Warnings:this is definitely steamy but no actual smut, you and anthony are super in love but shhh its a secret, siena just doesn’t exist sorry babe, fluffy friendships with the rest of the bridgerton siblings, it just so happens anthony is down bad for you (are these warnings? yes)
A/N:This one just absolutely flowed out of me, so forgive a few plot holes for the sake of some hot Anthony tension if you would! I can’t thank you enough for the response to my first Benedict fic, I really have been blown away, so I really hope you equally enjoy my first foray into the realm of Anthony <3
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Lady Danbury’s ball was the perfect occasion to begin the season on the correct foot, even if your ambitions for the season were rather different to every other eligible miss in the ton. You smoothed out the deeply emerald dress that currently fluttered around your figure as you stepped out of your carriage alongside your mother, taking her arm and walking through the grand entrance to the ballroom.
It felt as if you were escorting her rather than the other way around as she talked excitedly at your side, asking your opinion on whether you thought the newly renowned Lady Whistledown might be here tonight or not. Keeping your composure, you answered her as politely as you could manage, with little excitement, knowing that attempting to speak more than three words at a time in your mother’s presence was quite the challenge. You were at least grateful that she was far more concerned with her own plans for the evening than having anything to do with finding you a husband.
True to her nature, your mother hurried off to Lady Cowper as soon as the two of you were inside, intending to continue their spirited gossip session from their afternoon tea three days prior. Doing your best not to shake your head at her lack of maturity, lest Lady Whistledown indeed be watching from the wings, you resolved to enjoy your evening the only way you knew how - with the company of the Bridgertons.
Look I’m not trying to be like: damn I know a character
But HAJDJDKJDKD I’ve never read any of the books and I wrote this only a year ago ??? Not knowing shit but after watching season 2, I’m very proud of it???
summary: requested; when the knight in shining armor realizes he’s in love with his clumsy girl
warnings: best friends to lovers, talk of injuries
word count: 2.1k
Beauty can be found in repetition. In the comfort that comes with it, the assurance that life is going exactly as it is supposed to. That all the pieces are falling into place without fuss or feathers. That is what life felt like for Benedict Bridgerton.
There was nothing quite like coming home to a life that revolved around and around like a pretty little carousel after a long day of tedious painting, worrying over the works of his own mind and hand. Predictable life was so beautifully mundane and peaceful at times.
He always arrived back at the Bridgerton home typically just after three in the afternoon. That glorious slice of day when one is just at the peak of energy and yet the world is slowly beginning its descent into slumber. Clouds always roamed the skies overhead while a breeze rushed past and horse hooves struck cobblestone.
And without fail, he always heard the laughter once he stepped into the grand foyer. The noise seemed to ricochet off the marble, bouncing around the house as the pitter patter of feet followed not too far behind. Hyacinth and Gregory whooped and hollered like wild animals on their little stampede, pushing and shoving down the hallways. On their heels, like always, was Y/N racing behind them. Feet bare and skirts clutching in her hands, she leapt down the stairs, yelling for them to stop the raucous behavior yet laughing all the while.
A wide, tilting grin was painted across Benedict’s face at the sight. It always was. This was his welcome home party — these three hooligans that he called family and loved to the moon and back, then twice over again.
“I thought I told you no more running down the stairs,” he lectured teasingly, placing his hands on his hips. “You’ve already had a broken finger, a sprained wrist, and your left knee still isn’t right.”
His younger siblings laughed nonetheless, picking up their pace to reach the end of the stairs and then dart around the corner. Benedict sidestepped them, narrowly avoiding being barreled into.
Y/N huffed a little, darting down another few stairs, just feet from the bottom. “I’ve told you a million times, Benny. I’m not that—”
On the last stair, her feet slipped from beneath her, sending her careening towards the marble floor. And as always, like a comforting clockwork, he stepped forward to catch her. To wrap his arms around her and set her right.
It was just how the two neighbors were — Y/N falling or tripping over her own feet and Benedict there to be her personal knight in shining armor. To carry her to the house when she sprained an ankle, to wipe mud from her face with the sleeve of his shirt, to help her crawl over a fence. He was there for all of it and he wouldn’t consider trading it for the world.
“What were you saying?” he asked with a marvelous grin, one hand still lingering near her waist as he waited for her to find her footing once more. “That you’re not that clumsy anymore?”
Y/N smiled despite her better judgment, a dark teasing glint twinkling in her eyes. “I wouldn’t have fallen if you weren’t so…”
“What?” he laughed. “Handsome, talented, intelligent, clever, hilarious… the list could go on and on.”
“Infuriating!” she exclaimed, lightly slapping his strong shoulder as she grinned from ear to ear. “Cocky, arrogant, a know-it-all. Need I go on?”
Benedict scoffed and shook his head in amusement. Maybe he was all of the above, but it didn’t matter. He knew she wouldn’t love him less for it. Gently, he reached up and moved a fallen lock of hair back into place. “We both have our flaws,” he lamented. “Yet I would argue we are fairly near perfect.”
“That’s what I consider being a Bridgerton is.” Y/N smiled in the way that had him seeing stars, the contagiousness of it bringing a toothy grin to his own face. “Being insanely stubborn headed yet shockingly likable.”
Benedict laid a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “Well then I would say you are certainly a part of the family, Y/N/N.”
Stifling humidity and heat always came with the summer months and yet Benedict still lingered beneath the sun, leaning on the croquet mallet in hand. His jacket had been long abandoned and cravat loosened and yet he still felt as though he were sweltering. Not only from the heat, but from some other foreign feeling that stirred about within his mind.
For the entire afternoon, his eyes had been glued to Y/N’s back – watching how her skirts twirled in the wind, how her joyous laughter seemed to wick away the unbearable heat. She trotted about the yard with Benedict’s favorite mallet in her hand, the one he always handed off to her with a smile on his face. And throughout the day, he’d followed her like a stray dog begging for scraps. Always a step behind, lingering in the shadows unheard and unseen.
Y/N carefully lined up her next shot as the crowd quieted in anticipation. Even over a silly game, Benedict’s breath halted in his chest as he observed, crossing his fingers for good luck to pass along to her. She swung the mallet with trained ease and like clockwork, the ball rolled along and through the hoop.
Immediately she turned around, throwing both arms triumphantly in the air. “Did you see that?”
Benedict couldn’t help but smile deliriously like a fool. “Absolutely!” he cried with enthusiasm, applauding as loudly as he could manage.
Stepping by his side, Y/N allowed her mallet to drop to the ground as she greedily drank a cup of iced water. “I believe I’ve adequately shown the ladies that I do not plan to relinquish my title of The Queen of Croquet anytime soon.”
“You certainly did,” he enthused with a smirky smile he couldn’t manage to contain. “Even while making a complete mess of yourself.” Like a second nature, he took one of her hands in his, examining the small scratches laced around her arm and the layer of mud plaguing the bottom of her dress.
“I go where the game goes,” she said proudly, “even when it’s through thickets and mud holes.”
Taking off his cravat, he wetted it in a glass of water and then went to work, wiping away the dirt and grime from her scratched up arms. It was instinctual, his little routine he felt compelled to complete. “Then at least try to not injure yourself so much next time.”
“They’re only scratches, Benny. It isn’t like I fell and busted my head open.”
Glancing up at her, one corner of his lips tilted as he saw the fiery spirit in her eyes. The type that leaped and bounded at the idea of danger. “Then try for me?” he whispered.
At that whispered plea, the look in her eyes changed, morphing into something so deliriously soft and tender that Benedict felt his heart skip a single beat. He felt as though his soul was reaching out to hers, begging it to take his hand.
“For you,” she whispered with a tilting smile, “my knight in shining armor.”
In that moment, he felt his heart come to an easy still, pausing in his chest as though time itself had come to a halt. The heat was still there, flooding through his cheeks until he swore his whole face had likely turned to a peachy shade of pink. His lips gaped as his mind compelled him to say more, to find words to match the state of confusion he felt.
But before he could come to terms with himself, she had pulled away and picked up the mallet, holding it out for him. “I believe your game is about to begin soon, Mr. Bridgerton.”
“Why of course, Miss L/N. How could I ever forgive myself for potentially being late to such a thing?” He did a little mock bow before stepping away, finding himself reluctant to leave her side. As he walked across the lawn to where his brothers waited, he instinctively glanced over his shoulder to find her in the mulling crowd once more.
“Took you long enough,” Anthony snapped. He fidgeted anxiously, bouncing one foot as he constantly readjusted the grip on his mallet. His shoulders tightened once Benedict rolled his eyes dramatically. “I have things to do – Edwina to woo, Kate to win over.”
Colin and Benedict’s gazes met for a single moment once Anthony stormed off, leading the charge in the way he always did. Silly smiles played across both their lips as they trailed behind, swinging their mallets absentmindedly.
Once more, Benedict glanced over his shoulder only to find Y/N staring back at him, a smirk painted across her face as she gave two enthusiastic thumbs up. That wonderful heat rose in his face again as he raised a hand, sending a little grateful wave her way.
Colin cleared his throat and knowingly gazed at his brother. “You love her.”
“What?”
“Do you not realize it?” he scoffed. “You are so head over heels for her that it isn’t even funny.”
Benedict drew in a deep breath as his gaze bounced between Colin and Y/N, the latter of which who was now turned away and snared in conversation with a different gentleman. He would have been a liar if he claimed the sight didn’t make his heart ache in a gnawing way, carving him up from the inside out. “I don’t—” he mumbled, falling over his words. “She… I…”
Colin’s lips lifted even more as he knocked his shoulder affectionately against Benedict’s. “I’m not a fool, brother. I know you and your silly little mind better than you do, and I know what that look in your eyes is.”
Benedict spent the entirety of the match scanning crowds, hungry for another glimpse of Y/N, instead of actually playing. Anthony bested him rather easily with Colin not too far behind the eldest, yet he hardly noticed his scathing loss at all. The only event his brain managed to focus on was Y/N’s interactions — how the new gentleman seemed to cling to her side, looking over her scratches with the same tenderness he himself had for her.
Once more, he felt a foreign feeling coiling inside like a dragon, breathing out fire with every taunting poke and prod. How long had it lived within him? Hiding away in some remote corner of his heart? Benedict didn’t have the faintest of ideas and yet there was some instinctual knowledge that the monstrous jealousy lived for one person only.
Benedict didn’t hear Colin’s calls as he crossed the lawn, dropping his mallet somewhere in the grass. He was greeted by Y/N darting across the lawn to greet him, the newest suitor left behind to gawk.
“You played wonderfully!” she called, carefully running across the uneven ground.
He couldn’t help but smile so widely that his cheeks began to ache as he shook his head in disbelief. “I lost — horribly so!”
She laughed wildly as she stumbled on her footing. “Does it matter? You’ll always be a winner to me!”
Just in time, he stepped forward to steady her. Both of his hands fell upon her shoulders, keeping her upright as the girl gazed up at him, the corners of her eyes crinkled from laughter. For what felt like the hundredth time, his heart paused and then leapt in his chest in a desperate bid to escape its cage of ribs.
“I care for you,” he shamelessly blurted. His hands dropped to hold her wrists tenderly, as though afraid she’d disappear the moment he looked away.
Y/N stared up at him with wide eyes filling with concern as her eyebrows threaded together. “I’ve never doubted that for a moment,” she responded. “You’ve always been there — through thick and thin; good, bad, and worse than bad.”
He tilted his head to one side as he silently implored himself to spill the words dwelling in his brain. The ones that had been there as long as time itself. “Not in that way,” he whispered. “I care for you in ways that I shouldn’t and more than I should as strictly a friend.”
“Benedict—”
“I’m consumed by you — your presence, the words you speak, and how you trip over your own feet. All of it, all of you.” His words quickly morphed into ones of pleading as he saw her eyes brighten with realization. “And I can’t— I haven’t the words to even describe the beginnings of it.”
She laid a gentle hand on his cheek, running her fingers over a trail of stubble. “You don’t have to describe it.” Her voice dropped into a whisper as she leant into his touch. “I feel the same — I always have.”
summary:requested; when anthony doesn’t realize what is right in front of him
warnings:none (other than that I maybe didn’t pace this in the best way)
word count: 2.6k
“Shall we see what our darling Lady Whistledown has to say on this fine afternoon?” Benedict asked, one corner of his lips curling into a lopsided grin. He settled down next to Y/N, kicking up his heels and flipping open his pamphlet.
Anthony groaned softly, rolling his head from side to side as the joints cracked. “I was trying to enjoy the sun, Benedict. Not to drown in scandal.”
“I don’t mind hearing a little bit of drama,” Y/N said with a smile. The spoon in her hand clicked against the porcelain of her tea cup as she stirred the steaming liquid, a dash of sugar dissolving away with each stir.
“Of course you do,” Anthony sighed, gazing at her from the corner of his eye.
Eloise reached across the table, greedy fingers fumbling for a pastry dessert. She spoke rapidly while she ate, “Let me guess – she’s named a diamond and I’m not it.”
Shaking his head, Benedict laughed. “You’ll be relieved that she hasn’t.” He winked the moment their mother turned away, gazing across the rolling greens of the park. “But she has made some predictions.”
Those words certainly caught Lady Bridgerton’s attention. She turned her head quickly and peered over Benedict’s shoulder, drinking in the written words as if it were a fine wine. “Of what?”
“Couples,” he said with a hum.
“Well then who?”
Now everyone was leant forward in their seats, sipping on tea and nibbling on bread while silently imploring Benedict to read aloud for all. Even Anthony had stopped his anxious fidgeting. He only leaned back further into his chair, balancing dangerously on the back legs.
With a heavy touch, Benedict jabbed at the paper and drug his finger down along the margins. “The Otton girl and that one fellow that came in a while ago – the one who wears those horrid blue jackets. And Cressida Cowper and a man by the name of Matthews?”
Eloise gave a huff of triumph, holding her head higher. “Well that’s hardly any news. Getting a little slow, is she?”
Benedict’s lips suddenly curled into a mischievous smile. His gaze flashed up from the pamphlet, little jewels dancing about in his eyes. “And last but certainly not least,” he said in a mocking tone, “Lord Anthony Bridgerton and Miss Y/N L/N.”
A sharp chill worked through Y/N’s body, prickling her skin and burning her heart. Frantically, she glanced over at Anthony, trying to read the hidden messages carved into his stone expressions. Her heart raced in her throat, silently pleading with him to meet her inquisitive gaze. The eldest Bridgerton only tilted his head to one side, one corner of his lips pulling up in disbelief. “Ridiculous,” he scoffed.
Y/N’s parched lips gaped as the words couldn’t reach her tongue. It sat in her throat like a tangled web of horrid thoughts, fear devouring hope. “Why would it be ridiculous?” her voice cracked, showing the little fissures in her heart.
Anthony only grinned wider – that smile she had fallen in love with so long ago, when they were both shy children pressed up against the gilded walls watching couples twirling past. He sat upright in his chair, hands automatically moving down to smooth his attire. “We’re acquaintances – hardly friends,” he dumbly stated. “I don’t think we’ve even shared an interesting conversation.”
Benedict gasped dramatically, harshly kicking at Anthony’s legs underneath the table. “That is my favorite friend you are talking about!”
“It would be likelier for me to marry a Featherington,” Anthony said, practically laughing about the entire situation.
“And now you are talking about my friend’s family,” Eloise snapped. In one fluid movement, she stole the pamphlet from Benedict’s hand and folded it until it was only a fraction of its size. “It’s not like any of it is true anyway — she’s only making logical guesses which any one of us could make.”
Anthony dragged a hand over his weary face, rubbing at the fine lines of premature aging. “Logical?”
“If you think about it, Y/N does spend a fair bit of time in our household,” she said. “The season’s begun as well. Colin is away so he is not an option, and so it’s either you — Anthony or Benedict. And only one of you danced with her at the last ball.”
Y/N nearly choked on her sweetened tea. “As acquaintances regularly do.”
“It was friendly. Nothing more,” Anthony politely excused, his gaze meeting Y/N’s for one fleeting moment. “What sort of gentleman would I be if I neglected to socialize with a family friend?”
Benedict leaned forward in his seat and conspiratorially raised one eyebrow. “Or was it? Are you two hiding some deep dark feelings I am not aware of?”
In an instant, a fiery burning spread through Y/N’s face like an inferno. Her heart skipped a beat as she pondered the possibility of Benedict noticing her hidden feelings over the years — ones of affection for his older brother.
His gaze bounced between her and Anthony like a wild animal darting to and fro. If she knew any better, she would have said a blush was spreading across his cheeks. But this was Anthony she was looking at — he certainly wouldn’t be caught blushing like a fool gone mad.
“No!” Anthony suddenly said.
