#Modern AU Anthony Bridgerton

[thebabblingbrookenook]

The Viscount Who Loved Me Too Much - Part 3

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x Hyacinth Bridgerton , Anthony Bridgerton x Violet Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton x Female Reader

Summary: Modern AU - A continuation of The Viscount Who Loved Me Too Much Part 1 and Part 2 . This chapter changes from Reader’s POV to Anthony’s in an effort to give us a little more insight into what’s going on with our Viscount. While Anthony grapples with the depths of his feelings for his Reader, Violet calls on Anthony for a favor. His sister needs his help.

Warnings: Not really anything to warn you about. If you are afraid of emotional growth and cheeky banter, then look away lol

Word Count: 5.1K

Author’s Note: @colettebronte is a beta - reading hero! Shout out to my Discord friends for helping me with fun ideas for this installment. I do plan to continue this story for as long as it makes sense to do so. Bear with me!

_________________________________________

Six weeks, four days, and some odd hours…

Apparently that was the length of time in which it took Anthony Bridgerton to fall in love. He knew when she awkwardly approached him in the bar that night and stumbled her way through an attempt at flirting that she was going to be important in his life. What he didn’t realize was that she would be the one to remind him of all the things that made life worth living.

She was a survivor. She fought relentlessly for her life - kicking, screaming, and clawing her way to the happiness she deserved. She was a marvel, and he constantly stood in awe of her. She made him want more than to merely exist. She made him aware of every ounce of joy he had been missing over the past year, but she also felt like his promise for a redemption of the time lost.

As he sat smiling at the ridiculous photo she just sent him of herself, he caught himself saying it aloud. It came as naturally as hushing Benedict’s sarcastic teasing, or sighing at his mother’s affectionate meddling. It was as if the words belonged on his lips. Light and free, with a huff of laughter he declared, “God, I love her.”

It was probably still a bit too soon for him to shout it from the rooftops for all to hear, but he knew it was true. He loved her, and eventually he would gain the courage to tell her so. Until then, he would revel in every second she allowed him to spend in her presence, every day adding new truths to his list of reasons to love her. 

He was about to respond to her cheeky midday text when his phone started buzzing, flashing a picture of his mother across the screen.

“Hello mother,” he answered.

“Oh, hello darling!” she beamed. “I wasn’t expecting you to answer. I’m not bothering you, am I?”

“Not yet,” he teased. “But it’s only a matter of time.”

“You wound me, son. I don’t know where I went wrong in raising you.”

A warmth that he associated with childhood started to bloom in his chest. Violet Bridgerton had a million admirable qualities, but chief among them was her playful sense of humor. “My apologies, Lady Bridgerton. How can I possibly make amends?”

“Oh, good! I’m glad you asked.” she said without missing a beat. “Are you busy today? I wasn’t sure if you were working from home or the office.”

“Bex informed me this morning that my afternoon meeting was canceled, so I took the rest of the day. I have plans later this evening with…” he paused, unsure if he was ready to share her with anyone else just yet. “... with a friend. Other than that, I’m at your disposal. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, everything is fine. I was just wondering if you could collect Hyacinth for me. The school called. It seems she isn’t feeling well and needs to be sent home. I would go, but I’m on my way to a bridal boutique with Daphne at the moment. Genevieve Delacroix is having a trunk show and your sister has her heart set on one of her dresses. Simon, the dearheart, set up an appointment with the designer as a surprise.”

Anthony shook his head at his friends' over-the-top gesture. Leave it to Simon to find new ways to spoil Daphne beyond belief. It was hard for Anthony to see Daphne as a woman who was ready for marriage, and not as a tiny, bossy little girl that followed her brothers everywhere they went. But if it had to be someone, he was glad it was Simon that his baby sister deemed worthy enough to trust with her heart. 

“Of course I will. She must really be sick to call home. That kid would sooner die than admit defeat.” Worry started to take root in his chest. He knew it was perfectly normal for kids to get sick from time to time, but Hyacinth was such a steady, constant little thing. She never wavered from her determined strength. At least not where the prying eye could see.

“Thank you, Anthony.” Violet sighed with appreciation. “Give her a kiss for me and tell her I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“I don’t know about all that, but I’ll certainly let her know she crossed your mind.”

Violet huffed her reply. “What have I done to deserve such an obstinate child?”

Anthony found himself laughing again. It felt good. “God clearly thought you needed a challenge since the rest of your brood would prove to be so easy. I’m honored to be the one assigned the task of keeping you sharp. I think I’ve done a great job so far.”

“You’ve done a great job of making me old, that’s what you’ve done. When do you think you might retire?” she asked lovingly.

“As soon as you stop meddling and insisting that you know what’s best for me.”

“So, never.” she quipped.

“Have fun with Daph today, and try not to worry about Hyacinth. I’ll take care of it.” he promised, directing the conversation to a close.

“I know,” she replied, her voice steeped in motherly love. “You always do. Thank you, dear. I love you.”

“You too,” he returned, discomfort settling in his shoulders. He still had a hard time hearing those words when they were meant for him. He didn’t deserve them. Too much had happened. He failed too many people to be awarded that privilege. Especially his mother…

“Oh, and Anthony… One more thing before you go,” her voice took on the chastising quality that only a mother could master. “When are you going to introduce me to the lovely young woman you’ve been so clearly infatuated with for the last few weeks?”

“How did you...” he questioned with shock.

“Oh, come now Anthony. A mother always knows.” He could hear the victorious smile in her voice. “Plus, you’ve been walking around all sneaky and secretive like a fourteen year old boy. It was either a woman, or I’m about to get a call from your old headmaster claiming that he caught you bringing farm animals into the school again.”

He desperately wanted to change the subject. “Priorities, mother. Hyacinth needs me. We can talk about this later.”

“I agree. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll be at the office to meet with the barristers regarding the foundation. You can take me to lunch.” That was that. She hung up the phone before he had the chance to protest. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Hyacinth Bridgerton sat in uncharacteristic silence while she waited with the school nurse for what she had hoped would be a quick rescue. What was taking her mother so long to get here? Didn’t she know that being the baby of the family granted Hyacinth the right to be the center of her mother’s universe? What could she possibly be doing right now that would keep her from rushing to her aid?

“Hyacinth,” the nurse prodded. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather lie down? You look a bit too pale for my liking.”

“I’m fine,” she lied. 

She wasn’t fine at all. She was in the worst pain she had ever felt in her life. All she wanted was to go home and crawl up for a good cry. She wouldn’t break down here. Not with someone watching. She would hold it all together until she was in private. She was a Bridgerton - weakness didn’t run in their blood. She had seen Anthony do it a hundred times. He was a master at taming his own emotions until the time was right. If he could do it, so could she. 

Although, she doubted her brother ever had to deal with anything equal to likes of this. It was excruciating and horrifying. There was a good chance she was dying. She didn’t know how much longer she had left. Hopefully her mother made it in time.

A knock wrapped on the door and the secretary popped her head inside with a smile. “Miss Bridgerton, your father is here to take you home.”

Hyacinth’s lungs forgot how to breathe. Father… this was obviously a mistake. Maybe they meant to collect the young girl in the corner with her face hunched over a bucket. “I think you may have the wrong student. My mother is coming for me.”

“No,” the annoyingly chipper woman replied. “He asked for you by name. Grab your things and follow me. I’ll walk you out to him.”

They walked in silence through the corridor. Hyacinth only remained upright through sheer force of will. She was already preparing her “I told you so” speech when realization hit. And with that realization came dread. There was currently only one person that someone would mistake as her father…

Her nightmare was confirmed when they rounded the corner to find Anthony anxiously awaiting her arrival. He rose to his feet the second he saw her approaching, worry widening his soulful eyes. It was strange to see him here. Actually, it was strange to see him at all. She tried not to hold his absence against him. This had been one of the hardest years for their family. Especially for Anthony. And she understood her brother. She knew why he distanced himself. She knew he needed the space to rebuild in solitude. But she missed him, and she couldn’t help feeling a little like he’d abandoned her. 

“Hyacinth,” he fretted, scanning her over from head to toe. “Are you okay? Do you want me to take you to the doctor?”

“No!” she panicked. “No doctors. Just take me home please.”

“Of course,” he said softly before taking her backpack from her shoulder and slinging it over his own. It was a small but sweet gesture that left her eyes misty. He was somehow both the last and exact person she wanted here with her right now.

She was relieved to see that he had opted to drive himself instead of taking his driver. She didn’t need anymore witnesses to her impending meltdown. 

Hyacinth could feel him eyeing her cautiously from the driver’s seat as they made their way through traffic. “You’re staring, Anthony.”

“I’m just worried. You never get sick. Your face is as white as a sheet and you look like you’re about to puke all over my car.”

“Well knock it off,” she scowled. “I’m fine.”

He scoffed, irritating her even more. “You’ve always been a horrible liar Hyacinth. You’re allowed to not feel well. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s none of your business Anthony. Just take me home so you can get back to whatever it is you were doing before I inconvenienced you.” She regretted her words the moment she saw the hurst flash across his face.

“I’ve never thought you were an inconvenience Hyacinth. Not even once. Now will you please tell me what’s wrong? I can stop at the store before we get to the house and pick up some medicine if you need.”

“My stomach hurts, okay. Now can we please drop this?” she wasn’t above begging him. 

“Alright, well I’ll just pop into Waitrose and grab you some ginger ale,” he offered.

He was only trying to take care of her, but she was irrationally angry at him. She just wanted him to stop talking and drive her home so she could die in peace.

“It’s not that kind of stomach ache, Ant. I don’t need ginger ale.”

“Okay, then maybe I ca-” she cut him off before he could provide another option.

“Ughhh! If I tell you what’s wrong will you shut up?” When he nodded his concession she took a deep breath and went on. “I got my period today in front of my entire gym glass. Marcy Fisher told everyone I was a freak and to stay away from me if they didn’t want it to happen to them too.”

From the look on his face, Hyacinth was sure that she’d thoroughly traumatized her eldest brother. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat before he responded. “But… you’re only twelve. You’re still… so small. Are you certain?”

She rolled her eyes at his very male reaction. “I’m pretty freaking sure, Anthony. I’m not a baby anymore. According to Eloise, this means I’m a woman now.”

“Oh, God,” he groaned. “Please don’t say that. I’m not ready.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you better buckle up brother, because this is happening. It hurts, it’s disgusting, I’m mortified, and I really don’t want to talk about this anymore. Especially not with you.” 

“Do you want me to ring mum?” he asked desperately. 

“No!” she screeched. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone else. Swear it, Anthony!”

“Alright, alright! I swear it. Relax.” He had to restrain from wincing at the glare she shot him.

“Good,” she sighed. Some of the tension visibly left her body with the knowledge of their pact. “The last thing I need is Gregory finding out. I’d never hear the end of it.”

