Anthony Bridgerton X Reader - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

Love me again, please

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!reader

Word count: 5.6k

Summary: After a few years, you cross paths with the last person you ever wanted to

Warning: I do not know where I was going with this story at the end so I apologize if it is a little over the place but you all get the gist.

A/n: I'm also posting after months of posting nothing. Very sorry about that but well, I lost the motivation to write, with that being said, Serendipity is on hold for the moment. I have the story planned out but I have no idea what else to write so the main scenes may connect in the end. So I'll be taking my time writing that. Also, I have no posting schedule because I know I won't follow through with it so I'll be posting when motivation hits and I have a fic finished. Lots of love to everyone who takes the time to read this xx.

Forgiveness.

An action that is difficult for human beings to execute. We live in a world that in which resentment , anger and revenge win over anything else. We let ourselves be carried away by the teeth of hatred, that we never take into account that action.

Forgiveness brings us peace and it brings happiness because not only are you forgiving the other person, you are forgiving yourself. Forgiveness is the biggest act of love in this world, and we just have made it complicated.

Although as much as you preach for people to forgive, you yourself, haven’t got it in you to forgive that one person that wronged you so many years ago.

Oh, how you hated him.

The one person that made you fall in love with him, that made you question your morals and break your dignity, allowing yourself to be used as if you were a prostitute from one of the brothels downtown.

He promised you his love, whispered sweet noothings in your ear as he made love to you late in the evenings, when everyone was asleep, telling you to give him more time so he could sort out a few things before making you his wife.

Oh, how you hated him.

Like a fool, you believed everything he promised you, hope blooming inside you at his words, that was all you wished for, to become his wife. But for the meantime, you were happy being his mistress.

If the only way to be with him until he sorted everything out was by being his mistress, hiding in the shadows, where no one was watching, you would take it, you would give yourself to him.

Oh, how you hated him.

That is, until one day, he left you without any word.

He came to your room one evening, you were patiently waiting for him, readying yourself for what you thought would be another night of pleasure.

That is until he arrived and broke your heart.

Told you how he could not be with you anymore and that he would not be coming to your room anymore. When you kept on pleading with him not to leave you, that is when he changed to saying cruel, cruel things.

Like how did you ever believe he would actually marry you, and that he was only with you for the pleasure filled nights you provided, that you were just an easy prey, foolishly believing everything he said. Those words succeeding even further on breaking your heart.

Oh, how you hate – loathe him.

Oh, how you loathed him

Oh, how you really really loathed him

Oh………

how you wished you actually loathed or even hated him.

Because that is the truth, no matter how much he hurt you, no matter how the words he carelessly threw at you engraved themselves deeply inside you, how he completely broke you, even then, you still could not find it in yourself to hate him.

“Your grace?” you snapped out of your thoughts, turning your head to the side, looking at the footman questioningly “We are here, your grace”

You thanked him quietly before looking down at the toddler sleeping on your chest, brushing the hair that was covering her face away, caressing her chubby cheeks.

“Love,” you murmured stroking her head lovingly. Little Amelia moved, shaking her head before burying herself further into your chest “It is time to wake up, darling. Were you not excited to see grandmamma and grandpapa? What about your cousins, Charles and Elizabeth? You were delighted that you were going to be able to play with them”

She instantly sat up, rubbing away the sleep from her eyes “Oh! Charlie and Lizzie! Mama!” she squealed, suddenly very energetic “They said they would show me toys their mama and papa brought them” She clapped her hands and hastily exited the carriage once the footman opened the door.

“Careful” you called out after her, grabbing the blankets you previously set out for her to sleep more comfortably

“Amy!” you could hear your mother’s voice exclaim as you put your feet on the floor and looked around “Oh, look how big you’ve gotten sweet girl!”

“And so beautiful too, just as beautiful as her mother” your papa added happily, bringing you into a hug

“mama, papa, it is so nice to see you” You greeted happily returning the hug before pulling back “has Ed and Ellie arrived? Amy cannot wait to play with Charlie and Lizzie” you ask

“Oh! Yes, they are just inside, come on Amy, let us go see your aunt and uncle” your mama urged grabbing on to your daughter’s little hand, your father offered his hand to you which you rejected, shaking your head

“You three go on ahead, I just want to breathe in a little bit of fresh air, those few hours in the carriage made me a little nauseous” you breathed out, they nodded before walking away and leaving you alone. You sighed, turning to look you at the sky, letting the sun soak into your skin.

It is crazy how fast time passes. It seems like it was just yesterday when you got your heart broken. It seems like it was just yesterday when after getting your heart broken, you decided to move on away from him and instead marry a dear friend of yours.

Jacob Thornwell was his name, the duke of Rosehill, you had met him through your brother as they had gone to Eton together and you become close friends, close enough to marry each other. It wasn’t a marriage out of love but you both cared deeply and respected each other. What more could you have asked for?

You married him because you were heartbroken and wanted to move on and not give that person the satisfaction of seeing you broken, and Jacob married you to escape his family’s complaints.

After a week of mourning over your lost love, you went to him and proposed the idea, he accepted and soon after you married. You were happy, or at least the most happy you could be after getting your heart broken, but everything changed when a few months later, you had little Amelia.

Your world changed after that day, after you held your sweet babe in your arms, after she opened her eyes, those eyes she inherited from her father. And when her little lips formed into a small smile, you knew you would do anything for your daughter, she was now the most important person in the whole world and you would protect her against everything.

You let out a deep breath closing your eyes, after a few moments opening them once again, you turned your head to the side, your body filling with dread when you saw a familiar person looking back at you from across the street.

Your heart started to race when he opened his mouth to say something starting to cross the street , you turned on your heel and entered your parent’s home, not letting him even say anything. You close the front door loudly and lean your body against it, holding your hands close to your chest, willing your heart to slow down.

“Y/n?” You hear your mama’s voice speak up, you turn to look at her, mustering up a smile “Are you alright, dear?”

“Yes, yes I am” you breathed out “I just thought I saw a bug, you know how I get when I see one” you let out a fake laugh, giving a shudder as If you were disgusted to make it more believable

Your mama nodded her head, not quite believing you but deciding to let it go “Of course” She then gestured to the drawing room “Come on now, your brother is anxious to see you” you now smile genuinely before following behind her

After greeting your brother, you were seated on a couch, looking at your daughter and her cousins playing happily in the middle of the room, a smile laying on your face, although that smile faded once you remembered your brief interaction, if you could even call it that, with that man across the street.

How dare he? How dare he look at you as if he was shocked you were in front of him, as if you were the one who had broken his heart and cut all contact with him after, how dare he even try to approach you after everything he did..... after everything he said?

What you would have given to know how he had felt in that moment. That moment when your heart was cracking into a million pieces, that moment where you were crying out for him not to go because you needed him. You wondered how he felt. Did it even hurt him as much as it hurt you? Did he feel that painful tug in his chest or the lump in his throat like you did? Did he even love you as much as you loved him?

You curse the day you met Anthony Bridgerton.

That man was your ruin.

You take it back.

You curse the moment you let your mama convince you to go to the ball Lady Bridgerton was hosting.

Not only because you had to leave Amy at home but because there was also a 50 percent chance that you could encounter Anthony Bridgerton at any given moment, and that was the last thing you wanted to do tonight.

“Fancy seeing you tonight” someone spoke up beside you, you look up, coming face to face with the last person you wanted to see.

Oh, just your luck.

“Lord Bridgerton” You uttered looking back at the couples dancing in the middle of the room

“Miss Y/n – oh, my apologies, I forgot you are now the duchess of Rosehill” he muttered unapologetic “Your grace,” he said sarcastically holding back a scoff, you look up at him once again, sending him a glare

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up “Are you not even going to say anything?”

You sighed angrily, the last thing you wanted to do right now was speak to him “There is nothing to speak about, Viscount Bridgerton”

He scoffed rolling his eyes “Surely you cannot be serious” he grabbed your arm and pulled you into an empty corridor after making sure nobody saw you both “Let us start with something simple, how about the fact that you married Jacob Thornwell when you knew damn well I did not like him”

“Excuse me?!” You scoffed angrily“Who I married is none of your concern”

“None of my concern?” He laughed humorlessly “None… of….my….concern?”

“Yes," you reply “None of your concern, you did not have any say in who I married and whether you liked him or not. Well, guess what? I did not care, not.one.bit” You snapped “ You were the one that left me! Might I remind you of that night when you came into my room and told me all kind of horrible things?”

“I-“ he tried to cut in

“No, no, let me speak!” you glare at him “You told me I was just an easy lay, you told me you didn’t ever have any plans of marrying me and were only looking for an innocent, naïve, foolish little girl who you could fool into sleeping with you. You told me I was a fool for believing everything you ever told me”

“Y/n-“

“Let me speak!” you breathed out harshly, Anthony went silent “Do you have any idea how horrible I felt? How broken I felt? You were the first man I was ever with, the first man who paid even just a little bit of attention to me. The first man I ever loved…. I really loved you, Anthony… I loved you so much that it consumed me entirely. And you left me” you chuckle emotionlessly “But do not worry, I feel nothing for you anymore”

“You seduced me, ruined me, and then left me. I gave you what I should have only given my husband, I was really lucky that Jacob was understanding because if not, I never would have been able to marry, god knows no one would want damaged goods” you shake your head “But I am also grateful, because you showed me how cruel men could be. You showed me how foolish I was for thinking you actually cared about me and you made me realize that I never should have loved someone as heartless as you” you scoffed and turn around, walking away from him, back to the ball

“Y/n, wait!” Anthony called out “Let me explain- y/n- let-“ you ignored him, whatever he was saying now drowned out by the music playing.

“Mama! Look!”

You turn to look at your daughter, she was pointing to a butterfly that was standing on top of a flower. You smiled at Amy, “Yes, it is very beautiful, sweetheart”

Amy smiled and ran to another part of the park “Careful,” you called out to her “And stay where I can see you”

You take a look around the park, looking for any signs of your parents but they seemed to be nowhere. You sighed and sit on a bench nearby where Amy was running around. You groan when you felt your favorite necklace become loose once again, falling down your neck.

“I should really get this fixed” you mumbled trying fasten it around your neck once again, all while you kept your eyes on Amy, making sure nothing happened to her before you felt a presence next to you.

You turn your head, finding Lady Bridgerton next to you with a smile on her face “Your grace” she greets “ It is so nice to see you after all these years”

“Lady Bridgerton” you greet her with a smile “It is so nice to see you as well”

“How have you been? How is your family?”

You smile “ They are fine, thank you for ask-“

“Mama!” You turn your head and stand up quickly when you heard Amy cry out for you. Your daughter runs to you and hugged your legs tightly “What is wrong, darling?” you ask worriedly, before pulling her away, making her look at you

“Look” She shows you her arm which was scraped, tears filling her beautiful blue eyes “I hit a rock and now there is blood” She sniffled

“Oh, now now, do not cry” you coo caressing her cheek. You look up at Lady Bridgerton, who was staring at Amelia with wide eyes, her face turning pale. Dread fills your entire body.

