#anthony bridgerton x female reader
(Anthony Bridgerton x Female Reader)
(Not my gifs, credit goes to the creators)
Requested by: Anon
Requests:Open
Fandom: Netflix Bridgerton
Request: ‘Hey babe, hope you’re doing well! I have a request for anthony bridgerton x f!reader if that’s okay :)
I’d like to see what it’d be like for anthony to be with a feminist reader. Maybe even a scene where she confronts a man and he tells Anthony to control his wife or something like that.’
Thank you so much for requesting! I tried really hard, like I do with all my requests, but I feel this may be bad, haha.
Warnings: Sexism and terrible writing.
Words: 1.6K
Disclaimer:This is a fanfiction, the scenarios, the reader, and the dialogue are all mine.
This should only be found on my blog.
Author is always me on this blog @daydreams-magic01 .
A/N: Please do not copy or plagiarise this, or put it in your own book, etc. It should only be found here. Also, please mention if I should make a taglist and if you wanted to be added. I also tried by best at being British.
Thank you.
:)
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(Y/n) (L/n) is an extraordinary woman and Anthony Bridgerton knew this when marrying her. She spoke her thoughts, never left him guessing on what to do like most women, she was well-educated, funny and had managed to win his heart, those are some of the reasons he chose to marry her. He knew that she was quite forward-thinking herself, but not this much.
The two are sat in their carriage, departing from his mother’s house, heading for their country estate, “I just can’t believe -,” she sighs, shaking her head.
“Can’t believe what?” He turns from the window and faces his wife of almost a year. A soft smile crosses his face at the beautiful sight in front of him. She is in a light lavender dress, her hair braided and pinned up in a way that she would not wear in public, but she preferred it that way; her glove-covered hands neatly rest in her lap, and upon seeing her frown, he places his on top of hers. “What is it, my love?”
She looks up to him, quite an unamused expression upon her face, “you will laugh.” Anthony shakes his head and denies, leaning forward in his seat so that he can pull her hands onto his lap. She bites her lip, gazing up to the roof, before sighing loudly and looking back down to her husband “yes, you will because you are a man.”
He raises a brow, “excuse me?” He does not know whether to laugh, but he cannot deny that he is slightly offended; men are not that bad. Well, he isn’t.
“It is the truth,” she remains serious until she sees him biting back his own smile, and she finds out she is doing the same, “you-u cannot laugh at what I am about to say.”
“Of course, of course,” he nods his head, looking down to their joined hands in their lap, “but if you ask me not to laugh, I will.” He runs his thumb gently over her hands, smiling softly.
“Well, you cannot,” his gaze shoots back up, and he stops himself from making a remark, taking in her serious reaction, making a frown come across his face, “my love, please tell me what is wrong.”
“I think that women should be allowed to go to University,” before he can say anything, she leans forward and moves her hands so that she is griping his (which Anthony did not thoroughly enjoy, as he prefers to be the one leading) and she smiles, her eyes twinkling, “I mean, look at Eloise, she is so smart; she should be allowed to show others that and she should be allowed expand her knowledge.”
Now, Anthony was raised with manners, and he was raised to respect other people’s opinions, but he can’t help but laugh, his voice booming.
She sighs and leans back, dropping his hands, a loud thud following as her back hits the seat. Of course, he would laugh he is a man after all, and what else is she to expect?
“I-I’m sorry,” he attempts to breathe out, reaching forward to take her hands again, “but that-at is preposterous.” She sighs, ripping her hands from his.
“You are a fool to think women are less than men,” she does not meet his eyes, deciding to glance out of the window Anthony was before, watching the houses go past and trees begin to emerge.
He frowns, straightening his posture, “I do not believe women are less than men, I believe,” smiling, he leans forward, lifting a hand to gently cup her cheek, making her blush, “that there are certain responsibilities that men have, and that is one.”