Anthony drove on in silence. He knew this was a big day for his littlest sister, and he was trying his best to not react poorly. He was not the right person to be handling this. Almost anyone else would be more well suited. He had to assume that his mother wouldn’t have sent him if she knew what was really going on with her daughter. This was the kind of thing he would normally call Benedict for help with. He always seemed to know what to do where their sisters were concerned. He had a much more delicate touch than Anthony. But he couldn’t call Benedict. He couldn’t call anyone. Hyacinth had forbidden it, and he didn’t want to face the tiny girl’s wrath if he ignored her wishes. 

His plan was to just keep his head down long enough to get her home and then wait for his mother to arrive so he could slip out undetected. Yes, that was the plan. Sit down, shut up, avoid disappointing her. That is until he heard the muffled sniffles coming from the other side of the car.

He could never stand to see Hyacinth cry. It never failed to render him useless. All he wanted was to comfort her, but he didn’t always know how. It was a lot easier when she was four and just crawled into his lap for a hug. It was easy to chase away what scared her when he could just pick her up and remove her from the danger all together. But now… what did he do now?

“Hyacinth…” he treaded carefully.

Thankfully, she let him in without a fight. “How am I supposed to face them all tomorrow, Anthony? Marcy Fisher said…”

Anger boiled behind his eyes when he identified the source of his sister’s tears. “Marcy Fisher is a snot-nosed spoiled brat with a father that can’t find a job with a salary large enough to support his coke habit and a mum who is so vapid that she has to pay people to be her friend. Marcy Fisher can piss off. You’ll face those kids the same way you do every day - as a Bridgerton.”

Her responding laughter was contagious until it turned into painful sobs without warning. Alarm bells sounded in his head as he began backpedaling. “Shit, what have I said?! I’m sorry Hy, please don’t cry. You don’t even have to go to school tomorrow if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head, gathering herself. “It’s not you. Well, it is, but not in a bad way. I just forgot how much you get me sometimes. Sorry, I’m really tired and probably sound like a blubbering idiot. How embarrassing.”

“Just hang in there,” he assured her. “We’re almost home.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Anthony was sure Hyacinth was ready to be rid of him, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave her. Once they reached the house she had immediately gone for a shower and insisted that she didn’t need anything else from him. She claimed everything else could wait until their mother got home, but he didn’t think it was right that she should have to wait for what she needs just because he might be a little uncomfortable. 

There were a lot of things over the years that he fucked up when it came to Hyacinth. She needed a father but she got him instead - a disappointment since she took her first breath. There was probably loads yet that he would surely get wrong, but this he could do. 

Or so he thought…

He stood frozen with indecision in the middle of the feminine care aisle of their local pharmacy. There were so many options to choose from. How was he supposed to know which ones to pick?!

An understanding laugh pulled him from the ledge of his looming panic. “You’ve got the terrified look of a first time dad. Need some help?”

Anthony met the eyes of the kind stranger with gratitude. The man looked to be well into his fifties and reminded him unsettlingly of his father. “Please… I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Everyone’s gotta start somewhere,” the man said, clapping him on the shoulder. “How old is your daughter?”

“She’s twelve,” he sighed. “She’s only twelve. That seems too early, doesn’t it?”

“One of my girls was ten,” the man confided. “You were lucky. You got a couple extra years of normalcy. It will be like riding lightning from here on out.”

Anthony watched in amazement as the man picked up items from the shelf and set them into the basket in his trembling hand. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he smiled. “If I were you, I’d toss in some ibuprofen and some sweets. And anything else that might make her feel loved.”

He could do that. He loved buying Hyacinth things that made her smile. She always rewarded him with hugs. “Thank you again. I would have been standing here all day if you hadn’t come along.”

The man instilled one last piece of wisdom before taking his leave. “Just remember, you’re never doing as bad as you think. And hold on tight for as long as she’ll let you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When Hyacinth came out of the shower, bundled in the coziest sweats she could find, Anthony was gone. She was equally disappointed and relieved. Being with her brother always made her feel special. He looked at her like she was his most treasured possession. Like a tiny, delicate gemstone that he wanted to protect at all costs. But he also hovered and fussed. And his keen observation skills made it way harder to get away with cheeky activities. Sometimes the authority that he carried made it hard for her to just relax. There was always that lingering fear of seeing disenchantment dull his warm eyes. 

It was hard for Hyacinth to be around him when he was sad. She could feel the effort it took him to present himself as having it all together. He might be able to fool other people, but not her. Everyone else believed that mask because that’s what they wanted to see, but the truth was in his eyes. He was tired. Life hadn’t been pulling its punches lately, and her invincible big brother was dancing with defeat. It made her angry. She knew that wasn’t fair - he wasn’t perfect. The pedestal she placed him on was always unsustainable, she knew that. She just wasn’t ready for how it would feel to see him as a normal person and not the hero the little girl in her remembered so clearly.

She had noticed a change in him lately though. He smiled a little easier, his body looked stronger - he wasn’t as fragile. She didn’t know what happened to make him feel more like himself again, but whatever it was, she was grateful.

She had just climbed under the comforting fabric of her plush blanket when she heard the knocking on her bedroom door. Anthony poked his head in before she could answer.

“Hyacinth, are you in here?” his eyes searched the room before finally landing on the Hyacinth shaped lump under the covers.

“You came back,” she stated, happiness tugging the corners of her mouth toward the sky.

“I know you wanted to be alone, but I’ve brought you some things.” He took a tentative step into the room.

Heat rushed to the tops of Hyacinth’s cheeks. “You went shopping for me?”

“I wasn’t sure what all you would need, so I just bought one of everything.” He handed her the large paper bag he clutched nervously. “There are also some sweets in there. I got those little Battenbergs you like. And those disgusting Monster Munch crisps you fancy so much.”

Her eyes lit up. “Roast Beef flavored?!”

His face grimaced as he shook off his distaste. “Yes, but I beg you to wait to eat those until after I’ve left. I don’t know how you stomach the smell.”

She stuck her tongue out at him before continuing to dig through the bag. “Good God, Anthony! How much did you buy? I’m only one person.”

Her throat tightened with the effort to hold in a fresh wave of tears. She had just managed to stop crying and refused to start up again. A few salty droplets slipped past her defenses as she cataloged the contents of her care package. He had put so much thought into it. The image of him scowling at shelves of feminine hygiene products made her laugh. He really had thought of everything - snacks, medicine, a heating pad. There was even an adorable stuffed bumble bee. 

She felt the bed dip slightly when he sat down next to her. His anxious expression caught her attention before he spoke. “Hyacinth…” he paused, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over something concealed in his palm. “I know I haven’t been very present lately, and I’m sorry. It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with my own shortcomings.”

He extended his hand to her, revealing the antique gold pocket watch their father had given him. “Father’s watch?” she asked, confusion coloring her features.

“Open it,” he encouraged.

Gently, she clicked the delicate latch to display the same intricate clock face she’d seen a thousand times before. Tucked safely within the opposite side was a worn photo. A young Anthony holding…

“That’s us,” he confirmed. “The day you were born. You were so small… and loud.”

“Ha. Ha.” she deadpanned. “Why do you keep it here?”

As if the answer was obvious, he simply stated, “So that I’ll always have it with me.” Sensing she needed more, he went on, “My whole life changed that day. I was nineteen - young, dumb, and aimless. But then there you were, and suddenly I had a purpose. So I keep it with me as a reminder for when I get a little lost.”

His knuckle brushed against her cheek, wiping away a runaway tear. “You are not an inconvenience. You never have been. And I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel that way. I’ll do better, I promise.”

There was no stopping the free-falling emotions that cascaded down her face. She was moving towards him before she had a chance to think better of it. Climbing into his lap, she wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. He didn’t speak. He held her close, stroking her hair in reassurance, giving her space to feel.

When she calmed down, she pulled away, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her oversized hoodie. Anthony stood, smoothing out his now ruffled clothing. “I’ll leave you alone now,” he said with a smile.

The moment he turned to leave Hyacinth realized that’s not what she wanted at all. “Or… you could stay. Do you want to binge watch Love Island with me?!”

“Love Island?!” He was appalled. “Hyacinth, that is absolute trash TV. Utter brain rot.”

“Exactly,” she beamed. “That’s the appeal. Come on, Anthony. You can hate- watch it and complain the whole time. You know how much you love criticizing stupid people.”

Hyacinth lifted her blanket, inviting him to crawl in next to her. She laughed at his exasperated huff before he gave in and kicked off his shoes.

“Fine,” he conceded.

“Awesome,” she grinned victoriously. It was unnerving how much she looked like their mother when she looked at him like that. “Can we UberEats some McDonalds, too?!”

She had him right where she wanted him and she knew it. “Might as well,” he said, handing her his phone. “Garbage food to go with our garbage show.”

Even though he would rather pluck his eyes out than watch this show, he was content to just be here. Happy even. It was a moment worth remembering. Taking the phone she was handing back to him, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side. “Come here. I think we need an updated picture, don’t you?”

“Let me see,” she demanded. “If I look awful you have to delete it.”

“Whatever you say, your highness,” he chuckled softly.

“Aww! I love it,” she approved, sending the photo to herself. “You’re smiling.”

Anthony stared down at the photo contemplatively. She was right, it turned out nicely. He already knew the exact spot he wanted to place it on his desk.

The time on his phone caught his attention. It was already two o’clock and he was supposed to pick his girl up for dinner at half past six. He had been looking forward to seeing her all day but he didn’t want to cut his time with Hyacinth short.

Texting her the picture of him and his sister, he asked:

Anthony: Would you be opposed to pushing dinner back until 8:00? I’m on big brother duty.

She sent him back a gif of a cartoon cat with heart eyes.

Trouble: That is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. We can reschedule for tomorrow if you want to spend the evening with your family. I don’t mind.

Anthony: I mind. I mind a lot. I want to see you. I’ve been thinking about it since I woke up this morning.

Trouble: Forget dinner, come straight to my place. I’ll feed you.

Anthony: What’s on the menu?

Trouble: Me.

He didn’t realize he had laughed out loud until Hyacinth asked, “What’s her name?”

“Who,” he played dumb, praying she hadn’t caught a glimpse at those texts.

Hyacinth rolled her eyes. “The girl that’s got you smiling like that. Duh.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no girl,” he sidestepped. “And I’m not smiling.”

“You’re so smiling. Have you told her yet?” she prodded.

“Told her what?” He realized his mistake a moment too late.

“HA! So there is a girl! I knew it.” She poked him playfully.

“God, you’re nosy. Maybe even worse than Eloise.”

“That is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me Anthony. But flattery doesn’t distract me for long. Soooo….?” she waited with unyielding patience for him to answer.

“Sooo?” he mimicked.

“Did you tell her yet?” She was relentless.

“Tell her?” Really though, what was she on about?

“That you love her…” 

His breath caught in his throat. “I… what? No…”

“But you do,” it wasn’t a question this time.

“Hyacinth…” he warned.

“Okay, okay. Will you at least tell me her name?” 

He took a minute to consider it. Was he ready? The bubble they existed in was fun and safe. Pressure free. The moment he let someone else in, it would raise the stakes. But isn’t that what he wanted - something real? She deserved that. 

