Fourth Wing

Xaden

Liam

Bodhi

Ridoc

Imogen

Not Meant To Care - Xaden Riorson x Reader

Prompt - “Since when did you ever care about me?!” “Since fucking forever!” from anonymous. A/N: I definitely didn't forget to schedule this weeks posts. Not at all.... Anyway, enjoy some Xaden! Masterlist

Every part of my body screamed at me as I hobbled down the stairs from the flight field. The pain reminding me of the first few times I flew on my dragon last year. It had been a while since I had felt like this. Today an opposing squad from another wing had been paired with ours for the class. And it had gone bad fast.

in the archives

𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗽𝗼𝗿𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗽𝗹𝗼𝘁, 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲 ~𝟮𝗸 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁. 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗶'𝗺 𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆

𝗶 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸, 𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘀𝗼 𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝘇𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗻'𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗽𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗱 𝗶'𝗺 𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆. 𝗶𝗳 𝗶 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗿, 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗯𝗮𝗯𝗹𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘁 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁.

𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 ᯓ★» 𝙭𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧. 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙗𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙭𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ᯓ★» 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩!! (𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙡, 𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙙𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠 - 𝙭𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙣’𝙨 𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙯𝙮, 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙫𝙤𝙮𝙚𝙧𝙪𝙞𝙨𝙢??)

𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘋𝘕𝘐 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶

ᝰ.ᐟ

it’s late, much later than you promised yourself but these books aren't going to read themselves, and you really need to study. the entire space you're occupying is covered with books, no space left on the table as you try your best to absorb as much information as you possibly can.

you rub your tired eyes, trying to focus on the ancient text in front of you. the words are starting to blur together, and you can feel the beginnings of a headache forming at your temples. you've been staring at the pages so long you fear you may start to hallucinate. vaguely you hear the sound of footsteps, and you know you may have to call it a night soon.

no, those are actual footsteps.

The "You're Mine" Kiss

It’s not subtle. Never with Xaden. He doesn’t ask; he declares. These kisses usually come when someone’s pushed his buttons, stirring that fierce, protective side of him—or when he’s feeling the slightest flicker of jealousy. Whether it’s a lingering glance from someone else, a whispered comment he doesn’t like, or your casual flirtation with danger, his reaction is immediate.

Xaden’s hand curls around the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair, while his thumb presses lightly against your pulse. It’s deliberate, as if he’s savoring the way your heartbeat quickens under his touch. His other hand finds your waist, holding you firm, anchoring you to him.

When his lips crash against yours, it’s not a question—it’s an answer. There’s nothing tentative about the way he kisses you. It’s fierce, unapologetic, and possessive, the kind of kiss that takes and keeps, like he’s trying to carve his name into your very soul. His tongue brushes against yours in a commanding and relentless way, until the world fades into the heat of his touch and the fire of his kiss.

When he finally pulls away, your lips are swollen, your breath uneven, and yet he still doesn’t move back, his forehead resting against yours. His dark eyes lock onto yours, smoldering with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His voice is low, roughened by the kiss, as he mutters against your lips, "Don’t forget it."

The Silent Apology Kiss

Xaden doesn’t stumble over apologies. He is honest—sometimes brutally so—and he rarely sugarcoats his words. It’s just who he is. But that honesty cuts both ways, and when his temper gets the better of him, the feeling of his regret is visible in the aftermath.

He doesn’t apologize right away. Instead, he clutches his fists tight enough that his knuckles turn white, jaw set in frustration, and leaves the room to cool off. It’s not anger at you—it’s at himself.

Later, when the quiet stretches too long and the sharp edges of the fight haven’t dulled, he finds you. You’re sitting alone, arms wrapped around yourself, the anger still coiled between you like a living thing. Xaden pauses in the doorway for a moment, as though gathering the resolve to step closer.

When he does, he doesn’t say a word. He crosses the room with quiet stubbornness, his shadow stretching long across the floor. Without hesitation, he kneels in front of you, his dark eyes meeting yours, raw and unguarded, willing you to see his apology. His hand moves to your chin, tilting your face toward him with a touch so gentle it almost breaks you.

Then his lips press to your forehead—warm, steady, and conscious. The kiss lingers, longer than normal, like he’s trying to say everything he can’t put into words. You feel his breath against your skin, the slight tremor in his exhale, and the unspoken apology that hums in the quiet between you.

When he pulls back, staring into your eyes, his fingers still resting lightly against your jaw. “I shouldn’t have snapped,” he finally mutters.

But you both know the words aren’t necessary. The kiss already said it all.