“That seems rather defen—”
“Not at all,” Y/N reassured, smoothing down the wrinkles of her dress with anxious hands. A tremble worked its way through her body, making every nerve jump and muscle quiver. “We can’t even agree on a simple thing. I say it’s raining, he says it’s sunny. I don’t quite understand what Lady Whistledown sees.” The lies left her tongue drowning in poison.
“Exactly,” Anthony quickly interrupted. Lifting his cup of tea, he nodded cordially to Y/N. “Now may we enjoy a quiet afternoon?”
Y/N halfway expected the prediction to ruin her season. Every person would have their eye turned to her – both in good and bad. Criticizing her moves, reading into every lingering gaze in Anthony’s direction. The ones that were never reciprocated.
And it did just that — the pamphlet only increased the intrigue swirling around her personality. Every fine gentleman in the Ton wanted a peek at the girl who supposedly snagged Lord Bridgerton’s eye. Of course, it wasn’t true at all, but they needn’t know that. If anything, Anthony only tried to avoid her more: avoiding her gaze, walking away when she approached. The only time they traded words was at Benedict’s command, his hands encircling their wrists to hold both parties in place.
She hated how easily he could skirt around her life, as effortless as a bird floating in the breeze. Y/N wanted him to burn in the same manner she did, as if her dress would leap into surging flames the next time he crossed her field of vision.
And on top of it all, she felt guilty for even thinking that way when there were a dozen men waiting on her doorstep with bouquets, eagerly waiting to sign their name on her dance card. What was so horrifically wrong with her that she couldn’t appreciate what sat in her palms?
They were all perfectly acceptable — of good breeding and drowning in wealth. All had an excellent education, fluent in multiple languages. They were dazzling on paper and yet in person? She couldn’t help but find the flaws in them all. One stepped on her feet endlessly while waltzing, an apology never once dropping from his lips. A second talked over her, not even allowing her to utter a single sentence. A third could only converse of the weather and a fourth tended to be too handsy for her liking.
Sitting at a small table along the edge of the room, sipping on a cup of tea, she found her eyes drifting back to Anthony’s looming figure across the room, despite the adequate company by her side. Even with his back turned to her, she could tell he was perplexed. It was found in the way his shoulders were held; hunched forward instead of starkly pinned back. In how he would stare blankly off at the crowd, turning a cheek to his jovial siblings. She thought of standing up, walking across the room with her head held high and inquiring what was wrong with him. It was off putting to see Anthony in such a state; lost and confused when he was so often quiet and stoney.
When his head turned to her direction, his heavy gaze settling over her, Y/N practically jumped in her seat, fumbling with her drink as she averted her stare.
“You wouldn’t believe what abomination I saw yesterday,” Charles said, throwing a stone into her world of thoughts.
Turning her gaze to the fellow by her side, she nearly felt guilty for being lost in the clouds when by his side. He was kind enough to endure sitting through her silent moments, gentle when dancing, a flair for mocking dreadful events like these, and handsome as well with perfectly groomed golden hair. And yet she couldn’t even remember his surname or what city he hailed from – only that he was proudly French with a slight disdain for the English. And that he wasn’t anything like Anthony.
He talked too much, far too loudly. He used his hands when making a speech, the pale things flapping about like startled birds a foot away from death. And when she countered him, he only dipped into her views – not even challenging her for a second.
It was deliriously affectionate and bitter all at once.
Taking another sip of her tea, she hummed, “What?”
Charles’s thin lips curled with humor as he tilted forward in his seat. “I saw a young gentleman – aristocracy, no doubt – setting a spaniel dog out on a hare.” Chuckling to himself, he shook his head causing meticulously placed locks to fall against his temple.
Y/N raised an eyebrow as she didn’t seem to follow his train of thought. “I’m afraid I’m not understanding the issue.”
“The spaniel was of the tall sort,” he said, demonstrating with his hands as he always did. “About yea high. Entirely inefficient for hunting small game.”
Tilting her head to one side, she tried her hardest to appreciate the quirkiness of his mannerisms. To find the small details that were irresistible to love. And yet her hands felt empty, every possibility falling through her fingers like grains of sand. “What sort would you recommend, Charles?” she asked plainly, searching the room for Anthony without a second thought.
“A basset bleu from Gascony, of course! Short and squatty yet beautifully tactile. They work like nothing else, you have to believe me.”
Y/N’s lips quirked for a moment. “Well if they’re short, how do you expect them to see above tall meadow grass? I would assume a stately dog who can get their task done with minimal effort would be preferable.”
A toothy grin spread across his face. “I believe I must digress. There are truly some impressive hunting spaniels – perhaps I should inform myself more on the breed.”
Y/N laid her hands in her lap, wringing her fingers together until her knuckles paled several shades. “It is okay for you to disagree with me, you know? Both of us can have educated, yet differing, opinions. That’s the joy of conversation.”
“Well, yes — of course,” he said, fumbling over his words clumsily, “but would it be the—”
“Would you excuse me?”
Y/N felt faint the moment she raised her gaze, only to see Anthony standing by their side with his hands clasped behind his back. The signature tight smile was engraved onto his face, eyes practically alight with a sense of mischief.
“I must steal Miss L/N away,” he continued with trained ease. “The matter is urgent, I’m afraid.” Charles nearly leapt to his feet out of fright and expectation. Nodding and blundering about his words as Anthony only quietly offered his arm and a smile that stole the breath from her lungs.
Upon taking it, he promptly whirled her away from the chaos – Charles’s ramblings, prying eyes, whispered predictions, Lady Whistledown and her spies wherever they lingered. Walking and walking in silence until they ended on a balcony outside. Brisk spring air fluttered about outside, weaving through newly budding leaves until blue moonlight.
“What’s so urgent?” Y/N teasingly asked as her gaze languidly roamed the side of his face. “Has a grass blade split? A tree branch dying?”
For a fleeting moment, he gazed down at her as one corner of his mouth lifted. There was an innate tenderness in that look, the soft caress of a downy feather sweeping across her face. It fired a heat rising up her neck, basking her face in a fiery wonder as her heart skipped a beat too many.
“I needed to speak to you,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “That is what was so urgent.”
Y/N’s lips curled into a wide, blazing grin. Laughter bubbled in her chest as she asked incredulously, “You pulled me away from a perfectly wonderful conversation because you want to speak to me? Since when have you ever been desperate to have words with me?”
Anthony’s eyes gleamed as though he were recalling their younger days when she and Benedict trailed him like two lost puppies, endlessly talking until he had to bribe them to quiet.
“It’s funny, isn’t it?” he breathed out with disbelief, cheeks painted a rosy red. “I never thought I’d miss your chattering – the mindlessness of it that made my ears ring. I always thought it was horrid, that I couldn’t get away from you soon enough. And now… after watching you, seeing you smile at someone else’s words, dance in someone else’s arms… I realize that it was always delightful. That I was never bored, never felt dull.”
The black of Y/N’s eyes had blown wide as she felt the breath stall in her chest, her heart coming to an aching rest as her brain swam in muddied waters. “I don’t understand.”
Turning to face her, Anthony laid a hand over his chest. His brows had furrowed together, a sign of his sincerity – one of those small things that she swore she would admire until the end of time. “I didn’t realize how much I… enjoyed your company. Your words – the compliments, the arguments, all of it.”
Throat feeling dry, Y/N scrambled for the words to say that would match the tenderness she saw in Anthony’s eyes – the thing she had long dreamed of. “I’ve always wanted you to see me,” she whispered. “It will ruin me if your words are not true.”
“I see you,” he promised. “Not only just you, but myself.” One hand cupped her face, his thumb tracing over her cheekbone. “I’ve felt hollow not having you there to best me these past few weeks. To correct my grammar or debate my views. And I think I see that in you as well – the emptiness even with that man you’ve been sat beside night after night.”
A smile sprouted across her face, little laugh lines appearing. “He doesn’t even debate me!” she marveled. “They all compliment my dress and the hair, my education. How wonderfully articulate I am, how well read. But nothing of substance or challenge.” She paused for a moment, gazing into endless pools contained within his eyes. “Is that what Lady Whistledown saw?”
His eyebrows threaded together in confusion. “What?”
“The way we argue - how we can go on and on and on and yet… still get along. Not only tolerate, but silently enjoy each other’s company.”
Anthony shook his head in disbelief, little wrinkles appearing by his eyes as his cheeks bunched. “Or maybe it’s how I’ve always looked for you in a crowd.” He glanced down at her once more, pouring himself into her eyes as he whispered those words. “Even when I didn’t realize I did so.”
summary: nearly anything can be mastered with a little help from a duo of brothers
warnings: daphne’s twin sister!reader, stupid amounts of fluff
word count: nearly 1k
Benedict leaned dramatically back in his seat, eyes trained on his sister’s figure floating across the marble floor of their foyer. She should have been a vision, a feather waltzing through an easy breeze that he would have liked to capture in oils on canvas. Instead, he only found himself wincing and biting a knuckle anxiously as Y/N tripped over her own feet with every step.
“Dear god,” he muttered, “you are horrid.”
Coming to a stop, Y/N sighed deeply, her chest falling as she stepped away from the ever patient Colin. “You do not have to rub it in, brother.”
“I’m not,” Benedict said earnestly. “I’m simply observing and providing my input.”
“Which should be restrained,” Colin said with ease, laying a supportive hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “You’re improving with every dance — I swear.”
Y/N pursed her lips with frustration and ran her hands over the front of her silky purple dress. It was infuriating — all of it. The way her mind and feet refused to communicate as one and how the rhythm of the music just wouldn’t flow through her naturally. Compared to her siblings who always carried themselves with such grace and poise, she felt like an utter embarrassment.
“Well I’m not Daphne,” she bitterly said.
“Which is a good thing,” Colin interrupted with a smile. “Just as it is good that I am not Benedict, who is not Anthony.”
She readjusted her feet in the tight little black shoes she wore as she replayed the speech in her mind that Colin always spouted. The one regarding how different they all were and how that was what made each of them so special.
“It’s a different feeling when it’s your twin outdoing you in everything: dancing, playing the piano, learning foreign languages, finding a suitor.”
Benedict sharply hushed her as he rose to his feet, cracking his knuckles dramatically. “Nearly all of which can be fixed with a little practice — no matter how horrible you may be.” He winked as he took up her hands gently. “So let us take things one step at a time and start again with dancing.”
Y/N’s lopsided smile matched his as she silently gave in, allowing Benedict to pull her into the exact middle of the foyer. With trained precision, he moved their hands into the correct position, silently explaining it all under his breath. He was instantly gentle in the ways her instructors had been so harsh. His hands did nothing more than gently guide her; the billowing masts to her sail boat.
“One, two,” he hummed a little tune, stepping in time with the rhythm of the dance she’d been trying to perfect for days. “And a one, two, three.”
Y/N clumsily followed along, desperately trying to keep time as Benedict’s humming and the tapping of Colin’s foot blended into a harmonious melody echoing in her ears. Despite being terrified of tripping, she silently willed her feet to move and follow along to his lead.
Never once did she think her brothers would fail her; that either would teach her wrong or intentionally make a fool out of her. There was an unfettered purity to their teaching. It was done simply from the kindness of their hearts, the tugging on their souls that made them want to look out for her.
Perhaps that is what big brothers were for, she thought, to be the steady light in the darkness.
She grinned from ear to ear as Benedict led her into a spin. In a moment’s time, he slowed both his humming and his movements to ensure each step of hers was made with strong purpose in place of hesitancy.
Leading her back out with a flourish, he sped up their steps once more, smiling with pride all the while. “Look at you!” he shamelessly praised. “Elegance fit for a princess.”
Y/N laughed before stepping on her brother’s toes. “Don’t you dare distract me,” she ordered through fits of giggles and a face burning with happiness. “I’ll trip and fall!”
“Then just keep dancing,” Benedict urged, leading her along into another set of steps she’d tried to memorize time and time again. He was effortless and in every way, that unignorable optimism set a fire beneath her feet.
Colin waltzed up beside them, arms held in the air as he spun with an invisible partner. “Head up, shoulders back,” he instructed sharply with a clever grin. “You’re leaning far too back on your feet. On your toes, Y/N.”
Smiling from ear to ear, she carefully adjusted her posture to fit her brother’s critique. As though something clicked into place, dancing became slightly easier as her feet found the floor confidently. “You could have told me earlier!”
“I thought you’d figure it out,” he teased. His eyes glinted with pride as Benedict spun her into Colin’s waiting arms. Extravagantly, they trotted around the perimeter of the room together. Despite being wildly off beat to Benedict’s humming, both laughed endlessly.
Round and round, the trio went, skipping between each other’s arms as their dance lesson morphed into an endless display of odd skills. Benedict tried his hand at a horrid tap dancing routine, something he’d seen once, as Colin and Y/N mocked a ballet routine, attempting balance dangerously on the tips of their toes.
None could guess at how long Anthony had stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall with a soft smile stretched across his face. He lingered silently, watching his three siblings make fools of themselves for his viewing pleasure.
“You’re going to break a leg,” he teased when Benedict attempted a hardly graceful leap.
Placing her hands on her hips, Y/N drew in a deep breath to satisfy her aching lungs, sore from both dancing and laughing. “How long have you been there?”
A corner of his lips quirked in that arrogantly smug way only Anthony could muster. “Long enough to realize our family lacks adequate rhythm.”
summary: requested by @anthonysharmaa ; is it so unreasonable to want to know one’s own brothers?
warnings: slight angst to fluff, sister!reader (eloise’s age)
word count: 2k
A/N: apologies to lottie because she requested angst and i got a bit too touchy feely with this one
Staring up at a wall lined with silks in every color, Y/N wished she could go back to the morning hours when this idea of hers seemed so incredibly simple. She ran her finger across a bolt of rich red fabric. Didn’t Benedict like this color? Her eyebrows furrowed together as she thought, trying to remember the favorite colors of her brothers. Or was it Colin?
“You’d look lovely in a dress of that fabric,” Penelope commented politely, sidling up to Y/N’s side with a gracious smile stretched across her face.
A corner of Y/N’s lips lifted as she took a step back, gazing up at the selections that seemed to stretch towards the heavens. “I’m shopping for my brothers, if you’d believe it.”
“For…?”
“Cravats — gifts,” she said, taking a sample of blue fabric and running it between her fingers. “They’re all sitting on the cusp of something new; Colin about to embark on a second trip, Benedict’s venturing into art school, Anthony’s hopefully impending engagement.”
Penelope hummed in understanding as they both moved down the aisle.
“They’re always doing so much for the family. I thought it would be nice to give them something for a change.”
“That’s incredibly kind and thoughtful of you, Y/N. I’m positive they’ll be thrilled.”
Y/N’s throat tightened at Penelope’s words of encouragement. “It would be… but I…”
Her friend’s face changed to one of stark confusion. “But you what?”
Turning on her heel, Y/N whirled to face her. “I’m realizing that I hardly know them at all.” She waved the bit of fabric that she’d crumpled up into her palm. “I don’t even know which one likes the color blue!”
Penelope’s eyes grew comically wide at the outburst. “If it helps,” she said timidly, “Colin prefers green.”
“See!” Y/N exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at her friend. “Even you know him better than I. It’s humiliating.”
“But favorite colors are such a trivial thing,” she tried to reason. “I’m sure you know other things — like their favorite holidays or foods, what they prefer to do on their birthday.”
Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to search through her memories with a fine–toothed comb. Sure, her family was close. But they didn’t necessarily talk about anything personal. Conversations always revolved around how the day went, the finances, the newest scandals whipping through the Ton like an angry storm.
“Colin likes fish, doesn’t he?”
Penelope could only wince, and that was enough of an answer.
Y/N lingered by the doorway, rapping her knuckles against the oak frame. She peeked inside the room carefully, silent so as to not disturb her brother working. Bleary sunlight filtered in through the thin white fabric of the drawn curtains
Benedict was sitting behind an easel, sitting awkwardly with a knee drawn up to his chin as he hunched forward. His tongue peeked out between his teeth as he focused intensely, paintbrush in hand as he worked away on his newest masterpiece. In her opinion, each one looked better and better and yet he was so critical of himself. It wasn’t unusual to find piles of crumpled papers around the home.
“May I come in?” she whispered.
He flinched in his chair, glancing up suddenly. “Is something wrong?” he asked with wide eyes.
She stepped quietly inside, wincing when the floorboards squeaked beneath her feet. “Not exactly,” she hummed. “I just thought it might be nice to chat.”
Benedict huffed softly, picking back up his brush and lathering more mahogany colored paint onto the canvas. “I’m in the middle of this piece,” he said with a tone of reluctance, “it isn’t exactly a good time to—”
“I understand,” she said quickly, forcing a smile onto her face. “I won’t— I won’t bother you again.”
“Help me take this upstairs, would you?”
