Anthony Bridgerton Imagine - Tumblr Posts

Hey Rigel I love ur work like so much 💓 can I request Anthony bridgerton where he is getting married and realises his love his y/n or smth similar with him getting jealous and angry when y/n and Benedict or colin fake date like tht or anything if this doesn't make sense 😭

Enchanted | A.B x you

Pairing: Anthony bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict x fem!reader x colin ( platonic) wc - 3.8k

Synopsis: When Aubreyton's CEO strikes a match with Miss Edwina sharma, because she's nice and kind and witty, ofcourse nothing could go wrong, except you have feelings for Anthony.

Warning :CEO! Anthony x assistant! reader, Asshole! Anthony, Benedict x sophie, Polin, bridgerton's chaotic dynamic, reader and Benedict share one brain cell that's mostly with you, alcohol, fake marriage( Anthony and reader), social media au, office au, modern setting, forced proximity, jealousy jealousy, mutual pinning, fluffy fluff, bit angst, arranged marriage, bit Collen Hoover bashing but it's a joke ( maybe not ) no Edwina bashing, scary Kate sharma, yes!!! ( Might add more later )

" Your brother is an idiot." You said, gritting your teeth as your mail blew with applicants, beautiful young ladies with peculiar yet remarkable talents.

" That." Benedict catched the grape midair with his mouth," we know of." He added with a cocky grin.

" Read another ! " Colin peppered, stealing your cookies which you ignored, sighing as you opened another mail.

" Tiana Young, twenty-one, I like to read, write and sing, my favourite author is Collen Hoover—" Benedict snorted, " —I like children and hope to be a mother, I am very soft spoken and good natured, my neighbours call me Ti, because I am a tea kinda person—"

" What's a tea kinda person ? " Colin bited the smuggled cookie, Benedict pulled the remaining to his side hastily, you felt your appetite long gone.

" It's like...they are like tea..." Benedict said, more in doubt as he looked for affirmation.

" Like milk tea or another tea ? " You asked, perhaps tea could takeaway your headache.

" What's an another tea ? " Colin's hand began to pull the tray, Benedict frowned but said nothing, taking one hurriedly and breaking it into two parts, offering you the bigger one.

" No thank-you, let me fix this Tiana's appointment." You exhaled, copy pasting a paragraph how (un) grateful you were to her for reaching out, she would soon have her appointment date and bla bla bla.

" I knew my brother was workholic but this wife hunting thingy is so exhausting." Benedict wiggled his eyebrows, you knew he was being kind but he wasn't helping at all.

" It would have been over if his requirements weren't so high, like he's not looking for a wife but some utopian woman god has yet to create ! " You were ranting, you knew, but this was the only way you could stop yourself from punching Anthony for putting you into this misery.

" Why can't he just fall in love ? " Colin looked at you and Benedict seriously, his mouth covered in crumbs, " Come on, love is like...like a force to be reckoned with ! " He beamed, ofcourse it was a force, didn't Penelope wrote something smiliary in her latest book, you somehow felt your heart shuddering, what would happen if Anthony were to be in love, some intelligent, beautiful woman, some utopian goddess of his, you didn't like the idea one bit, so you laughed it off.

" Brother in love ? " Benedict was in stitches, banging his palm on the table, shaking few very important papers that laid without any significance. They will be probably used as napkin if you weren't there.

" It's not funny." Colin got up, taking his coat, he rolled his eyes when Benedict refused to stop laughing, you shaked your head helplessly as another mail popped up, Jasmine had written a essay about global peace and increasing capatilism, you groaned, damn you Anthony bridgerton!

_

" Good evening Anthony." You tapped save on your screen as Anthony entered the office, a beak of sweat trickling down his neck line, okay, someone got either fired or roasted down to their very existence, you preferred the former.

" Good evening y/n." He looked up at you, he worried his jaw to say more but decided against it as he settled on his chair, it was very comfy and very big, years of working with him but you couldn't fathom the courage to ever have a taste, perhaps Benedict would help, maybe then.

" There are twelve appointments I have scheduled for tomorrow, Miss Becka—"

" Cancel them."

" What ?! " You almost shouted, you didn't waste your whole day to adjust and fit these pretty woman according to the time and weather and place and Anthony's mood so nothing went wrong, did he just said cancel them like it was nothing, this—

" We are going out Tommorow, it might take all day so cancel them." Anthony ran a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply, your brain short circuited at the words more and more made some meaning, we ?! Did he, for heaven's sake said we ?

" You and me ? " You blurted and lowered your gaze when his eyes snapped to you, a deep color blazed your nose as you fiddled with your skirt.

" Yes, me and you." He confirmed and you could swore, that was a smile, a small, thin, almost unrecognisable on his always stern face, but that was a smile.

" Why ? " You closed your laptop, tucking the strands of your hair that usually came out after a long day, behind you ear.

Anthony pressed a key and it beeped, he shifted his face to you, thinking that he was almost frowning and finally, he said with a neutral face.

" I have found a match." His face gave nothing away, " Miss Edwina will be most suitable for marriage." He said it like it wasn't his marriage he was talking about, " she's very graceful and witty and would make a amiable wife and a kind loving mot—"

" Right." You snapped mid course, his mouth was hanging open with words lost in void, you knew very well Miss Edwina was a fine young lady, she was beautiful and kind and sharp at wits, ofcourse this ended your torment or perhaps began another, but not now, you needed to think.

" I..I promised Benedict for dinner. " You muttered, feeling your whole body numb as you stumbled out of your seat, Anthony watched, something glazed in his eyes but you couldn't place it, you might if you looked longer but you had no courage left now. You were almost at the glassy door, he was watching you intently and you felt his gaze burn at your back.

" You like my brother quite very much." He startled you, you paused, heart beats echoing through your throat. It was like he was accusing you, almost jabbing his finger on your chest. What does that mean ?

" What could I say ? He's very amiable." You turned to smile at him, it trembled on your lips and Anthony scoffed slightly, mouth curving in disdain but it was gone as soon as it crossed his face. Damn you !

" Have a nice day sir." You closed the door behind you, covering your face as a muffled scream cut through your cartilage.

_

" Miss Edwina ?! " Benedict almost screamed as you narrowed your eye sternly at him, he lowered his voice in a whisper, ducking his head down towards you, " sorry but Miss Edwina ?! "

" I know, I know." You swigged another gulp of the dizzy bubbling liquid that will give you a terrible headache tommorow but right now, you just wanted this uneasiness feeling to go away.

" Didn't her scary sister vowed to ruin him or something like that ? " Benedict licked his thumb, eye's watering at the spice, you loved this place's Chole bhature very much, last time Benedict cried when he accidentally bited the green masala filled chilly.

" Yeah, she refused to take ahead the Mayfair deal, or something like that, not that it would ruin anything and—" You sighed, leaning back your head as the soft music tickled your senses.

" What ? " You heard his faint murmur.

" Well Anthony was right, as soon as our team announced his engagement, ofcourse not revealing the bride, he's well trending—"

" He's always trending." Benedict groaned, chugging water as his lips were swollen with spiced heat.

" Yes, but not for thirsty things, i meant that Aubreyton is trending and our shares are touching the sky and it's a whole profitable season ahead." You ended breathlessly, you stared at him for full second before both your eye's crinkled with smiles and laughter that came from your hearts, it lightened the air somehow as well as your heart.

" You do remember I am part of the executive board ? " Benedict tilted his head with a warm smile and you shaked your head, feeling tipsy.

" Like you do anything except torment me and poor Colin ! " You pouted, feeling your cheeks flush as Benedict threw his head back and laughed.

" Poor Colin ? " He cooed, " he's probably getting laid tonight." He added with a wink, you slapped his shoulder nervously.

" Penelope replied ? "

" Ofcourse, my dear little brother wrote a whole ass three page message, with a picture of all her books that too hardcover and first editions."

" Wow." You said, impressed, Colin was head over heels, it was only a matter of time since the dazzling author knew.

" And what of Miss Beckett ? " You wiggled your eyebrows like Benedict did when he teased you, he turned a beetroot red as he fumbled with the last contents of his glass.

" She refused for a live in relationship." He said, his face grew sad and you mentally winced for putting him there.

" Oh." You nodded, Sophia lived with her evil mother who liked to see her suffer and she was, afterall, too good of a girl.

" Benedict..." You whispered when he closed his eyes softly, hiding his face behind his palms.

" I am not crying." He was. He sniffed as a few heads turned towards the pair of you, many with sympathy, probably thinking you had refused to marry him or something.

" Hey, hey, hey..." You pulled yourself as you dizzily tripped over to his side, wrapping your arms around him as he melted in your embrace.

" She doesn't understand..." He said it so muffled that it was unable to make out what he said, but you understood it anyway.

" She will, she loves you so much." You kissed his head and he nodded, tears streaking your shirt as he finally emerged with red, sticky face and puppy bright eyes.

" I think i drank too much." He admitted, you nodded, feeling yourself floating too.

" Let's call a cab, we shouldn't drive." You suggested, fiddling with cash as you payed the bill, leaving good tip for the teenager waiter, who smiled kindly at every inner joke Benedict shot.

" Uh huh." He focused hard on his phone, sticking his tongue out like he did when he was really, really drunk and or just really, felt the need to, or he was about to do something stupid, which he did.

Twelve minutes later, Anthony bridgerton was standing outside the restaurant with a heavy frown and it was strange to see him in normal clothes, like that grey t-shirt felt odd yet gorgeous and those sweatpants, you were way too drunk, you realised.

" You'll make a fine gentleman." Anthony curted his mouth, his words dripped with sarcasm that you and Benedict were too drunk to catch on.

" Thankyou, the cab idea was mine." He said smugly, ducking out when you smacked his ass with your purse, Anthony watched with wide eyes.

" Liar." You jabbed at him, he started to giggle and stumbled, taking you along before Anthony grabbed you by the waist and pulled you away from him, Benedict winked at you when Anthony closed his eyes, frustration or whatever that dazed him, his touch was electrifying, like current jostling in water.

Anthony pulled away his arms from you, his eyes strained like it pained him just the same it hurt you.

" You are wasting my time brother, get in the car." He glared, " come." He said to you, his gaze softened but that could be alcohol, you weren't reliable narrator especially when it was Anthony bridgerton.

" Well you could have refused." Benedict ran and sprawled inside like a bear, covering the whole back seat with his wasted body.

" Yes well, I didn't come for y—" he clamped his mouth in a thin line, nerve twitching on his forehead as he breathed hard, eyeing you as you ran after Benedict's seat thievery, you opened the door and his head almost snapped when he looked up you, it was a nauseous enough to make you vomit.

" Move." You pulled his hair, in no hell you will sit in the front seat, not like you haven't, but you were drunk and you were angry and you hated Anthony and you wished so much to just, to just, just once, once just, kiss him hard, that's alcohol, bloody alcohol.

" Leave this idiot." Anthony was suddenly behind you, he touched your elbow with same electric touch, guiding you to the empty front seat as he opened the door, you could feel Benedict wiggling his eye, you will deal with this bastard later.

" I was thinking—" Benedict started, once Anthony started driving, he was shut real quick when Anthony glared with words.

" Stop thinking." Anthony rolled the steering wheel and you looked away, those veins taunted and lured you, it was maddening and the streets were much dull and undistracting.

Benedict giggled at something he probably said in his head, you chuckled when he burped, he did too, only Anthony didn't.

" Don't you have a date tommorow with Mr. Dorset ? " Benedict craned his neck to get a view of you, two Bridgerton's eyes were too much to take as you thought hard, well yes a date, with Mr. Dorset, yes, you did remember.

" Ofcourse." You said, Anthony drifted a turn that jerked your head forward and you would have got a concussion if it wasn't his big palm that came for rescue.

" Are you okay ? " He asked, slowing down the car as his fingers pushed you back until the back of your head was pressed against the seat.

" Yeah." You confirmed, nothing was more threatening than his touch. He should bloody know that.

" Are you okay ? " Benedict mimicked and you realised he was down there, squashed on the car floor, his face hidden somewhere.

Anthony ignored him as his expressions hardened, he was breathing hard as he worried his lips, thinking and thinking.

" You do know it might take all day." Anthony finally said and you cocked your head to his side, you were drunk and well, sleepy too.

" What ? Well, it's a dinner date." You assured, Mr. Dorset wasn't letting go and a Thai curry wouldn't hurt anyway.

" Yes well, it might be very late." He was frowning now, his eyes were on the road but he would glance between nano seconds.

" Really ? " You pouted, you were way too gone now, it didn't matter, Anthony's eyes stopped at your lips and when he looked up, something changed, like it must have changed a long ago but it's colours were only visible now, like moon hiding behind the clouds, beaming but not seen and when it's finally high, hanging at sky, you blinked, expecting it to be gone, like everything, but when you opened your eyes, it was still there, as clear as ever, shimmering at you. That's alcohol, bloody alcohol.

" Yes.." Anthony gulped hard, pulling at Benedict's apartment, how much he wanted sophie to built a home with him, soon, you thought, soon.

" Oi y/n, I think I found your lipstick." Benedict hopped up, his face had lines where because he didn't bother to get up once he had fallen, with a shade that you never used in your whole lifetime, Anthony looked away when you tried to catch his eyes.

" That's not mine." You said, feeling anger creep up your neck, not knowing why, it's not that you were the only one who sat in his car and ofcourse you weren't his girlfriend, you weren't his friend even, he was your boss, you were his assistant, that's it, that's fucking it, you really wanted to punch his face, that's bloody alcohol, you would never drink again.

" Benedict, my brother." Anthony took the lipstick away which Benedict was trying to apply on himself, " get the fuck out."

" Goodbye to you too brother." He leaned to smooch Anthony when he hastily pulled away, growling.

" Bye bye sweetheart." Benedict smooched your cheek then and his lips only touched your warm skin before Anthony pushed him back in the back seat, it was, kinda rough.

" You are drunk." He told Benedict who shrugged, blinking heavily.

"He always kissed me goodbye." You glared at Anthony, this freaking bastard, chew on your lipstick, Idiot. You leaned down to kiss Benedict's cheek and he giggled softly, eyes locked with Anthony, his wide bastard grin flashing, glittering as Anthony eye rolled.

When Benedict was dropped, it was your turn, Anthony stared ahead like a statue, you were suffering in your own head.

The silence became heavy in air as the music was either tragic or too loud for your head and Anthony sensed the discomfort, turning it off altogether.

" What are we going to do actually? Venue deciding or something." You finally spoke, remembering how much you stared and stared when the article popped up, Anthony bridgerton looking for a wife !! You remembered the qualification list, should be well spoken, should be linguistic, should want kids, should be family loving, should be this, should be that, should have good enough hips to bear a child like what ?!

You remembered days and days when he would have his appointments, yes appointments, most of times he was out within five minutes, a frown on his face.

" She doesn't know algebra." He said one time when he came out within two minutes and you shrugged, well algebra was hard afterall.

And now Miss Edwina had ended all your miseries and torture, no lists, no more algebra's and Collen Hoover's, nothing of that anymore, Anthony would be a husband soon and perhaps he would love her, or already love her, he was so determined even when Kate sharma threatened to cut deals with Aubreyton if didn't stop sending flowers, well that was your doing, sending flowers because it was your idea, but well, it didn't matter.

" Well not the venue, but wedding ring and wedding dresses, Mother say we match and cake tasting and flowers—" we.

" When's the wedding ? " You looked at him scornfully, Anthony's eyes lowered at you as he stopped the car.

" Next week." Fuck you Anthony!

" Shouldn't you decide that with Miss Edwina herself ? " You were glad, but you had this feeling that he would be taken away from you, once married, he might not be yours, he was never yours, but still, why not start now ?

He frowned like it wasn't the most sensible and obvious thing.

" I..." He hesitated, " Miss Edwina might not want to go, since the wedding is too near and also, to keep it a private engagement."

" Oh." You didn't get a thing, your mind wasn't working as Anthony leaned down to open your door, you freezed, only your heart thudded loudly, could he hear ? What he did to you, well it wouldn't surprise you if he knew and still chose to torture your poor soul. " Why not state it publicly ? "

" I can't deal with the fanfictions." He said in matter of factly way. " And paparazzi giving Edwina trouble." Don't say her name, don't.

" Fanfictions ?! " You laughed so loud that he actually stopped thinking whatever he was, and just looked at you, as if taking in every detail, savouring them, drinking every bit of you in, he looked like he was mesmerized but that was just alcohol, just your silly heart, just you, who had read all those one shots, about you and him, ofcourse you weren't going to admit it and ofcourse you would be quite dammed if you ever saw Anthony getting shipped with Edwina Sharma, they are getting married in a week idiot, yes, but not today, not now, later, when it was time, please, not now. Later, now he was yours.

" You have a good choice either way." He was, for no reason, walking you to your door, you remembered how Benedict was practically kicked out earlier, he would tease you so much if you were to ever tell him.

" Oh please." You chuckled, rubbing your hands together in the chilly air, " I gifted Benedict onesies on his birthday."

Anthony smiled, it didn't leave his face until he caught you staring and you noticed how different he looked, when those lines were of joy instead of worry, he looked young and his boyishness made your heart do cartwheels.

" That was just a joke." He amused, " wasn't it ? " His smile faltered when you shaked your head in a no, fumbling for you keys.

" It wasn't so bad." Anthony said, somewhat traumatised, " Benedict wore them anyway."

" It had penguins ! " You cringed at the memory, a drunkish Polaroid like, blurred and saturated, it was vivid but just like yesterday, Anthony didn't dance until you were both so drunk, perhaps he smiled back than too, and looked just as dazzling.

" You are good y/n." Anthony said sincerely, " stop being mean to yourself." You opened the door but your hands freezed at the doornob, why Anthony had to cut the right wires, why he had to upside down your whole world ?

" Well, same to you Anthony." You said, he lingered on the doorway more than he should, it was alcohol, it really, really was but no amount of gaslighting could blur the memory away, you always remembered how brave you were that night when you leaned down, one step not much, and placed a small, chaste kiss, just a brush of your lips against his blazing skin. A touch to his soul, it sparkled and rose and busted into a thousand orbs and sprinkled like glitters on you and him.

" Good night." You whispered, Anthony stared, too stunned to say anything, then he smiled, small and enchanting.

" Good night y/n." His smile stayed.

Hey would u be up for writing an Anthony Bridgerton fic where Daphne's bff is distracting Anthony so that daphne could enjoy the balls without him interrupting,and they kinda fall in love?????

Sorry that was a hugeeee request. I've never done that before😅😅

Distractions

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Word count: 3.3k

A/N: This is a fic that I have been referring to as ‘Anthony without his trauma, but he’s still a dumb ass’ and ‘Anthony doesn’t oppose marrying for love, but he’s still wildly emotionally constipated’  so please enjoy! This ended up way longer than I intended and it still doesn’t feel fleshed out *shrug emoji*

Vauxhall Gardens

“Please,” Daphne begs. “I need your help.” 

“It’s Anthony. I need someone to keep his attention away from me,” Daphne continues. “Otherwise I’ll never dance at one of these balls with someone who isn’t related to me.”

You can’t help but sigh. 

Daphne’s brother loves her, and is understandably overprotective of her. As the “Diamond of the Season”, she’s the debutante that every eligible gentleman (and a few non-eligible men) have set their sights on. Someone needs to protect her. But Anthony Bridgerton would not be your first choice for that task either. He may love his sister very much, but he’s also an arrogant man and a rake. He thinks the worst of all men because he is the worst type of man. And if they were you would understand his behavior. He seems to have assumed that each and every male member of the Ton is exactly like him. The type of man that you try to avoid at these types of things.

“Fine. But you’ll owe me for this,” You grumble as you nod. Acquiescing to your friend's pleas.

Daphne’s your best friend. You’d been close since you were children, you were only about a year older than her, with mother’s who were close friends. She’d been your playmate and then your confidante as you both grew older. With your debut having taken place a few years ago, you’d been eagerly awaiting Daph’s debut, and the chance to partake in these events with a friend by your side.

But her older brother had put a damper on the entire season with his insane micromanagement of Daphne’s social calendar. 

Turning away fortune hunters, you understood, but not letting her dance with a single gentleman at Lady Danbury’s ball? And then scaring off every suitor who came to call on her? It had taken Lady Bridgerton stepping in to convince Anthony that she could call on you in the afternoons without being accosted by men on the walk to your family’s home. 

