#anthony bridgerton x female!reader

[nikkisheep]

To Be Alone With You

Anthony Bridgerton x female!Sharma!reader

Warnings: Smut, TENSION, cursing, oral (f), reader is Kate's full sister, kissing, touching when not supposed to, Anthony and his voice (warning himself), virgin reader (innocent ofc), sex on a dock (lol), kinda public sex, slight angst

I am so sorry that it got so long but it is so worth it. This is also my first Bridgerton fic so hope its good. :)

Summary: It was time that Anthony Bridgerton to finally meet the final Sharma sister who may stand in his way of marrying Miss Edwina Sharma but not like he expected her to.

Anthony Bridgerton was a man who was used to having any woman melt and cling to his every word. Women practically threw themselves at his feet the moment he walked in the room. His presence was a strong one, making everyone eager to please the viscount.

When Viscount Bridgerton met Edwina Sharma, the newly named "Diamond of the Season", he was happy that he could find at least one woman with half a brain. Miss Edwina was the suitable bride and soon Viscountess. It was almost too easy, so he thought. That was until he met the elder sister of Miss Edwina. Kate Sharma, a woman of one and twenty who was unwed herself, was a challenge that Anthony could not refuse. He fell into a pursuit to win over the eldest Sharma sister, doing everything by the book. Well, with a few exceptions.

The Viscount did not want a love match. He could never fall in love with the woman who will bear his children. He just couldn't. And Miss Edwina Sharma was exactly the woman who he could not possibly love but, she would make a wonderful bride for him to breed and come to have a heir to fill the Viscount role when Anthony died.

A last, his mother, Viscountess Violet Bridgerton, had invited the Sharma family to visit the lovely Aubrey Halls. It would be Mrs. Mary Sharma, the lovely girls' mother, Miss Edwina Sharma and then Miss Kate Sharma. Anthony was ready to deal with Kate when she arrived.

---

Dinner was being served when the thunder started. Benedict seemed like he had lost his mind, no doubt had drank Colin's tea that he brought from his travels.

"Have you noticed, Col?" Benedict asked, "The twinkles of the candles, it is as....as if we sit among the stars."

Eloise snorted and looked to her older brother, "What is wrong with you?''

"I was just telling Benedict how brilliant the stars were in Greece," answered Colin.

Benedict went to take a sip of his wine but knocked it over, causing Violet and the other ladies to gasp at the table. The brother smiled and rubbed his hands over his cheeks in an innocent way.

"Lord Bridgerton, Miss Sharma here," A butler said.

"Whatever do you mean, Miss Sharma is here? How many are there?"

In just a few seconds a woman walks in, wearing the similar purple dress that the Sharma sisters were wearing. She looked identical to Kate, except her eyes were lighter. Her hair was more brown than black and she held her head high. Her presence was enough to even sober up Benedict for a moment.

"Is it just me or is there two Kates?" Benedict said, mind foggy.

"I am so sorry for my late arrival. Lady Bridgerton, the house is lovely." The woman said.

Violet blushed and thanked the woman. The older woman always enjoyed getting compliments about her home that she shared with Edmund.

"You said you couldn't make it," Edwina states as she moves to hug the woman. Everyone was confused as a goose until Kate stood up.

"This is my sister," Kate said, moving to stand by her.

You introduce yourself and smile at everyone, that is until you see Anthony. He had this look about him and you couldn't quite tell.

"I assume this is the viscount you were telling me about, Kate?" You said.

"Yes, this is Lord Bridgerton. He is the viscount and is to marry Edwina."

You looked at him and he just smirked. He had found a new toy to play with. And god did he want to play.

You looked at him.

"My lord, forgive me for my tartiness," You say, voice rich.

"All is forgiven, my lady." He had a hard look.

"Please, I am hardly a noble lady to earn that title,'' You tease.

Anthony was taken by surprise, no one had ever teased about their noblity or anything. Being a proper lady is very serious and not taken lightly. There was another Sharma sister, but at least this one seemed nice. For now.

---

You were quite the most annoying and challenging lady Anthony had the misery to meet. You talked too much, you jested a bit, your teasing with Benedict made his blood boil. Your words melting off your tongue and practically bringing Anthony's younger brother to his knees.

Benedict's face had blushed right before you move to rest your hand on his shoulder.

"My dear, Benedict, how are you?" You asked kindly, flashing that beautiful smile that made everyone melt.

"I am quite well, Miss Sharma." He looked down right flustered with your presence beside him.

Lady Bridgerton held a small ball at Aubrey Hall and Benedict had just finished dancing with you. The two of you had swept through the floor, everyone in envy that Mr. Bridgerton's attention was solely on you.

"Brother, I hate to steal our guest from you but I am in need of a dance," Anthony stepped in to say.

"I suppose that I have one dance in me," You laughed.

"I hadn't asked yet," Anthony said.

"Well, in that case, Benedict you wouldn't mind having yet another dance with me?" You smirked when Anthony rolled his eyes and groaned.

Once you got on the dance floor, Anthony could not keep his eyes off you, even as he danced with Edwina and Kate.

"My brother seems to be taking a liking to you," Benedict smiled.

"Please, he wants to marry my sister. After all, who even said I wanted him. Maybe I want you," You whisper the last part in his ear. He shudders against you and smiles.

"Is that true now, Miss Sharma?"

"Perhaps."

----

Pall Mall was the ruthless game that the Bridgerton's ever played. The Mallet of Death sat in your hands as Benedict had handed it to you with a wink and a sly smile. You blushed at the brother's antics.

He moved to be closer to you and whispered something in your ear which made you snort aloud and Kate looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Who has my bloody mallet?" Anthony's voice boomed in the air.

"My lord, I do not know," Kate smirked.

"Where is it?"

You coughed to clear your throat, suddenly bringing the Viscount's attention to you. That might have been a bad idea. It surely was.

"You...You have my mallet, I believe."

"I do?" You inquired.

"Yes, Miss Sharma, you do."

"Well, I suppose that I could just give it to you," You start to hand it to him, his siblings surprised at how easy you were giving it up, and Anthony was smiling, "But first you will have to catch me." You took off running down the field and Anthony just watched in surprise.

"Did she?"

"I believe she did," Daphne laughed. She watched as her older brother looked as if he wanted to blow up.

"Dear brother, I think you should go get her if that mallet is very important to you." Colin laughed as Anthony ran down the field, looking for you as the Mallet of Death rested in your possession.

He ran looking for you and he heard your sweet giggle coming from in the garden. He looked to see that everyone had given up on waiting for them and started the match without the two of you. He walked around the garden to find you crouching behind a hedge and was covering your mouth as you looked around the side of the bush, hoping to not be seen.

His boots moved to quietly as he stalked closer to your frame. He then grabbed your waist and picked you up, causing you to gasp into his hand.

"Lord Bridgerton, put me down this instant."

He placed you down on the ground and stands close to your body. His warmth and scent poured over you in waves. He smelt like sweat, dirt, body wash, slight scent of vanilla, and sandalwood?

"Lord Bridger-"

"Anthony, my name is Anthony." He said, panting at the closeness that he had created.

"My lord-"

"Anthony."

"My lord, it is improper to call you by your given name," You say, trying to catch your breath and not breathe his scent in.

"And us being in my mother's garden alone is very improper, I dare say, Miss Sharma."

Your smell floods his senses when he takes a deep breath and move closer to you, chests touching. The smell of dirt, sweat, lilies and Jasmine? God, it drove him crazy. Just being around you drove him crazy.

"You followed me here.''

"You ran here."

"You chased me."

"You took my mallet."

"I-" You stutter, "Benedict gave it to me."

He looks at you with something dark in his eyes, something that burned with fiery. His hand came to touch your waist and you nearly melt. He looks at your chest, noticing that you were wearing the Bridgerton color. You normally wore purple but you were wearing the baby blue that stood for his family.

"You are wearing my family color," He says, blood rushing some where it did not need to be.

"Oh, I had not known that I wasn't allowed to wear blue."

"It stands for my family and you...are...wearing...my...color."

His body presses closer to you, invading your space. He moves to corner you against the tall hedge, the only thing keeping your situation from any on lookers.

His mouth moves to rest beside your ear, hot breath fanning over the exposed skin there, goosebumps rising on your skin.

"You want something, I can sense it."

You shudder.

"And what would that be, my lord?"

"You want me," He said lowly.

"You are to marry Edwina," You correct him.

"That doesn't change that you desire me," He chuckles at your attempt.

"I beg your pardon. You are a rake and I have no desire for such a person like you. You are to marry my sister, not me. If you wish to be with my sister than act like it, if not then leave her alone. I will not be some play thing for you to play with when you want to."

"Oh but you are my play toy. You are whatever I want you to be. Do you know why?" He asked.

"Why?"

"Because all I have to do is whisper real close to your ear, like this," He moved even closer, "And tell you that I desire you in ways that would make any mama blush and cry out for improper topics to a lady."

You take in a ragged breath.

"Desire me?"

"Yes, why do you think I came out here to get you?"

"To get your mallet?"

"No, so I can have you."

" You are courting my sister to marry. I am done with this topic and I am leaving this garden. Good day, Lord Bridgerton."

---

Anthony was reeling. He couldn't stop thinking about you. He can't sleep at night because of you. It wasn't your fault. No, it was your fault. You were the one who kept reminding him of his soon to be proposal to your sister and putting him in his place. Heavens above, he couldn't help but be aroused when you put him where he was meant to be. And that perfume that you have, Jasmine and Lillies, god it did things to him.

---

The day had been hot, very hot and you knew that you shouldn't but you were burning for a swim in the lake. You couldn't help it. After being in the garden with the Viscount, it felt you aflame.

Sneaking out of your chambers, you made your way outside to the lake that rested toward the trees.

Looking around, you made sure that no one was up and you were making sure that you were not followed. You made your way to a tree and took off your coat. Yo began your task of unbuttoning your gown.

Anthony watched you remove each piece of fabric from your body as he made his way down to the lake himself. He had not known that you were going to be here. He had not expected it. He always goes for a midnight swim when he couldn't sleep. Why he couldn't sleep? You.

Slipping onto the dock, you take a dive, cold water enveloping your body. It felt heavenly against your heated skin. Anthony was never to be allowed to know that he was the reason behind the midnight swim in the lake. You swam to the middle and was sighing while looking up to the moon. The entire lake was lit by the moon, banishing all shadows from being cast onto your face. You looked angelic.

Anthony slipped in the water after stripping completely bare and went underwater. He wanted to see you move about when you were by yourself. He had wanted to see you nude, part of his mind begging him to see what you looked like, but you were still a lady and he was a gentleman.

You heard a splash and you turned around very quickly, spotting none other than Anthony Bridgerton. You knew you were caught and he would laugh at you but he just swam closer. You could only see his shoulders and water was dripping down them to be collected back to the lake.

"My lord-"

"I do believe that we are now way past formalities," He chuckled.

He was silently begging to hear his name fall from your lips. He knew this was wrong. You were his betrothed sister. You were a lady. You were innocent. If he took that from you, you would be ruined. But...but you looked so desirable. You looked just ready to be ravished by his mouth. To be tasted in places that you had never thought of to be touched. To be submitted to such incredible pleasure that Anthony knew that he could bring you. To be his.

He swam closer to you, grabbing your hand which he used to pull you until you were placing your hands on his shoulders to hold onto. You gasped at how warm he still was, even in the chilled water of the night. Anthony looked at you, smiling when he realizes that you move even closer, your legs brushing every time you move to keep yourselves afloat.

"I want you," He admits.

He kisses your lips, groaning when you kiss back only for a second before he feels himself being pushed away from you.

"You are engaged to my sister," You say.

"Not yet."

"But-"

"But, I want you. I don't want Edwina. I don't want Kate. I want you," He says, "I desire you."

Anthony kissed your lips once more, swallowing any sound coming from your mouth. His tongue brushed yours and you moaned. You had never done that but with Anthony, you felt so good you couldn't keep it inside.

Anthony had you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling something quite odd in between his legs but you didn't question it when he took your breast into his awaiting mouth. He sucked your nipple and ran his tongue around it as he teased you mercilessly. Your hair was down so it was hanging in the water as you threw your head back in bliss as he moved to bite at your collarbones and neck.

Anthony moved the two of you all the way to the dock, picking you up out of the water and seating you directly onto the hard wood. He then watches as you move back, suddenly aware of how exposed you are to him. He puts his hands on the dock and pushes himself out of the water, droplets trickling down his slightly hairy chest down to his now every noticeable something. You didn't know what on earth it could even be.

"What is that?" You said shyly, pointing to his hips.

"That would be my cock." He just chuckled.

"It looks hard," You said, "does it hurt?"

He groaned at your innocence. God, you were going to be the death of him. You looked so nervous to even ask and then when you did, you blushed deeply. You were so cute.

"It hurts some times when I desire someone really bad," He explained.

"Like Edwina? Did it ever hurt for Edwina or Kate?" You asked softly.

"No, never with them. I want you," He said, holding your face, "God, you consume every thought that I make. You make it so, so hard to be a gentleman. There is no way that I can escape you, no matter how hard I try because you are always in my mind."

He kissed you once more and you let him. You were going to forget about Edwina, who the man currently moving in between your legs and kissing every inch of your body, was supposed to get married to. You were going to forget the rules of being a proper lady. You were going to forget formalities and just revel in the pleasure that is being caused by the mouth of your sister's soon to be betrothed.

"Anthony!" You cried when he made contact with the little bud between your folds and he licked it. Your body was shot with electricity that sent your back to be arching.

He hummed against your core and went back to sucking on your clit. No one or nothing could have prepared you for the Viscount's tongue to slip inside of you. He had done so when you were pulling on his hair as you grasped for anything but you could not find anything to ground you. Anthony swept you away in pure pleasure as he ate you like a starved man. He drank anything your body was willing to give and he took it with a groan. His eyes rolled back as he tasted you.

"Oh, my lord-"

"It's Anthony. Just Anthony," He said before staring at your weeping cunt.

Your hands pulled at the man's hair and his other hand, that wasn't holding down your hips, moved up to grab a hold of your free hand that was gripping your breast. Your back arched when he made one last circle with his tongue on your clit and you burst with carnal desire. You shook against Anthony's mouth as he drank you in.

He thought you were so beautiful laying out for him, under the stars on his dock, wet hair after a late night swim and most of all, the way the moon shone down on you. You looked ever so innocent but oh so dirty.

"Are you okay?" He asked when he noticed you not moving but still shaking.

"I'm more than okay."

He laughed and began kissing up your body. His tongue poked out every once and a while as he traveled up to your mouth. The taste of yourself was erotic. You had never known something could exist. Anthony moved on top of you and positioned himself so that his cock would rest between your sensitive folds. He had to contain himself so that he wouldn't cum right on the spot.

You gave him a nod before he claimed your lips as he pushed himself inside your waiting body. You moaned out loud before you started panting against Anthony's mouth as the two of you tried to adjust to the sudden feeling. His arms shook as his head fell onto your chest as your hand ran through his hair, pulling slightly.

"Are you ready for me to move because if you aren't that's okay but I really need to move?" Water trickled down his body as he held himself above you, looking down at you.

"Please, Anthony." He smiled at his name and started to slowly pull out, letting you feel every ridge and vein his dick possessed and you were enjoying it. Anthony thrusted back in and your head fell back against the wooden dock. As Anthony thrusted his cock in and out of you, the only things that could be heard was your labored breathing and the sounds of your bodies moving against each other as the two of you reached new heights together and the sound of crickets chirping in the grass.

"Oh, god you feel so good," Anthony groaned.

"So fucking good," You panted, hips rising to match his. You were chasing something but you didn't know what. You didn't even know what was happening when your muscles started to tighten and some kind of euphoria started to crash down on you.

Anthony's breathing got caught in his throat as he watched your face contort in pleasure as he pumped himself constantly in you, trying to reach his end. He looked at your blissful face and decided that you would give him another.

"Just one more, darling, and then I can fill you up real nice." His hand went in between your legs as he watched himself move inside and out of you. His thumb began circling your clit, his cock hitting the right spots every time, his face tightening in desirable lust as he held himself above you, moving faster, trying to make you cum for a third time before he got his.

"Oh, Anthony!" You moan before he places a kiss on your lips to silence you. You cum one last time and Anthony unloads himself completely in you once bottoming out inside you. You laid there with him as he felt the aftershocks of his orgasm and you shuddered at the sudden cold.

Anthony kisses you lazily as he feels you giggle against his lips when he sighs into you. He pulls out and then shudders at the cold.

"I think we should go get some nice warm milk and sit by the fire to warm up," He proposes.

"Won't we get caught?"

"Darling, we just had sex on the dock in front of my house and you are worried about getting caught with some milk by the fire?" He laughed.

"Well, I can't be seen with you alone."

"Fine, but let's get dressed and go inside so we can sleep."

"In the same room?" You ask in a quiet voice.

"Not yet. We might get caught."

"Maybe getting caught wouldn't be so bad then," You giggle when you see his bare ass.

"Oh you are a little minx," Anthony groans.

"Maybe," You gasp when he picks you up after you get dressed and then carries you inside.

He takes you to your room and puts you down so you can stand. He doesn't want to let go but he knows he needs to leave soon.

''Good night, Miss Sharma." He said with a kiss.

"Good night, Lord Bridgerton," You sigh against his lips.

The kiss is passionate but is cut short when the clock decided to strike three and make a loud noise. You both laugh and he sees you close the door and he then walks to his chambers.

He finally can go to sleep with a smile on his face. A smile that didn't disappear the following day until he realized that he had to propose to your sister, Edwina Sharma.

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[crazyk-imagine]

There’s a Heat Between Us, You Must Admit

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Plus size!rader

Characters: Plus size!reader, Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton, Mildred “Millie” Nightington (reader’s cousin), Bernard (the servant), Eloise Bridgerton, Francesca Bridgerton, Gregory Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Simon Bassett, Augie Bassett

Warnings: Anthony is an idiot, the bee scene (mainly from the book scene), drama, Daphne doesn’t want to see her friend end up alone, reader gives Anthony the biggest side eye ever, reader and Anthony are idiots, Millie is a sweetheart, reader and Anthony are competitive, the sideburns line was something I learned about, reader is stubborn, Anthony is oddly very emotional in this, reader knows a lot of things, reader doesn’t know how to deal with her emotions, pregnancy scare, the pregnancy scare reminds me of a sitcom

Word Count: 13,647

A/N: Reader’s last name is Starlington and also, super excited to have finally finished this one. 

*1,700 follower celebration post*

Also, Happy Valentine’s day!!

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Sometimes you loved your dear friend Daphne and other times you didn't, right now for example, you don't. 

Honestly you don’t know how this got brought up (again) but you’d wish she would stop; it’s not going to happen even if she wants you to officially join her family. 

You knew her being the first to marry out of the two of you was going to lead to more of her shenanigans, but this was too much for you. 

You sigh, setting your cup down to look her in the eyes, “I have no plans on being in this season.” 

Her shoulder sagged, “I understand that but-” 

“But, nothing. Daphne, I am more than content with my being staying very much untied to a man. If I happen to meet someone worth it, you’ll know.” 

-

Anthony glances over in your direction and his mind goes elsewhere. 

You’re his sister’s best friend who also became Benedict’s best friend soon after you met the rest of his family. 

He isn’t particularly upset at the fact that you’ve managed to befriend his siblings (slightly better than he could) but, there’s something that keeps bringing a certain idea to the front of his mind. 

“Are you going to take your turn or continue staring?” Benedict asks. 

The eldest shrugs off his brother’s comment. 

Anthony uses the dreaded “death mallet” and once again, manages to pass the others. 

-

Daphne heads towards her siblings before they can scream and shout at her for sitting down instead of taking her turn. 

You sigh, shoulders sagging because you know she means no harm; you know that but, you can’t force yourself to love and care for someone you don’t have feelings for. 

You’d never admit it (out loud or to her) but there are nights where you do wonder how it would be if you did get married to someone you loved. 

The concerning part is how her brother sneaks into your mind; not your closest friend, Benedict, or the third oldest, Colin, and of course not, Gregory. 

No, Anthony is the one to invade your mind and corrupt your dreams with his charming smile and smooth movements. 

And you would never dare tell Daphne or your cousin of your thoughts; no matter how hard she tries to convince you he feels something for you. 

You take a deep breath, returning your focus onto the game only to meet a pair of oak brown eyes gazing upon you. 

You tear your gaze away at the sounds of Violet walking down the stairs, carrying a smiling Augie in her arms earning a smile from you as you observe the happy baby. 

You glance towards her and offer a polite smile, giving her a moment to settle down in the free chair before turning to focus on the young babe. “Hello, Augie,” you greet him with a baby tone and shake his chubby fingers. 

“He’s always taken with you,” Violet comments. 

“I am the one who always manages to search for his mother when he cries for her. Sometimes I believe myself to be a dog.” 

She chuckles, “that’s not it.” 

“Why else would he like me?” 

“You have a natural instinct that he senses. Children know these things.” 

“If that’s what you say.” 

Daphne steps away from the others, wanting to see her child. “She is right, you know.” 

“Not you too,” you groan. 

“You will make a fantastic mother.” 

“Someday.” 

“It could happen sooner than one would think.”

“What are you planning?” 

“Nothing.” 

Anthony stares back at you once more, observing the way you interact with his dear nephew. As he searches for someone to call wife, his most secretive thoughts keep coming to mind. The more he searches and the longer you stay, the more he finds himself wondering. 

His mother continues to help him in his search for a wife albeit reluctantly since she finds herself so fond of you. She’d never explicitly tell him to pursue you but, she could always kindly ease him into the right direction, which is when his disbelief comes to the surface, truly believing you to feel nothing for him. 

He knows if he tried to pursue you and it fell through, he will have ruined a lifelong friendship for his family- as he watches Daphne hold her purple mallet for you to take- he realizes he can’t pursue you. 

Not that he’d ever given it any real thought, but he’d never be able to forgive himself if he was the reason, you stopped coming by. 

You shake your head. 

She puts it in your hand, persuading you into taking her place so she can attend to Augie. 

You step down from the seating area with little energy. 

His sister offers encouraging nods. 

“I see you finally came to join us,” comments Anthony. 

You avoid his gaze- you can barely stand beside him. “Not like I wanted to,” you reply. 

“You’re scared to lose?” 

You scoff, turning to look up at him, “that is not what I said.” 

He smirks, leaning closer to you, “you didn’t have to.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, “we’ll see who’s laughing when I win.” You walk away, taking your turn. You’re satisfied until you sense him behind you. 

He follows you, “for someone who didn’t want to play earlier, you’ve certainly found your spirit.” 

“Or was it a trick?” You smirk, glancing at him when the ball rolls through the metal hoop with ease. “You look nice,” you comment, turning around to walk away. 

Anthony’s brows furrow together, his body takes over as he steps closer to you, standing beside you. “What do you mean?” 

You turn, struggling to find the right words without sending the wrong message. “I only meant you look nice. You know, people- people can actually see your face now.” 

He continues to stare at you. 

“Your sideburns were nice but it- they- people may have assumed you grew them to hide what lies in your heart.”

“And what do you think lies there?” The words escape him before he could process his thoughts. 

“I believe the love for your family and future wife is there, along with the care and compassion you hold for them. I do have to admit, I am a bit glad you shaved.” 

He tilts his head, “and why is that?” 

“I was afraid you would have continued growing them and at some point, they would connect,” you use both hands the gesture from your sideburns to your upper lip, “and you would look as though you were wearing a mask of sorts,” you say with one hundred percent seriousness until you think about it and snicker, covering your face with your hand. 

Anthony is also unable to keep himself collected and joins in. He straightens his posture, “what of you?” 

You take a deep breath, fanning yourself. "What of me, for what?” 

“What do you think lies in your heart?” 

“The same as you, I suppose. Love and compassion for my family and the few friends I have.” 

“What about me?” He asks before he can stop himself. 

“What?” You don’t know what to think. 

“I-” He walks past you, placing his mallet back into place before exiting, wandering to the garden. He needs to get as far away from you as he can in order to clear his mind. 

You don’t understand what’s happened and place your mallet beside his before chasing after him. 

-

He stares at you, half listening to you and his attention moves elsewhere. 

“Are you even listening to me?” You stare at him, wanting to understand him. You’re too into your thoughts to hear the faint buzz. 

The noise sends a shiver down his spine, he knows the noise too well; his nightmares (if he can remember any) always start with the faint buzz. 

He doesn’t move as he searches for it. Sadly, for the eldest child, he doesn’t have to search for long as the small, striped animal floats around you. He prays to whoever is listening to hear his silent prayers for it doesn’t sting you; he can’t lose someone else to the blasted creature. 

“Anthony?” You ask, glancing down when you feel something land on you. You realize why he can’t look away. “Hey, it’s alright.” 

He can’t focus on your words, his mind rattled with the memory of his late father. “Don’t move,” his voice is low and shaky.

“I know, it’s a bee but, it won’t hurt me as long as I-” you close your eyes due to the discomfort you get from the sting, and it sends him into a whirlwind. “I’ll be alright,” you say, still trying to reassure him. You open your eyes to see how pale he’s gotten. 

He invades your personal space, grasping onto your arms. “Are- are you-” He glances back and forth between your face and your wound. His voice is low, far too low for you to understand what it is he is trying to say but you swear you hear him mutter something along the lines of, “don’t move'' repeatedly. 

You know you must calm him down before he can do anything. You reach for him, placing a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at you. “Breathe, Anthony. I need you to breathe.” 

He can’t say anything, almost as if he’s choking on air. Images of his father invade his mind, filling him with worry and dread. 

You can see he is close to tears. Your voice draws him out of his thoughts. “I promise you. I hope you know I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m fine but I will still have a doctor come and look at it so that it may heal properly. I’m right here. I’m here with you.” 

Anthony’s hands grip your biceps, he notices how swollen the sting site has become. 

“It stung me, but I am not hurting. This has happened before. I will be fine.” 

None of your reassurances are having any effect on him. 

The image of his father taking his last breath in his mother’s arm is enough to make lean in to suck the venom out. 

“Anthony?! What are you-” You cut yourself off at the feeling of his shaky hands trying to remove the stinger. “Anthony, you must stop.” 

“Shut up,” he hisses, trying to stay focused on keeping you healthy (and alive) while fighting to keep his father’s death out of his mind. 

You take deep breaths, you try to push him away, but he is insistent and stronger than you. “I am fine, I just need to see a doctor and I-” 

“Would you be quiet,” he finally lifts his head to look up at you. 

You gulp, “I know- I know what tragedy has happened in your family but, today will not be the same for me.” 

He doesn’t listen and continues to squeeze the area. 

You gasp, eyes widening at the feeling of his hands being so close to your breast. This has gone too far; you must stop this before someone sees. “Anthony,” you place your hands on his chest to push him away once more. 

“Stop it,” he shoves your arms off him. “Let me get rid of the venom.” 

“There is a doctor who can do this and-” 

“The doctor is not here. I am.” He stops squeezing when some liquid begins to spill out of the wound. 

You look down, finding the trail of liquid, “see, you did it. Now, I am going inside to-” 

Anthony pulls out a handkerchief, wiping away the trail. “It’s not all of it.” 

You wrap your hand around his wrist, stopping him from patting you dry. “You must stop this, Anthony. If anything were to have happened, it would have happened already.”

“There is still more,” he mutters, staring at the irritated area. 

“You need to stop.” 

“I haven’t gotten all of it,” he turns, staring at you. 

“Whatever it is you’re thinking of doing. Don’t.” 

“I have to get the venom out before it kills you.” 

“It won’t kill me-” you gasp, seeing the determination in him as he leans forward. You place your hand on his shoulder, keeping his head away but fail to remove his hand. 

The click clack of women’s shoes against the rock pathway alerts you, but you feel as though you can’t move. 

A gasp makes you turn to find his mother alongside your cousin, Mildred (Millie for short), staring at the two of you with shocked expressions. 

Your heart rate increases and gain enough strength to fully shove him away from you, knowing how this looks. 

He glances up at you with a confused expression. 

“Anthony?” Violet calls out. 

His brows furrow further, he looks over your shoulder, “mother?” 

“What is going here?” 

“She was stung by a- a bee.” 

“A bee?” 

“Yes, a bee. I’d told him repeatedly I was fine. I’ve dealt with being stung before,” you say, struggling to keep yourself together. 

“You were stung by a bee and the boy found himself attached to you?” Mildred raises a brow. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Millie.” 

“I’m not, I’m wondering how you think this can be kept quiet.” 

“Kept quiet?” You repeat quietly to yourself. 

