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Awynter - Tumblr Blog
Despite the annoyance towards Sarah and Gregory, Anne couldn't help but soften when her attention returned to Ben. It was hard not to stare when he was in such a state of undress, but Anne was determined to keep her eyes from lingering for too long. This was not the time nor place for such impractical desires.
"You don't normally swim, or you don't normally swim in such a bold fashion?" She bit at her lip to hide the teasing smirk that threatened to take hold of her features. If the roles were reversed, she would be mortified. However, Anne had a feeling that a man would be slightly less ashamed of being caught in such a manner than she would be. From her experiences, men were often shameless, while women were taught to be ashamed of everything. Even if that were the case, it didn't make it any less humiliating for him.
The toes of her boots nearly touch the water before he urges her to stop. She blinks, trying to figure out what exactly she had expected to do when she reached the water. What was her plan? To throw him his clothes? To wade into the depths with him? The thought was certainly tempting, but not here. Not now. Not like this.
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at her own foolishness and she takes a step back. Anne had missed him. She supposed she merely wanted to touch him, to make sure he wasn't a figment of her imagination. She'd been yearning to see him for the past fortnight, desperate to speak to him one more time. But for this to be how she encountered him... It was safe to say she was a bit caught off guard.
"So, I suppose this means I'm not invited to join you?" The taunt slips out before she can think better of it and she immediately averts her gaze. Setting his clothes down on the ground, Anne backed up, still facing the water but her eyes glued to the earth. This was not the appropriate time to be making such jokes and yet she couldn't seem to hold it in when it was him on the receiving end.
"I'll... I'll stand at the hill to make sure no one starts this way. I'll shout if I see anyone approaching. And... Y-You just let me know when it's safe to turn around." Wringing her hands, Anne finally turned away, settling her eyes on the looming Bridgerton house in the distance. She could only pray that her words had gotten through to Sarah, that she would make sure to wait ample time before allowing the girls to come running down to the waterfront. Lady Sarah's prank had served its purpose, Anne assumed. She had certainly managed to embarrass Ben and, although Anne supposed he did deserve it to some degree, it didn't quell the irritation in her gut. It didn't stop the pang of guilt at the entire ordeal. It was her fault that he was stuck in such a situation, even if indirectly.
"I'll be sure not to relay the events of this afternoon to Harriet, lest it become a major plot point in the next play." She cast her gaze upwards, squinting as she shielded her eyes from the sun. Although her back was turned to him, Anne couldn't help but smirk as she teased. Adding such a story hook to the Fairy Princess and the Frog Prince would certainly be something the young Pleinsworth girls would do if they caught wind of his utter misfortune. Selfishly, Anne didn't mind keeping this secret to herself. Especially when it meant keeping her inappropriate thoughts hidden as well.
"It seems we both have taken her play to much to heart." It was an understatement, she thought, but Anne didn't have the courage to explain further. How had Frances seen what was between them before they did? How had a child managed to sort out her feelings before Anne herself had? Tossing another comment over her shoulder, the smirk returned to her expression. "If this is a common happenstance for you, I should discourage you from reading The Shepherd, the Unicorn, and Henry VIII. As marvelous a story as it is, I am rather fond of my head."
What happened next was but a blur. Although Benjamin wished to make a joke, it was rather difficult to be merry when he was wading there in a pond, completely vulnerable and at the mercy of the very woman who'd long since haunted his every waking thought.
Embarrassment nipped at his cheeks, and when Anne glanced toward him in between her scolding, the vivid red spilled toward his neck and chest, making him nearly glow with humility. Good God, this was mortifying...
With Gregory and Sarah gleefully making their way back to the manor, Anne approached him with his clothes. If she was amused, she thankfully didn't express as such. "It seems like it's my turn to rescue you," she said.
"I...suppose this seems a little hard to believe," Benjamin called over to her, his expression sheepish. "I don't normally swim -- and least especially on someone else's property -- but...I haven't actually done anything like this in years, and it would seem that little bugger knew exactly how to prey on my weaknesses."
Once Anne reached the edge of the water, Benjamin immediately lifted his hands, entreating with her to stop. "Please don't," he begged her. "I don't want you getting wet...though naturally, I also don't think it proper for me to just wade forward and take my clothes."
Clearing his throat, he glanced around them, assessing the scene, before offering, "You can set everything there on the bank, and then maybe hide behind that tree? And if God is on my side, I won't end up flashing all the Pleinsworth girls when they make their triumphant arrival."
Finally, he grinned, a self-conscious laugh bubbling in his throat. "If nothing else, you'll at least have blackmail on me for the rest of my days." Meeting her gaze, Benjamin finally seemed to remember his physical state and ducked back down into the water, ensuring that he was covered up to his chin. "Um...I'd ask that you forget this ever happened, but I'm afraid that seems relatively impossible." Smiling shyly, he added, "And I never thought I'd become the Frog Prince quite in this way...perhaps I took Frances' play too much to heart."
4-Word Sentence Prompts
Part I An assortment of prompts and/or starters using only four words. Adjust as necessary to fit pronoun and/or descriptor. Reblog, please do not repost or add.
“ I don't need you. ”
“ Celebrate while you can. ”
“ It was too much. ”
“ I'm so, so sorry. ”
“ Let me love you. ”
“ Where have you been? ”
“ Why am I here? ”
“ I would love to. ”
“ I tried but failed. ”
“ You'll never forgive me. ”
“ I want to confess. ”
“ I will protect you. ”
“ You don't deserve me. ”
“ I don't deserve you. ”
“ You are safe here. ”
“ You choose your fate. ”
“ I have lost control. ”
“ I don't recognize myself. ”
“ You are to blame. ”
“ You lack the skills. ”
“ Be still, don't move. ”
“ Yet again you lie. ”
“ You are so beautiful. ”
“ Take it off. Now. ”
“ Look at you now. ”
“ Shoot before it escapes! ”
“ You can't do this! ”
“ Please don't leave me. ”
“ Please leave me along. ”
“ Worship me or die. ”
“ Bow before me, peasant. ”
“ Did you make this? ”
“ I can't believe this! ”
“ You are my villain. ”
“ You are my hero. ”
“ I don't take sides. ”
“ Run, don't look back. ”
“ My life is perfect. ”
“ Don't lie to me. ”
“ When is it over? ”
“ What is this madness? ”
“ Cut loose, have fun! ”
“ I hate you all. ”
“ I love you, dear. ”
“ You drive me crazy. ”
"It's beautiful. I can understand why you hold it so dearly." She replies with a smile. "I encourage to you take better care of it in the future." Anne is glad that she was the one to stumble across the trinket and not someone with far less morals, and emptier pockets. Such a thing might've earned a pretty penny for a greedier heart, but Anne had no use for excess money. Not when she might be forced to abandon it all at any moment. Not when all she truly desired was safety.