The man was on a power-trip, and was certain to destroy Daphne’s impressive chances at a great match this season if he kept it up.

“Bring me over, and then I’ll talk to him while you slip away,” You tell her as you spy the viscount’s gaze already searching the crowds for his sister.

She grins as she pulls you in and hugs you tightly, a silent thank you before she grabs your gloved hand in hers and pulls you in the direction of her brother.

“Anthony, you remember (Y/N),” Daphne says as she stops in front of her brother, prompting you to bow your head and give Anthony a small smile.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” Anthony Bridgerton greets you politely with a small bow.

“How have you been, Lord Bridgerton? I don’t believe we’ve spoken in several years, since before you graduated from Oxford,” You say politely.

“I’m well, It has certainly been a while, last time we spoke you had not come out yet,” He replies.

“Yes,” You reply with a quizzical look.

You sigh when you realize that you’ll have to keep up this conversation and come up with something to ask him if you’re to distract him.

“Have you read anything interesting recently?” You finally ask. Settling on a topic that is both non-threatening and that you’ll find at least half engaging.

“I’m afraid I haven’t read anything that isn’t a report from our estates in the past few years,” Anthony admits.

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “I suppose I should have known, a man of import such as yourself has far better things to busy himself with,” You tell him, unable to stop the corners of your lips from turning upward. “Like staring down every man who so much as looks at his sister.”

“I- that’s-” Anthony protested before huffing when he realized that the conversation would not be productive. “What have you read recently?” He asks instead.

“Pride and Prejudice and The Heroine were both quite good,” You tell him. Normally you would have continued to push but with the topic of books, you can’t help but give Anthony your honest answers. “I’ve read the recent Byron and Shelley, though I find them insufferable,” You add, your nose wrinkling with distaste.

“I also revisited Shakespeare, I heard the Theater Royal is putting on Romeo and Juliet in May, and I’d quite like to see it.”

“You’ve turned into quite the scholar in recent years, haven’t you?” Anthony asks, a bemused smile across his face.

“I’ve always been invested in my education, Lord Bridgerton,” You reply. “You’re just finally intelligent enough to notice.”

Anthony merely stares at you while you smirk, taking great joy in teasing him. 

“Where did Daphne disappear to?” He asks once he’s recovered from your thinly veiled barb.

“Probably just to the powder room,” You reply banally, the lie easily forming. “I think she was going to try and find your mother afterward.” 

When Anthony’s gaze zeroed on a subject over your shoulder and he seemed to have completely tuned you out you knew that he had spotted Daphne. You turned your own head, searching for Daphne in the crowd only to see her making her way to the dance floor on the arm of the Duke of Hastings. 

“Oh!” You gasp.

That little minx. 

Now you knew why she’d been so adamant to get her brother off her tail. She was interested in his best friend. 

“Did you know about this?” Anthony asks harshly, though his gaze never tears away from the couple making their way to the dance floor.

“Of course not!” You protested. “I-I had no idea!”

“I thought they didn’t like each other,” You offer lamely.

The Trowbridge Ball

“Do you know where Daphne is?” Anthony asks as he appears suddenly at your side.

“Would you care to dance?” You reply.

You know it’s a faux pas. But you don’t really care. Besides, no one can hear you, and you need to distract him with something that will keep him occupied for several minutes.

He looks at you for a moment. Like he’s trying to discern what exactly you’re up to. But in the end, he nods.

“Of course,” He replies as he offers you his arm.

You place your hand in the crook of his elbow and allow him to shepherd you to the dance floor.

“Do you know where she is?” Anthony tries to ask again once the dance begins.

“I’m not your sister’s keeper,” You reply. “And nor, it seems,” You add as Anthony spins you around. “Are you.”

Anthony doesn’t reply and you can tell by his face that he’s still struggling to let Daphne take care of herself. Especially with the Duke’s interest in her.

“I’m sure she is fine,” You finally tell him once you’re facing him again. “Your sister is far more discerning than you give her credit for.”

“I never said she wasn’t-” Anthony begins to protest. “You are baiting me again,” He says as he looks down at the knowing look on your face.

“You’re learning,” You reply with a grin. “I know that you are only caring for her, that you’re overprotective because you love her, but she must marry this season, and you do her no favors if every man with any sense is scared of you.”

“You do not want to let your sister marry a fool, do you, Lord Bridgerton?” You ask him, your tone becoming more serious.

“Of course not,” He replies quickly.

“Then learn to step away,” You tell him.

Hyde Park

You should have expected Anthony to join his family at the park. And with the Dowager Viscountess and Lady Danbury chaperoning Daphne and the Duke, both you and Anthony were left to your own devices. So when he asked you to promenade, seemingly of his own volition you were taken aback.

“Have you ever been out of the country?”  You finally ask after a few minutes of the two of you  walking silently alongside one another. 

“No, I never had the chance,” He tells you. “Have you?” He asks.

“I once went to visit my cousins in Scotland, and the Scottish certainly believe themselves to be another country,” You tell him.

Anthony hums in agreement with your statement.

“How many children do you want?” He asks.

Your eyes widened.

“My Lord?” You ask, clearly taken aback by the question. But he merely looks at you. “I suppose however many I am blessed with, though more than three or four would be a challenge to manage,” You tell him.

“Why haven’t you married yet?” He asks.

“Well,” You say, trying to figure out how to answer such an abrupt question.

“This is your third season,” Anthony says as if you hadn’t known. “You are truly accomplished, and far more eloquent than most of the ladies and the gentlemen in my acquaintance. I would think you would have already made a fine wife.” 

“I think I ought to be offended by what you’re saying my lord,” You tell him with a small smile.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to-” Anthony quickly begins to apologize.

“I ought to be,” You clarified. “But I am not. I suppose I just haven’t given much thought to marriage.”

“Most women are solely focused on the institution,” Anthony points out.

“Most women have no other choice. My family is secure, my parents are in no rush, my brother has a good enough head on his shoulders,” You tell him. “I have a great privilege in that. So I suppose I ought not to waste it by marrying for anything less than happiness.”

“I see.”

“Yes,” You tell him. “Any other questions about marriage I can answer for you? I’d assumed at nine-and-twenty you’d grasp the mechanics of the marriage bed, but I could offer you an explanation-”

Anthony’s eyes widened as his gaze snapped to you, appalled. It was only when he saw the smirk on your face that he realized you were only poking fun at him.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” He replies.

The Penwood Ball 

Distracting Anthony Bridgerton had been much easier than you’d expected. And surprisingly less annoying. You often found yourself surprised by the fact that you were looking forward to spending time with him.

Anthony greeted you seemingly the moment you walked through the door.

“Lord Bridgerton,” You replied with a smirk as he offered you his arm.

Taking it you could have sworn you saw Daphne laughing in the corner with Simon, and so you quickly pivoted on your feet, pulling Anthony in the opposite direction. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last week,” You told him. Once you had put a safe amount of distance between yourselves and Daphne.

“Why I am not married,” You clarify. “I realized that perhaps the truer answer is that no one has ever asked.”

“That surely cannot be true,” Anthony replies.

“But it is,” You tell him. “Most eligible gentlemen see me as a bluestocking, or as merely a platonic acquaintance. No one has ever seen me as more than that.”

“That is not true,” Anthony replies quickly.

“I think I would know better than you do, Lord Bridgerton,” You tell him with a roll of your eyes. “In case you’ve forgotten, we have not spoken in years until last month.”

“Besides, you only prove my point. You are certainly not looking for a wife,” You say.

“What makes you say that?” He asks, turning sharply to look at you.

“Everything about you, starting with the fact that you are wasting your time with me,” You explain. “And ending with the fact that you are the definition of a rake.”

“You can’t tell me that you don’t only spend time with me to get your mama and the other eligible young ladies off your back,” You tell him plainly.

“That is most certainly not the only reason,” Anthony replies. And for half of a second, he almost looks offended by your comment. “I can’t help myself if I find your charm beguiling,” He adds with a smirk.

“My charm? Is that what ruthlessly berating you is called now?” You ask with feigned confusion.

“Your jabs are far from ruthless, my lady,” Anthony replies.

“Then I shall need to sharpen my sword,” You tell him, raising your eyebrows.

Anthony begins to open your mouth and you can see the mirthfulness in his eyes.

“Do not make a double entendre out of that,” You say quickly as the very thought enters your mind at seemingly the same second it does Anthony’s.

“You are delightful company, my lady,” He says with a chuckle.

“And you are a ridiculous man,” You reply, though you can’t help but laugh with him.

The Greenwich Ball

It had been a difficult morning. You’d hardly slept the night before, and your mother, bless her heart, had insisted on you joining her for every single one of her social calls. You probably should have been glad that your mother was not foisting suitors on you left and right, but having to listen to every other mama in town discuss her own daughter’s prospects while you had to sit quietly at your mother’s side was hardly much better. 

It had been exhausting, and now Anthony seemed dead set on making the evening as difficult as possible. He’d wanted to dance and now seemed to think that taking a turn about every room of the party was a worthwhile use of your time.

You weren’t sure what he was doing, or who he was looking for, but when you saw Daphne and the Duke standing in a corner, with the Duke whispering in her ear in a way that was nearly scandalous you quickly remembered your one responsibility and tugged on Anthony’s arm, attempting to lead him back in the other direction.

“What are you doing?” Anthony asks you as you continue to move around him, pushing him into the next room, towards the refreshments table. 

You huff, already annoyed. “I’m supposed to be distracting you!”

To be fair, you and Daphne hadn’t spoken of her little scheme in a few weeks, but you had just assumed you were supposed to continue on with it, as she hadn’t said anything about ending it either.

Your eyes widen when you realize what you just said. Out loud. To him.

“What?” Anthony asks, deeply confused.

You consider lying to him, but your exhausted brain can’t seem to come up with a single plausible excuse. 

“Daphne told me to distract you so that she could spend time with suitors without you scaring them all off,” You admit.

“What?”

“I was supposed to distract you,” You repeat. “And clearly you appreciated the break from your mother’s match-making, otherwise you wouldn’t have put up with me for so long.”

“You thought I was using you?” Anthony asks slowly. His tone is imperceivable. 

“Weren’t you?” You ask slowly. Suddenly far less confident in your assessment of your relationship with the Viscount.

“Of course not!” He replies quickly. “I-” Anthony starts to say before he stops himself.

“But you were spending time with me because Daphne made you?” He asks instead.

You swallow. This was not how you expected this conversation to go at all. 

“Well… yes, but…”

“But what?” Anthony presses

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you would be upset,” You tell him.

“Yes, clearly you did not,” Anthony replies, his words clipped as he searches your face. “I need to have a conversation with my sister. Good night,” He states abruptly before walking away from you.

“Wait, Anthony, please, I’m sorry!”

You’d never felt so awful, so guilty before. Or so confused.

“You have a caller,” Your butler announces as you and your mother sit at the breakfast table the next morning. 

You’d hardly slept, but your mother refused to let you sleep in, your shared breakfasts were a tradition that she would not let you get out of easily, and as an early riser, she didn’t understand why others struggled to wake as early as she did.

“A caller? At this hour?” Your mother asks. Clearly surprised.

“A Lord Bridgerton, asking for Miss (Y/L/N),” He replied.

Your entire body froze as you tried to imagine why Anthony could possibly be calling on you. And at nine in the morning. 

“He’s in the drawing-room,” Your butler adds.

“Yes, I’ll go right in, thank you,” You reply as you stand from the table. You merely give your mother a slight shrug of the shoulders as she looks at you curiously. 

When you entered the drawing-room you found Anthony standing in the middle of the floor, seemingly pacing the room.

“Anthony, what are you doing here?” You asked as you made your way towards him. 

He stops completely when he hears your voice, turning so that his entire body is facing you.

“I needed to see you,” He tells you.

“Why?”

“I love you,” He says.

Your heart stops when you hear those three words. Of all of the things you’d imagined Anthony coming to say to you, this was never on the list, not even in your wildest dreams.

“What?” You ask, thinking you might have misheard.

“I love you.”

“I don’t- What is happening?” You flounder as you laugh in disbelief.

“You said last night that I wouldn't have put up with you unless I was using you to get away from my mother and her matchmaking,” He explains. “But you’re wrong. I spent time with you because I liked it, and when I wasn’t with you I was thinking about when I would see you next. It was never about my mother, or my sister, or anyone else for me. It was about you, and how I want to spend my life with you.”

“You do not have to return these feelings, or say anything at all, but I just wanted you to know,” He says. “To me, you’re my person.”

“Oh my,” You finally say after a moment as you look up at Anthony’s tentatively hopeful expression. 

“I think I’m in love with you too,” You tell him, a smile spreading across your face.

“Is your father home?” He asks, taking your hands into his own and squeezing them tightly.

“It’s nine in the morning, of course he’s home,” You tell him.

“I will speak to him at once,” He replies.

“Anthony,” You begin to protest.

“No,” He says quickly. “We are going to get married. And I don’t want to have to wait any longer.”

“Anthony,” You try again, pulling on his hand so that he focuses back on you and on the present moment. “You haven’t even proposed yet.”

“Oh,” He says before dropping down onto one knee.

“(Y/N) will you make me the happiest man alive and agree to marry me?” He asks.

You can’t help but laugh at his ridiculous antics before nodding.

“Yes, yes, of course,” You tell him.

Anthony grins as he looks up at you before he’s pushing himself back onto his feet and taking your face into his hands. 

Anthony couldn’t help it, he kissed you.

Gamble

Notes: Anthony x Reader - This one's a bit long (2.3k)

Request: Could you do an Anthony x reader with prompt #48? (“You’re mine, do you understand? You belong to me.”) set during the reader’s first season perhaps… thank you!

Request: Hi! I love your writing and I was just wondering if you could do an Anthony x reader fic where they’ve always been best friends and are always at each others side but then some other guy starts showing interest in the reader and they spend more time together which makes Anthony jealous and realize his feelings? Thank you!

Warnings: Anxiety.

🦋 Masterlist 🦋

Anthony Bridgerton had always been controlling; over his family, his affairs, and even yourself- you were his best friend after all. It never really bothered you, for the most part it meant always having someone looking out for you, that is until your first season. You weren't exactly a diamond of the first water but you certainly weren't unattractive, and it definitely didn't hurt that you were popular with the Bridgerton's- you expected your first season to be quite productive indeed. And, initially, it was.

You arrived at the Bridgerton country home for the weekend much later than you had intended. You were surprisingly sought after that morning, your mother typically hosted at least a few suitors every afternoon but that day they just kept coming until you absolutely had to excuse yourself for your journey up from London. "I reckon Y/N will be engaged by the end of the month," Daphne declared, beaming at you across Violet's table. This roused a great deal of teasing, mostly centering around how you were going to forget about them and move to Scotland or some such thing. Anthony was being suspiciously quiet. He was always the brooding sort but usually, surrounded by his family, he perked up a bit. "What's wrong with you?" he was sitting a the head of the table, between you and Benedict. "You were supposed to be here earlier. Then we wouldn't have to deal with all this," he made a vague hand gesture towards the rest of the table. "You're not enjoying our company, brother?" Benedict teased, effectively turning this into a table discussion. "Besides, Y/N was a little caught up," Colin snickered. "Can't you live without her for a second, Anthony?" Eloise added, ripping the spoon Gregory was banging out of his hand. "Of course not," Francesca deadpanned. Anthony looked affronted she even engaged in this conversation and gave her the fiercest he could muster for her, which wasn’t that fierce at all. You took his hand under the table, reclaiming his attention. "I would have rather been here, with you," "You don't fancy anyone, then?" there was almost an intimation of a smile there. You narrowed your eyes, if you had known him any less you would surely have missed it but you did know him, you caught it, and you had no idea what it meant. "Not yet," you looked into one another's eyes, a unknown tension building until Violet decided it was time for dessert.

Anthony had already joined the shooting party by the time you came down for breakfast the following morning. It wasn't that late but you were the only one at the table. You plated eggs but focused almost entirely on the pastries before joining the rest of the group. It was a perfect day, clear skies and the slightest breeze, and everyone was in good spirits. You caught up with him in a group of his friends. You weren't planning on joining, wanting instead to hang back with the ladies and goad them into playing cards, but some of the men let out a groan when they saw you. "Please, tell me she isn't joining," one of them said. You only recognized a few of them, definitely not the one who spoke. "Easy fix: don't give her a pistol," Arthur Barnaby commented with a grand smile on his face. He was always in good spirits and was quite a fan of yours, proven by his sarcastic tone. "I brought my own, I'm afraid," you teased. "I should like to see that," another mused. You recognized him as Lord Kittridge but were never formally introduced. "I do not believe you do," you winked, "but do not fret, I already had plans to gamble these ladies out of their dowries," you spun on your heel a joined the rest of the women. "Y/N!" Anthony called, jogging up behind you, "you're in fine form today." "As per usual, dearest Anthony." He smiled at that. "If I stake you, would you give me a percentage?" he gave you a smirk. "How ungentlemanly," you feigned a gasp. "You adore me for it," his expression turned wicked and you felt your heart skip a beat. You weren't sure if that had ever happened before, he had been more attentive to you recently so perhaps that was the cause. "That is fair," you sighed, "but I did not realize the Bridgerton estate was in such dire straits, you should have come to me sooner." "Keep your voice down!" he laughed, pushing you slightly, "If that rumor started swirling then I shall be stuck with my siblings forever." "It will be worse for them, I assure you." "Then think of my poor brothers and sisters and please," he grabbed your face, "shut your mouth." "As you wish, my lord," and you did a small curtsy prompting that wicked look again. You bit your lip, plucked a glass off a footman's tray, and seated yourself next to Daphne. "I believe Lord Kittredge has his eye on you," she whispered behind her white glove. "What?" your eyes widened. "He has been peering at you since you stepped on the lawn." You snuck a glance at him and, sure enough, he was looking at you. You caught his eye and blushed, immediately looking down to your lap. He was really quite handsome; tall and broad with eyes the color spring grass. His hair was graying around the edges, despite him being barely twenty-seven, but it was really rather becoming on him. "I heard his father was completely gray by thirty," one lady commented. "But he kept all his hair," another added. "And he has no siblings," the first one said. "He really is a catch," Daphne mused. "Why haven't I been hearing about him?" you asked. You would think he would be the talk of the ton, a handsome unwed Marquess with absolutely no responsibilities. "Well, he has avoided society events like the plague," the second lady explained. "Someone told me that he mostly stays on his estate in Scotland," a third one joined the conversation, how ironic. "A handsome recluse," Eloise finally looked up from her book, "sounds like the hero of a novel." "Is that a good thing?" you asked her. "It would certainly be entertaining," she shrugged. You took a sip from your lemonade, not even sure how to process the conversation you just had, and listened to the firing sounds of the shooting, completely forgetting about the cards.

