#imagine this better than they wrote it' lmao)

[lady-phasma]

Could you IMAGINE Lestat’s reaction to the internet? Better yet, imagine his reaction to all the fan blogs that would inevitably pop up after his own interview is released after Daniel’s book is published. Lestat’s ego would be bigger than the moon LMAO. Somebody would have to hide ao3 from that man.

Hi anon! I saved this ask until I could take my time with it, but also so that the amazing and brilliant @aemondsbabe could help me. She and I have literally been having a similar conversation for months!

In fact, I love this ask so much that I had to make a gif for it!

Since season two and the Rockstar promo we have been discussing this pretty frequently. One thing I think we can all agree on: Lestat's Twitter would be phenomenal and hilarious. I live for AMC to do a promo account just for the character.

Here's some headcanon we have about Lestat's internet use:

OF - Lestat 100% has an account. He might not use it for explicit acts, but he would love the "private" style of attention, knowing that he is captivating audiences via computers and phone and tablets in their homes.

Twitter/X - This account would be the rambling, unhinged shit we expect from him. Typos, Franglish, absurd comments because he misunderstood a pop culture reference. But most of all, he probably would direct most of his tweets to close friends and we'd get to see his tweets to Louis and about Armand. And the occasional interaction with fans or other celebrities when he figured out retweeting (which would result in the inevitable cancellation that he wouldn't care about at all).

Insta - We discussed this and at first I didn't think that he would have Insta at all. Then aemondsbabe suggested that he would have an account, but he would only post what his PR manager told him to post. I hope someone teaches him to take pictures of things other than shit in Walmart and candids of Louis.

Tumblr - aemondsbabe is a fucking genius! 100% credit where it is due. Lestat would have a Tumblr blog, but wouldn't quite understand that it's not a private diary. In fact, earlier this month during a discussion about this subject, she wrote a blog post for him:

louis, mon cher, how i wish you could be here with me on this, the most périlleuse des nuits… i have fallen prey to an evil poison, a foul spirit! the tour bus, you see, we had to stop to get l'essence ou, how you say, the gasoline… louis, mon cœur, i was tricked at this heinous shoppe! they had peculiar wares, des médicaments, promising virility of the gods! i have taken one and i fear this will end me, mon cher! please avenge me by slaying the most wicked of men known as Daryl! he has taken up résidence at l'Exxon outside of Tampa!

I laughed until I cried! Brilliant!

AO3 - I really don't know that he would find AO3 on his own. I think someone (maybe Graham Norton) would show it to him at some point and then he would speed read everything he could and write a "private" entry about the fics on his Tumblr diary. That would be something to read!

Thank you for this ask, anon! This was so much fun!

I hope AMC goes all out with Lestat on social media the way they gave Daniel his own LinkedIn page. I need him to have a twitter at the very least, but they could so much more.

[triglycercule]

ok so there's murder time trio where theyre best buddies and get along and sometimes even having more than just platonic interactions. and then there's also the murder time trio where they genuinely just don't like each other and avoid each other and do NOT get along and to me there's just a VERY clear timeline of events that could connect these two group dynamics. like these 2 could coexist,,,,,,

nightmare's fresh outta his little corruption sequence and he needs his henchmen. goes out and gathers the obvious three killer horror and dust (does it really matter how he got them??? kidnapping or not the trio will warm up to him). its his first time having to deal with mentally unstable grown up mortal men and he really has no idea how to manage the team so he lets them have some slack. spoils em a bit yk yk stops fights allows them to hang out allows em to screw around the castle even COMFORTS them,,,, shocking i know (a slightly nice nightmare interpretation from triglycercule? UNFATHOMABLE!!!!)

this killer's fresh outta something new so he's still kinda curious and nosy. he hasnt seen the multiverse and especially not interacted with nightmare/horrordust so he's kinda more outgoing and friendly (ish. to get to know better everyone and satisfy the curiosity of seeing what reactions and feelings these fellas could give him.) bc killer's not that much of a prick and horror and dust would naturally SLIGHTLY get along (and if in the right environment be good buddies. which is nm's lenience and killer's not shittiness) the mtt actually get along pretty well and are good buds!! like the first group dynamic i mentioned where the bad sanses are just kinda like a friend group except they have some weird work relations

and then a fight breaks out and nightmare kills either dust or horror (what about??? anything!) likely dust first because he's more likely to be wary of nm (if kidnapped) and also because he's just kinda more actively righteous compared to horror (who likely wouldn't do much against nm) or killer (does not give a shit.) dust dies, horror likely dies defending dust and that just leaves the og killer and nightmare

nightmare is like "oh shit i just killed my workers". he'll take like a week to ponder what he did and then completely move on (because hes an ass like that.) nightmare gets another horror and dust to replace the ones he killed. and killer is just like wtf how do i deal with this. the guys i were kinda friends were are dead but their copies are right here. like he knew copies existed in the utmv but he didn't think nightmare was so willing to replace them so fast???

this killer's still adapting to the multiverse and stuff (it probably hasn't even been a year since he got snatched up!!!) and yeah hes aware that copies exist and he could get replaced by one but he didn't think that it would LITERALLY HAPPEN RIGHT BEFORE HIS EYES. so he decides to stick more around nm and avoid getting replaced like the og dust and horror because it really just hammers in the point that he's kinda useless if he speaks out like those 2. hes avoidant of the new replacements as well bc hes still new to this experience and is getting used to the whole implications of two guys that were once him and he was friends with died and got replaced by basically the same person

but they still have to work together for obvious reasons. and even if killer's avoiding horror and dust they probably aren't avoiding each other and probably are like wary friends/acquaintances. and naturally killer HAS to become okay worker buddy pals with them because hes stuck living with them. nightmare's a lot stricter and cold to avoid something like dust's rebellion against him happening again. mtt are wary of each other (mostly towards killer. horrordust are pals and killer's kinda growing more apathetic to the duo because he's already experienced a lot of the stuff before with the og two that died.) but theyre still "friends" you could say

and then perchance maybe horror and dust decide to let killer in on a lil secret theyve been cooking up. theyre planning to escape (kidnapped DUH. and nm isn't as nice as he was to og horrordust to warrent them to wanna stay) and even though they don't really trust killer theyre still letting him in on the plan and offer for him to come with them because they lowkey feel bad for him and he's really not all that bad under all the bullshit

but killer saw what happened to the og dust and horror so he says no. and the night that the duo are planning to escape he just has this overwhelming sense of dread. the next morning he wakes up to nightmare standing over his bed with a cold glare telling him of horror and dust's attempted escape and death and killer just kinda. sighs. his dread was right (he was lowkey hoping that they could escape so they didn't die like the original 2)

and then the cycle repeats. previous dust or horror or both die to nightmare or some random outside force or escape (because it has to happen eventually right??) and the pair keep getting replaced. killer keeps witnessing their deaths and replacements and at this point he's just so used to it that he doesn't even TRY to interact with the new horrors and dusts. theyre not even like real people that are getting killed and replaced like robots to him anymore they're just distant coworkers that get fired and then a new one comes to take up the position

each new dust or horror is icked out by nightmare and killer. nightmare is incredibly cold and intimidating and dictatorial and just sucks in general. and killer gives them this distant look. like he knows something they dont. he's already proven to them that he knows that they should obey nightmare and how to deal with the king and they know he's been here longer than them but even when he's not with nightmare or not talking about him they get the blank stare

sometimes when a nicer replacement of horror decides to do something nice for killer like make him a meal he just gives him that look and declines (there's already been countless different horrors that tried doing nice stuff for him. it's not new and nice in his eyes anymore.) maybe when a dust replacement gets irked by killer's apathy and decides to try and say something that'll bother him or snoop through his personal stuff killer will just walk away or kick him out of his room with that creepy ass blank stare again (it's not the first time a dust has tried to rile him up. it's not new or interesting and just predictable)

killer just doesn't CARE about the new horrors and dusts. they're all pretty much the same two guy except maybe a bit nicer or meaner or quieter or even taller or something?? all he really cares about is is serving nightmares atp, no other outside relationships. and ngl he doesn't even care that much about nightmare either. he's already figured out his thinking he's already figured out all of his likes and dislikes and what not to do to piss him off. the only reason he's still dealing with him is because he doesn't have anything else better to do and he doesn't wanna be useless to the one guy that he's served all this time

he's just kinda stuck in an empty boring limbo that killer's only maintaining due to a lack of motivation and any other priorities. and personally i just think this bad sans dynamic is lowkey tragic because like killer keeps witnessing all these guys that he used to be friends or enemies or rivals or whatever with and they just keep dying or leaving him behind. not one ever stays for THAT long (because no wayyyy a dust or horror would take being under a cruel nightmare well) and it's given him this idea that none of these people matter (aside from the important one which is nm) because they're just gonna leave me and the connections ill have formed with them will be for nothing so why even try being vulnerable and friendly and interacting with these cheap copies of the guys i USED to be friends with

[sarsaparilla-star]

I LOVE FALLOUT!!!!!!!!

[thevioletcaptain]

pov! you're me, considering signing up as a participant in a new challenge, but as you're reading the rules and requirements you notice that they've straight up pasted in several sections of copy you wrote for a challenge you founded and have been running for the past seven years (and they didn't ask permission or provide credit!!!)

[netscapenavigaytor]

if i had a nickel for every time while headcanoning character dynamics that don't exist much in canon, i ended up making the fan-favorite yaoi pairing instead a worryingly toxic friendship that's only hanging on by a thread, i would have two nickels but it's weird that it happened twice

[atlabeth]

(not so) simple finale - anthony bridgerton

masterlist

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: so um ignore how long every part of this took to come out. i have no excuse. anyways we are finally here at the end!! almost 10k words of proper regency soap opera type shit and it all ends happily i promise. i hope u enjoy because damn this was supposed to be a short one shot and ended up being over 40k lmao

wc: 9k

warning(s): angst, reader is a lil insecure, slightly steamy make out scene, happy ending<333

You’d never been this restless before. 

Your dreams had a part to play in it. They insisted on tormenting you, though not in the usual way. 

No, these dreams would have been pleasant had they come any sooner. For Anthony Bridgerton appeared in near every single one, with his charming smile and soft eyes and hair you always desired to run your fingers through. 

He would smile at you, offer his arm and walk with you all around the park and the city as you talked for hours. He would compliment you, and you would compliment him, and he would court you as a perfect gentleman would. 

He would kiss you, ravenously so. His hands would touch you where no one had touched before, leaving trails of fire in their wake, would unearth feelings you never could have imagined. He would revere you, near worship you, because in this world you never made such ill-advised choices. In this world, you never dragged him into a worthless scheme that ended with a ruined reputation and a broken heart.  

In this world, he loved you just as much as you loved him, and you never did a single thing to make him doubt that. 

But you were not there. 

You were here, in the real world. Where you were in the midst of reaping what you spent a whole season sowing. 

You were roused from that less than peaceful attempt at sleep—though thoughts of Anthony took longer to disappear—by the opening of your door, and despite your visitor attempting to be quiet, you found your eyes fluttering open against your will.

“Oh, dearest,” your mother lamented, “I did not mean to wake you. I apologize; I merely wanted to check on you. I will return later—please, rest.”

“No,” you murmured, and you rubbed your eyes as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. Small movements were much easier, which at least meant a step in the right direction. “No, stay. Please.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. When you nodded, she closed the door lightly behind her and sat on your bedside, laying her hand over yours. 

She whispered your name, her voice already thick with tears that she was trying to hide. “I am so glad you are alright.” 

“You say that every time you come in here,” you said.

“And I will continue to say it.” She shook her head. “You nearly perished. You should consider yourself lucky I am not in here at all hours of the day.” 

You managed a smile, and she sighed. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” you said. “I am still sore, but much better.”

“Good,” she said. “All I can ask is that you continue to get better.” 

“The rest has certainly been nice,” you said. “Am I still a true lady despite my late wakings?” 

“You have always been a true lady,” your mother assured with a slight smile. 

“I believe you may be the only one that still thinks so.” 

“If you are feeling ready, there is a ball in a fortnight,” she said. “It could be a good way to garner good will again.” You gave her a look, and she held up her hands. “I understand how you feel, but your presence is important. There are… rumors floating about, and we must lay them to rest.” 

“Rumors,” you muttered wryly. “That your daughter is an ungrateful wench and will die a spinster?” 

She said your name sternly, and you shook your head. “I read what Whistledown wrote about me—she’s likely written a hundred more. I do not care what any of them think of me, Mother. I am only sorry for the pain it has caused you and Father, and the Bridgertons.” 

“The Bridgerton name is strong enough to weather scandal,” she said. “We have to work a bit harder. And making an appearance in society again, especially with Lord Cardew by your side, will help.” 

