#Anthony Bridgerton x reader series

[writtenfangirl]

Madness

I wrote this so long ago and then abandoned it because I didn’t know if the ending was satisfactory or not. I thought it would have a greater plot as well but when I couldn’t find it, I was dissatisfied until I reread it and realized the prose was too good not to publish.

Fluff but also a little bit of angst if you squint hard enough.

In which Benedict Bridgerton finally reveals the truth.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful, if Benedict was being perfectly honest with himself. Not the kind of beauty that had him picking up a paint brush and painstakingly striking an easel with lovely swirls of color but the kind of beauty that distracted him, made him brood in a dim corner of the room, watching the little twists of her mouth and the subtle way she arched a brow. Beauty to the point of distraction, like spending hours watching shooting stars dash across the night sky, not realizing as dawn approached on the horizon.

It was utterly maddening.

She was utterly maddening.

How was he meant to live, to exist and breathe, to witness such great beauty and yet have none of the capacity, the right, to keep it?

Just a glance from her, a single curve of her lips, and Benedict could feel his faith in God strengthening as easily as he could deny the Lord’s existence. Only a benevolent God could create such ecstatic beauty and yet no benevolent God could exist in this world if Benedict had to bear the cruelty of Y/N’s indifference.

Maddening.

He sighed, the sound bereft as he continued to watch her charm the eligible men of the ton. She had a veritable cabal of men gathered around her and if any other debutant had been in her position, they surely would have been overwhelmed by now.

But not Y/N.

Never Y/N.

With her head held high and her smile demure, she directed the men as easily as if she was holding court. A slight clearing of the throat and already, someone had a glass of lemonade in their hand while a flap of her hand would have the men falling over themselves in an attempt to get her a chair.

A queen holding court, indeed.

Benedict rolled his eyes at the man to her right, who practically shoved at the man on his left in order to catch Y/N’s attention. Not that it really mattered though, especially not when Y/N’s attention was focused on Benedict.

Even from across the room, the tension between them felt palpable. Exhilarating. It always had been with Y/N. Thick and smooth, the connection between them as tangible as their own beating hearts. Just a shared look between them and the world fell silent, the edges of his vision practically darkening at the edges until he saw only her.

Beautiful. Even as her face contorted with hurt for the briefest of seconds, her eyes pulling away from him and returning to the crowd of men that surrounded her.

Benedict gritted his teeth, the only sign of annoyance he let himself show.

“I see you are not quite so enamored with our diamond.”

Benedict’s head whipped to the left, finding Lady Danbury watching him with those shrewd eyes of hers. The old crone had her cane gripped tightly in her hands and Benedict fought his grimace at the phantom pain that shot up from his ankles. The dowager countess had a terrible habit of whacking gentlemen she didn’t like with that sturdy cane of hers and Benedict had felt the brunt of that pain far too many times for his liking.

Still, as a gentleman, he couldn’t very well ignore the woman. It would have been terribly rude of him to and it went against every fiber of the etiquette that had been drilled to him as a child.

He spared Y/N another glance before he spoke. “You think all those men enamored with her?”

“I think they think themselves enamored by her,” Lady Danbury said. “She is quite a beauty and accomplished too, I hear. Are you acquainted with the young lady?”

He had been, when he was young. As recently as a few months ago, Benedict had counted Y/N as one of his dearest friends but with everything that transpired between them…

“We are familiar with one another.”

Lady Danbury arched a brow, directing her attention back to Y/N. She was animatedly speaking with Anthony and Colin, the only time the entire evening where her smile didn’t seem a little bit forced. “Your brothers seem friendly with her. Why aren’t you?”

Because he was a stupid, bloody, idiot who didn’t know how to keep his damn mouth shut, that’s why.

But his pride would never let him say that, especially not in front of Lady Danbury. “We are familiar with each other.” He repeated, voice tight.

Lady Danbury’s eyes flickered. “I seem to recall your mother telling me about how you and the Lady Y/N were thick as thieves not so long ago.”

Bloody hell, the old crone was relentless. He didn’t want to talk about his and Y/N’s falling out, especially not with her.

He suddenly whirled, cocking his head to the side. “Oh, I believe I hear someone calling me.”

No one was calling him but not even his impeccable manners could make him stay.

Lady Danbury harrumphed. “I may be old, boy, but I am not deaf.”

“Definitely hear someone calling me.” Benedict even cupped a hand, placing it on the side of his mouth before he yelled a quick, “I’ll be right there!” He turned back to Lady Danbury, who was looking at him as if she knew his claims were a lie. “Lady Danbury, if you’ll excuse me.”

The dowager countess simply gave Benedict a knowing look yet let him go.

He ducked into the crowd towards… bloody hell he couldn’t find anyone he would rather talk to. His brothers were still off speaking with Y/N and he didn’t feel like speaking with his mother, who would likely hound him about his fight with Y/N. Which left the last person of their party, Eloise. A quick scan of the room revealed his sister in the other side of the room, conspiratorially whispering to her best friend, Penelope Featherington.

He zoomed towards them, turning his back on Y/N and Lady Danbury.

Eloise caught his eye as he approached and her lips pursed in displeasure. “Why do you look as if you’re expecting me to bail you out of a horrible situation.”

“Can’t I see my favorite sister with joy in my face without being suspected of ill intent?”Benedict said with a grin before bowing to Penelope, who returned the gesture with her own curtsy.

Penelope ducked her head to suppress a giggle.

Eloise rolled her eyes at him. “What do you want?”

“To ask you why you’re sulking in a corner instead of dancing despite—“ he pulled at the dance card in her wrist, every single line filled with names that were unfamiliar to him. “Did you put fake names in your dance card?”

Eloise snatched her wrist back. “Yes. I thought that with Y/N grabbing the attention of so many of the gentlemen, I would be spared the embarrassment of having to entertain any gentlemen tonight. Unfortunately, I was wrong.”

Benedict turned to Penelope. “How many approached her?”

“Six,” Penelope smirked, “and those six quickly turned right back around.”

“Well with a full dance card, I’m not at all surprised.”

Eloise rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Spare me the lecture, brother. I’m sure I’ll hear enough from mother tonight.”

“She caught you?”

“After Eloise turned down the sixth one, Lady Violet began to suspect,” Penelope explained.

Benedict grinned. “When have you known me to lecture you?”

She gave him a saccharine smile, the kind that Benedict always knew would end with her barbed words. “Aren’t you meant to be fawning over Y/N? You’d done it most of our life.”

He bristled at her words.

Penelope shot them a curious look. “You never told me you were acquainted with the lady?”

“Hadn’t I?” Eloise frowned. “Lady Y/L/N’s family and ours have been acquainted for ages. Of course, she rarely ever came to London and if it hadn’t been for her father’s recent passing she wouldn’t have had a season at all. Mama had held hope that perhaps one of my dear brothers would begin to take some responsibility and marry her.” She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper that was so loud, it still reached Benedict’s ears. “Personally, I always thought Benedict would offer. He and Y/N had a special bond growing up. Even Daphne thinks so.”

Benedict had never hit a woman before but perhaps, just this once, excuses could be made for one’s sisters.

“So, well acquainted then,” Penelope said with a slight smile.

“I do recall Benedict pining after Y/N for years,” Eloise mused, uncaring as Benedict’s mood soured. “You never did tell me why it is you suddenly became estranged”

“Not that it’s any of your business.” He grumbled.

Eloise batted eyes innocently. “Irritable today, aren’t you, brother? Could it possibly be because of the cadre of men that hound every one of Y/N’s footsteps?”

“I have changed my mind. Francesca is now my favorite sister.”

“I love you too, Benedict,” she all but grinned.

He turned his attention back to Y/N, who, to his surprise, had taken her leave.

“She’s in the garden, if you wish to speak to her,” Eloise said, noting his wandering eyes and nodding towards the open veranda at the side.

“What gave you the impression that I would like to speak to her?” He tried to do his best nonchalant impression but not even Benedict was convinced of his own performance.

Eloise simply rolled her eyes at him before tugging Penelope’s arm. “With Y/N taking her respite, I imagine there will be a sudden influx of gentlemen who would like to dance. Let us make ourselves scarce.” And she pulled Penelope along, the red head offering Benedict an apologetic look.

He glanced at the crowd once again before letting his feet carry him through the veranda and out towards the garden. There were still many people milling about outside that granted them protection from scandal but it was much more intimate than the loud din of the ballroom.

The night was cool, the spring air serene compared to the humidity of the ballroom.

He spied Y/N, her back turned against the door. Upon hearing his approach, she sighed. “Good sir, if you did not understand me, I wish to be al—“ she turned and her words died at her lips at the sight of him. “Oh. It’s you.”

She looked even lovelier up close. She always did. Whether dressed in a simple frock with her long hair flowing down her back or dressed ornately with jewels adorning her, she always looked lovelier up close.

“What do you want, Benedict,” Y/N said, dropping that societal mask she employed inside.

“To apologize.”

She shook her head. “There is nothing to apologize for. You asked for my hand under false pretenses, I rejected you. End of story.“

“Under false pretenses?” He echoed, his own tone turning sharp. “You think my proposal to be insincere? Is that why you rejected me?”

“I did not think it insincere, I knew it to be insincere. I heard you and the Lady Violet discussing me. I heard when you declared your intention to ask for my hand in marriage simply because she had asked you to.”

Oh.

Oh.

He remembered then, the conversation he had with his mother right before he proposed.

“Propose to her,” Violet had urged just as breakfast had been served, with only Benedict and Violet dining.

“I am not even courting her, mama,” he replied exasperatedly. It had been far too early in the morning to entertain his mother’s insistence on seeing him wed to Y/N. She’d pestered him about it in one form or another even before the Y/L/Ns had come to visit the Bridgertons and Benedict knew she would not stop until he and Y/N were formally engaged.

But Y/N had just ended her mourning period for her father. And though societal mandates dictated that it was perfectly reasonable for Benedict to ask for her hand in marriage, he knew how deeply she mourned the man, especially since his death had placed her in such a precarious position. The late patriarch of the Y/L/N family had been fond of his only child, even if she had been born a girl. And Y/N had loved him, even if his death left her and her mother saddled with financial debt despite coming from the longest line of barony in England.

“What does it matter that you are not courting?” Violet demanded. “You have known her since you were both children. You’ve been courting her all your life.”

“Mama, please leave it well enough alone.”

“What is it that you do not like about her?” She insisted. “She is beautiful and accomplished and you have known each other your whole lives. Any young man would be fortunate to be bound to her in marriage.”

“I never said anything that would imply otherwise.”

“Then why do you refuse to ask her for her hand in marriage? Doing so would spare her a season in London and limit their financial troubles.” And then she had gasped in indignation. “Or is their financial troubles the very reason why you refuse? I never raised you to be avaricious!”

