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#Simon basset angst
sukibenders · 4 months
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Being a woc fan of Bridgerton can be a struggle, especially when it comes to liking the poc characters on the show, especially the woc. Like I remember when s1 came out and the blatant microaggressions and just plain racism coming from this fandom was atrocious. You had people spewing very hateful things about Charlotte, Marina, and Simon and undermining the latter two's pain and trauma at the hands of the white characters---Marina was treated terribly by the Featheringtons and, whether you like Penelope or not, you cannot deny that she also played a part by releasing that letter to the Ton and Simon was violated Daphne no matter how people try to spin the story to offer her some form of sympathy (it still blows my mind that people would want to though).
S2 is just as bad (not even including how they changed the Sharma family's storyline than how it was in the books when that wasn't necessary) and the racist undertones many of the fans have towards Mary and Edwina (as well as Kate but for her it's carries more brown woman needing to be saved by a white man when Anthony is involved because a lot of you all in the fandom are quick to use this trope such as "oh, he's the only one who truly knows her"). The lack of screen time for this family really ends up hurting them to but even with that, whether you like Mary and Edwina or not, it would be a lie to deny the racism a lot in the fandom hold towards them (and how that falls onto the actresses because it was very apparent how many in the fandom couldn't let two Desi women shine without having to bring down the other and Netflix played into that too for drama) and paints every small thing they do as being terrible crimes but in the same breath will not have the same smoke for the Bridgertons, who have their own set of problems (but because they are also the main family, among other things, they are provided more grace without consequences).
#bridgerton#edwina sharma#kate sharma#mary sharma#marina thompson#queen charlotte#simon basset#like fandoms can be a very hostile place especially toward poc#and don't even get me started on some fans acting like they care about the poc characters but only still fall into the tropes i presented#im nervous for how this post will be received bc ngl when people call out the racist antics in bridgerton people love to downplay it#and that's just not right (for any fandom)#and this impacts actors too bc there should be no reason that charithra can hardly be excited about her role in the show#or how ruby had received so much hate that (probably) as a result had two breakdowns#on top of still being asked by polin and pen fans to denounce marina to uplift their white faves#dni if you can't have a calm conversation here#also seeing the creator of the show say for s3 kathony that there won't be as much angst#more happy couple scenes irks me in a way bc that amount of angst didn't have to flood s2 if they weren't so concerned with pointless drama#like the books themselves gave enough angst without the engaged to your sister plotline and such#also would have made anthony seem like less of a prick and actually respect a woman's honor but nope#don't even get me started on how it seems more common for the poc characters to have to gripe and struggle#(especially with things that....they should not be blamed for) at the hands of or as result of white characters#when in the same breath that courtesy isn't extended to said white characters#(e.g. marina having to push colin in pen's direction even though both failed her#to simon begin assaulted and then blamed for it by daphne and the narrative#to kate having to move mountains to grow (even though for most part she wasn't wrong) but don't even see anthony apologize for his actions)#all the actors especially the woc experience racism (and other forms of discrimination) from this fandom#i haven't even gotten into the shitshow from some fans towards simone and the actor who plays simon#as well as the racism the actresses for queen charlotte faced#a lot of yall need to do better
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Title: Pleasing The Duke {6}*
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Duke of Hastings/Rege Jean Page x OFC Jemilla “Jemi” Remmington
Warning: Plot, Regency Historical Piece, Angst, SLOW BURN, 
Words: 5.3k
Summary: After your four weeks on the marriage mart and the tumultuous way your and the duke’s budding friendship that turned into a faux courtship, then a real crisis that could have tarnished your name forever, you are now married to the duke. Only this is no traditional marriage. The duke has professed to never fall in love, never get married, and never sire an heir, a matter you know nothing of. Furious that his wanton, lustful desires have gotten him to forego one of those vows, he is determined not to break the other two. That would usually be an easy feat. Only with you, it might be more challenging to keep those vows, seeing as no matter what, you are the only thing on his mind.
Note: Inspired by Rege Jean Page’s portrayal of Simon Bassett. This fic will not have any other characters from the series, except Lady Danbury, mainly the portrayal version of her by the incredible Adjoa Andoh and maybe Queen Charlotte portrayed by Golda Rosheuvel. This series will focus on The Duke and an OFC female character and will be a sultry and erotic historical romance. Anyone under 18 is advised not to read.
***Glossary of terms at the end of the chapter for period-specific words/items for greater comprehension.
***Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Julia Quinn’s characters, nor the Characters established by Bridgerton.
I own the rights to the original characters created in this story.
If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘  
As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️
***NOT Edited/Proofread***
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 
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           Chapter Six: A Gentle Hand
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Cold air raced up your spine, but a warmth was settled in your gut. The combination sent a shiver through your body. Moaning, you moved closer to the solid frame you felt against you. The warmth you found there was searing—comforting. Again, you moaned and tried to get closer. You wanted to be so close that the warmth was all your own. You draped a leg over the solid frame and settled falling back into a slumber. However, it was not restful. Your mind was plagued with visions of a storm. Raging winds wracked your person sending you this and that way. Thick, cold mud clung to you, almost pulling you deeper into the earth.
 When your visions calmed, you were met with hypnotizing eyes, full lips, and strong hands. Those hands touched you so possessively, so urgently. The face that came with those features was Simon’s. You could not make much out, but his words came to you in disorganized speech that was difficult to comprehend. When you thought you could make something out, the images changed. His lips remained and they were pressed to yours.
 Slowly, your eyes batted open. It took several moments for your vision to clear and steady. Once it did, you recognized your bedchambers. All was silent, only the soft crackle and pop of a fire could be heard. Early mornings were usually your favorite time of day. Everything was quiet, but you knew that everyone was on the move preparing for the start of the day. You liked to laze around in your bed listening to the birds chirp and watch the sunshine dance across your bed.
 You could hear the sounds of the chirping birds but though the sun brightly beamed through the windowpanes, it did not dance across the bed. Instead, you took notice of something else in your bed—or someone. You trailed your eyes up from the midsection of a body up, up, up until the bare chest of a man peeked from under the bed sheets—a very well-defined bare chest. Your breath caught then your throat tightened. Bringing your eyes higher, you found Simon’s glued on you. He did not move or speak, matter of fact, he seemed to be staring through you rather than at you.
 It took only a few seconds to realize he hadn’t realized you were awake. You glanced around again trying to understand what in the world had happened. On the floor beside the bed, you saw discarded clothes and your imagination went into hyperactivity. Again, you glanced up into Simon’s eyes. They were bloodshot with dark circles around them. He looked downright exhausted. Had he not slept?
 Just then, you recalled the storm and it slowly dawned on you that it had not been a dream, but a memory. Were you ill? Simon sucked in a breath then his body tensed.
 “Jamilla,” he breathed reaching over to you to press his hand to your forehead.
 The touch felt foreign but familiar. An image of him doing the same before filled your mind. Had he done it before? Simon continued to assess you with concerned eyes.
 “Someone come forth! Quickly!”
 You caught his eyes and noticed they looked tear filled. Simon avoided your eyes looking every which way. He tucked you tightly, so you now shared deep resemblance to a log in a lake. The doors opened and in came Mrs. Butler with your maids.
 “My lady,” Leesil began on a shriek. “Thank heavens we all were so worried.”
 Worried, you thought. Had things really been that bad? It was after all, just rain. You’d been caught in plenty of rainstorms. You looked to Simon again, but he still avoided your eyes.
 “My lord, the doctor has come,” Bridget announced as a tall man dressed in plain clothes entered the room.
 “Good. Come doctor, see to my wife.”
 With those words, Simon slipped from the bed whilst grabbing a discarded blanket that rested at the foot of the bed. He used the material to wrap himself from the waist down which told you he was very much nude while he was lying beside you. Oh my, you thought. While the doctor slinked to the side of the bed to tend to you, your eyes roamed Simon’s frame for a few moments taking in every inch of skin that was on display for you. Before long, Simon sprang into motion, excusing himself from the room entirely on some hushed whisper. What in the world was the matter with him?
 ~~~~~
 -Simon-
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Blast it!
 The anger he felt was leagues past mere anger. He was fuming. This was all his fault. After hearing a detailed account of the events leading up to your disappearance, he’d learned just how at fault he truly was. If only he’d been more attentive, more accommodating rather than avoiding you. If only he’d been warmer perhaps there wouldn’t have been quite so many misunderstandings. Your words from your drunken delirium in the rain came back to him.
 “Th—they must all la—laugh at—at—m-me seeing you ca—cann—cannot stand to b—be near m—me.”
 Taking the steps two at a time he dashed down them needing to feel the cold morning air whipping against his flesh.
 “Do you not. You have said such in every way since I stepped beside you in that church. You have said such in every move you make, every word you speak no matter how nondescript. In every breath you breathe you wish me gone.”
 His chest hurt from the rapid beating of his heart and no matter what he did to hold the air in his lungs it never worked. He ended up feeling as if he hadn’t gotten any at all. Seeing the door across the stone lobby, he sped his steps.
 “You already hate me so this should be a blessing for you. Wifeless, free to resume your rakish ways.”
 Once the ornate metal doorknobs were tightly clasped in his hands, he yanked them open thrusting himself out into the elements. As soon as he stepped out, the crisp morning air slapped him in the face like a welcomed awakening to the new day. Taking gulp after gulp of the air he forced it into his lungs hoping that chased away the panic surging through his body.
 It did not take long to realize this would not be enough.
 “Horse! F----F--Fe--Fetch—my hor--horse!”
 “Yes, my lord.”
 He did not know who’d said it, he could hardly focus on breathing let alone whose voice he’d heard. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the tips of the doctor from his childhood. He had not had a bout of hysteria since he was one and six, He thought he was long past this stage especially having faced his father regarding his abandonment. Apparently not, he thought.
 Before long, a footman approached with his horse, Zeus. Not waiting for the horse to stop he took quick steps and leapt up swinging himself onto his trusted steed.
 With the reins in hand he shouted, “Hiyah!”
 Zeus took off into the open greenery much like a fast-traveling lightning bolt as it split the sky before rainfall. The breeze was now whipping around him sending his banyan flapping behind him. Lightly he flicked Zeus’ reins prompting him to go faster. For as far as he could see it was open land—his land and he had not one worry.
 “Then why have you abandoned me? You hate me so much you would rather not eat with me, not sleep beside me, nor see my face. Just admit it.”
 He clenched his jaw thinking of that word. Abandoned. He wanted to throw himself off the horse. Never in his plans had he wanted to ever make someone feel the way he’d felt his entire life. Discarded, neglected, repulsed, abandoned. You felt abandoned by him because of his actions.
 “Hiyah!”
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Turning Zeus toward the dense tree grove, he steered him through the dangerous low hanging branches and broken wood. He only had seconds to make the right decision to keep his head firmly attached to his shoulders and it was what he enjoyed. He had learned long ago that he was somewhat of an adventure seeker. It was evident in his travels to exotic and distant lands and even his interest in boxing, fencing, archery, hunting and a few others. Many of his friends suspected he had a death wish and liked to see which sport would claim his life. Perhaps they were right.
 Giving Zeus a heel to the abdomen, he signaled him to jump over the coming fallen branches. Seconds later he had to duck to avoid his cause of death being beheading by wood. No matter the speed he was going or the danger he was thrusting himself into he still was not going fast enough to outrun your voice or the pain he saw in your eyes.
 He could not believe you did not know. It was in this moment as he ducked and from doom and leapt into the air from danger that he realized just how innocent you were. He had never entrained an innocent, never bothered, or dared to even attempt to. He knew he was far to damaged to be trusted to not twist and morph another to mirror himself. Horror filled his heart, but it was not from the shattered tree trunk that was in his path fiving him no way to avoid it.
 As Zeus’ impulses took hold skidding himself to a stop, he went flying through the air, over the broken wood and flat on his back several feet away. The collision knocked the wind right out of him making him see spots and fog. By the time his vision cleared he was leaned against the tree taking steady breaths.
 “Blazing Devils!”
 Flinging his head back he groaned as it collided with the tree which sent another torrent of curses from his lips. He deserved the pain; he deserved the agony he was in right now. Your face came to mind as did the memory of your body pressed against his all through the night. The ache coursing through him died down and was replaced with the fire of his desire for you. Gods help him he desired you more than he had ever desired any other woman. It baffled him beyond measure.
 Sitting there he slowly went over every detail of the night before, every feeling, every fear and came to terms with them. He was at fault in this situation, and he had to rectify it. He knew his mother would be ashamed of him and how he’s behaved around you. He also knew his father would probably be proud seeing his own coldness and aloofness in him. Perhaps he would finally accept him then.
 “Sod it all,” he mumbled.
 “You must conquer the past Simon, either you conquer it or it will make a fool of you in your present and all the days of your future.”
 Lady Danbury’s words never went too far from his mind. He had heard them echo all through his childhood at the most inconvenient of times. It was as if she knew way back then the struggles he would continue to have well into adulthood. Turning his head upward he caught sight of the sun that was now beaming down on him through the branches of the trees he was surrounded by.
 With the intense glare, more of Lady Danbury’s words flitted to his mind. These words she had uttered on the day you had wed.
 “She hath a kind and quaint heart, tread carefully and be gentle with her. Do not snuff her light out, let it in.”