“I- Is that- She looks- what- A-“ She stuttered

“Lady Bridgerton” you cut her off “If you may excuse me, I must find my parents, it was nice seeing you again” you give her one last smile and walked away, holding onto Amy’s hand

You groan as you ruffled throughout your bedchambers. You looked through your clothes, under your bed, on your dresser, anywhere you could think of but you still could not find it.

You exit your bedchambers and head down the stairs to the drawing room. “Mama” you called out entering the room “Have you seen my necklace? I cannot seem to find it anywhere”

Your mama looked up from her embroidery “Have you looked in your chambers?”

“I have” you looked at her worried “but it is not there” you grumble sitting down next to her “I need to find it mama, that is the last thing I have of Jacob, it is really special”

She raises an eyebrow “Well, I seem to think the last thing you have of Jacob is Amy, is she not?”

You stayed still “I – yes, of course, but I mean the last materialistic think left of him” I reply

She hums “Well, now that I remember, I recall Lady Bridgerton saying she has your necklace and you could go over today if you desire”

Your face lights up “Perfect! I will go then” you walk away before stopping and turning back to her “Will you look after Amy for me, please, I will not be long” you smile when she nods and walk out of the house

You open the front door slowly, looking around before walking further in. “Lady Bridgerton?” you called out and enter the drawing room

You huff when you don’t see her inside “She is not even here, why did she say to come here today then? And why didn’t she just send me my necklace with a maid” you roll your eyes before turning around, stopping when you come face to face with Anthony

“Looking for this?” He holds out your necklace, you look down at the necklace before looking back up at him

“Why do you have it? Give me it” you held out your hand, gesturing towards your necklace

He shrugs “If this was so important for you, why did you lose it? Mother found your necklace lying on the ground in the park,” he chuckled “How careless of you. And I, like the good son i am, told her that I would give it to you, how sweet of me, right?” He smirked

“Give it to me” you demand, glaring at him

“Tell me the truth first” He shakes his head

You furrowed your eyebrows “What are you talking about? Give me my necklace, now”

“Tell me you have not forgotten me” He mutters “That you still feel something for me”

You swallow, your eyes flickering between both of his eyes before looking down at your necklace and then back at him “Give me my necklace” you decide to ignore his words, evading his eyes so he does not see how much he is affecting you

“Y/n,” he sighs “I love you” he blurts out, you start to feel a light sting on your eyes.

“What are you even saying?” you needed to get out of there, you cannot stand to be there any longer “You are speaking nonsense!” You step around him to walk away but he stops you before you could make another step

“Come on, Y/n” He pleads holding onto your arms

“Let me go” you demand trying to jerk out of his hold

“If you tell me the truth, I will let you go” He said softly, you ignore his words once more, looking down at your necklace in his hands

“Give me back my necklace or dont, either way I will leave” you stated angrily

“Tell me the truth” Anthony repeated “Tell me you have not forgotten about what we had, tell me you have not forgotten me, tell me that you still love me”

You narrow your eyes at him, chuckling humorlessly “ I do not have to tell you anything”

“Do not do this, Y/n” he sighs exasperated

“Do what?” you glare at him

“Do not do this”

“What should I not do?!” you exclaimed

“I am in love with you, Y/n” Anthony admits looking at you softly

You snort before chuckling and looking around “Love?” you turn to look back at him, he nods in response “ After all these years, you speak to me about love?” You shake your head incredulously

“What did you think? After all these years, you will come to tell me that you are in love with me and I will jump straight on to your arms, right?” You throw your hands in the air in disbelief “In all that time I spent with you, I'm sure you did not know what place I occupy in your life! You treated me like an object, was I your mistress? Your lover? Did you even plan on courting me or did you only want me to be someone you could tumble around in the sheets with? Oh! wait a moment, you did say you were only looking for a easy lay. And now you speak to me about love!” You scoff

He looks down in shame “I had so many things going around, Y/n, I was confused. I did not know what to do and how to do it. And- and I did not want to drag you down with me” you look at him in disbelief “But I have always been in love with you”

You clench your jaw and scoffed “I do not even know why I am talking to you about this” you uttered and walked around him “Let me go” you exclaimed when he pulled you back towards your spot once again

You look at his chest, not wanting to see him in the face as your eyes stung with tears. Anthony looked down at you and nodded “Then tell me you have forgotten me, tell me you do not love me anymore ”

You opened your mouth and then closed it before opening it once more to speak this time “I forgot you” you looked at him in the eye “ Is that all? I forgot you! I do not love you anymore” you affirmed once more

You step away from his hold “What did you think?! That I would wait for you all these years?! That I would act as if I was just waiting for you to decide you wanted me again, to jump back into your arms?! That I would revolve everything around you?! Do you still think everything revolves around you?! –“

He pulls you into a kiss, cutting off your words. You tense, not expecting what he just did. He kisses you for a few more moments before pulling back. You remained emotionlessly, your lips tingling from the kiss you just shared a few seconds ago.

“I’m sorry” you snapped back out off your trance to look at him “I have crossed the line, I am sorry, if you want we can talk” he sighs ashamed at himself

”I may not know much about love, and that is mostly my fault for not letting myself love, but I know a lot about you” Anthony voiced “ I know you like to look at the rain, sometimes you even let the drops grace your hand. I also know you adore looking at the stars, those little lights that make your eyes shine in wonder. And you like to get lost in your thoughts, in that mind so disastrous but philosophical at the same time. You are a riddle that at first sight is complex but when you get to know it, you discover that it is a wonder of the world”

You ponder over his words, looking up at his face before looking back down, wringing your fingers before looking back up at him once again.

You smile sadly “ I cannot forgive you, Anthony, every sweet word you say cannot take away all of the pain you caused me, and I am sincerely sorry if you thought that this encounter would turn out another way, one in which everything is forgiven and you and I could be the perfect picture family but I am sorry to disappoint you. I cannot forgive you, and honestly," you sighed “ I do not want to”

With that, you turned away,

“Y/n…” he mumbled, you stop once again “ Love me again, please” you let out a shaky breath shaking your head and walking away and this time, he willingly lets you.

You wipe your tears away furiously entering your home once again “ Y/n?” your mama comes out of the drawing room, she looks at your tear stained cheeks before looking into your eyes worriedly “What happened?”

Your lips trembled before you hug her, letting the tears fall silently “Oh, what is wrong my dear?” you shook your head hugging her more tightly

After a few moments you pull away, wiping under your eyes carefully, all while your mama is still looking at you.

She sighed before sitting down next to you “I will give you some advice and I hope you listen to it” your mama uttered, her eyes flicking over to the drawing room before she spoke “Cry what you have to cry and suffer what you have to suffer. Because everything is ephemeral in this life, everything gives way at some point and pain is not the exception. And if you have to scream, then do so, if you have to break down, then break down. Do what you have to do to start again, to be able to heal, to be able to be happy and to be able to live”

“Why are you telling me this?” you wonder confused as she stood up, grabbing your hand before she led you out to the garden, where you saw your daughter running around happily

She chuckles softly “Dear, do you really think I did not know about your affair with the viscount?” you stare at her wide eyed, speechless “Do you think I had no idea that you snuck him in every night on your first season? Of course I did know, you are my only daughter and I would be damned if I let you be hurt by anything.”

You went to make up something but she cut you off “ And do not make some excuse that it was actually you who snuck out because you went for morning rides on your horse because it is not even believable” your mama rolls her eyes “ I care for you and your brother, and now little Amelia, more than anyone in this world, even more than your father. I love my children and grandchildren, that is the reason why I never said anything to you or to anyone. I saw how happy he made you, I thought you hid your courtship because you did not desire the society's attention on you both and that you would soon inform us that you were together, maybe even engaged”

“Mama…” you whisper looking down

“But then that light I saw in your eyes faded, you would spend your days locked in your bedchamber's , and imagine my surprise when you announced a month after, that you were getting married to Jacob Thornwell” your mama let out a shaky breath “You do not know how heartbroken I felt to see you like that. So low spirited, that the girl that used to be so happy, laughed so much and had so much love to give, was gone in a matter of a day”

“And I do not know what happened between the viscount and you but I trust you and your decisions. That is why I still supported you when you decided to marry the duke even when you were not in love with him. It was not a marriage of love but at least it was one of friendship, one in which you had a beautiful daughter” she remarked

You smiled lightly “She really is beautiful” you looked at Amelia who went to sit on the swing, looking at a butterfly that was flying by

Your mama hummed “She really did get the best of you and the viscount’s features” once again, you were left speechless, your smile fading as she laughed once she saw your expression “Oh please, I did not for one second believe that you gave birth 2 months early because of some complications you supposedly had, and Amy looks a lot like the viscount, Lady Bridgerton can surely attest to that” she then walked away after dropping that bomb on you.

“Your grace”

You looked to your side “Oh, it is you again” you pursue your lips “You surely do not understand that I do not want you near me, do you?”

“Oh come on, do not be like that” you roll your eyes at his words

“ I am not being like anything” You grumble “ I am simply annoyed that you cannot seem to take a hint and leave me alone”

“Of course I can take a hint” Anthony huffs “I just simply choose not to accede to your desires” You scoff

“Such a nice person you are” you grumble looking away

“I never said I was nice" he tilted his head to look at you better

“I can see that” you said

“Mama!” Amy slammed on to your legs “Grandmamma said i can eat some of the sweets on the table if you allow me” You look down at your daughter “Can I please eat some?” Amy gave you a pout making you laugh

“Of course” you laugh before you turned at your side when you remembered who was next too you. Anthony was looking at Amy wide eyed

“She is – is she your daughter?” He asked you, you nodded, your heart starting to pound faster.

He knelt down to her height and extended a hand, smiling at her slightly “Hello” he greeted her when she turned to him “ I am Viscount Bridgerton but you can call me Anthony”

Amy smiled happily, shaking his hand “I am Amelia but my family calls me Amy” Anthony looked at you for a moment before turning back to Amy

“How old are you, Amy?”

“Amelia, sweetheart,” you cut in “Why do you not go back to grandmamma and eat those sweets you were telling me about?”

“How old are you, Amy?” Anthony asked again

“Amy-“

“5” Amy answered him happily, showing him five fingers. Anthony snapped his eyes towards you quickly when she answered

“Amy” you stressed out, Amy looked at you then “Will you please go to grandmamma now?”

She shrugged and skipped happily towards your mama who was already looking at you three, your mama gave you a look when her eyes met yours flickering her eyes to Anthony and back to you before smiling at Amy who was now next to her.

You sighed looking at Anthony, who was now turning pale “She – why did you – Y/n, I do not understand – is she my daugh –“you cut him off, grabbing his hand and pulling him to an empty room after making sure no one saw you.

“Do not say those things where anyone can hear you, Lord Bridgerton” you snapped

He chuckled humorlessly, his eyebrows furrowing as he clenched his jaw“She is my daughter” He stated

“ No, she is not” you denied “She is Jacob’s daughter” he narrowed his eyes at you

“Do not try to lie to me because I do not believe you”

“Well you must because that is the truth” you rolled your eyes at him

“She is five” he snapped angrily “She has my mother’s eyes, Daphne’s eyes." He looked around before leaning in closer “And you and I both know Jacob liked everything but women.” Anthony stepped back, clearing his throat “You can try to deny it all you want but the proof was right there in front of me” You stayed quiet “Why did you not tell me? Did you not think I deserved to know my daughter?”