She turns, eyes bright with fury as she pushes his hand away, “responsibilities?” She scoffs, straightening her posture, “responsibilities? I have never heard such a joke.” She brushes down her skirt, glaring at him, “it is a pleasure, a gift, to be allowed to educate yourself in a chosen field of study, to even educate yourself!” Her voice is raised so that she is practically shouting, making his eyes widen.
“Darling -”
“No! I do not wish to rely on a man for the rest of my life, and I do not even own my own body,” she begins to make a range of hand gestures, and her husband’s eyes widened further at the sight.
“Have you gone hysterical?” He worries for his wife, considering calling the carriage to stop so that he could call for a doctor.
“How dare you!” It is in fact (Y/n) who got the carriage to stop as she hit the side angrily, making his draw drop. Hiking up her skirts, she pushes the door open and steps out; the carriage had come to a stop.
Anthony follows her, smiling at their employees in reassurance, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment, “my love.”
She continues, ignoring the fool of a man whom she married.
Anthony begins to quicken his pace, noticing her heading for the forest, and he takes a step-in front of her, stopping her, “I did not mean to offend you.”
“Well… you did,” she brushes past him, brushing herself down.
He does not go after her, gripping his hair and spinning in a circle before he gasps proudly, “Your body is your own! I never even knew I owned it.” She turns to him and gives him a glare that pierces his soul, making him pull a nervous smile, “you do not even know how lucky you are!” It takes all that she can to not scream.
“I am sorry (Y/n), please forgive me,” he sighs and gently walks over her, taking her hands in his and trying not to melt under her glare, “Mother always taught us that women are important and equal to us, we are all taught that women are gifts and I apologise for not realising that society does not treat you the same as it treats us, men.”
There is a moment of pause as she finally looks down to meet his eyes, but she does not answer.
“Tell me what you want, and I shall get it for you.”
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Lord Berbrooke appears unable to stop staring at the Viscountess, eyes wide as he reads the title of the book she is reading; it is of scientific nature. “What on Earth is your wife reading?”
Anthony looks away from his brother and up to the standing man. They are currently at the park, sitting down and talking as gentlemen too, a quick break from their families who they should be joining - his wife with his mothers, sisters, Gregory, and Colin.
“A book, I believe, Lord Berbrooke,” Anthony retorts and most men around them manage to choke back their laughter. He looks away from the man and over to his wife, his smile widening, making Benedict shake his head at his brother, a smile also forming.
“A book of science,” all eyes return to Anthony, who clenches his eyes shut, inhaling deeply.
Smiling, he turns behind him, withholding himself from making a comment on the man’s eyesight, “one day, you will marry and understand what exactly ‘happy wife, happy life’ means."
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Lord Berbrooke laughs loudly, proud of his own joke. Those around him, however, those Gentlemen, do not, because not only was it rude, but they have great respect for the Viscountess. This evening they are awaiting the ball to start, for the host to arrive, and pathetic conversations like this are the only form of entertainment that they currently have.
"What was that Lord Berbrooke?"
Their eyes widen, and the Baron turns to face the young woman, "nothing, my lady.” The room has gone quiet, everyone turning to face them, including her husband.
“You mentioned women being lesser than men, I believe?” The room’s gaze shifts to the man, many offended but all curious.
“Lord Bridgerton,” his gaze flickers to the man behind her. Anthony nods, walking forward to place his hand on the small of her back, facing the man with an arched brow. (Y/n) finds her cheeks flushing a deep shade, ignoring the looks of disgust from the Baron.
“I am not her keeper, Nigel.”
“It was simply concerning the fact that women should not work they should stay at home -”
“Excuse me, but to cook and clean, I am guessing?” He nods. (Y/n) sighs, placing her clasped hands against her front, looking down to him as if he is a child, “Lord Berbrooke, would you like your daughters to also be illiterate.”
He scoffs, turning to those in the room, chuckling, “no child of mine will be that uneducated.” Many do laugh this time, shaking their head at the young woman. She is not phased, which is something that her husband admires about her, as she instead shakes her head at them as if they are disobedient children.