The Teasing Peck

These are the kisses that catch you off guard, the ones that leave your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. It’s usually when you’re rambling, your mind spiraling in a dozen directions while you pace the room, oblivious to his gaze. Xaden leans lazily against a doorframe, arms crossed, his infuriatingly smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

He doesn’t interrupt—yet. He’s watching you, his eyes following the gestures of your hands as you emphasize your points, but you’re too focused to notice the way his thoughts wander. He’s imagining you in ways he probably shouldn’t: sprawled beneath him, lips swollen from his kisses, cheeks flushed as you—

“Xaden, are you even listening to me?” you snap, finally noticing the far-off gleam in his eyes.

He doesn’t answer. He just steps forward, closing the space between you with ease. His hand grabs yours, the roughness of his fingers distracting you for a split second before he dips down and presses the quickest of kisses to your lips.

It’s fleeting—barely more than a brush—but the warmth lingers, and before you can even process it, he’s pulling back. You’re frozen mid-sentence, the words catching in your throat as you gape at him, completely derailed.

His smirk deepens, satisfaction rolling off him in waves. His eyes glitter with amusement as he says, “I am now.”

Then he steps back, leaving you standing there while he saunters away like he hasn’t just turned your entire train of thought into a pile of rubble.

The "I’m Proud of You" Kiss

Xaden’s praise is rare, which makes these moments all the more significant. He’s not the type to toss around compliments lightly—they’re earned, and when he gives them, you know they’re sincere. It’s after you’ve done something he didn’t expect—holding your ground in a heated argument, outmaneuvering him in a sparring match, or catching him off guard by being a step ahead of his usually unshakable intuition.

He won’t show his admiration immediately when there are other eyes watching or more pressing matters at hand. That’s not his style, particularly when serious things are going down. But once the adrenaline fades and it’s just the two of you, that’s when you see it.

The moment comes quietly. His hands finding your waist with a confidence that feels like second nature. His touch is familiar yet tender, like all he wants in that moment is to hold you, to ground himself in you. His gaze softens, the hard edges of his usual intensity melting into something gentler, more vulnerable.

“You amaze me, you know that?” he says, his voice intimate, meant only for you.

There’s no smirk this time, no teasing gleam in his eyes—just quiet reverence as his lips find yours. The kiss is slow, unhurried, and meaningful, carrying none of the urgency or fire you might expect from him after a meeting. Instead, it’s full of something deeper, something that speaks volumes more than words ever could.

His hands tighten slightly at your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer, as though to keep you in the moment. It’s not about heat or desire; it’s about acknowledgment, admiration, and the way he sees you as someone who continually surprises him, challenges him, and is there for him.

When he pulls back, he lets out a soft exhale, as though saying the words aloud was as much for him as it was for you. The corner of his mouth lifts in a faint smile, his thumb brushing over your side as he adds, “I love you.”

The Protective Kiss

These kisses come when fear shadows his features—something you rarely see. Xaden seems unshakable, the rock in any storm, but when it’s you, when it’s your life that’s been on the line, that unyielding façade cracks.

It might be after a battle, when the adrenaline is still coursing through his veins and the memory of you being too close to danger burns fresh in his mind. Or maybe it’s in the quiet aftermath of a dangerous mission, when the reality of what could have happened finally catches up with him.

His hands are on you before you can even speak, his grip hard, almost bruising, as they settle on your arms. His dark eyes sweep over you, searching for any sign of injury, his jaw clenched so tightly it looks like it might snap. It’s as if he’s trying to convince himself that you’re really here, whole and unbroken, standing in front of him.

He doesn’t say a word—he can’t, not yet. Instead, he leans in, his lips finding yours with a desperation that borders on frantic. The kiss is desperate, unrelenting, like he’s trying to breathe you in, to memorize the feel of you against him. There’s nothing soft or measured about it; it’s raw, primal, and filled with the kind of fear that only comes from almost losing the one thing that matters most.

His hands slide down to your waist, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as though he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

His voice, when it comes, is low and hoarse, laced with an edge of anger that’s born entirely of fear. “Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he murmurs, the words both a command and a plea.

You can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens even further as he pulls you into his chest, holding you close like he needs to feel your heartbeat to steady his own. And in that moment, you realize just how much power you hold over him—and how much he’d risk to keep you safe.

The Slow-Burn Kiss

This kiss doesn’t start with lips; it starts with a look. A glance that’s lingered far too long, one of those smoldering gazes that sets your pulse racing and makes the room feel suddenly too warm. Xaden’s been giving you that look all day—subtle, deliberate, the kind that curls low in your stomach and leaves you wondering if he’s toying with you or if he’s just biding his time.

