~20, ENFP, She/They~ I post cottage core inspiration and am an avid Sims 4 fan Part of many fandoms (Tolkien universe, Stranger Things, Star Wars Universe, Jane Austen, etc) EA can eat my shorts
Hey guys!! I am creating this post to let my followers and any other people who have enjoyed my fanfiction content that I am rebranding to a Sims 4 blog. I have played Sims 4 since I was in 6th grade and am obsessed with the game. The reason for this rebranding is that it will be much easier and more enjoyable for me to consistently post. I will no longer be working on my John Laurens x reader fanfiction but I might be writing little blurbs or short stories every once in a while. Thank you for supporting me, and if the rebranding of my blog doesn’t interest you, thank you for visiting :)
P.S. I am tagging everyone who was in my previous tag list for my fanfiction so that they are aware it is no longer in the works
please lord, take all of Perlah’s pain and discomfort and give it to Ogilvie. please lord, take all of Princess’s pain and discomfort and give it to Ogilvie. please lord, take all of Dana’s pain and discomfort and give it to Ogilvie. please lord, take all of Donnie’s pain and discomfort and give it to Ogilvie. please lord, take all of Emma’s pain and discomfort and give it to Ogilvie.
in which anthony bridgerton finds himself enamored with the ton's most stubborn debutante...
PAIRING: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader
WARNINGS: given last name (Bennett), boring men, annoying Anthony, protective siblings, a generally healthy family dynamic, angst, fluff, so much pining, miscommunication ig, medling servants, dramatic confession (ala Anthony Bridgerton style)
WORD COUNT: 6.5k
🎶 : reflections - the neighbourhood
AN: 🩵♥️💗 - love this one so so much!! It's not really set in any season, but if it were, I imagine season two Anthony (looks wise) and season three Anthony (vibes wise)!! enjoy pookies!!
You could not bring yourself to care.
You tried, you really did. But this lord, whatever his name was, was the most trying man you’d ever had the misfortune of meeting. Your mother’s close childhood friend had introduced you to him, and from then on, you’d not found a way to be rid of him. It’s not that he was horrible in any way, just extremely dull. And pompous.
He was currently talking about how many homes he had in the countryside. You scratched your brow, the signal you and your mother had devised long ago. A signal that meant it was time to free you from whatever you were taking part in.
Today, it applies to this boring conversation. “How wonderful, my lord-”
“Darling.” Your mother approached the table, feigning an apologetic look. “We really must be going. Your father has sent for us.”
“Oh.” The lord, you still didn’t remember his name, frowned. “Then you must leave. I insist.”
“Really?” You frowned as well. “I would hate to-”
“I will see you at the Danbury Ball. Do not worry.” He took your hand, kissing the back. “Until then, Miss Bennett.”
“Until then, my lord.” You hooked your arm through your mother’s, all but running out of the ice cream shop. “Thank you.”
“Of course, my darling.” She smiled. “May I ask what was wrong with him?”
“I-” You couldn’t very well tell your mother you hated him, or that you didn’t know his name. That he wasn’t at all what you pictured for yourself, and even though you knew you must marry for duty, you wished you could at least enjoy the man. “He was quite self-centered.”
“What man isn’t?”
Your mind drifted for a moment, imagining any number of men you’d read about. One your your newer novels had the dreamiest man, the most perfect man. He was stoic, but loving, reserved, but all encompassing when it came to his love. “I imagine some.”
“Ever the idealist, my dear.”
Your sister, Mary, was young, only six and ten years of age. You felt a certain protectiveness over her, to shield her from the way men were. You wished she could remain naive forever. That hope, the one only you knew, locked you into a dutiful marriage. Then your sister, as kind and naive as she was, could marry for love without a care in the world.
She would never come to know the harsh realities you faced, and that was fine with you.
But there were moments.
When you walked in the park, your eyes would drift to the lovers on the benches, giggling and smiling. Your heart would flutter when the man would brush something from his wife’s cheek, or even kiss her longingly.
Something you had never experienced, and most likely never would.
“Are you listening?” Mary frowned. “You’ve drifted off again.”
“I’m sorry.” You sat up in your chair, smiling at the young girl. “What is it you were saying?”
“I was asked to a ball.”
“A ball?” Mary had yet to debut; who in the world had asked her to a ball? “Who has asked you?”
“One of the Lady Bridgerton’s daughters. We met at the library, and she was quite witty. We became quick friends.”
The worry that had built up in your stomach quickly subsided. “I’m sure Mother will be thrilled. The Bridgerton girls are wonderful.”
