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1d1195 · 2 months ago

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Independent

~10.6k words

From me: I know it's a long one, but it's a one-shot.

Warnings: angst, fluff. I've got about a thousand tropes in this one. Coworker Harry, Roommate Harry, love at first sight, he falls first and harder, one bed if you squint.

Summary: “Go on a date with me,” he groaned.

“Because of the cookies?”

“No! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But s’not usually because of cookies.”

She laughed. “I don’t date, Harry.”

Harry was tall, with soft brown locks that begged to have fingers run through them, and cool green eyes that reminded her of the sage green bridesmaid’s dress she wore to one of her friends’ weddings the year before. He wore a dark purple button down with sleeves rolled up revealing a bunch of tattoos on his left arm but only a few on the right. His voice was melodic. Smooth, like he was going to sing her a lullaby and warm like it could toast a marshmallow.

Her group chat with a couple of her office friends had been buzzing the moment Harry took residence at the desk across the aisle and one row ahead of her.

Holy fuck. Val texted. Office eye candy 😍

Do you hear that thundering sound? That’s my heart 😍 Rachel continued.

She smirked at the desks, shaking her head.

Don’t shake your head. Say something! At least you’re single, you have a chance! Val sent the messages in quick succession, making her desk partner, Hunter, look at her curiously each time it vibrated.

“Do you have an emergency?” He asked her.

She shook her head. “Nope,” she smiled. “Not at all.”

Harry met her and asked her out on the very first day he started his new job. They both worked in an office. Their desks only a short distance apart while they worked together. He assumed there were no rules against dating as there were several married couples within the office as he quickly found out from the shared last names and wedding photos of his coworkers lining one another’s desks.

It seemed, as long as it didn’t interfere with their work, there was no issue.

Which was fine by Harry.

He was happy to ogle her all day long and he would spoil her rotten outside of work. “Hi, m’Harry,” Harry took his opportunity to introduce himself when everyone else left for their lunch hour and she was finishing something up. Leaving them alone in the office. Harry analyzed her desk as quickly as he could.

Their office was wide open with desks back-to-back nearly identical on either side with a long aisle leading to the office of their boss at the back of the room. Her desk faced the front of the room while Harry’s faced his boss’ office. He was on the opposite side of the room, and he had a great view all day long to watch her profile as she worked. Her hair was half up, her beautiful eyes hidden behind glasses, and her mouth set in concentration as she focused on her tasks. He couldn’t see her whole body, but he watched her pull her sandy colored cardigan around her white shirt multiple times that morning, like she was chilled by the air conditioner. His eyes were drawn to her. Like she was a lighthouse, and he was out at sea. All he wanted to do was watch her, keep an eye on her, and admire how stunning she was.

She had a little plant near her window—a bunch of red poppies wrapped up in a burlap vase, tied with a red bow. He couldn’t tell if it was fake or not, but he suspected it was. There was a picture of a large group of friends right by her monitor where she was off to the side in it, one of her girlfriends had an arm around her. Her stationery was cool tones of blues, greens, and purples. Her handwriting was scribbled on a calendar in front of her and he thought the way she curved her L’s was loopy and pretty beyond belief and he wished he had one in his name just to see how it looked. But it made him want to know how she would write his name anyway. There was a date at the end of September that was marked with a heart and he wondered why. Was it an anniversary? A birthday? Or the day her favorite movie came out?

A book sat on the windowsill, and he wondered when she had the time to read it during the day or maybe it was a security blanket kind of thing. There were two paper trays stacked on top of one another to organize her work and sticky notes all over her monitor and desk with ideas, reminders, and even a couple that said things like, “we love you” and “you’re so sweet.”

“Hi, Harry,” she smiled up at him to introduce herself. “Welcome to the team, are you having a good first day?”

He nodded, smiled a little brighter and dove right in. “I think m’in love with you,” she released a laugh that was so unbelievably beautiful Harry thought it sealed the deal. “I wouldn’t laugh, kitten. M’serious,” he frowned with faux sadness. He knew he was being a tad bit ridiculous. Maybe it wasn’t right to say it while they were alone, but he didn’t want to say it in front of everyone either. Hopefully he could convince her he was harmless, even if what he said was true.

Her cheeks reddened and she smiled. “That’s... very forward,” she reminded him. “And you don’t know me.”

“I know,” he rubbed the back of his head. “I was going t’hold off on saying it until tomorrow, but m’unable t’contain it. You’re very beautiful and everyone seems t’go t’you when they need help, so I imagine you’re a lovely person,” he pointed at the sticky note that said we love you once more. She snickered again and looked away covering one cheek with her hand. “M’going t’go t’lunch before I embarrass myself further, but I jus’ wanted to tell you,” he shrugged, stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned toward the exit.

“Nice meeting you Harry,” she called after him a smile on her lips.

He grinned and turned briefly to wave before he exited. “Don’t forget t’eat, kitten,” he called.

But now that Harry admitted he was in love with her, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched while she worked. Her eyes darted to his side of the room often trying to see if he was staring at her. He wasn’t each time which only made her feel guilty and worse. Maybe her standoffish disposition deterred him rapidly. It was probably for the best, anyway. For a lot of reasons.

Was it disappointment she was feeling from his lack of attention? That didn’t seem right.

“Harry!” Val called from behind her. “Are you enjoying your first day?”

“Immensely,” did his eyes drift over to her and her desk? She stared at her screen pretending to work while she listened.

“Did you just move to town?” Rachel was much further towards the front of the room. He turned to give her his full attention. It made her heart skip a beat with how kind it was. His politeness was a massive turn on.

Even if she wasn’t going to let herself admire Harry from across the way just because they worked together.

“I did, m’actually looking for a place t’live if y’know of any places. M’at a hotel until m’on m’feet.”

Her heart started beating about two hundred times a minute because she knew what was going to happen before it did. She could feel the bubbling excitement from her friends on either end of the room. “Mary Poppins has a room!” Rachel shouted.

Her cheeks turned bright red.

“Her roommate just moved in with her boyfriend like last week! How perfect is that, Mary? You were all worried about finding a normal roommate. I even did his background check, so I know he’s good to go!”

Harry chuckled. “Um... who’s Mary Poppins?”

The whole office giggled. “Miss Poppins, did you not introduce yourself?” Someone else called. Hunter snickered across from her and she glared at him.

This was mortifying. Wasn’t this supposed to be a mortifying day for Harry? His first day and all? How come she was being teased? She took a deep breath and turned from her monitor to make direct eye contact with Harry who was already looking at her. Like he knew exactly who Mary Poppins was without his coworkers needing to tell him. “It’s a two-bedroom apartment. One bath. There’s a nice kitchen, all new appliances.”

Harry’s jaw dropped as she spoke. Like he was surprised it really was her. “Val looks like she’s going to bounce out of her seat,” Hunter smirked as he whispered under his breath to her while she tried not to panic at the thought of living with someone so unbelievably attractive and just admitted he was in love with her.

“Tell him about your living room!” Val sounded like she was bouncing.

“Water’s included.”

“She’s the cutest interior designer. It’s so homey it feels like a warm hug when you walk in. Like living with a rom-com character,” Rachel continued.

“Rent would be about twelve hundred,” she ignored her so-called friends.

“She bakes something once a week too, so it always smells like sugar and Christmas. It’s seriously the coziest place I’ve ever been,” Val kept going.

“In-unit washer and dryer.”

“Then she brings whatever she makes for all of us here to devour. It’s incredible,” Rachel’s sentiment was answered with a hum of agreement from the rest of her coworkers. She even heard someone say remember her apple turnover pastries?

“You get your own parking spot,” she tilted her head and looked at the ceiling to see if there was anything else she had forgotten. “I think that’s it,” she met Harry’s eyes once more, holding his gaze briefly before she turned back to her monitor.

“Harry you should totally move in, you will fall in love with the place.”

“M’sure I would,” he chuckled. “Could I see it sometime?” He asked. His attention never strayed from her face. She could sense his gaze on the side of her cheek the whole time her friends embarrassed the crap out of her. “Whenever you’re free. Doesn’t have t’be today.”

“Today’s fine!” Rachel assured him. “She doesn’t do anything on Mondays.”

She rolled her eyes. “Today is fine,” she repeated and smiled sweetly. She scribbled on a sticky note and headed to his desk to drop the address off with him. Then she made her way toward the restroom because she needed to get out of the room. Needed away from everyone teasing her good-naturedly.

But mostly so she could keep herself from telling Harry that she was quite, very possibly, in love with him as well.

True to her friends’ words, the place was cozy as hell. There was a basket of throw blankets next to a sofa that looked like it was comfier than his bed currently in his storage unit. Artwork dotted the walls, board games stowed below her TV, and curtains pulled back from the windows letting in the afternoon sunlight. It felt like a home.

There were three boxes in the middle of the living room between the coffee table and the TV, but it was otherwise spotless. “You’re very clean.”

She nodded. “I know, I’m sorry.”

He chuckled. “Y’don’t need t’apologize,” he put his hands in his pockets, so he didn’t do something crazy like hold her hand.

“I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, is all. You can be... messy... I won’t have a freak out or anything. Unless you leave food in the sink then we get bugs. Then I’ll be kind of freaked out.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t do that. I like t’think m’pretty clean myself,” he assured her. “I also...” he took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his head. “Y’friends kinda put y’on the spot. I know what I admitted at lunch was kinda out of... out of the blue,” he bit his lip. “Y’don’t have t’feel obligated t’house me.”

“I don’t,” she promised. “I need a roommate and like Val said,” she shrugged. “She did your background check so I assume you won’t kill me, probably. At least not because you’re a serial killer. Maybe because I’m too clean.”

He shook his head with a smile on his lips making the most adorable dimple dent his cheek. She wanted to stick her tongue in it. “Thank you, m’really appreciative.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome, Harry. Sorry we’ll be around each other a lot.”

That didn’t seem like a bad thing at all. “I think it’ll be okay. We didn’t really talk much today,” he shrugged. “If y’get sick of me, m’sure I can find another place t’live,” he winked.

She rolled her eyes. “Won’t be necessary. But okay,” she sighed. “You can move in whenever,” she grabbed her keys from the breakfast bar where she ate most of her meals and pulled a key off the ring and handed it to him. “I have a second job some nights, but if you give me a heads up, I can help you move your stuff.”

“S’very kind of you, kitten, but y’don’t need t’do that. M’not going t’have all that much stuff. M’friend Louis lives not too far from here. He’ll come help me.”

“Offer stands,” she assured him.

Harry’s eyes scanned the room again and landed on the three boxes once more. “Are those your old roommate’s boxes?” He asked.

She nodded. “Two of them. I’m supposed to bring them to her, but they’re super heavy so I’m like... working up my mental and physical strength to bring them to my car. It’s going to be two trips and I’m just being a little lazy about it.”

“I can bring them down,” he grabbed one. It was definitely heavy. It was evident Harry had defined biceps and triceps practically outlined by the pretty purple button down, but it was manageable for him while a struggle for her. “Still probably two trips,” he nodded.

“Oh, I can take—”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “Don’t want you t’hurt yourself. Let me,” he offered and snagged her car keys off the counter.

“Oh, thank you that’s... thank you,” she swallowed, feeling grateful.

“Not a problem,” he assured her and left immediately.

When he returned after putting the second box in her car to return her keys, she had opened the third box and begun laying out a bunch of fall items to decorate their place. “Do you mind decorations?”

“Of course not,” he smiled. “Can I help?”

She blinked at him and tilted her head. “Um... I can handle it. If you need to pack or go... get dinner or something.”

“M’fine,” he smiled, setting her keys on the counter and glanced around the room. He noted there were hooks screwed into the wall at various points. “Can I hang something for you? M’good for height.”

Harry wasn’t that much taller than her, she was definitely taller than the average woman, but it still meant she needed to drag out a stepstool when she wanted to put up her art and decorations. “That would be awesome,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, kitten,” he smiled.