“She is not your daughter!” You exclaim “ She is mine and she is Jacob’s, not yours” Anthony looked at you hurt

You both stared at each other silently, your chests rising quickly, heavy breaths escaping both of your lips. Anthony sighed walking closer to you, you swallowed, taking one step back with every step he took towards you.

“Why did you marry Jacob Thornwell?” He asked “Did you love him?”

You shook your head, deciding to answer with the truth “It was not love. I did not marry him for love, but for friendship” he looked at you confused

“You told me you would not marry unless it was for love-“

“Yes, well, things change do they not?” you muttered, he went silent.

“I am sorry,” He admitted quietly after a few minutes “I know whatever I say is not enough, and it will also not take away any of the pain I caused you, but I am truly sorry, please believe me, Y/n” he held onto your hands, you look down at your intertwined hands

He raised your chin with his hand, making you look back up at him. “I cannot defend myself because there is no excuse that can fix what I did to you, I, myself, do not know why I did that” he swallowed “ The only thing I can say is that i loved you then, and I love you now, and if you allow me, I can continue to love you for the rest of my life ”

“There is no one else I would rather have next to me, no one else I would rather love for eternity than the one person I have really loved my entire life. No one else than the mother of my beautiful daughter.” He caressed your cheeks “Say yes, Y/n. Let us have that life that I so stupidly threw away. Let me prove that I can truly make you happy. Let me love you”

You stayed silent before speaking up “I moved on with my life, pretending that nothing had happened between us.” You admitted quietly “But there were times when you crossed my mind, especially when I looked at Amelia” you then added “you caused my heart to explode by the simple memory of something that was. It is strange, to know that even with everything that happened, that love I held for you, the same one I still have for you, never faded” his face started to light up with his words. A small smile appearing in his face.

“Does that mean you will…..”

“I do not know if I will regret this, but I have not stopped loving you. I- Anthony- I promise you, do not make me regret this or else I will really murder you” You grumble

Anthony laughs happily before pulling you into a kiss, his lips moved against yours softly, testing the waters, as if to make sure you won’t pull away before he started to kiss you more passionately. His hands pulling you close by your waist as you wrapped your hands around his neck, kissing him back just as passionately.

“I won’t” he mumbled onto your lips “If so I give you permission to murder me willingly”

You hummed before pulling away“Just let me love you before that happens” you smile.

Third time's the charm

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem! Reader

Word count: 826

Warnings: unedited, fluff I think

A/n: A short little fic but I hope you enjoy it!

It has been said that every person experiences 3 types of love in their lifetime.

Of course, that same person may fall in love numerous times throughout the years but there’s only 3 that stand out from the rest, 3 different experiences that impact you and form you into who you are today.

That was the case for Anthony Bridgerton.

The first one is, obviously, the first love. The young, puppy love. For Anthony, that was Sienna Rosso.

When Anthony saw the opera singer for the first time, he was immediately enchanted and thus started their love affair.

Unfortunately, it didn’t go anywhere seeing as Sienna was from the low class and Anthony, as the Viscount, has responsibilities he needed to uphold.

After Sienna, Anthony wasn’t planning on falling in love again. It was a new season, he was planning to marry not out of love but out of duty.

Then came the second love, the hard love. Kate Sharma.

Originally, he was planning on marrying her sister, Edwina, but along the way both Anthony and Kate fell in love. It was a bittersweet love. It was beautiful, Anthony had never felt like that before, they were happy…..until they weren’t.

They started to clash. Their personalities were too similar, they were both headstrong, stubborn. It was amusing at first and something Anthony enjoyed, at least that way he would never have a boring day in his life but when it came to serious matters, they could never agree on anything.

So little by little, the love they had for each other faded. It wasn’t anybody’s fault especially not Kate’s, of course not, Kate was an amazing woman. Sadly, it didn’t work.

After that, Anthony lost hope, he was 31 and not yet married. With Sienna it wasn’t possible, with Kate it didn’t work out and he wasn’t interested by any of the ladies of the ton, so what was he supposed to do now? How will he continue the Bridgerton bloodline?

“Hey there old man”

Anthony was snapped out of his thoughts, his eyebrows furrowed as he turned his head to see your smiling face.

“What? Are you thinking of your failed love life?” You teased as you sat down beside him

Anthony rolled his eyes “I am not old” he scoffed “What are you doing here you little demon?”

“I beg to differ” you chuckle “I’m not a little demon, it seems you have forgotten but I’m a lady, old man”

He raised an eyebrow “Are you now? It’s hard to see with how much you act like a man”

You gasp offended “As if. Now I see why you’re alone, who on earth is able to stand you? I pity the woman that ends up marrying you in the future” you say

Anthony couldn’t help but chuckle as he looked at you with a fond look in his eyes “Oh no” he tuts “You may want to take back your words, you never know, maybe you will be the woman that ends up marrying me” he teased

You hit his shoulder again “Lord no, don’t even joke about that” you shudder

“Hey!” he exclaimed “There’s nothing wrong with me”

You hummed unconvinced “Sure there isn’t, that’s why you’re so lucky in the love department, Mr. Viscount Bridgerton” You taunt before you laughed

“Mother” Anthony calls out making your eyes widen “Y/n is making fun of my love life-“

“Shut up you!” you exclaim as you cover his mouth with your hand

Anthony looks down at your hand covering his mouth before he looks back up at you, letting out a laugh.

The third love, the unexpected love. Anthony wasn’t looking to fall in love again but it crept up on him little by little. He never expected it to be you, the girl he’s known practically his entire life, the woman he saw grow up, his best friend.

And yet, he couldn’t help the warm feeling on his chest whenever he saw you. How his heart fluttered when he saw you smiling because of him.

It's you. It has probably always been you. You were the one that has always been there for him, through his father’s death, through the fights with his siblings or his mother, through his affair with Sienna and his failed relationship with Kate and yet, you always stayed by his side even if you were 5 years younger than him, it didn’t matter.

He was thankful for his failed relationships in the past. Because they helped him grow into the person he was today. It helped him learn what to do and what not to. It helped him to know how to love you.

The first and second love definitely helped him, no matter how painful they ended up being, they ended up preparing him to find his way to you.

“Marry me” Anthony said as he looked up at you

He loved you, he was sure of it.

Hope

Happy marriage part 3

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 4k

Summary: new hope blossoms and new starts commence

A/n: long time no see people! 😅😅😅 Sorry I went MIA but I got this done and decided to post it. Now I won't give an exact time on when I'll post because now I see I'm a little liar and I don't go through with my word 😶😶

I'm very sorry to leave you all hanging. But here's the last part of happy marriage and I hope you like it!

MASTERLIST Part 1. Part 2

“When I said I will give you a chance to make it up to me, I did not mean you had to follow me and be glued to my side everywhere I go.” You spoke annoyed, lifting up your eyes from the romance book you were currently reading. You had felt Anthony’s gaze centered on you for a few minutes now, you tried to ignore it but it felt so intense it was impossible to.

It was annoying, really, well maybe just a bit endearing, although you’ll fiercely deny it if anybody mentions it. Anthony really seemed to be trying to earn your forgiveness, he was more attentive than before, more understanding, a little bit more romantic as he now gifts you a bouquet of flowers every single day (something that annoys Lady Bridgerton as the maids cannot seem to find any more empty vases). But it was annoying that he seemed to follow you wherever you went.

A walk around the garden? Antony was walking behind you. You sit down in the drawing room to read a book? Anthony was seated next to you before you could even blink. A ball? He would always pull you into dances, something you couldn’t deny him of. Annoying, very annoying (You secretly love it, don’t lie to yourself).

“I know,” Anthony responded, meeting your eyes without any shame, “I do not mind following you around, it is quite…..fascinating, to be in your presence that is.”

You held back the blush wanting to come on to your cheeks at his words “Surprised you are just now figuring that out” You said, flickering your eyes back down to your book, pretending his words did not affect you in any way when the truth was that they did. “You know, it is not too late to give up now. You will not have my forgiveness from one day to the next.”

It was hard not to forgive him in an instant whenever he spoke sweet words, no matter how much you wanted to deny it, you still loved him, deeply. But the reminder of how much he hurt you and how much you cried over him washed away any sudden desire to forgive him. He had to work hard to earn your forgiveness, it’s not something you’ll give away easily towards him, not this time.

Anthony wasn’t deterred by your words, “There is something us Bridgertons are, and that is that we are stubborn, so i will not rest until I have fully earn your forgiveness, you have my word.” He said as he stood up, determination filling his words “Gather much patience and indifference as you can, darling, because I am going to be by your side until I succeed and I can see you are not as unaffected as you try to appear to be” He then turned around to walk out of the drawing room

“There is another thing I am bargaining for,” He stopped before he exited the room “and that is to earn back your love….no matter how long it takes” he said shamelessly before finally walking out

You swallowed harshly, your heart beating fast in your chest as you fully took in his words and the promise in them. You exhaled shakily, feelings you did not want to feel ever again trying to resurface. It is both horrible and amazing how much he affects you, whether he said cruel or sweet words, your traitorous heart always seems to beat faster to no one but him.

He felt so idiotic. For the first time in his entire life, Anthony felt like the dumbest person in the whole wide world. He could see it, he could see how much he actually hurt you. You were distant towards him, cold even, your eyes didn’t have that sparkle in them whenever you saw him, nor did you bend over trying to fulfill his every wish, not that he wanted you to, but there was this pain in your eyes, this hurt when your eyes met his which made him feel so guilty and dumb.

There is this saying that goes, you never know what you have until you lost it. Anthony felt like that. You was an amazing person and he felt like the dumbest person alive to not have realized that sooner. His mother was right from the start, you really are the perfect viscountess , the perfect woman….the only woman for him.

His only relief is that the pain that he previously saw in your eyes decreases with the time he spends with you. It gave him hope and he will not rest until that pain disappears completely and your eyes once again reflect love in them when you see him.

“Y/n” His face lights up, eyes flickering up when he heard your name, standing up from his seat as he saw you enter the dining room with a plate full of cookies, his reaction not unnoticed by his mother who hid her smile pretending to take a sip out of her glass of wine.

“Y/n,” Anthony said taking a step towards you before stopping and instead pulling out your unofficial assigned chair (which is coincidentally besides him, wink wink), one you haven’t sat on since your marriage crumbled.

You sit down on the chair, silently thanking him with a nod of your head “I made some cookies, they’re recently baked so they might be hot” You smiled, putting the plate in the middle of the table “I-“

“You didn’t have to.” Anthony said breathlessly, the thought that you accepted his gesture and was so close to him making his heart beat quickly, it felt as if it would snap right out of his chest. You were not completely ignoring him…

“I know, I wanted to” You say with a nod

“They look delicious.” Anthony said, not knowing what else to say to you, suddenly feeling as if he couldn’t muster up any idea on what to say to keep the conversation going.