“Perhaps you can meet one of their handsome brothers.” Mary wiggled her eyebrows. “I have heard they are quite easy on the eye.”
“And where exactly are you hearing this?” You scoffed, sitting back in your seat. “You are much too young-”
“I read about it, if you must know. In Lady Whistledown.”
“Must I repeat my earlier sentiment?”
“I am six and ten years of age, sister. I am hardly a child.”
“In my eyes-” You reminisced fondly. “You will always be a child.”
“I wish I were not.” She huffed, folding her arms indignantly.
“Well, you are.” You teased, opening your book back to where you’d left off. “It is the way of older sisters, Mary. We will always think of you as we first met you.”
“You first met me when I was a babe.”
You laughed, not bothering to look up from your book. “Exactly.”
“Our girls look exquisite, do they not, my lord?” Your mother was ecstatic, brimming with joy, when Mary told her the news. “The very picture of elegance.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” You scoffed. “I’m dressed as a pirate.” Mary had failed to mention that the ball she’d been invited to was the Bridgerton’s annual Masquerade Ball. You had no use for new gowns, deciding to give your Mother your allowance to make Mary the most exquisite girl at the ball. “Mary, however, looks beautiful.”
She grinned, spinning in her sparkling white gown. It was in the style of their mother’s youth, with a large, voluptuous skirt and tight corset top. She had wings, large fabric ones, with a beautiful halo. “Thank you, sister.”
“Shall we make our way?”
Your father grumbled. “I would very much like to.”
Your father had always been quiet, reserved in nature. To hear him say he would like to attend a ball was quite shocking, amusing even. You laughed, hooking your arm through his. “You would like to, you say?”
He nodded, helping you into the carriage. “Perhaps this will be the ball you find a suitable husband, my dear. Where better than the Bridgerton ball?”
Your cheeks grew red, squeaking in shock. “Father!”
It had been his turn to laugh at you. “The Bridgertons are a fine bunch. Their eldest-”
“I will not entertain this any longer.” You hissed. “You and Mary, I swear.”
“You swear?” Your mother climbed into the carriage, shaking her head. “Do not swear, dear.”
“Yes, mother. My apologies.”
Your father hit the roof of the carriage twice, signaling to the driver that he could begin the short drive. Mary was practically bouncing with excitement, staring out the window the entire ride.
When you arrived, their footmen were already waiting, ready to help you out of the carriage. Mary’s cheeks grew red, muttering a quick thanks before she stepped aside, waiting for you. “I feel like a princess.”
“That is because you are one.” You smiled warmly, taking her hand. “Shall we?”
She nodded, holding the front of her skirts so she wouldn’t trip. “They have a beautiful home.”
You nodded. “They do, yes.” They had flowers in every corner of every room, each covered in decadent glitter that practically glowed, thanks to the countless candles, of course. The party goes themselves was just as exquisite, every one of them decked out to the stars. “I do believe this is the most elaborate ball I’ve ever been to.”
“Benedict?” Anthony called out. “Come here.”
The younger brother complied, annoyed that Anthony had taken him away from his newest conquest. “Yes, my loving brother?”
“Who is that?” His finger pointed toward a pair of girls, one dressed as an angel, the other dressed as a pirate. He’d laughed when he first saw her attire - the British Empire had constant problems with pirates, and here she was, dressed as one. It was amusing, to say the least. “I have not yet seen her.”
“I am shocked.” Benedict scoffed. “Considering your quest to find the perfect woman, one would think you would find Miss Bennett quite becoming.”
“Miss Bennett, you say?” Anthony raised a brow. “Any relation to Lord Bennett?”
“His daughters. The pair of them. The younger one is Eloise’s friend, I believe.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Thank you, Benedict.”
“I must warn you, brother, she is quite…” Benedict tilted his head. “Interesting.”
She looked beautiful, wonderfully witty. Her face radiated confidence, the quiet kind that pulled Anthony in. “I do enjoy a challenge.”
Benedict laughed. “Then I wish you luck, brother.”
He approached slowly, smirking as the girls commented on the house. “I do believe this is the most elaborate ball I’ve ever been to.”
“I’m glad you think so.” A man, you presumed a Bridgerton, grinned from behind his mask. “I shall let my mother know.”
Mary grinned, waving politely. “Hello.”
The man waved back, obviously finding humor in her eager nature. “Hello. You must be the young lady Eloise invited.”
“Yes.” Mary nodded. “Is she here?”
“She is indeed. Just behind you, actually.” He pointed over Mary’s shoulder. “The one who looks as if she wished she were anywhere else.”
Mary laughed, looking up at you for permission. “May I?”