There are several things that Anthony could say to this man, but he withholds.
“So, you wish for us to learn skills but not to use them?"
Silence.
She arches her brow, the light of the room making her glow, as an Angel, the Bridgertons would say.
"Well, I wouldn’t say -” he cuts his snobbish self-off, “Lord Bridgerton, control your wife.” He turns up his nose, staring down at her.
(Y/n) glances to her husband, who steps forward to come next to her, sliding his hand through her arm, “Lord Berbrooke.”
“Yes,” all eyes are on them, and everyone holds their breath. Anthony smiles, gaze fixating on his wife for a second, pure adoration in his eyes, before focusing on the Baron’s, adoration quickly drifting away.
“With all due respect, I would rather face your wrath than my wife’s."
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(Gifs aren’t mine, credit to the owners)
Author is always me on this blog: @daydreams-magic01 .
Disclaimer: These are fanfictions, however, the scenarios, dialogue, etc are of mine creation. Please do not copy or plagiarise my work, my work should only be found on this blog, nowhere else. I have also tried my best at writing British, etc.
Requests:Open
I am open to suggestions, so if there are any other fandoms you want to see yo write for, feel welcome to ask on my ‘Request’ section. If you want to be added to a taglist, please do the same.
Anthony Bridgerton
Female Reader
“With all due respect, I would rather face your wrath than my wife’s.”
Benedict Bridgerton
Female Reader
Choice - Anthony Bridgerton x Reader
Genre: angst? | friends to lovers
Warnings: my bad writing | GIF not mine | English is not my first language
Summary: You are the daughter of the Marquess of Queensberry, and have been a friend of the Bridgertons since birth. After your father allowed you to pursue your studies in France, you return to London to enter society. Upon receiving the news of your return from your father, Lady Bridgerton offers to look after you during this season. You are delighted to be reunited with your friends, confident that your past feelings for Anthony are now gone. But how true that is, you are soon to find out.
You were not nervous. Not at all. You were the epitome of calmness. That is why you could not stop toying with the ribbon around your wrist, or why you were tapping your foot on the marbled floor.
You were calm. Posed, elegant. A perfect lady.
It would have been nice if you could actually believe what you were so desperately trying to tell yourself. Your dear mama, bless her soul, would have fainted if she could have seen the mess you were making of your perfectly styled dress. But you were a lady, and you were calm.
And, most importantly, you were grateful that the butler had stayed silent. If anything, he just gave you a sympathetic look when you loudly gasped as he announced your arrival at the Bridgerton House.
There was no reason to be nervous, so you inhaled as much air as humanly possible, and stepped through the open door.
The first thing you saw was a flash of light blue, and before you could blink twice, Lady Bridgerton was in front of you, smiling fondly.
“My dearest Y/N,” she said, holding both of your hands, “it brings me so much joy to see you after all of these years.”
You breathed. This part was easy; it came to you like second nature to delicately wrap your arms around the woman who had been to you nothing less than a mother. “Lady Bridgerton, it is a pleasure to finally be here again.”
“Now, dearest, you know you must call me Violet,” she reminded you with the same sweet voice she used when you were a child, “we are family, after all.”
You bowed your head.
Family. That is what the Bridgertons were to you. And speaking of, you could not help but notice the absence of all of them.
“Where is everyone?” you asked, looking around the room.
“I thought it best not to call them this morning until you arrived. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
You nodded, taking a seat next to Lady Bridgerton. Everything was so familiar in this place, although most of your childhood was spent at Aubrey Hall, and you could not help but relax. You had loved your time in France, but returning home was a feeling so warm and overwhelming that it had managed to ease all of your nervousness for the upcoming season.
“I take France has been a lovely time?”
“Most wonderful. My tutors were incredibly patient with me and my studies proceeded well. Although, I must say I have missed you all.”
The door opened with a loud bang and you saw Gregory and Hyacinth making their way inside the room, fighting over something you did not quite catch.