It’s not just the look, either. It’s the small touches: his hand brushing yours as he hands you something, his fingertips ghosting over your lower back as he passes by, the way his thumb lingers a fraction too long when he presses it to your cheek. And yet, somehow, he’s avoided your lips. He’s kissed your forehead in the early morning light, his lips soft and fleeting, and later, he brought your hand to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. But your lips? Not once.

It’s a game, you realize—a maddeningly obvious one. He’s drawing it out, savoring your growing impatience with the kind of quiet control that only makes you want him more.

When he finally moves, it’s with an intended slowness that feels like it’s meant to unnerve you. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, and the space between you vanishes until he’s right there. His hand comes up, his fingertips tracing the line of your jaw, his touch impossibly soft.

He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, and for a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. But his lips brush against yours so lightly it feels more like a question than an answer, a whisper of what’s to come. It’s intentional—teasing, torturous—like he’s testing your patience, drawing out the moment until it stretches impossibly thin.

And then, finally, when you tilt your head and close the gap, he lets you have it. His lips press to yours, a kiss that’s all-consuming without ever feeling rushed. His hands slide around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the world around you fades until there’s nothing left but him—the warmth of his touch, the steadiness of his breath, and the unspoken promise that this moment is entirely yours.

It’s not just a kiss; it’s a claiming, a vow in its own right. And you can’t help but wonder how you ever managed to breathe without him.

SPENCER REID!

soulmates by radiant-reid

a little (major) crush by radiant-reid

clumsy by radiant-reid

a memorable hero by radiant-reid

jump then fall by radiant-reid

swooping in by radiant-reid

babysitters by radiant-reid

set up by radiant reid

dont think i dont like you by luveline

apparent loss or modification of information by luveline

unlucky in love by criminalmindzjunkie

undercover by gf2bellamy

excitement by gf2bellamy

the theory on other halves by bklynsboys

crying in my prom dress by radiant-reid

tally marks by reidsnose

cosmically connected by reidsnose

nose taps by reidsnose

hair tie by reidsnose

buggin' by reidsnose

happy campers by reidsnose

botanical heaven by reidsnose

ramble by gf2bellamy

bombshell!reader au by luveline

neighborly 2 by reidsnose

Forgive me

Part two to: http://whydoyouwantmyname.tumblr.com/post/137101968148/imagine-admitting-to-something-you-didnt-do

As I stood before them it felt almost unreal, that so much had changed but at the same time, it hadn’t. 

 "Oh please Iris, you have as much blood on your hands as anyone else. And you, [Y/N], you were in love with a…“ 

 "Our past don’t matter Mr. Drake, what matters is keeping us alive. Because who knows what will happen to all of us if they decided to repose the property, or force us to sell because all of our guest keep disappearing.” I snapped, for it was simple, I was trying to save the people I had come to know as my family, my closet friends and the man who I lied to. I couldn’t see them perish, not after all the Cortez had already taken. 

 Hazel didn’t dare look at me, even though this was the closet she had come near me since the day I admitted to the crime she committed. She never made eye contact or spoke a word to me, I had lost her friendship. Her friendship was replaced by the two woman who stood on either side of me, fighting for the same thing I was, a place to call home.

 "Oh please, [Y/N], you as well as any of us know that murder and death has stunk up this hell hole since the day it opened. So what if they destroy it, Hell can’t be as awful as this prison.“ 

 "Now Sally that is no way to speak of the Cortez.” His accent filled the air, everyone’s head snapping towards him but my own, “Now I myself have decided to stop the killing for the time being." 

 "Really, I mean this place was designed to be your killing….” Hazel started 

 "I am well aware of how I designed the building my dear, however I am also aware that once this landmark receives the title of historical landmark they will never knock it down, for ever box is filled but one.“ 

 "Which would be?” Sally barked 

 "The hotel was built in 1926, meaning that in 2026 it can be declared a historic landmark. So the killing will stop until then. For now you must listen to whatever these three woman tell you.“ 

 "And why would we?" 

 "Remember what happened the last time you disobeyed me Sally, don’t make me do it again. That will be all." 

He turned on his heels and started back towards the room I once called home. 

"Huh, well I don’t see why we must listen to someone who can betray a man so easily?” Hazel asked, causing my eyes to finally leave the ground and meet hers, for the first time she looked at me and it was filled with nothing but hatred. 

 "Well if anyone would know anything about betrayal it would be you Mrs.Evers.“ I snapped as I turned to the stairs where I began to descend, and then I saw her. 