You suppressed a scoff at the mere thought of him. You’d been granted such a reprieve from Lord Cardew because of Anthony’s influence, and while you were recovering, no one but family was to see you. But soon—very soon—he would be your entire life. 

“That brings up another question,” your mother said wryly, and when you met her eyes she was giving you a very pointed look. “Are you still sure about this?” 

No, you wanted to say. You couldn’t be less sure about Jonathan Cardew. But you’d dragged your family into this mess of yours, so it was your duty to fix it. 

Plenty of women married much more dreadful men every year. You should have considered yourself lucky that a man of his breeding, of his standing was interested in you at all—especially after the season you’d spent distancing yourself from him and the scandal you’d caused. 

“...Yes,” you finally said. “I am sure.”

Your mother sighed and said your name. “You are sure? You have not reached out to Anth—” 

“There is nothing left between us,” you interrupted. “I know it is not the best situation, and I know it is my fault, but I am making the best of it. All I ask is that you support me. It is hard enough attempting to make my way through this world—I need my mother to be there for me rather than constantly pushing against it all.”

“...Of course,” she said quietly. “And I am so sorry that I have ever done differently. My dear, all I ask in return is that you understand me, as well as the decisions I make. All I want is the best for you, and I know that marriage is not what you desire, but there are things we must do.” 

“Of course,” you said, and your echoing words spurned a small smile from her. “I am sorry that I have always fought you so much. All I could see was my hatred for any kind of union, but all I managed was hurting you and Father, as well as myself, and— and I cannot think of any apology that will be enough.” You shook your head with a mirthless laugh. “I’ve no idea how you put up with me for so long, truly.” 

“I’ve never had to put up with you,” she said. “I realize I may not have done the best job at showing it, but— but I love you more than anything in this world. Everything I have ever done has been for you, my darling. You are the future of our name, and I know you will do an excellent job at carrying on our legacy.” 

“Truly?” you asked softly. 

Your mother nodded as she took your hands and smiled at you. “Truly. Nothing in this world can change my love for you. You are our greatest accomplishment.” 

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat as you smiled as well, and you pulled your mother into a hug. She reciprocated, and tears filled your eyes. You’d missed the comfort of her presence so dearly. 

“I love you too,” you whispered. 

-

“Are you alright, my lady?” 

Your lady’s maid's words snapped you out of the stupor you’d found yourself in, and it was all you could do to attempt a smile. 

“Yes, Julia,” you said. “Quite alright.” 

Her brows furrowed as she draped a pendant around your neck, the cold metal turning your exhale slightly shaky. “Pardon my plainness, my lady, but you are not believable in the slightest.” 

“You have been around me for far too long,” you said dryly. “I request another maid, one that cannot read me so easily.” 

Julia offered a wry smile. “You are stuck with me for now, my lady. What is weighing so heavily on your mind?” 

You stared yourself in the mirror as you turned the question over. It was not as easy to answer as it should have been, not when everything was so out of order. Not when you hardly recognized the reflection staring back at you, wrapped in orange silk and adorned in jewels courtesy of Lord Cardew. 

You were not yourself—you were to be Baron Jonathan Cardew’s wife, a baroness and status symbol to hang off his arm and smile prettily, and Baroness Cardew was who stared back at you. 

Only a few more balls remained until the season came to an end, and though Lord Cardew was doing your family an immense service by giving you a second chance, he did not want to wait much longer to make it official. 

It was all planned out. Your relationship would truly enter the public eye tonight with your dances, you would promenade in open parks to have as many eyes on you as possible. He would call on you and your meager staff would be encouraged to spread rumors. Another ball would pass together, enough to hopefully weather some of the scandal you’d created, and then…

Then, he would propose. 

You would accept. 

And the fate you’d been so intent on avoiding would be sealed. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking back the impending tears. 

“I am nervous,” you admitted. “My decision didn’t exactly feel… real. Not until I was standing at the modiste getting fitted for this gown with one of Cardew’s maids. And all this jewelry…” Your fingers trailed across the raised designs on the pendant. “It makes it even more so.” 

“I can only imagine,” Julia said. “He has certainly put in effort.” 

“And yet it all feels hollow.” You moved away from the mirror and stopped in front of your vanity. The light blue reticule sitting near your jewelry box felt as if it was mocking you. 

Julia said your name with a sigh. “You made your choice. You pushed him away.” 

“I know,” you murmured, tracing the embroidery with your finger. “But feelings do not disappear so quickly.” 

“He wrote letters,” she said. “After you moved from Bridgerton House to recover here, after I refused his calling on you for the hundredth time, he wrote letters and delivered them by hand.” 

You picked at a loose strand of white thread on the purse, jaw clenched so tight you thought your teeth might crack. 

“He told me he did not care if you didn’t want them,” Julia continued softly. “He just needed you to know how he felt.” 

“This is how it has to be,” you finally said, voice shaking. 

“And what makes you think that?” Julia challenged. “You believe you have to live a life of misery simply because half the ton does so in the name of reputation and riches?” 

“Two things I no longer have any of,” you murmured. “Cardew’s pedigree is enough to get both back for my family. It is my duty, Jules, and I can no longer hide from it.” 

Your lady’s maid looked at you with desperation in her eyes when there was a knock on the door followed by your mother calling your name. You nodded your permission and she opened it.

“Lady Worthing,” she said, curtsying just so to your mother. “I’ve finished getting her ready—I’ll give the two of you some time alone.” 

“Thank you, Julia,” your mother said with a smile. She turned back to you, her eyes softer than ever as she moved forward and set her hands on your shoulders. 

“My darling,” she said, “you look so beautiful. I did not lie when I called you the crown jewel of our family.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at her compliment, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. “Thank you, Mother. I’m glad I can make you proud.” 

She murmured your name, turning you so you faced the mirror. You saw yourself more this time, feeling more assured with your mother standing behind you holding all the stars in her eyes. 

“I have always been proud of you, darling,” she murmured. “Even if I did not show it in the best way. I love you more than words can express. I meant it when I said you are our greatest achievement.” 

You let out a shaky breath, leaning back against her. She allowed you to sink into her and you felt the tears brimming in your eyes. 

“...I’m afraid, Mother,” you whispered. “To marry. To be a wife.” 

She was silent for a moment, busying herself with adjusting your jewelry before she spoke.

“I was afraid too,” she admitted. “I hardly knew your father outside of a few promenades, and one lovely bouquet of flowers. It was almost fully arranged by our parents. But when he proposed, he vowed to always be my friend, and to always take care of me.” 

“Has he?” you asked. 

“Yes,” she said. “We did not love each other on our wedding day. But he has always been kind to me, and he has always advocated for me, and we have always been there for each other. We love each other now, in our own way. And,” she smiled, smoothing down the lace on your sleeves, “together, we brought you into the world. I would do it all over again if it meant I would get you in the end.” 

You could not imagine considering Lord Cardew a friend, nor the opposite. He saw you as just another pretty jewel to adorn himself with. 

Anthony saw you as a friend— as more. He always listened to what you had to say, always entertained your jokes with some of us own, never talked down on you. He saw you as an equal. 

 “I do not know if any woman is prepared to marry,” she finally said. “Even those that marry for love still have initial doubts. There are so many expectations of our behavior when we are told so little of what we must actually do.” 

“How do you do it?” you asked. “You married a man you didn’t know. You raised a child. You held face against a society that shamed you for only having a daughter.” 

“All you can do is trust in yourself, and in those around you,” she said. “If you are with the right person, everything will feel as natural as breathing. You will not care what anything thinks of you, because there is only one opinion that matters.” 

There was one man you felt natural around, one who you felt you could speak your mind around and not be judged. One man that you’d fallen in love with, that surely hated you in return for what you’d done to him. 

Your voice came out as little more than a whisper. “What should I do, Mother?” 

“You know what you must do,” she said softly. “All I can do is support you.” 

-

You’d rubbed your palms on your dress at least fifteen times since you’d arrived. A fruitless effort, considering you were wearing gloves, but you could not stand still. 

Your conversation with Lord Cardew had taken everything out of you, your dance with him even more so—an especially damning fate seemed ahead of you. But you could tune him out well enough, at least. 

It was an entirely different deal when the Bridgertons showed up. 

Violet walked in arm and arm with Anthony and Benedict, and Colin had a loose hold on Eloise. And to make matters worse, Daphne Bridgerton, alongside her husband the Duke of Hastings, were making an appearance. What an honor, to have the chance to embarrass yourself in front of such highly ranking nobles. 

Eloise branched off immediately after they passed the threshold, much to the protests of her mother, but your mother immediately pulled you in their direction. You could only imagine her thoughts—if she could get the Duke of Hastings touting for the Worthings, that would make things much easier.  

Anything for the optics, you supposed. But when you met Anthony’s eyes for the first time, you had to avert your gaze. He just looked so damn sad. 

“It is good to see you again, Violet,” your mother said. “And it is an honor, Duke and Duchess Hastings.” The both of you curtsied, and you could see the Duke’s slight smile. 

“I consider it my honor to meet the woman who has been the center of such conversation this season,” he said. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, and thankfully Violet stepped in. 

“It is good to see you as well, Cecilia.” Violet smiled as she looked at you. “Especially you, my dear.” 

You bowed your head. “Thank you, Lady Bridgerton, Duke Hastings. I am grateful to be here.” 

Benedict smiled, the notion warmer than anything you deserved. “You look lovely, Miss Worthing. Especially for someone who escaped death with such recency.”

Anthony’s eyes remained on you the entire time, and more than anything you wished you could read this mind. The man probably hated you, and he had every right to do so. You just wished your feelings for him weren’t so insurmountable. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and smiled as believably as you could. “Thank you, Mister Bridgerton. You also look well.”

Your mother nudged your shoulder and your gaze met Anthony’s once more. He still hadn’t looked away from you. 

You bowed your head once more. “Lord Bridgerton. It… is good to see you.”

No wonder you actually ended up falling in love with Anthony. It was the only way anyone could believe this ruse—you were quite an awful actress. 

Anthony lowered his head as well, his poise stiff. “A pleasure, Miss Worthing.”

“We’re glad to see you’re doing well,” Violet said, her smile a bit thin. You could only imagine the conversation that would occur between her and your mother later. “You caused us all quite a scare.”

“Oh, Anthony was so worried,” Daphne said, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m thankful we have the chance to attend this ball so I could see you in person.” 

“I’ve recovered well,” you nodded, and you looked at Violet. “My family and I thank you immensely for your kindness and your doctor’s care. We’ll be in your debt endlessly.”

“There is no need for that,” Violet said. “It is enough that you are still here.”

Your cheeks burned but you tried to smile anyways. You wanted to burrow into a hole and never come out. It seemed the Bridgertons were capable of endless grace in public when they surely had to despise you. 

“Eloise has run off somewhere over near the strings,” Benedict provided in the silence. “I’m sure she would appreciate your companionship tonight.”

You glanced at your mother and she nodded, and your smile at Benedict was much more genuine. “Of course. I’ve been meaning to talk with her.” 

You mouthed thank you to him when your mother could not see, and he nodded. He’d always been so decent to you. 

You could not help but glance at Anthony as you went, and his gaze followed you. He would resent you if he had any sense, but it seemed the opposite—the sadness in his eyes was fatal.

You took a glass of lemonade from the refreshments table when you passed it, needing something to do with your hands. You found your way to Eloise’s side soon enough, and her eyes lit up when she caught sight of you.

“It is so good to see you,” she breathed. “I’ve only just arrived, and I’ve already had to fend off suitors. They just cannot seem to understand I hold such little care for them.” 

“I am just as glad to see you,” you admitted. “I do not think I can get through this night alone.” 

“I cannot imagine why,” Eloise said sarcastically. “I’ve heard the news. And I must say, it is your poorest decision this season.”

Your laugh was mostly out of surprise, and you nearly dropped the flute of lemonade you were holding. You were on edge far more than you expected—you almost wished your glass was full of champagne. 

“At least somebody is speaking plainly,” you murmured, your gaze distant and unfocused. “I think the rest of your family must hate me, but they’re all too kind to say it.” 

Eloise frowned. “Why would any of them hate you?” 

Your grip tightened on your glass. “Because I caused an immense scandal and then ended things with Anthony?”

She huffed a laugh, her eyebrows now rising. “Our family has weathered many a scandal, and we are still here. Or have you forgotten how Daphne’s dearest husband chose to court her?”  

“That is different,” you insisted. 

“I think it is worse, actually,” Eloise said plainly. “Simon is a duke, and Anthony nearly killed him before Daphne knocked some sense into him.” She chuckled and shook her head. “Truly, it was a disaster. We Bridgertons have a knack for them.” 

