violet Bridgerton had yet to introduce her to any eligible young man that night—was nearly unbearable. And yet Penelope was now secretly the sole earner of her household after Cousin Jack’s betrayal. Which was why she was glued to the wall of the queen’s ballroom near the table filled with refreshments, studiously avoiding looking at Colin or Eloise while she listened to the footmen murmur to each other about the sudden European trip on which one of Miss Goring’s younger sisters had embarked. The poor girl was not even out in society. Pen sighed to herself; this was not something she could print.

I Could Have Told You 'Bout The Long Nights (23924 words) by SometimesSheWritesLongIntoTheNight Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington Characters: Colin Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington, Anthony Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton, Lady Danbury (Bridgerton), Original Characters, Daphne Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Portia Featherington Additional Tags: Medical Procedures, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Trauma, Mild Gore, Angst with a Happy Ending, No beta we die like Edmund, Polin, Colin Bridgerton Being an Idiot, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington-centric, Lady Whistledown - Freeform, mild violence Series: Part 1 of The Polin Fic 'Verse Summary: Colin and Penelope have yet to make up after his careless comments about courting. But when Lady Whistledown's identity places Penelope in a perilous position, Colin must sort out his own feelings for Pen…before it's too late.

Penelope jerked awake to the sound of watchmen’s bells and shouts, which were quickly echoed and amplified by the voices of their neighbors and servants. The bed flexed beneath her, and she shivered as the warmth of Colin’s bulk lifted from the mattress. She waited beneath the covers as she listened to the rustles and grumbles of Colin pulling on breeches and a shirt; if their butler didn’t knock to wake them, she wouldn’t need to— A sudden flurry of polite knocks sounded at their bedroom door.

Of Fire and Featheringtons (54838 words) by SometimesSheWritesLongIntoTheNight Chapters: 10/10 Fandom: Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn, Bridgerton (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Colin Bridgerton & Penelope Featherington, Polin - Relationship Characters: Colin Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington, Original Characters, Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Simon Basset, Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Daphne Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton, Portia Featherington, Will Mondrich, Gregory Bridgerton, Lady Danbury (Bridgerton), Eloise Bridgerton, Francesca Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Queen Charlotte (Bridgerton) Additional Tags: Fires, Fire-Related Injuries, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington-centric, BAMF Penelope Featherington, mild violence, Lady Whistledown - Freeform, Protective Colin Bridgerton, Unhinged Colin Bridgerton, a bridgerton mystery, No beta we die like Edmund, Some Mild Blood, Mild Gore, fire deaths, children in peril, child fire deaths Series: Part 2 of The Polin Fic 'Verse Summary: When house fires threaten to bring Mayfair to its knees, Queen Charlotte puts Dame Penelope and Lady Danbury on the case. But twists, turns, questioned loyalties, and family ties will change Penelope and Colin's life once again--if they can survive the summer.

Penelope gasped in delight as Colin lifted her above his head and spun her, sending droplets of the Aegean Sea flying in an ever-widening circle about them. Each droplet sparkled red-orange in the sunset, embodying the ultimate marriage of water and fire. Between the scent of salt, silky texture of air against bare skin interrupted by the patter of warm water droplets, and rush of air through her loose curls, Penelope could have been flying through heaven. And yet as she fell and was crushed to Colin’s chest in a bear hug, both giggling helplessly, she listened to his heart beat in his chest and knew that should paradise call her then and there, she should rather be exactly where she was.

Lady Whistledown Returns (60424 words) by SometimesSheWritesLongIntoTheNight Chapters: 15/15 Fandom: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Colin Bridgerton & Penelope Featherington Characters: Colin Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington, Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton, Queen Charlotte, Daphne Bridgerton, Simon Basset, Eloise Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Gregory Bridgerton, Francesca Bridgerton Additional Tags: Blood and Violence, Threats of Violence, Aftermath of Violence, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Mild Gore, Polin, Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington-centric, Protective Anthony Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington - Freeform, Penelope Bridgerton - Freeform, Lady Whistledown - Freeform, Lady Whistledown Identity Reveal (Bridgerton), BAMF Penelope Featherington, carriage crash, injuries, some blood, Character Death, No beta we die like Edmund Series: Part 3 of The Polin Fic 'Verse Summary: Penelope and Colin have faced many challenges as a married couple, but few have been as persistent, pernicious, and perilous as the feud between Lady Whistledown and Queen Charlotte. As Charlotte's power begins to visibly wane, she will do whatever it takes to claw it back. When lines are crossed, Colin and Penelope will face their greatest challenge yet. This feud must end, but at what cost?

[starriislxt]

"well, i must say, i am impressed." ღ simon basset.

౨ৎ welcome to simon's channel ! ᝰ please read the warnings before interacting. minors dni with [n]sfw content! grab your snacks and enjoy :D

(✰) fluff — (❀) angst — (❤︎) smut — (⟡) hurt/comfort

·˚ ༘ * SHORTS ✗ DRABBLES

⭑ .ᐟ this shelf is empty

·˚ ༘ * LIVES ✗ HEADCANONS

⭑ .ᐟ this shelf is empty

·˚ ༘ * VIDEOS ✗ ONESHOTS

⭑ .ᐟ this shelf is empty

·˚ ༘ * STREAMS ✗ SERIES

⭑ .ᐟ this shelf is empty

·˚ ༘ * PLAYLISTS ✗ TWOSHOTS

⭑ .ᐟ this shelf is empty

— all rights reserved © STARRIISLXT 2024. all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend on tiktok any of the works seen here.