Bloody hell. “I am not avaricious, mother. I do not care about her dowry or lack thereof!”

“Then what is it? Do not tell me it is because you do not love her. I have seen the way you look at her.”

Benedict had eyed his fork, had wondered if perhaps, it would be a better to shove it in his ears than listen to his mother’s hullabaloo.

Instead he took a scone, spreading a generous layer of clotted cream and jam so his hands had something to do rather than maim himself.

“And how is it I look at her, mother?” He drawled.

“The same way your father used to look at me.”

At that he had paused, scone half-raised to his mouth. He hadn’t known what to say anymore. Mentions of his own father had always been capable of silencing his mind.

Finally, he had decided on telling her the truth, that his mother may finally stop pestering him.

“Asking Y/N for her hand in marriage had always been the plan, mother,” Benedict relented. “I was simply waiting for the perfect moment.”

Violet smiled at her son kindly. “There are no such thing as perfect moments, dearest. Only moments that can be made perfect. And whether you ask her later or tomorrow or next week, that moment will be perfect by virtue of you asking.”

She was right, of course. Violet Bridgerton was so rarely incorrect especially in matters of the heart and love.

Benedict had given her a smile, and said, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Well, since you so graciously asked me to, I shall propose to the Lady Y/N, if only to make you happy.”

That must have been what Y/N heard. Not the whole story but the end, when Benedict had teased his mother.

Now he was convinced that God existed and that he must be cruel. Only the machinations of a cruel God could have lined up the timing perfectly.

Y/N’s eyes flickered as she regarded him. “I do not wish to bind you in marriage with someone you do not hold any affection for. You have fulfilled your promise to your mother and have asked for my hand. I rejected you. We no longer have any obligations with one another. Good night.” She made a move to pass him, to walk back to the ballroom to her gaggle of men but Benedict’s hand shot up, gripping her arm and keeping her to him.

His hands were gloved and even Y/N’s arms were sheathed in silk. And though he had never felt gloves to be particularly offensive, he wished to burn the ones that covered their hands. If only so he could feel her smooth skin beneath his fingers.

The heady scent of her perfume wafted through his senses. She smelled divine, like walking through a garden of roses under the cover of moonlight as the stars twinkled above his head. Utterly mouthwatering, and capable of driving even the sanest of men into insanity. The scent of distraction.

Always so distracting.

Benedict forced his mouth to speak before his brain could forget the words he needed to say. “Do you think so little of me? Capable of such cruelty especially when it comes to you.”

Y/N’s brows met, a flash of pain in her eyes and then it was gone. “It is the opposite, really. I think the world of you, Benedict. Only a gentleman would offer to marry a girl he has no obligations to simply because of her precarious position in life. You are an honorable man and any woman would be lucky to call you their husband. It is why I cannot accept your proposal, not when you do not love me. Not when there is no one on this world more deserving of love than you.”

Benedict frowned at her. “Why do you continue to insist that I do not love you?”

“Because you do not!” She pulled away from him, wrenching her hand from his grasp. Her eyes were pure anguish as she looked at him and the very sight of her pain had him staggering back. “If you truly held any affection for me, I would know. I have studied you all our lives, Benedict. And in all the time we shared together, you had never shown any affection for me beyond that of a friend. Your proposal hurt, Benedict. I have loved you in every way a man could be loved for so long and for you to ask for my hand in marriage out of pity—“ She choked, eyes widening as if she didn’t mean to say the things she’d said.

“You love me?” He echoed, heart beating quickly in his chest. He wondered, briefly, if his fast beating heart marks the day he really lived. If Y/N’s confession had been the reason he truly felt alive for the first time in his life.

Her face crumpled in pain as she stepped back. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said those things. Please take your leave, Benedict. That I may salvage whatever scraps of my dignity is left.”

But Benedict did no such thing.

Instead he took her hands and lowered himself into a kneel, setting his eyes upon her. The arching light of the manor spilled over the veranda casted her in a soft glow that took his very breath away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in alarm and whatever pain she held there was washed away by her surprise. “Benedict, what are you doing?”

“Begging you for forgiveness.”

“What? Benedict, get up.”

But he held firm, his determination cementing his knees to the ground. “Forgive me, Y/N, for my grave transgressions against you. That you had ever lived your life doubting my affections for you, or wondering if I cared for you as more than a friend are sins I will carry with me to my last breath. It will be my great shame that I had not made it abundantly clear that I love you. Because I do love you. Most ardently.”

“Benedict, get up. This is madness—“

“You are right. It is madness. The way I feel for you would drive the sanest of people into lunacy. But if loving you is madness then I don’t ever wish to be sane.”

Her eyes gleamed silver with unshed tears that threatened to fall from her pretty eyes. “B-But that morning, the day you proposed—“

“I did not propose to you out of pity for you, I did it out of pity for me. I needed to put myself out of my misery and finally marry the only girl I ever had the privilege of falling in love with rather than continue pining after you in secret.”

She let out a a laugh through her tears, the sound like bells chiming during a storm. Light and beautiful despite the pouring rain that threatened to drown it out. “Ask me again.”

His heart leapt to his throat, pounding so quickly he struggled to get the words out. But they came nonetheless, the words clear and betraying none of his anxiety. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

[lqveharrington]

My Wife | A.B.

summary: It was arranged for you and Anthony to marry for convince, but it seems as if the both of you find it much more than just a marriage of convince.

pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

includes: use of she/her pronouns, minimal use of Y/N, kissing, mentions of sex, some angst

a/n: i’ve been watching too much bridgerton and reading too much books to not write about him

After being wed and having one of the best wedding lunches, the new viscountess and Viscount Bridgerton found themselves with a dilemma. Although the two had known each other for quite some time before having to wed, they had not considered how they truly felt for one another. They merely saw each other as close friends through the years. So when their wedding night came — along with the added nights of their honeymoon — the newly wed couple did not know what was to come of them.

“You mustn’t leave us yet!” Hyacinth wraps her arms around your middle, smiling brightly toward her newest sister-in-law. “I still have so many things I need to ask you and so little time!”

“I’ll be back in a month, Hyacinth.” You press a kiss to her temple and squeeze her in your arms. You tuck one of her curls behind her ear and rub her cheek. “Besides, I’ve seen you grow into an amazing young woman so far, I doubt it’ll change in one month.”

She happily takes the compliment — albeit shyly — and took your hands in her. She swings them by her side and looks at you with all seriousness. “You must promise to be back in a month. No more and no less.”

“I promise.” You give her a soft smile. It wasn’t uncommon for Hyacinth to make you promise such things, she truly loved you even before you were betrothed to her eldest brother. You squeeze her hands gently, giving her a reassuring gaze. “But you must promise me that you’ll tell me all those stories of your adventures when I come back.”

“Of course.” She gives you a bright grin.

You give her an equally bright smile as she wraps her arms around you one last time before letting go, off to bother Gregory. The young Bridgerton boy gave you a hug, murmuring softly about how much he’d miss you before following his younger sister to stand by the front gates. They both were truly lights in the Bridgerton family, and you were happy that they both officially became a siblings to you. Even after practically raising them along side Anthony and Violet.

You move to walk over to the carriage when Eloise rushes over to you, eyes glazed and puffy.

“Eloise?” You stand in front of the young woman, catching her wipe her tears and sniffle. “Are you alright?” You bring a hand up to wipe her tears, giving her a look of remorse.

“I’m not bloody fine.” She sadly chuckled before pulling you into a tight hug. Eloise buried her head into your shoulder, sniffling loudly. “I can’t believe you married my prick brother.”

You quickly embraced the brunette, holding her close as her tears were soaked up by your white dress. You rubbed her back softly, murmuring a quiet response. “I can’t believe you’re crying for me and not Anthony.”

“Like I said, he’s a prick.” Eloise wiped her face with her bare hand, no decorum whatsoever. You handed her a handkerchief, nodding when she thanked you. She glanced back at the carriage awaiting you and Anthony before meeting your eyes again. “When I was younger, I thought that the easiest way for you to become my sister was to marry into the family.”

You listened intently, rubbing her shoulder.

“I didn’t think that you needed to marry after you helped raise us. You were practically family. I guess I never saw Anthony nor Benedict enough to marry such an amazing woman.” She fiddled with the bow at the front of her dress as she explained her thoughts for you. “When you came over one day and told us you were getting married to dear old Anthony… I think I was elated that you would really be our sister.” She looked up at you again. “I was happy that you and him came to your senses and that you would become the new Viscountess.”

Your eyes widened slightly. You forgot that no one else other than Anthony and your father knew that marriage was for convience. That the marriage was for the Bridgerton heir. Quickly, you mask your face. “I’ll let your mama handle being Viscountess for as long as she wants. I still have much to learn about that role.”

“Nonsense, you learned so much about it when you came over to help with Gregory and Hyacinth.” She nudged your side before pulling you into one last hug. “I won’t keep you long because Anthony keeps glaring over, but I truly believe you would be the best Viscountess the ton will ever see.” She pauses and looks over at her mother. “Well, besides mama.”

You shake your head with a playful grin, “I’ll see you in a month, El.”

She smiles softly as you step away to your carriage. You soften your gaze as you look back at her and the rest of the Bridgerton family. They were practically your second family and now they truly were family. You gave them a short curtesy for being a home to you when an arm wrapped around your waist. Without even looking, you knew who was next to you.

“Are you all done with your goodbyes?” Anthony teases, recounting how each of his siblings had a personal farewell from you. “I want my wife back.”

You scrunch your nose at his teasing words as he lays his hand out to help you into the carriage. “Jealous, Viscount Bridgerton?” You steady yourself as you enter the carriage, hand delicately placed in his. You adjust yourself in the carriage, pushing strands of hair off your face.

He squeezes your hand as he takes a seat next to you. He gave you a gentle look, eyes roaming around your face. “I would never be jealous of my siblings. Besides you’re stuck with me, Viscountess Bridgerton.”

You send him a soft smile at his words before waving toward the Bridgerton family once more as the carriage pulled away. You lean your head on Anthony’s shoulder like you usually did when you were younger, keeping your hand in his.

“You know, you don’t need to bow down to them.” Anthony gave a short peck to your head, rubbing his thumb on your hand.

You hum before speaking, “Your family has earned my respect over many years. I owe them at least one bow before I’m officially the Viscountess.”

He continues to rub your hand as he processes your words.

As the trek to Aubrey Hall began, you kept your hands intertwined with Anthony’s the entire time, occasionally one of you squeezing the other’s hand. You spoke mindlessly about the recent books you’ve read or how the visits to the modiste went with his sisters. You honestly did everything to keep your mind off from the impending wedding night that was to fall on the both of you.