 She was the closest to a mother he’d had, and he loved her dearly. She had often teased him asking how he could love her but swear to never love anyone. She understood the difference but enjoyed teasing him by pointing out he was capable of the emotion. He still needed proof and if the last few weeks were to be it, only one thing was clear, he was more capable of destruction than love. Something deep inside wished of him to be proven wrong. It was a wish he had never allowed to see the light of day. It lived in the darkest alcoves of his heart.
 After returning to the estate, he had a better hold of his emotions and thoughts. The guilt still wracked him, but it was easier to hold it at bay. As he jumped off his horse, his steward informed him of the doctor waiting in the drawing room to discuss your health. With haste he found the man in the midst of a cup of tea admiring the roses.
 “My lord.”
 “Please, no need for formalities doctor. Thank you for coming with such haste.”
 “Tis a pleasure to serve the Duke and Duchess of Hastings.”
 “Please continue your tea,” he said as he sat across from the man and allowed him to take another sip of tea.
 “To your liking?”
 “Very much, my lord.”
 “Good. How is she?”
 The doctor cleared his throat then set his cup and saucer down before he began.
 “The duchess’ breathing is quite labored, quite too labored if you ask me. I am inclined to believe she has some pulmonary infliction, and a minor draft. She has coughing bouts which is slight worrisome for me. If this is left untreated it could lead to more serious conditions.”
 “Will she recover?”
 “I believe she will. my advice is to keep her warm, ensure she gets plenty of rest, I have written the recipe for an herbal tincture that I wish to be made into tea for her to drink three times a day for sennight. Sun will also do her good. With this there is no reason the duchess will not recover.”
 The relief he felt must have been evident. The doctor smiled.
 “Tis refreshing to see a man who loves his wife so.”
 He nodded but did not reply. “I assure I will bring the duchess back to good health.”
 “Happy to hear it, my lord!”
 After allowing the doctor to finish his cup of tea he relayed the orders to the house instructing them on the proper way to care for Jamilla. Once that was squared away, he retired to his chambers to clean himself up from his impromptu ride.
 ~~~~~
 -Jamilla-
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“My lady.”
 Snapping your head to the right you found Brigit and Leesil both standing there with concerned looks on their faces.
 “Y—Yes,” you rasped before clearing your throat ignoring the tightness in your chest.
 “Do you feel well? You gave us quite a fright,” Bridget added.
 “I am sorry to have worried you. But surly it was not that bad.”
 Leesil’s eyes widened even further. “Ma’am, it was a horror. You were unconscious, shivering cold one moment, hotter than a flame the next, your lips were quite blue. Mrs. Butler was certain the estate would have claimed another Duchess of Hastings.”
 Your curiosity piqued then. “An—,” A cough wracked your body that quickly escalated into a bout lasting longer than you liked. Both Bridget and Leesil approached you attempting to sooth and assist you any way they could. When the coughing finally passed you took the glass of water that Leesil held out for you.
 “Goodness.”
 You fanned your face and hoped that the burn in your chest would subside sooner rather than later. When it finally dwindled to a slight ache, you looked at Leesil needing to know more.
 “What do you mean the estate would have claimed another?”
 Leesil looked to Bridget hesitantly before she looked back to you. “Leesil please,” you urged.
 “Do you not know of the history of this estate or the Hastings’?”
 “I have heard the basics. The Duke and Duchess married and eventually had a child, but the duchess passed away.”
 “The previous Duchess did expire—shortly after she delivered the duke, in this estate in a room that has been blocked off for decades.”
 You’d heard that his mother passed on, but you did not know it was during childbirth.
 “She passed on alone, save for Lady Danbury,” Leesil finished.
 Your eyes widened. “Alone? Why? What of the Duke? Where was he?”
 Leesil’s face twisted into a scowl of disgust. “Flaunting his long awaited, newborn son to anyone with eyes. He cared not for the wellbeing of the Duchess. Quite shameful! Me mum loved the Duchess and has never forgiven the man for how her last moments went.”
 Your heart broke hearing the accounts of the past. The late duke sounded like a heartless man. Part of you wondered if that was who Simon aspired to be. Was the way he treated you the way his father had treated his mother? Suddenly a flash of a memory came to mind. It was a memory of Simon treating you completely different than he had for the last several days.
 “Is something the matter?”
 “Was—Was I alone while I was ill?”
 Again, Leesil and Bridget glanced at each other before they turned back to you.
 “No ma’am. The duke accompanied you,” Bridget informed.
 “All night,” Leesil added.
 Your eyes widened again as another image came to mind. Simon’s arms were wrapped around your body pulling you against his very much nude one.
 “The entire night?”
 “Yes, my lady,” they answered in unison.
 You squinted your eyes trying to press the edges of your mind to give you more memories. The more they came the more you did not understand. None of what you imagined made sense because none of it revealed more than flashes. Hands on your body, chest pressed to yours, your face buried in a neck, lips, fabric, and heat, plenty of heat.
 “I would say the duke must possess healing powers to have revived you within one night,” Leesil teased making Bridget giggle.
 Before you could reply, the door opened and in walked Simon like a ray of sunshine on a gloomy morning. Your eyes could not help but follow him as he walked in and around the four-post bed to you. Everything and everyone else faded.
 “Bridget, Leesil I will take it from here.”
 “Yes, my lord,” they replied in unison reminding you that they were there in the first place.
 Once the door closed behind them, you looked back to Simon who was now seated on the side of the bed he’d gotten out earlier in the morning. His eyes were on you as he was trying to read every hidden emotion or thought behind your eyes.
 “Are you well?”
 “Yes,” you whispered.
 Simon pressed the back of his hand to your forehead then hummed. “You are not as hot as you were in the night. That is a bit of good news. I have brought your breakfast and medicine. Would you be interested in eating?”
 Slowly you nodded. Simon began uncovering the dishes and bowls on the trey that was now on the bed. As he revealed the food your hunger awoke reminding you that you had not eaten since the previous day.
 “What shall we begin with? Perhaps a spot of tea?”
 Again, you nodded. As you moved for the teacup, Simon beat you to it and lifted the porcelain to your lips. You hesitated for a moment but took a sip from the cup and rejoiced inside as the fruit and floral notes hit your senses.
 “I found it a delightful surprise hearing you add rose and mulberries to your tea.”
 “It gives it sweetness and turns it--.”
 “Delicate,” Simon finished.
 Your eyes lingered for a few moments before he lowered the cup back to the trey. A soft scoff escaped him, “It suits you.”
 Bit by bit Simon raised fork and spoonfuls of food to your lips, taking care to not give you too much at once and to keep your face clean. You were practically beside yourself seeing this side of him. It was so unlike anything you’d seen from him before. Surly when you’d first met you’d made up your mind of him labeling him as a rake, then it slowly transitioned into him being a libertine. There is where it remained no matter how quickly you found yourself becoming mesmerized by his charm and alluring maleness. He was so unlike any other man you’d met before, so delectably unique. The more you learned of him, the more traits he begrudgingly revealed of himself you found him bearable and quite tortured. Along the way you got it into your mind that perhaps all he needed was a true friend, or someone to heal whatever tortured him so. Was it silly? Perhaps.
 Over the last weeks, his distance, aloofness, and complete avoidance of you of course changed your perspective of him entirely. You had begun to see how silly you were during those weeks of the season where you paraded around with him in hopes of steering prospective suitors away from the both of you. It was clear he was suffering from the ghosts he carried with him, and no one could save any man from that torment, he himself would have to best them.
 Here he was though, sitting across from you taking care of you with such gentleness it made your heart ache. His actions were not hurried, they were the opposite, it seemed as if he wished this moment to stretch on for as long as possible. Even the way he spoke telling you news from the residents of the acreage, well wishes for your health and the distinction between what the residents did for the land was different.
 His tone was softer, there seemed to be a calm melody to his words that relaxed you. It had been weeks since you felt this at ease with him. It was an ease that you did not worry what he was thinking of you or if he disliked you. In this moment you could read him clearly. He was behaving like a man who actually cared about his wife. You would be lying if you said having him there didn’t make you happier.
 Once breakfast and your medicine were finished you rang the bell for your maids, wishing for a bath.
 “Open water is forbidden while recovering.”
 You sighed at Simon’s words dropping your shoulders in disappointment. You’d gained an affinity to regular bathing. There was something peaceful of sitting in scented warm water and being left alone with your thoughts and the sunlight.
 “Yes, my lord, my lady?”
 “Worry not, Mrs. Butler,” you informed.
 “Mrs. Bulter, please begin preparations for the duchess’ evening medicine.”
 “Yes, my lord.”
 “Also, warm a basin of water and bring it here please.”
 “Yes, sir.”
 You were curious what he needed the water for but did not question him. He held up two books before you with a smile on his face.
 “Idealistic poetry or swashbuckling tales of adventure?”
 You smiled and leaned against the wooden headboard. “Only if this swashbuckling adventure you speak of is of a heroine and not a hero.”
 Simon chuckled. “I dare say I have learned my lesson and have steadfastly filled the library with plenty of tales of heroines thrust into in a variety of adventure, some more lewd that genteel company would not dare speak of.”
 Your eyes widened as you gently swat at his arm. “Simon!”
 Again, he chuckled. “Forgive me my lady, a swashbuckling adventure it is. Are you comfortable?”
 “Quite.”
 “Then we begin. “Ahoy, who goes there,” Lady Philomena Vanquest shouted with her sword in hand.”
 You sighed watched him as he read to you. Within the first few pages your eyes closed and you envisioned the story playing out before you. His voice serving as the perfect tool to bring everything to life. His voice was easily your favorite thing about him. He had a voice that could work magic on a lady in the dark pressed against a wall--the voice that could seduce even the most unwilling bedfellow. His voice easily conjured feelings of lust and desire and it had been this way from the very beginning.
 “Jamilla? Jamilla.”
 Your eyes fluttered open and there he was peering at you with concern. The sun that was once beaming in the room was slowly disappearing.
 “Are you well?”
 You moaned then sat up. “I fell asleep.”
 “You did. I did not know my voice bored you so to catapult you into unconsciousness,” Simon teased.
 “I promise it does not.”
 “No?”
 Your eyes met and locked. “No,” you whispered.
 Simon smiled then nodded. “Good to hear.”
 A knock at the door brought both of your heads to watch Mrs. Butler, Bridget and Leesil walk in, each carrying different things. Mrs. Butler carried a trey of clothes, Bridget a basin, and Leesil a stack of fresh clothing and small glass bottles.
 “What is this?”
 “While I cannot in good faith allow you to submerge yourself into water, I can offer a compromise,” Simon said motioning for the items to be put down.
 The steam from the large basin told you it was freshly heated. Across the surface of the water rose, daisy, peony, lilac, sweet briar petals danced while filling the room with the aroma of the garden you loved to spend your time in.
 “My lady, I have also added the honeysuckle and jasmine oils you enjoy,” Bridget added.
 A smile spread across your face as your heart warmed. “Thank you.”
 “I take it this option is to your liking?”
 “Yes, very much so.”
 “Good. Thank you everyone, you may leave.”
 Alarm rushed through you at the meaning of his words. Did he intend to stay as you did it yourself or would he do it himself?
 “Seeing as this terrible predicament is my fault entirely, I offer my services. Tisn’t been a fortnight since we married and already you are battling illness. I fear your mother and brothers would skin me alive.”
 “Twas I who--,” you began only for Simon to cut you off, claiming the blame for himself once again. Accepting defeat, you nodded.
 “Thank you for your consideration.”
 “Bridget you may stay to assist.”
 “My lord,” Bridget replied.
 You watched Simon roll the sleeves of his half unbuttons white shirt and dip his hand into the basin to swirl the water around. He did it so slowly that your eyes could not look away. When he dipped a clean cloth into the water, the flower petals clung to it. Once he’d wrung the water out, he came closer and brought the cloth to slowly wipe your face with gentle strokes.
 Your senses elated from the smells enveloping you. They should have calmed you, made you feel at ease but the way your heart was rapidly thudding in your chest said they were doing the opposite. However, you believed the culprit this time was not the flowers but the nearness of your husband as he for the first time assisted you with something so intimate as a wipe down.
 You wondered if he could hear your heart. Could he hear the horse hoofs’ gallops going off inside of you as loudly as you heard them? He dipped the cloth into the water again and repeatedly his actions then brought the cloth to your neck. Everywhere he trailed the cloth, the heat from the water soothed your muscles taking some of the ache of your ordeal away. When you felt him slip to the back of your neck you lowered your head giving him easier access. The feel of his fingertips along the bone at the back of your neck had you gasping and clutching the blankets across your lap.
 Simon slowly brought the cloth around and dipped inside the lite material of your shift to your shoulder. As he went over it a few times goosebumps broke out over your flesh.
 “Bridget,” Simon uttered, his voice sounded clouded, as if he had to force it out.
 You wanted to look at him so badly, wanted to see if his face gave anything away to how he was feeling or what he was thinking, but you could not. Something inside of you prevented it. As Simon busied his hands in the basin again, Bridget came to your side of the bed and began lifting the shift you wore off of your body replacing it with a lite muslin cloth.
 It was then your heart beating really took off. You were now nude in front of him for the second time and this time was not any less nerve wracking. Albeit this time you were still covered, even the thin muslin left little to the imagination. suddenly an image of your nude body underneath Simon’s came to mind. His lips were pressed against yours as was every inch of his hard, lean and powerful body. The feel of cool air brought you back to see your lower half exposed to Simon’s sight. The muslin rested atop you, but he brushed it aside revealing one leg. Bringing the heated cloth to your ankle he slowly wiped upward then down only to do it again and again until he wiped all around. Your belly was in flight and your heart was seconds away from bursting. How could one man elicit such a strong reaction?
