#bridgerton writing
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Tempting fate // part 5 (Reader!Featherington x Colin Bridgerton)
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Summary: With a little help of Anthony, Colin tries to have a moment to speak with you. Rather taking the flee, you leave him no chance of conversating with you. Will Colin get his chance to speak with you or will you forever ignore him. [ part 1 & part 2 & part 3 & part 4 ]
A fast feather scraped over parchment, filling the silence in the waiting room. Penelope hunched over her parchment as the feather wrote down her exact thoughts. You entered the waiting room, seeing her write so lost in her thoughts. An annoyance grew over you. – “Writing about me again for your latest sheet?” – you said out loud, wandering around the armchair closer to her. Penelope glanced to the side, pausing her writing briefly before continuing.
“It is a letter.” – she responded after some silence. – “One to your adoring readers?” – you teased moving closer to the window. Moving the curtain a bit aside to peek outside. – “Perhaps you can ask your adoring readers for their opinion on me? I’m sure they would be delighted to follow in your delusions.” – you spoke with a mocking undertone. It made Penelope lay her feather down.
“I thought you didn’t wished to speak to me ever again.” – she replied bitsy, making you briefly look over your shoulder to her. – “I am.” – you spoke. – “You are the just the only breathing thing in this house at the moment.” – you left the window moving more to the centre of the room. Penelope swallowed a bit, glancing your way.
You went around the armchair, making your way for the door with your head up high. – “You shouldn’t give me ideas.” – you heard your sister call out to you as you were heading out. Not liking the taunting in her tone, you went back inside, picked up the nearest pillow and threw it at her. The pillow hit her and the ink bottle. It fell over, spilling her parchment and a bit of her dress.
Penelope gasped loud, jumping up at the sudden wetness on her dress. – “Do not provoke me sister!” – you said in a cold tone, throwing a glare at her. Penelope looked in shock at you for having spilled ink on her dress. You turned on your heel, heading out once more. In the hallway, you walked through the house, making your way to the garden. Setting foot in the sun, you took in a deep breath.
Glancing over your shoulder, you lowered your gaze. Feeling like there was no one to trust. Not your own sister nor Colin with his false promises. You headed for the large tree where the swing was strapped to. You carefully sat down. Balancing on your feet to move the swing a bit. Lost in thoughts, you stared down, fidgeting with your fingers on your lap.
Breathing out loud, you looked away, finding yourself pathetic. A shadow of yourself sitting on the swing. For a moment, just for a moment, you thought you’d be his. That you found someone to love you unconditionally. Colin had always been a good friend of your sisters. Colin and you weren’t that close to begin with. It wasn’t like you could get to know him that well since your sister had a way of claiming him.
Ever since you were little. So it was shocking to know that Colin was interested in you, or at least even for a little while. Perhaps that kiss meant nothing to him, but it meant everything to you. The first time a boy showed such affection towards you. Colin must have kissed plenty of girls, that it had little meaning by now. To you it felt like he had stolen something from you.
Stolen something he couldn’t return. Touching your lips, you recalled the feeling it left on your lips. Strangely enlightening. Bringing your fingers down, you tore your gaze away, feeling foolish. Wanting to forget about stupid Penelope and stupid Colin, you grabbed the cord firmly.
Setting your feet off as the swing got in motion. Kicking your feet back and forth to create the friction. Up, up, up you went. Higher and higher till you could reach the clouds. The wind blowing through your hair untangling it as it had a mind of its own now. Blissfully you smiled, forgetting about your worries for a moment.
Leaning back, you watched the skies make you feel dizzy. The light making you squint your eyes as you let the swinging die out. Pulling yourself back up when you were closer to the ground. A summer’s sadness on your face as the swing slowed down. Staring lost in front of you. With a huff you got up, having enough of it. You weren’t going to let anyone humiliate you ever again.
Not your sister not Colin, not again. The hell with Penelope. The hell with Colin Bridgerton for he would never loose his boyish act. Seeing his true colours clearly in a shade of green. You looked curiously up hearing your name from afar. Prudence stood in the entrance leading outside. – “Coming!” – you called out, lingering for but a moment before going inside.
Phillipa was fanning vigorously in the carriage. Mama slapped her hand on her hand to stop her hurricane of fanning. Phillipa gave mama a sheepish smile, followed by a nervous swallow. Mama moved a bit closer to the centre of the carriage, placing her hand on Phillipa and yours knees that were in reach. – “Now girls it is not too late for us to shine.” – she said to pep herself up. – “We’ll attract nice men and turn this tide.” – she patted your knee with a trusting smile.
Prudence who sat beside you across from Phillipa took your hand, giving it a soft squeeze. – “We’ll find you a good husband.” – she whispered to you. Penelope let an amusing chuckle slip. Making everyone stare at her. – “Something funnily Penelope?” – mama questioned with a quizzable brow. Penelope cleared her throat.
“No mama.” – she answered. The rest of the carriage ride was in silence. Till you rode up to the event. A springs festival. Tents stationed around. Flowers used as decoration to celebrate its bright colours. The footman opened the door helping mama out first. Then Phillipa and Penelope. Prudence and you as last.
By one of the tents you immediately recognized the Bridgerton brothers. It made you turn around, hoping they hadn’t noticed you. There was one thing you wanted to avoid at any cost. Colin Bridgerton. – “Come girls.” – Mama said pulling Phillipa with her. Penelope and Prudence followed as you rather wanted to disappear. So you headed the other direction than them.
Walking around groups of gathering people to find a way around. Having squeezed yourself between two groups who stood with their backs at each other, you let out a soft gasp. Coming face to face with Eloise Bridgerton. – “Y/n!” – she let out with wide eyes. – “Eloise.” – you replied nervously. – “Penelope is that way.” – you informed her, going round her to not engage any further.
You quickened up your step, hastening away from her. Freezing you saw Kate with two glasses in her hand. Probably one for her husband as well. Moving your hand against your cheek, you bowed your head for her not to notice you. Avoiding these Bridgerton’s seemed harder as they seemed to turn up at every corner.
Colin stood by the tent with Anthony and Benedict. Anthony nudged him in the side. Motioning with his head in the direction of the Featheringtons. Colin got on the tip of his toes, staring at them. Anthony kept gesturing with his head for him to make a move. Colin set his feet back down, shaking his head with pulled up shoulders. Benedict stared at the display. – “Why do I get the feeling I am missing something.” – he let out, feeling excluded for whatever it was they shared.
Anthony kept bugging him to do something. – “She is not there.” – Colin shout-whispered to him. – “Then find her!” – Anthony spoke back giving him a push. – “I am definitely missing something.” – Benedict answered looking over at Francesca who sat down with a book. Francesca pulled her shoulders up, forming a thin line of her lips.
Colin exhaled deep getting in motion. – “What am I missing?” – Benedict asked Anthony. Anthony rolled with his eyes taking his leave. – “An…Anthony!” – Benedict called out going after him for answers. Francesca shut her book, getting up. Kate arrived at the tent, looking confused around for everyone had taken their leave.
You were still walking around, staying close to large groups so you wouldn’t stand out. You even had lost track of where your family was. You started to look around for escape’s if you indeed did encounter Colin Bridgerton to your dislikes. You moved through a group, eyes widening when you came nose to nose with Francesca Bridgerton. – “Colin is looking for you.” – she said with a shy smile. – “Must I encounter every Bridgerton?” – you mumbled under your breath, taking your leave.
Francesca blinked confused feeling too shy to call out your name and draw any attention towards her. Your unfortunate encounter with her led to spotting Colin through the crowd. He turned at the exact same time, you saw him, making him notice you. – “Y/n.” – he called out making his way over. You turned round, pushing some people aside to make your escape. Colin furrowed his brows, going in pursuit. You started to run faster, no way wanting to be near with him. Some heads turned your way at you taking a run for it.
Leaving the festive for the woods. Panting loud, you ran till you jumped aside, hiding behind a tree trunk. You heard twigs snap underneath shoes as it made you cover up your mouth. – “Y/n? Y/n? Where are you?” – it was Colin calling out to you. You tried to remain still not wanting him to find you. – “Y/n I… I want to talk about our last encounter.” – he let out looking around for you.
He waited for an answer but you never gave one. There was another pair of footsteps, this time coming from the front. Your eyes widened when a brown bearded man came to a stop. Staring right back at you. Slowly questioning what you were doing. Seeing an opportunity you whispered to him, to help you. You walked up to the man, taking him by his arm as you walked out in the open.
Colin coming to a stop as he saw you appear around a man’s arm. – “Y/n?” – Colin said in disbelieve. – “Can’t speak now Colin, can’t you see a woman is in company.” – you replied walking past him with the lord. Putting on a smile to show Colin you didn’t need him and his false promises. The lord seemed to play along, laying his hand on yours around his arm. Starting to talk about nature as you listened half.
Colin turned to your departure with shock in his eyes. – “Y/n.” – he squeaked out too stunned that you were walking with another lord. Nearing the festive once more, you thanked him for helping you out. – “It was my pleasure Miss Featherington.” – he said with a bow, leaning down to kiss your hand. – “If you ever need saving again, simply call upon me.” – he continued after having kissed your hand.
You curtsied to him, taking your leave to return to your family content. – “Where have you been?” – mama questioned blinking surprised. You hummed soft, ignoring her question to come and join Prudence. Colin returned to his brothers with a sweat. Anthony stopped him by his shoulder.
“You are sweating dear brother.” – he pointed out. – “I…I… she was with another gentleman.” – he called out. – “Who was?” – Benedict asked curiously coming in sight, holding a pastry. Anthony inhaled deep, bringing Colin closer to him. – “It is not too late brother.” – patting his brother on the chest.
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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!
#imagine#fanfiction#fanfic#fic#bridgerton#bridgerton fanfic#bridgerton s3#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton fic#anthony bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#colin bridgerton#colin bridgerton x reader#colin bridgerton x you#colin bridgerton x y/n#colin bridgerton imagine#colin bridgerton fanfic#colin bridgerton fanfiction#colin bridgerton fic#y/n featherington#the featherington sisters#prudence featherington#phillipa featherington#penelope featherington#portia featherington#bridgerton netflix#bridgerton writing
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Why does people say Kate is a working class person if she has never had to work in her life? I get she was managing the household but is very different to put yourself out there and earn the money
This takes me back to a few months ago when I was trying to explain complex ye olden time class differences to my dear readers until I figured out that people are going to believe what they want as long as it fits the narrative they're comfortable with. So that's the answer I'm going with.
People think Kate is working class because it's an easier narrative to follow than trying to understand the complex difference between nobility, gentry and working class, that was historically a more classified strata and too hard to think about for someone who's just watching a show for fun.
At this point I'm letting people beleive what they want because the only reason Kate's class is put into question is because the show didn't bother to clarify it and in an effort to make the show more inclusive, simply muddled up the difference between gentry and working class by putting a band aid on it. And if this is how they handle Kate I can't imagine Sophie.
The show wanted to put a social class difference between Edwina, daughter of noblewoman, and Kate, who's mother social class isn't really mentioned to justify the rift between the sisters. In the books, Kate and Edwina are clearly gentry because their father was a gentleman with a property in Somerset. In the show, their actual social class is left ambiguous at best and intentionally confusing at worse. And by now, I've sort of realized that it's not the viewers problem, it's a writing problem and they know it and hope nobody notices it.
But I notice dear reader, and it doesn't spark joy in my tea
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A Guide to Historically Accurate Regency-Era Names
I recently received a message from a historical romance writer asking if I knew any good resources for finding historically accurate Regency-era names for their characters.
Not knowing any off the top of my head, I dug around online a bit and found there really isn’t much out there. The vast majority of search results were Buzzfeed-style listicles which range from accurate-adjacent to really, really, really bad.
I did find a few blog posts with fairly decent name lists, but noticed that even these have very little indication as to each name’s relative popularity as those statistical breakdowns really don't exist.