And as if he read your mind, Anthony did the same. While he listened intently to your words, he added comments where he deemed it necessary and rubbed soft circles into your hand when he asked for more information. He would also tell his own tales, although they ranged from being drunk with his brothers to filing papers.

The tension between the both of you became apparent as you started to feel warmth lingering on your skin from his touch. It became even more ignited when you saw how he looked at you. He gave you such an amorous gaze, like you hung the stars up just for him.

You arrived at Aubrey Hall during nightfall, the lights outside just being lit by the staff already waiting for the both of you. No matter how many times you saw the place, you marveled at how beautiful it was.

Anthony stepped out of the carriage and dusted himself off before extending his hand for you to take. He led you through the house where the both of you would be staying, your things arriving well before your carriage came.

You let go of Anthony’s hand as you sat in front of the vanity, gently taking your earrings out and your jewelry when you saw him staring at you intensely. You raised a brow and opened your mouth to comment on it when he spoke.

The both of you quietly laughed at the unexpected mixing of your voices. You finished pulling all your jewelry off and stood to face him properly. He nodded for you to go first, taking your hand in his again.

“Anthony…” You say softly and thumb his pulse. “Can I ask you something?”

He hummed and met your eyes, creasing his brows when he saw the hesitation in them. “What is it?”

“I… You…” You pause, looking away and spinning your wedding ring anxiously. You rubbed your face before continuing, slowly meeting his eyes. “Did you truly only agree to marry me for convenience? For an heir to the Bridgerton name?”

Anthony let go of your hand and rubbed his jaw, sighing. “Yes… And no.”

You looked at him in confusion before he spoke again.

“I knew I had to marry someday. I thought it would merely be for an heir, but mother wanted it to be of love since Daphne found her true match.” Anthony chuckled softly at the fond memory of his sister in a now very happy marriage. “I wasn’t too sure how love with someone other than family was supposed to feel like. I wasn’t sure exactly how I was supposed to find someone to marry for love.”

The idea plagued your mind. You never knew what love from a significant other was supposed to feel like either. You knew love from your family and what the Bridgertons’ had shown you.

“I saw how mother was with father when he was still… I never really felt it.” Anthony gazed into your eyes with something you couldn’t place. “Not until recently. You,” He sucked in a small breath before continuing. “You lit up a room whenever you came by and my siblings adored you, I adored you.” He cupped your cheek softly. “There were countless nights where I couldn’t sleep because I knew you were available for any other man of the ton and you only saw me as a friend. A friend from childhood.”

You parted your mouth slightly at the confession, feeling the heat from his hands.

“When your father came up to me and proposed the marriage with you, I thought it couldn’t be bad. I would marry the woman who stuck with me my entire life. I accepted for the convenience of it all, but I truly felt more even before this arrangement was brought up.” Anthony brought his other hand up to your face and stared intently, rubbing the apples of your cheeks.

“What are you…” You trail off as he gives you a look to listen.

“I’m saying I love you, Y/N. With all my heart and soul. You showed me what love was and how it was supposed to feel.” Anthony says before pulling your face to his and capturing your lips.

You let out a small noise of surprise before melting into the kiss, letting your arms wrap behind his neck. He trailed a hand down to your hip and pulled you closer to him as you smiled into the kiss.

Panting, you part from the mind searing kiss and rest your forehead on his, eyes shut. “Anthony?”

Anthony slowly nodded, “Yes?”

“I love you too.” You kiss him again.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[skyrigel]

Victory indeed || A.B

Pairing: Anthony bridgerton x wife!reader

Plot : You are on your way to steal the mallet of death but Anthony gets there first, change in plans— romancing lord Viscount.

Warning: NSFW content ahead!

Rigel's note🪩 : This is inspired from happily ever after, there's quite blood shed for mallet of death. Yeah Colin is love <3

The last bits of doubt left as you shifted Anthony's arm off your waist, slowly pushing your body down and further till you were out from his grip, he almost looked innocent, sleeping and bed soft, his mouth curled in a dream like smile but you knew better than that. last time Anthony, like lord Viscount he was, stole the pallet from your wardrobe.

And the year prior, Daphne showed her Bridgerton colors, involving the Duke himself in her malice plans.

You couldn't help but smile, thinking your bridgerton were showing up too, the floor was frozen underneath your step but you thought about the victory tommorow, the look on Anthony's face would be priceless, wrapping your cloak around yourself and closing the door soundlessly as you ventured out in the corridor, the moon was high and the air was chill. If inside the Aubrey hall was cold then you weren't up for the chill outside, a shiver ran down your spine as you stepped out in the moonlight, taking the back route, just in case. The shed stood there in the bleak light. You fiddled for keys and it didn't make sense when the wooden door was unlocked, maybe Johnny forgot to lock it, anyway, all more easy. The door creaked in the silence and you couldn't care less, there was nothing between you and your victory black mallet and—

Your breath was knocked out of you as if your lungs were punctured, a gasp of white mist left your mouth at the sight of your husband, leaning idly against the wall.

" I... Anthony?! " You blinked and unblinked and he was still there, smiling.

" What are you doing here wifey ? " He cooed and it didn't help the terror that seized you.

" You knew ! " You hoped it wasn't as shaking like it felt in your throat, Anthony ran a hand through his hair and it all made sense, damn his dreamlike smile, damn you lord Viscount.

" You wound me baby, do you want me to tie you until the game tommorow, tell me, would you like that ? " He smiled all the while, faking a frown as he narrowed his eyes to your silhouette in dark.

" So you would guard the mallet all night ? " You wouldn't let Anthony win this time, it was coming on your pride now, also the love making that followed where he called you all those petty names. The last he called you runner up. No, you would win this time.

" Or I could tie you up, I like that better." Anthony suggested smugly, propping on top of the desk and flashing an erotic display of thigh, change of plans.

" My lord..." You whsipered, all seduction placed in one basket and all smugness was dropped when Anthony's lips parted.

" Do.not." he shuddered but you hit the nerve, moving slowly in your shaking steps, cloak dangling behind you.

" Anthony, these games are absurd. " You stiffled the laugh that burnt your chest, heart heaving and thudding inside your ribs.

It almost didn't work the last time you caught him stealing the mallet, Mrs.Wilson came at a very wrong time.

" It's not working." He assured, to himself mostly but his hand reached for your body all the same, betraying every word he said as he pulled you closer, face mere inches away.

He wrapped his big arms around your waist and cocked your head sideways.

" What about..." You paused, bumping your nose to his cheeks as he sniffed the moon shadow out of you, his lips tried to claim yours but you liked playing games. The ones you could win.

" About what ? " He asked breathless, his long slender fingers undoing the knot in frantic rushed movements. It was no use.

" I was thinking about...we don't have a daughter." You hoped nothing was drowned in the moan that left when Anthony bit at the junction of your neck and shoulder, he looked up with a glint, it was the most sincere set of eyes you had ever seen, also the lustiest.

Anthony could do both, have you screaming his name and worship you all the same.

" Take the mallet...take everything baby. " He kissed you, hard and crashing, like he couldn't get enough, you couldn't get enough and it became too restless for games and victory. Your body oozed with goosebumps and every single thought evaporated like mist and memories.

Anthony dropped the knot and pulled the cloak up from your head and you easily gave in, throwing your hands up as the satin fabric fell on the floor. Anthony hummed in desire.

You felt the cold air circling your body but as soon as Anthony's mouth kissed the exposed skin of you breast, it was gone, nothing mattered than him and his filthy demanding mouth.

" How beautiful you would look with our baby in your belly." He whispered against your skin and you shivered at the sensation.

His palm gripped your hips and lifted you on the desk, turning the dynamics and you cursed under your breath when his unholy fingers pinched your nipple, hard and raw.

" You like that ? " He breathed, undoing buttons of your nightdress like he was made for it, he was merciless sometimes, taking pleasure when you screamed his name and teasing you later, " so needy for me baby ? "

" An.. Anthony." You hoped he heard the plea, his thumb made circles in your inner thigh but never touching where you wanted him the most, " baby.." you buried your face in the crook of his neck and even so, you could hear the smile that crossed him, cocky and devilish.

" Say it wifey, say it nicely with your sweet mouth." He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you back to face him, eyes locked as his head leaned down, his darted his tongue, pink and wet, the wonders he could did with that, he licked your one nipple while the other was tucked between his two fingers, pressing them together and you screamed, almost embarrassed but Anthony liked that, he always did.

" What's the word ? " He looked up smugly, pressing the tip of his nose to your nip, a smile quirking up. Fuck you Anthony!

Your brain short circuited as he tickled more and more and it became too much to bear.

" Plea... please baby, please, please —" he heard the plea and his mouth opened, taking in your soft flesh and humming in delight, kneading the other so it didn't miss his attention. He wasn't biased when it came to your body, giving everything his full attention and torment. You threw your head back at the sensation that vibratated in your body.

You grabbed his hand that glided on your bare thigh to guide him to touch you where you needed him the most, his teeth nibbed, not harder but enough to make your eyes watery as he slapped your hand away.

" You get the mallet, I get what I want, win win Viscountess." He kissed your cheek open mouthed and his desire was pressing hard against you.

" Fuck me." You said, flushed and dazed and Anthony eye's widened before he was back to play all lord and smug.

" You always order me so." He bit his lower lip but you had enough, fuck pall mall, fuck Anthony bridgerton, yes fuck him. Now.

" Fuck me Anthony! " You almost cried, Anthony leaned further, his forehead touching yours as he whispered,

" I wouldn't be able to sto—" don't stop, then.

You kissed him hard and soft, like fireworks wrecking your brain and you tongue traced his lower lip, intoxication wasted you.

He moaned and a strangled noise that you trapped in your mouth escaped, right from his throat.

His length was pressed against your thigh and it was warm and vibrating. You swallowed like a Virgin damsel.

Anthony looked at you, not breaking the fire that was blazing between your souls as he pulled it out his erection and there, angry red tip, sticky with pre cum was buzzing to be touched and loved and he looked up in delight when your eyes widened, all of the times, it didn't matter, it baffled you just the same.

You touched the tip and he shivered at the contact, his cock gave a twist and lurked fir more.

" Do you see ? " He was panting, shaking with his words as if he would fall if he didn't hold his breath, " see it ?! How much I burn for you, how much I want you ? " He shaked his head and touched his tip to your belly, soft and burning.

" No." He laughed humourlessly, his hand pushing your body to lie down on your back and you followed, taking a huge breath as Anthony grabbed your dangling ankle in a yank, bringing it around his neck.

He then kissed your knuckles softly, whsipering sweet nothings tenderly in your bones.