"Dance?" Anne blinked, her mouth going dry at the offer. Lord Bridgerton was asking to dance with her? It seemed ridiculous, and, were the circumstances any different, she might've laughed. She could only imagine the murmurs of the ton if people saw him take to the floor with a measly governess.
"Lord Bridgerton, I am greatly flattered by your offer, but I do not think it would be wise." Her hand itched to reach out and take his, but she knew it would be hard to turn back once she'd accepted. The last thing she needed was to be written about in Lady Whistledown's newest column, or to be scrutinized by every greedy mama in the city. It was better, safer, to remain inconspicuous. Even if that meant rejecting one of the most eligible bachelors in the ton. "Besides, I do not even posses a dance card. It would hardly be fair for me to steal a dance from other, much more deserving young ladies."
The kiss he pressed to her knuckles was standard procedure. He'd done so a thousand times to a thousand different women over the years, and yet there was more sincerity, more earnest behind the press of his lips than before. She'd returned to him that which he'd thought lost. She was now held in much higher regard to him than just any other woman. “I apologies profusely for my lack of manners. You’ve done me a great service, madam, I assure you. This watch has more sentimental value to me than you could possibly know.” he insisted, giving the watch a final meaningful squeeze before placing it securely in his pocket.
Wynter. He mulled the name over in his head, but was unable to conjure any knowledge of the surname, indicating that she was either new to the ton, or not born into high society. Either way, he was a man of honor and wished to repay her in an adequate manner.
“Surely you give yourself too little credit, Miss Wynter. And while I’m a fan of literary discussion, I’m currently more invested in finding a way to return the favor. First and foremost, would you honor me with a dance?”
It wasn't nearly enough to express his gratitude, but it was a start. After all, they were here at a ball. What else was there to do but mindlessly stare into their lemonade glass and avoid the relentless and abrasive mamas looking to secure a future for their single daughters?
With another courteous bow, he offered his hand once more.
"If you please?"
"I'm not afraid." She lied, her voice trembling and betraying her. The truth of it was she was more than afraid. She was petrified of what a mutual longing like theirs would mean. To love someone was to offer one's own heart for the taking, something Anne had already done once before. She'd barely managed to salvage the broken pieces of her heart from the first time and she wasn't sure if she was strong enough to do it again, if her heart was strong enough to survive it.
"I... I'm not trying to speak for you. I'm trying to make you realize that I'm not good for you. That loving me can only end badly." His words made another wave of tears rise to her eyes and when he demanded to know what exactly she was saving him from, Anne couldn't hold them in. She had opened Pandora's box, she had dared to open her heart to someone and now Anne was forced to face the consequences of such a mistake.
"From me, Ben, from my past. Being with me is not safe, a-and I could never forgive myself if anything ever happened to you just because you were foolish enough to like me." By the time the words tumbled from her lips, it was too late to take them back. Anne stared into the distance, eyes wet and nose reddened. Despite how panicked she is for admitting such a thing, for getting so close to revealing the truth, all she can imagine is the what-ifs.
She tries to blink away the imagine her mind conjures, but her tears blur her vision and George's face, his laugh, his words echo in her head. He wouldn't hesitate to hurt Ben if it meant getting to Anne. George would risk his own life and everyone else's if it meant getting revenge and finding Annelise. His cruelty knew no bounds and she didn't want to think of all the horrible ways he would hurt the ones she cared about, just to make her squirm. Ben would be the perfect bargaining token for George. And she couldn't let that happen.
When her vision clears and her mind returns to the present, he's gone and Anne is left in the middle of the corridor alone. Her chest rattled with each shuddered breath as she wrapped her arms around herself. She would tell Lady Pleinsworth that she'd fallen ill. Again. Something that always seemed to happen when Benjamin was around. There was no knowing what sort of thing he would say to Sarah, but Anne had a feeling she'd learn about it soon enough. As exhaustion settled into her bones, she trudged down the hall and locked herself away in her bedroom.
---
The halls of the Pleinsworth manor felt empty, even with Frances and Harriet enacting their usual antics up and down the corridors. Despite the laughing, arguing, and yelling, Anne felt hollow. Even the girls had taken notice in her solemn expression, despite her best efforts to wear a cheery face. They knew her too well by now to believe such a halfhearted façade, but they also knew not to push the subject, something Anne was rather grateful for.
Or at least they hadn't verbally pressed the matter. It wasn't until she noticed the familiar figure in the distance that Anne began to catch onto the girls' scheme. They had seemed eager to visit the Bridgerton house, especially Elizabeth who seemed newly intent on charming Gregory Bridgerton by the end of the season. Even Sarah had tagged along, which Anne hadn't thought terribly odd at first. It wasn't a good idea for Anne to be here, she knew that, but there was no way to tell the girls no without explaining the ailments of her heart. So, she reluctantly agreed and had accompanied them. But now she was regretting it even more.
Frances, Harriet, and Elizabeth remained inside to get changed and Anne took a moment to enjoy the quiet before the inevitable chaos ensued. But as she neared the edge of the pond, the scene that unfolded in front of her was not what she'd expected.
She let out a gasp, turning away before she could allow herself to stare imprudently. She knew she ran the risk of running into Ben here, but she hadn't expected running into him like this. Nor running into this much of him. Her cheeks blazed and she rose her hand to shield her eyes. From a short distance, she could hear snickering, a familiar soprano laugh that Anne didn't need to look to know was Sarah.
