#can the Viscount fight?

[only-one-brain-cell]

PERIOD

[fantasyescapes17]

In Pursuit of Wedded Bliss (Updated Masterlist)

A Seventeen Regency!AU Series

It is the season- and London is full of eligible bachelors and bachelorettes, waiting to be swept up in a whirlwind of romance, passion and matrimony as they each fight their own battles for happiness in London's elite society.

BEFORE YOU READ:

All installments are interlinked and take place in the same universe. The timeline can be confusing, especially if you read out of order. These are listed in recommended reading order.

The combined series word count is around 100k. Don't start reading right before an exam.

There are seven members covered in the full installments. I will not be doing full installments for the other 6 members. You can request drabbles for the other members. Please see the rules for requests here. Requests are currently OPEN.

Happy reading!

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Patience: Choi Seungcheol (complete!)

An elaborate charade- that is what your life has been for these past few years, and it has taken the help of more than one person to balance your delicate lies and secrets. Now entering your final season as an eligible young lady seeking wedded bliss, will you be able to keep up the act in order to achieve your dreams?

Part 1 Part 2

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2. Candle: Yoon Jeonghan (complete!)

You have always received the best of everything life has to offer: be it education, family, fortune or happiness. Mr. Yoon Jeonghan- one of the ton's renowned villains- cannot possibly bring you happiness of any kind, never mind wedded bliss. But can you evade Jeonghan's charms? Or will you find yourself falling victim to this clever rogue?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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3. Manners: Joshua Hong (complete!)

Viscount Joshua Hong is by far the most eligible bachelor in London. Rich, handsome, and renowned for his excellent manners and refined tastes. Young woman would kill for the chance to be the Viscount's chosen bride. But nobody can quite determine which of the young ladies he prefers, and you are beginning to have your doubts. Is the Viscount really as gentlemanly as the ton seems to think?

Part 1 Part 2

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4. Scandal: Jeon Wonwoo (complete!)

The Viscount's sister with an enormous dowry, beauty and unmistakable talent- you began the London season as the most desired woman in any room. But Jeon Wonwoo (a man who would rather hide in the library than dance at a ball) was beyond your comprehension. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it embroiled you into a scandal with a man you could never love.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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5. Wings: Kim Mingyu (complete!)

Your debut in society was as spectacular as one could be, but nobody had prepared you for what came afterward. When you find yourself overwhelmed during your very first season and unable to keep up with the rat race to secure yourself an eligible husband, a curious mentor appears- in the form of notorious flirt and self-proclaimed rake, Mr. Kim Mingyu.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

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6. Closed Doors: Kwon Soonyoung (complete!)

Soonyoung had made peace with his station in life. A younger son of a little-known family, he was not set to inherit a fortune and had nothing to recommend him but his bright personality. Nobody expected Soonyoung to make the match of the season. But when you- a woman with ties to the royal family and riches beyond his imagination, a Duchess in your own right- seeks Soonyoung's hand in marriage, his life begins to spiral entirely out of his control.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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7. Luck: Lee Chan (coming soon!)

A mixture of hard work and sheer good fortune had landed you a coveted position as the governess for Viscountess Hong's little sisters. But when the Viscountess' notorious younger brother returns from his time at Oxford, you find yourself treading dangerous waters. Mr. Lee Chan- with his boyish smile and passion for horses- seems determined to make your job very difficult indeed.

[fayes-fics]

Making an Heir

2k Celebration Masterpost

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: "An heir is needed...soon"

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, loss of innocence, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding kink.

Word Count: 610 (ehhh closer to 250 than I was expecting tbh)

Authors Note: Tenth in my 2k follower celebration drabble request fills. This one is for @fiction-is-life prompt is the summary (ask here). Listen, it's me; you knew you were going to get breeding kink with a prompt like that, lol. I will dedicate an upcoming full-length fic to you to compensate for this being short - i.e. an actual drabble lol. Unbetaed. Enjoy! <3

He looms over you, so masculine and all-encompassing. You lay wide-eyed, panting, the pressure just… so much. Pleasant, definitely, but overwhelming. It feels like he is so deep inside you, you will never be the same again…

This - the marital act - is not at all what you were expecting. Your mother had tried to inform you, woefully ineptly as it turned out, of what to expect on your wedding night. But nothing could prepare you for when he disrobed, and you caught sight of his “member” engorged and red-tipped, almost angry looking. And then what he did with it. 

Getting you to lie down on the bed and open your legs wide as he crawled between them and first pressed his fingers inside you, whispering sweet nothings, you crying out as he brought you to a place that made you float among the stars. Then he pressed inside you—the initial stab of pain ceding to pleasure. The blunt pressure and heat unlike anything you could articulate. And then he started to move, and all your could do was cling to him, shock and tingles running through your frame.

“Anthony…” you breathe his name, your hands clamped around his shoulders as his hot, wet lips map your cheek.

“Yes darling, you are doing so well,” he groans, sounding winded, wrecked, shaking with something. “Are you ready?”

“For what, my lord?” your brow knitting. You thought this was it. Surely there cannot be more to this act?

“For my seed, darling,” he chuckles, punctuating his sentence with a sharp thrust that makes your toes curl, hooking into his calf muscles.

“What is that?” you whisper between pants. He feels even steelier inside you now; you can barely form words.

“Oh my girl….” there is that chuckle again, almost menacing, “An heir is needed….soon.”

“This?!? This is how I come to be with child?” you are so utterly astounded you cannot stop your mouth from gaping open.

“Yes, darling. You will grow the next Viscount,” he explains warmly, running a hand down between your bodies and cupping your dewy but empty belly. “Right here. But only if you lay still and take my seed like a good girl. Will you do that for me?” he pants, an errant curl slipping over his forehead as he pounds into you.

“Yes, my lord, of course,” you rush obediently, eager to please your new husband.

“Good girl… good fucking girl…” he grunts, and then you find yourself screaming as his fingers drop between your legs, and he hits a spot that blinds you; rockets you again into a celestial plane outside of yourself.

Then you feel him curl around you, his mouth steaming a litany of praise as you flutter around him, wracked sobs as you fight to get air in your lungs, stolen by how huge he feels as you convulse around him. 

“Take it,” he warns, jerking violently, then holding himself deep as he groans gutturally. “Stay down, my darling, don't move, take it all,” he murmurs, running his nose over your cheek as you feel something warm bloom inside you, his weight slumping onto you. “Well done, darling,” he compliments, pulling up slightly but still buried deep inside you as you feel his steeliness ebb away.

“What if it did not work, my lord?” you fret, running a hand down his handsome face.

“Do not worry. I will fuck you every day, all day, until you are with my child,” he assures with a handsome smile that catches your breath. Then he leans in and bites your earlobe as he slips from your body. “And even then, I won't stop. Ever.”

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23

[favefandomimagines]

Ocean Away (a.b)

Summary: a disastrous fight threatens to end your engagement with Anthony

AN: inspired by “Ocean Away” from the Unofficial Bridgerton Musical. I know it’s a song for Daphne and Simon but I thought it would fit so well with Anthony

This was deeeep in my drafts

He hadn’t meant for it to get so out of hand. What started out as a seemingly normal conversation, ended in both you and Anthony shouting at each other.

“Anthony, I need to ask you something.” You said to your fiancé. “Yes, darling?” He questioned. “When was the last time you saw Siena?” You asked.

The question took him aback. You have never spoken of Siena or his past endeavors. Meaning something must have made you ask him. “What has made you wonder such a thing?” Anthony asked. “Lady Whistledown,” You started before a scoff cut you off.

“Lady Whistledown? You are believing this gossip now.” He spoke. “She has never been wrong before, Anthony. She wrote that she saw you leave the opera house the other evening.” You said.

“An evening where you said you were with Benedict.” You added. “You are above believing these lies, Y/N.” He said. “You have not yet denied it once.” You replied.

Anthony had yet to deny any of what Lady Whistledown wrote and that made you fear that what you had read was true. “I should not have to. We are to be husband and wife in a matter of weeks and you question my fidelity to you.” Anthony said.

“Because two weeks before you proposed to me you were with her. Am I wrong for worrying?” You rebutted. “Your insecurities are not my doing, do not put this blame on me.” He snapped. “My insecurities? I have never been insecure in our engagement until you gave me a reason to be.” You spoke. “This is mad. You believe Lady Whistledown over me?” He asked.

“For goodness sake, Anthony, you have not denied it! There is only one side to this currently and it is hers.” You yelled. “Well, forgive me for not wanting to entertain this any longer.” He said, turning away from you. “You cannot even be honest with me, can you?” You asked quietly.

Anthony could hear the way your voice began to break as his back was to you. He never wanted to hurt you.

Hurting you was at the top of a list of things he never wanted to do to you. And by not claiming his innocence because of his pride, he was hurting you.

“I am going to spend the night in Eloise’s room.” You announced. Anthony still made no attempt to move or even apologize.

You wiped a tear from your face quickly as you headed for the door.

“I sincerely hope you know that Lady Whistledown said I was mad for accepting your proposal. That you would always be the naive and self-sabotaging young viscount. Please do not prove her right.” You spoke before leaving the room.

The problem was Anthony was a prideful man and it would be his pride that would prevent him from doing what was right.

The garden party was supposed to be a celebration of your engagement and it was turning quite sour. Luckily, no one knew of the turmoil that was going on because of the facade you had put on all day.

You spoke to guests, entertained their prodding questions into your wedding and tried to carry on with the afternoon. Your eyes often wandered to Anthony, who was standing stoically with Colin and Benedict. He looked as if he had completely forgotten about your argument as if it meant nothing.

It hurt you, seeing him act so blasè about what had occurred the night prior. That made you fearful because what if he ended the engagement? What if he did not want you anymore?

He had yet to apologize for the way he spoke and the words he said, you had hoped he had just forgotten. Or maybe he was not sorry at all.

You found Eloise and Penelope Featherington, both girls trying to help distract you from your own thoughts.

Eloise was one of your favorite people because of simply how she was unapologetically herself. She was a very funny young woman and that was refreshing in society.

Anthony watched you as you smiled and laughed with his sister by the lake. You were happy after all that happened last night. How could you be happy?

“How can she be smiling? It is as if she realized I am not what she wants.” Anthony spoke aloud. Benedict and Colin looked at one another, neither knowing how to approach the topic.

“Brother, maybe she is trying to be brave. Not let people know she is hurting. They all believe you were with Siena the other evening, she is trying to show it is all a lie. Even if she does not believe it herself.” Benedict said.

Anthony continued to watch you, your eyes never once meeting his gaze. He knew he needed to apologize to you. Tell you that he was never with Siena and the moment he realized you were who he wanted, he had not seen her.

There was a moment where he lost you in the crowd of people. He did not know where you went off to and that worried him more so than his pride.

Anthony started frantically looking around the grounds for you, weaving through the crowd until he spotted you sitting on the bench under the willow tree.

You had always loved that spot and often times Anthony would catch you reading there. It was also the spot you were sitting in when the two of you confessed your love for each other for the first time.

He approached you silently and sat down a few inches away from you.

“I remember the first time I saw you. You had just arrived at the Queen’s ball with your mother and it felt as if time stopped. There was nothing, that tempted me to take my eyes off of you. I knew then that I wanted you and only you. You made me believe that marriage could be for love and for nothing else.” Anthony spoke.

Him recounting the night of your debut made your eyes well up with tears.

“I am afraid. I am afraid that you will want her again and I cannot go through that kind of pain. I love you with everything that I am and if I was not enough for you, it would be the death of me.” You confessed.

Anthony looked at you with slightly wide eyes, never having heard your concerns before. He blamed his past behavior on your fears knowing it was not an easy feat to love someone with his reputation.

He moved closer to you and took your hand in his. “I am also afraid.” He spoke. It was then you looked at him with eyes wide, never having heard the man you love he so vulnerable.

“I am afraid that I will not make you happy. That one day you will wake up and feel like some other man could make you happier.” He continued. “I do not think there is another man in this lifetime who will make me as happy as you do.” You said.

“I have not nor will I ever, see Siena again. You are the woman I love, the woman I cannot stop thinking about. It will always be you.” Anthony said. “She has always had such a strong hold on you, forgive me for being skeptical.” You muttered.

“Now the only woman who has a strong hold on me is you. And that is how it will stay.” He replied. “Do you promise?” You asked. “I promise.” He spoke without hesitation.

Anthony took your hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I love you, Y/N. I always have and I always will.” He said. “I love you too.” You spoke. “And I’m sorry.” You added. “You have nothing to be sorry for, my love.” Anthony replied.

“Your mama might think we have run off and abandoned our own celebration.” You commented. “That does sound rather tempting.” Anthony teased.

You stood up and held your hand out for his, which he took with a smile. If you would have told Anthony Bridgerton that he was about to get married and to the love of his life, he would have called you mad. But here he was, and couldn’t have been happier.

[newtonsheffield]

Molly, just look at how close they are holding each other compared to the other couples in the background. And Anthony looks like he's still in awe of her a year later.

The hilarious thing is Anthony has always been about maintaining no his family’s image in society. Season 1, that was his mission in life. Same to some extent in Season 2. He wanted to find a wife who would uphold the Bridgerton family name respectfully.

Now here he is, inviting His Beautiful Wife to do the regency equivalent of grinding followed by a slut drop.

Anthony, my man, no one’s going to take her off you again. I just know that this man has bodily stepped in front of other men talking to his wife in case it leads to a dance. And Kate probably lets him because he has a charming twinkle in his eye and she actually loves dancing with him. She kind of loves that while so many women’s husbands retire to drink brandy and gamble away the moment that should be set aside for their children if they even attend at all her husband is not.

Her husband has been kind to his sisters, commiserating that they don’t want to dance with foolish gentlemen and then he seeks her out. He finds time for her in his evening. She doesn’t even have to beg him to dance with her. It’s always his idea and the way he holds her still leaves her a little breathless, even a year into their marriage. He deposits her back with his mother or his brothers or sisters before he leans in and lets his lips brush her cheek before he murmurs in her ear.

“I’ll get you something to drink, Love. You look awfully flushed.”

There’s that annoying, cheeky, twinkle in his eyes when he pulls back, the same charming smile that slides right off his face when Benedict smirks,

“Can I have a drink, brother?”

Anthony blinked at him, “Of course you can. Fortunately, you’ve been blessed with two legs and two arms to fetch it yourself with.” He turned to the other ladies present. “Mother, Lady Danbury? Could Benedict and I fetch you a drink as well?”

Benedict grumbled something about being treated like a pack horse as Anthony tugged him away and the way Anthony winked at her before he left made her cheeks flush stupidly again. And it’s not long until the other ladies of the ton descend.

“Lady Bridgerton, we’ve not seen you since the wedding. The viscount seems… awfully enamored. Whatever is your trick?”

Kate laughed, feeling a little sad for these women who were never lucky enough to find the person who felt like their other half. She wouldn’t have done either were it not for a twist of fate. “There’s not any trick. He and I simply… enjoy one another’s company.”