“Go on then.” You ushered her away, watching as she greeted her new friend. “They met only three days ago.”
“I heard. Eloise talked of a smart girl she met at the library.” The man’s eyes were rather intense, you noticed. They were pulling you in, a look behind them you wished you could decipher. “She did not mention her stunning sister.” Your stomach flipped, caught off guard by his comment. “May I know your name?”
“I-”
“Viscount Bridgerton.” Your father called out, and you gasped, curtseying quickly. “How good to see you.”
“Lord Bennett. Welcome.”
“I apologize.” You stood straight, cheeks hot from the mistake. Later, you would look back on the moment you met the most perplexing man you’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. “I did not-”
“And how could you have?” The Viscount shook his head. “Do not apologize.”
Your mother looked mischievously between the two of you. “Your father and I were just going to grab a glass of punch.”
“I can join you-”
“No, no.” Your mother shook her head. “Why don’t you stay and make new friends?”
“Mother-” She hadn’t even waited for you to reply, and when you turned back to the Viscount, he was still smirking. Obnoxious really. “I apologize for her behavior. She is eager for me to-” Why were you explaining yourself? “If you’ll excuse me-”
“Would you care to dance, Miss Bennett?”
“You wish to dance?” You tilted your head. “With me?”
“Is there another Miss Bennett beside you?”
“If you insist.” You took his hand, following him to the floor. “How long has your sister enjoyed reading?”
“Which one?” He raised a brow.
You fought the intense urge to glare, feeling it was rather obvious. “The one my sister has grown fond of.”
“Ah. Eloise.” He placed a hand on your waist, and you ignored the way his touch caused your skin to tingle and your heart to flutter. “She has always enjoyed being educated. She particularly loves to correct my brothers and me on every matter we speak of.”
“She sounds like a spitfire.” You grinned. “I would love to know her.”
“I am sure you will in the coming months. My sister and yours have been writing to each other, planning their meetings. Penelope Featherington has even joined their little posse.”
“I enjoy Penelope.” You grew defensive. Men of the ton seemed to pull Penelope into their little jokes. “She is a kind-”
“Do not assume I find displeasure in Miss Featherington or her company. She is a close family friend.”
“Ah.” You nodded. “I see.”
“And what is it you enjoy doing?”
“I-” Why must he look at you so unwavering, like you are the only person he cares to talk to? It is most unnerving. “I also enjoy reading. I particularly enjoy books regarding history.”
“History?” He grinned. “Do tell.”
“Miss Bennett!”
You turned around, shocked to find yourself disappointed. Why, you had no idea. “My lord.”
It was the man you had seen earlier that week in the ice cream shop. “I am pleased to see you.”
“Thank you, my lord.” You still did not know his name. “Are you enjoying this fine day?”
Your little piece of tranquility had been ruined. You’d found a new book and were determined to at least finish the first chapter in the park. It seemed that the plan would not come to fruition. “I must say, you look beautiful in this light.”
You tried your hardest not to scoff. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Would you mind terribly if I sat with you?”
“I-”
“Miss Bennett!”
Your stomach flipped at the sight, almost happy to see the Viscount running toward you. You quickly stood, brushing off your dress. “Viscount Bridgerton.”
“I thought we agreed to meet at the ice cream shop?”
You tilted your head, deeply confused. You had not made any plans to meet the man. His eyes quickly darted toward the ever-persistent lord, and all became clear. “My mistake.”
“Not at all. I am here now.” He smiled, extending his arm. “Shall we?”
You waved goodbye to the lord, gratefully taking his arm. Anthony smiled politely at the lord. “Beesbury.”
“Bridgerton.”
You waited until you turned the corner to speak. “I could have saved myself.”
“Oh?” He tilted his head. “It looked to me as if you were trapped.”
“I was. But I had a plan, I assure you.”
“Please do tell.”
You scoffed. “I do not have to tell you anything, my lord.”
“I feel it is only right. Consider it payment for my saving you.”
“What a gentleman you are. Demanding that a lady pay you back for a good deed.”
“I never claimed to be a gentleman.”
You gasped, a shocked smile gracing your lips. “Viscount Bridgerton. What a horrid thing to say.”
“Why were you with Beesbury anyhow? He is a dreadfully boring man.”
“He is.” You nodded.
“You agree?”
“Of course.”
“Then why would you entertain his company?”
You thanked the lord for your timely arrival, walking up your home’s steps. “Until next time, Viscount Bridgerton.”
“You are quite a confusing woman, Miss Bennett.”
You scoffed, yelling over your shoulder. “I could say the same of you, my lord.”
The dreaded Danbury Ball.