I began writing up a response with this information, but then I (being a research addict who was currently snowed in after a blizzard) thought hey - if there aren’t any good resources out there why not make one myself?
As I lacked any compiled data to work from, I had to do my own data wrangling on this project. Due to this fact, I limited the scope to what I thought would be the most useful for writers who focus on this era, namely - people of a marriageable age living in the wealthiest areas of London.
So with this in mind - I went through period records and compiled the names of 25,000 couples who were married in the City of Westminster (which includes Mayfair, St. James and Hyde Park) between 1804 to 1821.
So let’s see what all that data tells us…
To begin - I think it’s hard for us in the modern world with our wide and varied abundance of first names to conceive of just how POPULAR popular names of the past were.
If you were to take a modern sample of 25-year-old (born in 1998) American women, the most common name would be Emily with 1.35% of the total population. If you were to add the next four most popular names (Hannah, Samantha, Sarah and Ashley) these top five names would bring you to 5.5% of the total population. (source: Social Security Administration)
If you were to do the same survey in Regency London - the most common name would be Mary with 19.2% of the population. Add the next four most popular names (Elizabeth, Ann, Sarah and Jane) and with just 5 names you would have covered 62% of all women.
To hit 62% of the population in the modern survey it would take the top 400 names.
The top five Regency men’s names (John, William, Thomas, James and George) have nearly identical statistics as the women’s names.
I struggled for the better part of a week with how to present my findings, as a big list in alphabetical order really fails to get across the popularity factor and also isn’t the most tumblr-compatible format. And then my YouTube homepage recommended a random video of someone ranking all the books they’d read last year - and so I present…
The Regency Name Popularity Tier List
The Tiers
S+ - 10% of the population or greater. There is no modern equivalent to this level of popularity. 52% of the population had one of these 7 names.
S - 2-10%. There is still no modern equivalent to this level of popularity. Names in this percentage range in the past have included Mary and William in the 1880s and Jennifer in the late 1970s (topped out at 4%).
A - 1-2%. The top five modern names usually fall in this range. Kids with these names would probably include their last initial in class to avoid confusion. (1998 examples: Emily, Sarah, Ashley, Michael, Christopher, Brandon.)
B - .3-1%. Very common names. Would fall in the top 50 modern names. You would most likely know at least 1 person with these names. (1998 examples: Jessica, Megan, Allison, Justin, Ryan, Eric)
C - .17-.3%. Common names. Would fall in the modern top 100. You would probably know someone with these names, or at least know of them. (1998 examples: Chloe, Grace, Vanessa, Sean, Spencer, Seth)
D - .06-.17%. Less common names. In the modern top 250. You may not personally know someone with these names, but you’re aware of them. (1998 examples: Faith, Cassidy, Summer, Griffin, Dustin, Colby)
E - .02-.06%. Uncommon names. You’re aware these are names, but they are not common. Unusual enough they may be remarked upon. (1998 examples: Calista, Skye, Precious, Fabian, Justice, Lorenzo)
F - .01-.02%. Rare names. You may have heard of these names, but you probably don’t know anyone with one. Extremely unusual, and would likely be remarked upon. (1998 examples: Emerald, Lourdes, Serenity, Dario, Tavian, Adonis)
G - Very rare names. There are only a handful of people with these names in the entire country. You’ve never met anyone with this name.
H - Virtually non-existent. Names that theoretically could have existed in the Regency period (their original source pre-dates the early 19th century) but I found fewer than five (and often no) period examples of them being used in Regency England. (Example names taken from romance novels and online Regency name lists.)
Just to once again reinforce how POPULAR popular names were before we get to the tier lists - statistically, in a ballroom of 100 people in Regency London: 80 would have names from tiers S+/S. An additional 15 people would have names from tiers A/B and C. 4 of the remaining 5 would have names from D/E. Only one would have a name from below tier E.
Women's Names
S+ Mary, Elizabeth, Ann, Sarah
S - Jane, Mary Ann+, Hannah, Susannah, Margaret, Catherine, Martha, Charlotte, Maria
A - Frances, Harriet, Sophia, Eleanor, Rebecca
B - Alice, Amelia, Bridget~, Caroline, Eliza, Esther, Isabella, Louisa, Lucy, Lydia, Phoebe, Rachel, Susan
C - Ellen, Fanny*, Grace, Henrietta, Hester, Jemima, Matilda, Priscilla
D - Abigail, Agnes, Amy, Augusta, Barbara, Betsy*, Betty*, Cecilia, Christiana, Clarissa, Deborah, Diana, Dinah, Dorothy, Emily, Emma, Georgiana, Helen, Janet^, Joanna, Johanna, Judith, Julia, Kezia, Kitty*, Letitia, Nancy*, Ruth, Winifred>
E - Arabella, Celia, Charity, Clara, Cordelia, Dorcas, Eve, Georgina, Honor, Honora, Jennet^, Jessie*^, Joan, Joyce, Juliana, Juliet, Lavinia, Leah, Margery, Marian, Marianne, Marie, Mercy, Miriam, Naomi, Patience, Penelope, Philadelphia, Phillis, Prudence, Rhoda, Rosanna, Rose, Rosetta, Rosina, Sabina, Selina, Sylvia, Theodosia, Theresa
F - (selected) Alicia, Bethia, Euphemia, Frederica, Helena, Leonora, Mariana, Millicent, Mirah, Olivia, Philippa, Rosamund, Sybella, Tabitha, Temperance, Theophila, Thomasin, Tryphena, Ursula, Virtue, Wilhelmina
G - (selected) Adelaide, Alethia, Angelina, Cassandra, Cherry, Constance, Delilah, Dorinda, Drusilla, Eva, Happy, Jessica, Josephine, Laura, Minerva, Octavia, Parthenia, Theodora, Violet, Zipporah
H - Alberta, Alexandra, Amber, Ashley, Calliope, Calpurnia, Chloe, Cressida, Cynthia, Daisy, Daphne, Elaine, Eloise, Estella, Lilian, Lilias, Francesca, Gabriella, Genevieve, Gwendoline, Hermione, Hyacinth, Inez, Iris, Kathleen, Madeline, Maude, Melody, Portia, Seabright, Seraphina, Sienna, Verity
Men's Names
S+ John, William, Thomas
S - James, George, Joseph, Richard, Robert, Charles, Henry, Edward, Samuel
A - Benjamin, (Mother’s/Grandmother’s maiden name used as first name)#
B - Alexander^, Andrew, Daniel, David>, Edmund, Francis, Frederick, Isaac, Matthew, Michael, Patrick~, Peter, Philip, Stephen, Timothy
C - Abraham, Anthony, Christopher, Hugh>, Jeremiah, Jonathan, Nathaniel, Walter
D - Adam, Arthur, Bartholomew, Cornelius, Dennis, Evan>, Jacob, Job, Josiah, Joshua, Lawrence, Lewis, Luke, Mark, Martin, Moses, Nicholas, Owen>, Paul, Ralph, Simon
E - Aaron, Alfred, Allen, Ambrose, Amos, Archibald, Augustin, Augustus, Barnard, Barney, Bernard, Bryan, Caleb, Christian, Clement, Colin, Duncan^, Ebenezer, Edwin, Emanuel, Felix, Gabriel, Gerard, Gilbert, Giles, Griffith, Harry*, Herbert, Humphrey, Israel, Jabez, Jesse, Joel, Jonas, Lancelot, Matthias, Maurice, Miles, Oliver, Rees, Reuben, Roger, Rowland, Solomon, Theophilus, Valentine, Zachariah
F - (selected) Abel, Barnabus, Benedict, Connor, Elijah, Ernest, Gideon, Godfrey, Gregory, Hector, Horace, Horatio, Isaiah, Jasper, Levi, Marmaduke, Noah, Percival, Shadrach, Vincent
G - (selected) Albion, Darius, Christmas, Cleophas, Enoch, Ethelbert, Gavin, Griffin, Hercules, Hugo, Innocent, Justin, Maximilian, Methuselah, Peregrine, Phineas, Roland, Sebastian, Sylvester, Theodore, Titus, Zephaniah
H - Albinus, Americus, Cassian, Dominic, Eric, Milo, Rollo, Trevor, Tristan, Waldo, Xavier
# Men were sometimes given a family surname (most often their mother's or grandmother's maiden name) as their first name - the most famous example of this being Fitzwilliam Darcy. If you were to combine all surname-based first names as a single 'name' this is where the practice would rank.
*Rank as a given name, not a nickname
+If you count Mary Ann as a separate name from Mary - Mary would remain in S+ even without the Mary Anns included
~Primarily used by people of Irish descent
^Primarily used by people of Scottish descent
>Primarily used by people of Welsh descent
I was going to continue on and write about why Regency-era first names were so uniform, discuss historically accurate surnames, nicknames, and include a little guide to finding 'unique' names that are still historically accurate - but this post is already very, very long, so that will have to wait for a later date.
If anyone has any questions/comments/clarifications in the meantime feel free to message me.
Methodology notes: All data is from marriage records covering six parishes in the City of Westminster between 1804 and 1821. The total sample size was 50,950 individuals.
I chose marriage records rather than births/baptisms as I wanted to focus on individuals who were adults during the Regency era rather than newborns. I think many people make the mistake when researching historical names by using baby name data for the year their story takes place rather than 20 to 30 years prior, and I wanted to avoid that. If you are writing a story that takes place in 1930 you don’t want to research the top names for 1930, you need to be looking at 1910 or earlier if you are naming adult characters.
I combined (for my own sanity) names that are pronounced identically but have minor spelling differences: i.e. the data for Catherine also includes Catharines and Katherines, Susannah includes Susannas, Phoebe includes Phebes, etc.
The compound 'Mother's/Grandmother's maiden name used as first name' designation is an educated guesstimate based on what I recognized as known surnames, as I do not hate myself enough to go through 25,000+ individuals and confirm their mother's maiden names. So if the tally includes any individuals who just happened to be named Fitzroy/Hastings/Townsend/etc. because their parents liked the sound of it and not due to any familial relations - my bad.
I did a small comparative survey of 5,000 individuals in several rural communities in Rutland and Staffordshire (chosen because they had the cleanest data I could find and I was lazy) to see if there were any significant differences between urban and rural naming practices and found the results to be very similar. The most noticeable difference I observed was that the S+ tier names were even MORE popular in rural areas than in London. In Rutland between 1810 and 1820 Elizabeths comprised 21.4% of all brides vs. 15.3% in the London survey. All other S+ names also saw increases of between 1% and 6%. I also observed that the rural communities I surveyed saw a small, but noticeable and fairly consistent, increase in the use of names with Biblical origins.
Sources of the records I used for my survey:
Ancestry.com. England & Wales Marriages, 1538-1988 [database on-line].
Ancestry.com. Westminster, London, England, Church of England Marriages and Banns, 1754-1935 [database on-line].
#history#regency#1800s#1810s#names#london#writing resources#regency romance#jane austen#bridgerton#bridgerton would be an exponentially better show if daphne's name was dorcas#behold - the reason i haven't posted in three weeks
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We joke but the fact NO ONE bats an eye when Penelope and Colin are unchaperoned in broad daylight, or the way they keep to themselves in the corner of balls and other events, speaks a lot of how little the ton considers Penelope as a desirable debutante. Fife and co mock Colin for his friendship with her. Portia catches them alone in a room and somehow doesn't jump on the YOU MUST MARRY train. Even Anthony, albeit s1 Anthony so he's a bit dumb, comments that Colin has danced multiple times with Penelope yet it does not signify.
Side note but I would kill to see his reaction when he hears Colin interrupted Penelope's and Debling's dance lol.
Everyone sees Colin running after Penelope multiple times this season, and everyone assumes it's out of pity, rather than care. Like she's not even the one chasing him, he's the one doing it in all four episodes!
Never in their wildest fantasies could they imagine Colin Bridgerton being interested in Penelope Featherington indeed. And oh boy, are they in for a rude awakening! Because that boy is already loud with his actions when he wasn't even aware of his feelings, but he's gonna be even louder with his words to make sure everyone understands how much Penelope Featherington is beloved by him.