“Neither of us would repeat a word of what occurred today,” he argues. 

“That doesn’t mean anything for a woman’s reputation,” Mildred says with an attitude. 

“You do realize anyone could walk out here and spot the two of you, don’t you?” 

He doesn’t say anything. 

“Don’t you?” 

He grits his teeth, “I do.” 

“You should consider yourself lucky that it was us who found you and no one else, rake.” 

“That’s enough now, Mildred,” Violet intervenes. “Let’s,” she takes a deep breath, “let’s go inside and talk about this further. Lady Starlington needs to be seen by a doctor.” 

You can’t stand to be there any longer and turn away from him, walking past the two ladies and Anthony; your pace speeds up before you know it, you’re sprinting back to Audrey Hall. 

Mildred sighs, “now what are we to do?”

“We will all walk back and discuss this,” Violet says. 

“Of course, we are but, what am I to tell my parents? They’ll be curious to know why their niece’s name is in a Lady Whistledown column.” 

Anthony grunts, taking a step towards the two. He passes by them and quickly announces, “we will marry before the end of the season.” 

“Did he say what I think he did?” asks Mildred, watching his figure walk away with wide eyes. 

Violet sighs, shaking her head, “I believe he did.” 

“Did I do the right thing?” 

The mother of the family stops, turning to face your cousin, “what do you mean?” 

“I- I basically pushed themselves together into this potentially unhappy marriage. I know I sometimes I can’t keep my comments to myself but, I swear I had good intentions. It's just- when we came around the corner to see that I- I worry about her. I fear I may have ruined my relationship with the two.” 

“I can’t give you an exact answer but, I can say that as long as you have your cousin’s interest and happiness in mind, the most you can do is hope for the best. They are both emotionally driven people, even if neither wishes to admit it. This will be hard for them, and it may be a test.” 

“A test?”

“To see if they will make good of their marriage. You and I, as well as my other children, have come to realize how they connect with one another. They can’t see it for themselves but there is something there and now is the time for them to see it.” 

“I suppose so. What if they can’t make it work?” 

“Then I fear they will be in a miserable marriage.” 

-

No one else disturbed you after the doctor left. 

You sit at the edge of the bed, your vision blurs; you cover your mouth with shaky hands. You don’t want others to hear if they happen to be walking by. You cry, struggling to catch your breath. 

Everything you’ve been feeling with the last few days is slowly escaping you. Your mother is requesting to visit and marriage situation with Anthony; it’s too much. 

You take deep breaths, aiming to calm yourself down. 

Maybe it would be better if you left and went home or maybe somewhere far from here.

A knock disturbs you from your thoughts. 

You wipe your cheeks, hoping whoever it is will go away but fail as another knock comes through. You take a deep breath and open the door, “Viscount Bridgerton?” 

He lifts his gaze off the floor, “what happened to Anthony?” 

Any curiosity falls from your expression, “your making light of the situation?” 

He shakes his head, “I would never.” 

“I think you’ve done enough today. It’s almost time for bed.” 

He takes a step closer to the door, his hand inches away from being crushed, “I,” he sighs, taking a step back, removing his hand from the door. “I have come to ask if you would have dinner with me.” 

“With you?” 

“I think it would be wise if we talked before anything becomes… official.” 

“Now?” 

“Are you going to use full sentences any time soon?” 

“Why should I? Is it bothering you?” 

“Nevermind that. Are you going to join me or not?” 

“Will there be someone else there?” 

He gives you a reluctant nod, “yes, your dearest cousin, Mildred.” 

“I’ll be down in a moment. I will meet you there.”

“I’ll wait here.” 

“Do you have to?”

“No but, I think it might be good practice for us.” 

“Practice,” you mumble and shut the door. You walk over to the vanity, staring at yourself, wondering how you got into this situation. You snatch the extra handkerchief and pat your face, removing any evidence of your despair. 

You take careful steps toward the door and exit, Anthony leaning against the wall across from your room. He holds his arm out for you to hold. 

You shake your head. 

“Don’t you think you’ve touched her enough today?” 

He sighs, “Mildred.” 

“Who else would it be?” She interlocks your arms together, pulling you ahead of the eldest Bridgerton. “Come on.” 

-

“Do either of you know how to use it?” Anthony asks, staring at the stove. 

Mildred shakes her head, “the maids are always around to do it.” 

“Both of you sit down,” you say. 

“Do you know how to work this?” he asks, sounding surprised. 

“I do. It’s too late for us to have a full meal, instead we can have a glass of warm milk.” 

They sit at the table in the corner of the room. 

Anthony watches as you move gracefully around the kitchen.

“If you keep staring, she’ll catch you.” 

He turns to her, “what?” 

“You’re staring.” 

“No, I wasn’t,” he denies. 

“You can lie all you want but I know you care for her. Perhaps, you always have and never wanted to admit it before and the whole bee situation was a ruse so that you could stop being a ninny and marry her instead.” 

His jaw drops, he doesn’t know how to respond. “I did not-” 

She waves him off, “do not lie Anthony, I know you love her and have for some time now, only you must realize it now than later in your marriage. I do not want her… or you to be unhappy. Oddly enough, I seem to care for you but, obviously not the same way she does you.” 

He scoffs through his nose, muttering to himself, “obviously.” 

You place the glass of milk in front of the two, interrupting their conversation. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided to marry my cousin instead.” 

Anthony nearly chokes on the liquid, setting the glass down and snatches the handkerchief you hold out for him.

He wipes his chin, “what makes you think I would want to marry, Mildred.” 

She scoffs, “you’d be lucky to have me, Bridgerton.” 

He narrows his eyes to her. 

“I’ll be just outside this door, leaving the two of you talk and nothing else.”

You furrow your brows, “wait. Mil-” 

She waves to you. 

You take a deep breath, not wanting to face him. 

It was different when he wasn't paying attention to you and rather his own life, but now... you hope he doesn't want to talk. 

"We should- we should talk." 

Everything in your screams to not run away and hide, even though it sounds like it would be the better option right now. 

"How are you?" 

"I would be happier if I was marrying for love and not because of your concern over my virtue," you mumble. 

He overhears and sighs. “Don’t-” 

“No, I understand. Truly I do, just- I need- it’s late. Apologies for keeping you up.” You grab the skirts of your dress and walk out. 

Mildred watches as you run away. She spins around and stands in the doorway. “What did you do?” 

“Me- I-” 

She sighs. “Just shut up.” 

He sighs and slumps in the chair. Mildred storms into the room after you. 

-

“What happened?” 

“Nothing.” You take a deep breath, hunched over your vanity. 

“You know, you two act as a married couple who have known each other for too long and no longer know how to act lovingly around one another.” 

“You are wrong, cousin. He is- he is the scum- the scum that rests at the bottom of my shoe. Why would I ever marry someone like that? Much less that Bridgerton, I mean, Colin would be a better option and I don’t like him as much as I do Benedict.” You keep your head down, “people marry for less.” 

“I wish to marry for love, if it ever decides to come my way but until then I will deal with him marrying the only person, I care about that is close to my age.” 

“So, you care enough about me to marry me off?” 

“Don’t phrase it in such a way that makes me the bad guy,” she throws herself onto your bed. 

“Go to bed. I will be fine, Millie.” 

She props herself up on her elbows. “Are you sure?”

“I am. Please,” you look up and turn around, putting on a brave face. “I promise you. I will be fine.” 

“If you’re sure-” 

“Which I am. Goodnight, Millie.” 

She sighs and steps outside of the room, “night.” 

-

“Good morning.” 

You don’t respond to Mildred. 

“Are you ignoring me?” 

“I am simply showing you the way my soon-to-be husband will treat me.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“It has already begun. I awoke early and decided I wanted to speak to him after thinking about it all. I say hi but he does not.” You shrug, "it doesn't matter now." 

"It does though. Let me," she sighs. "Let me speak with him. I can- I can fix this." 

"No," you say. “I don’t want you to be in the middle any more than you have.” 

“Alright... now onto more pressing matters.” 

“Such as?” 

“Your plans for the wedding?” 

“Oh, right.” You continue to stare out the window. 

“Are you sure you're alright?” 

“I just-” 

Anthony stops himself from knocking on the door and decides to listen. 

“I thought when I was to marry, I would marry for love not because I need my virtue protected or saved." 

"If he didn't agree to this-" 

"I would be a spinster." 

"That is how I will live my life," Mildred grabs your hand and gains your attention. 

Anthony takes his leave, unable to stay there any longer. 

“That is not how I want you to live your life. I want you to be the one to have another you can call upon if there is something the matter because I won’t always be there and I need to know that you are protected before I leave.” 

“You’re leaving?” 

She sighs. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out but yes. A week after you’ve been married, I plan on traveling the world.” 

“Your childhood dream.” 

“Precisely.” 

"I- what if I'm not good enough to," you wave your hand around. "This."

"This what? I'm not sure I understand." 

"What if- what if I am not fit to be a wife. I mean," you push yourself out of the chair and pace around the room. "I don't want him to be disappointed in the person he is to call wife. I don't want to be in a marriage of..." 

"Regret?" 

"Precisely." 

She stops you by placing a hand on your wrists, “now is the time for us to plan your wedding. Violet and Anthony have been sitting in the tearoom since I came in here.” 

“She’s- they’re- why didn’t you tell me?” You rush out the door. 

-

You clean yourself up outside the door and nod to your servant, Bernard, to open the doors. You nervously smile at both. 

Violet pops up from the chair closest to the window. “How are you?” 

“Oh- uh- I’m,” you glance to the side and stare at her eldest, who locks eyes with you. 

“I mean from the- well, you know,” she struggles to say. 

You let out a breath of relief, “ah, yes. I do. I am- I am fine. I’m just happy that everyone else is fine.” 

She smiles, “that is kind of you to say, but unnecessary.” 

“I hear you came to talk about our upcoming… event.” 

“Is that what Mildred told you?” 

You furrow your brows, “is that not what you’re here to discuss?” 

Anthony pushes himself off the couch. “Not yet. Mother, if you’d excuse us.” 

“Anthony, I don’t-” 

He gives her a look. 

"We will be right outside this door." 

"What did you want to discuss?" 

"If we are to marry, we should have stipulations." 

"You think I'll be so horrible that we need rules?" 

"Not you. I believe if we have these, we'll have a better understanding of what should come from this marriage." 

"Why don't I just stay by your side and show my face when you need me to so you can look like the perfect husband? Would that make things easier?" 

He sighs. "That is one of the things we need to discuss, which events you'd prefer to come to." 

"Oh, I get to choose those?" 

"Please stop. I am trying to make this as easy as I can." 

You clench your fists. "How am I supposed to be okay with this?" 

“It’s my fault and I am trying to make up for that.” 

You pause, “your fault?” 

He nods, “yes, it was- it was me who... couldn’t.” 

You step forward and place your hand on his, drawing his attention onto you. “It is not your fault when something so devastating comes to mind and you do all you can to prevent another. I do not blame you, but you must understand that I do not want to be one of those ladies.” 

“Who?” The only word he can get out as he studies you. 

Your compassion shifts into something of annoyance, one he knows too well. “You know who, someone who wants to be like Penelope’s mother or maybe even... all of the other ladies,” you chuckle, proud of the joke you made.

"I'm glad you can make jokes at a time like this." 

You roll your eyes, "oh hush, I am still upset about pretending to be a perfect housewife for the one man every woman dreams of being with." 

"Are you included?" 

Your mouth agape as you stare at him. 

"You two haven't maimed each other, perfect." 

"Millie," you pinch the bridge of your nose. 

"Oh, don't act so coy now." 

You roll your eyes and sit down, waiting to hear what Anthony and his mother have to say. You pace along the floor, finding it to be quieter here than in the tearoom with the others, even if they weren’t talking it was still too loud. You know there’s no alternative for what’s transpired between you and your soon to be husband, but it still hurts knowing he will never love you the way- 

“Are you alright?” Daphne’s voice draws you out of your thoughts. 

You give her a small smile and hope she doesn’t poke further. 

“I know this isn’t how it was supposed to happen but there is one good thing about your marriage.” 

You scoff, “and what, pray tell, is that?” 

“I finally can call you sister.” 

You try not to show how happy that makes you, not wanting her to know she was right. “Thank you.” 

She drags you over to the piano. 

“I still don’t understand why you have many so pianos.” 

She shrugs, “for moments like this, maybe?” 

“Are you waiting for me to play?” 

She nods, “of course, I am. You were always much better than I was.” 

“I was not.” 

“Show me then. Show me how awful you play, and I will not ask you again.”

You don’t know how long you had been playing for, but it was something you missed- not having a piano in your own home, you didn’t realize how long it had been. 

You usually prefer to play when no one is watching but having Daphne by your side was nice, she always knew how to help calm you before things could get worse; everyone knew of your father’s temper, and no one wants to face that through his only daughter. 

Anthony raises his hand to knock on the door but pauses as he listens, he doesn’t realize Daphne had learned a new piece. He slowly opens the door and finds you playing instead. 

‘When did you learn how to play?’ He wonders. 

Or maybe it was, you had always known, and he was too into his fantasies that he forgot to pay attention to the true version of you. 

Just when he was hoping to learn something horrible about you; you’re becoming more and more like his... 

“I didn’t know you played.” 

You open your eyes and glance up at him, standing up as quickly as you can. “I don’t.” 

He furrows his brows, “that’s not what I heard.” 

“That- that was nothing.” 

“Why are you lying?” 

“I prefer to keep this information to myself so if you could kindly pretend you didn’t hear anything, that’d be best.” You exit the room, knowing you’ve left 

Anthony in a wave of confusion. “What was that about?” 

“She doesn’t like others to know of her talents because she knows they’ll ask her to perform one of them.”

“Her mother.” He finally understands. 

“And her aunt.” 

Now he truly gets it. "Is this what you two would do while I was out with mother?" 

She shrugs and pushes the seat back. "Perhaps, or maybe you were never around long enough to learn about her even though you're entranced by her." 

He stutters, unsure of where she could have gotten that idea. "What?" 

She quickly hides her amusement before he can see. "Nothing. Goodnight Anthony." 

He tries to stop her, but she ignores him, offering an excuse for needing to put Augie to bed. He wonders what else he doesn’t know. 

You pace back and forth in front of his office door; this isn’t something you can do in person, is it? You sigh and wonder if it’s a wise choice to be doing this at all. 

You slip the letter under his door and take a step back. “That wasn’t so hard.” You turn around and briskly walk down the hallway, hoping he doesn’t see that it was you who was there.

Something moving in the corner of his eye piqued his interest and moved closer to figure out what it was. He picks up the letter and opens the door, seeing someone’s figure turning the corner before losing sight of them. 

He closes the door and opens the letter, wondering what you could have said when you’ve already said plenty. 

Dear Bridgerton, 

I I want to start off by apologizing for my outbursts, you don’t deserve them, and they are not aimed at you, but you happen to be the person I am talking to and... This is not how I expected the season to begin or end and I’m sure you didn’t either but if there is someone I were to marry, I’m happy it’d be you... because I trust you. I will do all that I can to be the perfect wife for you and if not, I apologize in advance. 

Sincerely, Your annoying soon to be wife 

The next day came, and you didn't know how to act. 

You sit between Daphne and Mildred when he enters. 

He sits in front of you and nods, acknowledging you, which you return. 

The girls beside you don't know how to react, each staring at the other with a raised brow. 

You two talked with his mother about the decisions for your wedding. 

"Have you two discussed what you want?" 

Anthony opens his mouth to answer but finds himself without an answer. 

"Everyone will talk, and it will no doubt be in Lady Whistledown's column, but it would be preferred if we had a small ceremony, family only." 

You don’t look up from your plate. Violet nods, listening intently. "I will use the dress my mother made when I was born, it'll save us time on getting a dress. The flowers can be your choice." 

"And after?" 

You turn to her, "it'd be smart to hold a small reception after all though it will increase because everyone will want to see who married the handsome and fortunate viscount."

You push yourself out of the chair. "I apologize but I realized I promised to spend time with the girls before we go out for our shopping trip." 

"What just happened?" 

"Have you two talked about anything regarding your wedding?" Violet asks her son. 

"Every time we discuss something-" 

"No, have you sat down and discussed what you two are to do? Who will be there? Anything that a soon to be husband and wife should discuss?" 

His shoulders sag. "No." 

"I want you to go in my place." 

"What? Why?" 

"It will give you two a moment to talk and prepare for the future hardships you two will face as a couple. Raise her spirits. She got a letter from her mother, saying she will not be able to attend. Perhaps that is why she is so uninterested today." 

"She- how do you know?" 

"I'm your mother, I know more than you would think." 

-

Anthony waiting by the door frightened you. “Are you joining us?” 

“I’m here in place of my mother.” 

It takes you a few seconds to process what he said. “You are?” 

He nods. “Shall we?” 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. 

The failed whispering voices of the women around you, annoys you to the point where Anthony feels that he needs to do something. “Is there anything that has caught your interest?” 

You shake your head. 

“Let’s go. I know somewhere we can have a better time, away from the whispers of these women.” He leans in, whispering into your ear, “they’re jealous of you.” 

You cover your mouth to hide your amusement, not wanting him to know he’s helping lift your spirits. You two exit the shop and return to the Bridgerton home. “Why are we back here?” 

“We are going to have a drink.” 

“With your family? Couldn’t we do that any day we wanted to?” 

He holds his hand out for you to take, which you do. “Although that may be true, that’s not what I had in mind.” He places his arms behind his back, clenching his fist not wanting you to see the control you have over him. “We’re going to spend time in my office.” 

“Oh? I’m invited in, I feel so special.” 

“You should, very few are allowed in here, especially when I’m working.” 

“Of course. The head of the house needs quiet or else.”

-

“I see going out has helped you.” 

You watch as he fills the glass for you before grabbing it and swallowing it in one gulp. “You could say that.” You scrunch your nose at the sensation, maybe doing that was a bad idea. 

He takes a seat in his chair. 

“Could I ask you something?” 

He nods, staring at you over the glass as he takes a sip. 

“Did your mother inform of the one guest we won’t be seeing at our wedding?” 

He slowly sets the glass down before returning his gaze to you. “She may have mentioned it.” 

“Is that why you came with me today because she told you to and not because you wanted to?” 

“She may have said she thought it was best if I take her place, but it was initially my choice to go.” 

“You’re not lying?” 

“What would I gain from lying to you?” 

You sit up and reach for the bottle, filling your glass. “A relationship built on a lie.” 

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are you trying to make this harder than it needs to be?” 

“I can’t just- you can’t honestly expect me to ignore that we are marrying one another when you never wanted to marry and I hoped that when it happened, it’d be with someone who loved me.” 

He’s out of his chair before you realize he’s now sitting in the chair beside you. “What will it take for you to stop saying that?” 

“What?” 

He leans in closer. “Why do you think I could never love you?” 

“I-” You gulp. “You have spoken before that you never want to marry, what else am I to think?” 

“How do you know I couldn’t change? What if something comes of this relationship?”

Your breath hitches and you continue staring him in his eyes. “I suppose we’ll have to cross that bridge if we get to it.” You set the glass down and rush for the door, “I’ll take my leave now. I’m feeling quite tired after our outing.” 

He grabs your wrist, pulling you back in before you could open the door. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you into answering my questions.” 

“What if I enjoyed them?” 

You turn to face him with a small smile. “Then I am concerned for your being.” 

“Don’t worry about me.” 

“Be honest, did you mother tell you about my mother is not coming?” 

“No,” he shakes his head, but you know the truth. 

“You don’t need to lie on order to preserve myself, it’s okay.” You sigh, “is it sad that a small part of me wishes for her to be there?” 

“Not in the least. It’s natural for you to want your mother there-” 

“It’s not because she’s my family, I just- I need her to stop pushing marriage onto me.” You pace back and forth, “this is my way to prove her wrong but that makes me feel worse because it makes me seem as though I’m being a bad daughter.” 

“You’re not,” he disagrees with you. “That is anything but you being a bad daughter. If anything, she’s- she’s scared to lose her daughter to a new family because they know you will be starting a new life, away from her and that’s why she doesn’t want you to help.” 

“But what if-” 

His hand slides down your arm as if his hand lingering wasn’t enough to drive you mad, he tightens his grip on your hand. 

You force yourself to focus on his words and not the warmth emanating from him. 

“Stop. All the negative thoughts you have are not going to help you. But listen to this, you are a good daughter, and she should be happy to know her daughter will be taken care of. As long as you are a part of this family you will be taken care of and not have to worry about expectations.” 

“I won’t,” you whisper, not meaning to. He shakes his head and gives a small smile. “I promise.” 

He realizes he’s been holding onto you this whole time and his arm falls. “Can I walk you back to your room?” 

You nod, ignoring the warmth flooding your cheeks. “I would like that.”

-

“Will I see you at breakfast tomorrow?” 

“You will, and if I ask you the same question?” 

He smiles, “I will be there.” 

“Good, I think this is a good start to our future marriage.” You step inside the room. 

“I am sorry.” 

“What?” 

“The marriage… and the reason we are to wed.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I lost myself and-” 

You shake your head, placing a hand on his chest over his heart. “I do not blame you for something as traumatizing as your father’s death. Please know that.” 

“But-” 

“Anthony Bridgerton,” you tell him using a stern tone. “Stop it. It may not have happened under the best of circumstances, but I am happy that I will be wed to you than some other man. I can at least trust you.” You step back into the doorway, slowly closing the door as you bid him goodnight. 

He stands there, touching the spot where your hand was until he drops it, straining his hand as he fights to clench it.

-

Benedict and Colin happen to be there when he turns the corner. 

“Quite a show you put on there,” the second eldest says. 

“Yes, you’re whole “I’ll be the perfect husband” speech was wonderful,” the third eldest chimes in. 

Anthony scoffs, “would you two quiet down?” He grabs them by their collars, dragging them into one of their miscellaneous rooms. “Why aren’t you two out?” 

“How could we be out when you’re here?” Colin asks. 

“Trying to woo the love of your life,” Benedict adds on. 

“I’m not- you two are acting like children.” 

“Us? Acting like children?” Colin starts, glancing at his brother. 

“No,” the artist shakes his head, “I don’t think so.” 

The soon to be married man glares at his brothers, unsure if he wants to listen further or not but if he doesn’t let them continue it’ll be worse in the morning. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “If I let you two continue, will you keep quiet in the morning?” 

“Morning?” Colin turns to partner in crime. “What’s happening in the morning?” 

The artist glances over his older brother and grins, “is the soon to be wed joining his family and future wife for breakfast?” 

“With him being silent, I’m going to say yes.” 

“Finally, you agree with me.” 

“I agree with you,” the third eldest argues. 

“I don’t recall.” 

“Okay, now that you two are done, I’m going to bed.” 

“To dream of your wife.” 

“She looked quite nice today, wouldn’t you say brother?” Benedict asks. 

“I dare say, she looks even more radiant since her recent engagement.” 

“You two are done,” Anthony shoves them out of the room. “You two will not speak of her like that again. She is your friend,” he jabs Benedict’s chest. “And your future sister-in-law,” and does the same to Colin. “You will respect her and not talk like this again, understood?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

-

The next morning as soon as you step out of the door, your future husband paces. “You’re awake.” 

“I am, it’s time for breakfast.” You close the door behind you. “Shall we go downstairs and join the others?” 

“We’ll be the first ones down there.” 

“Either way, I’m going down.” 

He holds his arm out for you to take. “Shall we?” 

You give him a small smile and nod. “After breakfast, what are your plans?” 

“I have a few things I need to look over but after that I’m free. What did you have in mind?” 

“I planned on going for a walk along the back of your family’s estate and perhaps we could talk about things.” 

“Just the two of us.” 

“Mildred could join us?” 

“I’d rather she not.” 

“I don’t blame you; she’s been on a rampage since earlier this week.” 

The doors open and his brothers, Daphne and Mildred, are already sitting at the table. 

“Of course,” he mumbles. 

“Did you say something?” You ask him. 

He turns his head towards you, offering a small smile. “No, it’s nothing.” 

The glances between him and his brothers were interesting, intriguing to you and the girls, who also had no clue what was going on. 

He stands behind your chair, hand resting on your shoulder. “I shall find you after I am done.” 

You nod and watch him go. 

“Well, that was interesting.�� 

Daphne shushes your cousin. 

-

You lay across the couch, reading another book and were so into it, not even realizing that he had entered the room. 

He smiles as he steps closer, wondering what’s going on inside your head, finding you to be more interesting as he observes you reading, compared to his sister. He leans against the back of the couch, bending down to catch your attention. 

A shadow moving catches your eye and you turn, screaming soon after. 

You place your hand over your heart, taking deep breaths. “For heaven’s sake! What was that for?” 

“What do you mean?” He smirks, arms on around the sides of your body as he stays behind the couch. “What are you reading?” 

You turn around and cross your arms, “why does that concern you?” 

“Can’t a future husband be curious as to what his future wife is into?” 

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Is that all?” 

“It is. But that’s not why I’m here.” He doesn’t say anything else. 

You get impatient and wave your arms around. “Spit it out. Come on.” 

“We are to marry by the end of the week.” 

Your brows raise is surprise, “oh.” 

“Is that alright?” 

You take a deep breath, “I just- I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon but that’s- okay.” You place the book beside you and stand up, brushing the wrinkles out of the skirts of your dress. “I need to go over some things with your mother.” 

The humor falls from his face. “Wait- where are you going?” 

"I just told you." 

He follows after you, "I heard you but-" He reaches for you, pulling you back. "Can we talk?" 

You take a deep breath to calm your beating heart. Why is this happening now? You thought you were over this. Your lips part as you stare at his hand. You shake your head, staring up at him. "I- what do we need to talk about?" 

"Lady... things." He’s quiet for a moment. "I won't push you but know I'm here to talk if you need someone." 

"Thank you." You take off, not noticing the way his hand slowly falls or the way he clenches his hand. 

It's been a long time since he's felt the skin of a woman he was enchanted by, especially one he's to call wife. 

"Did we catch a moment between you and your beloved?" 

Anthony sighs, "don't you have charcoal to break for your fruit drawings?" 

His younger brother puts a hand to his chest, offended by his brother's comment. "I'm hurt, Anthony. Truly, I am but it's not why I'm here." 

He turns to face the artistic Bridgerton, taking notice of the serious look on his face. "What's wrong?" 

"Sister." 

"Which one?" 

"Not one of ours." 

He furrows his brows, mouth agape to ask why but realizes who his brother is referring to. "I thought we had taken care of this situation?" 

"We did but then she decided to cut their trip short and has been calling on you since she arrived today."

"I need you to take care of her. I cannot allow her to ruin my marriage." 

Benedict nods, "you finally figured out you truly care for her, didn't you?" 

Anthony chuckles, "I'm not discussing this with you. Call Colin if you need help." 

"We got it. Go take care of my future sister." 

-

He nods for the doors to be opened. "Good morning, ladies." 

Your cousin shakes her head, your mother fawns over him while Violet takes a sip of her tea. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of him. 

He places a hand on the back of your chair. "I expect you all enjoyed your breakfast before discussing more of the wedding." 

"Oh, certainly. Your family has been nothing but kind to us, Viscount." 

You adjust the napkin on your lap to keep you from rolling your eyes at your mother's fake enthusiast tone. 

Mildred pats your arm, knowing the strained relationship between you and your mother. 

He notices the tension in your shoulders and wishes he could pull you away from all this madness. "Anything I can help with?" 

"Oh, heavens no. You have other more important things to take care of. Leave this to us ladies, isn't that, right?" 

You purse your lips and let out a quiet, "mmhmm." 

Maybe it was better when she said she couldn’t come to the wedding. Yes, you were sad, but it was better than the real thing. 

Violet glances between you and your mother. "Why don't we let the girls go on a walk with Anthony watching over them?" 

"But-" 

"I think this will be good for them. It will give them more time to talk." 

The woman hesitates to say yes, debating if this is truly a wise decision before making a decision. 

-

You didn't realize how tight you were squeezing Mildred's arm until she let out a whine. 

Your eyes widen, "oh, Millie. I'm so sorry." 

"It's fine. I should have known better. I know how crazy she makes you." "This always happens?" You don't look in his direction. Your cousin nods her head, "unfortunately." 

"Why has she made this unexpected visit?" 

"She," Mildred pauses, giving herself time to think of a better answer than truth. 

"She wants to know if I am with child and if the reason, you're marrying me is to save my family's name." 

Anthony nods, he understands why you preferred planning this with his mother and your cousin. "Should we?" 

You two glance over in his direction. "What are you implying?" 

He shrugs, "I merely suggest we pretend as if there is something going on, give your mother something to worry about." 

"You want her to pretend as if she is with child?" 

He nods, confirming Mildred's nightmare. 

"Please tell me you're not thinking of going through with this. It’s absurd and- oh, no. Now I like it." 

You glance between the two. "Is this something you two finally agree on?" 

They stumble for a minute, waiting for the other to argue and tell you no but come to realize you are, in fact, correct. 

Daphne stumbles upon the three of you and smiles, neither Mildred nor her brother are arguing, and you don't look uncomfortable. 

"Daphne!" Your cousin waves. "Come, come. We need your knowledge on a subject." 

She nods, smiling. "May I ask what you need my help with exactly?" 

"How does one pretend to be with child?" 

She owlishly blinks, tilting her head staring at the woman as if she's lost her mind. "I'm sorry?" 

"We are feeding into my aunt's absurd idea of her precious daughter being with child." 

Anthony purses his lips, finding himself to be offended more than he had been by Mildred's comments. "I'm not the worst option for a father." 

"Moving on," she waves him off before returning her attention to his sister. "We need information." 

"And you want to do this?" She turns to face you. 

Your eyes widen slightly, not realizing she was going to ask. "I think it would be... nice to show mother how well her child is without her watchful eye." 

"And you're sure this is the way to do it?" 

You shrug, "it's not so much if I think this is okay, it's more like she needs to realize I am my own person and can live a life without her dictating everything for me." 

Daphen nods, "okay. I will help." 

Mildred smiles and interlocks her arm with the Bridgerton girl's. "Come, we have much to discuss." 

You turn to your future husband and raise a brow. 

He stares at the two, wondering what advice his sister could have to offer before holding his arm out for you to hold onto as you all return to the hall for dinner. 

"Are you sure about this?" 

You hum, not having listened to a word he said. 

"I asked if you're sure about this. Mildred and I were joking, we don't expect you to play along with this idea." 

"Your kind, but this is something I need to do. She won't listen to reason if I tell her I don't need her help, she'll involve herself, no matter what." 

"And this is how you'll get her to stop?" 

You sigh, "we'll see." 

The dinner was entertaining for most, you felt bad for embarrassing Violet and the Bridgerton name all to get your mother off your back, but you felt there was no other way to stop her from inserting her wants and needs before yours. 

That was the first night you had a stern talking to from your future mother-in-law and- even though you could have thought of a better way to handle the situation, it felt nice to be taken care of the way a child should, compared to the way your mother raised you. 

You didn’t talk to your cousin or future husband after and went to bed with too much on your mind. 

-

Then came the wedding, it was as lovely as could be even if it was short notice and only family was invited. 

It came as a surprise to everyone, mainly yourself, when your mother decided it was time to stop and act like a caring parent. 

She smiled and fixed a piece of hair that was out of place. “I know this isn’t the wedding you dreamed about-” 

“I didn’t dream of a wedding often.” 

She sighs, realizing she’s been putting words in your mouth rather than stopping to listen to you. “I never dreamed of marrying someone I didn’t love. If I were to ever get married, I’d rather it be with someone I could have a future with than someone who would rather be with another.” 

"I know." 

"And you know what else- you know?" 

She nods, "I've been trying to relive my life through you, and it isn't fair. I'm here to watch you marry the man who will provide, take care of you," she cups your cheeks. "And love you the way you deserve." 

You shake your head, fighting to keep your composure, not wanting anyone to know of your breakdown. "He doesn't love me." 

She nods, "he does, you just can't see it." 

"How-" 

Your mother shushes you, "it's time." 

The reality of the situation didn't hit you until it was time to walk down the aisle but with the help of Mildred and Daphne, you were able to overcome it. 

That was also the only time you've felt the lips of your husband. 

-

Since the wedding it feels as though all the progress you two made was wasted, even Mildred was tired of your constant complaints before and after she left. 

You sit in the library, biting your nail until it hurts and turn the page; a new habit of yours, one Eloise would be proud of. 

You started hiding away to read when everyone went off to live their lives now that the beginning of yours has ended started. You’ve been reading more since your cousins’ departure; it was a tearful morning but you're happy to know she’s out living her life the way she wants. 

Then Daphne and Simon left the hall so they could return to their lives in their own home with little Augie. 

You've tried to go out with Violet and Lady Danbury, but they preferred to ask when you two would expand your family; safe to say you also hide in here for another reason. 

The youngest Bridgerton’s are swept away for their studies as they continue to grow. Francesca and Eloise are nowhere to be found half the time (hence where you got the idea). 

You don't know if you'd be able to handle talking to the other two brothers since marrying the eldest. The comments they make at breakfast are enough, going on a walk with them would be too much. 

Not that you mind the quiet even if it does get lonely at times. 

You push yourself off the ground, placing the book back in its place only now realizing how dark it had gotten and your candle has died, providing little light to guide you; its barely the size of your thumb and the wick is dying the longer you stay here. 

You open the door, carefully closing it and wince as the hinges creaking echoes down the hallway. You pause at the sound of footsteps only to hear a familiar girls whisper. "Hyacinth?" 

She smiles, "what are you doing here?" 

"I was reading." 

"In the dark?" 

You two glance down at your source of light that died as soon as she mentioned it. "The candles died." 

“Can you take me back to my room?” 

You smile and nod, “of course I can.” You grab her hand and try to find your way back to the hallway where her room is. 

-

“Finally, we found it.” You glance down at her, “I told you, we would.” 

She smiles up at you with a sleepy expression. “I knew you would.” 

You open the door and get her settled into bed before exiting. 

You wonder what it would be like to have your own child and stop. Are you really thinking about what it would be like to have a child when you haven’t seen your husband since your wedding day? 

You shake your head and continue down the hallway before turning around, realizing you made a wrong turn; you sigh, leaning against the railing, staring at the ballroom floor. 

You remember the first time you arrived at the hall and saw him. You didn’t know why your heartbeat was so fast until your cousin explained it to you. 

You wonder if he knows how you feel and if that’s the reason, he’s been avoiding you. 

“What are you doing awake at this hour?” 

You spin around and find- “Ben!” You cross your arms to cover you. 

He smiles, “what are you doing out of bed and away from your husband?” 

You take the jacket he offers you, “I’d rather be reading but my candle died- oh no.” 

“What?” 

“I left it in your sister’s room.” 

“Ah, so you’ve seen the whole family other than the one man you should be seeing.” 

“Quiet now, Benedict. Unless you want others to know you’ve seen your brother’s wife in her night dress.” 

“It wouldn’t be the biggest scandal our family has dealt with.” 

You lower your head, rubbing your forehead at his words. “You’re an idiot. I’m going to bed.” 

Anthony had a rough night and going to bed was something he desperately needed, maybe seeing your figure laying in our shared bed would make him feel better; he always seems to calm down when his eyes land on you. 

That was something he always enjoyed about you whenever you were around. 

He stops removing his coat when the door opens, and his brother is behind you while you stay in the doorway with his coat around your shoulders. 

His brother takes the item from you and takes his leave before Anthony starts asking questions (not before Benedict gives him a suggestive look). 

He doesn’t want to ask- he shouldn’t ask, it’s not his place. “Something I should know about?” He hopes this doesn’t lead to a fight. 

“What do you mean?” 

“We’re going to pretend as if my brother walking you, my wife, wouldn’t be a scandal if we were elsewhere.” 

“Why? Don’t you trust me?” You ask, tired of all the games; him avoiding you and now having an interest in you. 

“Do you know how much it affects me?” 

An annoyed sigh escapes him, revealing to you how he feels (about the situation and not yourself). “What affects you, sweetheart?” 

You ball your fists, “stop calling me that.” 

He can’t call you such an endearing name when he hasn’t been acting like your husband. “That is what a husband is supposed to call his wife, is it not? A charming word of endearment for a handsome lady, such as yourself.” 

“Stop talking…” 

“What else am I to call you? I cannot call you by your name, it would prove-” 

“How little we care for each other.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You. I’m talking about you.” 

“Me?” 

“You are a pest.” 

“A pest,” he whispers, finding himself offended. 

“You have never once thought of myself in the manner of being one’s wife but yet you act like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re my husband.” 

“Am I not?” 

You study him. “You want to make a big deal out of this when you’ve been avoiding me since the wedding? Therefore, you are a pest.” 

“I- I haven’t- when was I avoiding you?” 

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

He struggles to remove his coat and you make your way towards him, helping him. 

“Your brother found after I helped Hyacinth get back to bed after she found me exiting the library. He didn’t want anyone else to see me in such a… intimidate manner.” 

You stare at him through your lashes. “Anything else you want to add? Maybe,” you place his jacket on the back of the chair before taking a seat at the vanity. You start removing the pins and ribbons keeping your hair up, your tiredness hitting you as you prepare for bed. 

He sighs, untying his collar. “I wasn’t avoiding, I’ve been… busy.” 

“Busy? You’ve been busy?” You undo the sheets, settling onto your side. “I’m going to sleep until you can come up with another excuse on why you’ve been avoiding me.” 

“I- believe me when I say I wasn’t avoiding you because I- this isn’t easy.” 

You spring up, glaring at him. “And you think this is easy for me?” 

“I’m not saying anything about our marriage. I have been,” he pauses, thinking of the right word. “Dealing with personal matters, things you shouldn’t have to worry about because of a mistake I made in the past. I am trying to protect this because I care about you.” 

You gulp, “I’m sorry.” 

“What was that?” 

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms as you stare at the ceiling. “I’m sorry for thinking you were avoiding me but to be fair,” you spring forward, pointing to him. “I- I-“ You struggle to speak as you catch the sight of his bare chest. 

He knows what he’s doing to you and his chest warms at the thought of only you being the one to see him in such an intimate way. 

You turn away, fiddling with the sheets. “Like I said, I’m sorry for assuming the worst but considering-“ You close your eyes, following the way his lips moved against yours. You push him away, the warmth of his chest lighting a fire within you. “Just because we are married, does not mean you can use your body to change the subject or get me to stop talking about something you don’t want to.” 

The corner of his smile twitches before he allows himself to smirk. 

You’ve only ever seen him use this expression with his family, never once was it directed at you. 

You’re happy tonight ended the way it has, you’re feeling closer to him, learning more of what makes Anthony Bridgerton tick. 

-

He closes his eyes, chest heaving with every breath he takes. “I’m here.” He pulls away from you. 

Your hand falls at your side. 

His figure fades away, leaving you confused. 

You burst up, confused as to what your dream means and glance beside you, finding him still asleep. You push yourself out of bed, needing the get away for a moment, sitting in the bench underneath the window. 

You stare at the stars, wondering if there was some way, they’d be able to respond to your questions. It’s only been several days since your marriage became official; you still feel as though you’re not and none of is real. 

You think back to your first kiss you two shared at the altar and the one you shared before going to bed. Your fingertips brush against your lips, relishing the sensation you felt then as it fills you with something you never thought you’d be able to enjoy. 

‘Is this what love is?’ You think, staring at the bright moon, knowing it won’t answer you. 

You glance back at him and wonder if he’ll ever love you the way-. You wipe away the stray tear, knowing how much it’d break you if he decided to cheat or leave you entirely. 

Your greatest fear was thinking you’d end up alone. 

Now you fear he’d be the one to leave you without looking back. 

He squints, the moonlight disturbing his slumber. “What are you doing up?” 

Your head snaps in his direction. “Hmm?” 

He repeats his question, sitting up in bed, his night shirt wrinkled and slipping off his chest. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” you tell him, not believing your own words. You crawl back into bed when you notice he won’t fully fall asleep until you’re near. 

As soon as you settle onto your side, his breathing evens out. 

You lay your head on the pillow, fighting the thoughts you know will keep you awake, feeling you’ll need more sleep than anything. 

-

"We need to try for a child." 

He glances up from his work. "I didn't realize your mother was in town." 

You narrow your eyes to him, something he is truly fond of even if you are upset with him. "I'm going to pretend as if you didn't say that." 

You close the door and pace around the floor in front of his desk. 

“If you find yourself calm enough to talk, could you repeat what you said when you busted into my office.” 

He knows what you said, there's no denying what he's heard but what's got you riled up to bring up such a topic. 

The wedding was only three weeks prior, he knows of the idle gossip some of the other women enjoy talking amongst each and he's curious as to who said something. 

He's also been trying to keep himself busier than usual to keep him from staying up too late and thinking of performing such acts upon you. He sets his pen down, giving you his full attention. “Why are you asking now?” 

“I’m not asking,” you argue. 

Is it such a wise idea to try and push for this? Most likely not but you're too upset over the gossip to think logically. 

He studies you for a moment, wanting to understand what happened to make you think such a thing. 

“What happened? I mean, you and Daphne went out for a walk, right?” 

You pause, trying to understand where he’s getting at before nodding. 

“Who said something to you?” He raises his brow. 

“No one… exactly,” you huff, crossing your arms. 

“I know they’re expecting me to be with child by now or at least, in the works of trying for a baby and I don’t want there to be another Whistledown column with either of our names in it. It’s not just my reputation that could be ruined, it could be yours or your family’s this time.” 

He can’t help but smile at your kind thoughts. “I appreciate the concern and I’m sure my family would as well, but everything is going to be fine. We don’t need to worry about this.” 

You continue having your pity party. “I’m glad you seem to think so.” You furrow your brows, thinking about how he’s avoiding the topic. “Why are you putting this off?” 

“Putting what off?” 

“You know what I’m talking about, don’t act as coy as your brothers do when asked about their courtships.” 

He doesn’t have a way out, does he? A knock on the door alerts him. “I have other business to attend to, I’ll see you at dinner?” 

You scoff, “you pretend as if you want me and need me when we are in our shared room but now that we are out in the open you want nothing to do with me? Tell me, are you just using me for your own gain?” 

He sighs, “please, can we,” he glances at the door to find his brother. “Talk about this another time?” 

You nod, offering a fake smile, “of course, husband.” 

His attention turns to you once more, “I thought we weren’t going to have the normal marriage?” 

“It seems we were both wrong.” You shrug. “Goodnight, husband.” You yank the door open, rushing past Benedict and the guest without looking back. 

Kate smiles watching as you put yourself further away from the one person she wants. “It seems you and your bride are having minor troubles, may I?” 

Anthony grits his teeth. “What’s brought you here, to my family’s hall, today?” 

Her mischievous smile turns into an evil smirk, “I’ve come to visit an old friend, after all, didn’t you say I was always welcome?” 

“That was before you tried to take my family’s fortune and run off.” 

She plays with the cuff of his coat sleeve. “If it makes you feel better, I have a husband.” 

“Then you should be with him.” He removes her hand from him. 

If this had happened a year ago, he would be crawling back into her embrace but now that he has you, the only person that can keep him sane; he’s not going to make that mistake. 

He sits down at his desk, rereading the page he was working on when you came in. He knows he’d be stupid if he fell for her tricks once more and ruined your marriage (and family name). 

She pouts, not liking the fact that he doesn’t want her anymore. 

“Perhaps you should go back to your home. We must clean up for dinner,” Benedict chimes in. 

She spins to face the second eldest, “dinner? I’d love to.”

Anthony pushes himself out of the chair. “That’s not an invitation.” 

“Why? Are you scared I’m going to ruin your precious marriage? You truly think I’d be harsh to do such a thing?” 

“We don’t need to think it if we know.” 

She smirks in trump, feeling as though she’s won. 

-

You glance at the two with a sinking feeling in your stomach. 

Is this the way your marriage is going to end? It took a while before you could remember where you knew her from and as soon as it clicked, you were fidgeting in your seat. Why did he allow her to sit so close to him? 

She knows he's a married man and doesn't care. Maybe she thinks the marriage is fake and- you aren't worthy enough to be his wife. 

You push the food around on your plate, your appetite forgotten. You remember the rumors about their relationship but could never be proven since she went back to India with her mother but now that she's back, you don't know what to think. 

He notices and wishes that she didn't invite herself to join his family tonight. 

You ask him about expanding the family line and him avoiding the topic entirely because he doesn't want you to feel as though this is a duty the two of you have to do. 

He remembers when you two were first engaged and how you wanted to marry someone who truly loved you rather than someone marrying you out of a convenience. 

His heartbeat when you told you should try for a child, he nearly passed out on the spot at the thought of you baring one of his children. 

He knows you'd make fantastic mother; he doesn't doubt that in the least but since the wedding day he's realized something he should have a long time ago- something Kate is seeing for herself; he truly loves you. 

Nowhere is it near what she thought they had but she's happy that he has someone who cares for him in more ways than she could. 

-

She bids her farewells before pulling you to the side. "I apologize for intruding on your family dinner, but I think you should know you have nothing to worry about." 

You furrow your brows. "I'm sorry, what-" 

She shakes her head. "He loves you in more ways than he ever could care about me. I saw it tonight." She smiles, "all I ask is that you take care of him better than I could. I know you're good for him." 

You stare at the door as it closes, unsure if anything that’s just happened is real or if this is a fever dream. 

“Are you alright?” 

You turn to face your husband and gulp. “Perfectly fine, why do you ask?” 

“Did- She didn’t say anything, did she?” 

The blank expression from your face falls and is replaced by one of annoyance. “What if she told me something she shouldn’t have? Is there something you wanted her to hide from me?” 

He shakes his head, “is it too late to say no?” 

You scoff, “you’re an idiot.” You close the door, not caring if it slams shut or not. 

He stops it before it closes in his face, “I’m sorry I- it’s not true.” 

“Then what is? Why do you care whether she’s told me about yours and her relationship or not? I know about you two. I’ve read the columns and-” 

“That’s what I was worried about. I don’t want you to think something that isn’t true happened.” He stands behind the chair in front of your vanity. “I don’t want you think I’m a rake when I’m not, us marrying has changed things-” 

“Us getting married is the only reason you’ve changed?” 

“No,” he stumbles over his words, something he does more when he’s around you than anyone else he’s ever spoken to. “I-” 

You push yourself out of the chair and walk towards the bed. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I keep pushing and I’m sorry but right now, I just want to go to sleep.” 

“After you listen to what I have to say.” 

“I have not felt the way I do for anyone else. I- no words can come close to what I feel for you.” 

His grip tightens on the back of the chair. “I cannot- cannot breathe when you are near.” He catches your gaze, “you drive me insane when you try and argue with me. I don’t understand how you have vexed me and stolen my every thought. When you are here all I can think of is you, when you go out with my sister, you are the one thing on my mind. I- you, you are the bane of my existence, but I can’t seem to keep myself from you.” 

You turn around, catching his gaze in the mirror. “Why are you telling me this?” 

He spins around, “so you understand why I have changed. It’s not because I don’t care for you. I care too much about you. I have for a long time which is why I was scared when that bee was near you.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I was terrified I was going to lose you and I didn’t understand why until our marriage.” 

“But- that was days ago.” 

“Exactly,” he takes a step closer. “I’ve been losing my mind trying not to push you into something you’re not ready for. And then, earlier when you came to me, telling me we should try for a child. I didn’t know what to think.” 

“What about Kate?”

He owlishly blinks, trying to understand where you’re coming from. “What about her?” 

“You’ve been with women before me and I’ve accepted that, but Kate was here, having dinner with your family. She’s- she’s been around town from what I’ve heard being whispered behind my back. She was here and you didn’t tell me. You- you say that you love me, but I don’t know what to believe when the woman you were in love with, who later broke your heart, returned into your life and you didn’t so much as think to tell me. Benedict was more involved than I was!” 

You don’t know why you’re getting so upset over this, it shouldn’t bother you this much since you don’t- 

“I didn’t want her to spout lies about me to you and make you think I am not going to be a good husband.” He grabs your hands, “believe me when I say she is not relevant. You are my future.” 

Your chest heaves with every breath you take. “How-” Your nose twitches as you purse your lips, collecting your thoughts before you completely explode. 

“How what?” He switches between looking into one eye and then the other. 

“How could I be blind?” 

“To what?” 

“I have loved you since I could understand what the word meant and now you- you-” You gesture to your back, “help me with my corset. I cannot breathe.” 

He nearly rips your dress off you as he pulls the strings keeping the oxygen from getting into your lungs. 

You hang your head, trying to keep your emotions at bay. 

“Sweetheart…” 

You turn around, pointing at him with wet cheeks. “You have ruined me. You have ruined me for any other man since before my first debutant and have had my heart for just as long and I didn’t know it yet.” 

He holds his hand out for you, allowing you to take a step closer to him. 

You accept and stand with a few inches between you two. “You have bewitched me from the beginning, if you can accept my foolishness and accept me now, I would happily give myself to you only if you can return the feelings.” 

“I wouldn’t be able to survive if I declined your love.” 

For the first time since the wedding, the two of you share a genuine kiss and not one where he tries to use his body to distract you. It’s one that makes it feel like the world’s stopped spinning and you two are the only ones in the world. 

-

A knock on the door alerts the two of you. 

You wince, covering your eyes with your hand before reaching over for him. “Anthony, wake up.” 

“I’m coming in and I hope you two are decent.” She groans, “God, you two are naked. Gross.” Mildred complains loudly to whoever stands outside the door with her. “I thought they’d at least have the decency to be awake by now.” 

You can hear Benedict’s voice, but it comes out all muffled because you’re not fully awake. 

He opens his eyes and turns his head to find your beautiful face lying beside him, hair in disarray on the pillow. His thumb brushes across your cheekbone. “Good morning, Viscountess Bridgerton.” 

You find it hard to resist the urge to smile and open your eyes, staring at him with nothing but love and happiness. You hum, brushing back his hair so it doesn’t look as messy, wanting to see more of his handsome face. 

“Good morning, Viscount Bridgerton.” You remove your hand from his hair, pulling his hand away from your cheek to peck his palm. “What do you have planned for today?” 

“Spending time with my wife, although I do have to say, I don’t think she’d appreciate me lying in bed with someone as breathtaking as yourself.” 

You can’t help but smile. “I think if you paid her the same comments you do to me, she’d understand.” 

He sucks in air through his teeth, “I don’t know. I think you’d have to meet her to find out the kind of woman she is.” 

“I think I know.” You lean against your elbow, meeting him halfway for a morning kiss. 

“Would you two hurry up? We have plans. I did not come here on a boat to see you two to stay in bed when I have plans with my cousin. Do you hear me, Bridgerton?” 

He sighs, flopping back onto his back. “How could I not?” 

You smack his chest before pushing yourself out of bed. “I’ll be ready soon. Go downstairs and wait for me, Millie.” 

“If you’re not down here before sunset. I’m leaving.” 

You chuckle to yourself. “Okay.” 

He pulls you closer to him, hands resting against your waist, slowly wrapping around you. He kisses the exposed parts of your back before pulling you down, kissing along your shoulders. 

-

“This cannot be safe.” 

“Just because it’s a new corset, doesn’t mean it’s not safe.” 

“For the baby.” He ties the strings through the loops. “When can we tell them?” 

“When they won’t freak out.” 

“Never, okay.” 

You chuckle and spin around, placing your hands on his shoulders. “They will know soon. It’ll be fine.” 

He stares into your eyes. “You’re lucky I love you.” 

“I think that’s my line.” 

“Not today.” 

You peck his lips before ordering him to tie the corset. “I’ll see you after our walk.” 

“Don’t overexert yourself.” 

“I won’t. Goodbye, ‘Thony.” 

His eyes never left yours as you’re dragged away by your cousin. 

Benedict steps inside. “Someone’s happy.” 

He shakes his head, ignoring his brother; so happy go feed into the comments.

#Bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagines #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagines #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x fem!reader #anthony bridgerton x female!reader #Anthony bridgerton x fem reader #anthony bridgerton x plus! size reader #anthony bridgerton x plus size reader #crazyk-imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x plus size reader #bridgerton x plus size!reader

[cinnamoodles]

the language of flowers — part two, irises

warnings: more angst than part one which is great, also reader throwing stuff bc she’s a badass, and in character Anthony which is honestly more of a red flag than ooc Anthony but you love him anyway you nasty :)

word count: 1.4k (wow I impress myself sometimes)

author’s note: we love this part bc reader stands up for herself and Anthony is one major daddy issues boy.

read the other parts! — part one, daises | part three, peonies

i don’t consent for my work to be reposted or copied, translated, or transferred to any other platform, or this one, in part or whole.

--------- . . . ---------

ii. 1804, iridaceae versicolor. irises, trust

Anthony paced the length of this study—which wasn’t all too large, but stress relieving nonetheless. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, a tempestuous mix of newfound worry and lingering doubts. Today marked one year, one year without his father, one year his mother was cast into a depressive state, one year since he had taken on the mantle of viscount, and become the father figure that his youngest siblings did not have.

It had been far too long since he had last spoken to you—days? Weeks? He had never gone so long without even seeing your face, and that was a stretch. He’d spent his last few months mourning, brooding, and perhaps being a tad overbearing on himself, but he had to, for the sake of his family’s honour, it’s prestige. 

There’s a sharp knock on his door, it’s most likely Colin or Daphne, who are frequent in irritating him. He makes no effort to open the door, and with a practiced gesture, he dips his quill into the inkwell, resuming his task of poring over the estate's financial matters. How often had his father sat here, absorbed in these very same calculations? A pang of longing pierces through him at the thought, his heart echoing the emptiness his father's absence had left behind.

Another knock.

It must be Colin, his eyes sparkling, attempting to irritate him once again. “I’ve got a job,” he snaps, “and I suggest you get one as well, one that does not involve vexing me at every given minute.”

The door creaks open, candlelight flickering over the stacks of leather bound tomes and haphazardly organized scrolls, casting lanky shadows over his face, playing upon the strong angles, highlighting the lines of exhaustion that marred his usually composed countenance. His normally impeccable attire was slightly disheveled, as if he had been running his hands through his hair in frustration, and his ink-stained fingers spoke of long hours spent in diligent work. He wasn’t in a position to meet anyone, much less usher yet another one of his young siblings out of his room.

“Oh, I vex you? Is that why you've been evading me like the plague?” Your presence was like a sudden burst of sunlight piercing through the storm clouds—startling, yet warmly welcomed. The quill slipped from his fingers as his eyes widened in surprise, locking onto your face, a vision that brought back a flood of memories and feelings he had attempted to suppress.

Your stormy eyes burned through his deep brown ones, and you crossed your hands across your chest. Your soft hair was tucked behind your ear, and your eyes were wide, as if staring directly into Anthony’s soul, and for just a moment, he allowed himself to become lost, to dream, and to gaze into them as if he was merely a boy again, holding you in his arms.

“Say something, Anthony! I’ve not seen you in weeks, properly, and you’ve barely held a conversation with anyone other than your butler, and frankly, I—” 

Anthony quickly wrapped you in a hug, burying his face in your shoulder, your cotton dress soft to the touch. He mumbles. “I missed you.” He can feel you stiffen, but soon gently relax into his arms.

“That is why I came,” you smile, and pull away, holding him at an arm’s distance. “Oh, and my brother is getting married. I wanted to invite you personally to the wedding.” Your oldest brother, twenty eight years of age, was getting married, Anthony recalled. He was, of course, to be the next Duke when your father inevitably passed.

Anthony rubbed his eyes. “My sisters will come, of course, but I may not be able to.” Your invitation was tempting, and the prospect of seeing you again filled Anthony with a mix of excitement and trepidation. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed you until this moment, when you walked in the door. But his responsibilities as the viscount weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he feared that leaving the estate at this crucial time might jeopardize his mother’s already precarious emotional situation.

"I wish I could attend, truly," Anthony replied with a hint of regret in his voice. "But with the estate's financial matters in such disarray, I can't afford to be away for long. I must attend to my duties here."

You frowned slightly, concern glazed across your soft, delicate features. "Anthony, you can't carry the burden of the entire estate on your own. There must be someone who can assist you, even for a short time."

"I've considered that," Anthony admitted, his mind aching from the internal struggle. "But finding someone trustworthy, capable, and knowledgeable enough to handle the estate's affairs is not an easy task. I fear leaving things in someone else's hands might cause more harm than good.”

You crossed your arms, frustration evident in your expression. "Anthony, you can't keep shutting yourself off from the world. Your family's honor and prestige won't matter if you run yourself into the ground!"

He takes a step back, feeling defensive under your stern gaze. "I am taking care of things. I'm doing what I need to do to ensure the estate's survival, which is all that matters to me, at this point in time."

"Are you?" you snap, your voice tinged with disappointment that Anthony could see etched in your face. "You've barely spoken to anyone, including me, for weeks. You're burying yourself in work, and for what? To prove some sort of point? That you’re fit to be the man of the house?"

"I don't have a choice," Anthony replied tersely. "As the viscount, it's my duty to oversee everything. And after losing my father, I can't afford to let anything else slip through my fingers."

"You can't live in the past, Anthony," you urged, taking a step closer to him. "Your father's gone, and while it's natural to mourn, you can't let grief consume you. Of course, you have responsibility—"

His jaw clenched, and he shot back, "Responsibility? What would you know of responsibility? You don't understand the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. I can't just leave everything behind and go gallivanting off to weddings, like an immature child."

Pain flashed across your face, but Anthony was much too in his head to take a look at his surroundings. He continued, as if possessed by some spirit. “You’ve never had to work a day in your life. You’re spoiled, and the only thing your family has ever thought of doing for you is getting you married.” He spit. “So why don’t you worry about your responsibilities, and I’ll worry about mine.”

A single tear fell from your eye, and in that moment, Anthony wished he could take it all back, swallow the poison he had thrown at you so mercilessly. “I…” you bite your lip, and he wanted to take you in his arms, comfort you, and hold you.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out. “I’m sorry for whatever sin I’ve done to have you treat me like this.” You quickly wipe your tears and rush to the door. Anthony wanted to stop you, to scream about how he didn’t mean any of the words he said.

You quickly turn around, revealing a bouquet of irises, the specific ones Anthony had commented on the last time he visited your estate. He could barely remember when. “By the way, I bought you flowers. I thought they’d cheer you up,” you retort, before throwing the delicately tied bunch of flowers straight to his head, hitting his nose.

The door slammed, and Anthony was once again left alone, only this time, he’d have done anything to bring you back. Slowly, the petals of the irises cascaded down onto the ground, fracturing the flowers, and Anthony noticed a small piece of paper.

The Guide for Flora for Debutantes: In the quaint world of botany, the charming iris blooms have long been regarded as symbolic emissaries of trust and faithfulness. Like an ancient scroll unraveling before our very eyes, the iris, with its alluring hues and delicate petals, unravels the story of steadfast devotion and allegiance. Just as an honest man's handshake vouches for his sincerity, the iris bestows its trust upon those who approach with an open heart and gentle touch, and a receiving of this gentle bloom from either gender discloses that the gifter trusts you with their whole heart. Its regal demeanor, reminiscent of a gallant knight in armor, instills in us the assurance that this flower is a beacon of loyalty and constancy.

Trust. You had trusted him, and what had he done with that? He’d tossed it away, and your gift had broken. Anthony wasn’t usually one for symbolism, but these broken irises were pretty damn apparent.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #Anthony Bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #Bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #Bridgerton x you #Anthony Bridgerton x you #anthony Bridgerton x y/n #anthony Bridgerton x female!reader

[marie-swriting]

I Really Care About You - Anthony Bridgerton

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Summary : When Anthony sees you in the arms of another man, he remembers how he sabotaged your relationship because of his feelings.

Warnings : set in 1807 so Anthony is 23, angst, sad ending, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word Count : 2.8k

French Version on Wattpad

French version on Tumblr

Song mentioned : Piano Concerto No.20, K466 by Mozart

Songs inspiration : When I Was Your Man by Bruno Mars and Decode by Sabrina Carpenter

Leaning on the wall, Anthony Bridgerton is looking at you from afar. As he sees you dancing, a smile on your face, he can’t help but do the same. He knows how much you love balls, how much you love dancing at the rhythm of the strings. When your dancing partner makes you sway, Anthony feels a memory coming back to him.

It was two years ago. Anthony had started courting you a few months before that. You knew him only by name but you had been intrigued by him. At first, he wasn’t opening up to you, only giving you a few moments of his times, but bit by bit, you had started to grow closer to each other. As you got to know each other, you had discovered a new side of the serious man who was crumbling under responsibilities. Even if you felt like he hadn’t shown you his whole self yet, you were already thrilled to see he had broken his shell a bit with you. Therefore, you had let your feelings take over, allowing yourself to fall in love with Anthony Bridgerton. Besides being a good catch, like your father wished, you felt deep down you’d be well with him. There was no doubt, you could picture yourself being with Anthony forever.

So, at every ball, you were dancing with him as much as you could. Of course, you would be dancing with other men as well. After all, you loved dancing with anyone, even if the Viscount was your favourite partner.

That night, Anthony had invited you for the first dance of the night. When the first notes of Mozart's Piano Concerto No.20, K466 could be heard, you had started to waltz, your eyes deep in his just like his were in yours. If a stranger could’ve seen you, they would’ve thought you were newly weds as your gazes were full of love. Anthony couldn’t stop admiring your beauty. Everytime he thought you couldn’t be prettier than the day before, you proved him wrong. As he was a bit more under your spell, he couldn’t help but share his thoughts with you.

“You are radiant, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thank you, Lord Bridgerton. You are handsome as well.”

“Not as much as you. Your dress is beautiful. You truly are breathtaking.”

“Be careful, Mister Bridgerton, people could be mistaken and think you want to ask for my hand.” You laughed, trying to hide your discord.

“Would you say ‘yes’ ?” He genuinely asked you.

“First, you shall talk about it with my father, then I will give you my answer.” You answered with a smile.

“After our dance, I shall talk with him.”

“I really care about you, My Lord.” You admitted.

“As do I, My Lady.”

At that specific moment, you both had only one wish, kissing each other, but the presence of the good Londonian society prevented you from it. You only felt his lips on your right hand clothed with a white glove when the dance was over. His eyes hadn’t left yours when he softly kissed your hand.

But now, it’s Lord Egerton who is kissing your hand with as much tenderness as he did two years ago. Anthony looks away when he sees your face brighten at this touch. Anthony is too lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice the group of gentlemen coming toward him, Lord Egerton is among them. He only realises their presence when he hears your dance partner making an announcement with a proud smile.

“Lady Y/L/N has accepted my proposal yesterday.”

“Congratulations !”

“You two look happy together.” The men state.

“We are getting married in a few months and I cannot wait. I have never felt that way before.”

Anthony says something polite before his eyes land on you. From afar, he sees you talking to other women. You removed a glove to show your engagement ring. You’re deep in the description of your proposal when you feel a gaze on you. Quickly, you glance around and find Anthony. You see him observing you with a sad look. For a second, your heart feels heavy but you pull yourself together and put your attention back on your friends. You try to get Anthony out of your head, reminding yourself he’s the one to blame for this situation. He doesn’t have the right, with one look, to make you feel guilty because you’re moving on while he’s the one who ruined everything.

You had been engaged with Anthony for three months and still madly in love. Your wedding wasn’t planned for another six months. Your mind was always set on wedding planning. There were only a few moments during the week where you’d allow yourself to do other things. That day, you were doing needlepoint, you had forgotten about it since Anthony’s proposal. You were putting the needle back in the cloth when you got interrupted by one of your servants, telling you about Anthony’s arrival. You allowed him in. You put your embroidery on the table next to you and you stood up to greet your fiancé. When he arrived, your smile grew bigger like it always did when he was in the same room as you.

“Lord Bridgerton, I was not expecting you today.”

“I know, my apologies, but I had to talk to you.” He informed with a serious expression and your smile left your face.

“Of course, is something the matter ?”

“May we sit down ?”

“Please.”, you agreed as you showed the couch and sat down, “My Lord, you are worrying me, are you well ?” You questioned when he had sat down next to you.

“What I have to tell you is not easy, Lady Y/L/N. I… I wish to break our engagement.”

Following his announcement, you stayed silent for a second, wanting to be sure you understood correctly. When you realised you hadn’t mistaken, you opened your mouth several times, hesitating before succeeding to talk.

“What ?”

“I do not wish to marry anymore. I wish to wait a few more years. I am sorry.”

“I do not understand, Mister Bridgerton. Have I done something wrong ? If it’s the case, I apologise.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” Anthony reassured you quickly, making you frown.

“Then why did you change your mind ? I am sure we can find a solution. Lord Bridgerton, I care about you, I can wait a few years if it is what you really wish for.”

“I cannot ask you for this. I will not change my mind.” He affirmed, avoiding your gaze.

“Can you at least give me an explanation ?” You pleaded with teary eyes.

“I made myself a promise and if I marry you, I know I will betray it.”

“What promise ?”

“To not have a marriage of love.” Anthony stated, confusing you a bit more.

“I do not understand you.”

“I am the Viscount Bridgerton, I need to find a woman who can be the perfect Viscountess, like you, but I do not want feelings. But these last few weeks… I realised I loved you. I am sorry to hurt you this way.”

It took you a second to assimilate his words. Finally understanding what he said, you stood up from the couch, stunned. You put yourself in front of him, your confusion visible on your face.

“Are you really saying you love me so much you do not want to marry me ? What do you have against marriage of love ? Don't you think it is better to share your life with someone you love ?”

“I do not wish for this.”

You stopped talking, thinking about what this new information would mean for you. When it finally hit you, you stood up, your breath quickening. 

“Do you have any idea of how humiliating it is ?”, you questioned rhetorically, a tear rolling down your cheek, “Everyone is expecting our wedding and no one will understand because I do not understand myself.”

“I will take care of the rumours, if that is your fear.”

“No matter what you will say, people will think something is wrong with me because you decided to break our engagement.” You exclaimed, emphasising on the pronoun ‘you’.

“I am deeply sorry, Lady Y/L/N.”

“I do not want your apologies. I want a clear explanation, Lord Bridgerton.”, you retorted, frustration growing bigger, “I would have never thought our feelings would be a valid reason to stop our courtship. Well, our feelings, I shall say my feelings. If you really loved me, you would not be doing that.”

“I assure you that I really care about you.”

“How do you want me to believe you ? You were only interested in me because you saw me as a young woman from a good family, matching the criterias that are expected from me as a wife. They always told me if I was polite, considerate and attentive, I would have no problems finding a husband and yet, even when I match those meaningless standards, I am not enough. What have I done to deserve that ?” You cried, looking up.

“Even if you do not want to, believe me when I say it is not your fault. You are good enough. More than enough, even. The real reason I refuse a marriage of love, it is because I do not want to be the cause of pain.” He clarifies.

“The more you explain, the more I am lost.”

“After my father’s death, my mother was devastated.”, he started to explain, standing up in front of you, “She was barely there for me and my siblings. I had to take care of everything instead of her. I do not want the woman I will marry to experience a similar situation. I do not want to be the reason for a future heartbreak.

“You cannot let your father’s death prevent you from loving.”, you said, losing a little bit more hope, “Even if I could never understand it, I know his death affected you but you cannot lock your heart away. Anthony Bridgerton, I am begging you to reconsider your promise.”

“I will not do it.” He repeated, sure of himself.

“Very well then.” You let your anger win over you and give him back his ring.

“I deeply apologise.”

“That is enough.”, you interrupted him, angry, “I do not want to hear anything anymore. Leave, Lord Bridgerton. Please, show him the door.” You ordered the servant closer to the entrance.

You didn’t make sure he heard your order, too shaken from your conversation. You left the room, trying not to cry even more. You went upstairs, wanting to close yourself in your bedroom. When you arrived, you heard Anthony walking through the doorstep. When you walked in your room, you collapsed on the floor, heartbroken. You couldn’t believe it was real. You hadn’t prepared yourself for this discussion when you had seen him entering. You thought back at his words and tried to find what you could have said to make him change his mind. Maybe you could have avoided this situation if you had found the right words.

Wanting to rest from your dance, you’re drinking some champagne while you’re talking to your fiancé. You had met Henry Egerton the year after your break up with Anthony. You had danced a few times and talked a bit but you still weren’t feeling ready to move on. You were still too busy to analyse your relationship with Anthony, trying to find a flaw to bring him back to you, but it was a lost cause. Only when you understood this, you had accepted to mourn the future you would never have before getting closer to Lord Egerton during this social season.

While you’re talking with your fiancé, you’re telling yourself how lucky you are to have found him. He is not and will never be Anthony but you know you can be happy with him. He proved to you that you deserve to be loved and you’ll forever be grateful to him for that. You’re laughing at one of his jokes, which he alone has the secret, when you look on your left, feeling someone getting closer. Anthony is in front of you with a neutral expression on his face.

“Lady Y/L/N, may I have this dance, please ?” He asks.

“I apologise, My Lord, but I am currently talking with-”

“There is no problem”, Henry interrupts you with a smile, “I need to talk with Lord Featherington anyway. Go dance, dearest.” He affirms walking away.

“Very well, it seems like I have no other reasons to turn you down, Lord Bridgerton.” You state as you put down your glass on a table nearby.

Anthony gives you his arm where you put your hand, like you used to. The familiar contact brings you back two years ago, but you try to stay focused. You bow before getting in position, waiting for the sound of the violins and pianoforte. When Piano Concerto No.20, K466 starts, you’re mentally cursing at the musicians. They really couldn’t have chosen another music ? But for Anthony, this song sounds like a sign. Even if it’s a reminder of a time where you were happy together, it still belongs to you, despite the distance.

Anthony and you start waltzing in silence at first. You don’t even dare to look at him, your eyes searching for your fiancé. You see him talking with the Featherington patriarch, like he said he would. While you’re swaying , you look for another distraction whilst Anthony keeps his eyes on you, appreciating the closeness of your body against his. Most likely for the last time before you’re officially married. However, Anthony doesn’t want this last exchange to be silent.

“We were dancing on this song when I told you I wanted to marry you.” Anthony reminds you.

“What do you want, Lord Bridgerton ?” You ask, dryly.

“I heard about your engagement. I am happy for you, congratulations. He seems to be a good man.” He says genuinely.

“He is, I can assure you. We talked a lot and we are sure we want the same things in our lives.”

“I am sorry I broke up our engagement. Sometimes, I think I should not have done it.”

“Stop it, please.”, you beg him, not wanting to hear anymore, “You cannot tell me this, especially not now. I spent the last couple of years of my life trying to find a solution to sort out our relationship. I spent my days over analysing it, hoping I’d find the signs that could have told me you never wanted a marriage of love, I also searched for a way to make you change your mind. I spent my nights awake trying to understand your sudden change of heart. Now, I wonder why I let your confusion keep me up at night. I’m so tired, Lord Bridgerton. All is done, there is nothing left here to decipher. There is nothing to change. Nothing could have changed what happened. I finally accepted it and walked away from it, something I learned from you. At least, our courtship was not totally vain. So please, do not tell me you regret your choice. It is too late.” You affirm, looking at him in his eyes.

“You are right. It was improper from me. I apologise.”, he states and you sigh with relief, “However, let me say I should not have acted that way. It was not honest on my behalf. I should not have let you hope. Even if, I admit it, I was first interested in you because I knew you would be a perfect Viscountess, my feelings for you were real. I did not show it properly during our courtship but I want you to know it. I would have been lucky to have you by my side. And I know Lord Egerton will be. But above all, I hope he will realise his luck. I hope he will treat you better than I did. I hope he will always be close to you, he will always dance with you, I hope he will give you all of his hours. All the things I could not do, but I should have done. I wish you the best, Y/N.” He says with a light smile.

You keep your eyes on him trying to assimilate his words. It takes you a few seconds before being able to speak with a tender look.

“Despite everything we went through, I hope you know I wish you the same. But above all this, I hope you will find the woman who would make you reevaluate yourself. The one who will make you realise you deserve a life full of love, no matter your fear of pain. I, unfortunately, could not be that woman, but I know she exists. I just hope you will find her before it is too late.

The musicians play the last note so you stop your movements. You both keep looking at each other with regret and remorse visible in your eyes. You bow without breaking eye contact, taking in this last moment in your mind.

“Goodbye, Anthony.” You murmur before walking away from his life.

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{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

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[ladysharmaa]

My miracle

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good

warnings: mentions of death

“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”

“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”

Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.

His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs. 

“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”

“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”

“Like you are giving birth?”

“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.” 

“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.

She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”

“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”

"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.

It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."

But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.

"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"

"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere!"

"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.

"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.

"Anthony..."

"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face. 

The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.

With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.

"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."

"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."

"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.

On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.

Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.

And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.

It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.

Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.

"You have a daughter, Anthony."

He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."

"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."

Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.

"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.

The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.

"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."

"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.

"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.

Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.

Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."

"She is beautiful."

"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment. 

He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #Bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x y/n #collin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x wife reader

[imthebadguyyy]

the bridgerton blues

pairing : anthony bridgerton x reader

fandom : bridgerton

synopsis : it's the first time after your wedding that anthony sees you sporting the signature bridgerton colour : blue, and it does things to him that he can only express in a much more....physical manner.

warnings : smut, heavy smut and excessive amount of fluff

a/n : i miss my grumpy viscount!!! happy reading :)

anthony huffed impatiently, foot tapping against the marble floor at bridgerton manor.

the season had begun again, and much to his relief, he would only be a spectator this year, having married the love of his life, lady, well, current viscountess y/n, which meant he didn't have to deal with the frills and fancies of the hawk like mama's in the ton, awaiting the right moment to swoop upon him with their daughters.

but by God, you were taking forever to get dressed and come down to leave for lady danbury's ball. beside him, benedict and colin sat, engrossed in a game of chess, while francesca and eloise lounged on the couch in the drawing room, catching up about life.

his mother was with his darling wife, much to his surprise, helping her get ready for a ball. he had been caught off guard when his mother had bustled in, dressed in a powdery blue gown, and had proceeded to shoo him out of the room.

"what exactly is keeping mama and y/n?" colin asked, brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on the chess board.

"if I knew I would tell you brother" anthony mumbled, checking the watch that hung on the golden chain from his waistcoat, smiling as he traced the cover, suddenly hit by a burst of nostalgia, and a surge of fondness for his late father.

he brushed it off when a giggling hyacinth came running down the staircase, leaping into his arms, forcing him to rush to catch her, eyes widening in surprise.

"hyacinth! you must always give me a prior warning or I may not be able to catch you" he chided, tucking a stray curl behind her ear and setting her gently on the ground.

"brother!! wait till you see y/n/n!! she looks like a princess!" his youngest sister exclaimed, almost vibrating with excitement. a shy gregory emerged, blushing a little as he nodded, making the three older bridgerton boys smirk, well aware of his little crush on anthony's wife.

when anthony had first befriended his wife, they had been at a mere age of ten, and anthony had rescued y/n when she had fallen off her horse at a picnic with his family and the cowper's.

ever since then, they had been inseparable, joint at the hip and at the heart.

it was of no surprise to anyone in the ton when finally, ages later, he had announced he was marrying the lady montgomery, or as everyone fondly knew her, "y/n/n"

"why so bashful greg?" benedict jested, watching his youngest brother turn a dark crimson.

"n-nothing" he stuttered out, darting in to see his sisters.

"it's because of y/n! I'm telling you brother, she looks like an absolute angel!" hyacinth chirped in, now bouncing about from step to step, just as the door of Anthony's room creaked open, and the dowager viscountess stepped out.

"she's ready" she smiled warmly at her son's, hurrying in to get her daughters to mark the momentous occasion.

brows furrowed, the eyes of the bridgertons rested upon the long winding staircase, awaiting to see what exactly was this magical outfit that had their mother and sister gushing like birds.

and what anthony saw, made his jaw drop to the very ground.

at the very top, his darling wife came into view, hair in sleek, meticulous curls, perfectly cast up in an intricate updo, adorned with pearls, framing her face with the delicate curls. her makeup was subtle, emphasizing her flowing complexion with a touch of rosy blush and wine coloured lips.

she adorned a pearl necklace and matching earrings, gifted to her by anthony himself, adding a timeless elegance to her stature.

but what really caught everyones attention was the dress that she wore, more specifically, the colour of the dress she wore.

a rich dark blue silk gown, carefully tailored, hugged her frame, showcasing the intricate details that add to its allure. the bodice, adorned with delicate embroidery, depicting subtle butterfly motifs that caught the light as the she moved down the stairs. the neckline gracefully framed her collarbone, delicate lace butterflies attached to the neckline,while the sleeves tapered down to her wrists, showcasing more of the exquisite lacework that adorned her body.

the skirt of the gown was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, flowing generously in layers of silk that rustled with each step. the deep, rich hue of the fabric evoked a sense of opulence, reminiscent of midnight skies. as she walked down, the silk caught the light, casting a mesmerizing play of shadows and highlights.

the dress matched anthony's waistcoat perfectly, and the sight was enough to make the viscount choke over nothing.

as he saw his wife adorned in the resplendent dress for the first time, his eyes widened with genuine admiration.

a hushed gasp escaped his parted lips as he took in the sight before him.

his wife, cloaked in the elegance of the dark blue gown, the bridgerton blues appeared to be like a living portrait of timeless beauty.

a warm smile formed on his lips, expressing both surprise and deep appreciation for the grace and sophistication she was emanating.

"my darling" he murmured as he swept forward, extending his arm to welcome you into them.

smiling sweetly at the bridgerton clan, you floated down, linking your arm with anthony's.

"sister, you look utterly perfect in blue!" benedict exclaimed, pressing a delicate kiss to your hand, as violet fondly caressed your cheek.

"doesn't she look like a princess brother?!" hyacinth squealed, looking excitedly at anthony. "just like one out of the fairytales" he said, looking at you with nothing but admiration and love and fondness.

"you really do look utterly regal" colin said, flashing a warm smile at you. eloise and francesca came upto you, with even eloise admitting that the dress you were wearing was nothing short of a work of art, while francesca gushed over how the silhouette was so perfect for you.

"alright, we must leave if we want to reach lady danbury's ball on time!" violet said, clapping her hands, leading her children out to where the carriages awaited.

"wait behind for just a second my love" anthony whispered into your ear, as he walked up to his valet to whisper something into his ear.

slowly, the other bridgertons departed, after you promised them to join them very soon, ignoring the smirks and nudges colin and benedict sent your way.

anthony pulled you into his study, hand gently caressing your waist, feeling the rich silk in his hands, the other hand gently reaching for your chin, lifting it to look into your eyes.

"you look utterly divine my beloved" he whispered fingers gently fondling your face, eyes absorbing every detail of your face, not that he hadn't already memorised it.

"thank you my dear" you whispered back, hands settling on his broad shoulders, taking in his waistcoat as well, the dark blue velvet clinging to every rippling muscle in his body, brass buttons complementing the coat.

"i always knew you'd look stunning in bridgerton blue but....it seems as though the bridgerton blue was crafted for you" he murmured, tightening his grip on your waist, "so stunning that infact, i do not feel the need to leave for lady danbury's ball, for I'd much rather stay here with my breathtakingly beautiful wife" he murmured again, lips ghosting over your own as his hands squeezed your waist, drawing you flush against his body.

"my lord, we cannot... we must be present at the first ball of the season" you lamely protested, heart hammering against your chest as the intoxicating scent of his musky, woodsy cologne filled your nostrils.

anthony dropped his lips to your neck, lips brushing a feather soft kiss to the sensitive skin, drawing a gasp from you.

"what if we do not go? what if we just stay here and...i worship my wife in the way she deserves? like the goddess she is?" he asked, like gently pressing kisses down to your collarbone, still as light as a feather, just enough to ignite something feral in you, but also enough to keep you wanting more.

"my lord it's the first ball of the season, and we have to-"

you were cut off by anthony's lips pressing against yours.

they were soft and plush against yours, pressing perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle, initiating a warm glow in the pit of your tummy.

as your lips met, the sensation was like a feather's gentle caress — soft, fleeting, and subtly warm. it feels like a delicate dance, a tender exploration that sparked a gentle flutter within you. the touch was akin to the brush of downy feathers, teasing and inviting, as if he was testing the waters of intimacy.

yet, as the moment unfolded, a magnetic pull takes hold, drawing you deeper into the realm of passion. the softness transforms, gradually intensifying into a fiery connection. the initial delicacy gave way to a fervent exchange, each kiss building upon the other with a growing hunger.

your lips, once feather-light, were now engaged in a rhythmic and passionate dance. the subtle warmth amplified into a blazing fire, and what began as a gentle exploration evolved into a fervent expression of desire.

the world around you faded and in that heightened connection, every kiss becomes an electric charge, a testament to the undeniable chemistry between your two souls entwined in the artistry of passion.

anthony's hands ran rampant on your body, clutching every part of your body through the silk dress, yet taking care to not scrunch the silk in anyway.

"you have no idea what you do me darling" he growled against your lips, drawing back for just a moment to watch your chest heave and eyes glaze over, hands clutching his coat and cravat so tight he feared you would rip it off.

"every breath you take, every word you speak, the very sound of your melodious voice and the very beat of your heart, all allure me to you, draw me to you like a moth to a flame" he continued, his own heart hammering against his chest.

his chest rose and fell with every word, eyes ablaze with burning passion. "every second of every day, i crave you, i long for you, i need you, and it drives me feral. but the sight of you in my colour makes me want to rip off that very dress off your body, claiming you as mine in more ways than one" he growled, hands scrunching the material on your behind.

"anthony..i crave you every second of the day as well. i need you" you whispered, a soft whimper slipping past your lips.

"hush my sweet darling" he said, sending you a saccharine sweet smile.

then, much to your chagrin, he took his hands off your waist, fixing the material and fixing his own coat.

"now, we must hasten to lady danbury's" he smirked" and you groaned, a painful throbbing between your legs becoming more prominent.

"but my lord-" you protested, only to be cut off by another searing kiss. he kissed you deep and long, and then drew back, pushing a stray curl on your forehead back behind your ear.

"our family awaits dearest" he smiled, and gently led you out to the hall.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the grand ballroom at lady danbury's unfolded into a dazzling spectacle as it embraced the opulence of a gold and maroon theme. golden hues enveloped the space, casting a warm, regal glow. glittering chandeliers, adorned with intricate gold details, hung from the ceiling, their crystals refracting light in a dance of elegance.

luxurious maroon fabrics draped the walls, creating a sumptuous backdrop that added depth to the golden ambiance. tables adorned with golden tablecloths and maroon accents contributed to the harmonious blend of colors. golden candle holders flickered with the soft glow of candles, casting a gentle radiance on the rich maroon floral centerpieces.

the women's dresses shimmered with embellishments, and the men's attire featured accents, creating a visual symphony of sophistication, into which you walked with anthony, arms interlaced, as you bowed before queen charlotte, who had taken quite a liking to you.

"it's lovely to see the bridgertons led by a couple as magnanimous as you" she bestowed a rare compliment, bringing a hot flush to your cheeks and even to anthony's pale visage. "but now we anxiously await the news of a young bridgerton" she said pointedly, and you kept your eyes low, trying to ignore the heat blooming in your cheek.

around you, guests were engaged in a dance, the dance floor became a stage for a waltz of colors, with the many colours and tones reflecting in the mirrored walls. the orchestra, bathed in the warm ambiance, played melodies that echoed the richness of the color palette.

you noticed simon and daphne dancing, looking fondly at each other, and saw colin sharing a dance with young penelope featherington, which made you smile, always having harbored a soft spot for the girl.

you spotted eloise by the food table, with francesca, both enjoying the strawberries that were being served. benedict seemed engrossed in exploring the rich collection of paintings in the hall, and was surrounded by a group of friends.

anthony led you over to his sisters, a soft kiss to your wrist a promise to be back in a moment lingering on his lips, as he was dragged off by countless lords for a drink and a conversation about the next round of a hunt they were engaging in.

as eloise began to speak about the many cruelties of lady featherington, you spotted cressida cowper scowling over at the two of you, dressed in a pink so bright you felt momentarily blinded. she shot a contemptuous look at you, scoffing at your gown and sharing a laugh with lady cowper, that had your eyebrow creasing with insecurity.

much to your horror, she began to march over to you, along with her mother and lady featherington, much to your dismay. you searched desperately for your mother-in-law, but found her engrossed in conversation with the queen.

"my my, if it isn't the happy bridgertons" cressida sniped, flashing you a tight lipped smile. "hello miss cowper" you smiled, ignoring the anxiety bubbling in your tummy.

"cressida" eloise said coldly, linking her arm with yours. she was well aware of the contemptuous rumours she had spread about you when you had begun courting anthony and had made it her mission to protect you from her.

"what a rather unusual colour for you dear" lady cowper commented, eyes trailing down your body in disdain.

"it gives you the impression of being a little washed out" she stated, opening her fan to hide her smirk.

you ignored the tear that sprang to your eyes as she continued to comment, on the fall of the dress, the shape of the silhouette and the way your jewellery was far too showy.

you could feel eloise glowering beside you but silently begged her to keep calm, not wanting to lose her calm in front of everyone.

to your surprise, a familiar baritone cut in, a nd a strong arm wrapped around your midriff and waist.

your husband appeared beside you, a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"i see why you might think that, lady cowper, for all you can pull off is that rather obnoxious shade of viscous pink, and while i understand your envy at my wife's ability to outshine everyone else here in any colour she chooses, i must remind you are speaking to the viscountess bridgerton, and hence must adhere to the degree respect she commands" he stated coolly, hand gripping your waist so tight you were sure it would leave marks.

stunned speechless, the cowper's backed away, egos more than bruised and enraged , subject to sniggers and chuckles from the other lords and ladies in the room. your brother walked to anthony from across the hall, patting him on the back and whispering a "good man" to him as he hugged you, and eloise drew anthony into a hug as well.

anthony led the two of you over to his mama, who couldn't hide a smile herself at the love her son had for his wife, so reminiscent of the way their father had loved her.

"I am sorry if I caused humiliation to your name mama, but I cannot and will not let anyone talk to my wife that way" he said firmly, only to be cut off by his mother.

"I believe everyone here has been waiting to say that to miss cowper since the beginning of time, my darling, so take your wife and go home. you have done your job and proved your love and passion and told everyone that your relationship rhymes true" she said, drawing you into a warm hug and bidding you goodbye.

the carriage ride home was silent as your held anthony's hand tight, his thumb tracing patterns over the gloves you were donning, a pearly white to match your jewels.

"thank you my love" you whispered to him, eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

"my darling, i love you, all of you. please do not ever belittle yourself, because your beauty is awe worthy" he said, eyes contorted as if he was in pain at the thought of you being in pain.

"I'll try my best not to" you whispered against, leaning forward to press your foreheads together. and you stayed like that till bridgerton manor came into view.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

frenzied kisses were pressed against your lips as anthony lifted you into his arms, earning a singular gasp from your lips. his hands, one wrapped tightly under your bottom and the other around your back was strong, as you wrapped your legs around his waist and he led you upstairs, ignoring the scurrying valet and maids and your ladies in waiting as he made it to your shared bedroom.

he dropped you gently on the bed, towering above you, hands shoving the material of your dress up. his hands crept along your thighs stealthily, finding the hooks of your stockings to your thigh garter, slowly dragging it down, exposing your bare skin to him, suppressing a groan at the soft skin.

to his surprise you reached up and grabbed him by the cravat, untying it and pulling him down to meet your lips. you kissed him roughly, a frenzied battle, with teeth and tongue clashing as he shrugged off his waist coat and began to unbutton his shirt, watching as you removed your jewellery and kept in on the table beside his bed.

his hands reached for your dress, carefully untying the many laces and unbuttoning the many buttons on your dress, watching as your bosom heaved in the corset wore.

deft fingers unhooked the corset without a struggle, and you moaned when the cold air hit your nipples, making them harden, as you pushed your chest out towards him.

anthony growled, the sound reverberating in his throat as he reached down to unbutton his tan pants, leaving him in just his underwear. his lips attacked your neck, biting into the delicate flesh and pressing kiss after kiss, sucking deep marks and hickies that were sure to stay for days after.

you raked your nails up and down his neck, stroking the skin there and raking your hands upto his hair, gently scratching his scalp as he trailed kisses down to your breasts.

his mouth enveloped your nipple in his mouth, tongue flicking and swirling around the sensitive nub.

he continued his ministrations, taking only a moment to move his mouth to your other breast and leaving lovebites on the skin.

he settled in between your thoughts, hips gently grinding into yours, as he licked and sucked to his heart’s desire, attempting to alleviate the growing tent in his pants.

you were beginning to pant, and he continued to pinch and stroke your nipple. his tongue wreaked havoc on one while his fingers gently tugged on the other. anthony could not wait any longer, the pain of the straining in his pants making him more loopy than he would admit, and he pulled away from your breast, a string of saliva from his lips to your breast.

he came back up to your mouth, kissing you with desperation. "i adore you" he painted above you, before kissing down your tummy to your thighs.

he stopped at the junction between your thighs, inhaling the musk of your scent.  

he reached for the cotton underwear you had on, gently pulling it down, and pushing your thighs apart, and a wave of cold air floated across your inner thighs, so open and exposed now.

anthony began to press hot, open mouthed kisses to the bare expanse of your thighs, stopping just below your pussy lips each time.

mere moments later, you felt an entirely new sensation— anthony's wet, warm tongue sliding through your folds. a cry of pleasure ripped from your throat, as you looked down at anthony, who had crawled between your legs with his tongue buried at the apex of your thighs.

your slick dripped down your pussy lips, costing them in your honey, and anthony licked it all up as if it was nectar and ambrosia, lowering his face to lick a long strip through your entire slit, before tilting his face even deeper into your pussy, swirling around up to your engorged clit and licking all around it and on the top of it.

the action had your hips jolting as he sucked on the nub, causing flashes of white to flash before your eyes.

"you taste more delightful than i could ever have imagined" he breathed licking the sour-sweet liquid off his lips. "my own precious honey pot" he cooed, making you flush again and your body heated up.

he sucked harder on your clit, fingers slipping into your slit to slide up and down, each stroking made your hips flail wildly.

“you taste so sweet” he murmurs, and the brush of his breath sears against your skin. the low rumbling of his voice, so characteristic of him, are dripped in hunger and arousal, the heat spreading under your skin and threatening to explode like a supernova.

"i have longed to have you squirming on my tongue my love. i will have you screaming my name until your lips know no other" he promised.

with a ravenous look at your heaving form, anthony lowered his mouth to your throbbing center again and licked a bold stripe up your clit, the sensitive bud jolting in shock and you scream in pleasure,

the ever composed lord bridgerton moans against your cunt when you tug his hair, hands holding down your hips as he watches you squirm. then anthony rolls your clit with his teeth and you come apart with a scream, hands gripping onto his hair for dear life.

you come, cunt clenching down, spasming around his tongue where he has you stretched open. everything else disappears for a moment, your body weightless with pure unadulterated bliss.

anthony shifts so he is in between your legs again, watching the fluttering of your pussy as you clench around nothing. your eyes are trained on his hips and he feels a surge of pride.

his cock was one not only of great size but of greater girth and greater skill, and he adored nothing more than watching your eyes become as large as saucers as you looked at his poor cock straining again as it had been ever since he saw you in his signature colour.

trained hands guided his cock to your entrance, tapping against it for a few seconds before he dragged the tip through your slick, making your body shudder at the stimulation. and then, he pressed a kiss to your neck, hips slamming against yours.

the first thrust was deep and claiming,and you cried out at the perfect stretch of him in your pussy.

you could barely think straight, hands digging into his back and nails sinking into his skin.

"so fucking perfect,” he murmured into your ear, rasped and breathless as he nipped on your ear. "'feel so good wrapped around my cock. so wet and warm for me my sweet sweet beloved. fuck, you're so tight right now. squeezing me so well, you love my cock, do you not my angel?"

"yes yes i love you and your cock" you changed as a prayer, eyes bashful at the use of the dirty word. "look at how your cunt clenches around me" he groaned, head dipping into the crook of your neck as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly.

you could hear the headboard banging against the wall as the pace of anthony's thrusts had your body sliding against the silken sheets.

and then he stopped

he stayed there, buried inside you to the hilt, and his cock twitched excitedly inside you. you watched the way he gripped the bedsheets tightly with his fingers until they went hite. it sent heat and pleasure into the pit of your stomach and you were sure you are going to burn. it was far too good, far too much, brimming on the edge of being overwhelming. 

there’s no warning as he pulled out, leaving his pulsing tip in, and then he thrusted all the way back inside, in one long and slick stroke back inside you, deep and rough. his cock slammed into a spot in you that has you screaming, something absolutely fucking delicious and it steals away your breath and makes you cry out. 

and then he grabs your legs, pushing them up towards your legs as he almost folded you in half, pushing your legs so far apart they almost touched your head, as he moved to his knees for a better angle.

his hips thrusted wildly as he kept fucking you, hand rubbing furiously at your sensitive clit, as you whined and moaned and screamed. he watched as your cunt, pink and perfect fluttered and twitched, and his ears revelled at the sound of the filthy, wet squelching that echoed in the room from your dripping cunt.

he landed a harsh smack to the back of your thigh that had you screaming as he then pressed his tongue to it, sucking a hickey on the spot.

sweat dripped down his forehead and yours, as you began to thrust your hips up to meet his perfect strokes, while feeling like his cock was going to split you apart.

"i want nothing more than to fill you with my seed" he growled, over the sound of your skin slapping together over and over again.

"fill me with your seed my lord. let me have carry your kin" you murmured, and you watched as anthony groaned, hand wrapping around your throat.

"such a minx" he grinned, squeezing and watching your eyes roll back.

without a warning, he flipped you over so you were on top, and his deft hands steadied you at the waist.

then he began to slowly pick your hips up, working you up and down on his cock, slamming you up and down on his cock, until you got the hang of it.

anthony felt himself drooling as he took in the way your tits bounced and you bounced on his cock as you ride him, nails now scratching down his chest as he laid a harsh spank to your ass that had you clenching on his cock harder.

he watched your body desperately ride him for all he was worth, thighs jiggling as they clapped against his own, and he pinched the fat around your waist and belly, teeth nipping at your nipple to increase the stimulation.

"m-my lord! I am going to cum!" you moaned loudly, only to turn to a wail as anthony's fingers unleashed a furious assault on your clit, as he rubbed it up and down and side to side and everywhere, covering his fingers in your slick.

with a scream of his name, you came all over his dick and his tummy, your juices spilling out of you like a fountain, watching as he scooped it up with his fingers to lick it clean.

he slammed your hips down on his even harder as you whined, and you felt his stomach tense and breathing stutter as he came, shooting his load inside you, and finally sinking into the pillow, limp.

panting, you rolled off of him, mind cockdrunk and unable to move. anthony peppered kisses to your skin and kissed the spots where he'd been rough.

"you were phenomenal, my love" he whispered, and to your intrigue, his fingers trialed down to your cunt.

you watched as he gently slid a finger in to your hole, shushing and kissing you as he blocked it with his fingers.

"i cannot have a single drop of me spilling out of you" he murmured and you moaned.

"i adore you", he mumbled, "my dear wife" he concluded.

"and i adore you, my dear husband" you smiled, meeting his lips in a sugar sweet kiss.

who would've known that wearing the bridgerton blue was all it would take for you and anthony to announce to the ton in the next three months that you were expecting the first bridgerton heir?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : I've missed writing for bridgerton so much!! i really hope you enjoy this, and as always likes reblogs comments opinions etc are appreciated!! sending u all love and happiness and remember, my inbox is always open and i love making new friends!! happy reading ☺️♥️

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[fayes-fics]

A Beneficial Arrangement

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A marriage pact with a Viscount. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), loss of virginity, vaginal sex. Bickering, developing relationship.

Word Count: 6.1 k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Anon request fill from HERE (Anthony and a headstrong independent reader make an unconventional marriage pact). Sorry it's taken so long to write this, but I hope you enjoy! <3

It’s a dreary, rather ordinary Tuesday in spring when your life takes a turn.

“The Viscount is in want of a wife.” 

That statement is all you hear as you walk past the drawing room where your mother is taking tea with her good friend, the dowager Viscountess Bridgerton.

“My eldest needs a husband,” your mother responds, offering you as if merely chattel; bile rises indignantly as she does so. “But I fear she is far too outspoken to be a suitable Viscountess.” 

You sigh in relief, ear pressed to the closed door now.

“Oh, believe me, nothing would be a better match for my darling Anthony than someone who will challenge him, stand up to him,” Violet peals a knowing laugh. “We should arrange a meeting.”

——

3 days later.

He assesses you with a cool eye as your gaze drifts briefly over to both of your mothers, watching expectantly from a nearby table in the tea shop.

“You should know I will only be taking a wife to fulfil my societal duty,” he sniffs airly. “However, I do not expect you to produce an heir. The title may pass to my younger brothers; they are more inclined to form romantic attachments than I. Their offspring can inherit this title; it feels like a curse anyhow,” he adds quieter, his tone mildly embittered.

“Well, on your attitude to marriage, I can wholeheartedly agree,” you state, stirring your tea primly. “I do not wish to be shackled. I wish to remain free. I shall marry, as there is no other path available to me, but I do not plan nor do I ever want to be someone's wife.” You utter the word with disdain as if it is toxic. 

His admittedly very handsome face transforms into one of surprise, a faint dot of colour on his cheeks as he peers at you as if assessing you in a new light.

“What?” You frown at him, his silent stare becoming too heavy to bear as his interest and engagement intensify.

“You are the first woman I have ever met who shares my outlook,” he confesses, seemingly caught off-guard. “It is so utterly refreshing… and, frankly, novel.” He pauses to pass his fingers slowly over his lips in a way that makes your stomach swoop, even if you refuse to acknowledge such even to yourself. “I do believe we should meet again to discuss this further,” he concludes.

And thus, you find yourself with the suit of one Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, both of your mothers overjoyed at the prospect.

——

9 days later.

“If I must marry, you are the most tolerable woman I have met, I must concede,” he states nonchalantly as you meet to promenade. 

It’s quite an opening line for only your third meeting, even for someone as renownedly blunt as the Viscount.

“And a good afternoon to you too, Viscount Bridgerton,” you drawl pointedly with a raised eyebrow, subtly hinting how his greeting may have been lacking.

He chuckles, a flash of what looks like admiration in his dark eyes.

“As such,” he continues, “I would not be averse to a martial arrangement with you. An agreement, a pact if you will, based on our mutual understanding of what we both want from such an endeavour.”

The speed and pragmatism of his apparent proposal do not surprise you in the least. In fact, you are actually grateful for the lack of ceremony around it. If you must marry, you prefer it be swift.

“Did you mean what you said last week? In the tearoom?” You quiz as you begin to walk shoulder to shoulder through Hyde Park, the early summer air heavy with the scent of roses.

“Every word,” he replies solemnly.

“Then, I suppose this is a beneficial arrangement for me too,” you shrug as if agreeing about the weather, not the very course of your future. But there is something about this man that feels inevitable, fateful, but not in a way you dread. Also, his face is so very pleasing. If you must indeed marry, at least the view across the dinner table will be nice.

“Then it is decided,” he nods decisively, a brusque smile passing over his lips. “I so greatly appreciate your candidness with regard to this matter. It makes the whole business so much easier to deal with.”

He offers a hand to shake, and you take it, bemused, shaking on the deal, pretending this mere touch doesn't make every butterfly in your stomach roar to life.

“I shall make the arrangements swiftly,” he states, again with a short smile and nod.

You are married within three weeks.

——

6 weeks later.

‘‘What on earth is this?” he practically spits as he rounds the corner of Bridgerton House onto the back lawn.

“What does it look like?” you sass, tearing the netted visor from your face.

“It looks an awful lot like my wife is fencing,” his reply dripping with conceited judgement.

“Well, I’m glad to know you do not need glasses, husband,” you respond dryly, nodding to accept the excuses of the butler you were sparring with, who suddenly seems very keen to scurry away now the Viscount has arrived.

“Perkins, do not think this has gone unnoticed,” Anthony calls pointedly after the retreating man.

“Leave him alone!” you bark, taking your husband aback with your ferocity, him turning to you and almost gaping in surprise. “Perkins must do my bidding as lady of the house, and I told him to fence with me,” you elucidate, keen that the innocent party not suffer any consequences for your decision. 

“Women do not fence,” he sniffs, changing the subject somewhat.

“This one does,” you riposte, spearing your epee tip into the grass to remove the suede gloves.

“It is unbecoming of a Viscountess,” he adds almost haughtily.

“Good thing such matters hold no truck with me,” you shrug, knowing you are likely provoking him. 

To hell with what is appropriate for a titled lady. The title, and all of its stifling rules and expectations, is the very last reason you married the man standing before you. No, the reason is far, far more simultaneously complex and simple than that. He excites you—in ways you don't even want to admit to yourself.

It’s not something you would divulge to anyone, but arguing with your new husband has become your new favourite pastime. On the rare occasions you see him, that is. Since your wedding day, you have mostly been ships passing at the dinner table; otherwise, your lives have been very separate. At night, his rooms are at the other end of the long hallway from yours, and his days are apparently filled with business obligations. While the utter freedom to fill your days as you wish has been a blessing, it’s also been perhaps a touch lonely.

When you do see Anthony, you invariably end up clashing about something. And, well, it’s often the highlight of your week. A thrill zipping down your spine as you do so. The only person you have met who can keep up with your verbal sparring. It makes you excited, breathless, dizzy, a fizz low in your belly that feels entirely beguiling. Today is no different; you feel that same sensation as he stares at you, arms crossed, exasperated.

“Well, if you insist upon this rebellious pastime,’ he sighs after a few beats, snatching your epee, “the least you can do is improve your grip,” he grouses, rolling his eyes.

You startle as he crowds into your back, a warm hand wrapping around yours as he passes you the blade and demonstrates a different way to wield it that you concede feels better. The spike of victory in your bloodstream from winning the argument morphs into something entirely different as he stands behind you, his breath tickling your ear and the tendrils of your hair as he provides instruction. 

You try to take the details on board, but your thoughts scatter with his overwhelming proximity. How have you never noticed the stirring amber notes of his cologne before? Or how very broad his chest is compared to his slim hips? Perhaps because this is the closest you have ever been, his body heat seeping into your spine, your heart fluttering hard against your ribs. You can’t decide if this effect your husband can have on you is the best or the worst thing. Somehow, it feels like both.

——

1 month later.

You are both relieved to avoid most of the season on the pretence of being on honeymoon, but inevitably, the time comes when you must debut as a married couple. Speculation about you growing ever since Lady Whistledown breathlessly reported your nuptials, a nearly unknown minor Ton member rapidly snaring the most eligible of perenially eligible bachelors.

So when you enter your first ball as Viscountess Bridgerton, all eyes are upon you. You feel mildly uncomfortable bedecked in jewels and a heavy silk dress, but know refinement is of importance at events such as these. You just cannot wait to get home and get out of them. This will never be your preferred milieu, a sentiment you apparently share with your husband—underneath his calm, unruffled exterior, you sense his dampened disquiet.

“Smile politely, nod in acknowledgement, but don't engage for any longer than necessary,” he counsels under his breath as an inevitable hush falls over the room when your arrival is announced. You are grateful for his steadfast support, his arm looped reassuringly through yours as you follow his advice, knowing he has navigated these waters much more than you have needed to. “The best thing to do is seem frightfully ordinary,” he explains quietly as you complete a circuit of the room. “They are ravenous for gossip; if none is to be had, their preoccupation will swiftly wane.”

Indeed, the initial excitement about your appearance soon dies down as other, perhaps more flamboyant, guests arrive. People approach expressing surprise about your union, but once he economically explains you just knew you were right for each other, they often quickly move on, seeming almost disappointed at the lack of apparent scandal.

As the evening progresses, you school your tongue at some of the barbs you overhear, more out of a wish to be left alone rather than any adherence to social rules. Most of the things that appear to preoccupy the Ton you have little patience for. As Anthony spends some time with business acquaintances, you eventually find yourself in the company of the female members of his family, whom you are quickly becoming very fond of with every passing day in their company. Particularly his benevolent mother and headstrong sister, Eloise. In fact, the latter is the primary witness to the flare of your true nature, fatigue overriding your ability to remain silent.

Cressida Cowper is being particularly venomous about a mutual acquaintance. Eloise is quick with her witty tongue in reply, and you cannot stop yourself from piling on your scorn as well.

“Perhaps if the braiding of your hair were less painful, it would allow you greater empathy,” you retort before you can stop yourself.

Eloise’s responding guffaw sprays lemonade all over Cressida, whose shocked mien is the last thing you see before she turns heel to attend to her ruined dress in private.

“That was sensational!” Eloise wheezes in awe as she blots the remnants of her beverage from her chin.

You sigh.

“It was unwise,” you correct, knowing you have probably just made an enemy of one of the worst gossips of the Ton.

“It was wholly accurate and justified,” a cool, authoritative voice cuts in, and you look up to find your husband before you, a rapt glint in his eye that makes your lungs feel tight. It appears he may have also been witness to the moment.

Eloise’s eyes briefly ping-pong between the two of you, and then she loops an arm into the crook of Anthony’s as you continue to gaze at each other, cataloguing something new about each other that you mutually admire.

“I like her,” Eloise nods at you. “Excellent choice of wife, brother,” she grins.

It breaks the spell between you but seems to further ingratiate you with at least one member of his family. And that makes you feel light as air in a way you don't fully understand.

——

2 months later.

Funnily enough, it’s another random Tuesday when your life takes a complete turn. Yet again, you find yourself in another heated debate with your husband of barely twelve weeks. This time while sojourning at your country estate, Aubrey Hall.

“Must you?” Anthony gripes, standing up from his desk and rounding towards where you stand.

“Must I what? Speak my mind?” you bite back, hands on your hips.

“Be so damn argumentative,” he expounds, hands also on hips, chest heaving a little, “urghh, you are so aggravating!”

“Same!” You shoot back. “I have never met a man quite as disagreeable as you,” you add, not realising as you argue that you have taken steps closer and are now huffing irritated breaths close to each other's faces.

“Why did you agree to marry me then?” he snarls, his gaze suddenly fixated on your bottom lip, unbeknownst to you, it’s glistening and swollen from biting in irritation at his demeanour.

“Right now, I have no earthly idea,” you volley in return, but your pounding heart gives away the real reason. No one makes you feel quite as alive as Anthony, even when he is driving you up the wall, like right now. “Why did you agree to marry me, seeing as I am so very ‘aggravating’?” you spit, parroting the word back at him.

His stare blisters as he draws himself to full height right before you.

“We made a pact,” he huffs, “this is duty, nothing more.” 

But the way he breathes and holds himself speaks to something else. A war in his body and mind. The maelstrom in his eyes belying his words… and then it hits you. So singular it knocks the wind from your lungs. This is desire. He wants you. In all the ways a man can want a woman. 

And damn it all to hell if you don’t feel precisely the same.

“For me as well,” your tart, mendacious reply is bitter on your tongue.

The tension in the air is taut like a cord, ready to snap. You both toe to toe, noses almost touching, laboured breaths as you stare each other down like some game to see who will capitulate first. 

“I do believe we are at an impasse… wife,” the last word dripping with disdain, but he is leaning closer than he ever has, his lips fractional inches from yours.

“It would appear so…,” you concur, “…husband,” you roll the last word slowly, lingering on the end of the first syllable as if it is both a treat and a bitter pill on your tongue.

“I have been raised a gentleman,” he hisses, “but there are times that you test my resolve.”

“I do nothing of the sort!” you decry, knowing you are lying even to yourself now. Somedays lately, you live to simply push his buttons, just to see what he will do. “And resolve of what? To not be a good husband? Because I can tell you, forthright, you are doing a wonderful job of being a terrible husband,” you goad, knowing you are poking the proverbial beast now.

“I give you a wonderful home to run as you please, I give you the freedom to pursue whatever pastimes you wish, I let you speak your mind. As Viscountess, the world is yours. What else could you possibly want in a husband? I do not ask you to do things, wifely things, that I could,” he warns, his voice buzzing low. “I could demand you submit to my will; it is my right,” he growls.

A flame behind your ribs catches fire, even as your eyes flash indignant.

“You do not wish for that sort of wife; you told me as much yourself.” It’s a heated whisper, much breathier than you mean it to be.

“A man can change his mind,” he gravels, “same as a woman can change hers if she wishes.”

“What made you change your mind?” 

He fixes you with a hypnotic, weighted stare.

“You.”

The way that one word drips from his lips tilts your whole existence. It’s so loaded you don’t know what to say. Unmoored, your system awash with chemicals, your mind flooding with images of sketches you have seen of men and women together. Of what the marital act can entail. It’s something you believed would not ever be a part of your marriage, your life, even, but now…. 

Now your handsome husband is staring at you, ragged breaths, face wild, telling you he has changed his mind. Maybe he wants that sort of marriage, that sort of union. Something gallops hard in your chest as he steps away, as if wrongly intuiting you are about to turn down his suit, and something bubbles up from deep inside you.

“Do not dare,” you growl.

His mouth falls open in shock.

“Do not tease me so and leave me wanting,” you continue with a boldness and timbre you barely recognise as your own. “‘Tis crueller to build false hope than to take what you want,” you sniff and stare him down, so wholly decisive in your intentions and desires. If this is the nudge he needs, you’ll give it.

“You want me to exercise my conjugal rights?” he falters, appearing utterly stunned.

You don’t answer; just do one thing, your heart pounding loudly in your ears. You close the last few inches and press your lips to his. 

They are soft and plush against yours, making your insides warm and glowing. Then, Anthony makes a noise in the back of his throat, and suddenly, he is kissing you back. So ferociously, you squeak into his mouth as he opens your lips and slides his tongue over yours, his strong arms pulling you into an embrace so you are enveloped by his warm body.

Good lord.

You feel like you are drowning in him as he grabs your jaw, directing the kiss, turning it into something wholly other. Your lips move endlessly together as you both greedily take from the other for what seems like ages. When you pull apart, you are both heaving breaths and staring at each other, almost confused.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” you snarl, wanting to rip every item of clothing from your body and his.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds airily.

And then you crash into each other again. Drinking desperately from each other's mouths, powerless to resist whatever flame draws you together. 

He walks you backwards as your tongues tangle, and you startle slightly as your bottom hits his imposing desk. Hands loop around your thighs, and he hoists you into the surface, never breaking the intoxicating kiss.

He tries to step between your legs, but your column dress is too tight to allow it. You attempt to wiggle the hem upwards as you kiss, then, with a frustrated grunt, he bats your hands away and, using a strength that shocks you, rips the silk material asunder from the hem to your hip.

“I loved this dress!” you decry over his lips, unwilling to admit you’d destroy every single dress you own if he just kept kissing you like this.

“I’ll buy you another,” he dismisses, pushing your thighs wide with his hands. “I’ll buy you as many as you want.” 

“You had better,” you challenge, scarcely able to believe you even have the wherewithal to debate with him, especially as this is the first time a man has ever touched your bare leg.

He pulls back from the kiss to stare intently into your eyes as his fingertips trace from your kneecap up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You don’t mean to, but you tremble, having never been touched this way before. You gasp as his palm cups the apex of your thighs, his hand feeling so warm through the thin silk protecting your modesty, his fingers swirling circles over your patch of hair as the heel of his palm presses against your slit.

“I can feel your heat,” he hisses.

You can barely process what is happening, your body rioting as he touches and teases you, staring you down. Instinctively, you reach for the tiny buttons at your hip, but your hands fall away as he flicks his middle finger downwards and catches a nub that makes your body buck.

“Anthony,” it falls from your lips unbidden with a halting breath. It may well be the first time you have uttered his first name in his presence.

He groans at the sound. “Please, always say my name like that,” he pleads through gritted teeth.

So you repeat it, the same intonation, even as that finger drags slowly up and down over the swollen pearl between your legs, undone by how good it feels.

“Are you chaste?” he inquires; it’s not judgemental in tone, just pure curiosity, his ministrations lighter.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, “but I do know of the marital act”, you add, wanting him to know you are not entirely innocent.

“Hmm,” he hums, looking at once thoughtful and blistering, his finger moving more insistently again, “I am glad to hear it. Then you shall not be entirely shocked by what is about to happen?”

“So… we are to undertake it? The act?” you stutter, his finger making you feel so good you have to bite your lip.

But he doesn’t answer your question directly. 

“Wife, how attached are you to these undergarments?” his tone almost idle, cocking his head to the side as his gaze lingers over them.

You shrug practically. “I have many exactly the same.”

Then, you gasp loudly as the sound of silk tearing fills the room. You are quaking as the warm air of his study swirls around your exposed, damp slit. He shocks you by dropping to his knees before you. Pushing your thighs wide on his desk and looking up at you with burningly intense eyes, he presses his face to your flesh, inhaling deeply, his nose buried in your pubic hair before his tongue peeks out and nudges the swollen nub he was teasing through the silk. 

Your mouth drops open, and something inhuman escapes your lungs. Then he does it again, this time enclosing the whole area between his lips and sucking hard on your flesh, tongue curling and ploughing into your folds. The heat, the suction, the muscular swipe of his tongue feels so good your mind blanks out, a tremor in your splayed thighs that he holds forcibly open with warm hands. He keeps doing so for a few moments as your fingernails curl hard into the edge of his desk, scarcely able to do anything but writhe and gently moan. IIdly you think upon all of your curious research, never once had you heard of or read about a man doing as he is now, placing his head between his wife’s thighs and sniffing, drinking from her body.

