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mayfieldss · 10 days

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Messy - Anthony Bridgerton

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My apologies Miss L/N, I did not intend to—are you okay?" he watches as you scramble to your feet, trying your best to avoid the other splashes of the hot tea, and the shards of the cup upon the floor.

"No, I am sorry Lord Bridgerton," Your eyes move quickly between the broken teacup and your dress, now stained. He can see embarrassment in your own movements, and can feel it in his.

"I was the one at fault, Miss. Please allow me to apologize," Anthony had not realized how close he had come to you until this moment, his eyes scanning over your figure trying to find any way he could help. But it struck him suddenly to know that he had taken your hands in his own. He had been checking for burns from the tea, but now the feeling of your skin on his brought heat to his cheeks.

He drops your hands abruptly, casting his gaze to your brother, who stands disapprovingly to his left. "I am sorry again," Anthony takes a step back, though now your eyes have met with his, and he can see something in him that suggests he might not be the only one flustered by the encounter. "Are you harmed at all? Did you need assistance, perhaps by one of the maids, or a doctor?" he can still feel the weight of your fingers held in his own, even now as space lies between you.

"I am okay, my Lord, though I am rather embarrassed." the way your eyes sparkle seems just for him, and when you shift your gaze towards the maids, now cleaning up the mess from moments before, he watches the small and bashful smile you once held fall.

"My apologies, I should have been more careful." You say to the maids and all others in the room, though Anthony is shaking his head before the full sentence can even dare to leave you.

"It was me who was careless. You are not at fault." he places a hand over his heart, once again ignoring all other surroundings in favor of absorbing you. "I am sorry if I caused you any pain, and given the chance, I would love to provide funds for a new dress to replace the one my incautious behavior has ruined." his words cause a small, almost inaudible gasp from his mother, though he can see her expression in his peripheral. He will not hear the end of this for a while, he thinks. Once word got out amongst his siblings that he had found a soft spot for a woman he hardly knew, enough to pay for new garments, he would be endlessly teased. And yet he didn't care. Because the look on your face, one of shock, and fascination made him feel important.

That however, was the moment where your brother cleared his throat. Breaking through whatever connection Anthony had made with you.

"Are we to continue with business, Bridgerton?" He sounds irritated, and it's clear he can see exactly how the viscount is feeling. It's not hard to notice by now that Anthony's gaze is hardly able to break from you for a second.

"Yes, of course." Anthony is still looking at you when he says it, and only when a hand is placed on his arm, his mother's, pushing him back toward his seat, does he break free of the spell you so effortlessly place.

A few weeks later and the carpet has been cleaned, no stain has been left from the tea, and the teacup broken has long been replaced. The Bridgerton estate is bustling with noise, its latest ball bringing the entire ton and more to the premises. As Anthony's eyes scan the room, cautious of making any wrong moves, as usual, his heart wanders, leaving him behind. You stand with a drink delicately in hand, ivory gloved fingers with a gentle grasp upon the glass. Anthony, once again, can not look away.

When you finally meet his eyes, he is unable to stop himself, moving through the ballroom swiftly, even as many others try to stop him for conversation. The other women of the ton pause their own movements in the hopes the viscount may be coming to speak with them, and with each lady is passes, disappointment, and envy fill the room.

"Miss L/N." He greets you with a smile, partly because he can't help himself at the sight of you.

"Lord Bridgerton." you attempt a short bow, one that is barely there at all, but he doesn't mind. Somehow he knows you're teasing him. Testing him perhaps, in the way you smirk.

"I am pleased to see you again. You look wonderful tonight." his usual flattery makes you scoff, partly in shock, though there is humor there too. It is not at all lady-like, nor what your mother trained of you, but Anthony finds a thrill in the behavior, as inappropriate as it may be.

"Do you not believe me?" he asks, watching as you take a sip of your drink. You do it almost to fill the gap between his speech, and it seems practiced. As if you have done the same to pause conversation between many men before him.

"No, I do believe you my lord. I am aware of my appearance. Though I should thank you, for this dress is the one you paid for."

"It seems to me that it was money well spent." Anthony is a gentleman, though he can picture himself with his hands tangled in the dress you wear tonight. Knowing that he was the one to gift it to you somehow makes his feelings grow stronger.

"It does seem so." There's a quiet between you after your words, partly because he can not think of anything more to say, and you laugh in the space of the silence. A gentle sound, not loud enough for many other than him to hear, but the grin that accompanies it is what makes Anthony's stomach flip. It's something he had never predicted occurring within himself, and yet, now he can feel it.

"Would you like to dance?" he asks, and somehow he knows you'll say yes, if only to continue the tension between you. You nod at first, handing off your glass to a passing waiter, before taking his hand.

"I would love to."

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velvetcloxds · 2 years

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A HUSBAND'S DUTY | A.B.

Pairing: husband!anthony bridgerton x wife!reader

Word count: 1.6k words

Warnings: injury, little blood, getting stitches, anthony being an idiot, fem pronouns

Summary: after a little accident in town left you in need of some comfort while getting stitches, anthony fears he may be developing feelings for his wife

A/n: this was actually my very first anthony fic so go easy on me lol

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Anthony was admittedly concerned as he walked into the Bridgerton home, he had received a rather vague letter demanding his return but no more than that, though the cart of the physician that stood idle in front of the front door did not instill him with much relief.

"Whatever is the matter?” He demanded from the youngest Bridgerton brother, Colin looking no more in the know than he was, but a loud cry soon followed the silence and Anthony’s heart sank, though the voice it belonged to had been a rather new addition to his setting, he’d still recognize it without any prompt at all. “Is Y/n hurt?” Anthony added, now more alarmed than he was when he came in and Colin offered him a careful nod, hands reaching for his shoulders to keep him in place when he dared to take off towards you.

“There was a minor accident in town, Y/n tripped on her way into the carriage and managed to cut herself on the wheel,” he explained with an almost calming tone, knowing that despite the practically transparent charade Anthony enacted, there was no denying that the viscount cared deeply for his wife. “It is not as awful as her shouts make it appear, merely a few stitches to her arm, though she seems remarkably unfond of the needle, that is all.”

Anthony considered the words carefully, somewhat relieved that the injury was not as dreadful as the thousands of scenes his mind presented him at your first cry, but he was still uneasy. There was an unreasonable feeling biting at his stomach, it begged him to go to you, be there for you and he’d half the heart to pay it no mind but he was not sure he had enough restraint to do so.

“Eloise and Benedict are at her side, brother, you need not fret,” Colin began, a door creaking upstairs, footsteps fleeing down the hall, and with the bedroom now open to eager ears, he heard your voice even clearer than before, his name being the only thing to truly filter through as you begged for your husband to be brought to you and it was that shrill demand that had something in his chest snap. Colin sighed as he took hold of his brother’s top hat, watching the man strut up the stairs with determination.

“Please, no more,” you cried with your bloodied arm held tightly in place by Benedict, Eloise sat next to you on the bed as you shook your head in objection, resembling that of a child refusing to go to bed and were it not for the circumstance, Anthony would have taken a moment to take note of it, yet he cleared his throat instead. Your eyes found his in an instant, new tears, now of relief, cascading down your cheeks as your husband shrugged off his coat and shoes.

“Thank heavens,” Benedict sighed, carefully releasing your arm from his grip, a silent nod telling Eloise to follow him as he decided to leave you in the capable hands of his brother. “I wish you good luck, brother,” he mused as he patted Anthony’s shoulder, sparing you a sympathetic smile as he did. “She is intent on refusing help,” he added, and the siblings retreated to their own rooms.

“Anthony,” you breathed as he made his way towards you, nodding to greet the physician before climbing onto the bed with you.

“My love,” he cooed, sparing a glance at the worrying cut that traveled along your skin, an irritated wound if he had ever seen one, your squirming doing quite well in aiding the cause. “Have I not told you to be more careful with that spiteful step?” he reprimanded in the same soft tone, brows furrowed in concern as he moved his body behind yours, assuring a tight hold on you as your back rested against his chest.

“You have,” you agreed, nuzzling into his neck as careful hands rubbed at your waist to calm you down. “Please, tell them that there is no need for all this fuss,” you insisted and knew you would not get your way when he tutted lowly, kissing your forehead as you looked up at him with large eyes, a look he had never seen before, though that was but one of many new gestures you had shared within a few moments.

“I believe that despite your fighting, you are nearly free of this torture, merely a few more seconds, and then I shall ensure you never have to see the poor man again,” he bargained, and had you been of sound mind, you would have reprimanded him for attempting to manage your emotions, though you could not deny the serenity you found in his arms- what seemed utterly terrifying a second ago, was now but an uncomfortable excuse to be closer to him than ever before.

“Will you stay?” you sighed with a soft pout, allowing your head to fall further into the crook of his neck to better your view of his handsome face, one that was now adorned with a caring smile that you were sure he had conjured only for you.

“Until the very end, dearest,” he promised with a gentle shrug and you took a second before nodding, closing your eyes in preparation for the prick of the needle, breathing in Anthony’s cologne instead, feeling the soft material of his shirt against your cheek, the almost non-existent strokes of his thumbs against your sides, you were sure that if Benedict or Eloise could see you now they would think you mad. You thought yourself quite mad as well, finding so much solace, so much peace in a man who had married you while promising none, yet he held you so tightly, kept you so close, you felt as though you might shatter once he released you back into a world without his embrace.

You were unsure how long you had allowed yourself to be lost in Anthony before your stitches had been finished, the gentle tone of his voice bidding the old man goodbye summoning you back to your bedroom as you felt a flustered blush creep over your cheeks, gentle eyes looking down at you to ensure that you were in fact alright.

“I should apologize to your siblings,” you noted, daringly leaning further into him as he laughed softly, moving his hands to accommodate your shifting body as one arm cradled your back to keep you against his chest while the other dragged nimble fingers over the cloth that hid your closed wound. “I fear I may have acted fairly out of character.”

“You have,” he agreed and raised a brow when you avoided his gaze, looking down at your own hands as they laid in your lap. “Though, I do not believe any harm was done. In fact, now that my mind has cleared of worry, I can appreciate the terror on their faces upon my arrival.”

“You were worried about me?”