#bridgerton#bridgerton s3#colin bridgerton#penelope featherington#polin#this is a prelude to another longer analysis post i wanna write i cant believe this show got me so hooked wtf#star.txt
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(not so) simple masterlist
pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader
status: complete!
summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple. that is, of course, until it isn't.
featuring fake dating/courtship, minor rivals to lovers, idiots in love, mutual pining that they think is unrequited, slowish burn, hurt/comfort, a signature bridgerton happily ever after, and my blood sweat and tears!
total wc: 44,497
overall warning(s): historical inaccuracies, period typical misogyny, implied/referenced sexual harassment -- individual, more specific warnings on each chapter. reader is referred to with the last name worthing for convenience
part 1
↳ 10k words | miss worthing makes an awful sort of proposal to the viscount bridgerton.
part 2
↳ 7.1k words | miss worthing despises and enjoys the viscount bridgerton's company in equivalence.
part 3
↳ 9.7k words | miss worthing has a terrible realization.
part 4
↳ 7.6k words | the viscount has a revelation and miss worthing decides against her heart.
part 5
↳ 9k words | miss worthing and the viscount find themselves at a crossroads.
#anthony bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton x you#anthony bridgerton fic#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton fic#anthony bridgerton fanfic#x reader#bridgerton imagine#sadie writes
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3x02 — How Bright the Moon
#LOL#i’ll leave the creation of the sexy gifs to someone else#my little corner of polin gifsets will be devoted to the com part of this rom com for a while#this writing must be highlighted#polin#bridgerton#bridgerton season 3#netflix#luke newton#nicola coughlan#bridgerton spoilers#romancing mister bridgerton
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Bridgerton shade of blue
Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader
Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.
♡♡♡
Season One
Chapter One - Mr Bridgerton
Chapter Two - Empty drawing rooms
Chapter Three - Becoming acquainted
Chapter Four - Roots for friendship
Chapter Five - Diamonds
Chapter Six - Splendid
Chapter Seven - The prince
Chapter Eight - Sparkling diamond
Chapter Nine - Late night scandals
Chapter Ten - Duel at dawn
Chapter Eleven - Ruse to ruse
Chapter Twelve - Beautiful day for a wedding
Chapter Thirteen - Passionate
Chapter Fourteen - Scandals in abundance
Chapter Fifteen - Rhythm of our hearts
Chapter Sixteen - Entanglement
Chapter Seventeen - End of the season
♡♡♡
Season Two
The tag list is full! I'm sorry! I've reached the capacity!
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I'm sorry this whole scene is insane. Cressida being pressed by her parents to find a man, her and her mother waiting for a suitor to visit and then Eloise is the one who shows up?!?! And Cressida is SO happy about it??
And then her father is all like "i never want you to see that girl ever again" for literally NO reason i'm????? She's a lesbian your honor i rest my case
#being delusional here but the writing is so casually queer like-#i know its probably not intentional but still#bridgerton spoilers#bridgerton#eloise x cressida
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b.b. | With child
Summary: He was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours.
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f!reader
Warnings: angst ('cause I can't write anything else), alluding to sex (no description whatsoever), discussions around pregnancy, pregnancy, mention of alcohol.
Words Count: 2.1k
Author's Notes: Had this in the work for the longest time. I was actually thinking to publish it for his season (#4 I hope!). But we got new stills of Season 3 and it's nearly Valentine's Day so... Enjoy!
“Are you-” you asked when you noticed your sister-in-law had let her glass of wine and her plate untouched.
Your words stayed lost on your tongue, yet Daphne, sat in front of Benedict and next to you, knew exactly what you were about and nodded slightly, tears in her eyes. You let out a small cry of excitement and leant in to hug her. While you wore the most delighted expression, Benedict’s heart sunk a little at the news.
His sister was with child. Again. She was the second women of his family to be expecting this year, while he had yet an exciting news to share himself.
You both had wed a little over than a year and a half ago now and were yet to be blessed with a child. You were doing your best, of course, but none your efforts had been fruitful so far. Benedict did not mind; he had waited his whole life to meet you, he definitely could wait a little bit longer.
He did not mind, or so he thought…
Tonight, he thought life was particularly unfair to him. Every pregnancy announcement was only nourishing this harrowing feeling in his chest. All he could feel was his siblings’ bliss and it made him sick to the stomach. Yes, he was sick with jealousy - and ultimately selfish. He just couldn’t wait to feel your belly growing, to hold your children, to watch them playing around with their cousins, for them to grow older and become adults themselves. Just this simple thought made his very own heart felt extremely heavy.
Politely and quietly, he raised his glass wishing his sister a healthy pregnancy, before drinking away his sorrow.
The ride home that night was particularly quiet.
Silence had never been a thing between the two of you. Benedict was usually the most talkative, telling you about his days, about whatever painting he was going to paint, about that book he had been reading. You would listen, looking back at him with your big bright eyes and a soft smile onto your lips. Other times, he would watch you pacing back and forth in his study while passionately debating about politics. He would be drawing imaginary circles on your soft skin as you were lying in bed, you telling him about another one of your days chaperoning one of his sisters. He would listen to your laugh at one of his jokes. Even your fights would be followed by soft apologies, quiet words, whimpers, and love.
On the contrary, that night, the air was thick with something he couldn’t quite describe, and the coach was wrapped up in dark clouds, a genuine storm in the awakening. Sat on the opposite side, you were looking through the window, your face only light up by the few shines of the full moon. Benedict was so focused on his own thought that he didn’t realize you hadn’t had a word for the rest of the night.
He was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours. It only made him angrier at the entire world. Why couldn’t they let you live this as well?
He would have liked to discuss this with you - his regrets, his hope - but he was too afraid you would realize what a failure he was. How disappointed with him you were. How you would hate him for not being able to offer you this. So, he sat back in his seat and watched out of his own window.
When the coach stopped in front of your residence, Benedict got out first, offering his hand to help you getting down the small step like he always did. You smiled at him, thanking him politely, and let go of his hand as soon as your two feet were on the ground. It didn’t mean anything, he tried to reassure himself, you needed both of your hands to grab the tissue of your dress to prevent the hem from getting wet and dirty. Yet, he couldn’t help the sharp pain in his chest.
Silently, he followed you inside, hat in his hands, jaw locked. You were welcomed as usual by your housemaid, who got both of your coats and stayed there, in the uncomfortable silence, arms full, waiting for one of you to dismiss her. As you took off your gloves and didn’t dare look at Benedict, he nodded sharply to let her know she could go and watched her somehow disappear in an instant.
Suddenly, it was only the two of you again and it was all too much for him. He couldn’t breathe properly; his chest being crushed by the invisible weight of his sorrow. He couldn’t bare staying with you one more second. He needed to get out of here.
“Good night,” he said firmly, before walking to his study.
Would he have looked back he would have seen you watching him disappear in the corridor. You, all alone in the middle of the hall, arms dangling. He would have seen the frown on your face and the hurt in your eyes. Would he have looked back he would have run back to your side. Instead, he did none of that. He continued marching, head up high, trying to escape his own misery.
You sighed before turning in the opposite direction and to your shared bedroom.
Benedict went to bed less than an hour after you.
He had been haunted by guilt as soon as he had reached his study, sadness evaporating once he had stepped inside the room. Instead of turning back and chasing after you, he had tried to put his head in order. He then had tried painting whatever he was feeling, but he could only stay in front of his white canvas, terrified of laying his brush on the cotton. He had tried writing it, but he couldn’t concentrate enough; his thoughts always drifting to you, alone in your bedroom. He had then settled on having a drink to wait long enough for you to fall asleep before he could go to bed - his other option would have been to sleep in his study if he got too drunk, which he did not.
He had thought long about the whole situation. It wasn’t like you were not trying. Sometimes, even with doing the right things, it didn’t happen. He would need to accept this. And he couldn’t continue being a terrible husband. It wasn’t your fault; it wasn’t anybody’s fault actually. What he knew more than anything though was that he loved you. Whatever would happen, he could not afford to lose you.
He had decided he would come clean tomorrow, but for now, he only wanted to sleep with you by his side.
In the dark of your room, Benedict undressed and lied besides you as silently as possible.
All he could hear was your uneven breathing; whatever dream you were having did not seem to be pleasant. He reached out to your arm, hoping that you could feel his presence through his touch and know he would always be there for you.
It wasn’t until your body was rocked by a hiccup that he understood that you were not having a bad dream, you were crying.
“Y/N?” he asked, lying on his side to face your back.
“I am so sorry,” your voice was only a whisper.
He gently made you roll on your side. Even in the dark, his right hand was able to find your face and his thumb to rub the tears away. Before he could ask what was wrong, you spoke:
“I am so-” You chocked on – yet – another sob and it took you a couple of seconds to even out your breathing so you could speak properly: “So sorry- for not being able to get you- get you what you ever wanted.”
“My love,” he sighed, grabbing the back of your neck to bring you closer. Instinctively, you hide your face in his chest, and he started stroking your hair to try and calm you. “My love, do not ever feel guilty on this.”
“I have tried every tea, every method that is supposed to help,” you cried some more.
It broke his heart to realize the burden on your heart - of course, if he was feeling it, you would have too. He finally understood how selfish he had been, how centred on his own pain he was and so oblivious to yours. It had never been a subject between the two of you, but it was slowly crushing you both.
“My love, this is not your fault.”
“You don’t see the pity in their eyes. You don’t hear them whisper.” You sniffled against his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. “We are even blessed Lady Whistletown has not written about us.” He heard the frustration in your voice and the ton of it made him understand how you had tried to suppress the guilt but failed. It pained him that out of all of this, it was you who were the one being charged guilty by everyone - you included. As if you couldn’t imagine it being his own fault. As if you couldn’t imagine it being anyone’s fault but yours.
“Perhaps, I-” he stopped, running a hand through his hair out of frustration. “I drink loads of Colin’s stupid tea; I paint with all sorts of chemicals substance. Perhaps, I can’t-”
“Ben, of course, no!”
“Perhaps we won’t ever-” he confessed, but he couldn’t even say it out loud. It was all too much.
You moved against him, and he felt both of your hands grabbing his face, your forehead resting again his. He felt your hot breath against his skin, and he hugged you tighter, crushing your bones, making sure you were close.
He had you, he kept repeating himself. It was all that mattered. Of course, it was a dear wish of his to see mini versions of yourselves running around, but not at all costs. He wasn’t willing to sacrifice what you both had, right here, right now.
“We are both healthy, it is more than all I could ever wish for.”
“Will this ever be enough for you, though?” you asked so quietly he nearly did not hear you.
Benedict frowned. Was it really what you thought? That he would leave you? That your own self was not enough for him? He had been an even more terrible husband he had thought to lead you thinking this. He had failed you on so many levels.
“I was so absorbed by my own desire of having my own family,” he whispered back like he was telling you a secret, “I never asked if you also desire to have children of your own.”
“Ben, of course, I want your children!”
Benedict wanted to express how grateful he was to have you in his life, but no words came to his mind at that moment. He only reached out to your lips, trying to express how much he loved you.
If he could not tell you, he could still show you…
Hours later, while you were lying in bed, your head on Benedict’s chest, his left hand drawing invisible love words on your back and the other holding you close, he thought that there was nothing else he would like to do than stay with you, like this, forever.
“We should just take some time away from here.”
“What do you mean? The season only began-”
“To hell with worldliness. Some time away, just the two of us.” The sun was slowly peeking through the blinds, its yellow light was painting on your naked skin a glowy spectrum. “I heard South of France is particularly beautiful, this time of the year.”
Your chin on his chest, you looked back at him, eyes bright. He was looking at you the same way you had catch him do a million time: a soft smile on his lips, his eyes filled of this spark, shinning only for you. You didn’t care how beautiful France would be, he was the most beautiful view you had ever laid eyes on.
His hand brushed some hair out of your face, and you grabbed it to kiss his knuckles.
