#anthony bridgerton x u

[xxchumanixx]

Lilies and conspiracies pt. 1

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Lilies and Conspiracies pt. 1 - Reputation and Decorum

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

Word Count: 3.172

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

Series Masterlist -> pt. 2

As always: Enjoy!

Dear reader,

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

At least that is what this author has been told.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yet he seemed rather displeased.

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

That godforsaken list his mother had made.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It further fueled his theory.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Strange.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Strange, indeed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or why he yearned for it in the first place.

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

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

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

Anthony soon couldn't stand it anymore.

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

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

[mulderscully]

2.02 | 3.01

[sukibenders]

I kind of hope that Bridgerton gives us some Kathony moments, just the two of them, before the introduction of their children (which will probably only be their first at this point). Like, while it wouldn't be a bad thing to see them so excited over Kate being pregnant and all that ensues, I'm still mad that they didn't have many couple moments between them in season two, you know, the season meant to showcase their love. My thing is, if Daphne and Simon (putting aside the many problems there) were able to have moments of each other's time before Daphne got pregnant, I want to see the same for Kate and Anthony.

[hanaasbananas]

thinking ab what a wasted opportunity it was to not have a longer haldi ceremony scene in s2 because can you IMAGINE if the bridgertons took part there could have been a scene like naina and aman in khnh but w kate putting the haldi on anthony DO U SEE THE VISION, THE YEARNING OPPORTUNITIES (not that they needed more but still,)

[agir1ukn0w]

Thats how we know you are not kanthony, never posted before and suddenly you are the fandom police. Crawl back in that polin hole and leave kanthonies alone

I don’t have to explain myself to you. And who tf made you fandom police nurse ratchet?

[letmerain]

anthony whenever kate leaves the room without him

[lilimariposawrites]

chapter 11 of plausible deniability is just punch after punch to Anthony, and no one even knows why. what on earth has got the boy acting this way? what, indeed.

[sixx-sixx-sixx]

LADY BRIDGERTON - Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader (smut)

Summary: Reader has been married to Anthony Bridgerton for too long, it feels, although it has only been a few years. In that short time, not only has he only touched her naked body once, but he comes home most nights smelling of sweat and another woman’s perfume. Lady Whistledown has caught wind of this, and the gossip sends Lady Bridgerton over the edge. Anthony takes the time to give his wife exactly what she’s asking for.

Warnings: smut; badly written smut lol; infidelity; arguments about infidelity; possibly out of character anthony; I’ve only watched season 1 of Bridgerton; breeding kink; unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it but this is a married couple); female reader/use of she/her pronouns; as always, proofread to the best of my ability

“Do you wish to make a fool of me?” Anthony leaned down to whisper in his young wife’s ear, a firm hand grabbing her elbow as he interrupted her conversation with a young man from Russia, or Hungary. He didn’t pay much mind to the boy so much as the woman who bore his last name, fully aware of the way she had been subtly flirting with many men that night. Taking count of the glasses of bubbles she had — she was nursing her fourth flute, Anthony had decided it was enough.

Don’t make a scene.

Lady Bridgerton felt an intense urge to strike her husband across his cheek, how dare he accuse her of making a fool out of him. All evening she had overheard whispers of Anthony’s name from nasty gossipers. The young Bridgertons had been the central characters in the latest edition of Lady Whistledown. Rumor has it that Lord Bridgerton had continued an affair with a certain singer, without bothering to hide it from his young wife. Even worse? Lady Bridgerton knew, as they all knew, and never seemed to let the truth affect how she presented herself to those around her.

“Would you like me to answer that truthfully, my dear husband?” She turned her gaze towards him, her eyes alight with a burning fury towards the unfaithful man she had devoted her life to. She jerked her arm away from his grip and started to lift the glass to her painted lips. Anthony grabbed the dainty piece of glass and shook his head, “I think you’ve had enough. It’s time for you to go home.”

A bitter laugh escaped her mouth before she could stop it, as a few heads turned to observe the titular couple. “If that is your wish, Mr. Bridgerton.” She turned on her heel and started to make her way out to the cold air, cursing herself for leaving her coat in the carriage. She didn’t even bother to wait for her husband to catch up as she informed the valet they would be leaving.

The carriage ride to the estate wasn’t anything special. She would sit and seethe in silence during the ride, her eyes burning a hole through Anthony’s forehead as he sat across from her. The argument began once the couple was behind the safety of their bedroom door, standing in front of each other with defenses up. “We have been married for two years, Anthony! Two years and the only time you have touched me was on our wedding night. Yet every night you come home, to OUR bed, smelling like some whore’s perfume! I am left to listen to the ton gossip about MY empty bed!” She nearly hissed the words to punctuate her accusations. Anthony had never seen such an outburst from the young woman, she had never spoken to him like that before. She was standing before him, the drinks she had at the ball fueling her anger and simultaneously allowing the anger to sober her head.

“I know that I wasn’t who you wanted to marry, I understand that this was just a beneficial arrangement for you. But I expect that as the woman who now holds your family name, who will one day bear your children, that you could at the very least respect me!” She was angry that he had just stood there and watched her yell, but at the same time, she wouldn’t let him get a word in.

“You cannot expect me to be a dutiful wife and lady if you refuse to grant me at least the tiniest shred of dignity. You, sir, make a fool of yourself, I am merely seeking that same kind of attention you seek from Siena.” Her voice dripped with sickly sweet venom as she spat the woman’s name.

Anthony allowed the woman to speak her mind on his infidelity, finally admitting to himself that he had been unfair to her. He frequently came into their room in the middle of the night when he expected the woman to be asleep. In the beginning of the marriage, he had at least tried to hide the evidence, changing his clothes before he climbed under the blankets next to her. Now, she was accustomed to him laying down beside her without even taking off the shirt that was stained with Siena’s stage makeup and that reeked of her pungent perfume.

“I do not understand, Anthony. I can come to terms with a loveless marriage, but I am so exhausted by knowing you’re giving her that kind of attention, and I have remained loyal to you despite the obvious signs of your affair-“ her rant was abruptly cut short when Anthony floated over to her, his hands gripping her cheeks with fervor as he crashed his lips to hers. Taking only a moment to stand in shock, she pressed her lips back against his, her hand reaching to grip onto the front of his overcoat. Desperately reaching for more, trying to edge him closer to their bed but ultimately allowing him full control over her mind, body and soul. She let out a disappointed whimper when his lips parted from hers, his face inches from her own.

“What is it that you want from me, woman? You wish for me to touch you the way I touch her? Or do you believe my hands to be too stained?” She hated how close his lips were, desperately trying to reach forward as he spoke his mind. She didn’t really care how improper the words sounded as they came from his mouth, because she DID want him to touch her- not just touch, she wanted him to fuck her the way he fucked his mistress.

She took a moment to find her words, not expecting her confrontation to lead to this moment. “Anthony, I am your wife. All I want is for you to- to fuck me the way a husband fucks his wife.”

Understanding that he had a year’s worth of missing passion to make up for, and seeing that deep down he had no other choice than to obey the woman before him, he easily obliged. In this moment, Siena didn’t exist to him. He was purely focused on making sure his duties as a husband were thoroughly taken care of. Tonight, he would go to sleep smelling of his wife’s soft scent, making sure to cover the woman in marks of his affection.

Little time was wasted in getting their clothes off. A mess of hands clashing together to try and undo buttons and layers and loops, the couple grasping at each other as though they were desperate for the other as a life source.

Anthony paused for a moment to admire his lady’s body in the soft candlelight, letting his hands first run over the delectable curve of her hips, trailing up her sides before settling on her supple breasts.

“I’m sorry that I have spent so long torturing you, making you only imagine my hands touching you like this. I promise, my lady, I will do a much better job at attending to whatever it is you wish from me.” Anthony promised as his eyes stayed locked with hers. Her pupils were blown wide, and he realized he didn’t even know what color her irises were meant to be. He told himself he’d be a better husband to her after this, wanting to ensure her place in society as his wife. He’d fuck her full of his seed tonight, and every night after that, to make sure that Lady Whistledown could never accuse him of neglecting his wife’s desires again.

“Please, my lord, please--“ Lady Bridgerton sounded deliciously desperate, and it excited Anthony in a way that he had never experienced in his years-long affairs with Siena. It spurred him to plunge his cock deeper into his wife, his hand pushing her thigh down to her shoulder as he positioned her to angle himself deeper. She would probably think about the pressure against her cervix for the rest of her life, praying to God that she’d be able to experience this side of her husband for the rest of their lives together.

“What is it that you want, Lady Bridgerton? Tell me with words, my love, I want to hear you say it.” In this close position he could make sure she could look into his eyes to see he was genuine in this moment.

She was surprised at his stamina and determination tonight, focused more on her body than chasing his own release. A complete contrast to their wedding night, she felt like he treated the consummation as a chore. This was a much, much better experience. She had lost count of the times he had made her cum tonight, and the ways he had coaxed her orgasms from her.

“Anthony- Christ! Please don’t stop, want you to fuck me full til i’m round with your child-“ her voice was ragged and on the verge of giving out after not holding back a single sound. She didn’t care how pathetic she sounded begging for what seemed like the bare minimum from her husband.

Anthony leaned down to capture her lips in a messy kiss, reaching down to grab her hand that was tangled in the sheets beneath her. He caught any noises that escaped her, the sounds muffled against his own mouth, moving to hold her hand above her head. She clutched at his hand and whimpered his name as his hips stilled after a few sloppy thrusts, thick ropes coating her walls.

Anthony stayed put for a moment so as to not waste a drop, pulling his lips from hers before ghosting them over the hammering pulse in her neck. He gently maneuvered her pliable body into a resting position, slowly pulling himself from her and getting up from the bed.

After he had gently cleaned up the mess he had made of the woman, Anthony peppered soft kisses over her stomach as he made his way up to lay down next to her. She instantly curled into his chest and closed her eyes, taking her time in coming down from the cloud she was on. She could feel his fingers gently combing through her mussed hair, the sensation slowly bringing her back to earth.

“Are you alright, Lady Bridgerton?” Anthony spoke softly to not spook her, his arms locked safely around her keeping her pressed to his body. Her lips quirked into a smile and he took notice of the way her cheek dimpled, his thumb moving to stroke over the small impression.

“I am absolutely content, Lord Bridgerton.” She opened her eyes to look up at her husband’s face. Anthony smiled as he kissed her again, a kiss so tender that nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“I may not be the perfect husband, but I vow to do better by you. I will end things with Siena and tend to the parts of you that I’ve been neglectful of.” Anthony made a promise to her after he had pulled away. His wife reached up to grab his hand in hers, moving it to press a gentle kiss to his knuckles before she spoke.

“You can use all of the sweet words that you want, you’ll still have to prove yourself with actions.” She squeezed his hand gently, “But I think this has been good start.”