“Terribly. I cannot say that I remember ever experiencing worry quite like it,” he admitted and you felt your fingers entwining with his, you half expected him to pull away, return to the man you had known in the months after your wedding, the one who insisted on boundaries and distance, the one who insisted on pretending he was cold when he was truly just a man terrified to allow love into his life when it could so easily be stolen from him. “If I had any say in the matter, I would wish not to experience it again.”

“I am sorry for worrying you,” you nearly whispered, and he shook his head, smiling down at you as he regained your attention. “I did not know that Benedict had sent for you until I saw you standing at the door, and at the time I was far too relieved to see you to think of anything else.”

“You need not apologize, my love, is it not a husband’s duty to worry about his wife?” he teased, and it was though he achieved something marvelous when a smile sifted onto your lips as well, he knew he had matters to tend to, the day still long as he took note of tasks left abandoned when he came here, though he could not bring himself to leave you after the little ordeal. “How would you like to accompany me to some meetings in town?” he asked before he could stop himself and your face flooded with shock. “I am to finish up for the day and it would give me much more peace of mind if you were with me.”

“I would love to,” you squealed, knowing you ought to be hiding your excitement at such a simple request, but your moments together had left you drowning in greed, you would delight in whatever opportunity that held his presence as a promise. “I shall change first,” you giggled, smiling at him before he guided you out of his arms and onto the floor, watching you as you padded towards the bathroom.

“How fair the wounded bird?” Benedict teased as he stilled in the doorway, leaned up against the doorframe as he took a bite from his apple, brow raised at his brother who looked only at the closed door you had just disappeared into. “Anthony?”

“Something horrible is happening, Benedict,” he breathed, shaking his head as he met his brother’s gaze. “I believe that I am falling in love with my wife.”

all fandoms: @scandalous-chaos @the-blue-forest

bridgerton: @mirclealignr @saintlike78 @wrathspoet @esposamultifandom @murdockcastleslut @littlsstuff @golden-hoax @joline12829

other: @sarahisslytherin @leydileyla

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peterpparkrr · 1 year

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Pinned (Pt. 8)

Series: Pinned

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Summary: The Reader and Anthony discuss the reality of a future together. Reader knocks some sense into her brother. The Bridgertons meet Anthony’s fiancée.

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: After much delay, here’s the final chapter! Aka The HEA that these two deserve. Thank you so much for reading! The epilogue will be coming soon.

prev. part // epilogue

“People will talk,” You protest, shaking your head in disbelief.

Of all the confessions you expected to receive from Anthony Bridgerton, of all of the proposals he could give you, marriage had always been an impossibility.

“If you’re willing to weather the gossip, I am,” Anthony replied calmly.

“People will never accept us, or our children,” You tell him.

“My family has influence, an influence that will always trump that false sense of propriety that some members of society claim to have. And my mother has enough gossip tucked in her pocket to ensure it,” Anthony tells you.

“I won’t pretend, some doors may be closed to our family, but that’s not something that will bother me, I promise.”

“I want to be with you, I’ve spent so much of my life worried about my family's legacies, protecting my family, but I’ve realized that I deserve happiness of my own, a life of my own, separate from all of them,” Anthony tells you.

“I know I’m asking a lot, that this will make us, and any family that we would have, the subject of gossip for the rest of our lives, but I will never stop loving you and I’m ready to fight for you, for us, and the future that I want for us, the family that I want for us.”

“Life is never easy, but it would be worth fighting if I had you by my side,” He tells you, his eyes boring into your own.

“Anthony,” You finally cut him off, still shaking your head.

He holds his tongue and his breath as he waits for your response.

“If your family supports this, then that’s more than enough for me. I love you, and that is all I care about,” You tell him as the emotions begin to well in your throat. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Anthony’s face breaks out into a wide grin as he closes the space between you, pulling you into his arms as he presses himself into you, his arms tight around your middle.

“I never thought I could be so happy,” You admit as the tears shine in your eyes once you break apart just far enough to see his face again, still wrapped up in one another.

“Neither did I,” Anthony replies. “But I’ve recently learned that we both deserve it. To give ourselves a real chance at happiness.”

“I agree,” You reply as you press your lips to his briefly.

“May I?” Anthony asks as he pulls a ring box from his pocket.

“Oh,” You murmur as you press a hand to your lips in surprise.

“It was my mother’s betrothal ring,” Anthony explains as he bends on one knee to put it on your unsuspecting left hand, which still hangs dumbly at your side as he reaches for it, pushing the ring up your ring finger as you watch him silently.

“And now we need to tell people,” You add quietly as you glance back at the road again, recalling that your brother is presumably still waiting somewhere down the block for you to return to him.

“Your brother…” Anthony replies gently.

“Don’t worry about him,” You tell him quickly. “I’ll take care of it.”

Anthony nods.

“I’ll give you two the afternoon to talk, can I retrieve you tomorrow and take you to meet my family.”

“Yes,” You reply.

“Tomorrow,” Anthony tells you as he leans in to kiss you once more before saying goodbye.

“Tomorrow,” You repeat as you watch him go.

Your fiancé.

Oh my.

Once you return to some sense of calmness and normality you return to your brother who is still glowering at unsuspecting passersby on the street.

“Let’s go home,” You tell him as you tuck your hand into his arm and pull him back down the street toward your flat.

Once you’re inside your flat and the door is firmly shut you finally look John in the eye.

“We need to talk,” You tell him plainly as you clasp your hands in front of you.

“I don’t appreciate you speaking around me. Especially in public,” You tell him honestly. Something about you and Anthony admitting that you love each other and agreeing to get married has broken a dam that you didn’t know was inside of you.

“That man-” John starts to argue.

“No,” You cut him off. “You are going to listen to me without interrupting.”

John finally nods and you continue.

“Anthony has asked me to marry him and I have said yes. That is not up for discussion. I am going to marry him. We have his family’s support. And I have his support and his love. I want to be happy.”

John starts to protest and you shake your head quickly.

“I love him, and he loves me, why is it that his family can support this but you can’t?” You ask him.

“Men like that-”

“There are no men like Anthony,” You interrupt. “I’m sorry, but you don’t know him. Certainly not like I do. So how is your prejudice for him as a gentleman any different from the prejudice you have faced for being a laborer?” You ask sharply. Pointing out his hypocrisy bluntly.

“I want you to support this, I truly do, but I do not need your permission to marry,” You tell him. “So are you going to choose me, and support this, or are you going to choose your pride and refuse to accept that he makes me happy because of his title?”

“I…” John flounders for a moment. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him at a loss for words.

Your heart sinks as your worry that perhaps you’ve thrown away the only family that you have in a moment of post-engagement madness.

“I choose you, of course I choose you,” John replies as he shakes his head.

“Good, because I’d really like you to walk me down the aisle,” You tell him as you smile at him in relief.

“I’d be honored,” John replies as he comes up to hug you tightly.

“I’m sorry for getting in the way of things, I love you more than anything,” He murmurs into your hair as he holds you tightly.

“I love you too,” You reply as you squeeze him back.

You felt like you were going to throw up.

When you’d woken up that morning it took you a few moments to remember all of the events of the day before, Anthony finding you, the proposal, your difficult conversation with John. But the engagement allowed you to float through the morning in a bit of a haze.

Even when Anthony came to collect you

But now you were sitting in a carriage, about to pull up to Anthony’s family’s London home. To meet his family. A Dowager Viscountess and her children, one of whom was a Duchess. And try to present yourself as an appropriate match for a Viscount.

You.

Even though Anthony had assured you of his family’s support. Especially his mothers, you had not met them. Other than the time the brothers had come into the shop before all of this had happened, and you were certain none of them would recall that particular meeting. Noblemen never did look servants or hired people in the eyes.

And perhaps that would be for the best.

Anthony squeezed your hand reassuringly as the carriage came to a stop in front of the grand house you knew was the Bridgerton’s residence. Anthony had been talking for most of the ride but you’d stopped listening to him a while ago. You hoped he hadn’t noticed. Or at least, that he didn’t mind.

You let him help you down from the carriage and lead you up the steps and into the house. When Anthony leads you to the drawing room you find the Bridgertons all gathered, all talking amongst themselves until they notice your appearance in the doorway.

“I’d like to introduce you all to Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Anthony announces to the room as the large family falls silent at the interruption. “My fiancée.”

The sudden silence quickly dissolves into an even louder conversation, now directed at the two of you as the family swarms to congratulate you and ask you a host of questions. Mostly about how on earth Anthony had found himself a wife without the rest of them knowing anything about it.

“It’s wonderful to meet you all, I’ve heard so much about you,” You tell them all as Anthony tries to wrangle his siblings so that he can introduce each of them to you.

“Hello, dear,” Lady Bridgerton says as she sweeps you into a hug.

“Lady Bridgerton-” You stammer out.

“Please, call me Violet, I’m just so glad Anthony came to his senses,” She tells you warmly.

“I know Anthony says we have your blessing, but if-”

“I want my children happily married,” Violet replies simply. “If you will make him happy- and I can already tell that you do- then I am thrilled to have you join our family,” She reassures you.

As the younger Bridgerton siblings continue to pepper you with questions about yourself you are hit with a sudden rush of affection for the Bridgertons, a massive family who have already enveloped you into their family as one of their own.

You’d never been part of a real family before. And you’d certainly never dreamed of being a part of a family this big. But as you felt Anthony’s hand brush against your own gently you were certain that this sort of family life would suit you just fine.

#pinned #pinned series #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton drabble #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton series #Bridgerton #Bridgerton Series #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton drabble #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton reader insert #anthony bridgerton reader insert #anthony bridgerton x female reader

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the-dendrophile-bookdragon · 1 year

Text

Chilly Air

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Warning: cold fingers, fluff

Summary: A forgot their mittens/gloves outside, so B warms up their hands

Maybe it wasn't your best idea to forgo your mittens. Anthony told you it was getting cold even if the sun was shining. But you were too prideful to listen to your dear husband. Now you rubbed your hand in front of you while Anthony leaned down to lay a wreath of evergreens on his father's grave.

He stood back up and saw your red fingertips. He sighted deeply. "Didn't I warn you about the cold, my dear." You smiled at him in defeat. "Yes, you told me. And before you lecture me. I will never doubt your words again. I promise."

Anthony chuckled. He walked closer and took your ice-cold hands into his leather cladded ones. "We should head back. Your hands must hurt." He took his gloves off from his hands and gave them to you. You wanted to protest but the slight pain and your husbands look stopped you.

