#cause anthonys very expressive

[jajeczkooo26]

let's work it out on a remix

[sapphire-strikes]

High Tea and Low Jabs

A random Good Omens ficlet? Yeppers! As with every new series I fall into, I got a burst of adrenaline and had to write something. It's just a little one-shot intened to be dialog practice since I'm getting used to the characters, but I wanted to share! And, of course, it's a reader insert.

~

The roar of your bike faded as you pull up along the curb of a quaintly familiar bookshop nestled amidst the bustling streets of London.

As you dismounted and stepped onto the cobblestone, you ran a gloved hand through your wind-tousled hair, and your eyes fell upon the shop's weathered sign—a familiar sight amidst the urban chaos.

"A.Z. Fell & Co."

All around it, the streets of Soho were a symphony of honking horns and hurried footsteps, a stark contrast to the soothing hum of your engine that had been drowning it all out just moments ago. The city's pace, while invigorating in its own way, always seemed to tug at the edges of your comfort zone no matter how many times you made your way through it.

Wasting no more time, you pushed open the doors to the bookshop, and were immediately greeted by the familiar scent of well-loved pages and aged ink as the faint jingle of bells announced your arrival. As the door closed behind you, the outside world's chaos was replaced by a sense of calm that only a place as special as this one could provide.

Your gaze swept across the cozy interior until it settled on a figure standing by the window. His back was turned, and he seemed busy, hastily organizing and putting away a small stack of books, but even from this vantage point, you'd recognize that silver hair and those chipper mannerisms anywhere.

He tilted his head slightly at the sound of your entrance, but remained too distracted with his work to turn around and recognize you.

"Good evening! Please feel free to look around." He called out, assuming you to be a customer. "I'm closing up a bit early today, so I'm afraid you'll have to make a bit of haste, but do let me know if you need any help~"

"Ahh, my bad, Aziraphale. " A teasing smile creeped onto your face. "I'll come back tomorrow then." You shrugged and tucked your hands into your pockets, your grin only growing wider when you saw him perk up as he recognized the sound of your voice

"My dear," he exclaimed, his voice filled with a genuine excitement as the books he was putting away were forgotten in favor of taking in the sight of you. "Why~ You're early!" He hurridly fidled with the lapels of his coat before rushing to close the distance between you, pulling you into a tight hug.

While you should have expected the affectionate gesture, you let out a small "oof" of surprise, momentarily stunned. His embrace was drawn out, almost as if intentionally to give you time to process it, and your flustered expression slowly faded to a soft smile. You returned the gesture, hugging him back slowly.

"It's good to see you," you murmured, your voice muffled against the fabric of his jacket.

"Likewise. Likewise, my dear," Aziraphale replied, releasing you but keeping you held at arm's length. His eyes were warm and fond as he took in your appearance, it was as if he was making note of every little change since the last time he saw you and committing them all to memory.

After a second, his eyes lit up in remembrance, and he finally released you. He spun in a small circle, his gaze darting around the bookshop, back to the books he'd been putting away and then back to the door before quickly stepping around you and flipping the sign to closed. "Come, come, let's not stand about here," Aziraphale ushered you away from the entrance with a gentle hand on your back, his excitement was contagious as he guided you further into the cozy embrace of the bookshop and his joy was evident in every step.

You chuckle softly, a mixture of embarrassment and genuine happiness bubbling up within you. "You seem awfully excited. It hasn't been THAT long since we last saw each other."

"Nonsense! One can never have too many happy reunions, don't you think? Besides~ I've been positively looking forward to this tea time since you agreed to come visit, you know."

You followed him, your smile growing bashful but you allowed yourself to be swept up in his enthusiasm. "Haha..., yeah, tea time. You were serious about that? Way to make me feel out of my element," You laughed.

Aziraphale beamed at your words. "Ah, well, tea time is a tradition close to my heart, my dear. Living in London as long as I have, it's not often I'm givin the opertunity to share these customs with someone as..." He seemed to pause, looking for the right word, "As uninformed of the finer graces as you are! And I must say, it's been far too long since we've had a proper catch-up."

"Oooh~ So I'm uneducated?" You fired back jokingly. "That explains it! You're just excited to finally be able to teach me some manners."

"Uninformed, not uneducated," Aziraphale corrected. " There's always room for refinement. And I must say, I do enjoy being the one to impart such knowledge." He finally came to a stop at a cozy corner of the bookshop where a small table was set up, shouldered by two comfortable looking arm chairs. "Sit, sit!" Aziraphale gestured towards one of the chairs. "I've just a few more things to tidy up and then we'll get right to it!"

You couldn't help but snicker as you settled into the chair, the whole situation and Aziraphale's ever welcoming attitude begining to feel comfortingly familiar. "Take your time. I'm sorry if I caught you by surprise."

"Oh, think nothing of it. I've been preparing all day, and I certainly can't complain about getting to see you sooner than planned!"

With the promise of a quick return, he hustled off to finish his remaining "closing duties". Not five minutes later, he returned from out of sight with a bountifuly assembled tea trolley, where an array of teapots, cups, and an assortment of treats awaited.

Your eyes widened a bit at the sight.

"When you said 'tea time', you weren't kidding." You mused, the whole display reminding you of something out of a storybook.

"Why, of course!" He clapped his hands together, delighted by your astonishment. "Can I assume I was correct in my assumption that you've never experienced first hand the joys of a traditional english tea time?"

"Ha... You'd be right." You admitted. "I think you know by now 'refinement' isn't really my area of expertise."

"Fear not, my dear. By the time we're through, you'll be sipping tea with the utmost elegance and grace!"

"Oh boy, I can't wait." You quipped with well-meaning roll of your eyes.

"First things first, let's ensure you're properly attired for the occasion." You raised a brow, unsure of what he meant until, with a flourish, he produced a neatly folded napkin from seemingly nowhere and rounded your chair to place it on your lap. "There, that's much better." He clasped his hands together, beaming down at you proudly.

The small, soft gesture was enough to wipe the smirk off your face, a reticent pink creeping onto your cheeks in its place. It seemed that no matter how many times you were subject to it, Aziraphale's effortlessly attentive nature had a way of bringing you to submission every time. The angle was nothing if not a genuine sweetheart, and your sarcasm couldn't begin to hold up, especially not when he seemed so excited for this.

"Now~ Let us begin!"

His movements were almost balletic as he began preparing the tea, his hands moving with a practiced grace that spoke of years of experience.

"As you can see, I've prepared quite the spread," Aziraphale announces proudly. "We have a delightful Darjeeling blend for our tea, accompanied by a selection of finger sandwiches, scones, and assorted pastries. But before we indulge, my dear, there are a few essential etiquettes we must go over."

You sat up straight, looking as attentive as you could. "Lay it on me!"

"First, we must allow the tea leaves to steep properly," Aziraphale explained, his voice taking on a soothing cadence as he poured the fragrant liquid into two delicate china cups. "Patience is key, you see. A rushed cup of tea is simply a tragedy."

The liquid was a rich amber color that seemed to shimmer in the warm glow of the bookshop's lighting. As he passed you a cup, he continued, "Hold the cup by the handle, of course, never the sides or rim. And don't stick your pinky out—," He raised a hand, catching you mid gesture, "that's a common misconception. It's all about elegance, not pretension." You laughed bashfully, doing you best to mimic his hand posture instead.

"When it comes to adding milk or cream, even an amateur knows to pour the milk into the cup after the tea, not the other way around. It's the only proper method to ensure the tea's taste isn't compromised."

"Like cereal!" You made a crude comparison with a goofy smile, but Aziraphale nodded, grinning at your enthusiasm all the same.

"Precisely! Though, some would disagree with both notions." His eyes rolled to the side at the thought with a brief look of exasperation, but his giddy smile was right back in place as he passed you the cream. "Now-" he picked up a small spoon, signaling you to do the same. "When stirring the tea, remember to use a gentle back-and-forth motion rather than a circular one. This prevents any unnecessary clinking sounds and maintains the tranquility of the moment.

"Back-and-forth, gotcha gotcha."

"Ah, yes, and sugar!" Aziraphale's eyes lit up as he moved on. "A touch of sweetness is a lovely addition to a cup of tea, but one must be cautious not to overdo it. After all, we wouldn't want to mask the delicate flavors of the tea itself."

He passed you a small bowl of sugar cubes, his expression earnest as he guided you through the process. "Simply take a sugar cube with the tongs, my dear, and gently lower it into the cup. Let it rest for a moment to absorb the warmth before giving it a delicate stir."

You did as instructed, pausing to examine the small cube of sweetness with interest before dropping it in your tea. If you hadn't been doing your best to play along on account of this being so important to him, you might have plopped one right into your mouth to see how they taste. Probably just like sugar, but still.

"Now, the most important part—sipping the tea." He slowly raised his cup to his mouth in demonstration, promting you to do the same once more. "Take small, delicate sips, allowing the flavors to dance on your palate."

As you brought the cup to your lips, you took a cautious sip, mindful of Aziraphale's gaze. The tea's warmth spread through you, and you couldn't help but smile at the taste. It was a simple pleasure, a silly one, but one that seemed to carry a lot of importance to the angel.

Aziraphale watched you with a mixture of delight and anticipation, as if he were waiting for your reaction to the tea itself. When he saw your smile, his eyes twinkled with satisfaction.

You let out a small hum, lowering your cup to the table in accordance with his.

Aziraphale's smile grew even wider, his satisfaction evident. "I'm delighted you like it!"

"Now, onto the matter of accompaniments." Aziraphale beamed. He gestured towards the assortment of finger sandwiches, scones, and pastries that adorned the tea trolley. "Perhaps start with a biscuit or two? With the basics out of the way, we can move on to the best part as we enjoy ourselves; camaraderie and good conversation!" He clapped his hands together with delight.

You had to admit you'd been eyeing the spread from the moment he rolled out the trolly and happily reached for a cookie. But the moment was quickly interrupted when a chilling breeze seemed to sweep through the room. A flicker of something dark caught your eye, and out of the shadows emerged a familiarly lean figure that seemed to materialize from the very darkness itself. Their eyes, hidden behind dark sunglasses, were fixed on you, but their expression was, at first, otherwise unreadable.

"Crowley!" You practically beamed as you said his name, biscuits long forgotten in favor of greeting him.

"And here I thought I'd locked the door..." Aziraphale muttered, more to himself than to you with a small roll of his eyes at the demon's dramatic entrance. But rather quickly, his usually smile returned, none the less happy to see the demon. "Crowley, lovely of you to drop in~"

Crowley's enigmatic smile slowly crept across his face as he sauntered forward, shedding his jacket with a theatrical flourish and tossing it out of sight without care. "Look who's back in town; the prodigal guest returns." Crowley mused before his eyes flicked to Aziraphale. "You might've mentioned you had company, Angel. I would've worn something more presentable." Crowley's voice was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something else, a hint of bitterness perhaps. He strolled closer, and you grinned as he made himself comfortable leaning against your chair, sitting halfway on the armrest. "But nobody tells me anything~"

Aziraphale's face flashed a lighthearted look of exasperation, his mouth opening and closing as he stumbled over his words. "Crowley! I didn't think—I mean, It was all a bit of a last-minute arrangement, I assure you."

"He's right. Plus, you're not exactly the easiest person to get ahold of." You commented with a smirk and Crowley lulled his head to the side dramatically, lowering his sunglasses to look you up and down.

There was a long moment of silence, the grin on your face fighting not to turn to a laugh as you stared at eachother. Rather dramatically once more, he scoffed and sighed.

"Oh, don't look so happy now. One would think you're actually glad to see me." Crowley smiled slyly, fixing his sunglasses back in place.

You could only laughed at that comment and Aziraphale regained your attention with a cough. A hint of jealousy flickered in his gaze as he noticed your attention being pulled away from the tea party he had so meticulously orchestrated. "If you are going to stay, Crowley, at least have the courtesy to participate properly."

"Ah~ and what, angel, would I be participating in?"

"Isn't it obvious? Tea time, my dear Crowley, tea time! And a proper one at that!" Aziraphale declared, almost triumphantly, gesturing to the china and assorted treats on the table. His eyes sparkled with a childlike glee, his enthusiasm for the tradition and formality of it all not at all dampened.

"Tea time?" Crowley cocked a subtle brow, glancing to you with an inquisitive smirk. "The angel's finally got you on that, has he?"

You giggled and nodded. "Aziraphale's been giving me quite the lesson in 'tea etiquette.'"

"And what do you think about it so far? Worth all the pomp and circumstance?"

Before you could answer, Aziraphale huffed indignantly, his cheeks still tinged with a faint flush. "Now, now, Crowley. There's no need for such sarcasm. Tea time is a time-honored tradition, and I believe our friend here is enjoying it quite thoroughly."

You nodded, your gaze shifting between the two as you fought to suppress more laughter. "Absolutely, Aziraphale. I appreciate all the effort you put into this."

If you didn't know better you'd say the grin Aziraphale wore after that was a smug one.

"See, Crowley?" Aziraphale said, sounding more than a little pleased with himself. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes bright with genuine affection. "The pleasure is all mine, my dear. It warms my heart to be able to share these traditions with someone as dear to me as you."

Crowley, not to be outdone and always happy to interrupt a nice moment, leaned over and mockingly inspected the tea trolley. "You'd think if they were that dear to you, you'd shill out a little more to eat than this pigeon picnic. This is hardly a meal, Angel. I've seen more substantial fare in bird feeders."

Aziraphale tutted in disapproval. "Indulgence is an essential part of any proper tea time, but moderation is key. It's not about the size of the meal, Crowley. A delicate balance must be struck between enjoying these delights and ensuring that the tea remains the star of the show. It's about the experience, the conversation, the ambiance—"

As amusing as it was, you were beginning to grow a bit worried by this back and forth.

"Ah, yes, ambiance," Crowley drawled, his voice dripping with exaggerated reverence before glancing back down at you. "What do you say, love? Want to follow this 'ambiance' with something a bit more substantial? We'll go for nosh up in Mayfair then." Crowley offered casually, nodding towards the door, and your expression lit up at the offer.

"That means get food, right?" You questioned with a rather doe-eyed enthusiasm and Crowley, pursed his lips to suppress a smile, patting you on the shoulder.

"Yes," he nodded with a satisfied expression, "that it does."

You grinned widely. The proposition was appealing, more specifically, the idea of getting to spend more time with both of them, regardless of the setting, was appealing. But you were quick to return your attention to Aziraphale, wondering how he would take this intrusion into his carefully planned afternoon.

As expected, the angel's face had turned a shade redder, his lips pressed into a tight line as he tried to contain his irritation. "I thought we were enjoying ourselves here," he said, a hint of hurt creeping into his voice.

"We are, Aziraphale," you were quick to reassure him, reaching out to pat his hand. "Everything is perfect." You were sure to emphasize, glancing to Crowley as you said so to make a point, as well as unintentionally prompting Aziraphale's ever subtle air of smugness return. "And if we do go out later, Aziraphale's coming too. Right, Crowley?"

"Of course~ Of course~ I thought that was implied." Crowley's grin widened, and he grabbed himself a chair, pulling it up to sit with the two of you now and looking quite pleased with himself. "See, Angel? We can have our cake and eat it too." He plucked a tea cake from the tray, holding it up in brief demonstration before taking a satisfied bite.

Aziraphale let out a long-suffering sigh but finally relented, his face softening as he looked back at you. "Well, if that's what you want, my dear, I suppose I can't object. But you must promise to enjoy every last bite of what I've prepared here first. I simply won't allow your first proper tea time to be derailed or distracted by the promises of this... dark varlet." He looked Crowley up and down with a prudish expression, but it was all very playful as he was already pouring the demon his own cup of tea.

"Oh, angel, you flatter me~"

"Sounds like a plan!" You agreed, smiling at both of them, and with Crowley included now, your very first tea time resumed.

[ladysharmaa]

Heir

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: telling Anthony she's with child after facing difficulties getting pregnant

It's been three years since the wedding between Anthony Bridgerton and Y/n. The love between the two was one of the strongest anyone could have ever seen, it was obvious that they were made for each other.

They met in a very unusual way. While Anthony was courting Edwina Sharma, Y/n was seen very close to Benedict, the two of them discreetly courting each other. However, they both quickly realized that the connection between them was better as a friendship than a romantic relationship, where things seemed quite forced and uncomfortable. At the same time, Viscount Bridgerton had also broken up with Edwina after she had doubts on their wedding day.

Y/n remembered that day perfectly. She was sitting next to Benedict and the Bridgerton family on the chairs waiting for Edwina to appear and the wedding to begin. She waved a fan, trying to alleviate the horrible heat in that room. The delay seemed to make everyone nervous, especially Anthony who had drops of sweat falling from his forehead and was speaking hurriedly to his mother.

Finally, the doors opened, but, to everyone's surprise, it wasn't Edwina walking down the aisle, it was Kate Sharma, her sister. She didn't look happy, walking with an air of confidence and a serious expression, her eyes never leaving Anthony. The two exchanged quick words, until Anthony dropped his head and closed his eyes in frustration, but he still nodded and Kate left.

After a few tense seconds, Anthony finally had the courage to look at the people watching the scene and said that the wedding had been cancelled, before leaving the room too, leaving the murmur that formed.

"What a scandal." a lady gossiped with another, the two starting a conversation about what could have happened, some theories being completely ridiculous and that could ruin the family's reputation.