You loved Lady Danbury, you really did. But the thought of seeing Lord Beesbury was not something you were looking forward to. It was as if he had some magical sense, because as soon as you’d arrived, he had been on you, greeting your family. “Lord Bennett.”
“Lord Beesbury.” Your father looked less than enthused. “I assume you’ve met my wife and eldest daughter.”
“Yes, of course.” He took your hand, kissing the back much too intimately. “Miss Bennett, wonderful to see you.”
“My Lord.”
“And who is this?” Beesbury smiled. “I do not believe we have had the pleasure of meeting.”
“This is my youngest daughter. She has yet to be presented into society.” Your mother was making it quite clear that he could not have her. As if there was not another reason for you to despise the man, he was looking a little too longingly at your sister.
“Ah, I see.” He turned back to you. “Shall we dance, my lady?”
“I-”
“I believe I was promised the first dance.”
How was he always there? You quickly curtsied, politely smiling at the Viscount. “Lord Bridgerton.”
“Miss Bennett.” He turned to Beesbury. “I do apologize.”
“It is not a problem. I will see you after.” He kissed the back of your hand once more. “My lady.”
“My lord.”
“Lord Bridgerton.” Your mother grinned. “How wonderful to see you.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” He smiled. “Could I steal your daughter for a dance, my lady?”
“Of course, of course.”
“Mother.” You hissed. “I have not said yes.”
“Nonsense. Go on, dear.”
You took his hand reluctantly. “You must cease this ‘savior’ act. It is quite tiring.”
“I am sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“I am sorry that I saved you from the annoying man that is Lord Beesbury.”
“Lord Bridgerton!” You gasped. “You must not say such things.”
“You never told me why you allow him to bore you so.” His hand yet again found its way around your waist, fingers digging into you a little too tightly. And yet, you found yourself not asking him to loosen his grip, for fear of losing his touch entirely. You squirmed, heart pounding from the proximity. “I must know.”
“Must you?” He was, without a doubt, the most arrogant man you’d ever known. “Just because you are a Viscount does not mean we all answer to you.”
He was caught off guard by your comment, something you found immense satisfaction in. “You astound me, Miss Bennett.”
It was his turn to catch you off guard, it would seem. “I allow him to bore me because he is from a fine family. A good man, despite his lack of personality. He would be a fine husband.”
“I disagree.”
“Of course, you do.” He spun you around, momentarily stumbling as you fell back into his arms. “Tell me, what exactly do you disagree with?”
“He is not worthy of you.”
If Anthony Bridgerton was wholy arrogant, he was wholy swoon-worthy as well, devastatingly so. “I beg your pardon?”
“We have not known each other long, Miss Bennett. But I must say, I never thought you would be the kind to settle for a man simply because of his status.”
“You’re right.” You glared, remembering why he angered you so. “You have not known me long, so you do not understand me. Nor will you.” You curtsied, glad the dance had ended. “If you’ll excuse me.” You stalked toward Mary, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from whatever conversation she was having. “We’re leaving.”
“Why?” Mary whined. “I was-”
“What is the matter, dear?” Your mother frowned. “Has something happened?”
“I would like to leave.” You glanced over your shoulder, his eyes still trained on you. “I am tired, Mama.”
“As you wish.” Your father nodded. “After you, my dears.”
“You know I must ask you what happened last night.” Your father’s voice cut through your reading. “You left so suddenly.”
“It was nothing. Like I said, I was tired.”
“If you plan to continue your tradition of reading in my study, you must be prepared for sudden interrogation, my dear.” You hated it when your father was right. “What did Lord Bridgerton say?”
“How do you know it was the Viscount?” You scoffed. “It could have been anyone.”
“True.” He nodded. “But it was the Viscount, wasn’t it?”
“You’re terribly insightful.” You groaned. “He made an assumption about my character. One that was entirely misplaced.”
“So he offended you?”
You nodded. He had, even if he was wrong. And you couldn’t very well tell your father the truth, that the Viscount had assumed you to be some power-hungry debutante, unloving and cold. “In a way, yes.”
“Would you like me to speak with him?”
“That won’t be necessary, Father. But thank you.”
He was quiet for a moment, staring at you as if he were trying to decipher you. “I know what you are doing, my love.”
“And what is that?”
“You wish to protect your sister.”
“I-” You closed your book. “Any good sister would.”
“Yes. But you are-” He tilted his head, trying to find the right words. “Your mother and I are not destitute.”
“I know, Father.”
“Then why have you vowed to marry for duty, rather than love?” He frowned. “You are quite telling. The men you see, do they bring you joy? Laughter?”