Anne tried to still her beating heart, to quell the impure thoughts that raced to take residence in her mind. Ben's charge and Sarah stood by cackling at Ben's misfortune, at his embarrassment, and it fueled a fire in her chest. Gregory was still young, and boys would be boys after all. But Sarah Pleinsworth wasn't this petty. Was she? She had been maniacal and callous towards her sisters at times, but never cruel. And that's what this charade seemed to be, utterly cruel.
"Mister Bridgerton. Lady Sarah." Her voice was stern as she began a steady stride over to the pair of miscreants, ignoring the temptation to steal a look at Ben and all his impropriety. "Your prank is over, so if you two have had enough gawking, I would kindly ask you to return inside. Without your poor tutor's stolen clothing, Mister Bridgerton." Her lips pulled thin and she fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest. "And Lady Sarah, your sisters are bound to arrive any minute now. Would you truly like them to stumble upon the sight you've curated?"
Sarah hesitates and Anne wonders if she knows the truth, and if she'll say anything about it. It would only take one sentence, one word to the right person for Anne to be fired. And if Sarah found out the real reason that Ben had ceased his courtship, she had no doubts that her position in the household would be terminated. Thankfully, Gregory seemed chuffed enough for the moment and offered Sarah his arm after tossing the garments to the ground.
"Oh Gods, I didn't think of that..." Sarah mutters, glancing over her shoulder to make sure her younger sisters didn't come barreling over the hill unexpectedly. When she took in the sight of Anne's firm expression, her smile faded and she let out a sigh. As they turned to leave, Gregory shot a wave backwards and Anne gritted her teeth.
What a rude child, she thinks to herself. And Ben dared say she was the one who was bad at discipline? Despite their ages, Anne couldn't help but see them as children in this moment. Bullies, much like the ones she'd dealt with in her youth and it took every ounce of patience not to scold them out in the open.
She stands her ground until they exit, her dark blue eyes watching their figures shrink into the distance before turning slowly back towards Ben's scattered clothing on the ground. Each garment she picked up was paired with an annoyed glance in the direction the pair had left as Anne silently formulated a way to punish both of them for their cruelty. It didn't matter if neither of them were her students, she refused to let bullying happen beneath her nose. And to someone so undeserving, too. Perhaps Lady Pleinsworth and Lady Bridgerton would hear of their escapades.
Turning back towards the water, Anne clutched his clothes to her chest. She could smell his scent in the wind and her cheeks burned hotter as she stepped closer to his form wading in the water. "It seems like it's my turn to rescue you."
"I don't know!" Benjamin exclaimed, exasperated. "Anne, if I knew what this was -- if I understood what I felt -- we would not be knee-deep in our own sin." Dragging a hand through his loose hair, he huffed, shaking his head. "You cannot presume to know my desires any more than I can. Or..." Here, he eyed her closely. "Perhaps you are afraid of what I might feel."
Anne was immovable. “You deserve someone like Sarah. Someone who can care for you, w-who can take care of you, keep you safe. Not someone like me. I-I have only ever caused you hardship. And pain."
"Why are you speaking for me?" Benjamin challenged. "I may be painfully transparent at times, but I don't think you have access to the innermost workings of my heart, Anne. You cannot tell me I deserve Sarah when it is not Sarah I want!" He huffed, frustrated. "And what in God's name do you mean, 'keep me safe?' Safe from what?"
“Ben, I beg you...” Anne's words were soft, plaintive, and despite the anguish in her eyes, he only felt all the more frustrated. “Please stop saying things that only make me want you more. I cannot bear it.”
"What is there to contemplate if we both have the same affliction?" Benjamin demanded. "If we both have this ache, this yearning, why must we cast it aside?"
Anne's expression grew pinched and anxious, almost as if she'd just swallowed a bitter tonic. “We should... We should speak about this another time. Under better conditions. When we both have a clearer head.”
"I've never been clearer-headed in my life," Benjamin countered, jaw tight, "but you're right...there is a time and place for such confessions, and here and now is not the proper instance."
Anne never once lifted her gaze from the ground. Tears welled up in her eyes, bright and mournful as she twisted her hands. "You ought to speak to Miss Pleinsworth," she entreated. "Tell her whatever it is you must to not break her heart, and... should you still feel the same way about me in a week's time, then maybe..."
Benjamin's breath caught and he nodded, rolling his lips inward. "I'm not a man who readily changes his mind," he softly reassured, "but I'll do as you wish."
"I will call for a maid to chaperone the rest of your visit with Lady Sarah. Good day, Mister Tallmadge."
"Good day, Miss Wynter," he murmured, taking her cue and falling back into their old formality. He thought of cupping her face between his shaking hands -- of claiming her mouth in an effort at proving his affections, of stealing her breath -- but instead, he merely offered a clipped bow and turned to excuse himself.
--
The following fortnight was...odd. Although Benjamin didn't see Anne nor the Pleinsworth girls since that fateful day, he certainly noticed the looks he received while traveling amidst the ton. They weren't particularly kind looks either, so a part of him feared that they knew -- that they suspected his feelings for Anne, and how he'd heedlessly broken Sarah's heart.
The girl was understandably beside herself when he'd relayed his intentions. She just couldn't understand what had gone wrong -- Have we not been having fun? -- and after she nearly burst into tears, Benjamin excused himself and from that moment forward, he hadn't set foot in the Pleinsworth manor again.
On that particular afternoon, Gregory pleaded and wheedled with him during their lessons to go down to the pond on the Bridgerton property. At first, Benjamin was opposed. It was a beautiful day, yes, but he knew Violet -- or worse yet, Anthony -- wouldn't approve of Gregory lazing about instead of finishing up his lessons. Yet after proving he'd done an exceptional job in memorizing his latest poetry assignment, the weary tutor caved and he followed his pupil down to the pond.
Upon their arrival, Benjamin was bemused to find that Gregory wished for him to go for a swim, as well.
With a nervous little laugh, he shook his head. "Oh no, I think not," he denied. "I didn't bring swimming attire of any kind."