“I’ll tell you, but this information is just for you. Understood?” She hooked her little finger around his in a silent promise. “Her name is Y/N.”

“Y/N…” she repeated. “She sounds beautiful.”

Anthony watched his sister with fascination as her eyes came alive with the romantic imagination that only existed inside the mind of a twelve year old girl.

Maybe one day he would remember how to see the world that way again too.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later, Anthony found himself fully immersed in the exploitative debauchery that was Love Island. Hyacinth had fallen asleep about thirty minutes into the first episode, now drooling safely on his chest, and left him to navigate the shallow dramas of the contestants’ lives. He’d never admit it out loud, but he could understand why someone might find their antics entertaining. It was so far removed from reality it was nearly impossible to look away.

He was about to make his predictions for this episode when there was a knock on the door.

“Hyacinth?” Violet called, opening the door. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Sshhh,” Anthony whispered. “She’s asleep.”

“Darling,” she greeted him warmly. “You’re still here. I thought you’d be gone by now. I thought you had plans, I didn’t mean to keep you from them.”

He waved off her concern. “It’s okay, I rescheduled. Besides, I think I’m right where I belong.”

“How is she,” Violet asked, feeling Hyacinth’s forehead with the back of her hand.

“I’ll let her tell you about it when she wakes up. She’s had a long day, but I think she’s hanging in there.” He smiled down at his snoring sister.

“I can see that,” his mother remarked as she observed the discarded candy wrappers littered across the bed. Her face transformed when she took in the sight of her children cuddled together so sweetly. “She misses you, you know?”

“I know,” he hung his head, averting his mother’s eyes. “I should have come sooner.”

Gentle fingers pushed his hair away from his face. “Well, you’re here now. That’s what matters.”

“Yeah. I guess…” It still felt like too little, too late. He had a lot to make up for, but this was a good place to start.

A stream of expletives sounded over the tv speakers when two of the contestants realized a betrayal. Violet turned her attention to the screen. “For God’s sake, Anthony! What on Earth are you watching? I hope you didn’t let your sister watch this rubbish. Those women are hardly wearing any clothes!”

“Really,” he smirked. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He got the exact reaction he was aiming for. 

“Hush,” she reprimanded before turning off the tv and leaving the room.

The room was silent now, the only sound was Hyacinth's steady breathing. He felt himself relax into the soft pillowy mattress. His lids began to droop, his mind slowed to a blissful hum.

He had been out in the cold for so long. It was good to be home…

_____________________________________

Tags: @faye-tale @eleanor-bradstreet @musicismyoxygen84 @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @heeyyyou @queenofmean14 @angels17324 @bridgertontess​

[rainbow-sunshine-unicorn]

Deeply obsessed with how Anthony Bridgerton will do anything and everything for the vibes, the ambience and to set the mood for his wife

Why did he lift Kate up halfway to the ceiling just to simply set her down on the desk? THE MOOD, THE AMBIENCE, THE VIBES

Why did he scatter the papers after setting her down as opposed to clearing the desk beforehand? THE MOOD, THE AMBIENCE, THE VIBES

Because of course scattered papers are an essential aspect to heir-making on a desk!!!

[lucigra]

What if... kanthony 👀

[newtonsheffield]

is this modern bruises model kate or more model kate/journalist anthony?

This is 100% modern bruises Kate sitting in The makeup chair on a video call with her husband. Anthony’s a little embarrassed because Kate’s team can obviously hear them talking while he eats his lunch.

“That’s a very cute sweater, Mr Bridgerton.”

She watched Anthony cheeks flush as he took a night of his sandwich, sat in the Land Rover with Mr Peanut Better beside him. “I bought it five years ago. I’m pretty sure there’s a hole in the armpit.”

Kate chuckled. “Maybe it’s just you making it look good then.”

“She’ll try anything to flirt with me, ladies.”

“I’ll try anything because it usually works.” Kate sighed, “Tell me about fixing fences. Any carrying around tiny lambs I should know about?”

“No lambs, but Gregory’s goat has had her kid so… now we have Gerald the goat as well.”

“Very excited!”

[pizzabaekanthony]

Current obsession - Je Suis Malade by antemattter!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57766132/chapters/147021925

Moodboard by yours truly!

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Gala (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader)

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!Reader Modern AU Rated: 18+, just lots of thirst and suggestiveness Word count: 1.9k

Summary: You attend a charity gala with your boss who really is too much trouble in a tux.

Author's Note: Requested by and dedicated to @queenofmean14 Bit cracky and intended to be humorous 😜 Also credit to @broooookiecrisp from whom I pilfered the job details of her modern Anthony.

“He’s here.” Security announced in your earpiece. Not that you needed them to. You knew the Jaguar as it pulled up. So did the line of paparazzi who started to jostle for the clearest shot. But when he stepped out, you didn’t even know your own name. Anthony Bridgerton, CEO of Bridgerton House Enterprises and your boss, was going to make tonight even more difficult for you.

He had talked to you about his planned outfit beforehand, but you hadn’t gotten a preview and hadn’t envisioned it like this. A perfectly tailored velvet tux jacket accented with a diamond bee brooch. Smart shoes, an effortlessly coiffed wave of hair and most arresting of all, a pair of sleek shades that he slid on as he exited the car even though it was long past sundown. An errant corner of your brain replayed some 80’s song lyrics, but you couldn’t deny that the entire look worked. It worked entirely too well for you as your body flushed with heat and breathing suddenly became a task. The man could wear the hell out of a tux.

Granted, he always looked mouthwatering no matter how he was dressed, and as his executive assistant for the span of eight months you had seen the spectrum of his wardrobe. Everything hung so perfectly on his muscled frame, exuding old money power with a currently fashionable touch. Clothes made the man, but you suspected Anthony Bridgerton could elevate a bin bag. It was a visual challenge you had adapted to in your job, over time finding it easier and easier to speak to him without choking on your tongue first. His arrogant playfulness had helped with that and the two of you had built a deep mutual trust, a friendship even. You had bonded in the trenches of corporate crises enough to sling endearing insults at each other and always be blatantly honest. Except about one thing. You could obviously never reveal to him how desperately you wanted to jump his bones. How your blood simmered when his voice dropped to a certain pitch. How you broke into gooseflesh whenever he shook your hand and met you with something caring in his deep umber eyes. The light flirtation you both fell into from time to time certainly didn’t help either. And now with him in black tie, you began to wonder if this job was hazardous to your health.

Tonight was the company’s annual charity gala. A star-studded event at one of London’s best hotels where celebrities and socialites donated funds for the hospitals partnered with BHE. Anthony would give the closing speech and as planned, was the last to arrive on the red carpet so that he would get unencumbered press focus. You had spent the entire day on site making sure everything was prepped to perfection and now you stood at the top of the entry stairs with the other staff, ready to welcome the MVP of the evening. Given the high profile of the event, you had dressed for the occasion too. You would be seated at his table and weren’t going to be photographed looking like an intern. You had found a dress you loved, a shimmering number that showed off your best assets, and splurged on a hair and makeup artist. Maybe your position made you more akin to the prince’s valet but if this was how you got into the ball, you were going to make the most of it.

You watched Anthony pausing for photos, realizing this was one of the rare times you could observe him from afar. He moved with such confidence, back straight and head held high. He would run his fingers through his greying temples or brush a thumb over his stubbled chin while flashing that killer smile and your legs wanted to give out. He knew how to work a camera. It was one of the many awful, wonderful things about him. But if the attention helped raise money for charitable causes it was all worth it. You supposed your undergarments could suffer for the greater good. 

As he moved along, you noticed he was licking his lips. A peek of his tongue in the corner of his mouth as he faced your direction. He was probably hot under all the camera flashes. But that small gesture was infecting you with heat too. He really needed to stop or you were liable to tumble down the steps and really make a headline. It took all your strength not to fan yourself with the tablet you were holding until at last he ascended and gave you a dazzling smile, falling into step beside you as you moved indoors. 

You hovered in his orbit as he was greeted by the first throng of attendees at the bar and you called for a flute of champagne. When he was alone at last for a moment, you pulled him into a quiet corner and offered him the drink.

“Thirsty?”

“Sorry?” He moved closer, inclining his head. He was curiously still wearing his sunglasses indoors. You could smell his cologne. Amber and smoke and spice and it made you want to sink your teeth into his neck.

“Are you thirsty?” You said louder, shoving the glass into his hand as he chuckled.

“Why do you ask?” He took a sip.

What a stupid question. Couldn’t you just offer him some refreshment? Didn’t humans need to hydrate? Now you had to answer him.

“I um…” You wavered. “I saw you. You were…licking your lips out there so I just figured…”

His brows show up over his frames and he grinned. “You’re very attentive.”

Something shot down your spine. His voice was getting close to that register. “It’s my job to take care of your needs.” You reminded him, though you laid on a heavy layer of sarcasm.

“And you are so very good at it.” He rumbled, reaching the danger pitch. Oh god, he was going to assault you both visually and aurally at the same time, wasn’t he? He was going to flirt with you while daring to look like that. He was cruel, and he knew exactly what he was doing. 

He confirmed it by stepping even closer, turning so the front of his velvet jacket brushed your bare arm and he leaned down to murmur directly in your ear. “You look incredible by the way.”

You swallowed hard, instructing yourself to inhale and exhale. But that wasn’t really helping because his intoxicating scent was making things worse. You had to keep your head. You had to spar with him or else you were going to melt into the carpet. “So do you.” You pursed your lips and gave him an exaggerated once over as if you were only mildly impressed. “The glasses were a good choice.”

He smiled and you detected something genuine, like he was actually eager for your praise. He tapped the frames lightly. “Useful too. I don’t have to give anyone my undivided attention if I don’t want to. I could be talking to them while scanning the crowd and they would be none the wiser.”

This sounded like the setup for a joke. Something about not listening to you as you conducted him through his schedule for the evening. You were beginning to resent those glasses and you would let him know if he tried to get sassy with you.

“So what are you looking at?” You smirked, waiting for the punchline.

He took another sip of champagne, facing you but now you couldn’t be sure if he wasn’t staring directly over your head. “A beautiful woman who is driving me to distraction.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course. The man lived at the office and didn’t really have time for a social or romantic life. He would have to double up and treat a work event as an opportunity for a hookup. Especially at an event as glamorous as this, with so many swanlike women floating around and everyone dressed in their finest, you understood, despite the envy it flared in you.  

“Ah, I see. Is there someone I should invite over to your table?”

He shook his head, downed the last of the champagne and set it aside with a decisive clink. “Unnecessary. You’re already at my table.”

He said it so matter-of-factly it took your brain several seconds to even comprehend its meaning. You must have been going mad. Your heart started to pound, fueled equally by embarrassed confusion and ridiculous hope. There was no way. Absolutely no way on earth he could have said what you thought he said. And even if he had, he was just toying with you, right? 

“I’m not…” You stuttered, hoping he couldn’t see the blush you felt creeping up your neck. “You weren’t…you weren't looking at me.”