“As do I,” you said with a loose laugh. “I was stabbed, Eloise. I nearly died in your brother’s arms.” 

“And we nearly died in our drawing room,” she said. “Anthony, most of all. He cares for you immensely.” 

“Surely he cannot,” you insisted. “Not after what I’ve done.” 

“I am not blind,” Eloise said, “and neither are you. So do not demerit our intelligence and pretend as if you do not see it.” 

“I— I know.” You wrapped your arms around your midsection, and you grimaced as the jewelry on your wrists brushed against your skin. You were covered head to toe in finery that didn’t belong to you, and you itched from the inside out. “But I don’t know where to go from here.” 

“It’s quite obvious, isn’t it?” Eloise looked across the room, where Lord Cardew stood talking to your mother, and then over at her brother, who couldn’t have been less interested in the lady trying to strike up conversation with him. Then her gaze fell to you. “You’ve got a choice to make.” 

“I’ve already ruined things,” you murmured. “I— I can’t just back out of this.”

“I can tell you that you certainly haven’t ruined things with my brother. And Lady Whistledown’s speculation is the only thing binding you to that lecher.” Eloise shrugged. “You’ve already broken off one courtship. What’s another?”

Your eyes met Anthony’s from across the room. Once again, he’d already been looking at you. You averted your gaze quickly, feeling the heat rush to your face, and you tried to steady your breathing. He had no right to still have such an effect on you. 

“I need some air,” you murmured. “Will you—”

“Of course,” Eloise said. “You are simply touching things up in the powder room.”

You nodded your thanks and slipped out of the ballroom, finally able to drop the facade you’d been trying to uphold. You truly felt as if you were overheating, and the cool air was hardly of aid once you reached the outdoors.

Everything was all wrong—your dress, this damned tiara, the bracelets and the necklaces and every jewel that Cardew thought he could buy you with. 

It all belonged to him. You would not be another prize on his shelf. 

You couldn’t help yourself. You began to shed the jewelry as your pace sped up, ripping bangles from your wrists and pendants from your neck—by the time you reached a deserted area of the gardens, you were considerably lighter and considerably close to tears. 

You let out a frustrated sob as you slammed your fists against some artistic stone structure. It earned you nothing but pain, but it grounded you in some strange way. You tore off your gloves and threw them to the ground, a shaky breath escaping you as you screwed your eyes shut and  pressed your palms to your forehead. 

You could not marry traditionally, you could not follow through with your feelings for Anthony, and now you could not follow through with this ill-advised plan. 

Were you truly this useless? To bring ruin to two families with your knack for destroying things for it all to amount to nothing? You waxed poetic about the life you thought you deserved to live, about going to university and gaining your independence and never marrying, and yet here you were, near tears in the gardens of the ball you were meant to reenter society at. 

“Miss Worthing.”

The whispered words blared through the silence, and you knew who it was without having to turn around. It still sent a shock through you, your breathing faltering for a moment. Your eyes stayed shut. 

“Why are you here?” you asked, your voice watery. 

“You do not know me if you think there is anywhere else I would be,” he said. 

“How did you find me?”

“I followed the trail of jewels. You’ve left an awfully expensive path in your wake.”

“All of it is worthless,” you mumbled, finally letting your hands drop. “It all belongs to Lord Cardew.”

“You’ll have made a magpie very happy.” 

“Enough with the jokes,” you said. “Why are you here?” 

“Why do you think?” Anthony asked with a slight laugh. 

“I do not know,” you responded. “That is why I asked.” 

“I am here because I want to talk to you,” he said. “You cannot just avoid me for the rest of the season.”

You turned away. “I can try.”

“I will not let you,” Anthony enunciated. “I will not let you make the biggest mistake of your life because you believe it is your duty.”

“If you are here to change my mind, you are wasting your time,” you said stiffly. 

“I don’t believe I have to do anything,” Anthony said. “It looks as if you’ve come to the conclusion yourself.” 

“And what makes you think that?”

“You have not even glanced in Cardew’s direction this entire night,” he said. “You’ve been looking at me instead.” 

“Because I have felt your eyes on me with every moment.” 

Anthony huffed. “Can you blame me? This is the first time I have seen you since that night.” 

“Then you should remember my words from that night,” you bit out. 

“Why are you so intent on pushing me away?” Anthony begged. 

You scoffed. “Why are you so intent on bothering me?”

“Because I cannot stand here and watch you marry another!” he exclaimed.

Your brows furrowed and you turned around. Anthony stood in front of you, his outfit impeccable but not at all looking put together. Desperation colored his eyes, and you saw how truly undone he’d become. 

“I— I thought I could, but I cannot.” He shook his head, a muscle working in his jaw as he glanced away. “Every moment you are in the vicinity of that man is a test of my strength. And I do not know how strong I am.” 

“I don’t understand,” you said hollowly. “You should hate me.” 

“I could never hate you,” Anthony murmured. “I thought I could, when you first told me of your plans, but— but I could hardly even dislike you.” A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head. “My mother had been bothering me for nearly a decade to find a wife and settle down, but I thought love was a fool’s game. I would have my fun as a bachelor, and then settle down with the most advantageous match. There was no need for further emotional baggage—when you love, you can lose. And I refused to lose again.” 

For a moment, your heart stopped in your chest. He lost his father, he nearly lost you, and then you pushed him away like he meant nothing. 

“Anthony—” you whispered, but he shook his head. 

“Please,” he said. “I have a lot to say.” 

You nodded, and he did as well. 

“Our deal was perfect for that. You were nothing but my sister’s nuisance of a friend—a bad influence that I could never see as more.” You could not help your soft laugh, and Anthony’s smile turned a bit more genuine. 

“But then we spent more time together. I… truly began to know you.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “You shattered every preconception I had of you. I began to look forward to our meetings, to our promenades—I would get home from calling on you and could think only of the next time I would see you.” 

“Throughout it all, you made me realize I was worthy of love,” he said. “You— you made me realize that I wanted it. That I wanted you.” His throat bobbed, and you could see his eyes glistening. “That I loved you.” 

You could hardly find the strength to speak. You felt as if you could melt into a puddle at his feet just from his words. You were so intent on avoiding Anthony because you couldn’t stand the thought of hurting him anymore— you believed he would be better off without you, without the scandal you’d dragged him into. 

But he… he loved you. 

He loved you just as you loved him. 

“I do not expect you to share any of my notions, and I know you value your freedom more than anything,” Anthony murmured. “So if it is not me you wish to be with, I understand, and I will accept it without complaint. I just beg of you—do not become that wretched man’s wife.” 

All you could do was stare at him for a moment more, words beyond your reach before you finally managed to speak through your emotions. 

“I tried to tell myself the exact same thing,” you said softly. “That you could not be happy with me. That I could never be happy chained to another—truly, that I could never love. Not when freedom is what I have always desired most. But Anthony…” you moved forward until you were mere centimeters apart, unable to suppress the shiver that ran through you at the proximity, “I have never felt more free than when I am with you.” 

“Miss—” Anthony started, but he paused and shook his head before saying your first name instead. His eyes were softer than anything. “Are you truly…?” 

“I could never fathom you sharing my feelings,” you said thickly. “That is why I pushed you away. But I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I think I have loved you for quite some time.” 

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, turning away so as to not betray the fullness of your emotions, and though you opened your mouth to provide some excuse, you were not granted the chance. 

Anthony’s hand encircled your wrist, pulling you back around, and just as soon did you feel his lips against yours. The tightness in your chest dissolved almost immediately as you all but fell into him, Anthony wrapping his arms around you to support you as your hands found purchase on anything they could. 

Your focus became devoted solely to the feeling of him, his soft lips against yours even as they plied for access. Anthony held you as if his only desire were to protect you from the world, and it made you feel a way you’d never even imagined. Only when air became a necessity did he pull away, his labored breaths in contrast to the pure adoration in his eyes. 

“Never in a thousand years did I think you would feel the same,” he murmured, his hands cupping your face on either side as he gazed into your eyes. “I thought myself a fool, falling for the one woman I could not have. You’ve no idea the relief it brings to hear you share my feelings.”

“I suppose I am just as foolish as you,” you breathed. Your heart felt as if it could burst. 

The corners of his lips quirked up in a smile. “I cannot imagine what my mother would think—that after so long spent searching for a wife, I fell for the one woman who never wanted the title.” 

You let out an airy laugh, relishing the feeling of his skin against yours. “Nor did I see myself falling for the one man who resented the chains of marriage as much as I.” 

Anthony pressed his lips against yours once more, and your hands traveled up until they tangled in his hair. You kissed until you were nearly breathless, but Anthony still managed to pull a very unladylike sound out of you as he bowed his head, kissing down the line of your jaw, your neck, until his teeth nipped your skin just above your decolletage.

“Anthony,” you gasped, clenching your fingers as they buried themselves further into his dark locks. You had never been this close with a man before, never this intimate — you never thought you would even desire it. 

But Anthony lit a fire inside of you that only he could quench, and yet the only thing he seemed to do was stoke it further. It was equally maddening and dizzying, the control he so effortlessly had over you. 

“I never knew how much I would delight in hearing you say my name,” he murmured, his lips trailing against your skin. “No more Lord Bridgerton, I beg of you.”

“I should think I’d like to hear you beg—” you breathed, but Anthony cut you off yet again as he pulled you into another searing kiss. You could hardly stand it anymore as your hands fell down to his shoulders, and you pulled away for just a moment as you began desperately undoing his waistcoat, Anthony taking the hint and removing his jacket. 

“These buttons were not designed with the needs of a lady in mind,” you huffed in frustration, fumbling fingers failing to make progress, and Anthony chuckled breathlessly.

“Have we finally found something I best you in?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Just take it off.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

You groaned as you looked at him. “If you insist on teasing me this way, Lord Bridgerton, I shall go back inside and act as if nothing has happened.”

“There is no need for idle threats,” he defended, and you bit back your smile. Anthony made deft work of his waistcoat, and the second he tossed it aside he was back on you. 

“Besides,” his voice was a whisper a millimeter from your ear, and warmth blazed in your core, “I believe I told you to call me Anthony.”

“And I believe you should have to try harder than that.” You smiled into his kiss as you trailed your nails down his back, the thin fabric of his dress shirt doing little as you felt his involuntary shiver. 

“You’ve no idea the effect you have on me,” he groaned, once again dipping his head as he peppered even more kisses down your neck, sliding down the sleeve of your dress to allow himself better access. 

The night air on your newly freed skin did little for you, any coolness of the breeze instantly negated by the heat of Anthony against you. Your nails dug into his back as he moved down, each spot where his lips touched your skin erupting with fire. 

You gasped out his name, barely able to handle it—the feeling was so foreign yet familiar, as if you had been waiting all your life for Anthony in this way. 

You could hardly believe you nearly lost it of your own accord. 

“It appears I do not have to try hard at all,” he said, “the way you cry out for me.” 

You laughed breathlessly, though his words were indeed true. You knew, in this moment, that you would do anything for Anthony Bridgerton—and he would do anything for you. “How I fell for a man as irritating as you, I haven’t the slightest.” 

You caught the slightest glimpse of his grin before he ducked his head yet again, and he had only just begun pushing both sleeves of your dress down when a woman’s voice could be heard behind you. 

“Anthony— oh!” 

The unfamiliar voice struck fear into your heart you had never felt the likes of before. Anthony moved away from you quicker than you’d ever seen, you just as hasty as you tugged the sleeves of your dress back to where they belonged and attempted to smooth out everything that Anthony had so easily sullied. 

You’d never imagined this was how your reputation would be ruined, with Anthony Bridgerton in the gardens of some ball, but when you finally had the sense to look and see who had caught you in a most uncompromising position, you could hardly stifle your incredulous laugh. 

“Sister?” Anthony questioned in disbelief, so many emotions warring on his face you had to turn away to cover up your growing grin. 

“Anthony,” Daphne greeted in kind, fighting to conceal her smile as her eyes drifted to you. “Miss Worthing.” 

“Your Grace!” Your shaky fingers were hardly of use to you as you pulled your gloves back up to where they belonged and once again ran your hands down the skirt of your dress to smooth out the wrinkles. Your cheeks burned under her gaze and you were innately aware of the fire underneath your skin brought about by Anthony’s touch in contrast to the cool night air. “What brings you here?” 

“Mother was quite… nervous about tonight,” she explained. “She indulged in one too many glasses of champagne, so she is taking her leave with Benedict for aid. She requested I find you to alert you of her departure, but it seems she was not the one whose disappearance should have been questioned.” 

“I’m sure you know this is quite compromising.” Thinly veiled amusement crossed Daphne’s face as she eyed you pointedly. “I am afraid you must marry him at once Miss Worthing, else I shall have to duel you to protect my brother’s honor.” 

You laughed breathlessly as Anthony looked up at the sky, his face turning a deeper shade of red than you had ever seen. “Your Grace, are you suggesting that I have ruined him?” 

“Indeed I am,” she confirmed, and you could see how it took every muscle of her being to retain a serious image. “This is not a light matter, miss. I do not understand why you are laughing.” 

“Daphne,” Anthony groaned, avoiding her eyes as he occupied himself with his jacket. “Why do you insist on being a nuisance?” 

“Anthony,” she inflected his name the same way he did hers, “I cannot have this woman sullying your name! I know it was of no will of your own, but this can not stand as is. But do not worry; I am prepared to defend your honor to my last breath.” 

“My sincerest apologies for what I have done, Duchess Hastings,” you responded gravely. “I am prepared for pistols at dawn.” 

Anthony huffed as he buttoned his waistcoat back up then went to retrieve his jacket from the bushes. “You exaggerate, the both of you. This cannot be what I was like last season.” 

“You were worse, brother. But do not worry,” Daphne said with a grin, “I should think a taste of your own practices is only fair after all you put Simon and me through.”

Anthony sighed with a slight roll of his eyes. “I… suppose… that it is what I deserve.” 

“Thank you, brother,” she said. “I only wish we had a witness just so your confession is forever remembered.”

“I wish Mother had not sent you to seek me out,” he responded dryly. 

You and Daphne exchanged smiles with each other before your expression sobered slightly. “ I ask quite a bit of you with this, Your Grace, but… may I count on your discretion? I know we jest, but my reputation truly could not handle something like this. I do not know if…” you glanced at Anthony before looking back to her, “if we are yet ready to seal our union.” 

“Of course,” Daphne nodded, and a relieved smile tugged at your lips. “I shall not tell a soul.” 

“Thank you eternally, Your Grace,” you expressed, but at your short curtsy she shook her head.

“Please, call me Daphne.” She offered a smile of her own, slightly coy. “After what I have just witnessed, I’ve no doubt you will be joining our family soon enough.” 

“Sister!” Anthony scolded, and when you glanced at him his entire face was dusted pink, even the tips of his ears. It was enough to make you swoon. “You cannot just say things whenever you see fit.” 

Daphne merely shrugged, joyfully indifferent to her brother’s protests. “I outrank you now, dearest brother — I believe I can say whatever I see fit, particularly when it is the truth.”

“You are truly impossible,” Anthony muttered as he shook his head. 

Daphne just smiled before she looked back at you. “I believe it best if the two of you leave at separate times, so as to not allow room for any rumors. Miss Worthing, you should go first and return to your mother; you can claim you simply needed fresh air. Anthony and I will stroll around the grounds for a bit before allowing ourselves to be seen — we are simply catching up after such a stretch spent at Clyvedon.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you smoothed your mussed hair and wrinkled dress for the last time. Anthony certainly did a number on you, in more ways than one. “Thank you again, Your—” you caught yourself, correcting your error with a small smile, “Daphne. 

“You may count on me in the future whenever I am in London,” she reassured. “It is my hope anyway that I shall be able to welcome you to the family officially.”

“Daphne!” Anthony exclaimed yet again, glaring at her. “Might you take your leave so we may have a moment alone?” 

“I believe you just had quite a few moments alone,” Daphne said, but a pointed look from her brother had her conceding with a smile. “Alright. I will be by the trees when you need me.” 

Anthony turned to you with an odd look in his eyes when Daphne was out of hearing distance, and when he did eventually speak, his voice was far softer than usual. 

“Do you truly believe I would not marry you?” he asked, and the underlying hurt in his voice did not go unnoticed. “Even if there were not the risk of a scandal, I would not hesitate. My entire heart lies with you.”

“It is not you, Anthony,” you sighed with a slight shake of your head. “I do not… I do not know if I am even capable of marriage.” 

He frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“I have spent my entire life running from it,” you said, chuckling softly, “and yet, here I am, the one thing I never thought I would be.”

“In love,” Anthony realized, and you nodded. 

“It has always been easy enough to denounce marriage when I’d never experienced anything of the like. The union of my parents was for convenience rather than love, and for as long as I’ve been alive my mother has tried to drill it into my head that my feelings did not matter — so long as the man had the means to provide for me and was not completely awful, he was satisfactory.”

“A future like that— it was so completely absurd to me that denouncing it all was the easiest thing in the world. And then I nearly died and my entire world changed, and I decided that Cardew was the best option to allow myself to completely separate emotion from marriage, but now…” you looked at Anthony, feeling more vulnerable now than ever. “I have found a love in you I’ve never thought possible, and I cannot stop imagining a life with you. And that terrifies me more than anything.” 

“But…” you trailed off again and you turned away from him as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “But I do not know how to approach my future, especially one where we are so closely intertwined.” 

Silence hung in the air for a noticeable period before Anthony cleared his throat, and it was obvious the care he put into his words. 

“You know I never imagined I would marry for love. Truly, I never intended it—I expected to be miserable in marriage. I saw it as nothing more than another duty to take care of. I believed that love was trivial, a ridiculous distraction. You are the one who made me see differently.” 

You turned around with slightly wide eyes, your arms wrapped around your midsection doing little to ward off the cool night air that seemed far colder than it was before. Anthony’s gaze never left yours, the softness in his own at odds with the pure, unbridled passion. 

“I love you. Though I have only just allowed myself to accept the fact, you are someone that I cannot imagine living the rest of my days without. There was…” his throat bobbed as his voice crackled slightly, “there was a moment when I feared the worst, that you would permanently disappear from my life. And ever since you were all but brought back from the dead, I have known that you are the only woman I wish to be with. It is why as soon as I left you, I asked my mother for this.” 

Anthony took a box out of his pocket, and you gasped as he got down on one knee, your hands flying up to cover your mouth. 

“This is the ring my father proposed to my mother with, and their love was beyond anything I have seen before. But it is the love that I feel for you, something so strong, so overwhelming— something I never thought I would experience. And yet here I am, madly in love with the one woman who scorned me with every word, and only pursued me because of my brand as a lesser evil.” 

A laugh bubbled out of you, the sound slightly muffled through your gloves, and you could not help it as your eyes began to fill with tears. 

“I admire you; all of you. The part that loves her family with every part of her being, that looks out for those with less than her when those more fortunate turn a blind eye. The part that fights for the rights of her sex when it is so much easier to just bow one’s head, that puts her happiness on a rightful pedestal— the part that is so terrified to share herself with others and yet deserves a love of the purest form.”

“And I am aware of how the unknown is a fear of yours, as it is one of mine. But I assure you—” Anthony’s voice was filled with such passion, his eyes with such love, that you could hardly stand it, “—I will be there for you every step of the way. We will face our fears as one, and we will shape the future ourselves, not to be bound by anyone or anything.” 

“I do not know where my future will lead me, but I know I do not want to face a single second of it without you. If you do not feel the same, I understand, but I will not be able to live with myself if I do not at least try. It is why I ask you,” Anthony said your name with more love than ever before, “will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, a smile breaking across your face even as tears of joy streamed down your cheeks. “Yes, yes, I will marry you!”

Anthony let out a sigh of relief as he grinned, and after he slid the ring on your finger he stood up and pulled you into a breathless kiss. Nothing picture perfect like you’d heard about as a young girl, the kind of effortless gentleman’s act— Anthony kissed you with pure passion, love, desire, and it nearly brought you to your knees. You thought it would have, were it not for Anthony’s strong arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you against him and supporting you. 

You could hardly believe the same man who treated you as if you were glass after your injury was the one standing before you now, the one who handled you in such a way that could get the both of you exiled were anyone to see—the one that you thought hated you.  

And you were more than willing to allow it to continue, to surrender yourself fully to your baser instincts, when you remembered something that made your eyes widen.

“Your sister,” you murmured between kisses until you finally managed to pull away, albeit reluctantly. “Daphne is still waiting.”

Anthony laughed breathlessly as he pulled you back in, and your earlier protest was shown to be completely nonsensical. “Let her wait.” 

You grinned as he peppered kisses down your neck, enjoying the sensation until you pushed him away. “Anthony.” 

He groaned. “Why must you be a better person than I?”

“Believe when I say it pains me,” you said. “But the last thing we need is yet another scandal by my hand.” 

“Let them know,” he said, taking your hands in his. “Let all of London know that I love you, that we will be wed. I do not care what we have to face so long as we face it together.” 

“The thought has never been so tempting,” you murmured. “But you should at least alert your sister. It would be improper to make her wait out here all night for nothing.” 

His grip tightened on your hands. “So you do wish to leave together?” 

“Anthony, I just accepted your proposal,” you said with a laugh. “I wish to spend the rest of our lives together.” 

“I believe tonight is a good place to start, then,” he grinned. 

Anthony would not let you leave his side, so you went to Daphne together. First she saw your smile, then her gaze drifted down to your hand—she looked knowingly at her brother, though she could not hide her smile either. 

“It would appear as if I was right,” she mused. “I am always right when it comes to you though, Anthony, so it is not much of a surprise.” 

“Do not mock me,” Anthony said. “I could have left you waiting by the bushes all night.” 

“If you had not proposed to her after the conversation we had the other day, I would have questioned your sense,” Daphne said. “Trust me, I would not have been here long.” 

Your eyebrows rose. “What conversation?” 

“We do not need to start on this,” he said with a pointed look at his sister. “I have already bared my entire soul tonight. I do not need my sister embarrassing me further.” 

“Oh, I would never,” Daphne drawled. “After all, there will be plenty of time for us to gossip together when I come to visit you all.” 

“Won’t you be busy with your child?” Anthony asked. 

She shrugged. “You may be busy with one as well by the time I see you again.” 

You looked at Anthony only to find his gaze was already on you. There must have been some shred of doubt in your eyes, because he only took your hand in his. 

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “We will take things as slowly as you desire.” 

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat and nodded as you squeezed his hands—you knew what was expected of you as a wife, and you wanted it with Anthony, but you could not lie and say that his reassurances did not bring you relief. 

“My best wishes to the new Viscountess Bridgerton,” Daphne said, her voice full of affection as she clasped her hands together. “It is an honor to have you join our family.” 

“It is an honor to be accepted,” you said, bowing your head. 

Daphne smiled. “I assume you want to reveal this on your own terms.” 

You nodded. “I’ve dealt with enough attention from the ton lately.” 

“I am afraid to say that will not go away,” she said wryly. “But I will cover for the two of you.” 

You pressed a hand to your chest. “Thank you.” 

“It is only proper to welcome my sister in such a way,” she said with a wink, and you could not help but smile. “Now run along, you two. Before rumors start.” 

Anthony chuckled, and the two of them embraced before you started on your way.

“Viscountess Bridgerton,” Anthony murmured in your ear. “I love the sound of that.” 

You hummed in agreement. “As do I.” 

You laid your head on Anthony’s shoulder as you walked back with your hands intertwined—not to the ball, but to a carriage for the promise of time alone. You glanced over at Anthony and he smiled, and you pulled him to a stop as you pressed a kiss to his lips. He responded with hunger, the same vigor he displayed when you first stepped into the gardens together, and you could hardly believe he still had it left in him. 

Far too many minutes passed as you kissed and kissed and kissed, not a single care in the world of someone catching you. What could they do? You’d already endured enough scandal to weather anything, and there was no way to punish you and Anthony — you were already engaged. 

Your lips were sure to be bruised once you finally pulled away, Anthony gazing at you with complete adoration as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I cannot believe you are to be my wife,” he murmured. 

“I cannot believe you are to be my husband,” you breathed. “When will we reveal it?” 

“Tomorrow,” he said, intertwining your hands with his own. “Tomorrow, we will tell everyone, and we will deal with everything that comes along with it. But tonight…” 

“It is our secret.”

Anthony nodded. “Tonight, we start the rest of our lives together.” 

“The rest of our lives together,” you murmured. 

Truly, it sounded like a dream. Months ago you could not even consider the thought of marriage without an air of disgust—now, here with Anthony, you could not stop thinking about the fact that you were to be his wife. 

The rest of your life with Anthony would be anything but simple.

And yet, somehow, you could not think of anything more perfect.

-

taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy

[martinmuhl]

⋆✧˚ ༘ i love you, im sorry

pair: caitlin clark x reader

warnings: none!

summary: you’ve been in a secret relationship with caitlin and you’ve finally had enough

hi loves! i don’t know why i wrote this lmao i was feeling angsty but dw there’s a happy ending :) i hope yall enjoy love u!!

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

“i wasn’t saying we go public now, cait. i was just asking if you thought we could sometime soon,” you say, tears welling in your eyes.

“god y/n, you know this stresses me out. i don’t know what to tell you, i can’t predict when we’ll go public. i just need time.” she covers her face with her hands, sighing.

you and caitlin had been dating for almost a year now, in private. the two of you had met back at iowa where you’d been a manger for the women’s basketball team and she’d been a player. the plan was to come out together as a couple after she graduated, but once that happened, caitlin was too nervous about the worlds opinion of her. then she said she would include your relationship in her draft speech, but she was too afraid. she was the #1 draft pick of course and more eyes than ever had tuned into her and the wnba. she kept telling you that after her first season, your guys’ secret could be shared. but the more and more you waited, the more and more exhausted you became keeping up with this secret. you started to think you’d have to live this way forever.

“i understand cait, i just hate living this way. i want to show you off and take you out on real dates. you are so important to me and i just hate hiding this part of my life,” you sigh. her face turned red, anger creeping onto it.

“i am the biggest name in the wnba right now, what do you expect me to do? you know i love you, but all eyes are on me and this could ruin my reputation. i’m in the running for rookie of the year, y/n, i need to focus on that.” she exclaims, throwing her arms into a shrug.

you felt a tear fall. this could ruin my reputation, she had said. “oh i’m so sorry that i could ruin your reputation. maybe you should’ve thought of that before asking me to move here and spend my life with you. you say you love me, but you’re a coward. is that how you want to live your life? hiding who you are? you told me we’d go public once we graduated, but that didn’t happen. then draft night and that didn’t happen either. what now? what about what i want? i understand that you’re under the public eye more than ever right now, but i wont sit around and wait forever.” you stand up, making your way toward your shared bedroom.

“where are you going? can we please just talk about this? i promise we’ll go public at the end of the season.” caitlin follows you and sees you packing a bag.

“i’m going to stay with lauren for a bit, i guess i just need some time too.” you say, shoveling clothes into the bag. maybe staying with your sister was best for you right now. you understood caitlin, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t break your heart a little more every time she went back on her word. you knew coming out wasn’t easy and especially when everyone was watching her, but you hated being led on. you loved her so much and couldn’t imagine your life without her, but if she was going to keep you hidden forever then you just couldn’t do it.

“please y/n, don’t go. i love you.” she pleads, grabbing your arm and trying to stop you for walking out the door. you rip your arm away.

“i love you too, but i deserve better than being your secret. i wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation,” you say with a sad smile and walk out the door. you truly loved her more than anything in this world, but when she went back on her word so much it was hard to trust her. you knew how hard this was on her, but it was hard on you too.

a few days after your argument, caitlin had tried to reach out everyday. you told her you needed some space and you’d talk to her when you were ready. caitlin on the other hand was going insane, worrying every second of the day. you were the best thing that had happened to her and she just let you get away like that? no, it wasn’t right. this wasn’t how you ended. caitlin knew that you were beginning to not trust her anymore, she was just so afraid of what everyone else would say. she felt exactly how you felt though. she was exhausted and was suffocating. she hated hiding who she was, and even more than that, she hated hiding you. especially every time she was asked if she was seeing anyone and she had to say no, she was focused on basketball. she hated disappointing you. she knew what she had to do. what she needed to do.

you settled on your sisters couch, laptop in your lap with the fever game on. caitlin was playing lights out, earning her first triple double and the first for a rookie. the fever ended up winning with a huge upset against the new york liberty. you were ecstatic for her, but you still felt a massive pit in your stomach due to your argument. nonetheless, she was still the girl you loved and you had to congratulate her.

you: congrats cait, i’m so proud of you

cait<3: thank you baby, i’m so sorry again. tune in for my post game interview?

you: of course

you turn on her post game interview, her sitting beside her teammate aliyah and her coach. they answered the standard questions, caitlin answering a few more because of her triple double. you can’t help but smile and feel proud of how hard she works. she deserves this. although you’re still upset with her, you can’t help but feel like you may have been a bit selfish. she has worked so hard for this moment and you didn’t want your relationship to become the big headline instead of her talent. sighing, you grab your phone to text her as her interview ends. then you hear her voice.

“wait. uh before we go, i just have something i want to say. i am so grateful for my teammates, coaches, and fans support, but none of this would be possible without the support of my girlfriend. our relationship is the most important thing in my life and i’ve been hiding it because i was scared… but im not scared anymore. i want to show her off and i want everyone to know her like i know her because she is amazing. y/n, if you’re watching this and i really hope you are, i love you and i really hope i see you at home,” she finishes with a smile. then she walks out. the room goes dead silent before the interview ends and the camera shuts off.

you were speechless. you couldn’t believe she just did that. everybody would know about the two of you now. after staring at your screen for what feels like an eternity in shock, you grab your bag and dash out of your sisters apartment. you quickly arrive back at your and caitlin’s apartment, sprinting up the stairs. you rush into the apartment and see caitlin sitting on the couch, hands covering her face. once she hears you open the door, she stands and takes a deep breath.

“cait i… i don’t know what to say. are you okay? im so sorry, i never meant to pressure you! your career is important and we can wait until-“ the words come flying out of your mouth, but she cuts you off. you are undoubtedly happy that you can finally live freely with her, but you still feel some guilt as she walks over to where you’re standing.

“baby just stop. you were right. you didn’t pressure me to do anything. i was a coward and i was miserable keeping us a secret. i love you and im so sorry for saying you would ruin my reputation. you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and i want you and everybody else to know that. the world deserves to know my beautiful girl, just like i do.” she breathes, putting her hands on your shoulders to bring you closer. she engulfs you into her arms and you release a sigh of relief, mumbling an i love you into her neck. as nervous as you were to check social media and see what everyone was saying, the two of you felt the happiest you’d been and you couldn’t wait to share each other with the world.

[leovaldezluvr]

"my honeybee, come and get this pollen!"

synopsis : hc's of leo valdez and his gf !!

pairing : leo valdez x daughter of apollo!reader

warnings : swearing / cursing, intentional lower case writing, kissing, nothing crazy tho!

requested ? yes! by the amazing @sunnitheapollokid 😚

masterlist : coming soon!

nai yapps : HI BABIES 🤭 first time writing hcs, hope ya like!! it turned out longer than expected so yeah haha, not proofread so please don't mind the grammatical errors 😭

on the radio . . . "espresso" by sabrina carpenter

in my opinion, leo is kinda insecure (just like percy) so it took him a while to realize that you liked him back !!

in the meanwhile, he would fangirl about you to his friends

oh and trust me, they were SICK AND TIRED of that boy

"guys, did you see the way she looked at me at dinner??"

(which he told them like for the 1293858th time that week)

#delusionalking

and don't act like you didn't do the same thing as well, because we all know damn well you did

yapping about leo to annabeth, silena and piper at the cabin 10 sleepovers is a weekly (almost daily) occurrence

like i've mentioned in the beginning, leo's probably really insecure, so he uses his flirty and cheeky personality to cover it up!

which has you giggling and kicking your feet

because that boy flirts with you more than anyone else

oh and when he found out that you work at the infirmary with will solace?

it was his most visited place other than bunker 9

leo is naturally a really clumy person (me too lmao) so he injures himself on accident quite often when working on something in bunker 9, but one way or another he'll find an excuse to come visit you there (even if he's not hurt) and say shit like

"you come here often?" or "can you kiss it better?"

with a shit-eating grin as you heal one of his injuries

since you're a child of the music god, you have AMAZING taste in music

so every once in a while you'd come over at bunker 9 and play some of your music while leo works on his projects

you'd be on his bed, painting away or even working on poems

speaking of poems!

you once wrote a poem about leo and after building up courage (with the help of your girlfriends) you read it out to leo!!

and let me tell you, that boy turned as red as a tomato

and he couldn't stop thinking about that poem FOR DAYS.

like girl you had that boy wrapped around your finger 😭 (hence the song i choose for this blog)

after that, he decided it's time to ask you to be his gf!! (screaming)

him and his friends (percy, jason and frank) have been planning and scheming on the best way leo can ask you out

since percy has a big mouth, he told the news to his girlfriend, annabeth.

your and leo's friends were pretty much one big friend group, so you guys hung out quite often

soon enough, piper and silena found out about leo's plan too

SOO HERE'S HOW I IMAGINE HOW'D LEO WOULD ASK YOU TO BE HIS GF!!

basically, the group decided to hang out at the beach is Montauk

"LAST ONE IN THE SEA IS A ROTTEN EGG!"

percy yelled, all the boys racing to the sea, except for leo.

"boys." annabeth muttered, rolling her eyes, causing piper, silena and you to giggle.

you had your beach towel spread out onto the sand, your tote bag to your left and a book in your hands.

leo sat at your right hand side, applying sunscreen onto his arms and upper body as he watched the boys splash and attempt to drown each other.

"could you please apply sunscreen on my back, y/n?"

you look up from your book you're reading and place your bookmark between the pages. a smile grew on your face as you nod, signaling leo to turn so his back faces you. he obliged and did as you said, he pulled his knees closer to his chest leaned his head onto his arms. (kinda like this I'm bad at explaining haha 😭)

hours pass by, the group has all been at the sea having a splash fight, then also played volleyball. now they wanted to have some snacks and drinks

and of course the group decided to pick you and leo to go get the snacks

you, oblivious to their intentions, started putting your flip flops on. as you weren't looking, leo shot a look at the smirking teenagers he calls his friends. piper and frank were showing thumbs up for support. while jason and percy gave him a knowing look. leo saw annabeth mouthing "now or never" to him.

"lee, you ready to go?"

he put his attention back on to you and nodded, heading to the corner shop with you next to him. he glanced back to his friends one last time, seeing them look at the pair walking off and cheering for leo, but silently of course, so you wouldn't suspect anything.

after you two have bought the snacks and drinks the friendgroup wanted, you head back to the beach.

leo noticed the group playing volleyball again, and used to opportunity to confess now. He stopped walking, standing at this area.

"hey, y/n. could we talk for a sec?"

you didn't think much of it and nodded, walking closer to where leo was standing.

then, his nervousness got the best of him and that boy just started rambling.

"so i just wanted to say that Iive liked you for REALLY long time. like a i like you A LOT and I really want to be together with you but i'm not sure if you feel the same and i really don't want to ruin this friendship. but i've never felt this way about anyone and–"

then he got interrupted with kiss!! (by you of course)

he froze, definitely not expecting that. but quickly kissed you back. his hands on your waist, pulling you closer as your hands wrapped behind his neck.

you soon pulled away, both of you catching your breaths.

"i like you too, leo."

a bright smile appeared on leo's face, him leaning his forehead onto yours.

"can i be your boyfriend, y/n?"

you act like you're thinking about, rubbing your chin jokingly, but ultimately day yes.

he kisses you again, but pulled away quickly as you two heard screaming and cheering from the back.

the pair turn around to see their friendgroup being the cause of this loud noise.

piper, annabeth and silena were the ones screaming, holding each other's hands as they jump up and down like little girls. While the boys were cheering and clapping, Percy even started jumping up and down with the girls. (LMFOAOA DON'T TELL ME HE WOULDN'T DO THAT)

anyhow! that's how i imagine it'd happen

leo and you are both you clingy mfs, even before dating. but now you two are glued to the hip.

he definitely calls you cute nicknames in spanish (#latinoking)

"mi amor" , "cariño" , "mi vida" , "hermosa" , "mi corazón" , "mi sol", "mami/mamas"

he loves, and i mean LOVES when you help him with his projects (cough this fic cough)

whenever a piece of your jewelry (earrings, necklaces, ect..) breaks, you already know your boyfriend is there to fix it for you.

despite being the daughter of the sun god, your hands were always FREEZING. that's why you had your fire boy to warm you up

that boy is basically your human heater. while you two would cuddle in the summer, you would get so hot while being in his embrace, but you just suffered, because his grip is strong as steel.

your guys' dynamic is sunshine x sunshine protecter!! (the protecter being you because leo doesn't do shit to stand up for himself)

#1 princess treatment giver!!

"baby, i can get out of the car myself–"

"shh, don't worry about it mami."

wow this is getting way too long woopsie

in conclusion, leo valdez is the best boyfriend ever and you two are the power couple of chb!!!

THE END!!

— 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐍𝐀𝐈.

taglist (pls tell me if I should remove / add you!!) : @thesnshinee @graceslcver @gentlehue @ssparksflyy @coolestgirlintheworld112 @ghostlyloversworld @percyslcver @lovely-calypso @woodlandwrites @brainsofseaweed @mershellscape @hopelesslyromanticshark @canonfeminine

[pinkzier]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ TASHI, ART, PATRICK + LOVE LANGUAGES

Warnings; Separated, Sex, I wrote all as fem!reader but you can imagine however you want!!