"So?" Gregory fired back, folding his arms. "Just go in as is! We have towels and blankets and a fire that can warm you afterwards, I promise!"
Benjamin sighed. The boy was quite good at getting what he wanted -- damn his inability to tell children no! -- and with a sheepish smile, he nodded. "Fine," he agreed, "but I will not impose upon your brothers' hospitality. I'll remove any garments so that I won't have to borrow anything."
Gregory gave a faux salute. "As you wish, sir," he said, his voice sounding a bit sing-song. "Go ahead and go in. I think I dropped something out of my picnic basket, so let me go check real fast. I'll be right back!"
Before Benjamin could argue, the boy turned and sprinted up over the hill. Sighing, Benjamin shrugged and set to work on disrobing. The early afternoon air was pleasantly warm and tranquil, and despite the slight chill from the water, it didn't take terribly long to acclimate as he waded in. In truth, he hadn't swam or had any bloody fun since before the war.
A melancholy smile touched his mouth at the thought, and just as his mind started to be transported back to simpler times, he heard gleeful, girlish laughter, and whirled about in order to behold...
"Miss Wynter," Benjamin spluttered. With his waist-up fully exposed, he panicked and quickly submerged himself until the water was covering all but his head. On shore, he noticed Gregory and Sarah -- damn them! -- grabbing his clothes and making a mad dash for the hills.
"Stop!" Benjamin called, his teeth gritting. "Gregory, I demand that you bring those back!"
God help him, had it been so long since his days of mischief that he hadn't even recognized a prank in clear development?
"Because..." You're supposed to be, she wants to say, but can't bring herself to utter them. Her fingers continue combing through his hair, finally gathering enough courage to meet his gaze and when she does, her cheek flush.
His reaction isn't what she anticipates and it feels like a weight is lifted from her shoulders. She'd always thought if she confessed such a thing to a man, they'd think she was a wanton. Just like George had thought she was. It had been easier to hide when she'd separated herself from everyone, when she kept everyone she met at a distance.
When he pulls her forward, she can't hide the smile on her face. The feeling of his hands on her thighs is maddening, a sensation she'd been imagining for weeks. She sways her hips, just enough to tease, just enough to keep him wanting her. Men were always eager at first, but they lost interest once they got what they were chasing. Anne didn't want him to lose interest, even after their romp of the night was through.
She doesn't need more encouragement, with eager hands, she moves to lift his shirt, only pulling away to pull it from his head. She takes a moment to look at him, to drink him in. Her husband. Her John. A flicker of desire rumbles through her as she traces her hands down his chest, fingers lightly skimming over the jagged scar. When the time was right, she'd ask him about it. She'd hold his hand and kiss every place he'd ever been wounded. But for now, it didn't matter. Scars, quirks, flaws... None of it mattered when it was him.
"Hopefully I can live up to your expectations." Anne quipped back, her lips quirked into a smile. As if returning the favor, she takes his hands and slides them further up her thighs, beneath her chemise and onto her stomach, goosebumps rising on her skin as his touch fueled her with a foreign sense of belonging. She watches his eyes as she slowly guides his hands up, up, up until they stop on her breasts. She holds his hands there for a moment, not moving, not speaking, just letting her body acclimate to his touch.
"I'm afraid so. Terribly in love." She teases with a coy expression. Despite her straddling him, his hands on her chest, the taste of him on her lips... She still felt unfamiliar confessing her love to someone. Even if it was her husband. But a part of her thinks she's loved him since that first day. When she'd walked into the drawing room and saw him sitting by himself, a part of her knew he would haunt her for the rest of her life. His sad eyes would appear in her dreams, his gentle voice lingering her mind long after they parted ways. "Me too. I don't think there's a world in which I wouldn't have loved you."
After he kissed her, he kept his face pressed to her middle, relishing in her softness, in her warmth, content with the respite that came with just holding her. He never believed himself capable of marriage, all those years spent believing he would die in a field thousands of miles from home before a c.easefire was ordered. They'd lost the w.ar, yes, but for some reason he hadn't lost his life.
"I... Yes."
With her admittance came relief for he didn't want to play the role of teacher; that was just another thing added to his list of past transgressions.
"But not like this. Not with someone I love."
John felt her words in his gut and he swallowed, tilting his face to gaze up at her, shuddering when she brushed her fingers through his hair. He noticed the furrow to her brow, "Please don't be upset."
"Why would I be upset? I asked so I could know if this would startle you," and as he spoke he slid his hands from her waist to the backs of her thighs, summoning her forward so she was settled overtop of him, straddling his lap. He kissed her again, his hands slipping under the risen material of her shift and resting on her bare thighs. When she shifted in his lap, her hips rocking into his, he nearly groaned into their kiss as he fought the urge to pull her flush against him.
Reaching for her, he guided one of her hands to the hem of his shirt, wanting her to be the one to undress him, wanting her to be a participant, not some witness.
"I wasn't either," he said, breaking their kiss long enough to breathe, "in love, I mean. I wasn't in love my first time either."
He moved to kiss her again then stopped, his lips ghosting over hers, a teasing smile on his mouth, "Is that what we are, Anne? Are we in love?" he sobered then, speaking quietly, "I think I was already a little in love with you when I agree to all this."
“I’ll have to let Frances that. She’s always trying to indoctrinate another believer.” Anne smirked. One day Frances would lose her whimsy and she'd become just another cog in the machine of high society. A day would come when ghosts and unicorns were a thing of the past, but until that day, Anne was determined to appreciate every second of it.
“In truth, I’m not entirely why Lady Pleinsworth was so adamant on me joining the festivities. Normally, it’s to watch the girls, but they didn’t attend tonight. I can’t imagine why she’d want her governess to be here.” Unless she was planning something, but Anne didn’t want to speculate anything. The last time Charlotte Pleinsworth had invited her to a high profile event, Anne was forced to perform on stage with the Smythe-Smith girls. While it hadn't been as horrible as it certainly could have been, Anne wasn't eager to repeat such a thing.
“Beautifully said.” She smiled, looking at the other with a subtle sense of pride. In a world filled with superficial people, it was nice to find a rare person amidst the crowds. “I have a feeling we are going to get along quite well, Lady Thinya.”