 No one had seen her since she died, I found myself in her room several times a week, for she was the uncommon friend I found during my years by his side. I would always make sure I cleaned her room, making it dust free, fluffed her pillows, and leave out her favorite drink, I would also always see the empty glass when I would return the next time. 

 "My dear sweet child.” She said as she stretched her arms to me, I ran into them and found her stroking my hair. 

“Where have you been?” I whispered 

 "Watching, always. I have been watching since the day you took on her sins.“ 

"I miss him. Is he well?" 

 "He won’t have dinners with me now that you are gone, we have had a few but they would always turn into him kicking me out because he called for you and was answered by Hazel. He misses you my dear." 

"And he sent me away." 

 "For something you never even did, and he knows that now.” I lifted my head and looked into her eyes, 

“What do you mean?" 

 "The last time we were together, he told me it made no sense, for you never left the hotel so how could you have planted any evidence and you never left his side so how could you call the police,He knows the truth I believe." 

 Before I could say anything Liz leaned over the banister, ”[Y/N] who are you talking to?“ 

After looking at her for a moment I looked back to the place Elizabeth once stood but found no one there. 

 "What is it Liz?" 

 "Mr. March would like a drink, and he wants you to deliver it.” I could hear the smile on her voice as I turned around and started back up the stairs, towards the tray containing a crystal bottle and two glasses. 

 As I approached the door I was so familiar with, I could hear the music flowing through the crack under the door, before I could knock though the door was throw open and Hazel stood before me, tears in her eyes, she looked at me with hatred but the sound that left her made my heart break. 

 "Thank you.“ 

She pushed past me and left me to the opened door, the song now fully blasting down the halls, I thought I was living in a dream, for this was my old life, the life I was removed from. And then he came into the hall, and looked at me in his devil’s night best. 

 ”[Y/N].“ He whispered as I bowed my head and started bringing his drink to the table. 

 "Here is your drink sir.”

 As I turned to leave though his hand wrapped around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks, I turned my head and saw something in his eyes I never saw before, pain. 

 "Don’t leave my dear. Sit, have a drink.“ 

 "But isn’t Elizabeth coming soon?” I motioned towards the dinner on the table, which just happened to be [Y/F/M]. 

 "This dinner isn’t for her my love, but you.“ His grip went from my wrist to holding my hand and raising it to his mouth. He then lead me to the seat where Elizabeth sat the day he sent me away and he hurried to pull the chair out for me. 

 "James I am underdressed.” I whispered as I took the seat and looked at him. 

He looked down at me, “My dear, you have never looked more gorgeous." 

 As I watched him walk back to his seat, "why am I here James?" 

 "Because I was wrong, for when I confronted Mrs.Evers she admitted to her sins and has been punished for her betrayal. And so I have asked you to forgive me,  and to take me back?" 

 "Well you did nothing wrong so you need no forgiveness." 

 "I did though, for I sent you away even though you did nothing wrong. You were just making sure that Mrs. Evers got what she wanted in life, and were willing to give up what you loved the most. I have seen the light now my love and I want you back." 

"And I will take you back, but I ask only one thing." 

 "Whatever you want, it is yours.” He said as I got up and started towards him. I found myself sitting on his lap and looking into his eyes, they looked so excited to have me so close it seemed , but I could see the sorrow in his eyes as well. 

“I want you.” I whispered before my lips found his, and finally after a year, everything felt right again.

Imagine admitting to something you didn’t do....

“I hate to tell you James but I didn’t do it.” The countess said coldly shifting her eyes to Hazel. You were both maids for the wonderful James Patrick March, he shot both you and Mrs. Evers and slit his own throat on the day Hazel turned him in. She loved him with all her heart, and he loved her, at least at the time he did. 

As time slipped by, and the more she exercised her freedom the more he grew to realize that the Countess was falling out of the false love she had for him. And soon, he started seeing you in a different light then Hazel, you weren’t just his loyal servant, you were the one who helped him exercise his need to kill, you were the one who sat with him as he cried over the countess, your thigh was the one he would rest his hand on when you would sit at the bar with him, or when you would sit next to him at his grand table when he would invite you as Hazel watched, her heart breaking as she watched the two people she cared so much about betray her, just like she did to us.

“Then who would it have been?” he said as he stared at her.

“Oh…” Hazel started to cry, causing the glare of James to turn towards her

“It was me.” You blared out, the three faces filling with shock, for the Countess knew you weren’t the traitor and so did Hazel, but James… he had no idea, his eyes looked as though his heart was breaking.