Before you could put them on Anthony took your icicle of hands in his warm ones and warmed then up a bit. After a while he switched his hands with his gloves. He held them open so you could slip your hands inside them.

After you put them on you thanked him with a kiss on his chilled cheek. "Let's get inside, dear husband. It seems like the cold is even getting to you." He pulled you by your waist into his side. "You seem right, my darling wife." He kissed your ice-cold nose before moving back to the warm house.

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#anthony bridgerton drabble #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton one shot #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fluff #31 days of december

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merlieve · 2 years

Note

For your bridgerton requests, do you write dark obsessive/possessive stuff? If so, can I get a dark!anthony bridgerton x innocent naive!reader and jealousy? (If not, you can just ignore me 🙈 sorry)

training wheels I :: anthony bridgerton x reader

CHAPTER ONE. WHEELS AREN’T EVEN TOUCHING THE GROUND. Fem! Reader. (She/Her). 2k words.

[ Note: I have too many ideas with this prompt, so I made it a series! NEW LAYOUT UPDATED]

Warning/s: Possessive Anthony, Friendzone-d Anthony

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Anthony and [Name] have been friends for as long as they can recall, their fathers met at Oxford, where they finished their studies. When Edmund passed away, [Father’s Name] didn’t take it nicely, he fled the country, but that didn’t stop Anthony and [Name] from writing letters to each other, they always kept in touch. Though this season, [Name] didn’t write back to Anthony.

[Name]’s at the ripe age of eighteen, her family thought she was ready to debut, so her family voyaged back to London to find a husband for her. She was a daughter of a duke and duchess, so she had no problem with rank. She was nervous, her mother had been teaching her about the fine arts and learning different languages to entertain her husband, she didn’t like how she was doing all of this, not for herself, but for her future husband. And because of all of this, [Name] didn’t have the time to exchange regards with friends, whether it’d be Anthony or not.

“[Name], wake up! We’re here,” Beamed [Sister’s Name] as she practically yelled at [Name]’s poor ear. “How long was I asleep for?! I certainly didn’t expect we’d be here so early,” Yawned [Name] while getting off of the black carriage. Her sister and she took a moment to take in the London air that had bestowed upon them. The housekeepers and maids stood on the stairs as they greeted their employers.

“I want to thank you, Eliza, for taking care of our house after all these years!” Gasped [Father’s Name], “Do not thank me, Your Grace, for it is simply my job to take care of your fine home,” Smiled Eliza, the head housekeeper.

“I haven’t seen this house in years! The Deja vû I got,” Sighed [Mother’s Name] as she reflected on her memories when she was a young woman in London. “Hurry up, I can’t wait!” Spoke [Sister’s Name] as she opened the door to reveal their old home, the entryway filled with flowers, and the family colours. “It’s marvellous!” Stated [Sister’s Name], as she smelled the flower next to her, resulting in her sneezing in the process.

“When you were a baby, you always drew on the wall! Let’s hope it doesn’t happen again,” Winked Eliza to [Sister’s Name]. Eliza was like a second mother to them, she helped [Mother’s Name] put them to sleep, eat, and keep them entertained when their parents aren’t home, [Sister’s Name] may not remember it but [Name] did, she kept in touch with Eliza whenever her mother sends a letter out to the housekeepers.

[Name] ran up to her room in excitement, when she walked in she froze up, remembering the times Anthony and her would play with her dolls while their mothers watch them. Oh, God, she forgot to tell Anthony she was back in London nor did she have the time to. But [Name] decided to surprise him at Lady Danbury’s ball.

The Bridgerton household stayed the same. Hyacinth and Gregory playing in the corridors, Francesca and Eloise minding their own business, Anthony writing on his notepad and Benedict illustrating his future masterpiece. Eloise was reading the new issue of Whistledown that came out this forenoon, sharing her comments to Francesca as rolled her eyes at her sister, though a particular paragraph had caught her eye.

“The [Last Name]’s are in London!” Beamed Francesca, a smile smeared on her face. Her outburst made everyone stop what their doing. “Oh! How wonderful, we should pay them a visit shall we?” Clapped Violet, “We haven’t seen them in so long,” Everyone started making plans, but Anthony didn’t care for a word they said, he missed [Name] truly, though why didn’t she tell him they were coming back to Mayfair? Did she not want him to know? All these questions flooded Anthony’s mind. “Anthony, may you clear tomorrow for us? I shall write a letter to Daphne to tell her the great news!” Smiled Violet, as she looked at everyone with delight.

Anthony didn’t know why he was angry that she didn’t tell him she was going back to London. He was worried for her that’s all… “Err - yes, mama, I shall,” He nodded in his mother’s direction and left to go to his study, which was filled with notepads and stacks of paper waiting to be signed. He walks over to his desk, showing an unfinished letter he was going to give to [Name], as he looked at it longer he felt pathetic, and Anthony hated that. [Full Name] had Anthony Bridgerton wrapped around her finger and she never knew it.

[Name] was innocent and sinless, so Anthony had no reason to think of her at night. His feelings for [Name] grew each time they wrote to each other. Hell, he forgot what she looked like, and that made him eager to see her again. When Colin was off on his travels, he stopped by to see the [Last Name]’s, and that made Anthony wish he came when Colin offered him to visit [Country Name]. Colin described [Name] was more mature than before, well, it was obvious it had been YEARS since they saw each other. He could only picture her as what Colin described, which made him yearn to see her.

In honour of the first ball of the reason, Lady Danbury embellished the ballroom with flowers of all sorts, and her decorating was divine. Even the Queen commented on this floral set-up. The orchestra prepared an exquisite song as people started dancing in the centre.

After the song ended, the Bridgertons finally arrived at the venue, Eloise holding on to her dear mama’s arm for her life. She looked very uncomfortable wearing the dress, as she started moving around to find a less itchy spot. “Stop fussing with your dress,” Ordered Anthony, his mind plagued seeing [Name] tonight. “You look lovely, dear,” Complimented Violet, while she looked around smiling. “I look like a prize calf trussed up for auction!” Fumed Eloise stubbornly, Benedict thought it was funny to moo at Eloise in the process.

“Even Daphne thought most apprehensive at her first official ball and look how well her season turned out,” Scolded Violet, making Eloise change her mind a little… It didn't last long until a gentleman started to approach Eloise, Benedict made an excuse about cakes and left with Eloise, making the gentleman feel disappointed.

It was only Violet and Anthony left. “It truly is a sparse crop,” Complained Anthony, as he looked around the room. “Well, I’m sure there is someone here who would charm you, maybe a specific [Last Name]” Smirked Violet. Anthony looked at her with shocking eyes.

“After all this is the season the Viscount intends to find a wife!” Giggled Violet, emphasizing the wife part, making mamas and debutants look in their direction. “You honestly just did that?!” Whisper shouted Anthony, as he looked at his mother in disbelief. “I believe I did,” Teased Violet as mamas find their way to approach him with their daughters, practically begging for him to dance with them.

“-The Viscount intends to find a wife!” A voice all too acquainted echoed along with the gallery. “My, my, could it be?” Gasped [Mother’s Name], looking at where the noise came from. Aside from the hoard of suitor hungry mamas, she found the right person she was looking for.

“Well, if it isn’t Violet Bridgerton!” Smiled [Mother’s Name] as she dragged the rest of the family behind her. “Lady [Last Name],what a surprise! I’ve heard about your arrival yesterday, I trust you have settled in?” Chattered Violet, delighted seeing the [Last Name]’s after years. “Why, yes, we have,” - “What brings you back to London? Getting little [Name] out to society I hope?” Inquired Violet, looking at [Name] as she smiled at the young girl.

“My, how you have grown! The last time I saw you, you were as short as a cotton ball, and [Sister’s Name] you were just a baby when I first saw you!” Sighed Violet, remembering the good memories. “You must be eager to see Anthony again, are you? You two were like two peas in a pod! However, he is quite busy,” The [Last Name]’s followed Violet’s gaze on Anthony, looking too overwhelmed with the various ladies beseeching him to dance with them, their mamas following with ‘You must get to know her, she is a great dancer!’.

Accepting his fate, almost every woman’s dance card is filled with his name on it. Anthony looked around, trying to find a familiar face when he saw someone he knew all too well. He practically rushed, he waited his whole life for this moment. Anthony didn’t care if he hit a person or two, he just had to see her again, he couldn’t stop thinking about her, dreaming about her, and reminiscing about her. There it was… the spark, he knew he had met her.

“[Name]...” Whispered Anthony, his heart was beating fast and his palms were getting sweaty, he waited for this moment to come, hell, he even IMAGINED it, [Name] would be lying if she didn’t say she did the same. “A-Anthony?!” Exclaimed [Name], her eyes couldn’t believe her, they both wish they could hug each other without society turning it into a scandal. Anthony looked mature… and deadly attractive, but we don’t talk about that. Anthony swore this was the first genuine smile he made, words couldn’t explain how happy he was. He felt comfortable around her, and she felt the same. Their eyes were filled with tears they refused to let go,

Anthony had to contain himself from embracing her, [Name] almost fainted, she felt her glass slipping away from her fingers, she didn’t have the time to process what was happening. The sound of glass shattering made people look their way, [Name] felt embarrassed. “O-Oh… I didn’t mean to,” - “No worries, I’ll get it,” Anthony interrupted, he grabbed the shards of glass with the protection of his gloves. He gave the rest to a nearby butler. “Thank you, Anthony,” Smiled [Name], still feeling small after her incident. “You’re very welcome, [Name]. It is good - GREAT to see you again,” Laughed Anthony, making [Name] laugh with him. “Can’t you believe it’s been years since we saw each other?! You look so… Viscount-y?”

“Ah, yes, Viscount-y… my favourite word! I make people use it instead of Viscount since it’s too bland and Viscount-y feels very lively,” Anthony jokes, [Name] was glad he never changed over these years. “Should I call you Viscount now?” Asked [Name], she didn’t want to be disrespectful to Anthony’s name, she was used to calling him Anthony all these years. “No need, you are my dearest friend, you deserve calling me by my first name after all the burden that is me that YOU put up with,” Exclaimed Anthony, taking a sip from the champagne the waiter served.