At the offer of lemonade, Anne offered a small bow, a subtle gesture of gratitude. If she were expected to spend the night at the ball, she didn't mind spending it with someone like Thinya. Especially if it meant avoiding the lingering gazes of the members of the ton. And especially when it meant being able to evade dance requests with ease.
“Are you close with the Bridgertons?” She asked, noticing her gaze. Perhaps she was guessing wrong, but Anne knew what it was like to admire from afar. She'd given George much the same look, though she was sure Thinya's was far more sincere. Looking to her companion with a smile, they walked side by side.
“I, personally, haven’t had the pleasure of meeting any of them yet, but I’ve seen them around. Mister Colin, I believe, attended the Smythe-Smith musicale last year when I was made to perform. He always seems rather taken with the ladies.” The sprinkle of gossip felt refreshing and a genuine smile of delight crossed her features. "Though, I suppose most men of the ton tend to be, don't they?"
Thinya smiled as she heard the story of one of her students convinced that houses are haunted. She liked that theory, even believed it if someone asked her about it. "I don't find this a crazy thought. I believe that most houses have witnessed enough souls, families throughout centuries. I am quite sure that not all souls left their homes. I believe that some were extremely attached to their homes and decided to stay, haunt it. Some of them are genuinely harmless, some can potentially be evil." She paused, realising that she was now talking about her own beliefs, her own convictions in a public event. "Pardon me, I tend to be fascinated by the matter." She smiled shyly.
As she heard Anne's words, the woman offered her a warm smile. She was an employee of the household and she vowed respect to her. Thinya was aware that she grew up in a privileged environment: never missing money, always being served, always having her clean sheets, washed clothes, perfect hair. This didn't mean that she felt superior to anyone. She respected all the maids in her house, even befriended them.
"I find it lovely that your employer encouraged you to participate." Thinya stated before adding: "I shall thank her for that, because you definitely enlightened my evening and it's truly lovely to talk with you." She paused before then sighing. "I know what you mean. I am a lady of the ton, but I do not have the strength, nor the energy to fight and throw myself at bachelors." She paused, looking at the Bridgerton family. "At least this wouldn't be me." She chuckled.
Anne's words made Thinya chuckle. "Oh well, I believe that flowers perk with any presence surrounding them. Ghosts may not be able to smell the scent of it, they though can admire the vibrant colour of it. I believe that even though this is an odd pairing, both somehow need each other." She looked at Anne and smiled kindly. She nodded as Anne declined the glass of champagne. "It's okay, I can pick us up a fresh lemonade if you prefer." Her green hues looked one last time at the Bridgerton boys before then adding: "Let's go. I can't see those ladies desperately throwing themselves at my friends."
Autumn / Spooky memes!
Requested by anon!
"Oh, I love it when the leaves start falling."
"I think it's going to storm."
"I love a thunderstorm."
"Look at all the colours! It's beautiful!"
"Aw, man, I always get sad when it goes cold."
"Do you want to go pick out a pumpkin?"
"Look at this tiny pumpkin!"
"We need to get a good carving pumpkin, I left it too late last year and got a really weird one."
"I'm making pumpkin soup."
"Ugh, I hate all this pumpkin spice stuff."
"Ooh, I love this pumpkin spice stuff!"
"I really want to curl up by the fire with a good book."
"Time to get my cardigans out again."
"This sort of weather deserves a golden retriever."
"Do you want some hot cocoa?"
"Nothing like the first hot chocolate of the year."
"Mmm, this is really nice. You should try some."
"I'm making apple cider!"
"How have you never had hot apple cider?!"
"This is my favourite time of year."
"Let's get the hallowe'en decorations out!"
"I'm going to buy a twelve foot skeleton this year, I don't care what anyone says."
"Did you get candy for the trick or treaters yet?"
"I bet we can see a ghost if we go out tonight."
"Wait, wait, I'm gonna put on a bedsheet and scare these kids."
"I hate hallowe'en."
"I love hallowe'en."
"I'm going to eat so much candy tonight."
"Are you taking the kids trick or treating?"
"It's the first time taking the kids trick or treating! They've been so excited."
Send my muse anons pretending to be someone they care about. The twist: make these anons as heartbreaking, disappointing, or anger-inducing as possible.
Pretend to give them bad news, pretend to break up with them, pretend to make an upsetting confession - as long as it hurts, it’s fair game.
“You like Sarah. And you like me.” She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all. “But you speak as if they’re different. Are they not the same thing?" Looking up at him with furrowed brows, she continued. "You like Sarah, but not enough to love her, nor to marry her. But you like me enough to... what? Kiss me? Marry me? No... you're merely blinded by your own desires. As am I.”
Anne knew she was not worthy of love, especially his. She could devote her entire life to loving Ben and it would never be enough. It would never be the level of love he deserved, and yet she couldn't bear to think of anyone else loving him the way she did. “You deserve someone like Sarah. Someone who can care for you, w-who can take care of you, keep you safe. Not someone like me. I-I have only ever caused you hardship. And pain."
I never wanted Sarah. Anne stared at him incredulously. She'd suspected--hoped-- that what he was saying were true. A part of her had hoped that his interest in Sarah had merely been a ploy to make her jealous. A ploy that had certainly worked. But to hear it from him, made her head spin.
"We're both fools." For thinking they could ever stay away from one another. For thinking they could ignore the spark between them. For thinking a union between their hearts could ever end happily.
I just needed an excuse to talk to you. To touch you. She nearly lets out a whine of impatience. The more he spoke, the harder it was to imagine herself ridding herself of him. She'd gone nearly thirty years without his presence, and now it was hard for her to think of another month without his smile to warm her thoughts. She was sick, his sheer existence a plague upon her heart. To allow herself to love him would be welcoming heartache and yet pain had never been so tempting.
“Ben, I beg you,” Both hands rose to her head, brushing loose strands of hair out of her face as she silently pleaded with the universe to show her mercy. “Please stop saying things that only make me want you more. I cannot bear it.”