“France, it is then.”
Little did you know, you would be coming back home a few months later, bearing your own little miracle.
One of the many to come.
#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton x y/n#benedict bridgerton x fem!reader#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton imagine#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x you#bridgerton x y/n#bridgerton x female reader#lea's writing#benedict bridgerton fanfiction
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Incomparable
fandom: Bridgerton
pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader
summary: you don’t fit in quite well with the rest of the ton, but you still manage to catch the eye of the Viscount
note: this is for the girlies with resting bitch face, warning this is a fem!reader as much as i prefer a gender neutral reader, the heteronormative regency society just doesn’t allow it
this was already once posted before on my since deleted blog by my same current name but has been slightly edited :)
It was only one of the first balls of many and you were already regretting your unfortunate position as a newly presented flower of the season. You never thought you had what it took to be this year’s diamond, nor its ruby, nor its pearl, or any jewel for the matter. In your eyes you didn’t have the effortless glimmer that Daphne Bridgerton had last season nor the graceful steps of this season's ingénue, Edwina Sharma.
Of course, you had prepared all your life for this moment like every upper class girl. Knowing all that you should to be presented into society. You sat through the pianoforte lessons and even tried your hand at singing (which was a terrible mistake). You learned to embroider from your mother, much to the dismay of your aching fingers which always manage to burn and go numb far too quickly for her liking. You read all the textbooks even though you much preferred novels, never understanding the point of your tutors' comments about men wanting to marry educated girls. Quickly learning as you grew older and more outspoken that gentlemen like to know a woman is well read, but hardly ever that they use that knowledge in conversation.
But somehow, even after the painstakingly long hours at the modiste getting fitted for new dresses and the even longer time you spent getting into them, none of it was enough. Not the lessons, not the newly dropped hem, not the hours of sitting for your hair to be expertly styled and bejeweled by the finest gems your family had to offer. Still every other lady and her mama have had to comment on how you are so far from even the realm of possibly being considered a diamond. You heard their whispers through the silk and lace of their folding fans as clear as the night.
‘They barely graced the Queen with a smile,”
‘They’ll definitely grow to be a spinster with that face,’
Oh, but this wasn’t only from the women, of course not, they just have the decency to try and say this behind your back. You are well aware of how men love to grace you with their opinion, despite you caring very little for it. They always have the audacity to say these things straight to your somber face as if it would do you any good.
‘You know, you would be slightly prettier if you smiled,’
‘If you would smile, you would seem much more amiable,’
and most recently,
“I am sure more gentlemen would ask for a dance if you didn’t look so miserable, my Lady,”
You had been approached by a well-respected gentlemen named Mr. Hastings when you had escaped your mother’s disapproving clutches to find solace at the refreshments table. Drinking lemonade desperately wishing it were wine. He asked you to dance. Much to your misfortune you couldn’t fain a full dance card as the one clutched in your gloved hand was mockingly empty. This left you enduring a dreadfully boring conversation about his horse, how much it had cost him, how much it is actually worth, and just how incredible this horse was. You quite frankly wished to be anywhere else. As would anyone else you’re sure, but while they may have hid that behind a polite smile you showed your boredom evidently in your downturned lips.
But what would be the point in hiding it? You were tired of the facade that enwrapped these balls and society. Everyone was smiling, but was anyone truly happy? Even then who is happy and just goes around smiling like some loon. You were having a terrible time parading around the room with your mother’s stern grip on your arm showcasing you like a piece of meat, or a show pony— or to be terribly on the nose, Mr. Hastings prized horse.
Then once you had finally escaped her and found peace hoping to blend in to the wallpaper, you have been made to endure small talk and dance with a man you had little interest in. All while he made you listen to his horrendously dull conversation and he had the nerve to ask— no, to want you to not look miserable. This man who looked like molding swiss cheese and only spoke of his horse.
“I beg you pardon, sir?”
“That you look as if you are attending a funeral, my lady,” he says as he spins you following the choreography of the dance, “It is only polite that you smile as we dance.”
His own obviously fake smile is painted across his face, all thin lips and no teeth as he eyes you expectantly waiting for you to obediently heed his suggestion—or more likely it was a sort of social command. Polite society would have deemed you to be all smiles and perfect wit, to ease yourself out of this treacherous conversation you were wormed into with a poised grace or give in to his orders with a sickly sweet smile because it would be rude not to, no?
But no, indeed. You were not going to give in. No matter how many whispered or backhanded compliments you received only on your first night into society. You had seen how your female cousins and older friends had broken their backs to bend to the whims of society. Left behind forgotten ideals to suit their new suitors to get the ring and the wedding that would never even scratch at their fanciful girlish dreams of prince charmings and knights in shining armor. You would not let society break you.
“Well, I would smile if I was having a nice time. Maybe if you said something funny I would laugh or if the conversation was pleasant,” you had stopped dancing now, tired of this day and all the niceties and manners you were to follow.
You stood before him with your jaw clenched and your brows furrowed absolutely seething, “But you are far from pleasant. All you do, sir, is speak of your race horse and how much it is worth to you. If you care so much about your horse, I wonder why you ever wish to marry when all your attention seems to be going to your insipid horse!”
“Why you rude, intolerable girl—”
You didn’t care any more about the staring eyes of the ton or the gasps from appalled mamas. You would have welcomed all of Mr. Hastings angry words to at least hear something real for the first time all day. But instead he is cut short as the figure of a man approaches your side.
“I beg your pardon Mr. Hastings. How dare you raise your voice to a lady, have you no honor or decorum?”
Viscount Anthony Bridgerton stood before the two of you. Chin tilted upwards and shoulders set back in an unspoken challenge with the less titled man in front of you.
His question goes unanswered, but he continues nodding to you, “I believe the Lady makes a very agreeable point, sir. You speak entirely of your horse and nothing else, this would bore any with a brain in the ton.”
You almost would have laughed if you weren’t so shocked. What exactly was the Viscount doing? You hardly ever spoke other than short introductions and nods exchanged while you were in the company of his sister and your friend, Eloise.
But there was not a moment to think on this further as the scene that was forming around you was all too captivating. Mr. Hastings, who it should be mentioned once more felt so prideful of his horse, can be seen visibly shrinking shoulder hunching forward slumping as if he were a little boy who lost a game. He clears his throat, “Well then, I shall take my conversation elsewhere.”
Before he could turn to leave the eldest Bridgerton son stops him, “Sir, you have forgotten to apologize to the Lady,”
Mr. Hasting freezes in his place turning to eye the man and you bite your lip fighting the laugh that threatens to erupt at the odious man whose eyes widen and mouth becomes agape like a fish out of water.
“My apologies,” the words seem to clog at his throat and so he says nothing else. Nodding, “Lord Bridgerton...” and your name before meekly making his way through the crowd, his head down avoiding the gazes of the onlookers.
At this point most of the ton had gone back to their conversations around you, though there were still some lingering eyes as the dance floor had been oddly shaped as you and the Viscount remained standing in part of the appointed area. Anthony notices this and leads you further into the crowd.
Once he finds an agreeable spot he stops turning towards you, “I actually do wish to counter your statement, my lady,” he begins. You expect for a moment to be met with some stern lecture from a man who seems to think he’s entitled to an opinion of you as if he were your father (who you also do not think should have an opinion, but alas it is only 1814). Anthony surprises you however as instead he grins and says, “I actually believe Mr. Hastings would marry his horse if the Queen would allow it.”
And you couldn’t help but laugh, despite all your pride and pettiness to not grace this event or anyone in it with any pleasurable countenance. You laughed loudly tilting your head back, jeweled neck on display even letting out a small snort against your will. When you finally compose yourself, giggles dying down at the thought of Mr. Hastings in a horrid muddy green suit with a horse in a wedding dress, you can’t fight the smile that falls on your lips. Although unnatural to you, the light hearted joke and your vivid imagination make it easy. It lasts for a few seconds before you become very conscious of it as you let your lips fall back to their usual place.
Though if anyone was truly looking for it— which Anthony was— they would see the slight quirk in your lips as you told the Viscount, “It looks like you’ve gained the honor of making me laugh, Mr. Bridgerton.”
“I relish the title, my lady,” he says and you can tell he does from the smile that meets his ears, all teeth and pushed back cheeks. You acknowledge that this might be the realest encounter you have had since your debut. Anthony Bridgerton smiling from ear to ear was a sight to see.
He continues, “But I do have to disagree with the comments I have been hearing tonight. Smile or no smile you present the ladies looking to wed this season with quite the competition.”
“Me? Hardly, did you not hear my Lord, my countenance would never get me a marriage proposal,” you say fiddling with the hem of your gloves at your wrist.
“I would disagree, I think any reasonable man in attendance would be foolish to not see how incomparable you are, my lady.”
Incomparable.
You fight it like you had once your laugh, but you feel the heat spread to your cheeks and the nerves that begin to twist in your stomach. You didn’t need it, but the compliment was well appreciated after a night such as this one.
Giving you no time to compose the fluttering in your chest, Anthony adds, “Any lady who manages to be bold enough to tell Mr. Hasting how insufferable his horse talk is, ranks high in my book.”
“Well you might be the only one, sir,” you try to be as brave as you feel and dare to smile at him, but his gaze causes you to look away bashfully. That is when you notice your mother approaching and wishing not to make a fool in front of the Viscount you excuse yourself, “I do believe my mother has just been informed of the scene I have caused, so if you’ll excuse me.”
But before you can turn to go he calls out your name placing his warm bare hand on your own gloved fingers making you turn back to him.
“Would you save me a dance?”
And despite yourself, Anthony Bridgerton manages again to make you smile, “Of course”.
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Bridgerton - S3E02 “How Bright the Moon” // S3E03 “Forces of Nature”
#bridgertonedit#polinedit#tvedit#perioddramaedit#romanceedit#dailypolin#dailybridgerton#bridgertonblr#cinemapix#dailyflicks#filmtvtoday#bridgerton#polin#colin bridgerton#penelope featherington#bridgerton spoilers#edit#my gifs#my toxic trait is being unable to make up my mind on how i prefer to color gifs#though it's a struggle regardless#anyway let me wax poetic about the journal scene/hand cut scene for a bit (not depicted here but related)#the scene that (imo) started changing colin's perception of pen#having colin's writing focus more on his inner struggles particularly with intimacy/connection#and then following that up with having him share an intimate moment with someone he already deeply cares about#who cares for him in return and uplifts him#ugh I love it#i can forgive that the scene wasn't as long as it was in the books (because I do really love the deep talk they have in the book version)
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"it was awkward to see colin flirt and behave like a rake" "he gave me the ick" yes ! that is the fucking point!! congratulations! you have the media literacy skills of a fucking monkey because my 4-year old niece could understand it better than you do.
we are supposed to find colin cringey and annoying and get the ick because that is not who he is. he is not anthony, or simon, or even benedict. colin (apart from gregory) is the sweetest of all bridgerton brothers (i'm going by book canon) and his most identifiable character trait is the fact that he values an emotional connection above everything. he runs away to the continent because he wants to feel that emotional connection. he has meaningless sex in brothels because that is the example he has seen growing up, that is the norm. he tries so hard to fit into the norm. he goes out drinking, adopts an entirely new personality, learns flirtations because that is how he thinks he will fit in. he's got armour on, as violet said. he puts everyone's needs above his own, he stops rambling on and boring his family with details of his trip because he knows no one cares. he doesn't talk to anthony or benedict about his heartaches because he knows they still, somewhere in their heart of hearts, view him as the annoying younger brother. he's so devastated by his closest friend not responding to him that he adopts a new personality in the hopes that it might mask the hurt better. he runs after penelope in episode one because he is so attuned to her emotions that he knows she's hurting, and tries to comfort her even when she's spiraling and lashes out. he must have been hurt by her words in the "good night mr bridgerton" scene but he puts it aside to genuinely apologise to her when literally no one else in that family would do that. colin, instead of brooding over his own feelings, goes and corners penelope in her family's garden and apologises to her, disregarding his own hurt at being cruelly dismissed by his close friend.