“I did it, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I knew you would have killed for all eternity if I didn’t. You would never find true peace without sweet death. I had no idea that this hotel would imprison us here forever.” As you spoke he got closer and closer to you, his eyes filling with more and more anger as you spoke. As he stopped in front of you, his eyes were looking into yours, the tears beginning to brim as you looked at him, “I am sorry my love.” you whispered

“Never call me that again.” He growled, “Leave my presence and never show yourself again.” 

“Of course.” You hurried past them all and out the door, he watched you, as your steps quickened and your eyes never left the floor, his heart breaking with ever step you took, your own breaking as well. And Hazel watching as the person she considered her closest friend give up everything she loved…. for her.

Honourable

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Anthony gets hurt and you tend to his injury.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, vaginal sex, slight innocence kink, loss of virginity, proposal, angst, injury.

Word Count: 4.6k

Authors Note: Hey Nonny. Thank you and thanks for your ask. I went with Anthony for this one. I hope you enjoy this and there is enough angst - my muse decided this is the way it wanted to go lol. I am so sorry this is so late. Also as per usual, this is not a 500-word ficlet lol. This got away from me in a BIG way and ended up at over 4.5k eek!! Thank you to @iboopedyournose for all your help wrangling this one. You rock lovely <3

“Lord Bridgerton?” you call out, concerned, as you spy a worrying trail of what looks like blood droplets across the shiny wooden floors of Aubrey Hall.

Anthony: Regency Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist | Anthony: Modern | Benedict: Regency | Benedict: Modern

Updated February 21, 2025 Listed in ascending order of completion. All x reader unless specified otherwise

❦ smut | ✿ fluff/humour | ❥ angst | ⚣ threesome

none yet

Double Bind ❦ ❥ 

Lessons ❦ ⚣

Kinktober 2022 Drabbles ❦

March 2023 Drabbles ✿ ❦

Kinktober 2023 Drabbles ❦

One-word Drabble Challenge ✿ ❦

One Word Challenge Blurbs ✿ ❥ ❦

Kinktober 2024 Drabbles ❦

Nov 2024 MicroFics ✿

3 Sentence Fic Challenge ✿ ❦

Stay Quiet ❦

Reflection ❦

In His Lap ❦

Honourable ❥ ❦

Overprotective ✿

Atonement ❦

The Things We Do For Love ❥ ❦ ⚣

Rescue and Ruin ✿

Impertinent ❦

Making an Heir ❦

Eager ❦

Praise ❦

Your Good Boy ❦

Awakening ❦

A Beneficial Arrangement ❦

Refuge ✿

Audacious ❦

Rebel ❦

An Artful Arrangement ❦ ⚣

Ruination: I ❦

All graphics here are self-created

Strains and Stresses

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x !fem reader

Warnings: Light hints at sex, mentions of drinking, the ton being cruel to the reader, Anthony fighting with the reader, old concepts about class and womanhood, a very icky insult thrown at the reader by Anthony, fluffy fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.8k

A.N: Hello my sweet loves <3 I am so sorry I have not updated in a while, I just finished finals so life has been hectic. Also- I got a job FINALLY T-T and, more importantly, the class that I was going to take during the summer fell through so I will have much more time to write! BTW THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLOWERS HOLY \^-^/. You are all so kind to me. Anyway, this is a fic based on a request that you can find here and here. I decided to mix the two, as it is a semi-angsty Ant fic that ends in fluff. I hope you enjoy my darling Anons. For those who have requested a fic, I promise they are coming! I am planning on knocking another one or two out next week, but I wanted to write a Ben fic before as he is a big comfort character for me and I need some of that energy lol. P.S. I listened to the slowed version of Futile Devices while I wrote this, because it is just what I imagine falling in love and loving would feel like. Enjoy <3

You adored working for Lady Danbury, who wouldn't? She is an incredible woman, and so very strong. You admired her, for being so independent. You thought that that would be the life you lead, alone and working out your days as a maid. Then, you met him.

Met would be the wrong word, it was more of... stumbling into him after a young debutante 'accidentally' ran into you. You knew who Anthony Bridgerton was, of course. His reputation preceded him. Many of your friends and fellow maids had spoken of how harsh, how blunt, how much of a rake, the Viscount was.

For you, however, he had never been brash nor cruel, nor had he ever lived up to his reputation. For you, he was kind, gentle, and even sweet. He had placed a steadying hand on your back and met your eyes and you knew it was over.