" I would give you anything my sweet love, you just have to ask...mallet ? I would give you my soul if you had asked. Anything for my baby love " He said, you felt your body tremor as he teased his tip at your insides, Anthony inhaled sharply as he entered you, warm and slick as oil. he entwined your fingers together.

" So good...so good for me baby." He moaned as he soft thrusted once, twice and until you were numb for anything, his words were halo in the dark, beaming silvery glow and then came one hard push and you arched your back as the pain waved in pleasure.

" Anthony..." You moaned, " oh god ! " Your words mingled in blasphemy and Anthony smiled in victory, pushing harder and harder as your hips rocked and roll.

" Say my name...say it." He demanded, your nails gripping at his shoulder so hard that it would scar, he liked it.

" Anthony...oh lord... Anthony." You screamed and chanted and you believed he heard the worship, the fate you had in him, and it didn't matter if anyone listened, let them, you thought, Anthony was a force to be reckoned with, a storm you never minded to be wrecked in. A beak of sweat glided from his forehead and dropped on your belly.

He was still pushing in a angle that had you seeing stars and cosmic love, he bend down, licking it, tongue gliding across your skin, and sniffing, taking in everything your offered.

He wanted all of you.

" I will fill you up with our baby, next time don't go hunting for mallet in midnight...it's so cold Darling, i would have to tie you up," He kissed your stomach bump, " and would carry you around everywhere." He said in dreamily haze that soon took over your lids.

The only sounds were erotic slapping of skin against skin and shuddering breaths, and he fastened his movements as a war cry took him over like a devil.

You head was thrown back as everything collapsed and grew again, bit by bit. Your eyelids drooped and a muffled cry came from you and then it was Anthony as he came in warm fizzy juice. Your felt the knot inside you uncoil and something loose inside you, uncorked as your juices mingled like your souls.

He pushed one more time, he always did that and then he collapsed next to you, satisfied, kissing your already bruised neck sweetly.

" Wouldn't you like that mama ? " He chorused and you laughed like a drunk, you would, a daughter with Anthony's eyes and smile, you smiled at the thought.

" Let's clean you up and take you to bed my lady." Anthony picked you, kissing you again as you giggled, he then grabbed the cloak and covered your body against the cold, you were dazed but not quite forgotten, you eyes searched for the war prize. Your mouth fell open, second time in a very same night.

" Where's the mallet ? " You narrowed your eyes at the stock of pink and blue and yellow but the black wasn't there, perhaps a trick of light.

Anthony followed your eyes and went closer, your arms wrapped around his shoulder and there, beneath the shadows was a parchment, rich and fresh.

Anthony picked it up with one hand, the other keeping you steady in his arms.

You saw the lanky words that belonged to none other than Mr. Bridgerton.

" Damn you Colin! " You growled as the mockful apology was scribbled for stealing the black mallet.

Anthony perched his lips at the heist but smiled when your whining eyes met his.

" I am going to whoop his ass and get you the mallet baby." He said, and you knew he will.

Victory indeed.

_________________________________________

Uhm Benedict bridgerton next ? Send in request ladies <3

[hauntedfictionland]

BRIDGERTON: first look of Colin & Penelope in S3 Director. Tom Verica

[xxchumanixx]

Lilies and conspiracies pt. 1

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Lilies and Conspiracies pt. 1 - Reputation and Decorum

Warnings/Tags: fluff, a bit angst, historical gender roles, nothing more yet, really

Word Count: 3.172

Authors Note: Hello loves! Here it is: My first series! I have to say that I'm a tad bit nervous, considering my lack of motivation to write sometimes... Anyways, let me know what you think! Lots of love!

Series Masterlist -> pt. 2

As always: Enjoy!

Dear reader,

it has come to my notice that a certain young Miss and her brother have recently returned from their rather long stay in France, looking for love in this season. It is said that she has grown into a beautiful young woman, whilst her brother has become a handsome gentleman.

At least that is what this author has been told.

We yet have to examine this young Miss and her brother, but this author is certain that they will make a certain appereance at the second ball this season at the Trowbridge house.

One can only hope that Viscount Bridgerton will not scrutinize her with that checklist of his - the poor one.

One can only hope he will find a wife at all.

- Lady Whistledown's Society Papers, London, April 1814

It was the second ball of your season as a debutante, having only returned from your stay at France a while ago. You had yet to meet some of the Lords and Ladies, yet you could already tell a lot of them were different than you.

You had been standing at the edge of the ballroom, dancing people and burning candles all around you, the smell of perfume and candle wax heavy in the air.

You had noticed how Viscount Anthony Bridgerton stood at the edge of the ballroom as well, grumbling to himself. It hadn't slipped your notice the way he was looking for a wife, his list of potential names at hand.

Yet he seemed rather displeased.

"This is absolute nonsense." Anthony grumbled to himself after yet another girl failed to fulfill his requests and expectations, unable to meet these high standards, the paper in his hand wrinkled already.

That godforsaken list his mother had made.

He wasn't looking for love, no, not after he'd witnessed what love can do, the pain it brought; that simply wasn't in the cards for him. "How is it possible that one cannot find a proper lady in a room full of them?" he added, brows furrowing in bewilderment.

You had heard him, cocking a brow, as you moved towards him. "Trouble, Lord Bridgerton?" you asked, coming to a halt beside him with your hands clasped in front of you.

You had known the Viscount for most of your life, your brother having spend his college years with him, but when you returned from France, he seemed to have become someone else.

Anthony flinched, having been pulled from his reverie, and he raised his head to see you. He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning you once before straightening his posture. "Yes, quite." he responded with an annoyed roll of his eyes. "A whole ballroom full of debutantes, and there isn’t a single respectable one in the bunch."

"Ouch." you said playfully, putting a hand above your heart.

Anthony's eyes flickered over you, looking you up and down again. There was something about your sarcastic comment that had intrigued him. He watched as you placed a hand against your chest in feigned hurt and his lips tugged upward in a near smirk. "Well, it’s not as though I’ve been shy about what it is I’m expecting from a wife." he replied, his voice laced with dry amusement.  

Your brows twitched. "Well, the whole ton has its own opinions about that." Lady Whistledown had certainly made sure to pick up on everything the Viscount had said about his search for a suitable wife.

Anthony chuckled at that, a half smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, it’s rather fascinating exactly what gossip the ton can spread, without having their nose in the midst of my affairs." he said. "And it’s not as though I haven’t been clear enough in what I’m looking for, that I’m not looking for love." he added with a sigh, his eyes looking over you again. 

You chuckled to yourself. "Well, most matches made here are not out of love." you pointed out.

Anthony’s smirk tugged ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth at your response "It’s true, most marriages in the ton are not out of love. Perhaps I should be surprised at my difficulty with finding a match. Most of these ladies are far too young and naive and silly to even understand much of love." he said, his eyes still focused on you, watching intently every move you made. 

He couldn't shake the feeling that you had changed during your stay in France, having become a grown-up woman rather than the young and naive little girl he remembered you to be.

You chuckled again. "They are like ducklings thrown into a pond." you said. "They didn't learn how to swim yet, still they are forced to."  

Anthony hummed in agreement, his smirk growing into a full blown smile as he nodded his head. "Exactly that. Their mothers think that because they’re of age, they’ll suddenly find husbands to take care of them. And they’re all the same: sheltered and naive and foolish." he declared. "The women in this room barely know the difference between love and lust."  

You huffed. "Well, how are they expected to be, if they don't know the concept of either?" you asked, fully aware that most young girls knew much less than you did, before they were wed off to some wealthy men. 

Anthony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You’re right, they don’t know any better. Their mothers have done them a disservice by keeping them from understanding what their purpose is." he said with a shake of his head. "It’s all so silly. Marriage is about duty and family, not love."  

You smiled a small smile at that. "Love can still find a place."  

Anthony’s expression softened as he raised a brow, a scoff leaving his mouth. "I used to believe that, until I realized it was a myth." he said. "All love does is create chaos and heartbreak. It’s easier to focus on duty and family rather than risk the mess that love can bring." His voice was firm, but there was a note of something like sorrow in it.  

Your gaze softened as you tilted your head in silent understanding. "It can be rather ironic, can it not?" you asked. 

Anthony looked at you for a moment, taking in the softening of your gaze and the tilt of your head. He could see the understanding in your eyes, and he couldn't help but be slightly impressed by it. "How is it ironic?" he questioned, his expression becoming guarded as he braced himself to hear your response.  

"Love is said to be the greatest feeling of all." you explained. "Yet it can lead to the worst of all, too." 

Anthony’s gaze remained fixed on you as you spoke, his expression becoming thoughtful. He nodded his head in agreement, a small sigh leaving his lips. "Yes, love is said to be the greatest feeling. But you’re right, it can also lead to the worst pain and heartbreak." he mused as he looked out to the ballroom, watching the couples dancing as if they were perfectly happy and in love. "Is it worth the risk, though?" he added quietly, more to himself than to you.  

"It can be." you spoke softly. "If one is brave enough to take it."  

Anthony looked back at you, a look of contemplation crossing his features as he listened to your words. He chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. "You speak as though you’ve experienced it." he said with a slight tilt of his head, his tone laced with curiosity.  

You smiled softly. "No, not yet." you said. "But my parents were deeply in love."  

Anthony’s mouth twitched, somewhat surprised by your response. He was used to a lot of the ladies in the ton declaring how they hoped to fall in love and be loved by their partner in return, but it was rather refreshing to hear someone say they hadn’t yet experienced it.

It further fueled his theory.

He was also somewhat caught off guard by your mention of your parents being in love. It was rare to hear of a love match in the ton, and he couldn’t help but wonder about that. "You come from a love match?" he asked curiously, though something in the back of his head told him you were right. He remembered your parents distantly, remembering how deeply they cared for each other.  

You smiled. "Yes." you responded, smile faltering slightly. "My parents were smitten the moment they shared their first dance. But when my mother died, my father's heart was forever broken." 

Anthony’s expression softened, a pang of sympathy tugging at his heart, as he remembered. He could tell there was a hint of sadness in your expression as you told him of your parents’ love and your mother’s death and your father’s heartbreak that resulted from it. He knew the pain of losing a loved one all too well himself. He was silent for a moment, considering his response before speaking again. "I’m sorry for your loss." he said quietly, his voice gentler than before.

"Thank you." you said. "It's been six years now, but my father said he wouldn't do it differently, even if he knew how it ended."  

Anthony listened intently as you spoke of your father’s love for your mother, even after six years since her death. He couldn't help but be somewhat envious of your parents’ love match. He had never experienced that kind of love, but he had seen the effects of it after his father’s death. He was struck by the strength in your father’s words, the conviction that he wouldn’t change his love for your mother, no matter the outcome. "That’s true love, isn’t it?" he murmured softly, surprising himself with his question, as he was the first to declare not to believe in love as something good.  