“Enough about my title, how have you been?” Inquired Anthony, focusing on [Name]. “Life has been great, my mama’s pretty excited with me coming out into society,” Smiled [Name], Anthony felt a ping, ‘so she’s a debutante?’ Anthony thought this was his chance.. but the thought of other people considering her as an eligible bachelorette bothered him, he didn’t know why.

“Are you alright, Anthony? You look lost in thought,” Commented [Name], looking at Anthony with worried eyes, Oh, don’t get him started with her eyes, her eyes were pure, innocent, angelic like. “S-sorry, I remembered I have to dance with a few ladies…” Anthony excused, his excuse was true, he forgot everything after he saw [Name], he wanted nothing but to be with her, he wanted to protect her, and he wanted her to trust him enough to let him in. “Oh… alright! Have a great night, Anthony,” She sounded disappointed, she WAS disappointed, but she shoved it down, knowing they had to part in some time of the night. Anthony hesitantly walked away, looking back at [Name], he didn’t want to leave her, her presence made him comfortable, her scent was lustrous, and she was absolutely delicate.

Anthony went to one of the women he signed up to dance with, and before the music started, he saw [Name]… dancing with another man. He didn’t know why he was jealous, or why he cared, but nonetheless, the thought of her marrying another man made him sick to his stomach. He thought he was the perfect fit for [Name], they fit together like a glove, not the mention they have been friends when they were both as small as a biscuit.

Anthony wanted her, she only thought of him as a brother. He knew that she told him before that he was her older brother she never had, and he wanted to change that.

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #dark!anthony bridgerton x reader #requested #bridgerton netflix #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x female reader #jonathan bailey #anthony bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton drabble #merlieve’s fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

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mothdruid · 2 years

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hey abby!! hope you're having a lovely sunday 💖

hand-holding (pressing the other’s hand against their cheek), kisses (“we’ll see each other again” kisses), touching (touching foreheads) with anthony pls 🥺

AHHHHHH, this is so fucking cute nik !!!

Anthony pressed your hand to his cheek, smiling at the warmth radiating from your hand. It was tragic, the current situation. This was the final moment the two of you would spend together before you went to the country side with your family. His legs were still slotted between your own, your nude bodies pressing together in the most innocent way.

This was what you would miss all summer, miss this intimacy. You knew that Anthony had a reputation, but that had changed since the two of you became involved. "But what if you move on? I'll be gone for quite some time and I ju-" His lips pressed against your own. It was a gentle kiss, one full of promise and love.

"We'll see each other again, I promise. You make it sound as if you are leaving forever." Anthony pressed his forehead to your own, his hands sliding up the side of your thigh to your waist. His eyes were innocent and soft, carrying so many emotions in them.

"I just don't want you to forget me, Anthony." You looked away from his gaze, exposing the skin of your neck to him. His lips connected to your neck, nipping at the skin softly. The hand on your waist tightened as he grinded his hips against you.

"I could never forget you."

send me a touch prompt for anthony, benedict, or colin

#moth talk #abby answers #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x fem!reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton drabble #anthony bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton drabble #bridgerton imagine

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alyswritings · 2 years

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Could you maybe write write an Anthony x daughter reader and step-mom Kate x step-daughter reader ( maybe R is 6 ) and they take her to her first ever event and accidentally lose her and she finds her way to the queen and R and the queen have a conversation and when Kate and Anthony find R Anthony is apologizing to the queen but she says that she finds R's company quite pleasant and praises R for how smart and well behaved she is for her age, R and the queen just casually become beasties 😂

The Bridgertons are at the horse races with the rest of the ton. Y/N stuck close to her father's side for most of the day, but it wasn't until after the races ended that Anthony had realized Y/N wasn't next to him anymore.

"Uh... Kate?" Anthony asks.

"Hmm?" She hums, turning to look at him.

"Where's Y/N?" He questions. Kate looks to the empty spot beside her husband, her stepdaughter nowhere to be found.

"Well, I-- you had her." Kate says, looking around for the familiar girl.

"Yes. Had. I don't know when or how she disappeared." Anthony says. "Mother." He rushes over to his family. "Have any of you seen Y/N?"

He gets a collective amount of 'no's' when only makes his panic build. They all start looking around for the young girl.

"Oh, God." Anthony mutters, suddenly freezing.

"What?" Kate asks, rushing next to him.

"She's with the queen." Anthony states, Kate following his gaze to find Y/N sitting next to the queen and talking.

"Oh, God." Kate mutters.

The married couple quickly rush over, gaining the attention of their daughter and the queen.

"Your majesty." Anthony nervously chuckles as he bows. "I am so very deeply sorry for Y/N. She-- she escaped my sight at some point during the races. I assure you it will not happen again."

"Come here, darling." Anthony holds his hand out to Y/N who walks over and grabs it.

"Oh, by all means, I didn't mind." The queen states, sending a kind smile to Y/N.

"You... you didn't mind?" Anthony asks.

"Not at all. Your daughter is quite smart for her age. Very well mannered." The queen compliments. "Quite the sophisticated young lady you're raising there."

"Thank you." Anthony says, shocked by the compliments from the woman. "Um... we-we really should be going now."

"Of course. It was lovely talking to you, Y/N." The queen politely smiles at her.

"Bye." Y/N waves to her. Anthony leads Y/N away, Kate walking alongside them.

"Did our daughter just make friends with the queen?" Kate quietly asks.

"I believe so." Anthony mumbles.

#anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kate bridgerton #anthony bridgerton drabble #bridgerton daughter drabble #kate bridgerton drabble

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cherry-lipbalm · 2 years

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anthony bridgerton

fifth season and counting. anthony bridgerton.

part two. (part one)

concept: yn has lost count of how many seasons she has gone without a suitor, but her mother certainly hasn’t, and if it takes recruiting anthony bridgerton to get her off her back, then so be it.

I was starting to think that maybe I wasn’t the issue, but in fact the serious lack of desirable men, their inability to convey a single well-established form of conversation, and my mother’s undeservedly high standards that prohibited me from a proposal. I knew I was kidding myself in pretending I really had no part to play in my status, but it was nice to believe, for once, that maybe it wasn’t all my fault.

“Alright, let me see who’s first on your dance card,” my mother said, grabbing my wrist with a sense of fervour she only inhibited at soirées.

“How is there no one on your dance card?” She asked next, as if she hadn’t been the one to turn away the last three suitors.

“I don’t know, mother.”

She sighed, a sound I had grown rather accustomed to this evening, and turned back to the scenery with a plastered smile. Even having been pushed to the outskirts of those that spectated the dancing, my mother seemed to be in somewhat of a pleasant mood, her eyes waltzing between everyone in attendance, waving courteously as if she had some sort of superiority here. I, meanwhile, slumped beside her, keeping my head low and failing to calm the panic within me every time someone neared, threatening the possibility of conversation.

Although my mother was my biggest critic, there was no shaking the thought that she didn’t exactly mind all of this. As I watched her in that conservatory ball, smiling and gently applauding, nodding graciously at anyone who dared look our way, I realised she had really never stopped being the same mother she was five seasons ago. She treated every time like it was the first, with pure excitement and virtue, as if she would spend the rest of her days doing this: trying to marry me off, as if she enjoyed it.

“Lady YLN,” an endearing yet patronising voice approached us, one I recognised very well indeed.

“Lady Danbury! Oh, what a pleasure,” my mother responded, finally turning from the crowd. Her hands gratefully found hers, clasping them with a tight smile as she entered our small circle.

“The pleasure is mine,” she smiled. The thud of her cane reverberated through me. “Miss YN.”

“Lady Danbury,” I curtsied. “We are truly grateful for your hospitality. You have outdone yourself, once again.”

She smiled approvingly, and my chest swelled with a vague sense of accomplishment that I knew meant nothing. People were watching, certainly, but not to observe me as a contestant, to awe at my eloquence or brandishing of knowledge, or even at the dress my mother had had tailored especially. They were staring simply to stare, and wonder why on Earth Lady Danbury was wasting her time, and how on Earth I had even got in.

“Come, now,” she said, oblivious or uncaring to the eyes that followed us. “We have lots to do.”

My mother and I exchanged a glance, with varying degrees of optimism, and followed suit. Lady Danbury walked with an air of superiority, and everyone she passed curtsied and bowed accordingly. It made me ashamed to follow her as she found her way through the crowd effortlessly. I knew I did not belong. We meandered past a couple dressed in blue who I remembered had married three seasons ago. She had always been adamant he would be the one of her suitors she should betroth, and their matrimony had been swift and successful. I remember one night vividly we shared where we spoke in the orangery of this very conservatory. She was unsure of whether her feelings were reciprocated, and here they were married, and here I was, simply commenting on marriage, with nothing else to show for myself. I should have never left the house, I wish I had stayed at home.

“Are you enjoying the evening, Miss YN?”

“Very much so, Lady Danbury.”

“Don’t lie to me, child.”

“Okay,” I squeaked, and turned quickly away. Suddenly, I gained an immense interest for candles and how they lit up the room.

“This is your fifth season, correct?”

Really, I had lost count, and even if I hadn’t, the last thing I wanted to do now was talk about it. Had the underlying notion of it all in everyone’s stares not been enough on the matter? The fact that I was still unmarried hung in the air like a thick fog, it was irrevocably discernible, and I thought it rude of Lady Danbury to ask the question, nonchalant, as if everyone here did not already know that this was my fifth season.

“Indeed,” I replied within a sigh.

She craned her neck over the spectators, eyes glistening over and into them, through into the sea of dancers, wading past one another with tight jackets and flowing dresses. I tried ardently to imagine myself being one of them: delicately poised, dancing to the right rhythm, and concluded it impossible: both the prospect of me being able to dance and me being asked to.

“Well, we better get a move on, I think.”

My mother laughed her I’m-trying-to-be-pleasant-but-am-certainly-not-about-to-be laugh, “and do you not think she has had enough time to do so, Lady Danbury? Five seasons is surely satisfactory enough to sift through the bunch.”

I bowed my head, knowing she was right. I was simply too picky. Every man was either too loud or too quiet, too opinionated or too timid. I found issue with their attire, or their home, or an overbearing family (though I’d be a hypocrite to judge on that one). I could never settle for a man, and that was exactly why I was in this position at present: having Lady Danbury as my matchmaker.

“Ah, Lady Bridgerton!”