“I hope that they are” You answer

“I am sure anything you make is amazing,” He said with a smile

You blink, now you were the one speechless “Thanks….I guess?” you say awkwardly. You heard Benedict chuckle from beside you, you turned to face him, giving him a glare.

“Ah no, do not mind me” Benedict uttered, taking a sip from his cup of wine “Pretend I’m not here, I just remembered something funny and it made me laugh”

You scoffed before standing up from your seat “I have to go get ready for the opera” you said “do not follow me” you uttered once you saw Anthony moving to stand up as well

“but I- I can-“ he groaned when he saw you leaving without another glance

“Anthony, go call Y/n and Hyacinth , the carriage is almost here” Violet Bridgerton told her son as she looked out the window

“No need” You spoke as you walked down the stairs, Hyacinth not far behind you

You let out a breath as you reached the ground floor, Anthony’s gaze immediately found yours as you descended the stairs. His eyes lit up, as though seeing you for the first time that evening, his breath catching slightly at the sight of you. You wore a gown of deep sapphire, its elegant lines flattering your figure without drawing too much attention, and yet, to Anthony, you might as well have been the only person in the room.

“Y/n…” He murmured, his tone soft, almost reverent. The man you had once known to be brash and commanding now seemed utterly captivated by your every movement. It would have been endearing if it wasn’t so infuriatingly persistent.

“You look beautiful,” he added, his voice lower now, as if it was meant only for you.

You offered him a polite smile, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “Thank you, Anthony.”

Hyacinth grinned mischievously from behind you, clearly picking up on the tension between you two. “Anthony’s been quite eager about the opera all week,” she teased as she passed by, giving her brother a sly look.

Anthony’s expression shifted into something more sheepish, a rare sight indeed. “Only because I knew you’d be there,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You sighed inwardly. This was all part of his effort to win you back, but he couldn’t just charm his way through everything. Not after the pain he had caused. There was a deep well of hurt beneath your composed exterior, and no amount of flowery words or pretty compliments could erase it. You had promised yourself that if he truly wanted your forgiveness, he would have to work for it. He would have to see the depths of the damage he had inflicted.

“Let’s just get going,” you said softly, already moving toward the door where the carriage waited.

The opera house was a grand affair, as always. Chandeliers glittered overhead, the rich burgundy of the velvet curtains creating an opulent backdrop for the night’s performance. People dressed in their finest milled about, awaiting the start of the show, their chatter filling the air like a soft hum.

You took your seat next to Anthony, and despite the large crowd, it felt like you two were the only ones in the room. As the lights dimmed and the first notes of the opera began to play, Anthony leaned slightly toward you.

“I’ve never quite appreciated music as I do now,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft overture. His eyes, however, were not on the stage but on you.

You didn’t respond, focusing your attention on the performance. Sienna Rosso, the opera singer he had an affair with, had a voice that could command any room, but tonight, it seemed Anthony was deaf to it. His gaze never left you, even as the area swelled with emotion, which completely surprised you.

Throughout the performance, he remained close, his presence a constant reminder of the promises he had made. When Sienna reached a particularly moving part of her song, you noticed Anthony’s hand briefly brush against yours where it rested on the armrest. You quickly pulled your hand away, not wanting to give him any more satisfaction than necessary. The corner of his mouth twitched in what you could only describe as amusement, but he didn’t push further.

After the opera ended, and the crowd began to file out, you overheard murmurs from others in the audience. Most were compliments on the performance, but a few curious glances and whispers were directed toward you and Anthony.

“It seems Viscount Bridgerton is quite taken with his wife these days,” one woman said to her companion, not too far from where you stood. “He didn’t take his eyes off her once.”

You pretended not to hear them, but the words echoed in your mind as you followed Anthony outside. His devotion was clear, and while part of you appreciated his efforts, another part still held back.

The days that followed were filled with Anthony’s persistent attempts to be near you. He insisted on accompanying you during your walks in the gardens, even if you would rather enjoy the peace and quiet alone. You often found him sitting in the drawing room whenever you tried to read, as if his presence had become a permanent fixture in your life.

One morning, you entered the drawing room with your favorite book, intent on having a quiet moment to yourself. To no surprise, Anthony was already seated by the window, reading through some documents. His head lifted the moment you walked in.

“You don’t always have to be here, you know,” you said, trying to sound indifferent as you sat down with your book. You felt a sense of déjà vu as you remembered you said almost the exact thing days ago.

“I know,” Anthony replied, not looking up from his papers. “But I want to be.”

You shook your head slightly, unsure whether to be frustrated or touched by his relentless presence.

As time passed, Anthony’s efforts didn’t wane. Instead, they became more thoughtful, more personal. He began to ask about the things you can loved—books, music, even the small hobbies you indulged in. One day, he found you at the piano, quietly playing a familiar melody.

“I didn’t know you played,” he said softly, standing by the doorway as he watched you.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you replied, not looking up from the keys.

Anthony stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “Then let me learn.”

For a moment, you stopped playing and turned to him. His gaze was sincere, and for the first time, you saw just how much he truly wanted to understand you, not just win back your favor. There was a quiet desperation in his eyes—a longing to connect in a way that went beyond mere apologies.

“I’m not the same person I was before, Anthony,” you said softly. “And neither are you.”

He knelt beside the piano bench, his hand resting lightly on the edge. “I know. But that doesn’t change how much I want to be the man who deserves you.”

Anthony’s devotion became even more apparent during the next ball. You had agreed to attend, mostly to maintain appearances, but you had no intention of dancing with him. Yet, as the evening wore on, you found yourself in his arms once again, moving to the rhythm of the music.

The anticipation of the evening bubbling inside you. You’d worn your best gown—an elegant shade of deep emerald green that complemented your complexion beautifully, with delicate lace detailing that caught the light as you moved.

As you stepped into the grand hall, the chandeliers glimmered above, and the soft murmur of conversations created a symphony of excitement. You could already see a few familiar faces, including Anthony’s, who was talking animatedly with Benedict. As your eyes caught his, a smile crept onto his face, and it sent an unexpected flutter through your chest.

“You look stunning,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as you approached him. There was a sincerity in his tone that made your heart race.

“Thank you,” you replied, trying to keep your composure. “You don’t look too shabby yourself, Viscount Bridgerton.”

“You’ve really been making an effort, haven’t you?” you remarked, genuinely curious.

“I have,” he replied earnestly. “I realized how much I took for granted, and I want to change that. I want to understand you better, to show you how much you mean to me.”

His words stirred something deep within you. It was a mixture of hope and caution, the remnants of your heart still wary. “It’s going to take time,” you reminded him gently.

“I’m willing to wait,” he said, his voice firm yet tender.

The rest of the evening passed in a haze of laughter and shared stories, a tentative but genuine connection beginning to weave itself between you. Over the following weeks, Anthony continued his pursuit, each small gesture a reminder of his commitment. He would bring you books he thought you’d enjoy, spend afternoons listening to you play the piano, and even sought you out during family gatherings, always ensuring you were included.

During one particularly memorable evening at a ball, Anthony once again swept you into a dance. The music flowed around you, and with each turn, he whispered sweet nothings, his breath warm against your ear. “You look breathtaking tonight,” he murmured, pulling you closer.

“Flattery again?” you teased, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you.

“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth,” he replied, his gaze unwavering.

As the dance continued, a group of gentlemen approached, their laughter echoing with a cruel edge. One stepped forward, a smirk plastered across his face. “Well, well, if it isn’t the Viscount and his precious wife,” he sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. “I never thought you’d stoop so low after stepping out on her for that soprano. What a delight to see you back with the real prize. But then again, is she really a prize if you had to search elsewhere?”

The laughter from his companions was sharp and mocking, and your heart sank at their words. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and anger flooding through you.

Anthony’s demeanor shifted in an instant. “If you’ll excuse us,” he said coolly, his grip on your waist tightening as he moved to lead you away. “Your lack of manners is as appalling as your lack of character.”

“Come now, Anthony. You can’t seriously think anyone would believe you’re happy here,” the gentleman continued, his smirk widening. “After all, we all know your heart is still with that soprano. Poor thing, she wasn’t simply a phase, was she?”

The cruel laughter of the group hung in the air, and you felt the sting of their words cut deep. Anthony’s protective nature surged to the forefront, his expression hardening as he glared at them. “Fun at the expense of another’s feelings is not fun at all,” he retorted, his voice steady but low, a clear warning laced with anger.

You watched in surprise as he stood his ground, the intensity in his gaze unwavering. “You’d do well to remember that she deserves respect, not your mockery.”

As the gentlemen backed off, their laughter fading into awkward silence, you felt a rush of gratitude for Anthony. “Thank you,” you whispered, looking up at him. In that moment, you truly saw the man he was becoming,the way he stood up for you, how he was learning to respect your feelings, and the genuine warmth in his eyes. It was as if a veil had lifted, and you could see the sincerity in his actions.

Your heart softened for him, the edges of your hurt beginning to blur. “You’ve really changed,” you added, your voice barely above a whisper. “It means so much to me.”

“Always,” he replied softly, his gaze searching yours. The intensity in his eyes was filled with an unspoken promise, a vow that he would continue to earn your trust and love.

As the evening wore on, you both enjoyed each other’s company, the space around you brimming with laughter and joy. The memory of the cruel words from the gentlemen faded, overshadowed by the warmth that radiated between you and Anthony. With each smile, each shared glance, you could feel the distance between you gradually closing, drawing you closer together.

You gently squeezed Anthony’s hand and leaned in close, your voice barely above a whisper, “Come with me.”

His eyebrows raised in curiosity, but he didn’t hesitate. You led him out of the ballroom, down the halls of the house, until you found a small, secluded alcove at the back of the house—a quiet corner where you could be alone. The air was cooler here, with the faint scent of roses from the garden outside, and the moonlight filtered softly through the window.

Anthony looked at you with concern, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what was on your mind. “Are you alright?” he asked gently, his voice filled with care.

You nodded, stepping closer to him, feeling your heart pound in your chest. “I’m fine, Anthony. I just… I wanted to talk to you alone.”

He looked nervous, as if he feared what you might say. His eyes flickered between yours, waiting, bracing. You took a deep breath, your fingers still wrapped around his.

“I’ve been thinking,” you started, your voice soft, “about everything that’s happened between us. The pain, the distance… but also, how far you’ve come.” You met his gaze, your heart swelling with the depth of emotion that had been building inside you for months. “You’ve changed, Anthony. Truly. And I can see how hard you’ve worked to prove yourself, not just to me, but to everyone.”

Anthony’s jaw clenched slightly, his brow furrowing as he listened. “I did it for you,” he said quietly, “because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you completely. You mean everything to me, Y/n. I know I’ve hurt you, and I’ve regretted it every day since. But I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as his words struck a deep chord within you. He was baring his soul to you but this time, in the privacy of this small, intimate space, it felt even more real—more raw.

You reached up, gently cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over the stubble on his jawline. “I know, Anthony. I can see that now.” Your voice wavered slightly, thick with emotion. “And I want to give us another chance.”