Harry had a dreamy smile on his face as they talked and got to know one another. He hadn’t brought up that he was in love with her. Nor did he make her feel the least bit uncomfortable. Like it had never happened.

Why did it feel like she was disappointed about the prospect of that?

Maybe he wasn’t in love with her. Maybe the initial reaction of seeing someone roughly the same age as him at work made his senses a bit wild for a moment.

No. She wasn’t disappointed. Everything about Harry being in love with her would be a recipe for disaster and it was for the best that he didn’t fall in love with her.

It was just something a little bit out of the blue to say to the only person who was single in the office. Everyone had a significant other they had met within the office or elsewhere. She was the last single person. The same was true with her friend group as well. Everyone in her life had been paired off except for her.

He was her coworker. He was going to be her roommate.

But right as he left, he sent her heart into a frenzy. They were by the door. She wanted to make sure he got to his car safely even though it was a safe neighborhood. It was just the way she was. “Will you go on a date with me?” He asked.

She stared at him in shock, her lips parting like she was mid-sentence, and he had interrupted. “Seriously?” She giggled reflexively, but her cheeks felt hot. They had a lovely evening together getting to know each other. Harry helped with all the decorations and yes, in its own way it was a bit intimate. But he couldn’t possibly think that it was a good idea to date his roommate.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Harry, I can’t date my roommate.”

“Pretty sure s’how most rom-coms start,” he smiled. “S’okay. I’ll ask again later. Have a nice night,” he grinned with a wave and walked toward his car. Leaving her jaw slack, as she watched her roommate head off into the night.

Harry moved in later that week. He asked her to come with him to his storage unit to see if there was anything she would want in the apartment, but she had pretty much everything. It seemed silly to bring a double of everything when she owned all of it already.

But Harry would forever be grateful and indebted to his sister for her kindness as he watched her examine some of his belongings. One in particular caught her eye making him think that he had won the lottery with how excited she was.

She couldn’t believe Harry had a stand mixer and she was nearly in awe of all the attachments to help bake and cook easier. “I’ve always wanted one of these. They’re so expensive,” she blinked. “How do you have one?”

“M'sister got one when she got married,” he explained. “But she doesn’t bake and said it was taking up space in her kitchen.”

“Can we bring it to the apartment? Do you mind?”

The way her eyes lit up at the sight of it? Pure joy and happiness? Yeah. It was going to the apartment. If he ever moved out, he would probably leave it with her too just so she could always look that happy. “Course. Anything else?”

She looked around the organized storage room sifting through the items in different bins while Harry searched for some of his own trinkets that he thought he would want after his initial move. His room and bathroom items had already been moved in with the help of Louis. “This is stunning,” her voice full of awe once more, grabbing a print from behind a shelf. Harry wasn’t sure where it was from. He thought his mum purchased it to make his old place feel like home. “This would look amazing in the living room.”

“Bring it,” he smiled. She tucked it under her arm and continued searching. Harry grabbed a few more odds and ends and she plucked out a few more things she thought would work with the apartment’s décor and mainly helpful kitchen tools.

“It’s your place too, Harry,” she reminded him. “Is there anything you want there?”

He smiled, shook his head. “Y’seem t’have everything, kitten. M’not picky.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a guest,” she pouted. “Like you should bring these,” she gestured to pictures of his friends and family in a bin. “I can move some of mine to my room so you can put them up.”

He grinned. “Sure,” he shrugged. “If y’think s’what I should do.”

“Alright, could we come back in a few weeks and see if there’s anything else you want once you’re settled a bit?”

“Course.”

They gathered as much as they could, Harry would have to come back for the stand mixer. Harry closed the trunk and moved to open the passenger door for her before her hand fully pulled it out of the way. He waited until she was tucked into the seat safely and he handed her the car keys. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” she smiled.

“Hey kitten,” he said leaning against the door before he left. “Will y’go on a date with me?”

“Harry,” she laughed the same way she did the last time he asked her. The same way she laughed when he told her he was in love with her. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” he smiled at the delight on her face. The pretty pink color rising to her cheeks. “Will you?”

“I can’t go on a date with you, Harry,” she looked at him with a bit of sympathetic pity. Like he was ridiculous for asking. Again. Which he was.

“Then I’ll ask again another time,” he shrugged, closed her car door, and headed to get the stand mixer that made her happy.

“Hey Poppy, did y’want t’go get lunch with me?” Her eyes didn’t move from her screen. “Poppy,” he repeated. “Poppy,” he sang. She glanced around and realized she was the only one in the room.

“Me?”

He chuckled. “Yes, you.”

Her eyebrows pinched together. “Why did you call me Poppy?”

“Well, m’assuming s’your favorite flower,” it was a safe bet since there was a small bouquet right beside her. “Also, everyone else calls y’Mary, Poppins, or Miss Poppins. Which I still don’t know why, but I wanted t’be different. Want you t’know s’me when y’hear me talking t’you.”

Her heart raced. Harry was utterly adorable. “I see. Sorry,” she smirked.

“Anyway,” he came over to stand by her desk. “Do y’want t’get lunch?”

“Harry, I told you I don’t date.”

“M’not asking as a date. M’asking as your coworker who has never seen y’eat a bite of food while you’re at work. M’asking as your concerned roommate who worries y’don’t eat until y’get home for dinner. And I don’t even want t’think ‘bout how long y’go without eating when you’re at your second job.”

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. “I don’t go out to lunch with everyone,” she explained. “I don’t know if you noticed, but people always seem to need me while I’m here,” she gestured to her desk. “Lunch is the only time I get a minute to myself. And I can get caught up a bit before the afternoon and everyone comes back.”

“Well do you bring lunch?” He asked, his frown deepening still worried she wasn’t eating.

“I do, it’s in the breakroom. I’ll get it in a minute,” she promises. “Go, you’re wasting your lunch hour.”

“Okay,” he sighed. He stopped in the doorway of the entrance to the office. “Hey Poppy,” he smiled.

“Yeah?” She asked without looking up from her screen.

“Now that y’mention it though, will y’go out with me?”

At home, Harry took the trash out because he said it was a boy-job and she shouldn’t be out in the dark by a dumpster. It made his skin crawl just to think about it. He made her promise that she wouldn’t take out the trash and he didn’t mind if he had to go out twice in one day. She thought it was ridiculous. But she agreed.

He cleaned up after himself checking with her to see if it was up to her standard. Even though she assured him he didn’t have to meet her standard. His cologne overtook their bathroom, and it was so comforting she took long hot showers at night just to amplify the scent filling her nose. Harry stretched across the sofa and scrolled through various show options but often didn’t find something that piqued his interest. Instead, he would put on some background noise and read on an eReader. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration.

Harry bought groceries and didn’t ask for any money from them. “M’sure you’ll buy stuff too,” he shrugged. Plus, she already had all the cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, dishwasher pods, and the like. Harry hardly had anything useful so buying groceries was the least he could do.

Except the stand mixer. People moaned about her cookies. Harry got to see her make them firsthand and the very scene with an apron around her body, her smile bright as she tested various stages of the dough, it did wonders for Harry. Some kind of nearly pornographic idea that only Harry would think was pornographic. “Will you try one?” She asked, hope in her voice.

Was he supposed to say no to her? Absolutely not. So, he tried one. “Go on a date with me,” he groaned.

“Because of the cookies?”

“No! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But s’not usually because of cookies.”

She laughed. “I don’t date, Harry.”

He frowned, faking his disappointment (although he was the slightest bit disappointed). “I’ll try again,” he shrugged and took three more cookies from her cooling rack before returning to the sofa to read.

“Mary!” Val sang. “Do you have the stain stick?” She called from behind. She opened a drawer, eyes unmoving from her screen and held it out behind her for it to be passed back by her other coworkers. Harry chuckled.

It killed her that she knew his chuckle without looking. “S’impressive,” he murmured quietly. But she could hear it from across the way.

“That’s nothing,” Rachel said from the other end of the room. “Miss Poppins,” she smiled delightedly. “I have a missing button,” she told her.

That was the other drawer, a small little sewing kit to fix a button.

“Hair tie!” Someone called from the other side of the room.

“Lint roller!”

They all called out items and she had every single one.

“Do you have anything stronger to put in this coffee?” Their boss was walking up the aisle and paused at her desk. She smirked, opened the bottom drawer and placed a mini bottle of liquid on the edge of the desk. The whole office laughed as he snatched it and headed to his office. “You’re getting a raise, Poppins,” he called.

Hunter turned to look at Harry. “I gave her the nickname,” he explained.

“I get it,” he chuckled.

“If you need it, chances are she has it.”

“If she doesn’t, she adds it,” Val explained.

Her smile was soft. Harry thought it was sweet how her coworkers adored her. It was clear she was loved by them. Her thoughtfulness was admirable. Harry wondered how he was supposed to top that. No wonder she didn’t want to go out with him. Why would she want to go out with anyone when she was ten times sweeter than anyone she knew?

Her best friend Josephine (Joey) was helping her in the bathroom when Harry got home from the gym one Friday evening. “Holy hell you said he was cute, not hot,” she gaped.

“Aw, y’think m’cute, Poppy?” He asked winking at her. Her cheeks flushed red, making it so she didn’t need any of the blush she was putting on her cheeks. He leaned against the doorframe; arms crossed over his chest. He was sweaty and really wanted to get in the shower, but he didn't mind a bit of time to stare at his sweet roommate.

“I should have known. Only a man that uses such high-end cologne would be this hot.”

“Didn’t you buy Matt high-end cologne?”

“Hence why I think he’s so hot,” Joey beamed. Her friend laughed quietly, shaking her head as she finished with her makeup.

“Sorry Harry, we’ll be out of the way in a minute.”

“Take y’time. M’not in a rush.”

“Oh, you should come out!” Joey squealed. “Harry, please! She’s always by herself keeping an eye on us it would be nice to have someone keep her company!”

“Thanks, Mom. I don’t need a babysitter,” she rolled her eyes. “No offense, Harry.”

“S’okay,” he chuckled. “I don’t want t’impose. Plus m’in need of a shower.”

“Don’t let us stop you,” Joey smiled widely gesturing to the shower.

“Can you not?” She rolled her eyes and looked at Harry with apologetic eyes.

He laughed again and shook his head. “Y’can call if y’need something,” he assured her.

“Harry, please come out! You can meet us there!” Joey said again.

She looked at him with a soft smile. A look in her eyes said he wasn’t going to get out of it. Not if he didn’t have a really good reason. But truthfully? He didn’t need a reason to get out of it. Spending time with her outside of work, outside of the apartment, and errands like the grocery store and running to the post office had him excited to see her in another frame of light. Did she let loose? He would love to dance with her. Even if it was only as friends, roommates, fuck as coworkers even. How did she act around her friends versus her coworkers? God, he was obsessed.

“I can wait for you,” she suggested, her voice soft. Harry smiled.

“Thanks, Poppy.”

Her eyes scanned for her friends as she sat on a stool at a high top beside Harry. It was like watching a teacher on a field trip counting heads to make sure everyone was still present. The table was littered with drinks all of which she minded just as intently.

Harry just gazed at her as he sipped his drink. He helped as needed pushing drinks toward her friends as they came back from dancing. “Y’don’t dance?”

“Oh...maybe later. I’m not very good,” she admitted. “I like dancing with Joey because she’s worse than me.”

She caught the eye of one of her friends, Hailey, approaching and she reached into her purse strapped around the front of her for something. Harry watched as Hailey made it to her. “Thanks Mary,” she gushed taking the bandage from her and made her way for the bathroom. It was pretty wild she could anticipate whatever her friends needed. It was like at work. Harry was a bit awestruck and looked at her with a surprised expression. She shrugged and continued sipping her drink.

Jaylen was next. Joey’s twin brother; they had the same facial expressions--mainly the smile that Joey had on her face when she suggested Harry shower in front of her and his favorite person.