His apology hits her like a stray bullet, searing and stinging from any underlying implications. They were both pining for something that would never reasonably work. Especially not now that he'd made it seem as though he were interested in Sarah. If he stopped courting her, the Pleinsworth girl would surely recover. She had plenty of possible suitors to pursue, but it would also mean that Anne would have no chance. If Ben ceased his courtship with Sarah and then proceeded to spend his time with Anne, it might be enough to get her fired. It might be enough to get her exiled again.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one who ruined things.” And it was true. If either of them had to be sorry, it was Anne. If she hadn’t said the things she did, when she did and the way she had, he wouldn’t have gone after Sarah. Would he? If she hadn’t been so careless with her words, she might’ve been able to care for him with less guilt. If she hadn't been so terrified of feeling something for someone else, things might not have turned out this way.
The way her name sounds on his lips is addicting and she can’t help but wonder what it would sound like as lovesick moans. Even despite the aching in her chest, she still wanted him. She wanted him in every way a woman could want a man and it pained her to know that she might never be allowed to have him in such a way. They would never be free to love one another, not in the way they both deserved.
“Fate may have it that way, but that doesn’t mean it’s what I want.” She doesn’t realize she says it out loud until she hears the words reverberating through the corridor. If it wasn't putting both of them at risk, she might've taken the plunge. If loving him didn't mean putting him in danger, Anne might've risked her job, her livelihood for the chance at happiness. But the idea that being with her could possibly place him in any crossfire of George's vengeance was too much to endure.
“How do you still manage to be so utterly charming even now?” Frustrated, she let out another sigh. A part of her wishes she’d met him as Annelise, as a far bolder and less broken person. She might've been worthy of him then, when her heart was full and willing to be offered up to the first man to show her kindness. Now, however, her heart was withered and worn, bruised and frayed from a life of inconsistencies. He deserved a better heart, a heart with every ounce to give. He deserved things that she couldn't give to him, no matter how much she wanted to.
“We should... We should speak about this another time. Under better conditions. When we both have a clearer head.” She sniffled, willing the tears to cease. Anne kept her gaze pinned to the floor, worried that meeting his gaze would only weaken her resolve, that she would only be tempted to pull him back to her and never let go. "You ought to speak to Miss Pleinsworth. Tell her whatever it is you must to not break her heart, and... should you still feel the same way about me in a week's time, then maybe..." She didn't know what she was saying, nor what she was implying. Shaking her head, she tried to rid herself of the idea. It was preposterous and illogical. And entirely enticing. "I will call for a maid to chaperone the rest of your visit with Lady Sarah. Good day, Mister Tallmadge."
Shaking his head, Benjamin grew all the more earnest. A sense of desperation clawed within his chest, scratching and squeezing as his eyes grew wet. "I like Sarah, yes," he carefully treaded, "but as far as I'm concerned, liking someone is not the proper foundation for love and marriage. Your former charge deserves a lover who can give her those things...and I fear I am not that man."
Anne's laughter was wet and humorless, and Benjamin was sorry to be the cause of such anguish. But then she stepped toward him, her eyes reflecting the sorrow in his own face as she whispered a terrifying truth -- that the Fairy Princess loved the Frog Prince; that she was in love with him.
"Anne..." Mouth opening and closing, for the longest time, all Benjamin could do was gape at her. Emotion tickled at the back of his throat, stark and white-hot, and swallowing around the painful lump, he reached for her hand, but she'd already retreated toward her respective side of the hall.
"We can't." She echoed his earlier sentiment, though coming from her lips, it held the impact of a battering ram against his heart. "It's not right. Especially not if Sarah..."
"No," Benjamin agreed, a tragic smile filling his mouth. "No, you're right: it's wrong. The two of us...i-it's just wrong. For everyone involved."
The teacher in Anne resurfaced, and if he hadn't been so devastated, he might have smiled at her sudden sternness. Her query made Benjamin shake his head, and with a low exhale, he promised, "No, I've never wanted Sarah. Being near her inevitably brought me closer to you, and I...I feel like such a fool." His smile grew tighter still. "For being an alleged intellect, I certainly seem to be lacking in that department."
To his surprise, Anne barreled onward with a fusillade of words, each stinging with more emotion than the last. She'd been hurt before? And by someone with another woman?
Mouth falling agape, Benjamin struggled to bring words to his mouth, but the moment he saw the tears spilling down Anne's cheeks, that guilt soon turned to panic. God above -- could he never do anything right? Was he destined to wreak havoc and heartbreak wherever he went?
Anne exhaled and gestured to her side. "The washroom is down the hall, the last door on the left."
Despite the high tension between them, Benjamin managed a soft chuckle. "I never had to use it," he confessed, his eyes shining sheepishly. "I just...I needed an excuse to talk to you -- to touch you, if only the once." He anxiously flexed his hands. "And as fate would have it, it seems 'only the once' is what it must surely be. I'm sorry, Anne." His shoulders drooped. "So sorry."
AWYNTER ; independent roleplay blog for annelise shawcross also known as anne wynter from julia quinn's a night like this. set in the bridgerton universe. book-based with inspiration from the show. medium-to-slow activity & semi-selective. penned by elfie.
She followed him towards the bed, her eyes never leaving his countenance. When he perched on the edge of the bed, Anne inched closer to him, standing between his legs as she rested her hands on his shoulders. How he could think she'd ever find him frightening was beyond her. He wasn't perfect, but she had never wanted such a thing. She, herself, was far from a saint and all she wanted was to feel loved and safe. She wanted to feel weightless, and she did whenever he looked at her. His hands served as anchors, keeping her from floating away and claiming her as his own.
It was hard to believe they were married. That the man she beheld was her husband. Anne never thought she would be married. She'd spent the last decade of her life learning to accept her fate as a lonely governess. But then she'd met John and everything she knew changed. And now, it was all changing again, for the better.
They could touch each other now. She could kiss him as fiercely as she wanted without any consequences. She could lace their fingers together without worrying about propriety and expectations. She could love him openly and freely, and such an exotic thought excited her. Until his question hit her like a bolt of lightning.