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

The Viscount is set on finding a wife this season, and you are trying again for your second season. While Anthony is dealing with trials between Edwina and Kate Sharma, you are dealing with trials of your own. Benedict Bridgerton is ever present in your life, but your pursuit to find a husband must come first. Society is ever so exhausting.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season Two

Chapter Twenty Two - The races

As the races were in the afternoon, you had accepted Violet's invitation to join her at her home. As she had sworn to look after you, you were sure she would be eager to hear of your caller.

She greets you with a smile as you enter the drawing room, calling for tea and ushering you to come sit down with her. She starts the conversation by telling you that Eloise was still being rather difficult and that Anthony had gone to call upon Miss Edwina.

You just hoped Edwina could handle Anthony. Though, from what you heard in Lady Whistledown, it was the sister he would have to worry about.

When Benedict steps into the drawing room, he is surprised to see you. He had not expected to see you, unaware his mother had invited you. Not that he should be surprised. Violet Bridgerton was fond of you. That much he did know.

"Good morning."

You look up and see him pass you with his sketchbook.

"Good morning."

Benedict slumps down in a chair opposite you and opens his book, sketching away. He doesn't look at you much. You choose to ignore his brief greeting and share your news with Violet.

"I had a caller this morning."

Violet sits up with excitement and reaches for your hand. "Who?"

"Lord Baxtor."

You don't notice the way Benedict stops his sketching to secretly listen. Violet looks beyond pleaded.

"I hear he has quite a fortune." Violet hums softly. "I believe he is quite studious, too."

"He will be escorting me at the races this afternoon. I am to meet him there." You smile brightly. Violet can tell you're excited.

"That is wonderful news, dear. Do you need anything?"

"Will you perhaps chaperone? Racing is not quite my mother's interest, and it would bring me great comfort to know someone I trust is near."

"Of course."

Benedict continues his sketching. He's not sure why it irked him so much to know you have a gentleman escorting you to the races. Why shouldn't you have a caller? It's what you wanted all along.

Penelope arrives in a cheerful yellow dress, as usual. It certainly brightens up the room. She offers you a smile before joining Eloise at the table. In Eloise's hands is the latest Whistledown paper.

"Is that a copy of Lady Whistledown?" Pen asks Eloise, pretending not to realise right away.

"It is."

"I thought we were done with her."

"Do not discourage her, Penelope," Violet chimes in. "If she has taken an interest in Lady Whistledown again, perhaps it means she's interested in what she had to say about the season's available gentlemen too."

"I cannot think of a cleverer way to say this, but no." Eloise sighs. "Her latest is not exactly the philosophical treatise on the rights of the fairer sex u was hoping for, but--"

"Come now, I do not think Lady Whistledown has changed her entire style of writing wince her last issue," Penelope says.

"Perhpad not. But perhaps she still can."

"Perhaps she does not want to. Perhaps she is quite content. And if she's even sparked your renewed interest, El, then perhaps whatever she is doing is working."

You smile at Penelope's passion.

"Yes, but she could do so much more," Eloise says. "I know I could convince her of it. If I were to find her this time."

"What you must find, my dear, is happiness," Violet chimes in. "Penelope, assist me here. Eloise could find that with someone, could she not?"

I believe she could. And not Lady Whistledown, but someone more like-- Colin."

"My brother?" Eloise looks at her friend confused.

"No, not Coli-- Colin!" Penelope stands up. You turned around to see Colin Bridgerton entering the room. You stand up, also.

"Glad to see things have not changed," he says.

You get up to greet him. "Hello!"

"Brother!"

"Colin!"

Benedict and Violet do the same as you.

"Could you set aside the latest family squabble and embrace me?" Colin teases. Eloise hugs her brother with a happy chuckle. Violet hugs him next. He then pulls you into a hug, too. You chuckle softly.

"I did not expect you to return so soon, dearest," Violet says to him, taking in the sight of her son.

"Well, I missed you all. What can I say?" He grins. You step back as he hugs his brother. As Benedict steps back, Colin looks at Penelope. She smiles at him.

Hyacinth and Gregory then enter the room and hug their brother, having missed him dearly.

"I must get you to the doctor post haste," Benedict says. "This strange, fizzy growth on your chin is no doubt some kind of disease."

You chuckle softly. Benedict smiles proudly. He likes it when you laugh.

"And you seem to have taken to the sun toom how peculiar," Francesca comments, coming up beside her brother.

"I think he looks distinguished," Penelope comments.

"And where, may I ask, is our intrepid viscount?" Colin asks.

"He is..."

Anthony appears right at that moment. You're surprised to see him.

"...back from courting already," Violet says, also surprised to see him.

"Colin! You are returned. Even better." Anthony greets his brother. "Family, I should like you all to ready yourselves for the races today. We will be attending, united as one."

Violet once again seems surprised, yet happily so.

You chuckle softly. "I best get home and change then. I shall see you all there, I hope." You look around. Anthony nods. Penelope does, too. You smile at her and pat her shoulder gently as you pass her.

You don't even glance at Benedict.

You arrive at the races and find Lord Baxtor waiting for you. He smiles as he offers you his arm, and you both head off to place bets on horses.

It's a beautiful sunny afternoon, and you were very much looking forward to your day out. Your mother trails behind you a ways as you walk with Baxtor.

Once the bets are placed, you walk through the crowds. It was certainly a busy day.

"I am hoping you're my lucky charm today," he says, smiling brightly.

"Oh? I'm honoured," you chuckle.

He looks at you with a grin. "It was certainly be a good sign for the future, no?"

"If we win?"

"Absolutely."

You chuckle again. "It's a lot of pressure relying on the horse."

"I think he shall pull through."

You find his confidence in the animal rather charming. If the horse were to be the deciding factor of this courtship, then you hoped it would pull through. Jonathan Baxtor certainly thought so.

As you stroll, you spot the Sharma sisters. Edwina is attached at the arm with a fine gentleman. Lumley, you believe his name to be. Kate catches your eye and you smile at her, she returns the gesture.

Kate is beautiful. She is wearing a dark blue dress with matching accessories in her hair and blue netted gloves on her hands.

Edwina is in all pink. She looks very pretty, too. Gentle.

"Friends of yours?" Baxtor asks.

"Not quite yet. I met them at Lady Danbury's soiree. I'm keen to know them, however. They seem like good people to know."

"Miss Edwina Sharma looks very pretty today."

"She does.

"Though my eye is still drawn to you," Baxtor smiles. You find yourself looking away with a blush. This man certainly knew what to say.

"Shall we find our seats?"

"A splendid idea."

You chuckle softly as he guides you along toward the track.

You're far too occupied to see Benedict watching from a distance. He was standing with his brothers. His blue eyes follow you until you're out of sight. Anthony nudges him, and Benedict snaps out of it.

"You're staring."

"No, I wasn't."

Anthony gives him a look, and Benedict sighs. He turns his eyes away and spots Mondrich approaching. He decides to greet him quickly to stop his brother from mentioning anything else.

You sit with Baxtor and talk quietly as people gather to find their seats. You watch the horses walk along the fence with their riders.

"Beautiful, are they not?"

"Yes, very."

"Do you ride?" He asks.

"Not very well. We don't have any horses." You admit that rather shyly.

"Fear not. I would be glad to teach you one day," he smiles. "That is, if you are interested."

"Very much."

As the Bridgerton family take their seats, Benedict's attention is drawn to a choice nearby. His eyes find you sitting a row below him off to the right. You're talking closely with Lord Baxtor.

Anthony has left their side to go meddle with the Sharma's, hoping to get close to Miss Edwina, and Colin does not care enough for his brother's brooding to shake him from it.

Benedict watches you from his seat in a slight huff. He should have asked you to come with him, but he hadn't even thought about it until it was too late.

Why should it matter so much who you come with? No. He can't deny it. He misses you. He misses your company. He wants his friend back by his side.

You laugh at something Baxtor says and Benedict has to look away. He can't stand watching any longer.

It isn't much longer until the bell tolls and the horses are off. You and Baxtor watch with excitement and eagerness as the horses run. You both cheer along with the crowd. He is amused by your excitement.

High Flyer crosses the finish line first and you cheer.

Benedict watches the way you grab onto Baxtor's arm in excitement. He immediately has to look away. Luckily, Eloise, who was beside him, is a fine distraction as she cheers in excitement, too.

If only he could feel as thrilled.

"She is pompous and arrogant and quite sure she knows best in every situation."

Benedict was fencing with his brothers when Anthony decided to moan about the eldest Sharma sister.

"She sounds like a terrible nuisance," Colin comments, having just spared with his brother. He gets into a stance to parry again with Anthony.

"Especially since you are the one who knows best in every situation," Benedict says, watching his brothers.

Anthony disarms Colin.

"And the victor of every match today," Colin points out.

"Less talking, more fencing, Brother."

Colin picks up the sword and gives it to Benedict, who gets into position. "Good luck," he sighs.

"Ready?" Benedict asks.

Anthony raises the sword, and they begin.

"Do you know why I win every time?" Anthont asks.

"Because every time you lose, you claim we cheated."

Anthony wins.

"Because I know my duties. What my purposes are and how to obtain them. Which I will do when I make Miss Edwina my viscountess."

Benedict loses again.

Not even his anger at the image of you and Baxtor was enough to fuel his duel with Anthony.

"Miss Edwina and I are well-suited. She is a lovely young lady. She wishes for children. She'll make a perfectly agreeable wife."

"What he means to say is that he has already dismissed every other young lady in town," Benedict states.

"You are one to talk."

"Whatever do you mean?" Benedict asks.

"The one woman in all of London you hold so dear, and yet you are not courting her."

Benedict swings his sword. "She is not mine to court."

"Is that jealousy, I sense?" Anthony teases.

"No."

Benedict swings, but Anthony outsmarts him. "Is she not of interest to you? Or perhaps you are simply not ready."

"Hush, Brother. It is not of your concern."

Benedict loses again.

"You take too much upon yourself, brother." Colin says, watching Anthony. "Perhaps your life might be easier if you persued someone with a less disagreeable sister."

"Why should I be the one to admit defeat?" Anthony asks him, getting rather worked up. "Regardless of which young lady I have chosen to pursue, there would have always been some obstinate father or meddlesome aunt into the picture. I shall certainly not let some sister, especially one younger than me, keep me from getting what it is I want."

"Whom you want, you mean?" Benedict swings again getting Anthony on the arm.

"Is this still a friendly match, or do we need to find armor?" Colin asks.

"That is what you don't understand, Brother. Benedict honours me by holding nothing back. As I now honour him."

They get into position again and then fence once more. Anthony knocks Benedict onto his backside.

"What honour."