The same smile appeared on his face and told Harry he was going to say something just as delightful as Joey had said of Harry. Sure enough, Jaylen draped an arm around her and leaned into her ear to whisper something over the sound of the music. She rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully. His face turned serious and he whispered something again.

She frowned. Then reached into her purse again. Out came a tampon which he slid discreetly into his pocket and then she glanced at his outfit twisting her lips to the side in disappointment.

After a brief thought, she pulled her purse over her body and laid it on the table. The long cardigan she wore came off next, leaving her in a black tank top that tucked into her jeans. It hugged her curves like a glove making Harry’s mouth water and he glanced away worried he would look like a creep. He finished his beer before Jaylen grinned and thanked her profusely and walked away. She took a deep breath and put her purse back into position before wrapping one arm in front of he protectively, gripping the front of her shoulder.

“Are y’cold?” He asked.

She shook her head.

But Harry was sitting beside her. He could see the goosebumps on her skin. She selflessly gave her sweater to her friend for whatever reason (Harry wasn’t totally sure, but he suspected it was menstrual related). But she was going to pretend like she wasn’t cold? Harry was definitely in love. In case it wasn’t obvious by the moment he met her. Boldly, Harry reached below her bar stool and tugged it toward him. She jostled a bit but he maintained her balance. Then he draped his arm around her body pulling her toward him further and he couldn’t help but notice she didn’t pull away. She didn’t make a sound and her facial expression didn’t change.

But Harry felt her body relax into his side, her head dipping ever so slightly toward his shoulder. He smiled softly and brought his lips closer to her ear so she could hear. “Y’don’t have t’lie t’me, Poppy. M’your roommate and all. I know y’like the apartment a toasty temperature.”

She smirked and tilted her head up. Their eyes connected, their mouths only two inches apart. “Thank you,” she said kindly.

Harry really enjoyed holding her.

At the end of the night, she rounded up her friends ensuring those who said they could drive actually could and if they couldn’t she called for Ubers until everyone was safely on their way home. Jaylen’s girlfriend, Maya, had her green sweater wrapped around her white pants. She thanked her profusely, drunkenly.

Joey and Matt waved goodbye. “Bye Hot Roommate,” Joey called waving to Harry specifically.

“Jesus, Joey,” Matt rolled his eyes. “Nice meeting you Harry,” he called.

Once everyone was gone, she rubbed her hands on her arms to keep the blood flowing and warming her skin. Harry wrapped his arm over her shoulders again and tucked her into his side as they headed for her parked car a couple blocks away. “Go on a date with me," he spoke straight forward. Hoping if he didn't look, it wouldn't seem like as a massive deal--almost like he would trick her into a date.

She elbowed him. “I can’t go out with a coworker, Harry. Or my roommate for that matter.”

He shrugged. “I’ll ask later,” he boldly kissed the top of her head. Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind. Harry was sure to keep that in his head for future reference. He would most definitely be kissing her again. “You’re an extremely sweet girl, Poppy. Selfless, lovely, kind,” he listed. “Whoever y’end up with, m’going t’be very jealous,” he assured her.

She snorted and laughed quietly under her breath. “Thank you, Harry.”

For months it continued with similar routines, feelings, and questions. They grew closer as friends. At work he admired her from his desk from across the office. When she didn’t go to lunch, he reminded her to eat and not work too hard. At home, he grumbled that her loophole of taking the trash out in the daytime was not the point of his promise. He still bought groceries each week trying to figure out all the things she enjoyed eating.

He helped her clean the apartment and when it was getting cooler outside, she asked to join him at the gym. Her outfits were cute and made guys stare at her as she worked out, unbeknownst to her. She asked for help from Harry which made him feel like he won an Olympic medal. His face was smug as the men in the gym finally stopped looking at her. Thinking Harry was lucky enough to be hers.

It made him happy to help her figure out new machines and with her sets of weightlifting (even though she didn’t like it).

Everywhere they went, people ogled her. She was so kind. Little kids would smile at her in grocery store lines and wave like it was a game of peekaboo. Dogs tugged on their leashes hoping to get a pet from her around the loop she ran in the neighborhood. Their elderly next door neighbor tried telling her a hundred times that she had a grandson her age and he would love to date her (that one drove Harry the most crazy).

She had her head leaning in her palm as she watched the stand mixer beat the brownie ingredients like it was the most interesting thing in the world. But Harry was watching her; so he was, in fact, watching the most interesting thing in the world.

He leaned against the wall just beside the kitchen entrance. “Poppy?” He asked. She looked up at him. “Go on a date with me, please," his expression soft.

She was finally getting used to it. She gave herself a lot of credit. It was pretty crazy she hadn’t caved yet. Harry was so lovely. Not to mention attractive. At the gym, his muscles rippled and glistened with sweat. The outline of every abdominal muscle was sinful. It was a miracle she didn’t drop her own weights or fall on the treadmill when she caught sight of him. It drove her crazy that the women there gazed at him longingly; like he was something to eat. But was she really any better?

She smiled, the blush on her cheeks still prominent, but not as deep. She was used to her heart skipping a beat, the butterflies fluttering in her stomach each time he asked. “That's very sweet, Harry. But I don’t date.”

It was six months since he met her when he finally asked. “Why not?”

She shrugged. He thought she wasn’t going to say anything more, so he frowned, sighed, and headed for the living room to get back to his book. “I just don’t date, Harry. I like being friends,” she told him.

He grumbled something about still being friends even if they dated but she either didn’t hear or pretended not to hear. Either way, it was quiet for a few beats. “If I hadn’t told you I was in love with you that first day, would that have changed your answer?”

She giggled and shook her head. “No.”

“Okay,” he shrugged. Ever determined. He smiled widely at her. “I’ll keep asking then.”

When she got dressed up for a family wedding and clicked down the hall in heels and a dress that flowed over her like she was the bride (only wearing green of course, not white). Her hair was curled and pinned so prettily Harry thought he was seeing a real angel in the flesh. “Oh, come on, Poppy,” he groaned and covered his eyes with his hand dramatically. “S’not fighting fair,” he frowned.

She grinned, her cheeks warming more than they had in a while. “I look okay?”

“Stunning,” he grumbled. “M’so jealous I won’t get t’dance with you,” he pouted.

She shook her head. “I don’t usually dance at weddings when I go alone,” she explained.

“Well, y’should’ve told me. I would’ve been your date.”

“Harry—”

“Platonic date,” he rolled his eyes. “This is worse than when y’wore that pencil skirt t’work,” he reminded her. She snickered and shook her head while she looked at her phone. She sucked her lip into her mouth and sighed wincing slightly and then turned to her room again. After several minutes she returned in a different dress. She was equally stunning, but she looked a little forlorn. “An outfit change?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” she shrugged. “My sister is wearing green.”

Harry frowned. “So?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just...” she shrugged. “It’s alright. I like this dress just fine.”

But it wasn’t green. She looked so pretty in green. It complimented her skin tone so perfectly. She looked stunning. Like she was a queen. “But—”

“Seriously, Harry. It’s fine.”

The muted purple dress looked lovely on her as well. But Harry thought the green made her look otherworldly. He wanted the happiness back in her eye. The light that sparked when he complimented her. “Well when can y’wear it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Season’s almost over for a wintergreen like that,” she shrugged. “Maybe next year.”

Harry frowned. But then he had a wonderful idea to help both her dress and himself. “Go on a date with me, Poppy.”

The smile reappeared on her face, and she shook her head. “I can’t, Harry.”

“Please? Do it for the sake of that dress,” he pleaded. “We don’t even have t’call it a date. An outing. An adventure. Whatever y’want. Y’jus’ need t’wear it before y’can’t.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Harry. But I can’t.”

He sighed. “You’re welcome, Poppy.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow? I’ll steal you a cupcake. I heard they come from this bakery that I love and if it doesn’t make it home to you, then we’re going to have to go there anyway.”

It didn’t replace a date. But he liked the way she smiled. And going to a bakery together was inherently a couple-y thing to do. So he would take what he could get.

“Sure, Poppy. I’d love to.”

She didn’t need people. Needing people had only ever broken her heart. She never asked for help ever. Well...only when they were at the gym but that was a safety thing more than anything.

Even when she should have asked.

Harry didn’t notice until he drove her to a house party that her friends didn’t invite her too. She was sleepy, it was obvious. Leggings, oversized sweater. Her hair was braided loosely and falling apart because she had woken in the middle of the night to answer a message. Harry was in the middle of a good book. Unable to put it down when she ventured into the living room. A yawn falling from her lips. Her eyes barely open. It took several questions and repeated convincing to let him drive her since he was awake, and it looked like she was going to pass out while standing.

Harry insisted on coming in even as she told him to stay in the car, but he refused. She found her friends, her voice was soft as she encouraged Jaylen to leave. A little over his limit and Joey and Maya were about just as gone and unable to convince Jaylen to go with them. A guy from across the room made a joke about Mommy coming to save him. As her pugnacious friend made a turn to deal with the offensive person, she stopped him. She was quick, grabbed his arm, and held tight.

When they returned to the apartment she corralled her friends into their sleeping arrangements. Maya and Jaylen in her bed, Joey on the sofa. “Sorry I took your reading spot,” she whispered as she tucked a blanket around Joey. She snagged another blanket and curled into the only other chair in the living room. “Thank you for driving,” she smiled, closing her sleepy eyes.

“You’re gonna sleep there?” He asked. She nodded, barely moving. Like she was already half-way to dreaming. Harry snagged her out of the chair, cradling her and bringing her to his room.

“Harry,” she protested.

“We’re grown adults,” he reminded her. “We can share a bed without it being weird. S’like a hotel room.”

“Harry,” she repeated, her objection evident in her tone. “I can’t—”

“M’not letting y’sleep in a chair or on the floor. So, it’s m’bed or y’aren’t sleeping,” he shrugged.

She sighed. Too tired to oppose any further, thankfully. Harry laid her atop the covers and draped another blanket over her. He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and slid beneath his sheets and glanced at the sleeping angel beside him. He smiled. He liked the way she looked in his bed. Liked the way she seemed comfortable and sleepy beside him. His bed felt warm with her beside him. Even though she wasn’t touching him. She smelled good in his room too.

“Night, Harry,” she mumbled.

“Good night, Poppy,” he answered, reached out, squeezed her hand before releasing it so she wouldn’t break a piece of his heart by telling him they shouldn’t.

It was easy to fall asleep with her beside him.

It was even easier to dream of her with her intoxicating presence in his room as well.

Harry noticed how drained she seemed when the weather continued to get warmer. Her friends all had birthdays around the same time, and she was a mess of scheduling and reserving birthday dinners and planning things for all of them. Did Harry miss her birthday? He would have to ask. He hoped he didn’t. He hoped her friends would take the time to plan for her the way she did for them.

Work was approaching a busy season, and everyone kept coming to her more and more throughout the day. He could see the anxiety on her face as her growing to-do list looked nearly unmanageable. Harry tried to go to others if he had issues. But every time he asked someone else a question, they called out for Mary Poppins, and she would glance up and look at Harry with a sad smile asking how she could help.

Harry was worried she wasn’t eating her lunch. When everyone else left, her eyes were hidden behind those glasses, her face concentrating and relieved for the reprieve from people calling her name for help with work or needing something like a pen or a screwdriver. Sometimes Harry hated his job. Not because it was difficult. But it seemed like everyone in the office was incompetent. Or weaponizing their incompetence and foisting their tasks onto the lovely woman who would never say no to them.

Her friends did it too. With all the planning and such.

The poor thing looked exhausted. She didn’t join Harry at the gym and her second job seemed like the only time she got to herself. “I miss reading,” she grumbled when she got home late from her shift. She kicked her shoes off and flopped onto the opposite end of the sofa. “My eyes are exhausted though,” she rubbed them for good measure. “I think I would fall asleep if I tried to read. I think I need to wake up earlier and read.”

Harry snorted. “Don’t burn yourself out, Poppy,” he rolled his eyes. “What are y’reading?”