Arms piled high with heavy leather books, Y/N trailed quietly behind Colin. Her older brother was practically bursting with energy. He was a force constantly in motion, anxiously fidgeting as he could hardly force himself to wait for his impending trip.
“Whatever do you need all of these for?” she huffed, stepping into Colin’s room and dumping the armful into a camel-back trunk.
“Studying.” He moved about his room almost in a blur, picking up quills and parchment to stuff away in a bag. “How am I meant to identify native flora and fauna if I have nothing to compare them to?”
Y/N nodded in understanding, tucking away another book he had handed to her. “So is this what you like — what you are passionate about?” She never exactly imagined Colin to be the type with his nose stuck in a book but suddenly his long interest in the trees on their country property seemed to make sense.
Turning on his heel, a wide smile spread across his face. “I don’t think now is exactly the right time to get philosophical about my passions,” he lightly laughed. “My pocket watch is ticking away and Greece is awaiting my return.”
Quietly, on the tips of her toes, she entered Anthony’s study with her breath held. It was rare for someone to enter the room while he was working steadily on his papers. Nothing was worse than her eldest brother in a testy mood.
The dark room’s curtains were drawn, hardly a crack of sunlight peeking through to illuminate the towering book shelves. Anthony was hunched over his desk, one hand pressing against the temple of his head. In recent days, his eyebrows seemed permanently threaded together in a mixture of worry and stress that did nothing but age him more. Y/N swore each time she saw him, a new wrinkle was painted across his features.
“Is now a good time?” she asked, whispering into the still air.
Without looking up from his papers, Anthony snappily responded. “What is it you need? Another bit of money for those books you like?”
“No, I—”
“Betting on horse races then?”
Y/N paused to hold her tongue as Anthony’s hands moved in a flurry, scratching his quill over parchment. “I haven’t even been down to the—.”
Running a heavy hand through his hair, Anthony leaned back in his chair as he brushed a stack of papers to the other end of his desk. “If you’ve made any purchases you need to tell me now. I’m tallying up our finances for the month.”
Her jaw clenched as she stepped forward, her fists balling at her sides. She was so tired of being brushed aside like a pest, nothing more than a nuisance to their day. Did none of them have time for her?
“Would you just listen to me?!” she exclaimed, voice rising higher than she’d intended it to. Her heart jumped into her throat, sitting like a heavy stone weighing her down.
With a start, Anthony glanced up, finally tearing his gaze away from the papers under his nose. His eyes were wide and an eyebrow raised questioningly. “What?”
Crossing her arms, Y/N felt a shameful heat rise in her face. What a silly thing to do — to have an outburst in that manner. And all at once, she didn’t feel guilty at all. Was there a sin in wanting to know more about one’s own family? Wanting to have conversations that weren’t tethered by formalities and restrictions?
“I came here to talk to you and you won’t even listen,” she said plainly, watching the confusion spread across her brother’s face.
“Iamlistening.”
Huffing, she clarified, “You kept cutting me off.”
Leaning further back in his chair, Anthony stared at her critically as the beginnings of a smile began to sprout across his face. “Fine,” he said with a hum, trying not to sound as impressed as his gaze roamed her face. “What do you need to talk about?”
Y/N shifted her weight from foot to foot uneasily. She twisted her hands endlessly, knuckles cracking as a flood of nervousness replaced the one surge of adrenaline that ran through and then quickly waned.
“I just…,” she mumbled, “I wanted to just talk.”
Again Anthony’s face crinkled with confusion as Y/N turned her gaze to the ceiling, watching how bits of sunlight played across the ceiling like light cracking over breaking waves.
“About…?”
“I feel like I hardly know you,” she admitted as her voice wavered, turning her gaze pitifully to him. “Or Benedict, or Colin. It’s like you three are so… so removed. And I know you’re always there but it’s… I feel as though there is an impassable wall standing between us.”
Anthony shifted uneasily in his seat, crossing one leg over the other as he looked at her with a new look — one of compassion. “Y/N, I—” For a moment he paused, carefully finding his words. “We haven’t been afforded the luxuries Gregory and Hyacinth have. We’ve had to—”
“Grow up too fast. I know, Anthony,” she whispered. Her voice cracked like a tree crashing to the forest floor, a haunting sound that filled every corner of the dark room. “Everything changed after father died but that doesn’t mean we can’t begin over now.”
Tilting his head to one side, Anthony’s chest rose and fell as he took in a deep, heavy breath. “Sit,” he urged. The tiniest smile spread across his face as Y/N sat across from him, settling a high backed chair identical to his. “Go on — ask me anything.”
Desperately, Y/N tried to contain the ridiculous levels of happiness and curiosity bubbling up within. “What’s your favorite season?”
“Autumn,” he answered quickly, a grin playing across his face. “The small sliver of time when the leaves are just beginning to turn their colors. Promenading through the park feels like walking through the brushstrokes of an oil painting.”
In some odd way, that sentiment made perfect sense to her ears. “Winter is mine,” she answered honestly. “I love when the snowflakes fall into my hand so I can see their tiny intricate designs.”
Anthony chuckled lightly, running a hand wearily through his hair. “I remember,” he replied. “When you were younger, I always held you up in the air when you begged to be closer to the clouds.”
Her heart stilled in her chest as she tried to remember those days, the happy times when the family felt whole. When father was alive, and Anthony was still a boy.
“And your favorite color?” she blurted.
“Easy — blue.”
“That’s mine as well.”
His smile only grew wider at her response, that boyish twinkle returning to his eyes that she last saw years ago. “Favorite dessert?”
“The Christmas cherry pie,” she eagerly replied, tilting forward in her seat as she found herself ensnared in the conversation as Anthony shook his head, happily agreeing with her.
Y/N had always thought that they were similar in mannerisms — how they both held a quill and signed their names, how they both disliked mother’s pestering. And this was simply the reassurance she needed to know that she was correct. The connection she’d been craving for so long was finally sparking and as a result of it, she found herself swimming in a million questions.
What was his favorite memory of father?
Did he remember the one birthday of hers when Daphne snuck a stray cat inside?
Anthony himself seemed to be lost in a world of thoughts, tenderly gazing at her with a loving smile only an older sibling could muster. “No one has ever taught you chess, have they?”
“Never. I don’t know anyone that plays.”
“I do — it was father and I’s favorite,” he enthused, as he stood from his chair and walked across the room. Opening drawers and moving books, he searched with intent for the old chess board he’d placed away so long ago. Surely, by now, it was covered in a thick layer of dust yet still well worn and loved. Glancing over his shoulder, Anthony asked, “Would you like that?”
An endless smile stretched across her face. “I’d love that.”
Summary: who’d have thought a dance with the Viscount could lead to such shocking revelations?
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x female!reader
Warnings: none!! Pure fluff!!!
You smoothed down the soft jewel toned dress you wore as your mother grabbed onto your arm, all but dragging you into the ballroom.
An abundance of eyes rested on you but not one pair had your interest. In fact, you were rather appalled by the idea of being traded to one of these lords for just a sizeable dowry.
“Darling, I expect you’ll be polite. Your future husband could be gracing this room with his presence as we speak.” Your mother murmurs in your ear and you force a stiff smile to your lips, taking a deep breath through your nose as you simply nod in response.
As you gracefully trapse down the stairway in lady Danbury’s home, you try your best to pretend you’re nowhere near here, like you’re instead at home, in the drawing room with your family.
“Lady y/l/n, would you care to dance with me?” A young man you barely recognize asks politely, stepping directly in front of you as you reach the bottom step, leaving you with a small height advantage to the man in front of you.
You look to your mama with a pleading look, giving it your all but she simply gives him a wide grin and nods, shooing you off her arm. You on the other hand, would rather hide behind her and grab hold of the entrails of her skirt like a shy child.
You take his hand hesitantly, letting him fill out your dance card with a look of despair, glancing around the grand room for anyone you could possibly recognize. You noticed a few of the Bridgertons gallivanting about, including Eloise, one of your dearest friends. You decided then and there you would make your escape to her soon enough, after one dance with the Lord Norton, as you finally read his name to be. Surely she would come up with a plan to get you out of there in one piece and with no suitors in tow.
The young man grabbed stiff and awkward hold of your hand and waist, making you want to wince though you know your mother would later scold you for it if you did, so you remained of neutral face.
“I have heard you are quite the dancer lady y/l/n. Perhaps you could show me so tonight?” He suggests and you force yet another kind smile and a nod.
“Yes perhaps so.” You say meekly, trying to withhold the frown you wanted to let free.
The song went on for a painfully long time and when it ended, you couldn’t get away fast enough. You pretended to notice someone new and excused yourself, slipping through the crowd of people to the outskirts of the dancefloor where Eloise is standing, watching everything with a disgusted look.
“My thoughts exactly.” You say dryly, moving to stand next to her, happy to slink in the shadows for the remainder of the evening.
“It is dreadful isn’t it, being thrown into the ton like cattle to be bought or won? I mean really, how ladylike is that truly?” Eloise asks you, earning some looks from the surrounding Mamas.
The two of you stand in silence for a minute after that, holding in giggles until they’ve dispersed and forgotten about you.
“My brother is a part of it this year. As are you. I suppose the two of you should form some sort of amicable alliance, protect each other from the upcoming stampede of desperates?” She suggests.
“Careful, my mama may hear you and believe that to mean you’re offering me a Bridgerton husband on a silver platter.” You laugh, giggling along with Eloise. Your laughs quiet down as Anthony himself approaches, as though he sensed his presence in the conversation.
“Have you filled your card so soon Lady y/l/n? A shame, I was to ask you for a dance to rid me of the swarm that seems to follow my every step.” He says with a small grin, making you grow a real smile.
“Perhaps there is room for one more partner, though you’ll have to take my wrist to find out, I realize that comes as a difficulty to you lord Bridgerton.” You tease back, noticing the eyes of lord Norton calling to you. You ignore the patronizing look, instead choosing to further tease the viscount by raising your arm so your dance card dangles right in front of his face, raising a challenging eyebrow to him.
The two of you had been performing this rouse with each other for longer than you could remember. The friendships between your families went back years, long before you or Anthony were even a faint thought and so, you’d known each other quite literally your whole lives. Instead of a fast friendship though, you challenged each other at every event, taking turns teasing the other and leading them to a sort of trap. Typically, whichever of you blushed or flustered easier was the loser of the little game you played.
“Well lord Bridgerton? Will you accompany me to the dance floor, or shall I do something truly improper and heaven forbid request your sister’s company instead?” You grin wickedly, watching him roll his eyes as he gently takes your wrist and tickles your gloved hand with the end, writing his name in the second space.
As the current song falls to an end, you take the Lord Bridgertons hand in yours before he even has the option of taking yours first. He looks slightly shocked for a moment but then smiles mischievously before taking strong hold of your waist, pulling you that much closer to him and earning a small gasp in return.
“Were you not expecting that?” He asks, faking confusion as you shake your head with a laugh.
“You are nothing like these mamas think you are viscount. You’ll likely corrupt their poor young ladies with the most miniscule of grins.” You say cheekily, earning a chuckle from him.
He twirls you around and right back into his chest.
“Perhaps I like being an element of surprise in this traditional stiff game.” He suggests, his own eyebrow raised. You scoff a laugh, getting another eyebrow in return. “Do you find my statement humorous?” He says directly into the shell of your ear.
You turn yourself around, back to his hand in yours and the other resting on the small of your back as you sway.
“Not at all, I merely find it untrue. You are a perfect gentleman, a true nobleman and a good man to your family. You, just as the Duke of Hastings was, are every mamas dream. Good looks, good societal stature. I’m surprised my own mama has not yet thrown me at you herself.” You explain.
“You must have spoken too soon, your mother is hastily making her way to us as we dance.” He smirks back, releasing you from his grasp just as the song comes to an end.
“Y/n!” Your mother hisses, carefully and somehow gracefully storming up to you.
“Yes mama?” You ask sweetly, letting her guide you off to the side, a more private place to chat.
“What on earth are you doing? You are to be meeting potential husbands, not off with the viscount again. You make this same attempt every event. Unless you intend to court him, you must demonstrate your availability to the eligible young men who are truly interested.” She scolds, making you bow your head with a sigh.
“Mama I was being polite. Lord Bridgerton asked me to dance and I obliged out of duty. If I had turned him down, imagine how I would appear to all others!” You insist, coming up with excuses on the spot. She sighs and waves you away, walking off to gossip with Cressidas mama some more.
You groan quietly, carefully making your own way over to the refreshments, grabbing a glass of lemonade and taking a delicate sip.
“Tart is it not?” A voice asks behind you, taking you by surprise.
You turn to find Lady Danbury herself and you smile kindly, letting your shoulders rerelax themselves.
“Yes my lady. I believe it is one of the best batches yet.” You say with a grin, getting one right back from her.
“I noticed you having a beautiful dance with lord Bridgerton. Am I right to assume there may be a flame between the two of you? A viscount is quite the prize to win, I’m sure your family would be proud.” She suggests with a knowing grin.
“Oh! no, no. You should have us mistaken Lady Danbury! The viscount and I are merely old family friends. There is no courtship there.” You chuckled, astonished by the accusation.
“Really? I mean are you sure? Perhaps it is more to him than ‘tis to you but I did see a very particular glimmer in both your eyes as you danced. He shall remain at least a little jealous of the suitors you gain from that little dance.” She smiles, patting a hand over your own thoughtfully.
You, too stunned to speak, simply nod politely and excuse yourself, turning to make your leave and instead bumping right into Anthony Bridgerton himself.
“My apologies.” You mumble, your face flushed as you rush the other way, completely puzzling the man.
You practically all but ran outside, gathering your billowing skirt and making your way through the maze of a garden. Your head felt fuzzy and full, you didn’t know what to think.
“Lady y/l/n!” A familiar voice cries after you.
“Leave me to my thoughts Mr. Bridgerton!” You plead, running a hand over your face.
“Perhaps I may help? Come please… y/n we’ve known each other too long for you to dismiss me in such a manner. What troubles you? Is it the lord Norton, because if it was, I shall have a word with him.” He says, suddenly very protective of your integrity.
You snort again lightly. “Lord Bridgerton it is nothing of the sort! In fact, it is the affections of another that leave me so perplexed.” You sigh, shaking your head as you let out a breath.
“I see… and which gentleman may that be?” He asks, hiding the smidge of jealousy that dares to ring in his voice.
“It is not my place to say. Perhaps he could tell you himself, he is standing in this very garden after all.” You joke, a frown taking its place on your lips.
You laugh stiffly as he turns his head every which way, looking for the man in question.
“Lady y/l/n, there is no other man around… or is it too dark for me to possibly notice him?” Anthony asks, clearly completely clueless to what you’re explaining.
“You! I am referring to you Lord Bridgerton!” You decree, turning round swiftly to meet his wide eyes with your own troubled ones.
He remains silent, staring back at you, mouth agape. Anthony was used to such proclamations from random young women in town however you were no ordinary young woman. You were lady y/l/n. You were the lady he had so admired, so come to love. Since the moment the two of you reached an age where you developed feelings for the other gender, he was enamored by you. There was no other who smiled, laughed, joked or looked at him in such a way as you did and that held his affections more strongly than anything else could.
His inability to speak left you with a deep frown of your own, your lip quivering slightly as you bow your head in embarrassment.
“Very well, I see I was led astray. No need to fret, plenty of suitors anyway so no matter.” You say, your cheeks once again flushed.
He quickly recovers from his own daze at the sight of you turning away from him once again, carefully grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards him.
“Anthony we should not even be out on our own, with no chaperone in sight… it is improper, you know this.” You say, trying to find any possible way to excuse yourself from the conversation you’d started.
“Just as improper as dropping the formalities before so much as the suggestion of courtship?” He challenges, making you go silent.
“Y/n I have never once denied an attraction to you. Do you truly believe me to be such a fool that I would not see your exquisite beauty?” He asks thoughtfully, catching your attention once again, your lips parted in complete surprise at his words. Your face is crimson without the need for the rouge on your cheeks, and you laugh out of sheer confusion.
“Honestly? Yes, I believed that perhaps your affections are captured by another young lady from the town. Possibly the young opera singer…” You suggest, laughing at your own joke.
“Sienna is… she is important to me yes but I’ve only been with her because I believed you to be promised to another, though I now see your hand is not yet taken.” He hums, smiling lightly at you.
“Lord Bridgerton… I do not have words that could respond to your advances… it seems highly inappropriate.” You say, going to turn away again, breaking the remaining hold his hand has over the cuff of your gloves.
“Y/n please drop the title. I see it as meant for those who do not truly know me however we are both very aware of the fact that you and I know each other perfectly well.” He says, gently lifting your chin to make eye contact with him once again.