 You watched as the cloth returned to your knee and trail a torturously slow path up your thigh. When Simon’s hand dipped to your inner thigh you noticed a shake. Bringing your eyes to him, you saw the focus on his features. It was as if he were pressing every inch of your skin to memory to revisit later. You could not help but wonder when later he would think of this? In bed perchance?
 When his hand made it several inches up your inner thigh he retreated and moved to your other leg. You watched every move he made but not because you did not trust him to respect you, but because you wanted to remember this for your own revisit. You wanted to watch his hands roam across your body as you envisioned the cloth not there.
 After Simon finished your lower half a new basin that mirrored the first came. On Bridget’s instruction, you leaned forward revealing your bare back for him to wipe. The chance of his fingers raking down your back made you arch, dipping it inward. A groan escaped Simon then, it was a groan that made a part of you that you’d never knew of awaken. It felt like part of you deep inside your gut had fallen and it ached. Oh, how it ached.
 Simon brought the cloth up and again his fingertips made a trail. This time that ache made you moan. Simon sighed out suddenly sending a puff of air across your flesh. Another image came to mind of the same thing happening only along your breast. That made you press your fingertips to your lips. Were these memories? Dreams?
 “My lady.”
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Looking to your right you met Simon’s eyes, but he did not speak. You saw the action he inquired in his eyes. Consent. Hesitating you took several breaths, none of them worked to slow your heart, none of them helped to calm your nerves. Your governess’ words rang in your head.
 “Ones husband is entitled to look upon his wife in any capacity he chooses.”
 Before now you’d always wondered just what she meant. Look upon how? Now you understood. Your throat was dryer than barren land in the prime heat of the summer months. You swallowed then slightly cringed hearing a small gulp echo around you. He must think you such a naïve wallflower, you thought. He didn’t budge, he just waited and waited and waited for you to grant him said consent. biting your bottom lip, you chewed at it until you were certine it was raw. Then you released the muslin you grasped so tightly at. The fabric fell to bunch in your lap revealing you in the setting sun’s light to your husband. As it fell you felt his warmed breath brush against your newly exposed breasts.
 Before it was candlelight he’d seen you and from a distance. They both afforded you some mystery but now he was inches away from you with ample light. He could look as he willed. You watched Simon’s eyes lower and slowly rake over your bodice. Every second his jaw jumped showing the definition of his jawline. He was handsome from the front but from the side—his profile was a thing of beauty.
 As he dipped the cloth into the basin again you heard him mumble a curse, you’d heard plenty a time.
 “Blast it.”
 When he raised the cloth to your collar you held your breath. It was not intentional but you felt the only way to get through this without leaping off of the bed either into his lap or out the door was to restrict your brain of oxygen so it would decrease its ability to think. It was perfectly logical, you theorized. The folly in your thinking did not occur to you until halfway through when you realized Simon’s movements were so slow, so torturous that he hadn’t even made it past your collar before white spots danced behind your eyes.
 “Breathe Jamilla,” Simon whispered.
 On command you did just that and that was when you felt the cloth swipe across your breast. Immediately, you felt your nipple pebble as another huff of warm breath skirt across your skin. Simon wiped over, around and under your breast then did the same to the other before dipping the cloth down the center of your body to your stomach.
 Alarm rushed through you. Was he really planning on going that far? Your governess had not given you any tips or information about this. Was he going to touch you? The anticipation made you shiver and just when you were certain you would shoot off the bed into the air, Simon’s hand stopped just below your navel. His eyes were squeezed closed, jaw clenched tightly and hand shaking. Seconds later, he pulled away and held the cloth to Bridget.
 “You can assist the madam better than I.”
 With that, he abruptly stood beside the bed then bowed his head to you.
 “I bid you farewell, my lady. I shall return for dinner—if you will have me.”
 For far too long the silence stretched in the room when Simon’s eyes met yours and his thick brow shot up you realized you’d been sitting there incapable of speech. A nod was all you could muster. Simon’s eyes dipped to your bare breasts and again his jaw went haywire. He turned then strode to the door leaving you alone with Bridget, a body full of anxious energy and a head full of thoughts definitely not suitable for a woman from genteel society. 
One thing was clear, within these images you were having and the current encounter there was one commonality—he had not persisted. He had in fact pulled away from you. He really did not want you at all—in any capacity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Glossary:
Term “One and Six”: In Regency Era it was common among some to refer to ages over single digits as both numbers. EX: 16 = one and six. Of course, this isn’t always the case, it would depend on the region and the class of people.
Hysteria: Commonly referenced in Regency time which we in modern times would call panic. Could also be referenced to regency word Vapors which is usually when someone is going through a “panic attack” with the hyperventilating, agitation and or bouts of fainting.
Banyan: A men’s dressing robe usually worn at home. Think of a woman’s robe but for men. Could be elaborately designed, thick, or as thin as preferred.
Sennight: A time lasting one week.
Blazes: Euphemism for hell or the devil.
Blast: Equivalent to the modern terms sh** or damn.
Sod It: Equivalent to the modern statement "F**k it" or "Damn it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
***If you want to be tagged/untagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!***
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TagList:
@shar74nettt @soapjay @ashanti-notthesinger @caramara3 @caplover22 @blackpinup22 @areubeingserved @your-chaotic-neutral @zejess93 @reignandrain @ovohanna24 @ramp-it-up  @littlepreciousangel @msblkfire84 @id-do-it-for-free-babe @my-rosegold-soul @sadthotsonlylove @arination99 @wondersofdreaming @veganvampre @ohsoverykeri @mery-be  @insanitytreason @mauvecherie @xximpressions @turnthepageandbeburnt  @turn-thy-paige @reignandrain @brownsugarcoffy​ @udeadass
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salvawhores-world · 11 months
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Tolerate it - Anthony Bridgerton x Oc
Anthony bridgerton x Emma Norwood
Warnings - Angst, Childhood friends to lovers, Anthony being a bitch.
A/N - This is my first lore from the series Taylor x bridgerton. I was begging for some Anthony angst here we are. Mothers song from her most underrated and favourite album is here.
Do not Steal my work.
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Anthony Bridgerton and Emma Norwood, now Emma Bridgerton, had been married for years, their love blossoming since childhood.
Their friendship, nurtured by Viscount Bridgerton and Earl Norwood, their fathers laid the foundation for a deep and enduring connection. Even before understanding the complexities of love, they were inseparable.
While their marriage was far from perfect, Emma devoted herself to being a dedicated viscountess, committed to her family and to Anthony.
Emma expected reciprocation from Anthony. She longed for his complete presence in their marriage and for him to cherish their bond as deeply as she did. Yet, despite her fervent efforts, she found herself wanting. The last two pieces of the puzzle were missing—the heartfelt acknowledgment of her contributions and the unreserved affection that she craved.
“I sit and watch you reading
With your head low
I wake and watch you
breathing with yourEyes closed
I sit and watch you
And notice everything
you do or don't do”
“Eloise has suddenly developed a keen interest in witnessing the race. I thought I might accompany her there. Besides She's also mentioned running out of books to read. I'll check if there's an exhibition where I can get her some," Emma uttered, delicately pouring a cup of steaming tea for herself.
She sat across from Anthony, who remained immersed in his newspapers, brooding in silence, responding merely with a faint hum. It felt akin to conversing with an unresponsive wall.
As the days drifted by, with each morning finding Anthony deep in slumber, his countenance peaceful, Emma would gaze at him, his breath flowing steadily.
In the presence of her husband, she would awaken, yet a chill clung to the bed—a frigidity that mirrored his heart, their union. A silent witness, she would sit, observing the unraveling of everything they held dear, crumbling into disarray.
“You're so much older and wiser and I
I wait by the door like I'm just a kid
Use my best colors for your portrait
Lay the table with the fancy shit
And watch you tolerate it”
"Sister, focus your attention here," Gregory exclaimed, his notebook spread out before him, jolting Emma from her reverie.
Her gaze, fixated on the door where her husband engaged in conversation with Daphne, was interrupted. She had known Anthony since their earliest days, certain that even as a two-year-old, he had attempted to cradle her tender newborn self in his tiny arms. Observing him now, her heart swelled.
He appeared older, wiser, and handsomer than she had ever known him to be throughout the passing years.
"My apologies, Greg. Now, where were we?" she apologized, returning to her task of aiding him with his studies.
Emma sensed Anthony's presence behind them. "How is your Latin progressing, Gregory?" Anthony inquired of his younger brother, who replied with respectful deference.
“Emma, may I have a word with you?" Anthony stated, nodding curtly. The couple excused themselves from the young boy's side.
"How are the preparations for the forthcoming ball progressing? It marks our first grand event since Colin's engagement," Anthony questioned.
Emma reassured him, "Worry not, Anthony. I have personally overseen every aspect. Rest assured, everything shall be executed flawlessly, precisely as you prefer." Emma's countenance brightened.
As she relayed the ball's particulars, Anthony merely responded with nods. No matter what Emma did, it never seemed to be enough. Would she ever experience the same love from him, bestowed upon her as it once had been?
“I greet you with a battle hero’s welcome
I take your indiscretions all in good fun
I sit and listеn, I polish plates until they gleam and glistеn”
“Please, please, PLEASE, Em, what must I do to persuade you? Aren't you my best friend?" Benedict exclaimed dramatically, pacing around Emma with a palette and a few brushes in hand.
“No, Ben, I cannot. I have an abundance of tasks to complete, and besides, I lack the patience to sit idle for hours," she replied, ticking off items on her to-do list as she moved about the drawing room.
“Be my muse, my inspiration!" Benedict shouted, now on one knee with his arms outstretched. Ever the dramatic soul.
“Ah, so my viscountess serves as your muse, I presume, brother?" Anthony interjected rudely, peering up from his newspaper.
Emma rolled her eyes and placed a plate of cakes and a cup of tea in front of her husband. "Your wife happens to be my closest friend, brother," Benedict retorted, his words dripping with resentment.
Anthony's voice dripped with underlying insinuation as he grumbled, "I care not for whatever attachments my wife may hold with you, Benedict, so long as she remains mine."
His words carried an unnerving implication, fueling Benedict's frustration and leaving Emma heartbroken, struggling to hold back her tears.
Benedict was livid. How could Anthony speak of Emma in such a manner, reducing her significance? Being only a month older than Emma and of the same age, Benedict and Emma had been inseparable since childhood. How could Anthony entertain such unsettling thoughts?
The first thing Benedict sketched was Emma adorned in a pristine white wedding gown, with Anthony as the groom and himself as the best man—a depiction of a joyous, harmonious family. It pained Benedict to witness his cherished friend enduring such anguish because of his own brother's actions.
“While you were out building other worlds, where was I?
Where’s that man who’d throw blankets over my barbed wire?
I made you my temple, my mural, my sky
Now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life”
Sitting before the crackling fire, Emma completed the final strokes of her latest letter, sealed with utmost care. It had been a week since Anthony's departure to France, lending his aid to Colin with an investment.
Throughout this time, she had heard little from him about his whereabouts. His sparse correspondence consisted of a mere few lines, informing her of his well-being and the status of his return. As the flames danced, memories flooded her mind.
"EMMA!" Young Anthony's voice reverberated through the verdant hills of Kent as he dismounted his horse and hastened toward his beloved.
Emma immediately abandoned her embroidery, leaving behind a beautiful napkin and her friend Daphne, running into the embrace of her dear boy. "At last, you have arrived," she murmured, her words muffled by the tightness of their hug.
"Being away from you feels like a cruel punishment. I detest Oxford," he grumbled, their gazes locked as they pulled away from each other.
Emma's smile illuminated her countenance. "You cannot fathom how weary I have grown of reading words. Hearing your voice is truly enchanting," she confessed, his forehead meeting hers as he leaned forward to gently kiss her brow.
"I am sorry for leaving you behind. If I had the power, I would abandon my studies or…or find a way to smuggle you in with me," he gasped, his breath still uneven from his exertions.
Emma laughed, a melodic sound that echoed through the air. "It is merely a matter of one more year, Anthony. Soon, you shall be here, And find me waiting for you, and we will be together," she reassured him.
"Together forever," he whispered, their foreheads touching in a tender embrace. "Together forever," she nodded, the young couple venturing forth into the sunset, their hearts entwined.
Overwhelmed by the memory, Emma found herself breaking down, tears streaming down her face as she gazed at the sealed letter and clutched the same old delicate napkin with the exquisitely embroidered "A." It was the sole remnant of so many cherished years.
“You assume I’m fine, but what
would you do if I
Break free and leave us in ruins
Took this dagger in me and removed it
Gain the weight of you, then lose it
Believe me, I could do it”
"I am fearful” Emma whispered softly as the couple prepared themselves. Her mind was awash with countless thoughts, and she felt like she was drowning.
Emma feared that if this torment continued any longer, she would shatter her wretched excuse for a marriage and flee. The burden had become unbearable.
The person she loved more than anything didn't even acknowledge her existence, breaking her spirit day after day.
"Fear not, my love, for it shall be a splendid occasion," Anthony assured her, adjusting his cufflinks before the mirror glass.
The fact that he didn't even inquire about his wife's distress infuriated Emma. In that moment, she entertained the idea of packing her belongings and escaping under the cloak of night, returning to her parents' residence in Kent.