“I’ve been trying t’read this book for months,” she pulled it from the shelf below the coffee table. He had seen it tucked there for a while. He grabbed it from her, skimmed the back of the book, and opened to the first chapter.

Then, he started reading.

Out loud.

“Harry,” she whispered her eyes wide.

“Yeah?” He asked, pointing at the sentence where he stopped and looked at her curiously. “M’starting over, because I want t’know what’s happening,” he smiled. Her face looked so shocked and confused. Sad even. Like she didn’t know what emotion she was supposed to feel.

“You don’t have to—”

He shook his head, and continued reading before she could finish her sentence.

Harry read three chapters before he carried her sleeping self to bed.

Something changed in Harry. He almost turned into a stalker. He tracked her movements and routines for a week. He knew most of them. But he really tracked them. The daily ones were easiest. She went for a run in the morning, he followed her lead and didn’t say a word. He went to her favorite coffee shop and paid for her favorite drink for a week’s worth of drinks in advance.

He wished they carpooled, but she was so busy. So he timed his arrival so that he was at the entrance door holding it open for her. When everyone left to get lunch, he heated up her food and brought it to her desk before leaving silently.

One day, there was a note on her dashboard saying she had a full tank of gas. When she arrived home after her second job, she noted her spare car key was on Harry’s key ring. At home, her laundry was in the wash. The shirts she didn’t like to put in the dryer were hung in the bathroom.

Harry could see it. She was cracking. It was the first time someone had done something for her it seemed. The first time someone so selflessly did things for her, anticipated her needs the way she anticipated everyone else’s.

Her throat felt tight as she looked at Harry in the kitchen, making her favorite dinner—a soup that took hours and hours to make.

He didn’t even know it was her birthday that day which made her heart feel sicker than ever.

“Poppy,” he smiled sweetly placing a bowl in front of her exhausted figure.

“Yeah?” She whispered.

If she wasn't so in awe, she would have realized where his tone was. What was coming next. “Go on a date with me, kitten.”

“I can’t.”

“S’not so hard,” he assured her. “You sit across from me and be yourself because m’already in love with you,” he reminded her sweetly. An impish grin on his pretty pink lips. That dimple she wanted to sink her tongue into on display. “I tell y’how stunning y’look, I pay for you t’eat. I feed you a dessert of your choosing that you’re probably too full t’eat and then I can kiss you wherever y’want. Lips, cheek, forehead,” he shrugged. “Then we come home, and I’ll read a chapter of your book. Y’can decide if y’want t’go on a second date.”

She giggled, her cheeks red. “I can’t, Harry,” she looked at him apologetically, but she felt herself melting as much as the soup warmed her insides. It was ridiculous to eat soup in the middle of the summer. But Harry made it for her anyway.

His heart deflated a little. He wasn't kidding. He was definitely in love. He had to be because there was no other way he could explain the feelings he had for her. Someone so thoughtful, so pretty, sweet, and funny.

Harry had asked her out at least a hundred times. Around Christmas, she got her hair cut and he always found her beautiful, but he asked her almost every day following her new hair style for a month straight. Each time she said she couldn't. She didn't date.

For the first time in the near year since he had first asked her, first met her, he realized she said she can’t go on a date with him. She didn’t date. That he was crazy.

Not that she didn’t want to. She didn’t say no.

Hope bloomed inside him.

She didn’t need anything. She didn’t need anybody. It was clear someone or maybe many had let her down so many times. He watched her doing everything she could to make this party as nice as humanly possible for Hailey. Not that Hailey didn’t deserve it, but no one had done anything like this for her. Harry only found out it was her birthday after the fact, and he felt like shit for it. Even though she assured him that was one of the best birthdays she ever had.

All he did was make her soup.

She deserved so much more.

It almost seemed too obvious that they hadn’t done anything for her remotely as lovely as she did.

“You’re staring, Styles,” she murmured without looking up from the chair while he lounged on the sofa.

“Go on a date with me,” he smiled.

She blushed, shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

“You haven’t said no.”

"I've said no about a hundred thousand times, Harry," she rolled her eyes.

Why was it now? Why did he want to tell her what he was thinking about the whole situation now? But it was in his chest. He had to say it. Had to tell her.

“No, you’ve never said no,” he shook his head and looked at her head on, while she continued looking at her to do list, her planner. Her poor neglected book waiting to be read by Harry because her tired eyes couldn’t. She looked up at him and smirked. Ready to protest once more, but Harry shook his head again. “I remember everything you've said t'me. I would remember a 'no,' it would probably kill me t’hear y’say, no kitten. Y'call me crazy, y'say y'can’t or that y'don’t date. Never, not once, have y'ever said y'don’t want t'go on a date with me. Nor a flat out no. So m'going t’keep asking until y'say y'don’t want to. Because I think you do want t'go out with me but for some reason y'don't want t'allow yourself t'be happy. T'let someone else in. M'not going t'stop asking. Not until I hear y'say "Harry Styles I would rather die than go on a date with you. I never want to go out with you." Maybe that makes me conceited or creepy. M’sure it does make me crazy. But I don’t care. I want t'go on a date with you. I want t'go on a million dates with you, actually. So m'not giving up until y'call me creepy or y'say y'don’t want to.”

She swallowed like there was something stuck in her throat. Her eyes didn't move from her lap.

"Kitten," he murmured. She didn’t look up. “Poppy,” he whispered. She finally met his green-eyed gaze again. His expression soft, pleading. “Go on a date with me,” his voice was soft. Harry swore his heart stopped beating because if he was wrong, if she really was saying no all those times, he wasn't sure he could ever stop asking her. The idea he would never get to take her out to eat and order her favorite dessert. He wouldn't see a movie and wrap his arm around her shoulders and that was completely unfair. He wanted to offer his jacket to her when it rained and hold her hand while walking through a museum. "Poppy," he repeated.

She bit her lip, her lips opening and closing like she wasn't sure which word was going to pop out. “I can’t,” she whispered. Her eyes looking at him in a way that he could read right through her. They screamed at him, please don’t stop asking me.

As if he could ever. Harry smiled. "Okay," he shrugged, hope and adoration for her flooding him. "I'll ask again tomorrow."

A sad smile graced her face. "You're crazy," she whispered again.

"Only 'bout you, Poppy.”

Harry felt like he was getting sick. Probably due to the sweet girl in his apartment who had worn herself so thin and weary that she had inadvertently brought illness home to him. His head was killing him. His pillow was calling for him the way he wished his favorite stubborn woman would call him.

He didn't even know if she was home. But honestly, he was glad. If she knew he was sick, she would dote on him. Even if she was starting to fell unwell. The thoughts of her were never too far from his mind. He would never be too sick, too lost, too far away from her that she could leave his thoughts.

Sleeping was one of his favorite hobbies because he loved to see her in his dreams. Loved to see the unaffected, carefree, beautiful, stubborn woman. The angel that enjoyed affection both giving and receiving.

It was his nightly dream. The one where she snuggled with him, and it was like they had been together twenty years and not zero. The one where he could taste her lips (even if in his dream she tasted like nothing) he knew it was wrong. She probably tasted like chocolate or caramel or something deliriously sweet.

Unfortunately, his phone vibrated below his pillow pulling him from his perfect beautiful dream.

“Harry?”

He squinted at his phone. Head aching, throat sore. Curious as to why he didn’t have the number saved. “Speaking.”

“Oh, thank god,” the voice sighed. “It’s Joey,” she said. “Harry. Something’s wrong. She won’t stop crying and she won’t say anything but your name.”

He leapt out of bed. Illness forgotten even if he was dizzy. His heart thudded like a chorus of drums, and he didn’t even grab shoes as he raced out of his room, snagging his wallet and keys off the counter as he exited the apartment.

He listened to Joey say a few more things. Something about being out at a club. She never left the bar area. There was no way someone had hurt her. But Harry drove through the night with his heart in his throat like someone had hurt her. He wasn’t sure seeing her would even calm him. He knew where Joey lived, fortunately, so he sped as quickly as he could. The ache in his head and his throat was lost behind him along the drive.

He didn’t knock as he hurried barefoot into Joey’s apartment. Matt was coming from the kitchen and making his way down the hall. He looked at Harry sadly as he approached the main room.

“Poppy?” he whispered as he entered the room, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold herself together. "Kitten," he frowned and knelt in front of her. He picked her face up between his and he scanned her looking for signs of injury. Anxiety was in every inch of his body. But she fell into his arms before he could look any longer. Sobbing harder than when he entered. “M'here. M'here, baby. It’s okay. M'here," he kissed the top of her head, cupping the back of her head with one hand. The other arm winding around her and squeezing her tight to his body. “Oh kitten,” he sighed, sadness coating his voice. His heart ached. Like it was going to snap in half if she cried any longer. “M’sorry, baby. M'here. S’okay. Tell me. Please. I’ll make it better,” he promised.

Her sobs continued, like she was unable to speak. "Harry," she whimpered.

"M'here, Poppy, s'okay," he assured her even if it wasn't. "Baby," he frowned pulling away to look at her her tearful eyes. He tugged her back to his embrace and continued to soothe her. He rubbed his hand up and down her back hoping it was comforting as he hoped it was.

Harry caught Joey's eye, who looked over from the entryway and smiled weakly.

"You good?" She mouthed. Harry nodded and when he glanced back, her friend was gone.

Harry kissed the top of her head for the hundredth time. He continued rubbing his hand down her spine. His head was still screaming.

But she was well worth it. Her cheeks were streaked with salt lines. Her eyes puffy and red around the edges. He had pulled her to him so they could snuggle into the corner of the couch. Her body tucked between the back cushion and Harry's body. Like he didn't want anyone to see her if they entered the room.

“Harry?” Her voice was raw.

“Hmm?” He tucked her hair behind her ear and skimmed his fingertip along the same path repeatedly.

“Will you go on a date with me?” She whispered.

He smiled lazily. His heart exploding in his ribcage. “God, Poppy, I don't know. I have t'check m'schedule.” She smacked his chest with no weight behind it. He kissed the top of her head. “I’d take y’right now. Whenever y’want.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing t’be sorry for.”

"I have issues."

"We can work on them together."

"I don't know if you'll..." She trailed off.

"If I'll what?" He brushed his thumb on her cheek.

She took a deep breath. "I love love, Harry. I love watching people get married. I love when people have babies and grow a family. I want to have babies. I love reading romance novels and watching silly rom-coms where you can predict the ending before the movie even starts."

"Sounds pretty romantic and easy, Poppy," he murmured.

She swallowed continuing. "I will do a lot for you because I believe that's the way love is supposed to be. I want to make your life easier, and I want to do things that make you happy because I think happiness and love are in short supply and I want those books and rom-coms to be real."

Harry nodded. "Well—"

"I've never had that. I had a boyfriend for four years and..." she sniffled. "When we broke up, I said that I wouldn't do that again. I wouldn’t devote myself so completely to someone that wouldn't give me half as much. Then I met my next boyfriend and at first, I thought it was right, finally. It was equal. He loved me the right way, I mean. The way I thought I wanted, deserved... But then it was like he got tired of doing things. I don't know. Maybe my love language is acts of service. I don't know. I’m not making sense, I'm sorry. But..." she swallowed. "I broke it off after only two years that time. I just don't think I can be loved the right way... not forever. I don't know. I sound so selfish, don’t I? I don’t know why you want to go out with me so badly. I want someone to love me the way I love them, and I don’t think that’s...fair."

It was why she always had everything. Why she planned and hosted parties. Why she never drank and always took care of her friends. She loved everyone that was lucky to cross paths with her, with her whole, big, beautiful heart.

Harry tilted her chin up. "M’going to love you the right way,” he promised. “M’going to love you the way y’want because that's what y’deserve. If I love you anything less than you deserve then... well... I don't know what, Poppy. If that’s the case m’probably dead because s’the only possible explanation,” she snorted and tears dripped down her cheeks again but not like the night before. “But it's not going to be a problem, kitten. M’going to love you the way your books love. The way a rom-com loves. M’going to love you the way you love everyone that walks into your life. The way you so selflessly devote your kindness to them. M’going to love you the way you love," he promised. “Because s’an honor to love you,” he assured her. “S’an honor to be loved by you.”