“Lord, but isn’t it awfully hard work having him around all the time? Send him back to the country if you need a break.”

Kate bit off a surprised chuckle, “I must confess I’m yet to grow tired of him. Even when he’s a little grumpy he’s awfully amusing.”

“Ahh Ladies!” Anthony said as though having to fight through the crowd of women to get back to his wife was something that delighted him rather than annoyed him. “My dear brother was just saying how little he’d had to fortune to dance this evening. Perhaps you’ve your dance cards at the ready for him.”

Benedict looked as though he’d murder Anthony the next time they were alone and Kate didn’t bother to bite back her smile as Anthony giggled. The noise several years younger than he was. As though in this he was still the cheeky boy who’d helped his father put glue in Benedict’s shoes.

“And you? My Lord?”

Anthony sighed disappointedly, “I’m sorry to say that Lady Bridgerton has claimed all of my dances this evening.” He turned to Kate, grinning wickedly, “Love, you’re still looking flushed. Perhaps you should drink your lemonade in the fresh air.”

Kate nodded, “I think so, Darling.”

He tucked her hand into his arm, one hand still holding her glass and swept her away towards the garden without another word.

“Benedict is going to be cross with you.”

Anthony giggled again, “yes, he is. Especially because the actual conversation we had involved him asking you to dance to avoid those very women.”

“You’re feeling very cheeky tonight.”

Anthony let out a faux gasp. “Nonsense… I simply thought you might prefer to… inspect the maze in Lady Trowbridge’s garden. There’s some very… dark parts to it. I might need help noticing the flowers.”

“Yes, I suppose you will. You best show me then.”

As soon as they were out of sight, Anthony picked her up and ran into the maze.

[theroyalyandere]

Hi, can i ask for yandere prince with a childhood friend maid

yandere!prince x childhood friend!maid!reader (smut 18+)

cw: dark content, murder, unhealthy relationships, violence, stalking, non-con (non-consensual) content, virginity loss, blood, kidnapping

you and the prince were exactly at the same age that makes the both of you inseparable despite the queen's concern with her son being too close to a peasant luckily the king did not mind especially when he saw how cheerful his son is whenever you're around

you both did different kinds of mischief together causing headache to everyone in the palace

it's always been you and him together sneaking through secret passageways to escape his lessons and you escaping from your worried mother

years passed by his affections slowly became an obsession

there is not a moment that you are away from him, he constantly needs you by his side

as he grows up to be a fine prince and you a young woman, everyone decided that you two should no longer be allowed alone by yourselves especially how you two are unmarried

it would be a tarnish to the royal family's reputation if you were always seen by the young prince's side

despite the order coming from his mother the prince did not listen and it did affect the two of you but he didn't care

everyone majorly criticized you saying how you don't deserve him and how you are aiming for the crown and it hurts

so you distance yourself from your dear friend

bad idea because as soon as you avoided him

he caused chaos and panic when he suddenly became irritable and snappy

he even punished a bunch of servants because they displeased him

you think it will pass but it got even worse to the point he got into a fight with a viscount to defend you

he beat the man into black and blue then fell unconscious and the guards had to restrain him from the feral look at his face

his erratic breathing as he feels adrenaline rushing through him

his eyes lands on yours and you felt a shiver as he flashes you a grin

the man was later declared dead from the bruises that he received from the prince

no one could ever change their opinion on their prince

his reputation was tarnished, the royal family had to take measures to ease the public

he was berated by his mother who's words he only shrugged off

his world stopped when the word 'betrothal' left the queen's lips

he began to protest saying he wouldn't dare marry another woman if it wasn't you

the queen and the prince argument rang through the room allowing any passerby to hear the rumours

the word then began to spread that he is to be wed and his obsession about you

you slowly felt unsafe with the stares and whispers but you had to endure it for the sake of your livelihood

you continued to ignore him but the prince manages to follow you around, watching you do chores and interactions

what you don't know is that he often sneaks into the maid's quarters to stare at your slumbering figure

he would caress your skin and hair then kiss you

he had to restrain himself from his thoughts to completely devour you

his stalking continues until he saw another man showing interest towards you with no regards to the circulating rumours about his obsession over you

he watched with rage filling him as he saw how you return the man's affections

he clenches his fist as he kept repeating in his head that you're all his

the prince meets his fiancee, the poor girl couldn't even capture his attention

his nonchalance brought tears to her eyes as she watches him look over you, a maid who's being courted by a knight

sometime later, your engagement to the knight was announced

people are congratulating you with the prince's intentions darkening every second

if he can't make you look at him again, he will have to resort to more... forceful measures

so he found you alone one night, cornering you

you struggle within his grasp as he looks at you crazily

burying his face into your hair, inhaling your scent

"mmmm.. I fucking missed you so much. don't you miss me my girl?"

you whine and plead for him to let him go but it only spurs him on as he tightens his grip around you

"you're only mine, you hear me? Mine."

you shiver as his voice drips with danger

he tells you how's he's gonna change for you if you take him back

but you try to reason with him saying you two are already betrothed

he doesn't give a fuck and forcibly kisses you

his kisses were so rough you tried to bite him which made his lips bleed red

he chuckles and grows even more determined

"oh how wrong of you to do that foolish girl, I want to be gentle with you but I guess you want it rough."

your eyes widen and shake your head no as he carries you to a nearby room

you cry as he strips you naked, exposing your body to the cold air

he licks his lips as he unbuckles his pants

he grabs his hard cock dripping with pre

the prince pulls you towards him but you scramble away in a futile attempt

he's much stronger so he looks at you manically while you cry with fear from what he is about to do

he smiles down as he spreads your cunny open cooing how he's going to take your virginity

you keep screaming "no!" and beat his chest which angers him

he aligns his tip with your entrance then plunges without warning

you wail with pain as he does not allow you a second to accomodate to his size

he continues to take you as you cry from the pain and the situation

he only leans down to silence your crying

the prince looks down to see blood and slick coating his cock

he coos at how well you're taking him while you lay there crying and thrashing around as he fucks you against your will

he later makes you cum which renders you motionless and he soon follows after

you keep crying and pass out with exhaustion taking over you

he only grins as he kisses you softly before carrying you away to a secret place

he lays your body down into a soft bed and cleans you

he chains your wrists and legs into the bed so you won't be able to escape him

he kisses you one last time before tucking you in

the prince looks back lovingly before leaving the room

the room is hidden away inside the castle and no one has any access to it except him

the moment you wake up, you thought that what happened to you was only a nightmare until you see the chains around you and an unfamiliar room

the prince enters holding a tray of food and only smiles as he approaches you

you try to get away but he only pulls you towards him kissing you like a lover would

"now no once can take you away from me, ever."

a/n: I made it even darker, I hope you don't mind!

[callsign-rogueone]

the chess game - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader part four of Brennan and Duchess's story. words: 2.9k 🏷: IRON FLAME SPOILERS, she/her reader in established relationship with Brennan (Duchess!), some heavy-handed chess analogies (do they even have chess in Navarre?), Cat gets her own warning, canonical peril with the venin, tiny bit of angst between you but it’s resolved quickly, suggestive at the end, italic dialogue between reader and Bren is spoken in Tyrrish, proofread this with a migraine lol enjoy

Brennan’s breath catches as you begin your descent of the marble stairs. You’re the picture of a warrior princess; draped in fine black silk that trails to the floor, plates of silver armor resembling tiny dragon scales covering your bare shoulders, a sheathed longsword strapped down your spine. You’ve left your hair in its usual braids, but a spiky diadem sits atop them, silver engraved with runes of protection.

“Lieutenant Colonel,” you greet, surprised. “It is always a pleasure.”

He extends a gloved hand to help you down the last three steps. “The pleasure is mine, my Lady,” he replies, lowering his head in deference and pressing a featherlight kiss to the back of your hand. 

You suppress a shiver at the touch — one you’ve felt many times, but there is something new about it now that you’re out of Tyrrendor and nobody here knows who you are to one another. It almost feels scandalous.

“Allow me to introduce Captain Mira Sorrengail and Cadet Violet Sorrengail.” 

You dip your chin to them in acknowledgment, smiling warmly. “I must thank you both for all that you’ve done for our people,” you say with a look to Xaden. 

“It has been our honor, Lady,” Violet says, smiling back. 

Mira resists the urge to roll her eyes at the finery, instead eyeing your hosts with deep distaste and suspicion — she’s never been this close to a gryphon flier without trying to kill them.

Xaden and Violet are staring each other down, undoubtedly fighting across their bond — he’s mad that she showed up unannounced, and she’s mad about him leaving her in the dark about all of this.

Brennan watches you carefully, the two of you doing some silent communication of your own.

You have every piece you need to win this game. You just need to think three steps ahead of your opponent.

————————————————————————

The three Sorrengails clean up well.

You can only imagine the amount of coercion it took to get Mira into that dress, but it looks good on her. Violet wears a similar one, her hair down and flowing over her shoulders instead of her usual tight coronet, and Xaden can’t seem to pull his eyes away from the soft silver strands.

You can’t help but smile at Brennan. He must have packed the formal uniform himself, knowing the level of dress required at these types of dealings from the complaining you’d done every time you’d returned. 

It looks near-identical to the one he’d worn on your wedding day — that one now hangs in a closet in your parents’ estate in Lindell, beside your white silk dress, but that jacket did not have quite as many adornments; he’s earned a few more stripes in the last three years.

You may not be close to him now, forced to remain a professional distance away, but you take solace in the fact that your hands have been all over that uniform before — that you’d sewn on the Lieutenant Colonel’s insignia for him last year, that you’ve stripped that jacket off of him more than once.

The Viscount wastes no time making his first move. “Have you given any more thought to Drake’s proposal, Lady Lindell? He is quite eager to hear back from you.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs; you weren’t expecting to discuss this now. “I have, actually.”

Brennan has never been a jealous person, never quick to anger, but right now he looks like he’s going to break a bone in his hand from how hard he’s clenching it into a fist. 

You choose your words carefully, knowing that these negotiations may be over in seconds if you say the wrong thing.

“I must decline. Tyrrendor is still working to recover from the events of years past, and we are now being presented with new threats as well. It would be wrong to divert any attention from my people at a time when they need leadership most.”

“Always so noble, Lady,” Tecarus praises with a sly smile. “It is easy to see why he is so enamored with you, despite your differences. Perhaps the two of you could discuss it again after this matter is resolved.”

Of course he won’t take no for an answer. 

Brennan has relaxed, but he still looks upset, avoiding your gaze. 

You can’t seem to quell the bubbling fear in your chest. Does Brennan doubt your affection for him, your commitment to him? Surely he understands that this is strictly business, that you aren’t seriously entertaining the idea of leaving him for Drake Cordella.

“Do not take his distance to heart, royal one,” Ban says firmly. “He loved you through his dying breath, and he will continue to far beyond the next.”

She’s right. You’ve never given Brennan any reason to believe otherwise, and you’d probably feel the same, should he have received a marriage proposal from another.

You realize exactly why you’d doubted yourself — Cat is staring daggers at you from her uncle’s side.

“That’s not the real reason, is it?” She asks, and the discussion that you hadn’t really been listening to suddenly grinds to a halt. Every head turns toward her, then follows her burning gaze to you. 

If she wants to fight this fight, you’ll let her. There is no getting under your skin, under the crown you wear; you’ll play her game, and you’ll win.

“I had hoped the Viscount and I would continue this conversation privately, as it is not the focus of our gathering,” you reply in the cold tone you’d use to discipline a cadet. “There are multiple reasons for my declination, which I shall not discuss in present company, but the foremost is that I have already found the one I wish to share my title with, and it is not your cousin.”

Cat simmers with rage and embarrassment, clearly not done with you, but you revel in the look on her face nonetheless. 

You can feel Xaden’s eyes on you, burning into your skin, but you do not turn to look in his direction. You will not apologize for anything tonight. You will not retreat an inch.

“If she says another word, I’ll roast her and her bird,” Tairn purrs, making a rare appearance.

“Not until the luminary is secured,” his mate replies, almost playful — she’s just as sick of the girl as he is.

You build up the mental wall, but leave some gaps in the brick; enough to send a message, but not to block them out completely. They do not protest, leaving you to your business; likely headed off to sample Poromiel’s sheep.

The night air here is just as cold as in Tyrrendor, and you’re rather underdressed for the chill as you step out onto the balcony. You open the door of your father’s library just a crack, allowing yourself to draw a tiny fraction of Ban’s power to warm yourself, letting the gentle heat flow through you as you rub your palms over the exposed skin of your arms.

Brennan comes to stand at your right, maintaining a professional distance between you. 

You keep your eyes forward, surveying the arena, and speak quietly, even though nobody else here knows the language. “Have I ever told you how much I love seeing you in a proper officer’s uniform, Lieutenant Colonel?”

You can see him redden in your periphery — you’d found out after his latest promotion exactly how much he likes hearing you say that title.

“It does not hold a candle to you in that dress,” he deflects. “You’re always regal, even in flight leathers, but this…” he blows out a nervous breath, not daring to finish the sentence. 

“It took two ladies maids to do up all these clasps,” you say, a mischievous smile on your face. “I could use your help taking it off tonight — I know you’ve always been good with your hands.”

Xaden interrupts before Brennan can reply, the words coming out angular and unpolished. “Stop mind-fucking each other and focus.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Brennan scoffs. “You’re always looking at my sister like you want to eat her.”

You shoot the younger man a glare of warning, already knowing what his next words would be. “Don’t.”

Xaden rolls his eyes in response, but stays quiet.

Mira and Violet head down the stairs, and you step forward, intent to join them.

“Ah-ah, lady. You don’t want to get too close,” the Viscount says, and two of his men tug you back by your upper arms.

The wall you’ve put up is starting to crack, the emotions behind it slipping through as you realize there’s a very real chance that whatever’s in that chest is going to kill them.

The guards tighten their grip on you, likely instructed to keep you out of harm's way until this is over. You don’t struggle, focusing on your breathing, trying to reinforce the wall, to maintain the mask you need to wear tonight.

“Say the word, and we bring the castle down,” Ban growls.

“Not until we’ve made a deal,” you snap back.

It must be obvious to Xaden that you’re losing your grip. “He wants me to tell you two not to do anything stupid,” Sgaeyl forwards, sounding like she’s rolling her eyes. 

You don’t respond, don’t look to the boy to reply; you can’t tear your eyes from the lawn below you, where a living, breathing venin is standing less than fifty yards away from the two Sorrengail girls.

The wall crumbles in its entirety, rage and fear flooding through you. The guards pull their hands back, hissing in pain — you’ve scalded their palms.

Brennan is already heading down the stairs.

“Take this,” you call, finally able to form words. He turns, and you unsheath your sword in one quick movement, tossing it to him over the edge of the balcony.

You pray he won’t need to use it, but there’s nothing else you can do; even if you ran down there right now, it’s raining too hard for you to create a shield of fire around them, or to burn the thing to a crisp yourself.