“Very well, Anthony. This is highly unlike you. I’ve never seen you lose your proper language and tone before, not at public events anyway.” You state, fully aware of your close proximity to the viscount.
“On the contrary I do like to play the wildcard from time to time. And I regard you in too high a manner to pretend we are nothing less than the normal.” He says, moving in closer to you, taking your breath away.
He continues his approach, making you bite your lip with the widest of eyes, unable to speak.
A moment later you return to your senses, blinking out of your fairytale moment.
“We cannot go any further… not unless you’re prepared to propose.” You say, backing up to build distance.
He continued to stare you down, trying to convince you to return his affections with only a look.
“You should like to paint a picture.” You joke in attempts to lighten the mood.
“Y/n if that is all it takes, I shall marry you in a few months time.” He announces, pulling you into his arms and swinging you around with joy.
“What a very romantic proposal, I may just swoon.” You say sarcastically, laughing as he puts you down with his own perplexed look.
“Whatever do you mean y/n? You asked for a proposal and i obliged.” He says, making you let out a snort.
“You obliged?! As though proposing to take my hand is some sort of duty you are ‘obliged’ to do. When I said proposal I meant a truly proper one. You must ask my father for permission to propose, you must bring flowers and be in the drawing room when we announce it as official.” You explain. “I am shocked you did not think of it, you were so very insistent upon it when it came to your own sister last season.” You scoff.
“If you should truly mean what you are asking, you shall be at y/l/n house tomorrow morning to treat me as the lady I am rather than a common whore you wish to trick. Understood?” You ask before he gets the chance to object your ultimatum.
He gulps and then nods rapidly, afraid to speak in case of offending you or further entangling the web of your relationship, watching you smile back at him and walk away, back to the party and away from him.
——————————————————
The next morning…
The very next morning, all of the eligible ladies of the ton are eagerly waiting for their dukes and viscounts and gentlemen to come calling. The center of London is bustling with activity of carriages, footmen and of course their gentlemen calling on the women they seek.
You are among those not so patiently waiting. Since you’d woken, you were in the drawing room, pretending to be distracted by books and needlepoint but in reality, being completely anxious for the day to come.
After you’d left Anthony and returned indoors, the night was somewhat of a blur. Your thoughts remained on Anthony but your physical presence was there, on the floor, where another gentleman, though much older than the others who seemed to fancy you, had asked for your third dance. You agreed, not wanting to be impolite or for your mother to have reason to invoke her rath.
So, you danced with the lord Gillington, and it was all fine but you held no interest in him, nor in Lord Newton, who apparently was to stop by today as well.
When the third dance ended you faked a headache and feigned fatigue to your mother, who reluctantly agreed. There were other eyes on you and she would have preferred you have at least one more dance but you had done as she asked and that was all she could hope for.
You arrived home early but that wasn’t to say you slept well. You were restless, worrying over the possibilities for the next day. Surely Anthony would never lead you on in a way such as this for your silly little game but there was no certainty there. Still you took comfort in knowing that he was typically a man of his word.
But now, as you sat twiddling with your thumbs, you weren’t so certain. He was as he liked to put it now ‘a wildcard’ when it came to romance and you had never actually attempted such a thing in your relationship.
You ignored your nerves and smoothed down your silky day dress and took yet another deep breath, getting ready to settle back in when one of your staff enter the room. Quickly you rise to your feet.
“A gentleman is here for ms. Y/l/n.” He announces and you smile wide at your mother.
“Send him in then!” She urges, just as excitedly.
He obliges and a minute later a man enters but your face falls as you see its not who you’d hoped.
“Lord Newton.” You greet, pasting as much of a smile as you can muster on your face, taking the delicate bouquet he holds into your own hands and giving them a polite smell.
“Lady y/l/n. You look beautiful, as always.” He greets back, lightly kissing your hand. Your mother looks ecstatic but you couldn’t be less so.
You knew it best to keep your options open but it wasn’t your nature. You were interested in one man and one man alone and it was all his own fault.
“Thank you lord Newton, that’s very kind of you. Would you like to sit?” You ask, sitting back down on the chaise, patting it lightly for him.
He graciously accepts, sitting next to you.
“I have come to ask if you should like to court, lady y/l/n? I do not wish to be too forward however I am quite taken with you my lady.” He states, smiling back at you and you don’t even have to look at your mother to know she’s likely bouncing with joy.
“I-” You start but he is quick to interrupt, something you don’t take kindly to.
“You need not make haste with your decision, I’m aware you will have more suitors throughout the day. I only wish to make my intentions known.” He says, once again kissing your hand. “I shall take my leave. Lady y/l/n. Lady y/l/n.” He says, bowing before walking out the door.
“Oh dearest! That is practically your first proposal! Of many I am certain.” Your mother cheers, hugging you tightly, laughing with joy.
You nod meekly, trying to stay somewhat happy for your mothers sake.
Throughout the day, callers come and go, bearing gifts and kind words nonstop. The room is a festival of colours and chatter and the sweet fragrance of florals everywhere. And yet, no Bridgerton caller had arrived thus far.
“Perhaps Lady Whistledown shall write bright things about our home this week! You are getting plenty of attention from the best of the gentlemen.” Your mama says as the latest of the male callers take their leave.
“Yes perhaps this is true mama.” You say with another smile.
As you take a seat, another caller arrives and you stand yet again with a weak smile, tired of the anticipation of the days end drawing near.
“Lord Ambrose for you my lady.” The staff announces and you smile as you dismiss him.
“Lord Ambrose how delightful to see you.” You greet, taking a seat with him. In that moment, your youngest sister runs into the room, chased by your younger brother.
“Children!” Your mother warns, trying to toss them out of the room.
“It is no bother mama, they may stay. That is if it does not displease you Lord Ambrose?” You ask, turning to him for answer.
“Certainly not, I do love children, it is not a bother at all.” He replies, smiling more at you.
The two of you make chitchat for a while, watching the younger y/l/n children play together happily, passing time surprisingly pleasantly.
“I shall leave, I have had a wonderful afternoon with you my lady. I do hope you’ll consider perhaps courting me this season?” He asks and you feel your smile slipping at yet another sort of proposal.
“Perhaps yes, I shall need some time to consider.” You reply, watching as he accepts the excuse, kisses your hand and leaves.
Your smile falls, watching out the window as the sun falling slowly.
Your eyes dart to the ground when another carriage arrives and you’re quick to sit back down, your mama and your papa, who had just come in from his study, both giving you looks of confusion.
“Another caller I think. We shall see who it is in a moments time.” You grin, hope still heavy in your heart.
Your sister runs over to you and takes a seat next to you, playing with your skirt but you ignore it, watching the doorway intently.
“The viscount Bridgerton is here for you my lady.” He says and your grin grows all the bigger.
“Send him in!” You say with as much eager energy in your voice as your mother had early on.
And so, in walks Anthony, with a large and stunning bouquet of his own and a smile you couldn’t compare to any of the other gifts you’d received today because if you even tried, the rest would never hold a chance.
“My Lord.” You smile, bowing low to him. “I do believe I said this morning.” You tease as you rise, speaking low so your parents cannot hear.
He smiles wider at your cheeky tone. “Yes, I do apologize for the late hour, I had difficulty getting anything appropriate from the florist, so many desperate suitors looking for their own and of course I needed one that could compare to your on beauty though I realize that to be nearly impossible.” He explains and you purse your lips as though thinking whether to believe him or not.
“Lord Bridgerton.” Your mother greets him, bringing your attention to the fact that you are not alone.
“Lady y/l/n, a pleasure. And lord y/l/n, it is an honor to see you again.” Anthony greets both your parents, making your glee spread that much more.
“You as well lord Bridgerton.” Your father says, standing to shake his hand.
“I actually have some matters I’d like to discuss with you my lord. Shall we excuse ourselves?” Anthony asks and your father nods. The men take their leave to the study, your little brother chasing after them, eager to listen in. Your mother tries to stop him but he ignores her and she’s clearly too tired to try anymore.
“Might I ask dearest, what it is that prompted the Viscounts call?” She asks you, raising an eyebrow.
“I believe it was Lady Danbury’s revelations after we shared a dance last night. It would seem his mother and her ladyship have noticed something that myself and Lord Bridgerton have not. Until now that is.” You smile, keeping the true reason a secret for Anthony and yourself to hold tight.
“I see…” She hums unsurely, still going back to her needlepointing rather than investigate any longer.
You remain playing with your younger sister, waiting eagerly for the men to finish their business, wishing nothing more than to be a part of the discussion.
In your own frustration and excitement, you barely notice Anthony’s returned to the room. Instead of telling you, he is mesmerized by watching you and your sister, smiling fully at the sight of you with a child. He had seen you interact with them before of course, but with the chance to finally have you for himself, Anthony couldn’t help picturing you as a mother and he couldn’t be more pleased with the idea.
Settling down was never something that had been on his mind, especially with romance actually taking part in it. He had always pictured a loveless marriage with many kids and his duties to keep both him and his wife occupied. But never in those images did he picture you as his wife. He pictured you with a prince or someone more worthy of your love, never himself. But the idea wasn’t unpleasant to him, instead it was a great joy to picture.
“Lady y/l/n, might I have a moment?” He asks and you gasp, jumping to your feet out of surprise.
“Yes of course lord Bridgerton.” You smile, your face once again flushed, causing him to stifle a chuckle.
The two of you enter the corridor, where he takes your hand in his. Your breath hitches and your heart is pounding in your chest.
“I have done as you asked. I have made myself look a bit of a fool in your honor, I have done the thing I never once imagined myself doing, and I have fallen in love with you. Love in a marriage has always been a great virtue but I never pictured it for myself until last night. I can see us starting a family, I can see us happy together. Lady y/l/n, y/n, would you allow me to ask for your hand? Your papa has agreed so long as it is in your wishes. I’m sure your mama would agree as well. There would be no greater honor for me.” He finally asks, making you giggle with excitement, real excitement this time.
“Anthony, you are the only man who causes me true and real joy. I know you to be a good and kind man. Yes I will marry you.” You smile, giggling as he hugs you tightly, trying hard to stick to your honor.
“That is good because I did see Lord Ambrose leaving earlier and I must tell you, he is something of a cheat. Cannot be trusted.” He says jealously and you scoff, giggling again.
“I believe I am the one who has you flustered this time, by the way.” He murmurs as you walk back into the drawing room to announce the news to your family.
“I believe that both of us have that challenge covered this time my lord.” You challenge quietly just before you declare your engagement to your family, leaving him both in want of you and puzzled by you all at once, just as both of you know you’ll likely do your whole marriage.
YOU GUYSSSSSSS I can’t believe how popular this fic has gotten, I love you all so much thank you for reading ❤️❤️
Summary: who’d have thought a dance with the Viscount could lead to such shocking revelations?
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x female!reader
Warnings: none!! Pure fluff!!!
You smoothed down the soft jewel toned dress you wore as your mother grabbed onto your arm, all but dragging you into the ballroom.
An abundance of eyes rested on you but not one pair had your interest. In fact, you were rather appalled by the idea of being traded to one of these lords for just a sizeable dowry.
“Darling, I expect you’ll be polite. Your future husband could be gracing this room with his presence as we speak.” Your mother murmurs in your ear and you force a stiff smile to your lips, taking a deep breath through your nose as you simply nod in response.
As you gracefully trapse down the stairway in lady Danbury’s home, you try your best to pretend you’re nowhere near here, like you’re instead at home, in the drawing room with your family.
“Lady y/l/n, would you care to dance with me?” A young man you barely recognize asks politely, stepping directly in front of you as you reach the bottom step, leaving you with a small height advantage to the man in front of you.
You look to your mama with a pleading look, giving it your all but she simply gives him a wide grin and nods, shooing you off her arm. You on the other hand, would rather hide behind her and grab hold of the entrails of her skirt like a shy child.
You take his hand hesitantly, letting him fill out your dance card with a look of despair, glancing around the grand room for anyone you could possibly recognize. You noticed a few of the Bridgertons gallivanting about, including Eloise, one of your dearest friends. You decided then and there you would make your escape to her soon enough, after one dance with the Lord Norton, as you finally read his name to be. Surely she would come up with a plan to get you out of there in one piece and with no suitors in tow.
The young man grabbed stiff and awkward hold of your hand and waist, making you want to wince though you know your mother would later scold you for it if you did, so you remained of neutral face.
“I have heard you are quite the dancer lady y/l/n. Perhaps you could show me so tonight?” He suggests and you force yet another kind smile and a nod.
“Yes perhaps so.” You say meekly, trying to withhold the frown you wanted to let free.
The song went on for a painfully long time and when it ended, you couldn’t get away fast enough. You pretended to notice someone new and excused yourself, slipping through the crowd of people to the outskirts of the dancefloor where Eloise is standing, watching everything with a disgusted look.
“My thoughts exactly.” You say dryly, moving to stand next to her, happy to slink in the shadows for the remainder of the evening.
“It is dreadful isn’t it, being thrown into the ton like cattle to be bought or won? I mean really, how ladylike is that truly?” Eloise asks you, earning some looks from the surrounding Mamas.
The two of you stand in silence for a minute after that, holding in giggles until they’ve dispersed and forgotten about you.
“My brother is a part of it this year. As are you. I suppose the two of you should form some sort of amicable alliance, protect each other from the upcoming stampede of desperates?” She suggests.
“Careful, my mama may hear you and believe that to mean you’re offering me a Bridgerton husband on a silver platter.” You laugh, giggling along with Eloise. Your laughs quiet down as Anthony himself approaches, as though he sensed his presence in the conversation.
“Have you filled your card so soon Lady y/l/n? A shame, I was to ask you for a dance to rid me of the swarm that seems to follow my every step.” He says with a small grin, making you grow a real smile.
“Perhaps there is room for one more partner, though you’ll have to take my wrist to find out, I realize that comes as a difficulty to you lord Bridgerton.” You tease back, noticing the eyes of lord Norton calling to you. You ignore the patronizing look, instead choosing to further tease the viscount by raising your arm so your dance card dangles right in front of his face, raising a challenging eyebrow to him.
The two of you had been performing this rouse with each other for longer than you could remember. The friendships between your families went back years, long before you or Anthony were even a faint thought and so, you’d known each other quite literally your whole lives. Instead of a fast friendship though, you challenged each other at every event, taking turns teasing the other and leading them to a sort of trap. Typically, whichever of you blushed or flustered easier was the loser of the little game you played.
“Well lord Bridgerton? Will you accompany me to the dance floor, or shall I do something truly improper and heaven forbid request your sister’s company instead?” You grin wickedly, watching him roll his eyes as he gently takes your wrist and tickles your gloved hand with the end, writing his name in the second space.
As the current song falls to an end, you take the Lord Bridgertons hand in yours before he even has the option of taking yours first. He looks slightly shocked for a moment but then smiles mischievously before taking strong hold of your waist, pulling you that much closer to him and earning a small gasp in return.
“Were you not expecting that?” He asks, faking confusion as you shake your head with a laugh.
“You are nothing like these mamas think you are viscount. You’ll likely corrupt their poor young ladies with the most miniscule of grins.” You say cheekily, earning a chuckle from him.
He twirls you around and right back into his chest.
“Perhaps I like being an element of surprise in this traditional stiff game.” He suggests, his own eyebrow raised. You scoff a laugh, getting another eyebrow in return. “Do you find my statement humorous?” He says directly into the shell of your ear.
You turn yourself around, back to his hand in yours and the other resting on the small of your back as you sway.
“Not at all, I merely find it untrue. You are a perfect gentleman, a true nobleman and a good man to your family. You, just as the Duke of Hastings was, are every mamas dream. Good looks, good societal stature. I’m surprised my own mama has not yet thrown me at you herself.” You explain.
“You must have spoken too soon, your mother is hastily making her way to us as we dance.” He smirks back, releasing you from his grasp just as the song comes to an end.
“Y/n!” Your mother hisses, carefully and somehow gracefully storming up to you.
“Yes mama?” You ask sweetly, letting her guide you off to the side, a more private place to chat.
“What on earth are you doing? You are to be meeting potential husbands, not off with the viscount again. You make this same attempt every event. Unless you intend to court him, you must demonstrate your availability to the eligible young men who are truly interested.” She scolds, making you bow your head with a sigh.
“Mama I was being polite. Lord Bridgerton asked me to dance and I obliged out of duty. If I had turned him down, imagine how I would appear to all others!” You insist, coming up with excuses on the spot. She sighs and waves you away, walking off to gossip with Cressidas mama some more.
You groan quietly, carefully making your own way over to the refreshments, grabbing a glass of lemonade and taking a delicate sip.
“Tart is it not?” A voice asks behind you, taking you by surprise.
You turn to find Lady Danbury herself and you smile kindly, letting your shoulders rerelax themselves.