“Children! Where are your manners? You must be on your best behaviour in front of our guest,” Lady Bridgerton said, amusement colouring her voice.
“Y/N!” both Hyacinth and Gregory shouted, immediately running to you. They had grown up so much in the three years you had been away, you could hardly believe that they were not the two little children of your memories.
You hugged them both, telling them how much you had missed them. Their shouts must have alerted the other Bridgertons because one by one they started filling the room. Benedict was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he noticed you, his younger siblings wrapped around you. Colin had wanted to share notions of his travels with you, seeming completely enraptured by your tales of France. Eloise could not stop asking you about your studies, what had you been reading, what did you think about modern political issues concerning women, and utterly expressing her frustration and envy at the fact that your father had allowed you to study while she was forced to go hunt for an eligible husband. Francesca was just as polite as you remembered and she made you promise to practice with her on the pianoforte.
In the middle of your reunion with the Bridgertons, you almost missed Anthony standing frozen at the door, disbelief written all over his face upon seeing you entertaining his siblings with your stories of France. When you noticed him, you shot him an amused smile.
“What is the meaning of this?” Anthony said looking at you and then at his mother. “Is it not custom anymore to inform first the head of the household of the arrival of a new guest?”
You laughed, hearing the amusement in his voice. You got up and walked towards Anthony, deciding once again that you were calm. Nothing was happening inside of you. Absolutely nothing.
“Hush now, brother,” said Benedict.
Anthony met you halfway through the room and you lightly bowed your head. “My Lord,” you said shooting him a playful glance, “I hope my unexpected arrival is not met with your disapproval.”
“I guess forgiveness might still be granted,” he sighed tilting his head to the side feigning annoyance. “With the right price, of course,” he added.
Eloise groaned in the back, “you two are gross”.
You could not help but laugh, “and what could possibly be that the Viscount wants from me?”
Anthony smiled at you. He was done joking, you could tell how happy and pleased he was to see you. You could have pointed out the small flip your heart did inside your chest, but you ignored it. It seemed there was a lot you were going to ignore when it came to Anthony Bridgerton.
“Why, but a hug.” And before you realised it, you were between his arms, your head gently pressed to his chest. You could not help but inhale deeply, because you could ignore almost anything, but you certainly could not ignore how much you had missed him. And perhaps your heart was now pounding in your chest, perhaps your throat felt tighter and you could not quite well inhale enough air. Perhaps your stomach became an intricate knot and your skin was burning you alive. And perhaps you had been a fool, thinking that three years in France would have removed any feeling you might have possibly harboured for the Viscount, but when you took a step back nothing of what was going on inside you was showing on your face.
You were going to ignore it all. And perhaps, you were going to ignore how the Viscount’s hand had brushed ever so lightly on the bare skin of your back when you pulled away. Perhaps, you were going to ignore the sharp intake of breath he took when you had rested your head on him. You were more than certain you were going to ignore how his fingers brushed your arms before falling back to his side.
Yes, you were going to ignore it all, for if there was one thing in this world you could not allow yourself to do, it was falling back in love with Anthony Bridgerton.
And so, you stayed calm.
***
The evening of your first ball since your return to England had finally come. Lady Danbury was hosting this ball to celebrate your reunion and your father had informed you earlier that day that the Queen would be attending. You supposed it should have come to no surprise considering that both women had been close with your mother, the late Marchioness.
“Maybe we can still find a way out of this dreadful situation.”
You turned around to look at Eloise wrestling with her dress and fidgeting around her gloves. You chuckled, “I am afraid one does not say no the Queen.”
“One could fake an illness or faint on the dance floor,” she muttered making Benedict laugh.
“Must you always be so much fun at every ball, sister?”
You shook your head and left the two Bridgertons arguing to themselves. To be completely honest, you were starting to feel nervous, and you regretted drinking that lemonade earlier. It was exhausting having to join meaningless conversations with men who had clearly no interest in your studies and with women who had too much interest in your private affairs.