Then your breath caught in your throat as he rounded on you, standing directly before you so your back was pressed against the wall and all you could see was him. He loomed, black velvet and chestnut hair and perfect stubble. That scent was making you feral and now you could feel his hot breath across your skin. You could see yourself in the reflection of his dark lenses, peering up at him like trapped prey. This was how you died. Or lost your job. You were sure of it.

“How would you know?” He smiled wolfishly and tapped the glasses again. “All the better to see you with, my dear.” 

You were hit by lightning. The gooseflesh rippled across your skin. Your underwear soaked. All you could do was stand there and tremble as he ran a finger idly up and down your arm. You were surprised sparks weren’t erupting out of your skin where he touched you. 

“Why do you think I was licking my lips?” He asked in a low voice, finally removing the shades to pierce through you with his dilated, chocolate eyes. “I’m afraid even with the champagne, I’m still thirsty.” Then he did it again, flicking that weapon of mass destruction across his luscious bottom lip and staring at you pointedly.

Your brain functioned enough to realize that he was breathing just as heavy as you were. And that he was opening a door, giving you an option. The option you had been fantasizing about since the day you met him. It seemed too good to be true. You were half convinced you were dreaming in a coma after faceplanting down the steps outside thanks to his appearance. But the prickle of your electrified nerves and the river between your thighs felt real enough to persuade you that you were indeed still in your own body. You were not going to pass this up, whatever it might lead to. Really, you wanted to scream aloud like you had won the lottery.

But instead you whispered, “There’s water in the green room.”

He grinned broadly, creasing that dimple in his left cheek that you wanted to lick right off his face. “Excellent idea. I think we’ll need an emergency private conference to…go over my notes.”

His hand found the small of your back and you prayed that your legs would carry you that far. This was really going to throw off the itinerary but you were good at your job, you could adjust. You smiled back at him. “Whatever you say, sir. I’m here to take care of your needs.”

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @colettebronte @faye-tale

[funemployed-fangirl]

Which couple elopes in your modern AU?

What is Violets reaction?

Technically speaking, none of them. But...

Anthony & Kate, Colin & Penelope, and Daphne & Simon all have nice, traditional society weddings.

They're big, but not excessively so. Tasteful. With Daphne being Violet's first to get married and Anthony being the oldest, they would never get out of doing big society affairs. And Colin & Penelope kind of like the spectacle of it all. Plus, Penelope's mother would never pass-up the opportunity to show off the family's new connection to the Bridgertons.

Benedict & Sophie and Francesca & John/Michael have small affairs.

Benedict & Sophie don't want to wait to do a full society affair. And besides, Sophie doesn't have any family or really that many friends doesn't know that many people, and Benedict doesn't want her to feel uncomfortable at her own wedding.

Francesca & John are just out of college, so its a respectably sized event, but nothing huge. When Francesca & Michael get married, they decide they don't want to make a huge deal of it, but still want to do something special, so they have everyone fly out to Cabo and do a beach ceremony.

Eloise & Phillip and Gregory & Lucy come the closest to eloping.

Eloise & Phillip have been living together for awhile, and one day decide they should just make it official. They set a date for a courthouse wedding, and inform the family. Anyone who can make it up is welcome to be there, but they aren't changing the date.

Gregory & Lucy go to the court house not long after the whole "crashing Lucy's first wedding" incident. They decide that a full wedding so close to the incident is probably in poor taste, but they don't want to wait. Like Eloise & Phillip, they tell people they're going, though that message may have gone out the morning they went to the courthouse...

Hyacinth & Gareth go BIG.

There are big society weddings. And then there's Hyacinth & Gareth's wedding. With both Bridgerton and Danbury money going into the event, and Hyacinth's personality making decisions, it's an over-the-top event that people are talking about for years. The bride and groom have multiple outfit changes. The reception goes for hours. The couple and their friends go bar hopping until 4 AM.

The weddings don't really matter to Violet, as long as her children are all happy.

[easybrainrot34]

Sweet Benedict & Anthony Relationship Headcanons

Modern Au. These r just sweet little relationship headcanons about Benedict and Anthony. These r x reader style. Just pure fluff.

A/N : This is my first time writing Bridgerton headcanons so please be kind ☺️. I can always do an NSFW version if y’all want. ✨Please Enjoy✨

Ps my ask and request are open :)

Benedict

1. He’s the kinda man to make you the Lego flowers because in his own words, “these are more beautiful because they can never die just like my love for you”. However he will still get you regular flowers bc he’s nothing if not a gentleman.

2. He’s terrible at keeping secrets from you. Like if he’s having a bad day he’s not going to be like ��oh don’t worry about it” Cough cough Anthony. He will make it a point to always be honest about his feelings with you.

3. This man loves to gossip, but only with you. Oh dear god, weather its some work drama, some tea from his brothers love life’s, or some juicy tea from y’all’s friend group, your this mans first text. If it happens if front of both of you he is shooting you a “oh we have to talk about this later” look.

Anthony

1. His love language is acts of service / gestures. Don’t get me wrong, he always tells you he loves you, but it’s the small things he does. If you’re feeling sad he will bring you a warm drink, a fluffy blanket, and will be there with a comforting hug. Also something tells me he loves making you breakfast.

2. Dates r so SO important to him. Like weather its just a movie night in or dinner out, he will never not put in effort. All you need to do is say what your date idea is and he will plan everything. He also isn’t a huge fan of surprises, but it means so much to him when you plan a date.

3. He has a notes app full of baby names, broke down by gender, the full 9 yards. He made it once y’all started dating because he just knew that he wanted to start a family with you. He also gets so red when u see him adding to it one day. That night y’all stay up comparing baby names and talking about the future.

[stars-of-kyber]

You Used To Live in My Head (Now I Carry You In My Heart) - Chapter 19

Do forgive for the late T🐝T (T🐝F?). I was in a bad space this week and honestly, I came this close to breaking down and just... deleting everything, quitting my job and burying myself in my bed for the rest of the year.

But here it is!

Let us watch Mary deal with her narcissistic mother, shall we?

For our cool bonus stuff, we humbly offer you @harnitbee's latest obsession. We proudly present our fave's babies, their spouses and grandbabies.

Is this getting way too out of hand? Yes, it has already crossed that line maybe three months ago, thanks for asking!

Hope you like it

Lots of love,

Cee and Anita!

[thebabblingbrookenook]

Love To Hate You

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x Female Reader

Summary: Anthony Bridgerton has been your favorite rival since college. Nothing gets your blood pumping quite like getting under his skin. No matter how much you love to see him squirm, you hate the defeated look on his face at someone else's hands. You never thought you'd see the day when your only worthy opponent would become you're most exciting conquest.

Warnings: 18 & Older - Oral, Rough Sex, Degradation, Praise, Strong Language, Spanking

Word Count: 5.6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days.

                That’s how long this merger had been at a standstill.  You’d spent the last 72 hours listening to a room full of grown men performing a metaphorical dick measuring. It was a miracle that your eyes weren’t permanently rolled to the back of your head.

                The only thing keeping you from telling your pompous asshole of a boss to swallow his pride and make a few concessions was the palpable irritation radiating off the man seated across from you at the conference table.

                Anthony Bridgerton.

                Since your college days, you had lived to needle this man. He wore every expression clear as day across his annoyingly handsome face. It was so easy to rile him up, and even more rewarding to spar with him when he came back at you with his sharp, alluring tongue. He had proven himself a worthy opponent – someone who was not only willing to play with you, but who was capable of leaving you a panting, sweaty mess under his designer shoe.

                The crease between his brow deepened with every idiotic word that left his associate’s arrogant mouth. Something about this man’s tone pissed you off. He spoke with the authority that Anthony was allowing him to possess, but it fit him just as poorly as that knock-off suit that stretched too tightly across his bulky shoulders. He would never wear that power like Anthony. Anthony earned his arrogance and wore it like the fucking king he was.

                This guy needed to be humbled in an embarrassingly public way. Bonus points for the emasculation he’d feel once you shredded his ego to a bloody pulp with the ace you were hiding up your sleeve. Not only would this shut up the blundering idiot still talking out of his ass, but it would also piss Anthony the fuck off. It wasn’t hard to imagine the shade of red the tips of his ears would turn as he tried to reign in his temper.

                Squeezing your thighs together under the table to suppress your arousal, you turned to your rival with a knowing smirk.

 “Bridgerton, I knew you were reckless, but I never thought you were sloppy. You’ve clearly taken your eye off your company if you’re letting Vickers here run unsupervised around your kingdom.”

                His shoulders stiffened in delicious frustration at the sound of your voice, but his lips turned up mischievously as he took you in.

“Careful, darling. Do you really want to play that game? I can assure you; my eyes see all.” The aforementioned eyes slid down to where your legs were pressing together in desperation beneath the table. “Every. Single. Detail.”

Fuck. Why did his voice have to be so hot?

Shake it off, bitch. Your pussy can get hers later. Right now, you need to focus on your takedown.

“Oh, is that so?” You smiled back at him, willing him to take the bait.

You didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on your chest just a moment more than was polite.

“I’m a man of my word sweetheart. And control is my drug of choice.”

Oh, this was too good. He was about to lose his mind when you yanked away his high and sent him spiraling into a bad trip.

“So, you were aware that your associate signed contract amendments on your behalf? And if I had to guess, he didn’t read them fully because according to these documents… Anthony Bridgerton consented to the 40% increase over the first 12 months. And then an additional 20% based on profit margins.”

The color drained from his face as your words hit home. A chill ran down your spine at his utterly lethal expression. You were used to his irritation. Intimately familiar with his anger… but this was different.

You could feel it the moment the last shred of restraint left his body. His already dark eyes turned almost black when he fixed them on his target.

“Is this true, Luther?” His voice was deceptively calm, but you could sense the predator lurking beneath the surface.

“Of course not,” Luther lied. “Are you really going to believe this manipulative bitch over me? That’s what she does. Why do you think Morrison hired her firm for legal representation. She’s a lying cun- …”

“STOP TALKING!” Anthony roared. “Finish that sentence and I will shove my foot so far up your ass you’ll be tasting leather.”

The room was deafeningly quiet now. A rush of wetness flooded between your legs when Anthony turned his gaze to you, and you couldn’t stop the little gasp that escaped your lips. Anthony may have gotten his high from control, but you thrived on chaos. And this was the very definition of playing with fire.

“Contracts…” he said, thrusting his hand toward you in a demand.

Victory was all but dancing in your eyes as you slid the papers under his waiting fingertips. Checkmate. This round went to you,

After a diligent assessment of his forged signature, his fingers curled into fists, crumpling the paper in his grasp.

It would be easy to prove the signatures invalid, voiding the contract and rendering it moot. But God, was it worth it to bask in the absolute manic energy he was barely keeping contained.

That simply wouldn’t do. You wanted to see him erupt.

You were in the midst of your plan to stoke the flames when Luther all but did the work for you,

“She’s lying Anthony! Come on, mate. You know me!”