Y/n couldn't help herself and turned to them with a polite but sarcastic smile. "My apologies for interrupting, but the only scandal here is the fact that your son, who decided to be a priest, got so many prostitutes pregnant that only they could fill an entire line of these."

The woman gasped in horror while Benedict, who was listening to the conversation, had difficulty containing his laughter. "You foolish girl, how dare—"

"Excuse me, but I have better things to do than sit here and imagine what could have happened." Y/n got up from her chair, looking at the women one last time before going to try and find Anthony.

Despite being acquaintances, since Y/n was so close to Benedict, the two had never spoken much. However, the woman was still worried about Viscount. When she found him, sitting on the porch floor with his head in his hands, Y/n kept him company, also sitting in silence. From then on, a relationship was formed between the two that quickly became inseparable.

"My love, daydreaming again?" Anthony hummed, breaking Y/n out of his thoughts. The man wrapped his shoulders around her waist and pulled her closer, gently kissing her head. "What are you thinking about?"

"How lucky I am."

"Well, I'm the lucky one. I have a beautiful wife who I love very much. I couldn't live without you." he confessed, causing a blush to appear on her cheeks as it always did when he pronounced his love for her. "I have to go finish some paperwork, but then I'll come see you so we can go visit Daphne's son."

Y/n nodded, giving him a quick kiss and sighing as she watched him go to his office. Daphne had just had her second child, a beautiful baby boy. The couple was going to visit the family so that Y/n could help with whatever her sister-in-law needed while Anthony and Simon were going to entertain the baby's brother, a toodler who demanded a lot of attention.

Even though Y/n loved their children with all her heart, it only reminded her of what she couldn't give Anthony. The couple had been trying to get pregnant since they got married, but without success. Anthony's wife had already cried on his shoulder many times because she couldn't carry the child, her heart breaking every time she started her period.

Even though the Bridgerton man assured her several times that all he needed to be happy was her, Y/n still wanted to give him a heir. She wanted the house to be full of their children's laughter and for them to be able to create a mini version of them, a product of their love.

However, he tried not to occupy his days thinking solely about that. It was enough of all the doctors she had seen who told her that it was her fault, that her womb was not capable of developing a baby. Of course, Anthony, as soon as he heard those accusations and the look of complete heartbreak from his wife, demanded that they leave his house.

Y/n she couldn't take the blame anymore, going into a state of shock and for three days she refused to get out of bed. However, her husband would not accept that. He just wanted her to be happy, even if they never had children.

"We don't need children to be happy, I only need you. We have so many nieces and nephews who can take on my role, and we can take care of them from time to time, I'm sure my siblings wouldn't mind." Y/n remembered Anthony telling her this firmly, his hands grabbing her cheeks as they both had tears in their eyes.

And since then, they've never brought it up again.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"Lady Bridgerton, are you feeling alright?" one of the maids asked worriedly when she saw Y/n enter the dining room for breakfast, immediately turning paler when she smelled the eggs. "Should I fetch for Viscount Bridgerton?"

She had time to shake her head before running to the nearest bathroom, dropping herself onto the cold floor and emptying the contents of her stomach. She could feel tears forming in her eyes, gagging at the sour taste that remained in her mouth. With unsteady legs, she got up and went to wash her mouth, the maids who entered the bathroom right after her helped her to hold herself upright.

However, she quickly realized that she wasn't finished yet when a new wave of nausea consumed her and she knelt again in front of the toilet. She felt strong hands, which she recognized as Anthony's, caress her face before grabbing her hair.

"Oh, Anthony…" she moaned in discomfort. "I don't want you to see me like this."

"Hey, none of that. Come here, love." he comforted, helping turn her around and supporting her against the wall when she was finished. He took a towel and started wiping her mouth.

When Y/n had the strength to open her eyes, she saw her husband's face analyzing her closely, looking for anything that could be wrong. The concern that swam in his eyes made her raise a hand and rest it on his cheek, and he turned slightly to be able to give her a lingering kiss on her palm.

"How are you feeling? I'm going to call the doctor. Are you okay with staying with one of the maids until I get back?"

Y/n held his arm, preventing him from getting up. "No, please don't go. I'm alright now. If this continues, I promise you can call the doctor, this is probably an one time thing. Let's not worry about it."

Anthony sighed, locked in a staring contest with the most important woman in his life. Accepting defeat, but with a serious look that screamed that if that happened again she would see a doctor, the Viscount picked up Y/n, carrying her to their bed.

Laying her down gently and helping Y/n take off her dress, the man pulled the covers up, making sure she was comfortable. Afterwards, he took off his shirt and pants, lying down next to her.

"What are you doing? We can't be in bed already, especially you. It's only morning, we still have many obligations to fulfill."

"No. My wife is not feeling well, and I'm going to take care of her. The paperwork can wait, as well as all my meetings. I just want you to be healthy." Anthony brought her closer to him, Y/n resting her head on his chest so she could hear his heartbeat. "Now, sleep. You need it."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It happened again. More specifically, two more times Y/n threw up her meals. The first time, she was alone and not wanting to worry anyone, she preferred to remain silent. After all, she could still be recovering from some kind of illness. The second time, it was in the presence of her most trusted maid, who she considered a friend, Joanne. And so she begged her not to tell the Bridgerton man about it, claiming she would see someone.

Alone, because in addition to feeling sick, she also realized that her period, which was always regular, should have already arrived. Her first thought was that she was pregnant. But upon thinking better, she questioned this possibility. After so many years of trying and failing, why would she be pregnant now? There must be another explanation.

However, she did not share these possibilities with Anthony because the last thing she wanted was to give him hope only to end up disappointed with her inability to give him a heir. Fortunately, Joanne accompanied her, helping Y/n explain to the doctor why the Viscount wasn't there with her.

And when she left that office, she could feel her legs losing strength. She placed a hand on her chest, starting to find it difficult to breathe in completely, still shocked by what the doctor had said to her.

Pregnant.

She was carrying Anthony's child in her womb, something they thought to be impossible. She was going to be a mother. Even though Anthony always assured her that he was completely happy with just her, Y/n knew that he would love being a father. At the beginning of their marriage, he had revealed to her that he dreamed of their family, their chhildren running through the garden while he chased after them and Y/n watched while sitting under the shade, her hand on her swollen belly.

And, by a miracle, this dream could become reality.

"Lady Bridgerton, are you ready to return to the mansion?" Joanne questioned after Y/n sat down in the carriage, her hands shaking together in her lap. Her gaze was understanding, in case she needed a few more moments alone to process this, but her lips held a small smile.

"I'm going to be a mother." she whispered.

"A wonderful, beautiful mother, I'm sure. Congratulations, Lady Bridgerton." she smiled, feeling enormous happiness for Y/n. She knew how much the couple had suffered. "Shall we return?"

Y/n nodded, no longer trusting her voice to speak. The woman took advantage of the short trip to process everything that was happening and before she knew it she was already in front of Anthony's office door.

With barely controlled excitement, she knocked on the door, waiting for permission to enter. When she heard Anthony's voice, she timidly opened the door, seeing that her husband was gathered with his brothers.

"Oh, my apologies. I didn't know your brothers were here. I can come back later."

"Nonsense, love. They can just leave." Anthony said, leaning back in his chair and opening his arms, an invitation for Y/n to come to him. The man, after already having Y/n in his arms, looked at Benedict and Collin, who were looking at him with a smirk. "Did you not hear? I told you to leave."

"Anthony, be nice!"

"It's not a problem, Y/n, we know when we are not wanted. Come on, Benedict, let's leave the lovebirds alone." Collin teased, getting up with his brother and leaving the room, but first, he took Y/n's hand and brought it to his lips. Benedict, for instance, kissed her cheek in a brotherly way. Despite their farewell with Y/n, Anthony was completely ignored by his brothers.

"Did you need something?" the man asked, putting all of his attention on Y/n, who began to fidget with her fingers nervously.

"Actually, I have to tell you something. I went to the doctor today…"

"What? Y/n, why didn't you tell me? Did you feel bad again? Nauseous? What did the doctor say? Are you okay?"

"Calm down, my love. I'm better than fine. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about being sick again, but I didn't want to worry you." she admitted, feeling guilty that Anthony was feeling precisely what she didn't want. "Well, I received some very interesting news."

"Please, just tell me what's wrong. I can't bear not knowing if something is wrong with you." he muttered with a pained look, as if he felt physical pain when thinking about the possibility of Y/n being hurt or unwell.

"Anthony…" she said his name with so much love that he shuddered. "I'm pregnant."

A silence formed in the room. Anthony took so long to react, just looking at her intensely as if he didn't know what was true or not, that Y/n began to feel worry invade her system. Was he not happy? Did he not want a child with her anymore?

"W-What?" Anthony finally managed to whisper, his heart having stopped as soon as he heard those words. "You're pregnant? With my child?"

"Well, obviously." Y/n rolled her eyes. "Are you happy?"

"Happy? My love, I'm more than happy. I love you so much. And I love our child too." the man kissed her fiercely, needing to convey all his love and adoration for her in that kiss.

He was addicted to his wife's lips, and now that he knew she was carrying his child, something animalistic was released inside him. Without giving any warning, he grabbed Y/n and twirled her around, without ever taking his lips off hers. Even so, Y/n giggled against them, circling her hands around his neck and holding on tight.

When her feet touched the floor, the Viscount knelt in front of her, his hands resting hesitantly on her stomach. He looked at Y/n in permission, who just nodded in encouragement and placed her hand on his brown hair, stroking his scalp.

Very gently, Anthony kissed his wife's still flat stomach. "Hello, you. I'm your father and I love you and your mother very much. You two are my entire life."

And the two stayed like that for the rest of the day, moving to the bedroom where Anthony continued to talk to Y/n's belly while exchanging passionate kisses with her. A beautiful new stage had begun in their lives, and they couldn't wait to meet their heir.

[igotanidea]

Just right: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

part 1 to too much

part 2 : not enough

part 3 : almost there

part 4: Stuck

A/N: I am NOT sorry for all the possible spellings and punctuation mistakes there. It's been almost 2 months since "Stuck" and I am FREAKING OUT posting this while crying because it's over. Enjoy and thank you <3

Warnings: end of series, 4082 words (!!)

***

He felt like a fool.

Reverting to his old ways instead of showing all the emotions coursing through his veins.

Turning around and walking away, leaving her alone, when all he wanted was to fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness.

But how would the viscount Bridgerton look, while doing so, observed by all the ton, including the two biggest gossipers in the person of lady Featherington and lady Danburry?

Seemed like whatever he would choose to do, he would end up being a dolt.

“Anthony!”

He didn’t even flinch hearing someone calling him, nor recognize the voice. Too stubborn to stop he only continued his marching pace, hoping for the love of god that whoever dared to try and approach him in this furibund mood would get discouraged.

Not very gentlemanly of him.

“Anthony!”

He quickened his pace.

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“What?” he almost spat spinning around on his heel, leaving a dent in the ground, taking on his most stern expression. If his obvious ignorance of the caller was not a deterrent perhaps the frown and fiery eyes would.

Supposedly it might have worked on anyone else, but soon enough Anthony transformed from the head of a family and the viscount into a little child, upon noticing that it was his mother, exhorting him to the halt.

“Mother…” he muttered looking at the ground, having only confirmed his previous theory of his role in this entire disarray.

“Let us take a walk.” Violet smiled brightly taking her eldest’s arm and imposing a walking rather than soldierly pace. “What did you Anthony?” the gentle expression never left her face even when she was scoffing her unmanageable child.

“Why would you think it was me that--?” the viscount took the last resort to protect his own pride, but the tightening grip on his forearm betrayed the fact that Violet knew the entire backstory, behind the marital disagreement.

“I raised you. I daresay it gives me enough knowledge to not answer your question. “

“If you let me –"

“Don’t, Anthony. Y/N has been nothing less but charming since the beginning.. "

"That's the way to describe her--" the man muttered

"Strong-willed and persuasive, surely, you wouldn’t take anything but, but charming nonetheless. So do tell me so we could remedy the damage before it arises further.”

“Shall you mistake me for Daphne and ask about my feelings—”

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“I am a man, mother. A head of the family.”

“Clearly said head has been missing guidance in the right direction.”

“Mother!”

“Do not raise your voice on me son.”

“Apologies…”

“Good.” Violet beamed serenely “Do you think me so little knowledgeable to ask your emotions? I do not. I’m merely asking for facts, which you clearly have such a strong inclination to.”

Anthony mumbled something once more.

“do you wish you lose your wife, viscount?”

“What?” such possibility never crossed his mind. Y/N’s anger, her hurt, pain and merciless avoidance – yes. Abandonment and lack of her presence nearby? No. She would never… She could never. Lord above, who was she thinking she was? A woman married into a noble family wanting to cause a scandal by resenting her husband?

And once again, while his heart should have been shattered and humble enough to clarify the turmoil, the sudden blood rush turned into clenched fists and ire. All because he could not bare the thought of losing her for good, however hiding behind all the negativity was easier. It was something he was used to for years.

Nevertheless it was impossible to deny the facts further. It was her influence that caused the improbable openness in his soul was the exact same reason of his spirit bleeding.

And he needed her back.

Each minute without her was a minute lost. A minute less in the so very limited time they were given as a miracle on earth.

“What do I do?” he raised gaze at his mother, now truly looking like a lost man. Man in love, who was probably not the most romantic and gentle one with words, but still deeply infatuated with the woman who gave her whole life to him.

“Do not fret my dear. We shall alleviate the situation immediately.”

***

Y/N’s feelings were beyond anything possible to describe with words.

There she was, with her feet rooted to the ground, wishing for – and willing to accept – apologies but met with the harsh reality of the stone wall of Anthony’s behavior.

Accompanied by Eloise, smirking like the know-it-all she was, and Benedict with the compassion written all over his face.

Presumably, shall they not be there, the young lady viscountess Bridgerton would abandon all the pretenses of a woman of her position and begun blubbering in the middle of the promenade. However, the most mischievous of Bridgerton siblings acted with wit and sense, involving their dear sister-in-law in a challenging conversation, capably hauling her away from prying eyes and gossipmongers, preventing any possible rumors about incongruousness.

***

For unmistakable reasons she was not in the mood to see their ludicrous older brother and with the sudden disappearance of Violet, Benedict and Eloise took the privilege to invite Y/N back to the Bridgerton’s family house and extend the invitation for indefinite period of time. After all, Anthony might have been the head of the family as he proudly announced to anyone who was willing to disobey his wished and/or not listen, but Benedict was the oldest bachelor of the house and was more than willing to make a few decisions of his own to finally be seen as something more than merely second son and waiting for his time. 

***

Violet returned home few hours later and accepted the presence of her daughter-in-law with a mysterious smile and not a single word of objection. As amazing and uplifting as such approach might have been, it was also highly surprising. Viscountess Bridgerton was well known for her mitigating skills and tendency to scotch conflicts almost immediately, especially in her own family.

And it raised a lot of questions and secrets that Y/N and Eloise tried to uncover spending the night in the former’s bedchambers, talking for hours, creating conspiracy theories and preparing for whatever may have been coming.

Cause the fact that Violet was going to help her oldest son in winning back his wife’s attention was more than conspicuous.

Only that Y/N, who was forgiving and accepting at the begging was slowly turning cold at the fact that her husband could not simply apologize but rather resorted to some intricate ways of regaining her favor.

After a year of marriage, should he not know her enough for independent ideas and not seek his mother's avail?

***

First thing happening in the very early morning, was Y/N’s most trusted servant humbly asking for her lady’s time, which was bizarre and – as any other family may have deemed – inadequate and even shaming.

Moreover, any other house would quickly discard the commoner showing at the mighty's doorstep but Bridgertons were prone to discarding rules in private and with those who earned their trust. Be it servants or nobles. And Y/N was no exception to the rule, welcoming her maid with a smile upon seeing the person from her own household.

“My lady.” The girl bowed so low, she almost touched the floor with her nose.

“My dear Laura, please stand up, there is really no need for that-“ Y/N grabbed her hands and forced the girl up. “I assure you that-“

“But Lady Violet and Miss Bridgerton –“

“I assure you that they do not expect you to kiss the ground they walk on.” Y/n almost laughed at Laura’s discombobulation. Poor one was doing everything in her power to not make her lady embarrassed and act like a good and obedient servant, almost expecting Violet or Eloise to be cruel and judgmental.

“Dear Y/N, did you give your helpers the idea that we are some sort of tyrants?” Violet send her daughter-in-law a honest smile, which immediately got Laura’s reaction in the form of blushing.

“Lady Bridgerton I apologies if my appearance is the dishonor on-”

She didn’t even finish the sentence, met with Y/N, Violet’s and Eloise’s laugh and a polite look from more balanced Francesca sitting on the chaise longue.

“Do not fret, my girl, we are more than happy to welcome you in our household.”

“Tha-thank you my lady…”

‘Now I assume you came to talk to your lady, so we shall give you some privacy. Come girls, make haste for the matter to cover is of utmost delicacy.”

“And how shall you know it mamma?” Hyacinth almost twitched her ears, not really understanding much of why Y/N was with them rather than with Antony, but curious as a young girl could be.

“Precisely mamma, how shall you know?” Eloise, immediately picked up her sister’s question, only not so susceptible to extenuations.

“Eloise Bridgerton, I shall expect you to practice the bowing before your incoming debut in front of the queen. Daphne made quite an impression and –“

“Daphne was deemed diamond of the season and such title is below my ambition.”