All you can do is watch as the three siblings press themselves together, Mira screaming as she uses everything she has to shield them from the wave of decay.

“Incoming!”

Tairn is the first to arrive, swooping down into the arena to lift Violet up as lightning strikes the soaked grass -- electrocuting the venin. It crumples to the ground, dead.

The other four dragons weren’t far behind. They perch on the stone edge of the arena, eyeing your hosts with contempt. Ban appears to debate whether or not she’s hungry enough to polish off a whole gryphon, Sgaeyl looking like she wants to torch the gaggle of Poromish nobles that had appeared to watch Violet wield.

Relief floods your body, but it’s quickly replaced by anger -- anger that Tecarus would dare to risk Violet’s life in this way, to risk everyone’s lives by releasing a venin on his lawn.

Xaden is already on it; you turn back to see shadows curled around the man’s throat, his feet six inches off the ground as Cat pleads with him to release the man. There must be some silent communication between him and Violet, as he unhands him soon enough, sending him straight to the floor rather unceremoniously.

Mira still looks a little pale, but she’s standing on her own. You rest a hand on her arm, the other on Brennan’s, sending a soft wave of warmth to each of them; they’re both soaked to the bone and shivering.

Brennan motions for you to turn, sheathing the sword at your back. His fingertips brush your spine gently, both a soft gesture of thanks and a reminder that he is still here, despite the events of the last five minutes.

You take a breath, willing yourself to relax and building the wall back up. The game is nowhere near over.

————————————————————————

You wait in steely silence as the four other riders change back into dry flight leathers, your gaze not leaving the two guards who had restrained you earlier. They eye you with a healthy dose of fear, keeping their distance from you and your fellow riders.

You take this chance to rearrange your pieces, taking a different seat than you’d been assigned earlier. The other four fall into place silently; a united front of the Aretian leaders in the middle, a Sorrengail sister at each end. You sit eye to eye with Tecarus, Violet with Cat — both intentional choices. 

Everything you’ve done tonight has been a message, a statement, and you are barring no holds, taking no prisoners after he’d put your family in mortal danger.

You are not the ranking officer at this table, nor the ranking royal, but they let you make the call; it is obvious to them that you’re enraged. 

You keep your composure, letting the anger smolder as you speak. “I believe we have upheld our end of this deal, Viscount. We will-”

Tecarus cuts you off. “I’m afraid you are no longer in a position to be bargaining here, Lady.”

What?

“That’s ridiculous,” Brennan argues. “You won’t help us protect this entire continent, because she won’t marry your nephew?”

Your heart swells at Brennan’s unwavering defense of you, but you quickly realize what he’s done — and so does the Viscount.

“The fair knight is always ready to protect his queen,” Tecarus muses, a sly smile on his face. “But he isn’t just a knight to you, is he, Lady?”

You do not hesitate for a second, ready to put this business to bed, to finally be done with Drake Cordella’s advances and his uncle’s ceaseless meddling.

You turn to Brennan, your eyes not leaving his as you speak. “He is not just a knight. He is my husband, and when the day comes, he will stand beside me and take the title of Duke Consort of Lindell. We cannot be separated, even by death, and he is the one thing I will not compromise on.”

Brennan gives you a soft smile; after three years, you’ve finally told someone about the two of you, someone who wasn’t immediate family and hadn’t attended your wedding.

He reaches for your hand under the table. You take it, intertwining your fingers and lifting your clasped hands, resting them on the smooth wood for all to see, your rings now on full display.

You look back to Tecarus, who is uncharacteristically silent.

Brennan takes a turn to speak. “I will remind you that she is the one who has been weaving the runes embedded in those daggers my Lieutenants have given you. Should you continue to disrespect her, you will soon find yourself defenseless against a force beyond your comprehension.”

Check.

The Viscount smiles, though the expression doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Very well. In that case, I would like to change my terms.”

You nod, giving him permission to speak at his own table.

“I have taken in a hundred flier cadets and their leadership following the destruction of their academy. Take them with you back to Aretia, and train them to fight the venin, and the luminary is yours.”

You don’t bother to look to Xaden or Brennan to confer; it’s clear that everyone absolutely despises this idea.

“Fine,” you respond. “This threat is a threat to us all, and we will be stronger together than we will be separate. We will house and educate your cadets alongside our own, but it would behoove them to tread carefully. Riders and fliers have been enemies for centuries, and many aren’t quite so tolerant as us.”

You don’t need to look at Cat while you say it; she knows the message is directed to her.

“Then we have an accord,” Tecarus says, rising from his chair. “The fliers will be prepared to leave tomorrow at first light.”

“As will we,” you respond. You do not deign to thank him, watching in silence as he and his advisors file out of the room.

“If Drake so much as looks at you…” Brennan huffs, likely imagining the man with a broken nose.

You laugh, resting your ringed hand over his heart. “He can look all he wants, but I will gladly let you defend my honor if he tries anything else — you’re the only one allowed to touch.”

He groans in half-hearted complaint. “You can’t say things like that to me when we’re-”

“Your Grace,” Mira interrupts, bowing exaggeratedly.

“Cut it out,” her brother scolds, embarrassed.

You giggle. “I have a feeling she isn’t going to let that go any time soon, my love.”

“Nope,” Violet agrees, grinning from ear to ear.

“Need I remind you that you are in a very similar situation, sister?”

“You do not,” Xaden answers, stepping up behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist.

Mira nearly gags at the sight, still unused to seeing her sister with the Riorson boy.

You smile, looking at your family for a moment. “Excellent work, all of you. Now get some rest; we have a long flight home in the morning.”

You don’t need to tell them to stay on their guard — they know that this castle has eyes and ears everywhere, and that not everyone in it can be trusted.

The three of them nod, turning to head up the stairs.

You gasp softly as you feel one of the many buttons at the back of your dress come undone, your hand flying up to hold the fabric to your chest.

“I was never assigned a room,” Brennan murmurs, his warm breath ghosting over your neck. “Mind if we share?”

[rubysunnday]

I'll look after you (but I won't stop complaining about it)

requested by anon: Hi I love your Bridgerton sister fics! They got me to finally watch the show. Can I request an Anthony x Bridgerton!reader fic where it’s “4 times Anthony protects the reader and 1 time she protects him”?

requested by anon: Okay but, a twist to the story and instead of the typicall bridgerton!sister being stung by the bee, what if it’s Anthony, and everyone worries about him because of what happened to their father, and it’s specially the youngest bridgerton!sister who has a reaction like him in the show out of fear of losing her brother/father figure?

requested by anon: anthony x bridgerton sis where reader is around 15 and she has a really big fight with colin or eloise and she goes on a walk to calm herself down, falls down a hill and anthony finds her after looking for her for a while? but like fluffy pls

summary: four times Anthony protected his sister and the one time she protected him (albeit it was from the ton)

After Edmund Bridgerton, the 8th Viscount Bridgerton, died, his son, Anthony, made a promise. He sat at his father's death bed, staring down at the cold corpse that had once been his beloved father, and promised to look after his siblings - all eight of them - and to try, in any way possible, to guide them as an elder brother and as a father figure.

Whilst his siblings did not make this promise an easy one to keep Anthony kept trying. But right now, at this exact moment in time, Anthony wanted to throttle his sisters.

He vaguely wondered if anyone would find their bodies at the bottom of the lake, only to be yanked out of the thought by a pillow smacking him in the chest, the intended target oblivious as she glared at her twin.

"What is so wrong with wanting marriage?" Y/N yelled, throwing her hands up at her sister.

"It shackles you for life!" Eloise yelled back. "It silences you and your dreams."

"Oh, not this conversation again," Y/N groaned. "El, not everyone wants the same things as you. Is it so wrong for me to want to be married and happy? There are plenty of things you can still do when married."

"Not if you marry some old man who treats his women like objects!"

"Nope, absolutely not," Y/N said, getting up from the sofa, throwing the cushion she'd been hugging at Eloise, "I am not having this conversation again. Marry, do not marry, I do not care. But I am not going to sit here and listen to you call me an unintelligent woman simply because I dream of being married one day."

The door to the drawing room slammed shut. Eloise huffed, sitting back down on the sofa, crossing her arms.

Anthony pulled back a page of his newspaper, eyeing Eloise. "Is it so wrong for your sister to want marriage?"

"She does not understand what it can do to a woman, brother," Eloise replied. "The consequences, the silencing..."

"It can be a positive thing, El -"

"I have heard far too many horror stories of women being treated like cattle to view it as a positive thing. We all saw what nearly happened to Daphne when she came out."

"That was entirely my own doing -"

"This is what I mean!" Eloise exclaimed, sitting forward. "We do not get to choose our husbands. Our husbands choose us or our fathers and brothers choose them for us. Not once does a woman get a say in who she marries."

Anthony exhaled through his nose, seeing that he clearly wasn't going to get anywhere with Eloise. He folded his newspaper shut, setting it down on the coffee table beside him.

"I'm going to go check on Y/N," he muttered, standing up from the sofa.

Whilst Anthony knew Y/N and Eloise were devoted to one another, he also knew that when they argued, it got mean, very quickly. The marriage argument had been one they'd had many times before and it never ended well.

Eloise could never quite seem to understand why any woman would want to willingly be married. Y/N never quite understood why Eloise was so opposed to even the idea of marriage. What was so wrong with wanting a future for herself where she was ostracized to the edge of society?

It took him fifteen minutes and five servants to work out where Y/N had gone. As much as he adored Aubery Hall, he did curse its extensive grounds, especially when his siblings ran off.

Another ten minutes later and Anthony was finally down in the woods of the grounds, walking through patches of bluebells and snowdrops, peering behind trees and bushes.

He looked behind a fairly large oak tree and stopped, casting his eyes down. Y/N looked back up at him, her face blotchy from her tears.

She didn't say anything, turning her head away and looking straight ahead at where the river cut through their lands.

Anthony crossed his arms, leaning against the tree. "This is an argument you have had before. We all know how it goes."

"I know. Does not stop it from upsetting me or being infuriating."

"It reminds me of the argument I so often have with Colin about travelling," Anthony replied. "If he had it his way, he would be gallivanting around every corner of this world, spending as much money as he likes. I am the one who has to bring him back down and tell him that whilst we have money, we do not have enough money for that."

Y/N gave him a small smile. "It is utterly exhausting. I have tried to explain to her multiple times that marriage can be a good thing. If you find the right person."

"I can attest to that."

"Five words I never thought you would say, brother," Y/N said, looking up at him.

"This argument is not worth your tears, Y/N."

"Oh, I am aware, I was not crying about that." She looked a little sheepishly at Anthony's raised eyebrow. "I was so angry I did not look where I was going and I twisted my ankle, falling down a rabbit burrow."

Anthony stared at her for a moment. Then, he burst out laughing, leaning back, putting a hand on his chest.

"Yes, yes, laugh away," Y/N muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"No! I fell down a rabbit burrow!"

Anthony snorted. Y/N reached over and pushed her brother's leg, knocking him off balance. He stumbled to the side, catching himself.

"Are you going to just stand there and laugh or will you help me up and back to the house?"

"Alright, come on then."

Anthony held his hands out to Y/N and she placed her hands in his, letting him help her up to her feet, hopping awkwardly. She put her foot down and winced, pain shooting up from her ankle.

Without uttering a word, Anthony turned around. Y/N, snorted but climbed onto his back, using her good foot to propel herself up.

"I feel like I'm ten again," Y/N said as Anthony gripped her legs.

"I don't," he grunted. "When did you get so heavy?"

"Don't be rude. Come along then," she said, nudging him with her foot.

Anthony rolled his eyes. "If I fall down a rabbit burrow, it'll be your fault."

"Bloody hell."

Daphne whacked her sister with her blue mallet. "Language."

Y/N shot her a withering look. "It's just family, we are quite safe." She tilted her head up, looking at the tree. "How on earth are we to get that out?"

It was a well-known fact that Y/N Bridgerton did not know what gently meant. Especially when it came to pall mall. One well-aimed hit later, her purple ball was stuck up in the tree, nestled amongst the branches.

"We'll have to climb."

"No, Y/N, do not -"

Daphne trailed off as Y/N dropped her mallet and put her booted foot on a stump next to the tree. She pushed herself up, pulling her dress up over her knee and climbing up onto the lowest branch.

She could see the purple ball wedged between the fork of two branches. If she climbed up another branch and crawled forward, she could definitely grab it.

The panting of breaths came from below as Colin, Benedict and Anthony rushed up to Daphne, all looking up at the tree.

"Is she climbing the tree?!" Colin exclaimed, both delighted and slightly concerned.

"Of course she is!" Anthony snapped. "Y/N, get down at once!"

"Let one of the boys get it, Y/N," Daphne added.

"I'm up here now!" Y/N yelled down, climbing onto the second branch. "I might as well get it!"

Y/N crawled forward again, the leaves shaking at the sudden movement.

"Someone should get her down," Benedict muttered, following Y/N's movements. "Knowing our dear sister, she will fall down. She's not exactly gentle."

"Y/N!" Anthony yelled, moving to the bottom of the tree trunk. "Mother will kill me if you fall!"

"I've almost got it!"

Y/N leant forward, her fingers brushing against the purple ball. Instead of the ball falling into her grip, she lost her balance entirely and teetered forward and off the branch.

Her arms flailed as she struggled to find anything to grip on, her sibling's yells of panic from below silencing her own yelp of surprise.

Y/N was falling until she wasn't. Arms wrapped around her just before she hit the ground, her body smacking into Anthony's. The force knocked them both to the floor, Anthony taking down Benedict at the same time.

The three siblings hit the ground, hard. Anthony's head smacked against Benedict's chest as Y/N knocked her own head into her older brother's chin.

"Oh, my go - are you three ok?" Daphne exclaimed, crouching down beside Y/N and helping her sit up, a concerned hand on her back.

Y/N rolled off her elder brother and to the side, coughing slightly, winded from her collision with her brother.

"Anthony get off me," Benedict grunted, pushing his brother off him.

Anthony stumbled to his feet, swaying just a bit. "I'm fine," he muttered, dusting his jacket down. "Just another victim of Y/N Bridgerton."

Something landed on top of Anthony's head with a fairly loud thud. It rolled off him and bounced onto the floor, rolling down to Y/N's feet.

"Oh!" She said, bending down and picking it up. "I did get my ball after all!."

Y/N looked behind her frantically, desperately trying to find an escape as Cressida Cowper walked towards her, her friends walking alongside her.

She was not having a good day and she did not need Cressida Cowper to make it any worse.

"Y/N!"

Bloody hell. "Cressida," Y/N said, curtseying politely.

"You look beautiful. As ever," Cressida added snidely. "Anyone asked you for a dance yet?"

Y/N gritted her teeth. "No, not yet."

"Oh, shame. Mr Patrick, Sir Carter and Mr Norris have all written their names in my dance card."

"Well, I hope you enjoy all your dances."

"Hmm, I suppose I will."