You nodded. "It is. And it's even rarer than a compliment from the queen herself." you spoke jokingly, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

Anthony chuckled softly at your response, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He found himself strangely drawn to your wit and your understanding in this conversation. He hadn’t expected to find such an engaging companion at this dull event. He couldn’t help but raise a brow at your remark, a teasing glint in his eye.

"Is that supposed to be a high form of praise?" he asked, a hint of a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

You snorted, covering your mouth with your hand, stifling your laughter. You hadn't expected the question, being caught off guard by it.

Anthony’s smirk grew into a grin at your snort of laughter, the sound of your amusement sending a spark of something warm through him. He found himself slightly amused and even impressed by your unabashed laughter, a stark contrast to the fake giggles and smiles of most of the debutantes in the room. He couldn’t help but tease you further, his eyes still glinting with playful amusement. "I take it that’s a no, then?" he questioned, his voice laced with mirth.  

Your eyes widened, shoulders shaking from the stifled laughter. "Stop it!" you scolded him playfully, still laughing to yourself. 

Anthony chuckled heartily, the sound of your laughter only making his own amusement grow. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had such a lighthearted and playful conversation with a member of the ton. It was refreshing and strangely exhilarating.

He raised his hands in a gesture of innocence, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. "Stop what?" he asked, his voice laced with feigned innocence, his grin widening as he realized he loved seeing you laugh like this.

Strange.

You shook your head, trying to stop laughing, biting your cheek, before taking a deep breath. "Don't-" you were interrupted by another snort of laughter. You turned away from him for a brief moment, calming yourself with a hand pressed over your chest. When you turned back around, you had tears in your eyes from laughing. "You know exactly what I mean, my lord." you said breathlessly. 

You hadn't expected your evening to go like this, yet you enjoyed every second of it.

Anthony’s grin widened further as he watched you struggle to contain your laughter, his own eyes glinting with amusement. He found it utterly adorable that he could reduce you to a fit of laughter so easily. As you turned back around, your eyes still shining with tears from laughing so hard, he couldn’t help but smirk. "Oh, do I?" he teased, his voice laced with mock surprise.

He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was enjoying every moment of it.  

You shook your head, taking a deep breath. "Oh my, some would consider me unheard for laughing so much." 

Anthony chuckled, his smirk softening into a small smile. He couldn’t help but find your carefree attitude and infectious laughter refreshing. Most of the ladies he encountered in the ton were all too poised and proper, always concerned with their reputation and decorum. But here you were, laughing without a care in the world.

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of humor in his eyes. "Would they, now?" he questioned, his voice still laced with amusement.  

You wanted to respond something, when another lord stopped in front of you. "Miss Barton, would you give me the honor to have this next dance with you?" he asked, curtsying. You curtsied in return, sending him a fake smile. "Of course, Lord Pendale."

You shot Anthony an apologetic look, as the lord walked you to the dance floor.

Anthony watched with irritation as Lord Pendale approached you and requested a dance. He had been thoroughly enjoying your lighthearted conversation and infectious laughter, and the interruption by this newcomer was unwelcome. He clenched his jaw, trying to quell the envious feeling that bubbled within him as he watched you walk away with the other lord.

Strange, indeed.

Yet, despite his irritation, he couldn’t help but notice your apologetic look as you glanced back at him. He simply nodded slightly in acknowledgment; his expression guarded as he watched you take your place on the dance floor.

You danced with Lord Pendale, making smalltalk with him, but you couldn't help but notice how simple-minded and bland he was compared to Lord Bridgerton.  

Not to mention the way he used to talk down on women.

Anthony took the opportunity to observe you from afar as you danced with Lord Pendale, his eyes fixed onto you. He couldn’t help but compare the interaction with the other lord to the conversation he’d had with you. He could see your polite smile and practiced small talk, but he could also see how bored you were, too. It was easy to spot the lack of depth in Lord Pendale’s conversation and the simplicity of his personality.

He couldn’t help but feel a mix of satisfaction and disappointment as he watched you dance with someone so lacking in comparison to himself.  

When the dance was over, you curtsied to Lord Pendale, before your gaze filtered the crowd for Anthony. Before you could walk over to him, though, your brother stepped beside you.

"We're leaving." Max said. "Why?" you wanted to know. "It's still early." He nodded. "Father wants to go home. Come." Without further ado, he walked you out of the ballroom, not giving you any time to find Anthony again, before you drove home in your carriage.  

Anthony watched as you curtsied to Lord Pendale, but before he could even begin to consider finding an excuse to approach you, he saw your brother appear beside you and then take you away from the ball. He was left feeling dissatisfied and frustrated, his gaze lingering on the spot where you had stood moments earlier.

Without you, the ball seemed to lose its appeal and now he was forced to continue mingling with the other dull and boring party guests again.  

You bit your lip, looking out of the carriage window, even though you didn't see much in the darkness.

"Did you talk to Lord Bridgerton earlier?" your brother wanted to know. You looked over at him, sighing. "Yes, why?" He shook his head. "They call him a rake." he said. "That means he's not worthy of you." You shook your head, but didn't say anything. He wouldn't get to decide who you talked to or not.  

When you arrived home, you made your way into your chambers, telling your maid to dress you for the night. Even though it was still early, you were somehow exhausted, yet energized at the same time.

Your encounter with Anthony had brightened your evening, something you wouldn't have considered before, when you were still young. He was always so out of reach, especially after his father died and he became colder, building a wall around himself.

Meanwhile Anthony sat in his office, a drink in hand as he replayed the events of the night in his mind; having left shortly after you.

He couldn't get the image of you out of his head, how you had talked about love and your parents' love match, how you had laughed at his teasing, how you had looked while dancing with another and then been whisked away.

He had expected to attend the ball and see the usual ton ladies, but you had stood out to him in a way no other had before.  

You were lying in your bed, thinking about the conversation with Lord Bridgerton. You couldn't sleep, at least not until a few hours into the night.

It was strange how he managed to burn himself into your brain so fast, like ivy that slowly grew rampant.

Anthony was also restless, unable to sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, his thoughts consumed by you. He couldn't understand why you had stayed on his mind so heavily.

He had talked to dozens of ladies in his time, why would you be different?

But no matter how much he tried to push away the thoughts of you, your laughter and your words replayed in his mind over and over.  

Finally, in the early hours of the morning, Anthony gave up on trying to sleep. He threw off the covers and got out of bed, dressing in a simple shirt and trousers before heading out of his bedroom.

He walked through the empty halls of Bridgerton House, his thoughts still consumed by you. He wanted to see you again. But it was so early in the morning, and he couldn't simply show up at your house. He was restless, frustrated and yearning for your company yet he didn't know how to get it.  

Or why he yearned for it in the first place.

You had managed to catch a few hours of sleep, but you woke early, lying restless in bed again. You tossed and turned, unable to stop thinking about Anthony.

Him and your brother went to school together, university, he never seemed to be someone to pique your interest. Yet he had managed to, with only one simple conversation.

He truly must have changed during the time you had spent in France, after your mother passed. He seemed more grown-up than you had remembered him, but then it were almost six years you hadn’t seen him.  

Anthony soon couldn't stand it anymore.

The night had passed and now, as the sun rose and the rest of London slowly began to wake, he made an impulsive decision. He dressed in his finest clothes before getting in the carriage and giving the driver a destination: your house.

He had no plan, no idea what he would say, but all he knew was that he had to see you again.  

[pollenallergie]

i need more people to write benedict bridgerton x reader fics. i simply do not have the time to do it myself, but, goddamn, do i fucking love reading them.

[nightingale2004]

OK, bridgerton people, I finished up the last season, and I have a LOT to say

First off, I think it's COMPLETELY UNREALISTIC that Daphne and Simon, along with their beautiful children, are not with the other Bridgertons soaking up all this drama and scandals that's been going on in ther family. SERIOUSLY WHAT HAPPENED?! was there a problem with the actors? Or something? Like what happened that made the actors and the children NOT MAKE AN APPEARANCE IN THE SEASON OF BRIDGERTON?!

Secondly, I also find it unrealistic that Anthony and Kate literally missed out ON PENELOPE'S LADY WHISTLEDOWN REVEAL?! LIKE, SERIOUSLY?! I get that Anthony wants to be with Kate and get to know her culture, but Anthony and his amazing Goddess wife Kate have missed out on the biggest reveal and scandal to hit their family! I so badly wanted to know what their reaction was going to be and their thoughts that Anthony's little brother is F*cking married to a gossip writer. Including Benedict.

I need to know! I can literally already imagine both Kate and Anthony reading the letter that Penelope is Whistedown and their reactions (to me) are hilarious 😂

Thirdly, I kind of wanted the secret identity of Lady Whistledown to be a secret a little while longer. Like maybe after Benedicts season. That's just my personal opinion. But I did want the queen to still find out and have Penelope and Charlotte have a private alliance. Penelope still gets to write under the approval of the queen as long as the queen looks at it first and maybe becomes the queens eyes and ears.

Lastly, I would like to acknowledge the haters here who don't like the change of gender of Michael Stirling, aka Michaela Stirling, and are fearing for their lives that Sophie Beckett will become Stephen Beckett.

Firstly, we are not the creators of this fantastic world. OK? The author is, Netflix is making this show into a reality, and those of us that actually like the show are actually OK and loving with how things are going especially the reveal that not just one but THREE bridgerton siblings ARE a part of LGBTQ+ community. Can we all just take a moment and not go backward to the "Annabeth shouldn't be black" incident. I know these two incidents don't relate because one has to do with race and the other has to do with gender but can the haters just stop. I believe the authors and creators of this AMAZING show know what they are doing, and the bridgertons along with Queen Charlotte are one of the few shows I like that haven't been canceled yet. So consider this a freaking win people.

If the creators want to change a few things, then let them change a few things, we are fans, and we have something called fanfics to which we read and write if there's something we don't like or can't live with when it comes to a fandom series. As long as the creators of the show keep giving us our daily dose of drama and do the bridgerton books justice than I for one am going to keep on watching and being invested in this fandom.

And haters one final message to you, if you don't like the shows, THEN STOP WATCHING THE SHOWS!!!!!!!

I have said my peace. And there is plenty more to come

[imagineseclipse]

I know you- Anthony Bridgerton x Y/n:Part one

Part one - Part two

Anthony rolled his eyes as he leant against the door frame, watching his family whisper excitedly between themselves as they leant towards the door trying to hear inside, thankfully the walls were thick because on the other side you were almost rolling around on the floor out of breath trying to tighten the corset that Violet had picked out for you. You weren’t a Bridgerton, but you were as close as. You had been a family friend of theirs for as long as you could remember, spending many occasions with them and this season was no different. You often chose to stay at their house instead of your own.