His eyes widened, surprise flickering in his gaze, followed by an overwhelming rush of relief. “Y/n… are you sure?” His hand covered yours on his cheek, his thumb caressing your skin as if he was afraid you might disappear.

You nodded, stepping closer until your bodies were almost touching. “I’m sure,” you whispered. “I want to be with you, Anthony. I want to move forward together. No more walls between us.”

A soft breath escaped him, as if he’d been holding it in for far too long. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I love you, Y/n. I’ve always loved you, even when I was too foolish to realize it. You are everything to me. My heart, my soul… I don’t deserve you, but I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret giving me another chance.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but they were tears of joy, of hope, of finally letting go of the past and embracing the future. “I love you too, Anthony,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Despite everything, I never stopped loving you.”

The moment hung between you, charged with emotion, until Anthony, unable to resist any longer, gently cupped your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft at first, tender, as if he was afraid to push too far. But as your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer, the kiss deepened, becoming more passionate. Years of unspoken feelings, of longing and heartache, melted away in that single, soul-stirring kiss.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together, the weight of the past lifted from your shoulders.

“You’re mine,” Anthony whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m yours, forever.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, feeling the warmth of his love wrap around you like a blanket. “Forever,” you agreed, your heart full.

Years later, the memory of that night remained vivid in your mind, a turning point in your love story. Life had changed for the better, your marriage growing stronger with each passing day. You and Anthony had built a beautiful life together, filled with laughter, love, and the joy of your growing family.

On sunny afternoons, you would find Anthony in the garden, playing with your children—two boys and a girl—who adored their father with all the fierce love you had once felt when you were a child. He was a different man now, a devoted husband and a doting father, and every day he made good on his promise to you.

One afternoon, as you watched from the porch, you saw Anthony scoop up your youngest daughter, spinning her around as she giggled uncontrollably. Your heart swelled with happiness, and you realized how far the two of you had come. The man who once made mistakes was now the man who never let a day go by without showing you just how much he loved you.

Anthony caught your eye from across the garden, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. He smiled, his eyes filled with the same love and devotion that had been there that night in the alcove, when you decided to give him another chance.

And you knew, deep in your heart, that it had been the best decision you had ever made.

I think he knows - B.B

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Wordcount: 0.7K

Warnings: Age gap (10 years, Benedict is 28, Reader is 18.) No Y/N used.

Authors note: Who was gonna tell me our boy Ben is 28 in S2??? I was flabbergasted when i googled it for this fic😭

The ball was absolutely boring to you. You were silently observing the people there and the conversations being held around you. The dance card that dangled from your wrist painfully empty, the small glass lemonade in your hand turning lukewarm from being held so long. Your eyes fall on Benedict Bridgerton, one of the most eligible bachelors of the season.

This social season was only your first, having been presented to Queen Charlotte only two weeks prior. You held no hopes of marrying this season. The gentlemen of the ton had not paid a lot of attention to you thus far, apart from the few dances you’d had.

Despite mr. Bridgerton being 10 years your senior, you felt yourself oddly enamored by him. You had just turned eighteen, only just allowed to be out in society. Regardless of your age you had gentlemen far into their forties approaching you for dances. The thought of mr. Bridgerton wanting to dance with you did not repulse you like it had with other gentlemen. Thinking about it even made your stomach flutter a little, not that you would ever admit that.

Benedict had been getting pestered by debutantes and marriage minded mama’s all evening. Since the ball was hosted by the dowager Viscountess, his mother, it was to be expected he would be approached all night, but in all honesty you pitied him a bit. He had been getting more and more attention each social season that he remained unmarried.

You had heard of Benedict Bridgerton before your debut, as he was an acquaintance of your father’s. Now at the ball you saw him in a completely different light though, not an acquaintance of your father, but a man you found quite attractive. You had always thought him an attractive man, but in the lighting of the sun setting and the stained glass windows from the ballroom he looked simply angelic.

Benedict and your father often painted together and you always found small excuses to be in the room, harboring a small crush on Benedict.

Suddenly you were pulled out of your thoughts when Lord Beswick approached you. Lord Beswick was a man in his late thirties with little to no hair on his head. He had seemed particularly eager to have you dance with him on earlier occasions, which was hard to refuse without seeming impudent. As the man approached you, you prepared yourself to have to dance with him again.

Then you feel a touch on the small of your back. Your head snaps around to find the source of the touch and your eyes meet those of Benedict Bridgerton. Lord Beswick then finally reaches you and asks you for your next dance.

"Unfortunately for you, the lady has already promised her next dance to me, Lord Beswick.” Benedict tells the man in a smooth and charismatic voice. You silently thank him with a look and allow him to write his name on your dance card. He quickly leads you to the dancefloor and gets ready to dance with you.

As the music starts playing Benedict begins dancing with you gracefully, he had obviously had dance lessons as a child. “Thank you for saving me from Lord Beswick.” You thank him, speaking softly, almost as if you were frightened to talk to him. Truthfully you were slightly scared to be talking to him, he was a bit intimidating to you.

“No need to thank me, I could not let a lady such as yourself dance with such a man.” Benedict states. His voice enhances your attraction towards him, it being crisp and confident. You had noticed before he always carried himself with confidence and grace. “I shall thank you for it regardless, I do not believe I would have survived another dance with him.” You utter out, still nervous to be in such close proximity to him.

You feel like he has got your heart skipping down sixteenth avenue, it almost beating out of your chest. He gives you a small smirk, looking down at you as you dance. “I have noticed you looking at me, Tonight and whenever your father and I paint at your estate. Is there any particular reason for that, my lady?” He asks, the smirk still lingering on his face.

I think he knows…

I really want to write an Anthony fic but have no idea what to write lmao, send requests

Anthony and his wife are totally different, having an argument with different ideas (maybe she has the same personality as eloise). (but nothing too heavy, probably something funny and cute)

just a lil drabble, hope you like it!

“No, I absolutely agree.” You tell Eloise. The two of you were talking about Lady Whistledowns latest publication, theorizing about who she may be. “She must be a member of the ton, how else would she hear that much gossip?”

Eloise and you got along very well, something Anthony was very happy about. You became Viscountess Bridgerton a little over a year ago, and your entire marriage has been pure bliss. In truth you could see a lot of yourself in Eloise, recognizing the rebellious streak she has. You yourself had nod been keen on the idea of marriage before you met Anthony.

“Her publishings are pure speculation, a gossip monger.” Eloise exclaims. She has been on a hunt to find out who the anonymous writer for the entire season. “I certainly don’t agree with what she publishes, only spreading shame.” You agree before taking a sip of your tea.

The door to the sitting room opens and Anthony appears in the doorway. Eloise begins to speak again but you silently signal for her to stop. You knew your husband wasn’t going to be happy about you speaking with his sister on such topics, or encouraging her search for the writers identity.

Anthony presses a kiss to your forehead and sits down next to you on the sofa. “What were you speaking about? Do not stop your conversation on my account.” He says.

“Nothing at all dearest, lady’s talk.” You assure him while shooting a sly wink to Eloise. “Yes, nothing for you to know about brother.” She almost sighs out, annoyed at her brother interrupting your conversation.

Anthony raises an eyebrow and already knows what the conversation had been about. You got along well, were a lot alike. But maybe a bit too much. “I do not hope you are encouraging Eloise in her search of Lady Whistledown.” He tells you, a bit frustrated to have to tell you yet again.

You had fought about this topic before, but you did not see the harm in the young girl doing something she clearly enjoyed and wasn’t harming anyone. “Eloise, would you excuse us? It seems your brother and I have something to talk about.” You ask the girl, ignoring Anthony’s question.

She nods in answer to your question and exits the sitting room swiftly. You turn to Anthony and frown a bit. “Do we really have to argue on this again? We clearly do not agree on this subject.”

“Eloise should spend her time in a more proper manner. Finding a suitable husband for example, it is your responsibility to guide her into doing as such.” Anthony states as pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

You scoff. “And you believe I am not doing my best? Eloise is a young lady full of fire and fervor. I believe she will find a husband when she feels ready to, we should not pressure her into marriage if she does not feel ready.” The grip on your teacup gets a bit tighter as you feel quite passionately on this subject.

It is your belief that nobody should get married under pressure. Your marriage with Anthony hadn’t been pressured and it turned out very happy.

“I am just saying, she has time. It does not harm anyone that she wants to know who Lady Whistledown is.” You continue, softening your tone a bit to try to convince Anthony.

Your husband sighs and leans back into the sofa. “I know, I am only afraid she will not find a suitable husband in time. That she will become undesirable as time goes on. I only want the best for her.”

“I know you do, but you do not have to hold her back in order to do so my love.” Your tone remains soft and gentle. Anthony nods and pulls you into him a bit. “You’re doing great as a brother Anthony. Do not worry.” You whisper to him.

Everything was going to be alright, and now Anthony realizes that as well.

★ summary — during a sweltering day at the horse races, anthony bridgerton finds himself rather enchanted by a sharp-witted, and competitive newcomer... however his greatest challenge turned out not quite to be their playful banter but perhaps something deeper than just that. ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★★ pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem! reader ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★ content warnings. n/a ˖˙ ꔫ —★★ word count. 3.8k ˖˙ ꔫ —★ genre. fluff? not really. idiots in love except they don't know they're in love...? anthony being anthony?? ★ authors note: excuse my god horrendous writing, i fear i have just come back from a 2 year hiatus and well.. it seems as if all my writing sense have bene diminished into the ends of the earth. also mutuals. i need mutuals please, i need to be insane to someone.

Anthony always enjoyed a heartfelt competition.

Perhaps a bit too much for the likings of others, but it always seemed to be infused with his blood. It all came so naturally to him; there was no need to try. As a young boy, he would compete with his brothers, Benedict having quite a hearty laugh when he would fail to beat him in whatever makeshift game they conjured up. It made it worse for the already tense gentleman because his annoying, bothersome brother would never stop bringing out how he was younger than Anthony during such times.

But he was not a quitter. He never was, and he decided that he never shall be. Anthony perpetually told himself that, and the results always ended up in his favor at the end of the day. Just as victory appeared within his reach, he let it go once more, easily slipping through his fingers in the subsequent round. Anthony has always been perplexed as to why this pattern only ever appeared to surround him or why he only noticed it within himself far too much. 

It seemed quite the same when it came to his love life as well. Taking away the winning part—he never quite seemed to win. Conceivably, Anthony never thought he could truly love someone with his entire being; the sensation felt so foreign and despicable to think about. An acquaintance, he supposed, was something he could settle with. And yet, an admirable acquaintance proved hard to find in this economy. The number of women that lined up for a dance, a date—whatever it may be, were all too simple-minded, credulous, or even dumb, if Anthony really thought about it. None of them appeared to be a suitable partner.

Those thoughts haunted him day and night throughout the season—the wonder if he’ll ever meet anyone well-suited for him, he pondered to himself. Anthony deemed himself rather fortunate that he was a busy man, bustling about a handful of places in need to complete the tasks firsthand. When he had his hands full with some problem, even if it may be pointless, occupied his mind enough for him to forget about his marital issues. Taxation never seemed more interesting to him.