“Lady Y/N, the Queen summons you.”
At last, the time had come. You made your way to where the Queen and Lady Danbury were standing, your heart sinking into your stomach. When you stood in front of the two women, you bowed deeply in sign of respect.
“My Queen, it is an honour to be back in England and in your presence,” you said with all the grace and sweetness your voice could manage. “Lady, Danbury, I am most grateful for the ball. Your kindness humbles me.”
The Queen smiled at you, and your worries disappeared. You had her favour still.
“Come, child. I want to hear everything about your trip.”
***
“I could not help but notice you are not dancing.”
You smiled, no need to turn around. You could have recognised that voice in the middle of a maze, at midnight, blindfolded. The way your chest would alight upon hearing that voice, the way the sound would carry its weight right into your heart and deep inside you, making you feel heavy and light at the same time, were all signs that you had learned to recognise with time.
“I am afraid I have not found anyone worthy of my time,” you replied.
You knew your mother would have wanted you to find a love match, or at the very least a comfortable marriage, but truth be told you were not looking for either. Your father had other plans for you when it came to marriage, and as for you, you swore off love years ago.
Anthony smiled at you, standing at your side. “I take you have not missed any of this?”
You looked around the room, at all those people dressed in fancy clothes, dancing and talking, some of them hoping to secure a future for themselves. You watched them from distance, as you have always done. The dynamics of society never really concerned you. Your father had made sure that you would be provided for well before your birth. Your life was secure in a way many of these people envied. You had no need for a husband, you had never really needed to fit in. The Queen had treated you like a protege since childhood, a favour to your mother. All you ever desired was to find your freedom and your place in the world. You had found the first, but you were far away from achieving the second.
“I suppose I have not, not really. I was never much of dancer,” you replied at last.
Anthony hummed and stepped in your line of vision, extending his hand towards you. “I remember differently from when we were children. Allow me to have this dance, Lady Y/N.”
And so, once again, you were a turmoil of emotions, desperately trying to tell yourself that you were imagining everything. You nodded your head, not really trusting your voice. Taking Anthony’s hand, you both stepped in the dance floor. His hand found its place in the centre of your back while the other held yours firmly.
“You are right, in a way,” you told him while spinning around the room. The way he would catch your body back to his was making it very difficult to concentrate on your steps. Your bodies were gravitating around each other, being pulled back together like a magnet.
Anthony cocked his head to the side, a curious glint in his eyes. You continued, “you are quite right, my Lord. We danced together a great deal in our youth. However, I never really enjoyed dancing, not even as a child, unless it was with you.”
You felt his grip on your back tighten and you could swear Anthony took a sharp intake of air. His hand was so firmly pressed against you that you soon found yourself dangerously close to him. The dancing pace had quickened and you were soon out of breath, yet you knew that the reason had little to do with the dancing itself. Anthony was silent, he was looking at you in the eyes, not allowing you to look anywhere but him. On the rare occasions that his eyes would move, it would be lower, and you had to fight the urge to whimper when you found him staring at your lips.
Breathing was becoming almost impossible. You had to get away from him. And really, you only had yourself to blame for the situation you were in. Three years spent in France trying to forget the very fact that your soul was consumed to its very core from the love you had for Anthony Bridgerton had not been sufficient enough. You had wasted all of your efforts and all it took was one dance. All of your talks of freedom, of independence, all was being washed away but the same feeling that caused you to flee.
You could not take it anymore, and so when the dance finally came to an end, you swiftly bowed to him and ran away in the most contained and gracious way you could manage. You did not stop when he called your name, nor when Eloise did the same. You had to get out of there because any minute spent around Anthony was another minute your heart would spend harbouring hopes of a future together. Hopes that you could not allow yourself to have. You were the only heir your father had, the family line was going to die with you. And so, your father had allowed the freedom and the independence you had always desired. As his only heir, you were to be Marchioness of Queensberry. But you could not marry or you would lose your title.