“Regardless, you do not want to trip or slip do you?”

Eloise (and everyone else) obviously remembered what happened to Featherington’s sisters and the embarrassment so with a heavy, exaggerated sigh and one quick, sharp, bright look at Y/N Eloise left the room, followed by her mother and sisters.

And once the lady and her trusted eyes and ears of the house were alone, who could stop the two of turning a lot more unmindful of societal norms?

“My lady, the lord has been quite annoyed since the quarrel you lordships have had. He even refused to eat his favorite meal.” Laura confessed with blushing cheeks

“Are you to tell me that Prescott prepared the roasted pork for Anthony after he was so unjust towards the lady of the house? I shall have a word about a loyalty with him upon my return.” Y/N satirized wholeheartedly.

“When shall you return my lady? Seeing as that viscount is not the one to have a change of heart and admit his wrongdoing easily?”

“He will Laura. One way or another I am fairly convinced my husband may take a long way to do so and take the aid of his mother whilst deciding. It’s just I am not fully convinced if the apology made with cheating are worth accepting.”

“Oh! You took the lower route here my lady forgive the audacity.”

“Just the route of a woman who expect honesty from her man.”

“Fair enough I suppose. But shall you be agitated my lady I take it you do not wish to accept the viscount bestowment?”

“Bestowment?” Y/N frowned a little in confusion “and what shall that be?”

“I do not know, my lady. I am merely a messenger—”

“I believed you to be on my side Laura.”

“And I am, my lady! But one do not object the command of the lord, that is clearly ready to vent his anger on the first soul that happen to be unfortunate enough to be around.”

“My god, you are a prattler!” Y/N laughed “where is that gift in question? Cause since it is mine either way we might as well get a little curious, shall we? Would be such a shame to put it to waste.”

Laura stood up from her chair and started heading to the corridor, but Hyacynth was first to barge into the room carrying some parcel that was almost bigger than her.

“Y/N! Is this that gift from Anthony!?” clearly she was eavesdropping  “Can we take a look, please? It’s so big I wonder what it is? Come on, open it up! Open it up!”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” Eloise muttered but there was no denying she was equally curious as her sister.

Y/N only rolled  her eyes, inviting all the girls over and opening the box. Fishing out the most beautiful and definitely expensive new dress. The color was perfectly matching Y/N’s complexion and the material delicate yet durable – Anthony knew his wife and her adventurous tendencies.

“It’s so beautiful and elegant” Francesca whispered touching the dress with delight.

“So what, he think he can just buy her the garment and she will forgive him?” Eloise scoffed “Men are so simple minded and belittling of women!”

“Try it on, Y/N!” Hyacinth encouraged, almost jumping from excitement

“Do not try it on! This would be relenting!” Eloise objected.

“He made a gesture!”

“It’s not a gesture! It’s an attempt of buying her forgiveness!”

“Y/N!”

“Y/N?!”

“Quiet!” Y/N finally managed to break through the noise of two sisters. ““No offence girls, but this is my marriage and my decision. One I have to make by myself. So thank you “ she smiled brightly but with a hint of annoyance “for your positions on things, but I am perfectly capable of weighting the significance of the gift, on my conviction to forgive or not forgive him.”

“Uhm. My lady” Laura cleared her throat “I’d like to elaborate that the viscount also made an invitation to one special place….”

“Do not go Y/N!”

“Stop interfering Eloise! Y/N you have to go!”

“For heaven’s sake, Violet is truly a saint for surviving you two!” “Uhm. My lady” Laura cleared her throat “I’d like to elaborate that the viscount also made an invitation to one special place….”

“Do not go Y/N!”

“Stop interfering Eloise! Y/N you have to go!”

“For heaven’s sake, Violet is truly a saint for surviving you two!”

***

Anthony was waiting for her in the garden outside some estate she had no idea existed. After all, Y/N has spent her entire life in London, rarely being invited to the cottage. And in this case it could have been used a leverage, not that he was aiming for measuring forces and cold calculation.

No.

He was walking back and forth, almost trampling a path in the ground in a place where it should never be. Nervous enough to anxiously fiddle with his fingers like a lady before her debut entering the society. Hoping she would come. Wishing for any entity in heaven might want to listen that she would take this dress he send her as an expression of humility rather than boosting like a rooster. Praying that Eloise wasn’t there with her sharp tongue and unrestrained thoughts to discourage his beloved from accepting both the gift and the invitation.

The minutes turned to hours and even his father’s pocket watch refused to work with Anthony in this important moment. Having no regard to the poor flowers any other plants standing no chances against his heavy riding boots, the time seemed to stand still.

For whatever it was worth it, Anthony Bridgerton swore to himself that he would rather turn into a sack of boned waiting in this desolate place than walk away while there was still a glimmer of hope she might appear. He was done and fatigued with missed opportunities, poorly chosen and ill-spoken words.

It was never his intention to said all those atrocious words to her.

Too much.

Dear Lord.

Now that he was thinking about it, his heart was capering in a way that filled him with self-hatred. After all the pain he might have caused her during that little hurtful exchange while she did nothing more than be there for him. Even if he not exactly wished for it. Even if he himself didn’t know that her presence in his life was the best thing that happened since his father’s death. If not since forever.

Anthony wasn’t the one to believe in signs or any spiritual influence on earth, but the more he was dwelling on his own misery, the more deliberative of their first meeting he was becoming.

It was late lord Bridgerton’s death anniversary and as any other year – he separated himself from the rest of the family. To show how adamant his heart and mind was and to underline that this was nothing more than just another day in a line of any other similar ones. But the truth was, he wanted to visit his father’s grave alone without any possible disturbances or havoc that his younger siblings could have caused. None of them really knew Edmund Bridgerton the way Anothony did. The first born son, the heir to the title, deprived of his father’s guidance and presence and forced to take responsibility for the family in way too young age.

He needed to be by himself, cause god forbid anyone seeing him showing any signs of humanity and indulging in grief.

And his family knew and accepted it.

She didn’t.

Just a stranger, strolling by herself in the area, looking like a commoner, having no regards to the sanctity of the moment nor the place she found herself in.

And worse for her – spotting Anthony in the never-seen moment of vulnerability written all over his face.

“Lord Bridgerton” she bowed in a way that showed that the savage, Anthony took her for, actually had manners. And that he knew him, but this was not so unexpected.

He only grunted in response to annoyed by an unfortunate set of circumstances that worked against her. The viscount himself was not going to bow to a girl that was clearly a servant, with messy hair and in a dress that was far from anything a woman, even of lower position should be seen in.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be, girl?” he muttered under his nose, throwing daggers with his eyes.

“I’m sorry my lord but-“

“You should be sorry. I am convinced your lady nor your lord will be pleased with the fact that their service wanders alone in an area that does not belong to them!”

“Service?” Y/N smirked looking at him with amusement and twinkling eyes. And Anthony with his youthful energy and virility could not miss the fact that she was actually pretty.

“Yes, service.” He hissed at her “now get out of here girl, before you get yourself in far more trouble from me and end up on the street!”

“I shall-“ she obviously was not going to let anyone maltreat her like that, but her acuity wore up that very moment. She noticed the weariness in viscount’s eyes, noticed the monument nearby, and realized what day of the month it was.

“Forgive me, my lord.” She bowed in respect “I shall be on my way. And I shall not mention this meeting to anyone, hopefully wishing for you to forget my impertinence.”

She was gone as fast as she appeared, and Anthony thought to never see her again.

Until the next rout Daphne was attending, where he actually did.

Immediately realizing the scope of his previous mistake, upon learning that the service girl was in fact Miss Y/L/N, the youngest daughter of Lord Y/L/N. And met with another look of those glistening eyes and amused face expression. Forced to accompany her for the evening, since apparently Lady Bridgerton and Lady Y/L/N has made some arrangements for the future.

He was thinking it was all just a coincidence back then, but now he came to conclusion that it must have been his father who send this girl into his life. Knowing better than him that she would turn his ways around, challenge him, test him patience mercilessly and yet – that she would be the one to love him unconditionally and whom he would love with all his broken and unperfect self.

And the burden of possibility of ruining it all for them was even more overwhelming.

He clasped his hands behind his back, walking shorter and shorter distances, turning back more and more often, stuck in his belief that he would stay here as long as she didn't show up, even if -

“Anthony.”

Viscount spun around so abruptly it almost caused him falling to the ground.

She came.

She truly came.

It was like meeting her all over again, back in time, back next to his father’s grave.

Only she wasn’t looking like a servant girl now.

She was wearing the dress he sent her, looking not only like a viscountess, but like a queen herself. His queen. His wife. His love. His everything.

Her skin was radiant due to the color of the material (just like Violet predicted), cheeks flushed, hair done in perfect curls surrounding her face, bright like a sun.

“Y/N….”

“It was so unwise on your part viscount to call upon me and invite me into a wild place a woman like me should never step foot on.” She said sternly, but the everlasting and never changing glistening of her eyes betrayed her true intention “and perilous, may I say? Far from the city? Lady travelling alone? So many hazards awaiting me on the way.”

“Benedict and Colin were following your post chaise.”

“Oh I knew I heard someone laughing on the way. But my coachman brushed my concerns off!”

“Did you really believed I would send my greatest treasure into the wild without proper security?” Anthony took a few steps forwards, reaching for her hands and placing gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“Your brothers?” Y/N let him show the courtesy, but raised eyes in skepticism of the words.

“Believe me my lady, you should never underestimate the man of the Bridgerton house.”

“In what aspect my lord?”

“In every aspect, dear.” He looked deep into her eyes.

“Why did you ask me to meet you here?” Y/N quickly averted her eyes, because Anthony’s gaze were so full of passion, love and genuine remorse and apology she found herself falling into his charms. And this couldn’t have been so easy for him. “You sister discounselled me on coming here.”

“And yet, you came my lady.” Anthony reached for her chin and slowly, gently and with tenderness turned her face towards him so that their eyes had to meet again.

“Anthony I –“

“My love, I am sorry.”

“this is not—”

“Let me speak” he hushed her, not breaking eye contact. “I asked you here, because this is the very place where my father asked for my mother’s hand. Where he pledged her his undying love, support and loyalty. And you, out of all people in the world, learned how much I cherish my father’s memory and his legacy.

“Anthony-“

“Therefore, here I am. Standing in front of you, expressing my deepest condolences-“

“Oh, dear lord, Tony!” she cried out in frustration “stop using the words you would say to me if Lady Whistledown were nearby! Tell me how you feel!”

How he felt was not with words.

How he felt was expressed by the way he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to his chest, capturing her lips in the searing but gentle kiss that conveyed more than any noble and dignified words of a lord could.

I love you.

By his strong arms encompassing her like a shelter from the storm.

I won’t ever let go of you.

By tender caress of her hair and back.

I will always cherish you.

By the way his lips were moving against her, whispering silent words understood only by two souls forevermore yearning for each other.

I am sorry.

She was the first one to pull back for air, reluctantly so.

“My love. My beloved.”

She smiled at him, connecting their foreheads, allowing his arms to tighten around her waist and waiting for what was coming next to assess the truth behind his words.

“Am I too much now?” she whispered

“You are always too much. To much for me to keep. To much for me to even wish and pray for. Too much of a blessing in my life. Too much in the best possible sense and—”

This time It was her who cut him off by a kiss, silencing anything else that might come from his lips. He was honest and sincere. And if he was trying to apologize by saying anything else and backing out on what he said back there she probably would not forgive him sensing manipulation. But this?

“I forgive you.” She whispered against his lips.

“Thank God.”

“Is this cottage inhabited or--?”

“No. It’s not. And I intend on taking advantage of it right this moment.” He grabbed her and carried inside bridal style, ready to not get back to London for at least a couple days.

(spoiler alert below)

I got a request for a fluff pregnancy fic.... <3

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[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part I

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you've been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month's time.

Ever since you were little, you found solace in poetry. Your mother highly encouraged your governess to have you read any and every poetry book that was ever made. The imagery and feelings it produced was something you never experienced before.

After your mother died, your father forbade you from reading poetry. He forbade you for ever mentioning your mother again. Their love was strong and true. As a result, it caused your father deep heartache. He became cold, heartless, and cruel. A drunkard and a gambler. Fortunately, his sister, your aunt, had moved in and became lady of the house. She became your mother figure, but she could only do so much.

She snuck you poetry books when she could. The words now being the only part of your mother you had to connect to.

Because of this love, you began to write poetry yourself. You only ever shared it to your aunt and friend, Kate Bridgerton nee Sharma, another lover of stories and poetry. Both having expressed their hopes of you publishing your writing some day.

"Maybe some day," you'd always say.

What they didn't know was that you did publish your poems. You went under a man's pseudonym, Arthur Talbot. His poetry books were becoming popular among the ton and it brought you joy and a sense of thrill whenever someone mentioned his name to you.

You'd recite your his poetry readings held at Lady Danbury's often. Everyone was always in awe of how the words poured out of you with intense and deep emotion.

But the one who was most taken with them and you, was none other than Benedict Bridgerton.

_______________________

The small group break out into applause and you curtsy. Lady Danbury walks up to you with a proud grin on her face, "Another splendid performance, Miss L/N. I can tell you deeply resonate with Talbot. "

You bow, "Thank you, Lady Danbury. His words mean a lot to me. It's as if he and I are one." You hold back a laugh as you express your gratitude to the hostess.

"Well, I think this calls for a break," the older woman turns to face her guests, "Everyone please enjoy some refreshments."

People begin to disperse, leaving the sitting room for other parts of the Danbury estate.

You're standing off to the side, watching those around you, when your dear friend, Benedict, approaches you. You smile wide at him, "Ben!"

"Another splendid performance, Miss L/N," he lifts his glass to you.

You chuckle, "Thank you. But I think Arthur Talbot deserves just as much praise. They're his words after all."

Benedict nods, "Yes, but you perform his words so beautifully."

You look away, feeling a heat crawl up your cheeks. Benedict clears his throat, "I take it you still have no marriage prospects since you haven't mentioned anyone courting you."

You look back up at him and snort, "Ben, this is my fourth year in society. I highly doubt I'll ever find a man willing to marry me at this point." You cast your eyes down to play with a thread on your skirt, "No one wants to be married to someone who has gambling drunkard father. Doesn't matter if he's a Lord or not."

"If my brother, Anthony, managed to find love and a wife, you will to, Y/N."

You scoff, "How dare you put me in the same category as Anthony."

"I agree," you turn to see said brother and Kate, approaching you, arm in arm, "You're much better than my husband," Kate says with a smirk.

"Still disgustingly in love, I see," you arch a playful look at your friend.

"Very much so, I'm afraid."

Anthony unhook his arm from Kate's and moves towards Benedict, "Come, brother. Let us let the ladies socialize." He takes Benedict's glass and downs it in a gulp.

The younger brother frowns, "I was drinking that."

"Then we shall grab another and drinks for the ladies," he pats his brother's shoulder and Benedict groans, following his brother out of the room.

You and Kate take a seat on the couch and catch up while the men grab drinks.

_____________________

"So, have you finally decided to court Miss L/N?" the eldest Bridgerton asks.

"We are friends, Anthony. Nothing more."

"So you don't love her anymore?" Anthony asks with a curious gaze, taking a sip of brandy.

"...I didn't say that. Besides, you originally didn't want me involved with her because of her father. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, well, we are the not the sins of our parents. Miss L/N is a lovely woman. She's smart, well-read, not to mention she laughs with you even when your jokes aren't funny."

Benedict's brows furrow, "I am funny!"

Anthony takes another sip of his drink and sighs, "What I mean to say is that I think you two would be a fine match. Besides, it's not like any other man is interested in her."

Benedict immediately clenches his jaw and takes a leering step towards his older brother, "Don't talk about her like that."

Stunned by the sudden change of his brother, Anthony takes a cautious step back, "I meant no harm, brother, but is it not true? It's been years since she's stepped into society and very few men have made an effort to court her."

Benedict lets out a deep breath and apologizes, "I'm sorry."

Anthony clears his throat, "All I'm saying is that you've had several chances to be with her. If you don't take the opportunity, you may lose her."

_________________________

"I apologize for missing another one of your recitals," Kate says, grabbing your hand and intertwining her fingers with yours. Ever since she married Anthony, you two have become acquainted due to your paths crossing whenever you came to see Benedict.

You shrug, "You've heard it all before, Kate. Just another one of Talbot's poems."

"You're quite smitten with this poet, it seems."

You laugh, "I can't help it! His words are as if he speaks to my soul!"

"Maybe I should write to this Talbot and see if he'd like to ever attend a Bridgerton ball."

You shake your head, "Oh no. Please, don't. People say never to meet your heroes, so I don't think I would want to meet him."

Kate shrugs, "As you wish."

Anthony and Benedict come back with drinks in hand. Anthony hands Kate a glass and Benedict hands you one.

"Thank you, Ben," you give him a grateful smile and he smiles back, "Of course."

He sits in the chair beside you and you two fall into discussion about the poem you recited, all the while Kate and Anthony give each other knowing looks.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

PART ONE

After accidentally causing Reader’s very first orgasm, Anthony does what any gentleman would do: he teaches her how to make it happen again, anytime she likes… ♥️

In keeping with Bridgerton’s vibe, Reader is a young woman with zero sexual knowledge or experience. I imagine she’s around nineteen or twenty years old and while she has had suitors, none of them have inspired in her the feelings Lord Bridgerton evokes…

Lord Anthony Bridgerton. Six days have passed since your carriage ride together, and instead of making peace with yourself over your embarrassing display in front of him, you now have even more questions than answers.