penelope asking colin to kiss her is not a mark of how "pathetic" she is. she has written and shamed herself in a manner that is almost entirely unsalvageable. she is at her lowest point, and then portia comes in and reminds her of how undesirable she is, and she sinks even lower. she asks colin to kiss her because she sees it as a final act, after which she can quietly wave goodbye to her dreams of ever getting married and leaving her mother's home. colin kisses her because he is also keenly aware of how she's feeling. he knows how hurt she is, he wants to do anything to alleviate that. be it cracking a joke, or kissing her. he is gentle, because he wants it to be something she can dream of when she's by herself. penelope, at this moment, has no hope for herself, and their kiss is an act of letting go for her. no, it's not a pity kiss, no he did not like her after her glow up, he has always loved her. him being struck dumb is a reaction to her physical transformation, nothing more. he does not flirt with her in that ballroom scene, he only approaches her when she's in distress. he's not flirting with her. i can assure you penelope could wear the frumpiest most neon yellow gown of all time and colin would still go "<333 my pen" for her.
colin jumps to catch the balloon's ropes because he sees that penelope is in danger, he does not give a shit about anyone else lmao. he feels temporary relief when he sees eloise run to safety, but the moment he sees penelope in immediate danger, he rushes to take action. afterwards, when he sees that she's being comforted by debling (all my homies hate debling, even if he is aro/ace coded i do NOT claim him) he does not approach her. it would be easy for him to do so, but he does not, because he respects her boundaries. colin bridgerton is the only man in the ton who respects women (the featherington sons-in-laws are too pretty to have a thought) he calls out fife and his friends for treating women like objects and calls them cavalier. the only way he would have been more explicit about his demisexuality was if he tap danced on the club table (entertaining thought, luke newton please)
colin also rapidly takes action, something which no one in the show has done so far. simon would have died instead of accepting his feelings for daphne, daphne would have been content with a loveless marriage forever instead of asking for help. kate would have pushed edwina down the aisle and gone off to india instead of confronting her own feelings, and anthony would have married edwina if she hadn't been brave enough for the three of them to run from the altar and ruin herself. penelope stood on the sidelines for years and loved him quietly because she had no hope of him loving her back. colin, the moment he is assured of his feelings, runs to penelope, almost kisses her in the middle of a ballroom. when he hears that debling is about to propose, he goes to the ball, just to dissuade penelope one more time. he cuts into their dance because he's desperate. when he runs after her carriage, he asks her if she has been proposed to, because he would not have touched her otherwise. he confesses his feelings to her only when he knows that she hasn't gotten engaged to debling, and when she says "but we are friends" he moves away. nothing more. he would have let her go, if she did not return his feelings.
idk whether i should be flattered or offended at people misunderstanding this season because on one hand it is offensive, but on the other hand, it means only smart people get polin. seriously. your minds have been rotted by insta-love and enemies to lovers that you can't even appreciate the innate beauty of friends to lovers. being friends with someone and then holding all those feelings for them. the trepidation of possible rejection. the fulfillment of being loved by the person who knows you the best of them all. the privilege of loving someone whose feelings you know better than your own. love is gentle and kind and yes it is a violent, uprooting force but above all, love does not hurt anyone. it does not hurt you. i could love someone quietly for years and it wouldn't bother me if their feelings were requited or not because my feelings are none of their business and i consider it a privilege to love and be loved by them, even if it is not in the way i would want it to be. polin are privileged in the highest sense. they know each other better than anyone else, they know how to love each other better than anyone else. to think they are rushed or they dont deserve each other is a disservice to both of them. they would be miserable with anyone else.
in other matters, if i see one more person talking smack about luke or nicola behind the safety of their screens i will personally get a bazooka.
#bridgerton#polin#bridgerton season 3#colin bridgerton#penelope featherington#colin x penelope#colin my beautiful boy i will avenge you from these dumb people#penelope my sweet girl you are a dumbass but i am rooting for you and the love of your life#also anyone else see that complex female characters on this show are much better written when there's a woman running it?#hmmmm jess brownell you have my respect...for now#long rant but uhhh i am writing a fanfic where i erase the mistakes of cvd (the ghastly man)#the only good thing you did was the casting and i doubt you had a hand in it at ALL#luke newton and nicola coughlan the ACTORS that you are
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carriage sex; oral (f receiving); MDNI 18+
w/ BENEDICT BRIDGERTON
thinking about going to some event. some ball that was nothing of importance in your lives. the two of you were sent to rub elbows and keep all parties concerned in good graces, even though it was other members of your family that should’ve been attending in your place.
but still, there you and benedict are, riding in a carriage to a place too far away and only halfway through the ride with nothing to entertain yourselves.
it’s his suggestion, one you shut down quickly.
“i cannot move in this gown, benedict. and even if i could, it took far too long to make me look this pretty and i’d prefer to not ruin it.”
he’s smiling at you the entire time and you wonder if he’s even taking your words seriously. if he’s even taking them in at all.
when he doesn’t respond you tilt your head, squinting your eyes at him and trying your hardest to keep your own smile at bay. his expressions are always infectious, maybe that’s why you let him convince you. it’s really hard to say no when he’s already on his knees in the carriage, somehow holding himself up throughout the bumpy ride.
“you do not have to move at all,” he tells you, bright and hopeful eyes already looking up at you as he slips his fingers beneath your gown, pushing the fabric up for your hands to hold. “allow me to do the work.”
and you’re about to ask him how is this enjoyable for him. how would this be entertaining for both of you and not just you. but you don’t have to ask because your answer is given to you plain as day. the way he groans and hums into your cunt as he pleasures you. the way he’s so hellbent on staying down there until the last moment, coming up for air to ask you “just one more?”. with your arousal and release sitting on his lips and chin, you could never say no.
so you don’t.
#celeste writes misc#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton smut
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having a threesome with anthony and kate ; mdni
to the society surrounding you and your two lovers, you’re just their maid who happened to build more of a close friendship with the two of them.
in private, however, everything’s different.
on quiet nights when the rest of the bridgerton family is out at yet another fancy ball or event, you stay home with the two of them, finally getting a moment to just be with each other.
you're lying down on their bed, your legs spread open as anthony devours you like a starved man, coaxing out your second orgasm of the night. meanwhile, you're busy helping kate get off. she rocks her hips back and forth on your face as you eagerly suck her clit. "oh, that's so good. please, more." she pleads with you.
as you continue licking and sucking on kate's sensitive bud, you begin to struggle as anthony does the same to you, his hands gripping onto your thighs as he laps up all your juices, flattening his tongue and licking your clit.
then, after everything is done and you go dumb from the multiple rounds of pleasure you've endured, you're reminded of exactly why these nights are so precious.
#this is so bad i just love these two and had to write something#anything atp#so excuse the writing!#x reader#fanfic#fanfiction#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton smut#anthony bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton smut#anthony bridgerton#bridgerton#kate sharma x reader#kate sharma smut#kate sharma
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(not so) simple finale - anthony bridgerton
masterlist
summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.
a/n: so um ignore how long every part of this took to come out. i have no excuse. anyways we are finally here at the end!! almost 10k words of proper regency soap opera type shit and it all ends happily i promise. i hope u enjoy because damn this was supposed to be a short one shot and ended up being over 40k lmao
wc: 9k
warning(s): angst, reader is a lil insecure, slightly steamy make out scene, happy ending<333
You’d never been this restless before.
Your dreams had a part to play in it. They insisted on tormenting you, though not in the usual way.
No, these dreams would have been pleasant had they come any sooner. For Anthony Bridgerton appeared in near every single one, with his charming smile and soft eyes and hair you always desired to run your fingers through.
He would smile at you, offer his arm and walk with you all around the park and the city as you talked for hours. He would compliment you, and you would compliment him, and he would court you as a perfect gentleman would.
He would kiss you, ravenously so. His hands would touch you where no one had touched before, leaving trails of fire in their wake, would unearth feelings you never could have imagined. He would revere you, near worship you, because in this world you never made such ill-advised choices. In this world, you never dragged him into a worthless scheme that ended with a ruined reputation and a broken heart.
In this world, he loved you just as much as you loved him, and you never did a single thing to make him doubt that.
But you were not there.
You were here, in the real world. Where you were in the midst of reaping what you spent a whole season sowing.
You were roused from that less than peaceful attempt at sleep—though thoughts of Anthony took longer to disappear—by the opening of your door, and despite your visitor attempting to be quiet, you found your eyes fluttering open against your will.
“Oh, dearest,” your mother lamented, “I did not mean to wake you. I apologize; I merely wanted to check on you. I will return later—please, rest.”
“No,” you murmured, and you rubbed your eyes as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. Small movements were much easier, which at least meant a step in the right direction. “No, stay. Please.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. When you nodded, she closed the door lightly behind her and sat on your bedside, laying her hand over yours.
She whispered your name, her voice already thick with tears that she was trying to hide. “I am so glad you are alright.”
“You say that every time you come in here,” you said.
“And I will continue to say it.” She shook her head. “You nearly perished. You should consider yourself lucky I am not in here at all hours of the day.”
You managed a smile, and she sighed. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” you said. “I am still sore, but much better.”
“Good,” she said. “All I can ask is that you continue to get better.”
“The rest has certainly been nice,” you said. “Am I still a true lady despite my late wakings?”
“You have always been a true lady,” your mother assured with a slight smile.
“I believe you may be the only one that still thinks so.”
“If you are feeling ready, there is a ball in a fortnight,” she said. “It could be a good way to garner good will again.” You gave her a look, and she held up her hands. “I understand how you feel, but your presence is important. There are… rumors floating about, and we must lay them to rest.”
“Rumors,” you muttered wryly. “That your daughter is an ungrateful wench and will die a spinster?”
She said your name sternly, and you shook your head. “I read what Whistledown wrote about me—she’s likely written a hundred more. I do not care what any of them think of me, Mother. I am only sorry for the pain it has caused you and Father, and the Bridgertons.”
“The Bridgerton name is strong enough to weather scandal,” she said. “We have to work a bit harder. And making an appearance in society again, especially with Lord Cardew by your side, will help.”
You suppressed a scoff at the mere thought of him. You’d been granted such a reprieve from Lord Cardew because of Anthony’s influence, and while you were recovering, no one but family was to see you. But soon—very soon—he would be your entire life.
“That brings up another question,” your mother said wryly, and when you met her eyes she was giving you a very pointed look. “Are you still sure about this?”
No, you wanted to say. You couldn’t be less sure about Jonathan Cardew. But you’d dragged your family into this mess of yours, so it was your duty to fix it.
Plenty of women married much more dreadful men every year. You should have considered yourself lucky that a man of his breeding, of his standing was interested in you at all—especially after the season you’d spent distancing yourself from him and the scandal you’d caused.
“...Yes,” you finally said. “I am sure.”
Your mother sighed and said your name. “You are sure? You have not reached out to Anth—”
“There is nothing left between us,” you interrupted. “I know it is not the best situation, and I know it is my fault, but I am making the best of it. All I ask is that you support me. It is hard enough attempting to make my way through this world—I need my mother to be there for me rather than constantly pushing against it all.”
“...Of course,” she said quietly. “And I am so sorry that I have ever done differently. My dear, all I ask in return is that you understand me, as well as the decisions I make. All I want is the best for you, and I know that marriage is not what you desire, but there are things we must do.”
“Of course,” you said, and your echoing words spurned a small smile from her. “I am sorry that I have always fought you so much. All I could see was my hatred for any kind of union, but all I managed was hurting you and Father, as well as myself, and— and I cannot think of any apology that will be enough.” You shook your head with a mirthless laugh. “I’ve no idea how you put up with me for so long, truly.”
“I’ve never had to put up with you,” she said. “I realize I may not have done the best job at showing it, but— but I love you more than anything in this world. Everything I have ever done has been for you, my darling. You are the future of our name, and I know you will do an excellent job at carrying on our legacy.”