“Yes my lady. I believe it is one of the best batches yet.” You say with a grin, getting one right back from her.
“I noticed you having a beautiful dance with lord Bridgerton. Am I right to assume there may be a flame between the two of you? A viscount is quite the prize to win, I’m sure your family would be proud.” She suggests with a knowing grin.
“Oh! no, no. You should have us mistaken Lady Danbury! The viscount and I are merely old family friends. There is no courtship there.” You chuckled, astonished by the accusation.
“Really? I mean are you sure? Perhaps it is more to him than ‘tis to you but I did see a very particular glimmer in both your eyes as you danced. He shall remain at least a little jealous of the suitors you gain from that little dance.” She smiles, patting a hand over your own thoughtfully.
You, too stunned to speak, simply nod politely and excuse yourself, turning to make your leave and instead bumping right into Anthony Bridgerton himself.
“My apologies.” You mumble, your face flushed as you rush the other way, completely puzzling the man.
You practically all but ran outside, gathering your billowing skirt and making your way through the maze of a garden. Your head felt fuzzy and full, you didn’t know what to think.
“Lady y/l/n!” A familiar voice cries after you.
“Leave me to my thoughts Mr. Bridgerton!” You plead, running a hand over your face.
“Perhaps I may help? Come please… y/n we’ve known each other too long for you to dismiss me in such a manner. What troubles you? Is it the lord Norton, because if it was, I shall have a word with him.” He says, suddenly very protective of your integrity.
You snort again lightly. “Lord Bridgerton it is nothing of the sort! In fact, it is the affections of another that leave me so perplexed.” You sigh, shaking your head as you let out a breath.
“I see… and which gentleman may that be?” He asks, hiding the smidge of jealousy that dares to ring in his voice.
“It is not my place to say. Perhaps he could tell you himself, he is standing in this very garden after all.” You joke, a frown taking its place on your lips.
You laugh stiffly as he turns his head every which way, looking for the man in question.
“Lady y/l/n, there is no other man around… or is it too dark for me to possibly notice him?” Anthony asks, clearly completely clueless to what you’re explaining.
“You! I am referring to you Lord Bridgerton!” You decree, turning round swiftly to meet his wide eyes with your own troubled ones.
He remains silent, staring back at you, mouth agape. Anthony was used to such proclamations from random young women in town however you were no ordinary young woman. You were lady y/l/n. You were the lady he had so admired, so come to love. Since the moment the two of you reached an age where you developed feelings for the other gender, he was enamored by you. There was no other who smiled, laughed, joked or looked at him in such a way as you did and that held his affections more strongly than anything else could.
His inability to speak left you with a deep frown of your own, your lip quivering slightly as you bow your head in embarrassment.
“Very well, I see I was led astray. No need to fret, plenty of suitors anyway so no matter.” You say, your cheeks once again flushed.
He quickly recovers from his own daze at the sight of you turning away from him once again, carefully grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards him.
“Anthony we should not even be out on our own, with no chaperone in sight… it is improper, you know this.” You say, trying to find any possible way to excuse yourself from the conversation you’d started.
“Just as improper as dropping the formalities before so much as the suggestion of courtship?” He challenges, making you go silent.
“Y/n I have never once denied an attraction to you. Do you truly believe me to be such a fool that I would not see your exquisite beauty?” He asks thoughtfully, catching your attention once again, your lips parted in complete surprise at his words. Your face is crimson without the need for the rouge on your cheeks, and you laugh out of sheer confusion.
“Honestly? Yes, I believed that perhaps your affections are captured by another young lady from the town. Possibly the young opera singer…” You suggest, laughing at your own joke.
“Sienna is… she is important to me yes but I’ve only been with her because I believed you to be promised to another, though I now see your hand is not yet taken.” He hums, smiling lightly at you.
“Lord Bridgerton… I do not have words that could respond to your advances… it seems highly inappropriate.” You say, going to turn away again, breaking the remaining hold his hand has over the cuff of your gloves.
“Y/n please drop the title. I see it as meant for those who do not truly know me however we are both very aware of the fact that you and I know each other perfectly well.” He says, gently lifting your chin to make eye contact with him once again.
“Very well, Anthony. This is highly unlike you. I’ve never seen you lose your proper language and tone before, not at public events anyway.” You state, fully aware of your close proximity to the viscount.
“On the contrary I do like to play the wildcard from time to time. And I regard you in too high a manner to pretend we are nothing less than the normal.” He says, moving in closer to you, taking your breath away.
He continues his approach, making you bite your lip with the widest of eyes, unable to speak.
A moment later you return to your senses, blinking out of your fairytale moment.
“We cannot go any further… not unless you’re prepared to propose.” You say, backing up to build distance.
He continued to stare you down, trying to convince you to return his affections with only a look.
“You should like to paint a picture.” You joke in attempts to lighten the mood.
“Y/n if that is all it takes, I shall marry you in a few months time.” He announces, pulling you into his arms and swinging you around with joy.
“What a very romantic proposal, I may just swoon.” You say sarcastically, laughing as he puts you down with his own perplexed look.
“Whatever do you mean y/n? You asked for a proposal and i obliged.” He says, making you let out a snort.
“You obliged?! As though proposing to take my hand is some sort of duty you are ‘obliged’ to do. When I said proposal I meant a truly proper one. You must ask my father for permission to propose, you must bring flowers and be in the drawing room when we announce it as official.” You explain. “I am shocked you did not think of it, you were so very insistent upon it when it came to your own sister last season.” You scoff.
“If you should truly mean what you are asking, you shall be at y/l/n house tomorrow morning to treat me as the lady I am rather than a common whore you wish to trick. Understood?” You ask before he gets the chance to object your ultimatum.
He gulps and then nods rapidly, afraid to speak in case of offending you or further entangling the web of your relationship, watching you smile back at him and walk away, back to the party and away from him.
——————————————————
The next morning…
The very next morning, all of the eligible ladies of the ton are eagerly waiting for their dukes and viscounts and gentlemen to come calling. The center of London is bustling with activity of carriages, footmen and of course their gentlemen calling on the women they seek.
You are among those not so patiently waiting. Since you’d woken, you were in the drawing room, pretending to be distracted by books and needlepoint but in reality, being completely anxious for the day to come.
After you’d left Anthony and returned indoors, the night was somewhat of a blur. Your thoughts remained on Anthony but your physical presence was there, on the floor, where another gentleman, though much older than the others who seemed to fancy you, had asked for your third dance. You agreed, not wanting to be impolite or for your mother to have reason to invoke her rath.
So, you danced with the lord Gillington, and it was all fine but you held no interest in him, nor in Lord Newton, who apparently was to stop by today as well.
When the third dance ended you faked a headache and feigned fatigue to your mother, who reluctantly agreed. There were other eyes on you and she would have preferred you have at least one more dance but you had done as she asked and that was all she could hope for.
You arrived home early but that wasn’t to say you slept well. You were restless, worrying over the possibilities for the next day. Surely Anthony would never lead you on in a way such as this for your silly little game but there was no certainty there. Still you took comfort in knowing that he was typically a man of his word.
But now, as you sat twiddling with your thumbs, you weren’t so certain. He was as he liked to put it now ‘a wildcard’ when it came to romance and you had never actually attempted such a thing in your relationship.
You ignored your nerves and smoothed down your silky day dress and took yet another deep breath, getting ready to settle back in when one of your staff enter the room. Quickly you rise to your feet.
“A gentleman is here for ms. Y/l/n.” He announces and you smile wide at your mother.
“Send him in then!” She urges, just as excitedly.
He obliges and a minute later a man enters but your face falls as you see its not who you’d hoped.
“Lord Newton.” You greet, pasting as much of a smile as you can muster on your face, taking the delicate bouquet he holds into your own hands and giving them a polite smell.
“Lady y/l/n. You look beautiful, as always.” He greets back, lightly kissing your hand. Your mother looks ecstatic but you couldn’t be less so.
You knew it best to keep your options open but it wasn’t your nature. You were interested in one man and one man alone and it was all his own fault.
“Thank you lord Newton, that’s very kind of you. Would you like to sit?” You ask, sitting back down on the chaise, patting it lightly for him.
He graciously accepts, sitting next to you.
“I have come to ask if you should like to court, lady y/l/n? I do not wish to be too forward however I am quite taken with you my lady.” He states, smiling back at you and you don’t even have to look at your mother to know she’s likely bouncing with joy.
“I-” You start but he is quick to interrupt, something you don’t take kindly to.
“You need not make haste with your decision, I’m aware you will have more suitors throughout the day. I only wish to make my intentions known.” He says, once again kissing your hand. “I shall take my leave. Lady y/l/n. Lady y/l/n.” He says, bowing before walking out the door.
“Oh dearest! That is practically your first proposal! Of many I am certain.” Your mother cheers, hugging you tightly, laughing with joy.
You nod meekly, trying to stay somewhat happy for your mothers sake.
Throughout the day, callers come and go, bearing gifts and kind words nonstop. The room is a festival of colours and chatter and the sweet fragrance of florals everywhere. And yet, no Bridgerton caller had arrived thus far.
“Perhaps Lady Whistledown shall write bright things about our home this week! You are getting plenty of attention from the best of the gentlemen.” Your mama says as the latest of the male callers take their leave.
“Yes perhaps this is true mama.” You say with another smile.
As you take a seat, another caller arrives and you stand yet again with a weak smile, tired of the anticipation of the days end drawing near.
“Lord Ambrose for you my lady.” The staff announces and you smile as you dismiss him.
“Lord Ambrose how delightful to see you.” You greet, taking a seat with him. In that moment, your youngest sister runs into the room, chased by your younger brother.
“Children!” Your mother warns, trying to toss them out of the room.
“It is no bother mama, they may stay. That is if it does not displease you Lord Ambrose?” You ask, turning to him for answer.
“Certainly not, I do love children, it is not a bother at all.” He replies, smiling more at you.
The two of you make chitchat for a while, watching the younger y/l/n children play together happily, passing time surprisingly pleasantly.
“I shall leave, I have had a wonderful afternoon with you my lady. I do hope you’ll consider perhaps courting me this season?” He asks and you feel your smile slipping at yet another sort of proposal.
“Perhaps yes, I shall need some time to consider.” You reply, watching as he accepts the excuse, kisses your hand and leaves.
Your smile falls, watching out the window as the sun falling slowly.
Your eyes dart to the ground when another carriage arrives and you’re quick to sit back down, your mama and your papa, who had just come in from his study, both giving you looks of confusion.
“Another caller I think. We shall see who it is in a moments time.” You grin, hope still heavy in your heart.
Your sister runs over to you and takes a seat next to you, playing with your skirt but you ignore it, watching the doorway intently.
“The viscount Bridgerton is here for you my lady.” He says and your grin grows all the bigger.
“Send him in!” You say with as much eager energy in your voice as your mother had early on.
And so, in walks Anthony, with a large and stunning bouquet of his own and a smile you couldn’t compare to any of the other gifts you’d received today because if you even tried, the rest would never hold a chance.
“My Lord.” You smile, bowing low to him. “I do believe I said this morning.” You tease as you rise, speaking low so your parents cannot hear.
He smiles wider at your cheeky tone. “Yes, I do apologize for the late hour, I had difficulty getting anything appropriate from the florist, so many desperate suitors looking for their own and of course I needed one that could compare to your on beauty though I realize that to be nearly impossible.” He explains and you purse your lips as though thinking whether to believe him or not.
“Lord Bridgerton.” Your mother greets him, bringing your attention to the fact that you are not alone.
“Lady y/l/n, a pleasure. And lord y/l/n, it is an honor to see you again.” Anthony greets both your parents, making your glee spread that much more.
“You as well lord Bridgerton.” Your father says, standing to shake his hand.
“I actually have some matters I’d like to discuss with you my lord. Shall we excuse ourselves?” Anthony asks and your father nods. The men take their leave to the study, your little brother chasing after them, eager to listen in. Your mother tries to stop him but he ignores her and she’s clearly too tired to try anymore.
“Might I ask dearest, what it is that prompted the Viscounts call?” She asks you, raising an eyebrow.
“I believe it was Lady Danbury’s revelations after we shared a dance last night. It would seem his mother and her ladyship have noticed something that myself and Lord Bridgerton have not. Until now that is.” You smile, keeping the true reason a secret for Anthony and yourself to hold tight.
“I see…” She hums unsurely, still going back to her needlepointing rather than investigate any longer.
You remain playing with your younger sister, waiting eagerly for the men to finish their business, wishing nothing more than to be a part of the discussion.
In your own frustration and excitement, you barely notice Anthony’s returned to the room. Instead of telling you, he is mesmerized by watching you and your sister, smiling fully at the sight of you with a child. He had seen you interact with them before of course, but with the chance to finally have you for himself, Anthony couldn’t help picturing you as a mother and he couldn’t be more pleased with the idea.
Settling down was never something that had been on his mind, especially with romance actually taking part in it. He had always pictured a loveless marriage with many kids and his duties to keep both him and his wife occupied. But never in those images did he picture you as his wife. He pictured you with a prince or someone more worthy of your love, never himself. But the idea wasn’t unpleasant to him, instead it was a great joy to picture.
“Lady y/l/n, might I have a moment?” He asks and you gasp, jumping to your feet out of surprise.
“Yes of course lord Bridgerton.” You smile, your face once again flushed, causing him to stifle a chuckle.
The two of you enter the corridor, where he takes your hand in his. Your breath hitches and your heart is pounding in your chest.
“I have done as you asked. I have made myself look a bit of a fool in your honor, I have done the thing I never once imagined myself doing, and I have fallen in love with you. Love in a marriage has always been a great virtue but I never pictured it for myself until last night. I can see us starting a family, I can see us happy together. Lady y/l/n, y/n, would you allow me to ask for your hand? Your papa has agreed so long as it is in your wishes. I’m sure your mama would agree as well. There would be no greater honor for me.” He finally asks, making you giggle with excitement, real excitement this time.
“Anthony, you are the only man who causes me true and real joy. I know you to be a good and kind man. Yes I will marry you.” You smile, giggling as he hugs you tightly, trying hard to stick to your honor.
“That is good because I did see Lord Ambrose leaving earlier and I must tell you, he is something of a cheat. Cannot be trusted.” He says jealously and you scoff, giggling again.
“I believe I am the one who has you flustered this time, by the way.” He murmurs as you walk back into the drawing room to announce the news to your family.
“I believe that both of us have that challenge covered this time my lord.” You challenge quietly just before you declare your engagement to your family, leaving him both in want of you and puzzled by you all at once, just as both of you know you’ll likely do your whole marriage.
Request: can i have a Anthony Bridgerton OS in which Y/N has known the family for life as she lives next door to them and has also loved Anthony for as long as she can remember. One morning in Lady Whistledown it is written that Y/N loves Anthony and she tries to avoid him and the rest of the family I don’t know exactly how it’s supposed to end, but please have a happy ending
TW:
Word Count: 921
A/N: As always, I am taking my favorite parts of both the books and the show and deciding that that is my canon.
It is my honor to share with you that Daphne Bridgerton has been announced the diamond of the season. However, that is not the only good news the Bridgerton family has received as of late.
Miss (Y/N) (L/N) has officially entered the season. As to why she waited so long to join, the ton is full of speculation. It is in this author’s opinion that she waited until she was certain Lord Bridgerton himself would be present at all functions. Now that his presence is guaranteed, I am certain Miss (L/N) will do her best to tame the Rake.
After all, no woman can spend that much time with him without expecting something to come of it.
You throw the pamphlet down. Lady Whistledown has written some truly egregious things, but you never gave them much mind. Until she wrote about you. It would have been bad enough if she had just written mindless gossip, but she had to insinuate that you were-oh! You don’t even want to say it.
“Can you believe what she wrote?” you exclaim.
Your mother takes the pamphlet from you, skimming it before finally saying, “It really isn’t that bad, dear.”
“That bad? Not only did she-”
“(Y/N),” she interrupts, “everyone in the Ton believes you to be in love with the viscount. At least with a confirmation, they will be vying for your attention.”
“I suppose.”
“Plus, it could make the viscount finally take an interest in you.”
“Mother!”
She shrugs. “I’m not saying you have to marry him. I am only saying that if you wanted to, this could be helpful.”
You roll your eyes. “Right now, I do not want to see him. I simply want Lady Whistledown to find a new scandal to write about.”
“Miss (L/N), Lord Bridgerton is here to see you,” your butler announces.
“No,” you protest before your mother can invite him in. “No he is not, and I am not here.” You move up the stairs before anyone can stop you, leaving the three of them standing in the sitting room.
When you get to your room, you fall against the door. What Lady Whistledown wrote was not entirely false. You hadn’t exactly waited to announce your participation in the season until you were certain that Anthony Bridgerton would be part of it. That is not to say that that had not been an added bonus.