“I do know you,” Anthony deadpanned. “You’re the same conniving, slippery bastard you’ve always been. And we are most certainly not mates. Apparently, you’re also a moron! Do you honestly believe I can’t decipher between my own signature and a fraud? It’s right fucking here in bold black ink, you twat!”

Luther opened his mouth to argue like the true dunce he was, but Anthony silenced him with his glare alone. The danger in his slow, deep voice all but purred over my skin.

“Get. The fuck. Out of my sight.”

“You can’t just fire me! I helped you build this fucking company. You’re nothing without me, Bridgerton!”

“I can, and I just did.” His careful, composed mask was slipping back into place and you already missed his rage. “You’re done here Luther. There won’t be a single person in this industry willing to work with you after I’m through.”

Shoving back forcefully, Luther pushed up from his rolling chair and straight into the woman carrying a try full of coffee orders for the room. It all happened so fast and there was absolutely nothing anyone could do to stop it.

The tray flung from her hands, dumping its contents onto Anthony’s broad chest and waiting lap. He stood abruptly, cursing under his breath, hands frantically trying to shoo the scalding liquid from his body.

When the woman’s hands reached out to assist him, your entire body froze. She was touching him, and you fucking hated it. You were also unsure of how he would react to the blunder. Luther deserved his wrath, but this poor girl did not.

Your heart did something funny in your chest when he gently gripped the wrists of the panicked, trembling woman in front of him.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bridgerton! It was an accident. Are you okay?!”

“Jeannine…” he soothed. “Jeannine, it’s okay. I’m perfectly fine. Maybe a little wet, but unharmed. So, there’s no need for tears.”

Ugh… Now she was looking at him like she’d just fallen in love with him. You mean, kind of like you were 30 seconds ago? Shut up, brain! Don’t look at me like that. You saw nothing, and I don’t want to talk about it.

Anthony rubbed his hands up her arms to reassure her once more. “I could use a new set of clothes. Could you send for something for me?”

She beamed at him. “Of course, sir. I’ll get anything you’d like. That’s what I’m here for.”

Eye roll. Of course she had called him sir. And he undoubtedly loved every second of it.

“Thank you, Jeaninne. You’re truly invaluable. You know my sizes, and you know what I like, so I have no doubt you’ll choose something that flatters me.”

“That won’t be hard to do,” she blushed up at him.

His answering smile made you want to smack it right off his face. Charming bastard.

“Buy yourself something as well. Anything you want. Cost is no problem. I fear your pretty white blouse is ruined now.”

Yeah, you scoffed. Ruined and conveniently see through.

Jeaninne gave him one last embarrassed smile before retreating from the room. Before she reached the door he called after her.

“Oh, and Jeaninne… If you wouldn’t mind calling security to have them escort Mr. Vickers from premises.”

She replied with a nervous nod before fleeing the room.

You could cut the remaining tension with a knife. Everyone unsure of how to breach the standoff.

Predictably, it was my boss, lulled into a false sense of superiority, who decided to brave speaking.

“Well, well… It looks like the infallible Anthony Bridgerton isn’t invincible after all. It seems my attorney has managed to get underneath all your armor and hit her mark. How does it feel, Bridgerton?”

“How does what feel?” Anthony feigned interest, still wiping coffee from his trousers.

“To know you’re no better than the rest of us mere mortals. You’re just an arrogant boy who was handed his daddy’s company when he didn’t deserve it. Edmund would have never made a mistake like that one.”

Shit.

A small fleck of insecurity washed over Anthony’s features. He recovered quickly, but you saw it. It was an expression that was so out of place on him that for a split second he looked like another person entirely. Someone younger. Less larger than life, and more vulnerable.

It made you uncomfortable. You were the only one who was allowed to push Anthony’s buttons, and even you never wanted to tear him down that far.

Anthony opened his mouth, no doubt to tell your rotund boss to fuck all the way off, but it was your own voice that filled your ears.

“That’s enough! Mr. Morrison, you’re out of line. Don’t pretend to know anything of Edmund Bridgerton. That man would never have even granted you an audience. That’s how beneath him you would have found yourself. If I were you, I’d consider yourself grateful for even getting through the door.”

This meeting was getting out of control quickly. If you knew Anthony, and you believed you did, he was about to cut his losses and scrap the entire deal. He didn’t need this partnership. He wanted it, but he sure as fuck didn’t need it. And from where you sat, that was a dangerous place to be.

If you wanted to cash that big, fat commission check that only came after the ink was dried, you needed to do damage control.

“I think we need to take a breather. Everyone out!”

Mr. Morrison actually had the gall to laugh in your face.

“And I think you need to learn your place. I like you because you’re such a ball busting bitch but make no mistake – I’m the one in charge here. I pay you, not the other way around. So, I suggest you sit down and shut up while the men finish their conversation.”

The air in the room was charged with barely restrained fury. Whether it was yours or his, you couldn’t be sure. Mr. Morrison may have started this war, but Anthony Bridgerton was the one who finished it.

“Speak to her like that again and not only will I cancel this partnership, but I will buy your company outright and dismantle it piece by piece. I’ll sell it for parts while you watch your life’s work burn to ash. Did you think I didn’t know your proposal was a measure of last resort for you? I don’t need you, Mr. Morrison. Make no mistake – I’m the one with the real power here. From my vantage point, you’re the one who needs to learn their place.

Holy fuck…

If Mr. Morrison didn’t get the hell out of this room immediately, he was going to become intimately acquainted with your naked body, because – HOT DAMN! You were pretty sure it was the part of the story where the enemies were about to become lovers.

The look on Morrison’s face would have been funny if your clit wasn’t throbbing to within an inch of its life!

Walking to the door, you opened it and stepped aside, gesturing for him to make himself scarce.  “We can reconvene on Monday. I think calmer heads will yield the best results, don’t you?”

It surprised you when he didn’t try to argue. Anthony’s threat must have done its job.

Closing the door behind him, you locked it and tapped the high-tech keypad to cloak the space in privacy. The floor to ceiling glass immediately turned opaque and the sounds from the surrounding offices disappeared into silence.

You turned to find Anthony leaning against the large boardroom table, arms crossed over his toned chest. His eyes narrowed on you when you took a step towards him.

“I know you’re pleased with yourself, but I didn’t take you for the type to stick around to gloat.”

What a clueless jackass… He had no idea what was about to happen. The two of you had never crossed this line before, but you didn’t think you could survive another second in his presence without your mouth on him. Did he not feel this too?

God, this was going to be so embarrassing if he rejected you. It was a very real possibility. It would make perfect sense with the antagonizing nature of your relationship for him to even the playing field. Was it wrong that it turned you on even more to think about him putting you in your place?

“Shut the hell up, Bridgerton, and take off your pants.” Straight to the point was always the best approach with this man.

Genuine surprise colored his cheeks.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“You have been a raging dick for the past three days. If that vein in your neck is any indication, you’re going to stroke out before we can finish this deal. I’ve put way too much work into this project and spent way too much time in a room filled with guys staring at my tits for me not to get this bonus check. Now, take your fucking pants off so I can suck some of that stress out of you.”

“You’ve been thinking about my raging dick for the last three days, haven’t you?”

The smug turn of his perfect fucking mouth was almost enough to make you change your mind. It felt a bit too much like he was gaining the upper hand.

“And you’ve been thinking about my ass bent over your desk since I stepped foot in here on Wednesday. Don’t act like you don’t stroke yourself to sleep at night to thought of hate fucking me.”

Your fingers went to the buttons on your blouse and started to slowly reveal the lacey black bra beneath. You felt him go still.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice dropping to a sinful register.

“Giving you a better look,” you smirked “Every time I looked up today your eyes were on my tits. Touch them. They feel even better than they look.”

“You’re being serious right now…” he quipped. “What makes you think I would ever want to touch you?”

“Well, for starters,” you said, inclining your head toward his straining crotch. “Your cock looks like it wants to tear through those trousers to get to me. Or had you not noticed?”

You watched, mesmerized as his hand came up to rub himself over the restrictive fabric. Those pants were your new arch nemesis.

“If you want to rid me of my stress, it would be as easy as getting in your car and not coming back. You are the absolute bane of my existence, you know that?”

His surly words were doing nothing but egging you on.

“Maybe…” you purred, stepping into his space. You brought his warm, strong hands up to splay out over your waist. “But I’m also the object of all your desires.”

He growled in your ear when you leaned down to lick the protruding vein running up the length of his neck.

“This changes nothing between us. I still think you are the most infuriating woman on the planet.”

The heat of him looming against your stomach was too much to resist. Your fingers gripped him firmly until you felt him twitch in your palm.

“Are you going to fuck me or not, Bridgerton? If not, I think I saw your brother at the end of the hall when I closed the door.”

You made to pull away from him when his hand locked around the back of your neck, pressing you firmly into the sizable bulge resting between you.

“Don’t you fucking dare. We both know you would eat my brother alive. You’re not that kind of cruel.”

“No,” you agreed. “I’m your brand of cruelty, Anthony. I think someone designed me just for you. The arrogant, entitled prick in need of someone to put him in his place. I’m your comeuppance, baby. Now be a good boy and serve your penance.”

His forehead pressed roughly into yours, trapping you to his gaze.

“You never learned how to shut this smart mouth, did you? You’ve been lashing me with that tongue for 10 fucking years.”

The tongue he just accused of bringing him pain jutted out to show him pleasure, stroking over his kissable lips.

“You don’t want me with my mouth closed, Bridgerton.”

“I don’t know,” he teased. “A little peace and quiet might be a nice change.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. His pupils blew wide when you dropped to your knees in front of him. “You want my mouth wide open, baby. If you want me to shut up, then fucking make me.”

His fingers threaded into your hair yanking your head back to force your attention on his face.

“You are such a fucking brat. You’re practically begging for someone to teach you a lesson. Is that what you want? Do you want to learn your lesson?”

With all the innocence you could muster, you challenged him one last time.

“I’m an exemplary student. I’m hungry for knowledge, sir. Practically ravenous.”

If he was holding on to his restraint before, it was all gone now. His fingers tightened in your hair, sending a pulsing need to your attention hungry cunt.

“Take my dick out and stick out your tongue. I’m going to fuck that pretty face until you’re crying all over my lap. How does that sound? Do you want to choke on this cock for me?”

A whimpered “fuck” left your lips when he sprang free in front of you. You couldn’t think of anything you wanted more right now than to take him down your throat until he was a mindless mess. Licking your hungry lips, you leaned forward eagerly for a taste, but he pulled you back again.

“I asked you a question. Run that mouth one more time and answer me.”

“Yes,” you nodded enthusiastically. “Please, Anthony. I want to choke on your cock. I want to learn my lesson.”

A visible shudder ran through him at your confession.

“Good-fucking- girl. Give me your tongue.”

For once, you obeyed without protest. If you didn’t taste him soon you might actually die.

His hand guided the warm head of his dick along your waiting tongue. His hissed breath matched your rising desire, and you moaned in pleasure. You needed more. What was he waiting for?

