#author; genyaakostyk

[olive-recs]

this is a lovely fic, lottie! i love the voices of each character and i am awed at how you were able to craft such a complex story in such a short amount of words!!!! also, uhhh,,,,, sir hughes be my bestie? i would enter a marriage of convenience with him, asdfghjhgfddfgh. lol, but i love how you make me enjoy even those characters that are not present in canon - or those characters who are asides, and don’t need to be enjoyed quite so much as others - it just makes reading your work so much more enjoyable and special!

a long, long time

requested by annon: Hey, if your requests are still open could you please do an Anthony x reader fic where him and the reader have always been really close until some guy is interested in the reader and she starts spending more of her time with him, so Anthony is jealous and realizes his feelings for her? Thank you!

a/n: I've started doing this thing where i listen to string covers of songs whilst writing and just... my imagination is going wild. Also this is long as hell but i hope you enjoy it - Anthony is my tortured boi and adore writing him.

summary: Y/N has waited a long, long time for Anthony Bridgerton to finally decide to get married. But by the time he finally decides to find a wife, Y/N has run out of time and Anthony is suddenly faced with losing her to someone else.

Every ball the queen held was a flawless masterpiece. From the clusters of candles lighting the room to the endless bouquets of violets, lilies and irises decorating the walls. It was impossible to not look around in awe.

The groups of couples dancing around the ballroom floor obscured the painted crest on the floor but the myriad of coloured dresses brightened up the room.

"You can't keep dancing with me to escape the ladies of the ton," Y/N said, carefully spinning around Anthony, her gloved hand holding his.

Anthony smirked at her, winking. "But it is such a foolproof plan, Y/N."

She rolled her eyes, placing her hands back on his waist and taking two steps back, two steps left. Anthony guided her around the room, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Has anyone caught your eye, yet?" Y/N asked.

"Much to my mother's displeasure, no. There isn't anyone - they are all so boring. Which, I suppose is a good thing. I merely need to marry someone who is somewhat intelligent."

Y/N stumbled a step. "Marriage?"

"You know, Colin choked on a peanut and Benedict fell of his chair when I told them - why is this such a surprise?"

"Because ever since you came of age you have not stopped talking about how you are not going to marry," Y/N pointed out.

"A man is allowed to change his mind. Even if every young lady out at the moment is a dud."

Y/N giggled, ducking her head as she tried to hide her face. "Anthony," she chided kindly. "Be nice."

"I thought you young ladies were taught to dance - and to at least act intelligent," Anthony grumbled.

Y/N walked around him, taking his hand in hers and pressing her back against his chest as they stepped back and to the side.

"Most mama's value beauty and manners over intelligent conversation," Y/N replied. "To find a well read woman is a rare thing indeed."

"It is even rarer to find a woman who can dance properly."

"Well," Y/N spun to face him, their faces inches apart from one another, "isn't it a good job you have me, then."

Anthony spun her one last time. Y/N moved away and Anthony pulled her back and into a gentle dip as the song concluded. They stepped away from one another and respectively bowed and curtseyed.

"I should go find my mother," Anthony muttered, looking around the ballroom. "Let her introduce me to more young ladies lacking brains."

Y/N smiled at him and scoffed lightly. "At least you get to choose," she said. "Mine has been pushing me at men all week thinking one will propose before we go to Aubery Hall for the week."

Anthony looked at her. "You are coming to Aubery Hall?"

"Received the invite this morning. We arrive a week Friday."

Anthony nodded. He began to smile. "Well, perhaps my mother's ball shan't be as tedious with you around."

"Perhaps not," Y/N replied. She curtsied. "My lord."

Anthony bowed as she stepped away. He watched her go and felt a part of him leave with her. Her perfume lingered and Anthony closed his eyes for a moment, the smell of roses haunting him.

"Anthony!"

Anthony's eyes opened sharply and he turned, forcing a smile to his face as his mother approached him, ushering a young lady along with her.

Y/N tried not to laugh at Anthony's misfortune as he offered another lady a dance, clearly unhappy with the arrangement. A waiter approached her, offering her a glass of champagne.

"I do believe, this is the most expensive champagne I have ever had at a ball."

Y/n turned and immediately curtseyed. "Sir Hughes."

"Miss Y/L/N," he replied. His bow was short and curt.

Sir Hughes was a military man - and a well-decorated one at that. His uniform sparkled in the many candles littering the room. He was tall and long with a moustache that essentially screamed his status in the military.

Y/N had spoken to the man a few times over the years when he'd been in town - her father was a good friend to Sir Hughes' father.

"I was not expecting to see you here, I thought you were still overseas," Y/N said, standing up from her curtsey.

"I was but I was called back to London on important business," Sir Hughes said. "The queen summoned me."

"Ah, well, it is best not to ignore her majesty," Y/N replied.

Sir Hughes laughed and Y/N found herself smiling at him. He looked at her for a moment and she matched his gaze.

"Would you do me the honour of a dance, Miss Y/L/N?" Sir Hughes asked, holding his hand out to her.

Y/N smiled and nodded, taking his offered hand. He gracefully led her onto the dance floor, guiding her around until she stood in front of him.

She'd danced with so many men over her last two seasons out in society, that it truly did not require much brainpower. One step here, a twirl here, a smile there - it all came together. And whilst her suitors may have died down over the years, her dance skills had not.

Most dances occurred out of mere courtesy and rarely meant that the people involved desired to court one another. It was a talent, Y/N had decided, to be able to dance with someone and have no connection with them. To not feel anything as they took your hand and spun you around the room - their eyes solely focused on you, as if you were their entire world in that singular moment.

Y/N had rarely felt anything when dancing. She'd never felt as if she was the centre of someone's universe - she merely orbited in a circle for a bit and then moved on.

"I do hope you forgive me for being so forward, Miss Y/L/N, but are you being courted by anyone at the moment?" Hughes asked, taking a step forward, his hands coming to rest on her arms.

"No, Sir Hughes. I have had many suitors but... none have come to anything," Y/N replied honestly. "I am sure you can imagine how my parents feel."

Hughes chuckled. "I do struggle to understand why you are not yet married, Miss Y/L/N."

Y/N looked at him and smiled sadly. "I have yet to find the one, I believe."

Hughes twirled her around and Y/N spotted Anthony, standing against the wall with his brothers before she faced Hughes again.

"Miss Y/L/N?"

"Yes, Sir Hughes?"

"May I call upon you tomorrow morning? I was planning to attend the exhibition at the national museum and your presence shall improve the experience all the more."

Y/N felt herself smile. "Of course, Sir Hughes. I would be honoured."

"I don't even understand why you are so worked up over it, brother. You have made your opinions on marriage very clear to everyone - including her. You wish not to marry for love, merely for convenience."

Anthony picked up an orange and threw it in the vague direction of Benedict's head.

"I was... painting that. Besides, you hit the shelf, not my head," Benedict muttered, crouching down and picking the orange up, placing it back in the bowl.

"She's too good for him," Anthony replied, picking an apple up and staring at it intently. He sighed, sliding further down in his chair. "Sir Hughes is never even in the country."

"For some women that might be a positive. But, again, you have no interest in marrying. Well, not for love, at least. Unless you have changed your mind..."

Anthony shrugged. "I do not know. To be honest, Benedict, I no longer know what I do and don't want. Mother has shoved every eligible lady my way these last few weeks and whilst the idea of marriage has begun to appeal to me - not because of love but for the practical side of it all - I still do not..."

"Feel ready?" Benedict suggested.

Anthony just grunted, taking a large bite out of the apple. Benedict looked at his brother and sighed. He set his palette down on the table, giving up on his painting for now, and approached the seat opposite Anthony.

Benedict kicked Anthony's feet off the plush chair and sat down in it, stretching his legs out. "Do you love her?"

"I do not know. I do not think..." Anthony hesitated. He dragged a hand down his face. "I do not think I am capable of love, to be honest brother."

"You love us."

"That is different," Anthony replied curtly. "Besides," he add, quietly, "I made a promise to father to look after you all." Anthony sighed, shrugging. "I do not know how to explain it, brother."

Benedict looked at his brother, intently studying his face. "Try me."

Anthony exhaled heavily. "After... after Sienna and the disaster that was Daphne's season I decided that I need to find a wife. To fulfil my duty as head of this family and as a viscount. Trying to find someone I love makes the entire affair far more difficult. All I want is a mother to my children and a wife who will be a good viscountess - that is all. Love just complicates everything."

"That's not the only reason, though, is it?"

Anthony sighed softly and shook his head - the movement barely noticeable. "I remember every waking moment after father's death. I remember the pain, the tears... the lingering sensation of death. Yet, I could not do anything about it. There was nothing to be done. I could not grieve with the rest of you because, if I did, everything would have fallen apart. I refuse... I refuse to inflict that pain on anyone else. I refuse to be the cause of such unbearable, indescribable pain because I decided to love someone."

The clock that sat on the mantlepiece ticked into the silence. Benedict was silent, unable to find any words to fill the void Anthony's confession had left.

"Anyway, I shall leave you to your painting," Anthony said, standing up. He tossed his apple into the air as he left, catching it in one hand and immediately taking a bite out of it.

Aubery Hall was stunning in the setting sun. The walls were bathed in warm orange light and ivy crawled around each window and crevice. Y/N had been here before but it had been many years since she'd last stood at the foot of the stairs, staring up at the building with awe on her face.

"Lady Bridgerton!" Y/N's mother exclaimed, bustling up to their host and embracing her. "Thank you so much for the invitation."

"Oh, it is no bother - I am so glad you could both attend!" Violet replied, beaming.

"I am only sorry my husband was detained - important business that could not be missed, unfortunately."

Y/N looked around the foyer, taking in every single detail. As she lowered her eyes from the ceiling, she spotted Anthony standing to the side of the staircase - evidently hiding - and gave him a smile.

Anthony returned it, nodding his head politely at her.

"It is not a problem. Y/N, dear, it is so good to see you again," Violet said, embracing Y/N tightly, pulling her away from Anthony's gaze.

"You too, Lady Bridgerton. I forgot how beautiful your home is in the summer," Y/N replied, looking around again, noting that Anthony had vanished.

Violet sighed fondly, looking around too. "A lot of work has gone in to it over the years." She turned back to face them, any sign of nostalgia gone. "Come, you must be exhausted from your journey. Mollie, here, will show you to your rooms. Dinner will be at eight should you wish to join."

Mollie began leading the way up the stairs and down the corridors of Aubery Hall. Y/N was just overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the house in the dying light. So much so that, as she turned a corner, she walked straight into one viscount.

"Oh, I am so sorry, my lord," Y/N exclaimed, trying to step back and create space between them but only succeeding in tripping over her dress.

Anthony caught Y/N as she tumbled back. He put a hand on her waist and pulled her forward and up, holding her steady.

"Are you alright?" He asked, looking at her.

Y/N looked at him and couldn't help herself as she looked into his eyes. As if she had been hit with a book, Y/N blinked and moved away, aware of how close she had been and the fact her mother, and the maid, were both watching.

"I am perfectly fine, thank you, my lord," Y/N said, feeling her face beginning to warm.

Anthony nodded. "Ladies," he said, bowing.

He moved past her and began walking down the corridor. For some reason, Y/N felt a weird sense of guilt inside her.

"My lord," Y/N called, turning to face Anthony's retreating back. "Shall we see you at dinner tonight?"

Anthony turned midway down the stairs and looked at her, the smallest of smiles appearing. "Yes, Miss Y/L/N, you will."

Y/N's laugh drowned out everything else around him. Anthony watched her, from the end of the table, and stabbed his fork into a carrot with more aggression than needed.

"I am very relieved to not be that carrot," Colin muttered, leaning over to Benedict. "What is his problem?"

Benedict smiled knowinly into his glass. "Y/N and Sir Hughes."

Colin looked over at the two. His mother had not been subtle with the seating plan for that night's dinner. Anthony was surrounded by young, eligible ladies, all lacking brain cells and the ability to hold an intelligent conversation, and Y/N had been placed next to the man she had been rumoured to be courting.

Well, rumour reported in Lady Whistledown that almost certainly meant it was true.

"If he loves her, why does he not do something about it?" Colin asked quietly.

"Brother, I don't think he's realised he does," Benedict replied. "I think he's still waiting for some miracle."

"If he waits much longer, she will go."

Benedict looked over at Y/N and sighed softly. "I know."

The tiny gems embedded in the flowers of her pink gown sparkled in the candlelight. Y/N ran her gloved fingers over them, feeling each petal and each gem.

"You look beautiful, my child," her mother said, standing in the doorway of their room.

Y/N smiled at her in the mirror and dropped her hands down to her sides. "It is a beautiful dress."

"A beautiful dress to get engaged in," her mother said, coming to stand behind her. She put her hands on Y/N's shoulders and kissed her cheeks. "Sir Hughes is a fine man."

"Indeed he is. I shall be very lucky," Y/N replied.

If her mother had not been so caught up in the potential engagement looming, she would have notice how Y/N's heart truly was not in the words she spoke.

Sir Hughes was a gentleman and a lovely one at that. But Y/N did not feel as if she was at the centre of the universe. As if everything orbited around them and no one else.

But given how little time she had left to find a match - and given how much of a burden she felt to her parents - if Sir Hughes did propose, she wasn't going to say no.

Even if there was someone else she wanted.

She did not have the luxury of time. She could not afford to wait any longer than she already had. Her marriage would not be for love. As long as she was happy and safe, that would be all that mattered.

As soon as she stepped onto the balcony overlooking the ballroom, she found him. It was as if she was magnetised to him - unable to look away and to lose him amongst the crowd.

Anthony Bridgerton raised his head and found Y/N looking down on him from the balcony. He locked eyes with her for a moment before she turned away, Sir Hughes appearing at her side.

Y/N looked down at Sir Hughes. He stood on the stairs and held a gloved hand out to her.

"May I have this dance?"

"You may, Sir Hughes."

She placed her gloved hand into his and he led her down the stairs and onto the floor.

Anthony smelt her perfume as she passed and had to hold himself back from pulling her to him. God, the hold this woman had over him.

"She looks stunning," Daphne said, approaching Anthony and standing on his left. She watched as Y/N circled Sir Hughes and came to stand in front of him, her dress sparkling in the candlelight.

"Hmm, I would not know, I am not a woman."

Daphne scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Of course, my apologies." She paused, debating whether to share what she knew. She sighed softly but Anthony heard her. He looked down at her and narrowed his eyes, concern and curiosity in his gaze.

"Daph, what is it?"

"Sir Hughes -"

"What about him?"

"Nothing bad," Daphne said quickly at Anthony's curt question. "Just... I had that he may be proposing to Y/N tonight," Daphne said quietly. "The grand occasion this ball is - it would be a perfect time."

"Ah," Anthony said softly, the word almost lost to the music. "And Y/N?"

Daphne looked up at him. "I assume she will say yes."

Anthony's head turned sharply. "Why?"

"What do you mean why?" Daphne looked up at him. "Brother, you do realise that Y/N, much like the rest of the ladies still out in society, cannot stay unwed forever. If Sir Hughes does propose it means safety and security for her and her future." Daphne looked at him, seeing straight through his walls. "If you want her, I would act fast -"

"When did I ever mention wanting her?" Anthony snapped. "I am merely surprised, is all. Besides, Y/N and I do not share anything. We are merely friends, nothing more. I am after a wife, sister. Not a love match."

Daphne nodded, unconvinced entirely. "Of course. My apologies, brother." Daphne waited a moment, watching as Sir Hughes danced Y/N around the room. "She makes time stop for you, doesn't she?"

"What?"

"You know exactly what I am on about, brother, do not lie. Y/N. She makes time stop when she's around you. She makes you feel like you're the centre of the universe and that no one else matters. That... nothing can break you apart."

Anthony swallowed harshly. His sister had, irritatingly, described the exact feeling. The feeling he felt every time Y/N even just glanced in his direction. Yet, he refused to take her. He refused to subject her, and himself, to such pain when the time came.

"Excuse me, sister."

"Anthony -"

Anthony walked away from his sister, unable to bear the truth in what she was saying. The song ended and Anthony saw Sir Hughes leave Y/N's side - heading for the drinks table.

His feet moved before his brain did.

"Miss Y/L/N," Anthony said, approaching her and bowing in one swift movement.

"Lord Bridgerton," Y/N said, slightly stunned by the man's sudden appearance. She curtseyed to him, standing up and meeting his gaze as he looked at her.

"May I have this dance?" Anthony asked, holding out his bare hand to her.

Y/N looked at his offered hand, every instinct inside her telling her to not accept it, to not cause herself any more pain. Instead, she placed her silk gloved hand in his and squeezed it tightly.

"You may, my lord."

Anthony led her to a spot on the floor and both respectively bowed to one another. He took her hands in his and they began moving around the floor, mirroring the actions of the other. Y/N followed his lead, her dress swishing about her feet as she stepped, turned and stepped, avoiding Anthony's feet.

Anthony's bare hand moved to her elbow as he turned behind her, his back pressing against hers. She could feel his fingers brushing against her skin and fought against the tingle that ran down her spine. Y/N turned her head as Anthony turned around, her back pressing agaiainst his chest. She met his gaze as they stepped back, holding on to one another.

Her gloved hand was on her chest and Anthony's hand held it tight, his ring finger brushing the bare skin. Y/N took a shaky breath in, unable to fill her lungs, as she stared into his eyes.

"I hear Sir Hughes is to propose," Anthony said softly, his eyes never leaving Y/N's, even as his foot swept across the floor and she moved with him.

"He may."

"Are you going to accept?"

"Is that any of your business, my lord?" Y/N asked, rather harshly at that.

Anthony's eyes narrowed, a flash of hurt appearing on his face. "No, but my sister mentioned it in passing and I was merely curious. Forgive me."

Y/N sighed softly. Anthony spun her away and then back in to him, their arms raised above their heads as they swayed side to side.

"I am going to, yes," Y/N admitted. "I do not have much choice, in all honesty."

"Whatever makes you say that?" Anthony asked, his brow furrowing.

"I am a burden to my parents, my lord. I am running out of time to find a suitor and I do not have a lot of options left. Sir Hughes is a good man -"

"Do you love him?"

Y/N stumbled a step, Anthony's hand grabbing her waist and preventing her from falling.

"It is not a matter of love," Y/N replied, shaking her head slightly. "Sir Hughes, should he ask me, shall provide me with the safety and security I need."

"But he cannot make you happy, Miss Y/L/N," Anthony argued, his breath hitting the bare skin at the back of her neck.

"No, I will admit that," Y/N said, turning gently, "But I shall not be unhappy. He is a lovely man, my lord, and I -"

"You cannot marry him."

Y/N stopped and stared at Anthony. "Pardon me?"

Anthony sighed, closing his eyes. He curled his fist tightly. "You cannot marry him."

"I just laid out all the reasons I have to marry him and how little choice I have in the matter and yet you," Y/N raised her eyebrows at him as they resumed dancing, "are standing here telling me I cannot marry him. Anthony, you are not my father nor are you, my brother, you have no say in this."

"But he cannot make you happy, Y/N. He cannot fulfil your desires -"

"Oh, and you can?" Y/N snapped. Anthony was silent, which was more than a perfect answer for Y/N. "Lord Bridgerton, up until fairly recently, you have not shown any interest in getting married. You have pushed every woman away, including myself. Why do you think I decided to settle on a friendship with you over a courtship?"

"Miss Y/L/N -"

"Lord Bridgerton, I am a woman living in a society built by men for men. I have no say over what happens in my life. If Sir Hughes proposes, I am accepting because it gives me some sense of control where I have none. I cannot afford to keep waiting for you, Anthony. I tried." Y/N sighed sadly. "Look where it got me."

Anthony spun her away one last time. Their hands were held above their heads as the song ended and they slowly dropped them, the last notes fading into the silence of the room. Y/N curtseyed to Anthony as he stared at her, unable to move.

"I truly am sorry, Lord Bridgerton. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."

Y/N walked away from him, her perfume lingering where her presence did not. She made a beeline for the table of drinks, picking up a glass of champagne and drowning it in one go, wincing at the acidic taste in her mouth.

"Apologies, for my absence, Miss Y/L/N," Sir Hughes said, appearing at Y/N's side suddenly. "I was summoned by the queen."

"Oh, do not worry, Sir Hughes, I went to freshen up after our dance," Y/N replied, forcing a smile to her face.

Sir Hughes nodded. "Ah. Um, Miss Y/L/N, might I have a word with you out on the terrace? Your mother is out there with Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury so we shall not be unchaperoned -"

Y/N cut him off. "Of course, Sir Hughes."

She knew what was coming. It had been hanging in the air the entire night - the whispered conversation of those around her with the lingering stares.

Sir Hughes walked her out onto the terrace and Y/N risked a glance at the three women standing nearby, all watching on with undisguised excitement on their faces. Though, Lady Bridgerton looked more regretful than excited.

"Miss Y/L/N," Sir Hughes began. "These last few weeks, spent with you, have been wonderful. You are a truly beautiful woman and I have enjoyed every moment spent in your presence."

Sir Hughes got down on one knee and Y/N could hear the ripples of excitement go through the people outside as they watched on. He pulled out a small velvet box and lifted the lid.

He looked up at her and smiled. "Miss Y/N Y/L/N. Will you marry me?"

"Anthony, what -"

Benedict trailed off as he watched Anthony drown almost an entire bottle of whiskey, slamming the glass down on the table and exhaling heavily.

"She's going to marry him."

"I heard."

"I tried to stop her."

"Brother, I do not think that is your decision to make," Benedict said gently.

"I know, Benedict!" Anthony snapped, looking at him. He sighed, evidently trying to hold his emotions together. "It's all my fault," he whispered, his voice breaking.

Benedict frowned. He pushed the office door shut behind him and walked over to Anthony, standing the other side of his desk. "What is?"

"This entire situation. She..." Anthony cut himself off and cleared his throat, the words getting stuck. "She waited for me. She waited for me to change my ways and to realise that..."

"To realise that loving someone isn't a bad thing?" Benedict suggested.

Anthony dropped his head, closing his eyes as he exhaled deeply. He all but collapsed into his office chair and he leant forward, hiding his face in his hands, as he felt the tears burning his eyes. Every single emotion he had tried so hard to conceal, come rushing out of him.

He had come so close and yet he had still lost it all. If only he had realised sooner, if only society and time would let them wait for one another.

Benedict crouched down next to him and put a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing it reassuringly. "I am sorry."

"It's not your fault, brother," Anthony said quietly, dropping his hands. He looked at him, knowing he looked a mess with red eyes and tears running down his face. "It's mine. It's always my fault."

The office door flung open with more force, and drama, than needed as Colin practically fell into the room.

"Colin, whatever is the matter?" Anthony asked, his walls coming up as he began to think of every single horrible thing that could've happened in the last ten minutes.

Colin panted as he stood up. "She said no."

Anthony nearly fell out of his chair. He subconsciously gripped Benedict's arm, digging his fingers into the fabric of his brother's suit jacket.

"What?"

"Brother," Benedict said, his voice even, "are you sure?"

Colin nodded. "She said no, Anthony. She turned him down."

Anthony was almost certain the servants thought him absolutely mad. The sun had barely risen and here he was, in his clothes from the night before, holding a ring box, waiting. Admittedly a bit impatiently but still waiting.

He could see two servants whispering to one another halfway up the stairs and knew something was going on.

"I know it is early but -"

"It is not that, my lord," one said, bowing to him. "She is not here. We cannot find her."

The head stablehand appeared in the foyer, looking up the stairs. "We've got a horse missing, too. One of the lads said a young lady took it out about ten minutes ago."

Anthony stood there, his brain running wild as he tried to figure out where Y/N would go so early in the morning. It clicked in his head, suddenly and violently and he barged past the stablehand and ran down the corridor, heading for the stables.

It'd been many years since he and Y/N had last spent a summer at Aubery Hall together yet he still remembered the exact route and the exact place they used to go riding together.

They had acres of land but there was only one place that Anthony knew she'd be. He'd introduced her to it, after all.

Despite the sun there was a light rain, covering the grass in tiny water droplets and making it sparkle in the morning sun. Anthony urged his horse into a canter, careening down the field and into the forest.

The lake sat hidden behind numerous oak trees and willows. No one would know it was there unless they looked for it. Anthony slowed his horse down as he approached, spotting Y/N sitting on the shoreline, her back to him.

"I am either incredibly stupid or I am an idiot," Y/N said, leaning back on her hands.

"Considering they are both synonyms of each other, I am not sure you can be both," Anthony replied, jumping down from his horse. He stopped where the grass bank dipped down into the lake, standing just behind her. "You declined his proposal."

Y/N sighed. "Yes."

"Why?"

"I am not entirely sure myself," she admitted.

"When I spoke to you about it... you were so certain - you were set on it. What happened?"

Y/N turned and looked at him. "You happened, my lord."

"Miss Y/L/N -"

"You spoke to me and suddenly I no longer knew what I wanted. Suddenly..."

Y/N trailed off. The wind blowing through the trees and the water hitting the shore were the only sounds - it was strangely peaceful. Anthony moved closer, tentatively sitting down next to her on the shore.

"Suddenly I could not imagine being apart from you," Y/N continued, staring straight ahead. "I could not imagine being betrothed to someone else when you are the only man I want to be with. And I could not do that to Sir Hughes. I could not spend every day with him knowing that I will never be content because my heart is constantly yearning for another."

Y/N turned her head and looked at him. The wind picked up, roaring through the trees and blowing the fabric of her shawl around. She pulled it tighter around her and curled in on herself a bit.

"I turned Sir Hughes down because what I want he cannot give me. My one desire is to feel like I am the centre of someone's universe. To feel as if it is just me and them against the world. To feel... as if we are the only things that matter.

"Sir Hughes can give me security and safety and I would be happy. But I would not be content. I would be constantly yearning for that feeling. A feeling that I have only ever felt with you. When I dance with you, Anthony, I feel as if we are the only ones in the room - as if there is no one else there. As if... we are in our own world."

Anthony didn't speak for a while. He let the words hang in the air, contemplating what to say. He breathed in and held it for a moment before exhaling slowly.

"My mother does not remember much after my father died. She was barely there. Yet, I remember every single moment. The pain. The grief. I... I could never be the cause of such pain. Of such grief. Which is why I want to have a marriage without it. A marriage untouched by the ravages of grief and heartbreak."

Y/N looked at him, pity yet understanding in her gaze. "But that's what love is, Anthony. It is pain and heartbreak and being so overwhelmed by grief that you cannot breathe. You cannot have love without pain. You can try and eliminate it all you want, Anthony, but it will always be there -"

"I know. I just..." Anthony inhaled sharply and Y/N could see the tears forming in his eyes. "I cannot imagine finally getting to love you only to lose you. I do not think I would ever be able to cope."

"You are not going to lose me, Anthony," Y/N said quietly, taking his hand in both of hers. "I am right here. But I cannot afford to wait any longer. I am running out of time."

Anthony nodded. "I understand. Truly, I do."

He moved suddenly, shifitng to kneel on his knees as he fumbled around in his pocket. As he pulled out whatever it was he had been looking for, he moved to kneel on just one knee.

"Miss Y/N Y/L/N," Anthony said, popping open the lid of the ring box. "Will you marry me?"

Y/N stared at him. "Anthony, I -"

"I decided a long time ago that you would be the one I would marry. I just could not accept," Anthony said. "I refused, in fact, to accept. It took seeing you with someone else - as a finer man as he is - for me to realise that a life spent without you is no life at all. I am scared to love, I will willingly admit that. I am scared for the day when I lose you and I have to suffer in this world without you. In all honesty, I hope I die first, but until then, I will spend every day with you, cherishing you and your presence in this world because I know time is precious. I cannot lose you, Y/N. Not now. Not ever."

Y/N smiled down at him, her eyes beginning to burn. "I knew waiting for you would be worth it. Even if it was a long, long time."

Y/N moved to her knees and all but fell onto Anthony, capturing his lips with hers and kissing him frantically and with the passion of someone who had waited far, far too long. Anthony wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him as Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair.

Anthony tipped her backwards, guiding her to the sandy, damp ground, their lips still locked together. Y/N arched into him, holding onto him tightly - daring him to leave her. She moaned softly as Anthony's hand worked its way up her skirts, hovering near where her stockings ended and her bare leg began. His fingers brushed the inside of her leg and Anthony broke free suddenly, leaning back on his haunches, panting.

"I will stop," he said, holding a hand between them - a barrier. "I will stop."

Y/N yanked him back down on top of her by his waistcoat. "Do not stop. Not ever."

[musicallisto]

Could you recommend some Kaz writers/fics that you love?

Some of my favorite authors who write for Kaz (and who also happen to be my wonderful mutuals) are @lxncelot @swanimagines @maybanksslut @genyaakostyk! I also want to mention @oceanspray5, because she writes for Kanej and not Kaz x reader, but her writing and her depiction of the pairing is immaculate. I can't recommend it enough!

as for fics, I invite you to browse my kaz brekker tag on my fic recs blog! but here are some of my favorites that I particularly remember (mind you, I haven't read that many, but a lot of fics are on my tbr!):

no other shade of blue but you by @shadows-writings

hope in the jar by @lxncelot

"demons" by imagine dragons by @swanimagines

I will reblog more as I read them, so I highly encourage you to follow me on my fic recs blog @musicallistorecs!

[olive-recs]

lottie!!!!!!!! i know i am astounded by your work every time i read it, but i really think you did something so neat here with tone. this fic goes through so many emotional highs and lows, and it’s played off expertly! each emotion lingers just long enough to settle in, and then something else comes to gently sweep it away and i just,,,,, how it’s so peaceful, and then full of dread, then sadness, then relief and joy and finally a catharsis for all of it at the end..... wow. i love how your fics are always so palpable in their emotions! and how you’re even able to take a single scene and go from joy to sadness and then some sort of acceptance and back again..... you are a master at manipulating emotions and you simply must teach me how. you need to sit me down and teach me one of these days....

and literally everyone in this fic is so much fun??? benedict!!!!!! colin!!!!!!!!! anthony!!!!!! daphne!!!!!!! hyacinth!!!!!!!!! i just love how you always include a handful of bridgertons in your fics, not only to remind us that they’re there, lol (literally the show needs to remember that francesca is a character that exists sdfghgfdfg), but to show us how the bridgerton!sis fits into this chaotic family! to show she has a place in your version of the established canon and isn’t just,,,,, shoehorned into the story for no purpose. idk. the reader feels like she belongs because she interacts with more than one sibling, y’know? also,,,,, having simon in this fic actually made me miss him... i didn’t think i was going to miss him in season 2 but i did and then you had to remind me all over again? cruelty, but i drink it anyway.

brother knows best

requested by @ynbridgerton: ynbridgerton here - could please get a number 22 from the 3.3k celebration list with bridgerton!sis please

a/n: i've had this idea in my head for ages and now i finally get to write it and bring the angst to life

summary: anthony has, finally, put lord berbrooke in his place and allowed his sister to control her own life. except, lord berbrooke is determined to marry a bridgerton... even if it isn't daphne

For the first time since the season had begun, there was finally some semblance of peace in the Bridgerton household. The chaos had faded - ever so slightly - and the weather had begun to warm. Most of the ton had decided to escape to the beauty of Hyde Park and were sat around The Serpentine, enjoying the treats of afternoon tea.

Y/N sat down on the blanket that had been draped across the ground and set her plate of biscuits and cakes on the floor next to her. She took a bite of the biscuit, carefully catching the crumbs before they fell onto her dress

"You save any for me?" Benedict asked, sitting in the chair that was next to her.

"I have not had any yet, brother," Y/N replied, looking up at him. "I believe you and Colin have eaten them all."

"More Colin than I," Benedict muttered, reaching over. He took a bite and numerous crumbs fell onto his waistcoat. Benedict looked over at his mother, who was blissfully unaware and dusted them off. He stood up and wiggled a bit, making sure they had all gone.

"You," Y/N said, watching him sit back down, "are so messy."

"It's a reoccurring problem," Benedict said, sighing. "I squirted paint onto my white shirt the other day. Mrs Wilson almost killed me."

Y/N scoffed desparingly at her older brother. Benedict's love of painting was growing with each day and they'd all noticed how his hands were constantly covered in ink, charcoal and paint and how his numerous different shirts seemed to be dwindling down to just three. Y/N was surprised their mother had yet to ban Benedict from painting in his nicest outfits.

A wooden hoop rolled its way across the blanket, falling onto its side at Y/N's feet. Y/N looked up as Hyacinth came running over, sheepishly picking it up.

"Sorry," she said, standing up and putting her arm through the hoop. "I am still not very good at it. I am trying!"

Y/N smiled at her sister. She stood up and held a hand out for the hoop. "May I?"

Hyacinth handed the hoop and the stick over with a curious gaze. Y/N stook them both and gentle rolled the hoop forward, taking the stick and whacking it along the top every so often. She then poked the stick through the hoop and lifted it off the grass and over her arm - much to Hyacinth's delight as the girl gasped in delight.

"You have to teach me how you do that!" Hyacinth exclaimed running over to her.

"Ok, ok," Y/N said laughing as Hyacinth jumped up and down at her. "The first thing you need to do is get a good starting roll."

Across the grass, standing on the path, Daphne watched her sisters with a small smile on her face.

"You care for them deeply, don't you?" Simon said quietly, watching her.

Daphne inhaled deeply, turning her attention back to the duke as he buttoned her cuff. "They are my family."

"No, it is more than that. There is a bond between you all - especially between you and your sisters. One I have never seen before."

"Well... I suppose we understand our duties in life," Daphne began, trying to explain it. "Well, Eloise does not but Y/N does. We understand how our duty is to marry and to protect the reputation of our family and those younger than us. I must find a suitable match in order for Eloise and Y/N to have a successful season next year."

Simon tilted his head slightly. "Is that why you insist on me buttoning your cuff in front of them?"

Daphne laughed. "I insist on you buttoning my cuff so that I may find a match, yes. But it is all part of a larger plan, your grace. It is not just my future I am seeking to protect - it is the future of all my family."

"But you wish to marry for love, do you not?" Simon asked, buttoning the last button.

"Of course I do," Daphne said, looking up at him. "But with that comes responsibility. Responsibility for my sisters above all. Should I not be able to marry for love, for whatever reason, I shall marry for them."

Simon met her gaze. "I wish I had known a love like that growing up. Your sisters are lucky indeed."

"Well, unfortunately I cannot save them from Anthony," Daphne muttered. She glanced over her shoulder. "Are they still looking?"

Simon looked over at the men but his attention was diverted as Nigel Berbrooke stormed past, holding a piece of paper in his hand. He had evidently been in a fight - he sported a purple eye, busted face and cut lip - but whoever it had been had only made him angrier. Simon clenched his bruised hand tightly, trying not to swear.

Berbrooke marched down the hill like a pigeon with its chest puffed out. "Bridgerton!"

Daphne's head turned sharply at Nigel's yell and her eyes widened. She looked back at Simon. "What have you done?"

Simon didn't answer. He just stared as Nigel Berbrooke approached the Bridgerton camp. Daphne tutted a sigh and took off down the hill and back to her camp, desperate to know what was happening. Simon quickly followed after her, almost jogging to keep up with Daphne.

"I bring cheerful news, Bridgertons!" Berbrooke exclaimed, waving the piece of paper around.

Y/N turned sharply as Berbrooke suddenly appeared, looking worse for wear with a bright purple eye and numerous other injuries. She handed the hoop to Hyacinth and cautiously approached the man, standing next to Benedict. Simon and Daphne appeared next to her, both looking agitated and Simon looking almost murderous.

"I have taken matters into my own hands and sought a special license for my wedding to Miss Bridgerton," Berbrooke continued, still waving the paper around.

Daphne stared at him. "There is to be no wedding," she said firmly.

Eloise and Colin appeared behind Anthony, both watching with a cautious curiosity. Colin was evidently wary, his older brother head turned on as he watched everything unfold.

"I have told you," Anthony all but snapped. "The arrangement is cancelled."

"Lord Berbrooke, you look to be in a great deal of pain, shall we continue this in private?" Violet suggested, well aware of the looks coming their way.

Berbrooke sniffed, wincing slightly as he did so. "My apologies, I forgot there were multiple of you," he said, acting as if Anthony had ot spoken. "I meant Miss Y/N Bridgerton."

The world stopped. Y/N stared at Berbrooke, her heart beginning to pound as her legs seemed to disappear from underneath her. She wasn't entirely sure how she was still standing. Benedict moved closer to her and put a hand on her back, silently supporting her.

"Lord Berbrooke, Y/N is not even out in high society yet," Violet began, almost stumbling over her words in shock. "She has not even made her debut before the queen - "

"It is no matter," Berbrooke said, dismissively.

"Lord Berbrooke, I have done nothing to you," Y/N said, somehow finding her voice. "I do not understand..."

"It became clear to me that the agreement between myself and Miss Daphne Bridgerton was not going to work out. But, I was promised a Miss Bridgerton and since you are the next oldest," he glanced at Eloise, "and the least obstinate, I chose you."

Anthony was fuming. "Lord Berbrooke, you cannot do this."

"Oh, I think you will find I can. After all, it only takes one rumour to bring down a family, even one as respected as yours," Berbrooke said, smirking as much as his bruised face would allow him. "Lady Whistledown would make a lot of business out of what I could tell her."

"Is that a threat?" Anthony snapped, taking a step forward. Violet put a hand on his arm, holding him back from doing anything else.

"It most certainly is not," Berbrooke replied, turning to face him. "Because in three days, Miss Y/N and I are to be wed. I shall have the second-best the ton has to offer - I shall have a Bridgerton. And I shall save her and her family from the ruin you," he slapped the marriage license into Anthony's chest, "could not save them from."

Y/N stared at her brother as he took the license and unfolded it. Her world felt as if it were crumbling around her. The noise of the outside world had faded to a din in her eyes, drowned out by ringing.

" - ister. Sister. Y/N, look at me."

Y/N shuddered and blinked, turning her head sharply to look at Benedict who was watching her with undisguised concern in his eyes. He put both hands on her shoulders and bent down until he was eye to eye with her.

"Just breathe," he said quietly, his thumb brushing up and down her arm. "Breathe."

Y/N inhaled deeply and dropped her shoulders. She looked up and watched Berbrooke - her... future husband - walking off down the path. She couldn't speak. She had no words to say even if she could.

"Sister, I promise you, I will sort this," Anthony said, walking up to her. "He cannot do this. It cannot be legal, surely." He directed that last part at his mother.

Violet shook her head gently. "I do not know, Anthony. I honestly do not know."

They didn't spend much longer in the park. They very quickly packed up their things and got into their respective carriages. Y/N climbed inside and sat in the far corner, staring out the window in silence.

Colin and Benedict climbed in and sat next to one another, sharing a matching gaze of concern and sympathy for their sister.

"We will work something out, sister," Colin said softly, looking at her.

Y/N shrugged imperceptibly. "I do not think there is anything to work out, brother. If I do not marry him... this family shall be ruined, Daphne included. It is the only solution."

Y/N looked out the window again, clearly ending the conversation there. Less then twenty minutes ago her life had still been hers to control. But now she was simply a pawn in someone else's game.

It didn't take long to return to Bridgerton house. Y/N quickly claimed out the carriage, trying to avoid her eldest brother and her mother - she had not properly spoken to them since it had all happened.

"Sister," Anthony called, stepping out the carriage before it had actually stopped moving. "Y/N, wait."

"Anthony, I do not wish -"

"I know," Anthony said softly, pulling her aside. He looked at her and sighed. "This entire thing is my fault and I want to apologise. You should never have been caught in the crossfire simply because I thought I knew best."

"I understand," Y/N said, nodding. "If I may be excused?"

Anthony nodded, watching her go with a forlorn expression on his face.

"She will be alright, brother," Benedict said quietly, standing next to him.

"I wish I could agree with you, Benedict. I really do," Anthony muttered.

For as long as Y/N could remember the giant oak tree in the garden of Bridgerton house had been home to a treehouse. It was sturdily built out of planks of wood and had windows, a trap door, a roof and even two swings hanging from the bottom branches.

It pre-dated her arrival on this earth and she was almost certain it pre-dated Anthony - but only just. From the tales their gardener had told her, their father had built it the moment he found out their mother was pregnant with Anthony.

Whilst it rarely saw much action these days, it was used more as a place of refuge than a place to play, it had stood the test of time and weather.

The outside world was quiet and calm. For the first time in a while, nothing was happening. There were no carriages rushing past, no music coming from far away ballrooms - nothing.

Y/N sighed softly, leaning back against the outside wall of the treehouse, one leg dangling off the edge of the balcony. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, hugging herself a little as the wind blew through the branches.

It was the first time she had had any semblance of peace since the entire Berbrooke affair had begun two days prior. Y/N was exhausted - she had been pretending everything was fine and trying to hide her true feelings so that Anthony and Daphne didn't feel any worse than they already did.

"Sister?"

Y/N looked down, leaning forward slightly. Anthony was stood at the base of the tree. He had taken his jacket, waistcoat and cravat off and had taken his suspenders off, letting them dangle at his side. He looked exhausted and as if he was being crushed by an invisible weight.

"Brother, are you alright?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Anthony replied. "Can I come up?"

"If you can still make the climb," Y/N said teasingly.

Anthony rolled his eyes at her. Y/N shuffled over as Anthony climbed up, sliding down next to her. Neither sibling spoke for a moment. They just sat in silence, staring out into the night. Y/N leant forward, swinging her foot back and forth.

"I'm sorry," Anthony began quietly, looking down at the wooden planks, running the pad of his finger along the grain. "This situation with Berbrooke is my fault."

"Anthony -"

"It is, sister. If I had not interfered with Daphne's debut and had just left things to her and mother, we would not be where we are," Anthony continued. "I can only apologise for the hurt and distress -"

"Anthony, will you be quiet for five minutes, please?" Y/N said, cutting him off. "If it is anyone's fault it is Berbrooke's. He is the one who forced this entire situation upon us."

Y/N fiddled with the edge of the shawl, running the fringe through her fingers in a repetitive manner. Somewhere, an owl screeched into the windy silence. Y/N leant back against the wall and slowly slid down it until she could rest her head on Anthony's shoulder.

"I miss him," she said softly.

Anthony didn't need to ask who Y/N meant. He knew. He knew because he missed him too. His thoughts often wondered what his father might think of him these days. How different his life would be had he never died. Would he even be in London for the season? He would've been able to enjoy his final years of education too.

"I suspect he would have done a better job than me," Anthony said quietly, his arm wrapping around Y/N's shoulders.

"Maybe," Y/N replied, nestling in closer to him. "Maybe not. There is nothing we can do about it, however. So why waste our thoughts on it?"

Anthony rubbed his thumb back and forth along Y/N's shoulder. "I know for certain, however, he would be incredibly proud of you, Y/N."

"I am glad," Y/N said softly, her voice almost lost to the night. "I wish I could have danced with him, at least once."

"I wish that too." Anthony lowered his head to rest on top of Y/N's. "I wish that too, darling."

"It is done," Daphne annouced, sitting down next to her sister, all but beaming.

Y/N closed her book and turned her head, looking at her sister with a questioning gaze. "What is?"

Daphne silently handed her the latest copy of Lady Whistledown.

It has come to this Author's attention that the ton is abuzz with a most sordid tale.

It is said one cannot judge a book by its cover. But in the case of the bumbling Baron Berbrooke, it seems his displeasing appearance is quite an apt metaphor for the state of affairs in his household.

I would not be surprised if Lord Berbooke were called away to the country on alleged business... business which, perhaps, might involve sending some much overdue funds to one former maid and young boy, who we can only hope takes after his mother.

Y/N read it twice before she dared look over at her sister. "Is this genuine?"

Daphne nodded, smiling. "He has gone, Y/N. Berbrooke has rescinded his threat and left the city. You do not have to marry him anymore."

Y/N gasped and flung herself on her sister, hugging her tightly. Daphne laughed softly and hugged her back, squeezing her tightly.

Y/N huffed, rolling onto her back, her pillows almost engulfing her as she rested her head in the middle of them. Sleep was evading her and it was driving her mad. She'd flung the covers off and then back on, rolled into her usual position, rolled onto her front and then rolled onto her back and lust laid there eyes wide open, annoyed.

The rest of the house was asleep - all enjoying the bliss of the darkness. Y/N was painfully awake. She huffed again and sat up, swinging her legs over the edge and onto the cold wooden floor. Y/N pulled her dressing gown on, tying it shut at the front, and quietly opened her bedroom door.

The carpeted floor silenced her feet as she quietly walked down the corridor and out onto the landing, She kept to the right, avoiding the creaking floorboards and tiptoeing once she hit the wooden floor.

Y/N took a right and ducked under the staircase, heading down another set of stairs to the kitchen. She wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for - or what she wanted - but Y/N was simply glad to stare at anything that wasn't her ceiling.

She opened the door to the kitchen and paused. "Oh."

"You sound so disappointed," Colin said through a mouthful of cake. He was still in his evening clothes and looked as if he hadn't even gone upstairs.

"Well, I was hoping to be alone," Y/N replied, closing the door behind her.

She pushed herself up onto the kitchen counter in the middle of the room and swiped a crumb of cake from her brother's plate, licking her fingers as he grumbled.

"Why are you up, brother?" Y/N asked, swinging her legs back and forth.

"Thinking too much to sleep," Colin said, sighing. He set the plate down and jumped up next to Y/N. "Life in general."

"Miss Thompson plaguing your thoughts?"

Colin elbowed her and Y/N giggled, swaying to the side dramatically.

"No. Yes. I mean... she is a beautiful lady."

"She is indeed, Col," Y/N replied. "What are you thinking?"

"Honestly, I do not know myself." He shrugged imperceptibly and sighed, picking at the cake. "I just find everything to be a bit overwhelming at the moment. What with Daph making her debut and you almost being married... it feels as if everyone around me is growing up and I have yet to do so."

"Everyone grows in their own time, Colin. I am terrified at making my debut next season and it is still months away," Y/N said. "Perhaps this tour will help you work out where your mind is at and what it is you want."

"Perhaps," Colin said quietly. He nudged her. "Look at you, wise owl."

"Oh, hardly, Colin," Y/N said, shoving him gently. "I am much like a parrot, I listen to what everyone else says and I just repeat it."

"You are also annoying like a parrot," Colin added, smiling.

Y/N squeaked indignantly, which didn't help, and Colin burst out laughing. Instantly, Y/N shushed him, not wanting to wake anyone up. Colin sighed, his laughter fading. He straightened up and set the empty plate aside, dusting his hands.

"I think I shall retire now," Colin said. "Thank you, sister, you have helped ease my mind."

"I am glad," Y/N said, putting her hands on the edge of the table and leaning forward on them. "Now, go to bed, Mr Bridgerton."

Colin saluted her and Y/N giggled, watching him leave the room. Once she was alone once more she sighed, tilting her head back.

She too had no idea where her mind was at. Her future was coming fast - next year she would make her debut and would have to find a husband, quickly. It was a lot of pressure on someone still so young and the recent events with Berbrooke had only reminded Y/N of the fact that she didn't own her own life. It was up to someone else to secure her future, not her.

Y/N grabbed a biscuit from the side and left the kitchen, heading back out into the corridor and up the stairs.

As she passed Anthony's study, she noticed the light was still on inside. Y/N padded over to the door, curious to know if her brother as actually still awake or had merely fallen asleep in his office again. She quietly opened the door and poked her head around it.

"Oh, sorry," Y/N said as Anthony and Benedict stopped mid-conversation, both turning to look at her expectantly. "I thought... never mind, I shall -"

"Y/N wait," Anthony called. He nodded his head. "Come in."

Y/N pushed the door shut behind her and walked into the room, sitting down in a chair on the far left of Anthony's desk, tucking her feet underneath her.

"Why are you still up?" Anthony asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Thinking," Y/N replied.

"We both know that does you no good," Benedict said, smiling over at her.

Y/N returned his smile but it soon disappeared as she stared into the distance.

"Thinking about what?" Anthony prompted, noticing the look.

"How my life is not really my own," she said, shrugging slightly. "How I have no real say or control over what happens. This whole ordeal with Nigel Berbrooke has just reminded me that I have no say in anything that happens and that I am just... a business deal waiting to happen."

"Oh, Y/N, stop, you know we would never let that happen," Anthony said, leaning forward in his chair. "You are much more than a business deal."

"I know you are trying to help but I am very emotional right now so if you use your stern voice on me, I might cry," she warned. "So, nice voice only."

"I don't have a stern voice." Anthony looked at Benedict. "Do I?"

"On occasion," Benedict replied. "It sort of melts between nice, annoyed and please go away voice."

Anthony scoffed. He shook his head and turned back to his sister. "Y/N, this whole Berbrooke affair will not happen again -"

"But you cannot promise that, Anthony," Y/N said, her voice catching. She turned her head away from the window. "You cannot know that for certain. All it takes is one person. One gossip sheet. I have three sisters I must look out for -"

"Y/N, just pause a moment," Anthony said firmly. He stood up and came around his desk, crouching next to her and putting his hand over hers. "You do not have to look out for anyone but yourself. Because that is my job."

Y/N nodded. She titled her head up, trying to hold the tears back. At some point, Benedict had moved to stand behind her, resting his arms on the back of her chair.

"I was honestly terrified at the thought of having to marry that man," Y/N said softly, her voice catching as she spoke. "And I still can't quite believe I do not have to. I keep thinking he might just appear again and try to take me away -"

"He won't," Anthony said firmly, squeezing her hand tightly.

"I don't think he'd get past the front door, Y/N. I think one of us might kill him before then," Benedict added, attempting to lighten the mood.

It worked as Y/N laughed wetly, wiping her face of tears. "Hyacinth would be the worst."

"She is vicious that girl," Benedict added. "Whacked me in the head with a blueberry muffin the other day and I swear I had a bump."

Anthony rolled his eyes. "She picks up everyone's bad habits, I swear," he muttered. He turned back to Y/N. He reached up and wiped away a stray tear with his thumb and she smiled at him. "You don't have to worry, Y/N. We'll always figure something out, no matter what, alright?"

"But if you can't?" Y/N asked because the question had been plaguing her mind non-stop.

"On the rare occasion that we can't do anything," Anthony said, taking both her hands in his. "You remember something father told me once."

"What's that?"

"You are a Bridgerton," Anthony told her. "There is nothing you cannot do."

[olive-recs]

lottie, i know i scream anytime i read anything you write, lol, but!!!!!!!!! i just think this fic is so incredibly  f u n ???? i mean,,, there are just so many different things to love here! the ~mystery woman~, the artistic struggles (bro, same...), the sibling interactions (my absolute beloved!!!!! hyacinth and colin my favorites,,,,,,,), the passage of time which makes the Angst and the Struggle inside of benedict all the more ripe and understandable, the way the reader is just best friends with everyone the bridgertons marry asdfghgfdsdf, the way the reader just likes to vanish mid-conversation for the drama of it all (we all would do the same, don’t lie sdfghgfd), the trope of them both being artists but just different kinds and dedicating so much of their artistic expression to the other,,,,,,,,,,, i adore it. this fic is simply overflowing with all of the Best Concepts are you are able to do them all justice in such a short amount of time which is not only impressive but so enjoyable as well.

show me love

request by @promenadewithme: Congrats again, sweetie! Can I have a prompt 20 with Benedict Bridgerton please?

A/N: ok, I fucking loved writing this. again, the closest thing to smut you will get from me. and, yes, i stole the idea from benedict's book - shoot me.

tagging my fellow benny lovers so they don't miss this masterpiece 😏 @magpiencrow @lxncelot @teaand-dreams

Knightsbridge was teeming with people. There were dozens of carriages rolling down the cobbled streets bearing numerous different household crests - some well known and recognisable and others full of anonymity. Women wearing dresses in every colour under the sun paraded up and down the roads, arm in arm with a lover or chaperone or friend - many holding umbrellas to protect them from the summer sun.

Amongst the chaos was a small side street full of independent shops and cafes that catered to the members of the ton. One, in particular, Betty's, was almost full to the brim. It was a two-storey building that sat on the corner of a small hill, the cafe-room overlooking the main road. The walls were white brick and the window frames had been painted a dark green that contrasted with the solid white of the rest of the structure. A green awning stretched out onto the pavement with the name Betty's in gold lettering proclaiming the name to anyone who passed.

It had become the place to come for gossip and news in the 1814 season and Lady Whistledown's information was often overheard within the walls of the cafe room. Securing seats within the building was nigh on impossible.

But not impossible enough for Benedict Bridgerton who had the unfortunate task of chaperoning Hyacinth Bridgerton and Felicity Featherington.

He was beginning to wonder who he'd pissed off in a past life for him to end up here - surrounded by women all gossiping and sitting next to two young girls who were insisting on throwing scones at each other.

"Felicity, Hyacinth, cut it out," Benedict groaned, slumping back in his seat.

Neither one listened.

Hyacinth picked up another scone and aimed it at Benedict's head. As she threw it, Benedict ducked down, avoiding the scone entirely. The scone soared over the space where Benedict had been and smacked the back of the head of the woman sitting behind him.

Hyacinth and Felicity froze. Benedict sat up and turned in his chair, staring in horror at the woman behind him, praying she wasn't going to make a scene.

"Well, your sister certainly has a good aim, Mr Bridgerton," the woman said, turning to face him, holding the scone.

Benedict had never been so grateful to see a stranger smile in his life. He sheepishly accepted the scone from her and cleared his throat.

"I apologise for my sister, Miss..."

"Miss Y/N Y/L/N," Y/N replied, still smiling. She looked around Benedict, leaning to the side, and nodded at Hyacinth. "If you want to hit him, try and be more subtle. Get him when he's not paying attention."

Benedict made a noise of offensive. "Are you giving my sister tips?"

Y/N shrugged, her smile growing. "Perhaps. We shall have to meet up again, Mr Bridgerton, see if your sister's aim has improved."

With that, Y/N got up, set the money for her tea down, and left.

Benedict followed her as she left the tea room, his eyes tracing her outline and figure - from the hat on her head down to the umbrella in her hand, memorising it.

His concentration was promptly ruined by a scone smacking him directly in the face. Benedict turned and gave Hyacinth an unimpressed, despairing look and reached up, wiping the crumbs off his face.

"Thank you, Hyacinth, thank you."

Benedict didn't see the woman again until almost the end of the season. He'd thought about her almost every day and his sketchbook was filled with drawings of her - none of them the same. He couldn't remember the exact shape of her eyes or the way her lips moved when she smiled.

But he remembered the light blue and white dress she'd been wearing. He remembered the lace gloves. He remembered the way she spoke so eloquently. He remembered how she smiled.

As he stood in the corner of the foyer at Bridgerton house, a glass of whiskey in hand, the mystery woman was all he could think about. He'd found himself thinking of her in the church when Daphne was getting married and again now, only hours later.

Benedict sighed, boredom, beginning to seep into him. He hated these events. They were so tedious and long and painful. It didn't stop when the happy couple left. If anything it got worse.

"You look enthralled, Mr Bridgerton."

Benedict jumped, snapping out of his mind, and looked at the person standing in front of him.

A smile crept onto his face. "You."

Y/N smiled at him - she smiled the smile that he had memorised and drawn for weeks. "Me."

"I have been to countless balls, garden parties, art exhibitions and horse races and yet, I have not seen you at any of them," Benedict said, stepping closer to her. "Why is that?"

"I am not the most sociable of people, Mr Bridgerton," Y/N replied softly, her eyes catching his. "Balls and parties are my idea of punishment, not enjoyment."

"Then why are you here?"

She glanced over at Simon. "Old friend."

Benedict followed her gaze and felt a twinge of jealousy as Simon smiled at Y/N - a genuine, grateful smile, not a forced one.

Y/N turned back to Benedict. "Your sister is a lucky woman."

"I would not know," Benedict said, smiling as he raised his glass to his lips. "I have yet to experience it."

"Love? Or a duel to the death?"

Benedict choked on his whiskey. "What?" He asked, eyes watering as he swallowed far more than he'd intended to.

Y/N put a gloved finger to her lips. "My lips are sealed, Mr Bridgerton. She is brave, if stupid, for doing what she did, however. I am sure she frightened both the Duke and Lord Bridgerton."

"Along with her two other brothers," Benedict muttered. He frowned. "How, exactly, did you know -"

"My source shall remain nameless," Y/N said, cutting him off, a twinkle in her eye.

"Gregory, give it back!" Hyacinth yelled, ambushing Benedict as Gregory darted in front of his brother, hiding.

"Hyacinth, Gregory, behave," Benedict said, grabbing Hyacinth by the arm and pulling her into his side. "My apologies, Miss Y/L/N -"

Benedict looked up, the words fading on his lips. There was no one in front of him. She'd vanished, once again.

He turned his head, looking around frantically, desperate to know where she'd gone.

"Who are you looking for?" Hyacinth asked, standing on the tips of her toes, joining Benedict's search.

Benedict sighed, throwing his hands up in despair. "Does not matter. She is long gone. Again." He turned his attention back to the two children in front of him. "Now, please explain to me what exactly is going on here."

Benedict didn't see Y/N again for the rest of that year. He spent almost every week trying to draw her - trying to do her face justice. It never worked. He went through sketchbook after sketchbook, page after page, pencil after pencil, trying to bring her to life.

None ever did

The season of 1814 didn't offer Benedict much. He danced politely, he smiled where appropriate, he whacked Colin on the back when he choked on Olive when Anthony proclaimed his desire to marry.

And marry his brother did.

Benedict had never seen him smile so much. Not genuinely and not without regret. Every time Anthony looked at Kate he smiled. Every time she was near him he smiled.

The definition of soulmates had changed and it had changed to show Anthony and Kate Bridgerton. Because there was no other word for it.

The party after their wedding - one that was short and fast since apparently, no Bridgerton could keep themselves from a scandal - was a similar dull affair to the one held for Daphne and Simon. Only with the added addition of a corgi running around causing chaos and annoying a disgruntled Anthony.

Benedict was standing in the corner. Again. He almost felt as if he was having deja vu. He was wearing the same waistcoat, holding the same drink, in the same room as a year ago.

"Do you own any other clothes?"

Benedict spun around, startled, and stared.

"I really should announce my presence better, shouldn't I," Y/N said, smiling at him. She stepped forward, hands clasped together. "Hello. Again."

Benedict stared.

"Is... is this something artists do?" Y/N asked, taking another step closer. "Stare at someone until it is incredibly uncomfortable?"

"Oh, god, sorry, I am..." Benedict sighed, closing his eyes. He opened them again, taking a deep breath in. "Hello. Again. It's been a while."

"Indeed. I apologise, I went abroad to America for a spell to visit some family," Y/N replied.

She was smiling that damn smile again. Benedict was so determined to memorise it that he stopped listening to what she was saying.

Benedict blinked. "Pardon?"

Her smile only widened. "I was merely complimenting your brother's choice of women. Mrs Bridgerton is a lovely woman."

Benedict looked over at where Kate was and smiled. "She is." He turned back to her. "Why are you here?"

Y/N burst out laughing at the abrupt question as Benedict groaned.

"Please, forgive me, that did not come out how I intended it to -"

"It's fine," Y/N said, reassuring him. "Friends with the bride."

"But... Kate only arrived from India a few months ago -"

"A few months is enough for some people to decide to get married. It is more than enough to become friends," Y/N replied, shrugging. "Kate and I became friends - Anthony and I became friends, I receive an invitation to yet another Bridgerton wedding. So, here I am."

"Anthony knows you?" Benedict asked, raising his eyebrows in slight surprise.

"Only by chance," Y/N said. "He is nice, your brother. Well, your whole family is... minus the scone incident."

Benedict burst out laughing. "I had forgotten about that. I still have yet to forgive Hyacinth."

Y/N smiled, stepping even closer, her skirt swishing over Benedict's feet. "Perhaps you should. After all, she is why we met."

This was the closest she had been to him. He could smell her perfume and feel the heat from her body. And all Benedict wanted to do was grab her and take her right there and then.

Someone dropped a glass and Benedict turned his head to see who, his eyes leaving Y/N. When he turned back, Y/N had gone. Again.

He really needed to stop looking away from her.

"What is the matter with you?"

Benedict looked down at Colin. "Nothing."

"Then why are you on the tips of your toes, surveying the room like an eager mother?"

Benedict dropped back down to his normal height, giving his brother a withering glare. "Can't a man enjoy anything?"

"Not when he looks like our mother when she's on a mission."

The 1814 season had ended abruptly after Kate and Anthony had gotten engaged. The 1815 season had come and gone with no Bridgerton making a match. As had the 1816 season. Benedict hadn't seen Y/N since. He had thought he'd seen her at the ball his mother threw back in 1815 but the woman in silver had been there one second and gone the next. The men had spent the next few weeks demanding she come forward and reveal herself.

Except she never did.

Benedict was left drawing and dreaming of her once again.

The 1817 season was tediously dull so far. The Smythe-Smith musical had been and gone with both Benedict and Colin forced to attend the painful, two-hour-long spectacle.

And now, yet another gallery was opening a new exhibit.

Benedict swatted Colin's shoulder.

"Boys, cut it out," Violet tutted, standing in the middle of them both. She took their hands, ensuring they couldn't run away. "Now, I am looking for someone... ah, there she is! Lady Bury!"

Benedict sighed loudly as his mother dragged him across the room. "Mama," he said as they came to a sudden stop, "I really don't need -"

The words died in his mouth.

"Viscountess, it is a pleasure," Lady Bury said, kissing Violet's cheek with the affection of old friends. "You remember my goddaughter, Y/N Y/L/N."

It was her.

Benedict gawked. Openly gawked.

Y/N smiled that damn smile and his knees weakened. Three years and she still brought him to his knees.

Colin jabbed him in the ribs and Benedict shut his mouth abruptly, suddenly remembering where they were.

"Lady Bury," Colin said as he bowed, ever the charmer. He stepped forward and took Y/N's gloved hand. "Miss Y/L/N." He pressed a kiss to the fabric and stood back up.

Benedict didn't move. Colin shoved him forward and Benedict, a mess of limbs and thoughts and confusion, bowed clumsily. He took Y/N's hand for the first time, relishing the feeling of her hand in his, and pressed a kiss to the fabric for probably longer than suitable.

He straightened up, his eyes finding hers, and his heart sped up as she smiled.

"It's a pleasure," Y/N said, curtseying. She turned to her godmother. "Do you mind if I take them around the gallery?"

"Not at all, my child," Lady Bury said warmly.

Y/N looped her arm through Benedict's and then Colin's and began leading the two boys away and towards the quieter end of the room.

"Colin, go away," Benedict said abruptly.

Colin took his arm from Y/N's, stopped and stared at his brother. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Benedict said, taking his arm from Y/N. He shoved Colin in the vague direction of Penelope and Eloise. "Go talk with Penelope, go on, shoo."

"You did not just shoo me," Colin said, raising his eyebrows. "Who shoos their own brother?!"

"Just, please, go away," Benedict pleaded.

"Fine, fine, I am going," Colin muttered, trudging off.

Benedict whirled around to face Y/N. "Hello."

"Hello."

"It's been a while," Benedict said, struggling to make conversation.

"It has." Y/N looked at him. "I like your waistcoat. The bees suit you."

Benedict stared at her, his brain registering her words and her smile. "Are you.. are you flirting with me?"

Y/N giggled. "Only took you a few years, then."

"A few years?! How... how long -"

His brain was going round in endless circles. Benedict looked around, spotting the ambitious mama's eyeing him up. He took Y/N's arm and pulled her into another part of the gallery - this one empty and quiet.

Benedict truly did not know what to say. He was searching for the right words but he was no author. He was a painter - he showed instead of told.

But he decided to try.

"I have spent these past few years thinking about you. Trying to draw you - trying to bring the fleeting memories I have of you to life. Yet I failed because every time I see you not only do I notice something new...but you look even more beautiful than before.

"I am not a poet. Or a writer. Or a musician. But I am an artist. And throughout these years all I have wished for is for the chance to finally draw you - the real you. Not the memory of you I have cherished for years. I want to be able to draw each line on your face and bring it to life. I want you, Y/N. I have wanted you for the past three years and each time I think I am close to having you... you vanish."

Benedict didn't realise how hard he was breathing until he stopped talking. The emotion and pain he'd felt the last years had come pouring out and he hadn't stopped it. And neither had Y/N.

He stared at her, fully expecting her to turn around and leave. Instead, she walked forward, the heels of her shoes echoing in the room.

"I am not someone who loves attention. Nor am I someone who loves society. I prefer my own company and I prefer going to bed early and waking up early. I despise those who take things for granted and I hate those who demand attention. Yet, when I am with you, none of those things irritate me. I could be standing next to Portia Featherington and her attention-seeking and clucking would not bother me.

"When I am with you, I feel a way I have never felt. I feel free and happy and calm and... and in love all at once. Unlike you, I am a writer. But I am not an artist. I do not see things with an artists eyes. I see them with a writer's. But these past few years I have written endless poems and sonnets and stories about you. About your crooked smile, the sparkle in your eyes, the bees on your waistcoat. I have written it all.

"So, if you want to draw me... I get to write about you. I get to write and write every little detail that I adore about you. Because I have simply not done any of them justice."

They were standing inches apart now. Benedict brushed his fingers against Y/N's hand, feeling her skin through her lace gloves. Her finger wrapped around his, holding it tight. He leaned closer and he watched how Y/N's eyelashes brushed her skin as she closed her eyes, breathing in deeply.

It was a short kiss. Benedict leant back, suddenly aware of where they were. Y/N slowly opened her eyes, kindness and surprise staring back at him.

He wanted her. He so desperately wanted her.

He held out a hand. "Come with me."

Benedict had taken his brother's bachelor lodgings after Anthony had gotten married and, lovingly, kicked them all out of Bridgerton House. It had given him freedom and peace and the time to just create.

Minimal staff meant a scandal was unlikely to get out - should one occur. When one occurred.

No one questioned Benedict when he left. No one questioned Y/N when she left. No one had any reason to question them. It was the early afternoon, no one else was around and as far as anyone else was aware, Benedict and Y/N had just met.

Which was Benedict had no issue with dragging Y/N into his studio, shutting and locking the door and demanding her to sit on the sofa and not move an inch.

Y/N laughed, dropping her shawl on a nearby chair. She sat on the sofa, tucking her feet underneath her, resting her arm on the edge of it.

She was wearing the same blue dress that Benedict had first seen her in years ago. The dress fanned out around her as Y/N took her time to arrange each piece of fabric - each bead and each pearl.

Benedict roughly painted over a failed attempt of a drawing and all but slammed the canvas onto the easel. He stripped out of his jacket and rolled his shirt sleeves up, undoing the cravat from around his neck, finally allowing himself to breathe.

"Do not move," he ordered, looking past the easel.

Y/N smiled her smile and Benedict's heart pounded. "I wouldn't dare."

She watched as Benedict moved with ease, practice and a desperate need to draw. He worked quickly, knowing his time was precious, and his lines were accurate and quick. The concentration on his face didn't allow for mistakes because the thing he had spent years trying and failing to draw was now in front of him. And he could see it all for himself - no more imagining, no more pretending.

Because she was in front of him.

Hours later, Benedict's movements began to slow down. He sat back, charcoal and pastel dust covering his bare arms and fingers.

Y/N looked up. "Is it done?" She asked, watching him as he scribbled something in the bottom corner.

Benedict nodded, looking at his canvas with a smile. "Yes. Finally."

"Can I come look?"

Benedict nodded again and Y/N jumped up. She'd kicked her shoes off hours ago and her bare feet quietly ran across the wooden floor to Benedict's side.

She actually gasped when she looked at the drawing. It was like looking in a mirror. Each line, each piece of colour or shading, was perfect. Immaculate.

The one thing that caught her eye, however, was the silver, baroque mask across her eyes. She turned to look at Benedict, surprise on her face.

"You knew that was me?" She asked quietly, her voice gentle in the dying light.

Benedict shrugged slightly, the movement subtle and almost invisible. "The eyes gave you away."

It hit Y/N there and then that this man had memorised every line on her face. Every inch of her body. Every curve of her hips. Every colour in her eyes.

Benedict's hands suddenly wandered to her waist and pulled her onto his lap. Y/N didn't resist. She leant into him, nuzzling her face into the side of his neck.

She'd kept away from him because she hadn't felt worthy. Because she didn't want to take him away from someone else. From someone who was worthy. But with each year that passed - with each year that Benedict Bridgerton remained unmarried and unattached, her desire grew.

Clearly as had his.

Because despite feeling unworthy of his love in the past - she was worthy of it now. And whilst she didn't need his love to make herself feel confident - by god did it feel good.

"You even got the dress the right colour," she said into his neck, cherishing the feeling of being held by him - how comforting the weight of his hands felt.

"I've dreamt of that damn dress for years," he muttered, his thumb rubbing along the bare skin of her arm. " I've dreamt of putting on you. I've dreamt of simply holding you in it. And I've dreamt of pulling it off you and throwing it onto the floor."

She didn't let him say another word, She swung her legs around until she was straddling his lap and caught his lips with hers, kissing him with the desire and intensity she'd felt for him since they had first laid eyes on one another.

Y/N arched her back as Benedict's mouth left hers and moved down to her neck, trailing kisses along the bare skin. The nights she had spent dreaming of this had not felt as good as she did right now.

Y/N moved her head away, putting a finger under Benedict's chin and turned him to face her. "Then take it off."

Benedict looked at her. She was smiling that damn smile again. The one that had captured him the first time. "Are you sure?"

"I have never been so certain in my entire life," Y/N replied, her smile growing wider.

Benedict wrapped his arms around her and stood up, knocking the chair over. Y/N laughed, throwing her head back as he carried her over to the sofa and laid her down upon it, swinging his leg over her body and kneeling above her.

He looked down at her as his hands began dancing up her thighs.

She was still smiling that damn smile.

[olive-recs]

bridgerton sister fics my absolute beloved!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

lottie,,,,, you have fed me, watered my crops, cleared my skin, paid my student loans, and dropped a little trinket for me to delight in all afternoon long. the way i am indebted to your impeccable service,,,,,, i owe you one, just please don’t ask me to swoon in the middle of a ballroom for you, sdfghgfdsdfghgd.

and omg, the way i adore this!!!! i love the relationship between eloise and the reader, they’re both chaotic expect one (reader) is a functional chaotic and the other (eloise) is not sdfghjgfdfghj. my favorite thing about this fic is that it’s clear these two do favors for each other all the time, but clearly the reader is so good at hiding it because no one except benedict notices. i bet if you were to propose the idea that the reader covers for el all the time, violet would be shocked because......... why, y/n???? no, she is just the opposite of eloise, you see. she simply enjoys those things that eloise does not, and that’s why she organizes parties and dances with suitors. violet simply wouldn’t believe it and eloise is SO. GRATEFUL. because if violet ever knew,,,,,,,, she’d never get out of things again,,,,,,,, (not pictured: the plague alarms going off in the reader’s head, and benedict slamming his head against the wall.)

and !!!!!!! the sibling interactions!!!!!!! they were sorely missing this season, imo (though literally stop, that scene where anthony dances with hyacinth is sO. CUTE. and that moment where gregory and anthony talk about their dad had me cRYING—), and you have done god’s work writing my favorite chaotic family.

you owe me

A/N: written for my own self indulgence and because I know @retvenkos loves my bridgerton!sis stories

Summary: Three times Eloise owed Y/N and one time she owed her

"Help me."

Y/N barely raised an eyebrow as Eloise came barreling into the room and flopped down on the sofa next to her.

"Why, it is nice to see you too, El," Y/N said, turning the page in her book.

Eloise snatched the book from Y/N's hands and slammed it onto the table. Y/N groaned and tried to snatch it back but was too slow. She slumped against the back of the sofa, resigned to her fate, as Eloise turned to her.

"Mama is trying to make me organise this ball with her."

Y/N turned her head. She gave Eloise a look of contempt. "And?"

"And I do not wish to - I have no interest in flowers and lighting and what colour carpet to put down."

"Eloise," Y/N said, sitting up and turning to face her sister. "Has it occurred to you that, maybe, mama wants you to help her with these things because, oh, I do not know, she wants to spend time with you?"

"I think it's because she wants to torture me."

"Ah, my bad."

Violet's voice could be heard from down the corridor and Eloise began frantically looking around for an escape. She stood up and made a beeline for the door only to almost walk into Anthony and Colin. As she stepped back and tried to make her escape again, their mother walked in, smiling as she found Eloise.

"Ah, Eloise, there you are, I was looking for you," Violet said, linking arms with her daughter.

Y/N tried to stifle her laugh at Eloise's panicked expression but only succeeded in causing herself to cough.

"Sister, are you alright?"

Y/N nodded in the vague direction of Colin whilst trying to hide her face behind her book as Eloise glowered at her.

"Actually, Mama, I have a... thing I must go to," Eloise said, pulling her arm from Violet's.

"Oh, what thing?" Violet asked, completely unconvinced.

"Um, a... lady... thing with other... ladies?" Eloise said, scratching the back of her neck as she spoke, clearly making it up as she went.

"Eloise -"

"Mama, if Eloise is too busy, I would be happy to help," Y/N said, cutting off her mother and finally taking pity on her sister. "I have always wanted to know how you manage to get those flowers so perfect."

Violet practically glowed at the compliment. "Oh, why, thank you, dearest. Why don't we meet downstairs in five minutes and I shall teach you."

Y/N smiled at her mother, waiting for her to leave the room, before throwing a cushion at Eloise. "Coward."

Elosie dodged it. "Suck up."

"We are still here," Anthony cut in, picking the cushion up and throwing it back at Y/N, succeeding in smacking her in the face.

It was actually quite a pleasant evening. Y/N had enjoyed two dances - both with two delightful men - and was greedily drinking down the lemonade sat on the table at the back of the room, catching her breath and calming her heart down.

"You look happy," Benedict said, leaning across her and grabbing a glass of champagne.

"Because I am," Y/N replied, shoving him to the side. "I am truly having a wonderful night."

"Well, at least that makes one of you," Benedict muttered, nodding his head in Eloise's direction.

Y/N looked and pressed her lips together into a tight line to avoid laughing. "Oh, dear. I could have sworn we taught her to dance."

"I think she is being awful on purpose to avoid having to dance," Benedict replied, resting his arm on Y/N's shoulder. "She looks miserable."

"I am certain that if we were not near the ground she would have thrown herself out a window by now," Y/N added, bringing her glass to her lips to hide her smile.

Benedict burst out laughing, ducking his head to avoid the stares as he laughed.

"What is so funny?"

Benedict and Y/N both straightened up as Anthony and Violet suddenly appeared.

"Nothing," Benedict replied, clearing his throat. "How is the wife hunting going? You look positively thrilled."

Anthony, did not, in fact, look thrilled. If anything, he looked more miserable than Eloise.

"Miss Edwina Sharma has caught his eye," Violet said, skillfully moving around her sons to stand next to Y/N. "This season's diamond."

"Miss Edwina is a lovely girl," Y/N replied, spotting said woman across the room. She lowered her voice, turning to Benedict. "The complete opposite of Anthony, however."

"And exactly what he does not want," Benedict agreed.

"If only her sister was not so annoying," Anthony muttered.

"Anthony, be polite," Violet chastised. "I am sure you can win her over - perhaps the two of you simply got off on the wrong foot."

"Or the wrong limb entirely," Y/N muttered, causing Benedict to choke on his champagne.

Anthony whacked his brother on the back, glancing between him and Y/N, who was trying to hide her mirth. "You two are not subtle."

"To be fair, subtle does not run in the family, Anthony," Y/N replied, setting her empty glass down. "Eloise is currently proving my point."

Anthony turned and found Eloise who had stopped mid-dance, pushed the poor man away, and was now marching towards them all looking like thunder.

"Oh, here we go," Benedict muttered, bracing himself.

"That man is a complete and utter dimwit, I mean, who wants to hear about the different types of cheese whilst dancing?" Eloise moaned, squeezing between Benedict and Y/N and leaning against the table, slumped over.

"Eloise, be nice. And stand up straight," Violet chided, reaching over and pushing Eloise up.

Eloise muttered to herself and rolled her eyes but obliged. Y/N bit back her smile and shifted closer to Anthony, who was on her right. She looked up at her older brother and had to look down at the floor as she saw his own smile threaten to break through.

"Oh, Lord White!"

Eloise groaned audibly, throwing her head back with so much force she threatened to dislodge the tiara in her hair.

"Eloise, stop that and stand up," Violet snapped. "Lord White! It has been too long!"

"That it has, Lady Bridgerton," Lord White said, bowing. "May I introduce my son, Peter."

A boy, not much older than Colin, stepped forward and bowed. It was a smart, strict, precise bow and Y/N could instantly tell the boy was as interested in the military as his father was.

"Lady Bridgerton, Lord Bridgerton," Peter's eyes landed on Eloise, "Miss Bridgerton."

Eloise smiled warily at him, shifting closer to Benedict and leaning as far back as she could without being obvious as Peter took her gloved hand and kissed it.

"Your daughters are a credit to you, Lady Bridgerton," Lord White said. "I do believe Peter, here, had a question to ask."

Peter straightened up, standing to attention, looking at Eloise with a stare. "Miss Bridgerton, would you do me the honour of a dance?"

Eloise gaped at him like a fish. Y/N turned into Anthony's shoulder, struggling to hide her smile and laughter at her sister's reaction. She really should help her but it was just so amusing to watch her flounder.

"I..." Eloise trailed off and Y/N couldn't cope with the awkwardness any longer.

"Mr White -"

"Please, call me Peter."

"Peter," Y/N smiled at him and Peter's military posture weakened a bit. "Forgive my sister, she is not feeling very well - she took ill on the dance floor and came for a bit of rest bite."

Eloise nodded and began to fan herself.

"But I would be more than happy to take you up on your offer of a dance, should it still stand," Y/N finished.

Peter nodded and held out his hand. "It does indeed, Miss Bridgerton."

Y/N took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. As she went, she turned and glared at Eloise.

"You owe me," she mouthed, pointing at Eloise with her spare hand.

Benedict nudged his sister. "She won't let you forget that you know."

"I know, I know," Eloise muttered. "I suspected she has a tally now, waiting for the day she can use them."

The endless balls had begun to take their toll on Y/N. She'd come down with a mild cold - one that had taken out most of the ton - and whilst she was coming out the other end of it, she was still exhausted. Her participation in the balls had been reduced to one dance every half hour with the rest of the time spent hiding by the wall, trying not to fall asleep.

"Y/N, you have to get me out of here," Eloise said, barreling up to her and grabbing her arm.

Y/N frowned at her. "Eloise, what on earth -"

"I cannot cope with this anymore. It is all far too much. I have tried to smile and dance and listen but it is exhausting and people are just so... stupid!"

If Y/N hadn't been feeling so tired she would've rolled her eyes. "Ah. And what, pray tell would you want me to do?"

"I do not know! Tell mama you are feeling ill and wish to go home?"

"That still leaves you here, El."

"Why do I have to think of everything?" Eloise grumbled.

"Oh, my apologies," Y/N said, sarcasm in every word.

Eloise pushed her gently and Y/N laughed, pushing her back. Y/N looked around the ballroom and spotted a gentleman looking at Eloise with intent in his eyes.

"You might want to think of something quick, though, El, I do believe he is heading this way," Y/N warned.

Eloise's head shot up and she followed Y/N's line of sight and groaned. "They will not leave me alone."

"Oh, I wonder why," Y/N muttered.

"Swoon."

Y/N turned sharply to look at Eloise. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Swoon, faint, collapse - do one of those three things."

"You want me to swoon?"

"Yes."

"Why? No one will fall that!"

"They will - not if it was me but with you, they will," Eloise explained, her gaze frantically flipping between Y/N and the man approaching. "Everyone knows you are still recovering from your illness."

"And that gives me a reason to swoon?!"

"No, but it turns it from a swoon into a faint because you are unwell."

"Eloise, have you gone quite mad -"

"Y/N, to be honest, you do look like you might collapse any second, it will hardly be an effort," Eloise muttered.

"Why, thank you, Eloise."

"I have a point."

"I did not say you didn't, I just take offence at how you said it," Y/N grumbled.

Eloise turned to Y/N and took her hands, squeezing them tightly. "Y/N, please, I will do anything you want me to, just get me out of here."

Y/N looked at her sister's pleading face and sighed. "Fine. Fine. I shall not lie, I would be glad to go home early."

Across the ballroom, Anthony Bridgerton was beginning to regret whatever actions he'd taken to get to where he was - stood next to Kate Sharma whilst listening to Edwina talk about poetry and books.

"I do adore Jane Austen. Have you read any, my lord?" Edwina asked, her innocent eyes looking at him.

"I have not - though my sisters have. Eloise and Y/N especially." Anthony paused. "Speaking of them, I do not actually know where they are -"

A sudden gasp of shock cut Anthony off mid-sentence and the entire room paused, turning to look at whoever was the cause. He was not expecting the cause to be his younger sister lying on the floor, Eloise kneeling next to her.

"Oh god, Y/N."

Anthony all but ran across the ballroom, reaching Eloise and Y/N at the same time as Benedict.

"What happened?" Benedict asked, crouching next to Eloise as Anthony knelt next to Y/N, placing a concerned hand on her shoulder.

"I don't know, she said she felt tired and I suggested we find mama and ask to leave early and then she just... fell."

'I am fine," Y/N muttered, beginning to push herself up off the ground. "I just felt a little dizzy."

"No, no, just, stay down a minute," Anthony said, pushing her back down. "I'll go find mother."

Anthony jumped to his feet and disappeared through the crowd. As he left, Y/N gave Eloise a look of contempt. A look that Benedict didn't miss. He looked between them, his frown deepening.

"Alright, which one of you planned this?"

Eloise and Y/N both turned sharply to look at him. And instantly, both girls pointed at the other.

Oh, to be anywhere other than the drawing room.

The tension and awkwardness could be cut with literally any sharpish object. Everyone in the room looked like they would rather be anywhere else but could not excuse themselves without appearing rude.

"She looks like she might cry," Francesca whispered, leaning into Eloise.

"Or punch him - one of the two. Or both," Eloise replied. She sighed, shutting her book. "It's my fault he is even here attempting to court her."

"Why ever do you think that?" Francesca asked, setting her embroidery aside.

"He asked me for a dance at a ball a few days back and..."

"You turned into a stunned fish and Y/N saved you from embarrassment," Benedict finished, sitting down next to Eloise.

The three of them turned and watched the disaster that was occurring at the other end of the drawing room.

"Has he spoken about anything that is not the military?" Francesca asked quietly.

"No. But his father is Lord White - that man can talk about wars for hours," Benedict replied. "And has - he one drove the entirety of White's out because he would not stop talking about the war."

"Someone should really go rescue her," Francesca whispered.

Benedict turned and looked at Eloise. "El?"

"Why me?" Eloise muttered.

"Because, as you said, it is your fault," Francesca said, joining Benedict's side. "Just... go ask him for a promenade. We'll all join in - make it less..."

"Torturous?" Eloise finished, raising her eyebrows. "Promenade is a much better idea than what I had," she add quietly, more to herself than anyone else.

"Oh, you mean the plan of making Y/N faint in the middle of a ball so you could leave early?" Benedict replied.

"I did not make her, I merely suggested it," Eloise argued. "And, I admit, it wasn't the best idea."

"Scared Anthony half to death -"

"Yes, thank you, Benedict."

The three siblings turned to look at Y/N again.

"Oh, I am going to regret this." Eloise stood up and cleared her throat. "Mr White?"

Peter trailed off mid-sentence and turned to look at Eloise, slightly irritated at being interrupted. Y/N, however, looked relieved and her smile of interest slipped slightly, turning into a glare.

"I was wondering if you would like to go on a promenade, with me?" Eloise said, hiding her hands behind her back and digging her nails into her palm. "Since I was unable to dance with you last time."

Peter jumped to his feet and nodded. He offered an arm to her. "Miss Bridgerton."

Eloise begrudgingly took it and let him walk her from the room. Y/N mouthed a thank you to her as she left the room and as soon as Peter was out of sight, slumped down in her seat and groaned.

"See, the only issue now is that you owe her," Benedict said, standing up and walking over to Y/N, sitting down next to her.

Y/N smiled but shook her head. "Nope - she's still in debt to me. I have saved her far too many times." She put her arm through Benedict's and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Now, Benedict, let's talk about how much you owe me."

[olive-recs]

asdfghjhgfdsdfghjhgfdsdfghjjhgfd the way this is sO. FUN. asdfghjkjhgfdsdfghjkjgfdfgjk

i adore this fic, lottie. there are so many hilarious moments,,,,, from jesper’s dancing to the scene where the reader frees jesper (i adore yennefer and jaskier, too, and also thought that scene was iconic as hell),,,,,, to kaz interrupting their kiss and pretending he wasn’t doing anything on purpose,,,,,,,,, there’s so much here that is sO. ENJOYABLE. and your fics never cease to bring such serotonin <3 amazing, you absolutely perfect writer.

let's groove tonight

requested by @maggiescarborough: Lottie love, congrats on 3.3 k!!! Might I ask for 5) "Is he fighting or dancing?" "It's hard to tell... I'm going for upset pigeon." And Jesper Fahey, please? I’d love to know what you come up with! 💛

A/N: man I love writing for Jesper - and yes, I stole some of his from witcher season two don't judge me (also @lxncelot I wrote the tea company in for you since you love my world building so much)

Also this is rushed and I don't love it but this has been sat in my drafts since like November so I am thrilled to finally finish it.

Ketterdam was quiet.

They hadn't done a heist in weeks - there hadn't been anything too steal. Autumn had arrived and every rich councilman who could escape Ketterdam had done for warmer countries. Business in the Crow Club was slow - painfully slow - and Inej and Y/N had found themselves spending more time Jesper watching than anything else.

To be fair, Kaz was paying them to Jesper watch. Not much but it was better than nothing.

Y/N was tired of staring at Jesper's stupid face, she wasn't going to lie. He'd been pissing her off for days with his constant gambling and how he kept flirting with people right next to her - completely oblivious to her presence.

"Is he fighting or dancing?" Inej asked, sitting up a bit to get a better look.

"It's hard to tell," Y/N replied, leaning into Inej also try and see better. "I'm going for upset pigeon."

Inej snorted.

The reason they were even on Jesper watch in the first place was, unsurprisingly, Jesper. He'd upset one too many men when gambling and now had a rather substantial bounty on his head - something he was more thrilled about than he should've been.

So, Inej and Y/N's job was to watch Jesper and make sure he didn't get kidnapped, didn't piss anyone else off and didn't die.

Which was a lot easier said than actually done. Especially when he kept flirting with anything that had legs.

"Is he trying to show off some new move?" Inej asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Or is he trying to mate with that girl," Y/N added, watching the bemused yet utterly unimpressed girl Jesper was talking to as he flounced his arms around.

"Please never use the word mate again," Inej moaned, dropping her head. "I will actually stab you if you do."

They turned their attention back to Jesper. Y/N picked up her glass of whiskey and took a sip, inhaling deeply at the burning sensation in her throat. She turned her head, looking around the room. The door to Kaz's office opened and the man himself appeared, limping down the staircase.

"Kaz towards," Y/N muttered behind her glass.

Inej looked over and sat up, prepared for whatever Kaz wanted. He weaved through the tables and up to their booth, standing in front of their table.

"Where's Jesper?"

Inej and Y/N nodded over to the bar. Kaz looked in that direction and raised his eyebrows, acknowledging Jesper's presence.

"What's up?" Y/N asked, leaning back against the booth.

Kaz turned back to them. "Those men were seen near here - just checking he hasn't been mysteriously kidnapped because you two got bored."

"Haha, very funny," Inej said dryly. "Jesper is fine he's flirting and -"

The abrupt arrival of Rotty cut Inej off mid-sentence and the three crows turned to look at him with unimpressed expressions.

"Boss, we need you," Rotty said, panting. "Cheater refusing to leave and causing a ruckus."

"For fuck's sake," Kaz snapped, glaring at Rotty who visibly gulped. "Y/N, Inej, come."

"We're not bloody dogs, Kaz," Y/N muttered, sliding out the booth. "Though a whistle might work with Jesper."

True to Rotty's word, there was chaos in the back corner of the club. One man - one who'd been a regular for many months - was yelling at Anika and a few other crows, throwing his hands around and looking red in the face. Anika looked like she wanted to punch the man. Or kill him. Either worked.

Kaz slammed his cane onto the table, inches away from the hands of the other players. Silence fell over the entire club as all attention turned to the three crows.

"What the fuck is going on," Kaz said calmly into the silent club.

"Nothing," the man sniffed. "Blown out of proportion."

"Really?" Kaz titled his head. "Y/N."

Y/N stepped forward, picked up the wad of kruge, and clicked her fingers, a flame appearing. She held it to the money and watched as the invisible writing counterfeits often used on fake notes to be able to tell the difference slowly appeared. Y/N looked up at the man, smirking.

"Well," she said, wiping out the flame with a curl of her hand. "That answers that."

Kaz robotically turned his head back to the man. "Oh, dear." He stepped forward. "Unless you want a knife in your back, get out now."

"Brekker, sir, I didn't know -"

Kaz's cane slammed into the man's side. He screamed in pain and Y/N knew Kaz had broken a few ribs with his hit.

"Anika, drag him out to the alley and leave him," Kaz said, sniffing in disgust as the man sobbed in pain.

And like that, the scene was over. No one dared talk about it and everyone quickly went back to what they were doing beforehand. Y/N turned around to the bar and froze.

"Oh, fucking hell," she said, staring at the bar. "Where's Jesper?"

Kaz and Inej spun around, eyes searching the room.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Kaz groaned. "Inej -"

"On it," Inej said, not needing another word. She pulled her hood up and vanished.

"You were meant to be watching him."

"And you dragged me away and had me burning some money, don't get snappy with me, Kaz," Y/N snapped.

"Just go look for Jesper," Kaz replied, poking her in the back with his cane and pushing her forward.

Y/N resisted the urge to kick his leg. She darted through the crowds and headed to the back of the club - towards where Jesper tended to take the people he'd flirted with. There was no sign of him in either room.

Y/N walked out into the back alley behind the club and looked around, looking for any sign of Jesper. The red-haired woman Jesper had been flirting at was leaning against a wall at the other end of the alley, smoking.

"He's gone," she said, flicking the ash off the end of the stub.

"What?"

The woman turned. "Your friend. He's gone. Went with some men and left me naked in a random room."

"Willingly went?"

She shrugged. "They burst in and he left to talk. I heard a thud and then nothing. He didn't come back for five minutes so I got dressed and came out here."

Y/N's brain was racing. "Did you hear which door they went out of?"

The woman pointed to the one behind Y/N. "That one. Then heard someone muttering as they passed the window so I assume they went right then left down the back alleys."

Y/N nodded distractedly. "Yup, great, thanks."

The woman watched her. She took a drag of her cigarette and huffed out the smoke. "The man spoke. I recognised his voice - I think his name was Simmons or Simons. Something similar."

Y/N's head perked up. "Simmons? As in... Arnold Simmons the owner of the Simmon Tea Company?"

"That's the one. He's a gambler, fraud and arsehole. One of his ships is in port tonight to leave for Shu Han tomorrow."

Y/N rummaged in her pocket and chucked a few pieces of kruge at the woman. "Thanks."

Now she was left with a dilemma. Did she tell Inej and Kaz what she'd found or did she just go and hunt Jesper down. She looked up at the sky, the beginnings of the morning sun just appearing in the clouds.

Sod Kaz.

Y/N patted her belt, feeling the shape of the two daggers at her side. And began following the road down to the port. With each turn and step the sun got higher and the world got brighter.

Simmons Tea Company had iconic ships. They were big and tall with flags of bright white and golden lettering along the side proclaiming the name. With enough money to rebuild Ketterdam at least twice, Arnold Simmons was one of the richest men in the city.

And his ships reflected it.

The port was just beginning to come to life, sailors and workers sleepily walking around, nibbling on the fresh rolls they'd been given for breakfast.

There was only one Simmons Tea Company ship in the port. If the bright white flags and gold lettering hadn't already made the ship stand out amongst the dull, falling apart boats surrounding it, the three men standing outside it - holding rifles - definitely did.

And it was the three men outside the ship that let Y/N know that Jesper was most definitely on board. Whilst it made things a little more difficult - Y/N could still easily get in. All she needed was to create a distraction.

She ducked down behind a pile of barrels. They were empty - waiting to be filled with wine, fish or something else needed for a long voyage. Y/N nudged one off the top, letting it drop to the ground and roll down the slight incline and towards the boat.

The three men jumped, startled by the sudden bang.

The one in the middle frowned. "Eh?"

"Wind," another said, bored out of his mind and not suspicious at all.

Y/N pushed another two off, aiming them towards the men.

"That no wind," the first one said. He shoved the third man forward. "Go look."

The third man shoved the first. "No, you look."

The second man groaned. "Oi, quit it."

The first and second men began squabbling and Y/N quietly snuck past them, crouching low to avoid being spotted.

It was stupidly easy.

Once onboard, Y/N didn't waste time looking around - she knew the rough layout of a boat and made a beeline for the hold. As she opened the door, she heard voices from down below.

Including Jesper's.

The creaking of the boat as it gently bounced in the port disguised the sound of Y/N's footsteps as she walked down the stairs, allowing her to get into the hold and duck down behind barrels and boxes.

"Look, I can pay you back," Jesper said, his tone light but Y/N could hear the slight fear behind his words. "I can."

"I doubt it," a man muttered.

Y/N peeked her head over the edge of a box and spotted Arnold Simmons standing in front of a chained Jesper. Jesper was tied down to the chair, nose bloody and lip cut.

"So, either you pay me back, right now," Simmons stepped forward, holding a hand out and Jesper groaned, his face contorting in pain. "Or we have a problem. Because no one steals from me."

A heartrender. Shit.

Admittedly, her plan was a bit shite. But she didn't really have much time to come up with another idea.

So, she snatched up a random bottle of alcohol from a nearby table, took a sip, and pretended to be drunk out of her mind.

"You," Y/N slurred, pointing at Jesper. "I have been everywhere looking for you, you bastard."

Jesper stared at her, his mouth opening and closing with a similar resemblance to a fish.

"Who the fuck are you?" Simmons asked, turning to face her.

"Uh, this is, this is my wife," Jesper said quickly, frowning slightly as he registered what he'd said. "My wife, she has nothing to do with this she doesn't know."

"You mean about your gambling?! How you spent all our money at cards," Y/N stumbled forward, "and on random redheaded women."

Jesper's face cracked slightly but his walls came back up when Simmons stepped forward to stand in front of Y/N.

"Run back home, young lady, your husband will be back soon," he said.

Y/N looked up at him, resisting the urge to wipe the spittle that had landed on her face from Simmons. She took another swig.

"Hey, hubbie," Y/N said, brushing past Simmons and stumbling over to Jesper, putting an arm around his shoulders. "You fucktard."

"Fucktard?" Jesper questioned.

"Right, that is enough." Simmons walked over and pointed at Y/N. "You. Go."

SImmons held out a hand and Y/N felt her heart constrict slightly. Unfazed, Y/N took another swig. She held the liquid in her mouth, waiting for Simmons to move closer as his grip on her heart tightened. He stepped forward.

Y/N spat the liquid out, clicking her fingers and setting fire to the liquid. It turned into, essentially, a flame thrower aimed directly at Simmons. The man screamed as the alcohol and fire hit his face, burning his skin.

Y/N bent down and burnt through the ropes holding Jesper hostage, grabbed his arm, and dragged him to his feet and out onto the main deck.

They were a mess, stumbling and wobbling with each step as they walked down to the ramp. The three guards had vanished and Y/N and Jesper sprinted down the jetty and back onto dry land, practically falling up the stone stairs to the main high street.

Y/N and Jesper skidded as they came to the crossing that lead to the finical district.

"This way," Jesper said, grabbing Y/N by the shoulders and yanking her down an alley, pushing her ahead of him.

Her lungs were burning and she was almost certain Jesper might collapse at any minute.

"Wait, wait, just, stop," Y/N said, pulling Jesper to a halt in the middle of someone's laundry. She panted, putting her hands on her thighs and bracing herself.

"What the fuck, Y/N, how did you find me?" Jesper asked, breathing hard. He wiped the blood from his nose and winced.

"Red-haired woman," Y/N replied. "The one you were going to sleep with, remember?"

"Oh, her... yeah, no."

Y/N looked up at him. "What, in saint's name, does 'yeah, no', mean?!"

Jesper shrugged. "She was cute but I doubt I was gonna sleep with her. Not that we will ever know since, you know, I got kidnapped."

"Your own fault, you gambled your wages away."

"I didn't mean to gamble it away, I got caught up."

"As always. Surely you knew that you were gambling with Simmons."

"Y/N, I didn't even know who fucking Simmons was until about three hours ago."

"I didn't take three hours to find you, Jesper."

"Fine, and hour and a half."

"God, you are so fucking annoying."

"I could say the same thing to you!" Jesper yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "You have been on my case all week about gambling and responsibility and all that shit."

"Maybe because I don't want you to end up at the bottom of a fucking canal, Jesper! Maybe, just maybe, I like your stupid face."

Y/N was breathing hard as the words hung in the air. She looked at Jesper with panic-filled eyes. He looked at her with surprise.

Then.

Jesper walked forward with purpose - so much purpose Y/N took a step back, expecting him to breeze past her - and took Y/N's face in his hands and kissed her. On the lips.

Y/N froze.

And then she melted into him, returning the kiss, her hands gliding along his back.

Jesper pulled away first, still cradling her face between his hands.

"Maybe I like your stupid face too," Jesper whispered, his voice catching slightly.

Y/N smiled, her eyes flicking between Jesper's lips and eyes.

"For a stupid face, you kiss fantastically well."

She leant forward and captured his lips with hers, desire and urgency running between the two of them. Jesper put his hands on her waist and lifted her up onto a nearby barrel, his right hand dropping down to her thigh, his hand dragging up it.

It was ridiculous. One minute they're yelling at each other and the next they're kissing as if there is no tomorrow - as if they can't wait a second longer to hold one another.

"Jesper!"

Jesper pulled away from Y/N so abruptly at the sound of Kaz's voice that Y/N almost fell off the barrel.

Kaz dramatically flipped aside a sheet hanging from a washing line and stared at them - his expression unreadable.

"We good here?"

Oh, Kaz definitely knew what he'd interrupted.

"Yup." Jesper cleared his throat and fluffed his coat, rearranging it on his shoulders. He sniffed, wiping the dried blood from under his nose. "Shall we go?"

He flounced off, a bounce in his step.

Y/N looked at Kaz. "You did that on purpose, didn't you, Brekker?"

"No idea what you are on about, Y/N," Kaz replied. He flexed his fingers on his crow head and turned to go. "Was it worth it?"

"Fuck off, Kaz."

[musicallistorecs]

omg Lottie... this was so beautiful and magically comforting, and I can’t get enough of your brotherly Kaz. he’s incredibly sweet to the reader in his restrained way, which is entirely true to his character, because underneath all these layers of indifference, you can definitely tell that he cares, and he cares deeply. I love the emphasis you put on the physical touch and the whole part where Kaz gently takes Y/N’s wrist to calm her down from all the blood, because touching is such a big deal to Kaz - it’s only fitting it would be accentuated and given the importance it deserves, and that’s another way of showing the strength of Kaz’s attachment to Y/N!

I just,,, love every part of this. Kaz’s tenderness is so ... reassuring, in a way? Because he seems calm and collected and like he’s got everything under control, which comes into stark contrast with the reader’s frantic panic; but as the fic progresses you understand Kaz doesn’t hold every answer and isn’t really wise beyond his years, he’s just... been there before. With Jordie. And I just !!!!!!

also, as someone who’s kind of freaked out by blood, I truly resonated with the reader’s horror at the beginning - her panic was described in a really genuine and believable way. All in all, this was sooo beautiful and we all need more of your writing AND platonic Kaz in our lives <3

just like you

Summary: Y/N wishes she could be just a little bit more like Kaz when it comes to emotions.

A/N: This fic has come from @musicallisto amazing writing challenge in honour of her 1k celebration! If you're not following Clara, go do it now!

Prompts:

3) “I wish I was more like you.”

9) “What are you afraid of?”

13) “Should I be scared?”

The Slat was in sight. It towered over Y/N as she half dragged Jesper towards the doorway, desperately trying to stop him from bleeding out in the Ketterdam streets.

Y/N kicked the door open and stumbled into the building. She looked up at the five other Crows as they all turned to see who had barged in, hands flying to their respective weapons.

"Help me," Y/N begged.

She lost her footing and fell to the ground, her knees slamming into the floor painfully as she tried to catch Jesper as he fell with her. Matthias and Nina reached her first and Y/N reluctantly gave Jesper over to Nina, falling back into Matthias as she realised that they were safe.

"Y/N, are you alright?" Matthias asked, eyeing the blood that was covering her.

"It's not mine," Y/N panted, wiping her forehead with her wrist, trying not to smudge blood on her head. "Just, focus on Jesper."

Y/N used Matthias to stumble to her feet, using his shoulder to help keep her balance as she wobbled. Jesper was being fawned over by Nina and Wylan and Y/N allowed herself to breathe.

And realised that she was covered in Jesper's blood.

Y/N's hands shook and she turned around and headed up the stairs, running up them to the attic and to Kaz's office, the one place she knew she wouldn't be found.

She turned the tap on and water gushed out into the basin, quickly filling it with water. Y/N's hands kept shaking even as she dipped them into the cold water and began rubbing the blood off them with a brush. The clear water quickly turned red and cloudy with Jesper's blood and Y/N blinked the tears out her eyes, swallowing becoming harder as a lump appeared in her throat.

Jesper's blood was staining her hands and was refusing to come off no matter how hard Y/N scrubbed. The water was cold and red and was getting redder by the minute.

"Y/N, stop."

Y/N suddenly paused her frantic scrubbing as Kaz's harsh voice came from over her shoulder. She glanced over at him and then back at her hands.

"It won't come off," Y/N said, her words being cut off by a sob. "I want it to come off, Kaz, why won't it come off?"

Kaz limped closer, his cane clicking against the wood. "Y/N, stop," Kaz said again. He wanted to get closer but didn't feel like he could.

Y/N was like his sister. The sister he never got to have. When Y/N was concerned, Kaz felt like Jordie was watching over him and laughing at how the roles had reversed. He was her older brother figure and she was his protege.

"Y/N," Kaz limped forward until he was stood on Y/N's left, mere metres away from her. Her hands were red and raw from the frantic brushing and were shaking violently as the hovered above the basin of red water.

Kaz swallowed and slowly, as if approaching a baby deer, moved his hand to Y/N's, pulling the brush from her hands and dropping it into the basin. He then wrapped his gloved hand around her wrist, the warmth of her skin and the steady beat of her pulse keeping the ocean at his ankles and feet.

Kaz guided Y/N's hands away from the basin and turned her to face him. He let go of her hand and moved back a few steps until there was space between them.

Y/N inhaled shakily, a sob almost breaking out over her lips. She was beginning to hyperventilate and couldn't help but see the funny side to her situation.

Here she was, crying in front of Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel. And there Kaz stood, with not a single ounce of judgement or pity on his face. He just watched her.

"Breathe," Kaz said slowly, his tone never changing. "Breathe, Y/N. I don't fancy having to catch you if you faint."

Y/N let out a huff of laughter as she exhaled, her breathing beginning to slow down.

"Sit down," Kaz said, once Y/N had calmed down a bit. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk with his cane.

Y/N walked over to his desk, Kaz following, and sat down in the chair he'd pointed at. Kaz sat down opposite her and rested his cane against the desk. He pulled some paperwork towards him and began working through it, his eyes occasionally glancing up at Y/N to make sure she wasn't about to collapse in a heap.

Kaz noticed Y/N wipe away her tears and silently grabbed the bottle of alcohol that was in his draw, shoving it across the desk to her.

Y/N took it and drank a big gulp from it, swallowing the alcohol with a little grimace.

Kaz turned his focus back on to his book, the figures and names becoming background noise in his brain. He knew Jesper would be fine - there was a lot of blood but his injury wasn't life threatening and Nina was watching over him.

Seeing Jesper half unconscious and covered in blood wasn't the image stuck in his head. What was stuck with him was when Y/N had walked into the Slat, carrying Jesper, blood staining the white dress she'd been wearing to disguise herself as a street performer whilst on their job.

Y/N had barely managed to look up at the four other Crows in the room and say 'help' before buckling under Jesper's weight and crashing to the ground. Kaz had stood and watched despite every instinct inside him telling him to do otherwise. He stood as Y/N fell back into Matthias, covered in blood, and wished he could do something more than watch.

After that, it had been a flurry of people and orders and Y/N had slipped away. Kaz's office was the one with the tap and the basin of water and was also the room furthest away from where Jesper was. Kaz had seen Y/N disappear up the stairs to his office and had waited until he was certain Jesper was fine before following her.

And now, they both sat at his desk, in silence. Y/N was still wearing the bloody white dress and her hands were stained red despite the brushing and washing but she'd calmed down.

"I wish I was more like you."

Kaz tried not to show his surprise at Y/N's voice breaking their silence. He finished his sentence, put a firm dot at the end of it, put the lid back on his pen, set it down, and looked up at Y/N.

"Why?"

Kaz's voice was gravelly and rough in the silence. Y/N looked up from her hands and found his eyes, locking onto them.

"Because you can simply switch your emotions off," Y/N said. "Nothing fazes you. Being covered in blood wouldn't faze you like it has me. You wouldn't be standing there brushing your hands raw to try and get rid of the blood - you'd just move on."

Kaz didn't say anything. His expression didn't change. "Emotion can get you killed, Y/N."

"I know. Yet, here I am, sitting at your desk, crying, because Jesper's blood is on me," Y/N replied, moving her hands and waving slightly at her dress. "It's not the first time I've been covered in blood. But carrying Jesper from Fifth Harbour to the Slat, covered in his blood and barely holding it together I- I felt weak. Everything I have learnt and experienced went out the window and I felt like I was back at the start again."

Kaz watched Y/N. Her eyes were watering but she wasn't crying. And she hadn't taken her eyes off him as she spoke. He could see the fear in her eyes. The panic and the worry and the terror.

" 'I wish I was more like you'," Kaz repeated, steepling his hands and resting his chin on top of them. "What are you afraid of?"

"What?"

"What about becoming more like me are you afraid of?" Kaz asked again. "That you'll stop caring and become emotionless like me? That you'll push everyone away?"

"No."

"Then what is stopping you?" Kaz asked, leaning forward a fraction.

"Because I don't want to be you, Kaz," Y/N said. "I don't want to become Kaz Brekker II, I just wish I had the same attitude you do. I wish I could lock away my emotions and access them if and when I want to."

Kaz felt a tiny smile pull at his lips but squashed it. He'd never wanted Y/N to become like him - there was enough of him already. He needed people who cared around him - people who hadn't had their emotions ripped away.

"Jesper is fine," Kaz said, leaning back into his chair. "You'll all live another day."

"See, it's that I want," Y/N said, pointing at him. "That carefree 'i don't give a shit' attitude because I know you do care, Kaz."

"Don't presume you know anything, Y/N," Kaz said - not softly, because his voice wasn't soft. But quietly. "The majority of people in the Barrel turn and run from me because they know what I am capable of. What we are capable of. If I show emotion or show that I care, people will die. It will be used against me so, I scare them. I threaten them and I terrorise them because that's what I do to survive."

Y/N looked at him. "Should I be scared?"

Kaz narrowed his eyes. "Of what?"

"You. Should I be scared of you, Kaz?" Y/N asked again. "Should I be scared that you'll betray me or throw me out onto the street because I do something wrong? Or can I keep on living my life knowing that I am as safe as you can guarantee in the Barrel?"

Kaz paused. He didn't know what to say. For once, he was speechless. He was saved from answering when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in!" Kaz called, trying not to show how relieved he was at the interruption.

Inej poked her head around the door. Her hair wasn't tied up and was loose around her shoulders for once. "Jesper wants you, Y/N."

Y/N glanced at Kaz and as soon as he nodded she jumped to her feet and disappeared out the door, the sound of her running down the stairs echoing around the corridor.

Inej looked at Kaz and narrowed her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Kaz replied, picking his cane up and standing up from his desk.

"Are you sure?" Inej asked, frowning. "What did Y/N say?"

"Nothing," Kaz repeated. "Come along, Inej, I've got a job for you."

Kaz walked past Inej and she rolled her eyes, following after him. God forbid Kaz show any emotion towards any of them.

[olive-recs]

asdghjklkjhgfdsagjhgfd,,,,, i had so many reactions i had to stop so i could write them down chronologically. as a treat <3.

lottie,,, i can already tell that the premise of this fic is going to be really emotionally charged, and i just want to say thank you. this fic is therapy for us both 😔✌ . i can tell the cry after this one is going to be good™. i’m a sucker for a dad character, and within like, 5 lines, i was already attached to this dad. when he asks the reader which bridgerton she liked? and she just said “no.” and then he blurts out colins name in the middle of conversation????? i died. we love a dad with comedic timing asdhjjhgfdsdfghjhgfd

and you should have seen the worry on my face when the dad starts coughing in front of the bridgertons, and the secret is out. hiding your loved one’s health is hard™ but letting others see is oftentimes so much worse. don’t come for me with these heavy emotions—

and when colin takes the readers hand? and helps them put on their glove? oh? :0 ? the way his small actions betray himself and show how much he cares for the reader? oh? and the commiseration in his words??? (ngl, in that moment, i thought of how terrible it must be for violet to see a friend die. she loses so many people. if you mention edmund bridgerton beyond vague illusions i might just break down—)

on a happier note, the butlers name is alfred,,,,,,,,,,,, 

on a more serious note, you handled this beautifully, and i can’t imagine how hard it must have been to write. maybe this is just me, but i get quite emotional when writing, and it’s hard to keep distance from what i’m putting down on the page. i hope you’re well, lottie, and that this didn’t take to much out of you! it was truly beautiful and poignant, and the fact that you included hyacinth made it so much more emotional. 

when the bell tolls

!requested by @lxncelot: omg, congrats on 3.3k!!!!!!!! idk how i missed your post earlier, but if you are still taking requests, can i request #17 ("You don't have to stay." "I know. I want to." "Thank you.") with colin bridgerton? i read the duke & i and he and hyacinth really carried the story,,,,, iconic of them to be honest. congrats on 3.3k again, lottie! and congrats on getting into uni!

A/N: writing this was like therapy for me, wow i needed it

Summary: Grief hits at the most unexpected times in the most unexpected ways. It's all about learning to ride the wave to the other side.

Y/N knew her father was dying. Knowing was almost worse than not knowing. She couldn't live in ignorance, knowing that nothing bad was going to happen anytime soon, because the reality was entirely different.

She knew that, some day soon, her father would die. And when he did, she would be left alone in a world built for those with power and money. Whilst she did have money - her father had already assured her that her dowry and anything else she may needed was secure - she didn't have power.

No woman in London had power except the queen. Even she answered to her husband.

But, despite knowing her happiness would soon be gone, Y/N kept going. She went to balls and garden parties and stayed by her father's side, letting him lean on her when he needed too.

Lady Whistledown had remarked on her sudden absence from the dancing and that she'd become a 'wallflower' over the past few weeks. Certainly, the eyes of the ton had left her for the other debutantes who were preening and pouting.

"You should go dance with a boy, my child."

Y/N turned to look at her father - his cane between his hands as he sat on a velvet chair with tired eyes. "I do not think that a good idea -"

"Nonsense, I am hardly going to die in the five minutes you are gone," her father said, waving off her concern instantly.

"Do not make jokes like that, papa," Y/N said quietly, her hand resting on his shoulder.

"My child, we both know it is coming. Why lie to ourselves and make the pain worse?" He coughed quietly, his shoulders shaking. "Besides, I do not want Lady Whistledown or the queen to know the truth."

"What of when you die? What do I say then - oh, he mysteriously fell down the staircase and choked on his own blood?" She gave her father a quelling look. "I would be arrested for murder."

"I suspect murder would be less painful than this -"

Her father began coughing, wheezing as he was unable to catch his breath. Y/N crouched down beside him and offered a glass of water as she gently rubbed his back.

"Alright?"

"I will be once this is all over," he muttered, wiping the blood from his mouth with a clean handkerchief. He looked up and quickly shoved the cloth into his pocket. "On guard."

Y/N stood upright and forced a smile on to her face as the Bridgerton's - well, three of them - approached.

"Did you not fancy one of them?" Her father whispered.

"No."

"I am certain it was the third youngest... oh, damn, what was his name," her father muttered.

"Papa, be quiet," Y/N whispered. "Lady Bridgerton!" Y/N exclaimed, approaching Violent and wrapping her arms around her in a hug.

"Miss Y/L/N, it has been too long," Violet replied, kissing her cheek. "Hyacinth misses you."

"I must apologise for my absence, Lady Bridgerton, Viscount Bridgerton. I have been a bit under the weather recently," Y/N claimed, smiling as she lied through her teeth.

"Oh, I do hope it wasn't me."

Y/N turned to face Colin, still forcing a smile to her face even as her heart jumped.

"Colin! That was it!" Her father exclaimed. Loudly.

Y/N closed her eyes. "Please, excuse my father, his old age is catching up to him."

"Old? Who are you calling old?" Her father muttered.

"It is fine," Colin said, smiling at her. "It's nice to see you again, Lord Y/L/N."

Y/N's father just nodded. He looked weary and tired suddenly and Y/N could tell he wasn't feeling well.

"So, what brings you three over to our dark corner," Y/N asked, desperately trying to move the Bridgerton's on before her father had another coughing fit and rumours about his health began to spiral.

"Well, it has simply been so long since we last spoke, Miss Y/N, that I wanted to come and say hello!" Violet explained.

Y/N smiled politely. "Oh, well, hello!"

"And how have you been, Lord Y/L/N?" Anthony asked, turning his attention to her father.

Y/N tried not to make it obvious that she was watching her father intently as he sat up and tried to regain some of his dignity.

"Oh, I have been better, I will not lie," he said, nodding. "I have found myself with a lot of spare time on my hands so I have been doing some reading and a bit of painting -"

He suddenly began coughing and he quickly pulled out his handkerchief and pressed it to his mouth. Y/N knelt down by his side with a glass of water, waiting for it to subside. It was one of the worst attacks Y/N had seen for a while. As her father took the water from her and pulled the handkerchief away, it was splattered with red.

Y/N stood up abruptly and turned her back on the ballroom, her father and the Bridgerton's pressing a hand to her stomach as she tried not to break down.

"Lord Y/L/N, are you quite alright?" Violet asked, crouching down in front of him as Anthony offered the man a fresh handkerchief.

Her father sighed, knowing there was no use in lying to her. "I am dying, Violet," he said solemnly. "Have been for some time."

Y/N inhaled sharply and deeply, running her tongue along her teeth in an effort to stop herself from crying. She turned back and tried to ignore the sympathetic looks, Violet, Anthony and Colin were giving them because if she looked, she would simply fall apart.

"We do not know what it is just that he is dying and that he does not have long left to live," Y/N explained, forcing herself to speak. "It's been two months and every week he gets worse."

"The knowing and waiting is the worst bit," her father said, his voice hoarse. "I am half tempted to end it myself, this is torture."

Y/N didn't have the heart to argue with him - because she too had been thinking the same thing.

"I shall go get you some more water," Y/N said, patting her father on the shoulder and walking away from the group, her eyes burning.

The refreshment table was empty and Y/N turned her back to the rest of the room, shakily pouring out a glass of water. Colin approached her and leant against the table, facing the rest of the room, giving Y/N her privacy.

"No one's looking if you need to cry," Colin said quietly. "I will not judge."

Y/N nodded and almost instantly, a broken sob escaped her lips. She ducked her head and her shoulders shook as she tried to keep quiet as she cried.

"I'm sorry," Y/N said softly, inhaling deeply and forcing the tears back. "I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be," Colin replied, his voice soft. "Grief hits us all in different ways."

Y/N inhaled deeply and straightened her posture as she turned around to face the rest of the room. She pulled the glove off her right hand and wiped the tears from under her eyes with her bare finger.

"It is knowing, I think," Y/N whispered, trying to pull her glove back on with shaking hands. "Knowing and waiting."

Colin turned toward her and gently took her bare hand in his gloved on. He took the glove and began gently pulling it on and over her fingers with surprising gentleness. Y/N watched the white silk ripple over her fingers and then her wrist as Colin guided it up her arm.

"Knowing someone you love is going to die is almost worse than it being unexpected," Colin replied, pulling Y/N's glove up to her upper arm and smoothing the silk out.

"At least I get to say goodbye when... when it happens," she said quietly, her words getting quieter as she struggled to speak through the tears. "I cannot imagine not being able to say goodbye."

Colin stilled, his hand still resting on Y/N's arm. "No. No, it is not easy. Especially when you are young and unaware of the truth."

Y/n blew out a breath and tilted her head back, looking up at the ceiling. She closed her eyes feeling the tears starting up again, beginning to burn her eyes.

"Come on," Colin said quietly, moving closer and rubbing a hand up and down her arm. "Just breathe."

Y/N inhaled through her nose and then slowly blew it out from her mouth, feeling the urge to cry fade away. "Thank you, Colin."

Colin smiled, squeezing her arm. "Of course, Y/N. Now, we should return to my mother and your father - otherwise, they might start plotting."

Y/N forced a smile to her face and picked up the glass of water, walking alongside Colin back to the corner where her father was.

It helped to know that Colin understood her plight. That he wasn't judging her for wishing it to be over and done with. He was a steady presence by her side and Y/N knew that when the time came, Colin would hold her up and keep her going.

The house had become a quiet, dark place over the weeks. Her father's bedroom stayed dark and cool no matter the weather and the rest of the house followed. The bright lights of the outside world didn't do him much good and they were far beyond fresh air helping him out.

Y/N poked her head around her father's door, eyeing their butler, Alfred, as he served the breakfast and opened a window a crack, closing the curtain once again.

"Ah, good morning," her father greeted, spotting her hovering. "Come in, come in."

Y/N smiled at him, slightly wary of his spritely mood. "You seem very chipper."

"It's this warm weather and good food, my love," he said, eyeing his plate of bacon, sausage and toast hungrily.

"That would be summer for you," Y/N said, perching herself on the edge of his bed.

"I received an invitation from Lady Bridgerton, this morning," her father said cautiously, cutting his sausage up meticulously. "About a ball tonight."

"I received the same one," Y/N said slowly, wondering where he was going.

"Are you going?"

"No, you know I am not, father -"

"I think you should."

Y/N stared at him. He'd said it with such determination and firmness that she was actually surprised. "What?"

"I think you should go to the ball tonight. Have some fun, dance with some men, talk to the Bridgerton's. Lord knows it's been a while since you last had a nice evening with them."

"Papa, I..."

Her father set his cutlery down and reached out a hand, placing it over hers. "My dear, if I die tonight -"

"Don't say that papa, please -"

"Listen, if I die tonight, I do not want you to be hovering around here like a ghost, mourning me, when I could die happy knowing you are having fun and making memories." He sighed, squeezing Y/N's hand. "Please, go to this ball tonight. Have fun and forget about me. I shall not be here much longer and you will have to go on without me. So. Start tonight."

Y/N pressed her lips together into a tight line and closed her eyes, swallowing against the lump in her throat. "Papa..."

She lowered her head to rest against her father's chest as the tears began to fall. She couldn't stop them and didn't want to stop them. Even as her head began to hurt, her chest began to ache and her face began to sting, she couldn't stop.

"I can take you home, Miss, if you want."

Y/N gave her carriage driver a grateful smile but forcefully shook her head. "No. No. He wants me to go so... I am going. I think I deserve a little happiness for one night."

"Very well, Miss. If anything happens, Alfred is under strict instructions to send a messenger -"

"Thank you but...I do not want to think about it. I am going to have fun and get slightly drunk," Y/N replied, straightening her gloves. "Thank you, Smith, I will see you later."

She opened the door and stepped out onto the gravel. Bridgerton House was lit up by endless amounts of lanterns and candles and the flowers surrounding it were in full bloom. Y/N sighed deeply and took a step forward and onto the Bridgerton residence, leaving all thoughts of her father behind the iron gate.

As soon as Violet spotted her approaching she left her eldest son's side and greeted Y/N with a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"I am so glad you came," Violet said, squeezing Y/N tightly. She held her by her shoulders. "You look beautiful, Y/N."

"Thank you, Lady Bridgerton. And, thank you for inviting me," Y/N replied, almost beaming. "The house looks... stunning."

"She's been fussing over it all day," Colin said as he emerged from the ballroom, a smile on his face. "God knows we have heard enough about lanterns and flower arrangements and -"

"Thank you, Colin, that is enough," Violet said firmly, sending her son a quelling look. "Why don't you take Y/N through to the ballroom and get her a drink?"

Colin smirked at his mother as she left them and approached another set of guests. He held out his arm to Y/N and bowed slightly. "My Lady."

Y/N laughed, taking his arm and leaning into him as they walked. "Why thank you, sir."

The two of them walked into the ballroom, arm in arm, looking for all intents and purposes like they were courting one another. But Y/N didn't mind the staring because, for the first time in a long time, she was happy and she was enjoying herself.

Colin dragged her into a lively jig and Y/N didn't complain as she was spun around the room and lifted up into the air. If it had been anyone else, she would have felt uncomfortable and awkward.

But not with Colin.

Never with Colin.

"Colin, Colin, slow down a minute!" Y/N yelled, giggling as he tripped over his own feet. She pulled him off the dance floor and over to the side, away from the crowds. "At least let me have a moment to catch my breath!"

"Sorry!" Colin exclaimed - although he didn't sound very sorry. "I shall go get you a drink!"

Without thinking, he pressed a kiss to her cheek and ran off towards the refreshments leaving Y/N standing there, feeling her face turn hot, as she slowly registered the kiss. She smiled to herself and giggled, sounding as if she was a child once again.

Y/N looked around the room at the sparkling chandeliers and the endless amounts of flowers, her smile growing. But as she looked over at the main door, her smile faded.

It didn't take a genius to make the connection. Y/N had been on the receiving end of that look many times before. But when it came from Anthony Bridgerton, a man who had taken her under his wing when her own father could no longer do so, it hurt just a little bit more.

She slowly approached him and came to stand next to him, her back to the rest of the room. "He is dead, isn't he?"

Anthony nodded. "Yes."

"When?"

"Just under an hour ago," Anthony said quietly. "Not long after you... after you left. He had his dinner and went to sleep. The only reason they realised so soon was because he hadn't taken his medication -"

"Anthony, just..." Y/N exhaled quietly, trying to keep her composure. "Thank you but I don't..."

"No, of course." Anthony nodded. He put a hand on her arm and squeezed it gently. "I have already asked the maid to set up the guest bedroom - I presume you won't want to -"

"No... I... I don't want to be there alone," Y/N replied, her voice cracking slightly. Anthony shuffled closer and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Why don't you go outside?" Anthony said softly. "No one's out there, I promise. It will give you privacy. If I see Colin, I will tell him."

"Thank you, Anthony." Y/N paused and swallowed. "Thank you for everything."

Anthony kissed her cheek and squeezed her arm. "We are always here, no matter what."

Y/N moved away from Anthony and began heading down the corridor and towards the back door. It was as if her vision had darkened until all she could see was the door and then the grass.

Y/N didn't remember beginning to sob. She just remembered making it onto the grass and falling to her knees onto it, her heart breaking into pieces as she cried and clutched the fabric of her gown.

The pain was inescapable. It was consuming her from the inside out and she couldn't breathe. It was suffocating and never-ending. Every thought made it worse and Y/N was quite sure she would break into a tiny million pieces that no one would ever be able to pick up and glue together.

But all she could think about was that she just wanted her father back.

Y/N heard someone open the door to the garden but didn't bother to turn around or hide her tears. She knew who it was.

Colin knelt down beside her and, without saying a word, wrapped his arms around her and pulled Y/N into his side. She fell into him and buried her face in his waistcoat, clinging to him like he was her lifeboat.

"I'm here," Colin said softly, stroking her hair back as he held her. "I'm here."

The weather had taken a turn for the worse. The warm summer nights had faded away for thunderstorms and clouds. Which was surprisingly suitable for the mood in Bridgerton House.

Y/N hadn't left since the night her father had died. Despite the customs and traditions of society, her father had insisted she not be the one to do any of it. Anthony and Violet had taken care of it all - setting up the funeral parlour for the body, arranging the flowers and the funeral itself. They'd all forgone their usual clothes for mourning black as well.

Y/N had hardly said a word since the death. She'd kept to herself in the guest room, floating around like a ghost, and never staying around for longer than necessary.

"She's grieving, Colin, she's not going to be her usual self two weeks after it happened."

Colin sighed, dropping his head to rest against the carriage window, ignoring how it bounced his head and rattled his teeth. "I know, Benedict. I just hate seeing her like this."

"We all do, brother. But we can't push her - grief is a powerful foe and takes time to conquer," Benedict said quietly. "When father died it took me months to get over it."

"Not to mention she's been grieving for the past few months," Eloise added.

Colin frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

"Well, when father died it was sudden and unexpected. Our grieving started when he died. Y/N's known her father would die for months. She's been grieving for him since then - grieving for their lost future and everything he will not be around for. After a while, it begins to destroy you."

"She's got a point," Benedict said. "Grieving for a lost future and grieving for a dead family member are two different things but both hurt as much as the other." He sighed, shrugging pointlessly. "She is stronger than me."

"And me," Eloise muttered, picking at the black ribbon around her waist. "I am simply glad I do not remember much of father's passing. I can't imagine how traumatic it was. Even with the support of each other."

"Y/N doesn't have anyone else," Colin said, more to himself than to his siblings. "She's all alone."

Benedict reached over and squeezed his knee. "She has us, brother. And she has you. That's all she needs and all she wants, trust me."

The convey of black carriages pulled into the graveyard. One by one, the mourners, clad in black, climbed out and began to walk to the churchyard, greeting the priest as they passed.

Colin waited for Y/N at the door to the church. He smiled sadly at the people who passed but none of them were her.

"Hey, Anthony," Colin said, snatching his brother's arm as he passed. "Where's Y/N?"

Anthony sighed sadly. "She got out before we got here and said she was going to walk. I have not seen her since but she won't be far."

Colin nodded and let his brother go. He glanced into the church for a moment and then back out to the churchyard. Colin walked outside, shivering slightly in the frosty wind.

Y/N wasn't hard to find. Mainly because the churchyard wasn't that big. She was stood next to a freshly dug grave and a slightly older looking one, a veil over her head, her hands gripped around a bunch of white lilies.

"I hate funerals," she said, acknowledging Colin's presence as he walked up behind her. "I hate how sad they are. I hate how everyone has to wear black and I hate..." She paused and inhaled deeply, "and I hate how after the funeral you are meant to act as if they didn't exist and that everything is normal."

Colin came to stand next to her, shoulder to shoulder. "I do not remember my father's funeral. Not properly. A blessing, I suppose. I just have vague memories of my mother crying, of Anthony trying to keep it together, of Benedict, hugging Daphne and Eloise... and of myself holding Hyacinth. So many people wanted to pay their respects to him that his funeral wasn't until almost a month later. Hyacinth is one of the lucky ones. She is yet to know grief."

"I think she knows grief," Y/N said softly. "She grieves for the father she never got to meet. You all have stories of him or memories but she has nothing. All she has are your stories."

Colin hummed quietly, realising that his little sister had probably suffered the most out of them all. he put an arm around Y/N's shoulders, his hand a comforting presence on her arm.

"Why are you two up here?"

Y/N and Colin both jumped as Hyacinth suddenly appeared in between them, beaming up at them with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Hyacinth!" Colin scolded. "What are you doing? I thought Benedict was keeping an eye on you."

"He was but then Mr Granville arrived and he left me so I came to find you two," she replied, still smiling. "It's dark and cold and sad in there."

Y/N smiled at Hyacinth as she crouched down. "It's horrible, isn't it?"

"I do not understand why these things can't be happy. Why are they sad?"

"Well, people are sad because someone is gone and they are not coming back," Y/N said softly, taking Hyacinth's hand in hers. "And they are grieving that loss."

"But... why not celebrate the life they lived? When I die, I want people to be happy at my funeral, not sad. I want them laughing and smiling because death is inevitable. I'm going to die someday and -"

"Ok, that is enough talk of you dying," Colin said, bending down and picking Hyacinth up despite the fact she was getting fairly tall now and looked quite ridiculous in her brother's arms. "You will not die for many years to come, understand?"

"Yes, brother," Hyacinth muttered, rolling her eyes. "Can you put me down now?"

Colin obliged but not before kissing her head. "At least not whilst I'm around," he added under his breath.

Hyacinth looked up at Y/N. "Do I have to go back in there?"

"No."

Colin looked up at Y/N with surprise. She simply smiled at him and shrugged.

"I'm not going to go in," Y/N said, watching Hyacinth pick up some nearby pebbles and begin to arrange them around the newest headstone. "I am going to walk around and sit on a bench and enjoy the life outside it whilst mourning the life I lost."

"Can I join you?" Hyacinth asked, entirely focused on stacking the pebbles.

"Of course. Colin, do you want to join?" Y/N asked, turning to face him, her hand outstretched.

Colin took her hand. "Of course."

"Why don't you go find me some flowers from under that tree and meet us at the bench?"

Hyacinth nodded and dashed off down the path, dodging the graves with ease.

Y/N looped her arm through Colin's and dropped her head onto his shoulder as they walked down the path. "You don't have to stay."

Colin paused momentarily. "I know," he said softly. He reached over with his other hand and entwined his fingers with Y/N's "I want to."

Y/N nodded, blinking furiously as she looked down at the ground for a moment. "Thank you."

Colin just nodded, giving her hand another reassuring squeeze - one that conveyed everything he had wanted to say for the past two weeks and before. One that, in the end, just remind her that no matter what, he was there.

[olive-recs]

OH??????

asdfghjkjgfdsadfghjhgfds,,,, i adore this, lottie, and i’m not even lying to you when i said i have read it twice now because !!!!!!!!! there’s so much to love ??????? daphne and the readers friendship is actually my everything,,,, simon and daphne being cute together is actually so heartwarming i forgot everything i hated about them for a few seconds there,,,, lyrics from waitress as the title was a choice™ and i ate it like it was a delicacy,,,, the mutual annoyance of The Mothers when violet tells anthony to dance with the reader,,,, the whole “it’s blue.” “it’s white.” “and blue.” “mostly white” debate,,,, the insistence on pink for the theme and the jokes that transpire,,,, how just supportive everyone is of the reader (and also anthony - never thought daphne would be his wingman, lololol),,, the rain??????,,,, the whole “what would you do?” “i’d do this” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!,,,, asdfjkjhdssdfgjkjhgfds tell me why. this fic has aLL the best tropes possible,,,,,,

also, i love how both of us continue to put anthony in the doghouse for choosing sienna over very specifically dancing with the reader. it’s about showing up for the people you care about!!!! but anthony is too afraid of love so he runs!!!! rather neat of us, wouldn’t you say?

and i must just also say,,,, lottie, i have missed reading your writing. the pacing of it is always just,,,, *chef’s kiss* and you include so many small, fun details that make reading your fics so  e n j o y a b l e 

it's a bad idea, me and you

requested by @magpiencrow: CONGRATS ON LITERALLY EVERYTHING!!! 🥳 also #24 is just destined for bridgerton <3

A/N: I've fallen back in love with Viscount Anthony Bridgerton and all his grumpy so I had to write to him. Lovers to enemies to lovers, anyone? Also this is the closest you will ever get to smut from me so take it and be happy

Y/N moved her rook across the chessboard into a blank square. Daphne narrowed her eyes at the board and moved her knight.

It was a surprisingly quiet Friday morning considering it was the height of the social season. But that was perhaps down to the fact that Daphne was now married and had no real need to participate as much as before.

They were sat in the warmth of the drawing-room, the windows thrown open to let in the summer breeze that danced with the net curtains hung in front of each window. It was calm and peaceful and everything Y/N needed after the last year.

"Who taught you chess?" Y/N asked quietly, contemplating her next move with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Anthony. He was the chess master when we were growing up," Daphne replied, leaning back in her chair. "He also cheated but, that is beside the point."

Y/N chuckled softly. "Sounds like him. Cheater in games and love."

Daphne raised her eyebrows slightly, letting out an almost silent sigh. "He is not that bad."

"I did not say he was bad. I merely said he was a cheater." Y/N moved another rook. "He acts as if every woman in the ton is below him - as if finding a reputable wife is not worth his time."

"He has what the majority of men do not - brothers."

Y/N laughed. Loudly. "Please. Benedict Bridgerton and Colin Bridgerton are lovely but neither are looking for a wife - they are happier flirting with every young lady within a mile radius. Anthony must be kidding himself if he thinks your reputation can succeed with them."

"Why do you hate my brother so much?"

"Which one?"

Daphne chuckled, leaning forward and moving a rook. "Anthony. Every time he is in the room or he comes up in conversation you begin insulting him with words I associate with hate."

"I do not."

"You do too."

Y/N placed the chess piece down a little too hard, knocking over three other pieces as she did so. "Daphne, as much as I respect and love you, please change the subject."

"Yes, of course." She righted a fallen piece. "Are you going to Lady Cowper's ball tonight?"

"Unfortunately - despite how much I despise the woman, she does throw a good ball."

Daphne hummed. "Anthony's going."

Y/N almost threw the entire table over. "Daphne."

"I am simply stating who is going," Daphne replied calmly, completely unphased. "Benedict is also going. As is Colin. As am I."

"Oh, good, I can throw a glass of lemonade at you." Y/N moved another piece - neither one of them was actually playing properly now, they were simply moving chess pieces around a board.

"He's not as bad -"

"Daphne, why are you so determined to sell your eldest brother to me?" Y/N asked, leaning back in her chair, raising her eyebrows. "You have been complimenting him every time I have come over for the past three months."

"I simply think that you have a misguided opinion of him," Daphne replied, her words obviously carefully chosen.

Y/N leant forward and moved her queen. "Of course. I did use to like your brother."

"I know."

Until..."

"I know." Daphne opened her mouth to speak and Y/N braced herself. "But he has changed, Y/N, if you -"

A knock on the door cut Daphne off before she could finish her sentence - something Y/N was grateful for. Until Anthony Bridgerton walked into the room, hands clasped behind his back, a beaming smile on his face as he looked at his sister, oblivious to Y/N's presence.

"Anthony! What a pleasant surprise!" Daphne exclaimed, standing up and approaching her brother, engulfing him in a tight hug. "I thought you were busy with business."

"I am but I was passing and decided to come by and check on you," Anthony said, pressing a kiss to Daphne's cheek.

He stepped back and turned his head to the right, his eyes stopping as he finally noticed Y/N's presence in the room.

"Miss Y/L/N."

"Lord Bridgerton."

The loving atmosphere had vanished like a candle being snuffed out. Y/N swallowed and sniffed quietly, looking down at her dress, avoiding Anthony's gaze.

"Yes, anyway, things to do, people to see..." He reached out and squeeze Daphne's shoulder. "See you tonight, Daff."

And with that, Anthony was gone.

Daphne looked over at Y/N. "You hate him."

Y/N looked up at her with burning eyes. She shrugged. "Perhaps." Leaning forward, she began to reset the chess board. "To be honest, Daphne, I do not think I entirely know how I feel. Now, shall we play properly, this time? No cheating."

"Ah, I don't cheat," Daphne exclaimed indignantly, sitting back down.

"Oh, you do, I watched you move my piece back to where it was."

The game began again but Y/N was paying even less attention than before. Her eyes strayed to the door where, minutes before, a smiling Anthony Bridgerton had walked in. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him smile.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him smile at her.

Despite the rain outside and despite Lady Cowper's notorious ability to be spiteful and cruel, the house and ballroom looked like it had come out of a fairytale. Pink walls, roses and decorations littered every piece of empty space visible and the candles provide warmth and light to the room.

Almost every woman was wearing a variation of pink. Lady Cowper had sent out strict instructions in the invites for the women to wear pink and for the men to wear black and white.

And the result was a see of pink dotted with black dots - much like a bee visiting a rose.

Y/N stepped out her carriage, accepting her mother's outstretched hand, and climbed down the step onto the paved ground. She looked up at the outside of Cowper House, eyes wide with awe.

There were roses of pink and white nestled amongst green foliage shaped into an arch around the front door, lanterns sitting at either end. Gentle, soft music was emitting from inside the house and there were many excited gasps as more people arrived, staring up at the house.

There was a reason Lady Cowper had yet to be ostracized from the ton despite her rude behaviour. She knew how to throw an almost perfect ball.

Y/N and her mother walked inside, following many others dressed in pink and silver, their chaperones dressed similarly or in black and white.

The floor was littered with rose petals and candles and lanterns, all guiding the way to the main ballroom where even more flowers waited.

She spotted Anthony instantly.

It was hard not to spot the three chestnut-haired men standing awkwardly next to their mother as she introduced them to yet another young woman. Y/N almost laughed at the identical looks of boredom, despair and annoyance the three were wearing.

"Y/N!"

She turned around and instantly a smile appeared as Daphne practically ran up to her - her bemused husband following behind. Y/N hugged Daphne and held her by the shoulders, looking down at her dark pink gown, her eyes snagging on the baby bump just beginning to appear.

"Oh, you are not, are you?" Y/N asked, looking back up at her.

Daphne hit her husband on the arm. "I told you it was too small."

"Nonsense. We want people to know," Simon said fondly, a hand straying to the bump as he kissed Daphne's head.

"You two are sickeningly sweet," Y/N said, a disgusted expression on her face. "Who knows?"

"My mother - we were waiting to tell everyone else about the - Anthony!"

Y/N didn't dare turn around. She smelt him before she felt his presence. The deep scent of his cologne mixed with smoke, whiskey and something sweet. He came to a stop on her right, his jacket sleeve brushing the bare skin between where her sleeve ended and her white, silk gloves began.

She could barely breathe.

"Daphne, you look beautiful," Violet said, blissfully unaware of the panic attack her eldest son was giving Y/N by simply standing next to her. "Simon, as do you."

"I told you pink was my colour," Simon said, preening ever so slightly.

"Yes, Hastings, pink compliments your skin tone beautifully," Anthony said dryly. "Why Cowper chose pink of all colours is beyond me."

"It's her favourite colour."

Y/N didn't realise she'd spoken until four sets of eyes were staring at her. She cleared her throat quietly. "She always has some element of pink on her in whatever she wears - as does Cressida. Pink is the Cowper family colour like blue is the Bridgerton's."

"Blue is not our family colour," Anthony argued.

"It is, have you seen your house? Blue."

"It is not blue."

"The interior is."

"It is white."

"And blue."

"Anthony, darling, why don't you offer Y/N a dance, hmm?" Violet said, cutting their argument off.

Anthony glowered at his mother.

"There's no one in her dance card," Y/N's mother helpfully added.

Y/N glowered at her mother.

Anthony sighed. Reluctantly, and only because she was aware of multiple people watching, Y/N held out her wrist. Anthony's fingers brushed the inside of her wrist as he took the dance card and scribbled his name down, his handwriting sloped and neat.

"There, happy?" Anthony asked, glaring over at his mother.

Violet smiled.

The conversation moved on and Y/N zoned out, looking anywhere but at the man standing next to her. She could feel the warmth radiating off him and instead of comforting her, it infuriated her. It physically ached how close he was to her yet how far away he was.

Y/N gathered her skirts, unable to cope with the feeling. "Excuse me."

She turned from Anthony and walked over to the refreshments table, gratefully accepting a glass of pink lemonade from the waiter and taking a big gulp. It was far too sweet but it gave her brain something else to think about other than the eldest Bridgerton.

A presence to her left made her pause. She gripped her glass tighter.

"They're about to play the first dance."

Anthony reached across her and grabbed a glass of water. Y/N looked down and tingles ran down her spine as his arm brushed her stomach. True to his word, the orchestra was tuning their instruments and warming up, the gentle hum of music beginning to fill the room.

"We should dance -"

"Yes, we should, my lord." Y/N turned around, setting her glass down, and looked up at him. She held her hand out. "You may lead."

Anthony looked at her, dark eyes staring into her own. He drank the water in one go and set the glass down next to Y/N's. Then, he raised his arm and grasped Y/N's fingers - gentle but firm. As the other couples in the room began to move into the centre, Anthony led Y/N forward - his back rod straight and each movement stiff yet calculated.

He guided Y/N around to stand in front of him and then spun her around so her back was against his chest. Y/N could feel his breath on the back of his neck, the buttons on his waistcoat pressing into her back. Y/N's left hand was in front of her stomach, Anthony's right holding the tip of her fingers, the warmth seeping through her silk gloves.

His left was resting near her shoulder, his fingers brushing the bare skin of her chest. Y/N held his hand with her right, crossing her arm across herself to hold his other hand.

Every other couple was in the same position but for some reason, it felt strangely intimate - as if Anthony was almost being scandalous by having his bare hand brushing her skin. His hand tightened around hers and they stood there in silence.

The orchestra began to play but was quickly cut off by a loud screech.

"No, no, no, no!"

Lady Cowper stomped forward, the pink feathers in her hair flouncing with each step. Her target was a young man with a bright yellow waistcoat and blue velvet jacket - one that looked very similar to ones worn by Benedict.

"Pink, white or black only!" She screeched. "No other colours! Go, shoo!"

She began flapping her hands around as the man argued back with her and Y/N couldn't help but giggle. Stepping back a little as she readjusted her weight, she nudged Anthony's foot slightly and he tightened his grip on her hands.

Lady Cowper was still screeching.

Anthony and Y/N were still frozen in the opening position.

"She looks like an exotic bird throwing a tantrum," Anthony whispered into her ear, leaning forward slightly.

Y/N felt a smile pull on her lips and lowered her head, attempting to hide it. "We should ask Colin which bird she best represents."

This time Anthony started smiling and he had to duck his head. "I suspect an extravagant version of a peacock."

She couldn't help the snort of laughter that escape her lips, her shoulders shaking, and Y/N turned her head, looking up at Anthony. He smiled at her, eyes sparkling, and the two of them burst into quiet laughter, trying not to draw attention to themselves.

"My apologies, ladies and gentlemen," Lady Cowper called. She waved at the band. "Chop, chop."

The conductor almost dropped his baton in his haste to restart the music. Y/N stood up straight, raising her head up, and took a step forward, Anthony following behind her.

For a minute, both were lost in the music. Nothing else mattered. She looked up into his eyes, concentrating on him and no one else. The room was a dizzying array of roses and petals but it didn't matter.

Because Anthony was there.

As long as Anthony was here - nothing else mattered.

Y/N raised her arm, Anthony holding her hand, and twirled around, coming to a stop in front of him. He stepped forward and placed his hand on her waist, the other on her back.

They were breathing hard, both staring at one another, unable to break away from the trance they'd been caught in. Anthony's thumb stroked her back, brushing the bare skin. Y/N's breath got caught in her lungs as she breathed deeply and struggled not to cough.

This was wrong.

She couldn't do this again.

She wouldn't do this again.

Abruptly snatched from the trance, Y/N stepped back, Anthony's warmth and comforting grip leaving her instantly. She looked at him, her chest aching as she saw the confused and upset expression in his eyes.

"I cannot... I cannot do this again, Anthony," Y/N said softly, her eyes brimming with tears. She reached a hand out, fingers brushing his - one last touch to keep her going. "I am sorry but I cannot. I just... I cannot."

Y/N turned and walked away from Anthony. Away from the man who had captured her heart and refused to let go.

And straight into Simon Basset.

"Oof."

Y/N stumbled back, instinctively grabbing onto Simon's arm as she lost her footing.

"My apologies," Y/N said, face heating up as she stepped back.

Simon looked at her, instantly reading the hurt on her face. "Are you alright?"

"Fine."

He looked behind her, his eyes landing on a dejected Anthony standing next to Benedict. "Oh."

"What am I doing, Simon?" Y/N asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I cannot do this again! Besides, I do not love him anymore."

Simon smiled down at her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you sure?" He asked gently. "My wife would disagree."

"What do I disagree with?" Daphne asked, magically appearing next to her husband.

"That Y/N does not love your brother," Simon supplied. He looked at Y/N and then over at Daphne. "I shall leave you two to talk."

Daphne stepped up to Y/N as her husband left and took her hand. "Y/N, darling, you are in love with him."

"I cannot be."

"I know you do not want to be but we cannot control the heart," Daphne replied, looking over fondly at Simon as he chatted to Colin.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder at Anthony and felt her heart jump as if she'd tripped and fallen. "Shit," she swore, not caring that she was in public, "I think I am in love with him. Despite everything... I still love him."

"At last," Daphne muttered. "What gave it away? Acting like a fool around him or the fact he held your hand and stood inches away from you and you nearly fainted?"

Y/N whacked her on the shoulder. She paused and exhaled heavily, the weight of the situation hitting her. "I thought I had moved on. After he left me for Sienna I thought I had... I had gotten over it and that the love had gone. Turns out I was wrong." It never went away."

"He is a changed man."

Y/N distractedly nodded, not listening to a word Daphne uttered. "I need some fresh air."

Daphne called after her as she left but Y/N ignored her. She needed space, she needed to see some other colour than pink and needed to think.

The french doors led to a little outdoor hallway with arched windows overlooking the gardens. Y/N stayed under the roof, not wanting to get wet in the rain. Leaning back against the stone wall, she felt the stress fade a little now that she was in the dark and away from the overwhelming smell of roses.

"God, what am I doing," Y/N muttered, hand pressed to her chest as she tried to calm her speeding heart.

Y/N all but froze as a familiar scent hit her. She let out a shaky breath, eyes burning, and she bit her cheek - desperately trying not to cry. The smell of him was enough to send her into a spiral.

"Y/N."

She refused to turn.

"Y/N, look at me. Please."

She moved her head in his direction but kept her eyes on the ground, refusing to meet Anthony's gaze.

Footsteps approached. Then stopped.

"I am sorry. For what happened with Sienna."

She knew he was sorry. The numerous bouquets of flowers had all had a sorry note attached to them. She'd burnt each note.

"Y/N, please believe me when I tell you how ashamed and appalled I am by my actions back then," Anthony continued, slowly approaching her. He halted a few feet away. "But believe me when I say I have changed. Because of you."

"Why, because I broke your heart?" Y/N snapped, finally looking up at him. "Because I did not come crawling back to you when she left. Because when you knocked on my door, crying and begging to be let in, I ignored you?"

Anthony was silent. Then, "No. Because I realised that... that what I wanted was here all along. I... I do not expect you to be able to understand my actions and why I did what I did... but I was in a place where irrational decisions were my coping mechanism."

"You broke me," Y/N said quietly, her voice almost lost to the rain.

"I know I did."

"Yet you still seek forgiveness." Y/N looked past Anthony, her eyes focusing on a brick in the wall. "I loved you." She looked back at him, the weight of her words sinking in. "I waited." Y/N paused, letting each word hang in the air. "I waited." Y/N inhaled deeply. "I waited for you to figure out what was going on in your head. To figure out why you constantly shirked your responsibilities.

"And I waited the night you were with her. I waited for you. I waited for you to take me to the ball so we could dance the night away. But instead you were with her. And when one lover pushed you aside you came crawling back to the other. Like I am nothing more than your second-best bed.

"One second you are refusing marriage and flirting with every woman in London and the next you are demanding a wife and children like you are running out of time. Anthony, I cannot wait for a man who does not know his own mind - I do not possess that luxury."

Anthony was crying. He was trying not to but Y/N could see the redness of his eyes - could see how his hands shook. She had never seen him show so much emotion - been so open. They were both broken and unashamed to show it.

Y/N inhaled deeply, steeling herself. "Anthony I am going to say this only once because I... I love you. Despite everything I still... I still love you. And I know I shouldn't but I cannot help it because you are intoxicating - like a drug I cannot get enough of. So. If I were to say 'I forgive you'... if I were to utter those words... what would you do?"

The rain was the only sound between the two. Anthony was looking down at the ground, eyes brimming with tears, a few dripping down his face. He inhaled deeply and looked up at her, his eyes dark.

"I would do this," he said, approaching her, only coming to a stop until he was inches away.

Anthony leant forward and pressed a kiss to Y/N's lips. His hand rested on her waist, the other on the back of her neck. Y/N tried not to lean into him as he kissed her but it was so difficult to not simply melt and give in.

As he pulled away, Anthony rested his forehead against hers, his eyes shut. His lips tasted like lemonade. Y/N inhaled deeply, his scent comforting her and bringing back so many memories.

"That's what I would do," he said softly. "That and so, so much more." He licked his lips and sighed. "I am sorry for what I did to you. For everything I did to you. I just hope you know that I deeply regret it all and that... that I will always be here, even if you never forgive me. I will always be right next to you."

Y/N was crying now. She didn't bother to hide it. The tears fell down and as Anthony looked at her his tears spilt over too, trailing down his face. Y/N reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, wiping them away with her thumb. She rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes.

Neither one knew what to do. They were at a crossing except there was nowhere to cross. To move on would be to accept the past and try to mend the pain. But the pain was still to raw for both of them. It was a deep, festering wound that wouldn't close.

They were poisoning one another but it felt too good to step away and stop. They couldn't stop.

Y/N pressed a kiss to Anthony's lips, salt water the only thing she could taste now. Her hand curled into his hair and she held him tightly, refusing to let go even as he dragged her down into the ocean.

"Tonight," she whispered, pulling back a bit. "We have tonight and then tomorrow... tomorrow we decide."

"Tonight," Anthony repeated, nodding. He opened his eyes and found her. "Tonight is ours."

He kissed her again, pushing her back against the wall, a hand trailing up her dress. For once, neither cared about who saw and whether or not they ended up in the middle of a scandal. Perhaps it would be good if they did - if society decided their future for them.

But for now, for tonight, neither cared. They moved around the pain and pretended as if nothing had happened. As if they were the only two people in the entire world.

Anthony's hand reached higher and Y/N's grip on his jacket tightened as she arched her back, everything in her aching for more. Aching for him. She wanted more. Anthony was hungry and she was so full that she let him take her.

Tomorrow she would decide.

But tonight, on the dark terrace, hidden away from the rain and from life, she let Anthony take everything.

[olive-recs]

also!!!! because i’m absent minded and forgot to mention it: 

can we pLEASE just recognize, understand, appreciate, and praise the complexity and the genius of these two lines:

For once, neither cared about who saw and whether or not they ended up in the middle of a scandal. Perhaps it would be good if they did - if society decided their future for them.

like !!!!!!! damn !!!!! the turmoil and desperation that goes into just,,,, letting someone else decide heightens the premise and the feelings of this fic so beautifully and expertly. how much there must be between them to just decide that if it falls someone else’s hands it’s fine, and say so unabashedly that it couldn’t have ended any other way....... to just be like,,,, i want this so bad a scandal can’t ruin me any more than this,,,,, and a scandal could decide for me because there’s too much here for me to think rationally or emotionally or any other way,,,,

just.... so. many. thoughts. i’m screaming over these two lines.

it's a bad idea, me and you

requested by @magpiencrow: CONGRATS ON LITERALLY EVERYTHING!!! 🥳 also #24 is just destined for bridgerton <3

A/N: I've fallen back in love with Viscount Anthony Bridgerton and all his grumpy so I had to write to him. Lovers to enemies to lovers, anyone? Also this is the closest you will ever get to smut from me so take it and be happy

Y/N moved her rook across the chessboard into a blank square. Daphne narrowed her eyes at the board and moved her knight.

It was a surprisingly quiet Friday morning considering it was the height of the social season. But that was perhaps down to the fact that Daphne was now married and had no real need to participate as much as before.

They were sat in the warmth of the drawing-room, the windows thrown open to let in the summer breeze that danced with the net curtains hung in front of each window. It was calm and peaceful and everything Y/N needed after the last year.

"Who taught you chess?" Y/N asked quietly, contemplating her next move with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Anthony. He was the chess master when we were growing up," Daphne replied, leaning back in her chair. "He also cheated but, that is beside the point."

Y/N chuckled softly. "Sounds like him. Cheater in games and love."

Daphne raised her eyebrows slightly, letting out an almost silent sigh. "He is not that bad."

"I did not say he was bad. I merely said he was a cheater." Y/N moved another rook. "He acts as if every woman in the ton is below him - as if finding a reputable wife is not worth his time."

"He has what the majority of men do not - brothers."

Y/N laughed. Loudly. "Please. Benedict Bridgerton and Colin Bridgerton are lovely but neither are looking for a wife - they are happier flirting with every young lady within a mile radius. Anthony must be kidding himself if he thinks your reputation can succeed with them."

"Why do you hate my brother so much?"

"Which one?"

Daphne chuckled, leaning forward and moving a rook. "Anthony. Every time he is in the room or he comes up in conversation you begin insulting him with words I associate with hate."

"I do not."

"You do too."

Y/N placed the chess piece down a little too hard, knocking over three other pieces as she did so. "Daphne, as much as I respect and love you, please change the subject."

"Yes, of course." She righted a fallen piece. "Are you going to Lady Cowper's ball tonight?"

"Unfortunately - despite how much I despise the woman, she does throw a good ball."

Daphne hummed. "Anthony's going."

Y/N almost threw the entire table over. "Daphne."

"I am simply stating who is going," Daphne replied calmly, completely unphased. "Benedict is also going. As is Colin. As am I."

"Oh, good, I can throw a glass of lemonade at you." Y/N moved another piece - neither one of them was actually playing properly now, they were simply moving chess pieces around a board.

"He's not as bad -"

"Daphne, why are you so determined to sell your eldest brother to me?" Y/N asked, leaning back in her chair, raising her eyebrows. "You have been complimenting him every time I have come over for the past three months."

"I simply think that you have a misguided opinion of him," Daphne replied, her words obviously carefully chosen.

Y/N leant forward and moved her queen. "Of course. I did use to like your brother."

"I know."

Until..."

"I know." Daphne opened her mouth to speak and Y/N braced herself. "But he has changed, Y/N, if you -"

A knock on the door cut Daphne off before she could finish her sentence - something Y/N was grateful for. Until Anthony Bridgerton walked into the room, hands clasped behind his back, a beaming smile on his face as he looked at his sister, oblivious to Y/N's presence.

"Anthony! What a pleasant surprise!" Daphne exclaimed, standing up and approaching her brother, engulfing him in a tight hug. "I thought you were busy with business."

"I am but I was passing and decided to come by and check on you," Anthony said, pressing a kiss to Daphne's cheek.

He stepped back and turned his head to the right, his eyes stopping as he finally noticed Y/N's presence in the room.

"Miss Y/L/N."

"Lord Bridgerton."

The loving atmosphere had vanished like a candle being snuffed out. Y/N swallowed and sniffed quietly, looking down at her dress, avoiding Anthony's gaze.

"Yes, anyway, things to do, people to see..." He reached out and squeeze Daphne's shoulder. "See you tonight, Daff."

And with that, Anthony was gone.

Daphne looked over at Y/N. "You hate him."

Y/N looked up at her with burning eyes. She shrugged. "Perhaps." Leaning forward, she began to reset the chess board. "To be honest, Daphne, I do not think I entirely know how I feel. Now, shall we play properly, this time? No cheating."

"Ah, I don't cheat," Daphne exclaimed indignantly, sitting back down.

"Oh, you do, I watched you move my piece back to where it was."

The game began again but Y/N was paying even less attention than before. Her eyes strayed to the door where, minutes before, a smiling Anthony Bridgerton had walked in. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him smile.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him smile at her.

Despite the rain outside and despite Lady Cowper's notorious ability to be spiteful and cruel, the house and ballroom looked like it had come out of a fairytale. Pink walls, roses and decorations littered every piece of empty space visible and the candles provide warmth and light to the room.

Almost every woman was wearing a variation of pink. Lady Cowper had sent out strict instructions in the invites for the women to wear pink and for the men to wear black and white.

And the result was a see of pink dotted with black dots - much like a bee visiting a rose.

Y/N stepped out her carriage, accepting her mother's outstretched hand, and climbed down the step onto the paved ground. She looked up at the outside of Cowper House, eyes wide with awe.

There were roses of pink and white nestled amongst green foliage shaped into an arch around the front door, lanterns sitting at either end. Gentle, soft music was emitting from inside the house and there were many excited gasps as more people arrived, staring up at the house.

There was a reason Lady Cowper had yet to be ostracized from the ton despite her rude behaviour. She knew how to throw an almost perfect ball.

Y/N and her mother walked inside, following many others dressed in pink and silver, their chaperones dressed similarly or in black and white.

The floor was littered with rose petals and candles and lanterns, all guiding the way to the main ballroom where even more flowers waited.

She spotted Anthony instantly.

It was hard not to spot the three chestnut-haired men standing awkwardly next to their mother as she introduced them to yet another young woman. Y/N almost laughed at the identical looks of boredom, despair and annoyance the three were wearing.

"Y/N!"

She turned around and instantly a smile appeared as Daphne practically ran up to her - her bemused husband following behind. Y/N hugged Daphne and held her by the shoulders, looking down at her dark pink gown, her eyes snagging on the baby bump just beginning to appear.

"Oh, you are not, are you?" Y/N asked, looking back up at her.

Daphne hit her husband on the arm. "I told you it was too small."

"Nonsense. We want people to know," Simon said fondly, a hand straying to the bump as he kissed Daphne's head.

"You two are sickeningly sweet," Y/N said, a disgusted expression on her face. "Who knows?"

"My mother - we were waiting to tell everyone else about the - Anthony!"

Y/N didn't dare turn around. She smelt him before she felt his presence. The deep scent of his cologne mixed with smoke, whiskey and something sweet. He came to a stop on her right, his jacket sleeve brushing the bare skin between where her sleeve ended and her white, silk gloves began.

She could barely breathe.

"Daphne, you look beautiful," Violet said, blissfully unaware of the panic attack her eldest son was giving Y/N by simply standing next to her. "Simon, as do you."

"I told you pink was my colour," Simon said, preening ever so slightly.

"Yes, Hastings, pink compliments your skin tone beautifully," Anthony said dryly. "Why Cowper chose pink of all colours is beyond me."

"It's her favourite colour."

Y/N didn't realise she'd spoken until four sets of eyes were staring at her. She cleared her throat quietly. "She always has some element of pink on her in whatever she wears - as does Cressida. Pink is the Cowper family colour like blue is the Bridgerton's."

"Blue is not our family colour," Anthony argued.

"It is, have you seen your house? Blue."

"It is not blue."

"The interior is."

"It is white."

"And blue."

"Anthony, darling, why don't you offer Y/N a dance, hmm?" Violet said, cutting their argument off.

Anthony glowered at his mother.

"There's no one in her dance card," Y/N's mother helpfully added.

Y/N glowered at her mother.

Anthony sighed. Reluctantly, and only because she was aware of multiple people watching, Y/N held out her wrist. Anthony's fingers brushed the inside of her wrist as he took the dance card and scribbled his name down, his handwriting sloped and neat.

"There, happy?" Anthony asked, glaring over at his mother.

Violet smiled.

The conversation moved on and Y/N zoned out, looking anywhere but at the man standing next to her. She could feel the warmth radiating off him and instead of comforting her, it infuriated her. It physically ached how close he was to her yet how far away he was.

Y/N gathered her skirts, unable to cope with the feeling. "Excuse me."

She turned from Anthony and walked over to the refreshments table, gratefully accepting a glass of pink lemonade from the waiter and taking a big gulp. It was far too sweet but it gave her brain something else to think about other than the eldest Bridgerton.

A presence to her left made her pause. She gripped her glass tighter.

"They're about to play the first dance."

Anthony reached across her and grabbed a glass of water. Y/N looked down and tingles ran down her spine as his arm brushed her stomach. True to his word, the orchestra was tuning their instruments and warming up, the gentle hum of music beginning to fill the room.

"We should dance -"

"Yes, we should, my lord." Y/N turned around, setting her glass down, and looked up at him. She held her hand out. "You may lead."

Anthony looked at her, dark eyes staring into her own. He drank the water in one go and set the glass down next to Y/N's. Then, he raised his arm and grasped Y/N's fingers - gentle but firm. As the other couples in the room began to move into the centre, Anthony led Y/N forward - his back rod straight and each movement stiff yet calculated.

He guided Y/N around to stand in front of him and then spun her around so her back was against his chest. Y/N could feel his breath on the back of his neck, the buttons on his waistcoat pressing into her back. Y/N's left hand was in front of her stomach, Anthony's right holding the tip of her fingers, the warmth seeping through her silk gloves.

His left was resting near her shoulder, his fingers brushing the bare skin of her chest. Y/N held his hand with her right, crossing her arm across herself to hold his other hand.

Every other couple was in the same position but for some reason, it felt strangely intimate - as if Anthony was almost being scandalous by having his bare hand brushing her skin. His hand tightened around hers and they stood there in silence.

The orchestra began to play but was quickly cut off by a loud screech.

"No, no, no, no!"

Lady Cowper stomped forward, the pink feathers in her hair flouncing with each step. Her target was a young man with a bright yellow waistcoat and blue velvet jacket - one that looked very similar to ones worn by Benedict.

"Pink, white or black only!" She screeched. "No other colours! Go, shoo!"

She began flapping her hands around as the man argued back with her and Y/N couldn't help but giggle. Stepping back a little as she readjusted her weight, she nudged Anthony's foot slightly and he tightened his grip on her hands.

Lady Cowper was still screeching.

Anthony and Y/N were still frozen in the opening position.

"She looks like an exotic bird throwing a tantrum," Anthony whispered into her ear, leaning forward slightly.

Y/N felt a smile pull on her lips and lowered her head, attempting to hide it. "We should ask Colin which bird she best represents."

This time Anthony started smiling and he had to duck his head. "I suspect an extravagant version of a peacock."

She couldn't help the snort of laughter that escape her lips, her shoulders shaking, and Y/N turned her head, looking up at Anthony. He smiled at her, eyes sparkling, and the two of them burst into quiet laughter, trying not to draw attention to themselves.

"My apologies, ladies and gentlemen," Lady Cowper called. She waved at the band. "Chop, chop."

The conductor almost dropped his baton in his haste to restart the music. Y/N stood up straight, raising her head up, and took a step forward, Anthony following behind her.

For a minute, both were lost in the music. Nothing else mattered. She looked up into his eyes, concentrating on him and no one else. The room was a dizzying array of roses and petals but it didn't matter.

Because Anthony was there.

As long as Anthony was here - nothing else mattered.

Y/N raised her arm, Anthony holding her hand, and twirled around, coming to a stop in front of him. He stepped forward and placed his hand on her waist, the other on her back.

They were breathing hard, both staring at one another, unable to break away from the trance they'd been caught in. Anthony's thumb stroked her back, brushing the bare skin. Y/N's breath got caught in her lungs as she breathed deeply and struggled not to cough.

This was wrong.

She couldn't do this again.

She wouldn't do this again.

Abruptly snatched from the trance, Y/N stepped back, Anthony's warmth and comforting grip leaving her instantly. She looked at him, her chest aching as she saw the confused and upset expression in his eyes.

"I cannot... I cannot do this again, Anthony," Y/N said softly, her eyes brimming with tears. She reached a hand out, fingers brushing his - one last touch to keep her going. "I am sorry but I cannot. I just... I cannot."

Y/N turned and walked away from Anthony. Away from the man who had captured her heart and refused to let go.

And straight into Simon Basset.

"Oof."

Y/N stumbled back, instinctively grabbing onto Simon's arm as she lost her footing.

"My apologies," Y/N said, face heating up as she stepped back.

Simon looked at her, instantly reading the hurt on her face. "Are you alright?"

"Fine."

He looked behind her, his eyes landing on a dejected Anthony standing next to Benedict. "Oh."

"What am I doing, Simon?" Y/N asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I cannot do this again! Besides, I do not love him anymore."

Simon smiled down at her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you sure?" He asked gently. "My wife would disagree."

"What do I disagree with?" Daphne asked, magically appearing next to her husband.

"That Y/N does not love your brother," Simon supplied. He looked at Y/N and then over at Daphne. "I shall leave you two to talk."

Daphne stepped up to Y/N as her husband left and took her hand. "Y/N, darling, you are in love with him."

"I cannot be."

"I know you do not want to be but we cannot control the heart," Daphne replied, looking over fondly at Simon as he chatted to Colin.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder at Anthony and felt her heart jump as if she'd tripped and fallen. "Shit," she swore, not caring that she was in public, "I think I am in love with him. Despite everything... I still love him."

"At last," Daphne muttered. "What gave it away? Acting like a fool around him or the fact he held your hand and stood inches away from you and you nearly fainted?"

Y/N whacked her on the shoulder. She paused and exhaled heavily, the weight of the situation hitting her. "I thought I had moved on. After he left me for Sienna I thought I had... I had gotten over it and that the love had gone. Turns out I was wrong." It never went away."

"He is a changed man."

Y/N distractedly nodded, not listening to a word Daphne uttered. "I need some fresh air."

Daphne called after her as she left but Y/N ignored her. She needed space, she needed to see some other colour than pink and needed to think.

The french doors led to a little outdoor hallway with arched windows overlooking the gardens. Y/N stayed under the roof, not wanting to get wet in the rain. Leaning back against the stone wall, she felt the stress fade a little now that she was in the dark and away from the overwhelming smell of roses.

"God, what am I doing," Y/N muttered, hand pressed to her chest as she tried to calm her speeding heart.

Y/N all but froze as a familiar scent hit her. She let out a shaky breath, eyes burning, and she bit her cheek - desperately trying not to cry. The smell of him was enough to send her into a spiral.

"Y/N."

She refused to turn.

"Y/N, look at me. Please."

She moved her head in his direction but kept her eyes on the ground, refusing to meet Anthony's gaze.

Footsteps approached. Then stopped.

"I am sorry. For what happened with Sienna."

She knew he was sorry. The numerous bouquets of flowers had all had a sorry note attached to them. She'd burnt each note.

"Y/N, please believe me when I tell you how ashamed and appalled I am by my actions back then," Anthony continued, slowly approaching her. He halted a few feet away. "But believe me when I say I have changed. Because of you."

"Why, because I broke your heart?" Y/N snapped, finally looking up at him. "Because I did not come crawling back to you when she left. Because when you knocked on my door, crying and begging to be let in, I ignored you?"

Anthony was silent. Then, "No. Because I realised that... that what I wanted was here all along. I... I do not expect you to be able to understand my actions and why I did what I did... but I was in a place where irrational decisions were my coping mechanism."

"You broke me," Y/N said quietly, her voice almost lost to the rain.

"I know I did."

"Yet you still seek forgiveness." Y/N looked past Anthony, her eyes focusing on a brick in the wall. "I loved you." She looked back at him, the weight of her words sinking in. "I waited." Y/N paused, letting each word hang in the air. "I waited." Y/N inhaled deeply. "I waited for you to figure out what was going on in your head. To figure out why you constantly shirked your responsibilities.

"And I waited the night you were with her. I waited for you. I waited for you to take me to the ball so we could dance the night away. But instead you were with her. And when one lover pushed you aside you came crawling back to the other. Like I am nothing more than your second-best bed.

"One second you are refusing marriage and flirting with every woman in London and the next you are demanding a wife and children like you are running out of time. Anthony, I cannot wait for a man who does not know his own mind - I do not possess that luxury."

Anthony was crying. He was trying not to but Y/N could see the redness of his eyes - could see how his hands shook. She had never seen him show so much emotion - been so open. They were both broken and unashamed to show it.

Y/N inhaled deeply, steeling herself. "Anthony I am going to say this only once because I... I love you. Despite everything I still... I still love you. And I know I shouldn't but I cannot help it because you are intoxicating - like a drug I cannot get enough of. So. If I were to say 'I forgive you'... if I were to utter those words... what would you do?"

The rain was the only sound between the two. Anthony was looking down at the ground, eyes brimming with tears, a few dripping down his face. He inhaled deeply and looked up at her, his eyes dark.

"I would do this," he said, approaching her, only coming to a stop until he was inches away.

Anthony leant forward and pressed a kiss to Y/N's lips. His hand rested on her waist, the other on the back of her neck. Y/N tried not to lean into him as he kissed her but it was so difficult to not simply melt and give in.

As he pulled away, Anthony rested his forehead against hers, his eyes shut. His lips tasted like lemonade. Y/N inhaled deeply, his scent comforting her and bringing back so many memories.

"That's what I would do," he said softly. "That and so, so much more." He licked his lips and sighed. "I am sorry for what I did to you. For everything I did to you. I just hope you know that I deeply regret it all and that... that I will always be here, even if you never forgive me. I will always be right next to you."

Y/N was crying now. She didn't bother to hide it. The tears fell down and as Anthony looked at her his tears spilt over too, trailing down his face. Y/N reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, wiping them away with her thumb. She rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes.

Neither one knew what to do. They were at a crossing except there was nowhere to cross. To move on would be to accept the past and try to mend the pain. But the pain was still to raw for both of them. It was a deep, festering wound that wouldn't close.

They were poisoning one another but it felt too good to step away and stop. They couldn't stop.

Y/N pressed a kiss to Anthony's lips, salt water the only thing she could taste now. Her hand curled into his hair and she held him tightly, refusing to let go even as he dragged her down into the ocean.

"Tonight," she whispered, pulling back a bit. "We have tonight and then tomorrow... tomorrow we decide."

"Tonight," Anthony repeated, nodding. He opened his eyes and found her. "Tonight is ours."

He kissed her again, pushing her back against the wall, a hand trailing up her dress. For once, neither cared about who saw and whether or not they ended up in the middle of a scandal. Perhaps it would be good if they did - if society decided their future for them.

But for now, for tonight, neither cared. They moved around the pain and pretended as if nothing had happened. As if they were the only two people in the entire world.

Anthony's hand reached higher and Y/N's grip on his jacket tightened as she arched her back, everything in her aching for more. Aching for him. She wanted more. Anthony was hungry and she was so full that she let him take her.

Tomorrow she would decide.

But tonight, on the dark terrace, hidden away from the rain and from life, she let Anthony take everything.