“You are plenty ready for me, wife,” he huffs, his warm breath tickling your responsive folds, little ripples of pleasure deep inside scattering your thoughts. “Are you averse to me taking you right here?” he waves a hand nonchalantly at his large, imposing carved wooden desk.

“I… I rather thought su-such things could only ha-happen in a bed,” you confess stiltedly, a quiver in your voice.

He smirks up from between your thighs, turning his head to kiss the fragile skin there. “Oh, no, wife. We can fuck anywhere we please…” he pauses and looks sincere, “however, should you prefer a bed…”

“Here is fine,” you rush out, so very keen to have your husband make a woman of you. As if leaving this room may break the spell you are under. Location be damned. You just want to know him. He smirks again, placing a final quick kiss on your flesh, looking very pleased at your response.

“I wholeheartedly concur,” he rumbles as he hoists himself back up to stand, stepping inwards to rock his clothed pelvis against your pulsing nub. There is something hot and swollen in his trousers now, and you realise this must be his member. 

“Show it to me,” you enthuse, nodding at the insistent bulge.

“So very impatient all of a sudden, wife,” he scolds with a bemused chuckle, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand over the bump. It feels so hot and steely even through the fabric. “Unbutton me,” he orders casually, pointing to the fastening at his hip. 

Exuberantly, you undo them quickly, keen to see if his member matches the sketches you have viewed. As the front of his trousers falls away, he quickly pushes down his white underwear. There, nestled in a thatch of dark hair at the base, is your husband's cock. Your eyes widen at the sight. It seems more considerable than the drawings you have seen, and you are temporarily taken aback by how red and almost angry it looks at the tip.

“Go ahead, touch it,” Anthony encourages, and with a slight tremble in your fingers, you reach forward and make contact with him.

“Oh!” you exclaim without thought, “it’s so soft, your skin, and so hot!” 

He chuckles warmly at your assessment. “Indeed,” he huffs as you wrap your hand instinctively around it, feeling its weight and mass in your palm.

“This will not fit inside me, surely?” you blurt out.

“It will, I promise,” his tone mellow, tinged with understanding even as his breath staccatos when you start to move your hand, the instinct to rub inexplicable, but seemingly precisely what he wants. “Yes, perfect,” he rasps, eyes closing and tongue peaking out to lick his lips.

The odd mix of total honesty and soft appreciation between you as you acquaint yourselves with each other's bodies seems very apt, as if this is the only way such a development would ever transpire. And you realise, as you cradle his most intimate parts, that you trust this man with your very being. Despite your bickering, there is a thread of mutual respect under it that makes you feel safe, seen, and known in a way that no other person has.

“Take me now, husband,” you rattle through your teeth, watching a bead of something sticky form at the tip of his cock as you squeeze him in hypnotic, repetitive motions. The sight makes something in your body turn to fiery liquid, wanting him and that substance inside yourself in a way that doesn't make logical sense. 

He growls at your words, grabbing your hand away from his cock and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the back of your knuckles as your eyes lock, a chaste, almost romantic interlude.

But then his hands grab your hips and haul you almost roughly to the very edge of the desk, your torn dress framing your splayed thighs, his trousers around his ankles as he takes his cock in hand and rubs the tip over your folds of flesh in a way that makes you moan under your breath.

“Are you certain?” he checks, even as he pants anticipatorily.

“God, yes,” you confirm, craving him in a way you have never felt about anything before. An urgent hook tugging deep inside your loins, calling to him like a siren song.

“Watch,” he murmurs darkly, his other hand rounding the back of your neck so your gaze is tilted down to where his cock nudges your opening.

So you do, as does he. Stare down to where your body meet, hissing loudly as his tip slips inside your soaked channel. Your eyes want to roll back at the sheer overwhelming sensation of it, but equally, it's such an enthralling sight that you can’t look away.

He moans loudly, lewdly, decadently as he pushes further into your heat, pausing to readjust your legs wider and tilt your pelvis more open.

“This next part may hurt, darling,” he whispers quietly, the first time he has ever used such an affectionate term for you, making your heart race. 

“It's alright,” you reassure mutely in return, “I have heard as such.”

The hand around the back of your neck slides gently until he tilts your chin up to meet his tender gaze.

“You are quite the woman,” he says, almost reverential, as he leans in and captures your lips in a sweet, soft kiss. 

The movement propels his cock deeper into your body, and you cry out into his open mouth at a stab of sharp pain inside. 

“That's it done,” he mutters reassuringly into your lips as you whimper gently. 

He stills as you adjust to the girth, the heat, and feeling so very filled.

“More…” falls from your mouth spontaneously, the want rising, hungry for a need to be met, a thirst slaked, unlike anything you have experienced.

The smile that breaks out over his face makes your nipples pebble hard in your stays, and he slides deeper as you cling to him, exhaling unevenly as he keeps sinking further into your pussy, pushing you open. Just when you think you cannot take more, he stops, and you feel his body pressing wholly against yours.

You stare at each other, eyes wild and wide, unable to form words but knowing instinctually how good this feels for both of you. He looks untamed, something urgent rippling in his being. And without breaking the gaze, he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock is inside you, then ploughs back in, in one determined, decisive stroke.

You don't stop the decadent noise that escapes your lungs, your toes curling into the soles of your feet at how wonderful and all-encompassing that feels. Same as you don't miss the victorious smirk on his face at your reaction.

Then it’s a hungry blur of movement as your hands grab his biceps through his clothing, clinging on for dear life as he proceeds to move just like that first thrust. Over and over. Building in pace and with increasing intensity, him sensing your need for such things.

“Anthony…” his name spills over your lips again, and the impact on him is nothing short of extraordinary.

His hands clamp vicelike to your hips, branding heatedly over your skin through your dress, straining the tendons of your inner thighs as he pushes your legs open impossibly wide, his pelvis crashing into yours in a way you are certain may leave bruises. And what shocks you most is just how much you want it. Want him to leave signs of his presence, want to look in the mirror and see the outline of his digits in the globes of your bottom.

He moans your name, hot and desperate, into your ear, his pace never wavering, a drop of sweat forming on his forehead that you can't look away from when he pulls back to tilt your heads together.

“I want to see,” you stumble out, pantingly, as he takes you harder.

“See what?” he sounds almost winded, his thrusts still spearing his cock into your body.

“See you entering me,” you huff into his cheek.

His responding noise is feral and has every inch of your body alight. He bows his spine outward so your bodies only touch where you are joined, and his hand feels heated and heavy on the back of your neck as you tilt your chin down to take in the sight.

His cock, rigid and huge, ploughing repeatedly into your body, shining with a slick substance you can only assume is from within you, the sight making you shudder, but not with anything approaching disgust. It’s something primal. A need to chase a conclusion, the power of the vivid tableau burned into your retinas.

“Don't stop, please don't stop,” you petition, looking back up to his face, your hands sliding up and down his torso now, raking urgent fingernails over his clothing.

He swears, and his lips are back on yours, searing and demanding. This feels like a frantic wave you are riding together, a trickle of moisture running down your spine as you start to push your hips forward as much as you can, meeting his thrusts halfway.

“You are fucking perfect,” he snarls over your tongue, and you couldn't agree more.

Time seems elastic as he lowers you so your back rests on the piles of no doubt important paperwork, not that he pays it any mind, him hunched over you, pulling your hips out over the edge now, the range of motion it allows him making you gasp. He is taking you without mercy now, breath hot on your throat as he moans your name, his hand squirrelling between your bodies and making your vision dance with dots as he passes a slightly calloused tip over your clit.

“Come for me,” he breathes, the request both hopeful and commanding.

“What does that mean?” your question puffed into his lush hairline.

“Oh my darling, just you wait,” his voice dripping with promise even as your skin feels like it wants to vibrate off your very bones as his fingers and cock take you somewhere you never envision. An ecstasy both outside but rooted deep in your being.

He murmurs encouragingly as you struggle for air, your lungs burning, scarcely remembering to breathe, skating some kind of precipice that feels dangerous and addictive. Then, with a flick of his thumb and a gentle bite of your earlobe, you fall into an abyss. Everything all at once quiet and loud, eyes screwed shut as colours burst behind them, and every fibre of your being seems to snap and break, rearranging in a mind-shattering way. Your pussy convulsing hard around his cock that now seems impossibly large.

Then, with a deep booming cry, you feel him lance deeper than ever, his whole body tensing and jerking. A warmth spreads inside, and you vaguely realise he is reaching completion, spilling his seed inside you. For what seems like ages, your mind and body float somewhere, utterly sated, suddenly understanding why this act can be so all-consuming and there is so much written of it.

When your mind returns to the room, you are panting into each other's necks, both breathlessly stunned at how animalistic your first intimacy was. Somehow, your antagonistic chemistry transmuting into an explosive, consuming passion.

“We are going to bed right now,” his tone wrecked, rough, so damn irresistible you want to bite his flesh, even while you still recover from what transpired. Fires stoked again just by those seven words.

He pulls up his trousers haphazardly, picks you up bridal-style, and sweeps you out of his office and up the grand staircase, ignoring the shocked looks of staff at your torn dress and his roughly pulled clothing. 

“We are not to be disturbed,” he barks at his valet, who blanches and leaves the room as Anthony practically throws you onto his imposing four-poster bed. Then, as you lay there, he strips naked before you, and you want to nuzzle every inch of his toned, magnificent body. 

___

It’s three days before you reemerge from what is now your joint bedroom. From that day on, you are never without your husband for more than two days; such is your magnetic need for each other. And when your belly swells with the first of your many children, he confesses his ardent, undying love for you, you returning the sentiment instantly, having felt the same for what seems like forever. 

A hurried, naive pact between two proud, independent souls becoming something wholly other—a loving, passionate marriage of equals. You still squabble with unerring frequency, but now it ends in lovemaking, the intensity sweeping you both into an ephemeral bliss.

A beneficial arrangement indeed.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor

#anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton #1k notes #1k notes omg you guys! #2k notes #2k notes holy crap you guys! #3k notes #3k notes WOAH that's amazing you guys

[kylopen]

Yes, My lord?

18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: Brain rotting SMUT, barely any plot, reader is 1 month pregnant (you could probs imagine she is not if you really wanted to) Mentions of body insecurities, super fluffy, Anthony is so whipped for Y/N. Borderline pregnancy/breeding kink? switch reader, switch Anthony. unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it guys.

Summary: Since finding out you are pregnant Anthony simply cannot keep his hands to himself, and when you turn the tables his arousal runs wild.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton X Reader

Masterlist

Length: 1.8k words

Note: I could NOT get this scenario out of my head, i had to get this written and published *sobs*

----

"That was a rather delightful evening"

You smile as you and Anthony ascend to your bedchamber for the night. The two of you had planned a ball to tell your family and friends the news of your pregnancy. The night was filled with laughs and joy from the family, excited about Anthony's first child with you.

The two of you approach the door and Anthony opens it for you, ushering you inside.

"Indeed, dear wife."

Anthony's eyes crinkle lightly at the sides as he smiles at you, approaching you from behind, fingers expertly undoing your corset. You sigh in relief, goosebumps on your skin at the feeling of release from your day clothes. Turning to face him you also begin to help Anthony from his clothes as he laughs lightly at your eagerness to help him.

Now nude in the middle of the room, Anthony looks you over in the faint candle light, his hand softly moving along the curves of your body. He follows closely behind as you perch yourself at your vanity, ready to take out your elaborate hairstyle. Anthony's hand gently pushes yours away from your head as he begins to take it out for you, looking at you through the mirror. His gaze was intense but loving, his eyes trained thoroughly on your flustered response to the intimate gesture.

"Look at me"

The sentence was commanding but gentle. You lift your eyes and he reaches for the hairbrush just beside you on the table. he begins slowly brushing your hair, gently getting rid of any knots or tangles. Anthony was always a gentle lover, but immediately after finding out you were carrying his child he became dead set on helping you with what he could. His tender nature shining through as he aids you in your bedtime grooming process. The feeling of his hands softly grazing your neck as he brushes has you in a trance, the soothing feeling of knowing you are safe and well taken care of my a man that loves you.

He begins massaging your scalp carefully as you let out a hum of approval. Anthony lets out a quiet laugh as he watches the bliss form on your face.

"I love you, Mr Bridgerton" you tease his formal name.

"Likewise, Mrs Bridgerton, I will love you for the rest of my life"

Butterflies flutter around in your stomach as you realise just how exposed the two of you are. Then it dawns on you, looking down at your puffy stomach, feeling as though you have already gained some baby weight. It had only been a month and you weren't even really showing yet. A flash of insecurity dances across your features at the thought of getting bigger. At this point, the Viscount could read you like a book and he stops his movements in your hair to lean down and kiss your head.

"Speak what is on your mind, my love"

You think for a second before answering.

"...My... Body..." you trail off.

"You are the most beautiful woman i have ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. Even more so now you are carrying our child."

You look down and pinch your widened hips, and in response Anthony moves your hand away, caressing you. He then grabs your hand, pulling you up to stand with his chest touching your back.

"There is nothing more appealing to me than my beautiful wife swelling with my seed..." his eyes darken at the thought as he begins to pepper kisses along your jawline and neck, lightly nipping and sucking and you shiver in his arms.

Heat rushes straight to your cheeks and in between your legs as you feel a solid length press against your lower back. You breath out shakily as he presses it harder against your backside.

"Anthony..." You moan softly, bordering a whimper.

The second he hears his name from your lips in such a tone he struggles to hold back, the heat in the room thickening with lust. He pushes you gently onto the bed and settles himself behind you, spooning you. His slightly rough hand glides slowly up and down your side, upper thigh to hip to shoulders. He caresses every part of your body paying extra attention to the parts you were most conscious about. You let out more whimpers from the intimacy of it all, your face feeling incredibly hot and you squirm under the touch. Your thighs squeeze together to relieve yourself in some way, only making Anthony smirk and his touches becoming more daring. His fingertips ghost along your nipples, but fall back down elsewhere on your body.

"Anthony... I am already-" you shudder as he passes by a particularly sensitive spot. "I am already pregnant..."

His laugh rumbles against your back.

"I am aware. That does not mean we cannot enjoy each others bodies hm, dear?" His tone was devilish as his touches become more bold. You flip onto your back and slightly part your legs with a pleading look to Anthony.

"So needy and impatient Viscountess Bridgerton" He tuts with a smirk.

Deciding to take matters into your own hands you launch up, planting yourself on top of him with heated cheeks. If he will be so cruel and tease you even in his aroused state, you would use him yourself. A look of surprise flashes across his face before it grows into an incredibly cocky looking grin. His body betrays him, as his chest rises and falls at a fast pace.

"What is this? darling wife." he cocks his head to the side, the same grin on his face. His eyes hold a fiery hunger.

"It seems, dear husband-" you adjust yourself just enough to tease his length and he softly moans, "That you enjoy your Lady wife taking control" you smirk, a new found confidence flowing through you at the look of your husband from above him.

He grabs your hips with both hands and grinds your core against him.

"My Lord" you moan, breathless, aware of what the title does to him.

"Y/N... I am warning you-" he begins to speak, using your name but you cut him off, pinning his hands above his head.

"Yes, My Lord?" You smirk at him as you lean in close, your lips ghosting his, only to pull away when he goes in for a kiss. You keep one hand holding his up as your other hand begins exploring your husbands chest, teasing him the way he was teasing you. Your finger lightly brushes against his groin before going up to his nipple, softly pinching the bud and a guttural moan escapes his mouth.

"How improper my Lord" you feign a gasp and he lets out a soft chuckle at your words, enjoying the confidence from his beautiful wife. The thrill and excitement from you pinning his hands above his head is almost too much to bare as he gets impossibly harder against your core. He couldn't dare say it aloud but the feeling of being at your mercy, a simple toy to you made his body weak. He could very easily remove his hands from your grasp and the two of you know it, and yet he does not move.

You plant hot, open mouth kisses on his chiseled chest, your arousal already coating his groin. he shudders under your touch and the wet feeling on his lower torso.

"You seem excited my Lord... Has something got you so?" you cock your head to the side, feigning an innocence and he groans at the sight of the same woman he gave her first orgasm to have him completely at her mercy.

"I could ask you the same thing, My dear" His tease came across in gravelly voice that screamed he was ready to take you here and now.

His cock sandwiched firmly between his abdomen and your wet pussy, you begin to rock your hips back and forward, sliding easily. The pressure on your clit had you whimpering and had him moaning in a deep voice.

"You are going to be the death of me" he looks deep into your eyes as you slide him inside you, the two of you moaning at the feeling. The teasing you both had endured was very clearly affecting you both, being incredibly sensitive.

He watches with hooded eyes as you bring your hand to your clit and begin to stimulate yourself. He could have sworn he died that very moment at the sight. It was not long at all until you came, and he relished in the feeling of your cunt throbbing around him.

"Y/N" He moans, moving his hands to your hips, squeezing the soft flesh.

"Do you wish to finish my Lord?" You smile sweetly.

"Yes I do, my dear" His reply full of lust, and a hint of neediness.

"Beg" The sweetness was immediately replaced with cockiness.

The command was simple but powerful as you look into his eyes, holding his jaw with your hand. He felt a shock wave of pleasure shoot through his body.

"Please..." his flustered face was incredibly cute.

"You can do better than that" you move slightly, to tease the feeling.

"Please! Oh god please" you almost came at the sound of his begs.

"You are free to do so... My Lor-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he sat up, you still on his lap and inside him. His hands grasped at your hips as he bucked up into you, his moans coming out as grunts mixed with whines. Hitting up into your g-spot mixed with his needy grunts and thrusts you came again, causing his orgasm to reach its peak, he continues to bounce you on top of him as he spills his seed deep inside of you.

Anthony falls back, his face delirious and euphoric, yours looking similar as you flop down onto his chest, his cock still buried inside you, slowly softening.

Within minutes he snaps out of it, gently pulling you off him, and onto the bed, approaching a second later with a wet towel he opens your legs and cleans you up, slightly smirking at the mess and your flustered face. after cleaning you up he places a soft kiss to your inner thigh and crawls back into bed with you.

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and you move your head onto his chest, feeling exhausted. The room was filled with your soft snores in no time at all and he places a kiss on top of your head, a smile on his face as he looks at you.

"I am incredibly lucky to have you, my beautiful wife" he whispers before softly touching your stomach.

"And you too, my beautiful baby"

~End~

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #Anthony Bridgerton x Y/N #plus size reader #x female reader #smut #bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton smut #fanfiction #fanfic

[leviathanspain]

not without him

anthony bridgerton x reader

synopsis: you knew birth would be no easy feat, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to do it without him

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you clutched onto the white bedsheets, they were drenched with blood, and you were writhing on the bed as the doctor shouted orders at the nurses.

one had a cloth to your forehead, dabbing away your sweat and your tears. you couldn’t stop crying, it was an unbearable pain, that only got worse as the night went on.

violet had tried to prepare you, coming to her for advice on how to birth a bridgerton child. she had her most difficult birth with hyacinth, and just hearing her story sent chills down your spine.

anthony had been away in london when you went into labor. you knew he shouldn’t have left aubrey hall so close to the end of your pregnancy, but being the viscount meant there were things that required him present. you had hoped that your child would have some decency and arrive after the father, but the urge to push only became greater.

you feared that anthony wouldn’t make it, he was supposed to be here an hour ago, having rushed from london upon hearing the news.

the nurse looked down at you, “you have to push, my lady.” her voice quivered, as if she could feel your emotion. you teared up more, “no please- we have to wait for the viscount.” you felt weak, and you faintly heard the doctor shout that you were losing blood.

the nurse looked down again, and seemed firm, “you have to push, there is no time to spare if we wait for the viscount.” she dabbed your forehead again, “you and this baby will die if you don’t push now.”

you cried harder, “i need him here. i can’t do it without him.” you were scared, frightened by all these unfamiliar people. yes they were there to help you give birth to your first child, but you didn’t care, it wasn’t your husband dabbing your forehead or encouraging you.

your vision went fuzzy around the edges and your head fell back into the mounds of pillows that held you up. you could still hear the door push open, shouts being echoed into the room and finally, “let me through-“ his voice.

you heard a clatter of gear hit the wooden floor and you felt relief as he rushed to your side. anthony, still cold with the winter air, brushed the hair from your face, kissing your cheek. he saw how weak you looked, and could see the doctor’s expression.

“you can do it.” he whispered sweetly, “i’m here, you can do it.” he grabbed your hand, clutching it tightly and with his encouragement, you did the one thing you had been putting off.

the nurse over you seemed overjoyed that you were finally listening, there was fear among the doctor and staff that you would bleed out before anthony got there.

you grunted, weak from the blood loss. “push, my lady, push!” the nurse above you shouted, and you grunted loudly, doing as she said.

there was a brief moment of pause, relief that washed over you as you heard a newborn’s cry. you blinked away the sweat, feeling the damp cloth across your skin as you looked over at anthony, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. he was smiling brightly, but tears brimmed in his eyes, “you did it.” he whispered, “my lady….” he brushed the side of your face with a hand, and you closed your eyes, exhaustion washing over you.

you could see the light creeping through the curtains. it had been kept dark for you, candles burning just as you liked, even wearing your favorite nightgown. you could feel the pain, that ache that reminded you of what had happened.

you called out to your handmaid, watching as the door opened and instead, in stepped anthony holding the baby in his arms. your eyes softened, and you cooed, “my love.” you beckoned him to the bed, and anthony sat down carefully, the newborn in his arms was peacefully sleeping.

“good morning.” he kissed your forehead, “you have no idea how much i love you. i-“ he faltered, looking down at the baby to compose himself before he continued, “i almost lost you. please,” he looked at you, “please don’t ever scare me like that again. i beg you.” he whispered. he was happy at the birth of your son, but he wouldn’t have been if you had lost your life.

you looked at him, nodding. you didn’t want to say anything, instead looking down at the baby and resting your head on anthony’s shoulder, “have you thought of a name?” you noticed the baby’s fell head of hair and smirked, “looks like he got my hair.” you looked at the baby’s nose, “and your nose.” you laughed slightly, and anthony shrugged, “everyone says he looks like you more.”

his siblings must’ve arrived in from london. you smiled, but anthony knew what that smile was, “you must rest. the doctor said you lost a lot of blood, that you shouldn’t even think to lift a finger today.”

you sighed, “i won’t protest, i am feeling exhausted..” you didn’t know how to feel, your heart had never felt so much love all at once, “my boys.” you cooed, touching the baby’s hair as anthony kissed your forehead again.

#anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton smut #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton smut #bridgerton angst #bridgerton imagine

[d-targaryenshoe]

Pinkish Clouds - Anthony Bridgerton

Word count: 1515

Summary: It is very precious to watch your husband take responsibility as a father, is it not?

As the first rays of sunlight streamed through the drapes, Y/n Bridgerton, wife of Anthony, stirred in your sumptuous bed. 

The soft linens, embroidered with intricate floral patterns, caressed your skin like the gentle touch of a spring breeze. The scent of lavender filled your nostrils, a welcome aroma that signified a new beginning. 

You stretched your limbs, the memory of the labor pains you endured the day before still fresh in your mind. 

But as you lay there, lost in thought, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment and accomplishment.

You opened your eyes, taking in the familiar surroundings of your chamber. 

To your left, a fireplace crackled, its warmth banishing the morning chill. To your right, a large window overlooked the immaculately manicured gardens beyond. 

And beside your bed, your sisters-in-law, Eloise and Daphne, sat in quiet conversation, their laughter tinkling like bells.

You felt a pang of affection for the two women who had become such an important part of your life since your marriage to Anthony. 

Eloise, the youngest of the two, had always been somewhat of a sympathy to her. 

With her smart mind and independent soul, she was a far cry from the demure, obedient society ladies you had grown up with. 

Yet, there was no denying the deep bond that existed between them. As for Daphne, she was sweet-natured, charming, and utterly irresistible. 

As you sat up in bed, your sisters-in-law turned to you, their faces alight with curiosity and excitement. 

"Good morning, y/n," they chorused, beaming at you. "How do you feel?"

You smiled weakly. "A bit exhausted, to be honest. But otherwise, I'm doing well. How are you two?"

Eloise shrugged.

 "We're fine. Daphne's been keeping me company while you were asleep. It's been rather dull if I'm being fair." She glanced at her sister, her expression teasing.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Oh, hush. I've been enjoying myself. Again, we have something rather important to discuss." She leaned in conspiratorially.

 "Mother has been pacing the hallway for hours. I think she's tense to see the new addition to the family. I'm sure she'll be in soon." 

As if on cue, a knock was heard at the door. "That must be her now," Daphne said, her face lighting up with anticipation.

Eloise rose from her seat and crossed the room to answer the door. You, feeling slightly more awake now, sitting up straighter in bed, wondering what your mother-in-law had in store for you today. 

As Eloise swung the door open, a warm, familiar figure filled the entrance.

 "Mother!" Daphne cried out, leaping to her feet. "We've been waiting for you."

Violet Bridgerton, the family matriarch, surveyed the scene with a delighted smile. 

"My, my," she said, her eyes twinkling. "It seems I've missed quite a bit. A new baby, I hear." 

She glanced at you, her expression softening into one of motherly concern. "And how are you feeling, dear? Are you in need of anything?"

You felt a lump form in your throat as you looked at the woman who had become your second mother since marrying Anthony. 

Violet was everything a lady should be, gracious, elegant, and utterly devoted to her family. 

She was also fiercely protective of them, always making sure they were well cared for and safe. 

As you struggled to find the words to express your gratitude, all you could do was manage a small smile. "I'm doing well, thank you. Your presence is all the comfort I need."

Her sisters-in-law exchanged knowing glances, clearly understanding the depth of emotion behind your words. 

They each took turns leaning in to kiss Violet's cheek, expressing their own gratitude for her love and support. 

As they did so, the room seemed to fill with a palpable sense of warmth and affection.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Violet said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Now, I have a special gift for you and the baby. I've been working on it for months." 

She reached into her reticule and pulled out a small, delicately wrapped package, which she placed in your lap. "It's not much, but I hope you'll like it."

Your curiosity piqued, and you gently unwrapped the package, revealing a beautiful, hand-stitched blanket adorned with intricate lacework. 

"Oh, Violet, it's lovely!" you exclaimed, your voice breaking with emotion. "I will cherish it always." 

Tears began to form in your eyes as you clutched the blanket to your chest. "Thank you, thank you so much."

Eloise and Daphne exchanged knowing smiles. They knew that this gift, more than anything else, symbolized Violet's acceptance of you as one of her own.

 It was a symbol of the love and support that you all shared as a family.

As they continued to stand there, the room seemed to fill with a sense of peace and contentment. 

Even though there was still so much that needed to be done, for this brief moment, you were all together, united in your love for one another.

"Now, girls," Violet said, her voice soft and gentle, "I've been thinking. Perhaps you would like to help y/n with something?" 

Her suggestion was met with nods of agreement from Eloise and Daphne. 

They had been itching to help out but had wanted to give their mother time to bond with you first.

"Would you like us to help you get out of bed?" Eloise asked, her tone reassuring. "We could help you down to the sitting room to see Anthony and the baby." 

Your face lit up at the thought, and you quickly nodded your consent. The two sisters moved forward, each taking an arm to assist you as you slowly rose from the bed. 

Once you were upright, they were beginning to guide you toward the sitting room.

The hallway was long and winding, the walls adorned with paintings that told the story of the family's history.

 As you made your way down the hall, you could hear the faint strains of music drifting towards you. 

It was the same waltz you had danced to at your wedding, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. 

The closer you got, the more the music seemed to swirl around you, pulling you forward with irresistible force.

Finally, you reached the sitting room, its windows overlooking the lush gardens beyond. 

The room was lit by soft candlelight, casting a warm glow over the gathered family. 

Anthony was dancing slowly with your newborn baby, his eyes never leaving the child's face as he moved in perfect harmony with the music. 

Eloise and Daphne guided you to a comfortable chair by the window, where you could watch the scene unfold before you.

As you all watched, you could feel a lump forming in your throat. It was so beautiful to see your husband dancing with your child, their love for each other shining through every movement. 

You could see the resemblance between them, both of them with Anthony's dark hair and eyes. 

The baby's tiny fingers curled around Anthony's finger as if she were already familiar with the feeling of being held so close.

Your sisters-in-law took seats on either side of you, their hands clasped together in their laps. 

They smiled at you, understanding the depth of emotion that you were feeling at that moment.

 It was a precious moment, one that you would all cherish for the rest of your lives.

As Anthony finished his dance with the baby, he came over to you all, his face flushed with happiness and exhaustion. 

He bent down to kiss your forehead, his touch sending a wave of warmth through your body.