Firstly, what was that overwhelming rush of feelings you experienced in his carriage? And secondly, why had Lord Bridgerton reacted so calmly while watching you carry on as you did? And thirdly, had he never really intended to call on you, even though he said he would?

In truth, Anthony Bridgerton had been preoccupied with thoughts of you since delivering you home last week. He’d originally intended to call on you, but felt that approaching the subject of what he could obviously tell was your very first orgasm would be impossible while in the company of others. So, he’d conceived an admittedly unconventional plan to discuss the matter with you, in private…

Anthony knew you had questions, and as a gentleman, he didn’t want to leave you confused or even worse, feeling as if you’d somehow done something wrong. Anthony was well aware of the fact that for young ladies, sexual education was limited to none. With all the privileges of a male upbringing, Anthony had acquired plenty of sexual knowledge and experience without the attached shame and social stigma a woman would receive if expressing herself in such a manner…

The sun had gone down over Mayfair, a crisp Autumn evening settling in as its residents did the same. You’d retired to your room for the night, ready to sleep and hopefully dream of carriage rides with Anthony Bridgerton, and without embarrassment. Being so close to Anthony had felt exhilarating, at first, until that terrible-wonderful-beautiful-terrifying surge of energy had taken hold of you. If only you could repeat the events of that afternoon, the ones that involved Anthony’s recusing you, his chivalry, his act of kindness…his touching you…without the resulting fit that had seized hold of your body. A realization washed over you. Could what you experienced have somehow been caused by Lord Bridgerton? He had observed the extent of your outrageous display with complete ease. It was a bit irritating, in fact, that he seemed to understand exactly what was happening to you, while you remained completely overwhelmed and in the dark.

You gazed at the ceiling, frustrated tears burning your eyes. What would happen if Anthony told anyone of your frightful episode? You could only assume he had not spoken word of it to anyone, because surely Lady Whistledown would have mentioned it in her latest scandal sheet. Clearly, Anthony Bridgerton was an honorable man. You chided yourself for thinking anything less than a gentleman of him moments ago.

Suddenly, a shadow at your window caught your eye. Usually, birds didn’t perch on your windowsill this late in the day…and what else could have caused the shadow, besides a bird? You closed your eyes, preparing for sleep. A dull thudding sound came from the direction of your window, lurching your body forward in bed and forcing your eyes open wide.

Anthony Bridgerton was crouched outside your window. Surely, you must be dreaming. And what a scandalous dream to be having, you thought to yourself with a giggle. It was only when Anthony tapped his knuckles against the glass that you realized, much to your horror, that you were most definitely not dreaming.

He smiled and pointed to the latch on your side of the glass, making a turning motion with his hand. You left your bed for the window, quickly grabbing a robe to cover your nightgown, which did little to conceal the shape of your breasts.

You unlatched the window and lifted it only so far as to hear each other speak. “Lord Bridgerton!” you whispered harshly. “Are you mad??”

Anthony’s smile faded only slightly, his head tilted in thought. “Possibly,” he conceded. “But nevertheless, I had to speak with you.”

“And why now?” you asked. “At the most inappropriate time? In the most inappropriate way-??”

“-Because,” Anthony interrupted. “The nature of my intended conversation with you demands privacy.” He sighed, glancing down at the latch again. “Now, are you going to allow me inside?” Anthony asked. “Or would you prefer I catch my death of cold? Or perhaps-.” He peered over his shoulder at the ground below. “-Falling to my death would better suit your-.”

“-Oh for heaven’s sake!” you snapped, throwing open the window, to Anthony’s delight. “Hurry in before someone sees you…”

He swung his legs over the windowsill, nodding a polite “thank you,” while keeping his steps as quiet as possible. Your eyes swept over the yard, trying to make out the face of anyone who might have witnessed the Viscount Bridgerton of all men climbing through your bedroom window. Thankfully, the grounds looked bare; you sighed gratefully, content with remaining free of scandal. For now, at least.

You turned to find Anthony seated on your bed, a sight that nearly gave you a heart attack. He saw the horrified look on your face, and immediately stood up- “Forgive me,” he said. “I did not wish to offend you. I find it…” He paused. “…Difficult, to know where you and I stand…to judge the nature of our relationship, after-.” Anthony swallowed, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

“-After my frightful display in the carriage?” you offered, and he nodded.

“Yes,” Anthony replied. “Which, to be completely transparent, is exactly the reason I called on you tonight-privately,” he emphasized. “Because the nature of such a conversation is surely too sensitive as to be eavesdropped by others, do you not agree?”

Your eyebrows lifted, confusion written all over your face along with a blush of shame spreading over your cheeks. “People fall ill regularly, Lord Bridgerton,” you said, trying to calm the embarrassment making your voice tremble. “I fail to see how my…spell, though humiliating, as you seem eager to remind me, should warrant such a clandestine meeting as this...”

Anthony took a step closer; you flinched backward. “I do not wish to harm you,” he insisted. “Nor do I mean to imply wrongdoing of any kind on your part. If anything, it is I who acted thoughtlessly in not calling on you sooner, for not explaining that your-.” He smiled softly. “-Spell, or, falling ill as you call it, was not humiliating at all…”

You realized, for the first time in six days, that the feeling had returned. It stirred between your thighs like a dangerous, delicious secret. And while you couldn’t understand how, you were somehow sure that Anthony knew of your secret, too.

He took another step closer, and this time, you didn’t move backward. “Are you familiar with…” Anthony chose his words carefully. “…With the ways a woman’s body experiences pleasure?”

Your eyes widened; Anthony realized he may need to proceed with even more caution than he’d anticipated.

“When you…feel good,” he tried, watching your eyes for any sign of understanding. “That warmth you experience…inside your body…”

Anthony took another small step closer; you swallowed, feeling as if all the air had suddenly left the room. “…When you…touch yourself…”

He saw the lack of understanding in your eyes, and asked “you do touch yourself…don’t you?”

You shook your head, bewildered by Anthony’s lack of actual explaining. “Of course I touch myself, Lord Bridgerton,” you replied matter-of-factly; he seemed surprised by your blunt response. “I touch myself every day.”

“I’m glad to hear-.”

“-Everyone touches themselves every day-.”

He tipped his head in thought. “Well, it’s doubtful everyone-.”

“-In fact, I fail to see how that explains anything about my behavior last week, Lord Bridgerton,” you finished. Anthony looked slightly confused, and asked “when you touch yourself…do you not feel the way you felt in the carriage?”

You shook your head, embarrassment washing over you again. “No,” you replied. “I’ve never felt anything comparable to that while touching myself.”

Anthony considered his next question, and his reasons for asking it, carefully. “How do you touch yourself?” he asked, worrying immediately that he’d gone a step too far. Everything about this conversation was becoming more inappropriate by the second, but at least you seemed to have some experience in pleasuring yourself. It was a good start, Anthony reasoned.

You didn’t seem offended by his question in the slightest. “I touch myself each time I pull on my gloves, for example,” you explained, still not at all sure how this was relevant. “I brush my hair, which means I must touch myself to do so…” You continued to describe absolutely innocent everyday examples of ways in which you touched yourself, none of them pertaining to masturbation, as Anthony soon became aware.

He held up a hand to stop you, a gentle yet frustrated smile on his face. “While all of the examples you’ve given do indeed describe touching oneself,” Anthony replied, his smile fading. “They do not describe the manner of touching that would arouse feelings like the ones you experienced during your…spell, in my carriage.”

You stared at him blankly, completely confused. “How else would one touch themselves, my lord?” you asked. Anthony’s chest dipped as he exhaled, deeply. He hadn’t stopped thinking of the sounds you made in his carriage the week prior…of how you looked seized with pleasure, your pretty features contorted in ecstasy…the way your scent had remained in his carriage, how he’d used it to get himself off on the way back from your home…

Anthony knew he was treading on very dangerous ground. But despite his better judgement, he found the words he should not say passing through his lips, and his fingers drawing closer to touch your cheek: “Perhaps I might teach you, then?”

Your skin warmed beneath Anthony’s touch, his fingertip tracing your cheek and resting on your lips. It was all too much, the racing of your heart, the intensity of his gaze holding yours like no man had before. The beautiful ache between your legs was now pulsing, throbbing in time with your heartbeat.

“May I teach you?” Anthony asked again, softly. His thumb stroked the curve of your chin; your legs felt weak, unable to hold you. “Yes…yes,” you replied, every inch of you trembling. “Please…”

Anthony’s lips curved in a slight grin, but his behavior retained the calm sensibility of an instructor preparing to teach. He guided you toward your bed, gently imploring you to “lie back.” You followed Anthony’s direction, taking his hand as it was offered. His lips parted when your robe slipped off your shoulders, revealing the curve of your breasts, your peaked nipples lifting the fabric. You moved to cover yourself, but Anthony stopped you. “Do not be embarrassed,” he murmured, his voice low, sincere. “Your body is beautiful, (Y/N). It should not be a source of shame…not here. Not now.”

Anthony brought your hand to his lips, pressing your index finger to them in a pretend ‘shh.’ “No secrets,” he whispered. You whimpered softly, unconsciously pressing your thighs together, attempting to soothe the tension between them. Anthony noticed your discomfort…every part of him noticed. His cock twitched at the sound of your arousal, at the way your scent lifted through the thin fabric of your gown and straight to his nose. He watched your body tense as you tried to fend off the inevitable; you were going to come. And Anthony was going to watch it happen, again.

He loosened the cravat at his neck, the heat in the room increasing by the minute. He led your hand over your breasts, watching you gasp as your nipples perked to meet your palm. “That’s a good girl,” Anthony praised, his voice slightly strained. “Do you see the way your body responds?” He exhaled slowly, his cock pressing uncomfortably against the restraint of his trousers. “Now,” Anthony continued. “Bring your hand lower, like so…”

He guided your touch downward, dusting along your belly. You watched with widening eyes as your fingers moved closer to the space that throbbed more intensely with every breath you took. Anthony swallowed, feeling his resolve weaken. He had to keep himself under control; you were fragile, completely unaware of just how vulnerable a position you truly were in. A less honorable man than he would likely take advantage of an innocent young woman in such a state, having given him her full trust, legs spread and waiting for his command. Anthony clenched his jaw and resolved to continue your lesson, his desires forced into check.

He paused your hand just above the tender space you’d never touched, that no one had touched before. A space that in some ways belonged to Anthony already, as only he seemed able to arouse these desires in you from the start. How fitting, then, that he should be the one to guide your hand in exploring yourself, to the place that swelled and wept only for him…

Anthony’s erection was becoming distracting. He wondered if you’d notice, and ask about it. Thankfully, you seemed too consumed by the sensations affecting your own body to notice anything around you, for which Anthony was grateful. If you did ask to see it…looking all wide-eyed and innocent at his cock…asking why it stood like that, why he looked so intense-did it hurt…? What is it for…? Can you show me, my lord…? Anthony knew he’d crumble like a pastry and end up doing god only knows what…

He pressed his wrist against it, a subtle attempt at soothing away some of the pain denying himself was causing. Instinctively, you’d pulled your hand (and Anthony’s covering it) further between your legs, till your touch was hovering just above your clit. Anthony’s eyes were hooded, his lips parted and dry as he watched you. “Touch yourself, (Y/N),” he murmured, his voice husky, wavering. “Allow your body to tell you what she needs…”

Anthony gently lowered both his hand and yours, his fingertips fanning over your clit. You drew in a sharp breath, your hips bucking, the muscles in your stomach tensing as you lurched forward. “Shh…shh,” Anthony comforted you. “It almost hurts, does it not? A feeling so intense, it frightens you…like bringing your fingers too close to a flame…”

He lightly circled his fingertips over your clit again, pulling a helpless whine from your throat. Anthony’s cock twitched against his wrist, begging for relief. Sweat beaded along his hairline, his brow tense with concentration as he forced himself to maintain control.

“Focus,” he said, both to himself and you. “Lean into the feeling, frightening though it is…” Anthony used your hand to massage yourself. Your heels dug into the bed in response. “Let go of all the tension you carry,” Anthony whispered, his hand working over you. “Give in to the feeling….give in to...”

Anthony’s words failed as all his senses were consumed by the image, the scent, the sound, of you coming undone beneath his hand. You whimpered and wept, soft sobs of pleasure that spilled from your lips as your body convulsed. Your feet kicked wildly, making a mess of the bedding, sheets tossed this way and that as you flailed. In your beautiful struggle, your nightgown was thrown above your knees, putting your pretty, pouty lips on full display for Anthony. The scent of you was abundant, no longer inhibited by the cover of your gown. Anthony abandoned his pretense of modesty, aggressively rubbing the outline of his cock through his trousers while his other hand continued clutching yours.

He pulled away suddenly, a labored groan roaring up from his chest. You were just beginning to come down, your mind awash with the fuzzy, delirious bliss of orgasm. Anthony climaxed beside you, grunting through his release, filling the front of his trousers with semen. He turned to find you lying with your arms outstretched, your chest rising and falling and glistening with sweat. Your legs were still spread wide, your embarrassment long-abandoned, a big, satisfied smile lighting your eyes. Your smile faded just slightly when you noticed the look of exhaustion on Anthony’s face.

“My lord?” you said, concerned. “Are you alright?”

Anthony chuckled, nodding his assurance that he was well. “I assure you,” he replied, kneeling to sit at your bedside. “I am more than alright…”

He took your hand in his once again, feeling the slickness of your arousal on your fingertips.

“Did you…” you began, unsure how to ask. “…Did you do what I did, just now?”

Anthony’s brow lifted, his smile widening. “In fact, I did,” he said, to which you replied, in happy surprise, “I did not know that men could do it, also!”

Anthony threw his head back laughing, before quickly admonishing himself for making too much noise. He leaned closer and gave your forehead a chaste kiss, before making his way to your window.

“My lord?” you whispered. Anthony paused at the windowsill.

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“If there’s anything else you might wish to teach me,” you said. “You’ll find my window open, from now on.” A mischievous grin turned the corners of your lips. “Remember that, will you?”

Anthony smiled, his mind already teeming with a thousand filthy things he wanted to show you. “I will remember,” he said, and exited through your window. ♥️

[iwritefandomimagines]

NO LONGER IN DENIAL

masterlist

pairing: anthony bridgerton x reader, bestfriend!benedict bridgerton x reader

description: anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

warnings: angst, jealous!anthony cos i’m a sucker for him hehe, benedict being a shit stirrer who i adore, fluffiness at the end <3

“Lady Y/N is joining us for dinner this evening, I believe,” Benedict hummed, a small smirk gracing his face as the eldest Bridgerton’s head snapped up, “Mother told me she hopes to, anyway.”

Anthony watched as his sisters fussed excitedly over seeing you, for it had been at least a week since you had graced Aubrey Hall with your presence and they missed you dearly.

Anthony had too, of course, though he’d never admit it was for any reason beyond how highly regarded you were in his family and how much he enjoyed your friendship.

“I very much look forward to seeing her,” Benedict continued, still smirking devilishly, “Though I did have the pleasure of bumping into her as she left Modiste yesterday.”

Anthony furrowed his eyebrows at his brother, “You didn’t tell me that, brother.”

“Must I share every occasion I see Lady Y/N with you, Anthony?” he quipped in reply, crossing his arms over his chest as Colin stifled a laugh, well aware of what was going on, “One might think you jealous.”

“Jealous? You jest, brother. She is my closest friend, I am simply surprised you would not mention even in passing that you saw her,” Anthony spoke through gritted teeth, “Regardless, I look forward to seeing her.”

“Ah, perfect timing!” Francesca grinned as Lady Y/N’s arrival was announced moments later, and in you walked with a gloriously bright smile on your face, though this faltered as you saw the bitter look on Anthony’s face.

“Is everything alright, my Lord?” you asked shyly, taking a few steps towards Anthony, whose expression softened at this, “Have we chosen a bad day to visit? If so I apologise—,”

Suddenly Benedict was at your side now, “It’s quite alright, my dear Lady Y/N. We are all pleased to see you. Might we take a turn about the room? We have some things to discuss!”

“No fair! You saw her yesterday, I want to show her my embroidery,” Hyacinth pouted, though Benedict raised his brow at her and flickered his eyes in Anthony’s direction as if to explain his actions.

Everyone in the family was well aware of the affection shared between you and Anthony, even if he dared not admit how he felt because of his apparent desire not to marry.

Benedict believed he just needed a push to see that you had myriad other options, and that he could only push away his feelings for so long.

“I’m sure Benedict has something important to share, my dear Hyacinth, but I would love to see your embroidery promptly after,” your voice was like honey to the eldest Bridgerton, who fought off the desire to make his own request for a moment of your time, “There is enough of me to go around! My brother will be arriving shortly, also.”

Benedict began whispering almost as soon as you had crossed the room, endeavouring to make you well aware of his plan so as not to cause any discomfort to you.

He didn’t wish for you to be confused by his sudden flirtation, so immediately indulged you with the details of his concocted plan to induce jealousy in his older brother that might finally allow him to be honest about his feelings.

With some hesitation, you accepted his plan.

Benedict was well aware of your feelings for his brother, and you knew this — after all, you had confessed it to him yourself because you trusted him dearly. Much to Anthony’s dismay, nowadays Benedict was your closest friend of all.