You shook your head, too embarrassed to speak.
“If you were married for love, your sister would be perfectly content. Her dowry, the same as yours, is more than enough to live comfortably.”
“Father-” A tear ran down your cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“I should be the one apologizing, my dear.” He laughed, standing up from his desk. “You take too much upon your shoulders. It is my job to look after your sister and her future, and I have turned a blind eye to your interference. From now on-” He brushed a hair behind your cheek. “Promise me you will only entertain lords who entertain you. No more of the duty nonsense.”
“I promise, Father.” You wrapped your arms around him, hugging tightly. “I promise.”
“Good.” He nodded. “I would like a biscuit.”
You pulled your head away from his chest. “A biscuit?”
He nodded once more. “Would you care to venture to the kitchens with me?”
“I would.” You grinned, placing your book on the end table. “A biscuit sounds wonderful.”
“We must stop meeting like this.”
Anthony Bridgerton was the bane of your existence, it would seem.
“Viscount. How good to see you.”
“You must not lie.” He frowned. “Are you enjoying this?”
“The event?” You looked around the room, taking in the countless paintings that covered the walls. “I do love museums.”
“As do I.” He smiled, standing beside you, observing the painting before you. “Where is dear Lord Beesbury?”
“Engaged, thankfully.” You smiled back. “Some poor lady will be miserable till death do they part.”
“On that, we agree.”
“I do so love this painting.” You sighed. “It is captivating.”
“Yes, it is.”
You looked over, shocked to see his eyes fixed on you. “I must explain my sudden departure to you.”
“There is no need. I was being callous-”
“May I? Please?” You felt faint under his gaze. “You said I was settling for Beesbury because of his status.”
“It was wrong of me-”
“You were not entirely…wrong.” You began to pick at the skin around your nails, a nervous habit you had picked up around your debut. Your mother hated the habit, as did you. You just couldn’t seem to break it. “I vowed to marry for duty, so that my sister could marry whomever she wanted. She is my pride and joy, you see.” You swallowed, staring at the ground. “I love her so dearly, and I only want the best for her-”
“We are quite similar, you and I.”
His voice was tight, tense. Why, you had no idea. You looked up, laughing at his comment. “Perhaps, we are.”
“Could I accompany you while you remain here?”
Your cheeks felt hot. “I-”
“It was a stupid idea.” He laughed. “Excuse me-”
You shouldn’t have done it. But in that moment, you couldn’t think of any other way to stop him from leaving. You reached out, grabbing his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “I would love that, my lord.”
“Wonderful.” He smiled, slipping his hand out of your grasp to hook his arm through yours. “Tell me, who is your favorite artist featured today?”
“I do so love Jean-Antoine Watteau’s work.” You grinned. “It is so detailed, beautifully done.”
“I agree,” Anthony would later pinpoint this moment as the day he fell in love with you.
“Hello?” You called out, the pale blue halls empty save for a few servants. “Hello?”
“Do you need help, Miss?”
You nodded. “I’m here to pick up my sister, Miss Mary Bennett.”
“Ah.” The maid smiled. “Follow me. I believe they are in the drawing room.”
“Thank you.” You followed her through the doors.
“A Miss Bennett, my lord.”
You curtsied, smiling as Anthony burst to his feet. “My lord.”
“Miss Bennett.” He began to fix his vest, making you laugh. “I was not expecting you.”
“I’m simply here to bring my sister home.” You looked around the room, smiling at the others who inhabited the space. “I won’t be long.”
“Please.” He blurted out. “Won’t you stay for tea?”
A quick laugh left (who you could only assume) was his brother’s lips before Anthony glared at him, promptly shutting him up. “I wouldn’t want to intrude-”
“You wouldn’t be.”
His mother watched with utter fascination, quiet as a church mouse.
“I am sorry, Lord Bridgerton, but my mother wishes us home for dinner.” You looked behind you, tapping your foot impatiently. “Where is she?”
“Come with me.” Anthony set his book down, grabbing your hand in his. You gasped, as did his mother and (you assumed yet again) his older sister. “I have an inclination as to where they are.”
“Very well.” You gave in, wishing he could hold your hand forever. “After you.”
The halls of the Bridgerton estate were beautiful, even without the dazzling decorations. The paintings that lined the walls were perfection, the furniture antique and well-kept. “I must say, my lord, your home is-”
It couldn’t be. You slowed, pulling Anthony to a stop as well. “Is that the-” The painting. The very one you both had stared at for minutes while you confessed your reasoning behind leaving. He bought the painting.
He nodded, swallowing thickly. “I acquired it after you left.”