You had always seen Anthony Bridgerton as someone you could marry. He is smart, dependable, wealthy, a viscount, and he is not too terrible to look at. You could see yourself living quite a happy life with him.
At least, that is all you are willing to admit to anyone who will ask. As long as that person is not Anthony Bridgerton. That man, if you can help it, will never know how you feel about him. Not even in the slightest.
You know that the moment you see him, he will want to develop some sort of plan to solve this predicament, and you just cannot handle that right now. In fact, you are not sure you can ever handle it.
Though, society still demands your presence, no matter how much you want to avoid it all.
You walk into the ballroom, wanting nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow you whole. The only thing in your favor is that the Whistledown article was published a few days ago, and people have begun to forget about it.
However, that is the only thing in your favor.
As soon as you enter the room, Anthony finds you. “Miss (L/N),” he greets, “care for a dance?” If societal rules did not dictate you say yes, you would have refused. No one knows that better than Anthony.
“Of course, Lord Bridgerton.”
He smiles, taking your hand and leading you into the center of the room. “I was sorry to hear that you were feeling poorly when I came to your house the other day.”
“Thank you.”
“I had wanted to talk to you about the Whistledown article,” he states, gauging your reaction. When you do not respond, he continues, “My sisters found it quite interesting. I must confess, it is not something I would generally read, I found it quite interesting.”
“Did you?” you squeak.
“It seems that a dear friend of mine might have something she wants to tell me. Do you have any idea what that might be?” he teases.
“I’m sorry, my lord, I do not.”
He bites back a laugh. “You, Miss (L/N), are truly something. If you wanted my help this season, you should have just asked.”
“I can assure you, I am doing just fine on my own.”
“Well then, you weren’t bothered by the column at all?”
You shake your head, not trusting your voice.
He hums. “Then I suppose it is coincidence that you got over your illness only moments after I left your house the other day.”
“Must be.”
He smiles as the song ends. “For a moment I was worried that the article had been true and that you intended to court me.” When your face falls, his lightens. “So, Miss (L/N), if I were to call on you tomorrow, do you think you would be feeling well?”
You feel your cheeks heat up. “I think I might.”
“Let me go grab a glass of lemonade for you.”
“Please.”
He turns around, mistakenly glancing at his mother, who smiles widely.
Warnings: mutual pining, mention of parental death, breaking of societal rules (this sounds so serious gosh, they hug and whatnot)
Summary: your horse falling ill derails your traveling plans and leads you to dinner with your childhood best friend and his family, what confessions will be made when anthony aims to comfort you?
Warnings:this is definitely steamy but no actual smut, you and anthony are super in love but shhh its a secret, siena just doesn’t exist sorry babe, fluffy friendships with the rest of the bridgerton siblings, it just so happens anthony is down bad for you (are these warnings? yes)
A/N:This one just absolutely flowed out of me, so forgive a few plot holes for the sake of some hot Anthony tension if you would! I can’t thank you enough for the response to my first Benedict fic, I really have been blown away, so I really hope you equally enjoy my first foray into the realm of Anthony <3
—
Lady Danbury’s ball was the perfect occasion to begin the season on the correct foot, even if your ambitions for the season were rather different to every other eligible miss in the ton. You smoothed out the deeply emerald dress that currently fluttered around your figure as you stepped out of your carriage alongside your mother, taking her arm and walking through the grand entrance to the ballroom.
It felt as if you were escorting her rather than the other way around as she talked excitedly at your side, asking your opinion on whether you thought the newly renowned Lady Whistledown might be here tonight or not. Keeping your composure, you answered her as politely as you could manage, with little excitement, knowing that attempting to speak more than three words at a time in your mother’s presence was quite the challenge. You were at least grateful that she was far more concerned with her own plans for the evening than having anything to do with finding you a husband.
True to her nature, your mother hurried off to Lady Cowper as soon as the two of you were inside, intending to continue their spirited gossip session from their afternoon tea three days prior. Doing your best not to shake your head at her lack of maturity, lest Lady Whistledown indeed be watching from the wings, you resolved to enjoy your evening the only way you knew how - with the company of the Bridgertons.
The first two you spotted were Benedict and Colin, both attempting to hide themselves in a private corner and both failing miserably. With a grin to yourself, you picked up your skirt and made your way over to them hastily.
“How lucky the two of you must find yourselves,” you begin, watching their glowers at the sound of a female voice turn into smiles when they turned to realise it was merely you, “With your mother so wonderfully busy with Daphne, here you are left to your own devices. I dread to think what you shall get up to this season.”
“If we are able to indulge in more of your company, Miss Y/L/N, I shall be most grateful for my mother’s preoccupation,” Colin said in his usual tone, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it, only looking slightly offended when the gesture caused both you and Benedict to scoff.
“I am sure you are already aware of the benefits of ignoring my brother, Y/N,” Benedict said with an easy smile, “Though it is indeed good to see you.”
“I can assure you I am well versed in how to deal with your brother by now,” you teased, grinning at Colin’s feigned display of hurt as he put a hand to his chest, “Surely I would not be quite so fond of your family otherwise.”
“Your continued fondness for us is rather alarming,” Colin teased, “Almost as alarming as your lack of marriage thus far, wouldn’t you say?”
Benedict had the decency to elbow his brother in the ribs on your behalf and mutter something under his breath about it being ‘too far’ but in truth it was anything but. Colin’s words may have reduced most of the other ladies in attendance to thinly concealed despair but he was well aware that you would appreciate the humour in his jest.
“You are incredibly informed about a lack of marriage, after all, Colin,” you shoot back, “Although, unlike myself, you have never been here long enough to even dip your toe into the marriage mart.”
It was just as you delivered your killing blow that Eloise decided to join the small circle you were forming, already giggling having heard your remark. Benedict had stifled his own laugh behind his glass of lemonade, though his face grew quite serious when Colin fixed him with a disapproving glare. You linked your arm with Eloise’s as soon as she was at your side, grinning at her with glee.
“Do you know, Y/N, your wit might be the only thing about the social season that I have missed this winter past?” Eloise noted and you shook your head fondly, especially seeing Benedict and Colin share a glance of agreement. Your friendships with the Bridgertons were some of the most dear to you and to have them reciprocated so wholeheartedly made your night of torture almost worth it.
“How come Eloise is allowed to lavish you with praise and yet when I attempt the same, I am met with disdain?”
“Because, Colin, your praise is always delivered with some level of flirtation in its wake. You would do well to learn true poise from your younger sister,” you argued, though you could not keep the wide grin from your face as you did so. Just as you could see Benedict was about to chime in with a barb of his own, a sudden silence descended on the ballroom as the diamond herself walked in, her mother and, most notably, the Viscount at her side. The four of you turned to watch their entrance, though Eloise turned away with a roll of her eyes before long.
“I wonder whether Daphne shall be allowed to dance with a single gentleman this evening,” Benedict mused, “They may struggle to prise her away from the clutches of her loyal guard.”
“I spoke to Anthony only the other day and he seemed rather committed to finding Daphne a suitable match,” you began, seeing your companions’ brows scrunch together in confusion at your words, waiting for the punchline, “So I would assume within, shall we say, four seasons, he might find someone he deems worthy?”
The three Bridgerton siblings dissolved into laughter, the room’s previous silence well and truly interrupted. Most of the ton spared you a quick disgruntled glance before returning to their previous conversations but you were far too busy laughing to yourselves to pay them any mind.
Just as your laughter was dying down, you looked back to Daphne to ensure you had not disturbed her grand entrance too much. Fortunately, or unfortunately as Eloise may have you believe, she was already flocked by suitors, all of whom were likely looking for a spot on the diamond’s illustrious dance card. Your eyes flickered leftwards almost accidentally.
His gaze was already locked on you. It was impossible to break your stare once it had been forged. The wide smile your laughter had left behind slowly faded from your features, replaced by a look that you knew, had it been caught by anyone with half a brain, would be identified as longing. The look in his own eyes was similar and all too difficult not to drown in. You watched as his eyes wandered down your form and back up again, tried to ignore the heat that sparked along your spine at the action.
Before anyone could notice your distraction, you closed your eyes, breaking the spell that your Viscount had cast over you. Without looking back at him, you turned back into your circle of friends, his siblings, finding yourself grateful that Eloise had already inserted another joke into the conversation and had left no room for anyone to note your brief absence.
“If you’ll excuse me,” you interjected in a brief reprieve from the jovial back-and-forth, “I find myself quite parched. Can I fetch you a glass of lemonade, El?”
She shook her head as her answer and you bowed your head as you parted from them, only offering a smile at Colin’s insistence that you make haste with your return so that they would not be forced to begin their commentary on the mamas ballgowns before you were back at their sides.
The table of refreshments granted a perfect position for you to analyse the rest of the ballroom without having to make the sort of idle small talk that you had come to despise. In spite of your own assertions, it was impossible to stop yourself from scanning the crowd for the familiar brown hair you longed to see. You caught sight of Daphne taking a turn around the room but soon noticed she was on her mother’s arm as opposed to her brother’s. She spotted you briefly and you gave her a discreet yet altogether silly wave, smiling at the slight upturn of her lips at the motion. Daphne had always been the most serious about her prospects and it was clear that tonight was no different.
“Miss Y/L/N! I must say, even amongst so many accomplished young ladies, you still stand out as one of the most beautiful of the night.”
You winced before you turned around. Lord Harrogate. The bane of the social season prior and someone you had hoped would grow tired of your endless rejections many months ago. Whilst he was known as a gentleman of honour, he was painfully boring in every aspect of conversation and always stood a tad too close to those he was speaking with, whomever they may be.
“Lord Harrogate, I see you have returned from Spain. You must have many stories from your recent travels.”
Whilst many would raise an eyebrow at your invitation for him to even speak at all, you had learnt a lot from too many moments in his company. Anything that resembled a back-and-forth with such a man was a useless endeavour and instead, the most painless method of talking to him was simply to invite him to ramble and tune him out wherever possible. It was exactly what you were doing now, as he spoke to you of the trials and tribulations that had awaited him in Spain.
You were preparing to excuse yourself and return to the Bridgerton siblings who had now lost Colin to a dance with one of the particularly pretty misses of the evening, but before you could do so, you felt a presence behind you. There was a hand at the base of your back for only a moment before it was gone, but the presence remained, just over your right shoulder. Lord Harrogate had the sense to let his sentence trail off at the intrusion.
“Apologies, Harrogate, but my sister is asking after Miss Y/L/N and I simply must escort her into the gardens to see her. I believe she may have a possible suitor to discuss with you, Miss Y/L/N, if you would?”
“Of course, my Lord. We shall continue our conversation at a later date, Lord Harrogate…”
You placed your hand in the crook of Anthony’s elbow halfway through your parting sentiment to Lord Harrogate and he was already whisking you away before you could hear his reply. You turned to your combined rescuer and interloper with a fierce glare for his impropriety but upon seeing the tick in his jaw and his unwillingness to look at you, it became clear that it was best to wait until you were outside.
He led you down the steps and further into the gardens, greeting anyone you passed with a firm nod and a loud assurance that his sister was just around this corner, in case there were any ill-advised objections to the two of you stepping away from the festivities.
As soon as you rounded yet another corner into a more secluded part of the garden, you ripped your arm from his and turned to face him, a finger already in his face.
“That was unnecessary, Anthony, you taunt the poor man! He was only trying to-”
“He was only trying to secure a dance with you, and a subsequent marriage. It is only what he has been trying to do the past three seasons!”
“I do not remember you taking such issue with him in seasons past,” you said resolutely, squaring your chin at him despite still having to look up into his face. It is an action that soon reminds you of the look you have already shared that evening, one that makes it impossible for any true anger to be laced into your words.
“No, I did not,” he says, his tone quieter now as he takes a step towards you, “You know why I did not.”
“Perhaps I should like to hear you say it, my Lord.”
Anthony breathes a lengthy exhale out of his mouth, shaking his head in disbelief at your words. There was a challenge within them, one that had the makings of ruining the whole game you had made for yourselves. You had hoped it would be him to make the first mistake, but you could never have hoped for it to be so soon, at your first ball no less.
“We should not be here,” he says instead, turning away from you with a hand to his forehead. You step forward in his blindness and when he turns back to face you, you are far closer than before, close enough that he could reach out and touch you. It takes every ounce of your willpower not to do so yourself.
“We should not,” you concur, “But here we are. And I am asking you to tell me of the reasons for your sudden and blatant jealousy, in case you have already forgotten.”
He scoffs at the word jealousy, but the way in which his hands reach out to grab you, to pull you tight against his chest betray his feelings. You let out a small gasp at the action, but let your hands come to rest around his shoulders with practised ease.
“You wish to know of my jealousy? You wish to know how every man’s eyes that land on you in that ballroom makes me feel as if I am suffocating? How I feel when you stare at me like that across the room and I can’t-”
His face is too close to yours, noses brushing each other each time you breathe in a shaky gulp of air from his open mouth. When you push your chin forward just enough that your lips should touch, he leans back just enough to ensure no contact is to be found. It is infuriating in its utter perfection, as is he.
“You can’t what, Anthony?” you whisper, feeling the arms around your waist tighten at the use of his name, “You can’t just take me in your arms, like so, and feel every curve of my body against yours? Feel every part of me aching for you?”
“Such improper words from such a pretty mouth,” he murmurs, the backs of his fingers brushing upwards along your covered spine until they reach your exposed shoulder blades, where they begin to draw slow, electric circles along the bones.
“And yet you still will not kiss me. It does not feel very gentlemanly to leave me so desperate for you.”
There is a low noise in the back of his throat that you barely register before he descends on you, hot and hard and wanting, opening your mouth to his in an instant. He licks into it, tongue insistent against yours as his hands clutch at every part of you all at once. His lips disappear from yours all too quickly, but soon you feel him instead at the corner of your lips, the curve of your jaw, the line of your neck.
With a quiet groan you look down at him as he attaches his lips to the top of your chest above the neckline, watch his eyes meet yours as he continues his path. You weave your hands into his hair and tug him back up to you, holding him at eye level.
“I win.”
You are all but panting as you say it, pulling him into you and meeting him in yet another mind-numbing kiss, but this time when he pulls away, he does not begin a path elsewhere. Instead, he stumbles back from you as if burned and stares wide-eyed as you try to steady yourself.
“You-you win?” he says, wonderfully breathless. You cannot hide your smirk and it only grows wider when his shocked face turns into a look of awed respect that looks an awful lot like lust, “You little minx - you tricked me! Surely this cannot count towards our bet.”
“Oh but it does count, dearest. Must I remind you that it was your idea to see how long we would be able to keep ourselves from each other this season?”
“And must I remind you that it was indeed your idea to wait until the end of Daphne’s season to wed? I believe you said something about not wishing to distract me from my brotherly duties. If it had been solely up to me, you would already be my Viscountess,” he stepped back towards you as he lowered his voice to a sinful level, “I could have my way with you however I see fit in this garden.”
“Your wife or not, I should think Lady Danbury would have something to say about that, my love,” you smiled, stepping back into his arms without his complaint, deciding to momentarily forget your vow to step aside and let him focus on aiding Daphne in her search for a husband this season. No longer a fiery embrace, it had now melted into one of adoration, his eyes holding all the reverence you had come to expect from the man you loved.
“You are right. But I could certainly have had my way with you at home, in our marital bed, prior to tonight,” he whispered, his words now sparking feelings of longing rather than mere lust, “And I would have the sweet promise of the night to come to aid me in surviving this dreadful event.”
“How about the sweet promise of all our nights we have to come, for the rest of our lives together? Will that suffice for now?”
Anthony visibly softened, but still tilted his head as if to think about your words. You chuckled at him quietly, still getting used to the playful side of him that had only surfaced in recent months. Somewhere between sitting side by side at both Bridgerton and Y/L/N family dinners, glancing at each other across drawing rooms and, subsequently, stealing you away to his office to kiss you senseless, all doubt had been removed from your mind: this was the man you were to spend your life with.
“I am not sure, darling,” his face drew near to yours once more, and you could feel his breath on your cheek as he whispered in your ear, “I may need further convincing.”
You grinned as you pressed your temple into his, feeling his own smile against your cheek. It would be a miracle if you lasted to the end of the night without marrying him, let alone waiting for the end of the season.
“As you wish, Anthony.”