Her father would undoubtedly welcome her with open arms, allowing her to indulge in her passion for reading and sketching.
Would Anthony come to fetch her? Would he realize his grave mistake and rediscover his love for her, prompting a fresh start? If she dared to voice her grievances, her father would surely confront Anthony and defend her honor, for that was precisely what Edmund would have done.
"I shall meet you outside when you are prepared," Emma stormed out of the bedroom, leaving her bewildered husband gazing at his own reflection in utter confusion.
“If it’s all in my head, tell me now
Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow
I know my love should be celebrated
But you tolerate it
I sit and watch you”
Emma pleaded for him to take action, to salvage their marriage, their love, and her very being.
Anthony remained oblivious, trapped in the mechanical motions of life. Emma yearned for it to be a mere figment of her imagination, longing for Anthony to stand beside her, embracing her, easing her worries, and drying her tears.
She wished to scale walls, shatter barriers, and bridge the divide between them, perhaps desiring him to reach out and yearn for the depths of her love. Yet, all Emma could do was watch him tolerate it.
_______________________________________________
Do not steal my work.
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apinchofm · 9 months
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All I Think About is You
T, 8.3k words, one shot, Fluff, humor and angst!
Secrets, friendships and love triangles - because nothing was simple for Miss Edwina Sharma.
Or Edwina meets a Prussian prince who has to go to war and an English Lord who hates said Prussian prince when she debuts.
This started as a one shot for @angel-starbeam and developed - enjoy!
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winxanity-ii · 4 months
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SIMON BASSET
╰❝𝓣𝓸 𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓪 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝔀𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓲𝓼 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓫𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝔀𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽.❞
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🇰‌🇪‌🇾‌: ❥ = smut | 🔥 = heated/spicy | ✿ = fluff | 🕷 = angst | ✰ = personal fav
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FICS
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ONE-SHOTS
𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐞 | 🕷 ✰ | Fem!Reader / Bridgerton!AU
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HEADCANONS
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Kanthony fanfic - Married at First Sight tv show
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I was inspired to write a fanfic in which Kate and Anthony take part in the tv show Married at First Sight (UK). Just posted the first two chapters, and excited to see if others are interested in this concept.
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leossmoonn · 2 years
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bridgerton masterlist
note - hi! i’m sara and this is my bridgerton masterlist. here are my other masterlists if you wanna see ‘em! 
taglist form
KEY
f = fluff
a = angst
s = smut (must be 16+ older for read)
————
All coming soon!
anthony bridgerton
simon basset
benedict bridgerton
colin bridgerton
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b00inazkaban · 1 year
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MASTERLIST #2
Navigation!
Let me know if there are any characters you’d like added and I’ll look into it! :)
Smut = **
What I will NOT write for under any circumstance: R@pe, incest, anything to do with pee or poo, hardcore bdsm or anything like that type of smut, kidnapping reader for love, anything stalker, abuse unless it’s for angst but I won’t go into detail about the abuse (though I will do like slapping/spanking for smut it cannot have malicious meaning behind it, and there is always consent for that)
Also let me put this by itself, pregnancy is also way off the table. It’s 6 feet underground. I understand it’s part of life and it’s beautiful , and that’s for people to decide but personally I find just the concept of that horrifying and gross. I do breeding kink yes, but no description of pregnancy. (No hate to pregnant people I just can’t stand the concept of pregnancy in any form.)
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MARVEL:
☆ Tony Stark
☆ Steve Rogers
☆ Bruce Banner
☆ Natasha Romanoff
☆ Clint Barton
☆ Bucky Barnes
☆ Sam Wilson
☆ Peter Parker
☆ Thor Odison
☆ Loki Laufeyson
☆ Dr. Stephen Strange
☆ Peter Quill
☆ Gamora
☆ Drax the destroyer
☆ Rocket the Racoon
☆ Mantis
☆ Groot
Poly Requests:
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STRANGER THINGS:
☆ Steve Harrington: Steve Harrington x FtM reader**
☆ Robin Buckley :
☆ Nancy Wheeler:
☆ Eddie Munson:
☆ Johnathan Byers:
☆ Argyle:
☆ Billy Hargrove:
☆ Mike Wheeler: Little!Mike x GN!CG!Reader
☆ Dustin Henderson
☆ Will Byers
☆ Lucas Sinclair
☆ Eleven Hopper
☆ Max Mayfield
☆ Jim Hopper:
☆ Joyce Byers:
☆ Dmitri Antonov:
Poly Requests:
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HARRY POTTER/MARAUDER:
☆ Harry Potter:
☆ Ron Weasley: CG!Ron Weasley x Little!GN!reader
☆ Hermione Granger:
☆ Fred Weasley: CG!Fred Weasley x Little!Fem!Reader
☆ George Weasley: George Weasley x reader ; CG!George Weasley x LittleMale!Reader
☆ Neville Longbottom: Sub!Neville x Dom!Reader**
☆ Draco Malfoy:
☆ Blaise Zambini:
☆ Enzo Berkshire:
☆ Mattheo Riddle:
☆ Theo Nott:
☆ Pansy Parkinson:
Marauders Era or Lighting Era:
☆ Lucius Malfoy:
☆ Narcissa Malfoy:
☆ Severus Snape:
☆ Bellatrix Lestrange:
☆ Barty Crouch Jr. :
☆ Evan Rosier:
☆ Pandora Rosier:
☆ Zahara Zambini:
☆ Regulus Black:
☆ Sirius Black:
☆ Remus Lupin:
☆ Lily Evans:
☆ Marlene McKinnon:
☆ Mary McDonald:
☆ Dorcas Meadows:
FANTASTIC BEASTS:
☆ Newt Scamander:
☆ Thesus Scammander:
☆ Jacob Kowalski:
☆ Queenie Goldstein:
☆ Albus Dumbledore (young):
☆ Gellart Grindlewald (young):
Poly Requests:
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CRIMINAL MINDS:
☆Aaron Hotchner
☆ Jason Gideon
☆ Spencer Reid
☆ Derek Morgan
☆ JJ/ Jennifer Jareau
☆ Elle Greenaway
☆ Penelope Garcia
☆ Emily Prentiss
☆ David Rossi
Poly Requests:
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BRIDGERTON:
☆ Anthony Bridgerton
☆ Benedict Bridgerton
☆ Colin Briderton
☆ Daphne Bridgerton
☆ Eloise Bridgerton
☆ Simon Basset
☆ Penelope Fetherington
☆ Queen Charlotte (Young)
☆ King George (Young)
Poly Requests:
Queen charlotte x reader x King George
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TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES:
☆ Leonardo: NSFW alphabet
☆ Raphael:
☆ Donnatelo:
☆ Michelangelo: Mikey x Reader
☆ April O'Neil:
☆ Casey Jones:
Poly Requests:
Poly!TMNT x Fem!Reader; April 4-in-1; turtles are manspreading and you want payback 😚
Poly!TMNT x Fem!Reader; Casey tries to flirt with reader but she puts down the idea and the turtles are proud
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TOP GUN:
☆ Pete Mitchell "Maverick"
☆ Bradley Bradshaw "Rooster"
☆ Jake Seresin "Hangman"
☆ Natasha Trace "Phoenix"
☆ Robert Floyd "Bob"
Poly Requests:
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THE HOBBIT/LOTR:
☆ Thorin
☆ Bilbo
☆ Fili
☆ Kili
☆ Dwalin
☆ Bofur
☆ Bard
☆ Legolas
☆ Tauriel
☆ Thuranduil
Poly Requests:
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TWILIGHT:
☆ Carlisle Cullen
☆ Esme Cullen
☆ Emmet Cullen
☆ Rosalie Cullen
☆ Alice Cullen
☆ Jasper Cullen: CG!Jasper Hale x nb!little!reader
☆ Edward Cullen
☆ Bella Cullen/Swan
☆ Jacob Black
☆ Garrett
The Volturi:
☆ Aro
☆ Caius
☆ Marcus
Poly Requests:
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THE HUNGER GAMES:
☆ Katniss Everdeen
☆ Petta Mellark
☆ Finnick Odair
☆ Johanna Mason
☆ Haymitch Abernathy
Poly Requests:
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LUCIFER:
☆ Lucifer Morningstar
☆ Mazikeen
☆ Amenadeil
☆ Chole Decker
☆ Linda Martin
Poly Requests:
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How To Train Your Dragon:
☆ Hiccup Haddock
☆ Astrid Hofferson
☆ Snotlout
☆ Ruffnut
☆ Tuffnut
Poly Requests:
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Across The SpiderVerse:
☆ Miles Morales
☆ Miguel O'Hara
Spider thoughts!
☆ Peter B. Parker
Spider thoughts!
☆ Hobie Brown
☆ Gwen Stacy
☆ Spider-Noir
Spider thoughts!
Poly Requests:
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Descendants:
☆ Mal
☆ Evie
☆ Carlos
☆ Jay
☆ Gil
☆ Harry
☆ Uma
Poly Requests:
MATCHUPS/MOODBOARDS:
☆ @thoughtfulcreatornight x Raphael matchup
☆ Anonymous x Remus Lupin matchup
꧁〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎꧂
I’ve redone my masterlist because I was vey unhappy with my first one, and I wanted to add pictures to go with it! I’ll also be adding all my new work onto here and my old work will be on the first masterlist! Love y’all! 💗
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aphroditelovesu · 8 months
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❝𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙇𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙄𝙄 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏❞
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Historical Characters
💕 Yan!Alexander the Great w/His Twins!Children (Platonic)
💕 Yan!Alexander the Great, Yan!Julius Caesar, Yan!Napoleon Bonaparte and Yan!Henry VII w/Cheating!Wife (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Napoleon Bonaparte and Yandere Marquis de Lafayette w/Wife!Reader (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Alexander the Great and Yandere Mehmed the Conqueror (Romantic)
💕 Reader Love Letter for Julius Caesar (Romantic)
💕 Yan!Julius Caesar to Yan!Cleopatra
💕 Yandere Mehmed the Conqueror (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Pompey the Great (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Catherine of Aragon (Platonic)
💕 Yandere Catherine of Aragon w/Brother!Reader (Platonic)
💕 Yandere Baldwin IV (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Elizabeth I w/Lover Male!Reader (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Edward Seymour w/Pregnant!Reader (Romantic)
A Court of Thorns and Roses
💕 Yandere Helion (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Bat Boys w/Cheating!Mate
💕 Yandere Nesta Archeron, Yandere Amarantha and Yandere Lucien Vanserra (Romantic)
Greek Mythology
💕 Yan!Apollo w/Cheating!Wife (Romantic)
💕 Yandere!Cheating Hermes
💕 Yandere Hephaestus w/Pregnant!Reader (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Achilles (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Eros w/Soulmate!Reader (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Dionysus (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Persephone (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Athena
Bridgerton
💕 Yandere King George III w/Pregnant!Reader (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Anthony Bridgerton w/Pregnant!Reader (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Simon Basset (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Edmund Bridgerton w/Mistress!Reader (Romantic)
Percy Jackson
💕 Yandere Percy Jackson | Prompts 3, 4, 12, 26
💕 Yandere Annabeth Chase (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Percy Jackson w/Daughter of Aphrodite!Reader (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Jason Grace w/Nymph!Reader (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Will Solace (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Piper McLean (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Nico di Angelo (Platonic)
Marvel
💕 Yandere Gamora (Romantic)
The Originals/The Vampire Diaries
💕 Yandere Elijah Mikaelson (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Elijah Mikaelson (Angst)
💕 Yandere Damon Salvatore (Romantic)
Wednesday
💕 Yandere Wednesday Addams (Romantic)
Miraculous Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir
💕 Yandere Cat Blanc (Romantic)
Heartstopper
💕 Yandere Nick Nelson (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Charlie Spring and Nick Nelson (Romantic)
A Song of Ice and Fire
💕 Yandere Cersei Lannister w/Male!Reader Lannister
💕 Yandere Laenor Velaryon (Platonic)
💕 Yandere Maegor the Cruel (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Jaehaerys I Targaryen (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Rhaena Targaryen/Black Bride (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Maegor the Cruel w/Pregnant!Reader (Romantic)
Harry Potter
💕 Yandere Tom Riddle (Romantic)
BTS
💕 Yandere Jimin (Romantic)
Egyptian Mythology
💕 Yandere Seth and Yandere Horus (Romantic)
The Hunger Games
💕 Yandere Peeta Mellark (Romantic)
K-Dramas
💕 Yandere Jeong Gu-Won (Romantic) || My Demon
Castlevania
💕 Yandere Vlad Dracula Tepes, Yandere Trevor Belmont and Yandere Alucard (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Vlad Dracula Tepes (Romantic)
Disney
💕 Yandere Prince Charming/Kit (Romantic)
💕 Yandere Prince Charming/Kit after Midnight (Romantic)
One Piece
💕 Vinsmoke Sanji (Romantic)
Attack on Titan
💕 Yandere Levi Ackerman (Romantic)
Hannibal
💕 Yandere Hannibal Lecter w/Wife!Reader (Romantic)
185 notes · View notes
bellebridgerton · 11 months
Text
Bridgerton Masterlist
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Hints:
📚 - Chaptered Fic
📖 - One Shot
🔥 - Smut
💐 - Fluff
🥀 - Angst
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Anthony Bridgerton
His Diamond 📚🔥💐🥀 (Complete)
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Benedict Bridgerton
Best Buddies (Modern AU) 📚🔥💐🥀 (Work in progress)
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Colin Bridgerton
N/A
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Simon Basset
N/A
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King George
N/A
I'd love to take requests!