She looked away from his gaze, closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his chest. His throat was aching again. He was really tired, but he would suffer her wrath and frustration of going on about this later. He knew that she would be beside herself knowing he was sick and dealing with her anyway. But where else would he be? "Harry," she whispered finally. He met her eyes the back of his fingers skimming her cheek.

"What, Poppy?"

"Do you love me already?"

"Of course I do."

She sniffled, her face crumpling with relief. Like all of it had been a trick up until then. "Okay," she whispered. “Can we go home?”

“Course, kitten,” he kissed the top of her head and moved slowly to get up from the sofa. All of his muscles ached from sickness and from the awkward but perfect position of holding her all night in the cramped little space.

He held his hand out for her to take as she stood next. “Harry,” she whispered softly.

“Hmm?” He hummed and looked at her with a soft expression that made her stomach flip, her heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, Poppy?"

“I’m in love with you too.”

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redwineandtarot · 8 months ago

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your future spouse's first impression of you

hi! after a long time i am back with another reading❣️ i asked spirit using the term fs but you can use this for soulmates as well. please remember we have free will, i am just reading energies so take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. i would love to hear your feedbacks <3

🥀paid readings🥀

Disclaimer: My readings do NOT replace any professional advice. Use your own judgment while making decisions. You have your own free will. Take everything I say light-heartedly. All of my readings are for ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES.

pick a pile

piles 1-2-3

all pictures are from pinterest.

pile 1

They will think that you are a selfless person. And that you are always ready to help others. Or fight for your values. But in a subtle way. To them you have a calming aura. They will also see you as someone reserved, someone who prefers to keep to themselves and speak less. From the first impression, you are someone who is a bit passive.

They will think that you have a rich inner self. However you seem to be avoiding it. I don't really know what exactly this is but your fs will be confused as to why you are avoiding this amazing part of you.

You have a mystic and wise energy to you. And to them you look like someone that trusts the universe (or whatever you believe in). You also seem mysterious to them. They will be intrigued by you and will want to know more about you. Maybe it's because you are somewhat different from them. Like they may be an atheist and you may be a pagan or you two may come from different cultures etc. This difference will spark their interest in you. Because to them, you bring a different outlook on life.

They will think that you know how to balance things and can see the different parts of a situation. They will think that you try to be fair.

I don't know how your person will see this but they will think that you accept change as it is and with peace. Maybe it's your calm demeanor that made them think this way.

They will see you as someone who takes a lot on their plate. Maybe you struggle with saying no and end up helping everyone even if it burdens you. Or it's just the way they see you.

Around the time you first meet them you may be very busy. Also you or them (or both) maybe in your 30s. And you may have a 2 year age gap for some of you.

your song: intro: singularity-bts

significant placements: libra, pluto, 3rd house aquarius, uranus, 12th house leo, south node, 4th house

thank you for reading ❤️

pile 2

They will see you as someone reliable and nurturing. You have an earthy vibe to you (also fiery), to them. You look like that friend who never leaves their friends alone in their hard times.

They will think that you have a lot of potential in you. And already doing quite good in life. You move slowly while making decisions. You think before you act. However when you decide something you move swiftly and get what you want. You seem passionate to them. The line “I want it, I got it” from 7 rings-ariana grande is your line!

They will think that you are quite attracted to them, lmao. But they may think that you already have someone in your life. Again they make a lot of assumptions so you may have not said anything about this topic but still they just can't sit still lol. They think that you shine a lot so maybe that's why they assume you are not alone or at least people are chasing you.

They will think that you have a lot to offer. Emotion and passion wise.

To them you are quite firm on your beliefs. For some of you they may see you have a debate with someone or you may have a debate with them in your first meeting. Or it's just something that will allow them to see your argumentative side. 🔞They will think that you are s3xy when you get all bossy(?) like that lol.

You seem like someone who is quite comfortable in their own skin. However they will see the hard work behind this confidence. Idk they will try to analyze a lot probably. Like try to see through you. You may have had to work hard to gain your confidence and maybe you were self conscious/had a low self esteem but worked hard and became who you are today. Again this is in their eyes.

Some of you here could have brownish-reddish hair here. Or will have that color when you meet your fs.

you got two songs: better by myself- hey violet, to me-alina baraz

significant placements: saturn, 2nd house, cancer south node, 7th house, leo south node, 11th house, libra

thank you for reading ❤️

pile 3

First of all, you may have a purple aura. I know this is a bit off topic but it came through.

You may have a darker aesthetic or may prefer darker colors on your clothes around the time you meet your fs. And they notice this. They may notice your legs and think that they are beautiful. Also I heard, boobs/chest area for some of you.

They will think that you know how to enjoy life and enjoy yourself. You have this nonchalant energy to them. And they see you as someone who is not afraid to express themselves and live authentically. You are at peace in life. You love your life and seem to enjoy it. To them, you are like a “no bs” person.

Like your clothing, you may like/like to search about what society deems as “dark”, like occult etc.

They will think that you are a disciplined person. However at first they may understand you wrong, this discipline can seem like the will to win no matter what, to them. They may see you as someone who is defensive and does not accept their faults. Someone who is willing to do almost everything to win. However I am not seeing that this is the case with you. Because of this later they may be ashamed of themselves.

You also seem somewhat unattainable and unpredictable to them. But it's not like you do stupid things. It's more like when they think they know you, you say something totally unexpected about yourself.

You have this great personality inside you. For them to see this side of you may take a while. I am not saying they will hate you but they will be a bit judgemental of you. You seem like the life of the party and like you are an authentic person but you are also such a deep person. However nonchalant you seem, you also have worries. And you have such a strong and a soft person inside you. They will see this eventually and embrace every part of you.

(For some of you this judgment may be because they are a bit more of a reserved person)

your song: take me-miso

significant placements: taurus, 3rd house, uranus leo, 11th house, neptune capricorn, 12th house, mercury

thank you for reading ❤️

#tarot #tarot reading #pac #pick a card #pick a pile #future spouse #future spouse reading #future relationship reading

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kazumist · 5 months ago

Text

WHY DON'T WE FALL IN LOVE TONIGHT ?

✩ — in which you found yourself executing a ruse with the known duke of meropide, wriothesley. what could possibly go wrong? (many things, apparently.)

✩ — prompt: panache — you agree to a fake courtship with another. (for @xianyoon's "a night to remember" event (event two hehehe))

✩ — includes: wriothesley x f!reader. royalty!au. fluff, angst if you squint, hurt/comfort if you also squint, comedy squeezed in just a teensy bit. cw: alcohol consumption (reader ends up taking a shot or two) one crazy scene in the garden but it's nothing too explicit i swear they just get a little carried away OOPS. wc: 8001 yes you read that fucking right (i went insane). fake dating trope went a bit overboard my bad (heavily based by bridgerton season 1 minus the explicit scenes LMAO). one pride and prejudice and meme reference line sneaked in (if u get my reference then ilysm i need to kiss u). other fontaine characters make a cameo yipee!! full fic of this silly post i made back then but i changed things up. kinda

✩ — please reblog !! it wld help me tons :,)

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley.

romance, in general, was a frivolous belief for him in the first place. as much as his father pushes him into the marriage market for all of the women in the kingdom of fontaine, he would always find his way out of it. but he does admit—the nagging could get quite... overbearing sometimes. romance almost never crosses wriothesley’s mind. he shuns every vigorous mother that presents their daughter towards him in hopes that he’ll take an interest in them (which he never does; wriothesley believes that marriage is too big of a responsibility for him).

a ball is never uncommon in society at this age. and certainly it isn’t uncommon for his father to urge him to grace these balls with his presence on behalf of his former duke of a father. and tonight wasn’t so different from the other balls he previously attended. wriothesley holds back the urge to roll his eyes after he excuses himself (for the nth time, he thinks) from another mother who tried to offer her daughter up for his hand in marriage. it was exhausting, to say the least. wriothesley wants nothing more than to leave at the moment. however, to his dismay, the ball had just begun not too long ago.

it’s another long night for him.

sharing some conversations with queen furina’s royal advisor, neuvillette, wasn’t a bad way to pass the time. and it certainly was effective because people were far too nervous to approach him with the queen nearby. the friendship he shared with the royal advisor wasn’t new knowledge to society. almost everyone and their mothers had heard about the tale of the current duke meropide and the queen’s royal advisor being close friends during their early days of childhood and onwards. though wriothesley sometimes admits—he surely misses his youthful days.

it’s not like he's that old now. he’s currently thriving at the young age of twenty-five! not too young, not too old either. “and just how long are you going to stand by my side tonight, wriothesley?” neuvillette asks, his eyes focused on the crowd below him. there were pairs dancing gracefully in the middle of the venue as the quintet orchestra played by the side. wriothesley doesn’t glance at him as he answers. “just a bit longer, i suppose. i could still feel their eyes boring holes into me.” he mumbles the last part, leaning closer only for neuvillette to hear, as he refers to the mothers that attempted to make their advances on him earlier. neuvillette simply chuckles at his remark.

“still refusing marriage, i see?” he replies.

“i’m confident that you’re well aware of what my answer to that is going to be, neuvillette.”

wriothesley feels comfortable like this. but he’s aware that he couldn’t spend all of his time by his friend’s side. soon after, wriothesley decides to take his leave after making sure his coast is clear. he then exited nearby and found himself wandering into the garden. surely, the workers at the house of hearth had done a splendid job maintaining this garden. he reminds himself to commend duke arlecchino for this if he ever gets the chance.

the wind tonight was quite cold, yet it’s nothing wriothesley couldn’t handle. he stumbles upon what seemed to be the center of the garden, surprised to see a fountain there. the moonlight shines brightly in this area—but what actually made wriothesley curious was who was sitting by the fountain? he steadily approaches, careful not to make the wrong move and sits by the fountain as well. there was still some distance between the two of you—a lot of it. it would be indecent of him to burst into a woman’s personal space. his father did not raise him to be that sort of man.

“what brings you here tonight?” he suddenly finds himself asking. it was a poor attempt at small talk, he thinks (he could do much better than that, he swears). wriothesley doesn’t even dare steal a glance at you, as much as he wanted to. you hesitated before answering him, still sinking in the fact that you suddenly have company in this garden now. “avoiding society as usual, especially the members of society who cannot give up offering their hand of marriage towards me, i suppose,” he hears you sigh. huh, how ironic. did wriothesley just bump into someone who suffers from the same problem as him?

the answer was most definitely yes.

“oh, what a coincidence—i suffer from such a predicament as well.” he chuckles bitterly in reply—too bitter for his liking. he didn’t want to suddenly ruin the mood now; the conversation had barely even started. “is that so? i’m delighted to know that i’m not alone in this boat then.” the tone of your chuckle was different from the chuckle you got from wriothesley. a comfortable silence was then enveloped over the both of you, enjoying the scenery around. he takes this as his chance to steal a glance, and he quickly takes it back. yet he finds himself glancing again.

and again

and again.

he doesn’t quite understand it himself. however, there was something about you that had this alluring effect on him of some sort. he just couldn’t tear his eyes off of you for some reason. “enjoying the view much, duke?” you asked, meeting his gaze. wriothesley then turns away suddenly, embarrassed that he was caught red handed in the act of practically ogling at you. his father did not raise him to be like this at all. he did not spend his childhood and teenage years training how to be a proper gentleman for his debut in society just to be ogling at a lady he just met at a ball. he needs to snap out of it.