“Truly?” you asked softly.
Your mother nodded as she took your hands and smiled at you. “Truly. Nothing in this world can change my love for you. You are our greatest accomplishment.”
You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat as you smiled as well, and you pulled your mother into a hug. She reciprocated, and tears filled your eyes. You’d missed the comfort of her presence so dearly.
“I love you too,” you whispered.
-
“Are you alright, my lady?”
Your lady’s maid's words snapped you out of the stupor you’d found yourself in, and it was all you could do to attempt a smile.
“Yes, Julia,” you said. “Quite alright.”
Her brows furrowed as she draped a pendant around your neck, the cold metal turning your exhale slightly shaky. “Pardon my plainness, my lady, but you are not believable in the slightest.”
“You have been around me for far too long,” you said dryly. “I request another maid, one that cannot read me so easily.”
Julia offered a wry smile. “You are stuck with me for now, my lady. What is weighing so heavily on your mind?”
You stared yourself in the mirror as you turned the question over. It was not as easy to answer as it should have been, not when everything was so out of order. Not when you hardly recognized the reflection staring back at you, wrapped in orange silk and adorned in jewels courtesy of Lord Cardew.
You were not yourself—you were to be Baron Jonathan Cardew’s wife, a baroness and status symbol to hang off his arm and smile prettily, and Baroness Cardew was who stared back at you.
Only a few more balls remained until the season came to an end, and though Lord Cardew was doing your family an immense service by giving you a second chance, he did not want to wait much longer to make it official.
It was all planned out. Your relationship would truly enter the public eye tonight with your dances, you would promenade in open parks to have as many eyes on you as possible. He would call on you and your meager staff would be encouraged to spread rumors. Another ball would pass together, enough to hopefully weather some of the scandal you’d created, and then…
Then, he would propose.
You would accept.
And the fate you’d been so intent on avoiding would be sealed.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking back the impending tears.
“I am nervous,” you admitted. “My decision didn’t exactly feel… real. Not until I was standing at the modiste getting fitted for this gown with one of Cardew’s maids. And all this jewelry…” Your fingers trailed across the raised designs on the pendant. “It makes it even more so.”
“I can only imagine,” Julia said. “He has certainly put in effort.”
“And yet it all feels hollow.” You moved away from the mirror and stopped in front of your vanity. The light blue reticule sitting near your jewelry box felt as if it was mocking you.
Julia said your name with a sigh. “You made your choice. You pushed him away.”
“I know,” you murmured, tracing the embroidery with your finger. “But feelings do not disappear so quickly.”
“He wrote letters,” she said. “After you moved from Bridgerton House to recover here, after I refused his calling on you for the hundredth time, he wrote letters and delivered them by hand.”
You picked at a loose strand of white thread on the purse, jaw clenched so tight you thought your teeth might crack.
“He told me he did not care if you didn’t want them,” Julia continued softly. “He just needed you to know how he felt.”
“This is how it has to be,” you finally said, voice shaking.
“And what makes you think that?” Julia challenged. “You believe you have to live a life of misery simply because half the ton does so in the name of reputation and riches?”
“Two things I no longer have any of,” you murmured. “Cardew’s pedigree is enough to get both back for my family. It is my duty, Jules, and I can no longer hide from it.”
Your lady’s maid looked at you with desperation in her eyes when there was a knock on the door followed by your mother calling your name. You nodded your permission and she opened it.
“Lady Worthing,” she said, curtsying just so to your mother. “I’ve finished getting her ready—I’ll give the two of you some time alone.”
“Thank you, Julia,” your mother said with a smile. She turned back to you, her eyes softer than ever as she moved forward and set her hands on your shoulders.
“My darling,” she said, “you look so beautiful. I did not lie when I called you the crown jewel of our family.”
You couldn’t help but smile at her compliment, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. “Thank you, Mother. I’m glad I can make you proud.”
She murmured your name, turning you so you faced the mirror. You saw yourself more this time, feeling more assured with your mother standing behind you holding all the stars in her eyes.
“I have always been proud of you, darling,” she murmured. “Even if I did not show it in the best way. I love you more than words can express. I meant it when I said you are our greatest achievement.”
You let out a shaky breath, leaning back against her. She allowed you to sink into her and you felt the tears brimming in your eyes.
“...I’m afraid, Mother,” you whispered. “To marry. To be a wife.”
She was silent for a moment, busying herself with adjusting your jewelry before she spoke.
“I was afraid too,” she admitted. “I hardly knew your father outside of a few promenades, and one lovely bouquet of flowers. It was almost fully arranged by our parents. But when he proposed, he vowed to always be my friend, and to always take care of me.”
“Has he?” you asked.
“Yes,” she said. “We did not love each other on our wedding day. But he has always been kind to me, and he has always advocated for me, and we have always been there for each other. We love each other now, in our own way. And,” she smiled, smoothing down the lace on your sleeves, “together, we brought you into the world. I would do it all over again if it meant I would get you in the end.”
You could not imagine considering Lord Cardew a friend, nor the opposite. He saw you as just another pretty jewel to adorn himself with.
Anthony saw you as a friend— as more. He always listened to what you had to say, always entertained your jokes with some of us own, never talked down on you. He saw you as an equal.
“I do not know if any woman is prepared to marry,” she finally said. “Even those that marry for love still have initial doubts. There are so many expectations of our behavior when we are told so little of what we must actually do.”
“How do you do it?” you asked. “You married a man you didn’t know. You raised a child. You held face against a society that shamed you for only having a daughter.”
“All you can do is trust in yourself, and in those around you,” she said. “If you are with the right person, everything will feel as natural as breathing. You will not care what anything thinks of you, because there is only one opinion that matters.”
There was one man you felt natural around, one who you felt you could speak your mind around and not be judged. One man that you’d fallen in love with, that surely hated you in return for what you’d done to him.
Your voice came out as little more than a whisper. “What should I do, Mother?”
“You know what you must do,” she said softly. “All I can do is support you.”
-
You’d rubbed your palms on your dress at least fifteen times since you’d arrived. A fruitless effort, considering you were wearing gloves, but you could not stand still.
Your conversation with Lord Cardew had taken everything out of you, your dance with him even more so—an especially damning fate seemed ahead of you. But you could tune him out well enough, at least.
It was an entirely different deal when the Bridgertons showed up.
Violet walked in arm and arm with Anthony and Benedict, and Colin had a loose hold on Eloise. And to make matters worse, Daphne Bridgerton, alongside her husband the Duke of Hastings, were making an appearance. What an honor, to have the chance to embarrass yourself in front of such highly ranking nobles.
Eloise branched off immediately after they passed the threshold, much to the protests of her mother, but your mother immediately pulled you in their direction. You could only imagine her thoughts—if she could get the Duke of Hastings touting for the Worthings, that would make things much easier.
Anything for the optics, you supposed. But when you met Anthony’s eyes for the first time, you had to avert your gaze. He just looked so damn sad.
“It is good to see you again, Violet,” your mother said. “And it is an honor, Duke and Duchess Hastings.” The both of you curtsied, and you could see the Duke’s slight smile.
“I consider it my honor to meet the woman who has been the center of such conversation this season,” he said. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, and thankfully Violet stepped in.
“It is good to see you as well, Cecilia.” Violet smiled as she looked at you. “Especially you, my dear.”
You bowed your head. “Thank you, Lady Bridgerton, Duke Hastings. I am grateful to be here.”
Benedict smiled, the notion warmer than anything you deserved. “You look lovely, Miss Worthing. Especially for someone who escaped death with such recency.”
Anthony’s eyes remained on you the entire time, and more than anything you wished you could read this mind. The man probably hated you, and he had every right to do so. You just wished your feelings for him weren’t so insurmountable.
You swallowed the lump in your throat and smiled as believably as you could. “Thank you, Mister Bridgerton. You also look well.”
Your mother nudged your shoulder and your gaze met Anthony’s once more. He still hadn’t looked away from you.
You bowed your head once more. “Lord Bridgerton. It… is good to see you.”
No wonder you actually ended up falling in love with Anthony. It was the only way anyone could believe this ruse—you were quite an awful actress.
Anthony lowered his head as well, his poise stiff. “A pleasure, Miss Worthing.”
“We’re glad to see you’re doing well,” Violet said, her smile a bit thin. You could only imagine the conversation that would occur between her and your mother later. “You caused us all quite a scare.”
“Oh, Anthony was so worried,” Daphne said, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m thankful we have the chance to attend this ball so I could see you in person.”
“I’ve recovered well,” you nodded, and you looked at Violet. “My family and I thank you immensely for your kindness and your doctor’s care. We’ll be in your debt endlessly.”
“There is no need for that,” Violet said. “It is enough that you are still here.”
Your cheeks burned but you tried to smile anyways. You wanted to burrow into a hole and never come out. It seemed the Bridgertons were capable of endless grace in public when they surely had to despise you.
“Eloise has run off somewhere over near the strings,” Benedict provided in the silence. “I’m sure she would appreciate your companionship tonight.”
You glanced at your mother and she nodded, and your smile at Benedict was much more genuine. “Of course. I’ve been meaning to talk with her.”
You mouthed thank you to him when your mother could not see, and he nodded. He’d always been so decent to you.
You could not help but glance at Anthony as you went, and his gaze followed you. He would resent you if he had any sense, but it seemed the opposite—the sadness in his eyes was fatal.
You took a glass of lemonade from the refreshments table when you passed it, needing something to do with your hands. You found your way to Eloise’s side soon enough, and her eyes lit up when she caught sight of you.
“It is so good to see you,” she breathed. “I’ve only just arrived, and I’ve already had to fend off suitors. They just cannot seem to understand I hold such little care for them.”
“I am just as glad to see you,” you admitted. “I do not think I can get through this night alone.”
“I cannot imagine why,” Eloise said sarcastically. “I’ve heard the news. And I must say, it is your poorest decision this season.”
Your laugh was mostly out of surprise, and you nearly dropped the flute of lemonade you were holding. You were on edge far more than you expected—you almost wished your glass was full of champagne.
“At least somebody is speaking plainly,” you murmured, your gaze distant and unfocused. “I think the rest of your family must hate me, but they’re all too kind to say it.”
Eloise frowned. “Why would any of them hate you?”
Your grip tightened on your glass. “Because I caused an immense scandal and then ended things with Anthony?”
She huffed a laugh, her eyebrows now rising. “Our family has weathered many a scandal, and we are still here. Or have you forgotten how Daphne’s dearest husband chose to court her?”
“That is different,” you insisted.
“I think it is worse, actually,” Eloise said plainly. “Simon is a duke, and Anthony nearly killed him before Daphne knocked some sense into him.” She chuckled and shook her head. “Truly, it was a disaster. We Bridgertons have a knack for them.”
“As do I,” you said with a loose laugh. “I was stabbed, Eloise. I nearly died in your brother’s arms.”
“And we nearly died in our drawing room,” she said. “Anthony, most of all. He cares for you immensely.”
“Surely he cannot,” you insisted. “Not after what I’ve done.”
“I am not blind,” Eloise said, “and neither are you. So do not demerit our intelligence and pretend as if you do not see it.”
“I— I know.” You wrapped your arms around your midsection, and you grimaced as the jewelry on your wrists brushed against your skin. You were covered head to toe in finery that didn’t belong to you, and you itched from the inside out. “But I don’t know where to go from here.”
“It’s quite obvious, isn’t it?” Eloise looked across the room, where Lord Cardew stood talking to your mother, and then over at her brother, who couldn’t have been less interested in the lady trying to strike up conversation with him. Then her gaze fell to you. “You’ve got a choice to make.”
“I’ve already ruined things,” you murmured. “I— I can’t just back out of this.”
“I can tell you that you certainly haven’t ruined things with my brother. And Lady Whistledown’s speculation is the only thing binding you to that lecher.” Eloise shrugged. “You’ve already broken off one courtship. What’s another?”