The way in which he groaned as he picked you up and held you against the nearest hedge, kissing you as deeply as he ever had, left you safe in the knowledge that he had been entirely convinced for quite some time.
a lack of convincing-in which you and anthony attempt to wait to show everyone your love for each other, but you can’t quite stop staring at him
~ BENEDICT
forgive me - in which you think benedict doesn’t like the idea of you marrying but really he doesn’t like the idea of you marrying anyone else
a fitting distraction- in which a game of pall-mall is afoot and you and your husband, benedict, engage in a bit of harmless spying on your brother-in-law
࿐ ˚ . ✦ summary: even though you ‘don’t’ like him, you’d reluctantly agreed to accompany anthony on a trip— which ended with both stranded in an inn, locked in the same room. and guess what? only one bed too.
࿐ ˚ . ✦ warnings: anthony is a warning on his own, enemies to lovers (?) | smut:teasing, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, kinda rough sex, hate sex (barely)
Laughs erupted all across the table, everyone sharing looks and smiles, enjoying their time. A small breakfast was taking place in the Bridgerton’s Residence, and you had been invited by Daphne; one of your dearest friends.
“As pleasant as this morning has been, I must part now,” Anthony said, standing up from his chair and straightening his clothes. “There are some state affairs I need to solve that cannot be ignored any longer. Is anyone available to accompany me on this journey? I must admit it’s quite long and it would be better in company. ”
“Oh, I would love to, but I cannot, brother,” Daphne said, looking around the table at all her siblings, and lastly, you. “I must go back home to my husband, we— well, we need to make some arrangements for the soirée.”
“What soirée?” you questioned with curiosity, since your best friend hadn’t mentioned any soirée.
“The one we will host at Clyvedon Castle.” she answered with one of her dazzling smiles.
“Alright,” Anthony said with a sigh, focusing on the rest. “Siblings?”
“Oh, I am sorry, but I cannot accompany you either,” Benedict excused himself. “I have an event with the art group and I cannot miss it for anything in the world.”
“I must pay… Pen a visit. ” With a grimace, Eloise said.
“Oh, I would love to—” Colin was saying, but a knock was heard and a grimace appeared on his face. “Ou, but I have this thing with… well, I am busy.”
Everyone at the table turned to look at you, Anthony’s eyes followed as well, quickly both understood what everyone wanted.
“Oh, no thanks.” You said. / “I will be far better on my own.” Anthony was quick to say.
“Oh, come on!” Daphne said with a grin. “This enmity between you two cannot last any longer. I would say it is time for the two of you to grow up and find some common ground.”
࿐ ˚ . ✦ summary: even though you ‘don’t’ like him, you’d reluctantly agreed to accompany anthony on a trip— which ended with both stranded in an inn, locked in the same room. and guess what? only one bed too.
࿐ ˚ . ✦ warnings: anthony is a warning on his own, enemies to lovers (?) | smut:teasing, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, kinda rough sex, hate sex (barely)
Laughs erupted all across the table, everyone sharing looks and smiles, enjoying their time. A small breakfast was taking place in the Bridgerton’s Residence, and you had been invited by Daphne; one of your dearest friends.
“As pleasant as this morning has been, I must part now,” Anthony said, standing up from his chair and straightening his clothes. “There are some state affairs I need to solve that cannot be ignored any longer. Is anyone available to accompany me on this journey? I must admit it’s quite long and it would be better in company. ”
“Oh, I would love to, but I cannot, brother,” Daphne said, looking around the table at all her siblings, and lastly, you. “I must go back home to my husband, we— well, we need to make some arrangements for the soirée.”
“What soirée?” you questioned with curiosity, since your best friend hadn’t mentioned any soirée.
“The one we will host at Clyvedon Castle.” she answered with one of her dazzling smiles.
“Alright,” Anthony said with a sigh, focusing on the rest. “Siblings?”
“Oh, I am sorry, but I cannot accompany you either,” Benedict excused himself. “I have an event with the art group and I cannot miss it for anything in the world.”
“I must pay… Pen a visit. ” With a grimace, Eloise said.
“Oh, I would love to—” Colin was saying, but a knock was heard and a grimace appeared on his face. “Ou, but I have this thing with… well, I am busy.”
Everyone at the table turned to look at you, Anthony’s eyes followed as well, quickly both understood what everyone wanted.
“Oh, no thanks.” You said. / “I will be far better on my own.” Anthony was quick to say.
“Oh, come on!” Daphne said with a grin. “This enmity between you two cannot last any longer. I would say it is time for the two of you to grow up and find some common ground.”
“It will be a good thing,” Benedict added, agreeing with Daphne’s opinion. “Not only for the two of you, but for everyone. I am sure that I’m speaking for the rest when I say that we cannot stand your petty arguments any longer.”
Eloise’s loud groan meant she agreed with her brother, and everyone nodded their heads as well, a silent way of letting you and Anthony know that they, indeed, were absolutely done with your attitude.
It is understandable. After all, Anthony and you have known each other for over twelve years, and you’ve yet to find a way to get along, or at least have a pleasant coexistence. You and Anthony do nothing but argue, contradict each other, and find petty little things to fight about.
To Anthony, you were spoiled, insufferable, and annoying. He could not stand you, but… It would certainly be better to have someone to accompany him than to be alone, even if that ‘someone’ was annoying.
“Then so be it.” Anthony said, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, trying to avoid showing just how annoyed he was by this.
“Ugh…” you mumbled, knowing you would now be between sword and wall. You certainly didn’t want to accompany Anthony, but it would be rude not to after he partially accepted your company.
Anthony noticed your hesitation, and instead of using that as an excuse to travel alone, he used it against you, to make you angry.
“Or does my presence bother you that much, that you will not share a carriage with me?” questioned Anthony, with a little smirk that made your insides burn. “What is it that you hide from me, Lady Y/N, is it anger still? Or perhaps… otherfeelings?”
Your mouth opened wide as soon as you understood what he was implying, and everyone’s eyes widened, attentive to what was about to happen.
“Do not think yourself so important, Lord Anthony,” you said, with a fake smile that he knew well enough to recognize. “I was simply pondering whether you’re worthy of my presence after your attitude this week.”
“If I– my attitude?” Anthony sounded almost offended, but you knew he was upset by the fact that you exposed his attitude in front of his entire family. “You are no better than me. Get off your high horse.”
Violet, the Bridgerton’s mama, let out a gasp at that, “Anthony! Be more respectful. She’s a lady, I raised you better than this.”
“Have her act like a lady, then.”
“And you should act like a man, not a boy.” you argued.
Everyone’s gazes moved from Anthony to you, back to Anthony, and back to you again. These types of arguments were not new, so everyone hoped that someday, preferably soon, these silly arguments would have a… positiveoutcome.
Everyone knows that what you and Anthony feel for each other is not hatred… not exactly.
“As a man, I should not have to prove anythingtoyou, but as a token of my sincerity, I cordially invite you to accompany me on my business trip,“ Anthony said as solemnly as he could, avoiding smirking as soon as your expression became annoyed. "Lady Y/N, you certainly would not turn down such a kind-hearted offer, would you?”
Son of a…
“Certainly not, Viscount Bridgerton,” you said reluctantly. “It would be my pleasure to keep you company on your journey.”
The smirk on Anthony’s face after his ungracious comment made you roll your eyes.
You regretted having said yes, having given in to accompanying him; but your pride wasn’t going to let him get away with it, you were a decent lady, and of course you wouldn’t turn down a gentleman’s offer, even if that gentleman was one you felt like punching— in the most… ladylike way possible, of course.
When Anthony said the journey would be long, you did not believe him, for you supposed he was saying it to discourage you from accompanying him; but it was not so. It really was a long journey.
It had been three long hours sharing the same carriage and you hadn’t even covered a quarter of the distance, the only thing you had managed to do was to argue. Argue about the route, the clothing you were wearing, even about the shade of the grass outside… in other words, you argued about EVERYTHING.
As if dealing with an Anthony ready to infuriate you wasn’t enough, it began to rain at the beginning of the fourth hour of the journey. And it wasn’t the kind of rain that could have lulled you into calmness, no… it was a thunderstorm. A bad one, at that.
“Wonderful, could this day get any worse?” Anthony complained, looking through the window and observing the dark sky being adorned by lightning every few seconds.
“My lord?” Said the horseman through the front window. “I’m afraid we will have to make an immediate stop, it is impossible to continue the journey in these conditions, it is perilous.”
If it had not meant that you were stuck with Anthony for longer than planned, you would have laughed, celebrated and danced at the sight of his frustrated, annoyed expression on his face.
His day was going badly, and you were enjoyingit.
“All right,” Anthony said reluctantly. “But we are halfway there, what proceeds in this situation? We cannot stay out here in the open.”
“It seems to me that there’s an Inn a few miles from here, Lady Y/N and you could spend the night there, while the storm abates, and we will continue on our way tomorrow, when the weather is more amenable, my lord.”
Anthony looked at you to be sure you were okay with this, he couldn’t stand you and wanted you away from his presence, but he wasn’t going to leave you here alone, and he wanted to be sure that at the very least you were on board with the plan.
“Sounds better to me than risking an accident.” You agreed, trying to be as ‘understandable’ as possible.
“Alright then,” Anthony sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “The INN it is.”
Getting out of the carriage in the midst of the storm had been a challenge. Anthony got out first, and almost slipped in the mud, you merely giggled at that, for which he refused to hold your hand to help you down, being as petty as he is.
You got out by yourself and almost slipped as well, thing is, Anthony reacted quickly and wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you on your feet, which puzzled you both so badly, that the rest of the way to the INN you walked separately, so apart, that it didn’t even look like you arrived together when you got in.
“Good evening, I would like to book two rooms.” Anthony said to the burly man behind the counter.
“One room.” said the man, checking his book.
“Two.” corrected Anthony.
“One,” said the man firmly, picking up the key and putting it on the counter. “INN full, storm. One room, yes or no?
“Good heaven..” Anthony said in exasperation, running a hand through his hair again. “One room will suffice then.”
Great. One room. ONE.
Anthony walked back to you and raised a finger before you even got the chance to open your mouth to protest. “I do not want to hear you complain, you heard me, I tried to get two rooms and I could not.”
“I thought you were a viscount.”
“I am, but I am not God to stop a storm, nor the Queen to order everyone to leave,” he said, starting to walk towards the room. “I guess you will be stuck with me for the night, Lady Y/N.”
Wonderful. Just magnificent. Expectacular.
"Do not look.” you said firmly, sinking deeper into the hot water of the bath, trying to hide your body from Anthony, who was sitting on the bed, freshly bathed.
“You wish I was anywhere near interested.” he replied, turning his head completely the other way, which is the only reason you were unable to see his expression.
You wouldn’t be bathing now if it wasn’t absolutely necessary to keep you from falling ill, but that didn’t make it any easier. With Anthony in the room, bathing wasn’t as enjoyable as it usually is, let alone now that your dress is soaking wet and you don’t have anything to put on other than your corset and knickers.
“I will lend you my shirt, so you do not sleep so indecently tonight.” he said, as if he had read your thoughts.
“What will you wear? Your jacket is soaked.”
“I suppose no harm will come from sleeping without a shirt,” he replied, still not looking at you. “Though if that makes you uncomfortable, then I can find somewhere else to stay.”
“No, do not worry,” you said, perhaps a little too quickly, making you more nervous than you already were. “You are being kind enough to lend me your shirt, and I will not not be so cruel as to send you away.”
Anthony raised his eyebrows in surprise at your response, but didn’t say anything about it. “Fine then.”
You hurried out of your bath, put on your uncomfortable corset and knickers, and put on Anthony’s dry shirt, buttoning most of the buttons to cover most of your body, although there were still parts that were exposed, such as your legs and part of your chest.
While you had stopped arguing because you were in a peculiar situation, the silence that enveloped the two of you was uncomfortable. The kind of silence that exists when there are so many things to say, but none of them are said.
“Why–” “How–” Anthony and you managed to interrupt each other after having spent around 10 minutes without uttering a word, an awkward coincidence.
“You first.”
“Well, since we are long past formalities…” Anthony began, signaling his lack of shirt and your indecent clothing. “Tell me frankly, why is it that you despise me so much?”
The question caught you off guard. You never thought Anthony cared what you thought of him, or why you chose to feel this way, but this question changes everything.
It was a good question, why indeed? Was it his insufferable attitude? His deadpan comments? The damn smirk he gave you when he knew he was getting on your nerves? The way he looked at you? The way he made you feel?
Whydo you hate him at all?
“Would you believe me if I said I do not hate you?” you replied, not often do you get the chance to be honest with him.
“No,” he said bluntly and you raised both eyebrows in surprise. “Because you act like you hate me.”
“I do not hate you, you just…” you sighed and looked down. “Anger me.”
“Because you anger me first.”
“Then it seems to me the proper question would be, why do YOU hate ME?” you questioned, raising your tone only slightly.
“I never said I hated you.”
“You act like you do.” you replied as he did, giving him a taste of his own medicine.
All calm seemed to leave Anthony’s body with those words, he let out a growl fit for an animal and ran his hands through his hair.
“See what I mean? You are aggravating!”
“Because I act like you?” you questioned him, raising an eyebrow.
“You do not act like me!” Anthony raised his voice slightly, and took a step towards you. “You act like… like YOU! Insufferable, with that sharp wit of yours, those charming remarks that make me want to… to… UGH, you drive me crazy, woman!”
Anthony had been so focused on letting you know how much you despair him, and you on listening to him; that neither of you realized how close he was now to you.
You could feel his breath brushing against your lips, one more inch and his nose would touch yours, his chest yours, his lips yours.
“Show me you do not hate me, then.” you dated him one last time, looking at his deep brown eyes and down at his lips, then back at his eyes.
The moment your lips pressed against his, his partially calm demeanor faded away. It was all lips, teeth and tongue, a mess that quickly turned heated, your hand holding the back of his head as one of his hands found a place in your hip, pulling you closer to his body.
Out of impulse, you opened your mouth, allowing him in. And it seemed like he suddenly remembered he was arguing with you, because he bit your lower lip and pulled, to then run his tongue over it and push you away slightly.
Even though he pushed you away, he never let go. He kept his hands on your hips as he looked directly into your eyes, searching for the same feeling he felt. And he found it.
Without another word, you kissed again, but this time the kiss was unrestrained, filled with desperation, hunger, desire, passion and something more. Anthony held you as close to his body as he could, but it seemed to be insufficient to quench his thirst for you.
Slowly you began to walk to the bed, the back of your knees collided with the mattress, so you fell backwards and Anthony quickly followed, not taking his lips off yours for a second, even as your bodies begged for air.
From there, you lost all shame, your hands caressed his smooth back, his muscular arms, even ran down his chest, you wanted to feel him, to convince yourself that this was really happening and was not a dream.
His lips moved from your lips to your jaw, and he began to make a trail of kisses down your neck, slow, wet kisses that made you burn for him. He kept moving down and down, down your collarbone, and the part of your chest that wasn’t covered by his shirt.
Through the open shirt, he found access to your abdomen and kept kissing, biting sometimes and licking after to ease the pain. He looked at you and asked quietly, you knew where he was going, and you wanted him there, so you nodded your head.
As he roamed your abdomen with kisses; he slid his hands under your shirt and grabbed the edge of your underwear, sliding it down your legs until he got rid of it.
You threw your head back as soon as he leaned over where you needed him most, his big soft hands squeezed your thighs while his lips left little bites and small kisses on the inside of your thighs.
He paused for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, and you sighed nervously, waiting for his caresses. The tip of his nose brushed against your clit, causing you to inhale suddenly, and at this he continued his kisses on your area, getting more gasps from you than he could count.
“For future reference, I am not against being begged for and having my hair pulled, I like it.”
Your eyes rolled at his endless arrogance, though his arrogance itself made you realise that you need him more than ever. He began to kiss gently all over your thighs, clearly avoiding where you needed him most, to tease you one last time.
Without warning, Anthony wrapped his lips around your clit, and sucked. Immediately, and knowing you would react like this, his hands roamed up your body to hold your hips, as he moved the tip of his tongue in circles and up and down.
“I must admit, for the first time, I like what you are doing with your mouth.” you dared to say.
Anthony gave you a little slap on the inside of your thigh, causing you to unconsciously tighten your legs around his head.
“Do not tempt me to stop, woman.”
“As if you wanted to.”
“No, I suppose I don’t really want to.” he admitted, before continuing his ministrations.
You let out a small moan even though you tried to hold it back, as Anthony moved his lips and tongue skillfully up and down your centre, never neglecting your clit as he used his thumb to rub quick circles. The intensity, speed and rhythm of his tongue and thumb were giving you more pleasure than you had ever felt before.
Until he suddenly stopped.
“Anthony-”
“I will make you feel so good,” he said, and you felt his breath on your pussy. “For the first time in your stubborn life, trust me.”
He removed his thumb from your clit, so he could slide two fingers inside you. You let out a louder moan this time, and threw your head back. You heard a chuckle from him, but Anthony didn’t move his fingers.
His hot breath against your area sent shivers all over your skin, as did his voice as he said. “I feel like I ought to teach you some manners.”