194 notes · View notes
thethreeeyed-raven · 1 month
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⋆♱ BRIDGERTON ♱⋆
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navigation
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🕷️fluff | 🕸️angst | 🐈‍⬛suggestive | 🪦platonic
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⋆♱ Anthony Bridgerton ♱⋆
nothing yet
⋆♱ Benedict Bridgerton ♱⋆
nothing yet
⋆♱ Daphne Bridgerton ♱⋆
nothing yet
⋆♱ Eloise Bridgerton ♱⋆
🕷️ • 🕸️ • she will not marry me | x male!reader • part two • part three
⋆♱ Simon Basset ♱⋆
nothing yet
⋆♱ Theo Sharpe ♱⋆
🕷️ • 🐈‍⬛ • engaged to be married? | bridgerton!reader
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@lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom • @fangsp1der-2099 • @knight-of-flowerss
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spamfromlee · 5 months
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.•° ✿ °•. introduction .•° ✿ °•.
hey everyone!
☾♡☽ about me ☾♡☽
i'm lee
my pronouns are she/her
i'm 26
i'm a psychology student
i love reading books, listening to music, traveling in nature, writing & roleplaying, working out
i'm also very interested in arts of any kind, i like astronomy, the space & the ocean
☾♡☽ what i'm writing ☾♡☽
genres: mainly romance (fxm), sometimes fantasy, mystery, action
tropes: strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, fake dating/marriage, secretly dating, fwb to lovers, second chance (exes to lovers), older brother’s best friend, fluff, angst, differences in social status
setting: mostly high school/college/university worlds if the setting is not related to a certain fandom
fandoms:
outer banks: rafe cameron, sarah cameron euphoria: nate jacobs, maddy perez, cassie howard gossip girl: nate archibald, chuck bass, blair waldorf, serena van der woodsen shadowhunters: alec lightwood, magnus bane, jace herondale, isabelle lightwood glee: hunter clarington, sebastian smythe, blaine anderson, kurt hummel bridgerton: anthony bridgerton, king george, simon basset the winx saga: sky, riven, bloom
original characters:
ray miller harley remington faith hayley kim luna cooper julian moore zoe jade caruso logan marino melody ann carter jordan bellamy
style of writing: 3rd person, past tense, descriptive, narrative, semi-lit
platforms: discord, tumblr (i'm open for more options)
i write both male and female characters
my original characters can be adjusted and fit into almost every fandom (can be discussed)
the pairings can be both canons or the combination of ocs and canons
☾♡☽ what i'm looking for ☾♡☽
more writers to follow (i'll follow in return of course!)
creating new friendships with the common passions of roleplaying, writing, plotting, and brainstorming
long-term writing partners
exploring slow burns within writing, deep topics the characters are dealing with, conflicts and struggles - a writing progress
i absolutely love obsessing & sharing images, edits, pinterest boards, playlists - if you also love that, we'll definitely get along
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ────── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ────── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
if you're interested, feel free to like this post or dm me and i'll make sure to send a message ♡
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salvawhores-world · 10 months
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Sparks - Anthony Bridgerton (Final Part)
Anthony Bridgerton x Florence Channingwoth (fem!oc)
Warnings - Angst, mentions of death,blood. Anthony being a stubborn idiot, sarcastic Bridgertons
A/n- this is the last and final part of sparks I put way too much effort and love into this I had so much to show about Florence and Anthony and Florence as an individual but here it is I guess
Anthony bridgerton Angst is a GENRE in itself
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It was a splendid afternoon at Aubrey Hall as Florence arrived, filled with excitement for the week ahead with the Bridgertons.
Having spent much of her childhood alone, with Simon occasionally by her side, Florence cherished the dynamic shared by the Bridgerton siblings.
"Ah, good afternoon, Miss Channingworth. Welcome to Aubrey Hall," Benedict greeted her playfully, the entire family gathered to welcome her.
"Why, thank you, Lord Bridgerton," she replied with a teasing smile.
"Miss Flower!" Ava squealed, fussing in Colin's arms. Florence's face lit up as she approached the young girl, taking her into her own arms.
"How is my little love doing?" she greeted Ava, who leaned forward happily.
"You look gorgeous, my dear, and we are so grateful to finally have you here," Violet Bridgerton greeted warmly.
"You're too kind, Lady Bridgerton," Florence replied, her smile radiating gratitude.
"Very pretty, Gramma is right," Ava chimed in, wrapping her arms around Florence's neck and nestling her head on her shoulder.
Florence affectionately kissed the little girl's forehead, eliciting amusement from the Bridgertons at Ava's immediate comfort with someone she had just met.
Although Ava was naturally affectionate, this level of ease was reserved for Anthony, Benedict, and occasionally Daphne.
"Florence, let's go inside. I can't wait; I have so much to tell you," Eloise eagerly exclaimed.
"Don't mind her, Florence. Eloise always has boundless enthusiasm when we're in the country," Violet remarked, gently urging her second eldest daughter to behave.
"And so do I, Lady Bridgerton," Florence replied with a smile as the family made their way into the house.
Her eyes scanned the room, searching for a particular man. Colin, noticing her searching gaze, spoke up, "Did you find what you are looking for?"
"Or rather, who you are looking for," Benedict interjected, his throat clearing.
A blush crept up on Florence's face as she narrowed her eyes.
“I'm sure you wouldn't concern yourselves unless your own lives were dear," she retorted with a sly smile before walking away to join Francesca, who was busy admonishing Ava for indulging in too many cakes.
"Ooh, fierce," Colin remarked, while Benedict added, "I see what he sees."
"Miss Flower, we should go to my room, and you can read stories to me," Ava interrupted Florence's conversation with Francesca about Scotland.
"Ava, my dear, Miss Florence has just arrived. I believe she would appreciate some rest. You can have your story read to you later," Violet gently intervened.
Ava held onto Florence's gown, her tiny fist clenching as she looked up at her with a hint of sadness. Anyone could see the uncanny resemblance between Ava and Anthony—it was almost eerie.
"Well, how kind of you, Lady Bridgerton, but I assure you, I am perfectly fine," Florence replied, smiling warmly at Violet. "In fact, I would love to read for you, Ava."
"Yay! This wayyyyy," Ava exclaimed, brimming with excitement as she tugged at Florence's hand, urging her to follow.
Mother, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Francesca whispered to her mother, taking a sip of her tea.
”hmm” she hummed. “But it truly depends on what he is thinking, Fran," Violet replied, referring to her eldest son, leaving the possibilities open and full of anticipation.
“And where is my daughter?" Anthony inquired, sliding his pocket watch back into his waistcoat.
Benedict greeted him, "Hello, Brother,"
while Colin offered, "Would you like some tea?"
"The lot of you are acting suspicious. Am I unaware of something?" Anthony scanned the drawing room, his curiosity piqued.
"No, nothing of the sort. It's just that your dear daughter hasn't left Florence's side since her arrival," Eloise grumbled.
"Miss Flo..." Anthony cleared his throat, correcting himself, "Miss Channingworth is already here? Why wasn't I informed?" Restlessness tinged his voice.
"Perhaps because, for once, you were busy being the viscount," Colin jested, earning a chuckle from his siblings.
"Colin, must I remind you that I approve your funds? There is still so much to see around the world, is there not?" Anthony retorted.
“Well, Anthony, Ava insisted that Miss Channingworth read to her, and they're both in Ava's room," Violet chimed in.
Daphne swore she had never seen her brother move so swiftly.
As Anthony hurried towards Ava's room, a mix of amusement and anticipation danced in the air, leaving the rest of the Bridgertons to exchange knowing glances, relishing the comical sight of their usually composed and collected brother being driven by a certain someone.
Ava's door was slightly ajar, and what Anthony noticed melted his heart. He couldn't recall the last time he had felt this way, as if he would turn into a puddle and melt.
There, on a chair, Florence sat, peacefully asleep, with Ava nestled on her lap. Florence held Ava close, providing a secure haven for the slumbering child.
Anthony's heart swelled with warmth, witnessing the tender scene before him.
Ava slept soundly, her head resting on Florence's chest, the book they had been reading still clutched in her hand, now turned upside down.
The sight stirred emotions within Anthony, a profound sense of peace and contentment. He approached the girls cautiously, taking the book from Ava's grasp and gently placing it on the side table. Leaning in, he planted a delicate kiss on his daughter's forehead.
As he leaned closer, he couldn't help but inhale the fresh Citrus Chamomile scent emanating from Florence.
It was as if she embodied the essence of summer itself, bringing a warmth and brightness into his life that he had long yearned for.
He straightened himself and gazed at Florence, captivated by her beauty—both inside and out. She was the epitome of every man's dreams
He noticed a stray curl that had escaped Florence's neat bun, framing her serene face. With a trembling hand, he gently tucked the wayward curl behind her ear, marveling at the softness of her skin and the delicate beauty that radiated from her.
Anthony realized the depth of his feelings, a whirlwind of emotions overwhelming his senses.
However, as reality set in, Anthony became aware of his actions and the emotions they stirred within him. Taking a deep breath, he swiftly retreated from his daughter's room.
As evening descended upon Aubrey Hall, Florence took the time to write a letter to her father, sharing the delightful experiences she had encountered during her stay.
She also enjoyed a pleasant conversation with Eloise, relishing their time together.
As the hour of dinner approached, the Bridgertons and Florence gathered around the grand table, ready to indulge in a sumptuous meal.
Throughout the day, Florence had not crossed paths with Anthony, leading her to believe that he had purposely avoided her.
However, she chided herself for allowing such thoughts to limit her perspective.
After all, Anthony was a viscount with numerous responsibilities and estate affairs to attend to.
Surely, his absence was merely a consequence of his duties.
Yet, as he finally took his place at the head of the table, next to Florence, their eyes involuntarily gravitated towards each other.
Ava, being her usual spirited self, insisted on sitting beside her father, as was her custom, with Florence positioned opposite Ava on Anthony’s left.
"So, love, how was your day?" Anthony asked his daughter Ava, his eyes filled with warmth. Ava beamed, her toothy grin shining brightly as she replied,
“It was great, Dada. Uncle Colin woke me up, and then we broke fast, and then Miss Flower arrived." She glanced at Florence, who returned the smile, while Anthony's expression mirrored theirs.
“Miss Flower read to me, but we couldn't finish the story because apparently, we both fell asleep," Ava continued, her enthusiasm contagious.
Benedict, intrigued, chimed in, "Is that so? What story did you read, Ava?" Ava's excitement grew as she launched into an explanation,
“It's a story, Uncle Ben, about a girl named Anne who loves Frederick, but they don't get together. Years later, he comes back to her."
Benedict grinned mischievously, his words layered with meaning, "So, he has a second chance, does he not?" The table, except Ava, understood his subtle reference.
"Yes, Uncle Ben, I should hope he does. But we haven't reached that part yet, where we find out if they get together, have we, Miss Flower?" Ava innocently posed the question to Florence.
Florence smiled warmly at Ava, "No, we haven't, Ava. We'll have to keep reading to find out," she replied, her voice laced with anticipation.
, "So, we hope they get together. Colin, joining the conversation, added,
Anthony, suddenly defensive, interjected, “no.things don’t always work the way you want them to, second chances pretty much end up the same as the first, if not worse." Florence couldn't help but scoff at his words.
"Whatever do you mean, Lord Bridgerton? Second chances are the universe's way of saying you deserve this. How could you dismiss something like that?" she retorted, her tone firm.
The table fell into a tense silence as all eyes were drawn to the intense exchange between Anthony and Florence.
Sensing the need to diffuse the situation, Francesca attempted to shift the focus. "What do you think, Ava?" she asked, her voice gentle yet concerned.
"If getting with Anne makes Frederick happy, then he most definitely should, because they love each other," Ava innocently responded, oblivious to the weight of her words.
"Persuasion, Jane Austen, is it not?"Francesca, recognizing the literary reference, inquired
Florence smiled, delighted by Francesca's recognition. "It is. Ava and I are looking forward to completing that book," she affirmed, ignoring Anthony's presence.
Eloise, unable to contain her excitement, interjected, "Have I mentioned that Florence and I are birthday twins? We were born on the same day."
"And the same year," Eloise added, emphasizing the synchronicity.
Florence playfully questioned, "Coincidence, do you think?" Eloise shook her head with conviction.
“Soulmates, nothing less," she declared, her belief unwavering.
"I must excuse myself. I have important work to finish," Anthony announced abruptly, standing up from the table.
“Fetch me from the study once you're done eating, will you, Ava?" He directed a smile towards his daughter, who nodded in response.
As Anthony left the dining room, an awkward atmosphere settled among the Bridgertons, leaving them to an uneasy dinner.
After dinner, Anthony settled Ava into bed and returned to his study. Although he attempted to focus on his work, his attention kept gravitating towards Edmund's portrait.
The creaking of the door snapped Anthony out of his reverie, and he looked up to find Florence standing before him.
Her caramel brown hair flowed freely, and she wore a sheer white nightgown beneath a loosely draped overcoat that left little to the imagination.
Anthony struggled to avert his gaze, trying to maintain proper decorum.
Is something amiss, Miss Channingworth?" Anthony inquired, his voice tinged with concern.
He attempted to keep his focus on her face, but the allure of her presence made it difficult to look away.