You could either marry Anthony Bridgerton and become his Viscountess or you could become the head of your own household and be Y/N, Marchioness of Queensberry.
Perhaps France had not been a far enough place for you to run to to get rid of these feelings. Although, you doubted there was a corner in this world you could go to where your soul did not long to be with Anthony, where your heart would ever stop loving him.
***
Dear Gentle Reader,
as I am sure you are aware, Lady Y/N of Queensberry has made her return to England and was present at yesterday night’s ball. For those of you who don’t remember, three years ago the young Marchioness left the country to pursue her studies in France. The reason behind such a decision is to most obscure, but not to this author. In fact, as the only heir of the Marquess of Queensberry, Lady Y/N has been schooled on matters of the estate, on top of the duties of a household. Nothing has been confirmed, but this author wonders whether certain traditions might finally come to an endand if indeed Lady Y/N is to become the new Marchioness. And now, dearest reader, I must inform you of what I am sure has been duly noted by many members of the ton. Lady Y/N, noted friend of the esteemed Bridgertons, was seen dancing with no one less than the Viscount himself. You must agree with me that the two did make quite the couple, and this author wonders if perhaps we are in the presence of what might very well be the most heartbreaking story of the season. Rest assured, dear reader, that I shall uncover the details.
Yours, Lady Whistledown
***
“Y/N? Are you listening to me?” Eloise was waving a hand in your face while you were all enjoying the sunshine in the park. You were lost in your own thoughts and had not heard a single word she said.
“I am sorry, Eloise, what were you saying?” You asked, shaking your head to get rid of your thoughts. It had been five days since the ball and you had managed to avoid Anthony with great success. Your father had joined you in London the day after the ball so you could assist him in his work. Focusing on your duties and responsibilities made it a lot easier to avoid Anthony but when the Bridgertons had asked you to join them for an afternoon stroll in the park you could not refuse. You finally had a chance to catch up with Daphne about her life and tried your best to avoid Anthony’s gaze.
“So, is it true what Lady Whistledown has written about you? You are to be Marchioness?” Eloise asked again.
You nodded, “indeed. Although, there is still much to learn before anything really happens.”
“That is quite lovely my dear,” Lady Bridgerton said with a small smile, although you couldn’t help but notice a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I cannot help but wonder what will happen when you finally find love.”
“Whatever do you mean, mother?” Benedict asked. You knew very well what Lady Bridgerton was asking and you finally understood the sadness you spotted in her eyes. She was worried about you.
“I cannot imagine many gentlemen who would marry a woman who is in charge of her own land,” Lady Bridgerton said.
“Then they would be a fool,” came Anthony’s reply. You forced yourself to not look at him in the eyes.
You sighed, “do not worry, Lady Bridgerton. I do not think it will pose any threat.” When you were met with confused looks, you continued explaining, “the conditions of my inheritance is that I will not marry. If I have to become Marchioness that shall be on my own and not through marriage.”
Lady Bridgerton gasped, “you cannot mean that. But what about love?”
You finally turned towards Anthony. He looked like someone had just punched all the air out of him. He opened his mouth to say something and then immediately closed it. He didn’t know what to say, but then again, what does one say when the person whom you have loved your entire life just told you they are never to be married?
“What about it? She’ll have something much better than that. She’ll have her independence,” replied Eloise.
“Yeah, I suppose I will,” you said sadly.
***
You were enjoying some lemonade, looking at all the people dancing. Throughout the years, when the other ladies where being taught how to dance gracefully and you were learning how to manage your estate, you had grown fond of being a spectator. You had learned how to recognise the look of true joy, to spot if a gentleman was interested in a young lady and if she had any feelings towards him. You had known from the very start that love would have no part in your life, so you learned how to live love through people.