Cressida brushed past Y/N, tipping her glass of lemonade onto her dress and down her chest. Y/N gasped, the cold liquid startling her. Cressida sniggered and sauntered off to another corner of the ballroom.

Y/N inhaled shakily, closing her eyes. She turned her back to the rest of the room, feeling her throat closing as the tears threatened to fall all over again.

A jacket sleeve brushed against her arm and Y/N knew instantly it was Anthony. He shielded her from the rest of the room as he unbuttoned his jacket and put it around her shoulders, handing her his handkerchief.

"Come on," he said quietly, taking her hand and pulling her along with him.

Anthony walked out into the corridor outside the ballroom and then into another empty room. He shut the door behind them and Y/N sat down heavily on the sofas, hanging her head low.

"I have half a mind to go yell at Miss Cowper," Anthony muttered, walking over to her.

"Not that it would solve anything," Y/N replied, straightening up. She dabbed under her eyes with her fingers, shaking her head. "Thank you."

"Whatever for?"

"Getting me out of there before I made a scene."

Anthony smiled softly. "If anyone made a scene, it was Cressida." He sat down next to her on the sofa. "We do not have to go back. We can leave."

Y/N shook her head, pulling Anthony's jacket tighter around her shoulders. "No. I do not want her to win. Give me five minutes and I'll be fine."

"Very well, then."

Y/N dropped her head to Anthony's shoulder, closing her eyes momentarily. "Thank you, brother."

Anthony kissed her forehead, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, squeezing tightly. "Anytime."

The rain lashed against the windows. A loud boom of thunder sounded from directly overhead and Y/N flinched, digging her nails into the leather of the chair she was sat in.

She didn't know what it was about storms that frightened her so much - whether it was the loud noises, the bright flashes of lighting, the sound of trees being felled - but this was the worst one they had had in years.

Anthony glanced up at his sister, pausing his writing. "Alright?"

Y/N nodded tightly, clutching her book in one hand. "Fine."

Another boom of thunder and she closed her eyes, jumping in her seat. Anthony set his pen down and pushed his chair back, walking over to his sister. He snatched up her book, putting his thumb on the page she was on, and closing it to look at the cover.

Pride and Prejudice was written on the front, each letter covered in gold foil. "Would you like me to read to you?"

"If it means distracting me from this god-awful storm, yes."

Anthony smiled, sitting down in the chair opposite his sister. He opened the book again and found the start of the new chapter. "Colonel Fitzwilliam's were very much admired at the Parsonage, and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasure of their engagements at Rosings."

Y/N leant back in her chair, closing her eyes. Anthony's voice was calm and didn't flinch once, even when lighting struck almost outside his study window. His mere presence had calmed her down from the panic building inside her.

As Anthony reached the end of the chapter, he glanced over at his sister. He smiled softly upon seeing that she was fast asleep, her head drooping to one side. He concluded the chapter, gently tucking a piece of paper in between the pages and closing the book.

It had been many years since he'd last carried anyone other than Hyacinth and Gregory to bed. Even then, they were beginning to get a bit too big and a bit too old.

Anthony gently lifted Y/N up into his arms and crept through the corridors of Bridgerton House. He laid her down on her bed and pulled back the blankets and duvet, placing them on top of her, smoothing the edge down.

"Night, Y/N," he whispered, standing in the doorway, a soft smile on his face.

Anthony did not regret marrying Kate Bridgerton neé Sharma one bit.

He just regretted his mother's penchant for big ball's and extravagant celebrations. Anthony had hardly had time to take in his new wife and admire her as viscountess - it felt as if the entire ton had been invited to the ball.

Almost an hour later, Anthony finally found his wife again, walking up to her and taking her hand in his, squeezing it tightly.

"I missed you," he murmured, leaning into her neck and sniffing.

Kate shoved him gently. "Anthony, behave."

"Apologies."

"Your mother seems very determined to introduce me to every member of the ton tonight."

"Again, apologies."

Kate chuckled, smiling widely. "I forgive you, my lord."

The string quartet began readying themselves for another dance, couples moving into position on the floor with practised ease. Anthony held his hand out to his wife, smiling.

"Care for a dance, Viscountess Bridgerton?"

"I would adore one, Viscount Bridgerton."

They danced three times in a row. Which was preposterous for any courting couple but unheard of for a married couple. But Anthony and Kate were so in love with one another, that no one seemed to really mind.

In fact, both were so enamoured with one another, that they did not seem to realise the line of people wanting to talk to them slowly dwindling down to nothing.

"Is it me," Kate said quietly, "or has no one been over to talk at us for a while?"

Anthony sipped on his lemonade and looked around, raising his eyebrows. "No, I do believe you are correct in that statement."

It was suspicious, Anthony thought, that they had been left alone for as long as they had. His eyes scanned the ballroom - he spotted Daphne and Simon, both pretending to look interested in a conversation with the Cowpers, and suddenly realised.

"I do believe my siblings are deflecting anyone that comes our way," Anthony murmured to his wife.

"Whatever do you mean?"

He pointed over to Daphne and Simon. Then he guided Kate's eyes to the left, where Colin and Eloise were listening to Lady Trowbridge.

"Oh," Kate said, understanding. She looked around the room, her eyes latching on to one Bridgerton in particular.

Y/N stood with Mr Dorset, pretending to be engrossed in Lord Lumley's conversation. She was surrounded by numerous other gentlemen, all waiting for her attention.

"Oh, Lord Bridgerton!" Portia Featherington crowed.

"I knew it couldn't last," Anthony muttered, turning his back.

"Lady Featherington!" Y/N exclaimed, pulling Mr Dorset with her as they walked over to the lady. "I have been meaning to ask you all night about your stunning dress."

"Oh, really? It's new in from Paris -"

And just like that, Portia Featherington forget entirely about the newlywed couple she'd been marching towards.

Kate caught Y/N's eye as she walked back to the wall. She mouthed a thank you to the younger girl, smiling when Y/N winked back at her, blowing her sister-in-law a kiss.

"I do believe, we have Y/N to thank for a bit of peace," Kate said, leaning into her husband. "She seems to have gathered an army to distract the ton."

Anthony looked over at her, a fond smile taking over his face. "Of course she did," he muttered. "Well, I suppose, annoyingly, I'm in her debt now."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Kate asked, letting Anthony wrap his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder.

"No," He replied, sniffing Kate's scent and pressing a kiss to her bare skin, "no, it is not."

[igotanidea]

Hmm I thought of Anthony and his wife having a fight maybe because he’s stressed or something or accidentally saying something he regrets but if that sounds boring/weird you can write what you feel right 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

how about:

Anthony getting scared of getting "too in love" (getting back to his ways from before the whole romanticism phase), growing distant, resorting to viscount duties, spending "too much" time with his brothers at gentlemen's club?

How about:

"Anthony!"

"What?" he snapped looking up at her from the pile of documents on his desk.

"Talk to me!"

"I'm busy!"

"And I'm lonely! You've been spending time with Benedict and Colin and Daphne and your siblings but not me!"

"They are my family, Y/N."

"I am your family! this is not what your mother-"

"Don;t you dare-" he stood up abruply almost tripping the chair, throwing daggers at her. "Don't you dare say a word about my mother!"

Now that's a drama the whole household heard.

[dragonagecompanions]

Companions reaction to the Inquisitor asking them to be their Maid of Honor/Best Man at their wedding? (Cassandra should've been at the wedding with Sera and my Inquisitor tbh)

(Setting this post Trespasser for continuity.)

Cassandra: The air is filled, immediately and impossibly, with hearts. So few of Cassandra's friends are free to promise themselves to a spouse, and so over the years the Seeker had relinquished that childhood dream to oblivion. But now there is such joy among her dearest friends, and no matter how long or short the engagement and planning Cassandra will be there for everything they need.

And on the day will cry more than anyone else. Everyone will be threatened into forgetting this about her.

Solas:

Varric: Now this is the happy ending to a story he can get behind. Promise an open bar and he is in.

For all of his bluster and faked nonchalance, Kirkwall's viscount is deeply touched. Over the course of this inquisition he has made friends to rival the ones in Kirkwall, and the fact that those sentiments are returned enough to merit such an invitation mean the world. Immediately he takes over logistics, and no matter if there is limited time to plan the wedding goes off without a hitch.

His speech is legendary. People cry. He's putting it in his next book.

Blackwall: It's ridiculous. It's a common request, from a friend, to stand up with them at their wedding. After all this time it shouldn't even be a surprise. But the question brings him to his proverbial knees. For so long, even after everyone knew the truth, Thom Rainier had assumed himself to be unlovable. Tolerated in a time of war for what he brought to the table, but not worthy of true regard.

This is a gift the finally unlocks those chains. He might not know much about weddings, but no matter what they need their would be warden does his best. Like Cassandra, he openly weeps at the ceremony.

Sera: Nothin' like love to make a wedding a party! This may be the one time Sera tones down the pranks, too focused on making sure both the little and big people are happy. Dorian is heavily consulted on clothing, and Skyhold's resident Jenny might even submit to a haircut.

The bakers in Thedas weep for her designs. They are perfect. Might go into the cake business, if cookies don't hold out.

Whole thing goes off without a hitch. Well, except for the actual hitch. That goes perfect.

Vivienne: Darling she is thrilled. No matter their venue or plans Madame de Fer is quick to make sure they have the best. Appointments open, caterers are suddenly free, and her tailors are on hand to make sure that everyone in the wedding party looks their best.

There is some distant sorrow later, watching the couple dance the first of the rest of their lives together, but not for all the gold in the world would she have traded her life with Bastien. That was more than enough for one heart-- it is no trial to be happy for her friends.

Dorian: No matter his travel plans or the demands of the magisterium, the moment they ask Dorian is firmly rooted in place. These people have welcomed him like no other, and to be honored with such a role is...he will not cry in public. It is unseemly for a magister.

Instead he make sure everything he touches is made perfect for them and all problems directed his way. Let them relish in the bliss of their engagement-- he will fight the florists until they realize Minrathous roses are the only way to go. And on the day, he sits patiently with both spouses until their cosmetics are perfect. But that time is also spent in quiet friendship, a moment of peace before their special moment.

Later he will refuse to ruin his own foundation with tears in public, and be quietly smug that his knock down brawl with the sommelier resulted in the best vintages at table.

The Iron Bull: There are flowers everywhere. From the moment he is asked Operation: Wedding is a full go for the Chargers. Marriage is unknown under the Qun, and so in true Ben-Hassrath form Bull takes it upon himself to learn exactly what this role will entail.

Three crashed marriages and a lot of cursing later....well, the venue is perfect, Rocky has invented a confetti cannon, and Krem has earned his place at the Maker's side for turning out a formal coat that will fit his shoulders in record time.

He cries at the ceremony. Few guests are brave enough to comment.

Cole: "Stand as a witness, the best man even if you aren't a man. Be there to celebrate, always a good friend and I want him at my side. I want that too!"

Any guest with ill intent conveniently forget the wedding date and location. One of the florists ties a bow on his hat. People cry, but the tears don't hurt. Its confusing, but he's happy to be there.

Turns out cake is something enjoyed on both sides of the veil.

[racefortheironthrone]

Please tell me more about neighbourhood PMCs in renaissance Italy

It would be my pleasure! (My research into this owes a lot to the excellent Power and Imagination: City-States in Renaissance Italy by Lauro Martines.)

The first thing to note that, unlike the condottieri, these were not private military companies. Rather, the neighborhood military companies (in the sense of a military unit, rather than a profit-making entity) were self-defense organizations formed as part of a centuries-long political struggle for control over the urban commune between the signorile (the urban chivalry)/nobilita (the urban nobility) and the populo (the guilded middle class, who claimed to speak on behalf of "the people").

This conflict followed much the same logic that had given rise to the medieval commune in the first place. Legally, the communes had started as mutual defense pacts between the signorile and the cives (the free citizens of the city) against the rural feudal nobility, which had given these groups the military and political muscle to push out the marquises and viscounts and barons and claim exclusive authority over the tax system, the judicial system, and the military.

So it made sense that, once they had vanquished their enemies and established the commune as the sovereign, both sides would use the same tactic in their struggle over which of them would rule the commune that ruled the city. The signorile and nobilita formed themselves into consorteria or "tower societies," by which ancient families allied with one another (complete with dynastic marriage alliances!) to build and garrison the towers with the knights, squires, men-at-arms, and bravi of their households. These phallic castle substitutes were incredibly formidable within the context of urban warfare, as relatively small numbers of men with crossbows could rain down hell on besiegers from the upper windows and bridges between towers, even as the poor bastards on the ground tried to force the heavy doors down below.

To combat noble domination of communal government, achieve direct representation on the political councils, establish equity of taxation and regulate interest rates, and enforce legal equality between nobility and citizenry, the populo formed themselves into guilds to build alliances between merchants and artisans in the same industries. However, these amateur soldiers struggled to fight on even footing with fully-trained and well-equipped professional soldiers, and the guild militias were frequently defeated.

To solve their military dilemma, the populo engaged in political coalition-building with the oldest units of the urban commune: the neighborhoods. When the cities of medieval Italy were originally founded, they had been rather decentralized transplantations of the rural villages, where before people had any conception of a city-wide collective their primary allegiance was to their neighborhood. As can still be seen in the Palio di Siena to this day, these contrade built a strong identity based on local street gangs, the parish church, their traditional heraldry, and their traditional rivalries with the stronzi in the next contrade over. And whether they were maggiori, minori, or unguilded laborers, everyone in the city was a member of their contrade.

As Martines describes, the populo both recruited from (and borrowed the traditions of) the contrade to form their armed neighborhood companies into a force that would have the manpower, the discipline, and the morale to take on the consorteria:

"Every company had its distinctive banner and every house in the city was administratively under the sign of a company. A dragon, a whip, a serpent, a bull, a bounding horse, a lion, a ladder: these, in different colors and on contrasting fields, were some of the leitmotifs of the twenty different banners. They were emblazoned on individual shields and helmets. Rigorous regulations required guildsmen to keep their arms near at hand, above all in troubled times. The call to arms for the twenty companies was the ringing of a special bell, posted near the main public square. A standard-bearer, flanked by four lieutenants, was in command of each company."

To knit these companies organized by neighborhood into a single cohesive force, the lawyers' guilds within the populo created a state within a state, complete with written constitutions, guild charters, legal codes, legislative and executive councils. Under these constitutions, the populo's councils would elect a capitano del popolo, a professional soldier from outside the city who would serve as a politically-neutral commander, with a direct chain of command over the gonfaloniere and lieutenants of the neighborhood companies, to lead the populo against their noble would-be overlords.

And in commune after commune, the neighborhood companies made war against the consorteria, taking the towers one by one and turning them into fortresses of the populo. The victorious guilds turned their newly-won military might into political hegemony over the commune, stripping the nobilita of their power and privilege and forcing them either into submission or exile. Then they directed their veteran neighborhood companies outward to seize control of the rural hinterland from the feudal aristocracy, until the city had become city-state.