The eldest Bridgerton couldn't understand what all the fuss was as he peered over at the chaos once again, this year a Bridgerton sister wasn’t being put forth before the queen. Francesca had just married off and there was still a while before the others could join Society. So what was the commotion for?

He rolled his eyes again, pushing himself off the door frame, approaching his mother and sisters.

“Maybe we should just quit whilst we’re ahead, I’m sure the queen has already found her diamond”you breathed out nervously, sweat dripping from your top lip as you looked dishevelled and troubled.

“Y/n, you’ve been putting this off since the season I got married”Daphne sighed as she patted down your chest with a cloth.

“And for good reason, it’s hell on earth out there Daphne you know all too well”you scoffed swatting your best friend away.

“You’ll be amazing I’m sure of it-Are you ready?”Daphne raised her eyebrow

“Absolutely not, do not open those doors”you uttered out shaking your head as Daphne unfolded the double doors, revealing the crowd in the hall. You let out a growl as you walked past her, towards Violet.

Anthony's eyes widened as you stepped out, the pale blue lace and silk popping against your skin. The lace draping down around your waist, the silk clinging to all the right parts of you. He was not expecting this. He wasn’t expecting you, looking like that. An unfamiliar feeling washed over him as he realised what was happening. You were going out into society after years of avoiding it. You were to Marry.

He watched as his family, especially Eloise and Daphne, danced excitedly around you, admiring your new look. But Anthony's gaze then fixated on you, his eyes following your every move.

He clenched his jaw slightly, confused and conflicted emotions plagued his thoughts. You had grown up very quickly, no longer the annoying bestfriend to his sister but a mature and captivating lady.

For some reason Anthony had always been relieved that you chose not to join the rest of the Ton in the marriage market, telling himself that you were like a sister to him, and you were strong and independent, eager to think for yourself.

In truth, it was because he didn't want to witness men courting you and vying for your affection like vultures, he didn’t understand why the thought made him uneasy. But it did.

“Can I change my mind?”you pleaded to everyone, Violet letting out a small chuckle as she stepped forwards to adjust a loose hair that fell down your face.

“Yes can she?”His voice rang out, causing everyone to fall into a heavy silence, Anthony’s voice rang out clear as day, his sisters turning to face him with confused expressions, your head turned to him, the first time seeing him since you had moved your things in. Your gaze met his and his eyes never left you, even after everyone had been staring at him because of his sudden outburst.

Something about him was different, you had always thought that Anthony was handsome, but you would have rather died than let him know that. He already had most of the ladies in London falling to their knees, you would be a bonus ego boost for him having teased him for years. His brown hair had grown longer, his eyes full of adventure a twinkle residing there. He looked older, and more muscular. You snapped yourself out of the daze you had fallen into noticing that his gaze was still burning into yours.

“I uh- I mean why make haste if she wants to be a spinster for the rest of her life”he smirked covering his tracks, switching back to his usual insults towards you.

You rolled your eyes, narrowing them at him, you ignored the small smile that played on his mother’s lips as she watched the interaction between the two of you.

“Anthony Bridgerton, as charming as ever, shouldn’t you have been wed like five seasons ago?”you grinned menacingly, thankful that this conversation had calmed your nerves slightly. Eloise stifled a laugh as her older brother grumbled out a profanity under his breath.

“You know let’s hope you’re successful finding a suitable husband with that sharp tongue”he retorted before turning and disappearing into his room, slamming the door behind him.

“What is with him, he’s acting weird”Benedict groaned, Francesca nodding in agreement.

“He’s just snarly because y/n knows how to push his buttons”Daphne hummed out as she put the finishing touches to your dress.

“It’s taken many years of practice but I think I have managed to master the art”you curtseyed with a proud nod.

“Right children, we shan’t be late, the queen will faint if we don’t show on time, we always deliver every year so y/n do us proud”Violet took your hand in hers giving it a tight squeeze.

“I’ll go and get Anthony, there are three coaches outside waiting”Benedict briskly walked in the direction of his older brother.

“Y/n you must take the third carriage with Anthony, we have to keep your dress in pristine condition for your entrance, if you are seen with the Viscount it may deem you more desirable, not that you aren’t already, but it will help”Daphne ordered.

“Honestly Daph, I’m starting to believe you might actually hate me”you groaned, rolling your eyes once again at the thought of being left alone with Anthony when he was in one of his moods.

You sat in the carriage, starting to panic on your own for a little while whilst you waited for Anthony so you could be on your way, your breathing becoming laboured and short. The door finally flung open and the Viscount caught sight of you fanning the sweat from your face. He hesitated before entering, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from you as he watched you struggle.

“What are you staring at Bridgerton”you quipped out as the journey began, the carriage moving swiftly along with the horses.

"Just admiring the view, love," he replied with a smirk, sitting across from you. You ignored his back handed compliment, sure that he was just trying to get under your skin.

He watched you with an amused expression, but his gaze darkened slightly with concern. "You're not feeling unwell, are you?"

“If it means I don’t have to go through with this then yes I’m feeling extremely unwell”you blew air into your own face.

“I know you y/n y/l/n, I know this isn’t what you want”Anthony spoke out gently, a great difference to how he spoke to you earlier. He knew that this was not what you wanted, he also knew that this is not what he wanted either. Deep down in the depths of his ice cold heart. It was like a nagging feeling that he couldn’t get rid of, an itch that he couldn’t scratch. He didn’t know what it was he’d never felt this way before.

“I have no choice, I’m not like you I can’t just decide that I don’t want to get married, i certainly don’t have a love match, I’m not married into royalty, it’s time I faced the music and put my delusions of being independent to rest. If that means marrying someone just for convenience then so be it”You had lied to everyone else about why you had stepped forward to join the Society, but you had never lied to Anthony and you wouldn’t start now.

“And as much as it kills me I can’t hang around the Bridgerton house forever, if anything it’s a win win for everyone at least you get me out of your way so you can be broody In peace my lord”you offered him a genuine small smile.

A frown settled on his face as he listened to your words, he had always loved having you around, he would never tell a living soul that information. But every time you came to stay his life became more exciting. He would find himself purposely bumping into you during gatherings.

A mixture of emotions passed through Anthony's face as he absorbed your words. A part of him wanted to argue and convince you to stay, insisting that you weren’t a bother and that he didn’t want you gone. But he kept his mouth shut, his pride preventing him from showing any vulnerability. Instead, he leaned back against the seat, his expression unreadable.

“I suppose you have a point,” he finally said with a small forced chuckle. “It will be quieter around Bridgerton House without you constantly bickering with Eloise and I.”He teased, a hint of sadness lingering. He didn’t want this.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Anthony’s hand reached out to grasp yours unexpectedly, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. You tried to regain your composure, before anyone saw the interaction. His hand still holding yours.

The sound of music from the ball a few yards away had faded into the background as you looked up into his eyes, seeing a new and unexpected look in them. It was different from anything you had seen before, a mix of regret and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“Find me”he whispered.

“What?”you breathed out, your words barely leaving your lips.

“Find me if someone disrespects your honour, I know you get awfully anxious, if you feel like the earth is falling out from underneath your feet, I promise, I will drop everything. Find me”Anthony grew closer to you in the moment, your chest rising and falling faster as your eyes flickered between his.

Anthony's whispered words reached your ears, his tone serious. A part of you knowing that he was just willing to protect you because he thought of you as a younger sister, a part of you wanting it to be for a different reason.

Just as you were about to say something absolutely ludicrous the door was abruptly opened, your hands jumping out of each-others quickly. Feeling empty and cold as he exited the carriage, standing outside with his hand extended towards you.

You took a second revisiting everything he had just said to you. The two of you had deep conversations in the past, but nothing like this. Reaching out, your hands fitting together perfectly once again as Anthony gently helped you down from the carriage.

[laurenluvss]

please hear me out on prince friedrich 🤭💕

[danvy121994]

Promised pt 1

Author note: this is part 1 of my first every fanfic! I hope you like it and sorry if there’s any errors English is not my first language <3

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

Synopsis: yn is stuck in a marriage with a man she knows nothing about, apart from the fact that he’s a rake and that his only concerns are his work and he’s family, but who knows what the future might hold for her…

Since the age of fourteen , YN was aware that she would have to marry out of love.

After Edmund Bridgerton died, the oldest son took the title, and with that came many responsibilities; the year after her husband's death Violet hopend up with one of her closest friends about her concerns, Anthony was a young man, whit too much responsibilities for his age, and because of that he wasn’t looking towards a marriage, instead he was going after women of easy virtue and solemnly concentrating on his work as a Viscount. Her friend hearing those words thought of an idea, to promise her daughter to the Viscount and make them marry once she was eighteen, so that he could live his life and learn to be a Viscount in the meantime. She agreed, and that is where our story started…

On the day of her eighteen birthday YN wasn’t happy as she should have been, eighteen for most women is the age when they become a woman, for her eighteen meant the start of her imprisonment.

She always dreamed of meeting the Perfect Man, during a perfect evening and falling in love and with only one glance knowing that they were made for one another. That would never happen.

This is what she thought of as she was getting ready to meet for the first time, and also marry, her future husband. Obviously she as read many thighs about him, from the most famous writer among the ton , lady whistledown, and the more she read the more she was scared of finally meeting him, a dark and handsome man, or at least that’s what they say; he was a rake, he had been with so many women that the author of the newspaper lost the count, and he was very secretive about his life, never engaging in conversations for longer that it needed and often bluntly telling people if he didn’t like them, as much as he could of course since he was a Viscount and needed to keep the family honor ; If there was one thing that she liked about Anthony Bridgerton was his love towards his family, it was something that they shared, if it wasn’t for the love towards her parent yn would have already tried to escape from this union, she knew how much it meant for her mother, so she sat in her chair, quietly as the maids were helping her get ready. As she was so lost in her trail of thoughts she didn’t hear the door opening, a girl appeared from the door,

She had a baby in her arms and as she was walking towards her she spoke “ you must be lady Y/S/N? I am daphne, Anthony’s sister, and you look even more pretty that I imagined” she’s nice, yn thought, “ it’s a pleasure to meet you lady Hastings” she has read of her on lady wistledown, oh how she wishes that she would get a love story like hers. They weren’t able to talk much further because a maid came in the room announcing the start of the ceremony, and in that moment yn was certain that from that moment on, her life would never be the same, in fact she was certain that from that moment on, her life would get even worst once tied to the one of the viscount.

[writtenfangirl]

Kismet

In which Anthony Bridgerton contemplates the meaning of life, death and love

I’ve had this scene in my notes app for so long and I always found it so beautiful but couldn’t find a character to write it for UNTIL Anthony Bridgerton came along.

Pure fluff but mentions of death.

Anthony had always been afraid of death, as much as he’d been afraid of love.