“Any day now, Bridgerton.” Antagonizing him was second nature at this point.

With one exasperated thrust, he slid into your mouth effectively cutting off your air supply. His quick, deep pumps had you gulping around his length. Your eyes were already streaming down your face. The fuzzy, euphoric feeling of oxygen deprivation was starting to dance behind your eyes. Your lungs burned with the need to inhale but there was not a chance in hell that you would stop this.

His needy, frantic movements were setting your blood on fire. Your imagination never could have conjured the sounds rumbling from his throat. If this is how you died, you would do so proudly and with a smile on your face. Your tombstone would be emblazoned with bold lettering that you died doing what you were made to do – choking on Anthony Bridgerton’s perfect dick.

Just when you feared that you would have to admit defeat and beg him for mercy, he pulled free from your greedy mouth leaving you a saliva-soaked mess. His labored breathing was going to be your undoing. Getting a rise out of Anthony Bridgerton had always been your preferred pastime, but this way by far your favorite way to do it.

“Is this what you wanted,” he asked. “Do you think you’ve learned your lesson yet?”

You smiled up at him, eager to poke the bear at every turn.

“Nope…” you said, popping the p in a way you knew would annoy him. “You’re a shit teacher, Bridgerton.”

Fire ignited in his rich brown eyes and your pussy all but cried out for help. The promise that one look held was enough to have you clenching around nothing, wishing he was buried inside you.

You let out a groan of satisfaction when he slapped his cock across your face.

“Did I say you could put your tongue away? Stick it back out and leave it there. I won’t tell you again.”

Desperate to taste him again, you did as you were told. He quickly rewarded your obedience with more slaps along your tongue. It was so dirty and debasing, but you loved every minute of it.

His leaking tip was smearing the salty promise of his relief all over your tastebuds. You almost came on the spot when he spit in your open mouth, coating himself thoroughly on your outstretched tongue.

“Wrap your pretty lips around my cock and swallow that.”

For fuck’s sake! You actually might not survive this.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised. “Look how gorgeous you are when you’re doing what you’re told. Now put your hands on my thighs and hold tight. I’m going to ruin all your pretty makeup.”

Before you even had a chance to brace yourself, he was pumping back into your mouth at a relentless pace. It didn’t take him long to find a pattern that was pushing him towards the edge of his release. After a torturous onslaught of punishing thrusts, he rewarded you by holding you down on himself, burying your nose into the hair at the base of his shaft. The scent of him there was blindingly erotic, and you wanted to cover yourself in it. When he thought you had earned a breath, he would drag you off him and leave you gasping for air before starting the pattern over again.

The pressure building at the apex of your thighs was maddening. Removing one of your hands from his thigh, you reached down to ease the aching. No sooner had you moaned in pleasure around his cock did he take it away from you. You instantly felt bereft at his absence.

“Put that hand back on my thigh. I didn’t say you were allowed to touch yourself. That pussy is mine. It’s mine to touch, mine to lick, and mine to fuck.”

Your brain wanted to be obstinate, but your pussy – she wanted to be owned.

But old habits die hard. When he pushed himself back over your tongue, you scraped your teeth along his shaft in warning. It was enough to do damage, but it definitely got his attention.

Sometimes being a brat pays in spades.

Two strong arms snaked around your waist and hauled you to your feet. The abruptness elicited a surprised yelp from you, and you found yourself splayed out face down over the cool surface of the conference table.

His hands found the slit in your tight pencil skirt and ripped upward until the fabric gave way and your panty clad ass was on full display to the room.

The heat from his toned body and his sinful scent invaded all your senses when he folded himself along your back to growl into your ear.

“Why do you insist on testing me?”

Honesty was the only way you could respond.

“Because you’re the only one I’ve found who can handle the challenge. I love that you’re always willing to play with me, Anthony.”

Your hips started to push back into him involuntarily. There was so little separating your neglected, needy cunt from the one thing it wanted most. The tantalizing friction that his rigid erection provided, along with his deep throaty growl was enough to spur you on.

“Come on, Bridgerton. Give it to me. You know you want to.”

“You don’t deserve it after the stunt you just pulled. Only good girls get fucked when they need it.”

You couldn’t help but goad him. “Well, what do obstinate little bitches deserve? I’ve earned my punishment, Ant. Now fucking give it to me before I find someone else to do it for you.”

His leg pushed open your thighs apart even wider leaving you open and vulnerable. It also prevented your throbbing clit from finding even a modicum of relief. The force he used to drag your soaked panties down the ground had your heart racing all over again. You needed him to fuck you into this table until you couldn’t see straight.

His control was slipping again. It wouldn’t take much more to push him past his limit. If you really wanted to, you could have him pounding you with one strategically worded sentence.

As much as you wanted that, you enjoyed your game. You wanted to see what he’d do when left to his own devices.

You screamed, first in shock, and then in pleasure, when his hand smacked against the skin of your ass.

“Fuccckkkkk,” he groaned. “You filthy little whore. You liked that. I can see that hungry, perfect pussy searching for my cock. You’re dripping down your legs, baby.”

Something about the tone of his voice when he called you baby had your heart misbehaving in your chest. It sounded almost reverent. Like he was proud of you for how much your body begged for him.

“Count and tell me you’re sorry,” he instructed.

“One,” you complied. “I’m sorry, Anthony.”

“Tell me why you’re sorry.” His tone was an order.

“I’m sorry you weren’t man enough to handle a little scrape of my teeth.” The rush you got from needling him was unparalleled.

The next blow was even harder than the last and had you lifting onto your toes. If he thought this was a punishment, he was sorely mistaken. You could easily become addicted to his discipline.

“Two,” you moaned. “I’m sorry, Anthony.”

“Tell me why.” The strain in his voice was a dead giveaway to his level of need.

“I’m sorry I embarrassed in front of the boys today. They probably don’t respect you now.”

That earned you a smack right across your dripping core. It was the perfect mixture of pleasure and pain. You felt like you could pass out from the adrenaline rushing through your system.

He asked you again and again why you were sorry, and each time you provoked him a little more. Your entire backside burned with the memories of the sensations his hands had left on you.

He asked you a final time.

“Why are you sorry, baby? Be honest.”

“Honestly,” you paused, braving your next words. “I’m not sorry. Not even a little bit. We should have done this a long time ago.”

One big hand curled around your throat and lifted your back to his front. His lips crashed into yours for a searing kiss. His other hand slid down your stomach and pressed into your clit with the perfect pressure. His fingers circled you as you moaned into mouth.

“Anthony,” you cried. “Please, fuck me. I need you. I can’t take it anymore.”

His body pushed yours back down to the tabletop and with one swift movement he was buried to the hilt. The stretch was exquisite. How had you gone so long without knowing the feeling of his cock moving inside you? That had to be some sort of crime against humanity.

You were both too far gone. It was impossible to savor it. It was quick, filthy, and hurt in the best way possible. His hips drove you so hard into the edge of the table that the bruises were likely already forming. The sounds the two of you made together were obscene. Skin slapping against skin. The desperate protest your wet heat made when he left your body for a fraction of a second and the whimpered thank you it made when you clutched him back into you.

His voice was the thing that truly sealed your fate. He was vocal and he wasn’t shy about it. His groans. His curses. His generous praise. He left no room for doubt. You were bringing him pleasure and he was lost to the euphoria.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck…” he hissed. “I’m gonna come. Come for me baby. Milk this cock with your tight little cunt.”

As if on command, you could feel the orgasm begin to swell. Your muscles clamped down on him, holding him prisoner inside you. You pulsed around him, and you could feel him get impossibly stiffer as he spilled himself into you.

“Yes. Yessss,” he cried out. “That’s it baby. Ride it out. I’m right there with you. You feel so fucking good.”

Breathing was hard, and your legs were seconds away from giving out on you. You winced at the pain when he pulled from your body. His release trying to follow suit, dripping down your thighs. You were a fucking mess.

His fingers collected your combined orgasms, pushing it back inside.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted. “You’re going to keep all of my cum right where it belongs. I’m claiming this fucking cunt, baby.”

His fingers moved from your core to your lips. They were slicked with the evidence of what the two of you had just done.

“Suck,” he ordered.

You were done fighting him. At least for today.

Opening wide, you sucked his fingers into your mouth and tasted the two of you together on your tongue. A little hum of pleasure was all you could express. He had well and truly fucked you.

“Good girl.”

He straightened your body, righting your clothes and wiping the hair back from your sweaty face.

“Don’t move. Stay just like that.”

He moved away from you, gathering something from the other end of the table. When he reappeared at your side, it was with his phone. He pulled the camera up to snap a photo of your sex drunk face and then lifted your skirt again to document the damage he did to your ass.

“You look perfect. Absolutely wrecked.” He turned the phone to show you the picture.

He was right about the wrecked part. Your mascara was streaked all down your face, and your lips were swollen and red from the rough assault he made on your mouth. And you had the matching red hand shaped wilts on your ass cheeks to go with it.

“You’re welcome,” you teased.

“For what, exactly?” He was trying and failing to hide his smile

“I told you I could suck the stress out of you. You look much more relaxed now. Borderline happy even. It’s kind of creeping me out.”

His next words took you by surprise.

“Thank you.”

A loud buzz sounded and Jeaninne’s voice filtered into the room.

“Mr. Bridgerton… Your clothes have arrived, and your lunch is waiting for you in your office. I ordered your favorite.”

You couldn’t help the eyeroll as you continued to button your top.

“Thank you, Jeaninne. You’re the best.”

“You’re shameless,” you accused

“What,” he shrugged. “I like to see how often I can make her blush.”

You huffed in disapproval. The poor girl was probably in love with him.

“Can I ask you something?”

You turned to look him in the face at his sudden change of tone.

“Sure,” you replied. “Ask away.”

“Do you respect me?”

You eyed him in shock. That look of vulnerability was back and you loathed it.

“Is this about what I said earlier? About me embarrassing you in front of your team?”

His silence was the only answer you needed.

“Do I seem like the type of woman who would put your cock in my mouth if I didn’t respect you?”

“No, you don’t.”

“Good.”

You gathered your briefcase and strode towards the door. You only stopped at the sound of his voice.

“I respect you, too.”

“I know,” you smiled. “You wouldn’t play so well with me if you didn’t. Get your shit together, Bridgerton. I’ll see you first thing Monday morning with revised contracts. I’m sure Morrison is chomping at the bit to get this settled after your little pissing contest today.”

Your hand was on the doorknob when he spoke again.

“You want to respect each other again next week?”

You shot him a playful wink before sauntering out of the room. You would most definitely be respecting the hell out of him as soon as humanly possible.

If you were lucky, maybe you could get him to respect you a little less.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@eleanor-bradstreet @faye-tale @musicismyoxygen84 @heeyyyou @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @queenofmean14

[ladykettlechips]

I managed to bash out a whole chapter 5 for Beautiful Mess after editing Chapter 4 or AO3, ahhhh! And then I made a moodboard (simple and sweet, nothing too fancy-schamncy) and planned an epilogue right before bed xD

ANYWAY, I made Beautiful Mess it's own stand-alone fic on AO3 as well. While I loved writing it for Fools In Love initially, it's undeniable that it morphed into its own thing. It may not be in-depth, but I love writing it so much right now because it's another AU for these two wonderful idiot.