Anthony helps Benedict up onto his feet. He gives him a knowing look, but Benedict shakes his head. Anthony simply chuckles.

"Thank you, gentlemen, for the bracing exertion. Now, it is time for me to secure my final victory for the day. Wish me luck."

Anthony walks off. The two brothers watch him go.

They spar between themselves.

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[regencyrosalie]

Could you write some Anthony bridgerton x wife reader angst with a happy ending

i love a happy ending. thank u for the req! here’s husband!anthony and his four braincells fighting for his life

To say Anthony has been stressed would be an understatement. The sheer amount of paperwork he’s had to do within the past week would put any regular man into an early grave. Not to mention that Hyacinth has attracted enough suitors since her debut to keep him busy and on edge every time there’s calling hours.

His wife has been trying her best to help, even organizing his papers when he’s busy, to which he would thank her profusely. She’s also been busy with the social season, arranging dinners and parties and visits to the modiste.

They never fight. (At least not since they got engaged). Which was why Anthony was so out of his element when he accidentally snapped at her one evening.

“Dear, would you like me to bring you a cup-“ she opened the door to the study, clad in her night-things.

“Could you spare me your rambling for once in your life?” he chastised, trying to add costs on paper with his exhausted mind.

She just stared at him for a moment, and he tensed, before backpedaling.

“Darling, I did not-“

But she had already left, and shut the door behind her, teary eyed and angry. He had never spoken to her in such a way, especially when all she was trying to do was assist him and bring him tea.

Anthony followed her out instantly, “My love,” he called desperately, but the hallway was empty, and she was nowhere to be seen. He raced down the corridor to their bedchamber, but it was empty. It did not even register until then that she may be in her own bedchamber.

And that she was, she was sat on her bed, weeping silently. She secretly prayed that he would find her, and muster up a tolerable apology because she could not bear to sleep without him. The sheets she was perched on had very likely not been changed since before she arrived at Bridgerton house, as she never spent more than five minutes in her own room each week. Much to her dismay, and the dismay of her pride, she was spiraling at his words. For how long had he believed her to be rambling? Was her presence so bothersome?

There was a knock on the door, like an answer from the divine.

“My love, are you there?” Anthony’s voice cut through the mahogany door.

“No,” she called back, trying to stop her voice from shaking. She wanted him to know she was there, but also to prove a point. Mostly to watch him suffer.

There was a sigh of relief as he found her, and he tried the door handle, to no avail.

“Please, darling. I am dreadfully sorry. I did not mean it. I was foolish. Please do not shut me out,” he pleaded from the other side of the door.

She did not make any reply, but she stood from the bed, crossing her arms over her chest, as if she knew she would be opening the door soon.

“My love,” he called, trying the door again “please. I love you. I cannot go through the night without you, you know I cannot. I will beg, if that is what you wish. I cannot be parted from you.”

She debated for a moment, and stayed silent, pacing around the room.

“What are you doing?” he practically whined through the door.

“Sparing you.”

He groaned. “No, love, please. That is the last thing I want. I did not mean it. You must know I did not. I have just been so busy, it has taken a toll on me. I did not mean to say such things to you, dearest. You know I do not feel so.”

That soothed her slightly, and she stopped in front of the door.

He heard her get closer, and he continued his begging. “Please, my love. I do not wish for you to spare me from anything except your contempt. I relish in your conversation, I crave it. Do not do this to me. I cannot bear it. I need you desperately. You know I do. I adore you. I adore everything you do, everything you are. I love you so dearly I feel as if it may kill me at times. And it very well might if you do not open this door.”

A smile tugged at her lips as he pleaded with her, and she wiped her eyes before unlocking the door and pulling it open.

Anthony looked a mess, his cravat was half-tied, his hair was disheveled, as he had probably been running his hands through it incessantly, and his eyes were glassy and pleading.

She almost giggled.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he said incredulously, with a hint of a smile.

“Perhaps a bit,” she replied, letting him pull her into his arms.

“You evil woman,” he chuckled softly, before pulling back to look at her face, frowning at her puffy eyes, “I am so sorry. Words cannot express my regret. I did not mean to cause you pain. I was foolish.”

“Yes, you were. But I forgive you,” she replied.

“Thank you, my love. I do not deserve your kindness.”

She kissed his cheek. “You do not need to earn my kindness. I know it has been tiring, with all of the work. But it is not my fault.”

“I know it is not. Of course, it is not. You give me nothing but strength. I adore you. I love you.” he murmured into her hair.

“I love you,” she replied softly, with a hint of amusement.

“Let me show you,” he mumbled, lifting her off the ground, “let me show you how much.”

She giggled.

“Anthony Bridgerton you are insatiable.”

[xxchumanixx]

Lilies and Conspiracies pt. 3

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Lilies and Conspiracies pt. 3 - personal guard dog

Warnings/Tags: fluff, nothing more yet really

Word count: tba

Authors note: Get ready for some brother-time! I like Max, and I personally like the idea that they are not like everyone else in the ton.

Series Masterlist -> pt. 4

Enjoy!

You nodded, acting like you agreed, when the door opened again, and you haven't ever been more glad to see your brother enter the room.

You looked up at him, silently pleading to save you, but acting like you were surprised to see him. "Max, what is it?" you asked, furrowing your brows in faked confusion. "We have an appointment at the modiste in half an hour." he said. "I'm sorry, but I fear the gentleman have to excuse themselves. Of course you can return later, we'll be in the park afterwards."

You sighed dramatically. "Oh, I forgot." you said, feigning dismay. "I am so sorry, my Lords. But I need to get new dresses for the upcoming balls." You were disappointed you would have to bid Anthony goodbye already, but you silently hoped to see him at the park later.

Anthony hid his relief as your brother entered the room, providing the perfect excuse to end your interaction with Lord Pendale.

As Max spoke, he watched you and Pendale attentively, observing what he assumed as being feigned surprise, and he knew you were just as relieved as him.

Thank God. he thought to himself. He couldn't take one moment longer of seeing you having to pretend to be polite to that arrogant lord without a few not so polite words slipping past his lips.

He glanced at Max as he announced the appointment at the modiste, then back at you. Though he was disappointed that your time together was cut short, he knew it was a blessing in disguise.

Pendale, however, seemed annoyed at the interruption, his smirk faltering slightly. "Oh, yes, I see." he said, clearly not satisfied with the abrupt end to his visit. Anthony, on the other hand, couldn't help a small smirk of satisfaction at seeing Pendale's annoyance. The pompous lord didn't take well to being interrupted.

As you feigned dismay and apologized, Pendale stood up, clearly miffed. "Well, I suppose we have no choice but to leave." he said, his tone sulking.

"I am really so sorry, Lord Pendale." you apologized, standing up, too. "But I hope to see you soon. I can't wait to learn about finances of you. You make it sound so irresistibly interesting."

Pendale's expression softened slightly at your words, his ego clearly boosted by your flattery. He couldn't resist the opportunity to appear knowledgeable and interesting.

"Oh, well, you're in luck, Miss Barton." he said, his smirk returning. "I'd be more than happy to teach you anything you want to know about finances."

He then turned to Anthony with a quick nod. "Lord Bridgerton." he said in farewell before walking out of the room.

You bit your lip, scratching your brow. "Well, that was rather interesting." you muttered, before turning to your brother. "You have no clue how grateful I am for your interruption, brother."

You didn't care that Anthony heard your words of relief, something a woman was taught to hide and not show so openly.

You had the feeling he felt the same.

Max chuckled, clearly sensing your relief at the end of Pendale's visit. "No need to thank me. I know you were probably bored out of your mind." he said, a smirk on his face. "And honestly, it was a pleasure to interrupt that pompous lord. His presence was quite insufferable."

Anthony stifled a laugh as he stood, finding Max's assessment of Lord Pendale amusingly accurate. He silently agreed that Pendale's presence was, in fact, quite insufferable.

He watched as you and your brother exchanged banter, a hint of warmth blossoming in his chest at the closeness between you two.

It reminded him of his own siblings.

Meanwhile, Max playfully nudged you, teasing you. "Well, we have to run now to make our appointment." he said, clasping his hands behind his back.

"I hope to see you at the park, Lord Bridgerton?" you asked, looking at Anthony. "Maybe we can continue our talk there, without Lord Pendale and his finances. Or Lord Berbrooke." You shuddered at the sudden thought of him.

Anthony felt a smile pull at the corners of his lips at your question. He certainly hoped to see you again at the park, too. The thought of spending more time with you, without the likes of Pendale or Berbrooke, was very appealing.

"Indeed, Miss Barton." he replied, his tone soft and warm. "I look forward to continuing our conversation in a more pleasant setting." Anthony's expression darkened at the mention of Berbrooke. "With the absence of certain annoying individuals."

You snorted, but quickly put your hand in front of your mouth, biting your lip. "Then I suppose I'll see you soon." you said, after removing your hand again.

With that you left the room with Max, making your way to the modiste.

Anthony chuckled softly, amused by your snorted laughter and the quick attempt to hide it.

He watched as you left the room with Max, the sight of you walking away stirring a pang of disappointment within him. He would've preferred to continue talking to you, but he understood the necessity of your appointment at the modiste.

As you and Max headed out of the room, Anthony stayed behind, a subtle sense of eagerness growing within him. He couldn't wait to see you again at the park later.

When seated in the carriage, Max sent you a pointed look. "What?" you asked. His look deepened, before he shook his head. "I thought I told you about Lord Bridgerton's reputation." he said. You huffed, shaking your head as well. "He's a respectable suitor." you gave back. "I want to see for myself who he is. Whistledown certainly has a habit to exaggerate."

Max raised an eyebrow at your response. "Respectable suitor?" he echoed, his voice dripping with disbelief. "Y/N, you've heard the whispers. Lord Bridgerton has quite the reputation. He's known for being the most notorious rake in London."

He leaned back against the seat of the carriage, fixing you with a stern look. "And you think Whistledown is exaggerating? You know her words hold quite a bit of truth."

You bit your cheek. "I know they do." you said. "Her words certainly have the power to destroy once reputation. But since when do I listen to what others say?"

Max chuckled dryly, "You've always had a tendency to not listen to others, I'll give you that."

He sighed, then continued more seriously. "But you can't ignore the rumors surrounding Lord Bridgerton. He might hold a respectable title, but his reputation precedes him as an infamous rake. He's not known for being interested in a serious courtship."

Max looked at you meaningfully, his gaze concerned. "Just be careful, Y/N. I don't want to see you getting hurt."

You nodded, feeling a pang in your heart. "What makes you so sure he's not interested in a serious courtship?" you wanted to know, not fully able to hide the hope in your voice. "Why else would he have been at our house this early in the morning to visit me?"

Max paused, considering your question. He knew you had a point, but he was still wary of Anthony's intentions - especially when it was his mother that announced he’d be looking for a wife, not himself.