 "I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I wanted to be the first one to hold her, and I did not want to wake you."

"It's all right," you replied softly, your eyes never leaving his face. "I know you were with her." Anthony smiled at you, a tear trickling down his cheek. 

He reached out and took your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I've been thinking," he said, hesitating for a moment before continuing, "That we should have a naming ceremony for the baby. Something small and intimate, just for our closest friends and family. What do you think?"

Your heart swelled with joy at the thought. You turned to your sisters-in-law, your face alight with excitement.

 "That sounds excellent," you said, your voice shaking slightly with emotion. "I would adore that." 

"Then it's settled," Anthony declared, his voice strong and sure. "We'll have the ceremony next weekend. Everyone will be here to celebrate with us."

 He leaned down to kiss your forehead again before returning to his daughter, who had fallen asleep in his arms.

As you all watched Anthony gently rock the child in his arms, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. 

You were home, surrounded by the people she loved most in the world. And despite the challenges that lay ahead, she knew that they would face them together, as a family.

#anthony bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagines #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton netflix #colin bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #anthony x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x y/n #x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton

[d4yl1ghts]

flashback

anthony bridgerton x pregnant, wife, fem!reader

summary: your son gets stung by a bee and anthony is reminded of his father

warnings: mentions of death, panic attack, pregnancy

-

It was the perfect afternoon; sunny and peaceful. You were sat outside with your husband, Anthony, watching over your son and daughter. Your daughter was making daisy chains and your son was wandering around your large gardens and messing around. Turning slightly, you stared at Anthony, he looked so pleased that you couldn’t help but let your lips curl upwards.

Anthony could feel your eyes on him and so he turned towards you and hungrily kissed your lips. As you pulled away, you said: “Tony, it is such a wonderful day.”

He tilted his head to look at your children who were laughing to themselves. He then glanced down at your growing stomach with a proud smirk in his face. You rolled your eyes at his antics. He looked at you with lust and you couldn’t help but feel slightly weak at the knees. You sighed contentedly as his lips moulded into yours perfectly.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth hastily and you moaned into his mouth.

You instantly pulled away as you heard your son crying. “Arthur!”, you yelled as you ran over to examine him. “What happened, sweetheart?”, you asked softly as you grazed over his little body. He pointed towards a bee and then to his arm. You moved to look at Anthony and you saw fear cross his features. “Let me see.”, he dragged Arthur towards him. “Ow!”, Arthur yelled as he was dragged. Anthony’s breathing was slightly uneven as he analysed the sting.

“Okay, it’s fine.”, he stated, mostly to himself. You knew of how Edmund had passed and you understood Anthony’s approach to the situation. “Arthur, let’s take you inside, shall we? You can have some chocolate.”, you said as you gently took your son’s hand. “Watch over Bianca whilst I’m inside, I’ll come back in a minute, my love.”, you eased your husband.

You left Arthur with one of your maids and quickly made your way outside again where you saw Anthony pacing and muttering to himself. You walked over rapidly and grabbed his wrist. “You’re okay, our son’s fine.”, you muttered to him as you raked your hands through his groomed hair. He melted into your touch as he grabbed your waist and held you tightly. Tears fell down his cheeks and you made sure to wipe them. “It’s okay, my love. Breathe with me, Tony.”, you guided him and he did as instructed.

He eventually calmed down in your arms and you called your daughter over. “Let’s head in.”, you smiled down at her. Anthony took your hand and Bianca’s and lead you both in where you checked on Arthur. He was fine but he gladly accepted the gifts you offered him. Anthony sat beside him and kissed his head fatherly.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader #fem!reader

[narcissisticmf]

draw me | benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

description: you ask benedict to draw you, wearing almost nothing.

trigger warnings: nudity, sexual content, seductive behavior, oral sex, etc. please do not proceed in reading if you are under the age of 18.

word count: 1.8k

You walked through the halls with servants of the Bridgerton family, standing outside the opened door to Benedict's study, where he was working behind a canvas.

"You have a caller, Mr. Bridgerton," Stated the servant, bowing his head. You walked into the room, in a silk dress, a silver chain was dangling beautifully around your neck. You stared at Benedict with a soft expression, eyes gentle and calm.

"Leave us," Benedict offered a generous grin to his servants as they left the room, latching the door shut behind them. You continued gazing at him, never turning away, not even once.

"Am I too early? I didn't realize you were already working on something else," You explained as he stared at you with the utmost loving gaze.

"No, not at all, please, have a seat," He gestured to the sofa beside you. "Can I get you a drink?" Benedict asked politely after you planted your bottom against the soft cushions.

"I'm quite well for now, thank you," You admitted.

"Shall we get started then?" He smiled. You nodded softly. "I'd like you to lay down, on your back," He instructed as you did as told, you followed every word that he spoke. Your stomach bubbled with ease and excitement.

Benedict stared at you for a little while, his fingers gripping his chin as his eyes squinted, scanning your body's position. He walked over to you with a gentle demeanor.

"Permission to touch you?" He asked as he looked at you, his gaze never broke from you.

You looked up to him and nodded softly, "Yes."

Benedict gently grasped your wrist and moved your arm to lay against the top of your head. He stepped back and examined your position, smiling.

"Benedict?" You called softly after he had turned around to head back to his canvas, that was propped up on an easel. He turned around with asked 'what' with his eyes, pupils blown out.

"Might I make a small suggestion?" You asked and he nodded. "Wouldn't the image be more raw if my form wasn't so.. cladded?"

Benedict did his best to fight the growing smile. He agreed to your suggestion, as long as you were alright and comfortable. He made sure that you were one hundred percent on board with it.

After confirming your wishes, you stood up from the sofa and lifted the dress from the bottom, over your head, tossing the silk material across the room, beside the windows. You removed all your undergarments, and soon became completely vulnerable. Your breasts laid naturally against your ribcage. Benedict admired you, his eyes traveling up and down your exposed body.

You laid back against the sofa and fixed yourself to be in the form which Benedict had you in moments ago. All that was against your skin was a silver chain. Your hair was down and curled, the way your servants did it the morning of.

Benedict did his best to fight the smile that was against his lips. You smiled softly, but soon it ceased, wanting to keep a serious expression for the final product of the piece.

"Does an artist often blush when drawing one of their subjects?" You grinned mischievously as Benedict let out a small giggle.

"Shh," He hushed you and continued painting away. He managed to get every curve, every beautiful detail amongst your body, matching your skintone perfectly. He even got the subtle glassiness in your eyes and the way the sunlight reflected against your body and about the room.

You were unsure if it was the temperature of the room or the fact that you were at your most vulnerable in front of a man, but your nipples hardened and Benedict took notice of this. He smirked, a lopsided one and stared at you for a moment, ceasing his motions of the paintbrush.

"Are you cold?" He questioned.

"Uhm, no, why?" You asked.

"'Tis my duty as the artist to make sure that my subject is comfortable and satisfied in all ways possible," He replied with a grin.

You smiled softly as you watched him continue to illustrate. He was so focused, looking to you and back at the canvas every few seconds.

.

Finishing the image, Benedict smiled and turned his easel around so that you could see it. Your lips curved into a grin as you saw how beautiful the painting was.

"It's beautiful, Benedict," You replied, still lying there, unclothed.

"Thank you, Miss. Y/N," He replied with a smug grin as he stared at you, admiring your body. "Will you.. uhm.. be getting back into your dress now?"

You stared at him for a moment, thinking. "If you wish it," You whispered.

"I certainly do not, but do you?" Benedict asked.

"No," You replied quickly. He smiled, his most famous lopsided grin. You slowly arose from the sofa and noticed how Benedict's eyes were glued to you. You walked towards him and noticed he was backing into the bookshelf behind him, pressing his hands against it, for leverage.

"Permission to touch you, Miss. Y/L/N?" He breathed out, almost desperate.

You leaned forward to whisper into his ear, "Yes."

Benedict hastily wrapped his arms lowly around your waist and pressed his lips to yours. You cupped his face and molded your lips with his perfectly. He tasted of brandy and mint. His hands moved down your bare back and towards your bum, gripping your cheeks softly. You released a whimper against his mouth as you pulled back, resting your chin to his shoulder. Your lips parted, to allow soft whines and moans to escape. Benedict moved his lips down your neck and across your shoulder, burying his face into your skin.

He slowly stepped forward, guiding you to the sofa you'd be lying on while Benedict was painting. You sat against it while he begun to remove his coat, tossing it beside your silk dress. You stared at him, eyeing his body up and down. He smirked and removed his suspenders, then his blouse overhead, tossing it to the side. He unzipped the side of his pants and kicked them off effortlessly. Soon, he was left is absolutely nothing.

The sun was setting outside, creating a beautiful reflection of light against Benedict's skin. You smiled as he walked towards the couch, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You kissed him back and gripped his biceps, pushing him to sit beside you. You wasted no time and straddled his waist, draping your arms around his neck, molding your lips perfectly against his.

You'd forgotten about everything; the servants just outside the door, the painting, the fact that your actions were so scandalous that both your life and Benedict's could be ruined if anyone found out. You were focused on him and only him, it was tranquil and comfortable. You felt safer than you had in a long time.

Benedict's hands were holding your sides, slowly dragging his fingers to your back, tracing your skin lightly. You moved your hips with his softly, making him groan quietly into your mouth.

Without taking his lips from yours, he pushed your to lay against your back, so that he was on top of you. You pressed your fingers against his face, engrossed in the taste of him.

Benedict pulled back to admire your body a little long. He noticed how hardened your nipples had become. He lowered his head, without breaking eye contact and placed his lips around your left breast, sucking on your nipple. You whimpered, leaning your head back as the arousal begun to stick to your inner thighs. His eyes were on you the entire time. He moved from your left to your right, repeating the same actions.

You leaned your head back against the cushions, releasing moans that were soon suppressed by Benedict's palm. You closed your eyes and used on hand to push through his hair, gripping it softly.

He dragged his wet lips down your stomach, around your navel and towards your heat. You released a shaky breath as his breath fanned against you. You slowly spread your legs to make it easier access for him. He slipped one finger into your mouth, making you blink in surprise.

"Suck on it. We don't want any unwanted ears hearing us, do we?" Benedict stated as he looked up to you, only raising his eyes. You nodded and begun to suck on his finger, hoping it would be enough to keep you quiet.

He pressed his mouth against your private, using his tongue to toy with your folds. It took a lot for you to keep quiet, but luckily his finger was doing the trick. You closed your eyes as let the feeling consume you. You wrapped your legs around Benedict's shoulders as he moved his lips and tongue against your strings.

Despite his finger keeping you silenced, there was still a beautiful melody within your whines that escaped into the atmosphere.

After a little while, Benedict arose and removed his finger from your mouth, using it to softly graze across your folds. You bit your tongue, having no desire for anyone to hear, but there was adrenaline in that, in knowing you could be caught or heard.

Benedict was on top of you, yet again and held your side with one hand, pressing his lips against yours. You hummed at the taste of your own heat, finding it sweet yet savory at the same time.

You felt Benedict slip effortlessly inside of you. You gasped into his mouth, feeling so many ecstasies all at once. He moved his hips to and fro, feeling how loose you'd been. The comfort in him and his actions was unlike anything you'd ever felt before or experienced.

"Benedict.." You moaned into his mouth as he continued his motions. He was a moaning mess as well, perhaps that was why he was kissing you the whole time.

"You feel absolutely wonderful, Y/N," Benedict whispered through a broken moan.

You had locked eyes with him, as the two of you became close to undoing. You felt your stomach unravel all the knots, reaching your climax. Benedict swiftly pulled out of you, releasing his sticky load against your stomach.

You were both out of breath as he smiled down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. He reached onto the ground to grab a cloth, gently wiping his essence off of you. He was sure to be careful, knowing that you must've been sensitive.

"That was perfect," You whispered, taking notice that the sun was already set and the moon was the only think illuminating the darkness of night.

Benedict smiled, chuckling lightly as he pressed a warm kiss to the corner of your mouth, "Perhaps, we should do this again sometime."

Smiling, you nodded.

.

a/n: hi, cuties!! so i just started watching bridgerton and i absolutely LOVE benedict! he's the sweetest character that i think i've ever seen and couldn't wait to write something for him! i'm sorry i haven't been posting much, work has been really crazy as well as my mental health. i hope you're all doing good! thank you so much for reading! — angelina. <33

#smut #imagine #reader #x reader #edit #bridgerton #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #lady whistledown #eloise bridgerton #bridgerton smut #daphne bridgerton #simon basset #draw me like one of your french girls #bridgerton aesthetic

[lydiimae]

Gentle

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, panic attack, fluff hehe, Anthony being the sweet husband ik he is

A.N: Hello my loves and hello dearest anon ^-^/! This one is a bit on the shorter side (2.5k words) but I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope I gave you what you wanted Nonnie. I imagine Anthony (I'M SO EXCITED TO SEE SEASON 3 MARRIED ANT AND KATE) as a protective and loving husband, who is also extremely gentle when he wants to be. Also, Infatuation pt two is in the works, for those that are eager (thank you btw <3 T-T) it should be out by next week at the latest. P.S I am planning on uploading at least twice a week hehe! Enjoy my dears! <3

Req found here <3

Marrying a Viscount was always going to be stressful, it came with responsibility. As well as a certain necessity to be perfect, at least that is the thought that nagged you. It was only a matter of time before the stress of being Anthony Bridgerton's wife caught up to you.

You had honeymooned in Edinburgh and Bath, all of the usual quiet places. He wished to make it just that, quiet and peaceful as both of you knew that would be one of the only times you would live in that blissful silence. Without worry of gossip, or rumors, or responsibilities.

Anthony also knew that you had a tendency to be anxious. Whether it be a result of how many people were present at a ball, or the rumors that tended to linger in your mind even after they slowly washed away from others. He wanted to show you the sights, and the gorgeous nature that was present in both of the cities that he had selected.

He also wished to show you the city of Bath. Take you to one of the large Roman baths, parade you around town, and wander the hills for hours on end. All lovely things that had taken your mind away from the lingering anxieties of being the new Viscountess.

It had worked marvelously, you had been the happiest he had seen you ever since you had met. You were completely in your element, especially when you were outside. It was a very loving, and freeing six months away.

Your leg jiggles as you fiddle with your gloves, looking out the window of the carriage as it rolls down the road to Aubery Hall. As soon as you had gotten back to England, your anxieties flooded back into your mind. You were already dreading what was going to happen. You and Anthony were already planning to attend a ball tomorrow, the first one of your marriage.

You hated it, you knew that people would talk, the women would glare and whisper, perhaps even confront you. You did not want to deal with it. You wished to be back in Bath, having a picnic with your husband, far away from the gossip.

You feel a hand on your knee and turn. "You have been antsy for four whole hours, my love. What is it?" He asks, moving his hand to yours and giving it a squeeze. You chew on your bottom lip and settle for resting your head on his shoulder. "I am only nervous for the ball tomorrow." You whisper.

"The ball, or the people?" He returns, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before tilting your chin up so he can look at you. You frown slightly and he gives a comforting grin. "They will talk, you know that, but none of it will matter. It is just that, talk." He murmurs before pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

"But what if... you leave and then I am alone and one of them tries to-" You begin, but he cuts you off swiftly with another kiss. A longer one, but still as sweet as before. You sigh and rest your forehead against his. "You are so much more capable than you know, Y/N. You are the perfect Viscountess and the perfect Bridgerton. None of them shall ever be able to take either of those two things away from you." He whispers.

You smile as your cheeks heat up from his speech. "You are mine, mine to protect and mine to love. I take that duty very seriously." He finishes, cupping your cheek. You lean into his touch and smile. "I love you." You whisper back and he grins. "And I love you." He returns.

Tomorrow comes all too quick, and soon you are in the large closet in your master bedroom, your maids pulling on the strings of your corset to get it to your liking. Anthony, however, waits downstairs in his study already dressed up fully for the occasion.

You had promised to try and be quick, and he knows you tried to keep that promise. He also knew that you wanted to look perfect, so he did not mind being a bit late to the ball. He wished for you to be as comfortable as you could be. After about thirty minutes of waiting, he had sent his family ahead, promising to meet them there.

He would be lying if tonight was a relaxed night for him. He was a ball of nerves, but he knew how to hide them well. He was not nervous for him, no, he was nervous for you.

He knew that you were perfect, and all of the much older and married members of the ton did as well. It was the cruel debutantes he worried about. He knew that many of them would be bitter, even if they were not interested in him. It was many women's third or fourth social season, many women would take that out on any kind soul they could find, and you were the kindest.

He downs his glass of scotch and adjusts his cravat before standing up and going to the bottom of the staircase. He wanted to see you now, and he would not wait another second. Just as he is about to call out, you appear at the top of the steps, dressed in the infamous Bridgerton blues.

The gown is a gorgeous navy blue, and you have paired it with long, white, silk gloves. Your hair is pulled back in his favorite way, an elegant pin holding it up in an elaborate bun. To tie it all together, you are wearing the diamond necklace and earrings he bought you in Edinburgh. So simple, yet so incredibly beautiful. So you.

You smile at him as you walk down the stairs and he just about dies right there. "My God, you look ethereal." He whispers as he offers you his arm. You gladly take it and he grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leading you to the carriage.

The driver opens the door of the carriage once the two of you arrive at Lady Danbury's grand estate. You look out at the many other women and men filing out of their carriages and feel a familiar sense of dread, causing you to gnaw on the skin on the inside of your cheek.

"Darling?" He asks after a moment and you look up, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment once you realize he has probably been holding his hand out for you for some time. "Sorry." You mumble, before taking his hand and allowing him to pull you to your feet and help you out of the carriage.

The two of you walk hand in hand into the ballroom, which is bustling with activity. However, when the Viscount and his new bride enter, all of the chattering halts. The eery silence makes you wrap your arms around one of his, the sense of dread looming over your head only getting more intense.

He notices and moves down, kissing you softly on the lips. Part of it is for show, of course, but part of it is also because he knows that it will calm your nerves down to a point where you can manage them. He just knows, always.

He pulls away. "Come on, we are going to make this boring night a good one, hm?" He murmurs. You smile gently and nod, walking deeper into the ball. You hear the whispers, the cruel words from the other women, but choose to ignore them for now.

The two of you arrive at the space on the floor where his family stands. He lets go of your arm with a kiss on your cheek and enters a conversation with Colin. You walk to Eloise, of course, and begin to speak to her about your newest literary obsession.

Anthony eventually finds himself surrounded by his friends, leaving you and Eloise to your own devices. "It is quite an interesting story, I am surprised I only found just found it." You hum as she grins. She had recommended the book Frankenstein after you had said you wished to read more of the classics. "I am surprised as well, you always struck me as a horror type of woman." She teases, bumping your shoulder. You laugh lightly as she does.

"Well, now I know that I am only to come to you for book recommendations as my husband is quite lacking in that department." You return, your eyes filled with playful affection. "Well, I could have told you that, Y/N. My brother, it seems, only likes books in the historical genre." She sighs and looks at her glass of lemonade. "I shall be right back, I am going to get more lemonade." She says and is off before you can protest.

You frown and look around for someone else to talk to, to hide behind really, as you wait. Before you can you are approached by none other than Cressida Cowper, an absolute addict to gossip. "Y/N L/N, I am surprised to see you alone. Has he grown bored of you already?" She says, tilting her head.

You wince and sigh. You knew it was coming, Cressida always had a knack for finding you when you were alone and vulnerable. Often times her insults insist on picking on your nervous demeanor, or even your kindness. The use of your maiden name, however, stung uniquely. A sign that she thought your marriage insignificant, and who knows how many others did. You can feel your breathing pick up already.

"Cressida. It is lovely to see you." You say softly, turning to face her head on. She rolls her eyes at your blatant disregard for her question. "Indeed. It is always a pleasure seeing how... dull you look. I am surprised the Viscount has not already taken a mistress, I mean, he would do well to." She sneers. "I-" You begin but she cuts you off.

"You know I am right. You are dull, Y/N. You always have been. It was a miracle you got as much attention as you did when you debuted and an even bigger miracle that you got married to Anthony. He will grow bored of you, just as everyone has." She scoffs before sauntering off to her next target.

You feel the heat of tears in your eyes and the familiar feeling of tightening in your chest. You know Cressida can be cruel, but what if she got those words from another? What if she was right? Perhaps Anthony will grow bored, perhaps he already has. The thoughts have you going into a spiral, your breathing picking up until you realize you cannot breathe anymore.

Eloise, upon noticing that Cressida had made her way over to you, rushes back. "Oh God, that woman is nothing but a jealous old spinster, Y/N." She whispers, putting her glass down and reaching out before she realizes that you are already too far gone. She takes your hand and begins to walk in search of her brother, "Hold on, Y/N. He has to be near. It will be alright." She says softly, though it does nothing to stop the state of panic you are already in.

She finds him about two minutes later, and you are already in tears. She drags you to him and spins him around. "Cressida." She whispers before leaving the two of you together. He immediately wraps his arms around you and leads you out of the ballroom to one of the balconies, whispering sweet nothings into your ear the entire way.

"Alright. Look at me, my love." He murmurs once you are outside, grabbing your hands in his and pressing them to his chest so you can feel his heartbeat. "Ready?" He whispers when your tear-filled eyes meet his and you nod.

"Alright, in..." He breathes in and you do the same, your breathing stuttering as you try your best to follow. "And out..." He whispers, exhaling with you. The two of you have gone through this many times. He had helped you when you were courting, when you were engaged, and he will help you until the end of time.

After a few moments of him guiding you, your breathing calms and you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your face into the fabric of his cravat. "What did she say, darling?" He murmurs, rubbing your back gently.

You hesitate, and he senses your apprehension. "I will not get angry with you over words that such an insignificant woman spoke, I will not cause a scene. I promise. I only wish to know before I take you back home, hm?" He whispers, gently cupping your cheeks so he can look at you.

You wait for a moment before taking a deep breath and nodding. "She said that you would grow tired of me, just like everyone else. That you would take a mistress. She said I was dull." You whisper back, your grip on his shirt tightening.

His face darkens for a moment before he pulls you back into his embrace. "She knows nothing, my love. If you were dull, I would not want to spend every waking moment of my life with you. I would not have married you if you were not perfect for me in every single way." He whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"But I... I do this so often. I get so... so anxious. I am hardly a Viscounte-" You start but he cuts you off. "You are the perfect Viscountess. Y/N," He begins, pulling back a bit so he can look at you. "I do not say that lightly. I know that it has only been a short six months since we were wed, but I am more secure in my belief that you will be the perfect Viscountess. The perfect mother, the perfect head of my house. You are the perfect woman for me and for my family. Do not doubt that ever. Especially over some silly statement a foolish, sad woman made." He says, caressing your cheeks.

Your eyes burn at his speech, and your heart flutters. You lean in and press a lingering kiss to his lips before pulling away. "I love you so very much, Anthony." You whisper.

He grins, and you swear you see the faintest of pinks spread over his cheeks. "And I love you, Viscountess Bridgerton." He whispers, pressing another kiss to your lips. "Let us go home. Lady Danbury will not miss our company I'm sure." He hums as he parts, making you nod in response.

That is just what the two of you do. After saying goodbye to his family, and to Lady Danbury, the two of you make your way to the carriage.

The rest of the night is spent in bed, speaking of the future, whispering love confessions in each other's ears, and loads of kisses. Who knew that a man who seems so brutish could be so gentle just for you?

#bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x female reader #fluff #cutie pie anthony #bridgerton

[sixx-sixx-sixx]

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

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

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

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

Don’t make a scene.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton fic #bridgerton #bridgerton season 1 #Anthony Bridgerton smut #bridgerton smut

[marie-swriting]

Je Tiens Réellement À Vous - Anthony Bridgerton

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Résumé : Quand Anthony te voit dans les bras d'un autre homme, il se rappelle la facon dont il a ruiné votre relation à cause de ses sentiments.

Warnings : se passe en 1807 donc Anthony a 23 ans, angst, fin triste, dites-moi si j'en ai loupés d'autres.

Nombre de mots : 2.8k

Version Wattpad

Version anglaise sur Tumblr

Chanson mentionnée : Piano Concerto No.20, K66 par Mozart

Chansons qui m'ont inspiré : When I Was Your Man par Bruno Mars et Decode par Sabrina Carpenter

Appuyé contre un mur, Anthony Bridgerton te regarde au loin. Te voyant danser, un sourire sur le visage, il ne peut s'empêcher de faire pareil. Il sait à quel point tu aimes les bals, à quel point tu aimes danser au rythme des cordes. Quand ton partenaire de danse, Lord Henry Egerton, te fait tourner, Anthony sent un souvenir revenir.

     C'était il y a deux ans. Anthony avait commencé à te faire la cour quelques mois auparavant. Tu le connaissais seulement de nom, mais tu avais toujours été intrigué par lui. Au début, il n'osait pas s'ouvrir, te donnant peu de son temps, mais au fur et à mesure, vous aviez commencé à vous rapprocher. En apprenant à le connaître, tu avais découvert une autre facette de l'homme sérieux croulant sous les responsabilités. Même si tu sentais qu'il ne t'avait pas encore montré sa personne dans son entièreté, tu étais déjà ravie de voir qu'il avait un peu brisé sa coquille avec toi. Par conséquent, tu avais laissé tes sentiments prendre le dessus, t'autorisant à tomber amoureuse d’Anthony Bridgerton. En plus d'être un bon parti, comme le souhaitait ton père, tu sentais au fond de toi que tu serais bien avec lui. Il n'y avait pas de doute. Tu te voyais finir ta vie avec Anthony.

     Alors à chaque bal, tu dansais autant que tu pouvais avec lui. Bien sûr, tu dansais avec d'autres hommes. Après tout, tu adorais danser avec n'importe qui, même si le Vicomte était ton partenaire préféré.

     Ce soir-là, Anthony t'avait invité pour la première danse de la soirée. Quand les premières notes de Piano Concerto No.20, K466 de Mozart se firent entendre, vous aviez commencé votre danse, ton regard plongé dans le sien comme le sien dans le tien. Si un inconnu avait pu vous voir, il aurait pensé que vous étiez des jeunes mariés tellement vos regards transmettaient de l'amour. Anthony ne cessait d'admirer ta beauté. A chaque fois il pensait que tu ne pouvais pas être plus belle que le jour d'avant et tu lui prouvais le contraire. Un peu plus sous ton charme, il ne put s'empêcher de te partager ses pensées :

- Vous êtes radieuse, Mlle Y/L/N*.

- Merci, Lord Bridgerton. Vous êtes beau également.

- Pas autant que vous. Votre robe est magnifique. Vous êtes réellement à couper le souffle.

- Attention, Monsieur Bridgerton, on pourrait se méprendre et penser que vous voulez demander ma main, rigolas-tu, voulant cacher ton trouble.

- Diriez-vous "oui"? te demanda-t-il, sérieusement.

- Parlez-en d'abord avec mon père, je vous donnerai ma réponse après, répondis-tu avec un sourire.

- Après notre danse, j'irai discuter avec lui.

- Je tiens vraiment à vous, Milord, avouas-tu.

- Tout comme moi, Milady.

     A ce moment précis, vous n'aviez qu'une envie, vous embrasser, mais la présence de la bonne société londonienne vous en empêcha. Tu pus seulement sentir ses lèvres sur ta main droite vêtue d'un gant blanc quand la danse fut finie. Il ne quitta pas tes yeux quand il embrassa délicatement ta main.

      Mais maintenant, c'est Lord Egerton qui embrasse ta main avec autant de tendresse que lui il y a deux ans. Anthony détourne le regard quand il voit ton visage encore plus rayonnant à ce touché. Anthony est tellement perdu dans ses pensées qu'il ne fait pas attention au groupe de gentlemen se rapprochant de lui, Lord Egerton en fait partie. Il réalise leur présence seulement quand il entend ton partenaire de danse faire une annonce avec un sourire fier :

- Lady Y/L/N* a accepté ma demande en mariage hier.

- Félicitations !

- Vous avez l'air heureux ensemble, déclarent les hommes du cercle.

- Nous allons nous marier dans quelques mois et j'ai hâte. Je n'ai jamais ressenti ça auparavant.

     Anthony dit une politesse rapidement avant de reposer ses yeux sur toi. Il te voit au loin parler à d'autres jeunes femmes, un gant en moins pour montrer ta bague de fiançailles. Tu es plongée dans la description de ta demande en mariage, mais tu sens un regard sur toi. Rapidement, tu jettes un regard au loin et trouves Anthony. Tu le vois t'observer avec un regard tristesse. Pendant une seconde, tu as ton cœur qui se serre, mais tu te ressaisis vite et retournes ton attention sur tes amies. Tu essayes de sortir Anthony de ta tête, te rappelant que cette situation est seulement sa faute. Il n'a pas le droit, avec un regard, de te faire te sentir coupable pour avancer quand c'est lui qui a tout ruiné.