Oh, kill me now.

“Lady Danbury!”

Seriously, kill me now.

As if tonight had not raised my blood pressure enough, the last thing I needed was to act even more proper than I already was struggling to accomplish. I did not have to have ever been introduced to the Bridgertons to be aware of their status and opulence. Their names carried everyone through the season, and Daphne Bridgerton’s, particularly, carried throughout my house, as well as the burden that came with not being her. At the mention of them, I wanted to shun away, turn on my heel and run out of the Ball. The last thing I could handle was trying to navigate a conversation with the likes of the Bridgertons. I knew I would say something stupid, embarrass myself or, god forbid, fall over again. My mother kept me in place with a hand on my shoulder, one which I’m sure would appear caring to anyone else, but which I knew was anything but.

“Oh, what a wonderful evening!” Lady Bridgerton smiled, approaching us and allowing the circle of her family to form behind her. My posture shadowed, compressed with the abundance of people ahead of us now, some even daringly encroaching beside us.

“It is indeed. Have you met Lady YLN?” She asked, gesturing to my mother. I watched her eyes jump over, recognising the surname and the status that came with it. In this town, names meant so much more than someone’s identity.

“I can’t say I have had the pleasure,” she smiled. My mother curtsied, and I bowed my head. Not out of courtesy, but out of a vehement wish to be anywhere but here.

“And of course her daughter, Miss YN.”

And then, shit. This was the moment I had dreaded. An obvious introduction, the saying of my name. I had managed to keep myself somewhat covered in the shadows and in between the bodies of everyone here, but now I was a statue in the room, to be observed. My bones became rigid, I forgot to curtesy, and I could find nothing within in me but to stare, dumbfounded.

A good start, if I don’t say so myself.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she lied. Then, she took the liberty of introducing all her children, who smiled politely as they should in my direction. I gulped, wondering just how long of this interaction I had already endured.

“… and, oh, Anthony is here somewhere. Benedict, where is your brother–?”

“Here, mother!” A voice came, and a shuffle amongst the group as a brunet appeared with a more-than-charming smile. He nodded at all of us, and I watched his neck stiffen upon me, his eyes peering into mine with a gaze I recognised as the same of his who had given me his hand on my less-than-elegant entrance.

I decided, right there and then, that I would just have to pass away.

“Anthony, these are the YLNs.”

I decided, too, that I didn’t favour to the emphasis placed on ‘these.’ As if, “yes, the family we’ve been hearing so much about? This is them.” I thought about crying, and about running away and never coming back, but my nerves kept me still. It didn’t help any more when the adults exchanged some knowing glance amongst them when Lord Bridgerton moved from greeting my mother to extending his palm to me.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said, as if we hadn’t already met, as if we were those two old friends again sharing an inside joke.

I placed my fingers in his, with a determined nudge from my mother, and flustered entirely when he pressed his lips to my knuckles in a chaste greeting. I tried to ignore the whispers around us, as well as the excited giggle of my mother and proud hum of Lady Danbury, and somehow found it not too hard to do so. He stood back up straight with an easing smile, nodding again to me to which I couldn’t help but meet with a playful rolling of the eyes. I knew it had been inappropriate as soon as I had done it, and what would people think of me acting so rudely in front of a family as well-established as the Bridgertons? But the Lord laughed again, quietly, and it didn’t seem to matter what anyone else thought.

This is how all my friends had felt, I realised. All those other women who glistened under the sight of men and their suitors. I’d rendered them silly, dismissive of how one can instigate such a change in another, being a force of optimism and joy. Yet as Lord Bridgerton stood ahead of me with such a knowing smile, even being a man I had only met this evening, I seemed to understand it all at once. Had I been waiting five seasons for this moment? And had I been stupid to fall in so feverishly and deep within only a few sentences?

Had it not been for the shift in the haste of the atmosphere, I would have never noticed the orchestra starting up again, I had been so hilariously engrossed in whatever was or wasn’t between the Lord and I. I stumbled to my side when those around me flurried to find their partners, and most of them seemed to do so with the man ahead of me in mind.

“It seems you have a crowd, Anthony,” Lady Bridgerton said, and I watched a wrinkle form between his eyebrows. He turned to the awaiting throng of women who had inched closer and closer during our meeting, and they waited eagerly with batted eyes and beaming smiles, doing all my mother had instructed me to do. Again, I had been too late, and had missed the mark. Overtaken a whole season again by women who were far prettier and more equipped to this lifestyle. I noticed the tone in his mother’s voice seemed just as keen for me to be out of the picture.

“I see,” he said, remorseful, and I was sure I would once again have to prepare myself for the rejection I had endured season upon season.

You can imagine my shock, then, when he extended his hand toward me for the second time that night.

“May I have this honour?” He asked, quirking his brow.

I, frankly, panicked. If it wasn’t for another merciful jab in the back from my mother I would have stared at him wide-eyed for the rest of the night.

“Oh, yes, yeah, love to,” I said, forgetting every lesson in grace and decorum I’d ever been taught. In my defence, I hardly had much practice of the whole ‘accepting a dance’ thing.

I took his hand, sensitive to his fingers curling around my palm. He smiled gratefully and led me to the dance floor, much to the dismay of the women around us waiting attentively. I, yet, found it remarkably easy to ignore the glares and whispers, possibly for the first time in my life, as Lord Bridgerton wandered seamlessly though the crowd with me on his arm.

“I’m not very good at this, by the way,” I said as he waded me to stand in front of him.

“Well, if going by your earlier performance is any credit,” he said, referencing our first encounter, “I should believe that.”

I bowed my head in a mixture of shame and amusement. His fingers benevolently clasped and unclasped against mine: a gentle reminder of his grounding presence. I willed myself not to get too carried away, I must first, at least, focus on not tripping myself up on this dance floor.

There was the hollowing reverberation of the cello, and with it I was swept along the tiles. I knew, with all the indoctrination of my mother, I should have been able to instantly recall the music, allow the rhythm of it to guide me in which steps were the right ones to take, for my feet to act on my own behalf and waltz in synchronisation with those around me, but it seemed no matter how hard my mother tried, I just could not dance.

“Sorry,” I cringed, feeling a tug when I had wandered in the wrong direction.

“Don’t be,” he assured me, a snicker under his words of which I didn’t feel was at my expense. I clutched tighter to the fabric of his coat, hoping maybe he’d be able to propel me into some sense. When he secured my waist and twirled me through the air, I was forced to suppress a squeal.

“You don’t do this often?”

“Why, can you tell?” I said, flustered when he placed me back onto my own two feet (for the second time that evening). He laughed, as if I had caught him off guard, and watched our feet –well, his feet– follow the music, while mine struggled to keep up.

“I suppose we can’t all be gifted,” he shrugged, and sent me off with a small smirk while our partners changed momentarily. My ears perked at his laughter upon my confusion of suddenly being in the arms of a Lord I’m sure had once escorted me to an unfruitful chaperone of an art exhibition two seasons ago. We skipped for a few short moments until I cascaded my way back to the brunet, who’s smirk had failed to falter.

“You’re too kind,” I continued. He pressed his palm to mine, raising it quickly so I was to spin, where he stopped me my back pressed to his front, and I was certain of his breath behind my ear.

The music paused, and I was sure we were to take our leave, but the faint strings of the violin altered us, maintaining our position. A hand cupped in mine with another lingering on my side, I felt a harrowing paradox of everyone’s eyes on me as well as the solitude between him and I. My dance card fumbled against my wrist, hanging there –as I– in anticipation until the music started again. Slowly, my heel turned under the direction of Lord Bridgerton, readjusting his hold more modestly with a curt smile.

Our hands, once interlinked above us, slowly descended until his knuckles were held in front of my face, almost cascading my eyes. With whatever expression upon his lips covered by his palm and mine, our eyes met in an odd sincerity I was unfamiliar to. There was a sensation I could almost acquire to pain in my chest, with the way it hollowed out my ribs under his stare and the way he looked at me. I wondered if this was that feeling described in all those novels, timelessly referenced, or maybe my organs were shutting down on me, I wasn’t sure.

The music stopped. There were bows, a few small shudders of applause, and the sound of heels as those unaffected walked away, subdued. I remained in the confined space the Lord and I had made of one another. I felt his pulse in his fingertips as he lowered my hand, making no subsequent effort to hinder his presence. Once the cloud had passed, fogging up my brain, I rustled for something to say – anything. God, why hadn’t I listened to my mother?

“Who else is on your dance card?” He asked, in such an accusatory tone I took a step back.

“I’m sorry?”

“On your dance card.” He clasped his hands behind his back and leaned down to me as if he were entertaining a child, but lowered his voice as if he were talking to anyone but. “Who else is on your dance card?”

There was a gravel to his tone, one which I couldn’t imagine someone would establish in public, never mind in such grandeur, and by such a figure.

“Oh, uh… well,” I flustered. He hadn’t even been a candidate on my dance card in the first place, so this, frankly, was embarrassing. There was no one on my dance card, and I knew it. For some reason, I pretended to have lost it, like it wasn’t dangling off my wrist for us both to see.

He took my arm, prohibiting me from my facade of searching for the card which was in plain sight, and turned me delicately to him. My face rushed.

“Your card is full,” he said.

“Ha, ha,” I replied, lacking all humour.

“What?”

“That’s not funny. You needn’t rub it in.”

“That’s not my intention.”

“Oh, don’t be condescending. I didn’t want to come here in the first place, it’s hard enough, I don’t need you–”

“I am trying,” he interrupted, raising a hand to my face, “to tell you I want you to dance with no one tonight, but me.”

He had stepped closer again, and was tilting his head down to me and using that godforsaken tone. I felt that crushing feeling in my ribs once more.

“Oh, you’ve reserved me, have you?” I said. “Like a carriage?”

The raise of his eyebrows fell with such a colosal shift I ran the risk of snorting again. My lips tugged by some invisible godly force into a grin with the paling of his face. Something struck me that Lord Bridgerton was used to getting what he wanted.

“And, on your dance card?” I prompted, crossing my arms with a poised brow of my own. “Do I get to book you in?”

He looked on at me with astonishment, and it almost shocked me all the same that he seemed to have never seen a woman fight back. I understand Lords are Lords and the Bridgertons are the Bridgertons, but, whether being foolish to think so, I thought a relationship of some sort had been established where I could chastise him, at least. Or maybe I had been stupid once again and thrown away another suitor.

