Ohhh, I loved that angsty story you wrote! Could I request a fluff fic where Anthony and his wife have been trying for a baby for a long time, but it never happened—until it finally does—and she surprises him with the news? I need to see it because he was such a cutie pie when Kate was pregnant 😭
Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader
one-shot | fluff with angst | established marriage
At Last
Word Count: 1,300
Warning: none just fluff
Summary:
After a long season of waiting and quiet heartbreak, hope finds its way back into Anthony Bridgerton’s life in the most unexpected and tender of ways.
Author’s Note:
Sorry this took a little while! I was a bit stumped on how to write this and still keep it in my style while also working on Part 3 of the series. I hope you enjoy it and that it’s to your liking🙂↕️
There had been many months too many where hope arrived quietly and left just as softly.
Anthony never spoke of it outright. He was a man trained to endure, to shoulder burdens in silence, to love fiercely but privately. Still, you noticed the way his hand lingered at your waist a second longer each morning, as though memorizing you. The way his jaw tightened whenever one of his siblings announced a new child. The way he kissed your temple at night, careful and reverent, as if afraid to ask the world for more.
You had wanted this too. Desperately.
And when it did not happen, you grieved together in quiet ways shared glances, hands entwined beneath the table, whispered reassurances in the dark.
So when the truth finally revealed itself, it felt unreal.
You sat alone in your chambers, the early morning light spilling across the floor, your heart pounding so loudly you were certain the entire house could hear it. The proof trembled in your hands. Tears blurred your vision before you even realized you were crying.
After so long…
After all the waiting…
It had finally happened.
Anthony found you later that morning in the sitting room, standing by the window with your back to the door. He smiled when he saw you soft, familiar, full of a love that had never once wavered.
“My love,” he said gently. “You are awake early.”
You turned slowly, your expression unreadable. His smile faded just a fraction.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, already crossing the room.
You shook your head, breath uneven. “No. I—Anthony, I need you to listen to me. Properly.”
That did it. His shoulders squared. “You have my full attention.”
You stepped closer, reaching for his hands. He let you take them, concern etched into every line of his face.
“I know this has been difficult,” you began softly. “For both of us.”
His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, grounding. “We have endured worse,” he said, though his voice wavered. “And we have endured it together.”
You swallowed hard. “Yes. We have.”
There was a pause. A breath.
“And we won’t have to endure this particular ache anymore.”
Anthony frowned slightly, confusion flickering across his features.
“What do you mean?”
You placed his hand gently against your abdomen. Just there. Just enough.
“I am with child.”
The words hung between you, fragile and trembling.
Anthony froze.
For one terrible second, you worried he had not heard you correctly.
Then his breath hitched sharp, broken and his eyes filled with something so raw it stole the air from your lungs.
“You…?” he whispered. “You are certain?”
You nodded, tears spilling freely now. “I am.”
He laughed a sound torn from somewhere deep in his chest and then his knees nearly gave way. He pulled you into him with a force born of months of restraint, burying his face in your hair.
“Oh God,” he breathed. “Oh God—my love.”
You felt the warmth of tears against your skin.
Anthony Bridgerton, Viscount, protector, pillar of his family crying openly as he held you.
“I feared…” His voice broke. “I feared I had failed you.”
You pulled back just enough to cradle his face. “You never failed me. Not once.”
He kissed you then soft, reverent, shaking his forehead resting against yours as if he needed the contact to stay upright.
“We made something,” he murmured in awe. “You and I.”
You smiled through your tears. “Yes. We did.”
He dropped another kiss to your brow, then your cheek, then pressed his lips to your stomach as though the world might end if he did not acknowledge it properly.
“I already love them,” he said quietly. “Beyond reason.”
Your heart ached in the best possible way.
Later, when he finally pulled you into his arms again, Anthony held you as if you were precious glass hands warm, protective, unyielding.
“At last,” he whispered into your hair. “At last.”
And for the first time in a long while, hope stayed.