Your father had been so scarred by the death of you beloved mama that he vowed you would never have to go through the same pain. And so, he had given you something many ladies wished for but could never have: your freedom. In return, you had given up love. You had set to France hoping to get rid of your feelings for the Viscount, wishing that distance could take them all away, so that you could become the Marchioness you were always meant to be. But now you knew how foolish you had been to even think that. Your feelings had resurfaced the moment your eyes met Anthony’s. They bursted into your heart and set it alight consuming you to your very core. And all was left behind was heartbreak and ashes.
“Is it true, then?”
You didn’t turn around, you already knew who it was. “Is what true, my Lord?”
“You are to be Marchioness?” Anthony asked you. This time you looked at him. His jaw was set, his posture rigid. Why did he look like he was the one in pain? And why did that make you feel hopeful?
“I am indeed, my Lord,” you answered him. You didn’t really know what he wanted you to say that he didn’t already know.
He nodded, “very well.” Then, he moved in front of you, just like he always used to do when he wanted to shield you from everyone else, the very same action that had always made you feel you were his and his alone. “May I have a last dance, Lady Y/N?”
You inhaled sharply. “My Lord?” You asked confused. Last dance? You had no idea what he meant by that. But Anthony offered you no explanation, he simply took your hand in the most delicate and loving way. Your heart melted, you did not care that it was probably inappropriate to take hold of a lady’s hand, all you cared about was the soft brush of his thumb against your skin. Everything inside you was burning. The world was empty but from him and you, and you were burning.
You started dancing. It was slow, it was intimate, it was painful. Every time he had to let you go, you could see the pain in his eyes. And every time you came back in his arms, he pulled you closer, like he never wanted to let you go. You felt Anthony’s hands gripping your waist, leaving a mark behind. You felt the heat through the fabric of your dress and you had never wished for the contact of his skin like you were now. Breathing was becoming a hard task.
“I guess this is why you never concerned yourself to dance with anyone else but me.” You were not expecting him to speak, nor to sound so broken.
You looked at him in the eyes, not even feeling offended at his slight accusation. “I dance only with you because you are the only one I want to dance with.”
He spun you around so that your back was firmly pressed to his chest. Then he lowered his head, and his lips brushed your ear ever so softly when he whispered “and why is that?”
Before you could turn around, the dance was over and Anthony was making his way out of the room. You were left there, breathing heavily, with your stomach scrunched in pain, empty and broken. Your father would be sad knowing that you had felt the pain of heartbreak long before you even knew what love was and that the very thing he had tried to shield you from was the thing that was already destroying you. But what your father could never figure out was that that pain, that crushing feeling of not being able to be with the person you loved, it was all worth it. Love was worth the pain, the burning. Anthony was worth every tear, every heartbreak because he was the person that had always cheered you up, the person you would go to whenever you were sad, the person who loved you dearly, of that you were now sure, and the person you had loved since you were old enough to know what love was.
He was worth the pain, he was worth more than your title. And so, you ran after him.
***
You found him on the terrace, his head lowered down, his shoulders visibly tense. He looked in pain and the sight broke your heart a little.
“Why did you say a last dance?” You announced yourself by asking him the question that had been plaguing you.
Anthony chuckled but there was no mirth in it. He shook his head, looking at the starry sky. “I cannot dance with you again.”
You took a step closer to him, “and why is that?”
Anthony rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, turning around to face you. “Because it is too much of a torment. One that I cannot endure anymore.”
“I had no idea dancing with me would cause you so much torment, my Lord,” you said through a broken voice and tears that threaten to run down your face. “Rest assured, it is not my intention to hurt you any longer. You shall be free from your torment.”
“What are you implying?” His voice hardened, but whether it was from hurt or anger, you did not know. Anthony was now in front of you, his eyes frantically looking for yours.
You gulped, “I shall return to my estate in Scotland. I have no business in London seeing as I am in no need of a husband. You will never have to dance with me again.”
“You cannot do this.” Anthony grabbed your arm and you could no longer hold your tears. “You cannot leave again.”