Florence stepped into the room, closing the door behind her, and advanced toward Anthony.
Her every movement seemed purposeful. "That's precisely what I wish to know, my lord," she responded.
“It I improper for you to be here like this” Anthony but whispered.
“why?” her voice carrying a mix of determination and vulnerability.
“It's just... because you are a lady," he faltered, attempting to explain himself.
"No, I do not care about that” she pressed, her eyes searching his for answers.
“Why are you acting this way? Have I done something to upset you?" Her genuine confusion showed on her face, prompting Anthony to question his own actions.
Anthony, now slightly flustered, responded, "Whatever do you mean? I am perfectly normal."
He crossed his arms defensively, clad only in his loose white shirt and black trousers, his hair disheveled and shirt unbuttoned. Florence felt a deep stirring within her at his mere presence.
"You are the one who invited me here to spend the vacation with your family, and you are the one who hasn't spoken a word to me since my arrival," she said, genuine confusion etched on her face. "Have I done something to upset you?"
Anthony's internal struggle intensified. He longed to embrace her, to reassure her that she had done nothing wrong, that she could never do anything wrong.
He yearned to shield her from sorrow, from all the evils of the world. But most of all, he yearned to protect her from himself.
He walked towards her, his voice barely above a whisper, "Look at me."
When she hesitated, he gently cupped her cheek with his calloused hands, compelling her to meet his gaze.
Their eyes locked, and Florence glimpsed the profound sadness that lingered within Anthony's depths. "You have done nothing wrong," Anthony finally confessed, his voice trembling with vulnerability
"My mind is always playing tricks on me. It's me. I apologize if I have hurt you. I promise I will be better from now on."
His words washed over Florence, soothing her own insecurities. "I know we barely know each other, but you can talk to me whenever you wish, share your worries with me. I may not have all the answers, but I can listen," she offered, gently intertwining her fingers with his.
Anthony could only nod, speechless in the face of Florence's compassion. They stood there, unable to tear their gazes away from one another.
Florence noticed the weariness etched on Anthony's anguished face, though he was only one and thirty.
He appeared tired and lost, and she felt an overwhelming desire to break down his walls and pull him out from his deepest and darkest sorrows.
Yet, a lingering question remained at the back of her mind—who was Ava's birth mother? His wife? Their tender moment was abruptly interrupted as a gust of wind swept through the room, scattering Anthony's papers.
They quickly broke apart, both rushing to collect the scattered documents, Florence following closely behind Anthony, eager to help him in any way she could.
Florence's eyes fixated on a wooden pen stand resting on Anthony's table.
She stared at it intently, her fingers delicately tracing its edges as memories flooded her mind.
“Simon has the same one," she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of fondness and nostalgia.
Anthony's gaze softened as he observed Florence's genuine interest.
Memories of his college days with Simon came rushing back, and he couldn't help but smile. "Yes, indeed. We bought it for each other back in Oxford," he reminisced
Curiosity brimming within him, Anthony gently probed, "For how long have you known Simon? You seem to be more than just friends."
"Since the day I was born,she said sitting on the edge of the table, met Anthony's gaze, a genuine warmth radiating from her. “Simon and I have been like siblings.”
“Our mothers were best friends, and Lady Danbury took us under her care. Even after they were married off to dukes, their friendship remained unbreakable."
As Florence continued sharing the story, Anthony listened intently, his heart growing heavy with empathy.
He was familiar with the pain Simon had endured in his childhood.
Florence spoke of her mother's love for Simon, her parents' adoration, and the deep bond that had formed between them.
Anthony couldn't help but admire the strength and love that surrounded them.
The depth of their connection resonated with Anthony, and he found himself captivated by Florence's words.
She described their shared adventures, the lessons Simon had imparted, and the countless letters she had written to him
A smile danced across Anthony's face as he recalled Simon treasuring those letters, cherishing every word she had penned
Anthony reached out, his hand gently brushing against Florence's, "I can see how much you love him” their eyes met, filled with unspoken emotions.
The night unfolded before them as they migrated their conversation to the comfort of the couch in Anthony's study.
Nestled in their respective corners, they continued to delve into the depths of their lives, sharing stories, and seeking a profound understanding of one another.
It was an intimate exchange, a dance of words and emotions, where they gradually unraveled the layers that had kept them apart.
There were topics left untouched, delicate threads woven into the tapestry of their lives that they chose to leave unexplored for the time being. Anthony's father, a shadowy figure whose memory haunted him, remained unspoken.
They shared their dreams, their fears, and the moments that had shaped them into who they were. There was a magnetic pull between them, drawing them closer with each passing word, as if they were unraveling the secrets of their souls.
Time slipped away, and the early hours of morning tiptoed in, casting a soft glow upon the room. Exhaustion gradually crept upon them, their voices growing softer and their eyelids growing heavier.
After Benedict gently woke Ava and helped her get ready for the day, they descended the stairs together for breakfast.
As they made their way down, Ava held Benedict's hand tightly and inquired about Florence.
“Have you seen Miss Flower?" she asked, her curiosity brimming. Benedict chuckled affectionately,
“No, my dear. I'm sure she is taking her time. Perhaps your father will be able to tell us where she is."
Ava's excitement grew, and she darted towards her father's study, with Benedict trailing behind, trying to keep up with her energetic pace.
As Ava entered the study, she found Anthony peacefully sleeping on one end of the couch. On the other end, Florence slumbered, her presence a comforting sight.
Benedict entered the room, breaking the eerie silence. He couldn't help but notice their hands, mere inches apart from touching, and a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes.as he cleared his throat
Suddenly, Anthony was jolted awake, his eyes meeting Florence's as they both realized their positions.
Benedict seized the opportunity, greeting them with a playful tone, "A splendid morning, isn't it, Anthony?" A glare from Anthony quickly transformed into a forced smile as he glanced at his daughter.
"Dada! Did you sleep with Miss Flower?" Ava innocently asked, oblivious to the tension in the room.
Florence's eyes widened, mirroring the surprise that reflected in the Bridgerton brothers' expressions.
Sensing the awkwardness, she swiftly rose from her seat, stammering, "Umm... I... I must go join Eloise and Francesca for breakfast."
With a hurried exit from the study, she released a sigh of relief once she reached the safety of the hallway.
A day or two passed by, enveloping Aubrey Hall in a peaceful embrace. Florence found solace in the routines that had naturally formed.
During lunchtime, as Ava immersed herself in sketching, Florence would pause to feed Ava, carefully attending to her needs.
She took delight in fixing Ava's hair, selecting her gowns, and cradling her to sleep, holding her close to her chest.
In between these moments, Florence would find herself engrossed in conversations with Anthony.
They would discuss the affairs of the estate, sharing their thoughts and insights.
Benedict, always passionate about his interests, would occasionally rant about modern art not being genuine art, and Florence would patiently listen, appreciating his unique perspective.
Colin, on the other hand, would seek her assistance in mapping out his next adventurous travels, while Eloise would engage in lively discussions about books, their shared love for literature bringing them closer.
She would also indulge in playing the piano, joining Francesca and Daphne in melodious harmony.
As for the younger Bridgerton siblings, Florence would joyfully engage in playful activities with Gregory, Hyacinth, and Ava whenever the opportunity arose.
Her presence in their lives was slowly becoming a natural part of their family dynamics.
Violet, acknowledged Florence's integration into the Bridgerton family, understanding that it would take a significant step from her son to solidify their connection further.
On a sun-drenched afternoon, the Bridgerton children played merrily in the outdoor expanse, their laughter filling the air.
Amidst the joyous atmosphere, Eloise and Florence found themselves sharing laughter over a particularly amusing novel.
Anthony, captivated by Florence's melodic laughter, found himself lost in her presence, the newspaper long forgotten.
Suddenly, Gregory burst into the house, panting and breathless. His urgent voice cut through the laughter, drawing everyone's attention.
“Brother!" he exclaimed, his words tumbling out. "It's... It's Ava. She fainted and struck her head near the old tree trunk."
The atmosphere instantly shifted, the weight of the news too overwhelming for anyone to process.
Anthony's mind raced, and in that moment, all he could do was sprint out of the manor, propelled by his paternal instincts, desperately searching for his beloved daughter.
Inside, Violet swiftly took charge, issuing orders to summon the physician and ensure all necessary arrangements were made.
The commotion stirred the maids into action, their hurried footsteps echoing through the halls as they prepared for the impending arrival of medical aid. The urgency brought Florence back to reality, her thoughts abruptly interrupted.
Anthony, fueled by fear and worry, encountered a frantic Hyacinth, with Ava's limp form cradled in her lap.
He called out his daughter's name, his voice filled with anguish, before scooping her up and carrying her swiftly into the hall.
Florence, unable to remain idle, trailed behind them, her heart pounding in her chest.
As they ascended the staircase, a sense of dread hung in the air. Florence couldn't shake the sickening feeling that washed over her, witnessing Ava, unconscious in Anthony's arms. It was a sight she had never anticipated, one that struck her to her very core
“Hyacinth”, Francesca’s eyes widening in shock, gasped when she noticed the bloodstained gown worn by Hyacinth.
Hyacinth, her voice laced with concern, reassured her sister: "No, no, Francesca, it's not mine.”
As Anthony tenderly placed Ava on her bed, Florence delicately sprinkled water droplets on the child's cherubic face, hoping for any sign of response. But Ava remained still, unresponsive to their pleas.
"Why is she... why won't she wake up" The weight of the situation pressed heavily on Anthony, causing him to pant and run his hand through his disheveled hair.
Desperation filled his words, his eyes welling up with tears. Florence, her heart aching for both father and daughter, gently rubbed Ava's tiny feet, trying to bring warmth and life back to her fragile body.
"Sweet Ava, please wake up," Anthony implored, leaning closer to his daughter.
His voice cracked with emotion as he spoke directly to her, hoping to reach her unconscious mind. "Dada is here, my love. You can hear me, can't you?"
Beside him, Florence added her soft voice, filled with tenderness and concern.
"Darling Ava, please wake up. You're scaring us all. We're here for you, my dear."
Anthony's eyes flickered with pain and confusion, his shattered spirit laid bare before Florence.
Never before had she witnessed a man so utterly broken, especially the usually brooding and composed Viscount.
In the midst of their anguish, Benedict stormed into the room, followed closely by Colin, and the physician.
Sensing the need for privacy, Benedict discreetly gestured to Florence, silently instructing her to guide Anthony away from the distressing scene.
Understanding his unspoken words, Florence pressed a gentle kiss to Ava's small feet and rose from her position.
"Lord Bridgerton," she spoke softly, wrapping her hand around his strong bicep, urging him to follow her. "For Ava's well-being, we must step away. Come, it is essential."
Anthony, lost in his own torment, looked at Florence, his emotions on the precipice of a complete breakdown.
He nodded and allowed himself to be led away, leaving Benedict and Colin to attend to the dire situation with Ava.
Florence guided Anthony into the adjacent room, firmly grasping his shoulders as she guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. Standing before him.
Anthony's voice trembled as he whispered Ava's name, the weight of his anguish finally breaking through the barriers he had held for so long. Tears streamed down his face, and Florence's own eyes welled up in response.
Florence cupped Anthony's face, . He clung to her, his arms wrapping tightly around her midsection as he sought comfort in her presence.
His head rested against her stomach, his sobs shaking his entire frame. Florence held him close, offering a steady presence in the midst of his storm.
“Let it all out," Florence whispered softly, her voice a soothing balm.
“I am here with you." Her hand gently ran through his disheveled hair, her touch offering a sense of reassurance amidst the overwhelming emotions.
Tears continued to stream down his face, and Florence, her heart aching for him, wiped them away, her own tears mingling with his.
In that moment, as Anthony looked up to face her as he still clung to her, Florence couldn't help but be reminded of Ava and her innocent, doe-like eyes.
"She will be fine, Anthony," Florence reassured, her voice filled with unwavering conviction.
She carefully smoothed a stray strand of hair from his forehead, her touch gentle yet steadfast. "Ava is your daughter, and she is incredibly resilient."
“She will be okay, I promise you. You are both very stubborn to let go off one another," she said, a soft smile gracing her lips.
The sound of his chuckle brought a glimmer of light.
"We will see her soon," she murmured, leaning down to press a tender kiss to his forehead.
Colin and Benedict paced anxiously in the hallway outside Ava's room, their worry etched upon their faces.
The physician emerged from the room, his expression grave yet composed. He approached Anthony, who had managed to regain some semblance of composure with Florence's support.
"Lord Bridgerton," the physician began, his voice steady and measured. "Miss Bridgerton has suffered a head injury, but fortunately, there doesn't appear to be any serious damage.“
. "Will she be alright? Is she in any danger?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of fear and hope.
The physician nodded, offering a glimmer of reassurance. "As of now, she is stable. The fall likely caused a temporary loss of consciousness, due to heat but her vital signs are strong. We will keep a vigilant watch over her to ensure her condition remains stable."
Her eyes held a gentle warmth, silently assuring Anthony that they were in this together.
Anthony turned to Florence, his gratitude evident in his gaze. "Thank you, Florence, for being here with me," he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation.
Florence clasped Anthony's hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to thank me, Anthony. Ava has become so much more to me than I could imagine and I care deeply for her.
Colin and Benedict exchanged knowing glances.
During Ava's recovery, Florence took on the role of a devoted caretaker, tending to her every need with unwavering love and tenderness.