Anthony had once filled that role, but as each year passed and your youth slipped away, you had fallen far too in love with him to be so satisfied with a friendship as you were with Benedict.

Benedict was your best friend — Anthony was the love of your life.

Though he did not admit it, you were the love of his too. This is why Benedict’s interference was so necessary as far as the second Bridgerton son was concerned.

It was unfair for you to believe your love unrequited when it was merely his stubborn refusal to see beyond his ‘duty’ as Viscount and head of the household that prevented him from giving in to his feelings.

The plan seemed already to be working by the time you were seated for dinner, far closer to Benedict than to Anthony who sat at the other side of the table.

He scowled as he watched his brother gossiping with you, still irritated by both his earlier remark about seeing you yesterday and his persistence with being the only person in the room to maintain your attention.

“It is working, my dear friend,” Benedict beamed across at you, leaning forward to both better execute his plan and so that you could hear him better, “If looks could kill, my brother would have seen me long since dead and buried.”

You brought your hand to your mouth, hiding the giggle that escaped as you waited to calm before looking across at Anthony, “Benedict!”

You drew in a deep breath, composing yourself before glancing across at the Viscount and catching his eye immediately. His glare was suddenly no more, his lips curling up in a smile that sent your heart racing.

You mouthed a small “Hello,” to him, blushing crimson at the intensity of his stare. Despite the conversation going on around him, all he could do was look at you.

The staring contest you seemed to find yourself in was swiftly broken by Benedict’s voice calling your name again, returning you to conversation with him.

The rest of dinner passed much the same — small conversations here and there with the other Bridgertons, longing stares from an increasingly restless Anthony, and teasing comments from Benedict, who was certain that Anthony would be confronting you tonight.

“We should probably call for our carriage, I suppose,” you smiled sadly, disappointed with both how quickly the night had passed by and the fact you’d hardly spoken to Anthony throughout, “I’ve had such a lovely evening. I only wish I could stay longer!”

“You could!” Anthony exclaimed, an unusual outburst for the eldest sibling but one that made all at the table laugh as he rose to his feet, “We could have a room put up for you. It is late, and Wellsbury Hall is quite the distance.”

You bit your lip, smiling at him as he sat back down again, “Oh we couldn’t trouble you with that, my lord.”

��Perhaps my dear friend is right,” your brother disagreed, “It is getting late, and if it is no trouble we would be incredibly grateful. And I hope we might repay you with an invitation to Wellsbury in the near future? I hope to host a ball before the season ends so that my darling sister might finally find a husband.”

His eyes flickered between Benedict and Anthony for a moment and you realised that he must have been in on Benedict’s little plan.

You looked around the room cautiously at every smiling face, before settling your gaze on Anthony with a nod, “Very well then. I’d be delighted. The many childhoods spent staying here overnight are often much missed.”

Lady Bridgerton grinned, “Fantastic. Then it is settled,” she turned to the maids stood by the door, “Please prepare two rooms for our guests as quickly as possible. It is, after all, late, and I’m sure they will soon wish to rest.”

The way Anthony watched you for the rest of dinner made you impossibly nervous.

When the maids told you which rooms were readied, you stood to retire to bed, but not before Benedict offered to show you to the room as it was in his opinion the best decorated.

“Brother, I don’t believe it’s appropriate for you to show Lady Y/N to her room,” Anthony huffed, having had enough now of him being stuck to you like heavy-duty glue, “Perhaps you should allow one of our maids to kindly do so.”

“It is quite alright, Anthony. We are in the comfort of our own home, and I know Y/N quite well enough,” Benedict sing-songed, “Unless you would prefer to show her? The maids are quite busy clearing up.”

Anthony’s jaw clenched at his brother’s comment about knowing you ‘quite well enough’ and so he found himself at your side quickly.

“In fact yes, perhaps I should,” he agreed, a sternness in his tone you’d become used to again today. He was so much gentler with you, but today with you so seemingly far from him he has grown stoic again, “After all, I am the head of this household and you have not let me spend a minute with my closest friend, hm?”

Colin interjected now, aware of all eyes on the conversation, “Perhaps Lady Y/N can make the decision herself?”

“I—,”

“Fine, I concede,” Benedict raised his hands in surrender, “I suppose I’ve not let her leave my side this evening, though you cannot fault me for that. I will bid you goodnight, Y/N. Goodnight brothers.”

He took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips for just the gentlest of kisses to the back of it, before he bowed and quickly left the room.

With Anthony facing the other way, towards you, Benedict turned to shoot you a wink before leaving, and nerves bubbled in your gut at the unknown of what was to come.

The kiss to your hand was the final straw for Anthony, who linked his arm with yours and lead you out of the room without another word to anyone else.

You were silent for the walk, but once you stopped still outside of the room you were to sleep in Anthony turned to stand in front of you, his breathing jagged as his eyes searched your face for clues to why he was feeling so furious at your friendship with Benedict.

“Is my brother courting you?” he came right out and asked it, his chest heaving and yours doing so now too as you shook your head.

“Not at all, my lord,” you bit your lip again, before looking down at the ground to avoid his gaze.

He brought his index finger to your chin, lifting your face so that you were forced to look at him again, “And do you wish him to be?”

Again you shook your head, but his finger never left your skin for a moment.

“I was so sure—,”

“Forgive me, my lord, I have just been finding comfort in his friendship of late as I see him regularly about town,” you frowned, suddenly even more conscious of how little time you spent with Anthony in recent weeks.

He leaned ever so slightly closer, “Finding comfort in his friendship? And what of ours?”

“Our friendship, my lord? I—,”

“I apologise, Y/N, but I do not like to see you so close with my brother. Not least because of the fear of a scandal if others saw his behaviour,” he gritted his teeth, “He touches you too often. Leans too close to speak with you and it… it is misleading.”

You gulped, “Why would you be so infuriated by the notion of him courting me, my dear Anthony? He is your brother, and he cares for me. Even if it is not him I wish did so.”

He cocked his head in confusion now, before his eyes widened in realisation of his brother’s scheming. And in considering that, he realised that it had worked.

He’d never wanted to marry, and especially never for love.

But with you stood right there at his finger tips, smiling up at him nervously with a twinkle in your eyes, he threw caution to the wind and realised that you had changed that in him.

He could no longer deny his desire to hold you, to have you entirely as his, to make you his Viscountess.

“Who do you wish to treat you as such, my lady?”

“Surely you can see the answer for yourself, Anthony.”

“I simply wish to hear you say it. But if I must do so first, as a consequence of my foolishness in not seeing it sooner, then so be it. I dislike your closeness to my brother because I miss your attention being mine. I wish to have you at my side always, to laugh with you and dance with you and just talk with you all evening. I do not wish to see Benedict court you because I wish to do so myself.”

“Anthony—,”

“Please, my love, let me finish. I have most probably been in love with you for as long as I have known you, and yet chosen not to see it out of my own stubbornness. If not for my scheming devil of a brother, I might still be in denial. But I love you most ardently, Y/N. And if you feel at all the same then I should like to make you my wife. My viscountess.”

You were speechless, perhaps for one of the first times since meeting Anthony.

You had always told him everything, always saved your last dance for him at balls, always rooted for him in every game of Pall Mall even as his competitor.

And now here he was, the famously anti-marriage Viscount asking if you too wished to wed him.

“Anthony, I had hoped it was clear as day that I too have been unfathomably in love with you for longer than I can explain,” you blushed crimson again under his gaze as a smile spread across his face, “To marry you, well, would be the only way I might find joy in marriage. I know you’ve never sought a match, let alone a love match, but I love you most dearly, my dear Anthony.”

He captured your lips with his as soon as you stopped speaking, knowing that he shouldn’t do so but hoping nobody was around.

Besides, he would soon make you his wife, and he couldn’t contain the excitement.

“I know I’ve previously had my reservations but I am no longer in denial, and I’m sorry for taking my liberties with you by kissing you before we are wed but I could not help myself. And I wish to spend a lifetime kissing you, Y/N. Will you marry me?” he looked shy all of a sudden, which you had never seen before, and you grabbed both of his hands in yours to kiss them.

“Of course, my dear, there is nothing I would like more!”

His smile became impossibly wide, and once more he kissed you out of sheer excitement.

“I’m sorry that this was so abrupt, and I have yet no ring. But my mother will be ecstatic and I plan to give you her betrothal ring because— you are the only woman worthy. And I shall spend our whole life ensuring that I make up for taking so long to do this,” he was vulnerable now, still shy under your careful gaze,

“I had no desire to marry because I had no desire to put the woman I love through the pain of losing me like my mother did my father. She was distraught but— I see now that it is no good wasting time with this fear. However long I might live, I wish to spend those years loving you and making you happy, so that any pain might be worthwhile.”

You kissed him now, tearing your gloves from your hands and reaching up to cup his face and kiss him, “I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. Always. And I cannot wait to be your wife. It will be the greatest honour.”

You were both hot and flustered, and it was taking everything in him not to push open your bedroom door and sweep you off your feet.

But for you, he was a gentleman, and so he settled for one final kiss atop your head and a sweet goodnight.

“We shall tell the others as we break fast tomorrow, perhaps?” you could see the dizzy joy in Anthony’s eyes as he asked this of you, and you nodded profusely.

“I cannot wait, my dear.”

“Then I will bid you good night, my love. I will dream of you, and look forward to seeing you in the morning. Sleep well, my future viscountess.”

“Sleep well, my love.”

As you went to part, you heard a rustle a little way down the corridor, both looking up to see a smug Benedict smirking, leaning on the wall just down the hallway.

“Even I underestimated my own plan. Congratulations, brother. You finally saw sense.”

———

hello! i know this is completely random as i’ve been writing for djats lately but i has this idea and felt the neeeeed to write it. feel free to request more bridgerton fics, as i’m inspired at the moment and rewatching it.

in the meantime, here is my masterlist!

[imagineseclipse]

I know you- Anthony Bridgerton x Y/n:Part one

Part one - Part two

Anthony rolled his eyes as he leant against the door frame, watching his family whisper excitedly between themselves as they leant towards the door trying to hear inside, thankfully the walls were thick because on the other side you were almost rolling around on the floor out of breath trying to tighten the corset that Violet had picked out for you. You weren’t a Bridgerton, but you were as close as. You had been a family friend of theirs for as long as you could remember, spending many occasions with them and this season was no different. You often chose to stay at their house instead of your own.

The eldest Bridgerton couldn't understand what all the fuss was as he peered over at the chaos once again, this year a Bridgerton sister wasn’t being put forth before the queen. Francesca had just married off and there was still a while before the others could join Society. So what was the commotion for?

He rolled his eyes again, pushing himself off the door frame, approaching his mother and sisters.

“Maybe we should just quit whilst we’re ahead, I’m sure the queen has already found her diamond”you breathed out nervously, sweat dripping from your top lip as you looked dishevelled and troubled.

“Y/n, you’ve been putting this off since the season I got married”Daphne sighed as she patted down your chest with a cloth.

“And for good reason, it’s hell on earth out there Daphne you know all too well”you scoffed swatting your best friend away.

“You’ll be amazing I’m sure of it-Are you ready?”Daphne raised her eyebrow

“Absolutely not, do not open those doors”you uttered out shaking your head as Daphne unfolded the double doors, revealing the crowd in the hall. You let out a growl as you walked past her, towards Violet.

Anthony's eyes widened as you stepped out, the pale blue lace and silk popping against your skin. The lace draping down around your waist, the silk clinging to all the right parts of you. He was not expecting this. He wasn’t expecting you, looking like that. An unfamiliar feeling washed over him as he realised what was happening. You were going out into society after years of avoiding it. You were to Marry.

He watched as his family, especially Eloise and Daphne, danced excitedly around you, admiring your new look. But Anthony's gaze then fixated on you, his eyes following your every move.

He clenched his jaw slightly, confused and conflicted emotions plagued his thoughts. You had grown up very quickly, no longer the annoying bestfriend to his sister but a mature and captivating lady.

For some reason Anthony had always been relieved that you chose not to join the rest of the Ton in the marriage market, telling himself that you were like a sister to him, and you were strong and independent, eager to think for yourself.

In truth, it was because he didn't want to witness men courting you and vying for your affection like vultures, he didn’t understand why the thought made him uneasy. But it did.

“Can I change my mind?”you pleaded to everyone, Violet letting out a small chuckle as she stepped forwards to adjust a loose hair that fell down your face.

“Yes can she?”His voice rang out, causing everyone to fall into a heavy silence, Anthony’s voice rang out clear as day, his sisters turning to face him with confused expressions, your head turned to him, the first time seeing him since you had moved your things in. Your gaze met his and his eyes never left you, even after everyone had been staring at him because of his sudden outburst.

Something about him was different, you had always thought that Anthony was handsome, but you would have rather died than let him know that. He already had most of the ladies in London falling to their knees, you would be a bonus ego boost for him having teased him for years. His brown hair had grown longer, his eyes full of adventure a twinkle residing there. He looked older, and more muscular. You snapped yourself out of the daze you had fallen into noticing that his gaze was still burning into yours.

“I uh- I mean why make haste if she wants to be a spinster for the rest of her life”he smirked covering his tracks, switching back to his usual insults towards you.

You rolled your eyes, narrowing them at him, you ignored the small smile that played on his mother’s lips as she watched the interaction between the two of you.

“Anthony Bridgerton, as charming as ever, shouldn’t you have been wed like five seasons ago?”you grinned menacingly, thankful that this conversation had calmed your nerves slightly. Eloise stifled a laugh as her older brother grumbled out a profanity under his breath.

“You know let’s hope you’re successful finding a suitable husband with that sharp tongue”he retorted before turning and disappearing into his room, slamming the door behind him.

“What is with him, he’s acting weird”Benedict groaned, Francesca nodding in agreement.

“He’s just snarly because y/n knows how to push his buttons”Daphne hummed out as she put the finishing touches to your dress.

“It’s taken many years of practice but I think I have managed to master the art”you curtseyed with a proud nod.

“Right children, we shan’t be late, the queen will faint if we don’t show on time, we always deliver every year so y/n do us proud”Violet took your hand in hers giving it a tight squeeze.

“I’ll go and get Anthony, there are three coaches outside waiting”Benedict briskly walked in the direction of his older brother.

“Y/n you must take the third carriage with Anthony, we have to keep your dress in pristine condition for your entrance, if you are seen with the Viscount it may deem you more desirable, not that you aren’t already, but it will help”Daphne ordered.

“Honestly Daph, I’m starting to believe you might actually hate me”you groaned, rolling your eyes once again at the thought of being left alone with Anthony when he was in one of his moods.

You sat in the carriage, starting to panic on your own for a little while whilst you waited for Anthony so you could be on your way, your breathing becoming laboured and short. The door finally flung open and the Viscount caught sight of you fanning the sweat from your face. He hesitated before entering, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from you as he watched you struggle.

“What are you staring at Bridgerton”you quipped out as the journey began, the carriage moving swiftly along with the horses.

"Just admiring the view, love," he replied with a smirk, sitting across from you. You ignored his back handed compliment, sure that he was just trying to get under your skin.

He watched you with an amused expression, but his gaze darkened slightly with concern. "You're not feeling unwell, are you?"

“If it means I don’t have to go through with this then yes I’m feeling extremely unwell”you blew air into your own face.

“I know you y/n y/l/n, I know this isn’t what you want”Anthony spoke out gently, a great difference to how he spoke to you earlier. He knew that this was not what you wanted, he also knew that this is not what he wanted either. Deep down in the depths of his ice cold heart. It was like a nagging feeling that he couldn’t get rid of, an itch that he couldn’t scratch. He didn’t know what it was he’d never felt this way before.

“I have no choice, I’m not like you I can’t just decide that I don’t want to get married, i certainly don’t have a love match, I’m not married into royalty, it’s time I faced the music and put my delusions of being independent to rest. If that means marrying someone just for convenience then so be it”You had lied to everyone else about why you had stepped forward to join the Society, but you had never lied to Anthony and you wouldn’t start now.

“And as much as it kills me I can’t hang around the Bridgerton house forever, if anything it’s a win win for everyone at least you get me out of your way so you can be broody In peace my lord”you offered him a genuine small smile.

A frown settled on his face as he listened to your words, he had always loved having you around, he would never tell a living soul that information. But every time you came to stay his life became more exciting. He would find himself purposely bumping into you during gatherings.

A mixture of emotions passed through Anthony's face as he absorbed your words. A part of him wanted to argue and convince you to stay, insisting that you weren’t a bother and that he didn’t want you gone. But he kept his mouth shut, his pride preventing him from showing any vulnerability. Instead, he leaned back against the seat, his expression unreadable.

“I suppose you have a point,” he finally said with a small forced chuckle. “It will be quieter around Bridgerton House without you constantly bickering with Eloise and I.”He teased, a hint of sadness lingering. He didn’t want this.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Anthony’s hand reached out to grasp yours unexpectedly, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. You tried to regain your composure, before anyone saw the interaction. His hand still holding yours.

The sound of music from the ball a few yards away had faded into the background as you looked up into his eyes, seeing a new and unexpected look in them. It was different from anything you had seen before, a mix of regret and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“Find me”he whispered.

“What?”you breathed out, your words barely leaving your lips.

“Find me if someone disrespects your honour, I know you get awfully anxious, if you feel like the earth is falling out from underneath your feet, I promise, I will drop everything. Find me”Anthony grew closer to you in the moment, your chest rising and falling faster as your eyes flickered between his.