I am currently editing Chapter 5 as we speak, so that may come out at some point on tumblr and AO3 today. It's over 3k words at this point, so currently the longest chapter for what was supposed to be a one-shot.

Anyway, enjoy! Thank you all for showing this fic love on here and on AO3, I truly appreciate it ❤️❤️❤️

[pentopaper23]

News articles related to my series of modern Bridgerton one shots - Part One

[famoustriumphheart]

I just wrote for the first time the last chapter of a story even before writing the first one. 😅😅😅

[newtonsheffield]

Oh my sheep and goats, modern bruises Anthony?? Training a pup and making Kate melt and drag him into the barn?! ;)

Oh sheep farmer Anthony. It’s so easy to see why Kate pretty much eloped with him after a few months. It’s easy to see why this is one of her favourite things, watching Anthony work while she sits in the ancient Land Rover with Newton on her knee while she trains a new dog with a single sheep.

Newton huffed.

“I know,” Kate tutted, “I know you could do that, I’ve told him that many times.”

Newton huffed again, pressing his nose against Kate’s neck.

“They’re coming back.”

Peanut butter, Anthony’s new sheep dog, named by Hyacinth jumped onto the back seat when Anthony let him inside before getting behind the wheel himself, the sheep returned to its paddock.

He kissed her cheek, “You okay, not too cold?”

“I have your coat on.” Kate rolled her eyes at Anthony who still had his sleeves rolled up and nothing but a padded vest on despite the fact it was late November. And he was only really wearing the vest because Kate had bought it for him.

“And it looks very nice on you.” He grinned as the car clinked into gear. “PB’s coming along well. He’s a quick learner.”

Kate tutted, even as she leaned back to scratch the dog behind the ears. “Newton could do that.”

“Newton gets bored 3 minutes in.” Anthony chuckled.

“Well, he knows his worth Anthony. You’re obviously only paying him for the first three minutes.”

“I see, two chicken nuggets per three minutes is it?”

“I believe that’s the going rate. Peanut Butter should join his union.”

[fitrahgolden]

Modern Kate and Anthony train meet cute. @newtonsheffield

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Locked Out (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader)

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!Reader Modern AU Rated: 18+, explicit sexual content, language, mentions of blood Word count: 4.2k

Summary: When you find yourselves locked out of your house in the middle of the night, Anthony has some ideas for how you can kill time.

Author's Note: Inspired by true events that involved all the frustration but none of the fun 😜 This was just an idea that rooted itself. A silly little fic outside my usual style. Thanks to @faye-tale for chatting with me while I waited for a locksmith. 😊 And thanks to @colettebronte who always has the right JB pic for the job. 💜

You knew this would happen. You had never trusted the smart lock ever since Anthony had installed it. Either some criminal masterminds would hack the whole network of them, or the battery would die and leave you precisely where you were now, standing on the stoop in the chilly air as midnight approached, the moon and your phone as your only light sources. Again you wondered what was so bad about traditional locks as your phone flashed the error message. But Anthony had to get his way, as usual. One news story about a burglar three towns away and the next day he had bought every ‘smart’ home security device on the market.

Well now the stupid lock didn’t work. The first time you had pressed the button you assumed you had tapped something wrong, given how distracted you were. Anthony was crowding against you, one hand slithering over your backside while the other moved to wrap lightly around your throat. He was breathing heavy in your ear, licking your neck with his untamable tongue, a move that always made your eyes cross a bit. But now you had tried three times to unlock the door and it clearly wasn’t working.

“Anthony…”

He just rumbled in response, biting your lobe.

“Anthony!” You nudged him back with your hips, trying to snap him out of it. “The damn lock is broken.” 

“What?” Of course he then had to inspect it himself for a full five minutes, trying every trick on his phone that you had, to no avail.

You stood with your arms crossed. “Where’s the spare key?”

Even in the dim light you could see his jaw set with aggravation. “Inside.”

You scoffed, “You didn’t hide it outside like you said you would?”

“I don’t want to leave a key to our property lying around for anyone to find. This thing was supposed to be top-of-the-line.” He growled.

You couldn’t help your eyes from rolling. “Anthony, that’s why you hide it…”

“Let me try the back.” He jogged off the steps and around the house through your garden gate. You both knew full well that he had rigged your back door with the same space age lock as the front and wasn’t likely to have any success. All you wanted was to get inside, to get warm and have a glass of wine. You looked up at the glare of the full moon. That must be to blame for your misfortune.  

You weren’t going to wait forever and searched the number for a 24-hour locksmith. You were just about to dial when the sound of shattering glass echoed over your lawn followed by a loud curse. Oh good lord…

Before you could even detect which side of the house it came from, Anthony stepped out of the shadows, holding a forearm aloft.

“Anthony Bridgerton, what the hell did you do?” You hissed as loud as you dared, mindful of disturbing your neighbors.

But you knew exactly what he had done when he drew closer and you could see the bloody pulp that now constituted his knuckles. More alarming was the long, jagged tear in the sleeve of his shirt through which you could see the matching slice on his skin, blood already seeping out to darken the fabric.

“Broke the side window,” he grumbled. 

“And how did that work out for you, genius?”

His eyes flashed. “The damn latch is too high. I couldn’t reach it inside.”

Excellent. Now you would need to replace your window as well as hire a locksmith. Your simple date night was turning into quite the misadventure. The cold was starting to seep in. Not expecting to spend time outside, you wore only a dress and no coat. You were so tired and irked you were bordering on a tantrum. But your husband was bleeding, quite a lot, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ream him out while he was injured.

“Jesus,” You huffed, taking his good arm and pulling him over to your car in the drive. Fortunately this piece of your property had a keyfob, making it your only form of shelter at the moment. “Sit down,” you ordered, opening the driver’s side door and pushing him into the seat. You crouched next to him and turned his wrist to inspect the damage. It was ugly, the whole sleeve from the elbow down stained red already. 

Before you even suggested it, he tugged the cuff of his other sleeve with his teeth, slipping his whole shirt up and over his head until it hung only on his bloodied limb. 

“Haven’t you ever watched movies?” You chastised as you began to wind the fabric around the gash. A gorgeous knit shirt ruined forever. “You wrap your arm with your shirt before you punch through glass.”

“Well I’m sorry for trying to solve our problem.” He snipped. You responded by pulling a tight knot, causing him to hiss. 

But your frustrated energy threatened to redirect into something else entirely as you surveyed him. Even after all this time together, you went a bit speechless whenever you saw him shirtless. It really was obscene for someone to be so attractive. Broad-shouldered and muscular, with the most perfect patch of soft hair across his chest. Running your hands over him had reached the level of compulsion, beyond mere desire. Seeing as his torso was streaked with blood from his haphazardly bandaged arm, you gave in under the pretense of tending to him. You drifted your fingers up his carved abdomen and onto his chest where his movements slowed under your palm, his breaths deepening. 

“I don’t have anything to clean you up with.” You were more agitated than apologetic. How fast were you going to devolve into naked, bloodied neanderthals all because you didn’t have a house key?

“It’s fine.” He laid his good hand over yours, holding it in place. You could feel the strong thrum of his heart. He knew what he was doing. Trying to dissipate your anger by turning himself into a distraction. But you wouldn’t let him. Someone had to remedy this situation. 

You quirked a brow. “Should I call the paramedics or the locksmith?”

His pursed-lips look of annoyance was one you saw often and always relished. It was usually the only way he admitted you were right in a spat. Nudging him a few inches, you perched next to him on the seat.

“How long will they take?” he asked when you hung up.

“Half an hour.”

“What are we supposed to do until then?” You knew that silky edge to his voice and turned to look at him. His eyes, always dark, glinted most dangerously at night. Darkness suited him much more than daylight and even though you knew your husband was putty in your hands, one flash of those eyes made you feel like prey.

You shivered, due to him as much as the wind. “Whatever we do, I’m staying in here. It’s too cold.” You wouldn’t give in that easily. You stood and moved to walk to the passenger side but an arm curled around your waist and tugged you back onto his lap, then the door was pulled shut beside you. 

“Imagine how cold I am without a shirt on.” His low voice reverberated through the enclosed space and soft lips landed on your shoulder. His arm was still banded around you, holding you tight. The devil. 

You twisted to face him again, already knowing you would lose this battle. He smirked, just a glimpse of teeth in the blue glow of the fading dash lights lending fangs to your predator. Wasn’t he the wounded one? How did he gain the upper hand so quickly? You rested your hands on his chest again and knew he was lying. He was warmer than you and heating up by the second, his breath gusting over your forearms as you stared each other down. Each time you touched one another in places otherwise typically clothed, it brought out your animalistic tendencies. But seeing him like this, cast in shadow and roughed up, was causing something especially carnal to simmer inside you.

“We can turn the car on for heat.” You argued, never wanting to grant him the last word.

But then he pressed himself against you, hands spreading wide to grasp your bottom as he nuzzled his jaw against your cheek. He knew all of your buttons. One pass of his short beard across your skin and it was over. 

“Mmmm…” he hummed in your ear, the baritone he reserved to devastate you. “Bad for the environment. We can keep each other warm.”

Then his tongue resumed its journey up your neck, leaving you gasping until he traced it into your waiting mouth.

Damn him. You hated and loved how easily he made you go to pieces. If you were being honest, the feelings worked in tandem. It was often when you were the most aggravated with him that you reached the highest peaks in your lovemaking. As your tongues swirled around each other, you knew this would be one of those times. But you’d have to be quick unless you wanted to put on a show for the locksmith. This was reckless, juvenile, but you didn’t care. 

“I suppose you’re right.” You murmured over his lips then pushed him roughly back against the seat. His eyes lit with excitement as you maneuvered to straddle him, hiking your skirt up your thighs, kicking off your heels and underwear as you went. His splayed hands ran up to your back and crushed you to him for another hungry kiss. You moaned into one another, overcome with the rush of it all, with the risk you may be seen. As you held his jaw possessively, you wormed a hand down to the seam of his trousers.

“Do you have enough blood left to power this thing?” You smirked, nipping at his lower lip.

“See for yourself,” came the husky reply. Pressing down, you felt the bulge and rocked your palm against it. His responding noise caused a familiar jolt of desire to shoot through your every cell. You knew you were already soaking, aching and ready for him. In a flurry, the two of you fought off his belt and buttons and shoved his clothes down his thighs until his cock sprang free, rigid and hot in your hand. Positioning yourself, you swiped the head across your entrance, gathering the slick then swirling it around your throbbing clit. Anthony groaned, biting his lip and gripping you tight by the hips as you lined up and sank down onto him, your cry seeming all the louder in the small, insulated cab.