"I suppose that's a fair point." he conceded. "But there still might be other reasons for his visit. He might be trying to improve his reputation, or he might be simply interested in a short-lived dalliance."

Max reached out, gently placing a hand on your arm. "Please, Y/N. Just be careful. Don't let yourself become enamored with him, only to be left heartbroken."

You nodded again, swallowing. "I won't." you assured him, looking up at him. "But I have to find a suitor nonetheless. Maybe not a love match, but I hope to find someone that at least respects me for who I am, not for who I'm ought to be."

Max regarded you with an understanding smile. He knew how important it was for you to find a suitable match, someone who would value you for more than just your title or status.

He squeezed your arm gently, his expression solemn. "I understand.” he spoke softly. “I want nothing more than for you to find someone who respects and adores you for all that you are. But please, don't rush into anything with Lord Bridgerton."

He gave you a meaningful look. "Promise me you'll be cautious."

You nodded. "I promise." you said. "He seemed honest and he shared my opinions this far." you added. "And his mother made clear he is looking for a wife this season."

Max's expression softened slightly, reassured by your promise. Yet he remained vigilant. "His mother is eager to see him married, yes. But you must know that doesn't guarantee his own desire for a wife." he explained, before sighing.

"I know you think he shares your opinions and seems sincere. But always remember that people can be quite deceiving. Especially gentlemen of his reputation."

He squeezed your arm again. "Just keep your guard up, my dear. I wouldn't want to see you taken advantage of by a notorious rake."

You snorted, sending him a pointed look. "Oh, please, Max." you said. "Aren't you quite the rake yourself?"

Max chuckled at your response, his smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well, I suppose I do have a certain reputation." he conceded, a hint of pride in his tone.

He leaned back against the carriage seat, crossing one leg over the other. "But I assure you my dear, I don't mess with innocent little debutantes like yourself."

He smirked again. "My tastes are a bit more...experienced."

You hit him playfully, acting shocked at his boldness. "Max!"

Max burst out laughing, enjoying your playful shock. "What?" he teased, feigning innocence. "Don't act so scandalized. I'm just being honest."

he chuckled, as he straightened himself, his smirk deepening. "You know me Y/N, I always go after women who know exactly what they're getting themselves into."

You shook your head, not able to hide a grin, though. "I'd like to see the day you marry." you joked.

Max chuckled again, a smug expression on his face. "Oh, don't hold your breath, dear sister." he teased. "I plan on remaining a bachelor for as long as possible."

He paused for theatrical effect. "Besides, I find the idea of chasing after married women quite exhilarating."

He winked at you, clearly playing the part of the mischievous rake.

You clicked your tongue, shaking your head. "I am surprised Whistledown hasn't written about you, yet." you said. "You're quite the walking scandal."

Max raised an eyebrow, a smirk still plastered on his face. "Oh, darling sister, I must say I'm hurt." he said, mock offense in his voice. "How could you suggest such a thing? I'm a perfect gentleman."

He chuckled, leaning back against the carriage seat. "But I suppose it doesn't surprise me that Whistledown hasn't targeted me yet. She probably can't keep up with all my escapades."

You rolled your eyes, as the carriage slowed. "You're insufferable."

Max feigned a surprised gasp, pretending to be deeply wounded by your remark. "Oh, such harsh words from my own flesh and blood." he said in a dramatic tone, placing his hand over his chest.

The carriage came to a stop, and he chuckled, a proud smirk returning to his face. "But you know you love me anyway, Y/N."

You shook your head. "What other choice do I have?" you asked, smirking at him, as the door of the carriage was opened. You were helped out of the carriage, standing in front of Madame Delacroix's dressmaker.

Max stepped out of the carriage after you, a smirk on his face as he followed you into the dressmaker's. "None at all, I'm afraid." he said playfully.

As you entered, the shop appeared vibrant and elegant, filled with an array of beautiful gowns, fabrics, and accessories. The shopkeeper, Madame Delacroix, immediately noticed your arrival.

"Miss Barton." she greeted you with her france accent, curtsying. "Lord Barton."

Max smiled at Madame Delacroix. "Madame." he greeted back, bowing his head respectfully.

She then turned her attention directly to you. "Ah, Miss Barton, it is so lovely to see you."

She gestured around the shop. "We have many new arrivals today. I am sure we will find the perfect gown for you."

You nodded, smiling. "I can't wait."

Madame Delacroix returned your smile, clearly excited to help. "Excellent. Come, come. Let us look through the newest fabrics we have."

She led you and Max into the shop, guiding you past racks upon racks of colorful fabrics, the silks and satins shimmering in the light.

The shop felt like a little treasure trove of fashion.

Your fingers brushed over the various fabrics, trying to decide what you wanted. "I want at least one dress in lavender and one in baby blue." You stopped in front of a fabric that reflected the light in rainbow colors. “And this one on a dress."

Madame Delacroix nodded, clearly aware that you had a good eye. "Ah, excellent choices, Miss Barton.” she compliemented. “Lavender and Baby Blue are always lovely hues for a young Miss."

She then noticed the fabric you pointed out, the one with glimmering rainbow colors. "And that one is quite special indeed.” she spoke, nodding. “That's a beautiful iridescent silk. It will look absolutely stunning when made into a gown."

You nodded. "I want a gown of it and some with it as accents."

Madame Delacroix smiled, clearly pleased by your choices. "Of course, my Lady. That fabric will be perfect for making a stunning gown."

She gently took some of the fabric and held it up against you. "With your complexion, and the way it reflects the light, you will look absolutely radiant."

You smiled. "I'd like that."

Madame Delacroix nodded, smiling back at you. "Excellent. I will arrange for a gown made from this iridescent silk and incorporate some accents into other gowns too."

She then gestured toward the racks. "Now, shall we look for the other fabric options for the Lavender and Baby Blue dresses?"

You nodded. "Yes, please."

Madame Delacroix led you over to the appropriate section of fabric for the Lavender and baby blue dresses. She carefully picked out some swatches, holding them up against your face to see how they reflected against your complexion.

"Here, these would look lovely with the Lavender hue." she said, holding up a soft, delicate cotton fabric with a slight sheen to it. "And for the baby blue, maybe something a bit brighter, like this silk jacquard."

You felt the fabrics between your gloved fingers. "I like these." you said, nodding. "I'll take them."

Madame Delacroix smiled, pleased to hear your approval. "Excellent choice, my Lady.” she said. “The lavender will feel soft and lightweight against your skin, and the baby blue will have a lovely shimmer."

She made note of your choices, then looked up at you. "Now, any particular style or design you have in mind for these gowns?"

You thought for a moment. "Surprise me." you then said. "I don't have a particular style in mind, but maybe you can add some styles as accents or something, maybe something from France. You're the schooled one, I believe you'll make these gowns something special."

Madame Delacroix chuckled, clearly flattered by your trust in her. "Of course, Miss Barton. I will use my experience and creativity to design something special."

She nodded, then began to jot down some more notes. "I'll add some unique elements, perhaps a surprise detail on the lavender gown, and a special accent on the baby blue. Nothing too drastic, just enough to make them stand out."

You nodded. "I'd love that." you said, the thought of Anthony suddenly in the back of your mind. Maybe he would notice the details, maybe you’d stand out from the other girls.

Madame Delacroix smiled, clearly excited to get started on your gowns. "Wonderful."

She wrote down the last few notes, then looked up at you. "I'll begin working on these immediately. I assure you, Miss Barton, these gowns will be spectacular." she promised.

You nodded. "I'm sure they will." you spoke. "Very well, then I suppose we will pick gloves and such later? When the gowns are done, or now?"

Madame Delacroix considered the question for a moment, then replied. "I suggest we wait to pick out the gloves and accessories until your gowns are complete." she suggested. "That way, we can coordinate the colors and styles perfectly. What do you think, Miss Barton?"

You nodded. "Perfect."

"Excellent." Madame Delacroix smiled. "Then I will begin your gowns. Please come back to my shop when they're ready, and we'll select the perfect gloves and accessories to match."

You nodded again. "Thank you, Madame Delacroix."

She bowed her head in response. "It's my pleasure, Miss Barton." she returned. "I look forward to seeing you again soon when the gowns are done."

With that you bid her goodbye, leaving the Modiste together with Max.

Max, having been silently observing you and Madame Delacroix, smiled and offered you his arm as you left the dressmaker's shop.

"Well, I must say, Y/N, you certainly have an eye for fashion." he said, his trademark smirk in place.

You rolled your eyes. "Of course I have." you gave back. "One of us has to."

Max chuckled, fully aware of his own lack of interest in fashion. "Oh, come now, Y/N. You know I have other priorities than the latest trends and frills."

He squeezed your arm playfully, a hint of mischievousness in his voice. "I focus on more... enjoyable things."

You huffed. "Such as certain nightgowns, I guess?"

Max let out a hearty laugh at your comment, clearly amused by your tease. "Oh, darling sister, you know me too well." he spoke. "Let's just say I appreciate a beautiful woman in even more beautiful garments."

He gave you a wink, the playful banter between you both almost like a sibling ritual.

"That's what I thought." you mused. "So, the park it is now? We shall get the staff working to gather the pavilion and stuff."

Max nodded, the topic of conversation shifting as you mentioned the park. "Yes, the park."

He looked around, taking in the surroundings. "I'll arrange for everything necessary - pavilion, refreshments, any decorations. It will be a lovely setting for our atay at the park."

You nodded. "Perfect. Then I'll change into a more fitting gown, and we can go." you said, stopping in front of the carriage.

Max helped you into the carriage, a smirk on his face. "Oh, you want to change into a more fitting gown, do you?" he teased. "Does that mean you're trying to impress someone in particular with your attire?"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the playful banter between you two.

You chuckled. "I have to, after all I'm supposed to find someone to marry, am I not?"

Max nodded, clearly amused by your comment. "Ah, yes. The hunt for a suitable suitor, how thrilling."

He chuckled again. "But tell me, darling sister, who exactly are you hoping to impress?" he wanted to know. "Or should I say, make a certain viscount jealous?"

You choked on your own saliva, coughing for a short moment. "I don't know what you mean." you then said. "After all you were the one telling me not to get too close to him, because he doesn't want to marry and, most importantly, is a notorious rake."

Max chuckled at your reaction, clearly finding your coughing episode quite humorous. "Oh, darling sister, you can deny it all you want, but you can't fool me."

He leaned closer, his smirk growing wider. "I saw the way you looked at him, the subtle glances, the way your cheeks flushed. You can't deny there's some interest there."

You glared at him. "How ironic of you to say after telling me to basically get away from him."

Max shrugged, his smirk unfaltering. "Oh, come now, Y/N. I was just looking out for you." he defended himself half-heartedly. "You know how rakes can be, especially someone with a reputation like Viscount Bridgerton."

He chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. "But you must admit, he is quite handsome." he added. "And his charm can be rather intoxicating. It's understandable to be attracted to him."

You rolled your eyes. "He is indeed handsome, but I think I can assure you he's not interested in men." you said. "Unlike you, with your interest in both."

It was forbidden, yet it didn't stop some of the men that were interested in their same gender. "As for being attracted to him," you continued. "I wish to marry out of love. I hardly know him."

Max chuckled, not denying your accusation about his own preferences. "You know me all too well, darling sister." he said, before shrugging casually. "But as for marriage, love is not a requirement, especially in our circles. Marriages of convenience abound, and that's exactly what you need: a practical and advantageous union."

You bit your cheek. "Yeah, I know." you said. "But one can wish, can I not?"

Max nodded, his teasing smile softening slightly. "Of course, darling sister. Wishing and hope are not forbidden." he spoke, chuckling softly. "Just make sure you keep your expectations in check. You know how the world of high society works. Love is not always on the table in these arranged matches."

"It hardly ever is." you agreed. "Still I want something like our parents had. I want love, unconditional and never ending love. There's still some time left till the end of the season, maybe I'll still find it. That is, if no one asks for my hand before that and you sell me off."

Max tilted his head, his eyes studying you intently. He knew you well and could sense your hopefulness for love not fading. "Spoken like a true dreamy romantic, Y/N."

He chuckled softly, his words not without sympathy. "I understand your desire for love, I truly do. But remember that practicality must come first. If a suitor of good standing asks for your hand, we must consider the benefits of such a union."

You scoffed. "You're saying that like you were in my position." you said. "Yet you can choose who you marry, whilst I am chosen."

Max ran a hand through his hair, a small sigh escaping his lips. "I may have more freedom in choosing a partner, but you must remember that our social standing depends on you making a good match." he returned, but softening his tone. "I'm simply saying that in our world, love must take a backseat when strategic connections are at stake. Your marriage, no matter how much you hate it, could make or break our family's future."

You nodded, feeling that burden on your shoulders every time you talked to a potential suitor. "And what about a Viscount?" you asked, a bit hopeful. "Would a Viscount be a good match?"

You intentionally didn't say a name, though.

Max raised an eyebrow, clearly catching on to your meaning. "A Viscount hmm?" he made. "Someone in particular on your mind, darling sister? A Viscount would be a most advantageous match, no doubt about it. A respected title, a high social standing, and the potential for a well-connected union."

You sighed, nodding. "Well, then we'll have to see what comes out of this season, will we not?" you spoke, as the carriage arrived back at your home. "But I don't want lord Pendale or Berbrooke."

Max chuckled, rolling his eyes at the mention of Lord Pendale and Berbrooke. "Lord Pendale is a buffoon and has the wit of a brick, he wouldn't be a suitable match for you."

he told you, before he sighed disdainfully at the mention of Lord Berbrooke. "And Berbrooke...I would rather see you marry a horse than that greasy worm."

You snorted at his choice of words, when the carriage door was opened. "Wise words, brother." you said, taking the hand of the horseman that helped you out of the carriage. "Like a true gentleman."

Max chuckled, stepping out behind you. "Oh, you flatter me, darling sister. I'm always the picture of gentlemanly decorum."

He followed you into the house, smirking. "But worry not. I shall guard your reputation fiercely. No greasy worms or fools will be allowed near you."

You nodded. "Then I'm glad to have you by my side, dear brother." you said playfully. "My personal guard dog."

Max rolled his eyes, playing along with your teasing. "Oh, please. I am much more refined than a mere guard dog." he said. "Perhaps a lion, or a mighty dragon, ready to protect its treasure at all costs."

You scoffed. "A dragon, huh?" you chuckled, shaking your head, walking towards the stairs. "I'll let you know when I'm ready to go to the park."

Max chuckled, watching as you ascended the stairs. "Very well, darling sister. I'll have the carriage prepared for your convenience."

He gave you a mock salute. "And I shall wait here like a proper dragon guard, ready to burn down any unworthy suitors who dare approach you."

You snorted, shaking your head, before you went into your room.

Max chuckled, watching you disappear into your room. He leaned against a wall, his thoughts wandering. He knew he had his duties to ensure you would find a suitable match, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for having to act as your matchmaker rather than your brother.

With a sigh, he made his way outside to instruct the staff to prepare the carriage for your trip to the park.

Tag List

@misscaller06 @freyathehuntress

@queenslandlover-93 @chauchirem

@serenadingtigers

[allyjoe755]

Family Ties Pt. 1

Benedict Bridgerton x reader (no use of y/n)

request: from @caspianobsessed, "Can u please write about benedict and sharma sister reader , she comes to visit kate and meets ben for the first time. They meet one year later during reader's season and fall in love"

WC: 1541

a/n: This was so much fun to write. I have no idea what 19th century ghost possessed me to write the dialogue like I did but I'm not mad at it. There will be a part two! I hope you enjoy. And if you would like to be tagged in any future parts, please let me know.

warnings: none

o-o-o

Love was a challenging concept, because hearts— they were fickle things.

You had realized as much after your sister, Edwina’s, first social season… where she had been courted by Viscount Bridgerton only for your eldest sister, Kate, to ultimately become his wife.

But oh, were they in love. You could see it in their eyes on their wedding day— how they stared deeply at one another, as if no one else mattered in the world, as if their entire world, indeed, was standing right in front of them.

It was beautiful. Magnificent, truly.

You could only wish that something as magical as that might befall you one day.

You were a year younger than Edwina, and as such, a year out from your societal debut. You had not been present during the social gatherings or your sisters’ time spent at Aubrey Hall– due, in part, to you traveling with some extended family or other during that time. Besides names and vague descriptions granted to you through writing and on your return, you truly did not know any of the family your sister was marrying into.

And even then, you barely met any of them on the wedding day. A quick conversation introducing you to the now Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, and a nodding of heads acknowledging a few of the girls– Francesca and Eloise?– but that was it.

Viscount Bridgerton you knew, of course, but any of the others? Perhaps on looks alone you could pick out the eight of them from a crowd, but you did not know who was who.

Maybe that was why your heart thrummed so violently in your chest as you exited the carriage and stood in front of Aubrey Hall. The unknown. Yes, you were visiting your sister, but you feared less a chance encounter with a pack of ravenous wolves than the family Bridgerton, for at least you knew what to expect with the former.

You were sure they were kind– or at least amiable, as you doubted your sister would tolerate much less join a family that was not at least one of those things. That one piece of hope allowed you to tamper your nerves enough that when you arrived at Aubrey Hall, you were able to wear a placid smile as the footman escorted you to the drawing room.

He had not even finished announcing your name when your sister stood from where she was and practically dashed over to you, enveloping you in a hug. You both laughed, and tears came to your eyes.

“My dear, sweet sister,” Kate said, her smile bright as your embrace ended. “How I have missed you.”

“I have missed you as well!” You exclaimed. “Viscountess Bridgerton.”

“Oh, none of that here.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Come. I should introduce you to everyone.”

She turned around and you now had a clearer image of the drawing room– or rather, who was in it. The Dowager Viscountess– you recognized her– stood and nodded her head to you. You nodded and curtsied in return.

One girl sat in a chair with a book in hand. She was one of the children you had met at the wedding… Eloise, you believed? Yet the others you were not sure you entirely recognized.

“At the piano is Francesca,” Kate began. “Please, do not stop playing on our account; my sister and I are both lovers of music,” she told the young woman. “Over there is Eloise, and of course you know the Dowager Viscountess… Anthony is away on some business at the moment, but should be joining us for our meal. And, of course, the duchess is not present, as she is in Hastings.

“And here,” she said, bringing you to a table toward the end of the room, “are Gregory, Benedict, Colin, and–”

“Hyacinth!” The young girl announced, standing to do a quick curtsy to you. “It is a delight to meet you; we’ve heard so many great things!”

You couldn’t help the smile that began to blossom on your face. What had you been worried for? Only a few minutes, and you could already tell they were a wonderful family. “I’m so very glad to hear it,” you returned. You looked down at the table. “What game are you all playing?”

“It is a very simple game,” Hyacinth grandly explained, “in which one seeks the highest scoring hand by trading their cards until the round is over."

You smiled. "Trade and Barter?"

"Colin says it is called Commerce in France," Hyacinth responded, "which I think is a far more clever name." She looked up at you, and you thought that if this was how all of the family was, you would like the Bridgertons very much indeed. 

"Would you care to join us?" Colin offered.

"If there is room for one more," you said.

"Of course there is room," he replied, and there was a momentary shuffling of chairs, a command for Gregory to grab another seat, and suddenly you were sat between the youngest at the table and the oldest as your sister went back to sit with her mother-in-law.

Assuming, of course, that Benedict was in fact the second oldest and Hyacinth the youngest, if their names and your common sense had anything to tell you.

Another thing your common sense told you: the Bridgertons were a beautiful family. You read Lady Whistledown, of course, and had heard of the Bridgerton good looks, but seeing them in person…

You were being ridiculous, you knew. This was your sister’s family– Kate’s family. You should not have been noticing anything besides their friendliness.

You definitely should not have been noticing how you thought Benedict the most handsome, with his chestnut hair and gleaming eyes and soft smile, or how butterflies flapped in your stomach when your seat was placed next to his, or how nice he smelled when you sat down.

It was Gregory's turn to deal. Once your cards were dealt, you picked them up, glanced at them, and held them close to your chest.

Benedict leaned toward you ever so slightly. “Be sure to keep a neutral look about you. The younger ones do have eyes like hawks about these things.”

You let out a laugh. “You must remember my sisters,” you replied. “Edwina and Kate and I have had a fair share of card games ourselves.”

And so it went like that, around the table taking turns, watching the other players in hopes that their faces would reveal their hands, with laughter echoing in the drawing room.

“How is it that we haven't met you before today?” Hyacinth asked as she scooped over the pool of coins to her personal stash.

“I was traveling with family,” you explained. “Although I was at the wedding; it was just a busy day and so we did not get to meet.

“Where did you travel to?” and “So you are not out in society yet?” were the next questions asked, by, to your surprise, Colin and Benedict respectively. They then both apologized in tandem, and you pressed your lips together to stifle a giggle.

“No, I am not out in society yet–” you answered Benedict first– “but my debut will be this next season. And we were just in the countryside, mostly, but I did think it a rather splendid trip. There were many libraries and parks where we stayed, which I thoroughly enjoyed.”

“You enjoy reading?” Benedict asked yet another question, and you would be lying if you didn’t say that you were giddy by it.

“I would say that I rather enjoy all the arts,” you said. “Reading, writing, music… I can play the pianoforte, but not nearly as well as your sister. Her mastery is a true gift.”