"At any rate, you will have another opportunity this evening," Anthony was right. All of his friends were avid gamblers, even the ladies though it was never outwardly mentioned, and tonight was game night. You did have your eye on Lady Margaret's pearls and you were sure she would put them on the table. You all were getting seated in a circle around the room to play courtiers. You were sat near Anthony, Lady Margaret, and Lord Kittridge. Lady Margaret was an incredibly wealthy woman married to an Earl who dashed off to India mere weeks after their nuptials. She drank heavily and encouraged everyone in her company to join in. She might have been the youngest eccentric to ever live, with a fun-loving spirit and odd Versailles-inspired baubles in her hair. You were proud to say that you were one of the only people she considered a friend. “Lady Margaret, I love that necklace of yours,” you said, leaning forward to look at her. Anthony threw his arm over the back of your chair, leaning back so as not to be in your way. “It’s yours, darling,” she winked, pouring herself another glass of champagne, “if you can win it off me.” "How might I encourage you to put it on the line?" you inquired and took a sip of Anthony's glass. The way courtiers worked was someone was selected to play the king or queen and the rest of the participants were her courtiers. Any movement the king or queen made must be replicated by the courtiers with all the gravity that the action of a monarch possessed, meaning that if anyone so much as grinned or, god forbid, laughed they must forfeit. "I can think of a few ways," Lord Kittridge smirked. You ignored him completely but you did not miss the sharp glare Anthony sent him. "That carnelian ring of yours is quite enticing." And you nodded. Lady Margaret clapped her hands together in excitement, "Shall we place our bets on who will be the first to break?" You all went silent, looking around the room trying to decide who was the weakest link. The men joined in, just for fun. One of the Smythe-Smith cousins was selected to be queen and the game was about to commence. "Colin," Anthony decided. Colin sat across the room continuously reaching over this poor woman to get to the dessert table- although she did not seem to mind, which made sense considering how handsome and eligible the Bridgerton brother was. "That is only wishful thinking on your part," you commented, placing a hand on his side. "Nevertheless," he smiled at you. "I reckon the tall redhead," Lord Kittridge nodded towards the woman who you had to admit you had never seen without a smile. "Much too obvious a guess," Lady Margaret tutted. "I choose Benedict," you decided and leaned back in your seat. "Benedict?" Anthony laughed, "terrible guess." "It will be him," you had a feeling. "I reckon Mister Bridgerton would be rather good at this game," Lady Margaret brought her hand to her chin. "Oh, he is. I don't believe he has ever lost." "He will tonight." "Alright, everyone!" Daphne announced, trying to quiet the room. "Mister Barnaby," Lady Margaret gestured to him, pouring perhaps his sixth glass of wine. You had to admit it was a good guess, certainly better than yours, but you trusted your gut. "What happens if neither of you is correct?" Lord Kittridge asked. You and Lady Margaret only scoffed in response. Daphne finally succeeded in getting everyone's attention and demonstrated to the queen to start the game. The gestures were boring at first: a fan of the hand, the cross of a leg. Then, the queen graduated into making noise: a yawn, a gasp, a snore. You watched Benedict closely. Lady Margaret clenched her fist; Arthur was about to crack, his lips were pressed together. Queen Sythe-Smith let out a haughty breath of air, all thirty courtiers repeated it making their best effort at dead seriousness, and Benedict cracked a smile. "Ha!" you pointed to him and the room erupted into laughter, shock, and relief that it was Benedict. "Damn," Lady Margaret slapped her knee, "I had a good chance with Mister Barnaby," she unclasped

her necklace and handed it to you. "Allow me," Lord Kittridge took it from you. Lady Margaret waggled her brows and stood, dragging a reluctant Anthony with her. You turned your back to him and he strung the pearls around you, his cold fingers grazing your neck, shooting a shiver down your spine. "It looks wonderful on you," he said after securing the clasp. "Thank you, Lord Kittridge," you blushed. "Please, call me Kit," he gave you the most dazzling smile and topped off your drink, "or, at the very least, Lord Kit." "Alright, Lord Kit," you looked up at him through your lashes. He was spectacularly handsome. "You really are quite the lucky sort." "Anthony always says that I hoard it all," you laughed. "In that case, I might have to keep you all to myself, in hopes that some will rub off on me." Your eyes widened and you stammered something intelligible. "We do not have to tell your Anthony, if that would make you more comfortable." You couldn't believe your ears. Never in your life had a man been so forward with you. Candlelight flickered in his eyes and everything seemed to slow. You took a gulp of your champagne and tried your hardest to appear confident but you were so hot in your dress it seemed nearly impossible. "I believe I need some air," you choked out. "I will accompany you," you walked in silence to the gardens, filled with a group of people toasting and enjoying the night. You remained close to the house, suddenly wondering where Anthony was, even peering through the window to try and spot him. "Are you enjoying the weekend?" you made small talk, trying your damndest to ignore the feeling that your stays were suffocating you. He responded, sticking to perfectly respectable topics of conversation, but his deep eyes felt as if they were peering into your soul and you weren't sure you liked it. The tall smiling redhead stumbled into you, her hands flying to Lord Kittridge's arms for support. You took that moment to excuse yourself and walked briskly into the house and up the stairs, bursting into the nearest bedroom. It was dark and quiet. You fell against the wall breathing heavily and pulling at your dress, trying to get some air. The door burst open and Anthony found you leaning against the bedpost. You weakly asked for help. "What do you need me to do?" his voice full of worry. "Shut the door." He did it immediately. Your vision began to blur and your head felt light and you couldn't get any air to save your life. Anthony grabbed onto your waist, swiftly undid the buttons at the back of your dress, and pulled at the strings of your stays. He spun you around and tipped your face up to his. "Better?" you nodded weakly, allowing your lungs to be filled. You fell against his chest, suddenly terribly exhausted, and he wrapped his arms around you. There was knocking at the door, "Y/N? Are you in there?" it was Lord Kittridge, "Are you alright?" "Piss off," Anthony shouted before pulling you even closer to him, "are you interested in him?" you shook your head no, your eyes closed, enjoying the steady bobbing of his chest, "Good. You’re mine, do you understand? You belong to me." You nodded, wanting nothing more.

art is to feel (ch. 1)

Series: art is to feel

Paring: Anthony Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: Anthony Bridgerton has only one goal for this upcoming social season. To find a wife. What will he do when a young woman with no desire for marriage comes waltzing into his life? 

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I love Bridgerton with all my heart, I was trying to start a regency!au fic with Din Djarin and somehow wrote this instead lol (the regency!din is on its way tho dont worry). Please let me know all of your thoughts and feels on this story as I being to map out future chapters.

// (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7)

Dear Reader,

The social season is upon us once again. It feels like just yesterday the ton was abuzz with the wedding of the Duke and Duchess of Hastings. But of course, their first child, a son, was born two months ago. I’ve been told the heir is happy and healthy. And with the host of aunts and uncles, the future Duke shall never be without love and attention.

This author also has it on good authority that the Viscount, Anthony Bridgerton has stated his intention to finally find a wife. A fact that has many of the ton’s advantageous mamas jockeying for the Viscount’s attentions. 

That of course begs the question-

Will the newborn Duke have a new aunt by the end of this season?

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers, 20 April 1814

Keep reading

speak now

"i hear the preacher say, ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’" "there's the silence, there's my last chance" "i stand up with shaky hands, all eyes on me" "horrified looks from everyone in the room" "but i'm only looking at you"

pairings: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings/tags: angst with fluff at the end. you fell first, anthony fell harder. the reader is daphne’s best friend.

summary: anthony comes to a realization the night before your wedding— the wedding where you’re supposed to be marrying someone else.

the moonlight cast a soft glow over the elegant drawing-room of bridgerton house. anthony stood by the window, lost in thought, as daphne entered the room. she had just returned to london, bringing with her news that had unsettled him to the core.

"why have i not heard of this in lady whistledown’s columns?" he had demanded, pacing the room.

"it was kept private," daphne replied, her voice calm but tinged with sadness. "y/n did not wish for any undue attention. the wedding is tomorrow, anthony."

"tomorrow?" he stopped in his tracks, a look of determination hardening his features. without another word, he grabbed his coat and left the house, ignoring daphne’s calls after him.

the night was deep when anthony arrived at your family home. the world around him was silent, the only sound his hurried footsteps on the cobblestone path. he knocked on the door with a sense of urgency, his heart pounding in his chest. when you opened the door, your eyes widened in surprise and confusion.

"anthony? what are you doing here?" you whispered urgently, glancing around to ensure no one else saw. "it is improper for you to be here at this hour."

"i had to see you," he replied, his voice a fervent plea. "you cannot marry him."

you shook her head, "anthony, this is madness. you should not be here. think of our families’ reputations.”

“i do not care about reputations," he insisted, stepping closer. "i care about you, y/n. i cannot stand by and watch you marry a man you do not love."

your eyes filled with tears, but you quickly blinked them away. "you do not love me, anthony. you only say this because i am soon to be wed. please, leave before someone sees you."

his heart ached at your words, but he pressed on. "y/n, i have always loved you. even when you were merely daphne’s bothersome friend. my feelings are not sudden. they have always been there, growing stronger with each passing day."

you shook your head again, more vehemently this time. "no, anthony. this is not right. you must go."

with that, you turned and fled up the stairs, leaving him standing in the dimly lit hallway, the weight of his confession hanging heavily in the air.

returning to bridgerton house, anthony found daphne waiting for him, a knowing look in her eyes. "where have you been?" she asked, though it was clear she already knew the answer.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "i went to see y/n. i professed my love to her, but she does not believe me."

daphne’s expression softened. "anthony, she has loved you since the moment she stepped into our home. you must show her that your feelings are genuine. if you truly love her, you must fight for her."

her words resonated deeply with him, and he resolved to do whatever it took to prevent the marriage.

the morning of the wedding dawned bright and clear, the air filled with a sense of anticipation. the church was adorned with flowers, the pews filled with friends and family. anthony took his seat, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what he was about to do. as the ceremony commenced, he watched you walk down the aisle, your face a mask of composure. when the bishop inquired if there were any objections, anthony rose to his feet.

"i do," he declared, his voice ringing out in the silence.

gasps echoed through the congregation. your parents exchanged shocked glances, and the groom’s face darkened with anger.

his mother, seated next to him, grasped his arm with urgency.

"anthony, what in heaven’s name are you doing?” she whispered, her voice filled with concern.

ignoring her, anthony kept his gaze fixed on you, your face had turned pale with shock. he moved his arm away from his mother’s touch, his resolve unshaken.

"i cannot let this happen," he said, his eyes never leaving yours.

your eyes were wide with a mix of emotions. without a word, you fled the church, the weight of anthony’s declaration heavy on your heart. you ran to the one place where you could find solace—the apple tree in your family’s garden.

you stood beneath the apple tree, your breaths coming in ragged bursts. the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the garden as anthony approached you. your eyes, still red from crying, met his with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

"go away, anthony," you whispered, turning away from him. "you have humiliated me enough. no man will want to marry me now."

"how did you even find me?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

anthony, catching his breath, gave a soft, sad smile. "i have seen you come here before. when the demands of society became too much at the balls held at your family home, you would retreat here to find solace."

your brow furrowed in surprise, you turned to face him. "you have been watching me?"

he nodded, his gaze tender. "i have always kept an eye on you, even if you did not know it. i wanted to ensure that you were safe and that you had a place to escape when you needed it."

your heart ached with the realization of his quiet vigilance. "you knew?"

"yes," anthony replied softly. "i knew. and i could not let you marry someone who did not see you as you truly are. you deserve to be loved fully, and i have always felt that love for you."

he knelt beside you, gently taking your hands. reluctantly, you met his gaze, and in his eyes, you saw an intensity you had never witnessed before. "i am terribly sorry for ruining your ceremony, but i simply could not bear to see you marry another. alas, i am a gentleman. if you do not feel the same, i will leave and never bother you again."

your heart ached with the depth of your feelings. "i desire no one else. i have always wanted you, but i never believed you could feel the same. i think you have ruined me for everyone else."

anthony’s grip on your hands tightened. "it is you who have ruined me, y/n. my heart is so full of you that i can hardly call it my own."

with a sob, you threw your arms around him, pressing your lips to his in a kiss filled with years of longing and unspoken love.

anthony held you close, your heart swelling with joy and relief. "i am yours, y/n. nothing will ever change that."

in the quiet of the garden, beneath the shade of the apple tree, your love found its voice, a love that had always been destined to be.

Dastardly Plans

Summary: You plot revenge, Anthony finds it incredibly attractive.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

“Would you be so kind as to help me plot a murder,” You stated as soon as you stepped foot into Anthony’s study.

“I’m sorry but what did you just say my darling wife, I must of misheard you?”

“I need help with planning a murder, do keep up my love. Maybe you were the wrong choice, perhaps I shall approach Eloise instead, she seems a bit more quick witted”

“Don’t you dare. I was just making sure I heard correctly, I never said no. But just out of curiosity who are we killing and why?”

“That silly Miss Connors. Francesca just confided that she’s be coming up to her at every ball saying hurtful remarks. She even had the audacity to step on her gown causing a terrible rip. The wretch is clearly jealous of Franny, and I will have none of it. So I’ve been thinking the best way to get rid of the Miss Connors problem will be to never have to see her face again. Argo murder! Really it’s a two birds one stone situation because it will show the Ton the consequences of messing with the Bridgertons, especially while I’m Viscountess.”

Anthony started at you, his mouth wide open in awe and his eyes shining with desire. Your defence of his siblings was not only endearing but incredibly sexy.

“Honey, you still there. Yes or no to murder, I don’t have all day.”

“Absolutely yes. In fact I know Colin mentioned a substance he came across on the continent which was deadly yet odourless. One drop in the dreadful girls tea and mission accomplished”

“I knew I married you for a reason” you smirked, bringing Anthony in for a kiss.

————

Hope you all enjoyed. Feel free to send through any requests x

Falling For Fairytales (5)

Anthony Bridgerton x black!Reader

Series Summary: Taking a slight twist on your classic Cinderella story, you are the daughter of a Marquis who died when you were 18. Several years later, you are told by your stepmother that you must marry this season, or she will engage you to her elderly Uncle. Having no money of your own, you realize you are going to have to strategize if you are going to avoid such a fate. So it's a good thing you run into a Viscount who sees marriage as a battlefield.

Chapter Summary: You (annoyingly) have tea

Word Count: 1684

A/N: Hi people! Any feedback is welcomed! I hope you enjoy :) And shoutout to @gxlden-honey for leaving such kind words. You're the reason this chapter was written.

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Bridgerton Masterlist

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Plans for tea were set for as early as the next day as you four discussed it. 

The excitement you and Daphne felt at being reunited was palpable and could not be contained! Rather than force you to wait till the next social affair of the season to meet up, both Lady Danbury and Lady Bridgerton agreed that such a reunion should take place sooner rather than later in the privacy of your homes. Since you were simply borrowing Lady Danbury’s lodgings, it was the Bridgerton’s who decided to extend an invitation to come over for tea. It was an invitation you were happy to receive and one you eagerly waited to use as night turned into day. But in your excitement, you forgot one thing.

You had been named the Diamond of the Season.

As such, you should have been expecting the number of bachelors that arrived at the Danbury Estate to call on you the next day, but you were still taken aback when you saw how long the line of men truly was. While a part of you wanted to find a way to get out of speaking to so many people, the bigger part remembered that your future was on the line here, so it was in your best interest to find a way to get through this instead.

Realizing there was no way for you to make it through the queue of potential suitors and make it to the Bridgerton’s for tea, you quickly composed a note explaining your situation and sent your regrets to Daphne. 

Knowing she would understand, you settled onto one end of the couch in the drawing room and began to slowly make your way through the line of gentlemen. Each man entered the room holding a gift for you that was meant to be a token of affection. But as the room filled with flowers and chocolates, you knew that their affection had to be false when each man sat down next to you and only took the time to talk about himself. 

Your mind had started to become increasingly numb as you lost count of how many esteemed members of society you had been forced to converse with when there was a sudden commotion at the door. 

Turning your head to see what was going on, you could only allow your jaw to drop the slightest bit when the butler announced to the room with a hurried touch,

“Viscount Bridgerton.” 

And in an almost bizarre fashion, the man who owned the name quickly pushed his way into the room. 

Seemingly out of breath from getting here in such a rush, Anthony had to take a couple of deep breaths before he addressed the room that was staring at him. Turning to your Aunt after composing himself and giving a quick bow of his head, he said,

“Lady Danbury,” In a greeting voice before turning towards you and doing the same.

“My Lady,” He finished by looking directly at you.

Sending an apologetic smile to the gentleman seated next to you (who had been going on and on about something you could not remember), you stood from the couch to give the Viscount a respectful curtsey.

Before you could open your mouth, Anthony cut in and said,

“I hope you are well?”

Giving a grateful nod at finally being asked about yourself, you simply replied with a slightly timid smile,

“Yes, I am well.”

You both stared at one another for a moment before Lady Danbury promptly cleared her throat.

Clearing your own, you finally said,

“Forgive me, my Lord, but we were not expecting you today.”

The lord in question had to pause as if he had not considered that before he found his words. 

“Yes, well, I was breaking my fast with my family when we received your note. I am afraid my sister insists you keep your appointment.”

With a look of confusion, you could not help curiously asking,

“...and she sent you here to relay that message?”

Like the older brother he was, he scoffed lightly at the idea of his little sister commanding him to do anything. As if begging you to never think such a thing again, Anthony said, “Please,” before he finished by stating what really happened.

“I volunteered to make the trip.” And allowed a small, confident smile to remain on his lips after his declaration. 

You could not pretend that your stomach did not instantly erupt with butterflies when you heard his words, so you had to remind yourself to try to hold onto your decorum-dictated poise. Still, Anthony could not pretend he did not see a small smile of your own growing on your face. 

Bringing you out of your musings, your Aunt voiced the very question you had been about to ask.

“May I inquire, Lord Bridgerton, why such a busy man would take the time to do such a time-consuming thing?”

Though, perhaps you would not have asked it in that way.

Having seen the way he looked at you the night before, Lady Danbury assumed that whatever excuse he came up with, it would be one that hid his true feelings.

And Lady Danbury is nothing if not always right.

So when he said, “Frankly, I felt duty-bound to come.”

Your Aunt did not keep the knowing smirk from greeting her lips as she gave an intrigued, “Oh?” With a raised brow.

Taking that as his cue, Anthony began to explain.

“Yes. You see, I have a great love for my family. So if any opportunity to bring them happiness presents itself, I feel obligated to take it.”

Locking eyes with yours, he revealed a truth he had known for a while,

“Your presence would bring great happiness.”

Although it was understood your presence would bring happiness to Daphne, Lord Bridgerton knew he had included himself in that statement, whether he acknowledged it or not. 

But with that statement, your stomach began doing flips. You were grateful that your complexion did not allow you to blush as it would have been a dead giveaway as to how you felt in this moment. But as your body began to fill with giddiness at Anthony’s words, the gentleman whose name you had forgotten chose that moment to stand indignantly and sharply say with an exasperated whine,

“The Lady is already occupied!”

Neither you nor Anthony appreciated the way the man spoke of you as if you were a toy about to be taken away from him, but it was Anthony who said something about it.

“Good sir, the Lady, as you put it, promised to have tea with my sister. Since the Lady is as honorable as they come, I am sure you would not want to be the cause for why she has to break her word.”

You could not help but notice the way Anthony’s eyes darkened as he came to your defense. Looking at the gentleman with almost hidden contempt, the thunder on Anthony’s face made you glad you were not on the receiving end of such a look. In fact, when the Viscount’s eyes landed on you again, his entire expression unexpectedly softened.

As the man next to you started to sputter while trying to come up with a retort to such a clever verbal trap, your Aunt came to your rescue.

“I shall have no one question the honor of my niece!” 

Turning toward her butler in the room, she decisively, and a tad dramatically, said,

“Prepare a carriage! We are going to Bridgerton House.”

But before the butler could leave to make the arrangements, Anthony cut in once more.

“Actually Lady Danbury, there is no need,” he said with a triumphant smile. “I have come in a carriage of my own with the hope that you would allow me to bring you both to Bridgerton House myself.”

Turning back towards you, he explained,

“There is more than enough room for you, your Aunt, and myself, so we should be quite comfortable on the journey there.”

Realizing that all eyes were on you as they waited for you to make a choice, you decided to turn back to what you now knew was a childish gentleman and apologetically said,

“Forgive me Sir, but it seems I am already engaged for the afternoon. Perhaps we can get to know one another at a later date?”

You ended it like a reasonable question, but you said it like a rhetorical statement that needed no answer and took joy in the way the man gave a huff and stomped out of the room past Anthony.

Telling the butler to inform the crowd of suitors still waiting outside the door that afternoon tea was over since you were leaving the premises, you could easily hear the symphony of disappointed groans echo from the hallway and shared an amused smile with the Viscount. Holding his elbow out towards you, he said, 

“Please, allow me.”

And escorted you and Lady Danbury outside to his carriage after they had all left. He waited for the footman to open the door before helping you inside. When he did the same with your Aunt, you expected her to get in on the same side as you. So when she climbed into the carriage and sat the opposite way, you could only send her a look of wide, questioning eyes as you wondered what she was up to.

So you could not believe that when Anthony climbed in and easily decided to sit next to you, she chose to reveal that it was all an ingenious plan by sending you a discreet wink from across the aisle. Shocked, but having nowhere to go, you tried to make yourself comfortable in your chair before taking a slight glance at Anthony. Having never been so close to a man before, you could only swallow inconspicuously as the Viscount settled into the seat. When he ended up consequently pressing his side into yours, you could only think, 

“Uh oh…”

Just as the doors closed and the carriage began to pull off.