Conversely, he found that it bothered him most during social events. Whereas his problems stood face-to-face against him, sometimes it felt as if it were a direct punch to the gut. With the remaining eligible ladies dwindling, his temper for it all only grew to being far more annoyed than anything else. Any other year, Anthony would’ve respectively enjoyed the horse race that he attended within the company of his brothers, but at this time, his mind had been elsewhere as he mindlessly stumbled his way around the course grounds.

There were a number of people that stood around him, chatting expressively with one an

other. Ladies whispering in hushed tones, their husbands gathered amongst themselves, likely betting against one another. Anthony couldn’t help but to do so himself—a solid bet did him well most days. Although, perhaps, he wasn’t the brightest when it came to the subject despite betting upon the favoured horse.

Anthony tugs heartily at his neckpiece, adjusting the pressure against his throat as it pressed in such a peculiar way that he began to pay some mind to it. He adjusted it so that it was allowed to rest lightly, not entirely choking him out anymore as it had done just moments ago. The effort ended up being weirdly abominable.

Peeved, bothered, and sweaty, he decided sullenly the lemonade that the event offered would not be such a bad idea to him after all. Refreshing was the only word that happened to catch his mind as he politely hurries his way towards where the stand had caught his eye as he made his way into the event. It seems as if half of the people there had a similar idea, heeding from the lengthiness of the line. He could perhaps find some place else to get some refreshments, but if Anthony is being honest, the idea of continuing to walk in this heat whilst unknowing if there even was anything waiting for him out there, wasn’t one that he would immediately jump to. And so he begrudgingly waits.

The sun beats down harshly upon him, and he tirelessly slides off his top-hat to appease the sweat that had begun to cling onto the sides of his forehead. Anthony dabs the beads away silently with the cuff of his coat when no one else is paying any mind to him. He liked to call himself fortunate as the line dissipates fairly quickly, and it is only a few minutes later when he finds himself nearing the refreshments area.

“Cooling, is it not?” 

It takes Anthony a beat to realize that the sudden intrusion of the voice is addressed towards him. He swivels his head, pivoting himself so he can adjust to the sudden change in position to locate where the sound had come from. He is quick to answer the question as the fine-looking lady standing next to him stares right back into his betrothed soul.

First impressions always stuck near and dear to Anthony, and while usually it would be noted of their personality and not much else, he finds himself in a different situation to the norm. The first thing he notices happens to be the alluring eyes, mysterious with a gaze that would unsettle any person, man or woman. But the expression read differently, a polite smile stretched upon the delicate skin, her fair hair conditioned beautifully for this particular sunny day. Anthony is quick to return the smile, as he had done so many times before in the past. He could regard it as a daily occurrence now.

“Indeed, it is.” His response is considerate, his voice moderately even; it’s as if he were trained for this. And Anthony supposed he quite literally is trained for it. “Especially on a day as sweltering as this.” 

He can faintly hear in the background a man grumbling incoherently about keeping up the line, and he apologetically (although he doesn’t feel very apologetic) responds to the not-so gentleman behind him. He hastily picks his glass, an internal groan erupting in him when a couple of drops spill onto the earthly grass. At least it had avoided his clothing by its means. Anthony had already begun to walk away, lemonade secured, when he noticed the same lady who had engaged him in a brief conversation engaging in the same direction that he was headed. 

“Such events are quite amusing,” Her words are delicate, but they are firm enough for Anthony to know that she stands her ground. She stands ever so beautifully, firm but beautiful, letting her dress flutter slightly into the soft breeze that washes over the course. “I can not say that they were common in my homeland.”

Ah. So that is why Anthony failed to recognize her—a new citizen, or possibly just visiting some family for the season. After all, Mayfair was quite prestigious in its ways if you stood in the high rankings. “So I take that you are not from here?” He questions, even though he already knows the answer.

The lady shakes her head, the hair atop her head bouncing as she does so. “Not quite.” She responded appropriately. She rattles off some place that Anthony had surely never been before, and he nods upon hearing the answer. "I am here visiting, as my cousin kindly offered to host me, and who am I to decline such a gracious invitation?"

The words rolled sweetly off her tongue, as if she were making a harmonious melody. Certainly a clever tongue in her mouth, Anthony could think to himself. “Well then, I must certainly assume that you are here for the season.” 

It was an honest question. The lady looked to be in her earlier years of life, if Anthony really had to make a guess. Fair skin, beautiful features, and a voice as gorgeous as the waves in the ocean—what else would she be doing in Mayfair at this time of the year? It only seemed reasonable to make that assumption. He stands correct when she pushes her head down as an agreement, “Yes.” She says, yet she pauses for a beat before continuing her sentence, "Though I must say, it is quite a considerable departure from what I am accustomed to back home.”

"In a manner most agreeable, I trust?" Anthony says, and the lady smiles approvingly. It was quite a sugary smile, the sort that sat well within the presumably older man. It looked as if the course grounds had gotten crowded by tenfold since Anthony had turned his back, making the exertion towards the stands much harder than what it should’ve been.

“Well, yes.” Whereas, the tone of her voice contradicted what her words have stated. The lady’s eyebrows furrow for a mere moment, as if he were contemplating something of sorts. “Nevertheless, it is quite hard.”

He inclines his head. Anthony could somewhat agree with her words—the season was always stressful, a throatful of things to stress and worry about, a million matters to perfect to attract the best of the best. He had never felt too stressed, perhaps when he was swarmed with tasks to complete for the up-and-coming ball or party, but never on his performance at such events. Anthony believed that is why he suddenly threw himself in as an eligible bachelor, and the best if he may add, was so diminishing. "With a lady such as yourself, I must presume it is not exceedingly difficult."

The lady, which Anthony now realizes that he does not know the name of, blushes a shade of pink that could only be described as warm, like a rose pelting in the wind. She laughs graciously, accepting the compliment with ease. “I must confess, I am flattered, Mr…” Her words trail off as she too comes to realization with the fact she does not know how to address the young gentleman.

“Lord Bridgerton.” He introduces, his voice not in any way condescending as many others may take him on to be.

Anthony takes note of the way the lady’s eyebrows raise up in surprise, followed by the rather flushed look that began to tint at her cheeks. "Oh dear, I beg your pardon, my Lord." Tilting her head down hesitantly as if she were unsure of what formality would be the most appropriate. It almost forces a chuckle out of the Viscount.

"And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" Anthony continues on as it is only polite to ask so. 

"Mm, indeed. How remiss of me not to mention it beforehand…” The lady says, letting out a sort of awkward laugh that could be seen as rather affectionate. “My name is Y/n.” The lady states, followed by a surname that Anthony can faintly remember to be as one of the other Viscounts that lived in the city, although he couldn’t quite say he knew the name all too well. Certainly not one that he had talked to on the occasion.

“I see,” Anthony nods along, a faint smile tainted upon his lips before he even knows it himself. “Charming gentleman your cousin is.” He could not say if the man was truly charming, or a gentleman at all, as he had only read a couple lines about it from the Lady Whistledown paper that his family had received a couple of long weeks ago. 

“Charming, indeed.” The words were more so grumbled, as if she didn’t quite agree with the statement. “That is certainly one way to describe him.”

He chuckles at the disdain laced upon her voice. Anthony fairly enjoyed the new sense of emotion—most ladies he had the pleasure of talking with all embellished their compliments in spite of thinking the opposite. Being able to hear an objection that wasn’t sugarcoated heavily; Anthony would think that he notably liked the trait that distinguished Y/n.

The course grounds slowly appear into Anthony’s line of vision as the conversation dies down. The sound of chatter that did come from his or her mouth refilling his ears—excited husbands yelling bets at one another, ladies shaking their heads as so—the look that was etched on their faces would be one that Anthony could appreciate and find humorous.

"I must confess, some of the wagers being placed are rather simplistic in nature." Y/n cuts in through the stillness of their discussion beforehand. A nice conversation starter, but one that would rile many people up. "It appears as though none of these individuals have ever graced a racecourse before! How utterly rash of them to bet upon the favored contender solely because of his popularity."

He can’t help but be taken aback, although once again, her exaggeration was one that could be seen as comical. That is, before he had realized that he himself had also bet upon the favored horse, Nectar, which Anthony assumed the lady was talking about. For a moment, he wonders if her words are pure bullshit, if she was just making conversation with him. It is as if Y/n sees right through him.

“Oh my, do not tell me you have also fallen into the unfortunate trap of betting for Nectar.” Anthony can’t quite place what expression she expresses, but it does not look good. Disappointed, or perhaps pity. 

“Naturally, I betted upon him, it is a sensible bet, and he is a horse of sound character who shall undoubtedly finish with victory this afternoon.” He defends, the tone of his voice sounding rather offended at the plain mention of his unwary wager. Something deep down in him wonders if the lady was indeed right, if he really did not know what he was doing. Again, Anthony could not say he was educated well enough, and admittedly, he had bet upon Nectar due to the favorability of his win. “I have a well placed feeling about him.”

“A feeling?” Y/n’s eyebrow cocks up, the smile on her face now more jovial than polite. “Or is it the choosing of the horse that everyone has chosen? Well, I do suppose that adds to the list of husbands who shall be more than disappointed once the race has concluded.”

“I beg your finest pardon, I have made a strategic bet.” His words are more puncuated than before, suddenly relishing within the first person to truly give him some sort of competition that did not stem from his brothers or family, for that matter. “Nectar is a prized steed. He is quite well bred, highly trained, and, as many other people have shown, well favored.”

Y/n tsks, shaking her head as if she were scolding Anthony as his mother and father had done when he was a young boy. “I must assume you have not considered the quality of the racing course and the weather to assess the true potential? Although these sorts of events are not truly common back in my homeland, I do must say that many of these may just be common sense.”

She knows that her words are stretching the truth, that it wasn’t just common sense, but Y/n must admit that she took delight in having a friendly banter. She climbs up onto one of the wooden bleachers, sitting herself upon the heated seat, with Anthony following quickly behind her. “You see, my cousin had kindly explained to me the expectations of the race, and it is said that Nectar raced well at Doncaster; however, the track conditions were far from the same. A firmer course, if you will. While now, over here…” She pauses to wave her hand at the field of grass in front of her view. “It is much softer, and it is a rather humid day. He will much slowdown in the final leg, giving HighFlyer the much easy victory.”

Anthony scoffs. Foolish? Perhaps. Tinted with truth? Also yes. "Are you merely echoing the words your cousin imparted to you earlier?" He argues as well, Anthony never backed down from a challenge, and this lady was surely challenging him.

“And are you merely saying that I do not know about horse racing because I am a woman?” She tilts her head to look directly at Anthony; the grin that is placed strategically on her face was one that he could not argue with. And he is sure of that when he opens his mouth to bite back, but being blatantly unable to respond with something witty. Oh, that shit-eating smirk that was so easily disguised as a polite smile made Anthony oh-so infuriatingly upset. Upset because she knew what she was doing; upset because, well, he was moderately fond of that smile.