      Vous étiez fiancés depuis trois mois et toujours aussi amoureux. Votre mariage était prévu dans six mois. Ton esprit était toujours concentré sur les préparatifs. Il y avait seulement quelques courts moments dans la semaine où tu te permettais de faire autres choses. Ce jour-là, tu continuais la broderie que tu avais laissée de côté depuis la demande en mariage d'Anthony. Plantant une nouvelle fois ton aiguille dans le tissu, tu fus interrompue par un des serviteurs, t'annonçant l'arrivée d'Anthony. Tu l'autorisas à le laisser entrer. Ta broderie posée sur la table à côté de toi, tu te levas pour accueillir ton fiancé. Quand il arriva, ton sourire s'agrandit, comme toujours en sa présence.

- Lord Bridgerton, je ne vous attendais pas aujourd'hui.

- Je sais, veuillez m'en excuser, mais j'ai besoin de vous parler, informa-t-il, une expression sérieuse sur le visage, faisant partir ton sourire.

- Bien sûr, quelque chose ne va pas ?

- Pouvons-nous nous asseoir ?

- Je vous en prie, indiquas-tu en montrant le sofa et t'asseyant. Milord, vous m'inquiétez, vous allez bien ? questionnas-tu quand il fut assis à côté de toi.

- Ce que j'ai à vous dire n'est pas facile, Lady Y/L/N*. Je... Je souhaite rompre nos fiançailles.

Suite à son annonce, tu restas silencieuse pendant une seconde, voulant t'assurer d'avoir bien compris. Quand tu réalisas que tu ne t'étais pas trompée, tu ouvris la bouche plusieurs fois, hésitante avant de réussir à articuler :

- Comment ?

- Je ne désire plus me marier. Je voudrais attendre encore quelques années. J'en suis désolé.

- Je ne comprends pas, Monsieur Bridgerton. Ai-je fait quelque chose de mal ? Si c'est le cas, je m'en excuse.

- Vous n'avez rien fait, t'assura Anthony rapidement, te faisant froncer les sourcils.

- Alors pourquoi avez-vous changé d'avis ? Je suis sûre que nous pouvons trouver une solution. Lord Bridgerton, je tiens à vous, je peux très bien attendre quelques années, si c'est vraiment ce que vous souhaitez.

- Je ne peux pas vous demander ceci. Je ne changerai pas d'avis, affirma-t-il en évitant ton regard.

- Pouvez-vous au moins me donner une explication ? imploras-tu les larmes aux yeux.

- Je me suis fait une promesse et si je vous épouse, je sais que je vais la trahir.

- Quelle promesse ?

- De ne pas faire un mariage d'amour, déclara Anthony, te perdant un peu plus.

- Je ne vous comprends pas.

- Je suis le Vicomte Bridgerton donc je dois trouver une femme pouvant faire une parfaite Vicomtesse, comme vous, mais je ne veux pas qu'il y ait de sentiments. Mais, ces dernières semaines… j'ai réalisé que je vous aimais. Je suis navré de vous blesser ainsi.

Il te fallut une seconde avant d'assimiler ses mots. En comprenant ce qu'il disait, tu te levas du sofa, abasourdie. Tu te plaças devant lui, ton trouble visible sur ton visage.

- Êtes-vous réellement en train de me dire que vous m'aimez tellement que vous ne voulez pas vous marier avec moi ? Qu'avez-vous contre les mariages d'amour ? Ne trouvez-vous pas préférable de partager votre vie avec quelqu'un que vous aimez ?

- Je ne souhaite pas cela.

Tu arrêtas de parler, réfléchissant à ce que cette nouvelle information signifierait pour toi. Quand ça te frappa enfin, tu te levas, ta respiration s’accélérant. 

- Avez-vous la moindre idée à quel point c'est humiliant ? questionnas-tu, rhétoriquement, une larme coulant sur ta joue. Tout le monde s'attend à notre mariage et personne ne va comprendre, car je ne comprends pas moi-même.

- Je m'occuperai des rumeurs, si c'est votre peur.

- Peu importe ce que vous direz, les personnes penseront toujours que quelque chose ne va pas avec moi, car vous avez décidé de rompre notre engagement, t'exclamas-tu en insistant sur le pronom "vous".

- Je suis terriblement désolé, Lady Y/L/N*.

- Je ne veux pas de vos excuses. Je veux une explication claire, Lord Bridgerton, rétorquas-tu, la frustration de plus en plus forte. Je n'aurais jamais pensé que nos sentiments seraient une raison valide pour arrêter notre relation. Enfin, nos sentiments, je devrais dire mes sentiments. Si vous m’aimiez réellement, vous ne feriez pas cela. 

- Je vous assure que je tiens réellement à vous.

- Comment voulez-vous que je vous croie ? Vous vous êtes seulement intéressé à moi, car vous aviez vu en moi cette jeune femme de bonne famille, correspondant à tous ces critères qu'on attend de moi, en tant qu'épouse. On m'a toujours dit que si j'étais polie, attentionnée et à l'écoute, je n'aurais pas de problèmes à trouver un mari et même quand je corresponds à cette norme vide de sens, je ne suis pas assez bien. Qu'ai-je fait pour mériter cela ? pleuras-tu en regardant en l’air.

- Même si vous ne le voulez pas, croyez-moi quand je vous dis que ce n'est pas votre faute. Vous êtes assez bien. Plus que bien, même. La vraie raison pour laquelle je refuse un mariage d'amour, c'est parce que je ne veux pas être la cause de souffrance, précisa-t-il.

- Plus vous vous expliquez, plus je suis perdue.

- A la mort de mon père, ma mère était dévastée, commença-t-il à expliquant en se levant face à toi. Elle était à peine présente pour moi, mes frères et mes sœurs. J'ai dû m'occuper de tout à sa place. Je ne veux pas que la femme que j'épouse vive une situation similaire. Je ne veux pas être la raison d'un futur chagrin.

- Vous ne pouvez pas laisser la mort de votre père vous empêcher d'aimer, dis-tu, perdant un peu plus l'espoir. Même si je ne pourrais jamais le comprendre, je sais que son décès vous a affecté, mais vous ne pouvez pas fermer votre cœur. Anthony Bridgerton, je vous conjure de repenser à votre promesse.

- Je ne le ferai pas, répéta-t-il, sûr de lui.

- Très bien, explosas-tu en lui redonnant sa bague.

- Je suis sincèrement désolé.

- C'en est assez, l'interrompis-tu, en colère. Je ne veux plus rien entendre. Veuillez partir, Lord Bridgerton. S'il vous plaît, raccompagnez-le à la porte, ordonnas-tu au serviteur proche de l'entrée du salon.

      Tu ne t'assuras pas qu'il ait entendu ton ordre, trop bouleversée par l'échange. Tu quittas la pièce, te retenant de pleurer encore plus. Tu montas les marches, voulant t'enfermer dans ta chambre. Quand tu arrivas à l'étage, tu entendis Anthony passer le pas de la porte. Quand tu passas celle de ta chambre, tu t'effondras au sol, le cœur brisé. Tu n'arrivais pas à croire que c'était réel. Tu ne t'étais pas préparée à cette discussion en le voyant arriver. Tu repensas à tes mots et à ce que tu aurais pu dire pour le faire changer d'avis. Peut-être que tu aurais pu éviter cette situation si tu avais trouvé les mots justes.

      Voulant te reposer de ta danse, tu bois une coupe de champagne en discutant avec ton fiancé. Tu avais rencontré Henry Egerton l'année suivant ta rupture avec Anthony. Vous aviez dansé quelques fois et échangé quelques discussions, mais tu ne sentais pas encore prête à passer à autre chose. Tu étais encore trop occupée à analyser ta relation avec Anthony, cherchant une faille pour le ramener vers toi, mais c'était peine perdue. En comprenant ceci, tu avais accepté de faire ton deuil du futur que tu n'aurais jamais avant de te rapprocher de Lord Egerton à la saison sociale de cette année.

      En parlant avec ton fiancé, tu te dis que tu as de la chance de l'avoir trouvé. Ce n'est pas et ne sera jamais Anthony, mais tu sais que tu pourras être heureuse avec lui. Il a réussi à te prouver que tu mérites d'être aimée et tu lui en es éternellement reconnaissant. Rigolant à une de ses blagues dont lui seul a le secret, tu tournes le regard sur ta gauche, sentant quelqu'un se rapprocher. Anthony est devant toi, un visage neutre.

- Lady Y/L/N*, puis-je avoir cette danse, s'il vous plaît ? demande-t-il.

- Je m'excuse, Milord, mais je suis en pleine conversation avec...

- Il n'y a pas de souci, te coupe Henry, avec un sourire, je dois parler avec Lord Featherington, de toute façon. Allez danser, très chère, affirme-t-il en s'éloignant.

- Très bien, je ne vois pas d'autres raisons de refuser votre invitation, Lord Bridgerton, déclares-tu en posant ton verre sur la table derrière toi.

      Anthony te présente son bras et tu y places ta main, comme autrefois. Le contact familier te ramène presque deux ans en arrière, mais tu essayes de garder ta concentration. Vous faites la révérence avant de prendre vos places, attendant le son des violons et du piano. Quand le Piano Concerto No.20, K466 commence, tu maudis intérieurement tous les musiciens. Ils ne pouvaient vraiment pas choisir une autre musique ? Mais pour Anthony, cette chanson sonne comme un signe. Même si elle rappelle un moment où vous étiez heureux et ensemble, elle vous appartient encore, malgré la distance.

     Anthony et toi commencez à danser, d'abord en silence. Tu oses à peine le regarder, cherchant ton fiancé du regard. Tu le vois parler au patriarche des Featherington, comme il l'avait indiqué. En tournant, tu cherches une autre distraction, alors qu'Anthony garde ses yeux sur toi, appréciant la proximité de ton corps contre le sien. Sûrement la dernière fois avant que tu sois officiellement mariée. Cependant, Anthony ne veut pas que ce dernier échange soit silencieux.

- C'est la chanson sur laquelle nous avions dansé quand je vous ai dit que je voulais vous épouser, te rappelle Anthony.

- Que voulez-vous, Lord Bridgerton ? demandes-tu, sèchement.

- J'ai appris pour vos fiançailles. Je suis heureux pour vous, félicitations. Il a l'air d'être quelqu'un de bien, dit-il, sincère.

- Il l'est, je peux vous l'affirmer. Nous avons longuement parlé et nous sommes sûrs de vouloir les mêmes choses dans la vie.

- Je m'excuse d'avoir rompu notre engagement. Parfois, je me dis que je n'aurais pas dû le faire.

- Arrêtez, s'il vous plaît, le supplies-tu, ne voulant pas en entendre plus. Vous ne pouvez pas me dire ceci, surtout pas maintenant. J'ai passé les deux dernières années de ma vie à chercher une solution pour arranger notre relation. J'ai passé mes journées à l'analyser encore et encore, espérant trouver les signes qui auraient pu me prévenir que vous n’aviez jamais voulu un mariage d’amour, j’ai également cherché par tous les moyens une solution pour vous faire changer d'avis. J'ai passé mes nuits éveillée à essayer de comprendre votre changement de comportement soudain. Maintenant je me demande pourquoi j'ai laissé votre confusion me troubler autant. J'en suis fatiguée, Lord Bridgerton. Tout est fait, il n'y a plus rien à déchiffrer. Il n'y a rien à changer. Il n'y a rien qui aurait pu changer ce qui s'est passé. J'ai réussi à l'accepter et à abandonner, chose que j'ai appris de vous. Au moins, notre relation n’a pas été totalement vaine. Alors, s'il vous plaît, ne me dites pas que vous regrettez votre choix. C'est trop tard, affirmes-tu, le regardant dans les yeux.

- Vous avez raison. C'était inapproprié de ma part. Je suis désolé, déclare-t-il et tu pousses un soupir de soulagement. Cependant, laissez-moi dire que je n'aurais pas dû agir de cette façon. Ce n'était pas honnête de ma part. Je n'aurais pas dû vous laisser espérer. Même si, je l'avoue, je me suis d'abord intéressé à vous, car je savais que vous seriez être une parfaite Vicomtesse, mes sentiments pour vous étaient honnêtes. Je ne l'ai pas montré comme il faut pendant notre relation, mais je tenais vraiment à vous. J'aurais été chanceux de vous avoir à mes côtés. Et je sais que Lord Egerton le sera. Mais, j'espère surtout qu'il saura, lui, reconnaître sa chance. J'espère qu'il saura mieux vous traiter que moi. J'espère qu'il sera toujours proche de vous, qu'il dansera toujours avec vous, j'espère qu'il saura vous donner tout son temps. Tout ce que je n'ai pas pu faire, mais que j'aurais dû. Je vous souhaite le bonheur, Y/N, dit-il, un léger sourire sur le visage.

Tu continues à le regarder, assimilant ses mots. Il te faut quelques secondes avant de pouvoir prendre la parole avec un regard tendre :

- Malgré tout ce qu'on a vécu, sachez que je vous souhaite la même chose. Mais, j'espère surtout que vous saurez trouver la femme qui vous fera vous remettre en question. Celle qui vous fera réaliser que vous méritez une vie d'amour, peu importe votre peur de souffrir. Je n'ai, malheureusement, pas pu être cette femme, mais je sais qu'elle existe. J'espère juste que vous la trouverez avant qu'il ne soit trop tard.

Les musiciens faisant résonner la dernière note, vous arrêtez vos mouvements. Vous continuez à vous regarder, vos regrets et vos remords visibles dans vos yeux. Vous vous saluez, ne brisant pas le contact visuel, enregistrant ce dernier moment dans votre esprit.

- Au revoir, Anthony, murmures-tu avant de t'éloigner totalement de sa vie. 

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{Ceci est mon blog secondaire donc je répondrai aux commentaires sous le pseudo @marie-sworld}

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[ladysharmaa]

Why don't you love me?

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Y/n and Anthony are in an arranged marriage. When she stops trying to make the relationship work and be the perfect wife, Anthony realizes what he's lost. Will he be able to get her back?

(gift is not mine)

It wasn't the marriage she wanted. And it wasn't what he wanted, because, in fact, he didn't even want to be married. And he didn't mind showing it. But for Y/n, she tried to make the best of their unfortunate situation.

It all started at the beginning of the season when Violet Bridgerton decided that her firstborn had been single for too long. So, she spoke to Y/n's parents, who were good friends of hers, and they both decided that a marriage between the two would be beneficial to both families. Anthony was going to have the support of someone who would take Violet's place as Viscountess and Lady Bridgerton. For Y/n's life, in this society, having a husband was essential and this marriage would allow social advancement.

Thus, Anthony and Y/n agreed with this decision. The preparation for the wedding was carried out quickly and this event was the biggest news for days. Lady Whistledown didn't help matters either by immediately releasing an advert showing her doubts about Anthony having a wife.

This only worsened Y/n's mood, who already feared being married to Viscount Bridgerton, as she was now doubting all the lovers Anthony could take to their bed. Would he not respect their marriage? Did she just want an heir and take care of the children? With these doubts, she said the "I do" in front of hundreds of people watching the ceremony, and allowed just one tear to fall.

From the beginning, Anthony made a point of making it clear that their marriage was purely a compromise, and that he would never truly love her. He was going to fulfill his role and try to have an heir and outside the house, they would act like a happy couple, but it wouldn't go beyond that. In silence, Y/n just offered him a nod, showing that she understood.

However, since then, nothing has happened between them. Anthony allowed her to have her own room, something Y/n was more than grateful for. Having to look at the face of her husband who would never love her every time she fell asleep would be too painful.

She was expecting that on some nights he would enter her room to try to get her with child. But none of that happened, which only confused Y/n more. Was he so disgusted by the idea of being married to her that he didn't even want to have pleasure with her?

So she tried to distract herself with tasks that could take some of the work off Anthony's shoulders and try to be the perfect wife. But Anthony still refused to spend more than five minutes alone with her. At breakfast, he was already at the office when Y/n woke up to go eat, at night he preferred to spend time with his brothers instead of returning home. He was making everyone's life difficult and Y/n was starting to get more and more sad. Would this be her routine until the end of her life? Trying to please a husband who didn't want her?

It was on a summer afternoon that Y/n, upon returning from a social gathering with Anthony's mother and sister, realized how hot the mansion was. She quickly remembered how Viscount's office, the few times she had been there, was directly in the sun which made it even hotter. So she decided to be brave and try to have at least a friendly relationship with her husband, so she went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

With growing nerves, Y/n went to Anthony's office door and knocked on the wood. After hearing Anthony's voice, she opened the door, finding him plus Benedict, who had become good friends with Y/n.

"Oh, I apologize if I am interrupting." she said shyly, keeping to the doorway.

"You are." Anthony immediately agreed in a deep voice, not paying attention to her and turning his attention back to the papers.

At the same time, his brother hurried to assure Y/n, "You're not interrupting anything. You even saved me from Anthony's boring lecture here."

The woman smiled uncomfortably. "Right. I just came to bring you a cup of water. It's so warm outside. I wasn't aware you were here, Mr. Bridgerton, but I can go and also bring you some water."

"Thank you, Y/n, I would—"

However, he couldn't finish his sentence as Anthony hit the table, causing his wife to jump in fright and immediately take a step back. Her reaction made Anthony's expression show some regret, but he quickly hid it. A silence fell between the three.

"I'm fed up, Y/n! Can't you understand that men are trying to work?! Go back to your life of looking at flowers and walking around without having to do anything and leave!"

Y/n's mouth opened and closed several times, trying to understand what had just happened. Finally, she pursed her lips and her eyes turned cold. "I apologize, Lord Bridgerton. It won't happen again. If you'll excuse me."

When she left the room, Benedict looked at his brother in shock. "That was so harsh. The poor girl was trying to be nice and cared enough to bring you a glass of water. If you don't want it, I'll have it. I'm talking about the glass and her."

"Don't you dare." he muttered with a clenched jaw, glaring furiously at Benedict. Where did this anger come from just thinking about Y/n with another man? "Now, let's go back to discuss how you spent money on a bet."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Y/n's behavior with Anthony changed completely. Everyone noticed that the Viscountess finally reached her limit, and stopped being the friendly wife, now looking coldly at her husband whenever they passed each other in the mansion. However, as a couple and heads of the family, they still had obligations to fulfill together.

Public appearances were more tense, but they still managed to keep a smile on their faces and talk to all the ladies who asked about their marriage and when they would have children, giving short answers so that nothing would end up in Lady Whistledown's hands. They also attended a horse race, even betting on different horses that would win. Y/n ended up winning the bet, and her smug look irritated Anthony for the rest of the day, something his brothers were quick to tease him about.

But despite not liking Anthony after his cruel words, which Y/n still thought about constantly, she adored his sisters and mother. They had accepted Y/n into the family, including her in their gatherings and even being a should to cry on. Daphne had already said more than once that she would have no problem going to Anthony and try to talk some sense into him, but Y/n refused. Anthony already didn't like her, if he thought she was turning his family against him he would hate her even more. And she didn't need to make her life worse than it already was.

One day, when she went with Anthony to the Bridgerton mansion to drop off some documents, Hyacinth, Anthony's younger sister, took her aside. Y/n followed the girl to the bathroom where she, with teary eyes and trembling lips, asked her if she was going to die when she started bleeding from her lady parts. Hyacinth also revealed to her that she wanted to go to her mother, but she had gone shopping with Francesca and was alone at home with just Collin. Y/n, very calmly and gently, assured her that it was a normal thing and that all women went through this, explaining what she should do.

It was no secret that Y/n was happy that Hyacinth trusted her with this scary situation and that she was able to help the girl. Despite all the problems in her marriage, she now had a role in helping Anthony's sisters and she never wanted to fail in that.

To Y/n's surprise, Hyacinth ended up giving her a big hug, remaining attached to her for the rest of the afternoon. Her period was making her so affectionate, more than she already was, that Y/n couldn't stop a big smile from appearing on her face at receiving so much affection.

Anthony, when he finally finished talking to Collin about the documents he brought, I was surprised to see his sister on the couch hugging Y/n. "Hyacinth, what are you doing?"

"Hugging my sister-in-law, brother. But you don't know what that is, do you?" she snapped. The girl's change in mood made Y/n have to put a hand over her mouth to keep Anthony from hearing the laughter that escaped her.

The shock on Anthony's face was comical. His little sister was basically choosing Y/n over him. And in truth, he didn't judge her because his wife was, without a doubt, better than him. And she deserved so much better.

On the other hand, his heart warmed when he saw the bond that the two had created. It was clear that Y/n felt great affection for his family. Could it be that if he had accepted this marriage from the beginning, they would now be a happy family? That they would spend afternoons together, cuddling on the couch and talking to his siblings? All these thoughts were racing through his mind, and the guilt was growing so much that he felt like he was going to vomit.

"Lord Bridgerton?" that sweet voice he had come to adore brought him out of his thoughts. He hated that since he snapped at her, she never called him by his first name again.

"What?" he asked, still disoriented.

Y/n was looking at him like he was stupid. "I asked if you were ready to leave. Hyacinth already went to her room to rest. I would like to do the same. So you must make haste."

Her bossy tone almost made his lips curl into a smile, but he controlled himself in time. "Of course, wife. We shall leave now. But I have to ask, what happened between you and my sister?"

"All you need to know is that she's fine and she's a woman now. But don't worry, as your wife, I'll handle these situations. Unless you prefer me to go look at the flowers, take a walk, and do nothing?"

The hint, which was delivered with great anger, caused the man to blush in shame and lower his head. Y/n didn't wait for his answer, taking her coat from a maid and walking to the carriage. He had screwed everything up.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A few more days had passed and the situation between Y/n and Anthony had only gotten stranger. The day after the situation with Hyacinth, Y/n was coming down from her room to go get breakfast, as she always did, when she came across Anthony at the table, appearing to be waiting for her to eat.

Y/n stopped abruptly, looking at him in shock. "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for you so we can have breakfast. I have to go see my brothers again today to talk business, so I was thinking you could come with me and spend some time with my sisters. My mother She's also been saying how she hasn't seen you in a while. That is, only if you want to go. If not, I'll just go… Or I'll stay here to keep you company, whatever you want." he choked up, finishing his speech by drinking some milk, perhaps to calm his nerves.

Y/n remained in place without moving. She looked at Anthony strangely, as if doubting that those words had even come out of his mouth.

"It was silly of me to ask—"

"No," she interrupted him. "It's fine. I would actually like to go and spend time with your sisters. They are lovely. I shall go get ready then."

"Aren't you going to have breakfast with me first?"

"Lord Bridgerton, I've been eating breakfast alone since we got married and I came to live with you. I think you can handle doing the same for a day. Excuse me." she said with an exaggerated smile, turning her back on him and starting to go back to her room. However, she turned back to go get a cake that was on the table. "But I'm hungry so I will eat this in my chambers."

"Call me Anthony!" he exclaimed before she was completely gone. He had a desperate look, almost looking like he needed to hear his name come out of her lips.

"No."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Like every year, the Queen decided to throw a ball to celebrate the Diamond of the Season. The most eligible maiden on the marriage market. Y/n still remembers the first ball she attended — Daphne was the diamond of the season, but Y/n also managed to dance with a few suitors. Of course, in the end, she didn't end up marrying any of them. However, the nerves she felt at that ball were equal to or less than what she felt today: her first ball married to Anthony.

The Viscount and Viscountess had entered together, her hand resting on his arm, followed by Violet and the rest of his siblings. Tonight they would have to be on the lookout for suitors who might want to dance with Francesca, the diamond of the season.

Anthony quietly appreciated his wife. She looked breathtaking in her dress, her hair neatly tied back that showed off her majestic earrings, given by Anthony on their wedding day. He was proud to have a wife like Y/n, and he regreted that he hadn't shown it since day one.

While the Bridgertons started to go their own way, interacting with other people and dancing, Y/n preferred to stay in the corner watching the couples dancing. She longed to experience that with Anthony, but not in a forced way like some were. No, she wanted it to be felt, for them to dance to the music and really appreciate that moment.

But instead of her husband approaching her, it was another man, Earl Cavendish. Y/n remembered some moments when she had already seen him, as he was looking to get married this season. As she approached her, with a confident air, Y/n lowered her head to compliment him, "Good afternoon, Earl Cavendish."

"Lady Bridgerton, a pleasure to meet you. I must say, you look flawless. Would you give me the pleasure of dancing with me?" he extended his hand.

Y/n's eyes widened, not knowing what to do. People had already started looking at them, whispering among themselves. However, she didn't have to respond to the invitation as she felt an arm wrap around her waist and bring her closer to him.

"Excuse me, Earl Cavendish, but I want to have the pleasure of dancing with my beautiful wife first." Anthony said with his jaw clenched, looking him up and down menacingly. "I'm sure you will be able to find other ladies to dance with tonight. Just not my wife."

The two men looked at each other for a few seconds, neither of them wanting to back down. Anthony grew more and more furious, her wrists clenching and bringing Y/n even closer to him, but careful not to hurt her.

"Very well. I shall leave. I hope to see you again someday, Lady Bridgerton."

"I will —" Anthony began by exclaiming in anger as the Earl walked towards another woman, not having liked the way he looked at what was his.

"You will do nothing." the Viscountess snapped coldly. "I can't understand you, you ignore me, you treat me badly, and then you act protective when another man shows interest in me? I never said anything about you having lovers, even though I didn't like that in our marriage."

"What? I've never disrespected our marriage like that, Y/n. In the past I've done a lot of things, but since we got married the only woman I'll look at and touch is you. I don't want anyone else."

"You have a funny way of showing it." she laughed sarcastically, feeling increasingly emotional. "I have to go get some air. You should go check on Francesca again."

Feeling the cold night air, Y/n's heart began to calm down. It was so difficult having to deal with Anthony's changes of attitude, she couldn't understand him. She just wanted to be loved, and since that wasn't possible, she preferred that they stay as far away from each other as possible since being friends didn't seem to be an option either.

"I'm sorry." the voice she had come to know so well whispered behind her. Y/n refused to turn around, leaning against the balcony and taking deep breaths to control her emotions. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I know that marrying me shouldn't have been your choice either, but I was scared. I was scared to have a wife, because that meant I had another person in my life that I could lose ."

She finally had the courage to turn around and look into Anthony's brown eyes. They held back tears and showed the sadness, regret and anger that Anthony felt.

"I'm so angry with myself for the way I treated you. You deserve so much better than this. And I'm sorry I couldn't give you that. The cruel words I said to you but didn't mean. I was scared to let you in. in my heart, so I tried to push you away. Believe that all I want is to have you in my arms. To love you. To start a family with you. Please, I promise I will do better. And every day I will try to reward you for what you do.

"Lord Bridgerton—"

"Please, call me Anthony. It pains me when you call me like that. Reminds me that I was… Am so close to losing the best thing of my life. I will kneel before you and beg for forgiveness if that's what you want." he murmured with a hand over his heart, beginning to kneel on the ground without hesitation.

"There is no need for that… Anthony." she enjoyed seeing the relief and happiness that spread across his face upon hearing his first name. "I just don't understand why you didn't love me? And now you want to try to make our marriage work?"

"That's the thing, I have always loved you. I love you. My whole body, my heart, feels love for you. That has never changed." he revealed desperately. "I was a coward and didn't know how to deal with my feelings. Because they are so strong that my heart feels like it's going to come out of my chest. Please, give me another chance."

"Hmm, I don't now." The look of disappointment was so marked on Anthony's face, almost looking like he was ready to burst into tears, that Y/n stopped his suffering and showed him an amused smile, making him understand that she was joking. "I think I want you to suffer a little more to get my forgiveness."

"I will do anything for you, Y/n. Ask me the world and I will give it to you."

"Such a romantic now, aren't you?" she whispered, admiring his features.

She didn't realize their faces were so close until she felt his nose trace the delicate skin of her cheek. A gasp escaped her mouth, and Anthony took the opportunity to connect their lips in an unforgettable kiss.

Anthony pulled away quicker than he wanted, but he needed to make sure this was really what his wife wanted. "I love you."

"Kiss me again, and maybe I will also tell you that."

And what his wife wanted, he did. The two remained on the balcony, enjoying the comfort the other gave them. They still had a long way to go, but they knew that from that moment on, their lives would change drastically for the better. They had each other.

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