Tashi knows that she doesn't always have enough time with you, she is always busy with work, having to train art and all her commitments, but she is a woman who is constantly praising you with words of affirmation, especially if she is your coach, always telling you how proud she is of you even when you make something wrong, Words of affirmation for her are the way to say she loves you.

As much as Tashi likes or wants quality time, she doesn't have it, she almost never stops at home, making this difficult, but she always takes you to all her games (stanford) and takes you to see her practicing art or anything else stupid so you can be with her but in the few moments she spent with you, you would spend 2 hours straight on her lap, while she told you how stressful training art was.

But she's also a big fan of giving gifts, it's not like that would put a dent in her pocket, sometimes she comes home with an outfit that you've wanted for so long but never even mentioned to her, but she noticed by the way your eyes lit up, sometimes gifts aren't so humble, like one time she was traveling around the world a lot she literally bought you a private plane so you could go out with your friends whenever you wanted, she could literally be poor if she buys gifts and things whenever she thought you deserved it.

Tashi doesn't know how to do acts of service that well, she doesn't have that much experience with her, but for you she makes an effort, Before you wake up, she prepares a morning coffee for you or at least tries to (she tells Lily's nanny to make it and say that she made it) or takes you to a restaurant and tells them to do something specifically for you, and as much as you like how she tries to do some things for you, you think it's better not to let her try to do things for you, last time she spent more than 10 eggs in a cake, just for you, and you can't say that this woman has a daughter like that.

Tashi is not a big fan of physical touch, but she doesn't hate it with you, she doesn't mind hugging you or anything, she just thinks she doesn't know how to do it right, but cut this woman some slack, she patted your shoulder after you've done something right in front of her daughter and she spent the whole week talking about you.

In other cases, she unconsciously puts her hand on your thigh and gives you a gentle squeeze to warn you about something or just because she's bored, and the last time she hugged you out of her own free will was when you were feeling really bad and she hugged you, she was all stiff and looked like a statue, maybe she needs to learn more lmao.

Art loves both giving and receiving words of affirmation but I truly believe that he becomes so silly and idiotic when he is praised or any small thing that you praise him for, he gets so blushing and laughs like a child, he always texts you after you two seeing each other or after you see each other for a short period, things vary like:

How did you play so well today?! it can't be the same person haha :)

you were so beautiful today💗

( It is canon, art uses Heart and smiley emojis, I don't make the rules)

In the same way as Tashi, he is always very busy whether training or dealing with commitments for quality time, but when this man has holidays he is so cute that you feel sorry to refuse him, he invites you to his house, for picnics or invites you to the most luxurious restaurant in the world and says "I'm sorry for taking you to this, I don't know if you liked fancier restaurants" when in fact this was the most expensive restaurant you've ever been to.

He called you every weekend to his house so you could be together and supposedly watch a "new movie" (you and him fucked)

Damn, this man loves giving gifts that sometimes you feel like scolding him in all honesty, he buys everything and you don't even ask, every week that you see each other he has a bag from a brand that you know is worth more than the salary of 10 men together, and have you ever tried to tell him to try to do something by hand and he made a bouquet with money?????

Surprisingly or not, but he is so good at acts of service that you think surprising. whenever you sleep with him, you wake up with him in the kitchen preparing breakfast, and talking about acts of service and about gifts I faithfully trust that the gifts from him vary over bouquets or anything else cliche and again I don't make the rules.

Oh my god, are we really talking about Art Donaldson if he doesn't like physical touch? This man is like a puppy always wanting your attention, whenever you are walking and you are a few centimeters in front of him he hurries up his steps and grabs your hand like a child.

Every minute he's hugging you, his hand is always on your wrist when you're doing something and you can't hold his hand, and when you're having sex it gets worse, he puts his face on your neck while giving sloppy kisses on your neck and he never wants to take his hands off your waist or your thighs, and after sex it gets worse, he falls on top of you and simply sleeps with his face in your neck😭

Patrick is a man who loves to tease you, he don't mind praising you, and he loves words of affirmation, but he's not direct, he's an idiot, like, when you do something he's proud of he teases you by saying "Maybe you made it good, but it could be better" But he is so proud of you that it hurts, but he will never admit it!

This guy is an idiot and won't leave your side for even a minute, He is intentionally obsessed with quality time, always insisting on going out with you to stupid places and art is always there, Your house/dorm looks like his too, he just comes in to be with you.

He's definitely not the most romantic type in the world, so he doesn't know how to give giving gifts, but he does what he knows, He doesn't have the best conditions in the world so he doesn't buy anything that expensive, but the things he does, no matter how cliche they are, are from the heart.

This guy is really good at acts of service, He loves doing things for you, sometimes he asks art for help, he never told you that but one time he called you to his and art's dorm and made art stay in a closet for 2 hours straight so he could show you something what he did.

He's not like art but he's not like tashi either, he loves to hug you but he's not obsessed with physical contact, he always has a hand on your ass or on your wrist, He also loves being with you on top of him, whether it's just talking to him or even having sex, he just likes to feel you on him.

[leighsartworks216]

In The Moonlight

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Lowkey wrote this for @niermortem bc the Astarion hyperfixation goes hard

I've never written for Astarion before and I'm still not 100% comfortable with his speech patterns and stuff but I had to write this or I would not be able to sleep tonight. Tbh y'all are lucky he even spoke at all. I was going to have Tav shush him lmao

Warnings: Cazador, mentions of past abuse, mentions of biting, vague implications of sex, like one swear

Word Count: 1,110

Masterlist

AO3

He’s so beautiful, just like this. The moon reaches through the window and caresses his hair, turning already-bright white into pure starlight. His pale skin glows. And when the sun rises and casts beams of yellow-orange over him, it’s almost as if blood flows through him once more.

You cannot sleep. Despite how tired your body was, your mind couldn’t sit still. It pondered over the day’s events - if you made the right choices, what you could have done better, your companions - endlessly spiraling out of sleep’s embrace. And you would still have been going over these questions and concerns, if Astarion did not look so damn pretty.

He fell asleep a while ago. With a gentle kiss to your cheek and a whisper of thanks, he’d tucked one arm under his head and draped the other across your waist, and drifted off. A hint of a smile still lingered there. Creases by his mouth and eyes proving a simple joy that followed him into his dreams.

It felt wrong to watch him like this. Like studying how his curls fell across his forehead and the flicker of his eyes behind his eyelids was in some way betraying his trust. The thought alone - of ruining this beautiful foundation of trust and patience and understanding - should have been enough to have you close your eyes or turn away. And yet, something inside you yearned for more. An ache in your chest that urged you to touch him, to be closer to him.

And the urge was stronger than your perceived guilt.

Slowly, you raised a hand to his face. At first, all you did was brush the curl from his forehead. The stubborn thing only bounced right back.

Your eyes trailed from his hair to his eyebrows. So often did a crease find its way between them, pinched in frustration or confusion. Your hand followed. With the barest brush of your thumb, you smoothed out the imaginary crease. Astarion breathed in deeply - causing you to hold your own - before sighing softly. His face relaxed even more, shoulders easing into the pillows that cushioned him.

You focused next on his eyes. Deep, bloody red irises hidden behind thin lids that held so much worry and uncertainty and joy and hope. Hope. It had taken so long for the vampire to actually be optimistic about the future. He had no idea what would happen next - between Cazador and the tadpoles, there was little to be optimistic about. When you helped him, despite his original plans to manipulate and use you, he realized things did not always have such awful outcomes. Even your first encounter, with his blade to your throat, had somehow brought you here, together and warm and safe.

Despite being an elf, he had such deep bags beneath his eyes. Even the crows feet and laugh lines that appeared with his smile were unusual. He’d told you sparingly about his life under Cazador. The things he fed on, the poem carved into his back, and the horrible things he did. Undoubtedly, the lines came from that time. Barely eating enough to survive, luring people in with his charms for an uncaring master, being tortured in the dark. Yet, you couldn’t imagine Astarion without them. He was so pretty when he smiled.

You move on to his nose and his cheeks. His features are all well defined, sharp. It makes him seem dangerous, even at a first glance. Like a snake, hiding fangs behind shimmering scales.

Beckoned by the analogy, your eyes flicker to his lips. They’re so soft, despite the way he chews his bottom lip. Where before his kisses were rough, demanding, now they’re slow, careful. He no longer kisses you like he has to woo you over and get you to play his game. He kisses you like he’s savoring the last drop of wine. Even his bites are gentler, pricking your neck as carefully as he can unless you ask him nicely to be rougher.

“Too distracted to sleep, are we?”

His voice makes you jolt. You weren’t expecting his lips to move so suddenly. Nor did you realize before how your hand cupped his jaw and your thumb stroked his cheek. You can feel his smile as he chuckles.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, my dear,” he coos. “But don’t you think it’s a bit late to be admiring my features?”

You take a moment to compose yourself, urging your heart to still from the scare. Damn you for thinking so much about his mouth. Astarion is nice enough to wait and listen as you relax once more, though you continue to trace over his skin and brush the curls in front of his ears back.

“I couldn’t sleep. And you look so beautiful in the moonlight.”

He slips his arm from underneath his head as he turns into your hand, holding your wrist in place as he kisses your palm. “I appreciate it, my love. But it’s been a long and exhausting day, and we both need our beauty rest.”

Red eyes watch, half-lidded, as you smile - he loves it just as much as you love his. Before, he couldn’t care less. Now, oh the things he would do to see you happy every waking moment of the rest of your lives.

The blankets shift against each other as you move to be closer. You tuck yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your face into his neck. You are so warm. He lets out a soft breath as he curls around you, protective and safe all at once. Slender fingers tangle carefully into the hair at the nape of your neck, keeping your head tucked away under his chin.

For so long, he charmed and manipulated people. They touched and got close to him, in ways he quickly detached himself from. For so long. It was still difficult to fathom how he sought it out with you. How he did not go through the motions of physical intimacy, how he actually wanted to be physically intimate in more ways than just sexually. How long he’d been deprived of something genuine like this. He wanted to savor every gods-forsaken minute of it.

Your warm breath fanned across his neck as you spoke. Had he been able to, it would have sent a chill down his spine.

“I love you.”

His fingers curl into your waist, grounding himself into your body as your skin gives under his fingertips. In return, you squeeze him in your hold, solidifying even more that this is real. You are real.

“I love you, too, darling.”

[hanniejji]

silence

[ wanderer!scaramouche x okami!reader ]

summary: completely lost after his defeat in becoming a god, he searches not only for a new purpose but also for a certain someone who brought him comfort greater than his own kin would.

notes: aka scara is a baby and comes crying to you because he's a sore loser /jk | m.list

words: 2933 | warnings: it's scaramouche /jk there's nothing bad here just comfort and shit, also the pacing is kinda shitty cause i wrote this at work lmao

you have always loved the silence.

the eerie silence that enveloped a battlefield after a fight, where one side mourns for the dead and the other celebrates their victory far away. the tranquil noises of nature in the forest, your abode—if you focus enough, you can hear the white noise of the wind rushing above the sky, the flight of birds, the footsteps of every animal within your vicinity, and the gushing waterfall hitting the surface below. the muted thoughts of people, all with voices to scream yet defiance against authority means death, so they choose to silence their cries for help. the stillness of the night, where you can faintly hear the howls of your kin from afar, reminding you of past battles won and lost.

but somewhere in the distant memory of your past, you miss the complaints of a certain boy whose voice never seemed to shut the hell up.

your words, not mine.

he used to be so loud, crying even whilst he slept. whining and complaining about how you imprisoned him in this otherworldly forest of yours, yet he shuts his mouth after being reminded of his reality of being a casualty to those he comes across.

a puppet gone mad, out of its master's control, strings tangled.

"you're not here to be tamed, brat."

"then why are you keeping me here?" kunikuzushi glares at you from the other side of the stone table, a hand gripping the knife you casually gave him so he could practice on his own.

you always seemed to be his dummy target though. not that he could hurt you in the slightest, the gap between your capabilities is that of the height you need to reach celestia. it's quite an exaggeration, but far from a lie.

"so you don't go around accidentally causing more unintentional problems. learn how to use your brain or something, you have one for a reason," was always your answer to his repeated question, laughing at the way his face contorted to apprehension. "i don't have the patience to shape you into whatever humane person or puppet your creator wants you to be. so i'm doing you a favor by letting you be whatever the fuck you want to be. kill whoever you want, destroy whatever you want, go pour your anger as much as you want. it matters little to me."

"doesn't that contradict your past obligation as inazuma's former defender?"