Anthony's whispered words reached your ears, his tone serious. A part of you knowing that he was just willing to protect you because he thought of you as a younger sister, a part of you wanting it to be for a different reason.

Just as you were about to say something absolutely ludicrous the door was abruptly opened, your hands jumping out of each-others quickly. Feeling empty and cold as he exited the carriage, standing outside with his hand extended towards you.

You took a second revisiting everything he had just said to you. The two of you had deep conversations in the past, but nothing like this. Reaching out, your hands fitting together perfectly once again as Anthony gently helped you down from the carriage.

[fayes-fics]

Rescue and Ruin

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Anthony rescues something for you... and it will likely lead to your ruin.

Warnings: None really. Flirting, sexual tension, banter, and the promise of more. A lot of teasing, soaking wet Viscount.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Unbetaed. Very belated request fill for @daisfordaysstuff (request:  I’m rewatching season 2 again, and I think I need one on this scene [lake Anthony]). I just had to post an Anthony story today to commemorate the birthday of Jonathan Bailey, the man who plays this titan of a fictional character. This is actually my oldest request fill, lingering in my inbox since Sept 2022. Sorry, my lovely; I hope late is better than never. I just got an idea of how I wanted this to play out. I hope you enjoy <3

“I’ll get it!”

A chivalrous call comes as you watch in dismay as your favourite bonnet take off in a gust of wind and flies over the lake, landing almost gracefully about twenty feet out into the gently rippling water.

You had just stolen down to the water's edge to get away from the crowds for a few moments of solitude, drawn to the beauty of the water as the sun danced on the little peaks caused by the gusty breeze. It had looked like a shimmering mirage from the terrace.

You are shocked when the one and only Viscount Anthony Bridgerton gives you a brief, polite nod as he passes you, then dives off a little jetty, still fully clothed, making you gasp loudly.

What on earth?!?

This is his garden party. Well, strictly his mother's, but he is Viscount, and this is the Bridgerton family country estate, Aubrey Hall. You are still awestruck to be here, a guest of your maternal aunt you are staying with here in Kent. Why on earth he would dive into his lake to rescue something as trivial as a hat seems mystifying. You are certain he has staff that could assist rather than take it upon himself and quite clearly ruin his outfit.

He re-emerges to the surface from his dive and swims with awe-inspiring speed towards your hat as it skates across the surface, propelling along not unlike some toy boat. When he finally reaches it, he holds it aloft triumphant and twists to swim back one-handed as he keeps it above the water.

You find yourself drawn down to the jetty he jumped off of. To give your thanks, express your surprise, and take back your hat and hope it is salvageable. You twist around to check, but all the other party guests seem oblivious to the incident or his actions, the string quartet playing so loudly closer to the house and the buffet table so laden everyone's eyes and ears are preoccupied.

“Thank you, my lord,” you demure as he pulls up to the jetty and places your bonnet on the wooden slats by your feet. “That was completely unnecessary, but I am, of course, so very grateful,” you curtsy and pick up the bonnet.

Luckily, thanks to his swift actions, it will be fine. Just the brim and lower edge touched the water. You wring out the soaked ribbons as best you can, then wrap them around your neck and tie them in a secure bow. It may be too wet to wear on your head for now, but at least it should dry while tied securely and draped down over your back. You curtsy again as you feel him watching you, unsure what else to do to convey your gratitude.

He laughs, and you see him fighting with the buttons on his jacket, still standing in the lake, the water around waist height. “There is no need to curtsy or to be so formal Miss…?” he squints up at you expectantly.

“Oh, it's Miss y/l/n,” you rush out and, for some reason, curtsy again.

“I mean it; please stop curtsying, especially to a man in such a state as me,” he says drolly, fighting off his jacket and tossing it, sodden and heavy, onto the jetty.

You are blatantly staring as he peels away his waistcoat and fights with his cravat. His thin cotton white shirt has turned entirely transparent in the water; it is barely there. Under it, you can see so much skin, toned and rippling muscle as his jerking movements strip off his clothing. Over his chest is a patch of dark hair clinging to the material you cannot look away from. You have never even so much as seen how a man looks without a shirt on before, and this sight makes your heart pound and your body tingle.

Glancing up from his actions, the corner of his mouth quirks up, and you know he has caught you—openly ogling him. Your cheeks are aflame, and you cut your eyes away.

“You may look, Miss y/l/n,” his pitch has dropped to something low and velvety, and it buzzes right into your core. Hesitantly your eyes dart back to his handsome face; the lip quirk spreads into a devastating, stunning smile. “It is alright; no one has marked us,” he assures, his gaze cutting to your right towards the house, then back to your face. “You shall not have broken any rules of propriety by talking with me. Or staring at me as you are,” he teases, an eyebrow arching appealingly.

“My lord, that is not what….” You begin to protest, knowing it's a lie even as you voice it; your reflex to appear chaste is so crucial to your need to find a match that your aunt and parents are so desperate for you to make.

But your words die out as he places both hands firmly on the dock and propels himself up and out of the water in one swift, athletic move. Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth as he unfurls upwards from the kneeling position, drawing up to his full height. Water sluices down his body and makes his clothing cling to every single contour of his toned, defined torso. He looms closer; you tilt backwards, entranced by the tracks of droplets over the lines of his handsome face, his burned umber eyes catching the sunlight and boring into you as he crowds closer.

“Do not lie to yourself or to me, Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles, “we both know you were and, indeed, continue to stare”.

His words make your body riot; your stays feel too tight for your lungs to breathe, your skin pricking hot. He’s so close now you can smell the vaguely mossy lake smell on his skin, on what little clothing he has left on; it’s dancing there on the breeze alongside something spicier and amber that you can only assume is his cologne. You want to stutter an apology, to offer your thanks again, to ask him to leave, to ask him to stay, to ask him to touch you—so many jumbled, contradictory thoughts.

“The more pertinent question is, do you like what you see?” he murmurs and leans in, his words ghosting warm on the shell of your ear.

This is the sort of thing your aunt has warned you about. Rakes. Handsome, wealthy, titled men who will tease and take what they can from young, innocent ladies such as yourself. You want to be affronted, tell him to desist, and give him a scathing remark about appropriate behaviour. But once again, you don't. Your body drawn to him, you want to trace your fingers over the swell of his chest muscles, to feel those strong arms grab your waist and haul you against his sodden form.

“No answer is, in some ways, an answer,” he chuckles with a lilt that is both arrogant and devastatingly attractive.

“My lord, we may be seen at any moment…” Your protest is weak and breathy, not moving away as he continues to stand far too close to you, as lake water drips onto your shoes.

Suddenly a clammy hand wraps around your elbow, and you are being pulled towards the nearby cluster of thick trees and bushes that abut the lake. You almost stumble and smack into him face-first as he pulls up short and releases your arm. The air feels cooler here, with dappled shade, verdant and alive with the scent of flowering bushes and leaves. The view of the house and, indeed, the party guests is wholly obscured. No one would ever know you are here.

“Do you have an answer now that we cannot be seen?” he breathes inches from you, towering over you.

“My lord… I,” you cannot find words, hanging your head. You know this is wrong. Very wrong. Your aunt would kill you for being this wanton, for allowing him to do this to you. And yet…. Every fibre of your being wants this. To see what he will do. To see what you will let him do. You suspect it's more than you even understand.

“Say it after me….” he intones, a finger tilting your chin up to look into his fiery gaze.

“I…” he begins.

“I…” you parrot.

“Like…”

“Like,” you repeat, and the grin on his face grows wider.

“What….”

“What,” your breath quickening with each word.

“I…”

“I,” that finger still lingers under your chin, caressing gently.

“See.”

“See,” you exhale shakily.

“There. Now was that so hard…hmmm?” he teases, that finger now joined by his thumb stroking over the point of your chin, the lake water running down his forearm to the point of material bunched under his elbow that now drips down the front of your dress. The dampness seeps through the material and into your heated skin.

The cord of tension in the air is palpable. You don't know what to say or what to do.

“I have another question for you,” he buzzes, and the fingers on your chin slip lower, over your throat, lighting a line of fire as they trail over your delicate skin. Your pulse pounding in your veins. You swallow hard and feel the calloused fingertips trace into your suprasternal notch. “Maybe this one you can answer,” he huffs a sarcastic laugh as your body spirals and you fight to keep your breath even.

“What is it, my lord?” your voice barely a whisper.

“Would you be willing to help me, your gracious host today, get dry?” he practically purrs.

“How…. how on earth could I do that?” you stumble.

He smiles predatory and so handsome you give up and let your chest heave, ragged breathing.

“Under your dress, you wear a chemise, do you not?” he continues, those fingers tracing over the wet bow of your bonnet strings tied over your clavicle.

“Yes, my lord,” you answer shakily.

“Well did you know such items can be an excellent towel in a pinch,” he shrugs one shoulder and lifts an eyebrow as his fingers slip lower over your breastbone until they reach the neckline of your dress, at the swell of your breast.

There is no point in pretending he is not utterly destroying you now. You can’t school anything—the blush darkening over your skin, creeping up from your chest, the tingle in your lips, the hot flush you feel all over. A viscous pulse in your underwear that feels entirely alien and where your decision-making seems to be centred at right this very moment.

“So I suppose my last question, for now, is, are you willing to give it to me?” you gasp at his turn of phrase as those fingers swirl patterns over the neckline of your dress. “Your chemise, of course,” he amends with a wink.

Utter, utter rake.

“H-how can I give you my chemise without removing my dress too?” you wonder aloud.

“Well, that is the challenge, isn't it?” he smirks. “Now I can see two options here. I can do the gentlemanly thing, turn my back and allow you to undress and then you may hand me your chemise once decent again. I will dry myself the best I can and return to the house to change.”

“And the second option?” you cannot resist querying.

“Ahh, that,” he seems to pull even closer, and the fingers slip over the neckline and onto the silk ruching that covers your breasts; even through the material layers, you can feel his fingers lingering over your nipple and the throbbing between your legs turns almost painful. “The second option is that I am not a gentleman. Not in the slightest,” his answer cryptic but dripping with a dark, forbidden promise.

“What does that involve…?” you pant.

You watch, enthralled, as his tongue pokes out of his mouth and licks his bottom lip, and in seeming slow-motion, his mouth begins to form a shape to speak words…

“ANTHONY!!”

The yell is from a few feet away, on the other side of the bushes. Both of you jump apart as if burned.

“ANTHONY?!” the male voice calls again, “ARE YOU AROUND?”

It's obvious the person has no idea you are merely a few feet away, only that they are looking for him.

Stay here, Anthony mouths silently, and you nod, your heart beating wildly at the whiplash of experiences.

With one rueful glance at you, at the interrupted moment, he turns around and fights through the mass of foliage back out to the lawn.

“Oh, there you are!” the voice exclaims. “We wondered what the devil had happened to you!!”

“Colin…” you hear him respond.

“Hell and the devil. Why are you soaked through?? Did you decide to go for a swim fully clothed? Did you find my special tea??” his voice ramping up in incredulity as he likely clocks Anthony's bedraggled appearance.

“I have no idea what you are referring to,” Anthony’s reply seems clipped. “I rescued a small beautiful creature, if you must know,” he obfuscates.

“Ahh, hero antics,” Colin laughs. “Well, you had better go change right away. Mother expects you to make a toast for our esteemed guests in a few minutes.”

You hear Anthony’s frustrated noise of derision and have to stifle your giggle behind the back of your hand between deep breaths, trying to bring yourself back to a state of normality after the rollercoaster of experiences you just had.

“Urghhh, alright,” Anthony sighs, embattled, “I think I dropped my pocket watch back in the bushes. Give me one moment to find it, and I will accompany you back to the house.”

“Side entrance,” Colin responds dryly.

“Indeed,” you hear Anthony call.

You tense as the bushes before you start to rustle as he fights through them to reach you. He stalks up to you, and you gasp audibly.

“Shhh,” he warns quietly, his lips right at your ear, gusting hot, “it looks as if I must sadly depart. Your chemise is safe for today, Miss y/l/n.”

With a boldness you didn’t know yourself capable of, you grab the shirt's sleeves rolled up around his elbows.

“I would never want not to be helpful to you, my lord,” you whisper tremulant, fingers twisting in the soaked fabric. “If removing my chemise can ever be of assistance to you in future, please be sure to let me know.”

You cannot believe you allow yourself to say something so scandalous.

He pulls back slightly, and it's his turn to exhale unsteadily, his pupils dilated; his expression wild. You can see a vein hammering in his throat.

“Oh goddd,” he moans, closing his eyes as if pained.

“What?” concern suddenly flooding your tone.

His eyes reopen, and they pin you with their intensity.

“Mark my words,” his tone is low, gravelly, “if you continue to talk so brazenly, it will only encourage me.”

It is the sexiest warning bell you have ever heard.

“And if you continue to tease and defy me, I will pursue you. Relentlessly,” he growls, and once again, your body is rioting.

“Good god. How long does it take to find a pocket watch, man?” Colin calls impatiently, once again breaking the moment between you as it threatens to bubble over.

“I've found it!” Anthony twists to call over his shoulder. “I’ll be there presently!”

“Hurry up!” Colin grouses.

Anthony turns back, and his breath is hot over your cheek. He seems to stare at your lips for an inordinate amount of time as you stare back. Transfixed.

“Today, I shall be a gentleman,” he states reluctantly and draws away slightly. “However…” and your heart spikes in victory, “once that clock strikes midnight. I make no promises. And I shall be standing right here,” his tone decisive, his finger pointing to the spot right by his feet. “Just so you and your chemise will know where to find me,” he rumbles, then gives you a polite bow and is gone.

You have to grab onto a tree to stop yourself from swooning. Already knowing you will be stealing away from your room as the clock strikes midnight. Uncaring of consequences.

You want him to ruin you.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Benedict Bridgerton with wife reader. Feat their children. A missing wife and a frantic family looking for her. Thanks!! :))

Missing

pairing: benedict bridgerton x f! wife reader

As the tranquil day at Aubrey Hall drew to an end, the golden rays of the setting sun cast an ethereal glow upon the Bridgerton estate. Benedict had planned a serene day alongside his beloved wife, Y/N, and their three dear children, basking in the contentment of family and the delicate exchange of glances that bespoke a love unbreakable.

However, as the evening shadows lengthened, a strange unease settled over Benedict’s heart. Y/N had ventured into the meadows with their eldest daughter, intent on gathering wildflowers to grace the drawing room. Benedict had remained behind with their two sons, the image of his wife and daughter laughing amongst the flowers lingering in his mind. Yet, as time wore on, his heart grew troubled, each passing moment deepening his sense of dread.

He called her name as he paced through the fields, his sons clinging to his sides with fretful expressions. Each shout of “Y/N!” grew louder, more desperate, reverberating through the quiet countryside, unanswered and met only with the whisper of the evening breeze. By the time he returned to the house, his face was a portrait of worry, his hands trembling as he tried to mask his alarm.

Word of Y/N’s mysterious absence spread swiftly among the Bridgertons. Anthony, ever the steady and pragmatic elder brother, seized command, rallying the family into search parties. Lanterns were lit, their warm glow piercing the encroaching darkness as the family fanned out, each one calling Y/N’s name into the cool night air, a chorus of worry and love.

Yet Benedict himself could scarcely manage coherence. His steps were hurried and unsteady, his breaths shallow, as if the very fear of her loss had stolen his ability to think clearly. Dark, haunting thoughts flitted through his mind visions of what might befall her, each more terrifying than the last. What if she lay injured, beyond his reach? What if… he dared not finish the thought, for even the idea of a world devoid of her presence threatened to unravel him.

As he roamed the forest edge, his heart aching with worry, a soft whimper caught his ear. Turning swiftly, he found their eldest daughter, her small frame trembling as she clung to a tree, her cheeks stained with frightened tears.

“Papa,” she whimpered, her voice a mere whisper in the stillness, “I lost Mama. I tried to find her, but… but I couldn’t.”

In an instant, Benedict dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips to her brow. “Hush now, my darling,” he murmured, voice low and tender. “You did all you could. You are most brave, and I am here. We shall find her together.”

Hand in hand with his daughter, Benedict continued his search, his steps purposeful despite the persistent tremor in his heart. He would not could not give up, for the very thought was unthinkable. She was his heart, his soul, the very essence of his life.

Finally, as they entered a quiet glade shrouded in moonlight, his gaze fell upon a familiar figure, seated upon a fallen log, her ankle twisted, yet her countenance as serene as ever.

“Y/N!” he cried, voice choked with relief as he closed the distance between them. He fell to his knees beside her, enveloping her in his arms with a tenderness born of desperation. “My dearest, are you quite well? What befell you?”

“Oh, Benedict,” she whispered, her eyes brimming with unshed tears as she clung to him. “I am unharmed save for a foolish misstep. I twisted my ankle, and could not find my way back. I am so terribly sorry to have caused you worry.”

“Never say such a thing,” he murmured, his voice thick as he cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You are safe, and that is all that matters. I cannot bear the thought of life without you. The very notion would undo me.”

A quiet sob escaped her, and she buried her face in his shoulder, clinging to him as if he were her anchor. He held her close, his hand weaving into her hair, murmuring assurances as his heart began to calm, each beat syncing to the warmth of her embrace.

Gently, Benedict lifted her into his arms, ignoring her weak protests that she could manage to walk. “Tonight, I shall carry you,” he insisted, a rare softness in his voice. “I cannot bring myself to let you out of my sight.”