“We shall see then.” 

Famous last words, because well, he is proved to be utterly wrong. The course of disappointed groans that steamed through the crowd, which Anthony would not admit (but was a part of), as HighFlyer flew his way across the finish line were abominably loud. Nectar staggered behind him moments later, but not before the crowd had seen how winded he was by the heat and conditions. 

The lady behind him had laughed in delight, unable to celebrate fully before she must turn towards Anthony to shove it into his face. “I can not say that I have ever beat a viscount before.” Suddenly, all formality that was once there had been gone, destroyed, as if it had never been there in the first place. “I do suppose there is always a first.”

“And a last.” Anthony grumbles under his breath, in hope that Y/n would close off her ears to the harsh criticism. To his luck, she does hear.

“I must concede, you are just like the many men who claim to be gentlemen.” She replies, even though she seemed not to be very upset by the Viscount’s words. If that had been the case, it would have appeared as though Anthony had experienced numerous episodes of frustration—possibly humorous ones, but nonetheless, frustration.. "Unwilling to concede defeat, even when it lies directly at his feet." 

“I am able to concede defeat if the defeat deserves to be conceded.” His words are sharp, even though the smile tugging at his face says different to his own jumble of words. Anthony could not quite help it when he sees her eyes light up with something that he could not describe. “If it dares, look me in the eyes.”

“Ah, is that right, my Lord?” She questions, carrying herself with the confidence that he hadn’t seen in forever. An admirable trait indeed, if Anthony must admit. "Does not defeat gaze directly upon you as HighFlyer is crowned the victor of this afternoon's fine race.”

He sighs. Anthony was never one to be dramatic; he always held himself upright and, in his family's words, rather serious. Still, he had to admit that his gasp was a bit dramatic. “Ah… well.” His words trail off slowly, grimacing at the truth of the lady’s words. “I suppose you are… right this time.” The syllables were uttered slowly, followed by another huff of a breath that he could only feel to himself.

She laughs, that beautiful melody of a laugh. While in many cases, it would be regarded as an unpleasant sound unless it was done so delicately, hers was not delicate, nor was it ungracious. It was as if the notes from every music piece ever composed had all come together to form one masterpiece of a harmony, one that ebbed and flowed in all the right ways. 

“Oh rejoice! What a sound those words are!” Y/n breathes dreamfully. 

The track is far from empty, with many individuals walking over to congratulate the winner, while the others either mourn the losses of their empty wallets, or giggling gleefully over their new-found bundles of heritage. However, the bleachers were starting to thin out, leaving just a select few groups.

There is a sense that weaves through him as he ponders his next move. He could surely just stand himself up, mutter out a respectable goodbye, and leave, yet at the same time, he could not allow himself to just do that. Anthony seemed far better off conversing with this lady than with any other of the ones that he had danced or engaged with in the slightest. The thought made him laugh at his own stupidity, and yet;

"I cannot suppose it would be honorable of me not to inquire if you might attend the Hearts and Flower Ball with me. I trust you have heard of it?" Anthony asks, not just out of politeness but also the small amount of desire he feels for just a beat of a moment. One that felt odd and far too new in his chest, something that he had yet to feel in the weeks that had came, and the weeks yet to come. 

The lady showed a glimpse of astonishment, and Anthony wonders if he had made the right decision upon asking her about it in the first place. "My Lord, are you, perchance, inquiring if you wish to take me on a social outing?" Though even she could hear the tiny quiver that was woven, her voice seemed steady as she spoke.

“I… suppose I am, yes.” He stands with his head gently cocked to the right, extending his hand in consolation. Anthony can feel the regret seeping into his words as they were carefully placed, because God, if she came to deny his request, he was sure he could drop dead on the grass at that given moment. 

“I would love to.” And Anthony would not be able to stop the sigh of relief that washed over him even if he had tried. The tension that creased his forehead, all the way down to his calves, was quickly overridden with a sense of declaration. 

As he wove through the throngs of disassembling guests, waving courteously to the lady that he swore to uncover the mystery of, Anthony finally let himself pry out of dapper smile. For the first time in a while, he felt as if he were winning. Not just a kid-made, pointless game, but something much deeper than he could have ever imagined. Except, this time, he would not allow it to simply just… escape his grasp.

★ summary — after his fathers death, anthony finds solace within an unexpected someone ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★★ pairing: anthony bridgerton x sibling!reader ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★ content warnings. mention of death, description of grief & death, teenage anthony being in shambles after edmunds death (rest his poor soul) ˖˙ ꔫ —★★ word count. 3.9k ˖˙ ꔫ —★ genre. angst, so much angst. smidge of fluff, hurt/comfort? ★ authors note: anthony's story is actually so sad but i wanted to see more of how he dealt with everything and a deep dive onto what he felt of so... (also there are NOT enough anthony x sibling reader so here we are!!) ⠀⠀⠀❛⠀⠀ requests are open !!

Anthony had always believed that a profound sadness enveloped the body like a condecending fog, delving deep into the bones and clawing recklessly at the soul until it was a suffocating weight with no escape in sight. Yet now, as he stood amidst the bouts of chaos, he felt nothing. No sadness, no anger, no frustration. Just a vast, empty numbness that swallowed his entire being whole.

It were as if the world around him came to a grinding halt, and he had stopped with them—unable to escape the grasp of the coldness trickling up upon his spine. It felt as if his physical body had been frozen, but consciously, he had not—a distant observer in a weary state of forgery. The sheer oddity of it all left him out of it; an unsettling sense that he was lost in a dream too overwhelming to even comprehend was vastly disheartening. It felt like... a storm, a thunderstorm brewing inside of him, circling through and around his every vein and nerve until it ceased to exist.

He can briefly reminisce, pinching himself over and over until his skin turned blotchy red and had grown irritated in the area. The pain was a sharp reminder to him that it was a futile attempt at an escape, that it was not just some dream that he could simply wake up from. Yet, it could not be; Anthony wanted nothing better to do than just refuse. Laugh at the servants that crowded him with questions that he could not answer—the questions that he should not be worrying about at his age.

Their voices seemed to be distorted in a way that Anthony could not quite make out—a dissonant chorus, overlapping under the distinct rushing and ringing in his own ears. It was as if it went in through one ear and out the other, like water through a funnel. None of it made sense, despite it being more than natural common sense. He still isn’t sure how he managed to even utter a single coherent word; Anthony couldn’t even hear himself over the cacophony that tumbled through his mind. He couldn’t hear himself over the concious noise that screamed in his head and translated all the way to his entire body until it was the only thing radiating through his pumping blood.

In the mix of what seemed to sound like if someone had put all the most horrid sounds a man could hear and mixed them all together, jumbled and overwhelming, he could faintly hear his mother. His poor mother, screaming and crying, the sound so haunting and raw that Anthony wishes he could never hear again in his life, yet it lingered upon him like an uninvited shadow in the corner of his room. Even when it was not presently there, when he was stuck alone at night, his siblings sent off to bed by the maids, his mother nowhere in his line of sight, did he stare at the ceiling of nothing—hearing those cries replaying in his head again and again and again. It’s as if he wanted himself to go mad and Anthony must say, he was very close to so.

But the sounds were only a singular part of his torment. Lord, have mercy on his miserable soul; nothing could’ve prepared him for the sights that awaited him, that he was forced to face by nothing but himself.

His mother sprawled across the staircase, a flurry of maids assisting her but to no avail. There was no ending to her constant misery, and for a brief moment, a moment that Anthony must regret, he wished that his mother had an off-switch so he could just stop it. For her sake or his, he couldn’t quite say. 

His siblings, on the other hand, were a mix of emotions that Anthony was not qualified to handle nor care for. Was that not what maids were for? Daphne cried silently, dabbing at her tears cascading down her cheeks that failed to subside. He silently wonders to himself how many tears a woman could cry before her very essence would be evaported, while Colin and Benedict, although undeniably upset, managed to hide away their sentiments, at least towards Anthony. Well, he was sure he caught a glimpse of a tear roll down Benedict’s face, but there was nothing he could say nor do about that except pat him on the back a couple of times as a comfort of sorts before he’s again whisked away to care for something he knew little about. He wasn’t prepared for this; he wasn’t qualified for this. He was just a child. 

At least the younger ones were mostly oblivious to the situation that had wrapped around the mourning family. They all gazed up at Anthony, more confused than upset, and he must think that they would wonder why all their older siblings suddenly all looked so remorseful, cloaked with grief, and their mother a distant entity that was soon regarded as unapproachable. In the recesses of his grief-sorrowed mind, a feeble thought flickered for a moment's notice: how, he pondered, for any way to describe the gravity of their weighted reality. Could he even explain to them? Shield them from the truth, or perhaps let them burden down the knowledge that would take away their youthful innocence as it had done for Anthony as well? He felt like an abonomibal creature for even thinking about it twice.

One in particular, suggested to be more curious than the others. Y/N, her name was. Her curiosity stood out like a sore thumb, perhaps like a lightning rod in a thunderstorm. He couldn’t help but to wonder at how she seemed so upbeat despite the dark and grim reality that faced her angel of a soul. She didn’t ought to know the truth. Each time Anthony called for her, the name rolling off her tongue with gilded ease. These times, unlike others, a gentle plea was slowly woven upon his voice that could speak no more as he edged her away from the chaos with a simple “Get away from there.” or “Come over here, Y/N.” In these instances, he always sounded so diminished that Benedict would end up swooping in and picking her up for some other sort of entertainment that was not so utterly upsetting.

This night couldn't be any different.

The thunderclap erupted like a cannon shot in the wild—a deep, profound, and resonant roar that rattled the air around them, the windows shuddering with every harsh punch of wind. It was, perhaps, a night of sorrows. As the rain splattered upon the house as if it were a hose, the wind howling in the near distance. Anthony swears for a beat that he can faintly hear the rain-shooken birds finding solace in their chimney. He wishes that he were a bird; at least he would be able to have some place to find tranquility that was not just the dreadful drag of the house, each lamenting moment drowning all the cheeriness that once stood in this very place.

Anthony taps his quill absently upon the polished wood of his late father's table, the designs that were so intricate, swirling under his fingers like echoes of the past that he could no longer reach but yearned for. It must’ve taken months upon months to create it. He found enjoyment in running his sullen fingertips around the smoothness of the edges, a contrast to the jagged edges that traced along his heart. Anything that wasn’t entirely dejectful felt like a cruel mockery of how he felt.

It was late—far too late for anyone in the house to be up, him included. And yet, Anthony couldn’t find it in himself to indulge in the luxury of being able to forget it all, even for a few fleeting moments. He had tried, laying upon his father's old bed in his old room, which smelled all too much like him, enveloping his entire being. A bittersweet waiver of worn fabric and a mixture of odd colognes and papers that had been burnt from days ago. It was haunting in a way that Anthony couldn’t quite place, as if his father were still next to him—an unseen presence, watching his every move. Every time he squinted his eyes shut, the image of his father in the garden flooded his mind, lying so freakishly still. It coursed through his thoughts. He had been well surrounded by vibrant blooms of the spring-induced flowers, which seemed much too cheerful under the circumstances, and Anthony disantely thinks if those were the flowers to be used for the funeral.