Have you ever done this before? It wasn't accusatory, and yet Anne felt a wave of shame crash down upon her. She had, even though it had been under entirely different circumstances. She hadn't loved George. She'd wanted to marry him once upon a time, but that dream has wilted and rotted the same night that Annelise had died. George had taken from her, but Anne had never been so eager to give herself to someone. She'd never been this undressed with a man before, never wanted to be ravished by a man before.
"I..." She hesitates, wondering if it would be better to lie to him. As soon as the thought crosses her mind, she feels remorse. What kind of wife would lie to her husband on their wedding night? It would be an easy lie, a simple shake of her head and she doubted he would question her honesty. If she said no, it would only be a lie for tonight, and by the time morning rolled around it wouldn't matter. But he had been open and dared to be vulnerable with her, even if he'd been terrified of what her reaction might be. Mere hours ago she had pledged her life and devotion to him, so the least she could do was offer him the truth.
"Yes." Her voice is low, laced with shame and she waits for him to pull away, to stare at her with a look of disgust. Wives were supposed to be pure, untouched. What man wanted a wife who had already been tainted by another? Anne was tarnished, her purity soiled. She'd been told her entire life that no man would want a woman like her. No one would want a trollop, a harlot like her. Her behavior in her youth would prove to make her a disgrace to any potential husband and yet, she didn't think John--her John-- was capable of hating her for such a thing. They both had their own scars, most of hers just weren't easy to spot.
"But not like this. Not with someone I love." Idly, her fingers gently comb through his hair, hands trembling slightly. "Please don't be upset."
"You could never frighten me, John. You may not think very highly of yourself, but I do."
He felt undeserving but there was a warmth in that and his admiration of her was augmented in that moment. Anne was content yet he wasn't sure how he could ever be with himself, with the things he'd done; she made him want to be better though, better than everything he'd proven himself to be, she made him think he was capable of as much.
Her face glowed with a blush and it reminded him of all the times past when he'd witnessed it, only now he wondered what would deepen the hue of pink.
She kissed him then, called him husband and he swallowed, feeling robbed of breath, a wanting pang in his gut. Words escaped him and now he understood perhaps the only way he could express his mind was like this.
Bringing a hand to her face, he tilted her chin upward, chasing her mouth with his own.
Stood beside one another, he did feel looming, their difference in height obviously apparent and gently, he guided her to the bed, taking a seat on the edge so she could stand above him rather than feel small.
They were still dressed in their underclothes, but even as his hands settled along either side of her waist, her skin burned against his through the sheer fabric of her shift. Feeling drawn forward, unable to stop himself, he pressed a kiss to her clothed middle.
Voice hoarse, "Have you ever done this before?"
"You are indebted to no one, my lord. Least of all to me. I only wished to do the right thing." She offered with a sheepish smile. She knew who he was. Anyone in Mayfair worth their wits knew who he was. And while Anne may not have frequented all the events nor did she partake in the fervent gossip that circulated the ton, she knew what she needed to know to survive London's high society. She knew the names of most of the Lords and Viscounts, Barons and Dukes in town, and used the knowledge as a shield. Knowing the enemy was the key to winning she'd been told. Though, Anne wasn't entirely sure she'd consider Lord Bridgerton to be the enemy. His eyes were far too sad for him to be the enemy.
"Anne Wynter." Her cheeks blushed a like pink at his bow, gently taking his hand and offering a bow in return. She didn't deserve such an introduction and it made her feel like a fraud. She was a fraud, she reminded herself, but that didn't mean she wanted to feel like one. "Though, not a heroine, I'm afraid. More of a background character in my own story."
@awynter {x}
He hadn’t meant for his alarm to come across as fury when he’d snatched the watch from her hands. Really he hadn’t, but it wasn’t just any old pocket watch he’d so carelessly lost, it was an heirloom, a precious keepsake that felt like the last remaining tether between himself and his prematurely departed father.
Perhaps he’d miscalculated and dropped it when attempting to slip it back into his pocket while in mid-conversation. He tended to do so a lot, for checking the time was a bit of an apprehensive tick of his. It wasn’t that he was anxious to know the hour or that he had somewhere to be, it simply always felt as though he were running out of time itself. The more discontent he was, the more often he’d glance at it.
Examining the memento intently to ensure it had no scratches or dents, Anthony breathed a sigh of relief as he used his sleeve to clear the lens of any smudges before gripping the watch just a little tighter. Sated, he glanced up at the woman with mounting embarrassment, his undignified behavior not at all appropriate for the likes of a complete stranger.
“It appears I’m indebted to you, Miss…” he paused, realizing he hadn’t so much as asked her name upon the sight of his most valuable possession, one he’d never thought he’d see again.
“Apologies. We’ve not been formally introduced. I’m V.iscount Anthony B.ridgerton.”
Here, he gave a polite and hurried little bow before extending his hand to receive hers in the polite exchange of pleasantries, “And might I have the pleasure of knowing the name of my heroine?”
Anthony is stupid but love him maybe? lol
are you anne's type?
live anne reaction:
(For George— obviously they haven't even met and I'm not sure how they would, but I started filling this out for Jock only to say "hey wait a minute..." so. Just for fun!)
are you anne's type?
he's covered the important bases, that's what matters 😎👉👉
the pink dots are the ones not a single character in t.urn canon will agree with xDD bUT HEAR ME OUT akjsdbabkasbfasjbfsab
are you anne's type?
anne rn
"Frighten me?" She let out a soft laugh, taking a step closer and staring up at him with flushed cheeks. "You could never frighten me, John. You may not think very highly of yourself, but I do. And your scars do not change that. Believe it or not, I did not marry you for your ear." She teased and his smile renewed her with hope. Her heart skipped a beat as he moved to kiss her. Things would be okay. They would be okay, as long as they had each other.
Tell me what you want to do.
"I just want to love my husband." Smiling softly, she pressed a gentle kiss against his lips and whispered. "Will you let me do that?"
He'd expected a response along the manner of a wince, of bared teeth in disgust, of words spoken in outcry but then Anne proved herself to do just the opposite, seemingly confused more than anything else and that's when he was made to see sense.
She was just Anne, his Anne, the only one he'd considered a dear friend; that was the reason they were stood in this very room wearing matching bands of gold, because they were helping one another, because they liked one another.