“And what about visual arts?” Colin asked. “Drawings and paintings and sculptures… are you a fan of those as well?”

You nodded. “Of course. I was told there were great art exhibits in London. My mother and I are planning on visiting some of them when we are there for my season.”

“Perhaps Benedict could join you!” Hyacinth exclaimed. “He is a lover of art. In fact, he is quite the artist himself. He was a student at the Royal Academy of Art.”

Benedict let out a rather awkward laugh, and you felt your face grow flush. Hyacinth did not know what she was proposing– but a debutante and a bachelor on an outing, during the social season?

It was preposterous, and suggestive, and almost romantic.

Yet you loved the idea of it.

“A student?” You said, hoping to ignore Hyacinth’s other comment and continue with the conversation. “You must have very nice work.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he quickly responded, and then cleared his throat. His eyes met yours for a fleeting moment before you both looked away.

“It might be time for our meal soon,” Colin announced, standing up from his seat and saving you and his brother from any more embarrassment. “Hyacinth?”

“Yes, brother?”

“We shall leave it up to Benedict and our guest to determine what they would like to do during the social season.” He began towards the door, opened it, and turned to address the rest of the group. “Shall we?”

[weirdmorefics]

Hello, hope your doing well. Could you do a Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader and she gets overwhelmed at a ball which makes her she zones in/out and Anthony plus the family are really worried because they’ve never seen her like this before? Have a good day/night 💙

A/N- I am doing okay just turned 21 woot. (even tho I hate birthdays because they equal change.)

Pronouns- She/Her

Warnings- Anxiety, Shutdowns, Dissociation,

Word Count- 825

Summary- Basically what the ask says

Life Preserver

This ball was particularly loud and crowded, I don't think I had ever seen so many people in my life before let alone all in the same room. Every noise felt weighted I could hear the clink of every dish, the misstep of every dance, the clink of every heeled shoe. I wonder if this is a normal event for Anthony. I grew up in a small village and only came to London for my introduction to society. I can't say I am used to events like this but it certainly did not seem so crowded at my coming out.

Anthony had been coming and going conversing with others. I felt much like the odd one out. Yes, I wore the clothes and I am married to a wonderful man but I still feel like that country girl who shouldn't be here, especially with this huge crowd. I fiddled with the seams of my gown and searched the crowd for any of the Bridgertons but they all seemed involved in one activity or another. I lingered by the table of pastries and cakes as if I could blend into the wall behind them like a chameleon.

Others tried to introduce themselves to me because I was now a Bridgerton. I had never had a status like this before I was a nobody in my town. Yes, I love Anthony but I do not love the popularity that comes with being his wife. I would respond with a smile that did not meet my eyes and a handshake. It felt like Anthony had left me for hours but I think reality it was only a few minutes.

Anthony arrived back with his mother and sister Daphne. I felt relieved to see their familiar faces but I still felt like was not in my own body.

Anthony looked concerned at my vacant eyes and put a hand to my shoulder, "Are you okay darling?"

I smile and tilt my head to try to act oblivious like I am strong like I should be, "I am fine."

My husband clearly sees through my ruse because concern seems to grow even more and his sister furrowed her eyebrows.

"You don't seem like yourself Y/n," Daphne says her tone full of worry.

I blink my eyes tight trying to come up with a convincing lie but nothing seems to come to mind. I feel so far away like my mind is off swimming in the Atlantic but my physical body is stuck here at a ball. A normal ball! Why can't I just be normal or at least act normal? If not for me at least for my darling Anthony.

Anthony taps my shoulder breaking me from my intense thought spiral. I finally make eye contact with Anthony, and his eyes look full of worry, making me feel even worse for interrupting the festivities.

He wraps his arm around my waist, "I think she needs some air. If you will excuse us." He does not wait for any response and guides me to the garden.

Once the cold night air hits my face, I feel like I can finally breathe even though I wasn't holding my breath to begin with.

"Darling, what is the matter? Are you ill?" Anthony grabs my face and presses his lips to my forehead, "no fever."

I suck my bottom lip trying to prevent the tears that I know are coming soon.

" I am fine Anthony. I am so sorry for worrying you so much," I try to wave him off.

"There is no way you could convince me you are well Y/n. I have never seen your eyes so vacant before," before I can look sad about that comment he quickly grabs my hands and holds them tightly. "You are always so full of life your eyes are like looking into the sun, they are my favorite thing about you! We will not be leaving this garden until you tell me what is wrong."

I sigh, I can't avoid not telling him my feelings because he truly will stay here all night his stubbornness is admirable but also utterly a nuisance. "I am just not used to events like this… I don't think I have ever seen so many people in one room. I-I really did not want to disappoint you. I truly tried my best but I felt like I was drowning."

Anthony brushes my cheek with his hand, "Darling I wish you would have told me. You could never disappoint me you are always my life preserver from my disobeying siblings to calming me from my anger. Let me be your life preserver to your drowning seas."

The tears that I have been holding in finally come out as I take a deep breath, " I will let you be my life preserver if I will always still be yours."

"Always," he smiles and places a chaste kiss on my lips.

[bosbas]

Chapter 4: the more that you say, the less I know

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, angst, alluding to sex but no one actually talks about it

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You're struggling to find someone you're as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: ummmm if you saw me change this from OFC to reader insert... no u didn't<3 also me making an f1 reference teehee i couldn't help myself

May 23, 1814 - At yesterday's ball hosted by the illustrious Cowper family, one could not help but notice Miss Cressida Cowper, whose ethereal gown left onlookers in awe. Rumors abound that the delicate fabric, allegedly from the Far East, lent an air of exotic allure to her ensemble. However, the discerning eye might notice a subtle familiarity. A striking resemblance, one might say, to a certain gown worn by Daphne Bridgerton, now Duchess of Hastings, in the previous season. Perhaps the secrets of this so-called rare silk are not as elusive as the Cowpers would have us believe.

Despite the "exotic" nature of Miss Cowper's dress, Miss Y/N Beaumont took center stage in the Cowper's ballroom. Miss Beaumont has seamlessly transitioned from the limelight of debutante to the darling of London society. But last night saw a notable shift in Miss Beaumont's approach to the season. Despite numerous suitors vying for her favor, Y/N spent most of her time in the company of her dear friend, Penelope, and the comforting presence of her mother, Countess Beaumont. Was the ton's selection of gentlemen not up to Miss Beaumont's standards?

A deep sigh left your lips. You crumpled up Lady Whistledown's column and placed it on your bedside table, already feeling a headache coming in. The previous night's ball had been somewhat of a disaster for you, and you were doing well not to think about it too much. You didn't know what was wrong with you. All the boys had been perfect gentlemen, some even making you laugh. Yet, the aftermath of each dance left you feeling disheartened, a sentiment you couldn't easily shake off. At least Lady Whistledown hadn't mentioned that your dance card was populated only with the names of Colin and Anthony Bridgerton. It would have also included your brothers' names had they not been away on some hunting escapade.

Realistically, you knew you should be disappointed that only a handful of hopeful bachelors showed up to see you today, bouquets and poems in tow, but you couldn't quite bring yourself to feel bad. Truthfully, you just missed Ben. He had been gone for about five days now, and you were pretty miserable without him by your side. The gnawing sensation in your stomach, an instinctual search for him in a crowd only to be met with the reality of his absence, had become an inconvenient routine.

Ben was consuming your thoughts. Your best friend had been gone for days at a time before, but this time was different. You missed the sly smiles he sent your way when one of your brothers said something particularly preposterous. You missed his rambling about art while you had your head comfortably in his lap. You missed his small touches, a hand on the small of your back, or a bump of your shoulders when he sensed you needed reassurance. But most of all, you missed having him nearby, feeling the warmth and comfort of his glowing presence. Perhaps with Benedict by your side, you would have navigated the challenges of the ballroom last night more successfully. Surely, he would notice his best friend feeling anxious and uncomfortable, ready with a witty remark to make you smile and dispel your nerves. But he hadn't been there, and you had floundered trying to connect with men who sought different things in a marriage. You were feeling especially tender tonight, a painful mix of anger, disappointment, and frustration plaguing you. You were surprised by how quickly the novelty of your debut had worn off, and you were left with a gaping Benedict Bridgerton-sized hole in your heart.

In your childhood, the two of you dreamed up a future together, one where you could pursue your literary passions, and Ben could lose himself in his art. Those innocent dreams felt like distant echoes now, and how you yearned for the excitement with which you drafted these plans. To you, that was still the perfect partnership. But none of the gentlemen you had met so far shared an even remotely similar vision. A small part of you secretly wished Benedict was ready to marry, or better yet, ready to marry you. But reality dictated otherwise. Benedict had likely moved on, envisioning a new definition of marital bliss, leaving you with an aching heart and a future devoid of prospects.

A particularly unpleasant train of thought came to your mind, and you found yourself wondering how Benedict was coping. Surely the countryside was a more pleasant experience than the stuffy ballrooms of the ton, but as he was out enjoying the fresh air, did his thoughts circle back to you? Did he regret missing your debut? Or were you merely an afterthought in his countryside musings?

A knock on your door interrupted your swirling thoughts, momentarily diverting the chaos within your mind. You smiled upon seeing your mother's soft features peek through the door.

"Hello, Mum. Is everything alright?"

"I believe I should be asking you that, actually," Countess Beaumont replied carefully, making her way over to your bed. Of course, Primrose had noticed the astounding lack of gentleman callers at their home this morning, a phenomenon you couldn't attribute to your elder siblings dissuading potential suitors.

In turn, you were feeling an acute uneasiness. You knew this conversation would come, but you were not prepared in the slightest. Questions about your altered demeanor had you nervously wringing your hands, avoiding your mother's gaze. Sensing her daughter's distress, Primrose sat beside you, holding your hands and gently squeezing them in hers. The comforting gesture stilled you and brought your eyes to finally meet your mother's.

"I apologize; I did not mean to–" you began, then cleared your throat, changing your answer. "When you met Father, you were both completely enamored since the beginning, correct?"

"Well, perhaps not the very beginning. But after one conversation, yes." Prim laughed, remembering her first meeting with her husband.

"Exactly. I just don't think I'll have something like that. And I know you wanted me to find a love match, but for the life of me, I haven't found someone I'm compatible with, let alone someone who wants to have an actual conversation with me!"

Primrose probed further with utmost tenderness in her voice, mindful of your vulnerable state. "Is that what worries you? Not finding someone right away?"

You sensed that your mother hadn't come to reprimand you for turning away almost all eligible bachelors the night before, or at least, that was no longer the primary intention. No longer feeling defensive, you began articulating your tumultuous thoughts.