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Taglist: @drownmeoutatsea | @easilyobessedbutflighty | @thatlizardlady | @gxlden-honey

the language of flowers — part one, daises

warnings: angst, of course, and bad writing? ooc anthony bc i suck and thats unwarranted <33

word count: 1.8k (wowza)

author’s note: hello! this is my first published fic, so im pretty sure it’s going to be horrible, but i had this idea after reading Sherlock Holmes, so… im excited, i guess? this is part of a series i will publish, but for now... yay! first fic celebration!

read the other parts! — part two, irises | part three, peonies

i don’t consent for my work to be reposted or copied, translated, or transferred to any other platform, or this one, in part or whole.

--------- . . . ---------

i. 1802, bellis perennis. daisies, platonic love

It was a day in which the sun blazed as though it had a fury against all of England, the sweltering heat resulting in most of the country to stay indoors, and perhaps enjoy a cool glass of lemonade. The unforgiving rays of the sun shone glitteringly on the lake, as if to mock those who stayed inside, flamboyantly displaying its beauty.

Anthony Bridgerton was a boy, (or a man, as he liked to proclaim himself, as he was just a year from being eighteen), who did not like to stay inside, especially on a glorious day like this. He liked to forget the matter that it was well over 35 degrees celsius, but in his words, such a beautiful, sunny day should not go to waste.

“Why have you dragged me out here, Mr. Bridgerton?” You groan against the thick coat of your own horse. As the only daughter of a Duke with three sons, you had to dress up prim and proper, much to your chagrin, before going out, especially with a boy, whether it be one of your closest friends or not. You run your hands through your hair—which you've left open, because, in your words, damn society, no single person should be subject to those horrid pins in their hair on a hot summer's day!, before you stormed out of your estate, to head to the stables to find solace in one of your most trusted companions.

He grins, sending a flutter of butterflies amok in your stomach. Deep inside, you knew that there was no way that he would ever even consider you romantically, as you were exactly the age of his brother, Benedict, who, no doubt, was ever the charmer, but Anthony had a special place in your heart. Your first love, (could one even call it love? You would often dismiss it as infatuation, but when he looked at you like that, how could your youthful little heart disregard it?), and most of all, your first friend. “Well,” he starts, “first of all, you can cease the formalities, or I’ll push you off your horse.” He leisurely rides up next to you, smirking. “And there isn’t any harm in calling on my closest friend for a few hours of her time, is there not?”

“Of course not, but you know how my mother hounds me,” you sigh tiredly, rubbing the nape of your neck. “It is almost as if…” reddening, you bite your lip. You knew that your mother was always on a tirade on how you and Anthony would be perfect together, but you know that he did not feel the same way. You sneak in a gaze at his soft dark hair, and his gorgeous, deep brown eyes, always glimmering with mischief of some sort. 

He turned to you, frowning. “As if? She hasn’t got a problem with me, has she?”

Your eyes widen, and you quickly backtrack on your words. “No! No, of course she hasn’t got a problem with you, she’s just a bit… spirited, that’s all. Just very spirited and a woman very worried about what society has to say about me—not that I care, of course.”

“Just let her know that I’m most definitely not giving up my friendship with you just because of the nonsense the Ton spews on an hourly basis.” You give an extremely unladylike snort at his words, which sends the both of you into a fit of laughter.

The both of you finally reach the site that Anthony must have wanted to show you. It’s a corner beside the lake, with a patch of wildflowers and a small woodland area behind it. The sunlight shines onto the surface of the lake, and small dragonflies lazily float around the flowers. What entrances you most is the flora near the area. While, of course, you've seen flowers before, since your own father boasts one of the most intricate gardens in London, there isn’t any garden that could hold a candle to the natural beauty, the wild, untamed, disorderly allure of this particular strip of land. Fireweed and cattails rub against the agrimonies and bellflowers, and you have to physically stop yourself from letting your jaw drop and stare at the scene in front of you.

The dark-haired boy enthusiastically gets down from his horse, rubbing his eyebrow, and holds his hand out to your stunned self. You bite back a smirk when you notice his actions, and steady yourself against his glove. “I don’t need you to do all this,” you tease. “I can get down from a horse just fine by myself.”

“Really?” He smirks. “Alright then.” Letting go of you abruptly, he wipes off his hands on his breeches, while behind him, you trip to the ground, dust pooling and clouding around you, and you land on your ankle.

“Ow!” You shriek, your hands scratched from the rough, gravelly grass. You examine your ankle, which is slightly swollen and red, along with giving you large, throbbing pains. “Anthony, you’re such a prick!” You steady yourself against a tree trunk when he turns around and sees you, in pain. He quickly rushes to your side, steadying you by placing his hands on your hips, and you try, (and fail), to ignore your heart working on overdrive. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. Really, I didn’t know it would hurt you, I didn't know you were that high up.”

“What do you know, then?” You grumble, trying to hold weight on your foot. When you wince, Anthony immediately carries you in his arms in a bridal hold, and you have to take all the willpower you have to not stare at his biceps, or worse, swoon right there. “Anthony! Put me down!” You cry, halfheartedly, your inner thoughts wishing that he wouldn’t listen to a word you said. “If you drop me, I swear I will hurt you.”

“Y/N,” he smiles at you, “trust me, I know better than to cross you by now.” He readjusts his hands, and one of them, (you’re too frazzled to notice which), lands on the small of your back, and you are sure that you will combust within a second if he keeps this up. “And,” he continues, “I haven’t dragged you all the way here just so you can go home. And trust me, you're not heavy at all.” He smirks, raising one of his hands so that you can see it, and taps your nose.

“Anthony—oh god—what the bloody hell are you doing?”

“Proving you haven't got anything to worry about. Don’t worry, darling.” The word sends a shiver down your spine, and the moment just seems so perfect: you, in his arms, his dark, dreamy eyes gazing into your own, his breath hot on your cheek. He smells of sandalwood and citrus—the same smell that haunts you day and night, in your dreams and nightmares.

You relax into his arms, and are snapped out of your daze only by the soft brush of something against your nose—petals? You open your eyes to a grinning Anthony, tapping your face with a hastily bundled bunch of flowers.

“Anthony,” you frown, “I was relaxing. Do not forget that you caused my devastating injury.” You pout, widening your eyes and biting your lips, trying to play the fact that you’re merely an innocent bystander of his tomfoolery. He sighs, and waves the flowers in front of your face.

“That is precisely what this is for, you hypochondriac—ow! Sorry! I picked you flowers, because you're so microscopic that I can carry you with one hand.” He gently placed you down on a gravelly stone bench, among the wildflowers and its concomitant insects, hurriedly putting a bouquet of flowers in your hand. 

Daises.

The Guide for Flora for Debutantes: Resplendent in its simplicity, the daisy's tender white petals encircle a sunny heart, a poignant reflection of the chaste and enduring affection shared amongst esteemed companions of a non-romantic nature. The suitor that gives this flower to you may not desire to pursue a romantic relation, but shows no ill will towards you, and would in fact like to continue a relationship based purely on friendship. 

Your mind flashes to a paragraph in one of your least-loved books, but one your governess insisted you study. Perhaps he didn’t mean to give you these gut-wrenching, heartbreaking flowers, flowers that left your soul shattered on the ground, due to your dramatics. Men, in particular, were never very observant when it came to flowers. “Well, there might be a privilege to being microscopic then,” you smile, feigning delight. “Say,” you gaze up at Anthony’s eyes, “what made you pick these particular ones? Is there anything special about daises?”

“Er, no…” Anthony frowned. “They were the only ones that looked nice enough to give to you. The others looked like weeds, if I am being completely forthright.” You stifle a laugh, and perhaps there indeed was no symbolism behind the flowers the gave you, nothing other than fate.

As you settle on the stone bench, your ankle throbbing slightly, you peer at the bouquet of daises now cradled in your hand. The delicate blossoms seem to mirror the delicate dance of emotions within your heart, or so your heart believes. Anthony's actions have always been a mixture of exasperating and endearing, and this moment is no different.

"Anthony," you say, suppressing a smile, "your chivalry knows no bounds, it seems." He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Ah, my dear, a gentleman's duty is to come to the rescue of a damsel in distress, is it not?" You roll your eyes with a playful sigh, though your heart flutters at his words. There's a familiarity between you that goes beyond mere friendship, a connection that has woven itself over years of shared experiences. But society's expectations and the complexities of your own heart keep those feelings hidden beneath the surface. 

"Are you suggesting that I am in distress, Mr. Bridgerton?" you retort, raising an eyebrow. His smile widens, and he takes a seat beside you on the bench. 

"Perhaps not in distress, but certainly in need of a flower-bearing rescuer." He quips, gently nudging your shoulder. You both share a laugh, the tension that briefly hung in the air dissipating like morning mist. There's a sense of ease in his company that you've never found elsewhere, a comfort that stems from him, merely his presence.

A sense of home—of love, and for now, it did not matter if he didn’t feel it, but the warm feeling that enveloped you was merely your own to enjoy.

the feminism has left my body momentarily 🫠🫠

Hysteria

Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader. Doctor x patient, power imbalance, dubcon, misogyny, outdated medical practice, first orgasm, overstimulation, innocence kink, dirty talk, praise, cum eating, jerking off. this isn’t historically accurate at all- I combined more modern medical techniques with old ones I’m sure- but it’s rlly just for fun. I also just pretended corsets don’t exist for ease :,)

this could be considered a dark!fic. please read with caution

word count: 2,666 >:)

Keep reading

How To Be A Heartbreaker

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

TW: Enemies to lovers, lots of tension, Eloise, Daphne, and Benedict teasing, brief sexual encounter at the end. Not full smut, but it is kinda spicy. I think that’s it. Let me know if I missed anything.

·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ 　　.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ . ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ 　　.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ . ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ 　　.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ . ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ 　　.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ .

“Kill me now,” Y/N grumbles quietly to Benedict who watches with amused eyes as his best friend glares at his older brother.

“Oh how I love your dramatics,” he replies, placing a bubbly drink in her hands. She gratefully accepts it, taking a generous sip of it as she continues to burn holes in the side of Anthony Bridgerton’s head.

Y/N has been close with the Bridgerton family since her conception really. Violet and Y/N’s mom, Y/M/N, we’re pregnant with Y/N and Eloise at the same time. They went through the pregnancy together, wanting to give their daughters a built in best friend which both girls were extremely grateful for. Y/N and Eloise have been joint at the hip since birth. The only two people they let infiltrate their tight-knit bond is Benedict and Penelope.

For whatever reason, even though the rest of the Bridgerton family absolutely adores her, Anthony Bridgerton is the only one Y/N hasn’t been able to win over. No matter how hard she tries or how often she’s around him, he’s never been able to warm up to her. It’s rather infuriating. The snide remarks, the glares from across the room, the incessant complaining, the way he pushes her buttons, and how disrespectful he is towards women in general. Ever since he’s decided to look for a wife this season, his view on love and marriage has been nothing short of disgusting to the young woman. She pity’s the poor lady who ends up betrothed to that man.

“If you keep glaring at him like that Y/N you’ll get wrinkles,” Colin Bridgerton smoothly joins the conversation. Y/N’s always enjoyed Colin’s company, but she knew to not spend too much time with him as his not so secret admirer wouldn’t be too happy about it.

“Good,” she scoffs. “Maybe then I wouldn’t have to participate in the marriage mart.” She downs the rest of her drink causing the boys to chuckle at her cynicism. Y/N has never been one to conform to societal norms for women. She took up fencing with the Bridgerton boys at a young age, much to Eloise’s dismay. Y/N’s parents allowed her to participate in such things, but Eloise unfortunately had no such luck.

“It really is a wonder why the men of the ton are not knocking down your door,” Benedict responds sarcastically, resting his hand on the small of Y/N’s back.

She smiles when she notices Eloise and Daphne exiting the house to join the rest of the family outside. The Bridgerton family, in addition to Y/N are all at Aubrey Hall for the time being. Violet is always kind enough to invite Y/N whenever they go. The family have been waiting for the older Bridgerton sisters to make their way outside for the friendly game of Pall Mall they always play. Even though friendly isn’t exactly the word most would use when watching this group.

“Perhaps it’s my charming good looks and prize-winning personality,” Y/N smirks sardonically before placing her glass back in Benedict’s hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to converse with two individuals who can actually challenge me intellectually.”

Her smooth insult leaves the boys laughing, shaking their head at her words. She saunters directly over to Eloise and Daphne, the three girls immediately getting immersed in whatever hot button topic they’ve decided to bring up. Y/N smirks when she feels Anthony staring daggers into the side of her head before storming over to his brothers.

“I don’t understand how you both can stand her,” Anthony grumbles. “She’s insufferable. I mean, how can they not see how evil she is?” He gestures in the direction where Y/N walked in.

Both Benedict and Colin follow his finger and see Y/N throwing her head back laughing as Hyacinth and Gregory run into her arms at full speed. The sun glows around her creating a beautiful silhouette behind the woman. She looks like an absolute angel which makes Anthony’s statement appear much more ridiculous.

Benedict quirks an eyebrow, “Yes… from the depths of hell that one.”

“I can see the crown of flames on her head,” Colin joins in on the sarcasm train, making Anthony fume in his spot.

“One of these days you all will see her for who she truly is,” swears Anthony. “I will make sure of it.”

“Are we ready to play?” Daphne calls out with a wicked grin. She’s more than ready to destroy her siblings and sibling adjacent. “Or are we going to dilly dally all day to avoid my inevitable win?”

“Ooh, the Duchess is feeling confident,” Eloise taunts. “Let’s see if she truly has the skills to back it up.”

Y/N snickers at the bickering sisters before looping her arm through Eloise’s as they head towards the mallets. Y/N knows how deeply Anthony loves his black mallet. He has ever since they were children. Before their petty rivalry escalated into what it is today, Y/N’s favorite mallet was the lavender one that is currently sitting pretty directly within her grasp. But by the competitive look on the eldest Bridgerton’s face, she’s feeling a darker color will suit her just as nicely.

Eloise is the first to try and grab her mallet but Colin stuck his hand out to stop her. If looks could kill, Colin would be six feet under by now. Eloise looks as if she could bite his head off. Her older brother notices the dangerous look in his sisters eyes before swallowing thickly, “Let us toss a coin.” His suggestion is calm. It’s rather typical of the third eldest brother to try and maintain harmony. Quite futile if you were to ask Y/N. Things tend to get nasty rather quickly.

“Last year, we promised to let the youngest pick first!” She recalls rather passionately. Y/N sticks her finger up in the air in order to second Eloise’s point. She distinctly remembers the conversation from last year when they were in the exact position, but then they allowed the eldest to have their pick first.

“We pick based on alphabetical order,” Anthony states rather harshly.

Y/N tilts her head, “How convenient that is for you,” she chides. “Someone already nervous about their future loss?”

“I don’t recall inviting you into the conversation,” he snaps. “You have no say in how we decide to proceed.”

“She has just as much of a say as all of us,” Daphne scoffs at her brothers behavior. “She’s been playing this with us since we were children.”

“That doesn’t give her any right over our tradition,” he insists with a glare. “We’ve always picked alphabetically and I will not allow her to ruin that.”

“Perhaps we should settle this on the planche,” Y/N suggests challengingly. She and Anthony have always been rather… rough when it comes to fencing. “I would love to show you just how much I can ruin things. Like your ability to produce offspring for example.”

Eloise snorts, slapping her hand over her mouth as Benedict looks away with amusement written on his face. Colin’s jaw falls slack and Daphne gasps loudly, punishing Y/N by slapping her arm. “Proper ladies do not speak that way.”

“When has she ever been a proper lady?” Anthony snarls.

“Okay, enough!” Daphne stops them, getting rather tired of the relentless noise. “The only proper thing to do is allow our guest to choose her mallet and strike and strike first,” she nods towards Y/N.

The H/C woman smiles politely, “Thank you, Daph.” The look she sends Anthony is nothing short of smug, rubbing her first victory in his face.

“What?!” He asks incredulously. “Did you not just get done stating how she’s practically an honorary Bridgerton?”

“And did you not just get done saying how she has no say?” Daphne challenges. “I’m simply abiding by what you said brother. Since I am an actual Bridgerton sibling, I will make the decision so she does not ruin anything for you.” Y/N and Daphne share a knowing look, finding humor in Anthony’s complete and utter shock. He did not realize how his words would bite him back so soon.

The rest of the siblings look more than pleased with this arrangement. Eloise pokes Y/N’s side as she watches the mischief twinkle behind her eyes. Colin gestures towards the container holding the mallets, “Miss Y/N, please, take your pick.”

“Thank you, Colin,” Y/N smiles widely over at the third eldest before sneering just at Anthony. The mischievous young woman leans forward, looking directly at the lavendar mallet. She’s chosen that mallet every time so no one looks surprised. At least until she smirks, leaning over her usual weapon of war and wrapping her fingers around the black mallet. She watches Anthony’s jaw fall to the floor as she pulls it out and there has never been a time where she’s felt more satisfied with a decision.

“Would you look at that?” Daphne chuckles, poking fun at her older brother.

“Oh, is this yours?” Y/N feigns innocence. “I’m so sorry Viscount, it must’ve slipped my mind,” she runs her hand up and down the handle, jutting out her bottom lip to show just how sorry she is.

Fumes. That’s all that is coming out of Anthony’s face. He wishes he could rub the pure expression of her face. “You know that mallet is mine,” he claims angrily. “It has been since we were young. You always play with the purple. You chose mine on purpose.”

“It’s actually lavender,” Y/N replies nonchalantly, not feeding into his anger. “But perhaps I needed a change in pace. I’m sure you’ll do just fine with a different color,” she shrugs. “Unless you need this as some sort of crutch?” She lifts a brow, holding it out towards him. “Like a baby with a bottle.”

Small snickers ensue and Anthony clenches his jaw, the muscles ticking with anger. “I do not need a crutch. I will play just as well with any other mallet.”

“I’m sure you will,” she nods patronizingly.

“Are we to stand here and listen to them bicker like a married couple, or shall we play?” Eloise whines. Anthony and Y/N both look at her like she has three heads, not believing the statement that just came out of her mouth. A small blush appears on Anthony’s face and before he knows it, the rest of his siblings are shooting forward to grab their own mallets. Due to his momentary stun, Anthony is immediately at a disadvantage. All the mallets get swooped up, except the lavender one.

He stares at it with an intense hatred. He clenches his fists causing them to pulse as if he were wrapping his hands around someone’s neck. They all look at him expectantly, waiting for him to take it. A low growl escapes his throat before he begrudgingly reaches forward and yanks it from the container.

“Let’s go then,” he says stiffly before walking to the game field.

The game was off to a relatively good start in Y/N’s eyes as she finds herself doing much better than the Bridgerton siblings. She immediately knocks her ball through the high arch of iron on the first strike, evoking claps from Benedict and a rather annoyed sigh from Eloise. Y/N pokes her friends side and Eloise sways her hand away before getting her own mallet ready to swing.

“I always forget how good you are at this game,” Daphne compliments.

Y/N brushes her off, “You flatter me, Daph. But believe me, I am nothing compared to you. You won’t last year if I recall correctly, no?”

A self-assured smile makes its way onto the Duchess’s face as she lifts her head up slightly higher. “Yes. Yes I did.”

Benedict claps teasingly for Eloise who completely missed her mark. She groans before stomping over the Y/N and Daphne with her arms crossed. “I might just start hitting him instead of the ball,” she huffs, directing her faux anger towards Benedict.

Y/N pats her back, “You’re doing well, El. Just stop focusing so much on beating your brothers and it’ll come much easier.”

“Oh shut it,” she rolls her eyes playfully. “You out of everyone here cannot be spewing that nonsense. You are about as competitive as they come. The only person who might be able to beat you in that area is Anthony.”

“Oh, Anthony can’t beat me at anything,” Y/n shakes her head.

“Wow,” Eloise scoffs. “You really just got competitive over who can be more competitive,” she looks at Daphne with a bewildered expression. “It’s a talent really how you manage to do that.”