She hardly reacted at all and he wondered if she could be capable of loving him, even just a little.
"…Does it hurt?"
"No."
"Is... this why you're worried? Because of this?"
"I didn't want to frighten you... I know how it sounds," and how it sounded was silly when he spoke it aloud, and with a new reason to feel embarrassment, a twinge of pink rose to his face and he tried to quell his grin, "Sorry. I'm being stupid."
Reaching up, he turned her hand and kissed her palm before foregoing such distance and leaning forward, pressing a kiss to the edge of her mouth.
"Tell me what you want to do."
send me questions you have about my character!
anything and everything. favorites. thoughts on people, on events. what they would do in a certain situation. how things would be different if something had/hadn’t happened. simple questions, complex questions. have at it!
"So, then...?" She blinked, gently squeezing his hand in hers to remind him she was here. He was haunted by something, that much Anne could tell, and it pained her to see it so plainly on his face. She wanted to fix it for him, fix everything and make him happy. It was their wedding day. They should've been joyful and carefree, but Anne knew that neither of them had lived an easy life. To expect that even such a joyous occasion wouldn't have it's flaws was foolish.
For a moment, she wonders if he'll even answer her, or if he'll remain silent until they fell asleep side by side. Even if he didn't speak to her, even if he didn't tell her what he was so afraid of, Anne refused to let him suffer alone. If all they did was holding hands on their wedding night, it would be enough. As long as they were together and safe.
He reveals his scar and her brows furrow. It looked healed, but the skin still seemed agitated, as though it had never quite mourned its own loss. She raises her hand, wanting to touch it, but, instead, she rests a gentle hand on his cheek. Her hand hovers in the air and she flicks her gaze to his.
"...Does it hurt?" Her voice is careful, almost maternal as her mind races. Was he scared she wouldn't like him because of his scars? Was he ashamed? Anne couldn't imagine anything, especially an injury, making her care for him less. She hadn't liked him for his appearance, though she certainly thought him easy on the eyes. Anne liked his heart, his soul. His mind. The way he smiled at little things. The way he always seemed to think before he spoke, as though he were afraid of saying the wrong thing. After a moment, she looked at him with a heartfelt expression. "Is... this why you're worried? Because of this?"
"What are you worried about? Is it me?”
He blinked, the ridiculousness of the inquiry enough to bring him back.
"What?" Brow furrowed, he flinched beneath her touch, regretting his reaction the instant she moved her hand from his face, "No. Anne..."
"Is it you?" Her words lanced through him but he tried to maintain her her doe-eyed gaze, the entire time wishing he could crawl within himself and hide; when she looked at him, when she took his hand and pressed her lips to his knuckles, he shuddered, feeling undeserving, feeling as if she could see into him and witness all his sins plainly, "Talk to me, John."
It hurt, to nod, the wordless admittance that the problem laid with himself. It was embarrassment and if he could write to her rather than face her, he might be able to admit to as much.
Taking her hand, he held her back, not wishing to frighten her even when he expected her disgust as he brushed aside the hair covering his scars, turning his head just enough so she could see the mangled remains of what had been his ear, now the skin flush, sewn shut. She would've known about this eventually and perhaps that added to his humiliation; he felt deformed, not whole.
"This is the worst of it," his voice was quiet, ashamed, "I should've told you."
Reblog if your partners don’t need to make excuses or feel like they need to hide from you if they’re not ready to reply to a thread. No one wants to be the person that takes the fun out of someone else’s experience.
send ‘you know i love you, right?’ for my muses reaction ( can be platonic or familial, not just romantic ).
🐝 * ― 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺. ( add " + " to reverse the action. )
❛ do you want to tell me about your day? ❜ ❛ here, you look like you're freezing. ❜ ❛ i love you just the way you are, and i'm here to remind you of that whenever you need to hear it. ❜ ❛ i promise i'll always be here if you need me. ❜ ❛ i wish i could take away all your pain. ❜ ❛ i'll stand by you, no matter what challenges may come our way. ❜ ❛ i'm gonna make sure nothing bad will ever happen to you. ❜ ❛ if you need a shoulder to lean on or someone to listen, i'm here. ❜ ❛ if you need someone to talk to i'm always just one phone call away. ❜ ❛ it's okay. i've got you. you're safe now. ❜ ❛ it's okay to feel this way, we've all been there. ❜ ❛ it's okay to lean on others for support occasionally. ❜ ❛ just let me take care of you for a bit. ❜ ❛ no matter what happens, you'll always have a place in my heart. ❜ ❛ what do you need me to do to make you feel better? ❜ ❛ you can always ask me for help if you need it. ❜ ❛ you just relax and let me do the rest. you deserve a break. ❜ ❛ you look like you could use a hug. ❜ ❛ you're always taking care of me so no it's my turn to return the favor. ❜ ❛ you're not alone in this. i'm here for you, no matter what. ❜
[ blanket ] sender draping a blanket over receiver's shoulders [ breaths ] sender helping receiver to calm down by using breathing techniques [ compliment ] sender complimenting receiver to make them smile [ cry ] sender offering receiver a shoulder to cry on [ gift ] sender giving receiver a small gift [ hand ] sender holding receiver's hand while they're walking [ hug ] sender pulling receiver into a tight embrace [ injured ] sender helping an injured receiver with everyday tasks [ jokes ] sender trying to make receiver laugh [ kindness ] sender surprising receiver with random acts of kindness [ massage ] sender giving receiver a shoulder massage to tend to their sore muscles [ patterns ] sender drawing random patterns on receiver's skin [ pillow ] sender offering receiver to use them as a pillow [ scars ] sender gently tracing receiver's scars [ sick ] sender bringing a sick receiver whatever they need ( food / medicine / etc. ) [ steady ] sender wrapping an arm around receiver's waist to steady them [ support ] sender quietly sitting down next to receiver to let them know they're there [ touch ] sender letting receiver know they're there through simple touch [ warmth ] sender pulling receiver into their arms to share body heat [ wound ] sender cleaning / bandaging receiver's wound(s)