"Partially. Lady Whistledown has certainly done me no favors. She set the bar up so high that now if I don't find someone incredible or appropriately titled or very quickly, I fear the whole ton will be disappointed. Lady Whistledown will certainly make her disappointment known. But my life is not a plot line to be used for the ton's gossip sheet. At least not to me. As a woman, choosing who to marry is the most crucial choice I can make about my future, and the only one I will be able to make at all if I marry the wrong person."

Your throat was growing impossibly tight, and your headache was worsening as you tried to assuage the rising anxiety deep in your chest. "I am terrified of squandering this opportunity, of choosing the wrong person and ending up miserable and bored, of not being able to find love so soon and disappointing you and Father–" You cut yourself off with a sob, tears freely running down your reddened cheeks now. Your mother held you in her arms, waiting for the tears to subside before offering reassurance.

After a moment, the countess gently broke the silence, "Those are all very reasonable fears. I was your age when I met your father, but before then, I was feeling very similar to you. Granted, there was no Lady Whistledown sheet at the time, but the ton's gossip still spread with astonishing speed. Darling, believe me, there's nothing to fear. It's more than acceptable if you haven't found a suitable match yet. In fact, it's quite expected. Your father and I were unique, but most connections take time to develop."

Although you now felt much calmer, lingering anxieties still circled your mind. "But what if there is no connection? I haven't felt anything at all with anyone I've talked to so far, so how can I build a marriage from that?"

A sympathetic smile grew on your mother's lips. "That's quite alright. If you don't find a match this year, you can try again next season. But consider you and Benedict, for instance. Two completely opposite children were brought together because you were left out when both families got together. Now you're best friends, practically inseparable," she replied.

You looked on thoughtfully, once again losing yourself in thoughts of your childhood promises to Ben. Pushing the painful thoughts away and tucking them into a small corner of your brain, you continued your questioning.

"I suppose. But I truly can't imagine marrying anyone I met at the Cowper's ball or even anyone at Queen Charlotte's ball. And last night, I heard Alex commenting on the 'night of the marriage' like it was some big event, so now there's one more thing I must worry about when looking for a husband."

Prim felt her heartbeat falter, shock and fury coloring her features. "The wedding night? Alex said this to you?" she managed to eke out.

Sensing you had ventured into uncomfortable territory but unsure where, you hastily responded, "No, no, I overheard him talking about it with someone else. I don't even know what the marriage night is or why it's so important."

Prim let out a breath, somewhat calmed. However, relief was short-lived as you probed further into the details of the marriage night. The countess was frozen, unprepared for this topic, especially so early in the season. But her nervous energy only fueled your curiosity.

After a faltering attempt to form a coherent sentence, Prim cleared her throat and tried again. "The marriage night is an... intimate moment between a married couple. If you marry the right man, which I am sure you will, it will be very enjoyable indeed. Fun, even, so it is nothing to worry about."

"But what happens exactly?" you pressed, curiosity undiminished.

With a sense of finality, your mother responded, "Y/N, I know you have a curious mind, but it is too early for you to know the intricacies right now. The night of the marriage is a wonderful thing for a couple to experience, and that is the only thing you need to know. For now, enjoy the butterflies and keep being excited about your season. There is still much to look forward to. Like Alexander said, the men are there to court you, not the other way around. I apologize if I got a bit overexcited initially, but trust that we are all here for you and will support whichever decision you make." And with that, the subject was closed, and you sensed that further inquiries would only irritate your mother instead of answering your endless questions about this new concept.

---

"Ben!" came your delighted squeal from across the Beaumonts' garden, where you had previously been sitting with a book in your lap. Now, you were running at full speed toward your best friend, overjoyed to have him back. The impropriety of your run was momentarily forgotten in the sheer happiness of having him back.

Reaching Benedict, you felt yourself being swept up in a tight hug, the arms around your waist immediately bringing a comfort you had not felt since before Queen Charlotte's ball. He gently placed you back on the ground but couldn't find it in himself to let go of you completely. He placed his hands on your shoulders, looking you up and down and trying to take you in as much as possible.

"You've grown quite a bit since I last saw you. Six days, has it been? And already you're almost as tall as me," Ben teased, a charming smile on his face. He hoped his joking demeanor would mask the overwhelming fondness that surged within him. The countryside had been miserable, to say the least. The arrangements to purchase the cottage had gone relatively smoothly, and he could have returned after barely a day and a half away. But he forced himself to remain in the country, not wanting to potentially infringe on his best friend's debut. Despite the sleepless nights and restless days, he resisted the urge to return. What he did not resist, and in fact plagued his mind constantly, were thoughts about his aforementioned best friend. He constantly thought of you, dancing at a ball with a good-for-nothing bachelor, or being flirted with by prospective husbands, or worse, flirting back. Benedict had erroneously thought that his time away in the countryside might have quelled the dull ache in his chest, having instead the opposite effect. But now that he was here, with you looking radiant as ever standing right in front of him, he felt his mind quiet down, relishing in the comfort brought by your presence.

You rolled your eyes and smiled, your affection for Benedict shining through even when feigning annoyance. "Hmm, well, you seem to have shrunk during your time away. Most peculiar," you retorted, easily falling back into your familiar banter.

The two of you walked side by side toward the far end of the garden, where your open book had been left hastily abandoned in the grass. Though there was constant chatter between you, Benedict very pointedly avoided inquiring about your coming out, opting to let you broach the once-sensitive topic at your own pace. But six days devoid of an eager audience for your literary escapades left you yearning to share your thoughts on the thrilling novel that had consumed every one of your moments outside of ballrooms and entertaining callers. And Benedict was more than happy to listen. Seating himself on the soft grass beside your forgotten book, he listened intently and interjected whenever appropriate.

Eventually, you had talked all there was to talk about a 300-page book and chose instead to lean on Ben as you read aloud to him from your current novel. On his end, Benedict was all too aware of your head on his shoulder, your voice carrying a soothing cadence. It was easy to get lost in it. He realized he would miss moments like these once you were married. Since childhood, you had been reading to him in this garden, and it would all be over by the end of the season. But of course, the dull ache he was feeling was because he would miss you after you wed. No other reason.

You suddenly set your book down, finally ready to talk about the elephant in the room. "I spoke with my mother last night. About marriage and the like," you looked over at Benedict, searching his face for any clue about what he might be feeling. His eyebrows shot up, and he nodded for you to continue talking, eager to listen to what you had to say.

"It was quite wonderful, actually; I think a lot of the pressure I was feeling has been relieved," you said with a smile, and I felt Ben relax next to you. Encouraged by another nod and Benedict's murmur of That's good, you continued, recounting the previous night's conversation with Primrose with great detail, conveniently leaving out the part where your mother had used you and Ben as an example of a good connection formed over time.

"Well, I suppose she's rather right, isn't she? Most of us aren't going to fall in love at first sight. Friendships work that way too; look at us," Benedict remarked, and you couldn't help but internally laugh at the fact that he had brought up your connection on his own.

Maintaining the brisk pace of the conversation, you continued, "Yes, exactly, she also said that. And by then, I had calmed down quite considerably, so I asked her about the marriage night and told her that I didn't know what it was but asked if I should worry about that as well."

Benedict choked, quickly masking it with a cough as he swallowed thickly. The marriage night? How on earth did you know about that? He subtly adjusted his sitting position, nodding at you to continue. "And what did she say to that?" he struggled out.

"She chastised me for even knowing what it was, of course, but I had overheard Alex talking about it, so she can't really be upset with me at that, can she? Anyhow, she refused to tell me what it was," you glanced at Ben, your expression expectant. He chuckled, gesturing for you to continue, resisting the temptation to elaborate. He knew that explanation should come from a mother to a daughter or perhaps from a husband to a wife, but certainly not from him. He still felt his senses heightened, knowing this conversation was going into unexplored, not to mention forbidden, territory between a proper lady such as yourself and a self-proclaimed rake such as himself. He was acutely aware of the proximity of your knee to his leg, and a subtle heat crept up his neck.

Disappointed but undeterred, you pushed on, "Well, she said it was going to be enjoyable. If I choose the right husband, of course. Ben, are you sure you can't tell me? Not even a clue? My mother's response was quite unsatisfactory. What does she mean 'fun'? Why will the marriage night be 'fun'? Does she mean the kind of fun like when I'm playing pall mall? Or the kind of fun when you take me on nature walks at Aubrey Hall? Why will no one talk to me about this?"

Ben was, quite suddenly and very wholly, overtaken by a heat he felt everywhere that was traveling down his stomach. He could sense that you were exasperated, but he needed a moment to recover from you comparing sleeping with someone to something the two of you did. Benedict felt his heartbeat in his ears and couldn't tear his eyes away from your lips, pursed in frustration. Lips that looked awfully kissable, if he were to be completely honest. His breathing quickened, and he was actively fighting the desire he felt for the girl in front of him, keeping his hands rigid by his sides to avoid touching you in the way he wanted to. He groaned internally from both the intensity of the feeling and the effort of holding it back. His mind was elsewhere, in a candlelit room with you in a nightgown or perhaps a towel, but he knew he had to answer in a semi-normal way, if possible. He blinked quickly and met your eyes, narrowed and expectant.

"It's really not my place, Y/N. The countess would kill me twice if she knew I had talked about this with you at all, let alone told you what it was," he answered finally. However, the immediate drop in your expression made him feel awful, and he was desperate to alleviate the frown on your face.

"Alright," he relented, "what your mother said was true; it will most likely be fun, given you marry the right man. And, um..." Ben scrambled to find a delicate way to explain the night of the marriage without risking a duel with Alexander Beaumont. "It's not like Pall Mall," he said after a pause. "It's more like... scratching an itch? It'll feel fulfilling, hopefully."

You put your head in your hands clearly through attempting to get anything out of him. "Scratching an itch? What does that even mean?" you exclaimed.

Ben would've laughed at the scene had he not still been feeling out of sorts from the previous conversation. He was astounded and a little embarrassed that he had had such an intense reaction to the slightest mention of the marriage night. He shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to get rid of the thoughts running through his mind. This, he reasoned, was precisely why he was a rake. Evidently, he wasn't ready to marry and needed more time in his rakish ways to get it out of his system. Wiping his brow and eager to redirect his thoughts, he turned to you once again, launching into a detailed explanation of the beautiful countryside landscapes he had seen while away and how he was going to paint them.

---

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

[agir1ukn0w]

You are not a kanthony shipper so stop right now

Actually I am so YOU can stop right now

[licorice-tea]

Duty At The Expense Of Desire

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: mild cursing, lots of arguing between reader and Law, reader is nervous to be in a relationship, platonic luffy and reader <3, reader loves the strawhats a lot :)

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: i spent so long just rereading this, i don’t know why but it feels kind of hard to understand? so i might revise it again in the future idk yet! i hope you enjoy reading, again this is very very loosely based on kate and anthony’s season in bridgerton! it was originally going to be 2 parts, but it’s looking like a full on series now… lmk if you want to be tagged in future parts! enjoy! <3

Part 2 | Part 4

Now that your feelings for Law have been revealed- not only to him but to yourself- you find the tension between the two of you is undeniably different from before.