(Ironically, in the process, the populo gave birth to the condottieri, as the nobility who had lost their landed wealth and political power took their one remaining asset - their military training and equipment - and became professional mercenaries. But that's a story for another time...)

[fantasyescapes17]

Closed Doors (Part 2)

Soonyoung had made peace with his station in life. A younger son of a little-known family, he was not set to inherit a fortune and had nothing to recommend him but his bright personality. Nobody expected Soonyoung to make the match of the season. But when you- a woman with ties to the royal family and riches beyond his imagination, a Duchess in your own right- seeks Soonyoung's hand in marriage, his life begins to spiral entirely out of his control.

Genre: Hoshi x female!reader. Regency!AU. Your title is the Duchess of Graham but your first name is not mentioned.

Warnings: Wedding night so mentions of sex but nothing explicit is described, it fades to black. Not even remotely historically accurate. Much like Bridgerton, this is all about the aesthetic.

Word Count: 7.5k+

Part 1 Part 3

Series Masterlist [This is not the first installment in this series- it is strongly recommended to visit the Masterlist and read the installments in order as they are all interlinked and the timeline can be confusing.]

"I've known the Duchess for most of my life," Viscount Hong explained as the carriage rattled along the cobblestone streets. "Our late fathers were close friends. My sister and I spent a few summers at the Graham's duchy in our childhood; although my sister was probably too young to remember much of that."

Soonyoung tried to focus on the Viscount's words, but it was difficult to hear them over the sound of his own pounding heartbeat. The two gentlemen were on their way to your manor now. Soonyoung had asked to speak with you himself, though as the manor looked closer, he was beginning to regret his decision. 

What was he going to say to you? What did one even say to a Duchess who had proposed marriage after a single conversation? Thank you? 

Soonyoung cleared his throat and tried to focus on the conversation. He needed to understand as much as he could from the Viscount before he faced you. 

"Did you never think of marrying her yourself?" Soonyoung asked. 

Viscount Hong looked surprised. "Oh- erm… not with any real seriousness. I will admit our late fathers may have preferred it. The Duchess is a good person, but I am not sure we were ever compatible in that way."

"So you were not compatible with her," Soonyoung replied in mild disbelief as he looked at the handsome, rich and otherwise impeccable Viscount in front of him, "but somehow you think I am compatible with the Duchess? Me? The second son of the Kwon family who doesn't have a single useful talent or penny to his name, me?"

The Viscount Hong sighed. 

"Soonyoung, think about this rationally. The Duchess is a young woman who has no surviving family and has been burdened with a title, fortune, and dukedom that nobody in the ton thinks she should have. She did not even have a chance to properly mourn her father; the moment he died, there were petitions submitted to the Queen by noblemen protesting her title and seeking to take her lands from her. She is fighting a battle against some of the most powerful men in the country, all alone. What do you think she wants in a husband?"

Soonyoung stared at the Viscount blankly. 

"I haven't the slightest idea," he admitted. 

The Viscount pressed his fingers to his temples. "She wants someone she can trust, Soonyoung. She came to me for help. I will not lie to you. I did introduce her to other eligible gentlemen. For some reason, she turned them all down. The Duchess only expressed an interest in you."

Soonyoung felt nauseous. "But we only talked about cakes."

"What?"

"At the ball. During our dance. I was nervous and she asked me why her ball exceeded the usual London ones, so I told her she had a better selection of cakes. That is all we talked about during the dance, Viscount Hong. Cakes," Soonyoung admitted worriedly. "I just can't understand why she would…"

The Viscount smiled. 

"You had better ask her yourself, then. We have arrived."

—----------------------------------------------

The Duchess' manor was as intimidating and magnificent as Soonyoung remembered it. He still felt unworthy to walk these grand halls. He followed Viscount Hong anxiously as a servant led the two gentlemen towards one of the many drawing rooms that Soonyoung had never set foot in before. 

"Viscount Hong and Mr. Kwon are here, Your Grace," the servant announced their arrival. 

You were seated near the window, but rose gracefully to greet the gentlemen. Soonyoung was struck once again by your beauty. In the absence of the sparkling lights of the ball and the heavy jewellery, even in the simple pale morning sunlight, you were still the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. 

"Thank you for coming," you said to them both in your soft, lilting voice. Your smile- the beautiful one that Soonyoung noticed still did not quite reach your sad eyes- made him almost forget to greet you with the proper decorum. 

"Your Grace," he choked out quickly, bowing his head. 

The Viscount glanced between the two of you with an amused smile. "Well, far be it from me to intrude upon your conversation any longer than necessary. I have brought a book that I am quite keen to read. I will employ myself accordingly. I only ask that if your conversation takes too long, I might be served some tea."

"I have sent for some tea already," you promised the Viscount, who retreated to the far corner of the room. He made a show of seating himself as far away as possible, facing in the opposite direction from you both and burying his head in his book. 

You turned to Soonyoung. 

"Mr. Kwon; please, have a seat."

Soonyoung walked with shaky legs towards the small table near the window. There were two ornate chairs on either side-  he sat across from you and took a deep breath. His hands felt clammy. 

"Thank you for coming," you repeated to him softly. Your hands were folded politely on your lap. "I must apologise for not approaching you directly on this matter, Mr. Kwon. Considering how brief our acquaintance has been, I thought that if you were not inclined to matrimony or wished to reject my proposition,  you may  have been more comfortable expressing your response to Viscount Hong. I am very glad you asked to meet me.”

Soonyoung stared up at you with wide eyes. 

“That is… very considerate of you, Your Grace,” he said politely. The mere thought of hearing your proposal directly from you instead of from Viscount Hong made his palms sweat. Soonyong was certain that his current position was far preferable. 

You smiled at him gently. “You must be… surprised.” 

“I will not pretend that I anticipated any of this.” 

“Allow me to explain,” you began carefully. “I am sure the Viscount has given you an indication of my situation. I lost my father- the late Duke, a few months ago and have inherited his title. I have no surviving family and the reception from the ton and other titled noblemen to inheritance of the lands and title has not been… entirely positive,” you explained. Soonyoung watched you, captivated. You spoke calmly, and a faint strain in your voice towards the end of your sentence was the only indication of any loss of composure. 

Soonyoung cleared his throat. “I-I am sorry to hear that.” 

“Thank you,” you replied simply. “While I am relieved that my family’s legacy is not lost, I must admit that the role of a Duchess is not one which was designed to be played by a lady alone, particularly not an unmarried one. In addition to the friction from the other noblemen, my position makes it difficult for me to do justice to my duchy. It is also important that I secure the future lineage of my family so that my father’s efforts are not in vain. I am explaining these things to you, Mr. Kwon, so that you are better able to understand my reasons for needing to marry soon.” 

Soonyoung nodded. “Yes-yes, of course, Your Grace, I understand.” 

A servant entered the room with some tea and biscuits. You paused and waited for her to pour you each a cup, and directed the servant to send one over to Viscount Hong in the corner of the room. Then you turned back to Soonyoung and watched him put two sugars in his cup. 

“I see you have a sweet tooth,” you remarked with a small smile. 

Soonyoung’s ears turned pink and he froze halfway through stirring his tea. “I-I, erm. Yes, yes, I am partial to a little more sugar than most,” he admitted self-consciously. “I apologise. I should perhaps try not to consume so much of it…” 

Your expression was gentle as you looked up at him. “I do not think a habit of excessively sweetening one’s tea is the worst vice a gentleman can have, Mr. Kwon. Viscount Hong speaks very highly of you.” 

Soonyoung’s ears reddened further and he coughed. “I-I did not realise you spoke to Viscount Hong about me, Your Grace.” 

Your eyes dropped down to your tea and Soonyoung saw a flash of that familiar sadness in them for a moment before you spoke. “I have been finding it… difficult to trust people of late. Some of my father’s closest allies signed a petition to have my title revoked. Others have made underhanded attempts to orchestrate a match with their sons and usurp my duchy. Viscount Hong is the only nobleman I can still trust. That is why I sought his aid to find a suitable husband. I considered his judgement to be more impartial and reliable than anyone else I knew.” 

Soonyoung nodded in understanding. It was becoming increasingly clear to him now- this was a very delicate situation that extended beyond frivolous gossip and societal opinions. This was about politics and land and power. The Viscount had been doing you a favour by being vague  at the ball a few nights ago. It would not be appropriate for the entire ton to know that the Duchess of Graham had turned down most of the offers made to her by noblemen and was seeking a husband elsewhere. 

Soonyoung bit your lip. “I am sorry that you are in this position, Your Grace,” he said carefully. “But I must commend you for placing your faith in Viscount Hong. I doubt I could name anyone with more integrity or honesty than the Viscount.” 

You bit back a smile. “I am glad you think so. Because the Viscount led me to you.” 

Soonyoung cleared his throat. “Yes. Yes, he led me to you. I…” 

You set your tea down and took a deep breath before lifting your eyes to meet Soonyoung. He was stunned into silence by the power of their gaze. There was a deep, deep sadness in your eyes but he also saw strength and gentleness. 

“I apologise for putting you in this situation,” you told him honestly. There was a hint of regret in your soft words. “This is hardly the most romantic way in which to propose marriage and I am sure it cannot be flattering to you to be put in this position. I assure you, Mr. Kwon, I will not blame you if you cannot find it in yourself to enter into this… marriage of convenience.” 

There was a long silence. 

It only occurred to Soonyoung much later that there were other things he should have carefully considered about the match- the possibility of gaining a fortune, a title, and lands, of going from a penniless second son to a Duke in one move. There were so many reasons to accept your proposal. None of the other gentlemen of the ton (least of all Mr, Kim and Mr. Lee) would believe Soonyoung when he said that none of those things had been on his mind at that moment. 

Instead, he had only one thought on his mind. 

You needed help. And while Soonyoung could not pretend that he fully understood you (there was still so much hidden behind that beautiful smile and deep eyes of yours), there was one thing that he was fairly confident about. 

He wanted to be the one to help you. 

“It would be an honour, Your Grace,” Soonyoung said slowly and carefully, “to be your husband.” 

-----------------------------------------------------------

Soonyoung felt like he was in a dream as he exited your manor that afternoon with Viscount Hong. His mind and body seemed to be  floating in the clouds, and it was difficult to concentrate on what the Viscount was saying to him. 

“... cannot tell anybody about the engagement, yet, you understand, not until the Queen has granted her approval for the marriage. Perhaps in two days the announcement can be made in the papers. I assume the Duchess will handle making an appointment with the Queen, but-” 

Soonyoung was suddenly and violently jerked out of his reverie. 

“Sorry- did you just say the Queen?” he demanded. 

Viscount Hong gestured for the carriage driver to begin and then turned back to his companion. “Yes, the Queen. The Duchess is one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting. She is part of her court. Naturally you will both need to approach the Queen for her blessing before you can announce the engagement publicly. You risk offending Her Majesty if you do not approach her before a public announcement.” 

Soonyoung swallowed. He suddenly felt faint. “Yes, but surely the Duchess will handle that…” 

“The Queen will naturally want to see you in order to grant you her blessing to the couple.” 

“O-oh.” 

Viscount Hong bit his lip as he looked at the startled young man sitting across from him in the carriage. He took a deep breath and sighed. “Soonyoung.” 

“Yes?” 

“Have you fully thought about this? Really thought about it? Being a Duke is not easy and there is an incredible amount of responsibility involved. The Duchess is entangled in the middle of a political tussle and I am sorry to say that she is on the weaker side. She needs someone who can be strong and support her through this ordeal. I know you are capable of doing so, I would not have recommended you otherwise. But I need you to step up to the task. The Duchess needs you to step up to the task.” 

Soonyoung looked up at the Viscount sharply. There was a newfound determination in his eyes. 

“I will do whatever is necessary,” he said firmly. 

The Viscount relaxed. “Good. I will let you know once an appointment has been made to meet the Queen.” 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Lee Seokmin was quite drunk. 

“I cannot go to the navy alone!” he cried, his glass of whisky sloshing all over the expensive carpet. Fortunately for Seokmin, Mingyu was far too entertained by the scene before him to be concerned by the damage Seokmin was doing to his drawing room rug. “We were supposed to go together! We were going to capture pirates together, Soonyoung!” 

Mr. Lee Jihoon raised an eyebrow at his younger brother. “It is quite unlikely that you would both have been stationed on the same ship.” 

Seokmin paused. “We could have met at the naval base.” 

“Yes, because the royal naval base is simply full of pirates ripe for your picking.” 

Soonyoung was currently on his fourth glass of whisky and Kim Mingyu’s drawing room was beginning to appear hazy to his intoxicated gaze. The gentleman’s club was the preferred haunt for the group of bachelors gathered, but it was too public for the present celebration. Since the announcement would not be made in the papers for a few days, it was important to keep the news of Soonyoung’s engagement under wraps. They had gathered in Mingyu’s drawing room instead. 

Jihoon, the most sober gentleman in the room by far, leaned closer to Soonyoung. 

“Seokmin is merely inebriated,” Jihoon told him gently, misreading the worried expression on his friend’s face. “I hope you do not blame yourself for destroying his dreams of capturing pirates- my sister and I would never have consented to him joining the Navy in any case.” 

Soonyoung blinked. “Oh.” 

“Congratulations on your engagement, Soonyoung.” 

“Thank you.” 

Someone passed Soonyoung a cigar and he lifted it to his lips, taking a deep drag before leaning his head back against the armchair. He did not smoke often- he did not even drink often but the consequences and ramifications of the decision he had made earlier today were rapidly descending upon him. In order to distract himself from the sinking thought that he had perhaps made a rash decision that would impact the rest of his life and your life, he allowed Jihoon to refill his glass. 

“I would like to raise a toast,” Mingyu announced loudly, rising to his feet and lifting his glass. “To Kwon Soonyoung, the man who refused to chase the dowry so the dowry came chasing him!” 

Everyone chuckled. Soonyoung clumsily tossed back the whisky. He was beginning to feel nauseous. 

“For heaven's sake, that painting is an eyesore,” Jihoon complained loudly as he gestured to one of the obnoxiously large paintings of a tastefully nude woman that Mingyu had displayed above the fireplace. “Is there nowhere else to hang that? What do you do when there are ladies present?” 

Mingyu chuckled. “Do not fret, Mr. Lee, I will be shifting that painting to my art gallery once it is opened. As for the ladies, I entertain them in the breakfast parlour. It has paintings of kittens.” 

Jihoon was still unimpressed. “I pity the women you court.” 

“May I remind you that you are the one who cannot seem to stop staring at the painting?”

“You little-”

“I need some fresh air,” Soonyoung announced. He was barely audible over the sound of Mingyu and Jihoon debating the inappropriateness of nude paintings in a drawing room. Setting his glass down and finding his unsteady legs, Soonyoung walked towards one of the large balconies and stepped out into the night air. The cool summer breeze swept through his hair. He leaned against the railing for a few minutes- eyes closed, and thinking about the whirlwind of events that had led to him being engaged to a Duchess in a few days. 

“Soonyoung?” 