“my apologies, but how could i resist putting my attention on a stunning lady like you?” he tries to play it cool. (keyword: tries.) it was a strategy that he learned to adapt every since he made his debut into society. playing it cool always works for him—surely his old trick wouldn’t fail at him now of all times, right? but wriothesley soon snapped out of his thoughts, and he then asked another question. “wait, you know who i am?”

you were taken aback by his words. is he seriously asking you that? “who wouldn’t know you? you’re quite famous with the other ladies.” you asked him back. he simply replies with a short “fair point.” and silence takes over once again. but this time, it was a bit awkward. you decided to introduce yourself to him, stating your name and title. he nods in acknowledgement of your introduction. he has heard of you before, of course. your family has quite a reputation in society, making you get quite a bit of attention at formal parties as well.

wriothesley doesn’t dare steal a glance at you again, as he has seemed to learn his lesson from what happened earlier. you, on the other hand, took this as your chance to take your leave. “although your company has been quite interesting, duke meropide, i’m afraid that i must take my leave first. i seem to have forgotten that i excused myself from lord jackson earlier.” you got up from your seat, already walking away from the fountain—that is, until wriothesley speaks.

“lord jackson? you mean the lord jackson who’s known for his… awful history in relationships?”

“i don’t believe there’s any other lord jackson in this society, duke meropide.” you turn around to face him.

“what business do you have with him?” why am i even asking? he thinks.

“he’s simply another one of the men who my mother had decided to set me up with for marriage. i was told to accompany him for tonight but you see, his company isn’t really... the best.” you replied, choosing your word carefully. despite you not liking lord jackson at all, it would be informal for you to speak ill of him when he could be the man you’ll actually marry.

actually, scratch that. as if you’ll ever allow yourself to marry a man like him. lord jackson was a creep, to say the least. you were aware of the talk that goes around him. but your dear mother is still kept in the dark about these stories, and she decided to set you up with him without your prior knowledge. so by technicality, you really had no choice. “you can’t marry him.” the man in front of you suddenly says.

“i beg your pardon?” you asked, afraid that you misheard him the first time. “you... you can’t marry him.” he repeats and then he continues. “i mean, surely you have heard the news about him—his temper makes him vicious. your marriage with him wouldn’t prosper at all.” you held back the urge to scoff at him. “i appreciate your concern, my duke, but our society works in an unfair way at this age. i cannot just declare that i do not wish to marry, unlike you. that is a privilege that i cannot simply afford.” you shot back at him.

wriothesley suddenly feels like a light bulb in his head has switched on.

“we could pretend to form an attachment.” he then says. you were getting more baffled by the second this conversation held on longer. “whatever do you mean?” you weren’t stupid. but you refused to believe that what he’s hinting at is also the one you foolishly thought. “with you in my arm, people would think that i have finally found my duchess. as for you, your mother would raise her standards and find more suitable candidates for your hand in marriage. because although i could be wrong, but have you ever told your mother what traits you find in a man?” he replies, a small smile slowly tugging on his lips. he clearly enjoys this idea.

“i… i suppose not.” he got you there. “but this is an absurd idea.” you protested.

“i find it quite brilliant, if i do say so myself.”

“you do know the risks of what you’re proposing right now, am i correct?”

“i do. but you do not wish to marry me, and i do not wish to marry you, so whatever should you have to lose?” he’s insisting. he’s insisting like this plan would work perfectly fine for the both of your benefits (well, if you were to be completely honest, there is a chance for it to be successful. but you grew up to believe that you shouldn’t expect for things to go so smoothly in your life). “i…” a lost of words. that’s what you are. too many possibilities are running through your head at the moment.

however, the duke did have one hell of a good point.

“fine. you got yourself a deal.”

and that’s how you got roped into the situation you have now. with an arm interlocked with the duke meropide’s, all eyes were bound to set upon you both. wriothesley could see the amusement in neuvillette’s expression; the same goes for the hint of amusement in queen furina’s eyes as she spots them in the crowd. wriothesley slowly guides you towards the dance floor, just in time for another dance to begin. gracefully, you took his hand as you step onto the dance floor with him. a familiar song started to play, one that you remember memorizing as dance class was mandatory for being a debutante in society.

“are you bothered?” he then asks in a whisper as he twirls you around. “whatever for?” you ask him back. “the staring. i could feel all of them looking at us right now, honestly,” he chuckles lowly. “hm, i’m trying not to mind it that much. but i suppose you’re probably enjoying all of this attention now, aren’t you?” a simple tease on your part, and wriothesley smiled at that. “my, are we on casual terms now?”

“chemistry should be a major factor that we should have in this plan, yes? so we might as well start by being more casual with one another.”

“indeed. glad to know that you’re quick to pick up on things.” he says. “of course i am. what do you take me for, duke meropide?” you asked him, a slight pout forming on your lips. and wriothesley smiled at that again before replying. “nothing offensive, that i can assure you.”

“i’m delighted to know that the ever-so-famous duke of meropide doesn’t harbor any sour feelings towards me then.”

it was a bit suffocating, all of the staring. yet at the same time, you understood why they’re staring in the first place. wriothesley, the current duke of meropide, is suddenly on the dance floor with a young woman. and he seems to be quite interested in her as well. people would assume you’re the reason why the duke has rejected so many marriage offers up until now—because he already had you in the first place.

the other unwanted attention you’d get from that assumption alone was enough to make you distracted to the point where you almost stepped on wriothesley’s foot. “i—my apologies, duke.” you stammered. “it’s alright. just look at me,” he says. you scrunched your eyebrows at him in confusion. “pardon?”

“just look at me; don’t focus on anyone else. it will help ease your mind.”

with hesitance, you followed what he said and locked your eyes with his. the duke’s eyes were a fine shade of grey. a unique color, if you do say so yourself. and surely he was correct. shifting your focus and thoughts to him did ease you from all of the other eyes that are locked onto both of your figures that’s moving along with the music.

time felt like it had stopped, as it also felt like you were the only ones present in the room.

to wriothesley’s surprise, the night passed by faster when he was with you. because before he knew it, he was already accompanying you back to your carriage. a lot of things had happened in the span of just a few hours. but wriothesley does not regret a single second of it, now that he recalls everything again. he wonders why—was it because he encountered you in the garden tonight?

maybe. that’s where it all started anyway.

he quickly snapped out of his trail of thoughts as he heard you speak. “i suppose i’ll see you soon then?” you asked him. “mhm, i suppose so. safe travels, m’lady.” he bids you his farewell by gently grabbing ahold of your hand and pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckle, refusing to break his eye contact with you as the footman closed your carriage’s door.

“safe travels as well, my duke.”

— — — — — — — —

word spread fast about you and the duke of meropide. your mother was shocked at the news—yet happy that you finally became “independent on finding your match” as per her words. you had no specific agenda for the day, so, as you usually do whenever you are free, you decided to visit the modiste—where your good friend chiori resides.

the sound of the bell chiming as the door opened made chiori perk up to see who would possibly need help making a new dress. but when her eyes met yours, she just knew you weren’t here to ask for a new dress. “i heard about the commotion last night.” she says, setting down a cup of tea for you as she takes a sip from her own cup, waiting for your response. “commotion is a vulgar term for it, chiori. i prefer to call it a memorable event.”

“i suppose it’s memorable for you to enter with your arm wrapped around the duke meropide just like that. how did it even happen? i vividly recall you telling me that you had no intention of marriage.”

“it’s… a long story,” you sighed, taking a sip from your own cup of tea. “oh? are you implying that there’s more to this than meets the eye, then?”

“i guess you could say that.”

“well, then tell me all about it.”

“i… i can't. my apologies, chiori.” it's not like you didn't trust her. in fact, there are more secrets that are held within this fine modiste’s place than one could ever imagine. but it was a silent and automatic agreement between you and the duke that no one must know of your plan. (although you already hinted to chiori that there's more to it than meets the eye.) besides, chiori is a smart woman who has known you before she could even have her place built.

she doesn't need to be a genius to find out that there's something up. she'll pick up on it sooner or later.

“it's alright. there’s no need to feel pressure to tell me now, but do promise me one thing: you're not doing anything against the law, right?”

you couldn't help but burst out in laughter at her question. “chiori! do you take me as a criminal? of course, i’m not!” you replied, laughing in a fit of giggles in between your words. “thank goodness. well, how was i supposed to know? you almost never stop by so we rarely have the chance to catch up. every bit of news i hear from you is usually from the other ladies who sometimes talk about you.”

“don’t worry, my friend. i’ll stop by more often from now on, but seriously, are you still eavesdropping on your customers? i thought we were past that.”

“it isn't my fault some of them whisper way too loudly for my liking,” chiori scoffs.

as you two have a few more conversations, it is about time for you to take your leave, as the time has reached for the hour when chiori would usually have customers. “it was truly a pleasure to catch up with you, chiori.” you said as she escorted you to the door. “a pleasure indeed. do drop by more often, alright? it can get quite lonely here, you know.” a giggle leaves your lips at her response. “will do. i believe i might need a new dress soon for the upcoming firestone ball?” you say and you notice how chiori’s had some sort of sparkle at your mention of needing a new dress. she had always loved making dresses for you.

“is that so? i promise to suggest some designs that you might like once you return.”

— — — — — — — —

the fountain of lucine was a famous spot for a walk in the park type of day. every day, you’d see different individuals make their wish upon the fountain. whether that is a prosperous marriage, being blessed with a beloved child, or even gaining wealth, everyone wishes for all sorts of desires towards the fountain. but you never found yourself doing the same. it’s most probably because you've already been content with your life up until now. you never had any struggles when it came to growing up.

but again, that is up until now.

you took a step further towards the fountain, silently stating your wish and threw the coin into the fountain’s small pool of water. “penny for your wish?” you heard someone say beside you. quickly turning your head to the direction of the voice, you were surprised to see the duke there. “duke meropide! i—i didn’t expect that you were going to be here today.”

“i decided to go out for a stroll; the weather is quite nice today, is it not?”

“ah, yes, i suppose it is,” you replied, looking around. the weather was indeed nice today. perfect for a quick stroll around the area. “would you mind taking a stroll with me today? it would be a shame to waste this fine weather talking in the same spot.” he says, offering his arm for you to take. “i’d be delighted to.” your arm gets hooked on his.

“how are you faring lately? it has been quite a while since our last meeting,” wriothesley starts. he personally prefers his attempt at small talk today to his attempt at small talk the night he met you. it has been a few days since the ball held by the house of hearth. and within those few days, you haven’t spoken to the duke since. though, your house suddenly has suitors calling for you during your calling hour. all hopeful to gain your interest in them instead of the duke.

(however, you all shut them down politely. you found yourself repeating your apologies to the lords that have called upon you during those times.)

“i’ve been well. certainly, the stunt that we pulled during the ball held in the house of hearth did not go unnoticed. my social energy has been drained because of the suitors who called me.” a sigh leaves your lips. “oh? i apologize for that then. i hope that your social energy isn't at it’s lowest right now,” he chuckles. you gave him a playful glare at his remark. “are you making fun of my previous predicament, duke?”

“oh, heavens no. my apologies, did that offend you?” he says, holding back a smile at his words. he was definitely not apologetic. “you’re not that sorry for it, aren’t you?”

“perchance.”

“you cannot just say perchance!”

a laugh erupts from wriothesley at your response. it was the first time you heard him laugh like that. and in the public eye, you two would seem like a joyful couple spending some quality time walking around the fountain of lucine as a pastime. well, that was technically the goal. to show the public that you and the duke of meropide are madly in love with one another. what could possibly go wrong?

— — — — — — — —

by the time the firestone ball had taken place (which is nearly just a week after the ball from the house of hearth), you and the duke were on the dance floor once again.

“i believe we have yet to discuss our other terms and agreement for our plan, your grace.” you said, following his lead in the waltz. “ah, you’re right. well then, why don’t you start? ladies first.” he says. “i was hoping that you’d have some ideas on what terms we should have; after all, this was your idea, if i may remind you.”

you continue speaking as wriothesley continues to lead you through the dance. “i am starting to be convinced that this will be more than just a simple game of pretend just so we could fool the members of society, or my mother, or the women you have wanted to get away from every time you step foot in public. a life is at stake here, your grace, my life, and i just simply cannot have this go wrong. so if you are not in agreement with that, then you should tell me now.” the duke never broke his eye contact with you as you spoke.