She made sure Ava was comfortable, bathing her gently and combing her hair with delicate strokes.
One evening, as Florence sat by Ava's bedside, Anthony quietly entered the room. His eyes sparkled with admiration as he watched Florence tenderly feeding Ava, coaxing her to eat a few more spoonfuls of soup.
"Look at you two," Anthony said softly, his voice filled with adoration. "You're like two guardian angels, watching over each other."
Florence glanced up and smiled at Anthony, her love for both him and Ava radiating from her eyes. "We make a good team, don't we?" she replied, her voice filled with warmth.
Ava, her strength slowly returning, giggled at their exchange. "You're both silly," she teased, her eyes brightening with mirth.
In the following days, Florence continued to care for Ava, engaging her in gentle activities to aid her recovery.
They spent hours reading books together, their voices filled with warmth and affection.
Florence even taught Ava how to braid, their hands intertwining as they braided her dolls.
One sunny afternoon, as Anthony entered the room, he was greeted by the sight of Florence and Ava engaged in a lively game of pretend, their laughter filling the air.
Florence had donned a makeshift crown made of flowers, while Ava held a toy sword, defending their imaginary kingdom.
Anthony's heart swelled with love as he watched the scene unfold before him. "I've never seen two more beautiful princesses," he said, his voice filled with adoration.
Ava beamed with delight, her eyes shining with joy. "And we have the best prince too!" she exclaimed, running into Anthony's arms for a warm embrace.
One evening, the Bridgerton family gathered in the grand drawing room of the Bridgerton Manor.
Benedict, ever the mischievous one, couldn't help but notice the way Anthony's eyes followed Florence's every move.
Clearing his throat dramatically, Benedict spoke up, "Anthony, my dear brother, I do believe there's something floating in the air, and it's not just the scent of roses."
Anthony furrowed his brows in confusion. "What on earth are you talking about, Benedict?"
Eloise, unable to contain her curiosity, chimed in, "He's talking about Florence, of course! We've all noticed the way you look at her. You're positively smitten!"
Francesca giggled, adding, "Yes, Anthony, it's quite obvious. You're as transparent as a glass window when she's around."
Anthony's cheeks flushed crimson, realizing that his feelings for Florence were no secret within the family. He attempted to deny it, "Nonsense! Florence and I are just good friends."
Daphne raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Oh, just friends, you say? Well, then, I suppose the way you gaze at her with stars in your eyes is merely a friendly gesture."
Colin, joined in the fun. "And the way you stumble over your words whenever she's near, that's just your friendly charm shining through, right?"
"Anthony, dear, Florence is a remarkable young woman. She has brought light and joy into our lives. If you care for her, don't let your pride get in the way.” Violet said
A hush fell over the drawing room as Ava's innocent voice echoed through the air.
Florence's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. The tension in the room was palpable as everyone turned their gaze towards her and Ava.
"Mama," Ava called out again, running towards Florence with her arms outstretched.
Florence's eyes widened with surprise, her mind racing to comprehend the weight of that word coming from Ava's lips.
She knelt down, meeting Ava halfway, her voice trembling slightly. "Darling, Mama? I'm Miss Flower."
"But Mama, you did everything for me. You took care of me just like Gramma takes care of Hyacinth and Gregory. They call her Mama, so it's only fair that I call you Mama too." Ava looked up at Florence with her big, innocent eyes, her face lit up with a radiant smile.
Florence felt a lump forming in her throat, her emotions swirling like a tempest within her.
She tried to find the right words, but they eluded her in that moment of overwhelming love and confusion.
She glanced at Anthony, hoping to find guidance, only to see him storming out of the room, his face etched with pain and turmoil.
Caught between the sheer joy of being acknowledged as a mother figure and the devastation of witnessing Anthony's retreat, Florence felt lost.
Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she looked back at Ava, taking a deep breath to steady herself.
“My darling Ava," Florence said, her voice filled with both love and acceptance, "if it brings you joy and happiness to call me Mama, then I will gladly be your Mama.”
Ava's face lit up with delight, her innocence shining through. "Oh, Mama, I'm so glad you understand! You're the best Mama I could ever have!"
Florence's heart swelled with love and gratitude as she held Ava close. She glanced at the other Bridgerton family members, who were watching the interaction with soft smiles and teary eyes.
Florence held onto Ava, cherishing the precious bond they had formed, while silently praying for a way to bridge the divide between Anthony's pain and her own longing to be a mother to the child who had captured her heart.
Florence took a deep breath, summoning her courage as she entered the study where Anthony was seated, his brow furrowed with worry. She approached him slowly, her steps hesitant yet determined.
"Anthony, we need to talk," she said, her voice steady despite the nerves pulsing through her.
He glanced up at her, his eyes filled with a mix of apprehension and defiance. "About Ava calling you Mama, I suppose," he replied curtly, his tone laced with tension.
Florence nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yes, Anthony. It's important that we address this and find a way to understand each other."
He scoffed, his frustration evident. "Understand? Florence, I never asked for this. I never asked for Ava to call you Mama."
Florence's eyes welled up with tears, but she refused to let them fall. "I understand it's difficult for you, Anthony. But Ava's love knows no boundaries. She sees the care and affection I have for her, and it's natural for her to call me Mama. I can't deny her that."
Deny her? Deny her?!" Anthony's voice rose, his anger seeping through his words. "It's not about denying her, Florence. It's about accepting that you're taking a place in her life that should only belong for someone who intends to stay or I’d rather no one”
Florence's voice trembled as she fought to maintain her composure. "Anthony, I would never leave the love that has blossomed between Ava and me. It's pure and genuine."
He stood abruptly, his face contorted with anguish. "Pure and genuine? Don't you understand, Florence? It's tearing me apart. It's a constant reminder of my failures, of the loss I've endured. I can't bear it."
Tears streamed down Florence's face now, her voice breaking. "And what about me, Anthony? What about the love I've developed for Ava? Do you think it's easy for me? I never asked for this either, but I love her with every fiber of my being. I can't walk away from that, no matter how hard it gets."
He looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and desperation. "Go on then," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "Be the Mama she needs. But don't expect me to be a part of it."
With those words, Anthony turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Florence alone, her heart shattered into pieces. She sank to the floor, her sobs echoing through the empty space.
Daphne and Ava stood outside Anthony's study, their small frames hidden behind the grand wooden door. Ava tugged at her aunt's sleeve, her wide eyes filled with confusion.
"Auntie Daph, why are Mama and Dada yelling?" she whispered, her voice innocent and concerned.
Daphne knelt down to Ava's level, trying to find the right words to explain the situation to her young niece. "Well, sometimes grown-ups get upset and they express their feelings loudly. But it doesn't mean they don't love each other or you, sweet Ava."
Ava furrowed her brow, clearly unconvinced. "But why are they mad? Did I do something wrong?"
Daphne shook her head gently, her heart melting at Ava's innocence. "No, darling, it's not your fault. Mama and Dada are trying to figure out something important, and sometimes it can be a bit challenging.“
Just then, the raised voices from inside the study grew louder, making Ava cover her ears with her tiny hands.
Daphne quickly scooped her up, carrying her away from the noise, and they found refuge in the comforting embrace of the family's cozy sitting room.
"There, my darling," Daphne said, cradling Ava in her arms. "Let's stay here for a little while until everything settles down. We can read your favorite storybook together."
Ava's eyes brightened as she nodded, her trust in her aunt bringing a sense of reassurance. They curled up on the soft couch, opening the well-worn pages of Ava's treasured storybook, allowing the gentle rhythm of Daphne's voice to drown out the echoes of the argument.
Florence entered Ava's room, her heart still heavy from the argument with Anthony. She found Daphne sitting on the edge of Ava's bed, her eyes filled with concern.
"Daphne, thank you for looking after Ava," Florence said, her voice soft with gratitude.
Daphne smiled warmly. "Of course, Florence. . I'll leave you two alone now."
As Daphne left the room, Florence sat down on the bed beside Ava, taking a deep breath to calm her racing thoughts. She looked at Ava, who gazed up at her with wide eyes, still trying to make sense of the earlier commotion.
"Sweetheart," Florence began, her voice gentle, "I want to talk to you about what happened earlier. I know it might have been confusing and scary for you."
Ava nodded, her small hand reaching out to grasp Florence's.
""Sometimes, grown-ups have disagreements, but it doesn't mean they love you any less. They just need some time to work things out
Ava looked up at Florence, her eyes searching for understanding. "But why were you yelling?"
Florence sighed, gathering Ava in her arms and holding her close. "Sometimes, when people are upset, they raise their voices.“
Ava nodded, her expression slowly easing into understanding. "So, you’re not mad at me?"
Florence's heart melted at Ava's innocent question.
She kissed the top of her head gently. "Absolutely not, my darling. I love you with all my heart, and nothing you do could ever change that."
As Florence helped Ava get ready for bed, their conversation continued in a lighthearted and playful manner. They giggled over bedtime stories, shared secrets about their favorite desserts.
The tension in the air was palpable as Anthony confronted Florence just outside Ava's room. His face was etched with anguish, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and pain.
"Tell me, Florence," Anthony's voice trembled with barely contained emotion, "what happens when you're out next season? When you find someone else and decide to marry, abandoning all of us?"
Florence's eyes widened, her heart breaking at the hurt in Anthony's words. "Anthony, how can you say that?" she whispered, her voice laced with disbelief. "Do you truly believe I would just leave? Leave you? Leave Ava?"
Anthony's voice grew louder, the anger bubbling to the surface “But why are you so keen on tying yourself down to someone so much older? You deserve so much better, Florence.”
Florence looked at him, her eyes filled with both hurt and understanding. "Anthony, age is just a number," she said softly.
Anthony shook his head, his voice filled with self-doubt. "Florence, you have your whole life ahead of you. You should be out there, experiencing the joys of youth, finding someone who can offer you everything I can't."
"Jokes on you if you think I'll go out and marry somebody else," she said, her voice filled with conviction.
“After Ava called me her mother, after the love that has grown between us, do you really think I could possibly love any child of mine as I love Ava? She is my daughter now, Anthony, and I can't imagine my life without her or without you." Florence's voice trembled with emotion as she reached out to cup his face, her eyes welling up with tears.
Anthony's frustration mingled with his pain, his voice filled with bitter resignation. . “ i am older, with a past that I can't erase. And you... you deserve someone who can offer you the dreams and aspirations of youth."
Florence's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she fought to find her voice, her heart breaking with every word. "Anthony, love is not a transaction," she said, her voice filled with a mix of sadness and determination.
“It's not about what one person can offer another. Love is about connection, understanding, and standing by each other through the storms of life."
"I'm tired, Anthony," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm tired of fighting against the world, against your doubts.
“I can't keep convincing you of my love, of my commitment to you and Ava."
"If you truly believe that I am better off without you, then maybe it's time I walk away," she said, her voice quivering with sorrow. "Maybe it's time I find my own path, where I am not constantly questioned and doubted."
"Florence, please, just listen to me. You're 12 years younger than me. You deserve so much more, someone who can offer you a future full of possibilities." Anthony's voice cracked as he called out, trying to explain his, desperation evident in his tone.
"You deserve a chance at a life filled with excitement and adventure, Florence. Not one where you are tied to a man burdened with responsibilities and the weight of the past." He continued
Florence took a deep breath, her voice steady but laced with pain. "Anthony, I don't want excitement or adventure without you. I want a life with you, facing whatever challenges come our way. I love you, and that love doesn't waver just because of our age difference."
Anthony's gaze met hers, his expression a mix of longing and uncertainty. "But Florence, what if... what if I hold you back? What if you regret staying with me?"
Florence's voice grew softer, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Regret is not a word I associate with you, Anthony. I believe in us, in our love, in our ability to overcome any obstacles. And if we never take this chance, we'll always wonder what could have been."
Silence settled between them, the weight of their unspoken fears and desires hanging heavily in the air.
With a heavy sigh, Florence turned away once again, her heart breaking with each step.
"Think about what you truly want, Anthony," she said, her voice filled with a quiet resolve. "And when you're ready to face your fears and trust in our love, I'll be waiting."
And with that, Florence walked away, leaving Anthony standing there, grappling with his doubts and the fear of losing the one person who had shown him a love he had never imagined possible.
Anthony sat on the edge of Ava's bed, his brows furrowed with concern. He took a deep breath, mustering the courage to address the issue that had been weighing on his mind.
Ava looked up at him, her big brown eyes filled with innocence and curiosity.
"Dada, why are you sad?" she asked, reaching out to touch his cheek gently.
Anthony's heart softened at the sight of his daughter's concern for him. He took Ava's tiny hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I'm not sad, love. I just... I wanted to talk to you about something important."
Ava tilted her head to the side, her brows knitting together in a small frown. "What is it, Dada? You can tell me anything."
Anthony smiled at her reassuringly. "You called Miss Flower 'Mama' earlier, didn't you?"
Ava's eyes widened, and she nodded shyly. "Yes, Dada. Miss Flower takes care of me like Mama does. She helps me with everything, and I love her."
Anthony's heart swelled with a mixture of emotions. He leaned in closer to Ava and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Ava, sweetheart, Miss Flower has been wonderful to both of us. But she's not your real mama. Mama is in heaven, watching over us."
Ava's expression grew solemn, and she nodded understandingly. "I know, Dada. But Miss Flower is like a mama to me now. She takes care of me and loves me. Can't she be my mama too?"