From then on at every ball Lady Danbury held, you would always follow him to the gardens, stealing kisses in her in-home library, and sharing stolen glances from across the ballroom. After the balls, he would take you to his townhouse and you would both spend hours speaking of your lives, your dreams, your troubles. He was nothing but a gentleman.

You tried your best to ignore the strange warmth that bloomed in your chest when you were with him. In a way, you always knew that you would end up with him. You believed that your lives were intertwined, like a string wrapped around your soul that only stopped tugging when you were near him. It was comforting.

He had expressed his love to you about seven months in, on a Sunday morning in bed. The yellow hue of the morning sunrise made it feel like you were in heaven, his hands running against your sides like you were made from the finest porcelain. He said it easily as if it was the most simple thing he had ever had to do. A simple "I love you." was murmured into your ear before his lips pressed against your forehead. Just as easily came the proposal, more of a promise, right there in the same bed.

It was simple, perhaps even plain, but not to you. To you, it showed he was comfortable enough to express his feelings, and his deepest wants, just to you. It was intimate, the light cascading down upon his skin as if he were a god, bringing out every contour and mark on his body.

After the announcement of your engagement, rumors spread like wildfire. Every house in Mayfair was a spark that made the fire grow, little trails of flame splitting off along the way until the fire was all-consuming. He had warned you that the rumors would be bad, that not many would express their support for the union of a maid and a Viscount. You just did not expect it to be so suffocating.

You found solace in his embrace, as you always did, spending countless nights wrapped in the silk sheets at his townhouse, listening to his whispers of affection and praise until they eased the tears that had spilled down your cheeks.

It went on like this for the three long months leading up to the wedding. You were married in the spring, surrounded by his loved ones as yours had passed long ago. It was small enough to feel the heavy weight of the ton lifted off of your shoulders, if only for a moment.

You honeymooned in Bath, spending time in the hillsides on worn blankets for hours, allowing your skin to be tanned by the sun. When you would go back to the villa you were staying at, you would spend the night wrapped in his bare embrace, relishing in the feeling of his skin upon yours. It was the most calming, loving, and divine three months of your life.

It has been almost eight months since the honeymoon ended. Six months of putting up with the cruel words spoken by members of the ton, of sticking to his side at balls just so you could try and shake the feeling of the many glares sent your way. Six months of learning not only what it is to be a Viscountess, but what it is like to be a noblewoman.

Anthony had spent a month teaching you the proper etiquette that came with being a noblewoman, a lot of it being common sense thanks to Lady Danbury's way of ruling around her home. However, there were some things you found to be too niche to remember. One thing was that a lady could not go out on a walk by herself.

As a maid, walks alone in the gardens of Lady Danbury's estate had become a part of your daily routine. You would often spend countless hours sitting beneath a willow tree flipping pages of a new book or you would walk around the grounds, seeking solace in the fresh air to clear your mind after a particularly hard day. You never snuck out alone, except to see Anthony, and even then you did nothing untoward, which is why it was so hard for you to remember this silly rule. It was one you forgot today, too.

"Thank you, Rose." You hum to your lady's maid as she finishes your hair. She smiles and curtsies in return. "Of course, my lady. You need only ask if you need anything else." She says before she walks out of the room. You sigh, the title the servants address you with will never not feel strange. You adjust your jewels before standing up and walking to the window.

You had been told as you woke that your husband would be in his study today, claiming he must work on the financial affairs, meaning you have the day to yourself. The view from the master bedroom was a gorgeous one, the windows overlooking the entirety of the lands that Aubery Hall encompassed. You smile to yourself, deciding to take a stroll, perhaps even find a spot to enjoy your new book of sonnets Anthony's brother gifted you.

You pluck the book in question off of your bedside table before walking down the grand staircase. The house, other than the footsteps of the servants, is quiet. No one around to stop you from enjoying some time outside, alone. You grab your parasol and open the door, stepping out into the summer air before making your way around the lands of the estate.

Anthony leans back in his desk chair, stretching out his limbs after finishing the last piece of paperwork he has on his desk. He takes a large swig of bourbon before standing up and moving to the window, pulling the curtains open.

He glances out over the sprawling hills of the estates, swirling the copper liquid in his glass as he takes in the view. As his eyes roam, he spots a small figure making their way up one of the hills. At first, he thinks it a servant, probably out to collect fresh flowers for his bedroom upon his wife's request, but when he glances again he sees your parasol. The one he brought back from one of his ventures to France.