It was difficult not to be when you witness both of your parents’ deaths.

He’d seen the way his father collapsed, face purple, breaths coming out in gasps before they suddenly stopped. He saw his father’s mortal body die, saw the light in his eyes dim before they completely sputtered out. And afterwards, when the doctors could do nothing to help him, he saw his mother’s soul die with him. Her cry of anguish as Edmund Bridgerton collapsed onto the soft grass, the days after the funeral when she would not speak and she only had that vacant look in her eyes, without any sign of that light Anthony grew up seeing.

Death was not a foreign concept to Anthony Bridgerton. The fragility of his mortality and the concept of his demise, as well his failings as the Bridgerton patriarch were his most intimate friends. These were the thoughts that plagued him at night. They were the covetous brothers Benedict and Colin were not. While his brothers of flesh and blood may have been content to let him keep the title, those thoughts had looked over his shoulder, had watched his every move and decision, had waited for a single misstep for the right moment to strike.

They absolutely terrified him.

So much so that he had stopped living.

What good was it, truly, to live and to love, when life could end in a flash. When nothing you do in this world matters, when you realize that everything you held dear could be taken from you in a blink, you begin to believe that such things weren’t worth the risk.

He loves his family, that much he was sure. It was difficult not to love them when they seemed to reside in his very heart, woven into the fabric of his soul. He had no choice but to love them.

But he had a choice when it came to romantic love. He did not have to go through the pain of losing someone else, nor would he ever damn another person into loving him and losing him too. On that, he could decide.

Or, at least he thought he could.

Because love certainly came for him, as surely as he knew death would one day come for him. It came to him in the form of the most beautiful woman in the world.

Y/N Y/L/N. She was the niece of the Viscountess Heathwood. By the ton’s standards, she was nobody. Beautiful yet still, unimportant and without any significant title or dowry aside from her relation with the Viscountess. Had it not been for her staggering beauty or her education and graceful countenance, she would have been dismissed.

If you had asked the Anthony of five years ago what he thought of when he imagined his wife, a woman like Y/N would have been last on his list.

But the Anthony of five years ago was an idiot.

Because Y/N, with all her grace and beauty, had a fierce determination that not only made her befitting of the title of viscountess but also made her a great addition to the Bridgerton family.

And to Anthony, she was everything.

Love in the shape of Y/N knocked on his door, and when he had refused to answer, love barreled its way into his heart like a disease. It burrowed itself into his skin until he flushed at the mere thought of her, wormed its way into his heart until his heart beat only for her. Then, love pounded its way deep into his soul and staked a tether that tied his soul to hers.

Anthony knew that one day, death would come knocking. It would take its bony hand and place it on his shoulder, beckoning Anthony to his side.

He was still undoubtedly terrified of it.

But for Y/N, for the love his life, he would live.

“What’s got you in so morose a mood so early in the morning?” Her voice, sweet and calming, pulled him out of his stupor.

Bathed in the golden light of the dawning sun, she looked breathtaking. It should have been impossible, to be so beautiful when she’d just woken up, but Anthony knew that if anyone could make the impossible possible, it would have been her.

She was pressed against his side, her body warm and flushed against his own. His arm, wrapped around her as her head rested on his chest. The only thing that separated them was the thin fabric of their sleeping clothes but even with them on, he could feel the contours of her body. The rolling curve of her hips, the softness of her skin as his hands trailed down her arm and up again.

He’d awoken to his wife in his arms for three years now but he could never take this feeling for granted. Everyday he woke up like this was a day he was truly thankful for.

Anthony placed a tender kiss on his wife’s forehead, the little hairs on the tip of her forehead tickling his nose. “I was just deep in thought, my love.”

“About what?”

He contemplated lying to her. Admittedly, his thoughts were far too dark to share so early in the morning. But Y/N had always been adept at sussing out any falsehoods, most especially his own.

“Death.”

Her brow shot straight up, pulling away from him and propping herself up on an elbow. The thin strap of her nightgown slipped past her shoulder revealing her glorious skin, her long hair trailing down her back. The golden light that bathed her had turned into a halo against the backdrop of the window, turning her into one of God’s sacred angels. “Why the bloody hell would you think about your death so early in the morning?”

“I wasn’t thinking my death. Just death in its most general sense.”

She gave him a pointed look. “That’s not very reassuring.”

He grinned at her. He couldn’t help it, not when she was looking at him in that certain way that always had him believing he was in trouble but would receive a reward rather than a punishment. “I assure you, it is not so morbid. I was simply thinking of life’s ephemerality, and how one ought to live it for the right people.”

She didn’t look reassured but nevertheless, she laid back down, Anthony’s arm instantly enveloping her, hand absentmindedly resuming its task of drawing lazy circles on her arm. “You would think, that with my husband celebrating his birthday today, he would think of happier things. His beautiful wife, perhaps, or his kind mother, or the veritable gaggle of siblings who adored him. You would think that, perhaps, his mind would wander towards the child his wife is currently carrying. But alas, he thinks of death. I never thought death to be a celebratory topic, but to each his own.”

He flicked her nose playfully at her sarcastic tone, her mouth pulling into a grin. “If you must know, death was on my mind because today marks the day that I am officially older than my father was when he passed.”

Suddenly, whatever joy filled the air died. “Oh.”

It was the truth. In the weeks since his birthday, his every waking thought had been consumed by his father. His father, Edmund Bridgerton, who was 8th viscount of the Bridgerton family. His father, who’s death marked the biggest change of Anthony’s life. His father, who lived through the first 18 years of Anthony’s life but lived no longer.

It was a sobering thought to realize that he would have to live longer than he knew the man he looked up to his whole life.

And it was these thoughts that plagued him.

“He has been on my mind,”he murmured but he knew she would understand, “I wonder if he is proud of me.”

“Of course he is.” She had said the words with such surety, it was difficult to argue with her. But Anthony would certainly try.

“How can you be so sure?”

She gave him a leveling stare, as if he was an idiot for even asking such a question. “I never had the pleasure of meeting him, but I know he is proud of you, as proud of you as I am.” Y/N placed a hand on his cheek, the pads of her finger soft against his stubble. “How can he not be, when you have done right by your siblings? By your mother? How can he possibly feel anything but pride at his eldest son for taking care of his whole family?”

“I make such a mess of things.” He frowned. His thoughts weren’t always so desolate, not since he married Y/N. It was difficult to keep his countenance bleak when he was married to the kind of person who smiled at a family of squirrels, or grinned at the sight of a little girl giggling through the window of a shop. But today of all days, his mind strained to his faults.

But his wife, bless her, would hear none of it. “You are human, Anthony. It is in our nature to make mistakes. I am certain your father once thought his mistakes egregious but yet still, he remains great. As sure as I am of your own excellence.”

“I go days, sometimes, never thinking of him. And when I remember him again, I feel such tremendous shame and grief at having forgotten him that sometimes, I can scarcely breathe.”

Another truth, one that Anthony had been too ashamed to admit. To forget one’s father when they were alive is one thing. To do so when he was dead was another thing entirely.

Y/N’s eyes could only be described as kind. “Did you know that a person dies twice. Once, when they are well and truly buried. The second is the last time their names are ever mentioned.“

This time, it was Anthony’s turn to look at his wife in sarcasm. “This is not the reassurance you think it to be.”

But she simply gave an indulgent grin before her eyes turned serious. “I mean to say that I will never let you forget him. I will say your father’s name everyday, if I must. And one day, I will teach our children to do the same. And they will teach their children, and their children will teach their children. Edmund Bridgerton will not be forgotten under my watch.”

His heart swelled with love. It was a lofty declaration but Y/N was never one to make vows lightly. She would do it too. Y/N was relentless in the pursuit of her goals and once she set her mind on something, she did it no matter what. It’s one of Anthony’s favorite things about her and the reason why he fell in love with her in the first place.

He pressed his lips on hers. Kisses with Y/N always felt like coming alive, like an empty house suddenly having new tenants. She felt like the cool spring air turning into the summer breeze. She felt like hope and joy all at once.

When he pulled away from her, her lips were swollen, eyes twinkling. He would never take a life with her for granted, and so when he spoke, his words came from that little space in his heart reserved for Y/N that no longer trembled at the sight of death. “When I die, I shall have your name carved into my bones”

She looked at him with skepticism. “Your bones?”

“One day, in the very distant future, when my grave is found and my tombstone is missing, they will see my bones but they will say your name. I will allow the world to kill me twice but I will not let it do the same to you.”

Her eyes gleamed silver, a joyful grin pulling at her lips.

There was no declaration of love more serious, more profound, than that. For the woman who taught him to live in spite of his fear, who taught him to love because of it, he would embrace death with open arms, if only so he could meet his wife’s soul once more. Because he was certain of his need for it, as certain as his need to draw breath every morning.

They were kismet, in this life and the next.

[peterpparkrr]

Pinned - Epilogue

Series: Pinned

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Summary: The wedding. And the wedding night.

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: Here it is! I know I always say this, but I really appreciate all the love this story has gotten. Thanks for sticking with it! I hope you enjoy the happy ending of this story.

Warning: This chapter is 18+ as it contains sex. 

prev. part // complete series

I publish the banns of marriage between Viscount Anthony Bridgerton of Kent and Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of London.

This is the third time of asking. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it. 

On June 7th, 1814, Anthony Bridgerton and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) were married.

It was a small ceremony. Even without a special dispensation, the ceremony was short notice considering the fact that most of London had no idea that the Viscount Bridgerton had been courting anyone at all, let alone on the precipice of an engagement. 

But that was what made it perfect. Small and intimate with just your families in attendance. Well, the Bridgerton brood and your brother and a few of your close friends. 

There was a brief mention of your wedding in Lady Whistledown. Considering how much ink the author had spent on Anthony it was expected that his marriage and the end of his rake-hood would be notable to her. But instead of making a scandal of his marriage to a commoner she merely teased that no one else would match his reputation and wished him and his bride all the happiness in the world. 

The wedding lunch was hosted at Bridgerton House. 

“My wife,” Anthony introduced you to each guest. Smug as he held an arm around you. 

The lunch was well attended. Many members of London society were curious to meet this unknown woman, rumored to have been a tailoress of all things, that had managed to trap the Capital-R-Rake, Viscount Bridgerton. 

It was clear to all in attendance that Anthony Bridgerton was enraptured with his new wife. And that she adored him in turn. You could tell just from the way they looked at each other. 

“Anthony,” You called out after Violet left your side to say farewell to a few guests.. He was standing right next to you talking with his brother. You knew he could hear you. But he was acting like he didn’t.

“Husband,” You tried again. Only for him to immediately turn to you.

“Yes?” He replied with a grin. 