When they returned to the estate, the family erupted with joy and relief, their children bounding forward, their laughter mingling with tears as they embraced their mother. Benedict settled her upon the sofa in the drawing room, wrapping her in a blanket as she rested her head against his shoulder, their children snuggling in close as though they, too, needed the comfort of her presence.

“Mama, tell us a story,” their eldest daughter whispered, her wide eyes reflecting the flickering glow of the fireplace.

Y/N smiled gently, settling a storybook upon her lap as their children nestled close, and she began to read, her voice soft and soothing, carrying the words with a warmth that wrapped around them all.

Benedict watched her, captivated by her grace, the way she animated each tale, the gentle glint in her eyes as she held their children’s undivided attention. Without thinking, he reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

She paused, glancing at him with a playful sparkle. “Mr. Bridgerton, might you be so kind as to cease your staring?”

He chuckled, his cheeks tinged with a blush. “Forgive me, Mrs. Bridgerton. But it is quite impossible to look away from a sight so enchanting.”

Their children groaned, accustomed to their parents’ displays of affection, yet Benedict could see the small, contented smile tugging at Y/N’s lips.

Once the story concluded, the children trotted off to bed, each one pausing to press a kiss to Y/N’s cheek before retiring. Benedict took her hand, guiding her to their bedchamber with a gentle care, lifting her in his arms as they ascended the stairs despite her gentle protests.

“Must you always be so stubborn?” she teased, though she leaned into him, her fingers tracing the familiar curve of his shoulder as he carried her.

“My dear,” he replied, his tone soft yet unwavering, “you must know by now that my resolve is unyielding when it concerns your well-being.”

In their room, he settled her upon the bed, carefully propping her ankle as he tucked a blanket around her. Lying beside her, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as they lay in contented silence.

At length, Y/N broke the stillness, her fingers tracing circles over his chest. “Benedict, I feared you might think me careless.”

He shook his head, pressing a kiss to her brow. “Perish the thought, my love. I am simply grateful to have you here, safe and within my arms. I could not fathom a world devoid of your presence.”

She gazed up at him, her eyes soft with love. “And I, Benedict, could never be complete without you. You are my heart, my constant.”

He took her hand, lifting it to his lips as he murmured, “Then let us remain as one, my beloved. Come what may, I vow to cherish you for all my days.”

With her hand still in his, Y/N drifted to sleep, her breath soft and even against his shoulder. Benedict watched her, his heart swelling with gratitude for the love that bound them, a love so steadfast that no force could sever it.

As he held her close, he whispered his vow once more, knowing that his heart had found its home, and that no darkness could ever diminish the light they shared.

[violeta223]

You're a Bridgerton, I presume? [Female Reader Insert] Ch. 1

The lively sounds of everyone rushing around downstairs filled the air as you calmly descended the stairs with your sisters. Eloise led the group, Francesca beside her, while Hyacinth walked closely beside you.

Eloise fidgeted in her dress, tugging at the fabric as discomfort spread across her face. “I'm already roasting!” she exclaimed.

Francesca huffed, amused at her sister. “Are you to complain the entire day, Eloise?” 

You couldn’t help but giggle and lean forward, ready to tease Eloise. “It is the only thing she knows how to do!”

Eloise turned and shot a sarcastic smile at you before addressing Francesca.

“Surely, I cannot be expected to bear these fashions the entire day.” Hyacinth rushed forward, leaving you behind as she moved next to Eloise.“I feel like a princess. Do I look like one?” Hyacinth’s infectious energy made you smile. Eloise attempted to suppress her sarcasm in response to her younger sister, but given her displeasure with the day, she struggled to hide her true feelings. You couldn’t help but think Eloise could never fully hold back her thoughts.

“Do you truly wish to know what I think you look like?”

“Eloise…” you said, your tone warning as she glanced behind you with an ‘I know, I know’ expression.

Hearing Rushing footsteps behind you, you smiled again, knowing that at the speed of those steps, it was always Hyacinth, Gregory, or both.

“On your left!”

Gregory rushed past you and your sisters, zooming past Hyacinth, where he suddenly snatched her hair ribbon.

“Gregory!!”

She shrieked before she started chasing after him. You don't know how he did it, but Hyacinth always saw a challenge in Gregory, even without saying a word, and he never grew tired of playing around with her.

Eventually, you turned your gaze away from them to see Benedict and Colin approaching you and your sisters. “Is our dear sister still not ready?” Benedict asked his expression a mix of confusion and concern. Francesca playfully raised her hands with a slight grin on her face. “She’s only been readying herself the entire night!” she exclaimed, her tone light and teasing. Eloise scoffed. “You mean her entire life?”

You chuckled while nodding along. Eloise looks around, confused, before asking,

“Where is Anthony?”

Suddenly realizing your elder brother was not there, you start looking around, as did your other siblings, except for a slightly grimacing Benedict, with Hyacinth and Gregory still chasing each other. You stilled, waiting to hear his fast steps storming down the hall, ready to command or brood, but you could find nothing.

Looking back at your siblings, specifically Benedict, you couldn’t help but worriedly exclaim,

“Where is he? Is he alright?”

Benedict didn’t look like he knew how to reply, only causing you to grow more anxious by the second, worrying something had happened to him. Colin, looking as if he did not worry about Anthony, at least to you, walked towards the stairs while talking about the special person of the day, the debutante.

“I shall run up and hasten her along.”

But you and Eloise were still focused on Anthony for very different reasons. Eloise leaned in, her brow furrowing. “Is he not attending?” 

Benedict swiftly turned his head to look away from you and Eloise, moving quickly toward Colin. He stretched out his arm to stop him, but he didn’t; he only slowed down. As you and Eloise moved toward them, leaving Francesca behind, neither of you finished asking your questions. “Colin, wait. I will do it.” 

Colin faced Benedict with a look that clearly said he did not think he would do as good of a job as he would. He turned back around with what you would call a slightly smug expression. Or maybe that was just what you thought; most of the faces you’ve seen on your brothers were smug and mischievous.  

“She likes me much better than you, Benedict.”

“Did she say that?”

Benedict couldn’t help but show a slightly confused and offended look. You reached behind him to give a slight pat on the back. He glanced at you before turning back toward Colin.

“Everyone says that.”  

“Aww.”  

You couldn’t help but tease your older brother, gently patting him on the back and offering mock sympathy.

Eloise only looked more and more done with everyone as the seconds passed and quickly spoke before someone else said another word.

“If our eldest brother is not bothering to attend, then why must I–”

You stopped teasing Benedict, looking back at Eloise with some sympathy as she crossed her arms. You were also an introvert, someone going out of your comfort zone, but the wish to support your eldest sister was too strong to argue with Eloise.

Benedict only knew that if Eloise continued, she might argue with everyone or worse—win. Quickly shutting her down with a knowing tone and a look that said, ‘You know we are going there to support our sister.’

“--ELOISE. Quiet.”

Throwing her head back in frustration, she grumbled.

“Oh, has that ever worked?” 

You giggled and looked at Colin, who looked at you, also looking amused. You moved forward to try and comfort your sister, but it was too late. Fed up with everyone, she unfolded her arms and marched past you and towards the stairs, yelling,

“DAPHNE! YOU MUST MAKE HASTE!!”

Her voice stopped everyone; you wouldn’t be surprised if even the flames of the candles stood still in shock.

She turned to her siblings, all staring at her with shock, then amusement.

“Should you think she heard me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

[sadlilghostt]

His loss and ruin.

Angel x sibling reader

๑ | synopsis: after a few years in hell, angel met a certain demon that he thought he could actually trust. Angel did actually fell for him, sadly, kindness nor love was a thing in hell, so he became more ruined and broken. Until a certain gambling demon came for his rescue.

๑ | tw : cursing, panick attack, abuse will be mentioned, blood, gore, death will be also be mentioned.

๑ | a/n : a part two from " my little sunshine " ig? HAHA I just watched HH ep 4 or 5 just right now and it just booster my motivation to write a second part of that one HEHE hope y'all liked it! ~

" My little sunshine "

Master list

After the chaos occured on Valentino's studio and his very first heated argument with husk, angel ran off to a strip club to blow off some steam, but Satan must be hating on him somehow to bring husk to his tail and be his 'little-shining-armor' and caused more chaos.

" husk, what the actual fuck you are doin' here? " angel groaned as he struggled against his hold.

" let go off me! " he tried to pulled his arms back but fails miserably when husk tightened his hold to him and proceeds to push him away from the club.

" no, I'm takin' you back to the hotel. " husks gruff voice grumbled behind him.

" gett- off! " he groaned as he kicked his legs back trying to push him away to his relief, husk finally let go of his arms. Angel dusted off non-existent dust off of himself as husker gave him a frustrated look.

" that fucker put somethin' on yer drink. " angel glared at him.

" you don't think I can't tell when someone spikes my drink?! " he snapped as he run his fingers to his hair " I do this all fuckin' time! " he continues as husk gave him a look of disbelief.

" you just let people drug you all the time? "

More anger and frustration bubbled to angels chest, the bottle is in the verge of exploding.

Angel snapped his body to husks direction as his hands were in front of him, indicating his distress and frustrations.

" you think I ask for it? ! " he snapped, catching husk off guard. " I don't ask any of this shit! "His hands flew above from his head as more of his bottled emotions pour out.

" I didn't ask to be this way. " he turned back to him as husk stared at him.

" I didn't ask for you Charlie to save me, " he pointed at Huskers chest as he stepped away.

" I didn't asked for you to save me. " he pointed more to his chest, there nose were barely touching.

" I can handle myself. " he huffed pointing at himself " really? Because I just see someone self-distructing. " husked snapped back pointing back at angel's chest which angel leaned away. Husker pauses before continuing.

" it's seems like-- " just turned away " I don't know.. " he shook his head. Husker turned back again to face angel as he shrugged awkwardly " it seems like you need a bartender to talk too. " angel laughed at he placed his hand to hide forehead.

" oh, so— " he flew his hands again to his side as he chuckled. " now you're going to act like you give shit about me? " he places one of his hand to his hip.

" you think after how you treated me—" he quirkee a brow a him, pointing at him " I'm going to open up to you? Please. " he huffed as he opens his arms again dramatically as he turned away ready to walk out of this, and this conversation before he breaks more.

" maybe I would treat you better if you you were real, " more anger filled angels nerves as unwanted memories flew back to his mind. From the start where he was alive. Where he was still with you.

Anthony came back home late again with more bruises on his neck, his body was swaying as he stumbled to his steps when his eyes landed on you.

You were seated in front of the door with your arms and legs crossed.

He wondered, why we're yous till awake.

" anth. "

Anthonh breath out before cracking up a wobbly smile as he leaves ok the door frame " heya sunshine. " he shot and finger guns at you, but your expression remains the same and clearly unfazed.

He gulped, " why- why are you still awake? It's in the middle of the night.. " he stumbled up on his step as he walked towards your direction.

" oh I don't know, maybe because I was waiting for my idiot, stupid of a brother to come home and actually eat with me in the nights and sleep together and cuddle like he promised? " you quirked a brow at him as you stand up from your seat.

He gulped once again, " oooh.. " he breathe to his teeth as he sighed and gave you an apologetic look. " I'm sorry sunshine.. For- not being able to eat dinner with you.. It's just- "

" work has been very tougher lately and you/i can't afford to leave early. " you rolled your eyes, perfectly synchronizing with him which he gave you a shock look before letting out a breathless laugh.

" well- wow. " he coughed out.

" anth.. " you sighed frustratedly as you walked towards him " I know you, we're literally siblings. I know you from head to toe and you're like an open book to me. "

You stared up at him with a frown, he looked completely nervous, making you sigh as he averted eye contact again.

" I know when soemthin's up or not, and I can tell that work has not been only tough, but rough for ya too. And don't think I can't see the bruises anth, I can literally see the dried blood on 'yer nose. " you squinted an eye at him which he flinched when you noticed this.

He sighed as he slumped before chuckling.

" I just can't hide anythin' from ya, aight sunshine? "He cocked his head to the side.

" bitch, I've been with your for years, what did ya expect? " you chuckled when you felt a stinging pain on your forehead.

" hey! Language. " he pouted.

" Italian and english? " you sarcastically replied.

" Gesù Cristo, sei una minaccia, " he chuckled as he shook his head ruffling your hair.

" hey! Watch it! I just groomed that! " you groaned. But giggling afterwards, he too started to chuckle as the both of you shared a heart laugh.

Once the both of you calmed down, a soft from were on your face again as you sighed.

" I just don't want'cha to hide things from me anth.. You've been there for me ,and I wanna be there for ya too, so please just cut the act ok? " you dropped your head softly to his chest as you lazily hang your arms around his waist.

" I don't want to see you silently suffer so please, " you tilted your head to meet his troubled face.

" don't be afraid to lend me 'yer troubles ok? "

Angel stared at you for a moment before sighing as he hugged you with his other hand on your head.

" what can I do? I can't say no ta that eyes sugar. " he softly laughed as you smiled brightly at him.

" good, now let's eat! "

Angel felt tears swelled up upon his eyes at the memory as his heart pounded, he the lump of his throat thickens as he listened more to husk.

" and not some bullshit version of yourself, ways pushin' my boundaries. " husks scoffed as he watched angel walked away from him. This grew more frustration for husk.

" lemme tell ya, nobody in that hotel cares who you are! " he snapped as he swung his hand to his side. " how famous, how hot. "

" so you might as well just cut the act. " angel stopped from his tracks. With that single sentence, he finally snapped.

" anth.. We talked a bout this, I told you to not be afraid of lending me your troubles. If I were to loose my life just ta have you to open up then sure I'd fuckin' bet my life on that. " you sighed dramatically as angel shot you a look for swearing but you ignored it " like I've said, I've been with you for years, I can literally see through that mask that you're in trouble. So please just drop the act, ok? "

Your voice rang onto his mind as his mind finally went blank, emotions finally exploding.

" IT'S NOT AN ACT! " he snapped turning around to face husk again, tears were threatening to fall from his eyes. Husk was once again, shocked as he finally see his walls breaking down.

" it's who I need to be.. " he hugged himself as he averted his eyes.

" and this— " his hand flew above his head " this is my escape " escape from everything,escape from val, escape from the memory,the memory of you dying into his arms. He smiled but it was strained and tensed.

" where I can forget about it all! " he turned again stumbling as he leaned into the clubs wall for support. An image of you dead in his arms flashed into his mind again.

" h-how much I hate-! " himself, he hated himself for for not being able to save you from that night. " everything! " he continued.

" a place where I can get high, and not have to think how much it hurts. " he clutched his chest. He wondered, what would you think if you saw him now, would you still care for him? Love him? Would you still see him as an older brother?

" and maybe.. " he pushes himself off of the wall as he places his hands on the side of his head as he looked down on his foot. " I can ruin myself enough in the process, " his hands slowly went limp to his side.

" if I end up broken, I won't be his favorite you any more and.. I wont have to remember that fuckin' night where she died right into my arms. " his voice shook as he shook his head trying to shove away the memory of you slowly going limp into his arms.

Angel sat on the side walk, hugging his legs into his chest.

" and maybe he'll let me go.. And maybe.. And just maybe.. I might get actually redeemed and see her again. "

Husk looked down at the spider demon sadly, he wondered who's she he was talking about. But he figured that it must be someone from the day he was life, deciding not to push it, husk sat down beside him.

Husk sighed heavily as he started, " I was an overload once you know." Husk started. Angel turned his head to look at him to see if he was lying.

Husk met his eyes before smiling awkwardly.

" yeah.. And uh.. " he trailed " it's was nice to have that power, but when your dealing with souls, while Also being a gambler, the stakes are pretty high. And loosing a few more hands can be more than a little dangerous, so when you're down on you luck, you turn into anything to..keep you afloa even making deals yourself. So I know what is like to.. Regret the choices made and.. " he pauses for long before starting again. " knowin' ya can't take it back. " he finishes, a thickening silent envelopes them before angel broke it.

" I..." He trailed as he stared at the puddle infront of him " had a little sister. " husk perked up at the mention of this before turning to look at angel,

' so that was the "she" he was talking about. ' husk thought. He remains silent and listened further.

" she was my everything, my source of light, my little sunshine. " angel smiled sadly, husks eyes widened a little to see him talking so sweety about someone, but it was a relative anyways so of course he'd talk sweetly about it. But it was new to see angel dust being like that.

" our parents were never good, so we eventually ran away from home once I turned 18,she was 16 back then. " he pauses before continuing " her name is Y/N, Y/N is.. Someone ya should not mess with, the girl was like a tiger on loose when mad. " he chuckled dryly " but overall that chaotic personality, she was the sweetest sugar you'd eva' picked, a delicate little flower. " he sighed as he stared into the distance.

" back then, I was very secretive, hidin' my outside doins from her, comin' home late and neva' eaten dinners with her, no cuddles night and such... " he sighed before continuing " she confronted me once about that, but.. I choose to hide things from her again, till one night. I caught myself in a bad deal and stole bunch'a drugs and money.. And that stupidity of mine caused her life. " he tests finally pour into his eyes as he let out a little sob.

" I watched-... Husk i watched her.. Died right in my eyes! " he panted as he turned to the feline who had his eyes wide at the information he was getting. " and.. Right into my arms. " angel hugged himself tighter.

" so that's why.. I did everything.. Everything to ruin myself more.. Just to get that wipe off of my mind, to forget- her hands slowly let go of my hand.. Her eyes running out of life.. That- little sad smile she held even dying. " he cried, shoulders were shaking as he sobbed, husk sighed as he placed a hand ok angels shoulder and pats it.