What were once looks of contempt now harbor some quiet desire. Chances of accidentally brushing shoulders when you pass by each other are avoided altogether, for fear of fueling a fire neither of you know how to deal with. And any crass or biting quips are cut out of your minimal interactions completely, as you both now feel they come off as flirtatious rather than standoffish.

A few days have gone by since you confronted Law and he admitted his true feelings for you, all of which have been spent at sea. Nami says there won’t be an island to dock at for at least another three days, given how the weather is slowing the ship, so your crew’s only source of entertainment is each other.

“Y/n,” she asks while the two of you along with Robin relax on the deck, “what happened between you and Traffy the other day?”

Your breath hitches and you cough unnecessarily, already giving away your nervousness to the two very observant women. “Uh, not much.”

“Well, what did you two talk about? You didn’t come back to the table after, so I thought you must have stayed together…” Robin smiles softly, baiting you to reveal more.

“What? No, no, oh my god no… We just…”

Nami urges you on with a sing-song voice; “You just?”

“We… talked.”

“Talked about what?”

“I don’t know. Our issues with each other.”

“And you resolved them?”

“Come on, y/n, tell us what happened!”

“Nothing happened.”

You stand up then, too annoyed to continue talking to your friends. It’s not even their fault really; you would want to know what had gone on too, if the roles were reversed. Maybe you’re just annoyed with yourself for not being able to face your own feelings.

~

With no particular destination in mind, you find yourself in the Thousand Sunny’s library. When you open the door, you see Law browsing the selection of books your crew has accumulated throughout your travels. You shouldn’t be surprised to see him, but you are.

That’s what it must be; what other reason could there be for the sudden raving of your heart and your breath hitching? Any feelings you ever had for him were buried deep inside after last night; too deep to allow yourself to feel them to the extent you were currently, and so these must all be signs of surprise.

You steel yourself and walk in, letting the door close behind you. Law looks up to find out who the person intruding on his studying is, but his eyes are blown wide when he makes eye contact with you. Neither of you speaks as you turn away and cross the room in quick strides to another section of the library.

“Stupid Law,” you think as you try to calm your mind- an impossible task when he’s standing anywhere in the same room. “Stupid weather,” preventing you from getting to an island so you can get some damn space from him. “Stupid library, ” because of its shelves that make it all too easy and tempting to peak through and catch a glimpse of him.

Actually, maybe that’s not too risky of an idea. Cautiously, you bend down slightly and pretend to scan the titles on the shelf. You allow your eyes to slowly wander off the books until you can see Law by peering upwards. But low and behold, he’s staring right back at you.

You gasp and stand up straight, silently cursing your silly plan.

“Y/n.” He walks over to you, 2 books tucked under his arm. “l was under the impression you wanted me to keep your distance from me.”

“I do.”

“I find that hard to believe with the way you’ve been acting around me.”

“It’s just weird. You made me admit that I had feelings for you, and now things are weird.”

“I made you? You didn’t have to say anything, you could’ve rejected me and we both would’ve moved on.”

“I did reject you.”

“By telling me you feel the same? That’s some rejection.”

“You shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.”

“I had to, you told me that you thought I hated you.”

“But I didn’t make you say that you have feelings for me, and so now you’ve made it impossible to ignore.”

“Believe me, I tried to ignore it. To ignore you. It was pointless.”

“Then you weren’t trying hard enough. I could’ve gone a lifetime without bringing up the way I feel for you if it means my crew will be able to continue this alliance for our goals.”

“Don’t give me that shit, your captain made this alliance because he thinks we’re friends. You seriously think he had a goal in mind while doing so?”

With a roll of your eyes, you cross your arms over your chest. “Maybe not, but Luffy is the captain- I trust him, and so I follow him in any endeavor he believes in.”

“Well, I’m the captain of my own crew, and I believe that whatever we have going on is a little more than ally-ship.”

“Regardless of whatever is going on between us, is it really a smart idea to complicate such an important alliance?”

“…No. I suppose it’s not.”

“Then drop it-” You turn, ready to forget about this conversation and continue hiding your feelings away when he grabs your wrist.

“But they wouldn’t care, y/n, and you know that. Your crew thrives on-” he gestures vaguely with his free hand, “-friendship and rainbows and joy.”

Shaking off a smile, you bite back. “That might be true, but you know what’s even more important to my crew? Protecting each other. They wouldn’t like me being with you; even if we are temporary allies, you’re a Captain of another crew and one of the Supernovas. So don’t tell me what they would and wouldn’t be ok with.”

Law seems to think for a second before he releases your wrist. “Hmph.”

Finally, you take your leave to find somewhere- with no Law and no watchful friends- to just think.

~

You settle on the bow of the ship. If you had an ability like Luffy’s or any guarantee that you wouldn’t slip right off and into the sea, you would like to sit on the masthead of the Sunny. A clear, unobstructed view of the world ahead, and the breeze to keep the hair out your eyes could be so peaceful. But, this has some sort of charm to it as well; you do seem to love a challenge (even if it’s one as simple as having to lean over the railing of a ship to see the horizon).

With a cheerful call, the man you had just been thinking of joins you on the railing by the ship’s bow. Luffy speaks animatedly of his plans for all sorts of things, but during a lull in conversation, he asks you something unexpected.

“Do you love him?”

“What?”

“Traffy! Do you love him?”

“I…”

“You’ve said how much you hate him, but that just means your feelings for him are strong. So you love him, right?”

You’ve never been more bothered to hear Luffy say something so uncharacteristically observant.

“I love you guys.”

He hums. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t love other people, too.”

“…I won’t ever leave this crew, Luffy.”

“Of course you won’t!” He latches onto you in an iron-grip hug, and you smile ever so slightly. “But, y/n.”

“Yeah?”

He releases you and instead grabs your shoulders to talk to you face to face. His face seems especially serious- the same way it does when he makes a bold declaration of his dreams or beliefs. “If you love someone, you tell them. You don’t hide it, because you never know when they could be gone.”

Finally, your barely-there smile opens into a full grin. “When did you get to be so wise?”

Luffy shrugs. “Shanks told me that once, I just felt it made sense for you too.”

You and your captain stay there a while longer, giggling over this and that until the sun starts to set on the horizon.

“I'm gonna go sit on Sunny- you wanna come with me?”

Though you’d been fantasizing over what it would feel like up there just a few minutes ago, you shake your head. “No thanks. But, uh, Luffy?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you… not tell anyone about what we talked about?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, for sure!”

You would come to regret being so vague with your captain, even if he does occasionally display astonishing emotional intelligence.

~

At dinner- where there’s always something going on- you make an effort to sit far from Law. Your attempt is in vain, however, as he ends up right across from you. Luffy sits to your left, and while he takes a small break from stuffing his mouth, he nudges you with his elbow.

Your eyes meet your captain’s as he winks at you, then looks over at Law, and back to you. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he had some sort of… plan in the works. With a wide grin, he asks, “Soooo Y/n, when are you and Traffy going to get married?”

A moment of silence passes before laughter erupts around the table from everyone except you and “Traffy.” The latter covers his face with one hand and pinches the bridge of his nose while you look simply horrified.

What had happened to not speaking of your earlier conversation? Admittedly, you had spoken of several subjects after your discussion of your feelings for Law… and knowing Luffy, he could have mistaken your vow of silence to be for any one of those subjects.

Since you’re sure your captain didn’t mean to embarrass you with his straightforward view of relationships, you just shake your head and give a muttered response. “We- we’re not, um, going to….”

Law, on the other hand, appears too bothered to stick around and listen to any more jokes. He stands abruptly and disappears in a flash of blue light.

You stick around long enough to finish your plate, then thank Sanji and leave quietly. Some unknown force draws you to Law, when you see him in Nami’s little grove of orange trees. Cautiously, you approach him.

“…Law? I- I’m sorry about that. I don’t know why Luffy said that.”

“It was embarrassing.”

“Okay, Law, they were all just joking. And I can’t even really blame them, because this entire situation is pretty fucking ridiculous.”

“No, y/n, it’s embarrassing that everybody knows how I feel and that you feel the same, and they’re all happy with the idea of us together, but you still don’t want to be with me.”

“It’s not personal, you know that.”

“How can it not be personal?”

“Everything I do is for my crew. I have a duty to them, and not even you or my own feelings will get in the way of that.”

“Do you seriously still believe that they would care if we were together?”

You purse your lips.

“I took your word for it at first, because you know your own crew better than I do, but clearly they have very little regard for what we do. Now I am inclined to believe that you made it up when you said they wouldn’t like us being… being something. And as foolish as I feel after believing that ridiculous excuse, I still want you, y/n. Tell me you want me too.”

“How much?” You ask with a fierce look.

“How much what?”

“How much do you want me, Law? You keep talking about your feelings for me, but you haven’t even said what they are.”

Again, you seem to find any way to continue arguing with the man before you as a means of releasing pent-up feelings. Just kissing him might be easier, but also a whole lot more terrifying and uncertain.

“Desire, attraction, whatever you want to call it-“

“Well, I’m not going to put everything on the line for someone who is attracted to me.”

“It’s more than that, you know that-“

“You know what I think?”

“…What?”

“I think that you can’t even admit to yourself- let alone aloud- the extent of your feelings for me. You want me to say it first so that nothing bad will happen if you put yourself out there, and that’s not going to happen.”

“I-“ He starts to speak, but can’t think of a rebuttal. You have him pegged. “I may not know exactly what my feelings are yet, but I can feel them, y/n. You remain on my mind constantly- so if you want me to stop feeling for you, then you need to stop.”

“Oh, I need to stop?”

“Yes, you-“

“You’re the one constantly making me reconsider everything I tell myself. You are the one who needs to stop.”

“Before what? Before we give in to this… obvious desire, and put aside duties to do something for ourselves?”

Heavy breathing fills the silence. He always manages to rile you up, and you can’t stand it.

“You should go. No, in fact,” you raise your hands in a gesture of surrender, “I’ll go.”

Without giving him the chance to respond, you flee down the stairs to the main deck and through the doors to the cabin hall. All this back and forth with Law is giving you a headache.

You can’t deny it any longer though; now that your captain knows too, it’s like you’ve spoken it into permanent existence. You’re in love with Law, and there’s next to nothing stopping you from being with him in the way you truly desire. Not even your sense of duty.

You should never have counted on the Strawhats to hold you back from something- or someone you love.

Taglist: @augustanna @lavanderdreamve @pinksaiyans @khaleesihavilliard @jennapancake @pinki-minki @loserbee14