Anthony sighed, grappling with conflicting emotions. He took Ava's hands in his, looking into her eyes.
“I love Miss Flower, too, Ava. But sometimes, grown-ups get confused and don't know how to handle their feelings. It's complicated."
Ava's eyes sparkled with innocence as she responded, "But love isn't complicated, Dada. Love is when your heart feels warm and happy. And my heart feels warm and happy when Miss Flower is around."
Anthony's resolve wavered as he listened to Ava's simple wisdom. He leaned in closer, pulling Ava into a tight embrace.
"You're right, my little love. Love is not complicated. And if calling Miss Flower 'Mama' makes you happy, then I won't stand in the way
Ava beamed with joy, wrapping her tiny arms around her father's neck. "I love you, Dada! And I love Miss Flower as mama too!"
The next day, Florence woke up feeling a sense of emptiness that seemed to weigh heavily on her heart.
She stared blankly at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts, unsure of what to do next. The whole ordeal with Anthony had left her feeling emotionally drained and confused.
Downstairs, the Bridgerton family gathered for breakfast and tea, their usual cheerful banter subdued.
The air was thick with unspoken tension, and Florence's absence was impossible to ignore. Ava, always observant, looked around the room, her innocent voice breaking the silence.
"Where is Mama?" she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "I want to breakfast with Mama."
The room fell into a silence so deafening that one could hear a pin drop. The siblings exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of sympathy and indignation.
Benedict couldn't resist the opportunity for a sarcastic remark.
"Well, Ava, your mama is currently busy being ignored by a certain foolish Viscount," he said, his tone dripping with bitterness.
Francesca chimed in, a touch of melancholy in her voice. "Yes, our dear brother seems to have a talent for causing pain to Miss Florence. It's quite impressive, really."
Hyacinth, with her usual naivety, added, "I suppose Anthony thought it would be a marvelous idea to push away the woman who brings light into our lives. How thoughtful of him."
Colin couldn't help but join in, his face contorted into an exaggerated expression of mock surprise. "Oh, look, Anthony managed to make a mess of things again. What a surprise!"
"Let's not be too hard on Anthony, though. It's not easy for him to comprehend what he has right in front of him." Daphne said
As the siblings continued their sarcastic remarks, their words carried a subtle message of support for Florence. They were mad at Anthony, and they made it clear in their own unique way.
Ava tilted her head and innocently asked, "Why would Papa ignore Mama? Doesn't he know she's the best?"
"Oh Ava, you see, some people just have a knack for ignoring the most wonderful things in life. It's quite a talent, really." Eloise, ever quick-witted, couldn't resist adding his own touch of humor to the conversation. He raised an eyebrow and replied
Ava blinked, processing his words before giving him a puzzled look. "But Mama is the most wonderful thing, Auntie El . How can Papa not see that?"
With a sigh, Florence finally emerged from her room, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sadness and determination.
She walked downstairs, her steps steady and resolute. As she entered the room, the siblings fell silent, their sarcastic banter giving way to a sense of solidarity.
Ava rushed to Florence's side, hugging her tightly. "Mama, you're here!"
Florence held Ava close, her voice filled with both tenderness and strength. "Yes, my darling, Mama is here”
Father, what have I done? How did I let everything fall apart?" Anthony stood before his father's grave, his usually composed demeanor crumbling under the weight of his emotions. Tears streamed down his face as he whispered brokenly,
In that vulnerable moment, Violet approached him Anthony, my dear son," she said softly, her voice filled with a mixture of compassion and strength. "Your father would be proud of the man you've become, but he would also want you to find happiness."
"But Mother I've pushed her away. I've hurt her so deeply," he choked out, his voice laden with regret.
Anthony turned his tear-stained face toward his mother, his eyes pleading for understanding
Violet's gaze softened as she looked into her son's anguished eyes. "You mustn't let go of Florence, Anthony," she gently admonished.
"She is a rare gem, a woman who has stood by your side, weathered the storms, and loved you unconditionally. Don't let your fear and pride blind you to what truly matters."
"But Mother I don't deserve her," he admitted, his voice filled with self-doubt.
“Anthony, my dear, love is not about deserving. It's about choosing to cherish and nurture what you hold dear. Florence is a remarkable woman who has captured your heart. Don't let her slip away because of your own doubts."
Anthony's shoulders sagged, his grief and guilt consuming him. "I've been a fool, Mother,” he confessed, his voice laced with sorrow. "I don't know if I can make things right."
Violet's grip tightened, her voice firm and resolute. "You can, my son. You have a chance to mend what has been broken. Open your heart, be vulnerable, and fight for the love you both share. Life is too short for regrets."
You have a second chance, Anthony," she whispered into his ear. "Don't let it slip away. Don't let go of Florence. Fight for her, my dear, and find solace in the love that can heal even the deepest wounds."
The evening settled with a heavy silence as Anthony mustered up the courage to approach Florence.
His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the weight of the words he needed to share, before everything else he knew that If Ava has addressed Florence as her mother she needs to know the one thing she deserves to know the most.
He found her sitting alone in the garden, her eyes cast downward, lost in her own thoughts.
"Florence," Anthony's voice trembled as he spoke her name, his tone filled with a mix of sorrow and vulnerability.
Florence looked up, her eyes meeting his, and there was a flicker of recognition and curiosity in her gaze.
"I need to tell you something," Anthony began, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a tentative step forward, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.
"Ava's birth mother... Victoria... she was my best friend."
Florence's brow furrowed in confusion, her eyes widening with realization. "Your best friend? But... I thought..."
"We were never in love, Florence. Our relationship was built on friendship and a physical connection, but it was never about love. We made the difficult decision to marry because of Ava." Anthony interrupted her, his voice cracking with emotion.
The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, their implications sinking into the depths of Florence's understanding.
She tried to process the magnitude of what Anthony was revealing, the layers of grief and loss that he carried.
"I... I had no idea," Florence murmured, her voice laced with compassion. Her heart ached for the pain he had endured, the loss of not only a best friend but also the shattered dreams of a life they had planned together.
"We were meant to be parents together, to raise Ava as a family. But Victoria... she died during childbirth, and I lost not only my best friend but also the chance to build a life with her."Anthony's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he continued, his voice thick with sorrow
Florence reached out a hand, her fingers gently brushing against Anthony's, offering a silent comfort. The weight of his grief seemed to consume them both in that moment, their souls entwined in shared pain.
"I never wanted to burden you with this," Anthony admitted, his voice filled with regret. "But I needed you to understand, Florence. You are not a replacement for a mother , nor am I asking you to fill that void. You are your own person, and I fell in love with you because of who you are."
Tears streamed down Florence's face, her voice trembling as she spoke. "Anthony, I don't know what to say... I never realized the depth of your loss, the pain you've carried all this time."
Anthony took a step closer, his voice choked with emotion. "I've been so afraid of losing again, of losing you. But I can't let that fear control me any longer. Florence, I love you, and I want to build a future with you and Ava. Please, don't let my past mistakes and tragedies taint what we have."
Florence's heart swelled with a mix of compassion, understanding, and love. She reached out, embracing Anthony tightly, offering solace and reassurance. In that embrace, they found strength and a shared determination to heal together.
The Bridgerton family decided to have a friendly game of Pall Mall in the garden, with everyone excited to participate, including little Ava. Florence, who was usually composed and gentle, surprised everyone with her newfound competitiveness.
As they took their positions on the makeshift course, Colin couldn't help but smirk playfully at Florence. "Prepare yourself, Miss Flower. I must warn you, I am quite the Pall Mall expert."
Florence raised an eyebrow, her competitive spirit igniting. "Oh, is that so, Mr. Bridgerton? Well, you better be ready to face some fierce competition!"
Anthony chuckled, watching the exchange between Colin and Florence. Ava tugged on his coat sleeve and whispered loudly,
“Papa, I heard Mama say she has always been this competitive . You better not get on her bad side!"
Anthony stifled a laugh and whispered back, "You're right, darling. I've learned not to underestimate your mama's determination."
The game began, and Florence surprised everyone with her skilled shots and strategic moves.
Ava watched in awe as her mama skillfully navigated the ball through the course, all the while maintaining an air of grace and elegance.
At one point, Colin playfully exclaimed, "Miss Flower, are you sure you haven't been practicing in secret? Your skills are quite impressive!"
Florence smirked, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh, Mr. Bridgerton, a lady never reveals her secrets."
The game continued, and the competitiveness between Colin and Florence only intensified. They exchanged playful banter and teasing remarks as they vied for the win.
Meanwhile, the rest of the family watched with amusement and laughter. Eloise turned to Francesca and whispered, "I never knew Florence had such a competitive side!"
Francesca giggled. "Neither did I! It's quite entertaining to watch."
As the game reached its climax, Florence and Colin were neck and neck, and Ava couldn't contain her excitement. "Go, Mama! Go!" she cheered, clapping her hands enthusiastically.
As the game of Pall Mall came to a close and the family gathered on the field, Anthony's heart swelled with love for Florence.
The exhilaration of the game mixed with his deep affection for her, and he couldn't wait any longer to make his intentions known.
Taking a deep breath, Anthony stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Florence. With the gentle summer breeze rustling through the grass, he dropped down on one knee, holding her gaze.
"Florence," Anthony began, his voice filled with emotion, "from the moment I met you, you have brought light and laughter into my life. You have been a pillar of strength and a beacon of love, not just for me, but for Ava as well. You have shown us what it means to be a family."
Florence's eyes widened in surprise, her heart fluttering with anticipation. She placed a hand over her chest, unable to tear her gaze away from Anthony.
"I cannot imagine my life without you, Florence, I do not want to imagine my life without you”
Anthony continued, his voice steady but filled with vulnerability. "You have become an irreplaceable part of our lives, and I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my days by your side. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
A gasp escaped Florence's lips, her eyes brimming with tears. The entire family watched in anticipation, holding their breath as they witnessed this heartfelt moment.
After a moment of silence, Florence's face broke into a radiant smile. Her eyes sparkled with joy and love as she nodded, unable to find her voice.
"Yes, Anthony," she finally managed to say, her voice filled with overwhelming emotion. "Yes, a thousand times yes! I would be honored to be your wife."
The family erupted into cheers and applause, their joy matching the elation shared between Anthony and Florence.
Anthony slipped a beautiful ring onto Florence's finger, sealing their commitment to one another.
Amidst the celebrations, Anthony and Florence embraced tightly, tears streaming down their faces. It was a moment of pure love and happiness.
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apinchofm · 1 year
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my hand was the one you reached for
The girl who ran from the altar, from a respectable man who was in love with her sister - but no one knows or asks about that last part. Flashes of the day come to her, and she vows to stop crying over it. Edwina decided she would not let them see her pain when they whispered. She would not even attempt to be the fool she was. No, she must be sharper, wittier. Careful.
— Returning to London for the 1815 season, Edwina is resigned to not finding love, only a match that will see her comfortable and rumours after becoming the first unmarried Diamond.
now complete!
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ao3feed-kathony · 23 days
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You Used To Live in My Head (Now I Carry You In My Heart)
read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55131721 by HarnitBee, Stars_of_Kyber When Kate Sharma finds a random DM with a photo of her as a child next to another kid and questions Mary about it she discovers that the imaginary friend she believed she had had during the three years her family lived in London when she was a little was not actually imaginary? Actually, he might be the next King of England. Words: 2528, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Anthony Bridgerton, Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Edwina Sheffield | Edwina Sharma, Violet Bridgerton, Edmund Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Mary Sheffield | Mary Sharma, Colin Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Simon Basset, Eloise Bridgerton, Francesca Bridgerton, Gregory Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Bridgerton Family (Bridgerton), Bridgerton Family & Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma - Character, Anthony Bridgerton & Bridgerton Family - Character Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Simon Basset/Daphne Bridgerton, Edmund Bridgerton/Violet Bridgerton, Bridgerton Siblings & Edwina Sheffield | Edwina Sharma & Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Edwina Sheffield | Edwina Sharma & Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma & Mary Sheffield | Mary Sharma Additional Tags: text fic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern AU, childhood best friends, Imaginary Friends, or so they thought, royal au, The Bridgerton Royal Family, King Edmund the 1st, Anthony Prince of Wales, edmund lives, mostly for laughs, HEA, Museum Curator Kate, Anthony's siblings are annoying, meddling siblings, Fluff, very little angst, this was supposed to be a one-shot, What a joke lkadjsgklsdfgf read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55131721
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luscious-coptic-curls · 11 months
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Family knows best - chapter 6 of I'm so excited about your match
We delve into the angstier parts of Kate and Anthony as they prepare to tell their families about the show and deal with the aftermath. For Anthony's situation, I imagined a modern version of this setting, with Agatha and crew filming from various angles.
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Fic summary He was sure he couldn’t hate his brother Colin any more than he already did, but here he was, seething while on his way to this façade of a wedding. Off to be married to a stranger. Married at first sight. And sure, it was easier to hate Colin instead of looking in the mirror. If he was truly honest with himself, Colin only got him signed up to the stupid show and stated some truths for his motivation in doing so. It wasn’t like Colin dragged Anthony to every so-called test or conversation with one of the experts. That was all Anthony. He was still coming to grips with the fact that he himself gave in to the experiment and to “see what would happen��. You’re off to marry a stranger, that’s what’s fucking happening mate. It definitely was not what he had intended or expected when he decided to give this experiment a go. What he definitely hadn’t expected was to be matched with someone as infuriating as Kate.
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