"exactly what the title says," you shrug your shoulders, throwing your hands up without energy, "that is in the past. inazuma's concerns do not matter to me now that my god is gone."

placing your chin on your palm, you send him a knowing smirk, a sight he realizes that he does not like, "you can destroy this nation all you want and i wouldn't mind one bit. it would be interesting to see you as a god and not just a little brat."

he would always grow silent after the nth time you had this conversation, pondering, imagining the imagery of what you just said. it's almost as if he's in a trance.

the silence of someone having an inner conflict in more ways than one, is something that you would say is better than the silence when someone is mourning.

because this kind of silence is always followed by chaos.

"oh? where do you think you're going, little doll?"

"stop calling me that," he hissed, turning his head to glare at you.

for some reason, the change in his personality these past few months was refreshing, so unlike the whiny little brat who used to cower away from you. the same brat who's always frustrated at himself.

but at the same time, it's such a shame that he didn't change his ways. still reckless and careless.

this recklessness will kill him someday, you thought.

"well, answer the question."

he falters, taking a few steps away from you when you tilt your head, urging—demanding for his answer. he still couldn't look you straight in the eyes when you become like this—when your voice goes a little deep, eyes staring him down and the authority in the way you poised yourself.

"to the fatui. i'm not going to let myself rot in here."

"you're a puppet, you're not supposed to rot."

he scoffs at the comment, vile irritation building up his throat at the way you remained unbothered, almost uncaring, indifferent and as if this means little to you. you act more like a puppet than he does, he realizes.

he hates that about you.

it's ironic. he's the same way, more venomous through his words—but with you, it's like talking to a stone cold wall.

"i'm leaving to snezhnaya."

"hm," you turn your head to the vast forest, shrouded with tall trees and thick fog—wait, when did the fog get so thick? kunikuzushi was so sure he could still see far and beyond the first few layers of those trees, why did the forest suddenly seem so eerie and… predatory.

"you can leave."

"huh?" he stares at you in disbelief, with a hint of sadness.

are you… really going to let him go that easily?

for some reason, despite the freedom given to him, he wanted you to stop him.

"find the exit yourself," your trademark grin appeared on your face, challenging and daring him to do so. it's infuriating, makes him feel like you're looking down at him and his capabilities. "if you successfully get out of this forest, then i trust that you can handle the world outside and beyond this nation."

i take back my words, he scoffs, i don't need their permission to leave. they can't stop me.

"i don't need another petty test of yours, i can take care of my own," he sharply turns away and into the direction he swore was the exit just a moment ago.

"oh, trust me, doll," your giggles echoed through the forest, ringing in his ears for the last time, way too close than from where you just stood a moment ago.

"the forest is a cruel place to get lost in."

and since then, your abode returned to the way it was.

placid, motionless, and isolated. just like how it should be.

yet you look forward to the day that he comes back crying—you stifle a laugh at how pitiful he would look—scrunched nose and furrowed eyebrows, grumbling curses to the world as he slumps down on the ground, hissing at you as you tease him for being a baby before he falls asleep on the sprawled blanket you have in the living room of your cabin. your spirit watches over his sleep, dispersing his nightmares before it can even take root in his mind and blanketing him with your tail despite his inability to feel the change in the temperature.

no, he's too deep in his sleep to ever catch you doing such things.

some days, you'd sense a feeling of fear crawling inside the back of your head. it takes a form of visions and voices. it would whisper using the boy's voice, show images using his face, speak in a way he does. it's times like this that you take pride in your strength. you know better than to crumble against fear and its illusions. such emotions are not strong enough to push through the height of your defenses that were built from piles upon piles of lost loved ones.

yet your heart clenches at the thought of this boy, robbed of the opportunity to grow properly, succumbing to the demons of this world.

it's a shame that even you can't be the person to guide him, for you are the same as he.

you can only hope that he finds himself in his journey.

"ah, it seems like it's that time of the year once again."

you stretch your limbs with a pur-like groan, your tail swinging in anticipation behind you. now that the weariness from sleep had faded, your sharp eyes admire the red and orange colors blending within the forest, the sound of leaves crunching beneath your feet every step you take music to your ears and the cold breeze wafting in the air.

the season of fall always brings out the playful side of your soul.

your attentiveness is sharper than usual, eyes turning to every little bit of movement in your surroundings despite knowing that no threat can occur in your abode. you carved its landscape with your very own hand, grew each and every tree rooted on the ground, wrote protective spells into every tree bark to form your very own barrier, opened ponds and breathed life into its very ground through the leylines. it's your safe haven, nothing can disturb your peace and it is a part of you to an extent.

that's way, when a familiar presence stepped inside your abode with no struggles whatsoever, your ears perked up and tail sways in anticipation.

fall is indeed a season for farewells and reunions.

"you're back quite earlier than expected, did the world outside the forest scare you?" you needn't look to know that he's standing right at the entrance of your favorite clearing, your figure sat near the pond with your feet dipped into the clear water.

"you're exaggerating," he grumbles, footsteps getting louder and closer until he's close enough, stopping just next to you.

"most certainly not," you hummed softly, tilting your head up to look at him after a few hundred years of not seeing him. your ears twitched.

instantly, you know something is different about him.

"you've changed."

"hmp, perhaps," he scoffs loudly, taking a seat beside you in a criss-cross position, slouching a little bit. he's barely looking at you, but that's not something new.

the way you imagined he would years ago.

"you're still grumpy though, might want to change that."

"you're still insufferable. i shouldn't have come back."

"yet you're here. i'm surprised you were able to enter without a problem. i was hoping the forest devoured you when you left. turns out you were able to get out, a shame," you sigh, "i should check on my barriers soon."

"you—" he hisses—the same way you adored, like an angry kitten—turning his head to glare at you, forehead scrunched in irritation, "so you don't even know if anyone gets caught in your shithole? did you assume i just up and died right before i got out?"

he can feel something warm in his chest at the way you laughed freely.

he hasn't heard that sound for a long time.

"you're alive though," he groaned at the familiar sly smile on your face. "besides, i wouldn't have let you go if i didn't know that you'd make it out alive."

"you would in a heartbeat."

"hm, if it were someone else, perhaps. but not you," you turn your head back to the pond, a contented smile on your face, voice unintentionally turning soft, "not my brat."

those words were the key to kunikuzushi's vulnerable state.

the silence that followed after your words was… unnerving, for some reason.

yet you felt as if you should give him the time he needs to gather himself, to give him a choice to talk or to keep things to himself. it stayed like that for a while, tuning into the sound of birds above and humming to make him more comfortable—or was it for your own comfort that you tried to fill in the silence? the feeling of being unsure is so… uneasy.

why am i doing so much for his comfort?

just when you're about to speak to change the topic, he opens his mouth—and he speaks.

piles and piles of words upon words, like a scroll being unravel down the flight of stairs to the narukami shrine. his voice, clumsy and blurry words as it may be, sings to you tragedies in a kabuki performance. he opens his doors to you and only you, almost breaking down on the spot if it wasn't for his ridiculous pride—you surmise that you may have influenced him in that case. it plays a theatrical scene that takes eternity to finish dialogues upon dialogues.

he's a puppet whose strings are cut short, but he picks himself up, tangling the fragile strings in the process.

and you are his only audience.

you're his standing ovation when no one bothers to stop and see him for what he is.

perhaps, you are more suited to be sat beside him, joining in his play instead of just a witness—because you are more than just some random bystander who happens to pass by a puppet show.

it took him a while to finish his story. just like any kabuki, time is crucial in the production, and kunikuzushi is a person who barely had the time to see the world in its purest form. yet time is also what brought him his demise.

the gods did not give him enough time to feel and learn.

when he finishes, the sun has already hid itself behind the ocean of trees and the sky is blanketed by a starry void.

a false sky, he said in one of his stories.

somehow, kunikuzushi's head ended up on your lap—he dares not to bring attention to this fact, he already feels embarrassed as it is.

"how did it felt?"

he stares at you with a grain of salt.

"to what? to almost die? quite the experience, i didn't enjoy falling head first though. would you like to try?"

"no, dumbass," he hisses when your finger flicks against his forehead. before he could even cover the assaulted area, you swat his hand away to replace it with yours. an uncharacteristic gentle touch on his skin, a caress. he resists the urge to melt towards your hand. "how did it feel like to almost have something within your reach but realize it won't do you any better? to learn how to decide for yourself, for the better, after experiencing bitter defeat?"

he purses his lips, turning away from your direction to stare at the pond reflecting the dark sky.

your hand slips across his forehead to his hair, gently caressing the familiar stresses—familiar stresses that reminded you so much of a former dear friend that you lost long ago. you didn't expect him to answer your question yet, to push forward for an answer would be adding salt to an open wound.

and the last thing you want to do is give him a reason to pull away.

"you know, if i was ei, i would have chosen you to rule with me."

"stop saying things to make me feel better, that's not like you," he scoffs—unbeknownst to the way his cheeks turn a little warmer.

such a human feature to have.

"i would love to see you be the god you wanted to be," you continued to mutter with a soft smile, brushing your fingers through his hair.

"stop it."

"i would watch you build yourself higher and have greater goals as a god."

"what is wrong with you!?" he quickly pushes himself off of you, whipping his head to look at you with a bewildered face. "are you out of your mind!?" he glares at the way your smile turns sly.

"i would have chosen you, someone with no human heart yet able to feel what it's like to be human," your hand pats his head playfully, snickering when he swats it away roughly.

"you," growling, he turns away from your direction.

"but alas, i'm not patient enough to baby you or anyone else," you shake your head shamefully, shrugging your shoulders. "go do whatever the fuck you want yourself, learn shit for yourself. but that does not mean you can do it alone, dumbass."

"why are you talking like this?" he mumbles, but you can see the way his shoulder trembled in the slightest, no doubt nibbling on his bottom lip to stop himself from something as 'pitiful' as crying. "shut up, i came here to rest, not to listen to your nonsense musings. i had enough of that already."

"well then," you reach out to his shoulder, gently directing him back on your lap. he faces you this time, eyes clenched tight to avoid looking at you, his only pillar in this world. he feels too light headed, whether if it's from your words or the feeling of finally resting after so many years of suffering, he's not too sure. he'd deny the former with everything he has though. but he cannot deny that he feels safe in your haven, here in the comfort of your arms.

"rest, you can think of the next step after you get some shuteye, don't make me knock you out myself."

he clicked his tongue, before it became quiet again.

this time, it's a comfortable silence. nothing like the tension from the first time you met him, nothing like the few times he spent quietly sobbing on your shoulder every time he awakes from a nightmare—nothing like the eerie quietude in the middle of the eye of the storm, waiting for the real disaster to come surging. soon, the boy falls asleep to the warm and loving touch on his head.

in the silence, you whisper words that you could not tell him.

"i would've gone through celestia and the abyss to give you a heart."

you, despite claiming that you will not baby him, held him in a way a parent would towards their child. with gentle hands and feathery touches, and a heart that you would give him if you could.

taglist: crossed out names mens i can't tag you oof

@thedianaclark @blockswon @thenyxsky @crazypriestess @someone-with-wild-imagination @koi-chairowo @shizunxie @smirpsmirp @brookeisqweer @mariataliya @saoiirsee @atsuki-mitsuri @camzpetite @fandangotales @genshinfinatic @chimsblogg @nette-yang @vienettacream @notyuki @shiragi2 @atsukawolfcat @frzenhans @kkazuyass @tartarsaucechi1de @nunontherun @a-simp-with-daddyissues @thetruepair

[milqueandsugar]

Imagine kissing lucifer, Alastor, like really intensely after the battle with heaven!

If possible! Feel free to ignore if not🥺💖

🌼☕` Your Tea Is Ready `☕🌼

Gen / hurt comfort (?) Mostly Fluff

Includes / alastor , Lucifer

A/N - wrote this with sun stroke and it was positively unhinged, I'm hoping I've molded this into something normal lmao

| ALASTOR |

He had been missing for days, there were moments where you feared that he HAD died, then minuets, then hours. Soon the grief you had been denying began to creep into your heart, and it wasn't long until you joined Charlie in her grief, though yours developed into something closer to despair Then as quick as he disappeared he reappeared, chipper and in song and so inguriatingly happy to see you again. You hated him, you hated him for leaving you, you hated him for letting you worry, you hated him for trying to fight Adam all on his home, and you hated how overcome with love you were the moment you saw him. You near tackled him into a hug, which he infuriatingly reciprocated, squeezing you as though he missed you just as much

"My dear-!"

"Shut up!" You huff, pulling him in for a kiss, you can feel him grin against your lips, his hands curling into your shirt, the fabric offending him all of a sudden He keeps you there until you can't breathe, chasing your lips afterwards, as hungry for your love as you are for his.