“Anthony!” His mother called across the floor. She waved elegantly and discreetly to the fleet of awaiting women, almost forming a queue. “Come.”

The Lord looked to the throng, then back at me with a vanishing and insincere apologetic expression. He nodded a farewell, and strode away. It happened so quickly I barely grasped it had even happened.

And then it was me, again. I felt new, like I had endured some great travesty in my life that would serve as the turning point in my story. All I had done was stand there and be the woman my mother had always expected of me, and it still brought no joy. Everything she had built up for me to do, and for what? Had I not just experienced the one potential interaction that gained me insight into this other world, and watched it be dragged away in the same minute? There was simply no use, I knew it. I’d done it again: thrown myself and my opportunities away by being too much of the bad stuff and not enough of the good. I would be one of those women that marries the much older gentleman, that lives a life of melancholy solitude: successful to my mother and any other established family, but graven with the burden of lost potential.

I wandered back to the outskirts of the dance floor.

“It is a lovely evening, isn’t it?” My mother implored.

“Oh, indeed,” Lady Bridgerton replied. I stood beside my mother like a the stand of an afternoon tea no one touched: of old cakes and egg sandwiches.

Lord Bridgerton would be wed this season. One of those women would appease him, and he should live a very satisfied life betrothed to her, running the Bridgerton household. He would be just as successful in his own marriage in how he had been in appointing Daphne and the Duke, who he’d painted together with ease.

The remnants of his family didn’t stick around for long, I’m sure they worried for what my presence would do to tarnish their reputation, and they wandered back into the delicate liveliness of the Ball, leaving me and my mother to stale in the silence.

“I should have known that one wouldn’t have lasted,” she said. “Nevertheless, let’s try again. Maybe Lord Darcy will take our fancy.”

I scoffed, this time with no humour to my tone. “You really have a considerable lack of faith in my prospects, don’t you?”

“YN,” she tutted, speaking softly and placing an equally benevolent hand over mine. I drifted back in the fear she was about to act.. maternal. “I’m only being realistic. Where would kidding ourselves get us?”

No. This was dreadful. I wanted to go home. I wanted Clarence to bake me a cake so I could eat it all whole and then go lie in bed until I was nine-and-twenty.

“You are mercifully supportive,” I seethed, sarcasm distinct.

“I’m merely stating the facts, YN. You are in your fifth season, and you think you can betroth someone like Anthony Bridgerton? I beg you, dear, gain some perspective.”

I inhaled. My lip pouted and I tried to think about anything but my mother’s unwavering disappointment in me. I thought about cake, about my bed, about how I would be alone, and how the fact of the latter no longer seemed to appease me as much.

#anthony bridgerton x yn #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton imagines #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton one shot #bridgerton masterlist #Anthony Bridgerton masterlist #Anthony Bridgerton drabble #fifth season and counting

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margowritesthings · 2 years

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Congrats on 100!! I loved your Anthony fic so how about a Stardust with Anthony where they're in a secret relationship or something and he's telling her how much he loves her?

thank you so much! I can absolutely do that, thanks so much for the request <3

join me in celebrating 100 followers!!

𝓜𝔂 𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓖𝓲𝓻𝓵

I cannot sleep. I am unsure why I am telling you this, as unless I can commandeer some unknown midnight postal service, you will not receive this until morning. I suppose I just wanted to speak to you, and as I cannot do that right now thanks to a mile of London cobblestone between us, correspondence to you was the next best thing. Either way, I cannot sleep.

My every thought, waking or otherwise, appears to be of you. I must admit, at first I found it a trifle inconvenient; however I now see the beauty in having ones every moment consumed by the one they love. Gone are the musings of the weather or the estates or whatever it may be my mother is worrying about, replaced only by the way your eyes glisten in a sunrise or the warmth I feel when I make you laugh.

I long to see you. I believe my sister is hosting at Hastings soon, which will make our stolen moments in the shadows inevitable. I shall show you around the gardens and we can slip away into the night when everyone is asleep.

I wonder if you are sleeping right now. I hope you are, with that soft smile you wear every time you dream.

I hope that we can soon be reunited, darling girl.

All my love,

-𝓐.𝓑.

#100 follower celebration #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton drabble #anthony bridgerton x reader

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multi-fandom-imagine · 9 months

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Hi bestie! I have an idea

I love and miss dad Anthony so so much I have an idea for him 🥹🥹🥹

They have little Sophie and Edmund and they’re in Aubrey Hall for a few weeks and reader faints and they find out they’re having another baby 🤍🤍🤍

A/n: Ah I’m so sorry for missing this! It’s so cute too!

It was nice to visit Aubrey Hall with the twins, Anthony loved to show off Sophie and Edmund and they loved to see the others and today wasn’t any different.

“Are you sure love, you haven’t been feeling well. Maybe we should head home where you can rest, I’ll grab the twins and-.”

“Anthony, enough.” You hissed grabbing ahold of your husbands arm.

“Owe…you’re very strong.” Anthony flinched as you two walked towards the home, his mother stepping out with a large smile.

“It’s so lovely to see you two again, and how are my two favorite grandchildren.”

Anthony huffed wrinkling his nose as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “They are her only grandchildren.”

“Anthony!”

“Stop hitting me!”

•

Sipping at your tea, you felt your head pounding and while you would hate to admit it you knew that your husband was right.

“I think I’m going to get some fresh air.”

Standing up you have Anthony a forced smile though you knees buckled beneath you and after that everything went black.

When you woke up, Anthony was hovering over you with a concerned look on his face. It looked like your husband was near tears as he clutched your hand tightly.

“Thank god you are alright.” Grabbing your hand he brought it to his lips.

Wincing, you sag up feeling a wave of nausea for a moment. “What happened.”

“You fainted, you.” Shaking his head he then gave you a smile. “But I have wonderful news.”

Weaving your fingers through his it was hard not to return the smile. “What is it?”

“You’re pregnant! It is the reason why you are pregnant.” Anthony then placed his hand on your stomach. “I can not wait.”

#drabbles #drabble #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader

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ladykettlechips · 5 months

Text

Sweet Little Loaf (A Drabble)

I have no idea what to title this, so... yeah. This. This is a random drabble of 935 words based on a tweet that @folklauerate thought was very Kate and Anthony. In a nutshell, a woman was driving home from the shops and saw someone walking a corgi, came to a stop and went to say hi. Turns out, it was her corgi and her husband. So, I made a drabble out of after writing some random dialogue between Kate and Anthony. Enjoy! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tapping the steering wheel with a hum, Kate’s eyes slid from the empty road to the path closest to her. The warm evening sun had cast a golden hue upon the dark concrete, bereft of the life she had witnessed just a half hour ago.

Then, she saw it: a glimmer of red and white, streaks of late summer sun bouncing off soft fur. A wiggling bottom and a wagging tail, attached to a loaf-shaped body and carried by stumpy little legs. His ears pricked up, eyes bright as the little guy turned his head, tongue lolling and trying to keep up with his owner’s pace.

Gasping, Kate slowed her car until she crawled to a stop, her own eyes wide and shining at the sweet little corgi. She had to say hi, perhaps give the sweetheart some scratches, a little bit of fuss and love because, well, he simply deserved it.

At the very idea Kate’s own fingers began to itch and, opening her car door, stepped out onto the pavement a short walk ahead of the precious loaf.

She felt her smile stretch across her face when the corgi caught sight of her and, with an energetic yip, began pulling on his lead, his tiny paws scrabbling to get to her. Kate nearly melted at the sight, his precious face lighting up at the thought of being adored.

Bending down, Kate laughed when the corgi all but shoved his head into her hand, his paws resting on her knees with eyes shut, enjoying the fuss. Above her, Kate heard the owner groan and even tap his foot. Good God, she hoped the poor baby hadn’t been stuck with a miserable bugger for an owner.

“Babe,” the voice was low, a sigh heavy on his lips. “I thought I told you to stop coming up to strangers who have corgis.”

Looking up, Kate scowled at Anthony, now tugging on Newton’s lead, and narrowed her eyes. Shit.

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered, and with another stroke of Newton’s beautiful fur, she stood to her full height and snatched the lead from Anthony’s grasp. “It’s not like you haven’t done it yourself.”

A low growl fell from Anthony’s lips and, turning on her heel, Kate walked Newton over to her car. Opening the back door, she picked up her – admittedly, quite heavy – dog, and placed him on the seat where he obediently parked his bum and panted up at her excitedly.

“I was chatting you up, Kate,” Anthony hissed from behind her, one arm wrapping around her waist and tugging her into him. “I was not interested in the corgi.” Flattening his other palm onto the window of the car door, Anthony slammed it shut.

Huffing, Kate wriggled in Anthony’s grasp, which only served to make him pull her that much closer.

“Funny, because I distinctly remember you only asking about Newton when you pulled up beside us,” she teased, and lowering her voice to a gruff cadence, continued with a grin. “What was it you said? Oh, yeah, What a beautiful little dog. You take such good care of his fur…”

Anthony groaned, his head dropping onto her shoulder, his arm tightening. Before Kate could finish her impression of their first meeting, she felt her body turn until her back was pressed up against the car, Anthony’s face mere inches away from her own.

His eyes were dark, lips slightly parted while he took her in, his gaze lowering down to her mouth before returning to her eyes again.

“I only asked because you were walking him, you menace,” he murmured, his nose barely brushing against hers. Kate shivered. “You can’t believe that everybody who walks up to a corgi has innocent intentions, sweetheart, nor should you believe all corgi owners won’t think twice about asking you out.”

Sliding her hands over his shirt, Kate hummed. “So, you didn’t have innocent intentions, then?” she asked with a tilt of her head, her arms wrapping around his neck and tugging him closer. Anthony smirked, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“Not even one,” he whispered, his lips impossibly close to hers. Kate’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Poor Newton will be heartbroken,” she sighed softly, her fingers playing with the curls at the nape of Anthony’s neck. “He really thought you liked him.”

“Oh, I do,” Anthony admitted, his nose brushing against her cheek as he inhaled. “I like that he adores you just as much as I do.” His lips ghosted over her cheek and over her jaw. “I like him because he makes you happy.”