Your eyes met Anthony’s from across the room. Once again, he’d already been looking at you. You averted your gaze quickly, feeling the heat rush to your face, and you tried to steady your breathing. He had no right to still have such an effect on you.
“I need some air,” you murmured. “Will you—”
“Of course,” Eloise said. “You are simply touching things up in the powder room.”
You nodded your thanks and slipped out of the ballroom, finally able to drop the facade you’d been trying to uphold. You truly felt as if you were overheating, and the cool air was hardly of aid once you reached the outdoors.
Everything was all wrong—your dress, this damned tiara, the bracelets and the necklaces and every jewel that Cardew thought he could buy you with.
It all belonged to him. You would not be another prize on his shelf.
You couldn’t help yourself. You began to shed the jewelry as your pace sped up, ripping bangles from your wrists and pendants from your neck—by the time you reached a deserted area of the gardens, you were considerably lighter and considerably close to tears.
You let out a frustrated sob as you slammed your fists against some artistic stone structure. It earned you nothing but pain, but it grounded you in some strange way. You tore off your gloves and threw them to the ground, a shaky breath escaping you as you screwed your eyes shut and pressed your palms to your forehead.
You could not marry traditionally, you could not follow through with your feelings for Anthony, and now you could not follow through with this ill-advised plan.
Were you truly this useless? To bring ruin to two families with your knack for destroying things for it all to amount to nothing? You waxed poetic about the life you thought you deserved to live, about going to university and gaining your independence and never marrying, and yet here you were, near tears in the gardens of the ball you were meant to reenter society at.
“Miss Worthing.”
The whispered words blared through the silence, and you knew who it was without having to turn around. It still sent a shock through you, your breathing faltering for a moment. Your eyes stayed shut.
“Why are you here?” you asked, your voice watery.
“You do not know me if you think there is anywhere else I would be,” he said.
“How did you find me?”
“I followed the trail of jewels. You’ve left an awfully expensive path in your wake.”
“All of it is worthless,” you mumbled, finally letting your hands drop. “It all belongs to Lord Cardew.”
“You’ll have made a magpie very happy.”
“Enough with the jokes,” you said. “Why are you here?”
“Why do you think?” Anthony asked with a slight laugh.
“I do not know,” you responded. “That is why I asked.”
“I am here because I want to talk to you,” he said. “You cannot just avoid me for the rest of the season.”
You turned away. “I can try.”
“I will not let you,” Anthony enunciated. “I will not let you make the biggest mistake of your life because you believe it is your duty.”
“If you are here to change my mind, you are wasting your time,” you said stiffly.
“I don’t believe I have to do anything,” Anthony said. “It looks as if you’ve come to the conclusion yourself.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“You have not even glanced in Cardew’s direction this entire night,” he said. “You’ve been looking at me instead.”
“Because I have felt your eyes on me with every moment.”
Anthony huffed. “Can you blame me? This is the first time I have seen you since that night.”
“Then you should remember my words from that night,” you bit out.
“Why are you so intent on pushing me away?” Anthony begged.
You scoffed. “Why are you so intent on bothering me?”
“Because I cannot stand here and watch you marry another!” he exclaimed.
Your brows furrowed and you turned around. Anthony stood in front of you, his outfit impeccable but not at all looking put together. Desperation colored his eyes, and you saw how truly undone he’d become.
“I— I thought I could, but I cannot.” He shook his head, a muscle working in his jaw as he glanced away. “Every moment you are in the vicinity of that man is a test of my strength. And I do not know how strong I am.”
“I don’t understand,” you said hollowly. “You should hate me.”
“I could never hate you,” Anthony murmured. “I thought I could, when you first told me of your plans, but— but I could hardly even dislike you.” A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head. “My mother had been bothering me for nearly a decade to find a wife and settle down, but I thought love was a fool’s game. I would have my fun as a bachelor, and then settle down with the most advantageous match. There was no need for further emotional baggage—when you love, you can lose. And I refused to lose again.”
For a moment, your heart stopped in your chest. He lost his father, he nearly lost you, and then you pushed him away like he meant nothing.
“Anthony—” you whispered, but he shook his head.
“Please,” he said. “I have a lot to say.”
You nodded, and he did as well.
“Our deal was perfect for that. You were nothing but my sister’s nuisance of a friend—a bad influence that I could never see as more.” You could not help your soft laugh, and Anthony’s smile turned a bit more genuine.
“But then we spent more time together. I… truly began to know you.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “You shattered every preconception I had of you. I began to look forward to our meetings, to our promenades—I would get home from calling on you and could think only of the next time I would see you.”
“Throughout it all, you made me realize I was worthy of love,” he said. “You— you made me realize that I wanted it. That I wanted you.” His throat bobbed, and you could see his eyes glistening. “That I loved you.”
You could hardly find the strength to speak. You felt as if you could melt into a puddle at his feet just from his words. You were so intent on avoiding Anthony because you couldn’t stand the thought of hurting him anymore— you believed he would be better off without you, without the scandal you’d dragged him into.
But he… he loved you.
He loved you just as you loved him.
“I do not expect you to share any of my notions, and I know you value your freedom more than anything,” Anthony murmured. “So if it is not me you wish to be with, I understand, and I will accept it without complaint. I just beg of you—do not become that wretched man’s wife.”
All you could do was stare at him for a moment more, words beyond your reach before you finally managed to speak through your emotions.
“I tried to tell myself the exact same thing,” you said softly. “That you could not be happy with me. That I could never be happy chained to another—truly, that I could never love. Not when freedom is what I have always desired most. But Anthony…” you moved forward until you were mere centimeters apart, unable to suppress the shiver that ran through you at the proximity, “I have never felt more free than when I am with you.”
“Miss—” Anthony started, but he paused and shook his head before saying your first name instead. His eyes were softer than anything. “Are you truly…?”
“I could never fathom you sharing my feelings,” you said thickly. “That is why I pushed you away. But I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I think I have loved you for quite some time.”
You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, turning away so as to not betray the fullness of your emotions, and though you opened your mouth to provide some excuse, you were not granted the chance.
Anthony’s hand encircled your wrist, pulling you back around, and just as soon did you feel his lips against yours. The tightness in your chest dissolved almost immediately as you all but fell into him, Anthony wrapping his arms around you to support you as your hands found purchase on anything they could.
Your focus became devoted solely to the feeling of him, his soft lips against yours even as they plied for access. Anthony held you as if his only desire were to protect you from the world, and it made you feel a way you’d never even imagined. Only when air became a necessity did he pull away, his labored breaths in contrast to the pure adoration in his eyes.
“Never in a thousand years did I think you would feel the same,” he murmured, his hands cupping your face on either side as he gazed into your eyes. “I thought myself a fool, falling for the one woman I could not have. You’ve no idea the relief it brings to hear you share my feelings.”
“I suppose I am just as foolish as you,” you breathed. Your heart felt as if it could burst.
The corners of his lips quirked up in a smile. “I cannot imagine what my mother would think—that after so long spent searching for a wife, I fell for the one woman who never wanted the title.”
You let out an airy laugh, relishing the feeling of his skin against yours. “Nor did I see myself falling for the one man who resented the chains of marriage as much as I.”
Anthony pressed his lips against yours once more, and your hands traveled up until they tangled in his hair. You kissed until you were nearly breathless, but Anthony still managed to pull a very unladylike sound out of you as he bowed his head, kissing down the line of your jaw, your neck, until his teeth nipped your skin just above your decolletage.
“Anthony,” you gasped, clenching your fingers as they buried themselves further into his dark locks. You had never been this close with a man before, never this intimate — you never thought you would even desire it.
But Anthony lit a fire inside of you that only he could quench, and yet the only thing he seemed to do was stoke it further. It was equally maddening and dizzying, the control he so effortlessly had over you.
“I never knew how much I would delight in hearing you say my name,” he murmured, his lips trailing against your skin. “No more Lord Bridgerton, I beg of you.”
“I should think I’d like to hear you beg—” you breathed, but Anthony cut you off yet again as he pulled you into another searing kiss. You could hardly stand it anymore as your hands fell down to his shoulders, and you pulled away for just a moment as you began desperately undoing his waistcoat, Anthony taking the hint and removing his jacket.
“These buttons were not designed with the needs of a lady in mind,” you huffed in frustration, fumbling fingers failing to make progress, and Anthony chuckled breathlessly.
“Have we finally found something I best you in?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes with a smile.
“Just take it off.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”
You groaned as you looked at him. “If you insist on teasing me this way, Lord Bridgerton, I shall go back inside and act as if nothing has happened.”
“There is no need for idle threats,” he defended, and you bit back your smile. Anthony made deft work of his waistcoat, and the second he tossed it aside he was back on you.
“Besides,” his voice was a whisper a millimeter from your ear, and warmth blazed in your core, “I believe I told you to call me Anthony.”
“And I believe you should have to try harder than that.” You smiled into his kiss as you trailed your nails down his back, the thin fabric of his dress shirt doing little as you felt his involuntary shiver.
“You’ve no idea the effect you have on me,” he groaned, once again dipping his head as he peppered even more kisses down your neck, sliding down the sleeve of your dress to allow himself better access.
The night air on your newly freed skin did little for you, any coolness of the breeze instantly negated by the heat of Anthony against you. Your nails dug into his back as he moved down, each spot where his lips touched your skin erupting with fire.
You gasped out his name, barely able to handle it—the feeling was so foreign yet familiar, as if you had been waiting all your life for Anthony in this way.
You could hardly believe you nearly lost it of your own accord.
“It appears I do not have to try hard at all,” he said, “the way you cry out for me.”
You laughed breathlessly, though his words were indeed true. You knew, in this moment, that you would do anything for Anthony Bridgerton—and he would do anything for you. “How I fell for a man as irritating as you, I haven’t the slightest.”
You caught the slightest glimpse of his grin before he ducked his head yet again, and he had only just begun pushing both sleeves of your dress down when a woman’s voice could be heard behind you.
“Anthony— oh!”
The unfamiliar voice struck fear into your heart you had never felt the likes of before. Anthony moved away from you quicker than you’d ever seen, you just as hasty as you tugged the sleeves of your dress back to where they belonged and attempted to smooth out everything that Anthony had so easily sullied.
You’d never imagined this was how your reputation would be ruined, with Anthony Bridgerton in the gardens of some ball, but when you finally had the sense to look and see who had caught you in a most uncompromising position, you could hardly stifle your incredulous laugh.
“Sister?” Anthony questioned in disbelief, so many emotions warring on his face you had to turn away to cover up your growing grin.
“Anthony,” Daphne greeted in kind, fighting to conceal her smile as her eyes drifted to you. “Miss Worthing.”
“Your Grace!” Your shaky fingers were hardly of use to you as you pulled your gloves back up to where they belonged and once again ran your hands down the skirt of your dress to smooth out the wrinkles. Your cheeks burned under her gaze and you were innately aware of the fire underneath your skin brought about by Anthony’s touch in contrast to the cool night air. “What brings you here?”
“Mother was quite… nervous about tonight,” she explained. “She indulged in one too many glasses of champagne, so she is taking her leave with Benedict for aid. She requested I find you to alert you of her departure, but it seems she was not the one whose disappearance should have been questioned.”
“I’m sure you know this is quite compromising.” Thinly veiled amusement crossed Daphne’s face as she eyed you pointedly. “I am afraid you must marry him at once Miss Worthing, else I shall have to duel you to protect my brother’s honor.”
You laughed breathlessly as Anthony looked up at the sky, his face turning a deeper shade of red than you had ever seen. “Your Grace, are you suggesting that I have ruined him?”
“Indeed I am,” she confirmed, and you could see how it took every muscle of her being to retain a serious image. “This is not a light matter, miss. I do not understand why you are laughing.”
“Daphne,” Anthony groaned, avoiding her eyes as he occupied himself with his jacket. “Why do you insist on being a nuisance?”
“Anthony,” she inflected his name the same way he did hers, “I cannot have this woman sullying your name! I know it was of no will of your own, but this can not stand as is. But do not worry; I am prepared to defend your honor to my last breath.”