There was a reason you had given him the private nickname ‘Logsplitter’. Getting far too candid over too many drinks one night, you had told him how fantastically split open he made you feel. Had described that meniscus seal between pain and pleasure and how his body drove yours to it perfectly and kept you dancing upon it until it fractured and plunged you into liquid bliss. The next day you had been mortified but he eased your anxieties by making it the most enduring joke in your relationship. The bastard had even woven it into his wedding speech, announcing that he would still find joy in life’s mundane tasks with you, whether it be laundry, dishes, or log splitting. Public mentions of it sent heat rushing to your cheeks, but in practice behind closed doors it sent heat rocketing under every inch of your skin. He was so stiff and formidable, stretching you so splendidly. You began to move so that you could savor every inch.

Planting your hands on his shoulders for leverage you began to ride him at a steady clip, reminding yourself that you couldn’t dally. His fingers pressed deeper into your hips as his breath turned staccato with whispered curses. You gave a passing thought to the fact that his injured arm was probably streaking blood across your dress, but thankfully it was black and therefore might be saved. 

As much as you were enjoying yourself, this was still a ridiculous situation. Bleeding and rutting in the driver’s seat of your car like you were criminal lovers on the lam and not just idiots who hadn’t kept a spare key to the house. And you were on a timeline. Fueled by a potent blend of frustration and arousal you began to move faster, pistoning on your knees as the leather squeaked. There wasn’t much extra space on the seat for your legs and your increased pace made you slip, pitching forward as one shin fell off the side.

Anthony caught you, hands moving up to your ribs as he chuckled. “Woah. Do I need to strap you in, baby girl?”

You could have slapped him. He only used that name for you when he really wanted to get you riled. Clearly he was enjoying your little tryst, finding the fun in this mess that he caused.  You’d like to see him try and fuck you in the front seat. Glaring, you stepped on the recline controls and he stuttered in surprise as he sank backward until he was supine beneath you. Steadying yourself again you doubled your efforts, riding him hard as you held him pinned at the chest.

“You’re enjoying this too fucking much.” You ground out.

“What?” He played the innocent.

“We could be inside,” You panted, every word bouncing with your movements. “In bed. Uninjured. If you had just hidden the key…” Your breath caught as you tilted your hips and felt him strike against the deepest part of you, a twinge that increased your ache. “...and not changed the stupid locks.”

“So this is my fault?” His voice was all seduction, no remorse to be found. His eyes, what little you could see of them, gazed up at you as a hand moved to knead your breast.

“Yes.” You moaned, starting to climb the ladder as his fingers and his cock simultaneously found all the right spots to make you mindless. 

“And you’re mad at me?”

“So fucking mad.” You gasped, leaning forward into his palm and angling yourself just so, feeling the ridge of him deep inside start to massage your center of sensation.

He craned his neck to ghost his lips over yours and whispered, “How can I apologize?”

Then his hand moved below your skirt and his fingertips found your clit. Pierced with sensation, you screamed some garbled syllables of his name.

He chuckled, warm and dark. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

Oh, he was awful. Driving you to delirium even when you were the one on top. You had found your rhythm, rolling your hips to sink him perfectly into place over and over. Coupled with the press of his circling fingers, you were shooting up the ladder, your blood beginning to hum with anticipation. Maybe you could pull this off in time after all. 

“Fuck you…” you hissed.

“You certainly are.”

“Anthony, shut up!” You clamped a hand over his mouth, bringing the other to claw into his shoulder. You had assumed Anthony Bridgerton, man of refined tastes, would have found this all as debased as you did, but he was evidently having the time of his life. Maybe the laugh riot was precisely because he knew you were so flustered, which just made you angrier. But the anger was consigned to your mind only, as your body delighted in him. Warm and firm beneath your palms, he started to move with you, thrusting ever so slightly while his mangled hand pulled you down at the hip, slamming your bodies together as tight as he could on your every descent. His fingers swirled faster, just where you needed them, and soon enough you reached the top rungs, everything surging within.

Anthony mumbled something against your fingers, his breath hot and short, matching yours as you hovered over him. You released him, your mind too clouded with pleasure to fight him anymore. Your thighs began to quake while the rest of you started to tense.

“It feels like you’re about to forgive me.” He purred, and all you could do was whine, squeezing your eyes shut as your hips bucked against him desperately. “Come on then,” he coaxed. “I think I’ve earned it.”

One more thrust and circle of his fingers and you peaked, crying out as your nails sank into the flesh of his shoulder and your other hand scrabbled for purchase in his thick hair. Release radiated out from the epicenter of his touch, spasms clenching around his cock which now felt impossibly huge, fanning out through every muscle. You writhed, circling your pelvis against his as you rode it out and moaned.

“Oh, fuck yes,” he growled from the darkness. “That’s my girl.”

Gasping, you collapsed on top of him, basking in the warmth of his bare skin and the caresses of his hands across your back as aftershocks curled your spine. As you floated, you trailed your fingers into his chest hair. You contemplated extending your forgiveness verbally too, but when you propped up to look at him you saw a flash of headlights through the back window. A truck was turning down your street. 

You cursed under your breath and glanced a kiss across Anthony’s lips before pulling yourself off of him and opening the door, stumbling out into the driveway, your mind still swimming. You tugged your skirt down and tried to smooth your hair as Anthony scrambled to hitch his clothes back over his stark erection. 

“Stay here,” you cautioned and closed the door.

The truck was indeed the locksmith, a very beatific fellow named Lumley. He didn’t cast any judgment as you explained your situation. He professed to having seen it all and you believed him. But you might have been added to his list of unusual encounters after he deftly popped the door lock and let you in to turn on your lights. That’s when his eyes widened and he asked if you were alright. You looked down and realized he was gesturing to the blood streaks on your exposed arms. The way he fixated on your chin, you suspected you had a streak there too.

You laughed to calm him, explaining that your husband had cut his hand (you elected not to tell him how) and that you were both perfectly fine and would clean up now that you could get inside. A little shaken, he politely wrapped up your transaction and drove away. You were too relieved to be embarrassed and went to collect Anthony from the car.

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” You swung the door open to find him still reclined. His trousers were back on thankfully, but he was slumped, eyes closed, cradling his raggedly wrapped arm. “Anthony?” You put a hand on his shoulder. “You alright?”

He blinked his eyes open and looked at you blearily. “Feeling a bit woozy.” He mumbled.

Fantastic. Not only had he lost blood, he had sent whatever remained shooting down to his cock and now there was none left in his brain. You didn’t think you were strong enough to carry him indoors if he collapsed, but you wouldn’t leave him in the damned car any longer. Tugging him by his good arm to slowly stand, you then draped it over your shoulders and steered him inside. He could walk just fine even if his head was drooping a bit. 

You kicked the door closed behind you and walked to the sofa, easing him onto it.

“Aright, sit down. I’m going to get the first aid kit.”

You turned but were immediately halted by a hand around your wrist.

“There’s only one thing that’s going to make me feel better.”

The next you knew, you were on your back on the sofa, Anthony pressing you down as his lips consumed yours. He vocalized his want down your throat as his beard rasped against you. What happened to woozy? Maybe being horizontal was the only way he could function at the moment. He rocked his hips between yours, his unsatisfied stiffness insistently seeking entry. Within seconds you were ignited again, helpless against the weight of him, the taste of him, the smell of him. 

“Anthony, if you stain the couch too, I swear…” You mumbled as he sucked at your neck. Tallying the cleanup that remained between the shattered window and your ruined clothes, you would not sacrifice your plush upholstery too. Reaching behind your head, you dragged the throw blanket from the arm of the sofa and quickly bunched it under his blood soaked shirt bandage. He didn’t seem to have heard you, or perhaps he just didn’t care, as he balanced on that elbow and used his other hand to tear open his trouser buttons. You lifted your skirt and helped him, as eager for this as he was. 

You groaned in stereo as he sank into you once again, the sensation more overwhelming now that he was on top of you. His tongue dove into your mouth as well, the most delicious parts of him penetrating you as deeply as they could simultaneously. Vanilla as this position may have been in comparison, you loved it. Being completely underneath him, crushed, consumed and controlled by him. You had taken your pleasure and now you wanted to be a ragdoll in his arms. You didn’t know if your desires were romantic or perverse, but you didn’t care. The feeling of being filled and surrounded by the man you loved made you wildly aroused. 

With no pretense, Anthony went to work pummeling you, chasing his release as urgently and selfishly as you had chased yours. You opened your legs wide, locking your ankles around his back and letting him plough even deeper. You still found this entire ordeal comical, but the man deserved some relief. In the span of an hour he had been chastised, injured, exposed and now blue-balled. This was his only reprieve until you had to undertake the ghastly business of dealing with his wound. And he was bringing pleasure to more than just himself. Predictably, his every thrust teased your clit, his sizable cock pulling all of you so tight that every feeling was heightened. While he panted harsh in your ear, you ran your nails down his rippled back and pert bum, leveraging with your wrapped legs to push up into him, the two of you grinding into one another as you whispered encouragements.

He was splitting you, sending you back to that place where all of your focus zoned in on the feeling of him inside, the relentless pounding of his body into yours that promised to quell every need of your flesh. Your whispered filth turned into small cries and then into silence as he drove harder and harder, his movements frenzied as he started to growl, pushing for the finish. All you could do was hold on as your whole body shifted beneath him, wearing tracks into the upholstery under your shoulders. You held your breath as your mouth fell open, unfailingly stunned at how he could propel you to the edge so easily. He shifted to look down at you. His hair was growing damp with sweat, a chestnut curl falling beautifully across his forehead.  His dark eyes locked into yours, molten. You could read it in each other’s faces - you would come undone together.

Sparing Anthony the balancing act, you brought your hand between your legs and in seconds were breaking, tossing your head back as you succumbed. While the rest of you trembled, you clung to him with your limbs, luxuriating in all the hallmarks of his orgasm, triggered by your own. The way his back arched under your hands as his hips stuttered between your thighs. You loved how his whole body went rigid just before you felt the pulsing inside. He made the most beautiful gasping sound, so contrasted with his animalistic growls leading up to it, his mouth hanging open against your cheek, hot breath stirring your hair.

Absorbing each other’s tremors, he melted into you, resting his head in the crook of your neck and going full dead weight. You tightened your hold around him before he rolled onto the floor. You wound a hand into his hair, tracing patterns across his scalp as you both caught your breath. You looked over at his maimed arm and grimaced. It was a bloody mess. How he had been in the mood for not one, but two romps without a single complaint about an open laceration was a level of stubbornness and libido possessed only by Anthony Bridgerton. Now playtime was over. You had to be adults and handle this.

You kissed the top of his head. “Anthony.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t even grunt in acknowledgement.

You felt a stab of alarm and shook him lightly. “Anthony?”

Then he groaned, nuzzling closer into you. “I think you’re right,” he slurred against your neck. “I need stitches.”

You rolled your eyes but rubbed his back reassuringly. It appeared the adventures of the evening would continue. You just hoped he could still stumble back to the car.

“Okay. I’ll get you another shirt and then drive you to the hospital. And we are taking the spare key with us.”

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp