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comphy-and-cozy · 2 months

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One Night Standards - Anthony Beauvillier

Pairing: Anthony Beauvillier x fem!OC

Summary: Country music sensation and Nashville sweetheart Harper Mitchell just got out of a very public, very messy breakup. She doesn't want a relationship, and, fortunately for her, Anthony Beauvillier won't be around long enough to start one. All of the makings of a perfect arrangement... right?

Word Count: 9K

Author’s Note: My first ever Beau fic!! Written for @offside-the-lines for @wyattjohnston's Summer Fic Exchange! Rox, I had a blast creating this universe for you and hope that you enjoy! S/O to Demi and @smileysvech for the plot help and being ever-helpful sounding boards.

Warnings: Alcohol use/mention, cheating themes, implied smut, friends-with-benefit relationship.

NHL Masterlist

AMERICA’S SWEETHEARTS NO MORE: ‘MICHARDS’ SPLIT!

Sources close to country music star Harper Mitchell confirm that she has split from her boyfriend, Joey Richards of 3 years amid leaked photos of him with another woman. The Daydreamin’ in Denim singer, 27, has declined for comment.

Harper blows a puff of air out of her lips, swiping out of Twitter. Absently, her hand moves to toy with her necklace—the one Joey had bought her to celebrate her song going Platinum. There’s a brief moment as she realizes it’s not there anymore, that she gave it to a friend of a friend so she could get it out of her house.

It’s a simple action, miniscule in the grand scheme of her life or even her day, but it strikes her hard all the same. Within moments, her eyes are lining with tears, the all-too-familiar lump sitting heavy in her throat. She lets a tear fall before exhaling slowly. “God dammit, Joey.”

The sharp ring of her phone jolts her out of her thoughts, her agent’s name flashing across the screen beside a star emoji. When she answers, she’s greeted by a laundry list of upcoming meetings, interviews, and appearances; Harper bites back the urge to ask when she’s going to get a break.

“Don’t forget you have Erin Alvey’s album release party tomorrow night,” Candice is saying. Harper can hear the jingling of her keys as the engine turns over on the other end of the phone. “Dress code is Denim & Diamonds. I sent you a few outfit ideas and a screenshot of the details again.”

“Got it,” Harper hums, mind briefly flitting to the denim corset she has hanging in her closet. She makes a mental note to pull out a few options, even though the thought of going out in public and having to socialize makes her itch. “Will—will he be there?”

Candice pauses, and a soft almost motherly tone takes over. “No, Har. He won’t.”

Harper nods to herself, humming to let Candice know she heard. Candice continues, “There will be some press there, though. Make sure to practice up on your statements, okay? They should be focused on Erin’s album, but you know they’re looking for a reaction out of you.”

“Right,” she replies, the voice inside her head reminding her to give that man nothing.

After reviewing a few more upcoming to do’s, Candice bids her goodbye, and once again, Harper is left alone in silence. She practices her brave face, taking a deep breath before heading to the closet to plan out her outfit; she’ll be damned if she doesn’t show up to the party hotter than ever, with no outward sign of any distress.

———

When Filip Forsberg sent the team group chat an invitation to his wife’s album release party, Anthony had accepted quickly. Initially, he was eager to seize the opportunity to bond with some of his new teammates, but now that it’s the day of, it’s the last thing he wants to do. Still, he forces himself to pull a shirt out of one of his suitcases, tossing it in the dryer to iron out some of the wrinkles after being haphazardly chucked inside following his third trade call in two years.

Another trade, another team, with new teammates, new facilities, new plays. At this point, he’s starting to consider himself an expert in getting traded. On one hand, he’s appreciated the opportunity to explore multiple new cities while he’s young and single. On the other, he’s noticed that he’s growing jaded, hesitant—unwilling, even, to grow attached to anything or anyone on his new team, because if he’s learned anything over the last few years, it’s that all of it is temporary.

Anthony allows himself to mope a little bit, but it’s a text from Dante confirming that he’s going to pick him up in an hour that gives him the motivation to get his head back in the game and hop in the shower. He takes care to get himself ready; maybe, if he puts the effort in, the sting of the trade will dull. Maybe he’ll find a pretty girl to get lost in for a night.

By the time he’s getting into Dante’s car, he’s feeling much more confident and social—the getting-ready gin and tonic he had certainly helped. He’s grateful for Barzy, even states away, for introducing him to Dante a few summers ago; the familiar face has made things a little less lonely since arriving in Nashville.

The party is a few miles outside of the downtown area, giving Dante the chance to provide Anthony with a quick rundown of the dynamics of the team and what to expect. They joke around, make some idle chit chat, laugh about a few stupid memes. When they arrive twenty minutes later, Anthony steps out of the car with a little extra swagger in his step.

Inside, he and Dante quickly find a few of the other Predators in the corner of the room, munching on some hors d’oeuvres. They settle in, chattering about what celebrities they might see at the event. Anthony’s eyes roam, absorbing the elaborate decor, before his eyes land on a familiar face.

“Oh my God, that’s Harper Mitchell,” he whispers. “I’ve had a crush on her for years.”

Ryan raises his eyebrow, then grins at Anthony. “Really? A Frenchman like you?”

“You forget who my friends were in New York. All kinds of country boys over there,” Anthony replies, his mind flashing briefly to the country music Mat would blast in the car on the way to and from the rink. “Barzy’s gonna die when I tell him she was here.”

The group mingles, Filip eventually making his way over to greet his teammates. Anthony does his best to be conversational, staying engaged, but he can’t help but glance across the room in search of long, dark curls and skin-tight jeans. He makes a mental note to text Barzy and tell her how much hotter she looks in person.

Dante elbows Anthony, who is conveniently mid-sip of his drink. “Dude, she’s coming over. Buck up, Romeo.”

Across the room, Harper steels herself, finding comfort in the familiar brown eyes of her longtime friend’s husband, flanked by a posse of who she presumes are teammates. Outside of attending a few games with Erin, she knows next to nothing about hockey, but she’s always been surprised at how good looking Fil’s teammates are.

“Great to see you Fil,” she says, plastering her practiced smile on her face.

“You doing okay?” he whispers into her ear as he leans in for a hug.

The tightness in her throat returns, the heavy lump sitting firmly. Harper swallows thickly, blinking quickly to rid her eyes of the tears that threaten to bubble over. “Yep. All good.”

If Filip sees through the weak lie, he doesn’t say anything, only pulls away and gestures to the group of guys behind him, standing awkwardly as they glance around. “You remember Dante and Ryan.”

“Of course,” she nods, offering each of them a smile. Her eyes connect with Ryan. “Great goal the other night.”

“And this is Beau—Anthony Beauvillier—he’s the new guy.”

“Nice to meet you.” Harper’s eyes lock with two cerulean ones. They’re kind, warm—comforting. “Welcome to Nashville.”

“D’you live in Abberly Foundry?” he blurts it out before he has a chance to stop himself.

Dante sputters out a laugh. “Dude, come on. You can’t just ask her where she lives.”

Anthony blushes, looking at Harper bashfully. “N-no, I’m sorry it came out that way. I mean, I live there too. I think I’ve seen you in the lobby a few times.”

“Hopefully you haven’t seen me after a show; usually those looks are a little rough,” Harper says with a smile.

He doesn’t have the balls to tell her she looks beautiful every time he’s seen her, so he just laughs it off instead. She turns her attention toward Ryan to ask about his kids, relieving Anthony of the pressure of having to carry on the conversation; instead, he takes a breath, a long swig of his drink, and slips himself into chatter with Dante.

Even after she walks away to brush elbows with the other Nashville starlets, blue eyes follow Harper for the rest of the night.

———

She bumps into those same blue eyes in the elevator the next day, and Anthony offers to help carry her groceries to her apartment. Fortunately for his nerves, Harper is trained in small talk, asking him about how he’s liking the city and what he’s explored so far. He feels a little lame that the answer is virtually nothing outside of a handful of restaurants and bars.

Once he’s inside her apartment—a slightly elevated version of his own—Anthony feels like he doesn’t belong there. His eyes dart around, taking in the decor: the little blue bowl by the counter for her keys, the flowers on the coffee table, the framed Sopranos picture next to her fridge.

“Tony’s my dad,” she explains when she notices Anthony amusedly chuckling at it.

“Good dad to have,” he comments, setting the grocery bags in his arms down onto the counter. He stands awkwardly, not sure if he should leave or offer to help.

“Are you a Sopranos fan, too?”

“Of course,” he grins, then puts on his best Italian accent. “What, no fuckin’ ziti?”

Harper’s laugh is loud, and Anthony feels a surge of pride in his chest that he made the Harper Mitchell laugh. “Finally, a man with taste.”

“I have a hard time sleeping after games sometimes,” he explains, helping her to empty her bags, “so I’ve made my way through a lot of shows.”

Her eyes narrow as she begins to put the groceries in their respective homes. The conversation flows naturally to her, comfortable with forcing all kinds of chatter at shows and appearances. “What’s your favorite that you watched recently?”

“The Jinx for sure,” he says. “It’s one of the craziest I’ve ever seen.”

Harper’s jaw drops, and at first, Anthony is afraid he said something wrong. But then her face lights up, and her eyes grow excited. “Oh my god – the hot mic footage!?”

Anthony shakes his head in disbelief, nodding in agreement. “I know. That was a wild way to end it. And to make people wait almost 10 years for another season!?”

“I won’t lie, I’ve been in a huge Bob Durst hyperfixation lately,” she laughs, excited that someone understands her niche interest. “I’ve been listening to the podcast, too.”

Anthony leaves an hour and a half later after a full-blown discussion about Robert Durst and The Jinx, along with her number stored securely in his phone and an open invitation to come over the next time he can’t sleep (“I have a lot of late nights, too,” she’d said). The next day, he sends her a Sopranos meme, not knowing it’s the catalyst that will change the rest of his life.

From there, a flip switches. Just like that, Harper can barely remember what life was like before Anthony arrived—and Anthony can’t fathom a Nashville without Harper. They start spending much of their free time together, which, while limited, is made much more convenient due to the fact that the commute is only a short elevator ride up four floors. The days in between are filled with text messages and voice memos, usually random thoughts sprinkled in with a recap of some movie she’d recommended or silly updates on the road.

Anthony finds himself looking for her name on his phone when he leaves the gym, keeping mental notes of her schedule to know when he should clear his own to make time for her. He brushes off teasing from his teammates, razzing him for being a lovesick fanboy.

From the start, despite both Forsbergs digging on multiple occasions for more information, Harper never could quite put a label on the relationship she and Anthony had. She’d clocked the way his eyes flicked down to the curve of her breast, yet she also was keenly aware of the many opportunities he’d had to make a move and never had. He was cute, but she wasn’t interested in pursuing anything farther—not after Joey. She needed time to heal, to recover, to grow on her own. She’d focus on her career, write an album telling her story. And then she’d find someone.

If she was lucky, maybe Anthony would be waiting there at the end of it all.

———

It’s a few weeks into their newfound routine when Harper declines a request to hang out, informing Anthony that she’s having a girl’s night out at the bars to “celebrate her freedom”.

While disappointed, Anthony is equally eager to have a night to himself to relax. It’s been a whirlwind few weeks adjusting to his new team, new routine, new friends. He gets takeout—Harper’s favorite Italian place just down the block—and, after calling his mom, he fires up the Playstation to lose himself in a game for a while.

A few hours later, he sets down his controller, stretching his legs out with a groan. He glances at the clock on the microwave, his mind briefly flitting to Harper, hoping that she’s drinking and dancing Joey out of her system. It feels a bit strange, he thinks, to be home on a night off and not be with her, but he knows that a night out on the town is therapeutic in a way he could never provide.

Then, his mind starts to wander, thinking back on the times he’s heard people say that catch phrase, The best way to get over someone is to get under somebody else, and he can feel his skin crawl at the thought. His blood simmers low in his stomach, the ugly head of jealousy roaring as he pushes away the images floating into his head.

Of course he’s attracted to Harper—who wouldn’t be? Long, dark hair, her big, brown eyes, a body that’s more fitting for a supermodel than a musical artist; she has it all, and a bubbly, quick wit that would make anyone fall in love with her.

Not that he’s in love with her. Or even has feelings for her. They barely know each other—that would be crazy. Never mind the fact that she’s the only girl he’s really spoken to since he got to Nashville. Hell, he hasn’t even thought about opening the apps to find a girl, even though he’s sure he could pick one up with ease.

He blames it on the season, on the craziness of yet another trade, of prepping for the playoffs. A nagging feeling inside of him knows that’s not entirely it, like part of him is whispering to himself, She’s right there, idiot.

But there's no way a girl like that could ever be interested in him—a measley, dumb jock who hasn’t had a home since New York. Harper Mitchell is far too intelligent, successful, and driven to ever give him a second glance. He doesn’t even have the money factor to give him an edge over who he presumes are his potential competitors.

So, friendly neighbors it is.

He wrestles down the thought as he climbs into bed, though his mind is clouded with thoughts of Harper as he falls asleep.

Anthony blinks awake, taking a few moments to acclimate himself. A quick check confirms he’s in bed and it’s late—only the low light of the moon shines behind the drawn curtains. As consciousness begins to seep back in, he realizes that it’s a disjointed knocking at the door that woke him.

A glance at the clock—2:48am—has a confused grunt emerging from his throat before he’s begrudgingly dragging himself out of bed. Slipping on the pair of sweatpants he’d left in a pile on the floor, Anthony blinks more sleep out of his eyes, navigating his way to the front door.

“Harper?”

“Anthony!” she squeals, launching herself forward. Strong arms are there to catch her, leather skirt and all. “I missed you.”

He stifles a laugh, stumbling back inside his apartment and hoping she didn’t wake any of his neighbors. “Harper, did you just get home?”

It’s only when he pulls away that he notes the large brown paper bag clutched in her hand: McDonald’s. Judging by the large Diet Coke and heavenly scent of fresh fries, along with the glassiness of Harper’s eyes, Anthony deduces in short order that it’s a drunk meal.

“Dave took me to Mickey’s,” she explains.

“Dave?”

“M’Uber driver,” Harper slurs, tugging open the brown bag and fishing out a box of chicken nuggets.

Anthony stifles a chuckle watching her dunk an entire nugget into the honey mustard sauce packet. He also realizes how little he’s clothed—he hadn’t thrown a shirt on in his sleepy march to the door.

Pulled out of his thoughts, Anthony realizes that Harper’s chewing has slowed and that she’s unabashedly staring at his exposed torso. He watches her eyes trail along the lines of his muscle, dipping lower until the view is obscured by the thick hem of his sweatpants.

“You’re hot,” she says, bluntly. Anthony’s laugh quirks up the side of his mouth.

He figures he doesn’t have much to lose, so he says, “So are you.”

Harper flips her hair. “Do you think so?”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

In response, she dunks another nugget into the sauce. “You’re sweet.”

Anthony opens his mouth to reply when Harper’s face contorts. Her eyes widen, and she chucks the nugget out of her hand while darting into the bathroom. The door shuts behind her and he winces when he hears the muffled sound of retching.

After laughing to himself, watching the smallest hope of earning a kiss from Harper Mitchell’s pretty lips drift away, he debates whether he should offer to hold her hair back. Ultimately, he opts to pour a big glass of water, grab the Advil bottle, and find a t-shirt in his dresser drawer.

He knocks softly on the bathroom door, helping her up and leading her back to his bedroom after cleaning her up. Not exactly the way he’d envisioned Harper in his bed, but he supposes beggars can’t be choosers.

It takes a bit of wrangling and no shortage of discomfort on Anthony’s end to get Harper changed into his t-shirt, into bed, and to consume both the Advil and some of the water he poured. By the time he returns from brushing his teeth, she’s out like a light, and Anthony smiles to himself as he slides in next to her.

While it wasn’t what he had in mind initially, Anthony feels her warmth beside him and listens to the steady sound of her breathing. As he drifts off to sleep, he thinks to himself that he doesn’t mind one bit.

———

Harper’s head pounds as soon as she opens her eyes. It takes a moment to register that she has no idea where she is, the bed and walls and curtains all unfamiliar. The space beside her in the bed is warm, but there’s nobody there. Where the fuck is she?

She racks her brain, only snippets of last night flickering into her memory. One thing she does remember are soft, blue eyes and a familiar laugh.

Anthony.

After checking herself to confirm she is, in fact, clothed, Harper sits up, almost forgetting about the splitting headache that’s threatening to ruin her day before it even begins. Massaging her temples, she groans.

“That good, huh?”

The voice startles her, and Harper glances up to see Anthony walking toward her, a steaming mug in his hand that he offers her as he approaches. He opens his palm to reveal two pills, which she accepts gratefully along with the coffee. “Thanks. How… why am I here?”

Anthony laughs. “Oh, you remember nothing, huh?”

“Oh god, what did I do?”

He fills her in on the details, from the mess of honey mustard to wrestling a t-shirt over her head to get her into bed. He does, however, decide to keep her drunken confession of attraction to him to himself. No need to divulge that yet.

“Did we… ?” Her voice is different, hesitant, and Anthony makes a mental note of it. He shakes his head, and the relief on her face nearly makes his heart crack.

Harper laughs uncomfortably, the tension between them suddenly thick with the knowledge that both of them are thinking about the exact same thing: she doesn’t care to admit that the thought has crossed her mind prior to right now. She rubs her face with her hands with a groan. “I’m sorry. This is so embarrassing.”

Anthony waves a hand to brush it off as he says, “It’s nothing. You were… charming.”

Her face contorts into an exaggerated expression of worry. “That sounds horrific. I don’t want to know.”

Harper lugs herself out of bed not long after, once the deep throb inside her skull subsides just slightly—though she’s not confident she’ll make it up the elevator without vomiting. Anthony doesn’t show any sign of discomfort from the social mishap from earlier, offering her an old pair of slides so she doesn’t have to make the trip back to her apartment in her heels. “For your walk of shame.”

She snorts, accepting them gratefully. “Does it count as a walk of shame if we didn’t even sleep together?”

“Well, technically we did sleep together,” Anthony says with a shoulder bump, enjoying the way her cheeks flush when he says it.

“And now I’m leaving,” she says with another laugh, pulling open the door. “Goodbye, Anthony.”

———

Following their pseudo one night stand, Harper is grateful for a 2-day road trip that forces an extra few days to let her embarrassment settle. Even after multiple profuse apologies, she still feels mortified, but Anthony doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, he texts her after landing home to confirm their plans for “Nashville Day”, as Harper had dubbed it—a day, she had said, to show him some of the classics of Music City.

After practice, she meets him eagerly to take him to purchase his very first Nashville cowboy hat, which she makes him wear as she treats him to his first ever Nashville hot chicken sandwich (Anthony tries to blink away the tears in his eyes while simultaneously being incredibly impressed at the ease with which Harper puts away once of the spiciest things he’s ever eaten in his life).

Following a quick ice cream detour—Harper doesn’t tell him that she thinks the ice cream will help his burning tongue—the third part of Nashville Day begins: a bar crawl to an assortment of classic Nashville bars, including the bar she’d first started performing at.

“You ever been line dancing?” she asks, guiding him through the crowd on the sidewalk. The city is bustling, per usual, but Anthony doesn’t notice anyone except Harper and her floral wide-leg jeans.

“I’m from Quebec,” he laughs. “What do you think?”

Harper grins. “Great. Come with me.”

Anthony steels himself as he follows her between two wooden doors. It’s dimly lit, with low lighting shining on the worn, wooden floor–from years worth of dancing. Harper smiles.

“Can you do the Cupid Shuffle?”

“Uh… kind of?”

“It’s like that, just with more country music.”

Putting on a brave face, he nods with far more confidence than he feels. Harper finds two barstools—to let him ‘observe’ first before diving in himself. What Harper doesn’t notice, though, is that Anthony spends more time watching her smile and bounce her knee with the beat.

A small crowd gathers and he’s immediately overwhelmed by the synchronized shuffling, stomping, and tapping, but he tries to study the movements carefully. A few songs pass but he’s nowhere near feeling confident enough to go out on his own—in fact, he’d be quite content sitting on the sidelines for the rest of the night, but of course, Harper has other plans.

“Come on, this is my favorite one!” she squeals, seizing Anthony’s hand and dragging him out into the crowd before he has a chance to protest. Harper selects a spot on the edge of the line, positioning him beside her and jumping right into the moves. Anthony moves partially into panic mode, eyes darting around at the patrons around him moving perfectly in sync. His feet cross over themselves, awkward and out of place, and Harper laughs, exaggerating her movements to try and help him out.

“Stomp, stomp, back, back,” she guides him, taking his hand again to turn him when the group shuffles and changes direction.

Anthony’s got two left feet, but he manages to get a decent enough hold on the moves, following the beat—albeit a bit clumsily. Harper admires his commitment, watching the way his brows knit together in concentration.

Eventually, he gets the hang of it… sort of. Still, he’s relieved when Harper exits the dance floor, nursing his bruised ego while they make their way to get another drink.

“You did good out there for your first time,” she says encouragingly.

Anthony scoffs, biting back a laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“I’ve seen worse,” she replies with a wink. Her eyes trail over to the mechanical bull on the other side of the room, the crowd around it growing. “You want to scratch another first off your list tonight?”

Blue eyes follow her line of sight, widening when they register what she’s referring to. He’s shaking his head before he can get the words out. “Not a chance.”

“You’re scared,” she says teasingly, sticking her tongue out. “I get it. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

The crowd cheers as she hauls herself up on the saddle. Anthony ignores the pulse below his belt at the image of her legs straddling the bull, but he can’t help the throb watching the way her hips loosen and roll with the movements of the bull. It’s not his fault his brain decided to conjure the image of her doing the exact same thing on top of him.

Fortunately for him, he’s adjusted himself and she doesn’t seem to notice the half-hard erection when she rejoins him after getting knocked off—after an impressive 18 seconds.

“I’m really glad I didn’t try to compete with you,” he says, handing back her drink that she’d left with him for safe keeping. “I’d probably end up on IR and get yelled at by my coaches.”

Harper laughs. “I’ll accept that as an excuse. But after your season is done, you’re getting on that bull.”

“Aye aye,” he says with a salute.

The pair fall silent for a few moments, distracted by the next patron getting flung off the bull in an aggressive 3-second ride.

“Why don’t you have a girl, Anthony?” The question comes from out of nowhere.

“What do you mean?”

She takes another sip. “You’re handsome, you’re successful, you’re an athlete, you’re funny. What girl wouldn’t want you?”

Anthony’s heart starts to pound in his chest, his breathing quickening. Keep it cool, man. He shrugs with a nervous chuckle, faffing some string of “yeah, I just–just not really into that right now, while I’m young, you know?”

Harper observes him for a moment, lost in thought as she swirls the lime in her Corona. Anthony lets the moment sit, returning her gaze with a cool and patient smile, his eyes bonded to hers.

When she speaks, Anthony’s expression falters at first. “The good thing about Joey was that he understood the schedule. So much hopping. Meetings, promos, shows, events. My career isn’t going to be second place to a relationship, so better to date someone who understands that lifestyle.”

Anthony nods, following along. He can practically see the flight path of this conversation, wrestling with the slight increase in his pulse as it plays out in front of him.

“‘Course, maybe that didn’t help, either,” she says with a laugh.

It’s Anthony’s turn to leave a long silence, contemplating her curiously. He weighs the words on his tongue, toying around with them before speaking them out loud. “Sounds like you need a friends-with-benefits.”

Harper considers. Friends with benefits gives the company of a partner, but without the attachment. At least, in theory.

“Everyone knows friends with benefits doesn’t work,” she retorts. “Someone always falls for the other.”

“Not if one of them is leaving Nashville this summer.”

Her eyebrows raise. The offer, no longer subtle, is hanging out in the open on the bar lined with scuff marks and water rings from damp bottles.

“You sure you want to be saying that?” An invisible line in the sand, officially crossed.

A smile graces Anthony’s lips, which he then wets with another swig of his beer. “Most girls only want to date me for the celebrity—to say they’re fucking an NHL player.”

The rest of his sentence doesn’t make it out, but it’s obvious what comes next. But not you.

Because Harper gets it. She’s a celebrity herself, has even more fame and accolades than Anthony, is comfortable with the public eye and everything that comes with having a blue checkmark next to her name. There’s no need to skirt over the clout-chasing and wallet-grabbing insecurities.

Plus, they’re neighbors. Convenient for short notice booty calls—and easy to go to bed alone. The sporadic travel schedules are mutual, as are late nights, early mornings, and quick nights at home. And with Anthony’s future up in the air, it practically guaranteed a clean split at the end of it all.

“Is that all?”

Anthony nudges his empty bottle toward the edge of the bar, leaning in closer toward Harper as he does so. The sweet scent of her perfume invades his senses when he brings his lips closer to her ear before whispering, “I really, really want to fuck you.”

She feels a low pulse in her gut at his words, then downs the rest of her beer. No longer able to deny her burgeoning attraction to him, she shrugs. “Alright. Show me what you got then, Tito.”

Anthony grins at the nickname, sitting back and offering his hand. Harper accepts it, and soon enough, they’re climbing into the backseat of an Uber.

They end up at Harper’s, and Anthony doesn’t demonstrate patience when he kisses her as soon as the door closes. His tongue is practiced, and Harper gets the distinct sense that he’s been waiting for this for a while. His hands card through her hair, holding her close like he can’t bear to part with her.

“If we’re going to do this—” she begins, wrestling his shirt over his head, pausing for a moment to admire the god-like physique underneath his clothes. She’s never seen it sober, and she wants to enjoy it. Her eyes trailed over the deep cut of his muscles, words stuck in her throat as she gapes at the sight in front of her.

Anthony’s lips curl up, amused by the way he appears to have rendered her—the bubbly, famously charismatic Harper Mitchell—speechless. His hands are steady pressed against her sides, hot on her skin. He brings her attention away from his body when he asks cheekily, “Do what?”

“I’m serious, Anthony,” she says, more sternly after she wrenches herself away from his tempting lips. “If we’re going to do—this—that’s all it is. I’m not doing the whole ‘Oops I fell in love with you’ shtick, and I need you to be okay with that. Okay?”

The subtle twitch of his jaw is the only sign of any hesitation; a beat passes, and he nods so smoothly that Harper is almost surprised. He doesn’t give her much time to dwell on it, though, when he presses forward to capture her lips again, leaning her against the wall.

“Whatever you say,” he breathes.

There isn’t much talking from there, save for the sound of lips on skin, soft moans, and the rustle of sheets. Anthony’s body slots against hers, skin hot as he moves slowly, deeply. Harper’s fingers press into the dips of his biceps, pleasure radiating.

When they lie beside each other panting later, Harper turns to face him. The best way to describe the way he’s feeling is shock at how explosive, how other worldly it was to be with her. He’ll come to grips with the fact that he actually slept with the country singer he’s had a crush on for years later.

Anthony feels her eyes on him and he lets his hand rest on her side. Her voice is soft when she asks, “What are you thinking about?”

“How this has got to be in the top five greatest decisions of my life.”

“Only top five?” She nudges his leg teasingly.

“I’ll re-evaluate after next time.”

It doesn’t take long for their already practiced routine to become ritual: during periods they’re both home, one rarely spends an evening alone. Sometimes she’ll bring takeout, sometimes he’ll cook and they’ll watch a hockey game or a movie, and sometimes they go straight into the bedroom—particularly after a few extra days apart.

For once, the ‘friends with benefits’ thing works. Things are easy between them, casual, and the base they’d already established for their relationship makes things smooth. Harper’s having fun, and, for the first time since she saw those videos of Joey, she feels happy.

And Anthony? He doesn’t tell her, but he secretly wonders if their arrangement is actually the best decision he’s ever made.

———

The room is quiet, save for the slowing heavy breathing. Harper’s legs feel like jelly and the space between her thighs tingles with a warm radiance that only Anthony can bring.

“What happened with Joey?”

Harper casts him a sideways glance, sheet rustling with the movement. Moonlight streams in through the half-parted curtains of Anthony’s bedroom. It’s always funny to see the same view that she has from her own apartment, but in an entirely different space. “I don’t want to do pillow talk, Anthony.”

He pauses for a moment, smiling to himself. “Okay,” he says, slipping out from underneath the sheet; Harper’s eyes instinctively move to the generous, shapely curve of his ass. The cool, purple light of the moon illuminates the shape and lines of his back muscles as he leans down to pull on his boxers, then his sweatpants, then his Alo t-shirt. Strolling out of the open bedroom door, Harper hears his feet padding down the hallway rug, followed by the sound of a cabinet, a clink of glass, and finally, the sound of a cup being filled with liquid.

Moments later, Anthony saunters back into the room, climbing back onto the bed. He hands her a stemless glass of wine, then grabs the remote from the bedside table and clicks on the television mounted across the room.

“Now it’s just two friends hanging out.”

Harper can’t help the short, exhaled laugh that slips out despite the impact of the message. She blinks, letting her eyes flick down to the glass. The red wine sloshes inside, its tart scent drifting into her nose. She takes a sip.

“I thought we were happy,” she says after a while. Her voice is quiet, reflective, shaking just the slightest bit. Anthony sits patiently and listens. “We were talking about moving in together.”

The glow from the television lights up the side of Harper’s face, cast down as she tells her story. Anthony watches her, his heart lurching at the expression on her face. But he needs to know. Needs to know what he’s working with, what his barrier to being with her—really being with her—looks like.

“He checked in at night when we were apart, FaceTimes a lot of the time too, so it honestly wasn’t anywhere on my radar; I genuinely had no idea he was sneaking around.. I thought the pictures were photoshopped—just something someone was making up on the internet for drama.” She pauses. “But then I saw the videos.”

Anthony’s mouth falls open. “There were videos?”

“Multiple,” she says, a soft, sad smile on her face as she glances over to him. His heart fractures.

“I’m sorry,” he says dumbly. “That’s awful. What did you do?”

“I’m not sure what it was like in Chicago, but it blew up here. There was no way he didn’t know that I knew. So I packed up his shit, left it on the porch of his house, and that was it. I didn’t give him the chance to explain himself or apologize.”

Shit. “Still… that’s a lot to have to deal with. You need closure.”

“I deserve better than that,” Harper says matter-of-factly. “And anyone who isn’t going to give me that doesn’t deserve my time. No closure necessary.”

Anthony nods, struck with the sheer force of her strong persona. He hesitates, the words sitting in his mouth for a few moments as he debates if he should speak them out. But he can’t miss the opportunity—not when this is the closest he’s come to uncovering the truth. “Is that why you won’t do a relationship?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Not every partner you have is going to be like that, you know,” he offers.

Harper shakes her head, taking a sip of the wine. “I’m not ready to take that risk yet.”

———

It isn’t until the end of April that Harper realizes the enormous space Anthony had carved out for himself in her life. She’s sitting on his mattress, legs crossed with an oversized Islanders sweatshirt on, playing him a portion of a demo she’d recorded earlier that day. His suitcase is out, and he’s in the process of packing for an extended trip to Vancouver—at least, longer than he’d been away since they started spending time together.

“A whole week?” she pouted.

“It’s only five days,” he laughs, folding a hoodie and placing it into the bag. He glances at her, liking the sight of her on his bed and in his clothes. The sleeves of the blue sweatshirt are baggy, rolled over her wrists, and the hem at the bottom swims over her thighs. Then he adds, “You look good in that.”

“I look good in everything,” she says with a cheeky wink.

“You do,” he agrees. “And nothing, too.”

A pulse awakens between Harper’s thighs at the heat in his eyes when he says it, gone with a blink when he returns to the closet to pull out more clothes.

“I don’t know how to be here alone anymore!” she whines.

Anthony snorts before tossing a few pairs of rolled up socks into his bag. “Are you sure it’s not just because you start to get cranky when you go a few days without dick?”

Scoffing, Harper rolls her eyes. “I can get plenty of dick, if I want it. I don’t need you for that.”

If her sharp words hurt him, he doesn’t show it, instead sending a smirk in her direction. He zips up his suitcase, setting it on the floor before turning back to her. Blue eyes lock with hers as he slides a knee onto the mattress, then the other, slinking his way toward her until his legs are straddling hers, his lips mere inches from her own. Harper feels a flutter in her heart that mimics the one between her legs, heat flooding through her at the proximity of his body. “You don’t need me, but you sure do want me.”

Just like that, she’s putty beneath him, melting as soon as his plush lips press against hers. Heat radiates through her system as the kiss intensifies, allowing his tongue to slip into her mouth. Anthony’s fingers lace with hers and pin her hands against the mattress, bracketing her face with his arms.

Abruptly, he pulls away from her, his cheeks flushed. Another smug smile curls up on his face, observing the hitch in her throat and the glassiness of her eyes.

“You sure you can get that somewhere else?”

———

Eliminated in the first round, the Predators’ playoff run isn’t nearly as deep as Anthony hoped it’d be. Not just for the obvious—chasing his dream of winning the Stanley Cup, but because the end of the season means his inevitable departure from Nashville, and, ultimately, Harper.

As disappointing as the loss is, hearing the deafening silence of Predators fans at Bridgestone Arena, he’s grateful for the lack of travel home afterwards. He feels strange packing up his things after the game, seeing the disappointment and frustration running deep in the locker room, not knowing if he’ll be back in this place come October to help them take another run at it.

Harper arrives to his apartment not long after he does, wordlessly joining him in the shower he stepped into. Their bodies blend into one under the warm water, cascading over their joined form as she allows Anthony to work out his conflicting feelings in the comfort of her arms. It’s quiet, sensual; his lips seek out peace by marking up the smooth skin of her neck and collarbones while he presses his hips into hers, following a steady and slow rhythm until they’re both reaching their climax in the steam-filled room.

She stays over that night, a rare but not unheard of occurrence as their relationship has progressed. After another round of silent, sinful therapy, Anthony is plagued by his typical post-game insomnia, heightened by the disappointment of his loss and the uncertainty of his future. He watches Harper sleep, soaking in each breath, the rise and fall of her chest, the glow of her skin underneath the moonlight. Her air-dried hair is wavy, a little bit of frizz, and even in the dark, the sparse freckles on her nose stand out against her tawny skin.

It’s almost 2:30am by the time he realizes he’s been gazing at her for over an hour. He’s a little bit embarrassed, quickly blinking away even though she’s been dead to the world ever since he made her come for the third time that night. It was too easy to trail his eyes over the lines of her face, the fullness of her lips, drowning out the stressors of the outside world with Harper’s beauty.

His eyes grow heavy, lost in thought, amused at himself for literally watching her sleep. He hadn’t even thought about hockey.

Anthony’s eyes widen. He hadn’t thought about hockey on the last night of his season, with no contract in place for his next, after an abysmal performance in what was supposed to be a promising postseason. Instead, he’s being a lovesick puppy staring at a girl who isn’t his.

And all at once, it hits him. He’s in love with Harper.

And he’s leaving Nashville. Doesn’t know if he’ll be back. And he promised her he wouldn’t catch feelings. Practically guaranteed it.

His heart thuds in his chest as the realization sets in. Despite his fear and uncertainty about the enormous wrench it just put into his… well, life, he’s suddenly wondering how long he’d lived with this feeling for Harper and didn’t know it. He’s never been so aware of the beating of his heart in his chest, memorizing the feel of it.

Harper stirs beside him, as if her subconscious has finally realized he’s been staring at her for way too long. He turns his head and closes his eyes, feigning sleep, unsure if she’s awake or just shifting. Sleep closes in on him, not claiming him completely before he feels a gentle press of lips against his sleeping cheek.

———

In the morning, his scent is the first thing that Harper registers, head resting heavily on Anthony’s bicep. His leg is pressed against hers, and a subtle adjustment of her hips confirms that neither of them bothered to put clothes on last night. He’s warm, solid against her body, and the steadiness of his deep breathing is calming.

She wonders how late he stayed awake. He’d thoroughly exhausted her—the space between her legs aches deliciously when she stretches—and the thought flits through her mind that last night was probably one of the last times she’d be with him for awhile. Maybe ever.

So she savors it. Instead of leaving the way she always has, the way she knows she should, she snuggles into his warmth, soaking it in one last time.

When Anthony wakes, Harper is practically wrapped around him, nuzzled underneath his chin. His heart hammers in his chest as his revelation from the night before sinks in.

He’s in love with Harper Mitchell. And she’s naked in his bed.

Anthony’s mind rolls, wondering if he should tell her. And if he should, what should he say—and when? He’s running out of time, his time in Nashville slipping away faster than he’s ready to accept.

By the time Harper wakes, he’s made the executive decision to wait. Not yet.

She stays for a plate of scrambled eggs and one more round against the counter when a comforting hug gets quickly heated. Anthony stares at the door long after she leaves, words echoing in his head in a hopeless jumble.

It isn’t until the next day when he’s packing up his bedroom and finds a small, Harper-sized sock that he makes the split decision. He sends a quick text letting her know he’s on his way, and her expression is concerned when she answers the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Can I come in?”

She steps aside to let him in the door, following him anxiously into the kitchen where he turns to face her. “I’ve been thinking.”

Her arms cross and an amused expression floats over her face. “Oh yeah?”

“Reflecting,” he corrects. “On my time in Nashville, now that it’s…”

The words trail off, but Harper knows what’s next. Over.

“It’s been short, but I realized I dreaded the end of the season not because of getting eliminated, but because it meant I’d be leaving you.”

The words hang heavy between them. He sighs and speaks again. “You asked me why I don’t have a girl, and the truth is that I didn’t know what I wanted until I woke up with you in my bed.”

Another beat passes and he waits for the message to hit. Then he confesses, “You’re what I want, Harper.”

“Anthony,” she says, like a warning. He can hear the way her voice trembles, and he can feel the lift in his heart. “Don’t do this.”

He ignores her, ignores the way her body stiffens. If he can just get through to her, she’ll see. He’s sure of it.

“You said it yourself—you deserve better than how Joey treated you. You know that I can and will treat you better. Exactly how you deserve.”

“You can’t say that.”

“Why not?” he challenges. “I know you feel the same.”

Harper exhales harshly, her hands on her hips. For a second, Anthony is scared of her and the fire in her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” she finally says. Joey flashes through her mind, glimpses of the video of him kissing another girl, of the way it felt like the world had stopped when she saw it. The lump in her throat is heavy, and she shoves away any flitter of hope that burns quietly in her chest. She can’t—cannot—allow that to happen again.

“Does it matter how I feel?”

Harper’s eyes shoot up to Anthony’s, the usual cerulean swimming with a deeper cornflower shade. She can’t place the emotion behind it. Concern? Hurt? Something else?

“I care how you feel,” she says, “but no matter how you feel, it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want that. I can’t do it right now.”

“That’s a crock of shit, and you know it. We’ve basically been dating this entire time.”

Harper shakes her head. “Your definition of dating must be very different from mine.”

“Sleepovers, movie nights, coffee dates, constant texting,” he lists, counting them off on his fingers. “That doesn’t sound like dating to you?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Not fair? What’s not fair is you not even giving me a chance when you know I’m right!”

“You knew that’s all this was!” Harper exclaims, her heartbeat racing. “You agreed to that before any of this started, Anthony.”

Anthony bristles, his jaw clenching. His breath quickens and anger bubbles in the pit of his stomach—he can hear the resistance in her voice. Why won’t she admit she feels the same? He knows she does.

But if she isn’t going to, or doesn’t want to, then there’s no use in trying. And he can’t keep falling harder for her—not if she isn’t going to reciprocate.

“Then maybe we should quit while we’re ahead.”

Something flashes in Harper’s eyes, so fast he barely catches it before it’s gone and replaced by cold. Her back stiffens and she draws herself up taller. “Maybe we should.”

The silence in the room is heavy and uncomfortable. Anthony and Harper stare at each other, unspoken words swirling in the air between them. There’s so much left to say, so many things left unsaid, but Anthony’s head is too clouded with defeat and frustration.

So, he shrugs, bids an uncomfortable goodbye, and takes his leave of her apartment. Harper stands in silence, wondering how, after all the care she took to protect herself after Joey, she feels the same ache in her heart as the day he’d left.

———

The next day, Harper has a songwriting session with Zoey, who, fortunately for her, comes prepared with three half-written songs. They’re easier, take a little less brain power, and she’s grateful for a friend who came prepared. Waking up was easy, but remembering her and Anthony’s fight had been tough.

Those three songs turn into a warmup, and three hours later, Harper emerges from a songwriting haze, almost half an album deep. There’s work to do, but she’s pleased with what they came up with, her mind already swimming with other ideas that she’s sure she’ll be recording half-completed voice memos with for the rest of the night.

She stays to chat with Zoey for a little while, catching up on the latest in each other’s lives and making plans for coffee soon. Harper packs up her things, murmuring a goodbye with her head swimming.

“Who is he?”

Trannie’s voice comes from behind her, and Harper pauses, her keys jingling in her hand. She turns. “Who is who?”

“The guy in those songs.”

“What are you talking about? Zo, it was Joey,” she says.

“Not all of it. There’s someone else in there.”

Anthony’s eyes float through her mind, and although she can lie to Zoey, she can’t lie to herself.

Harper flies home, rushing up the elevator and pounding on Anthony’s door. She stands impatiently, heart thumping in her chest, listening for the familiar sound of his feet on the tiled floor of the kitchen.

The sound doesn’t come, though, and Harper waits by the door until a building manager comes by and informs her that the resident of unit 1293 turned in his keys earlier that day. Vaguely aware of offering a short ‘thank you’, Harper returns to her own apartment in shock.

Anthony is gone.

And she’s only just realized that she’s in love with him.

Twenty four hours later, she’s on a plane. Her heart beats in her throat as she watches it touchdown. Bienvenue a Montreal flashes on the screen outside the jet bridge. Harper finds the address she bribed Filip for in her phone, pulling up her Lyft app.

Once she’s in the vehicle, she blows out a breath and loses herself in thought. The Montreal skyline comes into view outside the window, and she’s instantly surrounded by everything Anthony. The trees, the buildings, the streets—she wonders how many of them he’s seen, been to. She thinks about going to those places with him.

When the red Nissan pulls up to the house, Harper thanks her driver and steps out. Her hands shake, but she pushes through, clutching the handle of her small duffle bag until she’s knocking at the door.

Anthony’s face is nothing but shock when he opens the door. “Harper?”

“Anthony,” she says, breathless. She’s frozen in place, staring at him, like she forgot what she came there for. His eyes, she notices, are the same shade of cool, cornflowery blue as that day he’d left. It makes her heart ache.

“What are you doing here?” His words pull her out of her thoughts and she briefly wonders how long she’d been staring at him in silence.

“I couldn’t—I couldn’t let you leave like that. After everything we—I just couldn’t.”

He sighs, stepping outside and closing the door behind him. “You made it clear how you feel, Harper. You didn’t need to come all this way to say it again.”

“No, Anthony,” she says, watching his expression shift when she says it. “I was wrong. I was scared. I am scared.”

“Of what?”

Harper shifts on her feet, the lump in her throat tightening. Anthony’s gaze is firm and unwavering. “Of getting hurt again. Of Joey happening all over again. Of you leaving.”

It clicks for him, then, the worry in her eyes. “I’m not Joey, Harper. I think you know that. I can’t promise that everything will be perfect always, but I’m willing to give it my best shot because I think you’re worth it.”

“What if you decide I’m not worth it anymore?”

Anthony takes her hand in his, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “Harper, you are kind, funny, smart, talented, and beautiful. Anyone who doesn't see that isn’t worth your time anymore. Myself included.”

She doesn’t reply. It’s almost overwhelming, the things he says to her; she sees kind things about her written in articles and posted online, but it sounds entirely different coming from his mouth. He continues, “That’s what I was trying to tell you the other day. You are worth it. And I’d like to prove it to you, if you let me.”

Their eyes meet, bodies unconsciously floating together. Anthony stays quiet, gauging her face for a reaction. The fear is still there, looming over her in a silent and constant threat, but blue eyes pierce through the veil and she focuses hard on them to push the rest away.

Then, she smiles. “Kiss me, you idiot.”

#anthony beauvillier fic #anthony beauvillier x oc #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine

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mschievousx · 4 months

Text

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc, anthony bridgerton x ofc (platonic)

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she love her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

prologue

she stirred awake with a grumble, as she does most days—which is immediately replaced with a grin after ten minutes of simply opening her eyes and staring at the ceiling. another day, another number of various things she can do. and so, she wasted no time to freshen herself up.

as she stepped out on the streets of grosvenor square, her immediate touch brought radiance to the place. no, she was not a smiling fool nor was she greeting everyone. it was not that type of radiance. she hated that. yet, one can argue the opposite when she finally arrived at the bridgerton's house.

"'tis a fine day, is it not?"

"raine!"

the girl jumped up, her book forgotten as she put it on the couch and hugged the girl who's standing with open arms under the arch to their drawing room.

"oh, how i have missed you, eloise!"

"why do you both act like you were not together the entirety of yesterday?" colin voiced out as he read the newspaper, not bothering with any greetings. they have all long passed that. eloise sent a glare to her brother just as their mother arrived.

"loraine, darling!" she took the young lady's cheeks in delight, "how are you and your father?"

she smiled warmly at that. violet took it to herself to act as her mother-figure, given that their families were closely tied, "never been better, lady bridgerton."

the older woman gave her a look at the use of her title before leading her to a couch near the fireplace.

"are you well-prepared for tomorrow's start of the season?"

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

"are you well-prepared for tomorrow's start of the season?

violet smiled as she asked her second-eldest daughter. eloise is well-prepared, she knew, in terms of physical and material aspects. internally, however, her daughter was having a fit, both of nervousness and fury.

"mama, i am very much prepared, but you should know that i am calling for all miracles right now so that i cannot attend tomorrow."

raine laughed, saying it's a good thing she's much prepared at the very least. her friend turned to her with a look of betrayal.

"you will be this next year, and i thought we're gonna be spinsters together!"

"no, that was penelope." she said as she stood up and dusted her dress, "when my season comes, i would very much like to marry, especially to that man dabbling on his pad."

she gestured with a head tilt to the man sitting near colin. they all need not turn to know who she was referring to as eloise rolled her eyes. raine chuckled at her reaction before another voice graced the room. well, not exactly grace.

"ugh, it's too early to deal with you."

violet turned to her eldest and immediately closed her eyes with a sigh before giving him a pointed look.

"anthony, it's already nine, and don't be rude."

the young lady turned to the source of the voice and grinned in an instant, clasping both her hands together in chest level sweetly, "i have missed you so much, anthony!"

"i don't share the sentiment." he replied with nonchalance as he took a biscuit and sat by his younger brothers.

"anthony will be marrying this season."

she paused for a moment, as if processing, before she broke out with laughter as she heard the words marry and anthony in the same sentence, but noticing the silence around her, she turned back to violet, "no... seriously?"

"why does it come as a surprise to everyone?" the man in question grumbled. raine finds herself nearing the eldest.

"but why the sudden change?"

anthony sighed as he swallowed the biscuit on his hand, "it probably has not come to your little mind that this family needs a viscountess. a viscountess is a lady that—"

"shush," he's lucky that's the only thing he got from her, given that she is to become a viscountess herself next year and he was mansplaining. she looked up in glee and clasped her hands again with true joy this time, "oh, i'm going to have so much fun this season!"

violet thinks that anthony and raine is a great pair and she would have been pushing for it already, had raine not been in love with benedict.

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

"as much as i love you, lady bridgerton, i do not want to talk about anything with relation to my societal season and marriages."

kate and anthony entered the room, just in time for the debutante's antics. the matriarch sighed at the apparent lack of interest from the girl, while the latter broke into the widest grin.

"i would, however, welcome the conversation if i'm paired with benedict."

she turned to her other side where lies the subject, both of the topic and her affections, "speaking of which, will you marry me now, ben?"

the second-eldest son did not open his eyes from the sleepless nap he was having as a boyish smile made its way to his lips, "not a chance."

"ah, what a shame." she smiled at the sight of him before turning back to his mother with a clap, "well, there's always tomorrow."

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x oc #anthony bridgerton x oc #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict is a fox

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yamslander · 2 years

Text

synopsis: lianne and anthony are on a date. she notices little things about him. they can be ignored, right?

“You sure, Lianne?” Marcel asks. I get it. It wasn’t like me to fall for a guy so fast. Or at all, really. But he was different! Anthony was funny, he was quick-witted; what else could I ask for?

“Yes, I’m sure. Don’t act as if you’re my father,” I snap. He narrows his eyes and brushes a stray blond strand behind his ear. He’s not mad though.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Marcel’s shoulder brushed against mine harshly as he pushed past me. I scoff. What’s his problem? Anthony was as good a guy as anyone else. He’s not jealous, is he? No. Definitely not.

I pack my bag, sorting through the textbooks and folders. Physics, math, history. Check, check, check.

“Hey, Lianne!” Anthony!

“Hi, Anthony,” I blush. Blush? Maybe Marcel should be worried.

“You still on for tonight?” he asks. My eyes are surely wide and desperate.

“Uh-huh,” I say. It’s not the witty, sharp response I would usually give to anyone else; this is Anthony I’m speaking to.

Anthony nods, taking my face in his hands. “You know, you’re a hell of a lot prettier when you aren’t snarking about god knows what.” His smirk makes my face burn more than the embarrassment does. If Marcel…If anyone did this to me…I’d slap them, cuss them out. So many things.

But I can’t even think of that. All I can think about is the piercing stare his brown eyes are giving me, or the way his lips are ghosting over mine. I’m sure my eyes look as big as saucers. His nose finally touches mine and he laughs, pulling away. Anthony taps my red cheek, a gesture I would typically find annoying.

“See ya then, Linnie!” He struts off to talk to Cain, and I touch my cheek. It’s hot. Am I sweating? This is crazy; he didn’t even kiss me! No, no, no. I’m supposed to be put together! Why does he make me feel this way?

Suddenly I feel a presence behind me, and I see a tuft of golden hair bounce silently behind a corner. I narrow my eyes. Was she watching all of that? I try not to think about it as I sling my bag over my shoulder and start walking out.

I seem to settle into my usual self as I walk home. My blazer catches on the door as I walk in, and I yell, slamming the wood and shocking the hinges.

There’s familiarity in my ill temperament. This is how I act. This is how I am. Not a dumb, lovey, wistful little girl with a crush on a handsome boy. I heave my bag on the ground. I have to get ready.

With a breath, I don the tightest leggings I have and a cute lace tank. It’s not my normal athletic getup, and I never have been one for style, but I think it looks pretty good. I hope it impresses him.

I snatch a mascara tube, full from underuse, and swipe the stuff all over my lashes. It makes them feel chunky and heavy, but they look fuller. Anthony likes girls with long lashes. As much as I hate to admit it, Honey has long lashes. She’s pretty in that regard, I suppose.

Heading out the door, I wait in the early November chill for fifteen minutes. Then I see him, hands in his pockets, strutting down the street. He’s in sweats and a well-loved t-shirt. We’re only going on a walk, but I at least put some effort into my attire.

Don’t worry! I tell myself. It’s Anthony, that doesn’t matter!

But what does matter is when we reach a tiny cafe where the only worker is a young lady who looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks. Anthony orders his drink, pays, and waits for me to order mine.

I dont mind paying for my own drink; it’s only our first date anyways. So I tell her my order: small black coffee, as hot as she can get it. She nods, I’m far more polite than Anthony.

As she makes Anthony’s drink and sits it on the counter while calling his name, he picks up the cup and sips. I’m grateful he has the basic decency to swallow before making a horrible retching noise.

“This is disgusting!” he yells, and the lady stops in her tracks. “How the hell did you mess it up this bad?” The woman behind the counter is on the brink of tears as she explains herself. Er, tries to explain herself. Anthony isn’t having any of it.

“No! I don’t care about your excuses. Linnie! We’re leaving, c’mon.” He’s dragging me out by the shirt sleeve while I hear ‘It was her drink, not yours, I’m sorry’ and it hits me. My drink, a simple black coffee, would surely be made first over an intricate latte with more additions than I could count on my hands.

Anthony slams the cup on the ground with a grunt and the steaming liquid splashes all over the sidewalk. “That bitch,” he says, and he continues to insult her with far more colorful language. “A barista that can’t even make a drink.”

I grit my teeth. Anyone with half a brain would piece together that it was my order and not his. Was he even paying attention? Did he even know what I ordered?

We circle back to my house. Anthony leans in and kissed my cheek. But I’m not blushing anymore. I think I know what Marcel meant.

“C’mon, where’s my flustered little Linnie?” I fake a smile and a giggle. I want him gone. He’s disgusting. “Atta girl,” he purrs.

He turns with a wave, sauntering down the sidewalk. I grip the doorknob.

My shirt gets stuck on the door. I yell. I slam the door into place.

#i definitely did NOT do lianne justice in this btw #her character is so so so complex and my writing is rusty #also. bring mean to a customer service worker #🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩#*being #this is about lianne’s toxic relationship w/ anthony #they are NOT a good match #anyways… character tag time #oc lianne #oc anthony #oc marcel #marcel carried in this ngl 💪#lianne definitely has some issues. she needs to get those worked out before getting in a relationship lmao #for some bg: lianne is normally mean snarky etc #but anthony is her first ‘love’ and therefore she feels overwhelmed and trapped by him #he acts like he’s madly in love with her…and lianne is so confused by her feelings…#she then cannot find it in herself to leave him #etc etc #i’ll expand on this more later #sorry for the millions of tags lol!!!

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skyrigel · 3 months

Text

Obsessed with you 11

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Benedict bridgerton x afab! reader

Synopsis: Ton's most eligible bachelor makes a move, oh dear ! An offer by the gentleman.

Warning: no description of reader, reader's last name is Rose for convenience ( used only twice ) internal conflict, mutual pinning but it's secret on reader's part, Benedict being an absolute tease, touchy Benedict, fluff and humour, reader's mother has some issues, resentment feelings for love, alcoholism ( blink and you miss it ) please read it !! ( No Polin, kathony in this chapter)

Dearest gentle readers,

This author believes desire to be a spectrum, and while longing, passion, lust and love are often known, i would ask, ' have you ever seen obsession ? ' it is rather very tempting.

It is not I, but the moon that basked in the sky last night who whispered, and i simply convey. There's been an offer made by the gentleman. Tempting, is it not ?

The next morning...

" How was your evening ? "

You coughed, grasping your throat as Mrs. Turner immediately patted your back, helping you with water.

Your mother's gaze was usually unfocused and clouded but even so, it was terrifying enough when she narrowed them at you.

" Fine." You said, feeling your chest burn, " It was very pleasant."

" That's amazing dearest." She turned back to her plate, untouched as it was, she hardly ate sometimes, you looked away, blinking.

" Ma'am, shall we expect any caller ? " Mrs. Turner asked your mother, but the question was solely directed to you.

" Indeed." Mama drank, her third glass of wine," she's very good girl." She added, raising her empty glass, her eyes stinging with moisteness.

" She is." Mrs. Turner smiled, you dropped your gaze back to your breakfast, staring hard. Oh god, what have you done ?

While waiting for a caller...

If Mrs. Turner noticed your panic, she said nothing and darkest part of you wondered if she was enjoying it actually.

" Your mother will be so disappointed if you have no caller today." Mary sighed, you winced internally, feeling sudden urge to just run and run until everything inside you crumbled and withered away.

" C'mon ! " Mary moaned, nudging you on your arm, "you're scaring me like that, say something."

" I don't know." You turned to her, pulling a straight face " suggest something lady Mariam." Mary groaned, you giggled, remembering how your sister used to, in every pain, in every nightmare.

Gissele joked all the times, her sharp wits and biting humour was something you always looked up at, you always wanted to be her because nothing touched her, she never cried, never baffled, her laughter still echoed sometimes in your head. But when night came and so did fear and darkness, on one such you tip tooed to her room, frozen at the soft sobs that were muffled by the pillow.

The jokes weren't funny anymore.

" Oh i wish—" whatever Mary wished was drowned by Mrs. Turner who entered the room with a undignified frown directed to you both , her eyes sharpening with unspoken disdain. Mary sat up straighter, abandoning her usual hunching and slouching.

" You have a caller miss." Mrs. Turner annouced, " Mr. Benedict bridgerton." She said, her mouth bitter with loathing.

You half registered her resentment before a shrilly strangled noise escaped your throat, mind swirling with last night memories that you were still not accepting to be true, you told Mary everything except the offer from the gentleman, or perhaps it wasn't a offer at all. A demand.

" Oh no." Mary gasped, you weren't sure if you had nodded or said anything but Mrs. Turner left, her mouth clasped close, brow knitted.

" What should I do ? " You bited your lip, panic settling, you remembered too well how bolting Benedict made you feel, the feel of his lips pressed against your skin. It was too endearing, a feeling that was too close to flying, soaring high but also to falling, down and down till there's nothing holding you but gravity, Benedict made you skip your heartbeats then become it's very muse.

" Be yourself. Didn't you say that to me ? "

Mary deadpanned, sensing your dread, she tried again,

" We can still run away, the window's open—" Mary stood upright, turning towards the fireplace when Benedict came. He was holding flowers, almost all kinds, his eyes twinkled as he raked his gaze upon you, smiling.

" Good morning, miss Rose." He bowed, at first to you, handling your flowers and you were gone the moment his fingers brushed against you, but it was then you realised there were two bouquets.

" Lady Mariam Turner." Benedict's smile grew wicked, you were sure to heard Mary mumbling something very blasphemous before she turned around, her face red.

" A very good morning, Mr. Bridgerton." She bowed, her eyes shut. You were paralyzed, feeling your skin still buzzing.

" C'mon, don't stand too much ladies, you might get tired." He purred, clapping his hand as he sat down next to you the couch, Mary and you shared a look before you sat back, she followed on the other one.

" Why did you come ? " You said, feeling your throat getting rigid, considering how Mary sighed, it was the worst possible thing to say to your caller, it didn't matter.

" Well, I was going to meet you mother and ask for your hand in marriage today but since she's sick and confined to her chambers, I shall do it tomorrow." You gaped at him, no matter how much you convinced yourself that it was just a dream, in no hell it could be now, his sincere eyes were most dazzling and despite the smirk that lit up his whole face, there was no ounce of humour.

" That's.." you shaked your head, don't think about his mouth, stop, stop, stop—

" Very kind." Mary was equally baffled, but you knew what a tease she would be to you later, if only you survived now.

" Thankyou lady Turner." Benedict smiled to her, bowing again, his teeths showing and Mary's ear blazed and she looked away, chortling under her breath.

" I am sorry about yesterday." You weren't sure how you could offended him but it didn't matter, you would be doomed if anyone knew of the lunacy you pulled last night.

Benedict deepened his gaze but said nothing, he slowly descended to your collarbone and heat crept up your spine. You shifted back, baffled at the tightening in your guts.

" I shall leave you to talking." Mary stood up, motioning towards the shelves and shelves of books.

" You don't read." You hissed at her, she sticked out her tongue tip and was gone, sparing few glances in between.

" I like her." Benedict said, you noticed that he was much closer. It surely wasn't a trick of your mind.

" Why are you doing this ? " You asked him, because you would be damned if it were another of his flirtings, another way to entertain himself. A frown crossed his jolly face and it didn't look like it belonged there.

" Forgive me if I had not made that clear." He said, his eyes softened when he looked at you, " I want to marry you." Oh.

No, no, you told yourself, didn't what Mrs. Turner said, he liked them of class, he has no honour when it comes to corrupt young ladies—

" You don't even know me." You said, voice small and frail.

" As much as I know you, you are kind, gentle and affectionate. Your beauty however is yet another muse of mine, i tried so hard, to trap you in canvas and colours but I couldn't do any justice, for you were simply ethereal in your own orbit. " He said, " but I would like to know all of you, every layer, every facade...you are the most extraordinary person i have ever met."

You wouldn't believe him, no matter how bright his eyes shine and how true every word feels, no, you wouldn't make the mistake Gissele made. Words, stupid words.

" We danced, only one time."

" It was enough." He reached out and kept his hand over yours, it was then your realised how badly your hands were trembling.

You didn't pull away, you knew how you would break down if you had to. You held onto him, not that you trusted him, no.

" Listen love, " love, He said it so softly, you were so doomed, " The moment our eyes locked I knew you had bewitched me, everything inside me longed for you...and..I knew it's silly but I thought i would die if I didn't see you again and when I did, I knew there was no life worth living it it's not with you."

" Those are just words." You looked away, instead focusing your eyes on Mary on the other end of the room, pretending to read a book, it was upside down.

" Yes, they are." He agreed, " so that's why I am here to make them actions, I fancy you so much that it sometimes scares—"

" Then don't, love shouldn't be scary." You remembered all those letters in Gissele's room, talking about love this, love that, ending with love you's, but what then ?

Benedict chuckled, like you weren't bashing him. he squeezed your hand gently. His fingers sliding through the dips of your knuckles, like moulded for each other. Stop.

" Love's not scary, it can be when you think about losing them, I was last night when I thought you wouldn't show up. That I would never see you again...no, I was terrified."

" You knew." You turned to him, he was practically hopping as he caught your gaze, every desire crawling out to you, screaming your name.

" I did." He confirmed, you raised your brow in question, " I would recognise you anywhere." He said simply and just like that you believed him.

You felt your face warming, heat shooting up in flames, Benedict seemed amused as his other hand, the one not making stars on your wrist came to caress your cheek. His lips parted when he felt your warmness, then he smiled, a knowing one.

" What if I nothing that you have assumed me to be ? " You weren't sure why you asked him that, perhaps it was the last letter you burnt before your elder sister could read it.

...Gis, this is not what we agreed on, this is not you, not the Gissele i knew. Please stop claiming it to be mine, we didn't even go that further, stop spreading these sour rumours that could filth my name...

" I adore all of you, every bit and every mole, i don't think there's any choice for me, it's just... there's no proof but you just know...I knew it, it's you, miss Rose. It was always going to be you."

You nodded, not sure if you could speak anything, feeling your heart thud louder and louder with each word that he spoke, every curve of his mouth and you could slowly feel time stoping.

That was the moment Mrs. Turner took to came, you yanked your hand back but Benedict wasn't much interested and his whine was quite visible.

" Mr. Bridgerton, Would you like lemon cakes, our cook is quite famous for it ? " Benedict looked at the refreshments that was left untouched except the biscuit that Mary nicked while on her way to 'reading' books upside down.

" As much I am very fond of it, i would have to say no. Me and miss Rose fancied a walk around the gardens."

Mrs. Turner looked accusingly at you and you shrugged, Benedict ignored all of that.

" Pleasant weather, is it not ? "

Mrs. Turner perched her lips, smiling that was mere curtsy. Oh god, what are you Benedict bridgerton ? Why are you so obsessed with me ?

By the secret gardens, with Mr. Bridgerton...

" Lady Mariam, alright ? " Benedict turned back to Mary who walked few steps behind you and him.

" Yes my Mr. Bridgerton." She said, slowing even more, she wasn't even trying to be good chaperone. Benedict praised her for it.

" That's my hand." You grasped your skirt before Benedict could hold it, for god sake, people were watching.

" Oops." Benedict apologised, not being sorry at all, his smile widening. You kept your eyes ahead.

" So would you say yes when I will propose ? " Benedict asked this, indirectly for the third time since the walk, he was rather good with words, he was also good at painting as much as you had heard and— stop, stop, stop.

" Haven't you already proposed ? " You stopped, he did too, cocking his head sideways.

" Yes indeed I have and I meant it." He admitted, " I was talking about the one where I am on my knees."

You weren't going to think about that, absolutely not, in no scandalous way. His thighs would look very erotic. Shit.

"No."

" You're lying." He scoffed. Yes you were, not that securing a proposal this season was your absolute ultimatum. Your mother wasn't cruel, she never was, but she was very paranoid and it was more crueler sometimes.

But marrying Benedict wouldn't be your escape or security, because you knew you would love him, whatever that was and if you could hate yourself for it then so it be.

The fate and destiny Benedict said, the way he just knew and who were you lying to ?

Didn't you touched him and got so electrified that you knew nothing would ever be same again, say it, go on. Lie, lie again but swear it if you didn't lock eyes with him and wished to just get lost and never be found. Wasn't it the night of the masquerade ball when you were truly alive for the first time in so long, giggling and free, dancing with your hands tied. Go on, lie.

" You wish." Benedict laughed on that, rich and beautiful and enough to make you hide your face as it went crimson.

" Lady—" he bagan to turn, you grabbed his elbow, jerking him to you, very unladylike.

" Stop teasing her." You leaned towards him and while you were in no position to talk about flustering but damn, Benedict was knocked out of his breath. You smiled, it was truly inevitable not to.

" I like to."

" Mean."

" That's very unladylike to insult your husband to be." Benedict said, recovering, all his smugness on full display. You let go of his arm, bending to take a pebble.

" Husband ? " You tossed a pebble off the lake, hoping to blame the rosiness that bloomed your cheeks on the sun.

" Yes wifey ? " Benedict ducked his head, like a puppy with stars in his eyes. He was so beautiful, why did he have to be like this ?

" Don't call me that." Please, very much call me that, it makes me blush, please, please.

" Then what should I call you ? " Benedict asked, before you could answer him, his arm grasped your waist, pulling you to him in a sudden moment. Wish you could say you immediately pulled away but that would be a lie. You melted in his embrace, eyes shut, a soft rhythmic music, it was his heart beats, you listened.

" Pebble." Benedict whispered down in your ear, you nodded once, pulling away hesitantly. He wasn't sure but let go of your elbow at last, his cheeks pink with blood.

" Should I call you Mrs.Bridgerton ? "

" Aren't there going to be three Mrs. Bridgertons ? "

Benedict bumped your nose on that, laughing while you frowned. He ought to stop touching you before you do something awfully stupid.

.... you're not stupid Gissele...

" Well ofcourse, yes. I see you're stalking me." Benedict winked, you eye rolled, something inside you shivering, a knot in your stomach loosening.

" Everyone knows that."

" Hmmph." Benedict hummed, " but you ought to know more wifey."

" Ofcourse Husband." You tried and was rewarded with Benedict missing a step, he smiled, a lopsided grin, recovering soon he turned to you.

" I wished to make you a wedding gift."

You knew he didn't even made a formal proposal to your mother but even so every word felt truer than life, for once you let go of what would happen, if he would break your heart then so be it, if you die bleeding then let it be that way, but you want to be alive, for once, just be alive.

" That's very kind of you."

Benedict tucked a strand of hair behind your hair, smiling his brightest smile.

You looked back at Mary who grinned back with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

" Obsessed." She mouthed, you shaked your head, smiling to yourself, very well.

Rigel's note 🪩 : I hope it was good, I am bit struck in life :( also can anyone make a banner, please ? I mean i would do it myself but I am so so slumped up right now and lack skills too <3 also thank-you for leaving cute cute asks and replies and messages!!! I am so thankful to write for wonderful dearest readers like you, love you <3

Join taglist to be updated :)

Taglist ( <333 ) : @imgondeletedis @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @mayusenpai666 @toeoffrog @alyyaana @rebeccawinters

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dianesdiaries · 3 months

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first day, nervous? | Homelander x Y/n

-Homelander is introduced to his newest assistant after Ashley went AWOL, and Y/n's expectations were more then she knew

-Soft foreplay/tension

NOTE: this is a draft so I might finish it later!!

"Hey, you're finally here! Took long enough".

His teeth creaked into a wide smile, almost as forced as the wide floor-to ceiling doors that ringed in my ears. I shuffled quietly towards the curved slim table, as the slender man ran his fingers along the rims. Blonde silky streaks ran through his hair, his eyes squinted as he pushed his strands back. Homelander was a peculiar choice for a leader. As I sat down and watched him glide around the table, he leaned daringly close into my presence. "So what made you decide Vought? I checked your resume you know, you seem pretty-under qualified. Sorry", Homelander chuckled away the awkwardness of his sentence. It was pretty clear he thought I didn't have the brains for it. "Well", I pushed my glasses back into my face, avoiding the gaze of the daring supe. "I've been in association with many government institutions and have worked for-"

"Blahhh Blahhhh"

It took a minute for me to take in his approach. So far, in the past six minutes we've gotten to know each other I can already see how 'bright' my future will be at Vought. "I want the real truth. Everybody comes here looking for fucking power- whether they have it or not. So, again. Why are you here?" he asked, his voice became stern as he ran his fingers across my shoulders. My body bolted at the feeling, his gloves curving along my collar. The one thing I could be sure on was his need for praise. He wanted me to tell him how great he was. He needed to hear exactly what I thought of him so he knew how to approach me. And he found exactly how. By fear.

I chuckled nervously, "Well, I-uh.. Was looking for a new job because I guess I got tired of the same... form after form stuff, you know?", sweat leaked like a tap from my temples, streaking through the bright curtains that swayed back and forth. Homelander dove into the next chair, quickly spinning mine to face him. My legs became entrapped between his, his arms leaning between my seat. "I think.. You'll find just what you're looking for here. Besides.. you work for me. Right?", his eyes asserted a cold shiver through my body. "That's right, sir". "And you'll do whatever I say?", the air became still with his words. my breaths encased into my cavity, the struggle to find wiggle room became worse. Of course he's my boss but.. God, he was so close. I bit my lip at the careless thought of us, I'd already had fallen for what he had planned before I walked into that room.

"Yes sir".

"Anything?", curiosity sparked in his words as he leaned closer, his hands barely caressing between my legs.

"Yes, sir", the yearning in my voice grew louder, my back arching to the sharp feeling of his fingers climbing inside my shirt. His lips pressed into mine, his passive hand making its way through my pencil-tight skirt. The soft hum of his grunts buzzed against my lips, it drove me crazy. He knew exactly what I wanted. He knew the words to say. He felt my heart pace before I had the chance to sit down. An unpredictable supe is never good news, so why do I want it so bad?

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bumblesimagines · 4 months

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The Clouds and The Stars

Request: Yes or No

Sequel one shot to The Sun and Moon!

Pronouns: He/Him/His

~~~

Married life... such a curious thing. Many grew up with an expectation as to how it would be, mostly based on their own parents' relationship. There were the happy parents who formed a love match and loved each other with their whole hearts. There were the friendly parents who were more friends than partners but still cared for one another. Then, there were the saddening parents who either due to a forced marriage or perhaps because of time grew to despise each other, only tolerating each other for the sake of their children whom they unknowingly harm with their arguments and jabs.

(Y/N) grew up with friendly parents. Lucy and Henry had ended their respective social seasons by marrying under the guise of being madly in love in order to chase after what they truly wanted, even if their desires had to be kept behind closed doors and only exposed to trusted individuals. Secrecy had always been a part of his life, even when it involved marriage, and he supposed now, as he lied in bed and watched the sun peek through the curtains, he'd truly followed in his parents' footsteps. At least, however, he'd found someone. Found more than one, in fact.

"Love," (Y/N) couldn't help but smile as Anthony sighed into his ear, his muscular arm tightening around him and pulling him closer to his chest. Anthony buried his face in the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply, lips pressing against his skin before he hooked his chin over (Y/N)'s shoulder. He gently nudged him, a soft grunt leaving him when (Y/N) remained still. "Love."

"What is it?" (Y/N) chuckled and finally shifted, moving onto his back and peering up at Anthony when he propped himself up onto his elbow. Anthony smiled at him, cheeky and pleased, one hand moving to cup his face and rub his thumb soothingly over his cheek, a warm twinkle in his dark eyes. (Y/N) felt his skin flush under such an adoring gaze.

"I simply wished to see my husband's beautiful face, is all." Anthony cooed, and (Y/N) smile widened tenfold, a bashful and breathy laugh escaping him. They weren't married to each other, not legally or in the eyes of the church at least, but in their hearts and to their families they were. Many in the ton suspected but with Queen Charlotte's silence and Lady Whistledown calling their dance together a 'much-needed change for such dreary balls', anyone with suspicions or beliefs remained silent. Of course, they still had to remain a secret, lest someone grew annoyed enough to reach out to the church.

"Such a charmer, Anthony." (Y/N) spoke teasingly, sighing softly against Anthony's mouth when he swooped down to kiss him. Anthony pressed harder against his lips and fully rolled over, laying ontop of the painter and only pulling away to trail kisses down his jawline and to his neck. Always so hungry, so needy and clingy. "Anthony, we have things to do-"

"They can wait," Anthony murmured against his skin, one hand slipping under his shirt while the other took his hand and locked their fingers together. (Y/N) rolled his eyes and released a breathy laugh, breath nearly hitching when Anthony needily rolled his hips. "We have time."

"It's an important day, Anthony. Francesca will need her brother today, you know." (Y/N) reminded him, dipping his fingers beneath Anthony's chin and gripping it lightly so he could tilt his head up. Anthony sighed dramatically, putting his full weight down on him and bringing their intertwined hands toward his face, a gentle kiss pressing against the back of (Y/N)'s hand. (Y/N) smiled.

"Suppose we should be quick, then." Anthony grinned mischievously, his free hand pushing up (Y/N)'s shirt and head dipping to pepper kisses along his stomach.

"Anthony!" (Y/N) tried not to laugh too loudly, mindful of those still slumbering in the nearby rooms. He could hear the maids and servants bustling around, likely readying the house and preparing breakfast. Such a big day for the Bridgerton family again, and yet, there lied the Viscount, acting like a hormonal boy all over again. (Y/N) swatted at his shoulder and pushed himself up but it only prompted Anthony's head to dip even lower. "Anthony Bridgerton!"

Releasing a muffled laugh, Anthony finally relented and sat back, his hand still keeping an iron grip on (Y/N)'s no matter how hard the painter trying to pull back. (Y/N) groaned again in fake annoyance that only made Anthony giggle like a child and reach out to pull him onto his lap. He leaned in, pressing their lips together again. (Y/N) melted against him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, squeezing Anthony's hand and feeling his fingers tighten even more.

"If only-" (Y/N) leaned back, briefly interrupted when Anthony pecked his lips again. "-you put this much effort into having an heir with Steph."

"Mm, I've been busy and she seems more than content with her... lady friends," Anthony said, nuzzling his face into (Y/N)'s chest. "If you'd been a lady, I'm certain you'd be expecting by now."

"Yes, I'm aware. You've made that abundantly clear, Lord Bridgerton. I don't understand how you can have this much stamina." (Y/N) shook his head with a soft laugh, sweetly kissing the top of his head and exhaling softly. "But, I am not a lady nor your wife, Anthony. You need an heir. I'm sure it won't take too many attempts."

"And what of you and Kate? I'm sure you nor she will have this difficulty if you try for children of your own. We have each other's blessings, you know. If you'd like to have a child-"

"We've been breaching the topic, actually." (Y/N) revealed, finally untangling his hand from Anthony's and rising up from the bed, searching for the clothes he kept in Anthony's home for days he spent the night. Because of their predicament regarding Anthony's position as Viscount and their inability to wed publicly or have children, both men agreed to take on brides. Stephanie provided the perfect candidate for Viscountess and (Y/N) had always held affection for Kate. "She's more than happy to have children. She thinks two is a good number, in fact, so they have someone to keep them company."

"How many do you think Steph will want?" Anthony sighed, standing up as well to get dressed.

"Well, if you have a boy first... I think you'll both be content with just one." (Y/N) chuckled, slipping his coat on and adjusting the ends of it while Anthony began taking clothes out of the closet. The thought of parenthood, of fatherhood, hung over the two of them, both exciting and nerve-wracking. The four of them would care for the children together, that'd already been agreed upon, but still... bringing life into the world? It made (Y/N) queasy yet... pleased.

"If you and I could have children," Anthony whistled sharply, a grin spreading across his face and fingers swiftly buttoning up his shirt. "We'd have a bigger brood than Mother."

"I don't doubt it." (Y/N) retrieved Anthony's coat from its spot draped over the armrest and approached him, helping him slip his arms through and adjusting it for him. He smiled, finishing the last button of his shirt and fixing the collar before tugging Anthony closer to kiss him. "You're insatiable, Anthony."

"Only for you." Anthony cooed, gearing up to lean in again but the sound of the door opening made him pause.

Stephanie dramatically gasped at the sight of them, lifting a hand to her head and fanning herself rapidly. "Oh, Kate, what ever will we do? How could they do this to us?" She gasped again, a teasing smile stretching across her face as Kate giggled and gently nudged her and walked further into the room. (Y/N) rolled his eyes at Stephanie but smiled widely at Kate, pulling away from Anthony to extend his arms out toward her.

"My darling wife." He greeted warmly, coiling his arms around her waist and planting a kiss between her brows. Kate hummed softly, leaning her head down to rest it on his shoulder. Stephanie stopped at Anthony's side, taking a quick look over his clothes before nodding approvingly and curling her arm around his.

"Shall we get to it? Breakfast is ready and Violet has been fretting over Francesca nonstop. She's worried about the poor girl." Stephanie told them and Anthony sighed heavily, leaning over to kiss (Y/N)'s temple and nod to Kate. The Viscount and Viscountess fell into conversation and exited the room, leaving Kate and (Y/N) alone.

"So, my darling husband," Kate began with a small laugh, lifting her head and smoothing out his shirt with her palms, her keen eyes searching for anything out of place before rising to look him in the eye. She smiled, pecking his cheek. "We have a long day ahead of us, as you know. Ready for this social season?"

"As long as I have you and Anthony and Steph, I'll always be ready."

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livingdreams97 · 6 months

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Eloise Bridgerton - "The Prince" (Part 4)

Eloise Bridgerton x Male reader/oc

Summary: Two people who have never seen each other before, with the same need and desire to be free in different ways. What could come of that when both people meet each other?

Words: 4.581

Masterlist

Eloise's POV

A couple of hours ago my family arrived at Aubrey Hall and my youngest silings were running around the place like wild animals. My brothers have disappeared and Daphne is with mother, Lady Danbury, Kate and Edwina talking about the season somewhere around the house.

Which left me alone, sitting on an outdoor chair in the mansion's back garden and somewhat bored.

I did not want to participate in the conversation with my sister, mother and others; since the subject does not really interest me. I'd rather be with my brothers, but as soon as we set foot in Aubrey Hall two hours ago they disappeared and have shown no sign of life.

And I'm not going to be running all over the place, like Gregory and Hyacinth were doing.

I just pray that something interesting happens and it can keep me busy at least for a while. Because if this goes on like this, I'll end up cutting myself with the pages of my books and falling apart in the living room floor.

Apparently my prayers are answered, when one of the butlers appears and speaks to me.

XY: Miss Bridgerton, Prince Y/n of Hannover has just arrived and is waiting for you in the hall.- he informed me and I practically jumped out of my seat.

Eloise: That's great. - I comment happily and walking quickly towards the entrance of the mansion.

XY: If you don't need anything else, we'll take the prince's objects to his room assigned by Lady Bridgerton.- he comments when we reach the hall.

Eloise: We don't need anything else, thank you.- I thank him and after a slight bow he takes Y/n's luggage along with another man. -I thought you were never going to get there.- I say amused, crossing my arms and looking at the prince.

Y/n: I had a slight setback.- He informed me without much detail.

Eloise: What kind of setback? - I ask curiously, seeing the amusement in his eyes.

Y/n: One that doesn't concern you.- he answers me with grace and I just look at him badly. -Now, will you grant me the wish to give me a guided tour of the mansion or do I have to ask someone from the service?- he asks amused, raising an eyebrow and looking me straight in the eye.

Eloise: Ask someone from the service.- I answer challengingly, looking for a fun and entertaining reaction from him.

Y/n: I'll do that then.- he assures, leaning over and trying to walk towards the stairs.

Eloise: Where do you think you're going? - I ask amused running towards him and grabbing his arm to stop him.

Y/n: To ask if someone offers to give me a guided tour, since a certain Bridgerton doesn't want to and I don't want to get lost in the place.- he answers humorously and I look at him with narrowed eyes.

Eloise: Idiot.- I muttered hitting his arm. -Now follow me.- I order him and start walking towards the main hall.

I don't turn to see if he's following me or not, but I can hear his hurried footsteps and I smile helplessly, not knowing the reason for said smile.

POV Y/n

I don't know when I went from receiving a tour of the mansion to being in the huge back garden playing pall mall, but here I am now.

Daphne: We all know how the pall mall works.- she assures everyone present. - The first to choose the deck and strike first will be our guest Y/n.- she points to me with her hand and I look at her surprised.

Y/n: I guess thanks.- I appreciate it. -Which one does Eloise usually choose?- I asked Benedict in a whisper quickly.

Benedict: Yellow.- he whispers back to me with his hand in front of his mouth so that no one notices.

I nod surreptitiously and walk over to where all the decks are. I look at each deck and once my eyes land on the yellow one, I reach out without hesitation.

As my fingers wrap around the wood, I look up, meeting Eloise's blue gaze. I smile wickedly as I raised the mallet and I see the scowl on her face.

Y/n: Yellow is my favorite color. - I lie with a smile without taking my eyes off Eloise's.

The rest practically fight over the rest of the decks, before we start the game and the fights between the brothers are present.

Benedict: Eloise don't cheat.- he accuses his sister, who is moving her ball subtly and secretly with her foot.

Y/n: So besides being clumsy at dancing, you're a cheater at the game. - I whisper leaning towards her, so that only she can hear me.

Eloise: Shut up.- she growls at me pushing my chest with her hand.

Colin: Observe and learn people.- he says, positioning himself and hitting the ball with his mallet, but it doesn't go through the hoop.

Anthony: Sorry, what were you saying?- he asks his brother with an amused smile.

Kate: Don't you laugh so much.- she tells her husband, causing a bad face in him and laughter in the rest.

Daphne: None of you should laugh.- she assures everyone, preparing to her his ball with the mallet. -Because I plan to win as always.- she says confidently, hitting the ball and getting it through the hoop.

Benedict: Hey, I'm still in the game.- he reminds his sister with an amused smile.

Eloise: And me.- she assures them placing herself in the middle of everyone. -This year I plan to win.- she tells us all with confidence and I can't help but smile at her confidence.

We continue playing for a while longer, until the game ends and I end up winning to the surprise of everyone present. Although there is no surprise on my part, since I am a very good player and I am passionate about sports.

Y/n: And how about your victory Eloise? - I ask her amused while we all have dinner together.

Eloise: Very funny.- she says sarcastically looking at me with narrowed eyes. -But I know you cheated.- she threatens me seriously.

Y/n: And can you explain to me what cheating are you accusing me of? - I ask her amused, taking a sip of my wine.

Elosie: I don't know, yet.- she answered thoughtfully. -But I'm going to find out how you cheated to win and take away my victory.- she asures me and I just smile delighted.

Y/n: I'll be waiting then.- I assure her with a friendly smile.

The rest of dinner is spent talking to Benedict and Colin about minor trivia. We also make sure to taunt Eloise a bit, loud enough for her to hear us so we can tease her a bit.

When dinner is over, I sneak up to Lady Bridgerton and ask to speak to her in private. We entered the main library of the mansion and we both took a seat in the armchairs of the room.

Violet: And tell me my Lord, what is the reason for this conversation? - she asks me with evident interest.

Y/n: I wanted to talk about a serious and more important topic with you.- I answer trying to hide my nervousness.

Violet: Well, you will say.- she nods giving me the floor.

Y/n: As you may have noticed, I've been spending a lot of time with your daughter and it's clear that we've become somewhat close.- I start seeing how she nods with a small smile. -And I don't want to disrespect you or your family at any time.- I say trying to think of how to explain myself.

Violet: And you haven't.- she assures me with a friendly smile.

Y/n: I'm glad to hear that.- I nod with a nervous smile. -That's why I wanted to talk to you first, because you are Eloise's mother and it seemed the most appropriate thing to do in this situation.- I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. -I wanted to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage.- I ask directly.

Violet: Oh my god! - she exclaims in surprise, covering her mouth with her hand.

The room remains completely silent for a few moments, where I play with my hands as a sign of nervousness and uncertainty about the response of the woman in front of me.

Y/n: So what do you say? - I ask her a bit uncomfortable by the silence.

Violet: Of course I'll give you my daughter's hand.- she nods energetically. -As long as Eloise agrees to the proposition, I have nothing against it.- she confirms and I can't help but release the air retained inside me.

Y/n: I'm glad to know that your answer is positive. - I smile letting the retained nerves dissipate from my body.

Now I just have to propose to Eloise publicly and organize the wedding. Since thanks to our agreement, I know that Eloise will agree to marry me and there will be no problem with that part.

Violet: And you already have chosen the ring? - She asks me interested, leaning forward in a show of interest.

Y/n: Yes.- I nod, taking the black velvet box out of my pocket. -What do you think?- I ask, opening the box and showing her the object inside.

Violet: Oh my god, it's so precious.- she whispers, taking the small box in her hands and looking at the ring in greater detail.

Y/n: My aunt gave it to me to propose to your daughter.- I comment, seeing the surprise in her eyes.

Violet: Has the queen chosen the ring for my daughter?- she asks surprised.

Y/n: More than that.- I commented with a slight smile. -That ring was one of the first that my uncle, the King, gave to my aunt many years ago. The emerald is my aunt's favorite stone and she thought that the ring had a deep meaning, so it would be the perfect ring for my future wife. - I tell her and I can see a different shine in her eyes.

Violet: And she's right. Rings with meaning are more unique than any recently bought. - she nods, giving me back the box with the ring.

Y/n: So with your permission, tomorrow I'll ask Eloise for her hand. - I nod, putting the velvet box back in my jacket pocket.

Violet: I just hope my daughter says yes, because it would be a pleasure to have you as part of the family.- she tells me and we both get up, ending the conversation.

We left the library, saying goodnight and parting ways. I head towards the bedroom assigned to me and on the way I meet Eloise with her little sister.

In order not to arouse any kind of suspicion, I wish them both a good night and secretly nod to my future fiancée.

I can see her eyes widen slightly as she realizes what my nod means and she gives me a slight nod letting me know she's understood.

Now I just have to think about how to ask for her hand tomorrow and do it in a way so that her family believes that we are really in love. But with how good of an actress Eloise is, I'm sure everyone will believe us right away without any problem.

Eloise's POV

I'm nervous. Why am I nervous? This is simply a trade and there is no reason to be nervous.

I just have to say a simple yes and the rest of my life will be taken care of. I will be completely free and I will stop feeling any kind of pressure to get married or find a husband. It is a simple word that will open all doors for me.

This is a simple transaction, there are no feelings involved and that's why I don't understand the reason for my nerves.

My hands tremble as they caress the soft fabric of my white dress, feeling the softness and delicacy of silk.

Violet: You look beautiful honey.- she whispers looking at my reflection in the mirror over my shoulder.

Eloise: I'm not going out. - I deny energetically.

Violet: And why is that dear? - she asks me interested with a smile on her face.

Eloise: I don't know if I'm ready to get married.- I answer, feeling my heart beat faster.

Violet: Oh dear.- she sighs placing her hands on my arms. -It's the nerves that are speaking.- she assures me caressing my arms with affection.

Eloise: Why would I be nervous? - I ask confused, feeling a certain amount of comfort from her touch.

Violet: Because it's one of the most important days for a woman, darling.- she answers with an understanding look. -The day of my wedding with your father, I was trembling with nerves and anticipation. It is understandable to feel nervous on your wedding day and especially when you love the person you will marry.- she tries to comfort me and I avoid opening my eyes for the last part.

Eloise: How did you know you loved father? - I ask a little scared by her answer.

Violet: I wouldn't know how to explain it.- she sighs with a slight grimace. -What I do know is that every time I thought of him, a smile appeared on my face without even noticing it, my stomach turned when he was near me, my skin quivered every time he touched my hand and every time that I was doing something i liked; immediately I wanted to share it with him.- she tells me and I remain thoughtful.

I think about the times when a smile adorned my face when I thought of Y/n, about how being with him makes me enjoy someone else's company and the long talks we have.

I think about how an essential warmth invades my body when he is near me, when he smiles at me or when he brings me books thinking that I might like them.

I find that every time I read a new book, I think about whether he would like to read it so we can discuss it together.

Finally, I am aware of how in the few times he has touched my hand and kissed it, my body reacts to his touch. I can remember the pleasant tingling that runs through my body at his touch and it is now when I open my eyes in surprise.

Eloise: I love Y/n.- I murmured without really knowing what to do.

I feel my mind go around and around without really knowing how it happened. At what point have I gone from supporting Y/n, accepting his proposal and maintaining a friendly relationship, to loving him.

Violet: Why else would you have agreed to marry him?- she asks with a certain degree of amusement in her tone of voice.

Eloise: I have to talk to Y/n.- I say alarmed.

Violet: You'll see him at the altar in a few minutes and then you can talk to him all you want.- she assures me with a smile.

Eloise: No mom .- I deny turning around and looking around upset. -I need to talk to him now!- I assured him in a hurry trying to dodge her and go looking for him.

Violet: No, no, no.- she denies grabbing my arm and preventing me from leaving the room. -The groom can't see the bride before the wedding.- she immediately denies.

Eloise: You don't understand mom, I have to talk to him.- I beg desperately and a few seconds away from a desperate cry.

Violet: Honey, calm down.- she asks me, caressing my arms again. -Take a deep breath and inhale slowly.- she orders me and I nod trying to regulate my breathing.

Once I am calmer, my mother takes me to the sofa in one of the many rooms in the palace and makes me sit down.

Violet: Are you feeling better?- she asks me and I nod, taking a deep breath once more.

Eloise: Yes.- I murmur directing my gaze to my hands, which are still trembling and apparently my mother notices as she places her hands on mine.

Violet: You don't have to get upset darling, everything will be fine and you don't have to get so nervous.- she assures me. -You're just nervous, just breathe and try to relax.- she tells me and I nod trying to stop my hands from shaking.

We stay in silence for a few minutes, where I manage to calm down enough so that my hands stop shaking.

Some light knocks are heard at the door of the room and Benedict's head appears through it.

Benedict: Everything is ready.- he tells us entering the room. -They are waiting for the bride.- he says with a smile and I take a deep breath.

Violet: Are you ready? - she asks me and I am only able to nod. -Well then, let's get going.- she says getting up from the sofa and helping me to get up too.

I walk to where my brother is, who immediately smiles at me and gives me his arm to intertwine with mine.

With each step I take toward the ceremony room, my heart pounding in my ears and my breathing becoming heavy. I swallow heavily, when my brother stops in front of the closed living room doors and looks at me for approval.

I stay for a few moments watching the big white doors of the room, as soon as they open everything will be real and I'll be walking towards my future husband.

I don't know what to do.

If I go through with the plan and say yes, I'll be marrying the man I love. But he doesn't love me and it doesn't seem fair.

And on the other hand, if I decide to run away and leave the plan behind, everyone will start talking about me and my family again. My family has already suffered a lot with the rumors and above all thanks to me.

Plus it wouldn't be the first time a Bridgerton wedding has been called off and we all know how that ended.

But that is not the worst.

The worst thing is that this time the queen is not only the hostess of the wedding, but she is the aunt of the future husband and that will cause me to be banished from London.

Because what Lady Whistledown wrote about me being a political radical turned her against me and made her have a bad opinion of me. I don't want to imagine the opinion she'll have of me if I leave her heir standing at the altar.

Benedict: Are you okay? - he asks me in a whisper taking me out of my thoughts.

Eloise: I don't know.- I answer honestly.

Benedict: It's not too late, you know right? - he asks me causing me to look at him confused.

Eloise: Late for what? - I ask wanting to understand what my brother tells me.

Benedict: Too late to cancel the wedding.- he answers me with a comforting smile. -Just tell me and we'll run away like no one has ever done before.- he assures me with a small laugh.

I watch him for a few seconds, considering the offer and weighing every possible outcome of my escape. The idea sounds tempting and I'm sure Benedict will defend me and help with everything.

You're POV

I swallow heavily, running my hands through my morning coat and wiping the sweat from my hands. I watch the guests talk to each other in whispers, causing my nervousness to increase and a knot to form in my stomach.

Lady Bridgerton has entered the room almost ten minutes ago, but she has entered alone and no one has entered after her.

She's supposed to be with Eloise, to help her get ready and her presence here assures me that Eloise is ready. But it doesn't show up anywhere, because she is nowhere to be seen.

I look over to where my aunt is sitting for comfort, seeing the impatience and worried look on her face. She seems to notice my look, as she offers me a small smile and a reassuring nod.

But I can't calm down when I feel hundreds of eyes on me and I can hear the murmurs of those present.

My gaze then falls on where the Bridgertons are sitting, muttering and talking a little erratically to each other. That alarms me even more.

What if Eloise regrets the deal and backs out? What if she leaves me standing at the altar?

That would explain the lateness and the stressed look on the face of the Bridgertons family matriarch. Maybe she already knows and is telling the rest of the family.

My breath stops when the doors of the room open and one of my aunt's waiters enters the room.

XY: Miss Eloise Bridgerton by the hands of Mr. Benedict Bridgerton.- he announces and I can feel myself breathing again.

But as soon as I start to breathe, the air gets stuck in my throat and it's because of something else entirely.

My mind goes completely blank as I see Eloise in her wedding dress with her hair up in a high bun. The light that enters through the windows of the room illuminates her dress and she looks like a complete angel.

The train of the dress trails gently across the floor, as does her veil, which rests just in front of the updo on her head and at the beginning of the train of her dress.

I'm not aware of the moment when Eloise has reached my side and Benedict offers me her hand. I'm only aware when my soon-to-be wife's brother clears his throat and the noise snaps me out of my reverie.

Y/n: Sorry.- I whisper embarrassed, feeling the heat flood my cheeks and receiving my fiancée's hand.

Benedict: Take care of her.- he threatens me seriously, before walking away and sitting with the rest of the family.

Priest: We are gathered here to celebrate the union between Prince Y/n of Hannover and Miss Eloise Bridgerton.- he begins to speak, but I only observe Eloise's profile and try to be as discrete as possible. -Love is something... ... ... ....- He speaks but I ignore him, looking only at the woman to my left. -Now I want you to repeat with me, you first prince. With this ring, I take you Eloise Bridgerton as my wife, to love you and take care of you in sickness and in health, in riches and in poverty until death do us part.- he says and I look at the priest paying attention to him again .

Y/n: With this ring, I take you Eloise Bridgerton as my wife, to love you and take care of you in sickness and in health, in riches and in poverty until death do us part.- I recite while staring at her eyes, receiving the ring from the priest and placing it on her finger.

Priest: Now your tourn Miss Bridgerton.- he says, offering her the other ring and I can see how she takes it with a trembling hand.

Eloise: With this ring, I take you Y/n from Hannover as my husband, to love you and take care of you in sickness and in health, in riches and in poverty until death do us part.- she says nervously and shakily placing the ring on my finger.

Priest: With this exchange of rings, this marriage unites and will be consolidated with a kiss.- he says and I look nervously at the woman in front of me. -You can kiss each other.- he tells us.

I take a deep breath, before taking a step forward closing my eyes and leaning down feeling the erratic beating of my heart.

For a moment, my heart stops completely when my lips make contact with hers, and I can feel her breathing stop.

As we break from the kiss, I open my eyes to look at my now wife and see that she's still keeping them closed. I smile at the image and when she opens her eyes, she immediately smiles back at me.

I extend my hand to her, which she immediately entwines with hers and I direct her towards the large backyard where the celebration will take place.

Eloise: I have to talk to you.- she whispers so that only I can hear heron our walk outside.

Y/n: Bad or good? - I ask confused, smiling at the guests.

Eloise: It depends.- she answers me, doing the same action as me.

Y/n: Okay.- I nod almost imperceptibly.

But as soon as we set foot in the garden, people come to greet us and congratulate us on the wedding. Every time we try to get away so we can talk, someone steps up and stops that from happening.

But I take advantage of a moment when everyone is watching the fireworks, to grab Eloise by the hand and pull her behind some tall hedges a bit away from the crowd.

Y/n: What did you wanted to talk about? - I ask her in a whisper, not wanting to speak too loud and be heard.

Eloise: It's about the agreement.- she whispers, looking around making sure there's no one around.

Y/n: What about the agreement? - I ask completely confused.

Eloise: What happens if there is something that alters or changes the agreement? - she answers me with another question.

Y/n: I don't know.- I answer honestly. -I couldn't know if something could alter or change our agreement, if I don't know what it is about.- I clarify and see how she bites her lower lip nervously.

Eloise: Hypothetically speaking.- she clarifies nervously and I nod. -What would happen if one of the two parties ends up falling in love with the other party?- she asks, looking anywhere but at me and my heart races.

Y/n: Hypothetically speaking? - I ask and she nods. -That maybe the other party has also fallen in love.- I admit feeling the heat on my cheeks from shame.

She opens her eyes wide, directing her gaze to me and staring at me. I try to calm my heart; not wanting to have a heart attack.

Eloise: You...? - she asks me uncertainly, pointing to herself and I nod nervously.

Y/n: And you..? - I ask in the same way, pointing to me and she nods, joining her lips in a straight line.

Eloise: And now what? - she asks, avoiding my gaze and I decide to be brave.

I take two steps towards her, moving closer to her body and gently placing my hand on her chin. I force her head up and look at me, before I say what I've wanted to say for a month.

Y/n: Do you want to see the world with me? - I ask with a small nervous smile.

Eloise: Yes.- she nods with a slight redness on her cheeks after a couple of seconds.

I can't stand her closeness anymore, so I finish bringing my face closer to hers and I put our lips together again.

This time, the kiss is longer and lets us release all the feelings we had stored. My hands are placed on her waist, to be able to bring her closer to me and to be able to hug her by the hip against my body.

While her hands go up my arms and intertwine with each other at the nape of my neck.

We kiss until the air becomes necessary and we put our foreheads together to maintain the closeness between our faces.

Y/n: I love you.- I admit for the first time out loud without taking my eyes off hers.

Eloise: I love you.- she whispers and this time she is the one who brings our lips together in a hungry kiss.

If someone had told me that an agreed marriage proposal would have led me to meet the love of my life, I would never have believed it.

But fate is capricious and you never know where it will turn out.

But looking back from the backyard of my mansion with my wife, where I am playing with our four children and my beautiful wife is reading a book in a chair in the sun, that proposition was the wisest choice of my life.

THE END

#eloise bridgerton #bridgerton #eloise bridgerton x reader #bridgerton netflix #eloise bridgerton x male reader #anthony bridgerton #lady whistledown #queen charlotte #benedict bridgerton #violet bridgerton #edwina sharma #kate sharma #oc character #male reader

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sodaabaa · 4 months

Text

to flee or not to flee, part one

anthony bridgerton x OC what happens when a charming and determined viscount courts someone whose worst fear is to marry a man like him?

tropes: damsel in distress, innocent and shy mc, slow burn,

tw: mentions of domestic abuse, angst, anxiety, slight misogyny/patriarchal concepts

masterlist

Dearest gentle reader,

The ton is abuzz with a new season filled with young, flowering debutantes making their dazzling debuts at the Queen’s ball, anxious mamas vying for a chance to secure their children’s future, and of course, the excitement that surrounds our beloved marriage mart. This season, it seems the eldest Bridgerton boy will finally be seeking a wife at the ripe age of nine and twenty. Who will be the flower to catch the eye of the ton’s most eligible bachelor, one Viscount Bridgerton this season?

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown.

Annalise scanned the bumbling room while the string quartet played quietly in the corner. Her fingers reach for a stray piece of thread on her bodice, twisting and twirling to calm her nerves. This would not be her first season out as a woman of marriageable age but alas, it was nerve-wracking as it had been then. Perhaps, even more – as the attention of all the ton would be on the glimmering, newly minted ladies eager to catch the eye of the Queen and the plethora of bachelors – leaving little room for a girl in her second season out. At one and twenty years, Annalise teetered on the edge of becoming desolate. Her prospects would be sparse, her pick limited to the less desirable men of the marriage mart. Despite this probability, she found herself in no rush to be tied down to a man, deep inside she knew that marriage was but a transfer from one cage to another.

She made her way towards the emerald green wall as people ushered in, eager to get away from the buzz of the crowd. The quartet picked up as people began finding dance partners. She stuck to the wall, hoping she blended in enough to avoid notice. Luckily, her brother, Thomas, was distracted in conversation with a few of his friends and thus, did not see her attempt at hiding. Despite her hopes of invisibility, she was indeed seen by one eligible bachelor.

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Anthony pushed through the bunches of gawking mothers and gossiping ladies, his mind set on one goal: find the perfect girl to marry. She must be of equal or lesser status, she must be intelligent enough to hold a conversation, and she must be attractive of course, one could not tolerate holy matrimony for life with someone one did not find attractive. He was nearing thirty and thought it wise to finally take a wife – a decision that nearly made his mother jump with joy.

His brow furrowed in determination as he entered the emerald-walled ballroom, assessing the debutants. His gaze brushed over the eager, bright-faced girls and mentally made a list of who to approach and who to avoid at all costs. His eyes followed along the farthest wall, taking in the gaggle of girls until he fixed on one in particular. She was striking, not quite the Queen's diamond, but certainly the most mesmerizing of all the women he’d seen in all his years. Her slight shoulders caved in as if to hide her frame. Her brown eyes flitted across the room, refusing to rest in a single place as she fidgeted with the bodice of her lilac gown. She looked as if she were ready to flee at a moment’s notice, like a bird taking flight at the sound of footsteps. Anthony would start with her as the string quartet picked up in pace, signaling the start of the festivities.

“Would you happen to have space on your card for a dance, Miss…?” Anthony asked her as he approached her. The girl's flittering gaze landed on him, taking in his invasion of her presumed invisibility. Her eyes widened and her lips pursed, considering whether she could flee.

“I suppose so, my lord” She stuttered.

“Very well, shall we?” He asked, holding his hand out for her to take.

She simply nodded, taking his hand rather reluctantly. She glanced to her side, at a man not much older than Anthony himself. The man nodded his permission and she returned her gaze to Anthony.

“Your brother, I presume? He’s far too young to be your father.”

“Yes, my lord. Baron Thomas Carrington.”

“And you are?”

“Annalise Carrington.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Annalise. A most lovely name.” Anthony said. Hoping she would show some indication of interest in the man before her.

She only smiled, following him as he led the dance. This girl, no older than twenty, vexed Anthony instantly. A rare exception to the plethora of women he had easily bedded. He was, after all, a rake. All of them fell to his charm with ease, ladies of finer breeding and lesser all the same. Annalise looked as though she could not be any more impatient to leave his grasp and return to the wall like a fly.

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Annalise was shocked at her ability to muster the courage to get through the dance with Anthony Bridgerton, a viscount, with a reputation well known to everyone in the ton. He was a rake, a rogue, and the most eligible bachelor of the season as he was finally seeking a wife. Annalise knew to be cautious of the viscount.

“What do you do in your spare time, Miss Carrington?” His voice snapped her out of her thoughts. His gaze had not left her face since they began dancing.

She cleared her throat, hoarse with disuse, “I like to read, my lord. Anything I can get my hands on.”

It was the truth. As a child, she had a penchant for reading tales of heroism, tragedy, and romance but unlike others, her curiosity always got the best of her, often going through periods of intense interest in a topic before finding a new topic to obsess over.

Her response caused the viscount’s eyebrows to raise in amusement.

“Anything? For example?” He mused.

“I am not too sure I can think of an answer at the moment, my lord.” Her cheeks flushed, silently berating herself for her lack of preparation.

He simply nodded, his eyes scanning the room, giving Annalise a moment of respite to gather herself. As they continued to waltz around the room, a topic came to mind.

“The Renaissance.”

Anthony’s eyes snapped back to her face, “pardon?”

“The Renaissance has been a subject of interest, recently. Particularly the influence of the Medici family of Florence, they were bankers who held much influence on the city…” she trailed off, catching herself before rambling on.

“Fascinating, Miss Carrington. Are you aware that four popes of the Catholic church were of the Medici family?”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Pope Leo the Tenth, Pope Clement, Pope Pius, and Pope Leo the Eleventh” she listed.

Anthony chuckled at her quick response, “You surely do know your Medici history. It is rare to find someone, let alone a woman, to be so accurate about obscure knowledge as you are.”

His remark should have flattered her, instead it felt patronizing.

“Perhaps women would not surprise you if they were allowed to study ‘obscure’ topics such as history more often” she retorted.

“I did not mean-” He paused, taking a breath to collect himself, “I have always encouraged my sisters to pursue knowledge. God almighty is witness to the freedom I've allowed them for they have become quite spirited and intelligent young women. I simply meant it is not a fact many know off the top of their head, even my own sisters.”

She nodded. Suddenly aware of their proximity and her behavior with the viscount.

“Apologies, my lord. I did not mean to cause offense.”

He chuckled, “You did not offend me, Miss Carrington. I raised four sisters, each more mischievous than the last so believe me when I say I am quite accustomed to having insults thrown my way.”

“That is most unfortunate, my lord.”

“Indeed it is. Though I hope you do not make a habit of trying to wound my pride.”

Warmth crept up her cheeks, “I do not, my lord.”

He only smiled, pleased with the blush his words resulted in. She cleared her throat, trying to settle her nerves and gather the composure needed to get through the rest of the dance when she saw her brother glowering at her over the viscount’s shoulders. The room suddenly felt smaller as her head began to spin with anxiety.

“Miss Carrington, are you alright?”

“I’m sorry, my lord. If you would excuse me.” She curtsied, not waiting for his permission to leave, and turned away from the viscount.

She returned to her brother's side who grabbed her forearm, squeezing an already sore spot.

"Do not embarrass me, Annalise. The first man to ask for a dance and you're already blushing like a schoolgirl. If you do not compose yourself, so help me God, I will set up a match for you myself" he scolded, Annalise flinched with each enunciated word.

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“Good morning, Lord Bridgerton” his butler said, spreading apart the dark satin curtains quicker than he could process, the light overwhelming Anthony’s sleep-filled eyes. He grumbled his response, turning his back to the bright light.

“The Viscountess is calling on you for breakfast, my lord.”

“Yes, yes. I’ll be down in a moment.” He said, signaling to the door for the man to leave Anthony’s chambers.

The butler left, leaving Anthony to himself. He could not sleep last night. His thoughts consumed by the Carrington girl. She was odd. Interesting, certainly. He barely had the opportunity to understand her better before she abandoned him on the dance floor, leaving mid-song. Viscount Anthony Bridgerton was abandoned on the dance floor. He scoffed, there's a first for everything. He rose from the bed, throwing off his duvet and grabbing his robe. No matter. He would get several more chances to get to know her.

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“What did Viscount Bridgerton ask you last night?” her brother scolded her. It was not unusual to have him scold her about her behavior with suitors. Scolding was not what she feared, it was his temper, his hands that quickly lost control when confronted with rage.

“He asked for my name and my hobbies, brother. That is all. He was kind. I returned the kindness” She replied.

“I recall you leaving him on the dance floor, I hardly see how that can be seen as kindness.” His voice raised at the end of that sentence. Her fingers found the bottom of her palm, rubbing her hand in an attempt to self-soothe.

“It was nearly the end of the dance and I was beginning to feel uneasy, I apologize for my behavior brother. It will not be repeated.” She said softly, fearing that the wrong choice of words would set him off in a fit of unstoppable rage as he did in the past. He sighed, rising from his seat.

"I have business to attend to, take Betsy as your chaperone to the ton picnic. Be on your best behavior" He warned. Annalise nodded and with that, she was left to herself, like always.

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Dearest reader.

The Queen’s ball was a smashing success! Her Majesty has named Edwina Sharma as this season’s diamond. Bachelors and mamas, do be sure to pay her a visit as soon as you are able, for she is sure to be booked and busy with flattering suitors crowding her drawing room already. In other news, it seems our beloved Viscount Bridgerton was seen dancing with many a lady but only one had the gall to leave him standing on the ballroom floor! The season and its scandals are only beginning, my dear readers…

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

The spring breeze kissed Annalise’s skin, pulling her back to reality as she stepped out of her carriage and onto the fields of Stowe Park where the day’s promenading was set to take place. As she walked towards the tents set up for respite from the heat of the sun, her brows furrowed in notice of passerbys looking at her, whispering and nodding as if to say, “yes, she’s the one!” The hairs on her arm rose, where did this newly bestowed attention come from? She reached the tent and saw a stack of papers, grabbing one out of curiosity. Her eyes took in the words, reaching to the bottom of Lady Whistledown’s latest recollection of last night’s events.

Annalise choked on a breath. Her behavior last night with Lord Bridgerton had not gone unnoticed. Of course, it hadn’t, nothing sneaked past the vicious Whistledown. She tried to take a deep breath, recollecting herself before her nerves could get the best of her. Just as she let out a sigh, she heard a deep, velvety voice.

“I see you have read the latest Whistledown.”

Startled, she jumped, “Oh! Yes, I suppose. My apologies, Lord Bridgerton. I had not meant for this to cause any disrespect to you, I simply needed to-”

He waved a hand, interrupting her frantic apology, “It’s quite alright. I do not care for the busybody gossips and their rumors.” He smiled at her, putting Annalise at ease. His smile was genuine, almost paternal, warm. It made her heart ache for something that could never be.

“I am sorry nonetheless, it was not my proudest moment.” She looked down at her feet, wishing she could escape the warmth of the viscount’s gaze.

“Well, then I suppose this means you owe me.” The lilt in his tone made her eyes snap back at the man before her, he had a devilish look in his eyes. It made Annalise feel rather faint.

“Care to take a stroll in the park, Miss Carrington?” He offered an arm.

She gently reached out in acceptance. She did not know how to react to this sudden interest in her, by a viscount no less.

“Is there no other girl that has caught your attention, my lord?” She asked as they walked out of the tent and onto the park’s trail.

“Do you wish to be rid of my attention, Miss Carrington? Perhaps, you would like to remain a wallflower?” He mused, gently taunting her about her wall-sticking habits.

“I-, Well I suppose one cannot be a wallflower indefinitely. But, I’m simply curious. After I left you so rudely last night, I did not expect you would care to see me again.”

“You interest me, Miss Carrington. As I said last night, you are most peculiar among your peers. One should get to know someone who stands out, do you not agree?”

She pondered for a moment, gathering a response while the viscount looked at her in anticipation.

“I suppose so, my lord.” She said simply.

“Back to curt answers, I see. I had hoped we were past that.” He paused but did not give her a chance to respond before he asked her, “Tell me about yourself, aside from your interest in obscure facts.”

Her lips quirked up at his remark but she had not a clue how to respond. They continued their walk through the park, passing along the riverside.

“I suppose there is not much to say, my lord. My parents passed when I was a child and my brother has taken care of me ever since.”

Anthony nodded, “I am sorry for your loss. Losing a parent is…” he paused, “Difficult.”

She nodded, “I don’t remember them very much though, all I recall is my mother’s lullabies and my father reading me stories. I suppose my love of reading comes from him. You lost your father as well, it must have been worse, to lose him at the age you did.” She said, deflecting the subject of the conversation to him.

“It was.” He said bluntly, she saw him go elsewhere in his mind. Recalling his father’s death no doubt.

They walked in silence for a moment, passing by the other couples with interlocked arms trying their best to charm each other.

“Do not assume I did not notice you trying to weasel out of my attention, Miss Carrington.” Just like that, his devilish gaze was back.

“I didn't mean to, my lord.”

“I’m confident you did not.” He replied, not sounding all too convinced of her intentions.

“What about your brother, I’m sure he dotes on you as you are the only family he has?”

Her heart sank. She could never prepare herself for questions about her relationship with her brother. He was much older than her, being three and twenty when their parents passed and now nearing forty years of age. She often wondered if he blamed her for their passing or maybe he blamed her for his life being snatched away. Their parents' death forced him to become the sole provider of their family, he no longer had the time to take his studies further, nor did he marry. He became cold, distant and consumed with his work to keep a roof over their heads. Their father was a lowly baron with little land and less income. Her brother had to work the fields himself often since they could barely afford a groundskeeper, much less a staff to man the fields. His stress mixed with his grief turned to anger and Annalise became the outlet. Any disobedience, mischief or grievance became fuel to his anger. She learned early on how to avoid his fits of rage but her efforts were not enough to stay entirely clear of his wrath.

“He is…preoccupied, typically. He works the grounds himself and has to manage the estate as well.” She said, trying to keep her response short and vague.

Anthony seemed to understand that her brother did not show her much affection.

“I’m sorry, I assumed he would dote on you. I was fortunate to see the way my own father doted on us and when he passed, I wanted to make sure my sisters did not feel the lack of his love. Or at least I attempt to.”

Annalise looked at him in surprise. She had not assumed the furrow-browed, rakish viscount would be one to dote on anyone. She did not know what to say. Perhaps not all men were of the same nature as her brother? And perhaps, she could find some semblance of safety with a man like the viscount. She quickly pushed these thoughts away as they were replaced with stomach-churning anxiety. All it took was one bad day, a wrong word, or a stressful time at work, for a man to become an entirely different person. She could not let her guard down around any man, much less one with power.

Their promenade came to an end as they walked back around to the tent and she bid the viscount goodbye, making a mental note to keep her walls risen around the silver-tongued viscount.

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