“Anthony, I swear to you by all the gods…”
“Beg for it, darling.”
Fuck your ego, you need this release.
Letting go of your bottom lip, you decide to surrender and murmur, “I need it. Please, Anthony.”
His tongue soon returned to your pussy, and this time, his fingers began to slide in and out of you slowly, menacingly slow. Desperate, you grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged lightly, causing Anthony to grunt and send vibrations into your sensitive body.
“Good girl.”
The rhythm of his fingers increased as your breathing quickened, you couldn’t control the way the moans left your lips without shame, nor the way your hips rose steadily, trying to chase his face.
It was so erotic, downright filthy and forbidden, but still you felt that this is the place to be. With him between your legs.
The sounds that left your lips embarrassed you at times, but it seemed to only encourage him more, and you didn’t know if the heat in your cheeks was from your rapid breathing or the way Anthony was looking at you. He smiled against your skin and began to leave wet kisses before speeding up the movement of his hand.
“Cum for me, my dove, do not hold yourself back, let go.”
And that’s what made you come.
For a few seconds, you see nothing but black, as you closed your eyes as pleasure courses through your body, all while he cleaned up the mess. There is a moment’s pause before he rises from between your legs, looking down at you with parted lips.
And of course— Anthony being Anthony— was going to keep teasing you. And he succeeds, by wiping the corners of his lips with his thumb, licking his lips and sucking your ecstasy from his fingers.
“As sweet as I imagined, truly.”
“Youimagined?” you inquired, sitting on the bed to get a closer look at his face.
“Is my devotion not enough proof to you?” he questioned, licking his lips. “I have desired this for a long time, my lady.”
“Is that so?” you questioned, biting your lip.
“Allow me to enlighten you just how muchI want this.”
He gave you a little push and you fell back to the bed, he helped you remove the corset from your body, leaving little kisses across the newly exposed skin, one of his hands travelled between your legs again, knowing full well what he had to do. His thumb circled over your clit, his fingers teasing your entrance.
"I think you are ready for me now,” he assured, standing up to remove his trousers, leaving you puzzled at his size. “Are you sure about this?”
“Absolutely.”
He let out a little smirk and quickly got on top of you and without further ado, entered you.
“Bloody hell, Anthony…“ you murmured, accidentally leaving scratches on his back, as his hips moved at a fast, rough and above all, deep pace.
Anthony said nothing, but gasped and left a nibble on your shoulder as you tugged lightly on his hair, and he sped up the movements even more, his dick hitting your spot with each and every thrust, the pleasure was almost uncontrollable, as he, who was insatiable. He couldn’t get enough of you.
You knew that in addition to the sexual satisfaction this brought him, it was also feeding his ego to be on top of you, making you moan after fighting for so long.
And you certainly wouldn’t let him win.
As best you could, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him off you, causing him to pause for a second, when you pushed him back to lie down, and straddled him, that’s when he understood.
You lined him back up with your entrance, and lowered your hips, making both let out a loud moan.
You began to move at a pace that was satisfying to you, but not satisfying enough for him, which was making him desperate and even more so when he knew you were doing it on purpose.
"Donot tease me.”
“Oh, where is your playful spirit, Lord Anthony?”
“Here it is.” Anthony placed his hands on your waist, also moving his hips up and down, intensifying the depth and speed.
The moan that left your lips did not go unnoticed as he increased the speed of his thrusts even more, hitting your spot again and again and again. Determined not to let him win, you began to clench your walls around him, just as he moved his hips down.
“I’m going to… I’m going to cum.” He said, tightening his grip on your waist.
One last wickedness, for the sake of the rest of the night.
You suddenly stopped moving, which made him look at you with confusion, and some anger too. Slowly, you began to move your hips in circles, causing his dick to have different sensations and reach even deeper, and that’s what made him finish.
And the sensation of that, plus the sight, which was him closing his eyes and biting his lower lip, while the muscles in his abdomen tensed, was what ended up making you finish.
You fell exhausted a few seconds later, pulling him out of you and lying down next to him, aware that you must clean up, and above all… talk, but you were so tired that you didn’t even want to move.
Anthony got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, taking a wet towel, wiping himself and then you, carefully. He threw the towel to the bathroom and returned to the bed, lying down next to you.
“Can we put this absurd enmity behind us? It seems pretty obvious to me how we really feel about each other,” he commented calmly. “While it’s fun, I do not want you to think of me and have it be a negative thing, Y/N. I am tired of it. I think it’s time we face our feelings as they are, would you not agree?”
“And what exactly are those feelings?”
“Quite the opposite of hate, it seems to me,” he said with a smirk. “There is adoration, admiration, certainly a bit of devotion, a sprinkle of exasperation, but lots of…”
“Love?”
“That precisely, my lady.”
“So, are you saying that—“
“Yes.” he confirmed, not quite saying it, but you knew what he meant.
“I love you too.” you blurted out, the truth that had been eating you alive for years now.
He kissed the top of your head and sighed. Anthony remained silent for a few seconds but you knew he had something else to say.
“I cannot believe I got you to say it out loud first.”
“If it’s a game to you, I will take it back, for you have not said it back.”
“You were never and shall never be a game to me, my lady. And you cannot take it back now, it’s etched inside my mind.” he placed to fingers under your chin, softly lifting your head so he could look at you in the eye. “Also? I have loved you since I met you, since the very first time you challenged me, since you smiled at me for the first time. I just wanted to point thatout.”
“Good. You ought to own and earn my love from now on, my lord, no more dick-ish behaviour.”
“No more, my lady, I promise.” Anthony pulled your body over his. “I shall treat you like you deserve.”
You smiled widely, proud of him and yourself. Anthony began to hum a song that, along with the rain, slowly lulled you into a deep sleep.
Who knew that an INN away from everyone would be the answer?
anthony, viscount bridgerton x female reader [one shot]
summary: you are anthony’s wife and the new viscountess of the bridgerton household. you and anthony have been married for a few months, and it hasn’t been easy for you in your marriage to the viscount. the pressure amounts between you and anthony when you receive a letter that your parents will be visiting you.
warnings: period typical misogyny, gender roles, anxiety, panic attack, and talk of abuse.
word count: 2,256
a/n: this one shot is set after season one of bridgerton
The feelings were sudden but familiar. It was overwhelming. Your heart was pounding. You couldn’t breathe. You felt like you were dying. As you attempted to walk, the rooms were starting to spin. You started feeling nauseated, and your heart was pounding rapidly out of your chest.
Your hands were shaking as you attempted to grasp the cause in your hand.
You somehow made your way out into the gardens. You shakingly sat down on a bench and attempted to breathe to calm. You had your eyes closed as you attempted to stop the familiar feelings you had done all your life.
You did not realize that one of your brothers-in-law had followed you since you rushed out of the drawing-room.
Benedict was beside himself as to what was happening to you. He had never seen you act like that before. Nor had he known what exactly was happening to you.
“(Y/N).” Benedict softly called out your name as he kneeled in front of you.
You slowly opened your eyes and were stunned to see Benedict with deep concerns in his.
“Benedict. What are you doing here?” You questioned your in-law in fear of what he witnessed.
“I followed you. What happened? Do you need me to call for the doctor?”
“No! Please do not call anyone. No one can help me. I can take care of this myself.” You responded, making Benedict confused.
“And what exactly just happened?” Benedict moved to sit next to you on the bench.
“Chest pains, dizziness, shortness of breath, my heart pounds, shakiness, those are just some of the symptoms.”
“Symptoms of what?”
“There is no name for it or a medical diagnosis. Doctors have never known what exactly it is.”
“How long have you had this?” Benedict questioned with worries.
“All of my life.”
“All of your life? What causes such symptoms?” Without looking at him, you handed Benedict the cause.
Benedict looked down and read the letter that came for you from your parents.
It has been three months since your wedding to the Viscount, and we have not heard any news of you being with child. Have you already screwed up this marriage to the Viscount? You have always screwed up everything since the day you were born. You are an embarrassment and a disgrace to us all. We are coming to visit to fix what you have screwed up as we speak.
Benedict was outraged by the words. You could see the anger on his face.
“Would you believe that those were the nicest words they have used towards me?” You stated nonchalantly.
Benedict looked over at you and saw no emotion on your face as you had been dealing with this your entire life.
“Benedict, Not everyone was raised by loving parents like you and your siblings. Not everyone was loved, supported, and encouraged. I am a disgrace, embarrassment, hated, and much more. It has been like that since the day I was born. I can only imagine what they will do and say to me once they arrive.”
“(Y/N), have they hurt you… physically?” You did not have the heart to answer your brother-in-law.
By your lack of response, Benedict knew the answer to his question.
“Does my brother know about this?” Benedict questioned, making you scoff.
“Your brother knows nothing about me. He only knows what I could provide as a Viscountess and future mother to his children. My father could not wait to get rid of me. As soon as Anthony asked for my hand, my father immediately said yes. My father would let me marry anyone to get rid of me. Your brother being a Viscount is a bonus to them. They are most likely to ask the Viscount for money when they arrive. They most likely spent my dowry.”
A few brief silent moments passed before you broke it.
“In these past three months, I sometimes think, where am I better off? Herewith your brother or with my parents. All three of them hate me. All three of them despise me. I am an embarrassment and disgrace to my parents. Who knows what your brother thinks of me at this point. I am half of mind to pack my things and leave with them regardless of their treatment towards me. They probably would not even take me back.”
Benedict did not know what to say to his sister-in-law.
“When I was a young girl, I would dream of finding someone who would love me, court me, propose to me. We would get married, have children, and leave happily ever after…” You began to have tears in your eyes.
“Your brother fooled me. On the night of our wedding, he brazenly told me he would not love me. There would be no love in this marriage. I would only be the Viscountess and bred his children. I just wanted to die. Last night, I told him that I would move to a separate bedroom. I refuse to share a bed with a stranger. Now, my parents are coming, and I must deal with their abuse again. I am not even with child. They will tear me to shreds.”
“No, they will not.” You looked at Benedict with question.
“You are a Bridgerton now. You are a part of this family. My brother may not treat you as such, but you are to the rest of us. No one will speak harshly of you in our presence, especially mine.” Benedict stated with such conviction.
“Thank you, Benedict.”
Benedict grabbed your hand and gently squeezed it for comfort.
“You are welcome, sister.”
After making sure that you felt better, Benedict with the letter still in his hand walked towards his brother’s office.
Anthony was sitting in his office working when Benedict rudely and hastily entered the room.
“Brother, I am busy…” Before Anthony could say a word, Benedict handed his eldest brother the letter.
“What is this?” Anthony questioned.
“Go ahead and read it.” Benedict saw Anthony read the letter and saw the confusion begin to form on his face.
“(Y/N)’s parents sent this letter?”
“Yes. According to (Y/N), they will most likely ask you for money.”
“Is this why she was behaving differently earlier?” Anthony asked.
“Yes. According to (Y/N) they had been abusive her entire life both verbally and physically, and it looks like they are coming here to continue that because she is not with child.”
Benedict could see that his older brother did not know what to say or do.
“(Y/N) never said anything to me.” Anthony spoke softly.
“How could she brother? You barely interact with your wife to know anything about her life.” Benedict stated harshly to his brother, who glared at him.
“Brother…” Before Anthony could say anything, Benedict interrupted.
“Anthony, spare me the lecture. Everyone in this household including staff knows the truth about your treatment of your wife. It is obvious to everyone. The verity that (Y/N) has moved bedrooms proves it.”
Benedict could see that Anthony was at a loss for words.
“Brother, love does not make you weak. It is ok for you to extend your love beyond the family. (Y/N) thinks you loathe her just like her parents do. You do not see how wonderful she is not only as the Viscountess of his household but as a person. You do not see that she is the first person awake every morning and almost the last to bed every night. (Y/N) making sure that everything is perfect and running smoothly. She makes sure that the family is happy and content every day. And yet she is not happy. She does not know where she is better off here or with her parents. She is thinking about leaving and going back with them, brother regardless of how they treat her.” Anthony was stunned by the revelation.
“Either you change your ways brother, and accept (Y/N) into your heart or you will be looking for a new wife and Viscountess in the next season.” Benedict stated firmly before walking out of the room.
Anthony had spent the rest of the afternoon in his office reeling and pondering on what his brother had told him.
He did not even have dinner with his family and slept in his office that night.
For the next few days, you were on your hands and feet, making sure the house was perfect.
The family barely had a chance to interact with you as you were constantly working in preparation for your parent’s arrival.
On the evening of, you were in your bedroom finishing getting dressed. You had picked and worn your best dress.
As you were fixing your hair, you heard a knock on the bedroom door.
“Enter.” You softly commanded.
You turned around and were slightly shocked to see the Viscount himself entering your bedroom.
“Good evening, (Y/N).” Anthony spoke.
“Good evening, my Lord.” You spoke firmly with no emotion.
“Your parents have arrived and are waiting in the dining room. I thought that we would walk together to dinner.”
You nodded in response. Anthony had held his hand out for you to take, but you ignored it as you walked past him.
The Viscount knew that he deserved that and more.
The both of you walked out of your bedroom and headed towards the dining room where Violet, Benedict, Colin, Eloise, and your parents were waiting.
Dinner was silent, tense, and uncomfortable. The only noise that was produced in the room was the sound of the silverware moving around on the plate.
Your parents barely acknowledged you as you had entered the dining room. They only had stern looks on their faces.
You were barely eating your food, and it was noticed not only by your in-laws but the Viscount as well.
You could feel your anxiety rising by the second. You were waiting for the moment that your parents would ruin the evening, and not a moment too soon it happened as you took the first sip of your wine.
“(Y/N), I see that you are not with child.” Your mother broke the silence making the room pause.
“No, mother. I am not with child.” You responded.
“Three months into the marriage, and you are not with child? We have heard some staff talking that you are in a separate bedroom. Have you disordered up your new role as the Viscountess?” Your father spoke with a cruel tone in his voice making you wince.
The Bridgerton family was in disarray for what they were witnessing. Benedict was sitting next to you and was getting angry at the scene, more at his eldest brother, who had not spoken for the night.
Tears began to form in your eyes as you felt the familiar feelings coming. You were gripping your wine glass to the brink of breaking as you took another sip.
“(Y/N) has been an embarrassment to this family since the day she was born. She has been a disgrace to us, and now she is a disgrace to the Bridgerton family.”
“Now, that is it!” Benedict had enough of your parents and threw his napkin down on the table, making everyone look at him stunned.
“I had enough of this…” Before Benedict could finish his sentence, the Viscount interfered.
“Brother.” Anthony gave Benedict a look before turning to his in-laws.
“That is enough. Since the moment you arrived, you have failed to show the proper respect for the Viscountess, and I will not stand for it any longer.”
“I declare…” Before your father’s rebuttal, Anthony spoke again.
“I will not… stand for it. Lady (Y/N) has done an exceptional job as the Viscountess. In these past three months, I have never seen my family and this household as happier now than in the past few years and that is because of (Y/N). My mother and my siblings all love and adore (Y/N) and wholeheartedly accept her as their own. I will not allow you to enter our home and continue your abuses towards (Y/N). You were able to get away with it when (Y/N) lived with you, but it will not happen here and especially in our presence. You may leave at once!” Anthony commanded.
“You cannot be serious!” Your mother yelled out, making Anthony stand up out of his chair and walked toward the butler.
“Please send for the carriage. They can wait outside.” The butler nodded his head before leaving the room.
“This is beyond the pale.” Your father and mother stood up out of their chairs and walked out of the dining room without giving you a second glance.
The Bridgerton family all looked at Anthony with pride and happiness on their faces. They could not believe that he had finally decided to make changes towards you and your marriage.
Anthony felt the stares from his family, but his focus was on you. You had not moved since the start of Anthony’s defense.
“(Y/N)…” Anthony walked toward you and gently took you by the hand to make you stand up out of your seat.
You faced Anthony as both of you made eye contact with one another.
“(Y/N)…”
“My Lord…” That was all you could say before your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you had fainted into the Viscount’s arms.
“(Y/N)!” Anthony cried out.
Benedict, Colin, and Eloise ran to the both of you as Violet ran out to get help.
“(Y/N)! Wake up! Wake up!” Anthony was in horror as you were non-responsive in his arms.
published: 05/15/2022
First off, I just would like to thank everyone for the love and support that I have received for this one shot! I would have never imagine the response that I have received. It is truly amazing. Thank you all very, very much. This was just a small idea and that idea has manifested into something I didn’t think was possible. This one shot is probably the #1 one shot/series fanfiction that I have written thus far. I think that I will continue this one shot into two more parts based on where I begin and end on the next part of this one shot. Please let me know your thoughts of this one shot! Thank you for the love and support!