He can feel himself getting angry. He had drilled this into your head one too many times, never be anywhere alone, not in public and not on private lands. The servants whisper, and their gossip spreads even faster than the gossip of the bloodthirsty Mamas of the ton. He downs the rest of his bourbon before slamming the glass on his desk. He rounds it and grabs his velvet jacket from its place on the back of his chair, slinging it around his shoulders before stomping out of the room.

You are just about to sit down when you hear the calling of your name from towards the estate. You look over your shoulder, leaning on your closed parasol, to find your husband hurriedly making his way over to where you stand.

At first, you think that something bad might've happened, perhaps he found something in the many documents that was awry, but you know that is not the case from the way he is walking. Stomping, rather. He is angry, furious even, so you try and wrack your mind to find what you have done to make him this angry.

Before you can he is upon you, one of his large hands encircling your wrists and dragging you away from the hill. "Anthony, do not grab me like some sort of brute!" You yelp, trying to tug away from his bruising grip, which he only tightens upon your plea. "I shall grab you however I wish." He snarls, making your eyes widen. "Be quiet until we are inside."

He tugs you along until you are both inside of his study, where he slams the door and locks it. You begin to speak but he quickly interrupts. "Have you any idea of what you could have just done by being out there, Y/N?!" He shouts, making you take several steps back in surprise. "I was only going for a walk." You whisper and he scoffs. "A walk alone, you foolish woman!" He continues, his voice only getting louder.

The insult sends anger through your veins. "You shall not insult your own wife for merely going outside!" You shout back and he narrows his eyes almost dangerously. "I have told you hundreds of times that you are not permitted outside without a proper companion, Y/N! Going against that is indeed foolish as I have hammered it into your head countless times!" He shouts. "I am not foolish! This is all new for me! I-" You start but he is quick to respond.

"New? That is rich! Utterly rich, because to me it has been eleven months! Eight of which you have been here, doing your duties as my Viscountess!" He shouts louder, on the verge of screaming. You press yourself against the wall opposite to him. "Did they not teach you anything in your time as a maid?! You still act like a common whore even though we have fought about this too many times to count! I am tired of it!" He shouts.

Common whore. The title cuts straight through you like a hot knife, the burns making your eyes well up with tears. The title has been used to spite you at every ball, in every gossip letter, and in every whisper you have heard in the last year. It does not hurt coming from them any longer, but from him? From your husband? It feels like he has damaged your very being.

You stand there stunned, watching his mouth move but hearing no words. "You think I am a common whore?" You whisper and he stops, looking at you. You are pressed against the wall, your arms hugging your frame, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. His body language visibly changes from that of an angered husband to a guilty one.

"Y/N I did not mean-" He begins but you shake your head. "You most certainly did mean it, it came out of your mouth!" You sob. "I was angry! I am angry!" He shouts, more in a desperate act now, wishing he could reverse time. "So?!" You shout, your gloved hands pressing into your bare arms. "I have never once insulted you like that! Never once used what has been said about you as a weapon for merely-" You laugh bitterly, shaking your head and looking away. "For merely going outside." You scoff.

He falters and visibly slumps in defeat. "It is foolish, but they will talk, Y/N. You know-" He begins quietly, but again you do not let him finish. "Yes, Anthony. They will talk, they will say the words you have just spoken to me." You say, wiping your eyes. "I forgot, and I know you have drilled every rule into my head but this is not the norm for me." You whisper

"When I was a maid, no, even when I was a little girl, I would go wherever I wished alone. I would pick up food at the market for my family, and take my brother to his job at the factory, and now I cannot even go outside alone? Upon my husband's private lands, no less?" You whisper. "So forgive me, Anthony, for forgetting rules that you and your siblings have grown up abiding by. I am trying to learn and remember them now, after living a very different life." You say, looking at your feet in an attempt to stop the tears. As if not looking at him will somehow ease the sting of his words.

He scoops you into his arms without thinking about it, pressing his forehead to yours. "Y/N, you know I did not mean it." He whispers and you frown, trying to tug away. "No, no. I might've meant it in the moment, and I know I cannot take it back." He amends, his hold on you tightening. Still, you refuse to meet his eyes. "Darling, please look at me. I swear I shall never say anything as cruel as what I did ever again." He whispers, his fingers curling around your chin so he can bring your gaze back to him.

When your eyes meet his he offers a sad smile, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. "It was cruel. No, no. Cruel is too kind of a word, it was vile, for me to utter such a word when speaking of my own wife." He whispers, his hand coming down to your cheek. "I swear to you that I mean it when I say I am sorry, you shall never know how sorry I am for saying something so disgusting to you."