“i shall agree… on one condition.”

“your grace, i believe that you do not understa—”

“you must call me wriothesley.”

there’s only one word to describe you at the moment: speechless. and wriothesley takes your silence as a chance to continue his words. “if we are truly to be courting, and if we are truly to prove that this is a match like no other, then you should call me by my name. after all, weren’t you the one who suggested that we should be more... casual with one another?”

he was right, and he had yet again another one hell of a good point. you mentally sighed, “very well then… wriothesley.” a laugh dares to escape your throat but this does not go unnoticed by the man who has his hand held in his at the moment. “is there something funny about my name?” he asks you, raising an eyebrow at your reaction. “no, no. it is a perfectly fine name. it is also quite unique, if i may add.” you replied, calming yourself down. laughing loudly while you’re in the middle of the dance floor would raise questions, after all.

“oh, perfectly fine? very well then… (name).” wriothesley’s voice seemed to have lowered itself an octave lower as he said your name with a slight rasp. your eyes looked away from his as you shifted your gaze to his collar instead. both of you went silent, yet you were still moving to the rhythm of the music.

wriothesley’s hand, that was supposedly at your waist, trailed upwards. just below the nape of your neck and also before your spine starts. your breath hitched at the contact of his cold finger tips there.

“i do hope that this plan will be successful.” you said, gaining your composure.

“have faith in us.”

— — — — — — — —

meetings with the duke of meropide became more frequent than you expected. whether that may be a coincidental meeting or a planned one—no one could really pinpoint it, much to their dismay.

it started off with a simple meal. then another walk. then an official invitation to accompany him to a ball or two. or three; in fact, he has invited you for a lot of them now. you haven’t thought much about the future as of late, always focusing on the present, where you’re definitely by wriothesley’s side. there was never a dull moment with the man. it was always entertaining to be with him. whenever another man (a man whose appeal is not to take interest in a sense) would approach you, wriothesley would pull some sort of stunt that’s connected to his “wild jealousy” of some sort. it’s a bit hard to hold back a laugh whenever this happens. there are times when he would talk to you about the other nobles present in the party and how he’s acquainted with them, and you’d admire the fact that he has many connections (something that a duke like him should have; he’s doing well in his duties, you’d note).

there are also times when you two will find yourselves alone, secluding yourselves from the crowd. these were, personally, your favorites. with the moonlight shining brightly upon you both once again, you’d always be reminded of the night you met. at these moments, this is when you and the duke would share… more personal things with one another. things that neither of you had expected to share with anyone else. like how he avoids marriage because of the huge responsibility that comes with it. or like how you doubt that others, especially men (minus the duke), would understand your struggles as a woman in this society.

wriothesley might have a lot of connections, but he was just the same as you. both of you kept your circle quite small (and by small, you both have only one person you truly trust to confide in). but even if you both wouldn’t admit it out loud, trust had also bloomed between the two of you.

(yet is trust the only thing that has actually bloomed?)

tonight, you found yourselves in yet another garden. “have you ever heard of why a flower wilts, wriothesley?” you decided to start this time. “hm? i suppose it’s because nothing good actually lasts long in life.”

“how… pessimistic of you to say.” you sweatdropped at his response. he chuckles yet again, you noticed that he always chuckles apologetically while looking away before he actually says his apologies. a habit of his, perhaps. “my apologies; i must repeat myself. the less a person sees of me, the happier their life is.”

“why so? i enjoy your company quite well.”

“oh? and are you sure those words aren’t forced because you’re stuck with me with this little ruse we have ongoing?” he asks back. these exchanges became frequent. one would ask a question, and the other would ask another in return. “i’m being quite honest, wriothesley. i really do enjoy your company quite well.”

“the feeling is likewise, (name).” there’s something satisfying about how your name rolls off of his tongue. he pronounces it the same as everyone else does yet how does it feel different when he says it? it’s baffling, that’s one thing for sure. “is it awful that i’m actually quite enjoying this?”

“you mean my wild jealousy?” he asks, playfully offended.

“fooling society.” you corrected. “there are some in the crowd who secretly know everything about everyone. yet we have them utterly convinced that we are mad for one another.”

“we are awfully clever then.” he says in amusement. “indeed we are.” you chuckled at his reply.

if there’s one thing you would always notice between the two of you, it would always be how you were glued to one another. like there’s some magnetic pull that automatically drags the other to their side.

this moment is no different because you could feel his knuckles grazing against yours ever so lightly. it starts with the hook of your pinkies, then slowly turns into you grabbing a hold of his other fingers. wriothesley could feel his heart beating fast at the contact. he glances at you, admiring your features underneath the moonlight once again. you glance at him as well. was he already this close to you when you started walking in this garden? because you swear your faces are inching even closer to each other. wriothesley’s other hand gently grabs your nape, guiding you as he gently pulls you in for a kiss.

his lips were soft against yours, something you didn’t expect from him. he kisses you like you were delicate (to which you were, delicate to him, at least), eyes closing themselves as he enjoys the sensation of your lips against his. you kiss him back in the same way, not really knowing what to do next—but you kiss him back. that’s all that matters. his lips leave yours as wriothesley latches his lips onto your neck, continuing the light kisses against it.

you let out a gasp at the contact as you lean your head back so you can give him more access. he intertwined his other hand with yours; it was quite scandalous. having a moment like this on someone else’s property. you extracted him from your neck, pulling him in for another kiss. this time it was a bit more rough—desperate, even.

well, that was until he pulled away from you abruptly. you looked at him in a daze yet you were confused. “we must return; we’ve been out long enough,” he says, letting go of your hand in the process as he fixes himself. he tries to catch his breath, processing what has just happened. did he really just kiss you? he supposes (or, in other terms, hopes) that it’s normal. ultimately, this should’ve been part of your agreement in the first place, right?

“i… you’re right. my mother could be looking for me any moment now.” what could possibly go wrong, you ask? well, apparently, many things could go wrong.

but if there’s one thing that got stitched into your mind tonight, it’s only one thing:

the duke of meropide is one good kisser.

however, what will become of your relationship now?

— — — — — — — —

you found yourself going to chiori again. the familiar sound of the bell chiming against the door notified chiori of someone entering her place. and once she saw you, she could just feel the distress radiating off of your body.

“what happened this time? i haven’t heard any good news about you two from last night’s party.” she says, pouring you a cup of tea. “good news? more like insane occurrences,” you sighed, watching the tea leave the teapot as it transfers onto your teacup. “ insane occurrences? what happened to ‘memorable event’?” she asked, confused with your choice of words.

you let out another sigh, finally revealing everything to chiori. luckily, today was her day off. with another ball just held last night, she would get at least a day or two of good rest before she opens up again. chiori takes in every detail of your story well, surprised that this is what you’ve been up to.

as soon as you were done talking, you decided to take a sip of your tea. “so you’re worried that you almost slept with the duke of meropide?” chiori states. and you choked on your drink once you heard her. “you didn’t have to word it like that! have some decency!” you exclaimed, embarrassment surging through you.

“i don’t get it, though. what are you so worried about? it’s almost as if… wait.” she pauses.

“it’s almost as if what, chiori?”

“do you love him?”

“huh? love who?”

“don’t play dumb with me, (name). do you or do you not love the duke of meropide?”

this time, it was your turn to pause. do you? well, certainly, he is nice company. and he treats you well despite neither of you having the wish to marry each other. he is also a good kisser (something that you don’t really feel like counting but it’s still a fact). recalling everything that has happened now, the only things that come into mind are the things you’ve noticed about wriothesley. how his eyes are the most remarkable shade of grey, his scar below his right eye. the feeling of the callouses on his hands as you held them on the dance floor.

it can’t be. there’s just no way. he’s a duke of all people—he’s out of your league in so many ways. he’s too far for you to reach. and besides, this is all just a game of pretend, is it not? surely that kiss would’ve meant nothing to him.

fuck.

“i do.” you replied to her in a whisper

“i’m glad that you’re not dense.” chiori says, flicking your forehead. you yelped in pain at the contact.

yes, you do love the duke of meropide.

and you stand by that.

meanwhile, on the other side of the coin, wriothesley had a crisis himself. “you’re quite lucky today, to ask for my presence while queen furina is occupied with duke arlecchino with her. so what assistance can i offer for you today, wriothesley?” neuvillette states, pulling his chair so he could take a seat before the man in front of him. wriothesley leans back on his seat, an elbow propped on top of the chair’s arm rest as his index finger is rested upon his lips.

wriothesley sighs. before spilling everything to neuvillette. his friend’s expression grew more amused as he continued on with the story, finding every detail unexpected for a man like his friend. “i see. so that’s how it is. well, let me ask you a simple question then, my friend.”

“shoot.”

“do you love her?”

wriothesley pauses. neuvillette’s questions echo repeatedly in his mind. do i love her? he then asks himself. he was not stupid. wriothesley did not need to become some sort of genius to find the answer to that question—because the answer is no. he doesn’t love you. yes, he has grown to trust you with things he would never even dare tell anyone else. but he’s scared. wriothesley is scared because he has never thought of commitment in this way before. romance was just a frivolous belief to him, after all. so surely, this would all just mean nothing.

he ponders about it for a few more moments. he’s too scarred—too damaged—to be loved by someone like you. he feels undeserving of it. he knows there’s another man out there who could be the man you want to be. someone who will make you happier than he does. someone who is willing to commit himself to you. someone who could love you with nothing holding him back.

“i don’t.” wriothesley firmly says.

no, wriothesley cannot be in love with you.

(neuvillette gives his friend a sigh as his friend takes his leave. he returns back to the room where queen furina is currently spending time with duke arlecchino. the duke had a habit of bringing the queen sweets from their travels abroad. the queen has excitement written all over her eyes as she makes eye contact with the pastries set in front of her.)

— — — — — — — —

it wasn’t hard to put two and two together to realize that wriothesley has been avoiding you.

it has been a few months since you decided to start your ruse. although he still accompanies you, once it’s quite crowded, he will deliberately avoid your presence like a plague, and you have no idea why. you first thought that may be he was just feeling unwell but it has occurred more frequent now and it just stings, really. it stings because you thought that you two had formed quite the bond over the past few months.

“wriothesley, is something wrong? you know you could always talk to me, right?” you asked him, finally cornering him as he had successfully avoided you for the past two hours ever since the party started. “it’s nothing of your concern,” was all he said before leaving you again. but that answer wasn’t enough—hell, it wasn’t even a proper answer for you. so you decided to follow him.

“where are you going?” you asked him. speeding your pace up to catch up to him. wriothesley doesn’t answer and just continues on walking. he ends up going into a secluded room, not even bothering to close the door. you followed him in and shut the door behind you as you faced him. he had his back facing you as you heard him take a deep breath. “wriothesley, what’s wrong? and don’t even dare say that it’s none of my concern because it is.”

wriothesley could feel himself going mad. he can’t do this tonight. what even caused him to behave this way?

ah, he remembers. it was that unbearable sight of you interacting with marquess lyney. he should’ve been happy that you finally seem interested in someone else because all you two have to do now is plan how you should end things. but that thought made wriothesley realize two things. one, he cannot bear the sight of you with another man (but why? it’s not like you’re actually his in the first place). and two, he doesn’t want things to end between the both of you. whether it's a ruse that feels too real for his own liking or whatnot, he doesn’t want to lose you in his life.

he loosens the buttons on his top so that he can breathe more properly. you got closer to him, but only if you knew that was a dangerous move on your part. you grabbed his arm in hopes of getting a view of wriothesley’s expression at the moment.

he then faces you, his eyes searching for something in yours but you just can’t find out what. it was silent; neither of you dared to speak a word. and wriothesley finds himself pulling you for a kiss. it was a bit rough how his lips crashed against yours. he then pulls away, his eyes widening at what he just did. “i… my most sincere apologies.”

and he leaves. just like that.

the familiar door to the modiste is presented at you as you knocked. it was late at night. the party you attended earlier with wriothesley was long over. but you knew your dear friend would still be up even at this late hour.