" everyday.. Everytime, I regretted not coming home early, I regretted not spending enough time with her, I regretted for not listenin' to her.. If I could turn back the time.. If I had a second chance to be with her.. I'll.. I'll be a better brother this time. " he sobbed.

Husk was silent, trying to look a better words to ease up the spider demon, he let out a heavy sigh before smiling lightly.

" well , I never known the gal but.. I'm sure she forgives ya. " he started as he watched angel tears up.

" you did fucked up big time but.. " he pauses as he stand up and walked in front of angel.

" I'm sure the gal still see's you the bestest brother she eva' had. You did took care of her once the both of ya left yer parents house, so the little gal must be waitin for ya up there. " husk smiled at him before holding out his hand, angel smiles before wiping off his tears and accepted his hands pulling himself up.

"... Thanks.. For.. Listening. " angel awkwardly rubbed his arms as husk shrugs.

" told ya you could need a bartender to talk. " the both of them chuckled when the clubs door busted open and saw them.

" THERE THEY ARE, FUCKING GET THEM! "

I'm the heavens, on your room, your hands fiddled with the necklace on your neck as you stared off into the distance.

Suddenly your nose itch making you sneeze, you rubbed your nose as you sniffle groaning a bit.

" to who ever the fuck talkin about me, I hope you bit your tongue. " you groaned.

After the little massacre happened, angel and husker were covered in blood as the two happily walked their way back on the hotel when angel suddenly bit his tongue.

" OW- FUCK-"

[d-targaryenshoe]

Fire And Flame - Anthony Bridgerton

Word count: 1716

Summary: New arrivals always cause a fuss, but when you catch the attention of rather three brothers, it is not, right?

The air was thick with anticipation as if the very fabric of Bridgerton society was waiting with bated breath for the moment your carriage would roll up to the estate.

 Even the servants, usually so reserved and proper, couldn't help but whisper amongst themselves about the latest gossip regarding your impending arrival. 

You knew why they were all so interested, of course. After all, you were Daphne's well-known friend, and everyone in the ton was desperate to catch a glimpse of the new girl on at the ton.

 Little did they know that you had no intention of becoming another pawn in their social games.

As your carriage finally came to a stop, you took a deep breath and smoothed down your dress, trying to steady your nerves. 

You hadn't expected the butterflies to be this bad, but then again, this wasn't just any ball. 

This was the first event since the news of Daphne's betrothal to Simon had spread like wildfire through the ton.

 Everyone would be watching you, waiting to see how you interacted with the Bridgerton brothers, speculating about who among them might have a chance with you.

You took one last look around the carriage before opening the door and stepping out, your heels sinking into the soft grass of the estate.

 The sound of a violin drifted through the air, accompanied by the gentle hum of conversation from the guests. 

The setting sun cast a warm glow over the lawn, making it seem as if the entire world was bathed in gold.

 And there they were, the Bridgerton brothers, standing at the top of the stairs, their eyes locked on you, as you made your way up the steps.

Anthony, the eldest, towered over his brothers, his expression unreadable. 

Beside him, Benedict looked nervous and shy, his hands fidgeting with his cufflinks. 

And then there was Colin, the youngest, who looked as if he'd just been caught stealing sweets from the pantry.

 He gave you a crooked grin and winked, making you feel a little more at ease.

As you reached the top of the stairs, your heart raced as you took in the scene before you, hundreds of people dressed in their finest, all of them watching you with eager eyes. 

You forced yourself to smile, to stand tall and confident despite the trembling in your legs.

 This was your first step into the world of the Bridgertons, and you refused to let anyone intimidate you.

 As the violinist began to play a waltz, Anthony stepped forward, his hand extended toward you.

 "Shall we?" he asked, his voice smooth as silk.

You hesitated for a moment, glancing around the lawn before finally meeting his gaze.

 "Yes," you said, placing your hand in his. "Let's dance."

As you began to move across the dance floor, Anthony's strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. 

You could feel his heart racing beneath his vest, could see the determination in his eyes. 

He was going to win this, you realized. He was going to make you his wife. 

And whether you wanted it or not, whether you could resist him or not, you knew that this dance, this night, was only the beginning of a journey that neither of you could escape from.

Benedict and Colin watched us from the sidelines, their expressions a mix of envy and amusement. 

They knew as well as anyone that their father's expectations were weighing heavily upon them, but they also knew that they couldn't let it consume them entirely.

They were still young, after all, and had their whole lives ahead of them.

 As the night wore on, you found youself growing more and more fond of them both, despite the constant competition between them.

The music shifted from waltz to a lively reel, and before you knew it, Colin had swept you off your feet, his laughter filling the air. 

He spun you around and around, your skirts fluttering like wings, your heart racing with the thrill of it all. 

For a moment, you forget about Anthony and the pressures of the ton, and you let yourself simply enjoy the night, the music, and the company of your new friends.

But as the evening progressed, you couldn't help but notice the way Anthony's gaze followed you, the way he seemed to be everywhere you went.

 It was as if he was willing you to give in to him, to admit that he was the one you wanted. 

And despite your best efforts to resist, you found yourself growing more and more aware of the connection between you both, the chemistry that sizzled whenever you were in the same room.

Finally, as the last rays of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon, the music faded away, and the guests began to file out of the ballroom, you knew that the time had come to make a decision. 

Anthony was still watching you, his eyes burning into yours, daring you to say no. 

And as much as you wanted to deny it, to hold out hope for something more, something different, you knew deep down that he was the only one who could make you truly happy. 

So, with a sigh and a shaky breath, you turned to face him, ready to give him your answer.

He took a step forward, his expression unreadable as he waited for you to speak.

 The air between the both of you crackled with tension, and you could feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. 

"Anthony," you began, your voice barely audible over the sound of your breathing.

"I cannot deny that I'm drawn to you, that there is a connection between us. But I must ask you, can you promise me that our marriage will be different? That you will let me be myself, and not just some possession to be won?"

For a moment, his expression softened, and you dared to hope that he understood what you were saying.

 But then the familiar determination returned, and he nodded solemnly. 

"Yes," he said, his voice firm.

 "I can promise you that our marriage will be different. I will love you, cherish you, and respect your independence. You will always be my equal, and together, we will build a life filled with love and happiness."

His words washed over you like a warm summer breeze, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, he was telling the truth. 

Perhaps there was a way for you two to navigate the waters of the ton together, as partners. 

And so, with a shaky breath and a fluttering heart, you reached out and took his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours.

 "Then I accept," you whispered, your voice barely audible even to yourself. "I will marry you, Anthony."

As your hands clasped together, a spark seemed to ignite between both of you and for a moment, it felt as if the entire world had disappeared, leaving only the two of you standing there in the center of the empty ballroom. 

He leaned in, his lips mere inches from yours, and you could feel the anticipation building within you, the desire to feel his touch, to know what it would be like to be his wife.

But just as you were about to close the distance between you both, he pulled away, stepping back to look at you once more. His expression had grown solemn, almost somber. 

"There is one more thing I must ask of you," he said quietly.

 "Will you allow me to court you properly? To show you the sort of man I am, and the sort of life we could have together?"

You thought for a moment, considering his words. It was more than you had asked for, more than you had dared to hope for. 

And as you looked into his sincere eyes, you knew that you could trust him to keep his word. 

"Yes," you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "I would like that very much."

Anthony smiled back, and for a moment, it was as if a weight had been lifted from both of you.

 He took your hand once more, this time leading you through the empty ballroom and out into the hallway beyond. 

The soft light from the sconces cast long shadows across the polished wood floor, creating an intimate, almost secretive atmosphere.

 As you walked, he began to tell you stories about his childhood, his family, and his dreams for the future. 

And as you listened, you felt a connection growing between you both, a bond that transcended mere attraction or social obligation.

You continued to walk and talk for what seemed like hours, lost in your own little world, oblivious to the hustle and bustle of the party going on around you.

 And when at last you heard the butler announce that it was time for you to retire to your rooms, you knew that this was only the beginning of a journey that promised to be filled with love, laughter, and countless adventures. 

As you turned to face each other, your hands still clasped together, you felt a thrill of anticipation run through you, and for the first time in your life, you knew without a doubt that you were making the right decision.

"Thank you," you whispered, your eyes never leaving his. "For giving me this chance, for promising me that our marriage will be different."

He smiled down at you, his eyes soft and tender. 

"Thank you, my dearest y/n," he replied, using your name for the first time. "It is my greatest honor and privilege to be your husband." 

And with that, he leaned forward, his lips meeting yours in a tender, loving kiss that left you breathless and wanting more. 

As you stood there, lost in the moment, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held for you both, and whether your love would be strong enough to survive the trials and tribulations that surely lay ahead. 

But for now, as you stood together in the dimly lit hallway, the world seemed to fade away, and there was nothing but him and you, and the promise of a lifetime of happiness together.

[kestisvrse]

stealing kisses

inspiration credit ❤️

pairing ⋆ anthony lockwood x gn!reader. fluff.

synopsis ⋆ christmas at lockwood and co. gives anthony the perfect opportunity to make a move.

warnings ⋆ implied shorter reader, idk how to write kissing, very fast paced sorry, swearing. | wc: 0.5k

tags ⋆ @mitskiswift99 @novelizt @karensirkobabes @initialchains @eedwardss

♫ - bet u wanna by sabrina carpenter

the holidays somehow made 35 portland row even cozier than usual.

the living room decked out with christmas decorations, a few more scattered around the house.

it was a quiet night, you were reading in bed as snow fell, coating the streets in it, the perfect winter wonderland.

your peace was interrupted by a knock at your door, opening to reveal anthony lockwood, both arms raised above him, one leaning against the door frame, as the other held something above the both of you.

mistletoe.

“now, what’s going on here?” you joked, grinning up at him

“just came to say hi, no idea how that got here.” he nonchalantly adds, inching slightly closer.

you chuckled, staring up into his eyes.

ever since you met lockwood you had been drawn to him, whether it was his looks or his personality, they both made you have a crush on him.

it wasn’t until recently (with the help of lucy) that you realized he liked you too, but was denying himself from the feelings, so you didn’t act on it.

but clearly, he had realized and didn’t want to wait.

“should we… uhm.. follow it’s tradition?” he questioned, blushing.

“i don’t know..” you teased, walking closer, “what would the george and lucy think?”

he was looking at your lips now, refusing to look away, “i don’t think they would mind.” he spoke barely above a whisper.

you hummed in response, taking your turn to look at his lips.

and then the space between you two closed.

his lips are soft against yours, like the snow falling outside. you hadn’t realized how complete this simple kiss could make you, like the whole world disappeared and it was just you two left, and it was all you needed.

the mistletoe dropped to the ground, so he could bring both his hands to your waist. you brought one of yours to his cheek and the other squeezed his bicep.

his brows furrow as he tries to bring you closer, impossible as you were already both stuck together like a puzzle piece.

reluctantly you pull away, your lips feel cold without the warmth of his. you don’t open your eyes straight away, just taking in his presence and the moment.

he brings his hand up to trace your lips, opening your eyes you find him admiring you.

“i think i might need to kiss whoever created mistletoe.” he chuckled.

“just kiss me instead.” you responded, tilting your head.

“oh gladly.” he breathed, pulling you in for another kiss.

this one felt more heated, more desperate, like you were each others oxygen, like you needed it.

he brought both his hands back to your waist, clutching at your shirt, as you wrap your arms around his neck, one hand sliding up into his hair, playing with it causing him to grin into the kiss.

“fucking finally!” lucy yelled, you both break apart, snapping back to the real world. you see lucy standing excitedly at the top of the stairs with george, who had a disgusted expression.

“dinners ready, by the way, but clearly you both were already eating.” george mocked.

“gross george!” you groaned, hiding your face in lockwoods shoulder.

“oh yeah says you! hurry it up.” he retorts, stomping down the stairs, lucy giggling following close behind.

as you pull away from lockwoods shoulder, and begin to follow the other two, lockwood is quick to grab your hand and spin you back towards him.

he lands a peck on your lips, “needed one more.” he whispered.

[rainbow-sunshine-unicorn]

No but I’m back to thinking about how messing with the timeline of the books causes so many little snags for the story in season 3, like what makes Colin Bridgerton the most eligible suitor of the season to the Ton, according to show canon?

In the books, both Anthony and Benedict are already married, and Gregory is a baby, meaning that Colin is the only viable option to gain access to the Bridgerton name, fortune and familial relationship and Colin was still relatively young and handsome. So, it all adds up as to why he’s the most marriageable prospect in the eyes of the Ton.

In the show, Colin is young and handsome, yes, but BENEDICT IS NOT MARRIED AND VERY MUCH AVAILABLE. Colin is, therefore, not the only viable option to gain the Bridgerton name and fortune. And as far as anyone in the Ton knows, till Edmund is born, Benedict is Anthony’s direct heir, a fact Anthony has publicly proclaimed earlier in the show, which is also strengthened by the fact that he was participating in running the estate in Anthony’s absence.

You can say that Benedict never expresses any intentions to marry, but neither does Colin make any overt declarations. All he does is flirt with and engage the debutantes. Which makes him attractive but hardly has anything to do with eligibility. Plenty of attractive and charming men were considered dismal marriage prospects.

Benedict is also older, and given tradition, he’s more likely to want to settle down before Colin. He’s also actively attending society events and participating in them, and seems very devoted to his family. So, there’s literally no reason why Colin should be seen as more willing to marry than Benedict either.

Neither is Benedict some ogre in comparison to Colin, he’s perfectly handsome and relatively young compared to prospects like Cressida’s decrepit suitor this season.

Then what makes Colin the most eligible suitor of the season to the Ton? Absolutely nothing.

The only rational explanation here is that he’s declared the most eligible suitor by Lady Whistledown based on her own judgment as Penelope rather than popular opinion in the Ton. Which is such an egregious bastardisation of LW. It also takes the wind out of the argument that “LW merely writes what is already present in the Ton” from applying as a defence of show Penelope.

It’s just a frustrating mess for no reason

[feuilletonette]

Bridgerton S3, they could never make me hate you.

I had been consuming a lot of contents albeit very much revolves around these two darlings, Penelope and Colin. I just couldn't get enough. I was simply never the same after Polin. Never.

It had been pressing weeks when I felt the shed of my old skin upon the compounding insinuations of loss affection toward men of haunting past. In which with all their might would do everything to sabotage the relationship, to run screaming and crying and throwing up to absolutely defy these insurmountable feelings, one could label within the word, love. Until they are utterly consumed by these thoughts and overwhelming need to express such affections where the only way to ever cope results to angry, passionate confessions of love.

I am wild to witness the stark difference of how we see Colin did none of those things because in my conclusion, he wasn't as emotionally constipated and the first three leads and it is such a refreshing medium to see without ever actually stripping him flat. That is what I want: a tender, loving, down bad softboy declaring that if his purpose was to love a woman as great as me, then he shall be a very fulfilled man, indeed.

The argument that he didn't say the 'I love you' enough debate was, in surface, quite understandable but if you start to analyse closely, after the proposal, almost every interactions he's had revolved around finding an opportunity to express his love and admiration to/for Penelope, especially in his conversation with his siblings.

He didn't need to scream his confession, he'd been attuned and embracing it (enthusiastically so) once realised, that is why he was never repulsed of having to speak of it the first place! In fact, he even actively communicates it in the most beautiful way possible.

He sought advice from Violet, followed Anthony straight away when he told him that he should tell her he loves her. Listen to Kate's marital advice. He's open, he's receiving help, he's trying to process his hurt and overcoming his triggers. He's learning to do better but it wasn't perfect. He made mistakes along the way but eventually led him to the path of acceptance.

He wanted to love her better, despite of and in spite of. Colin had always been introspective so when he had discovered the root of his actions, he gathered up the courage to be vulnerable and admit it to Penelope. That he was feeling envious because he never truly felt good enough. But this was recieve to be affirmed of his inherent worth. The thing I love about this couple is that they felt so human and that propelled them to move past such damaging beliefs of themselves to do better.

Don't even get me started with Penelope, I could make dissertations of how well she was written for all anyone could care. Miss girl is ambitious, I love how her mental glow-up was able to comply how well her physical glow-up was executed also. In the end, she needn't to choose between herself and the man she loves.

She can be both independent and cherished by a man, a man who constantly worked on himself because she mattered more than his ego. She may have wavered after various discouragement and she had tried, so so hard to give up her success but she couldn't. Whistledown is something she wouldn't compromise as it would mean betraying a part of herself. So I was glad that upon fighting for it, the people around her soon realised that this is something they could not deny and something they should fight with her not off of her. I'm glad that the show was able to depict that Penelope could have both. Being a succesful, career-driven woman should not cost you your love, or at least the right one. And it's a powerful message to have.

I also love this passage of weilding her power into more productive causes such as giving voice to the voicless. I hope we see more of it for the upcoming season.

Though, of course it's not perfect, with pacing issues and subplots with purpose I had hard time figuring. But if there's one thing I couldn't stress enough, season 3 has so much depth and I was very glad to dive upon the narrowest trenches of it.

It was so beautifully done and that is why I also stand that Polin have the strongest foundation so far as they navigate their biggest block and be the best versions of themselves together, and occasionally, with the help of one another.

P.S I am only talking about the show Polin, I hated the book, but I suppose this would be for another post.