Colin’s swing is similar to Y/N’s, going right through the small arch, but stopping just behind her ball. He groans, wanting to have nudged hers out of the way. When Benedict goes he swings a tad bit to hard. It would have gone through the goal and knocked both Colin and Y/N’s ball out of the way, if he knew how to aim properly. He throws his head back with a laugh as Eloise points a finger in his face with a triumphant bellow.

“Anthony, it is your turn,” Colin nods politely at his brother, trying to hide his amusement at the lavender mallet in his hand.

“I can see that,” the older brother grumbles, taking a step behind his ball. He gets in position mumbling quiet profanities at a certain woman for taking his lucky charm. When he swings, his ball goes flying, completely missing the intended target.

“Is someone out of practice there, Viscount?” Y/N calls out teasingly, swinging her mallet as a way to rub in her early lead. She walks over to her own ball and readies herself, “Why don’t I show you how a true professional does it?”

She cocks her arm back and once again hits the ball perfectly through the iron gate. Loud cheers erupt for the girl as she takes a rather obnoxious bow right in front of Anthony. A storm swirls behind his eyes and all he wants to do is yank her by the arm and get rid of the smug look she always seems to wear. It really is a shame she acts in such a way. She vexes him to absolutely no end. Anyone can see that Y/N is a beautiful woman. She always has been. Ever since they were children everyone would always comment on how gorgeous she would be when she got older, and they were right. Her e/c eyes shine constantly, like the stars in the sky. Her hair is always the perfect silky texture. She is extremely well-read and intelligent. She’d make the perfect bride. The only issue is that mouth of hers.

Anthony’s glare remains hard, but he silently scolds himself for thinking such positive things about her. It wasn’t obvious to any of the others, but Y/N could see a small flash behind his brown eyes. Something that was different from the usual hatred he holds for her. When she stands up straight from her bow, her eyes momentarily gaze over his face. She’s never really admired the Viscount in any sort of way. But being this close and fueled with as much tension as they are, it’s hard not to examine his chiseled features. She bites the inside of her cheek to prevent the flush creeping up the back of her neck as she stands under his scrutinizing stare. Y/N exhales before lightly bumping his shoulder and walking past him.

“Beat that,” she challenges.

As the game continues, loud claps, cheers, and bickering is all that is heard. Violet watches from her spot under the gazebo along with Lady Danbury with happy smile’s on their faces. Benedict runs over to Y/N, holding her to his chest as he tickles her for knocking his ball out of the spot it was in. He had the perfect shot and she made sure it wouldn’t last long. She squeals in his grasp until Colin quickly comes to her rescue. She smack Benedict’s chest with an out of breath laugh before moving back over to Eloise.

The younger sister screams happily when she slides her ball directly through the arch, highfiving her best friend for the victory. Everyone seems to be in rather good spirits, despite where they are at in the game. The only thing troubling is that every time Anthony goes, something seems to be on his mind as he barely misses his mark with each swing. Violet and Lady Danbury seem to be the only ones who have noticed his eyes traveling to his supposed “arch nemesis” right before he swings.

“I give it til the end of the trip,” Violet whispers to her friend.

Lady Danbury laughs, “Oh dear, I give it til the end of this match.”

When it reaches Anthony’s turn once again, he hits it and this time, it actually goes through the goal. The only issue is that it lands barely passed Y/N’s ball. The two share a tense glance before Y/N travels over to where her ball is. With one good hit, she could easily win this game and leave Anthony in the dust.

Eloise runs after her friend, “You have the chance to best him! You must take it,” she encourages.

“That would not be very sportsmanlike, now would it?” Colin asks rhetorically.

Y/N looks at him, her eyes meeting his. They both seem to soften for a moment until she smirks. “Since when has sportsmanlike conduct ever been a concern in our games?”

“She has a point, brother,” Benedict points out. “Kindness during a game of Pall Mall has never been a virtue within any of us.”

“What do you say, my lord?” Y/N asks Anthony who has been rather silent since their previous exchange. She lifts a perfectly manicured brow, “Are you in a losing mood?” She jests, trying her hardest to get a rise out of him. How she loves when he gets frustrated with her. Especially when he loses any sense of personal space, getting in her face as they argue. Those are her favorite moments as it is so much sweeter being able to put him in his place.

Anthony tries to remain unfazed, “My mood shall remain unchanged, regardless of your choice,” he replies with a tight lipped smile.

“Oh, is that so?” Y/N turns to fully face him. She tilts her head, analyzing him like a predator would their prey. Anthony swallows thickly, fighting off every urge to take the upcoming squabble elsewhere. “You would bravely bear the crushing shame of defeat? How unlike yourself.”

“Despite my brothers and sisters continuing to egg you on, you have been behaving with much more grace than your usual self Miss L/N,” he says, completely diminishing any attempts at her trying to evoke his anger. “I am pleasantly surprised at your conduct this game. Perhaps someone is finally losing their edge, hm?”

He wins. Y/N feels a rather angry fire burning in the pit of her stomach. She glowers, “Me? Losing my edge? Well, if that is the case, I’m sure you won’t mind me doing this.”

With the strongest swing she’s had yet, she knocks Anthony’s ball clear across the grass and into the trees many feet ahead. Her ball falls only a few inches in front of them and she feels a strong satisfaction when looking back at Anthony. His previous performance trying to diminish her hard work at angering him have not helped him in the slightest.

“Well done!” Eloise claps.

Anthony looks up, narrowing his eyes to the sky to avoid doing it directly at Y/N. He reluctantly brings his hands together in a celebratory clap in order not to appear too unruly. Eloise bumps Y/N’s shoulder, “You are sparing no mercy, and I absolutely love it!”

Suddenly, with the most mischievous smirk Y/N has ever seen him wear, Benedict walks up to his ball which is now the closest to where Y/N’s landed. Y/N’s smile drops as she watches him bring his arm back as far as possible, using his mallet to knock her ball directly into the tree line where she just sent Anthony’s. Her jaw falls slack as Benedict winks in her direction.

“What a shot brother!” Anthony celebrates loudly, feeling avenged by Benedict’s actions.

“Yes, what a shame isn’t it Miss L/N?” He jokes. “Think of this as revenge for sending my ball in the wrong direction earlier.”

Y/N grinds her teeth together but shoots him a fake smile, one that Benedict can easily see through. Her petty behavior causes laughter to erupt from everyone. “You two better go fetch them,” Colin points in that direction. “Unless you would like to quit, here and now?”

Anthony and Y/N glance at each other, both of them looking rather angry about their current predicament. They send challenging looks to one another, tempting the other to speak up first. Y/N sticks her nose up, “Absolutely not.”

Anthony sneers, “After you.”

Stomping off, Y/N rolls her eyes. “What a gentleman.”

The duo stomps rather over-dramatically into the green brush. Y/N huffs as she pushes a large branch out of her way. An evil grin comes over her face as she continues pushing the branch forward until she’s sure Anthony is close enough behind. As soon as she hears his footsteps drawing nearer, she releases the branch from her hold. She covers her mouth with her hand to prevent the laugh that’s about to escape as Anthony is whacked in the face.

He lets out a loud yelp, putting a hand to his face to make sure no extensive damage was done. He can hear the small snickers leaving Y/N’s lips and that is his final straw. He lunges forward, wrapping his arm around her wrist. She gasps as they’re suddenly face to face, noses practically touching.

“What one earth are you doing?” Y/N seethes, trying to pull herself away from him.

“What am I doing?” He scoffs at her. “What are you doing?” He leans down closer to her. “If I was any less of a gentlemen, I would punish you right here and now for your insolent behavior.”

Y/N laughs in his face, “Punish me? Oh, in your dreams Viscount. You cannot do anything more than take what I do to you. You are not my husband nor my father so you hold no power over me.” She rips her arm out of his hand and continues marching on, her heart still beating rather rapidly from how warm his breath felt on her face.

Anthony’s nostrils flare but the burning sensation on his hand were her supple skin once was keeps his true fury at bay. He frustratedly kicks a rock as some form of an outlet while following after her in search of their balls.

“You best hope your play does not hand victory to my brothers, or we shall never hear the end of it,” Anthony grunts out after the silence between them became too much. At this point it seems he’d rather argue with Y/N than be left with his own thoughts.

“I am not worried about Colin or Benedict,” Y/N smacks another bush out of her path. “I don’t see why it would be a problem if they won anyway considering you seem so hellbent on preventing my victory.”

Anthony goes to respond with a tone just as venomous until Y/N stops in her tracks. He follows her line of vision to see both her black and his lavender ball sitting in a large, almost lake size, puddle of mud. “You’ve have to be joking,” Y/N complains under her breath. “There is no way either of us would be able to hit these out of the mud without coming out looking absolutely dreadful.”

An idea seems to spark in Anthony’s mind as he looks at her with an idealistic smile, “We could always pluck them out,” he suggests. “No one would be any the wiser.”

“Are you suggesting that we cheat, Viscount?” Y/N asks him with an unusual expression on her face. Anthony can’t help the shudder that surges through him at her calling him by his proper title in that tone. She’s done it before, but this time simply feels different.

“Perhaps,” he nods. “The only two people who would know of our situation is us. I see nothing wrong with evening the playing field a bit.”

“Well, contrary to your beliefs, I play fair,” Y/N turns away from him and heads towards the balls. She has no issue getting a little dirty if it means making herself look better than the man behind her.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day where you’d be an honorable person,” Anthony taunts. “Even though it is just for sport.”

“I’ve always been an honorable person, Anthony,” Y/N huffs out as she gets ready to hit her ball. “Just because you refuse to see it, doesn’t mean it is not there. Besides, I would never cheat in your presence as I am more than sure you would advertise it to the rest of the group the moment we got back.”

“You would do the same!” He insists.

“Oh, I never said I wouldn’t,” she admits playfully. “I would absolutely reveal your scandal to anyone who would listen. But I cannot do that if I participate in the same bad behavior, now could I?” Anthony watches in awe as she submerges her shoes and the entire bottom hem of her dress in the messy liquid. She swings, easily knocking her ball out of the mud. She wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead before looking at Anthony, “Your play, my lord. Unless you do not wish to dirty those lovely boots of yours?”

“Do not worry about my boots,” he tells her coldly. Y/N only grins at how tense his shoulders get as he climbs into the mud right next to her. Even with the stink of the earth, she can still manage to smell the scent of mahogany, leather, and a tad bit of cinnamon. Even his natural smell manages to twist her stomach in knots. It’s so innocent, nice, compared to who he actually is.

She stares at him for a moment too long as he goes to whack his ball. His hits Y/N’s, surpassing it just slightly. When he glances back up to be egotistical about it, he sees she’s already looking at him. Time freezes momentarily as they stare at each other. They both try to make their eyes hard, but it seems almost impossible. Y/N’s tongue peeks out, coating her chapped lips and Anthony doesn’t have the strength to stop himself from glancing downward.

“Something you find interesting, my lord?” Y/N queries in an unusual quiet tone that greatly contrasts her boisterous one.

His eyes move back up to hers. He forces himself to snap out of whatever spell he was put in, “No,” he bluntly answers. “I believe it is your turn, is it not?”

Another beat of silence passes between them before Y/N nods, “Yes, you would be correct. I’m surprised you’re able to keep track of such complicated matters,” she affronts him with such ease, bringing back the agitation between them.

One of her shoes stays stuck in the mud, but it matters not to Y/N. She simply shakes it off, continuing on in her now brown-stained socks. Anthony huffs at how easily she switched back to her cold demeanor, “Must you always be so difficult?” He scolds, pulling her shoe out of the mud. He walks over to her and throws her shoes in front of her, “Put these back on before you step on something that hurts you.”

“No,” Y/N refuses as she goes to but her ball. “Besides, why do you care if I hurt myself anyway? You’ve never been one to get invested in my safety.”

Anthony lets out a loud yell of annoyance, “Why must you have this insufferable need to challenge me at every turn. You think you're so clever, so invincible. Why don’t you just listen to me for once rather than engaging in one of your reckless endeavors?”

“I will never listen to you,” Y/N grunts out as she hits her ball into Anthony’s causing it to fly high in the air before colliding with the branch of a large tree. When it lands, both of them notice the familiar wooden bench that sits below it. Y/N’s eyes soften as she watches Anthony’s entire demeanor change. She’s not really sure how to react or what to say to him. What does one say to a person when they’re standing dangerously close their father’s grave.

Y/N’s throat bobs up and down as she gulps. She ventures closer to Anthony, placing a hand on his shoulder, “We do not have to continue the game, my lord,” she whispers. “I do not want you to–”

“I’m fine,” he cuts her off harshly. “Why do you care about my feelings anyway?” He asks, mocking her response from earlier when he tried to return her shoes. Y/N goes to say something, but she’s too late as Anthony is already stalking off to get back to the rest of the group.

Guilt seeps through Y/N’s veins. She sighs, completely forgetting about the balls they’ve left as she chases after him. “Anthony, wait!” She calls out. They might bicker over the smallest things, but the last thing she wants is for him to leave in this state. The older man doesn’t slow for her calls. She hurries after him, ignoring the mud squelching beneath her feet. She frustratedly calls for him again but to no avail. When she finally feels as if he’s in reach, she tries to grab his arm but is stopped by her own foot getting trapped in the root of a tree. She cries out in pain, falling to the floor as her ankle twists in a trap made by Mother Nature.

Anthony halts dead in his tracks when he hears her yell. He turns around and watches as she sits on the floor, nose scrunched up as she tries to remove her foot from the roots. She winces at even the barest of touches. Suddenly the animosity that was just between them vanishes as he rushes to her side.

“What did I tell you about putting your shoes back on!” He scolds, but his voice is much more worried than it is self-righteous.

Y/N gives him an incredulous look, “Pardon me for being more concerned about your well-being than my footwear.” She groans as Anthony manages to lift her foot of its entrapment. “I wasn’t exactly thinking I would get mauled by a tree when I was chasing after you.”

“You should not have been running in the first place! Once again, you are reckless and have no regard for your own safety,” he shakes his head.

“I am not reckless,” Y/N argues. “I can take care of myself just fine, thank you.”

“No you clearly cannot,” he gestures to her foot. “You needed me to come over here and take it out for you or else you would’ve been stuck out here alone.”

“I would’ve done just fine without you!” Her voice cracks from her emotions being on overdrive. “I simply wanted to make sure you were okay. I know how much your father meant to you and yet even when I try to be nice you still act like an insufferable prat!” Her chest heaves up and down, their faces slowly getting closer together as the argument intensifies. “You have hated me since we were children and the one time I try to put that aside, you still belittle me and treat me as if I am beneath you. I am tired of your idiocy. You constantly have to think you are right, but how can one be right when they go about living their own life to please someone else rather than themselves?!”

Anthony is left stunned by her outburst. He doesn’t know whether to yell back or be impressed at how well she’s analyzed him. He does try to live his life in a way that benefits his family over him. He’s never tried to put himself first and clearly Y/N has taken notice. He watches as her face continues to turn bright red from anger. He feels his own red heat filling his lungs as he maintains eye contact. His face droops down to hers, getting impossibly close.

“You do not like me,” Y/N continues, ignoring the proximity. “I have been around you and your family since birth and you are the only one who cannot seem to stand me. My mere presence is a burden to you and you have never bothered to give me an explanation!”

“Of course I do not like you.”

“Then tell me why!” Y/N demands. “You at least owe me that much if we are going to go about the rest of our lives making each other miserable!” Her eyes are narrowed as she tries to fight off the tears threatening to appear at her waterline. “What did I do to you to cause all of this? Because I cannot think for the life of me of an inciting incident that earned your hatred from the beginning. Unless it is my birth that upset you so,” she adds sarcastically. “So tell me, Viscount. Why is it that you dislike me so?”

“Because- because you infuriate me!” He finally lets go of his composure, joining Y/N on the yelling train that seems to have just left the station.

Y/N inches closer to him, “And what is it that you think you do to me, hm?” She asks, poking his chest with her finger.

Anthony laughs at the preposterous idea, “What is it exactly that I do to you? Besides put up with your constant assault on my character?”

Y/N feels her senses getting rather fuzzy as Anthony’s grip on her leg seems to tighten. He’s conscious enough not to put pressure on her hurt ankle, but not enough to realize how deep his fingers are digging into the tissue. The way his eyes are boring into hers makes her tilt her head back, exposing the bare skin of her neck. His scent once again fills her nose and causes her breathing to become bated. “You…” she trails off as he suddenly moves his hand to corner her into the tree she is sitting next to, “you hate me.” Her answer comes out as a whisper as the two sit with a burning flame between them.

Anthony nods his head, “Yes, I do. I hate you.” He leans forward, giving Y/N no room for any kind of escape. Her breath hitches in her throat as she feels his body heat encompassing her. She doesn’t bother trying to move or make any sort of protest. “Every. Single. Part.”

His lips crash onto hers with a ferocious intensity, a clash of wills and pent-up emotions finally unleashed. Anthony’s hands threaded through Y/N’s hair, pushing her backwards to pin her fully to the tree for support. He leans into her body, evoking a small sound from her lips at the sudden sensation. Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers digging into his shoulders, drawing him nearer still. The kiss was fervent and searing, their breaths mingling in a dance of unspoken desires and long-buried passions. Each movement was deliberate and ravenous, conveying years of unacknowledged tension and unvoiced longing. The world around them ceased to exist as they lost themselves in the incendiary connection, a fusion of fire and fervor that left them both breathless and craving more.

Anthony takes a risk, biting her bottom lip to which he is pleasantly surprised by the soft whimper that escapes her as she allows him access. Their tongues fight in a battle for dominance, one that both work valiantly to win. Anthony grips her hip roughly, shocking her and handing him his inevitable win. When he removes his lips from hers, she throws her head back as he works his way down, kissing her jaw, her neck, the crook between her shoulder and clavicle. He sucks on the smooth skin just below the neckline of her dress, summoning a sinful moan from her.

“I believe this is the only time I’ve enjoyed hearing something come out of your mouth,” he mocks, continuing his artistry across her chest.

Y/N laughs sinisterly before pulling Anthony back up to her by his hair. He winces from the sudden shock of pain, his eyes darkening as he thinks back to when he said he would punish her for her behavior. This would just be added to the list. Y/N doesn’t relent her grip as she grazes her lips over his, “Why don’t you let me show you just how much you will like my mouth, Viscount?”

Anthony chuckles darkly, not expecting that to be the words she utters. He removes himself from his spot that kept her pinned to the tree before standing. He towers over her with a demanding look on his face, “Well don’t just sit there. Come over here and show me.”

The New Diamond

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Sharma Sister!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: will the queen finally name this season's diamond, and how is it gonna affect the Sharma Sisters...

Warnings: probably grammar mistakes, most probably is cringy

Series masterlist

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There is nothing more quite like the sweet scented smell of success.

But after taking in the scene from last night’s festivities, it is clear the season won’t be quite so fragrant for everyone.

The Viscount Bridgerton's own mama may have loudly declared her eldest son's lofty intentions to marry, yet I can not be the only one wondering if this former Capital R- Rake is, indeed, ready to flourish.

Perhaps the viscount, like the rest of us is simply waiting for the queen to finally name her diamond.

Or perhaps, this author, should take matters into her own hands.

Though, out of the many purportedly well-trained and bred hothouse flowers on display this year, this author must wonder if the more surprising choice might still be in store

Whichever darling miss receives such high esteem let us hope there is a suitor available of only the sharpest wit, lest his dry musings leave a young lady wilting like a parched rose.

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We are currently sat on the drawing room, suitors gathered around, waiting for their turn. We smiled as the two young gentlemen sat on the stood to leave.

“The younger ones would do, if the eldest just got out of the way” One of the men said, I frowned annoyed. Suddenly I no longer like them.

“The sister is dreadful” the other one said.

I looked at Lady Danbury who smiled tightly, holding a cup of tea to her lips. Before it turned in to a scowl.

“Not on my chair” She exclaimed at Newton, who hopped on her chair. I smiled as a butler came in and picked up Newton. Lady Danbury took a sip from her cup, sighing frustrated.

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“Can you believe it?” I exclaimed to Kate. We were getting ready for the ball. Edwina was somewhere along the house with mama getting ready, while I was waiting for my turn.