"I missed you." His voice is soft, quiet, without his filter. It's raw and vulnerable and sparks adoration in your jest like a firework

"You didn't have to. You could have come home." He looks like he wants to say something, but only nods, peppering your face with kisses as he begins to figure his way out of this one.

| LUCIFER |

You let out a rattled breath, somewhere between a scream and a gasp at the sight of your lover. His horns split the skin of his skull, clothes tattered and stained with blood and soot. His soft, porcelain skin marred with bruises that were already in the late stages of healing due to his angelic blood. Angelic or not, fear and worry struck you like lightening as you near trip over rubble to get to him.

"LUCIFER?!" Your voice is hoarse, given the widening of his scarlet eyes you cannot imagine that you look any better than he does. You grab his face in your hands, scouring him for injury.

"Are you hurt? Did you get hurt?" Your eyes dart frantically over his figure, by time they reach his face again his eyes are wet and his lips are trembling. "Lucifer- lucifer talk to me are you hurt-?"

You barely utter the word 'hurt' before his lips are crashing onto yours. His hands once still at his sides frantic to take you all in at once, squeezing, sliding, groping at your skin as he pulls you ever closer.

"You're safe." He whispers like a prayer. He peppers your face in kisses. "We're safe. The hotels safe.." He's breathless you realize, your labored breaths matching his the way his arms constrict around you.

"It's over- we're safe.. it's over." He rests his head on your shoulder, hands slowing to soothing motions over your back. You realize at some point you had begun to cry.

"Yeah- yeah we're safe." You sniffle, wiping at the tears that riveted down your cheeks in broken, uneven streams.

[twiixr4kidz]

had a specific vision of giving the members of la squadra hugs......... have me being sappy over my boys

shoutout to those of you who followed during my naranchuu days when i was just a jjba blog LMAO (when my requests open back up please send me jojo asks i miss writing for jjba) (also assume that sorbet and gelato are still together in this i just wrote them seperately for the sake of giving them personalities outside of each other)

risotto nero:

a hug from the capo is a special thing to get.

they're suffocating in the best way from just how tall and strong he is

he'll let you bury your face into his chest as his fingers run through your hair

he always smells so comforting; he smells like home

some of his hugs will be coupled with a kiss on the forehead

others will be coupled with a "you're alright, i've got you"

prosciutto:

he says he's not a hugger, but the fact that he indulges so often says otherwise

prosciu's hugs are tender; so impossibly calming, you could melt in his arms

he keeps a hand resting on your lower back, the other running through your hair

he smells like fancy wine, expensive cologne, and cigarettes

he rocks you back and forth, telling you how much he loves you and appreciates you

pesci:

although nervous about them, he's such a huge hugger

he's big, warm, and so fucking cozy

pesci truly gives some of the best hugs imaginable

he hugs you to make sure you know you're safe with him; he'd never let anything bad happen to you, and if something bad DID happen, he'd make sure it'll never happen again

his fuzzy coat is just a plus!! take advantage of it and nuzzle your face into it, he thinks it's adorable

formaggio:

he's a big hugger, and all of his hugs feel almost playful

he likes to jump out at you and tackle you to the floor, peppering your face with kisses as he tickles your sides

formaggio hugs you a lot for his own comfort

he likes to shrink you down when he hugs you - it's like he's trying to swallow you whole

he's always so warm and cozy, and you if you aren't standing up, you'll be able to fall asleep on him

illuso:

believe it or not, he's shockingly clingy.

yes, he's a giant, cocky asshole who thinks he's better than everybody else. no, he can't get enough of your touch. those concepts can coexist...................

he likes to pop out from behind dark corners and wrap his arms around you tightly

illuso will bury his face in your hair, mumbling what you can only assume are compliments that he's too embarrassed to say out loud

his hands press tight against your sides, thumbs rubbing small circles on your waist

melone:

he gives some of the most comforting, genuine feeling hugs

sure, he might seem a little creepy on the outside, but he can read you like a book

he'll come up from behind you and wrap his arms lazily around your neck

"come here, tesoro. i know you need it."

and he's right damn near every time

sometimes he'll give you a gentle kiss on the cheek before wandering elsewhere

other times, he'll drag you to the couch and force you to cuddle with him

ghiaccio:

he's not good at hugs; he gets nervous and then he stiffens up and freezes

ghiaccio gives you the biggest hugs when you come back home from rough missions, though

his arms wrap around you tightly, face buried in your neck as angry worries pour from his lips - he thought you were a goner

he's scared that you're going to disappear on him, but hugging you makes him feel better

he's nice to hug in the summer months when the heat's getting to you

he's always nice and chilly and if it's you asking, he's happy to oblige (but he'll never say it)

sorbet:

similar to risotto, sorbet's hugs feel like he's suffocating you

he's built like a fucking wall; tall, broad shoulders, wide chest, very muscular

his hugs are few and far between, but he always hugs you like he's trying to kill you

he likes when you're giggling over being stuck in his arms, playfully scratching him and begging him to let go

he gives you a tight squeeze before letting you go, ruffling your hair before wandering off

gelato:

he gives some of the most playful, gentle, warm hugs you could ask for - ironic for such a cold-hearted killer

he likes picking you up and spinning you around before pulling you into his chest

he'll tickle you side with one hand while the other arm stays wrapped around your body so you can't escape his torture

he also likes to bite :3 every hug comes with a little nip on your neck just to hear your squeal

he drags you to cuddle with him after every hug though - you're just sooooo cute and cozy, he can't help it

[miguel-owhora]

I know you wrote Ghost & Price not warming up to wolfdog hybrid reader for a while, but what about Ghost immediately having a soft spot for you, which is how you end up sleeping in his bed nearly every night.

Like with most puppies the first few nights in your new home are difficult. Taken away from your family and the familiar environment all the 141 can hear is you whining while they’re trying to sleep. They try and tough it out, hoping that eventually you’ll tire yourself out and go to sleep, but you don’t stop until suddenly you’re quiet. More concerned than anything else Gaz and/or Soap climb out of bed to go to your room only to find it empty.

Immediately panicking and thinking you’ve escaped, they go to enlist Ghosts’ help (since he’s less likely to be annoyed than Price) only to open his door to see you sleeping soundly tucked up against him.

It’s routine then, according to Ghost it’s better to ensure that at least everyone is getting rest rather than being kept awake by your whining, but even when you mature and don’t need to sleep with Ghost anymore, you sleep more with him in his bed than you do your own

this is so cute 😭 i was kinda thinking about this when i was writing it, but ultimately decided against it lmao. but i can definitely see this happening lmao

in another, other timeline, Ghost probably pretends he doesn't like you but goes behind everyone's back and just spoils you. He's definitely a dog dad and against his will, falls in love with you when you first arrive - platonically, of course. You still like Gaz and Soap, obviously, and you'll later on warm up to Price (who I imagine is like those dad's who never want a pet but become buddies with), but you click with Ghost. You follow him around base whenever the other two haven't pulled you away, happily following him even if he's doing the most mundane thing.

You'll curl at his feet and playfully nip at his fingers whenever he decides to pet you, maybe even playfully lick his toes for the hell of it, if just to see him pull away with a grimace.

When they find out you sleep in Ghost's bed, he tries to play it off as him just ensuring everyone is able to sleep. But no one takes him serious, knowing the soft spot he has for their pup hybrid.

And when you eventually end up growing up, filling out your wolfdog genes and growing into your height, Ghost's content with himself when you roll on top of him, snuggling him just like when you were a puppy

[carlydotcomm]

debauchery. [de·​bauch·​ery]

noun: debauchery; plural noun: debaucheries

excessive indulgence in sensual pleasures.

— content index; masturbation, whimpering, pervy!armin x classmate!reader.

— author's note; first post don't flame me pls! (this is not proofread btw. )

— editors note; i wrote this while high and i'm rereading it now. it's so bad bro LMAO

12:01 am.

"fffuck" armin choked out through gritted teeth, as his hips bucked up into his fist. ecstasy igniting his body in flames while he sloppily chased his release.

what was it? the third — fourth? no, fifth time this week? it was pathetic.

he knew better, and yet every time he thought about you his hand found itself in the same place, fisting his cock till sticky ropes of white coated his laptop screen; a mess he'd have to clean up once he was finished, though he didn't see that being any time soon.

he felt disgusting. but could you really blame him? you were practically asking for it with those thin tops you wore to class. the ones that left so little to the imagination, that it made his mouth dry every time he caught a glimpse of your nipples through that thin, thin fabric.

you did it on purpose, he was sure of it. there's no way you don't know how it effects him. that it makes his cock hard every time he thinks about you, and that the thought of pounding your sweet, sweet pussy keeps him up at night. so much so, that he can't sleep until he jerks it to your insta pics.

it's practically part of his nightly routine. shooting his load to your highlight, always managing to make a bigger mess than he intends to.

he just can't help himself though.

not when your lips look so pretty and plump in your recent post.

the things he'd do if he got you alone...god, it made is cock twitch. precum now beginning to leak from his tip upon swiping his thumb over it. sloppy thrusts getting sloppier by the second until his hips stuttered to a hault. pathetic whimpers leaving his lips as his eyes rolled back, his vision going white out of pure bliss.

"shit..."

he muttered the last of his orgasm washing over him for the fifth time that week.

you were responsible for this debauchery.

[bonefall]

Hi! How would you draw a tool-evolved cat paw?

Aeons ago I wrote some speculative biology thoughts on what a tool-focused cat would begin to look like, and mentioned the way that a caw's paw might evolve. I can try to draw it out as a sketch; but fair warning that I put my art style points into cartoony anime stuff SO you're not gonna get a realistic drawing lmao

Evolution doesn't "think." It's many changes over generations that snowball into bigger ones. So I tried to look at WHAT exactly is happening between an animal with less sophisticated tool use (chimp) and one that COMPLETELY relies on tools (human) to predict where the cat's paw would end up in a few thousand generations.

Please note! My paw would still be a "link" between the ancestor, and something even more reliant on tool use. This proposed species would still be 100% capable of doing what the cats in-canon do, like hunt alone. It's for a feline species that is tool-ADAPTED, not tool-RELIANT.

(In that way, it's more comparable to, say, a lemur and a chimp. But lemur palm refs were hard to find and I did this quick because I've already thought about it.)

This paw would exist in-tandem with a "tool tooth;" A V-shaped gap in the jawline that a single fang would nestle into. Early tool-using felines would likely use their mouth to "break" or "shear" their crafts, leading to broken teeth that would make them less successful. So there would be a lot of evolutionary pressure to have better, stronger teeth.

Evolution doesn't do "one thing at a time," so if you happened to port yourself into a group of these cats and watch them craft stuff, you'd see them using their mouths as well as their paws!

Finger Size + Tool Claw

When you see real cats batting stuff around and manipulating things, and when you look at canon where they like to "hook things on a claw," it's usually the index "finger" they favor. In fact, they do a LOT of "poking," even when a cat bats at something they seem to mostly explore with the tip of their paw.

So I figure that would actually be a big difference between this species and humans.

Unlike us, who usually have our middle finger as the longest (though there are exceptions) so we can "stabilize" the things we grab, I'd give these guys a "Tool Claw" which is not involved in grappling at all. It's longer, more deeply grooved, but also more fragile than the "hunting" claws.

When at rest, the Tool Claw would stick out from the rest of the foot, straight upwards. The fur is able to "sheathe" the other three, but the index's would be too long to be fully hidden.

Because one of those fingers is now mostly taken out of combat, the pinkie would probably thicken up to compensate. Another difference from the human hand. I can imagine that if the trend continues, they might end up supporting their full frontal weight on the pinkie pad to free up the other fingers for tool use.

(But evolution's not always predictable! They might end up becoming more "back heavy" like raccoons, or rely on the invention of shoe/gloves, or just abandon silent hunting all together to become tool-reliant.)

Paw Pad Changes

Cats use the pads on their paws to move silently. As long as the species is relying on silently stalking prey, they will need to have these pads in contact with the ground to be good hunters.

So instead of the digital pads sliding down to create the "top" of the palm, I figured the metacarpal pad would split in two. So now there's a snug, dipped "shape" with which they could nestle an object into as they work with it, but also there is ALWAYS still pad in contact with the ground.

The amount of fur in-between the bottom (metacarpal) and top (supercarpal) pads probably just depends on culture and genetics. It wouldn't really have enough of an impact on the paw to be selected for to be furry or hairless.

I can imagine some groups being weird about it and thinking it should be shaved or braided or something, lmao. Or cats who live in muddy environments clipping it for hygiene reasons.