You looked at his pleading eyes, at the fear that lied behind them, it was for you cause of immense pain. Perhaps this was the right thing to do. You came here to tell Anthony that you loved him, that your title meant nothing, and now you were in the middle of doing the opposite. It was for the best, you told yourself through the sobs. You could not disappoint your father. It did not matter that you would never know what it was like to be utterly and completely loved. It could not matter.
“Please,” Anthony whispered, “do not leave me again. These past three years have been so difficult, all I could think about was seeing you back here. Back with me.”
You shook your head, anger rising. “I do not understand. I thought I caused you torment?!”
Anthony squeezed your arm and rested his head on your shoulder, inhaling deeply. You felt his nose brush your neck and your heart skipped several beats. “It is the love I have for you that torments me so.”
“Anthony, I-“
“Y/N,” he spoke your name softly, hesitantly, almost scared. He said it so quietly and you were immediately drunk on the way it had sounded from his lips. “Being so close to you and not being able to kiss you,” his other hand now grabbed your waist, leaving hot marks on your skin, “to hug you, to make you mine in all the ways a man can make a woman his,” he continued, placing his lips to your ear and breathing in your scent, “it torments me. It is crushing my very soul.”
You were breathing hard, almost panting. Your head was hurting, you could not think. Everything around you was a blur and all that existed was the man who was gripping your waist as if you were the only anchor in the ocean that could save him. All you could feel was Anthony’s lips brushing against your skin, so close that you could feel little sparkles and yet so far from where you really wanted them. Your world was on fire, and Anthony had been the one to set it aflame.
“Anthony, please-”
“But I am a gentleman, and I cannot,” he said tearing himself away from you, “I will not take away your freedom, your title.”
You shook your head with vigour and this time it was you who grabbed his arm. “Don’t,” you whispered, “don’t take away my freedom by choosing for me.”
Anthony was refusing to meet your eyes so you tugged on his jacket, “I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I have done so since the very first time you asked me to dance with you.”
You were now crying. Silent sobs were shaking your body and your head was pounding so hard that you could hardly stand up. Anthony finally met your eyes and brushed away your tears. You smiled, wishing that you could show him how much he had always meant to you. But here you were, crying on the terrace and no idea on how to fix the situation you were in. You loved the Viscount, but did the Viscount love you?
“I do,” Anthony said, reading the silent question in your eyes. “I am tormented by my feelings for you, by the fear that I will be taking away from you much more than what I will be able to give you in return. But I love you, every day more than each passing one. With all of my heart, my soul is yours.”
And then he kissed you. Slowly, like you expected him to do. Because Anthony had always been careful with you, always making sure you were comfortable and happy with him. He had a way of touching you, almost as if he was touching a diamond, as if he wanted to worship you, cherish you. You kissed him back through your salty lips, anchoring yourself to him. His lips were soft and warm and you never wanted him to stop. You needed him to never stop.
You let out a small sigh, almost a moan, and it was all it took for Anthony to groan into your mouth and completely devour your very essence. He was everywhere, in your hair, on your waist, touching your back, caressing your face, pushing you closer and closer to him. He was consuming you, and you had no objection to it.
“Anthony,” you sighed while trying to breathe in as much air as you could. He was smiling at you, so bright and beautiful, and you could swear that in that moment there was no title, no duties to honour, just the love that you two shared.
You laughed, finally happy. “I choose you, Anthony Bridgerton.”
“What about your position?” He asked.
“I will deal with my Father when the time is due. For now,” you said resting your head on his shoulder, completely at peace, “for now, I choose you.”
Anthony kissed the top of your head and embraced you. The two of you stayed like this for a very long time, long enough for Benedict to find you, still embraced, still in love with each other, still so happy. You would both worry about the future tomorrow. Because you were determined to keep your position as Marchioness and marry the man you loved. You had made your choice and the world was going to respect it, one way or the other.
pressure pt. ii | anthony, viscount bridgerton |
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!
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