“I see.” Your voice was small, smaller than you’d wanted it to be. “But why?”
“I-” He searched your face desperately. “I believe you know why.”
“My lord-”
“Please.” He shook his head. “Call me Anthony, I beg of you.”
“That is most inappropriate, my lord.” You hissed, although it had no bite. Your insides were mush, his attention causing you to short-circuit.
“I apologize.” He did not look the least bit sorry. “I’m sorry, but I must tell you something. You-you have captured my-”
“Anthony.” The lord groaned, his arm falling from yours as he turned around.
“Yes, brother?”
“Mother is calling for you.” It was not Benedict, but rather Colin, who called from the end of the hall.
“Tell her I will be there in a moment.” He turned back around, disappointment etched on his face. “Will you wait for me?”
You nodded, cheeks still burning from his words. “Of course.”
“I will be back, I promise you.”
“Go.” You ushered him away, staring at the painting in fascination. He had bought this because of you. He had bought this because you told him you loved it. It was-
“Poor girl. She has no idea.” You whipped around, a servant's voice echoing through the hall. “He’s going to eat her alive, he is.”
“You mustn’t say things like that.” Another whispered, before laughing. “Even if it is true.”
“Lord Bridgerton has gone through more ladies than I’ve gone through households.” The first servant whispered. If this were not about you, you would tell the servant her whispering needed improvement, but you were curious.
Curiosity killed your love. If you could have even called it that.
“He will not truly love her. He is a rake, through in through.” The second spoke. “What man isn’t?”
Your eyes welled. You were stupid, so stupid to believe in his attention. Forget Mary and her naivety, that was you. It had been you all along. You were easily tricked, but no longer. You stalked around the corner, ignoring the gasps the servants let out at your appearance. “My lady.”
You paid them no mind, tears streaming down your cheeks as you found Mary waiting for you in the foyer, Anthony and Eloise standing dutifully beside her. “Sister!” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Is something the matter?”
“We’re leaving.” You kept your eyes to the ground, grabbing her hand as you pulled her toward the door. “Say goodbye to Miss Eloise.”
“Bye!” Mary waved quickly. “Why are you walking so fast?”
The Bridgerton siblings stood there in confusion, staring at the girls until they left their view. “What was that about, do you think?”
Anthony shrugged, heart clenching at the thought of your upset face. “I haven’t the faintest clue, Eloise.”
“What has happened?” Mary pestered. “Sister?”
“You are not to go to the Bridgertons again.” You muttered, stalking past your footmen and up the stairs toward your room. “I don’t want you around that family ever again.”
“You must tell me what is going on!” Mary yelped. “And stop pulling me!”
“I-” You looked behind you, face paling at the sight. Your grasp on your sister’s wrist was tight, too tight to be comfortable. “I’m sorry, Mary.”
“I will be fine.” She smiled, wiping a tear from your cheek. “Please, do not shut me out.”
“Come along then.” You huffed, ushering her into your room. You explained as you removed your coat. “I was foolish, so very foolish.”
“Is this to do with a certain Viscount?” Mary wiggled her eyebrows.
“He is a rake. And he-” You sobbed, slapping a hand over your mouth. “I thought he was an honorable man, but he is not. He has fooled me.”
“What did he do?” Mary looked positively frightened. “Has he-”
“No!” You shook your head quickly. “I believed that he- I don’t know why.” You crumbled to the floor. “I thought he- he loved me.”
“Oh, sister.” Mary sat beside you, pulling you into her hold. “I am so sorry. So very sorry.”
“Will I ever know what has happened with you, my dear?” Your mother frowned, worriedly watching as you simply read your novel. “You’ve been rather distant.”
“I do not know what you mean. I am simply tired.”
“You have been tired for nearly two weeks.”
“It must be my cycle, Mother.” It was nowhere near your cycle, but your mother was nothing if not persistent.
She nodded, like that explained everything. “Ah, I see.”
You hid a laugh behind your hand as your sister rolled her eyes.
“My lady.” Your mother’s housekeeper, Mrs. Gilligan, interrupted. “There is a gentleman in the foyer.”
“Did you catch his name, Mrs. Gilligan?”
“No, my lady.”
“No matter, I will go see what the man wants.”
You groaned, sitting up and making yourself presentable. Mary laughed, shaking her head. “Do you think it’s him again?”
You glared. “I hope not. Besides, he wouldn’t dare-”
“He’s here.” Your mother poked her head through the drawing room door. “Shall I let him in?”
Mary shook her head. “I think it would be best to tell him that she is ill.” She looked back at you, smiling comfortingly. “Do you agree?”