He kissed her brow, her chin, the tip of her nose, both of his arms crushing her against him, and Kate sighed contentedly.

“I like that fat corgi because he’s yours, Kate,” Anthony murmured, giving her hip a gentle squeeze. “I like him because he gave me a reason to meet you.” And then he captured her lips with his in a bruising kiss, swallowing any further arguments.

They broke apart moments later when a whistle sounded in the distance. Faces burning brighter than the evening sun, Kate rushed to get in the car and started up the car again, Anthony sliding into the passenger seat beside her.

They started the quiet drive home, Anthony’s large hand resting on her knee. Looking up into the rearview mirror, Kate spied her beloved corgi, now snoozing on the backseat and smiled to herself.

She loved Newton, her perfect little corgi, and she had to thank him, too; without his aid, Kate probably wouldn’t have met the man she now called her husband.

#kanthony #anthony x kate #kathony #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #anthony bridgerton x kate sharma #kanthony fic #kathony fic #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfic #Newton Bridgerton #Newton Sharma #Drabble #Random Drabble #Kanthony Drabble #kathony drabbles #Kanthony Modern AU #Kathony Modern AU drabble

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productofbridgerton · 1 year

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Quick little something. Cause I do believe Colin is so taken by pen that it makes him, quite literally, an idiot. :)

“She won’t dance with me anymore, Benedict ” colin pouted as he stood next to his older brother, wounded that his dear pen denied him of a dance.

“Thats because she already danced with you 3 times tonight. Real suitors might want a turn brother.” Benedict rolled his eyes and he took a swig from his flask. Bored of having to show face at yet another ball this season.

“Do you think I did something? Maybe I stepped on her foot. I should probably bring her a lemonade and apologize. You think she’s bored of me? Maybe it was something I said, I should go ask…” Colin rambled on, only half listening before realizing what Benedict said.

“Wait……did you say REAL suitors?” He scoffed glaring at him.

“Yes brother,” Ben sighed, “real suitors. You know, distinguished gentleman with the intention to propose and offer her a proper and respectful life and all that nonsense.” Benedict tried to explain, dramatically waving his arms as he took another sip from his flask.

“In earnest brother,” his voice then sincere noticing the confused look on Colin’s face, “if you truly care for her friendship the way I know you do, then it be best to not ruin her opportunity in finding a man who will give her a good partnership and a fulfilled life. You are no longer children, the ton will talk. It is the greatest kindness you can give her” Benedict advised with a soft but sad smile, “and..”

Before he could continue Colin then pulled out a small leather pouch from his inner coat pocket, “I knew I forgot to do something important.”, he said more to himself with a wicked grin on his face.

“I beg your pardon” Benedict proclaimed eyes wide and jaw dropped. There’s no way that could be…

“Anthony let me choose it this morning. I forgot to give it to her after our first dance. She looked so stunning…I got distracted.” Colin beamed as he pulled out a beautiful diamond from the family collection out of the pouch. Showing it to Benedict, and admiring its beauty.

“You have to be joking”, Benedict groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose in disbelief, “there is no actual way you’re that dense.”

“Wish me luck,” Colin smiled, ignoring him. He grabbed his brother’s flask, “a sip for courage.” was the last thing he said before scurrying back to Penelope on the other side of the hall.

Ben groaned again in disbelief before hearing a set of footsteps stop at his side.

“He forgot didn’t he…” Anthony sighed.

“I’m honestly surprised he didn’t lose it.” Benedict mumbled as he offered his flask to Anthony, who only gave him a disapproving look.

“Attention everyone,” Colin boomed from the other side of the room, “I have an announcement to make!”

Anthony groaned, “Give me that” as he took the flask from his younger brother.

“Will be rather amusing to see how mother and Eloise will react” Benedict chuckled.

“Indeed” Anthony nodded with a slight smile creeping on his face as both elder brothers watched as Colin embraced the newest member of the Bridgeton family.

#polin bridgerton #polin #anthony bridgerton #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #drabble #romancing mr bridgerton

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velvetcloxds · 2 years

Text

UNSPOKEN DEVOTION | A.B.

Pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 2.5k words

Warnings: mutual pining, mention of parental death, breaking of societal rules (this sounds so serious gosh, they hug and whatnot)

Summary: your horse falling ill derails your traveling plans and leads you to dinner with your childhood best friend and his family, what confessions will be made when anthony aims to comfort you?

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The living room hummed with laughter as Anthony descended down the stairs, confused as to what could possibly have encouraged such joy on an otherwise quiet night, no more planned than a simple dinner with Lady Danbury, though all made sense when he turned the corner to see you rocking his nephew on your hip, laughing at something that Colin said.

“Miss Y/n,” he smiled, moving his hat to his other hand to prepare himself for your embrace, your lips mimicking his as Daphne took the baby from you.

“Am I to address you as Lord Bridgerton or Anthony while I curtsey?” you mused as you sauntered towards him, knowing that your smile would merely grow the closer you got.

“Anthony and you shall do no such thing, please, less you offend me greatly,” he warned and laughed lightly when you fell into his chest, an action so familiar, so comforting that he almost wished to keep you there for a moment longer. “You look lovely,” he noted as you pulled away, actions clearly as hesitant as his own as you stepped back to remain as proper as possible despite your relationship.

“You charm me.”

“Only slightly. I did not know that we would be having you as our guest.”

“Neither did I, I am afraid. I was traveling from the funeral and heading towards France when one of the horses fell ill, I thought all hope to be lost but was surprised to find we were but a town away from here,” you explained and was aware of the way the gentle buzz of excitement floated from the room almost instantly. “My mother would have scorned me for not writing to inform you of my plans to stay, I hope I am not imposing.”

“You could never,” Anthony promised, and your fingers fiddled with the hem of your gloves as his eyes raked over your face, carefully sifting through the emotions it held to determine what to say next, knowing you well enough to decipher which expressions were true and which were merely for his family’s benefit. “We were saddened to receive news of your parents,” he began and lifted a hand to your arm, squeezing lightly. “I wished to ride down and see you- “

“You need not explain yourself to me, Anthony,” your fingers formed around his wrist, thumb moving slowly against the material of his blazer. “Your letters were comfort enough,” your words though sincere, felt incredibly empty as they met his ears, and he would be sure to press you for the truth when he had a moment alone with you.

“Will Y/n join us for dinner?” Hyacinth asked after the silence in the room grew heavy, excitedly turning around with her knees planted on the sofa to see you. “She must come, Anthony, please?” she added and managed a perfect pout to sway the both of you in your answer.

“I do not wish to be any more of an inconvenience than I already am,” you objected for only him to hear, both of your hands falling out of reach as you cleared your throat.

“You are doing no such thing, Y/n. I am sure if Lady Danbury knew that you were in town, she would have invited you on her own accord, we shall be delighted to have you accompany us,” he promised and nodded lightly to encourage you to not decline the offer any further before you turned to his family with a smile.

“Very well, but I shall insist on riding with this little angel,” Daphne smiled as her son reached for you, giggling as you placed him on your hip, small hands gripping your dress as he giggled.

“It seems he insists as well, though I fear we are to be late,” Benedict noted as he ushered everyone out of the room, Anthony’s gaze lingering on you as you fell into step beside him, far too distracted by the child in your arms to notice him inspecting you once again and it was as though he could feel it, your pain, feel how tired you were from hiding it and he wished nothing more than to take it away from you completely.

There was an odd understanding amongst the Bridgerton family that no one was to say a word of the love you two shared until one of you were to acknowledge it. It seemed that despite years of friendships and countless troubles passed only by the other’s comfort, neither of you had the slightest idea that you were helplessly in love. There were moments where Violet would see it so clearly, in the way he held you but seconds longer than he should, in the way he smiled when you said his name or laughed when you acted silly and there were moments where she could feel it, in the way you lingered at his side as if you belonged there or the way he felt what you felt without much thought. She saw it tonight more than ever as you trudged through dinner with them.

You had no appetite, barely had the stomach to eat a single thing since your parents passed, but aside from that, it was clear that you were tired, there was no wit in your replies, no skip to your step, the children were the only ones to earn a true smile from your lips, the others were merely a notion, a gesture that was expected of you. You had grown up with her own children, she had considered you part of her family and if it hurt her seeing you like this, she dared not imagine what her son must have felt. He had not looked away from you all night, had not added to the conversation except for speaking on your behalf and he was dreading every second he could not pull you into his arms and promise you it would pass, the darkness would pass, and your light would return- his light would return.

Once the table had been cleared and compliments had been given to the cook, everyone had departed to the lounge for a drink and you stole a moment to get some air in the gardens, eyes closed, and arms wrapped tightly around yourself as your head leaned back to appreciate the wind that cut through your dress. It was not long before Anthony joined you, you had expected as much, but it was a relief to know that he was still a constant in what felt like a whirlwind.

“You looked as though you were cold,” he breathed as he stilled behind you, tapping your arms to guide them into his coat and you smiled as you fixed the collar, hands falling into the pockets as soon as you were done.

“You could not see me.”

“I had no need to, I simply know you,” he protested, and you shook your head at the loving arrogance, closing your eyes once again as you looked back to the sky, waiting for him to begin speaking, he had been waiting to speak since the moment he saw you and you had denied him of such for long enough. “I wish you would allow me to assist you in this time,” your eyes opened at that, head turning to look at him, dare him to say more though he did not, only frowning lightly at your state.

“You have, Anthony. I know it may seem trivial, but your letters have kept me sane, kept me grounded, truly, I need no more from you than to know you are here.”

“I can do so much more, Y/n, if only you would not object so stubbornly. If you would allow me your hand- “

“I do not wish to be pitied, Anthony, not by you.”

“You think this an offer of pity? I could never pity you, not when I know you. You persist on denying that fact, but it does not make it any less true. It is because I know you so well that I can tell you have reached your end, you had been strong and you had been graceful, but you cannot continue down this path on your own. Allow me the opportunity to be strong on your behalf?” you could see the tenderness in his eyes, the care, you could hear words spoken from a place in his heart he reserved only for you and it was yet another moment of many in which you doubted your friendship, because how could this be merely two people who care for each other when his words felt like an invite home after years lost at sea.

“Do you love me, Anthony?”

“What?”