“the nerve they have to come into our temporary home and say such words” I huffed infuriated “the sister is dreadful, the younger ones are better” I mimicked the gentlemen from the morning

“Just thinking about it vexes me” Kate chuckles

“Bon, it is fine, truly” She assures me looking out the window “ I am not the one they want to marry, and thank God for it, these gentlemen certainly don’t know how to keep up a conversation” The door opens behind us, Lady Danbury entering our bed chambers.

“Your tea grows cold, my horses do not” She starts, my face goes pale “ Did you both plan to ride again tomorrow morning” we kept quiet

“I know all that goes in my home and since you insist on sneaking around, I may as well save us all the trouble, correspondence” She holds up an envelope “ Miss Sharma” she looks at me “ your mama told me she is ready for you” I nod and exit the room, wandering down the stairs to where Mama was waiting for me.

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We walk down the stairs of the queen’s ballroom, I hold on to one of Kate’s hand while Edwina holds the other. We walk to where the queen is standing, we bow in greeting, Edwina and I smiling as what we were told to always do in front of her.

“I do hope you are finding everything in town to your satisfaction, Lady Mary” The queen says to mama

“Indeed I am, your Majesty “ Mama answers

“This time around, that is” the queen sneers

“Perhaps your mother, would like some refreshment Miss, Sharma” Lady Danbury says smiling tightly towards Kate. We walk away and towards the other side from where they are.

We look around and something catches my eye, I smile once I saw the Viscount with his family. I stare at them for a few minutes before they walked off, the viscount catches my eyes before he turned, I turned my head away smiling.

“Miss Sharma” I turned my head to the side, the viscounts face greeting me “May I have the honor of you conceding me this dance?” He holds his hand in front of me, I smile cheerfully, going to grab his hands when another stops mine.

“Oh I am afraid she cannot, Lord Bridgerton ” Kate interrupts smiling falsely “ You see, she is-“

“I would be delighted, My lord” I hold on to his hand, ignoring Kate’s protests, making the Viscount smile triumphantly

He leads me to the dance floor, where we got In to position and started to dance.

“How nice of you to ask me for a dance” I tease Mid-dance

“What?” He feigned confusion “I cannot ask my lovely lady friend for a dance now,” he smirks

“Oh” I raise an eyebrow “ we are friends now?” I jokingly say as he turned me around

“Are we not?” I look at him from the corner of my eye “ It is not everyday I meet a lady such as yourself, who does not trail after me for my looks, title or money, why is it wrong that I want to have a dear friend in such person” I chuckle

“I was joking, of course I am your friend” he turns me around once again “Who else is going to be able to dance with you so your mama leaves you in peace once and for all, without expecting anything in return”

"Nothing goes past you now, does it?” He sighs

“Of course not, soon you’ll learn that” I smile “ Do not worry, it does not bother me, in fact, I am honored that after knowing me for 1 day, you already consider me a friend” we bowed as the dance ended, I turned my head and saw Kate beckoning me over, Edwina, Mama and Lady Danbury near her.

“Now if I may be excused, my sister is calling me” we bowed in farewell before we walked to the opposite side of each other, Kate looked at me questioningly once I reached her.

“I am going to marry him deedee” I suddenly say shocking her, I smiled happily.

“Oh dear God, no anyone but him” Kate shook her head furiously, I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Why not? He is a gentleman, so far I have seen he is a good person, and maybe he could come to love me, so why not?” I argued

“Because, Bon, he does not-“ Kate couldn’t finish her sentence as the trumpets sounded throughout the room

“Your presence is noted” the queen starts “ and your queen most appreciative, allow it to now be my honor, to present to you this season’s diamond” we looked at each other nervously as the silence was prolonged, making us restless. I saw the queen look between Edwina and I for a minute.

“Miss Edwina Sharma” I smiled happily for my sister as everyone clapped.

A man came and led my sister towards the queen. Edwina bowed before her. I once smiled before it faded once I saw someone I started to like walking to her.

“Viscount Bridgerton” The queen said “Have you yet met my new incomparable”

“ I am most grateful for the introduction, your Majesty, only hope I shall be afforded the pleasure of a dance” I heard him say.

Edwina accepted holding on to his hand, he lead her to the dance floor, he turned his head, catching my eye for what felt the millionth time this evening, I turned my head quickly, not sparing him another glance. Blinking my eyes furiously, trying to blink away the forming tears.

It is stupid really, it is a silly thing to be sad about, I did not even know him that very well nor were we courting or anything, he can dance with anyone he desires, even my sister.

“Oh Bon” Kate said sadly rubbing my shoulder comfortingly

“I am alright” I gave her a tight lipped smile. Lady Danbury approached us.

“I suppose I should thank you” Kate told Lady Danbury “ Although I wonder, why Edwina and not Y/n”

“Oh do not ask me that, I told her majesty either of the younger Sharma Sister would make an excellent diamond, it was her final choice” She said “ and it’s much too soon for that, you must know, the real work begins now”

“Indeed, there will be mire to wade through on behalf of my sister, to be sure, speaking of, where is my sister?” She looks around for her

“She is dancing with the Viscount” I nodded in their direction, Kate grabbed my hand and along with Lady Danbury we walked towards them when the dance ended

“Kate, Y/n” Edwina said

“Ah, Lord Bridgerton, I see you’ve met Miss Edwina, this is uh-“ Lady Danbury exclaimed

“Her sisters” The Viscount cuts her off

“Miss Sharma and Miss Y/n Sharma, my lord” he nods at her and turns to me, I gave him a small smile

“the Viscount Bridgerton is the most excellent dancer, perhaps I may learn a thing or two from you, my lord” Edwina compliments him, I looked between them both

“Would you join me in the retirement room, sister” Kate told Edwina, grabbing her hand and tugged her away.

I stayed behind with the Viscount, he looked at me once again, before Lady Bridgerton approached him.

“She is a lovely diamond, dearest” She told the Viscount while he watched Edwina walk away

“Indeed,” he affirmed “ She is who I shall marry” I felt a painful tug on my chest. I ignored it before I walk around him and after my sisters, who waited at the door. The viscount now watching me walk further away from him.

Long last, the queen has named her most precious stone

Been stalking you today for pt.2 lmao

Hey!!, I am uploading it in a few minutes. I have spent the whole day writing it, I had to delete some parts i thought did not go well and then writing it again and again and I just finished. But you do not have to wait any longer!!

Regrets

Happy Marriage part 2

Summary: a new start

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 4k (longest one yet!)

Warnings: unedited, a little bit of angst, Anthony coming to his senses, Y/n falling Ill,

Masterlist

Their marriage was unrepairable.

Everyone from both families knew it. There was nothing they could do anymore. Anthony hated Y/n, and Y/n was not willing to try anymore.

She finally realized that it was doomed from the start. Anthony was always, and will probably always be, in love with Sienna, and nothing could change that, unless he himself tried to forget her. Which is doubtful considering he keeps on seeing her, each and every night.

So Y/n, came up with another solution. Not to try anymore, Anthony was not worth the pain. They could still stay married, after all divorce was not normal, but she would leave him alone, let him be in peace with Sienna as much as he pleases, and Y/n would just live her life happily as if she was single.

She does not need a man, she had her family and the Bridgertons, both families who loved her wholeheartedly, what else could she ask for?

She would spend the mornings and evenings at her parents house. She would be with her mama in the drawing room reading a book, and playing with her nieces whenever her brother came to visit, anything to distract herself.

Although everyone could tell she was not the same happy y/n from before, and no one blamed her, they were just happy she did not shut them out, at least not completely, and they hoped she would go back to how she was before she gave up.

Whenever she was not doing something, you would find her in her bedchambers, staring out the window thoughtfully, or laying on her bed looking up at the ceiling. She would barely talk when she was spoken to, or eat. She became a shell of herself, seems like Anthony did after break her.

Anthony, on the other hand, was delighted. He would come home and there was no one there to start arguments with him about where he always was. He could go be with Sienna whenever he wants. Y/n would not even bother him in those rare moments he was home, nor urge him to do something with her.

In short words, he was finally happy.

That is not to say everything was going great in the Bridgerton household, oh no, not at all. They would give him the cold shoulder, even Hyacinth and Gregory, who do not really know the full details of what happened, they just know that he hurt Y/n, based on what they heard while eavesdropping on their older siblings.

How could their brother, who they thought was one of the most honest, loyal, caring people, hurt someone that much, someone who was the sweetest person ever, someone who was his wife, who he was supposed to love and care and cherish. That was certainly disheartening.

“Y/n, dear, please eat a little more” Y/n’s mother pleaded watching her daughter play with the food on her plate

“I am full already, mama” Y/n murmured taking a sip from her wine before she stood up “If I may be excused, I must get home before it gets much later, thank you for the dinner, I will see you tomorrow ”

She left without another word and stepped onto the carriage already waiting for her outside. She sighed as the carriage started its journey to the house.

When did she become this person? One who was so affected by a man that she no longer recognized herself. A man who did not even deserve the tears she cried over him. I mean, did she even know him that well after all.

Anthony, over their whole courting period, was so distant, she just never saw it, he always put her in arms length, never really told her anything about him nor made any indication that he wished to marry her.

She was so blinded by this picture perfect marriage she had in mind, she thought that he was the one that she did not see the truth so clearly in front of her.

He was handsome, came from a good family, not to mention his and her family were close friends, he seemed like a caring person and cared deeply for his family. She started to like him, and that only heightened by how he acted while courting her, he was respectful, and he seemed slightly remotely interested by what she said, or that is what she thought.

Now that she thought about it, of course he would be like that, his family was always behind them, how could Anthony act like anything else in front of them? She never thought that he would be the opposite with her behind closed doors.

She stepped out and walked up the stairs once the carriage stopped in front of the house. She closed the door quietly, not wanting to wake anyone up

“What a surprise, you finally show your face” She heard behind her

She turned around sighing “Good evening, Lord Bridgerton” She looked at Anthony who was leaning against the entrance of the drawing room “It is also a surprise that you are here, I would have thought you were out” Y/n then walked past him and up the stairs to go to her bedchambers

“That is it?” Anthony hummed “No arguments this time?”

“You are not worth me wasting my voice” She answered before she stopped and turned back around to face him “ actually, I do have something to say” Anthony raised an eyebrow intrigued

“You hate me because supposedly, I am the cause that you cannot be with Sienna freely, or that I am ‘taking the place that was meant to be hers’…” She sighed tiredly “But have you stopped to think, that maybe it was never actually possible. You are a viscount, you are in the upper class, while she is a opera singer, in the bottom, Sienna is considered a scandalous woman of ill repute based on her profession. She would have never been accepted as your wife” the Viscount stayed silent

“If you married her, your family would have been exiled from society, you would have ruined their reputations. Would you have done that to them? To your sisters? They would not be able to marry because of you. Would you still have married Sienna?” She questioned “And even if you had not married me, you would still have had to marry a noble lady at some point, you are a viscount after all, would you have treated your wife the same as you do to me? Loathed her as you do to me? Well, that is exactly what happened with us, just way earlier than what you would have liked”

“I think you have hated the wrong person the whole time. If you want to hate something, hate society and their rules” Y/n walked up the rest of the stairs, leaving him alone with his thoughts

Anthony stared after her, before he went to his study. He sat down on his chair, resting his chin on his palm as he stared at the fireplace in thought. He shook his head and started looking through his papers.

“Y/n, dear, do you want to join us?” Lady Bridgerton offered as she saw Y/n walk down the stairs

“Uh, I am actually headed to meet my mother” Y/n replied as she looked around the drawing room at everyone, her eyes caught Anthony’s figure seated on a chair, looking at her “ She is waiting for me so I must go, maybe next time, yes?” She left quickly

Violet sighed grabbing a newspaper and heading towards her eldest son, hitting him with it harshly.

“Hey!” Anthony complained looking at his mother in disbelief

“It is all your fault, I thought your father and I raised you better than how you have been acting, but now I am doubting myself” Violet pursed her lips

“Mother-“

“Not a single word, you know I am right. You should be lucky you found someone as wonderful as Y/n, she is everything a perfect viscountess should be and you do not even appreciate it” Anthony sighed, shaking his head, looking up at the door where Y/n exited from

That was only the start of it all.

Anthony really considered what Y/n said to him. Maybe she was right after all, it was not her fault he could not be with Sienna. Sienna and him unfortunately were born into two different social classes.

Society was the one preventing them from being together, not Y/n, but society. He was hating the wrong person all this time, someone who did not even deserve all his harsh words, she was after all only trying to fulfill her role as his wife.

He did not want to tarnish his family’s reputation. He has been trying to maintain their family’s respectable reputation ever since he became viscount. Was Sienna really worth letting down his family? The family he loves and would do anything for? No, she was not.

So he canceled their plans that day, and the day after, and the day after, and slowly, Anthony stopped seeing Sienna. He was finally letting her go.

And now, Y/n, he started to see her in a new light, although do not misunderstand , he still did not like her, far from it, but maybe, just maybe, he did not hate her and was willing to at least get to know her better.

But he knew it was going to be difficult, he did say harsh words and did horrible things, like cheat on her, he completely disregarded what he promised at the altar. He knew he messed up, and possibly shut out the one person he could have grown, to care for, and who may have cared for him.

And it certainly will be very difficult, not only because of that, but because Y/n does not want anything to do with him. She does not want to know about him, how he is, where he is, etc. Nothing.

And again, nobody blames her. Y/n’s family is the same. They could not believe the little boy they’ve known of since he was born, the respectable man they got to know when the Y/l/n family returned from France 2 years ago, was not what they thought. They still spoke to him, that is not to say they were not hostile, and the Bridgertons would only watch. They were sad, of course, they still loved Anthony, but they knew that is the consequences of his actions.

He would pace around his study , thinking of how to approach his wife. Which let me just say was hard as Y/n would always go the other way whenever she got back from her parents house, or in the mornings, she would make sure he was busy in his study before she left. She was never there when he searched for her.

It seems like she does not even live there.

“Y/n, are you sure you are fine” Her mother asks as Y/n coughs “You look very unwell” she looked at her daughter worriedly

“Mama, I am just feeling a little under the weather, I will be fine with just a little rest” Y/n sighed before coughing

“I think it is because you have not eaten well, or slept in so long” Her mother advised “See, I told you to eat and sleep more, and you did not listen to me and now you are ill”

“It is not that mama, I will be fine” Y/n murmured and coughed again before sniffling “ Just a little cold” Lady Y/l/n hummed before laying her hand on Y/n’s forehead

“Dear, you have a fever” Her mother frowned “We should call a doctor”

Y/n shook her head, before she started coughing severely, she covered her mouth with her hand, as her mother rubbed her back soothingly. Y/n uncovered her mouth as the coughing ceased, she paled once she saw blood on her palm.

“This is not normal, we are sending for the doctor” Her mama said pointedly

Her mother sent a maid for the doctor as she escorted Y/n to her bedchambers. She looked at her daughter worriedly as Y/n started coughing up more and more blood each time.

She feared for what is happening to her daughter. She rarely gets sick, even as a child, she never got sick, and when she did, it was something serious, like the scarlet fever when she was young.

She felt relieved when the doctor appeared in the room, she stood up, allowing him to check on Y/n, informing him of what she saw previously.

“Hmm, I see” the doctor said “I am afraid she has the whopping cough”

“The whooping cough?”

“Yes, it is a contagious disease that paralyzes parts of the respiratory cells, leading to inflammation in the respiratory tract, fortunately it is still in the early stages and it helps that she is an adult as her immune system is more developed” He informed “Unfortunately, there is still no known cure, so I am afraid there is no more I can do, although we have been told domestic remedies help. All we can do is pray that it will go away with time. She needs to rest, that is all she can do” The doctor left after packing up all his things.

“I will be fine mama, I just need to rest” Y/n’s hoarse voice muttered, she coughed again and covered her body with the blankets “ I am just going to sleep, I am tired.”

“My lady,” a maid came rushing into the drawing room, where all the Bridgertons were “Lady Y/l/n sent word” they all looked up at the maid intrigued

“Said something happened to Lady Bridgerton ” Anthony looked up from his newspaper as he heard the words coming out of the maid’s mouth

“What happened to her?” Violet Bridgerton questioned

“It seems Lady Bridgerton has the whooping cough and is severely ill”

“Alright, send word back, tell them we will be there in a few” Violet ordered, the maid nodded rushing back out, “Anthony, we will be back soo-“ She turned to her son

“I am coming” Anthony said

“Anthony, I am not sure they-“

“I am coming with” He cut her off

“Anthony” Violet sighed

“Mother, she is my wife” Anthony raised an eyebrow

“Yes, well, you have not really shown that, have you?” Anthony stayed silent “Alright, let us go now”

It has been 2 months and Y/n was still severely Ill, fortunately the coughing had lessened, she felt really weak and exhausted, she rarely slept, and always felt dehydrated. But slowly and slowly, the remedies were helping.

After the Bridgertons had been informed of Y/n’s condition, they had all come to visit her, including Anthony, although they did not stay long as she was still contagious.

They continued visiting, all except Anthony, as Y/n had expressed that she was not comfortable with his presence. Anthony respected her wishes and stopped visiting her, he did not like it but he was trying to get in her good graces , so whatever she desires.

Although that also did not stop Anthony from asking about her well being whenever his family came home from the Y/l/n Manor. The Bridgertons, also respecting Y/n’s wishes, did not tell him anything much to Anthony’s displeasure.

He would go out to the florist when he knew his family was getting ready to go out, he would return with purple hyacinths and give them to his mother to give to Y/n. Violet would reluctantly accept them, looking at her son knowingly.

Everyone could tell Anthony was trying to remedy his mistakes, although they knew he would not get anywhere, they admired the fact that he was willing to try. Maybe Anthony was not so bad after all. Maybe there was hope for him.

Y/n was still ill for one more month before she felt better, and could now walk around the house. She was in their drawing room, finishing some embroidery when Daphne, Benedict and Eloise, entered the room, already informed of her improved state.

“Hey, Y/n” Daphne greeted

Y/n turned to them and smiled “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“We heard you were better and decided to visit you” Benedict answered sitting down “How are you feeling?”

“Like you said, better, I still feel a little exhausted but nothing a little rest cannot fix” Y/n chuckled sitting next to Eloise

“We all miss you at home” Eloise said “You had been so distant before, we rarely saw you, and with your illness and it being contagious, the rare times turned into none”

“Yes, why do you not come back to the manor?” Benedict questioned

Y/n shook her head “I do not think it is such a good idea”

“Well, you cannot live here forever, the ton would soon start to question things. And we will all be there anyway, you do not have to worry about Anthony” Y/n pursed her lips “ Hyacinth and Gregory really wish to see you again” Daphne added

“Alright” You agreed “ I think I have been bothering my parents long enough” the three of them cheered, y/n shook her head in disbelief but chuckled after

And that is how Y/n returned back to the Bridgerton house.

Everyone was absolutely delighted, they missed having her around. Colin could finally have someone to tell about his travels, Benedict someone to paint who does not complain, Daphne someone who related to how she was feeling with her debut season, Eloise could tell someone about what she thought was not fair on women. All in all, they were happy.

Y/n was slowly healing by having wonderful people by her side. She never was truly alone, someone would always be by her side making her laugh, whether it was the youngest siblings or the eldest.

Oh, I forgot about Anthony. He respected her space, he would not intentionally seek her out but he certainly did not complain when he came across her.

He would sit in the drawing room when she was with one of his siblings, or his mother, and pretended to be paying attention to something else. He would watch her laugh and speak animatedly with them. He would pay attention whenever Y/n was discussing something she read or saw.

He liked how happy she got when she saw something wonderful, or the way she paid attention to Eloise when she was complaining about something. Or how she let Benedict paint her and not even move one second, not wanting him to make a mistake, or how interested she was about Colin’s travels.

Or how she helped Francesca with her pianoforte, and reassure Daphne when she was feeling nervous about the balls. How she played with Gregory, and braided Hyacinth’s hair after dinner. He was finally getting to know his wife, even if it was by watching from afar.

He would subconsciously smile when he heard Y/n laugh, or watch her figure walk further away when she left the room. He would turn back around, catching his mother’s eyes. He would furrow his eyebrows as Violet looked at him knowingly, a hint of a smile on her face.