Seokmin had followed him onto the balcony. The younger Lee rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he joined Soonyoung near the balcony railing. 

“Seokmin.” 

“Jihoon thought I might be upsetting you by going on about the Navy. You know that I don’t actually resent you for backing out? I was merely joking. You’re about to be married, I couldn’t be happier for you,” Seokmin said honestly. He had a smile on his face. “You’re about to become a Duke.” 

Soonyoung swallowed. “A Duke. Yes.”

“Why do you look worried?” 

“Because I am worried,” Soonyoung confessed. His knuckles were white as he clasped the railing of the balcony and the words spilled out of his mouth rapidly. “The Viscount is right. I don’t have the faintest idea what the responsibilities of a Duke are. Having a title like that and a duchy is no joke, it is about politics; something I have no knowledge of. It is not merely my own life on the line. Everything I say and do will impact the Duchess. She is… she is not merely asking to marry me, she is trusting me with her property and family legacy and reputation. I-I don’t know if I am capable of this.” 

Seokmin stared at his friend for a long moment. 

“Soonyoung. You underestimate yourself.” 

Soonyoung bit his lip, hard. “Do I?” 

“Do you know what any other young man in your position would do?” Seokmin asked knowingly. “He would celebrate that some woman had handed him a fortune and a title on a golden platter. The fact that you are seriously considering the responsibilities involved with the dukedom proves that the Duchess was not wrong to choose you.” 

“I don’t know why she chose me,” Soonyoung admitted with a sigh.  

“Did you not ask her?” 

“I should have asked, perhaps- it just… I did not get the opportunity and she called it a marriage of convenience, so clearly the answer cannot have been anything very flattering,” Soonyoung mumbled. He took a deep breath and looked up at the moonlight sky. “I wish I could celebrate with you, but all I can think of is how I am suddenly deeply terrified of disappointing the young lady that has misplaced her trust in me.” 

“Soonyoung,” Seokmin said firmly. He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You are overthinking this.” 

“Do you really think so?” 

“You were prepared to go out into the open sea and fight pirates and enemy ships. I never once saw you show fear at the thought of joining the Navy. Why do you suddenly think you will not be able to handle the simple task of being a good husband?” 

Soonyoung sighed. “I trained to be a sailor. I attended the Royal Naval Academy for years. Nobody has ever prepared me to be a Duke, Seokmin.” 

“Then start preparing now. It is not too late.” 

Soonyoung took a deep breath. Yes, Seokmin was right, He did not need to blindly blunder into this situation. He could prepare. He would prepare and would  prove to you that you had not made a mistake by choosing him.

Kwon Soonyoung would learn to become a Duke. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soonyoung fidgeted in his brand new coat as he waited for your carriage to arrive. The coat was not uncomfortable in the least. On the contrary, it was perfectly tailored to fit Soonyoung, as opposed to the hastily mended hand-me-downs from his brother that he often wore. The Viscountess Hong was an angel; upon hearing of Soonyoung's engagement, she had promptly sent for a tailor to customise a new suit for Soonyoung to wear to his meeting with the Queen. 

His meeting with the Queen. 

A phrase that Soonyoung had never imagined he would say with any seriousness, and yet here he was. Standing near the entrance of the royal palace and waiting for the Duchess of Graham to meet him for a private audience with the Queen.

Your carriage approached and Soonyoung took a deep breath as he hurried forward. The footman was mildly surprised when Soonyoung stepped up to the carriage door himself and offered you a hand to help you descend. 

You gave him one of your soft smiles and accepted his hand. 

“Thank you, Mr. Kwon,” you told him. Your deep eyes glanced at him in an almost approving manner. “Is that a new suit? You look very handsome.” 

Soonyoung could not prevent his ears from turning red at the compliment and he struggled with what to say in return. You looked radiant in a beautiful green dress that emphasised your glowing skin, and he opened his mouth to return the compliment… but nothing seemed sufficient to encapsulate how beautiful he thought you were. He waited too long; the moment passed. 

“The Queen was pleased to grant us an audience even at such short notice,” you informed Soonyoung in a hushed tone as you both entered the royal palace and followed a pair of servants to the audience chambers. Soonyoung tried to focus on your words and not on the gentle pressure of your hand resting near the crook of his elbow. “I am sure she will be perfectly pleased to grant us her permission to marry, but I must warn you- Her Majesty is under the impression that this is a love match.” 

Soonyoung cleared his throat nervously. “A love match?” 

You blinked  up at him apologetically. “I have already rejected offers from the sons of a few other Dukes that attempted to have my title revoked. The politics here are complicated; I found the easiest way to justify marrying someone outside of the commonly expected options, was to tell the Queen I was in love.” 

“I see,” Soonyoung swallowed. “In love-yes, yes, I suppose we may say that.” 

You seemed worried. “I apologise if this is sudden-” 

“Not at all, Your Grace,” Soonyoung told you firmly. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. This was his first test and he was not about to let himself be thrown by a small change in circumstances. He could handle this. He would not disappoint you. “It is not an issue at all. I will be sure to confirm the Queen’s understanding that this is a love match.” 

You seemed relieved. “Thank you, Mr. Kwon.” 

You both arrived at the audience chambers and waited in the hallway for a few moments until the Queen was ready to see you. Soonyoung’s heart was beating at an unnatural rate and he resisted the urge to fidget with his sleeves and cough. Your gloved hand resting lightly near his elbow somehow worked to keep him grounded. He focused on your gentle touch and kept his composure as the doors to the audience chamber opened and a guard came out. 

“Her Highness has granted you an audience. Please enter.” 

The Queen was seated at the head of the room. Soonyoung did not dare lift his head to look her in the eye. He did not even dare to look properly around the audience chamber for fear that the grandness and magnificence of the royal palace would cause him to lose composure. He simply allowed your gentle hand to guide him where he needed to go and followed you into a deep bow before the Queen. 

“Ah, the Duchess of Graham,” the Queen greeted you loftily. “I must say that I was pleasantly surprised when you requested an audience, The word among the ton is that you have rejected so many eligible suitors that I had quite despaired of your ever marrying. I am relieved to see that is not the case.” 

You responded quickly- your voice was soft and deferential. “Your Majesty. You have bestowed my family with the most precious gift of all by allowing my lineage to continue to hold the dukedom. We are forever indebted to you for your kindness and naturally, the decision of who should be the next Duke of Graham was not one that I could take lightly.” 

This seemed to please the Queen. 

“And you have finally made your choice? Mr. Kwon, I hear?” 

Soonyoung bowed his head. "Yes, your Majesty."

The Queen observed him slowly and critically. "You are a handsome young man; I can certainly see why the Duchess prefers you. But the question remains- can you be a Duke?"

Soonyoung swallowed. "I will do my best, your Majesty."

The Queen huffed. "I suppose that is all one can ask for, really- my dear Duchess, have you quite set your heart on this man?"

You bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Then far be it from me to stand in the way of your love. You have my blessing. You may marry- and Mr. Kwon may be granted the title of a Duke," the Queen said dismissively.

"Thank you, Your Majesty-"

"Yes, yes. Be on your way and prepare for your wedding. And my dear Duchess- now that you shall have a husband to handle the matters of your estate, I expect you to attend to the royal court far more often. You will need to join me and the other court ladies for tea at least once a fortnight."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

Your grasp on Soonyoung's arm relaxed noticeably and Soonyoung was relieved when you began to leave the room and he could follow you. The moment you both left the audience chambers, he released the breath he had been holding and looked up at you with a sheepish smile. 

"That was… not as difficult as I expected," he admitted with a grin. 

You smiled back at him softly. "Did you think it was going to be difficult? I did tell you that Her Majesty would be pleased to grant her permission."

Soonyoung flushed. "Yes, but- I mean… I have never met the Queen, so…"

"Of course. I can understand. I thought, perhaps we should discuss, before we part… when we might have the wedding?" you began. There was a sudden shyness in your gaze that Soonyoung was surprised to note. 

He blinked. "Whenever you see fit, Your Grace."

"Our engagement will be announced in the papers tomorrow," you told him as you both walked back to your carriage. "Since we have the Queen's permission to marry, I do not believe a lengthy betrothal is necessary. Unless you had any objection- perhaps next Monday?"

Soonyoung froze in his path. "For the wedding?"

You noticed his hesitancy. "Was there any reason you wished to wait longer?"

Soonyoung opened his mouth to speak. It was all happening so quickly. He almost wanted more time to prepare, to comprehend the life he was getting into. But he saw the anxiety in your eyes. You wanted to be married soon and he could understand- the pressures you were facing were not light. 

It was not the time for Soonyoung to be selfish. 

"No. No, next Monday is perfect, Your Grace," Soonyoung said quickly. Your carriage was waiting outside the palace and your footman rushed to open the door for you. 

"Then I will have the arrangements made," you told him gently. 

"E-excellent."

Soonyoung held out his hand to help you into the carriage but he was interrupted by your butler, who suddenly approached with an armful of books. "Mr. Kwon!" the butler greeted him politely. "I had these brought over from the Graham library, as per your request. Was this what you were looking for?"

You paused and frowned at the books. "What are these?"

Soonyoung's ears turned pink. He had expected the butler to give them to him privately- not in front of you. He took the books and smiled at you awkwardly. 

"I-I realised that I knew very little about the Graham duchy so I asked your butler if he could find some books that would teach me about your family lineage and the history of your lands," Soonyoung admitted shyly. He noticed the shock in your deep eyes which slowly melted into something much, much softer and affectionate as your eyes dropped to the heavy genealogy book at the top of the pile. 

"Mr. Kwon…" you said softly. "You really don't need to do that."

Soonyoung cleared his throat. "I would like to."

You stared at him for a long moment. Soonyoung felt almost exposed under your lingering gaze. He could not read what was behind your piercing eyes and he was about to apologise for overstepping when you finally spoke again, a small but noticeable crack in your voice. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “We will see each other soon, Mr. Kwon.” 

“Of course. Goodbye, Your Grace.” 

—---------------------------------------------------------

The week before the wedding went by in a flash. The announcement of the Duchess of Graham's engagement in the papers had predictably thrown the entire ton into an uproar. Kwon Soonyoung went from being an obscure, little-known gentleman to the name on everyone's lips in the span of a single morning. 

He was overwhelmed with invitations; to tea at the Baron's house, to dine with the Carter family and many more. It seemed that every single noble family suddenly wished to make Soonyoung's acquaintance and pretend that they had been very familiar with him all along. Soonyoung honestly thought that he may have gone mad if it had not been for Seokmin and Mingyu by his side. 

"This happened to my family as soon as my sister's engagement to the Viscount was published in the papers," Seokmin said as he rifled through the invitations. "The entire month was spent having dinner with different families."

Soonyoung's head was buried in a weighty tome about the genealogy of the Graham dukedom and he looked up with a sigh. "I barely have time with wedding preparations to attend half of these invitations. Not to mention the reading I hoped to do. What should I do?"

Mingyu, sitting in the corner of the room with a pipe in his mouth, chuckled. "Ignore them."

Soonyoung frowned. "What if some of them are from important families of the ton, they may take offence-"

Mingyu laughed as he took the stack of invitations from Seokmin's hands and smoothly tore them in half. "Important families? Oh my poor dear Soonyoung. I am not sure you understand what is happening to you. You are about to be a Duke. You are now the important family that everyone fears offending. You don’t need to worry about them!"

Soonyoung blinked. "Was it necessary to tear them?"

"I would tear that book in your hands as well, if I thought I could manage it. What are you doing, Mr. Kwon? These are your last few days as a bachelor- are you really going to spend them reading? Something you never even did in your short time at Oxford?"

Soonyoung bit his lip. "This book is rather dry."

"That's the spirit-"

"Do you have any books on agriculture I might borrow? The duchy consists largely of agricultural land and I was hoping to understand more about how the agrarian community pays its taxes."

Mingyu looked aghast. 

"None of that. Stop that immediately and come have a drink."

While it was difficult to get the notorious rake to discuss anything seriously, Soonyoung did manage to extract some advice from Mingyu on managing an estate once he was sufficiently drunk, and Seokmin was a welcome presence that served to keep Soonyoung's spirits high. 

The day of the wedding finally arrived. It was a smaller celebration than customary for a Duke's wedding and there were many members of the ton that openly lamented not receiving an invitation. Despite the short guest list, Soonyoung was still anxious as he stood up at the altar and stared at the sea of people watching from the pews. 

"I still don't understand how you seduced the Duchess," Soonyoung's elder brother grumbled from behind him as he adjusted his cuffs. It had taken no small effort to keep the elder Kwon sober and presentable for the wedding; Soonyoung would forever owe Jihoon a debt of gratitude for undertaking that unpleasant responsibility and executing it without complaint. 

But he did not have the opportunity to respond to his brother. You suddenly appeared at the end of the aisle and Soonyoung felt as though the entire room had fallen away and you were the only person standing before him. 

You looked exquisite, in a simple white dress and with a gentle smile on your face. Soonyoung watched, almost in a trance, as you walked gracefully down the aisle in a slow, practised gait. You looked divine and Soonyoung was suddenly reminded of how in over his head he felt, how he was marrying a woman so far, far above his station that this had to be some sort of a dream or joke, it could not possibly be real that you were about to become his wife. 

You reached the altar and looked up at him quietly through your eyelashes with a small smile. 

Soonyoung's heart pounded as you both turned to face the minister. The man read out some pre-written drivel about holy matrimony and Soonyoung tried to concentrate but all he could focus on was the sound of your soft breathing beside him and his own pounding heartbeat. He barely remembered saying his own vows.

"Mr. Kwon," you said softly. "The ring."

Your voice snapped Soonyoung out of his reverie. Somebody was presenting him with a ring and he swallowed nervously before reaching for it. It was a delicate little thing; Soonyoung fumbled with the ring for a moment, but to his relief it did not fall from his grasp. He reached for your hand- your soft, gentle hand- and placed the ring on your finger. 

It was done. 

You were married. 

The rest of the morning felt like a blur. Soonyoung received congratulations from dozens of people he had never met in his entire life. He found himself thrown from conversation to conversation like a child's ball until finally your hand on his elbow tightened and you whispered softly in his ear. 

"Our carriage is waiting outside," you said. "We can leave."

"Yes, let's."

It was a number of goodbyes before Soonyoung could finally reach the carriage and help you inside. Soonyoung climbed in as well and once the door was closed behind him, he took a deep breath and looked across the carriage at you. 

"I think that went rather well, Your Grace," he said to you lightly. 

You smiled back at him. "I thought having fewer guests would make the ceremony quicker but I am afraid we were still detained much longer than expected. Would you object if we went directly to the estate for the night? It is not very far- a few hours' ride."

Soonyoung nodded. "Of course."

—----------------------------------------------------------

You fell asleep during the carriage ride to the Graham estate. Soonyoung was torn between watching the magnificent views of the countryside and the sight of your head drowsily leaning against the carriage wall as you tried to fight sleep. Soonyoung couldn't help but smile at the sight of your eyelashes repeatedly fluttering closed and then fluttering back open in protest. 

It appeared even the Duchess of Graham got sleepy during carriage rides. 

It was late evening when you both arrived at the Graham estate and although Soonyoung was now much more prepared than before, he was still struck with awe at the sheer size and grandeur of the estate. There were vast gardens at the entrance and the manor itself loomed over the carriage. He could hear the sound of a creek nearby. 

"Welcome to the Graham manor, Your Grace," you told him. 

Soonyoung descended the carriage slowly, taking it all in. Was this to be his home? Was he really going to live here? Did all this really belong to him now? 

"I am afraid we don't have enough time for a tour of the estate this evening," you told him as the servants hurried to open the front doors for you. "I sent word ahead to have supper ready. Perhaps tomorrow, I can show you around the manor and the gardens?"

Soonyoung swallowed and nodded silently. 

"Shall we dine?"

"Y-yes."

The dining room was magnificent and there was a lavish spread for supper. Soonyoung decided that he was too far gone to exhibit any shame; he had not eaten all day due to the anxiety from the wedding, and was in no position to refuse the delicacies served at the table. Even the knowledge that you were watching him eat quietly with a small smile on your face did not deter him from filling his cheeks with food. 

"Mr. Jones, will you show the Duke upstairs?" you asked once supper had been cleared away. Soonyoung was surprised when one of the butlers quickly ushered him upstairs through various lengthy hallways and foyers to an enormous bedchamber before he could ask any further questions. 

A warm bath had been prepared for him in an adjoining bathroom and Soonyoung was surprised to see that all his belongings had already been brought and neatly unpacked in the bedchamber. He undressed and relaxed in the bath for a few moments before the fog from the excellent supper cleared from his mind and he remembered. 

This was his wedding night. 

You would have to consummate the marriage. 

Soonyoung jerked upright and the water sloshed out of the side of his bath. He finished the bath quickly and dressed in a fresh night-suit that had been placed on the bed for him. Then he paced the room and regretted not asking someone about this sooner. 

How did this work? Would you come to him? Did he go to you- but no, the manor was enormous and he did not have the slightest idea where you had gone after dinner. He could not wander the hallways searching for your. Should he ask a servant? The sheer mortification from the thought of doing so made Soonyoung shiver. 

Would you even want to consummate the marriage? You had said in your own words that this was a marriage of convenience and not a love match. But even marriages of convenience were consummated! You had mentioned carrying on the lineage and to have children it would be necessary to consummate, so surely it would be done? 

But perhaps you did not intend to do it tonight. You had fallen asleep in the carriage and you were probably tired from the journey. Perhaps the assumption was that you would consummate at a later time? 

There was a soft knock on the door to the bedchamber. 

"Come in!" Soonyoung called. 

You peeked your head around the door and Soonyoung jumped to his feet. "Your Grace!"he greeted you. 

"May I come in?"

"O-of course!"

You entered the bedchamber slowly; you were wearing a soft satin nightgown that revealed your silhouette and Soonyoung felt his blood rush to all the wrong places. Your cheeks were flushed and you were biting your soft lips nervously. 

Soonyoung took a deep breath. 

Well. It appeared that this would be happening tonight after all. 

"I thought- we never got a chance to taste our own wedding cake, so I had them bring a few slices back for us," you explained softly. Soonyoung  noticed that there was a covered tray in your hands. He rushed forward to take it from you, and placed it on the bedside table. 

"Our wedding cake?" Soonyoung repeated anxiously. 

You nodded and lifted the cover off the tray. There were two small slices of a pink strawberry cake covered in white frosting on the tray, as well as a bottle of wine and a pair of wine glasses. Soonyoung stared at the tray and then looked back at you. 

"Oh," he said. "Cake. I see."

"The wine was a gift from Viscountess Hong," you continued to explain. Your voice was growing quieter, and Soonyoung noticed that you looked rather flushed. "She thought it might.. help. I must admit that I already had a glass earlier. But perhaps we could share another one?"

That explained why you looked flushed and the way your deep eyes boldly darted up to his and then turned away shyly. Soonyoung took a deep breath to calm himself and sat on the bed.

"Wine and cake," Soonyoung said with a smile. "Two of my favourite things."

"I thought you would regret missing the wedding cake. It's strawberry- made from fresh berries from the strawberry fields on the estate and the cook says she improved the recipe since the ball," you said. You were speaking more quickly than you normally did and Soonyoung noticed the slight tremble in your hand as you poured out two glasses of wine.

"Have you already tasted the cake as well?"

You shook your head. 

Soonyoung was not sure where his sudden burst of confidence came from. He certainly never imagined that he would ever have the strength to make a move on any woman, much less a Duchess. But you were nervous. He could see it in your anxious eyes, in the soft lips that you kept biting, and the way your hands trembled slightly as you grasped your wine glass. 

He took a small piece of cake on the spoon and held it out to you. 

"Taste it first."

You stared at him for a long moment before leaning forward and taking the bite that he offered. You swallowed it and nodded. 

"I think it's rather well made," you said softly. 

Soonyoung chuckled- he had no doubt that it was well-made, it even smelled delicious. He took a huge bite out of the cake and delighted in the sweet strawberry taste that exploded in his mouth. 

"That," he said firmly, "is the most delicious strawberry cake I have ever tasted."

You giggled. "Soonyoung, the cream is all over your face. Here…"

You leaned closer to him and used a napkin to wipe away the cream that had stuck to the corner of his lips. Soonyoung was suddenly flooded with your scent; the familiar fragrance of lilacs and an intoxicating scent that was you, so uniquely you. His dark eyes darted up and met your heavy, lidded gaze. 

You kissed him first. 

It was not a surprise- Soonyoung had been leaning forward but your lips found him much sooner than he expected, and he had to grasp the edge of the bed to steady himself. You were clumsy in your movements- perhaps it was the wine- and Soonyoung soon found himself wrapping his arms around you to steady you both in a deep, passionate kiss. Soonyoung's fingers grasped fistfuls of your satin nightgown and pulled you closer to him. 

You gasped when his lips met your neck. Soonyoung was gentle but his touch was firm and your warm bodies melted together as you both explored each other with your hands and lips. Your hands grasped fistfuls of Soonyoung's dark hair, and you let out a squeal when Soonyoung grasped your waist tightly and turned so that you were lying underneath him on the bed. 

He looked down at you for a moment. Your hair splayed out on the pillow and your lidded eyes looked up at him nervously. He could see the excitement and the anticipation, but also a hint of fear in your eyes. 

"Soonyoung…" you whispered his name hesitantly. "I… I've never…."

Soonyoung decided that he would never give you a reason to look at him with fear again. He leaned down and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your lips and waited until he felt you relax against his lips. 

"Tell me if it hurts," he whispered gently, "and we can stop."

You looked up at him and nodded. 

"A-allright."

—-------------------------------------------------------

[fayes-fics]

Rescue and Ruin

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Anthony rescues something for you... and it will likely lead to your ruin.

Warnings: None really. Flirting, sexual tension, banter, and the promise of more. A lot of teasing, soaking wet Viscount.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Unbetaed. Very belated request fill for @daisfordaysstuff (request:  I’m rewatching season 2 again, and I think I need one on this scene [lake Anthony]). I just had to post an Anthony story today to commemorate the birthday of Jonathan Bailey, the man who plays this titan of a fictional character. This is actually my oldest request fill, lingering in my inbox since Sept 2022. Sorry, my lovely; I hope late is better than never. I just got an idea of how I wanted this to play out. I hope you enjoy <3

“I’ll get it!”

A chivalrous call comes as you watch in dismay as your favourite bonnet take off in a gust of wind and flies over the lake, landing almost gracefully about twenty feet out into the gently rippling water.

You had just stolen down to the water's edge to get away from the crowds for a few moments of solitude, drawn to the beauty of the water as the sun danced on the little peaks caused by the gusty breeze. It had looked like a shimmering mirage from the terrace.

You are shocked when the one and only Viscount Anthony Bridgerton gives you a brief, polite nod as he passes you, then dives off a little jetty, still fully clothed, making you gasp loudly.

What on earth?!?

This is his garden party. Well, strictly his mother's, but he is Viscount, and this is the Bridgerton family country estate, Aubrey Hall. You are still awestruck to be here, a guest of your maternal aunt you are staying with here in Kent. Why on earth he would dive into his lake to rescue something as trivial as a hat seems mystifying. You are certain he has staff that could assist rather than take it upon himself and quite clearly ruin his outfit.

He re-emerges to the surface from his dive and swims with awe-inspiring speed towards your hat as it skates across the surface, propelling along not unlike some toy boat. When he finally reaches it, he holds it aloft triumphant and twists to swim back one-handed as he keeps it above the water.

You find yourself drawn down to the jetty he jumped off of. To give your thanks, express your surprise, and take back your hat and hope it is salvageable. You twist around to check, but all the other party guests seem oblivious to the incident or his actions, the string quartet playing so loudly closer to the house and the buffet table so laden everyone's eyes and ears are preoccupied.

“Thank you, my lord,” you demure as he pulls up to the jetty and places your bonnet on the wooden slats by your feet. “That was completely unnecessary, but I am, of course, so very grateful,” you curtsy and pick up the bonnet.

Luckily, thanks to his swift actions, it will be fine. Just the brim and lower edge touched the water. You wring out the soaked ribbons as best you can, then wrap them around your neck and tie them in a secure bow. It may be too wet to wear on your head for now, but at least it should dry while tied securely and draped down over your back. You curtsy again as you feel him watching you, unsure what else to do to convey your gratitude.

He laughs, and you see him fighting with the buttons on his jacket, still standing in the lake, the water around waist height. “There is no need to curtsy or to be so formal Miss…?” he squints up at you expectantly.

“Oh, it's Miss y/l/n,” you rush out and, for some reason, curtsy again.

“I mean it; please stop curtsying, especially to a man in such a state as me,” he says drolly, fighting off his jacket and tossing it, sodden and heavy, onto the jetty.

You are blatantly staring as he peels away his waistcoat and fights with his cravat. His thin cotton white shirt has turned entirely transparent in the water; it is barely there. Under it, you can see so much skin, toned and rippling muscle as his jerking movements strip off his clothing. Over his chest is a patch of dark hair clinging to the material you cannot look away from. You have never even so much as seen how a man looks without a shirt on before, and this sight makes your heart pound and your body tingle.

Glancing up from his actions, the corner of his mouth quirks up, and you know he has caught you—openly ogling him. Your cheeks are aflame, and you cut your eyes away.

“You may look, Miss y/l/n,” his pitch has dropped to something low and velvety, and it buzzes right into your core. Hesitantly your eyes dart back to his handsome face; the lip quirk spreads into a devastating, stunning smile. “It is alright; no one has marked us,” he assures, his gaze cutting to your right towards the house, then back to your face. “You shall not have broken any rules of propriety by talking with me. Or staring at me as you are,” he teases, an eyebrow arching appealingly.

“My lord, that is not what….” You begin to protest, knowing it's a lie even as you voice it; your reflex to appear chaste is so crucial to your need to find a match that your aunt and parents are so desperate for you to make.

But your words die out as he places both hands firmly on the dock and propels himself up and out of the water in one swift, athletic move. Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth as he unfurls upwards from the kneeling position, drawing up to his full height. Water sluices down his body and makes his clothing cling to every single contour of his toned, defined torso. He looms closer; you tilt backwards, entranced by the tracks of droplets over the lines of his handsome face, his burned umber eyes catching the sunlight and boring into you as he crowds closer.

“Do not lie to yourself or to me, Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles, “we both know you were and, indeed, continue to stare”.

His words make your body riot; your stays feel too tight for your lungs to breathe, your skin pricking hot. He’s so close now you can smell the vaguely mossy lake smell on his skin, on what little clothing he has left on; it’s dancing there on the breeze alongside something spicier and amber that you can only assume is his cologne. You want to stutter an apology, to offer your thanks again, to ask him to leave, to ask him to stay, to ask him to touch you—so many jumbled, contradictory thoughts.

“The more pertinent question is, do you like what you see?” he murmurs and leans in, his words ghosting warm on the shell of your ear.

This is the sort of thing your aunt has warned you about. Rakes. Handsome, wealthy, titled men who will tease and take what they can from young, innocent ladies such as yourself. You want to be affronted, tell him to desist, and give him a scathing remark about appropriate behaviour. But once again, you don't. Your body drawn to him, you want to trace your fingers over the swell of his chest muscles, to feel those strong arms grab your waist and haul you against his sodden form.

“No answer is, in some ways, an answer,” he chuckles with a lilt that is both arrogant and devastatingly attractive.

“My lord, we may be seen at any moment…” Your protest is weak and breathy, not moving away as he continues to stand far too close to you, as lake water drips onto your shoes.

Suddenly a clammy hand wraps around your elbow, and you are being pulled towards the nearby cluster of thick trees and bushes that abut the lake. You almost stumble and smack into him face-first as he pulls up short and releases your arm. The air feels cooler here, with dappled shade, verdant and alive with the scent of flowering bushes and leaves. The view of the house and, indeed, the party guests is wholly obscured. No one would ever know you are here.

“Do you have an answer now that we cannot be seen?” he breathes inches from you, towering over you.

“My lord… I,” you cannot find words, hanging your head. You know this is wrong. Very wrong. Your aunt would kill you for being this wanton, for allowing him to do this to you. And yet…. Every fibre of your being wants this. To see what he will do. To see what you will let him do. You suspect it's more than you even understand.

“Say it after me….” he intones, a finger tilting your chin up to look into his fiery gaze.

“I…” he begins.

“I…” you parrot.

“Like…”

“Like,” you repeat, and the grin on his face grows wider.

“What….”

“What,” your breath quickening with each word.

“I…”

“I,” that finger still lingers under your chin, caressing gently.

“See.”

“See,” you exhale shakily.

“There. Now was that so hard…hmmm?” he teases, that finger now joined by his thumb stroking over the point of your chin, the lake water running down his forearm to the point of material bunched under his elbow that now drips down the front of your dress. The dampness seeps through the material and into your heated skin.

The cord of tension in the air is palpable. You don't know what to say or what to do.

“I have another question for you,” he buzzes, and the fingers on your chin slip lower, over your throat, lighting a line of fire as they trail over your delicate skin. Your pulse pounding in your veins. You swallow hard and feel the calloused fingertips trace into your suprasternal notch. “Maybe this one you can answer,” he huffs a sarcastic laugh as your body spirals and you fight to keep your breath even.

“What is it, my lord?” your voice barely a whisper.

“Would you be willing to help me, your gracious host today, get dry?” he practically purrs.

“How…. how on earth could I do that?” you stumble.

He smiles predatory and so handsome you give up and let your chest heave, ragged breathing.

“Under your dress, you wear a chemise, do you not?” he continues, those fingers tracing over the wet bow of your bonnet strings tied over your clavicle.

“Yes, my lord,” you answer shakily.

“Well did you know such items can be an excellent towel in a pinch,” he shrugs one shoulder and lifts an eyebrow as his fingers slip lower over your breastbone until they reach the neckline of your dress, at the swell of your breast.