“I think we ought to say our goodbyes, we should try to get to the inn before dark,” You tell him. 

You’d have been perfectly content to stay in London after the wedding. Anthony had work that meant there was no way for you to leave the country for your honeymoon, but he insisted on at least taking you to the estate. As the new Mistress of Aubrey Hall and the Viscountess Bridgerton, you deserved at least a month of marital bliss in your new home, and alone before his family would rejoin them. 

And Anthony refused to take his wife to bed for the first time under the same roof as the rest of his family.

“Is this alright?” Anthony asks hesitantly when the innkeeper shows you to your room. It was a small room. There were relatively few between London and Kent. It was a comfortable day’s journey, but with the late start, you’d decided to split the journey between two days and spend the night in an inn.

Your laughter washes away his nervousness. 

“I’ve never been anywhere that isn’t London, and certainly never at an inn this nice,” You remind him. “It’s perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” He murmurs as he winds his arms around your waist.

“Flattering your wife, you’re learning your husbandly duties quickly,” You reply with a smirk as you look up at him.

“I have another husbandly duty I’d like to teach you,” He murmurs before he presses his lips to yours.

“Patience is a virtue, Anthony, isn’t that what the priest said just this morning?” You ask as you carefully extract yourself from Anthony’s embrace with a teasing smile. “After supper.”

Anthony was certain you were drawing out your meal simply to vex him. Patience had never been his strong suit. And you knew that just as well as most. 

You’d taken your time with the meal as you ate in the dining room along with the handful of other guests staying at the inn tonight. You ate with no rush, as if you were blissfully ignorant to the events that would follow.

Or rather, that you were perfectly aware, and were choosing to behave this way to tease him. 

“Should we retire for the night?” You finally ask once you’ve finished your meal. 

“Yes,” Anthony replied as he abruptly pushed out his chair and quickly made his way around the table to pull out your chair. 

You can’t help but laugh as Anthony leads you up the stairs back to your room, an insistent hand pushing along at a brisk pace. 

“Finally,” Anthony groans as he presses you against the door once it’s closed behind you. 

“Are you going to consummate our marriage against the door?” You ask breathlessly as you look up at him through slightly hooded lids.

“We’re not even close to that, dear wife,” Anthony replies with a grin as his hands gently brush up and down your side. “Patience,” He taunts.

You open your mouth to reply but Anthony covers your mouth with his before you can get any words out. And your biting comment flies out of your mind as Anthony’s hands come up to your breasts, instead letting out a low moan as his thumbs run over your nipples over your dress.

“Bed,” Anthony mutters against the line of your jaw before he presses his lips back to your skin as you both blindly shuffle to the bed and Anthony presses you down into it. 

The cool fabric of the quilt presses against the back of your legs as Anthony pushes the skirts of your gown upward, his hands trailing up your legs as the fabric comes to pool around your waist.

Your dress suddenly feels entirely too tight around your chest as your breathing becomes heavier and heavier. You reach blindly behind you to try and reach for the lacing.

“Let me,” Anthony murmured as he finally pulled away from you, his hands making quick work of the back lacing of your dress before he helped you to pull the gown over your head, leaving you in your stays and shift. 

“All of these need to go,” Anthony muttered as he reached around you again to try and unties your stays.

Once you’d fumbled out of the rest of your clothing you laid back against the bed, trying not to shy away under Anthony’s heavy gaze as he pinned you to the bed.

“Aren’t you supposed to be naked too?” You finally ask once you’ve found your voice again.

Anthony only nods as he wordlessly reaches to pull off his coat and vest. You lean forward to help him pull off his shirt, your fingers nimbly undoing his buttons and fastenings the way you have countless times, the muscle memory kicking in to spite the nervous energy flowing through your body as you reveal new parts of Anthony to yourself.

“Oh,” You murmur once Anthony’s trousers and stockings are pushed down and kicked away.

You’re not innocent in the same way most brides are. You are familiar with the concept of the male anatomy. But never in this context. 

“What do you want? Tell me,” Anthony asks in a domineering tone as he comes back to you. Wanting you to speak your desires into existence.

The demand pulled your consciousness to the forefront once more as you struggled to find the words to describe exactly what it was that you wanted. All the things you’d never dared to wish for. The things that you had thought about only in dreams, both sleeping and waking but had never dared to speak out loud. You wanted everything. 

“I want… you,” You finally told him, your eyes searching his own as he bore down on you, his own eyes heady with lust as he watched you with the hunger of an animal. 

You knew of the baser instincts of men. And had seen glimpses of this in Anthony before. The night of the Opera. But it was always ruled by his desire to remain gentlemanly. 

But the utterance of one sentence from you seemed to allow Anthony the freedom to unleash himself before you. 

And you found yourself responding to it without hesitation. 

“Yes,” You breathe out. Trying to wrap your head around all of the sensations you’re feeling. Seemingly all at once.

And why should you hesitate? There would be no more wondering. No more waiting. No more talking yourself out of feelings that you thought you shouldn’t, couldn’t have. 

Anthony Bridgerton was your husband.

And you were his wife.

Anthony did things to you that you’d only heard quiet whispers of. Salacious things that were shared in frenzied hushes among women while they worked and gossiped. 

Things that brought you to the brink in a way you’d never experienced before. The precipice of something you could not name. 

By the time he had finally brought himself to you, it did not hurt at all. 

You’d been warned to expect pain. A lesser pain thanks to the shared affection between you and your husband, but a pain nonetheless. 

But it never came. 

You felt impossibly full and Anthony pushed himself into you. But it felt right. Good. Like you were finally whole. 

You gasped, your eyes flying wide open to look up at Anthony.  As he began to move a moan escaped from your lips and you felt yourself breathing into him as you pushed and pulled, both of you finding yourselves coming together as the pleasure built between you before it crescendoed as you shuddered beneath Anthony, gasping and heaving before you felt him stutter shortly after, bowing down onto you with a groan as he filled you deeply.

Anthony pressed a kiss to your lips before he pulled away from you and pulled the covers back before laying down beside you and pulling the sheets around your bodies as his arms came to wrap around you. He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, almost between your shoulder blades as you struggled to control your breathing again.

You might have laid there for minutes. Or maybe hours. You had no idea how much time passed before you finally found the energy to speak. Turning around in Anthony’s arms to face him.

“I don’t-” You tried to say, your brows pinching as you struggled to find the words for what you wanted to tell him. 

“What, my love?” Anthony asked. His own brow furrowed as he reached to tilt your chin upward, forcing you to look at him as he searched your eyes for the expression of pain or discomfort he was fearing he’d find. “Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No! Not at all!” You assure him quickly. “I only wanted to say that, I think I still have more to learn. Perhaps we ought to… do that again,” You tell him shyly, a coy smile pulling at your lips.

“Fiendish woman,” Anthony muttered as you pulled you atop him, pressing a kiss to your lips as you tangled your legs with his. 

Marriage clearly agreed with you both.

An impossible match that had made you impossibly happy. 

[your-nanas-house]

Hi there! May I request a fic where Anthony Bridgerton’s wife gives him the silent treatment after an argument? Thank you! I love you 💖

Hello! Of course, this is my first fic with Anthony Bridgerton so sorry if it's bad. You're welcome! 💖

Silent Treatment

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton X wife!Reader

Warnings: argument, angst, fluff

Words: 775

Summary: in the request

Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

.................................................................

Everyone in the Bridgerton family knew by now well the personality of the eldest son, even the lucky lady who agreed to become his wife taking the title of Viscountess but that did not mean she tolerated it.

Her husband Anthony could be sweet, protective, a true gentleman but at the same time also competitive, annoying and stubborn; according to him everything was on his shoulders, which had been true since Edmund's (the father's) death, but there was no need to be so closed-minded and dedicated to work because if not you would become frustrated and exactly what happened one evening.

The newly married couple got along well, they loved each other and enjoyed each other's company but there were times when there were small quarrels that did not turn into something serious since Y/n's personality was able to let it be and calm the situation down before the situation  escalated but to everything there is a limit, even to the viscountess's patience.

It happened shortly after dinner, they had enjoyed a family meal and she had retreated to their bedroom, returning downstairs only when she realized that Anthony was still not joining her.

This was not expected, Anthony should not have let the comment slip from his mouth even if it was a confidential conversation with his siblings, but as one can well see from the considerable amount of children Violet Bridgerton had with Edmund Bridgerton, nothing remained a confidential conversation in that house; for that reason an argument also began that evening but it did not end as the Viscount expected because this time his wife's patience reached a limit and although they had moved to their rooms she refused to calm the situation and ignore again but answered in the same tone, letting out of her lips all the things she had been thinking and holding in for several months leaving Anthony silent for a few moments but still angry.

He had no chance to respond because as soon as Y/n finished screaming she grabbed a pillow and headed for another room, locking herself in there.

The Viscount wanted to follow her but realized that maybe it was better if he let her sleep wherever she preferred for that night since the next morning everything would be back to the way it was or so he thought.

The next morning there were no words exchanged between the two of them, Y/n just had breakfast with her husband's family while she ignored him completely refusing to talk to him, infuriating Anthony who followed her into the kitchen where she had moved and stopped his anger which turned to guilt when he saw her wiping away tears.

Apparently yesterday's words had hurt her more than the gentleman thought, it was not his intention and he did not really mean them rather he actually claimed the opposite but at that moment it had seemed right to say it to win the argument.

The silent treatment continued throughout the day, there were attempts by the viscount to try to apologize or talk to his wife but she continued with that punishment that caused Anthony to break down in the evening.

He needed to put things right as soon as possible, which is why he locked himself in his office and only came out when he was sure he had everything ready, after which he went to the rooms where his viscountess had decided to spend the night again and knocked on the door while waiting.

No one answered but he did not allow himself to be demoralized and began to recite the mediocre poem he had attempted to write in his office, waiting for a response, which there was as Y/n opened the door to the room shortly after, looking at him completely serious.

Anthony continued with his courtship for three more days before she gave in completely by forgiving him and going back to sleep in his arms at night, gladly accepting their first heir also as a way of proving to Anthony that she could be a great mother even though she might be childish at times, thus proving to him that his claim of the now-forgotten quarrel was completely false but Anthony didn't need to have proof to realize that.

He loved his Viscountess and would have done anything for her, even wooing her all week long despite the fact that they were already married, just to see that smile on her sweet lips or a giggle come out of her gorgeous mouth, her love-filled eyes directed only at him and her body asleep or awake in his arms.

.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @monkeyking-and-liuer-mate , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher

[daughterofyore]

[bellarkeselection]

There should be a full series about her.....Bridgerton requests anyone????

[bravo4iscool]

guys, i need motivation😭

hit me with those asks, idk what to do with my life🧍🏼. gimme every and anything, i’m prepared🤺