“What?” He asked

“Maybe you do not hate her after all, do you Anthony?” Violet murmured turning back to her embroidery

“What are you talking about mother?” He huffed

“You do not fool me, Anthony, not one second” She shook her head “When she was ill, you would ask about her-“

“Is it a crime to ask about Y/n’s farewell? It is common courtesy”

“You sent her flowers”

“A nice gesture, I am pretty sure more people sent her flowers”

“Anthony” Violet huffed “You always walk into a room where you know she is in, you smile when she laughs, and your eyes follow her when she leaves, you stare at her with those eyes-”

“What eyes, mother? My eyes, well with who else’s eyes would I look?” Anthony answered sarcastically

“Do not try to be funny. I am speaking about the kind of eyes a man looks at a woman he is falling in love with” Violet said making him scoff

“Do not be ridiculous, I am not falling in love, least of all with her” Anthony grumbled and stood up to leave

“Say what you want Anthony, but you and I know the truth, I will just say that you will have to try hard if you want her to forgive you, and even harder if you want her to start to love you again ” Anthony ignored her and walked away

He almost entered his study when he stopped at the door, he huffed and turned around, climbing up the stairs. He stopped in front of her door doubtful before he sighed and knocked.

“Come in” he heard from inside

He entered the room, setting his eyes on Y/n seated at her bed. Y/n looked up before sighing

“I do not want to see you” She hummed

“Yes, yes, I know I am the last person you want to see, but I wanted to speak to you” Anthony said standing still on the entrance. He looked at Y/n who stayed quiet, looking at the opposite side of him

“I am sorry” Anthony murmured “You were right and I am so sorry” Y/n looked at him emotionlessly, Anthony sighed and went to sit down on a chair in front of her

“I cannot defend my actions, I was absolutely horrible to you and you did not deserve any of it and I am sincerely sorry. What you said did make me think everything over. Truth is, I always knew I could never marry Sienna, I just did not want to accept it.” He admitted “ I met her shortly after my father died, she , I guess you can say, comforted me, and I fell in love with her and thought I owed her something after she was there for me all those years, and that something could have been making her my viscountess ”

“And then you appeared, and you were the perfect viscountess, and everyone loved you, and then we married and I started ‘hating’ you because you were taking away the only thing I could have offered her. Which was never going to happen but I thought it could.” He looked down at his hands “I needed a wake up call, I was so blinded by my love for her that I did not really think things through. It was really a matter of time before things between Sienna and I ended, and it just happened earlier than I thought. Things were easy with her, she was someone that I was already used to, she was familiar. And you just appeared suddenly in my life, I was not prepared for it, you were someone new and i did not know what would come next, my perfectly organized life was not so organized. So I hated you instead.”

“Was?” Y/n spoke up, he looked at her confused “You said was, not is” she clarified

“I stopped seeing her months ago” Y/n hummed at his response

“I cannot just forgive you, Anthony, not even after what you just said” Y/n huffed “What you said those months ago, really hurt me. I never asked you to marry me, and neither did Violet or my mama, force you to do it. You asked on your own accord”

“I know, I am truly sorry Y/n, you do not know how truly sorry I am, I know simple words will not make you forgive me but I am willing to prove I am worth your forgiveness. We will after all, be spending the rest of our life’s together, I will spend it all making it up to you, so we can at least be friends, if you let me” He looked up at her hopefully

Anthony nodded, a small smile coming onto his face “However long it takes”

Y/n pursed her lips in thought “It will take a lot of time, I will not just forgive you in a fortnight”

For all my Anthony lovers!!, this series was just

😙😙🤌🤌

Absolutely wonderful!!

Lord Bridgerton's List - a series for Kinktober - Masterlist

Ao3 Link

This'll be your one-stop shop to find all the fics in the series! The goal is to post 31 fics in 31 days plus prologue on September 30th and epilogue on November 1st

The series is Modern!Anthony Bridgerton x female!reader

As this is for Kinktober, all fics including the prologue and epilogue are 18+

This post will be updated as each fic in the series is posted. You might also get to see a preview of days to come. Anyway, please do enjoy!

List of Fics

Prologue

Day 1: Sensation Play

Day 2: Discipline

Day 3: Lingerie

Day 4: Striptease 1: Thigh Riding

Day 5: Striptease 2: Objectification

Day 6: Roleplay 1: The Queen and the General: Collared

Day 7: Restrained

Day 8: Roleplay 2: Photographer and Model: Masturbation

Day 9: Edging

Day 10: Blindfolded

Day 11: Roleplay 3: The Queen and the General: Pampering

Day 12: Sparring

Day 13: Roleplay 4: Cam Boy 1: Mutual Masturbation

Day 14: Coming Untouched

Day 15: Roleplay 5: Vampire and Human: Marking

Day 16: Roleplay 6: The Queen and the General: Punishment Prologue

Day 17: Roleplay 6: The Queen and the General: Punishment

Day 18: Body Worship/Oral Sex

Day 19: Roleplay 7: Cam Boy 2: Overstimulation

Day 20: Pegging

Day 21: Roleplay 8: The Queen and the General: Cuckolding

Day 22: Roleplay 9: The Queen and the General: Threesome

Day 23: Mirrors

Day 24: Roleplay 10: Regency Masquerade: Anonymous Sex

Day 25: Roleplay 11: Regency: Dancing

Day 26: Foodplay

Day 27: Roleplay 12: Angry Sex

Day 28: Pet Play

Day 29: Roleplay 13: The Queen and The General: Body Worship 2

Day 30: Threesome 2

Day 31: (not so) Tender Sex

Epilogue

Hope

Happy marriage part 3

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 4k

Summary: new hope blossoms and new starts commence

A/n: long time no see people! 😅😅😅 Sorry I went MIA but I got this done and decided to post it. Now I won't give an exact time on when I'll post because now I see I'm a little liar and I don't go through with my word 😶😶

I'm very sorry to leave you all hanging. But here's the last part of happy marriage and I hope you like it!

MASTERLIST Part 1. Part 2

“When I said I will give you a chance to make it up to me, I did not mean you had to follow me and be glued to my side everywhere I go.” You spoke annoyed, lifting up your eyes from the romance book you were currently reading. You had felt Anthony’s gaze centered on you for a few minutes now, you tried to ignore it but it felt so intense it was impossible to.

It was annoying, really, well maybe just a bit endearing, although you’ll fiercely deny it if anybody mentions it. Anthony really seemed to be trying to earn your forgiveness, he was more attentive than before, more understanding, a little bit more romantic as he now gifts you a bouquet of flowers every single day (something that annoys Lady Bridgerton as the maids cannot seem to find any more empty vases). But it was annoying that he seemed to follow you wherever you went.

A walk around the garden? Antony was walking behind you. You sit down in the drawing room to read a book? Anthony was seated next to you before you could even blink. A ball? He would always pull you into dances, something you couldn’t deny him of. Annoying, very annoying (You secretly love it, don’t lie to yourself).

“I know,” Anthony responded, meeting your eyes without any shame, “I do not mind following you around, it is quite…..fascinating, to be in your presence that is.”

You held back the blush wanting to come on to your cheeks at his words “Surprised you are just now figuring that out” You said, flickering your eyes back down to your book, pretending his words did not affect you in any way when the truth was that they did. “You know, it is not too late to give up now. You will not have my forgiveness from one day to the next.”

It was hard not to forgive him in an instant whenever he spoke sweet words, no matter how much you wanted to deny it, you still loved him, deeply. But the reminder of how much he hurt you and how much you cried over him washed away any sudden desire to forgive him. He had to work hard to earn your forgiveness, it’s not something you’ll give away easily towards him, not this time.

Anthony wasn’t deterred by your words, “There is something us Bridgertons are, and that is that we are stubborn, so i will not rest until I have fully earn your forgiveness, you have my word.” He said as he stood up, determination filling his words “Gather much patience and indifference as you can, darling, because I am going to be by your side until I succeed and I can see you are not as unaffected as you try to appear to be” He then turned around to walk out of the drawing room

“There is another thing I am bargaining for,” He stopped before he exited the room “and that is to earn back your love….no matter how long it takes” he said shamelessly before finally walking out

You swallowed harshly, your heart beating fast in your chest as you fully took in his words and the promise in them. You exhaled shakily, feelings you did not want to feel ever again trying to resurface. It is both horrible and amazing how much he affects you, whether he said cruel or sweet words, your traitorous heart always seems to beat faster to no one but him.

He felt so idiotic. For the first time in his entire life, Anthony felt like the dumbest person in the whole wide world. He could see it, he could see how much he actually hurt you. You were distant towards him, cold even, your eyes didn’t have that sparkle in them whenever you saw him, nor did you bend over trying to fulfill his every wish, not that he wanted you to, but there was this pain in your eyes, this hurt when your eyes met his which made him feel so guilty and dumb.

There is this saying that goes, you never know what you have until you lost it. Anthony felt like that. You was an amazing person and he felt like the dumbest person alive to not have realized that sooner. His mother was right from the start, you really are the perfect viscountess , the perfect woman….the only woman for him.

His only relief is that the pain that he previously saw in your eyes decreases with the time he spends with you. It gave him hope and he will not rest until that pain disappears completely and your eyes once again reflect love in them when you see him.

“Y/n” His face lights up, eyes flickering up when he heard your name, standing up from his seat as he saw you enter the dining room with a plate full of cookies, his reaction not unnoticed by his mother who hid her smile pretending to take a sip out of her glass of wine.

“Y/n,” Anthony said taking a step towards you before stopping and instead pulling out your unofficial assigned chair (which is coincidentally besides him, wink wink), one you haven’t sat on since your marriage crumbled.

You sit down on the chair, silently thanking him with a nod of your head “I made some cookies, they’re recently baked so they might be hot” You smiled, putting the plate in the middle of the table “I-“

“You didn’t have to.” Anthony said breathlessly, the thought that you accepted his gesture and was so close to him making his heart beat quickly, it felt as if it would snap right out of his chest. You were not completely ignoring him…

“I know, I wanted to” You say with a nod

“They look delicious.” Anthony said, not knowing what else to say to you, suddenly feeling as if he couldn’t muster up any idea on what to say to keep the conversation going.

“I hope that they are” You answer

“I am sure anything you make is amazing,” He said with a smile

You blink, now you were the one speechless “Thanks….I guess?” you say awkwardly. You heard Benedict chuckle from beside you, you turned to face him, giving him a glare.

“Ah no, do not mind me” Benedict uttered, taking a sip from his cup of wine “Pretend I’m not here, I just remembered something funny and it made me laugh”

You scoffed before standing up from your seat “I have to go get ready for the opera” you said “do not follow me” you uttered once you saw Anthony moving to stand up as well

“but I- I can-“ he groaned when he saw you leaving without another glance

“Anthony, go call Y/n and Hyacinth , the carriage is almost here” Violet Bridgerton told her son as she looked out the window

“No need” You spoke as you walked down the stairs, Hyacinth not far behind you

You let out a breath as you reached the ground floor, Anthony’s gaze immediately found yours as you descended the stairs. His eyes lit up, as though seeing you for the first time that evening, his breath catching slightly at the sight of you. You wore a gown of deep sapphire, its elegant lines flattering your figure without drawing too much attention, and yet, to Anthony, you might as well have been the only person in the room.

“Y/n…” He murmured, his tone soft, almost reverent. The man you had once known to be brash and commanding now seemed utterly captivated by your every movement. It would have been endearing if it wasn’t so infuriatingly persistent.

“You look beautiful,” he added, his voice lower now, as if it was meant only for you.

You offered him a polite smile, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Thank you, Anthony.”

Hyacinth grinned mischievously from behind you, clearly picking up on the tension between you two. “Anthony’s been quite eager about the opera all week,” she teased as she passed by, giving her brother a sly look.

Anthony’s expression shifted into something more sheepish, a rare sight indeed. “Only because I knew you’d be there,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You sighed inwardly. This was all part of his effort to win you back, but he couldn’t just charm his way through everything. Not after the pain he had caused. There was a deep well of hurt beneath your composed exterior, and no amount of flowery words or pretty compliments could erase it. You had promised yourself that if he truly wanted your forgiveness, he would have to work for it. He would have to see the depths of the damage he had inflicted.

“Let’s just get going,” you said softly, already moving toward the door where the carriage waited.

The opera house was a grand affair, as always. Chandeliers glittered overhead, the rich burgundy of the velvet curtains creating an opulent backdrop for the night’s performance. People dressed in their finest milled about, awaiting the start of the show, their chatter filling the air like a soft hum.

You took your seat next to Anthony, and despite the large crowd, it felt like you two were the only ones in the room. As the lights dimmed and the first notes of the opera began to play, Anthony leaned slightly toward you.

“I’ve never quite appreciated music as I do now,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft overture. His eyes, however, were not on the stage but on you.

You didn’t respond, focusing your attention on the performance. Sienna Rosso, the opera singer he had an affair with, had a voice that could command any room, but tonight, it seemed Anthony was deaf to it. His gaze never left you, even as the area swelled with emotion, which completely surprised you.

Throughout the performance, he remained close, his presence a constant reminder of the promises he had made. When Sienna reached a particularly moving part of her song, you noticed Anthony’s hand briefly brush against yours where it rested on the armrest. You quickly pulled your hand away, not wanting to give him any more satisfaction than necessary. The corner of his mouth twitched in what you could only describe as amusement, but he didn’t push further.

After the opera ended, and the crowd began to file out, you overheard murmurs from others in the audience. Most were compliments on the performance, but a few curious glances and whispers were directed toward you and Anthony.

“It seems Viscount Bridgerton is quite taken with his wife these days,” one woman said to her companion, not too far from where you stood. “He didn’t take his eyes off her once.”

You pretended not to hear them, but the words echoed in your mind as you followed Anthony outside. His devotion was clear, and while part of you appreciated his efforts, another part still held back.

The days that followed were filled with Anthony’s persistent attempts to be near you. He insisted on accompanying you during your walks in the gardens, even if you would rather enjoy the peace and quiet alone. You often found him sitting in the drawing room whenever you tried to read, as if his presence had become a permanent fixture in your life.

One morning, you entered the drawing room with your favorite book, intent on having a quiet moment to yourself. To no surprise, Anthony was already seated by the window, reading through some documents. His head lifted the moment you walked in.

“You don’t always have to be here, you know,” you said, trying to sound indifferent as you sat down with your book. You felt a sense of déjà vu as you remembered you said almost the exact thing days ago.

“I know,” Anthony replied, not looking up from his papers. “But I want to be.”

You shook your head slightly, unsure whether to be frustrated or touched by his relentless presence.

As time passed, Anthony’s efforts didn’t wane. Instead, they became more thoughtful, more personal. He began to ask about the things you can loved—books, music, even the small hobbies you indulged in. One day, he found you at the piano, quietly playing a familiar melody.

“I didn’t know you played,” he said softly, standing by the doorway as he watched you.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you replied, not looking up from the keys.

Anthony stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “Then let me learn.”

For a moment, you stopped playing and turned to him. His gaze was sincere, and for the first time, you saw just how much he truly wanted to understand you, not just win back your favor. There was a quiet desperation in his eyes—a longing to connect in a way that went beyond mere apologies.

“I’m not the same person I was before, Anthony,” you said softly. “And neither are you.”

He knelt beside the piano bench, his hand resting lightly on the edge. “I know. But that doesn’t change how much I want to be the man who deserves you.”

Anthony’s devotion became even more apparent during the next ball. You had agreed to attend, mostly to maintain appearances, but you had no intention of dancing with him. Yet, as the evening wore on, you found yourself in his arms once again, moving to the rhythm of the music.

The anticipation of the evening bubbling inside you. You’d worn your best gown—an elegant shade of deep emerald green that complemented your complexion beautifully, with delicate lace detailing that caught the light as you moved.

As you stepped into the grand hall, the chandeliers glimmered above, and the soft murmur of conversations created a symphony of excitement. You could already see a few familiar faces, including Anthony’s, who was talking animatedly with Benedict. As your eyes caught his, a smile crept onto his face, and it sent an unexpected flutter through your chest.

“You look stunning,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as you approached him. There was a sincerity in his tone that made your heart race.

“Thank you,” you replied, trying to keep your composure. “You don’t look too shabby yourself, Viscount Bridgerton.”

“You’ve really been making an effort, haven’t you?” you remarked, genuinely curious.

“I have,” he replied earnestly. “I realized how much I took for granted, and I want to change that. I want to understand you better, to show you how much you mean to me.”

His words stirred something deep within you. It was a mixture of hope and caution, the remnants of your heart still wary. “It’s going to take time,” you reminded him gently.

“I’m willing to wait,” he said, his voice firm yet tender.

The rest of the evening passed in a haze of laughter and shared stories, a tentative but genuine connection beginning to weave itself between you. Over the following weeks, Anthony continued his pursuit, each small gesture a reminder of his commitment. He would bring you books he thought you’d enjoy, spend afternoons listening to you play the piano, and even sought you out during family gatherings, always ensuring you were included.

During one particularly memorable evening at a ball, Anthony once again swept you into a dance. The music flowed around you, and with each turn, he whispered sweet nothings, his breath warm against your ear. “You look breathtaking tonight,” he murmured, pulling you closer.

“Flattery again?” you teased, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you.

“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth,” he replied, his gaze unwavering.

As the dance continued, a group of gentlemen approached, their laughter echoing with a cruel edge. One stepped forward, a smirk plastered across his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t the Viscount and his precious wife,” he sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. “I never thought you’d stoop so low after stepping out on her for that soprano. What a delight to see you back with the real prize. But then again, is she really a prize if you had to search elsewhere?”

The laughter from his companions was sharp and mocking, and your heart sank at their words. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and anger flooding through you.

Anthony’s demeanor shifted in an instant. “If you’ll excuse us,” he said coolly, his grip on your waist tightening as he moved to lead you away. “Your lack of manners is as appalling as your lack of character.”

“Come now, Anthony. You can’t seriously think anyone would believe you’re happy here,” the gentleman continued, his smirk widening. “After all, we all know your heart is still with that soprano. Poor thing, she wasn’t simply a phase, was she?”

The cruel laughter of the group hung in the air, and you felt the sting of their words cut deep. Anthony’s protective nature surged to the forefront, his expression hardening as he glared at them. “Fun at the expense of another’s feelings is not fun at all,” he retorted, his voice steady but low, a clear warning laced with anger.

You watched in surprise as he stood his ground, the intensity in his gaze unwavering. “You’d do well to remember that she deserves respect, not your mockery.”

As the gentlemen backed off, their laughter fading into awkward silence, you felt a rush of gratitude for Anthony. “Thank you,” you whispered, looking up at him. In that moment, you truly saw the man he was becoming,the way he stood up for you, how he was learning to respect your feelings, and the genuine warmth in his eyes. It was as if a veil had lifted, and you could see the sincerity in his actions.

Your heart softened for him, the edges of your hurt beginning to blur. “You’ve really changed,” you added, your voice barely above a whisper. “It means so much to me.”

“Always,” he replied softly, his gaze searching yours. The intensity in his eyes was filled with an unspoken promise, a vow that he would continue to earn your trust and love.

As the evening wore on, you both enjoyed each other’s company, the space around you brimming with laughter and joy. The memory of the cruel words from the gentlemen faded, overshadowed by the warmth that radiated between you and Anthony. With each smile, each shared glance, you could feel the distance between you gradually closing, drawing you closer together.

You gently squeezed Anthony’s hand and leaned in close, your voice barely above a whisper, “Come with me.”

His eyebrows raised in curiosity, but he didn’t hesitate. You led him out of the ballroom, down the halls of the house, until you found a small, secluded alcove at the back of the house—a quiet corner where you could be alone. The air was cooler here, with the faint scent of roses from the garden outside, and the moonlight filtered softly through the window.

Anthony looked at you with concern, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what was on your mind. “Are you alright?” he asked gently, his voice filled with care.

You nodded, stepping closer to him, feeling your heart pound in your chest. “I’m fine, Anthony. I just… I wanted to talk to you alone.”

He looked nervous, as if he feared what you might say. His eyes flickered between yours, waiting, bracing. You took a deep breath, your fingers still wrapped around his.

“I’ve been thinking,” you started, your voice soft, “about everything that’s happened between us. The pain, the distance… but also, how far you’ve come.” You met his gaze, your heart swelling with the depth of emotion that had been building inside you for months. “You’ve changed, Anthony. Truly. And I can see how hard you’ve worked to prove yourself, not just to me, but to everyone.”