“My sincerest apologies for what I have done, Duchess Hastings,” you responded gravely. “I am prepared for pistols at dawn.”
Anthony huffed as he buttoned his waistcoat back up then went to retrieve his jacket from the bushes. “You exaggerate, the both of you. This cannot be what I was like last season.”
“You were worse, brother. But do not worry,” Daphne said with a grin, “I should think a taste of your own practices is only fair after all you put Simon and me through.”
Anthony sighed with a slight roll of his eyes. “I… suppose… that it is what I deserve.”
“Thank you, brother,” she said. “I only wish we had a witness just so your confession is forever remembered.”
“I wish Mother had not sent you to seek me out,” he responded dryly.
You and Daphne exchanged smiles with each other before your expression sobered slightly. “ I ask quite a bit of you with this, Your Grace, but… may I count on your discretion? I know we jest, but my reputation truly could not handle something like this. I do not know if…” you glanced at Anthony before looking back to her, “if we are yet ready to seal our union.”
“Of course,” Daphne nodded, and a relieved smile tugged at your lips. “I shall not tell a soul.”
“Thank you eternally, Your Grace,” you expressed, but at your short curtsy she shook her head.
“Please, call me Daphne.” She offered a smile of her own, slightly coy. “After what I have just witnessed, I’ve no doubt you will be joining our family soon enough.”
“Sister!” Anthony scolded, and when you glanced at him his entire face was dusted pink, even the tips of his ears. It was enough to make you swoon. “You cannot just say things whenever you see fit.”
Daphne merely shrugged, joyfully indifferent to her brother’s protests. “I outrank you now, dearest brother — I believe I can say whatever I see fit, particularly when it is the truth.”
“You are truly impossible,” Anthony muttered as he shook his head.
Daphne just smiled before she looked back at you. “I believe it best if the two of you leave at separate times, so as to not allow room for any rumors. Miss Worthing, you should go first and return to your mother; you can claim you simply needed fresh air. Anthony and I will stroll around the grounds for a bit before allowing ourselves to be seen — we are simply catching up after such a stretch spent at Clyvedon.”
You nodded, taking a deep breath as you smoothed your mussed hair and wrinkled dress for the last time. Anthony certainly did a number on you, in more ways than one. “Thank you again, Your—” you caught yourself, correcting your error with a small smile, “Daphne.
“You may count on me in the future whenever I am in London,” she reassured. “It is my hope anyway that I shall be able to welcome you to the family officially.”
“Daphne!” Anthony exclaimed yet again, glaring at her. “Might you take your leave so we may have a moment alone?”
“I believe you just had quite a few moments alone,” Daphne said, but a pointed look from her brother had her conceding with a smile. “Alright. I will be by the trees when you need me.”
Anthony turned to you with an odd look in his eyes when Daphne was out of hearing distance, and when he did eventually speak, his voice was far softer than usual.
“Do you truly believe I would not marry you?” he asked, and the underlying hurt in his voice did not go unnoticed. “Even if there were not the risk of a scandal, I would not hesitate. My entire heart lies with you.”
“It is not you, Anthony,” you sighed with a slight shake of your head. “I do not… I do not know if I am even capable of marriage.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I have spent my entire life running from it,” you said, chuckling softly, “and yet, here I am, the one thing I never thought I would be.”
“In love,” Anthony realized, and you nodded.
“It has always been easy enough to denounce marriage when I’d never experienced anything of the like. The union of my parents was for convenience rather than love, and for as long as I’ve been alive my mother has tried to drill it into my head that my feelings did not matter — so long as the man had the means to provide for me and was not completely awful, he was satisfactory.”
“A future like that— it was so completely absurd to me that denouncing it all was the easiest thing in the world. And then I nearly died and my entire world changed, and I decided that Cardew was the best option to allow myself to completely separate emotion from marriage, but now…” you looked at Anthony, feeling more vulnerable now than ever. “I have found a love in you I’ve never thought possible, and I cannot stop imagining a life with you. And that terrifies me more than anything.”
“But…” you trailed off again and you turned away from him as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “But I do not know how to approach my future, especially one where we are so closely intertwined.”
Silence hung in the air for a noticeable period before Anthony cleared his throat, and it was obvious the care he put into his words.
“You know I never imagined I would marry for love. Truly, I never intended it—I expected to be miserable in marriage. I saw it as nothing more than another duty to take care of. I believed that love was trivial, a ridiculous distraction. You are the one who made me see differently.”
You turned around with slightly wide eyes, your arms wrapped around your midsection doing little to ward off the cool night air that seemed far colder than it was before. Anthony’s gaze never left yours, the softness in his own at odds with the pure, unbridled passion.
“I love you. Though I have only just allowed myself to accept the fact, you are someone that I cannot imagine living the rest of my days without. There was…” his throat bobbed as his voice crackled slightly, “there was a moment when I feared the worst, that you would permanently disappear from my life. And ever since you were all but brought back from the dead, I have known that you are the only woman I wish to be with. It is why as soon as I left you, I asked my mother for this.”
Anthony took a box out of his pocket, and you gasped as he got down on one knee, your hands flying up to cover your mouth.
“This is the ring my father proposed to my mother with, and their love was beyond anything I have seen before. But it is the love that I feel for you, something so strong, so overwhelming— something I never thought I would experience. And yet here I am, madly in love with the one woman who scorned me with every word, and only pursued me because of my brand as a lesser evil.”
A laugh bubbled out of you, the sound slightly muffled through your gloves, and you could not help it as your eyes began to fill with tears.
“I admire you; all of you. The part that loves her family with every part of her being, that looks out for those with less than her when those more fortunate turn a blind eye. The part that fights for the rights of her sex when it is so much easier to just bow one’s head, that puts her happiness on a rightful pedestal— the part that is so terrified to share herself with others and yet deserves a love of the purest form.”
“And I am aware of how the unknown is a fear of yours, as it is one of mine. But I assure you—” Anthony’s voice was filled with such passion, his eyes with such love, that you could hardly stand it, “—I will be there for you every step of the way. We will face our fears as one, and we will shape the future ourselves, not to be bound by anyone or anything.”
“I do not know where my future will lead me, but I know I do not want to face a single second of it without you. If you do not feel the same, I understand, but I will not be able to live with myself if I do not at least try. It is why I ask you,” Anthony said your name with more love than ever before, “will you marry me?”
“Yes,” you sobbed, a smile breaking across your face even as tears of joy streamed down your cheeks. “Yes, yes, I will marry you!”
Anthony let out a sigh of relief as he grinned, and after he slid the ring on your finger he stood up and pulled you into a breathless kiss. Nothing picture perfect like you’d heard about as a young girl, the kind of effortless gentleman’s act— Anthony kissed you with pure passion, love, desire, and it nearly brought you to your knees. You thought it would have, were it not for Anthony’s strong arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you against him and supporting you.
You could hardly believe the same man who treated you as if you were glass after your injury was the one standing before you now, the one who handled you in such a way that could get the both of you exiled were anyone to see—the one that you thought hated you.
And you were more than willing to allow it to continue, to surrender yourself fully to your baser instincts, when you remembered something that made your eyes widen.
“Your sister,” you murmured between kisses until you finally managed to pull away, albeit reluctantly. “Daphne is still waiting.”
Anthony laughed breathlessly as he pulled you back in, and your earlier protest was shown to be completely nonsensical. “Let her wait.”
You grinned as he peppered kisses down your neck, enjoying the sensation until you pushed him away. “Anthony.”
He groaned. “Why must you be a better person than I?”
“Believe when I say it pains me,” you said. “But the last thing we need is yet another scandal by my hand.”
“Let them know,” he said, taking your hands in his. “Let all of London know that I love you, that we will be wed. I do not care what we have to face so long as we face it together.”
“The thought has never been so tempting,” you murmured. “But you should at least alert your sister. It would be improper to make her wait out here all night for nothing.”
His grip tightened on your hands. “So you do wish to leave together?”
“Anthony, I just accepted your proposal,” you said with a laugh. “I wish to spend the rest of our lives together.”
“I believe tonight is a good place to start, then,” he grinned.
Anthony would not let you leave his side, so you went to Daphne together. First she saw your smile, then her gaze drifted down to your hand—she looked knowingly at her brother, though she could not hide her smile either.
“It would appear as if I was right,” she mused. “I am always right when it comes to you though, Anthony, so it is not much of a surprise.”
“Do not mock me,” Anthony said. “I could have left you waiting by the bushes all night.”
“If you had not proposed to her after the conversation we had the other day, I would have questioned your sense,” Daphne said. “Trust me, I would not have been here long.”
Your eyebrows rose. “What conversation?”
“We do not need to start on this,” he said with a pointed look at his sister. “I have already bared my entire soul tonight. I do not need my sister embarrassing me further.”
“Oh, I would never,” Daphne drawled. “After all, there will be plenty of time for us to gossip together when I come to visit you all.”
“Won’t you be busy with your child?” Anthony asked.
She shrugged. “You may be busy with one as well by the time I see you again.”
You looked at Anthony only to find his gaze was already on you. There must have been some shred of doubt in your eyes, because he only took your hand in his.
“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “We will take things as slowly as you desire.”
You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat and nodded as you squeezed his hands—you knew what was expected of you as a wife, and you wanted it with Anthony, but you could not lie and say that his reassurances did not bring you relief.
“My best wishes to the new Viscountess Bridgerton,” Daphne said, her voice full of affection as she clasped her hands together. “It is an honor to have you join our family.”
“It is an honor to be accepted,” you said, bowing your head.
Daphne smiled. “I assume you want to reveal this on your own terms.”
You nodded. “I’ve dealt with enough attention from the ton lately.”
“I am afraid to say that will not go away,” she said wryly. “But I will cover for the two of you.”
You pressed a hand to your chest. “Thank you.”
“It is only proper to welcome my sister in such a way,” she said with a wink, and you could not help but smile. “Now run along, you two. Before rumors start.”
Anthony chuckled, and the two of them embraced before you started on your way.
“Viscountess Bridgerton,” Anthony murmured in your ear. “I love the sound of that.”
You hummed in agreement. “As do I.”
You laid your head on Anthony’s shoulder as you walked back with your hands intertwined—not to the ball, but to a carriage for the promise of time alone. You glanced over at Anthony and he smiled, and you pulled him to a stop as you pressed a kiss to his lips. He responded with hunger, the same vigor he displayed when you first stepped into the gardens together, and you could hardly believe he still had it left in him.
Far too many minutes passed as you kissed and kissed and kissed, not a single care in the world of someone catching you. What could they do? You’d already endured enough scandal to weather anything, and there was no way to punish you and Anthony — you were already engaged.
Your lips were sure to be bruised once you finally pulled away, Anthony gazing at you with complete adoration as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.
“I cannot believe you are to be my wife,” he murmured.
“I cannot believe you are to be my husband,” you breathed. “When will we reveal it?”
“Tomorrow,” he said, intertwining your hands with his own. “Tomorrow, we will tell everyone, and we will deal with everything that comes along with it. But tonight…”
“It is our secret.”
Anthony nodded. “Tonight, we start the rest of our lives together.”
“The rest of our lives together,” you murmured.
Truly, it sounded like a dream. Months ago you could not even consider the thought of marriage without an air of disgust—now, here with Anthony, you could not stop thinking about the fact that you were to be his wife.
The rest of your life with Anthony would be anything but simple.
And yet, somehow, you could not think of anything more perfect.
-
taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy
#anthony bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton x you#anthony bridgerton fic#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton fic#anthony bridgerton fanfic#x reader#bridgerton imagine#sadie writes
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I’m not at all ashamed for laughing at this.
#writing#romance novels#late night writing#polin#romance writers#writer#bridgerton#romance#screenwriting#bridgerton netflix#bridgerton thoughts#tv: bridgerton#polin crack#polin bridgerton#polinedit#smut#polin smut#bridgerton speculation#bridgerton spoilers#bridgertonedit#colin x penelope
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