Those were no means to sleep, slipping away like sand through his fingers.

He isn’t quite sure why he slips into his study rather than any other place for some sort of solitude. Anywhere would’ve been far better than his father's study; nonetheless, he finds himself sitting in the very same chair his father once sat in. Would he be proud? The words ring into his mind, digging as if it were like a tattoo within his brain. He had thought about it a select number of times over the course of a couple of days, yet the question remains unsolved. Anthony respected his father more than anyone else in his life, and putting words into his mouth that he could not say only made him feel bitter rather than better.

The silence is deafening—as if all of a sudden, the thoughts and ringing that took up his every moment had just chosen to dissapear. A harsh push back into reality is what Anthony would’ve guessed. 

Tap

Anthony furrows his eyebrows, knitting together to crease over his squinted eyes. The new, unfamiliar sound is something that he briefly wonders. He strains to listen for any hint of noise beyond the relentless screeching of the wind and the staccato rhythm of rain pellets up against the window, each drop intensifying as time dragged on. When there is nothing to hear to follow up with his thoughts, enveloping him in a wooful silence, Anthony, for a chilling interval, genuinely believes that he might be going insane. As far as-

Thump, thump.

He could no longer deny the truth that it was in fact, not his mere imagination. Anthony was more certain than the flourishing green of the grass outside the house that the sound echoing through the darkness was real and not just a byproduct of his sleepless night or the weight of horrors from the days that lay behind him pressing down upon his consciousness. He stands up willfully, feet hitting the floor with a soft thud that was met with a creak reverberating from the old wood panels. The candle that he had lit for comfort wavers precariously, the flame teetering on the edge of extinction from the sudden movement. It is no longer than a mere count of seconds before the light flickered back to light, casting an ominous glow throughout the room.

“Hello?” 

Anthony was a bit ashamed to admit it, but his words wobbeled as he spoke. A mirror reflection of how he truly felt. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath to steady and ground himself to the so little he had. The silence that he was met with was perhaps even more unnerving than before—not even a sinned whisper to break the heavy stillness.

“Who’s there?” He proclaims, this time louder, his voice firming itself as the time passed by cautiously slowly, like it was moving through sticky molasses. Anthony is a moment's reach away from venturing out of his study and investigating for himself, curiousity gnawing at him. It was soon deemed unnecessary when a familiar little head popped up from the right frame of the heavy wooden door, wild tufts of hair jutting out from all directions in a way that resembled . He can’t help but to let out a huff of relief when he notices that it is only Y/N and that he was, in fact, not crazy.

Relief then morphs into confusion within a snap of a finger. His eyebrows are met together again, except this time, not from any sort of paralyzing fear but in question. “Y/N, pray tell, what brings you out of bed at this unearthly hour?” Anthony is quick to step away from his desk, taking 3 large steps towards the younger sibling, looking down upon the half-shamed, half-curious look that had crossed her face.

He shook his head yet, bent down far enough to pick the little girl into her arms. She doesn’t protest, instead, nestling herself into his bigger body as if she were seeking some sort of comfort that Anthony could not find in himself to give. He had never been the best at offering solace to other people, nor himself, and especially not now, when his own heart felt too dim and restless to share.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She mumbles, the words lost into the warm crook of Anthony’s neck. He sets the little girl onto one of the chairs that had been meticulously placed in front of the tidied desk. As he stands, his gaze drifts upward to the Renaissance painting hanging on the wall, overlooking the study—an eye-striking masterpiece from an era long before either of them had taken their first breaths. In truth, Anthony wasn’t quite sure how they even managed to get their hands on such an exquisite masterpiece, but it had been his father's favorite painting, so he didn’t dare ask. Every time he turned to face it, the vibrant colors and intricate details felt like a worn ghost from the past, fluttering memories that stung with longing. The image reminded him far too vividly of his father, pulling him into a clouded reverie that soured his mood.

Anthony’s lips are pulled into a drifted frown, eyes gazing over to the uncurtained window where darkness stared back at him, reverberating how the moment felt of. He unknowingly presses his fingers up against his hair, as if he were to adjust how it looked, although he never quite cared for how his hair stood. Is it the storm that troubles you?” He questions meticulously, knowing how fidgety Y/N got during those periods of weather; she never seemed to be a big fan nor curious of it, rather burying herself into a bundle of blankets in pillows. “You have nothing to fear from it.” 

The girl tilts her head to one side, as if she were pondering her answer. There is a brief moment before she slowly shakes her head to the side. “A bit, I suppose.” She mumbles, her fingers playing with the hem of her nightgown, the silk fabric one that was cooling rather than heating her up. She always preferred the material. “But…” 

His eyebrow arches in surprise at the answer, a rumble of perplexity stirring inside of him as he pondered what could be bothering her at this time of night. “Then what might it be if it is not the storm?” his tone softening as he addressed his younger sister, the usual edge in his voice fading into something gentler than usual.

“I…” She lets out a soft exhale, as though she were afraid of saying it aloud to Anthony. It struck him as odd, as well; Y/N was always more open towards him than any of his siblings, although he never understood why. He never brought it up in conversation, simply accepting her willingness to share with him. “I was thinking of father.”

The words spill out hesitantly, and Y/N looks up at her brother in a way that he could only describe as ashamed, though it was nothing to be ashamed of. Anthony’s breath catches into his throat, a reflex that had become all too familiar in recent days. He runs a hand over his face, appearing more dismayed than ever. “Whatever for?” He asks cautiously, unable to help the bittersweet modulation that came along with the sentence.

Y/N looked down, legs swinging over the edge of the seat, the motion that was so kid-like, reminding Anthony of the innocence of his little sister, how he needed to protect her from the cruelty of the world. “I miss him.” She finally says, though not confidently as she usually had been, as though she had chosen her words carefully, placed diligently. “Where is he?”

Where is he?

The words chime in his head persistently, the sensation of a dagger being strung into his heart. Anthony swallows the hardening lump in his throat. He had been able to answer questions and answer to orders his entire life, and yet– this simple question, was enough for him to falter in his step. He could not just simply tell her, Oh yes, our father. He is dead. Because, well, she was a child, and at her young age, Anthony would not know of what death was. It was the furthest thing possible from what he would’ve thought of, and yet, this was Y/N’s truth. She had to face the ridicule of death, not even knowing what it was than a melancholic goodbye.

“He-” The word floundered in his mouth, unable to correlate the thoughts in his brain to the words coming out of his own mouth. “He’s…” 

“Is he dead?”

Anthony almost chokes out a laugh, because what the fuck? Where did she learn of such? She was still so young; he didn’t get it. He was sure neither Colin nor Benedict would directly say it towards her, and Daphne wouldn’t have the heart to do so. None of the other children had much of a clue of what was going on, so it could not have been them either. “Y/N, I-” And yet, he is still unable to speak. He doesn’t know if it is because of the absurdity of the conversation, or if it really is the sleep deprivation messing with him, and if he’s being honest, Anthony doesn’t have it in him to care for the reason. Not when he had... this to worry about now.

“He is dead, isn’t he?” He’s unable to refrain from noticing the quiver in her lip as she spoke, albeit the even cadence. 

Anthony dips his head down, eyes gluing to the floor because he’s unable to look his sister in the eyes. Unable to break the news and her heart at all the same time. She loved Edmund dearly; she loved everyone dearly, and that was her problem. Letting go was always the hard part, for even just a couple of moments—how could she let go for an eternity? Y/N is far from stupid though, and she’s quick to get the message. She too, looks away, this time to somewhere that Anthony can’t quite place. Her eyes are distant, as if she were not there presently, and it scared him a great deal.

“Are you sad?” Y/N inquired, the question so basic yet so meaningful for Anthony, and he can feel the strings tugging at his heart. It’s almost laughable to him; a young child who barely understood the severity of the situation, was the first one to ask him about how he felt. Not his siblings, not the maids, not the butlers, and certainly not his mother. No one doubted him, and while Anthony knew his family cared for him deeply, it underwent as if no one really did. 

“I suppose I am, yes.” He answers honestly, given that he was tired of lying to himself and others. And well, he was sure Y/N would figure it out eventually. 

“It’s okay to be sad.” She whispers gently, her head inclining to the left, and then up to meet Anthony’s gaze. For a brief period of a second, he wonders if she could read him that well. If she could see right through his facade, and knew what he needed to hear to the brink. He refused to acknowledge it, but he was aware that the words had some sort of effect on him. In a manner that had hardly ever moved him before. 

He can do nothing but nod slowly, hesitant to speak upon the matter at hand. "You truly ought to be sleeping, Y/N.” Anthony breathes out, pressing his hand against his subdued jawline, an uneven beard already beginning to form from the days he hadn’t shaved. It was the only response he could come up with, the only response he could say without directly speaking on the matter. 

Y/N bounces up, and off of the chair, landing on her two feet that were padded with socks that went up to her knees. Her favorite pair that she refused to let go of despite the many holes that had broken into the fabric. She stood much shorter than Anthony, still in the very early stages of growth. “Maybe you would be less sad if you talked.” She states woefully, her eyes holding only the sincerest of truths to the point where even Anthony knew that she did not lie. 

“I’ll be okay.” Is his respondance, his words cutting sharp into the heavy air that had filled the room. Because deep down, Anthony knows that his sister is partially right, that he truly needed to talk to someone. The only problem that he now faced was his honor and the fighting fact that he had no one to talk to. “It will all be okay.”

It’s hard for him to even believe his own words. He hadn’t had a clue how Y/N, in all her young wisdom and pureness, could believe him either. In spite of what he thinks, she only agrees with him, already beginning to walk towards the door again, this time with Anthony trailing a meter behind her. He knows well enough to at least tuck her into bed this time, to make sure that she gets some proper rest for the day ahead, although there is hardly anything to do other than funeral planning, which she had no part in.

Before she managed to walk out, Anthony ruffled his sister's hair in affection, something they now both lacked tremendously. He wished upon those days when he was Y/N’s age, able to curl up in his mother's lap, or next to his father in his study, where none of these adult problems affected him and it was just pure bliss. A perception which he could no longer relish in at this point in time. 

“Will we talk tomorrow?” Y/N promptly solicits, something that Anthony could finally answer that wouldn’t hurt him.

“I’m sure of it.” Perhaps for the first time in days, it’s a truthful answer in what he regarded. He says it, not as an entire answer, but as a promise for himself, because although he could be the mouthful of things that his brothers had constantly reminded him about, he never truly broke his promises for those he loved. And as Anthony slips his way out of Y/N’s, his sister falling into a light slumber that he’s sure will keep her down for a number of hours at least. Her eyes fluttered with the weight of sleep, her breathing steadying as the rainfall began to die down during the late night turning into early morning. 

God, maybe he could finally get some much needed sleep.

i wanted an Anthony fic, where he is already married (arranged) and she knows about sienna, but ignores it cause she’s kinda given up on loving him, and then he ends everything with sienna like in the series and then he has to win her over and show her he is worth loving and that he’s changed