Anthony’s jaw clenched slightly, his brow furrowing as he listened. “I did it for you,” he said quietly, “because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you completely. You mean everything to me, Y/n. I know I’ve hurt you, and I’ve regretted it every day since. But I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as his words struck a deep chord within you. He was baring his soul to you but this time, in the privacy of this small, intimate space, it felt even more real—more raw.

You reached up, gently cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over the stubble on his jawline. “I know, Anthony. I can see that now.” Your voice wavered slightly, thick with emotion. “And I want to give us another chance.”

His eyes widened, surprise flickering in his gaze, followed by an overwhelming rush of relief. “Y/n… are you sure?” His hand covered yours on his cheek, his thumb caressing your skin as if he was afraid you might disappear.

You nodded, stepping closer until your bodies were almost touching. “I’m sure,” you whispered. “I want to be with you, Anthony. I want to move forward together. No more walls between us.”

A soft breath escaped him, as if he’d been holding it in for far too long. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I love you, Y/n. I’ve always loved you, even when I was too foolish to realize it. You are everything to me. My heart, my soul… I don’t deserve you, but I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret giving me another chance.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but they were tears of joy, of hope, of finally letting go of the past and embracing the future. “I love you too, Anthony,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Despite everything, I never stopped loving you.”

The moment hung between you, charged with emotion, until Anthony, unable to resist any longer, gently cupped your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft at first, tender, as if he was afraid to push too far. But as your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer, the kiss deepened, becoming more passionate. Years of unspoken feelings, of longing and heartache, melted away in that single, soul-stirring kiss.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together, the weight of the past lifted from your shoulders.

“You’re mine,” Anthony whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m yours, forever.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, feeling the warmth of his love wrap around you like a blanket. “Forever,” you agreed, your heart full.

Years later, the memory of that night remained vivid in your mind, a turning point in your love story. Life had changed for the better, your marriage growing stronger with each passing day. You and Anthony had built a beautiful life together, filled with laughter, love, and the joy of your growing family.

On sunny afternoons, you would find Anthony in the garden, playing with your children—two boys and a girl—who adored their father with all the fierce love you had once felt when you were a child. He was a different man now, a devoted husband and a doting father, and every day he made good on his promise to you.

One afternoon, as you watched from the porch, you saw Anthony scoop up your youngest daughter, spinning her around as she giggled uncontrollably. Your heart swelled with happiness, and you realized how far the two of you had come. The man who once made mistakes was now the man who never let a day go by without showing you just how much he loved you.

Anthony caught your eye from across the garden, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. He smiled, his eyes filled with the same love and devotion that had been there that night in the alcove, when you decided to give him another chance.

And you knew, deep in your heart, that it had been the best decision you had ever made.

★ summary — after his fathers death, anthony finds solace within an unexpected someone ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★★ pairing: anthony bridgerton x sibling!reader ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★ content warnings. mention of death, description of grief & death, teenage anthony being in shambles after edmunds death (rest his poor soul) ˖˙ ꔫ —★★ word count. 3.9k ˖˙ ꔫ —★ genre. angst, so much angst. smidge of fluff, hurt/comfort? ★ authors note: anthony's story is actually so sad but i wanted to see more of how he dealt with everything and a deep dive onto what he felt of so... (also there are NOT enough anthony x sibling reader so here we are!!) ⠀⠀⠀❛⠀⠀ requests are open !!

Anthony had always believed that a profound sadness enveloped the body like a condecending fog, delving deep into the bones and clawing recklessly at the soul until it was a suffocating weight with no escape in sight. Yet now, as he stood amidst the bouts of chaos, he felt nothing. No sadness, no anger, no frustration. Just a vast, empty numbness that swallowed his entire being whole.

It were as if the world around him came to a grinding halt, and he had stopped with them—unable to escape the grasp of the coldness trickling up upon his spine. It felt as if his physical body had been frozen, but consciously, he had not—a distant observer in a weary state of forgery. The sheer oddity of it all left him out of it; an unsettling sense that he was lost in a dream too overwhelming to even comprehend was vastly disheartening. It felt like... a storm, a thunderstorm brewing inside of him, circling through and around his every vein and nerve until it ceased to exist.

He can briefly reminisce, pinching himself over and over until his skin turned blotchy red and had grown irritated in the area. The pain was a sharp reminder to him that it was a futile attempt at an escape, that it was not just some dream that he could simply wake up from. Yet, it could not be; Anthony wanted nothing better to do than just refuse. Laugh at the servants that crowded him with questions that he could not answer—the questions that he should not be worrying about at his age.

Their voices seemed to be distorted in a way that Anthony could not quite make out—a dissonant chorus, overlapping under the distinct rushing and ringing in his own ears. It was as if it went in through one ear and out the other, like water through a funnel. None of it made sense, despite it being more than natural common sense. He still isn’t sure how he managed to even utter a single coherent word; Anthony couldn’t even hear himself over the cacophony that tumbled through his mind. He couldn’t hear himself over the concious noise that screamed in his head and translated all the way to his entire body until it was the only thing radiating through his pumping blood.

In the mix of what seemed to sound like if someone had put all the most horrid sounds a man could hear and mixed them all together, jumbled and overwhelming, he could faintly hear his mother. His poor mother, screaming and crying, the sound so haunting and raw that Anthony wishes he could never hear again in his life, yet it lingered upon him like an uninvited shadow in the corner of his room. Even when it was not presently there, when he was stuck alone at night, his siblings sent off to bed by the maids, his mother nowhere in his line of sight, did he stare at the ceiling of nothing—hearing those cries replaying in his head again and again and again. It’s as if he wanted himself to go mad and Anthony must say, he was very close to so.

But the sounds were only a singular part of his torment. Lord, have mercy on his miserable soul; nothing could’ve prepared him for the sights that awaited him, that he was forced to face by nothing but himself.

His mother sprawled across the staircase, a flurry of maids assisting her but to no avail. There was no ending to her constant misery, and for a brief moment, a moment that Anthony must regret, he wished that his mother had an off-switch so he could just stop it. For her sake or his, he couldn’t quite say. 

His siblings, on the other hand, were a mix of emotions that Anthony was not qualified to handle nor care for. Was that not what maids were for? Daphne cried silently, dabbing at her tears cascading down her cheeks that failed to subside. He silently wonders to himself how many tears a woman could cry before her very essence would be evaported, while Colin and Benedict, although undeniably upset, managed to hide away their sentiments, at least towards Anthony. Well, he was sure he caught a glimpse of a tear roll down Benedict’s face, but there was nothing he could say nor do about that except pat him on the back a couple of times as a comfort of sorts before he’s again whisked away to care for something he knew little about. He wasn’t prepared for this; he wasn’t qualified for this. He was just a child. 

At least the younger ones were mostly oblivious to the situation that had wrapped around the mourning family. They all gazed up at Anthony, more confused than upset, and he must think that they would wonder why all their older siblings suddenly all looked so remorseful, cloaked with grief, and their mother a distant entity that was soon regarded as unapproachable. In the recesses of his grief-sorrowed mind, a feeble thought flickered for a moment's notice: how, he pondered, for any way to describe the gravity of their weighted reality. Could he even explain to them? Shield them from the truth, or perhaps let them burden down the knowledge that would take away their youthful innocence as it had done for Anthony as well? He felt like an abonomibal creature for even thinking about it twice.

One in particular, suggested to be more curious than the others. Y/N, her name was. Her curiosity stood out like a sore thumb, perhaps like a lightning rod in a thunderstorm. He couldn’t help but to wonder at how she seemed so upbeat despite the dark and grim reality that faced her angel of a soul. She didn’t ought to know the truth. Each time Anthony called for her, the name rolling off her tongue with gilded ease. These times, unlike others, a gentle plea was slowly woven upon his voice that could speak no more as he edged her away from the chaos with a simple “Get away from there.” or “Come over here, Y/N.” In these instances, he always sounded so diminished that Benedict would end up swooping in and picking her up for some other sort of entertainment that was not so utterly upsetting.

This night couldn't be any different.

The thunderclap erupted like a cannon shot in the wild—a deep, profound, and resonant roar that rattled the air around them, the windows shuddering with every harsh punch of wind. It was, perhaps, a night of sorrows. As the rain splattered upon the house as if it were a hose, the wind howling in the near distance. Anthony swears for a beat that he can faintly hear the rain-shooken birds finding solace in their chimney. He wishes that he were a bird; at least he would be able to have some place to find tranquility that was not just the dreadful drag of the house, each lamenting moment drowning all the cheeriness that once stood in this very place.

Anthony taps his quill absently upon the polished wood of his late father's table, the designs that were so intricate, swirling under his fingers like echoes of the past that he could no longer reach but yearned for. It must’ve taken months upon months to create it. He found enjoyment in running his sullen fingertips around the smoothness of the edges, a contrast to the jagged edges that traced along his heart. Anything that wasn’t entirely dejectful felt like a cruel mockery of how he felt.

It was late—far too late for anyone in the house to be up, him included. And yet, Anthony couldn’t find it in himself to indulge in the luxury of being able to forget it all, even for a few fleeting moments. He had tried, laying upon his father's old bed in his old room, which smelled all too much like him, enveloping his entire being. A bittersweet waiver of worn fabric and a mixture of odd colognes and papers that had been burnt from days ago. It was haunting in a way that Anthony couldn’t quite place, as if his father were still next to him—an unseen presence, watching his every move. Every time he squinted his eyes shut, the image of his father in the garden flooded his mind, lying so freakishly still. It coursed through his thoughts. He had been well surrounded by vibrant blooms of the spring-induced flowers, which seemed much too cheerful under the circumstances, and Anthony disantely thinks if those were the flowers to be used for the funeral.

Those were no means to sleep, slipping away like sand through his fingers.

He isn’t quite sure why he slips into his study rather than any other place for some sort of solitude. Anywhere would’ve been far better than his father's study; nonetheless, he finds himself sitting in the very same chair his father once sat in. Would he be proud? The words ring into his mind, digging as if it were like a tattoo within his brain. He had thought about it a select number of times over the course of a couple of days, yet the question remains unsolved. Anthony respected his father more than anyone else in his life, and putting words into his mouth that he could not say only made him feel bitter rather than better.

The silence is deafening—as if all of a sudden, the thoughts and ringing that took up his every moment had just chosen to dissapear. A harsh push back into reality is what Anthony would’ve guessed. 

Tap

Anthony furrows his eyebrows, knitting together to crease over his squinted eyes. The new, unfamiliar sound is something that he briefly wonders. He strains to listen for any hint of noise beyond the relentless screeching of the wind and the staccato rhythm of rain pellets up against the window, each drop intensifying as time dragged on. When there is nothing to hear to follow up with his thoughts, enveloping him in a wooful silence, Anthony, for a chilling interval, genuinely believes that he might be going insane. As far as-

Thump, thump.

He could no longer deny the truth that it was in fact, not his mere imagination. Anthony was more certain than the flourishing green of the grass outside the house that the sound echoing through the darkness was real and not just a byproduct of his sleepless night or the weight of horrors from the days that lay behind him pressing down upon his consciousness. He stands up willfully, feet hitting the floor with a soft thud that was met with a creak reverberating from the old wood panels. The candle that he had lit for comfort wavers precariously, the flame teetering on the edge of extinction from the sudden movement. It is no longer than a mere count of seconds before the light flickered back to light, casting an ominous glow throughout the room.

“Hello?” 

Anthony was a bit ashamed to admit it, but his words wobbeled as he spoke. A mirror reflection of how he truly felt. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath to steady and ground himself to the so little he had. The silence that he was met with was perhaps even more unnerving than before—not even a sinned whisper to break the heavy stillness.

“Who’s there?” He proclaims, this time louder, his voice firming itself as the time passed by cautiously slowly, like it was moving through sticky molasses. Anthony is a moment's reach away from venturing out of his study and investigating for himself, curiousity gnawing at him. It was soon deemed unnecessary when a familiar little head popped up from the right frame of the heavy wooden door, wild tufts of hair jutting out from all directions in a way that resembled . He can’t help but to let out a huff of relief when he notices that it is only Y/N and that he was, in fact, not crazy.

Relief then morphs into confusion within a snap of a finger. His eyebrows are met together again, except this time, not from any sort of paralyzing fear but in question. “Y/N, pray tell, what brings you out of bed at this unearthly hour?” Anthony is quick to step away from his desk, taking 3 large steps towards the younger sibling, looking down upon the half-shamed, half-curious look that had crossed her face.

He shook his head yet, bent down far enough to pick the little girl into her arms. She doesn’t protest, instead, nestling herself into his bigger body as if she were seeking some sort of comfort that Anthony could not find in himself to give. He had never been the best at offering solace to other people, nor himself, and especially not now, when his own heart felt too dim and restless to share.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She mumbles, the words lost into the warm crook of Anthony’s neck. He sets the little girl onto one of the chairs that had been meticulously placed in front of the tidied desk. As he stands, his gaze drifts upward to the Renaissance painting hanging on the wall, overlooking the study—an eye-striking masterpiece from an era long before either of them had taken their first breaths. In truth, Anthony wasn’t quite sure how they even managed to get their hands on such an exquisite masterpiece, but it had been his father's favorite painting, so he didn’t dare ask. Every time he turned to face it, the vibrant colors and intricate details felt like a worn ghost from the past, fluttering memories that stung with longing. The image reminded him far too vividly of his father, pulling him into a clouded reverie that soured his mood.

Anthony’s lips are pulled into a drifted frown, eyes gazing over to the uncurtained window where darkness stared back at him, reverberating how the moment felt of. He unknowingly presses his fingers up against his hair, as if he were to adjust how it looked, although he never quite cared for how his hair stood. Is it the storm that troubles you?” He questions meticulously, knowing how fidgety Y/N got during those periods of weather; she never seemed to be a big fan nor curious of it, rather burying herself into a bundle of blankets in pillows. “You have nothing to fear from it.” 

The girl tilts her head to one side, as if she were pondering her answer. There is a brief moment before she slowly shakes her head to the side. “A bit, I suppose.” She mumbles, her fingers playing with the hem of her nightgown, the silk fabric one that was cooling rather than heating her up. She always preferred the material. “But…” 

His eyebrow arches in surprise at the answer, a rumble of perplexity stirring inside of him as he pondered what could be bothering her at this time of night. “Then what might it be if it is not the storm?” his tone softening as he addressed his younger sister, the usual edge in his voice fading into something gentler than usual.

“I…” She lets out a soft exhale, as though she were afraid of saying it aloud to Anthony. It struck him as odd, as well; Y/N was always more open towards him than any of his siblings, although he never understood why. He never brought it up in conversation, simply accepting her willingness to share with him. “I was thinking of father.”

The words spill out hesitantly, and Y/N looks up at her brother in a way that he could only describe as ashamed, though it was nothing to be ashamed of. Anthony’s breath catches into his throat, a reflex that had become all too familiar in recent days. He runs a hand over his face, appearing more dismayed than ever. “Whatever for?” He asks cautiously, unable to help the bittersweet modulation that came along with the sentence.

Y/N looked down, legs swinging over the edge of the seat, the motion that was so kid-like, reminding Anthony of the innocence of his little sister, how he needed to protect her from the cruelty of the world. “I miss him.” She finally says, though not confidently as she usually had been, as though she had chosen her words carefully, placed diligently. “Where is he?”

Where is he?

The words chime in his head persistently, the sensation of a dagger being strung into his heart. Anthony swallows the hardening lump in his throat. He had been able to answer questions and answer to orders his entire life, and yet– this simple question, was enough for him to falter in his step. He could not just simply tell her, Oh yes, our father. He is dead. Because, well, she was a child, and at her young age, Anthony would not know of what death was. It was the furthest thing possible from what he would’ve thought of, and yet, this was Y/N’s truth. She had to face the ridicule of death, not even knowing what it was than a melancholic goodbye.

“He-” The word floundered in his mouth, unable to correlate the thoughts in his brain to the words coming out of his own mouth. “He’s…” 

“Is he dead?”

Anthony almost chokes out a laugh, because what the fuck? Where did she learn of such? She was still so young; he didn’t get it. He was sure neither Colin nor Benedict would directly say it towards her, and Daphne wouldn’t have the heart to do so. None of the other children had much of a clue of what was going on, so it could not have been them either. “Y/N, I-” And yet, he is still unable to speak. He doesn’t know if it is because of the absurdity of the conversation, or if it really is the sleep deprivation messing with him, and if he’s being honest, Anthony doesn’t have it in him to care for the reason. Not when he had... this to worry about now.

“He is dead, isn’t he?” He’s unable to refrain from noticing the quiver in her lip as she spoke, albeit the even cadence. 

Anthony dips his head down, eyes gluing to the floor because he’s unable to look his sister in the eyes. Unable to break the news and her heart at all the same time. She loved Edmund dearly; she loved everyone dearly, and that was her problem. Letting go was always the hard part, for even just a couple of moments—how could she let go for an eternity? Y/N is far from stupid though, and she’s quick to get the message. She too, looks away, this time to somewhere that Anthony can’t quite place. Her eyes are distant, as if she were not there presently, and it scared him a great deal.

“Are you sad?” Y/N inquired, the question so basic yet so meaningful for Anthony, and he can feel the strings tugging at his heart. It’s almost laughable to him; a young child who barely understood the severity of the situation, was the first one to ask him about how he felt. Not his siblings, not the maids, not the butlers, and certainly not his mother. No one doubted him, and while Anthony knew his family cared for him deeply, it underwent as if no one really did. 

“I suppose I am, yes.” He answers honestly, given that he was tired of lying to himself and others. And well, he was sure Y/N would figure it out eventually. 

“It’s okay to be sad.” She whispers gently, her head inclining to the left, and then up to meet Anthony’s gaze. For a brief period of a second, he wonders if she could read him that well. If she could see right through his facade, and knew what he needed to hear to the brink. He refused to acknowledge it, but he was aware that the words had some sort of effect on him. In a manner that had hardly ever moved him before. 

He can do nothing but nod slowly, hesitant to speak upon the matter at hand. "You truly ought to be sleeping, Y/N.” Anthony breathes out, pressing his hand against his subdued jawline, an uneven beard already beginning to form from the days he hadn’t shaved. It was the only response he could come up with, the only response he could say without directly speaking on the matter. 

Y/N bounces up, and off of the chair, landing on her two feet that were padded with socks that went up to her knees. Her favorite pair that she refused to let go of despite the many holes that had broken into the fabric. She stood much shorter than Anthony, still in the very early stages of growth. “Maybe you would be less sad if you talked.” She states woefully, her eyes holding only the sincerest of truths to the point where even Anthony knew that she did not lie. 

“I’ll be okay.” Is his respondance, his words cutting sharp into the heavy air that had filled the room. Because deep down, Anthony knows that his sister is partially right, that he truly needed to talk to someone. The only problem that he now faced was his honor and the fighting fact that he had no one to talk to. “It will all be okay.”

It’s hard for him to even believe his own words. He hadn’t had a clue how Y/N, in all her young wisdom and pureness, could believe him either. In spite of what he thinks, she only agrees with him, already beginning to walk towards the door again, this time with Anthony trailing a meter behind her. He knows well enough to at least tuck her into bed this time, to make sure that she gets some proper rest for the day ahead, although there is hardly anything to do other than funeral planning, which she had no part in.

Before she managed to walk out, Anthony ruffled his sister's hair in affection, something they now both lacked tremendously. He wished upon those days when he was Y/N’s age, able to curl up in his mother's lap, or next to his father in his study, where none of these adult problems affected him and it was just pure bliss. A perception which he could no longer relish in at this point in time. 

“Will we talk tomorrow?” Y/N promptly solicits, something that Anthony could finally answer that wouldn’t hurt him.

“I’m sure of it.” Perhaps for the first time in days, it’s a truthful answer in what he regarded. He says it, not as an entire answer, but as a promise for himself, because although he could be the mouthful of things that his brothers had constantly reminded him about, he never truly broke his promises for those he loved. And as Anthony slips his way out of Y/N’s, his sister falling into a light slumber that he’s sure will keep her down for a number of hours at least. Her eyes fluttered with the weight of sleep, her breathing steadying as the rainfall began to die down during the late night turning into early morning. 

God, maybe he could finally get some much needed sleep.