“There are times that I convince myself that you do, that this persistence you have to take care of me is harboured out of love, but I can never be sure,” you sighed, turning away from him as you started down the trail of rose gardens, knowing that he would follow. “I echo the seconds we are alone and the world around me fades away, ponder the times you call me darling in your letters or write to tell me you miss me, I wonder if every lingering gaze or wondering hand means more to you as it means more to me,” you shook your head, turning to him in a rush as your gestured to him with a sigh. “I wonder if loving you would feel any different than it does right now, for I cannot remember a time when I did not feel as if I would crumble without you, without your presence in my life and I am terrified by the thought that you do not share my devotion, do not share this maddening, almost sickening desire to never part from you as long as I live,” your voice had been louder than you intended, desperate eyes meeting with his as you furrowed your brows. “So, I must know, before you ask me that question ever again, I must know if you love me, Anthony Bridgerton.”

“I do,” he began and stepped towards you slowly, trailing his eyes over the features of your face as he nodded, “But only when I look up at the stars. Only when the sun creeps into my windows when I wake. Only when the birds sing your song or the butterflies hover around the daisies mother had planted just for you. Only when I hear your voice as I am reading your letters or when I see your face in my dreams. Only when the children ask for you or mother tells me to invite you for dinner. Only every waking hour of every single day. Only when my heart beats in the cages of my chest. Only when I breathe,” he smiled as he gently removed your hand from the flower, holding your fingers within his own as his other hand tugged gently to free you of your gloves. “I knew love to be a myth, a feeling exaggerated for purposes of art or poetry. I had considered any man a fool for playing victim to a force so strong it robbed them of their rationality. Only, I was the fool, for I had not merely played victim to it, I surrendered to it so completely that I could no longer identify where I ended and where my love for you began. All my life I had loved you, Y/n, it was merely the question of when you would allow me to confess it.”

“All the times you asked me to marry you?”

“Were sincere,” he smiled, lifting your bare hand to his lips as he kissed your ring finger two times, looking at you through his lashes as you released a shaky breath.

“I am not a viscountess, I have not the faintest clue how to run a household.”

“It does not matter,” he protested and reached into his coat as it hung around your frame, shrugging at your questioning gaze. “You are what my family needs. You are what I need,” he pulled a small velvet box along as he retrieved his hand, flipping it open to reveal a ring you had heard multiple stories about, had adored from afar as Violet showed it to you while growing up. You gasped softly as you realized that he had it ready for you, waiting for you, always. “Allow me to be what you need.”

“You could have any woman in the world.”

“None of them would be you,” he protested and dropped the box to the floor as he held the ring in his hand. “Marry me?” he began and shook his head when you wanted to say more, only smiling as delicate tears cascaded down your cheeks. “Marry me, Y/n.”

“You love me?”

“More than a rational man should,” he noted and laughed softly when you rolled your eyes at him, breathing out lowly as you nodded, allowing him to slip the ring onto your finger, another kiss placed to the area as he squeezed you hand softly, humming when a gloved hand lifted to his chest.

“I love you,” you breathed and leaned into him carefully, throwing caution to the wind as you connected your lips with his, the feeling was magnificent, addictive, his hands moulded around your cheeks, attempting to savour the softness of your lips, the taste of you, the way your body melted against his as if he was created merely to be this close to you. He had no desire to end the kiss as you pulled away to breathe, soft pecks left to the side of your mouth, the peak of your cupid's bow, he wanted to have you like this forever and it drove him mad knowing that he could.

“Do not go to France,” he mused once you pushed him away slightly, needing a minute to ground yourself as he looked at you in the way you had only seen if your dreams. “I do not think I could bear watching you leave.”

“Am I to cater to your demands now, Lord Bridgerton?” you teased, and he scoffed, shaking his head as his hand managed to find yours once again.

“Only the ones that make you happy as well, Miss Y/l/n,” he teased in return and relished in the little gasp that fled from your lips when he stole another quick kiss from your lips, smirking as you hummed at the sensation.

“I have merely been your betrothed for a few seconds, and I am already under your spell,” you sighed, looking up at him as you rested your forehead against his. “Whatever have you done to me?”

“The very same that you have done to me, darling.”

all fandoms: @scandalous-chaos @the-blue-forest

bridgerton: @mirclealignr @saintlike78 @wrathspoet @esposamultifandom @murdockcastleslut @golden-hoax @littlsstuff @joline12829

other: @sarahisslytherin @leydileyla

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peterpparkrr · 1 year

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art is to feel - Valentine’s Day

You can find the full series here.

A/N: Surprise! Love is in the air and who’s more lovey than these two cutie patooties?!

“Will you be my valentine?” Anthony asked cheekily.

“I wasn’t aware that I had another option,” You tease as you lean against the back of the sofa, pulling for gaze up from your sketching to smile at your husband.

You and Anthony had been married for just over seven months and you were still just as in love with Anthony as you had been on the day of your wedding. Possibly even more so.

Married life most certainly agreed with the two of you. Especially if your current interaction were to be any indication.

Anthony shakes his head, “Well you can’t choose someone else but a gentleman always asks.”

“And you’re a gentleman?” You ask.

Benedict groaned loudly. “If I knew you were both going to be so moony I would have never agreed to this visit.”

Benedict’s clear and vocal disgust was not enough to damper your mood, something that only annoyed Ben further.

You scootch down the sofa until you’re seated right beside your brother-in-law/sketching partner. You didn’t want to upset him too deeply, you’d begged him to come visit for a few weeks so you could work together.

“You love us,” You tell Ben as you wrap one of your arms around his shoulders. “You can always be our valentine too.”

Anthony shakes his head sharply.

“I don’t think you want that,” Anthony interjects. “I have very specific plans for my valentine,” He explains as his eyes bore into yours intently as he winks at her suggestively.

“I am going up to my room, and I won’t be leaving it until this damned holiday is over,” Benedict grumbles as he shuts his sketchbook with a sharp clap before exiting the room briskly.

“And please, keep it down, there are other people living in this house,” Benedict adds from the doorway. Refusing to even turn around to address the couple before disappearing up the stairs.

“You’re evil, Anthony Bridgerton,” You chastise your husband.

“It’s our first Valentine’s Day together, I don’t know what he expected,” Anthony scoffs, disregarding his brother.

“Besides, he’ll find someone soon enough, and he’ll stop bothering us,” He adds.

“I like when Ben visits us,” You protest with a shrug. “I like it when any of our families visit.”

“I thought you liked it when I didn’t keep my hands to myself,” He murmurs lowly, his lips nearly brushing the shell of her ear as his hand trailed up her thigh, pulling at the hem of her skirts as he turned his attentions solely onto his wife.

“Why can’t it be both?” You ask with a coy smile as you turn to face him fully.

And it was a very productive Valentine’s day indeed.

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the-dendrophile-bookdragon · 2 years

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Greatest Rake

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader Warning: fighting, fluff

Summery: You call out Anthony's BS.

A frustrated scream could be heard through the hall of Lady Danbury’s house. Then the slamming of a door followed by stomping of feet. The ball guest were oblivious of the tumult upstairs.

You stormed out of the study followed by the source of your annoyance. “Y/n, stop running. God damn woman. I want to help you. Why don’t you listen to me?” You halted abruptly, having the effect of Anthony nearly running in to you. He huffed while straitening his back and looking down at you. “I listened, my lord. But I will not under any circumstances accept the offer.” Your sarcastic, biting tone made the Viscount’s mood plumet further down the drain. “But look at the benefits.” The fire in your eyes grew. Anthony stepped back a little scared of the rage hiding behind your glare.

Your tone grew cold as ice. A stark contrast to your fiery eyes, “The benefits? Benefit of marrying you, my lord, just for convenience. I would rather marry a man twice my age and have love in my marriage than keeping up a façade the rest of my life.” You scoffed, turning around, and putting your hand on your forehead. Anthony tried to step closer to you again but was stopped by a finger held up in his face. “Don’t you dare!” The oldest Bridgerton sighted in defeat. He went to the stairs leading down to the festivities when he heard a small murmur, “You are a rake.”

Anthony turned on his heal. An irritated look on his face. “A rake?” You laughed in disbelieve, “Yes, a rake. You rake over anyone’s emotions and don’t care if you hurt them. You are so perfectly oblivious to anyone’s feelings I asked myself every time if you even have one. The only emotions I can recall seeing upon your face are anger, annoyance, and boredom. My lord, are you even capable of any kind of emotion other than the once I listed or are my assumptions correct?”

Anthony raised his eyebrow while squinting the other one. His stunned face made your lips quirk up. “I beg your pardon. I register the feelings from the people closest to me. I acknowledge them and try to please them as best as I can.” You shook your head, “I know this, my lord. But I think you interpreted them wrongly.”

Your tone turned softer. Still there wasn’t the soft tone Anthony was used from you but it slowly resurfaced. “We have known each other for so long, Anthony. And I know for certain that your ability to read peoples emotion and feelings were never your strong suit. Your feelings and ambitions suffered your cold demeanour for far too long. Some believe, including me, you can’t commit to love. I don’t know what happened but it has to stop. You have to change or you gonna end up like lord Robinson who’s own children won’t visit. Don’t let that be your fate.”

You took a deep breath. However before you could exhale you found your lips captured by Anthony. Your eyes widened and a gasped escaped your lungs. Anthony took your head into his large hand drawing you closer. Slowly you closed your eyes and surrendered to the sensation. Your hands found leverage on his forearms. You were so engrossed in your own little world you got lost in your surroundings.

You heard a cough behind you. Both sprung away and turned to the source. Violet Bridgerton stood with her fan open, hiding a smug smirk behind the delicate accessories. “If you both want to be kept out of any gossip or scandal I would advise you to go downstairs again and dance together.” You both nodded. Anthony held out his arm to you and you took it. The heat you felt out of embarrassment grew a little as you saw the glint in the Bridgeton’s matriarch’s eyes.

“And Anthony?” The man stopped and turned his head over his shoulder, “Call upon the poor girl tomorrow and propose to her properly.” The Viscount cast his eyes down in shame, his cheeks dusted a light pink, and nodded, “Yes mother.” Violet smiled before shooing you both to the dancefloor.

You watched as the stone-cold facade your son wore, much like his father, watched over the chess board like a hawk.

You giggled softly in the background which irritated your husband. You remembered him proclaiming to be the best chess player in the ton. He may have screamed it far too loud into the sky.

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