He continues, his thumbs swiping away the tears that have now begun to flow again. "You are the most important thing to me. I have done a terrible job of showing you that today. I shall spend every day trying to ease the pain of my foolish words." He vows, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I know this is hard for you, the rules of society are so... foolishly strict for women and even I cannot imagine how much stress they are adding upon everything else" He murmurs, and you tug at his sleeve, willing him into an embrace.

You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and allow yourself to cry. "Shhh, Y/N. You are perfect, no matter your status." He whispers in your ear, running one of his hands up and down your back as the other rests on your hip. "I am not a good Viscountess, Anthony." You whisper and his grip on you tightens. "Hush. You are the perfect Viscountess, Y/N. The perfect Bridgerton." He promises.

"You have been learning so quick, one slip-up of an utterly foolish rule does not discount the many months where you have been perfect." He whispers, pressing his lips to the side of your head. "Neither do the words of your brutish husband." He teases quietly and your lips turn up a bit. "The gossiping Mamas will find another topic in time, my love. They are merely jealous that their daughters are still stuck without a husband while you are here." He murmurs and you nod.

He pulls back and cups your cheeks, watching your eyes flutter shut. "Better?" He whispers, running his thumbs along your cheekbones. You nod and he sighs in relief, bringing you closer to his chest. "I will never be able to express how sorry I am for saying that to you." He whispers. You smile, leaning into his touch and nodding.

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and wipes the remainder of your tears away before pulling back a bit. "We shall have a picnic." He whispers and you open your eyes, laughing. "We do not have to" You giggle and he grins, shaking his head. "Nonsense, we must. I have been cooped up inside all day and I wish to spend time with you, in the sunshine." He hums, pressing his lips to your nose.

An hour later you are both lying down on a lacy blanket, a picnic basket full of sweet treats. Two glasses of wine stand abandoned on the grass, being forgotten in a mess of kisses. Your head is resting on his chest, your hands clasped together over one of his legs. "I love you." He whispers, pressing a kiss to your brow. Your eyes are shut but you smile. "And I love you." You whisper back, falling asleep while bathed in sunlight.

How divine it feels to be loved by Anthony Bridgerton.

selfish

anthony bridgerton x reader

synopsis: it’s your first morning at home in bridgerton house as the viscountess- only thing is, your husband’s selfish

you trembled under his grip, his mouth was still working hard, your orgasm coming over you in waves as you tried to escape his grip. you shivered with pleasure, thighs squeezing his head between them. “oh my-“ you cried, struggling to keep quiet.

the honeymoon was over, no longer could you scream your viscount’s name all over the room, until your throat grew raw of it. you had a bustling family under the same roof, even so, his mother.

you shuddered slowly and anthony let go of your legs. he smiled proudly as he leaned to kiss you. you melted into his kiss, grasping at his hair.

anthony bit your lip as he tossed himself next to you. you were sitting up, and still reeling from the pleasure, “i have been trying to get up and ready for the day for what feels like forever now, and you do not let me.” you looked at your husband, his smile not going away, only as he shrugged, “i want you all to myself. my siblings will just talk your ear off and i will be drowning in paperwork.” which you knew was true. anthony was the most reluctant to get back to his viscount duties.

you on the other hand, still marveled at the idea of having to run the household, but felt immense pressure to live up to the dowager bridgerton. violet was everything you admired in a mother, present and kind, wanting her children’s happiness before all else.

anthony had told you that there was no legacy to live up to, but he did not see things the way you did.

he pulled you in close, “my mother is still here. let her run the household, even if it is for a little bit longer.” he kissed your cheek, still trying to keep you in bed. you sighed, “all you want to do is stay in bed, lord bridgerton. you need to get out of this bed, and be productive with me.” the paperwork stack was to the ceiling at this point, and he could not avoid it much longer.

anthony looked at you, “we can do many things within this room that are productive.” you shrugged at him, “the thought is lost on me, what do you suggest?”

anthony grabbed your hand gently, holding it in his, “such as making an heir, as married people do.” the thought had not even occurred to you, especially so early in the morning. you looked at your husband, smiling at that thought. you blushed as anthony chuckled, “do not tell me that did not cross your mind?” he cocked his head and you shyed away, “i have been stressed all night about the viscountess duties, forgive me if it slipped my mind.” you rolled over, legs now entangled in his and you on his chest.

you kissed him, and anthony smirked, “it is a viscountess duty.”

giving up, you decided to extend the honeymoon with anthony, not yet ready to take up the full responsibility, anthony could be selfish.