There is no point in pretending he is not utterly destroying you now. You can’t school anything—the blush darkening over your skin, creeping up from your chest, the tingle in your lips, the hot flush you feel all over. A viscous pulse in your underwear that feels entirely alien and where your decision-making seems to be centred at right this very moment.

“So I suppose my last question, for now, is, are you willing to give it to me?” you gasp at his turn of phrase as those fingers swirl patterns over the neckline of your dress. “Your chemise, of course,” he amends with a wink.

Utter, utter rake.

“H-how can I give you my chemise without removing my dress too?” you wonder aloud.

“Well, that is the challenge, isn't it?” he smirks. “Now I can see two options here. I can do the gentlemanly thing, turn my back and allow you to undress and then you may hand me your chemise once decent again. I will dry myself the best I can and return to the house to change.”

“And the second option?” you cannot resist querying.

“Ahh, that,” he seems to pull even closer, and the fingers slip over the neckline and onto the silk ruching that covers your breasts; even through the material layers, you can feel his fingers lingering over your nipple and the throbbing between your legs turns almost painful. “The second option is that I am not a gentleman. Not in the slightest,” his answer cryptic but dripping with a dark, forbidden promise.

“What does that involve…?” you pant.

You watch, enthralled, as his tongue pokes out of his mouth and licks his bottom lip, and in seeming slow-motion, his mouth begins to form a shape to speak words…

“ANTHONY!!”

The yell is from a few feet away, on the other side of the bushes. Both of you jump apart as if burned.

“ANTHONY?!” the male voice calls again, “ARE YOU AROUND?”

It's obvious the person has no idea you are merely a few feet away, only that they are looking for him.

Stay here, Anthony mouths silently, and you nod, your heart beating wildly at the whiplash of experiences.

With one rueful glance at you, at the interrupted moment, he turns around and fights through the mass of foliage back out to the lawn.

“Oh, there you are!” the voice exclaims. “We wondered what the devil had happened to you!!”

“Colin…” you hear him respond.

“Hell and the devil. Why are you soaked through?? Did you decide to go for a swim fully clothed? Did you find my special tea??” his voice ramping up in incredulity as he likely clocks Anthony's bedraggled appearance.

“I have no idea what you are referring to,” Anthony’s reply seems clipped. “I rescued a small beautiful creature, if you must know,” he obfuscates.

“Ahh, hero antics,” Colin laughs. “Well, you had better go change right away. Mother expects you to make a toast for our esteemed guests in a few minutes.”

You hear Anthony’s frustrated noise of derision and have to stifle your giggle behind the back of your hand between deep breaths, trying to bring yourself back to a state of normality after the rollercoaster of experiences you just had.

“Urghhh, alright,” Anthony sighs, embattled, “I think I dropped my pocket watch back in the bushes. Give me one moment to find it, and I will accompany you back to the house.”

“Side entrance,” Colin responds dryly.

“Indeed,” you hear Anthony call.

You tense as the bushes before you start to rustle as he fights through them to reach you. He stalks up to you, and you gasp audibly.

“Shhh,” he warns quietly, his lips right at your ear, gusting hot, “it looks as if I must sadly depart. Your chemise is safe for today, Miss y/l/n.”

With a boldness you didn’t know yourself capable of, you grab the shirt's sleeves rolled up around his elbows.

“I would never want not to be helpful to you, my lord,” you whisper tremulant, fingers twisting in the soaked fabric. “If removing my chemise can ever be of assistance to you in future, please be sure to let me know.”

You cannot believe you allow yourself to say something so scandalous.

He pulls back slightly, and it's his turn to exhale unsteadily, his pupils dilated; his expression wild. You can see a vein hammering in his throat.

“Oh goddd,” he moans, closing his eyes as if pained.

“What?” concern suddenly flooding your tone.

His eyes reopen, and they pin you with their intensity.

“Mark my words,” his tone is low, gravelly, “if you continue to talk so brazenly, it will only encourage me.”

It is the sexiest warning bell you have ever heard.

“And if you continue to tease and defy me, I will pursue you. Relentlessly,” he growls, and once again, your body is rioting.

“Good god. How long does it take to find a pocket watch, man?” Colin calls impatiently, once again breaking the moment between you as it threatens to bubble over.

“I've found it!” Anthony twists to call over his shoulder. “I’ll be there presently!”

“Hurry up!” Colin grouses.

Anthony turns back, and his breath is hot over your cheek. He seems to stare at your lips for an inordinate amount of time as you stare back. Transfixed.

“Today, I shall be a gentleman,” he states reluctantly and draws away slightly. “However…” and your heart spikes in victory, “once that clock strikes midnight. I make no promises. And I shall be standing right here,” his tone decisive, his finger pointing to the spot right by his feet. “Just so you and your chemise will know where to find me,” he rumbles, then gives you a polite bow and is gone.

You have to grab onto a tree to stop yourself from swooning. Already knowing you will be stealing away from your room as the clock strikes midnight. Uncaring of consequences.

You want him to ruin you.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz

[dark-frosted-heart]

Alfons vs Roger event (Part 1)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Crown’s relationship is perfectly balanced.

Though they couldn’t be considered friends or family, there’s an unspoken connection and trust.

—Well, except for a certain “pair”.

Alfons and Roger: Unbelievable.

Kate: Did something happen? You two said that together the minute you came back from the mission.

Today, Alfons and Roger were supposed to be chasing after a serial killer who had caused quite a stir.

Roger: Al, if you’d drawn him over, I could’ve sent him to the after life in a heartbeat.

Alfons: Wow, you’re putting the blame on another? Had I not chased after you, you would have dropped dead.

Roger: I’m gonna wrap those words with a ribbon and give them back to you.

Alfons: Then I’ll wrap that ribbon around your neck.

Kate: Um, so what happened to the criminal in the end?

Alfons and Roger: William happened.

Meaning William, who seemed to have gone ahead, took care of the criminal instead of these two who couldn’t work together at all.

Kate: Regardless, I’m glad the criminal was caught.

Alfons and Roger: I’m not.

Kate: Huh?

Alfons: Every time I go on a mission with Roger, my delicate heart gets another scratch. Ahhh, woe is me!

Roger: What delicate heart. A delicate guy wouldn’t come at you himself. (•̀ ⌓ •́)

(This sort of sight isn’t surprising anymore)

Alfons and Roger have known each other since they were kids.

Had they been old friends, they would’ve gotten along exceptionally well. However, it;s the complete opposite for the two of them.

(I have a feeling that these two have the worst relationship in Crown…)

Roger: Geez, I can’t deal with this anymore.

Alfons: Oh, then be my guest. Please leave Crown and live as you like.

(A Crown resignation emergency?!)

I look around, but unfortunately, I seem to be the only one around to intervene.

(What do I do, what do I do? Ah, I got it!)

Kate: You two! I won’t give you any chocolates if you keep fighting!

Alfons and Roger: Chocolate?

Roger: Oh yeah, it’s Valentine’s Day today, isn’t it? No wonder the city was bustling.

Alfons: I heard you were making “sweetheart chocolates” last night, Miss Kate.

Kate: How did you know?

Alfons: I’m the well-informed Mr.  Sylvatica.

Last night I was baking sweets with the maids when they encouraged me to make some “sweetheart chocolates”.

(I was planning on eating them all myself…)

Roger: Sounds good. I was gettin' tired of fighting. Let’s have a contest, Al. The winner gets Kate’s chocolates and serves the loser. How’s that sound?

Alfons: It’s the best of the worst of preferences. Yes, I like that.

Kate: Hold on, what is this?!

Alfons: So, what sort of contest are we doing? Anything beside a fistfight is fine. Ah, how about this. We have two shots of vodka, one of which is poisoned. A game with no hard feelings that can be won immediately.

Roger: If one of us kicks the bucket, then there’s no point in the servant rule. Then-

The games the two kept suggesting were so outrageous that it made me dizzy.

(At this rate, a city or two is going to get blown up. What the heck do I do?)

Victor: O~kay my cute cursed ones! This nonsense stops here.

Kate: Victor!

Victor: You two fight the moment I take my eyes off of you. Bad, I say. Bad!

Alfons/Roger: It’s Roger’s fault./It’s Al’s fault.

Victor: I’m not blaming anyone. I don’t mind the contest, okay? However, I don’t like negative games where the other dies from poison and things like that. I can’t afford to lose either of you. That’s not cute at all.

Kate: ……Not cute?

Victor: So here’s my proposal. Remember my friend, Viscount Morris?

Alfons: He’s the rich eccentric who owns a luxury cruise ship.

Victor: Yes, yes. The viscount’s beloved niece’s birthday is today. A birthday party will be hosted in one of his estates. The girl in honor has fled. I believe she went out of the country on vacation. 

Alfons: She’s a runaway horse, isn’t she? Perhaps a consequence of being raised like a princess. A pity.

Victor: The viscount came to me in tears, so I considered going as her double…

Roger: If the lady suddenly became huge and burly, that’d make a failure of a party.

Victor: Therefore, Kate. I want you to pretend to be the lady.

Kate: I knew this was where the story was going.

Victor: Haha, you’re becoming more like Crown! So, Alfons, Roger, I want you two to serve as Kate’s caretakers so that she doesn’t get exposed.

Roger: But what’s that gotta do with our contest?

Victor: Hm, that’s actually a good question! How about you compete for “friendship points” while acting as caretakers?

Kate:  What are “friendship points”?

Victor: Simple. You get a point if you’re friendly to the other. Oh, and the judge is Kate of course.

Roger: So the winner’s the one with the most points and gets Kate’s chocolates.

The proposal was completely unexpected, but it sounds like a good way for the two to get along.

Kate: I think it’s a good idea. I’ll also help the viscount.

Roger: If the little lady’s fine with it, then I’m game. Besides, it sounds like we’re gonna get kicked because of this pointless fight.

Alfons: I feel as if I’m being forced into something troublesome, but I’m fine with it. I’d also like to put an end to this pointless fight. Well… She and the chocolate will ultimately be mine.

Roger: You sure? I take what I want. You ready for that?

Alfons and Roger looked at me, and I blink in return.

Alfons, in an overly gentlemanly manner, shook Roger’s hand.

Alfons: Let’s have a fair, “friendly” match, Roger.

Kate: Ah. That’s one friendship point for you, Alfons!

Roger: What? Damn it, that was dirty.

Alfons wipes his hand, which had touched Roger’s, with a handkerchief.

Alfons: There’s nothing clean or dirty in this contest, is there Miss Kate?

Victor: Mhmm, it’s charming how they’re becoming fast friends. Fabulous!

[vigilskeep]

Considering DA protags are referred to by either title or surname, got any headcanons about that?

i’m going to be real with you i’m not sure i understand what this ask means or if it’s in reference to something i’ve forgotten but i’m going to give it my best shot anyway? and simply proceed to ramble. it’s late so i’m going to be very rambley

i’ve always taken particular notice of duncan’s codex entry saying it’s commonplace for wardens to drop their family names as a sign of abandoning their ties outside the wardens. so the warden being known by their family name is an act of defiance against warden tradition. it’s a good representation of how many warden codes they had to break to do the job, and what firm ties they tend to still have to their respective origins. reminds you that the warden is very often the ultimate anomaly. it can be something of a rallying cry for those whose names arent the type to ordinarily be heard across thedas

as for the ‘hero of ferelden’ title, there’s a couple great things about that one. firstly, it directly mimics loghain’s title, the hero of river dane, which is delicious. who knows how long yours will outlive the death of his, when the wheel of history turns once more! otherwise, i’m super interested in it tying the warden to ferelden especially if the warden is not from ferelden. if you’re dalish, how do you feel about nationhood being applied to you? if you’re a dwarf, are you paragon or hero first? if you’re a city elf or a circle mage, how do you feel about this being the moment they finally suddenly want to decide you’re ‘of’ the same people, rather than pushing you aside? etc

‘hawke’ is so great. love how it depersonifies them. love how they’re the one who doesn’t rlly get a nickname from varric; hawke is the nickname, the false persona carrying the story. love that malcolm probably went by ‘hawke’ too and they stepped right into his shoes. love the genderlessness. love the flavour it gives to the names carver hawke and bethany hawke, the twins who can never be the hawke and struggle to get out from under that shadow, but also are in some ways freer in getting to have their own unique names appended, not made into a lifeless symbol

i’m very fond of ‘champion of kirkwall’. there’s a great beautiful confusing dead tradition of referring to nobles simply as their place name, which would be like for example referring to sebastian himself as starkhaven or anora herself as ferelden, and i would love that to apply to hawke in this case. it’s more relevant if they go dark and become viscount but i think all champions should get it as a treat. you don’t even get to be hawke; you are kirkwall. you clawed your way up it and now it’s a part of you, caked under your fingernails. i like how kirkwall claims them as its champion no matter if they were just fighting for their friend. in da2 everything is narrative, decided after the fact

i wish we could get more into herald of andraste because to me it screams end-of-days cult. a herald arrives ahead of someone, a herald announces them. the implication of a herald of andraste is that they have been sent to cry that she is coming

[newtonsheffield]

A couple bath! Anthony has the flower petals and candles ready and no one interrupts them.

Eloise is fighting the patriarchy? Cool, he can talk to her later.

A gentleman wants to court Francesca? Here's the viscount's office hours. Make an appointment.

Gregory and Hyacinth tore down the wall with Newton? He'll deal with them later.

Colin is currently in crisis mode because he figured out that he's in love with his best friend and uh oh, she's also a notorious gossip monger? Benedict, watch Colin and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.

Anthony’s valet and Kate’s Maid standing outside the door to the room at Anthony’s request under strict instructions that he is unavailable.

Particularly to Benedict whose taken to wandering around after this new Anthony, fascinated in the changes he’s seen in his older brother. A year ago Anthony was saying he really didn’t care to whom he was married. And now Anthony walks into the breakfast room humming as he settles Kate in her seat, preening when Kate leaves him a kiss on the cheek for his trouble.

“Well, this is a change brother.”

Anthony sighed, swishing his napkin, “You minding your business? I quite agree it would be.”

Benedict rolled his eyes, nudging Kate good naturedly, “Have I told you about Anthony’s list of desired attributes in a wife?”

“Benedict.” Anthony warned as Kate chuckled.

“You haven’t but I’m very intrigued.”

“Anthony once asked me which poetry was more deceptive.”

Kate laughed as Anthony tutted, “Well, I was perhaps a little jaded then. I’m very romantic now.”

“Are you?” Kate teased him, “With whom, darling? Must be with your other wife.”

“Kate!”

“Oh he’s getting very cross with us, lady Bridgerton.” Benedict teased.

“I rather like when he’s cross.” Kate hummed, “He looks like an angry turtle.”

“I’m very romantic!” Anthony argued, “Did I not treat you to a very nice interlude last evening?”

“I’m not sure your brother needs to know about that, Anthony.”

“He doesn’t.” Benedict agreed.