Bridgerton Imagines

Days with Love // A.B.

Warnings: female reader, she/her pronouns, low moods, depression, bad mental health, lots of comfort, lots of fluff, lots of cuddles and tea and reading, and full to the brim with love.

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There were days when (Y/N) could not leave her bed, when the mere thought of removing the sheet exhausted her beyond her means. That the very idea of standing, getting dressed, smiling was too much.

On those days, she retreated to the safety of her bed where the soft sheets did their best to fight away the ever-darkening fog around her. She would curl onto her side, eyes focused on very little as she spent the day accepting the fact that she would have bad mental health days. Anthony always knew when such days were hiding around the corner. He knew because he watched the light dim around her; her smile struggling to remain on her lips, her confidence in herself wavering.

The room is dark save for a slither of daylight peeking through the roughly closed curtains. Anthony's focus falls straight to his wife; her body lying flat on the bed, eyes gazing unseeing at the ceiling.

"Darling," Anthony murmurs. "I've brought you some sweet tea and finger sandwiches."

"I'm not hungry," (Y/N) answers, blinking lazily at the ceiling.

Anthony cannot hide his smile as he watches the frown grow on her face. "Alright," He concedes, "No sandwiches, but you will have a cup of sweet tea as I read to you."

For the first time in the day, (Y/N)'s interest is piqued. "What are you going to read?"

Anthony bites his lower lip to keep the smile on his face from growing larger. Deep down, Anthony knew that her curiosity surrounding publications and serials would become too much for her to truly resist. Anthony shrugs nonchalantly, pouring two cups of tea. "Nothing special. A friend of Benedict's dropped something off, I think he wants my patronage."

"Oh," She sighs, pushing yourself into a sitting position, knowing it would be better to drink her tea. She shuffles to the side, leaving room for Anthony to join her. (Y/N) spies the bound publication poking out of Anthony's jacket pocket; she raises an eyebrow in question, but voices nothing.

Anthony takes his seat next to (Y/N), feeling more at home now than he did at the beginning of the day when he realised it was to be a bad day for his wife. With one hand wrapped around his cup, he reaches out for (Y/N) with the other, desperate to feel some connection with her. She leans into his touch; Anthony's arm firm and strong around her shoulders, letting her feel more put together than she had in hours.

The couple are quiet as they take their first sip of tea. Her muscles relax as the drink spreads through her body, warming her from the inside out. As she leans back against the numerous pillows at the top of the bed, she remembers her mother's mantra – the world could be put to right over a simple cup of tea. She doesn't think a cup of tea could solve her bad days, but they slowly help to bring her back to herself.

"How are you feeling?" Anthony asks, his voice quiet in the peaceful room.

She shrugs, meeting her husband's concerned gaze. "Like the last time this happened. I feel low, and sad, and unmotivated. Exhausted with a capital 'E'."

Anthony nods, wishing he knew the words that could comfort her, wishing he knew what he could do to take such days away from her. For now, he takes comfort in the fact that sitting with her, reading to her, and providing love in the form of cups of tea is enough for her. He would not know what to do with himself if his go to methods failed him.

"Would you like me to read to you?" He asks, always checking and always making sure that he was broaching (Y/N)'s days on her terms.

One nod becomes many. A wavering smile flits across her lips; there one minute and gone the next but it's enough for Anthony's heart to soar. "Yes please," She answers, appreciating the effort her husband is going to.

Anthony pulls the bound book of poems from his pocket. The bound publication is pale blue in colour; the fabric covers looking extremely new as Anthony goes to open the front cover. The typeset is small; words only just legible as Anthony skips the title page and contents, flicking through until he finds the page he was looking for. With a caring glance to (Y/N), he asks, "Are you sitting comfortably?"

Her nod is the only answer he needs. In his best voice, Anthony begins to recite:

"I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze..."

Anthony takes pause, wetting his lips before moving to continue. (Y/N)'s hand reaches out to stop him; her fingers hiding the words away as she exclaims in a somewhat shocked manner, "Benedict is friends with William Wordsworth? How?"

"They met at one of the many parties thrown by one of Benedict's many friends at art school." Anthony explains before adding, "I had a meeting with Wordsworth just last week."

At his explanation, (Y/N) falls silent, her focus lost to the tepid cup of tea in her hand. She stares down at the liquid; exhaustion washing over her in one fell swoop. Without so much as missing a word from the poem he's reciting, Anthony reaches for her cup of tea, placing it on the bedside table. He glances her way, checking to see was alright and was relieved to see her falling asleep beside him. Anthony closes the book; the poem paused for now.

"Tired?"

(Y/N) nods; a yawn slipping from her lips. "Would you think me rude if I fell asleep?"

"Of course not!" Anthony all but cries, already shifting on the bed. As he stands from the bed, a hand catches his wrist, freezing him in place. "Stay with me?" She asks, her voice small as if she would dare ask her husband such a thing.

Relief washes through Anthony; the coldness in his veins turning to a warm fuzz as he slides in beside his wife. Their bodies find each other in the darkness of the room; Anthony's arms strong as they wrap around (Y/N). In his arms, her mind begins to settle and the fog, whilst still dark, does not seem so consuming.

As she drifts off to sleep in the safety of her husband's embrace, (Y/N) begins to come to terms with the fact that she will always have bad days – days where she will stay in bed and not venture further than the window – but with Anthony's love for her so strong, and so pure, those days start to feel filled with nothing but love too.