“Yes.” You nodded. “Please, Mother.”
She sighed. “Very well. But you cannot avoid him forever, my dear.”
You waited till she had left the room to scoff. “I beg to differ.”
“She’s right, you know.”
“Traitor.” You stuck your tongue out playfully. “I do not wish to see him.”
“And I understand, truly, I do.” She placed her hand over yours. “But he can never defend himself if you do not give him the chance.”
“There is nothing for him to defend himself over. We were never courting, there is nothing to say.”
“You and I both know that is not true in the slightest.” She raised a brow, waiting for you to disagree with her. “He is devastated by your disappearance.”
“And how would you know?”
“Eloise writes to me now that you have banned me from going over. He has confined himself to his room, and when he is not in his room, he is a shell of himself.”
“I do not see the issue.”
Mary shook her head, deciding to drop the subject. “The Featherington ball is coming up.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Will you at least go to that?” Mary pleaded. “For my sake?” She jutted out her bottom lip, and you caved most easily.
“Fine, fine.” You glared. “Now let me read my novel, please.”
The Featherington ball, much like its matriarch, was over the top, its halls covered in dramatic florals that overwhelmed the senses. It was beautiful, but even beautiful things could cause you pain. Or at the very least, exhaustion. “Must I go in?”
“Do not be such a bore, sister.” Mary hooked her arm through yours, dragging you toward the stairs. “It will only take a moment.”
“I know. That does not mean-”
“Too late.” Mary wiggled her eyebrows, descending the steps. “Come along then.”
Your eyes scanned the room, stomach fluttering as you met the Viscount’s gaze. He was gloomy and terribly handsome in his dark ensemble. The very picture of a leading man in some novel, perhaps one of those newer novels by that woman, Jane Austen. Your breath caught in your throat, Anthony had this horrible trait of turning you into a right mess. “I need some fresh air.”
Your sister groaned, tired of your antics. “But we’ve only just arrived.”
“I’ll only be a moment, I swear.”
Your mother escorted her further into the ballroom, introducing her to the many other young ladies who would most likely be making their debuts the following year. She was certainly ready, of that you were certain. “Miss Bennett.”
Your heart clenched, eyes shutting as if that would stop him from speaking further. “My lord.”
“You are recovered.”
You tilted your head. “I'm sorry?”
“From your sickness.” Anthony stepped closer, his voice lowered. “I called on you.”
“Did you?” You shrugged, feigning ignorance. “That is a shame, Viscount Bridgerton. I would have loved to see you.”
“That I find hard to believe.” He looked positively miserable. “Has something happened?”
“I do not know what you mean. If you’ll excuse me-” You stalked away from him, toward where you had no idea. Anywhere where he was not would be idealistic.
“You cannot avoid me forever, Miss Bennett.”
“I believe I can, my lord.”
“Enough!” He hadn’t yelled, but his tone was enough to halt your steps. “I must know what I’ve done.”
“I-” You were at a loss for words. “You-”
“Correct me if I am wrong, Miss Bennett, but I believed us to be growing close. I believed-” His swallowed, hand twitching as if he itched to hold you. “I thought-”
“You are wrong.” It pained you to say it, but you had to. “Whatever you believe, or believed, you are wrong. We were nothing, not close, no growing to be. We are acquaintances, that is all.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t believe it. Out with it then. Tell me what I have done to make you hate me so.”
“I have heard the talk, the gossip. The Ton is relentless in their information, especially when it comes to you, my lord. Tell me, how many other women have you bought paintings for? How many other ladies have you pulled into a false sense of hope, of companionship?" Your voice grew tight, your eyes watery. “Of love?”
“Miss Bennett-”
“I cannot bear to look at you.” You practically hissed at the man, shocked that he had not stopped you. “I am disgusted by you, by your behavior.” You whipped around, walking further into the house and further away from the party.
“You drive me mad!” He hissed back, following after you. “My thoughts are consumed by you, you and you alone. You haunt me in my sleep, your wit, your beauty-” He groaned, looking as if he truly was going mad. “I am enamored by you!”
Your tears were falling freely, and Anthony frowned at the sight. You walked forward, shoving his chest firmly. “Do not come near me again.” You sobbed, shoving him once more. “Swear it.”
“I cannot.”
“Why not?” You sobbed again, his hands wrapping around your wrists before you tried to shove him once more. “Why not?” You shook against his hold, your resolve breaking by the second.
“Because I am in love with you. You have bewitched me, and I cannot stay away from you.” He brought your hand up to his heart, pressing your palm to his chest. “My heart yearns for you.”
You shook your head, tears subsiding. “You do not mean it.”
“But I do.” He whispered, leaning his forehead against yours. “I mean every word.”
“Anthony…” Your eyes darted to his lips. “We will tear each other apart-”
“We will not.” He smiled, his breath intertwining with yours. “We will not because I love you, and I believe you love me.”
“Love you?” You scoffed. “Whatever are you talking about?”
“You heard our maids talking, did you not? About my past? That is why you were upset, why you left so suddenly.” His hand found its way to your cheek, wiping away your tears. “Why would you be so upset if not for love?”
“You have no idea of my feelings.” You could feel your self-restraint weakening by the second. “No idea at all.”
His eyes fell to your lips. “I look forward to a life of finding out, my lady.”
“If that is your idea of a proposal, my dear Viscount, you have misinterpreted this situation.”
He laughed. “Have I?”
“No.” You shook your head, arms wrapping around his neck. “You have not.”
“You are quite the contradiction, Miss Bennett.” His lips brushed against yours, your knees buckling. “Quite the contradiction indeed.”
bonus part: the moment anthony bridgerton proved, yet again, to be the man of your wildest dreams
The autumn air did not deter either of you from your daily promenade; if anything, it prompted you to take your time, to enjoy the changing leaves and crisp breeze. You took advantage of the cool weather, grasping Anthony’s arm as if he were your only source of warmth.
Anthony did not mind in the slightest, and if he had, he did not show it. He revelled in your touch, in his wife’s affection. He took pride in it, in the fact that you loved him so dearly, that you cherished him so publicly.
“Should we sit?” He whispered, nuzzling his nose against your ear. You giggled from the touch, shoving his arm playfully. “You must be tired.”
“I am hardly tired, but you are awfully sweet for thinking of me.”
“I always think of you.” He kissed your cheek. “You occupy my every thought.”
“That is no good.” You frowned. “What of our babe? Do you not think of him?”
“Or her.” Anthony’s hand gently caressed your bump. “Of course, I think of the babe. Which is why I must ask you to rest, my love.”
“Fine, fine.” You glared, plopping onto the bench. “If you insist.”
“I do.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. “Are you cold?”
“With you by my side, how could I be?” You traced shapes on his chest haphazardly. “You are warm enough for the both of us.”
“You tease, yet you cling to me.” He reached out, carefully pulling a leaf from your hair. “You are quite the contradiction.”
“Is that not why you love me?”
“One of the many reasons, yes.” His eyes fluttered to your fingers, pulling them from his chest, examining them. "You have stopped, yes?"
You nodded, cheeks growing hot. "I have not picked at my hands in quite some time, Anthony."
"Ah." He smiled, kissing each one delicately, still as giddy as the day he first saw you. “You continue to amaze me, Lady Bridgerton.”
“Stop it.” You glared. “You forget we are in public, my lord.”
“You forget I do not care.” He whispered, finding pleasure in the laugh that left your lips. “I am finding it very difficult not to kiss you.”
“You must control yourself.” You said it so firmly, but he knew you did not mean it. You enjoyed his attention. You even confessed to him, one night when neither of you could sleep, what you once dreamt of, what you found yourself daydreaming of during your time as a young debutante. He never forgot, always striving to fufill each and every dream.
Little did he know, he fulfilled your every dream by simply being your husband.
He loved the way your nose crinkled when he dove down to kiss your cheeks, the way you visibly became flustered by his love. “Please, my darling? Just one kiss?”
“Oh, alright then.” You could never say no to him, nor did you want to. And as he dove down, kissing you much too deeply for you to be in public, you couldn’t help but think back to when you wished this were you. When you wished to be so loved, so unconditionally and perfectly loved.
This skeleton costume by @sims4nexus was a conversion request. I was asked to include some pastel recolors, and as usual I went overboard. There are 55 swatches total with my Halloween-themed colors and pastels. Oh, and it glows.
I did not convert the mask, but instead I converted the face paint from Spooky Stuff (pack not required). I recolored it to match the costume and there are 40 swatches total. Grab the toddler costume here. Someone also converted the face paint for toddlers here.
Jessie Sams (@quothalinguist) and I created a language for Pixar's latest film Elemental. We created both a spoken language and writing system that are used in spots throughout the film. It's out today, so if you watch it, see if you can spot any of it! We had a lot of fun creating a language the requested "sound like fire". A tough thing to do with a human mouth, but we had some fun with it! Some language highlights:
Just watched the movie and it is so good! The marketing was really poorly done because I thought this was going to be another boring main story romance but it was actually mainly a first generation immigrant story!! The amount of passion and love put into this movie is insane!!!