“(name)? what brings you here at this hour?” chiori asks, opening the door wider so you could enter.

“i need a goddamn drink.” you said.

— — — — — — — —

“so you’re telling me that he just… kissed you again, and then he left the party? just like that?” chiori repeats. you take another shot of the alcohol chiori provided for the both of you. “hey, calm down. this one is actually pretty strong, you idiot.” chiori warns you.

you lean back, slamming the shot glass against the table. “just like that, chiori. like what is wrong with him? is he perhaps sick in the head?”

“i honestly don’t know if i should be at least grateful that he apologized.” she says, taking a shot as well. you glare at her remark and she raises her hands in return. you sighed this time, “are men always this… complicated?”

“hm, i don’t think so. maybe it’s just the duke.”

“you’re not helping!”

“you never said you wanted help in the first place.”

— — — — — — — —

seven days.

seven days since you last spoke to wriothesley. seven days since you last heard of him. it has been seven days yet he hasn’t made any attempts to contact you since.

just what was up with him? he was fine before. did you do something wrong? did you accidentally say something that was offensive to him? everything has changed now. wriothesley is treating you like he treated you before he actually met you—cold.

your mother has decided to throw a ball this time—something about her not wanting to fall behind the other mothers. you complied, having to accept that society is nothing but competition against one another. and on the day of the ball, you found yourself lonely. if only chiori wasn’t busy with her other orders, then maybe this night would’ve been more entertaining.

wriothesley has yet to make his appearance (or perhaps he is already here yet he has decided to avoid you again). but you have decided on one thing tonight: you will talk things out with that stubborn man no matter what it takes. because you cannot just bear to stand idly by when wriothesley could be struggling alone. you once heard from your mother that love makes you do the craziest things and tonight was the night you realized that she was right. but isn’t it worth it if it’s all in the name of love?

the outdoor area of your home was also used for the ball, and decorations are displayed here and there to make the area look more eyecatching. to your family’s dismay, it has begun to rain. making all of the guests head inside to continue the festivities. but as you made your way to follow the crowd, you spotted someone too familiar—it was the man you’ve been looking for all evening, wriothesley.

looking around his surroundings, wriothesley spots you getting drenched in the rain. his eyes widen as he quickly makes his way towards you, removing his coat to drape it over you instead. “are you insane? you’re getting drenched!” he exclaims in worry. you scoff in return, pushing yourself away from his coat and allowing yourself to get wet by the rain.

“am i insane? i should be the one asking you that!” you said, glaring at him. “how… how could you? do you know how worried i have been because of you? you avoided me, then kissed me, then avoided me even more! i had no idea if you were okay because you didn’t even dare speak with me while i was here stuck waiting for you. why? because i didn’t want to pressure you into telling me what’s wrong!”

wriothesley is at a loss for words at your outburst. he just stares at you in return, guilt written all over him. he deserved your anger. but he didn’t mean for things to go this far, yet he also didn’t know how to handle things. you continued speaking, “wriothesley, i have no idea what’s clouding over your heart but i do know one thing: you musn’t keep it to yourself.”

“(name)...” he softly says—hesitantly, even. like he’s scared to even say your name in the first place. you take a step forward, both of your hands reaching out to hold his face. your touch was gentle on his skin, making sure you weren't making him uncomfortable. “tell me what’s wrong, wriothesley. i’ll listen.”

and tell you, he does. he voice shakes at first yet he begins to steady it as he unravels to you everything that has been bothering him up until now. his jealousy, his inner turmoil, and his insecurities. and you listen to him, understanding every word that escapes his lips as your hand never leaves his face, your fingers gently brushing over his scar below his right eye. and once he’s finished, you choose your next words carefully.

“there’s something that i realized in life that i believe you should know. just because something is not perfect does not make it any less worthy of love. you made yourself believe otherwise. you made yourself believe that you had to be without fault just so you could be loved but you’re wrong, wriothesley. should you need any proof of the matter, then look just here.” you weakly laugh at the last sentence, and wriothesley just stares at you. you couldn’t find out what’s going on in his head but you know that he’s listening.

your voice shakes as you continue. “i am tired of this sick game of pretending. i am tired of pretending—of acting as if i do not love you, because i do. i love you more than you could ever imagine. every scar, every flaw, every imperfection—i love all of you. you may think you’re too damaged or too scarred to allow yourself of happiness but you can choose differently, wriothesley. you can choose to love me as much as i love you. that should not be up to anyone else—that cannot be up to anyone else.”

“it can only be up to you.”

he was still silent as you slowly let go of his face but wriothesley was quick to catch them. he grabs ahold of your hands, and with his slight shaking, he takes a deep breath. he realizes something when you profess your love for him. he puts two things together: commitment and you. and the conclusion he draws from that is that he doesn’t mind commitment, as long as he’s committing himself to you. that’s how much of an impact you have on him. yes, he’s scared. and yes, this might not go like he hopes it will. but that doesn’t matter to him because he knows it will all be worth it for you. wriothesley is a coward when it comes to love and the like—that, he admits. but he isn’t allowing himself to be a coward for the rest of his life. why deprive himself of the serene type of happiness that he could only achieve when he has you by his side?

he kept his eyes on the hands he’s holding now as he began to speak. “i.. i do not wish to be alone. i know that now. but what i do not know is how to be the man you wish for me to be—the man you truly deserve. i do not know how to do any of this, but i do know another thing: i love you too. i love you. most ardently.” he then meets your eyes as he notices one thing in them. love.

“you stay. you stay and we’ll get through this. together. that’s where we’ll start. we have all the time in the world.”

“may i… kiss you?” he hesitates to ask. but you give him a nod of approval before you’re met with the familiar pleasure of his lips on yours. he relishes every second of the kiss, taking this as a chance to ground himself into reality—refusing to believe that this is some sick dream that his mind decided to play in his head. a hand slithers its way to the nape of his neck and wriothesley groans at the feeling as his hand grabs your waist tighter. wriothesley thanked his lucky stars for the night he met you because this wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for them.

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley.

but he knew otherwise the moment he laid his eyes upon you that night in the garden.

#( writings )#astronetwrk #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #x reader

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enviedear · 4 months ago

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my modern!jace hcs and thoughts…

request ⊹ jacaerys masterlist

౨ৎ ┄───────╮ got a bit carried away with what was supposed to be hcs... but i can't help it! modern!jace scratches an itch somewhere in my brain—especially lawyer/law student!jace. don't question the family dynamics too much for this au. i don't have the brain capacity to rearrange and fix that mess <3

╰───────┄ ౨ৎ

twenty-two and a recent graduate. he majored in law with a minor in public policy. his younger brother, lucerys, makes frequent comments about how boring it all must be, but jacaerys velaryon loves it. he’s following the family line, after all.

he took office at one of his mother’s law firms, a by-product of having a family in the affairs of state. however, the firm is actually headed by his mother’s aunt, rhaenys. his mother, rhaenyra is in the middle of an election, running opposite otto hightower—a man jacaerys is lax to admit kinship to.

on paper he’s an associate, in practice, he’s whatever his family and their board need him to be. he likes it that way—being dependable.

he has such a large family, even disregarding those somewhat estranged. if you asked him to directly place everyone to their respective titles he couldn’t, so he settles for the ease of endless uncles, aunts, and cousins.

his schedule is usually packed—so when he is free, he likes to spend his time well. his best friend, cregan, gets him out of the house most the time. an easy task since the stark family owns numerous ski resorts. a perfect respite from his life of public service, at least that’s what cregan says.

jace absolutely hates the media, not necessarily social media though. his instagram stories are frequently full of reposts or camera roll dumps, his twitter constantly active but he mourns public likes. he loves to engage with factitious headlines about himself and his family, to his mother’s chagrin. he’s blocked on all social media by the estranged hightower news, headed by his mother’s old friend turned step-mother, alicent. a topic the family attempts to gloss over when in public.

has a laundry list of fashion houses at his disposal. he went viral once for “mogging” in armani at his grandfather’s funeral. he drunkenly admitted after the service that he figured viserys would have deemed it a rather lovely suit, despite the occasion. mostly, he shares his uncle laenor’s love for couture, a man who is firm in belief that a bit of pageantry never hurt anyone. almost exclusively wears canali for everyday wear, a luxury his paychecks find no issue with fulfilling.

listens to every single book he 'reads'. his airpods are constantly in his ears but he rarely opts for music. he listens to the greats on repeat, or at least that's what he calls them—near constant loops of orwell and machiavelli. he has a guilty pleasure for brandon sanderson novels though.

jacaerys is embarrassed to have a chauffeur for any and all events with his family, but he does an excellent job at hiding it. he’s is chronically good at masking any signs of disdain. his family would tell you he’s perfectly agreeable— his brothers, lucerys and joffrey, know him better, can spot his muddled ill temper through anything. he can hold his tongue most of the time, far better than the rest of his family, but he’s known to have his moments.

on his own, he drives a aston martin valour. wrapped olive green with burnt orange accents. it was pricey, a fact his uncle corlys never ceases to remind him of, but he loves it. gave it a name and everything—vermax.

the only cousins he talks to regularly are the twins, baela and rhaena. they flock together during board meetings, three ideal images of the pristine image their family attempts to portray. he and baela are most like minded, so much so that the rest of the board jokes they’re reading each others minds.

on the opposite end of the spectrum, alicent’s children— aegon, aemond, and helena, are of much different minds. the eldest of the them is prepped to take over his grandfather’s media empire. a complete disaster waiting to happen given aegon’s incessant and very public bad behavior. jace figures the young man more of a puppet if anything. the second born is somehow an even worse case, behavior less public but far more… sadistic. aemond is known in well to do social circles for his vitriol, mouth constantly fixed to land a cutting blow.

the youngest, helena, is actually quite sweet albeit heavily reclusive. she’s the founder of several successful ventures, thrust into the spotlight at a young age. these days the most the public get from her is a monthly blog update—refined and well crafted—detailing a mix of what she learned that month and a few run-on sentences about insects. but she always finds time for him at their disjointed family events, no matter the animosity in the room. she’s one of his favorite people to talk to. jace swears that somehow, she always knows just what to say.

on sunday’s he winds up at one of his uncle daemon’s golf courses. am agreement he took up after the death of viserys. his uncle is lonely without his brother, and he’s never had to tell jace that for him to know it. jace is rather shit at the sport, but he’s found that as long as daemon has a drink in his hand, nothing will be commented on. sometimes luke will tag along just to gloat, his younger brother has always been at golf.

every christmas he takes his siblings on a hunt. just like their dad, harwin, used to. it’s gotten to be a big deal after so many years. his mother often reminds him, jokingly, that he is the reason their home has become the holiday stomping grounds. he’s replied back many times that at least that saves them from the hightower’s grounds, and their brutish security detail. headed by one criston cole, he’s has never gotten a good feel for the man—or the men under his command.

jace can’t fall asleep without some form of auditory stimulation. he blames laenor, always gifting a young jace pirated lullaby cd’s… for some reason. nowadays, he’s usually a listening to a history podcast before bed. never picky on the topic or timeframe, he could listen to the tales of the past forever.

additionally—jacaerys loves linguistics. if you looked through his search history you’d find the following searches: why do we feel different when speaking in a different language? / are there languages with no numbers? / what happened to the transatlantic accent? / “where did the word ‘cocktail’ come from?

he has successfully created and maintained a masked dj persona after a drunken dare in ibiza from rhaena. he’s booked a handful of gigs, all without his name attached to it. rhaena keeps it a secret, at the promise she gets to accompany him at her own whim.

jace has only ever publicly has had one relationship. he dated cregan’s half-sister for a few years, sara. sure he had to deal with his best friends griping for a few years, but he really did love the girl. they broke up due to their schedules, moreso, his schedule. he promised baela he won’t make the same mistake in his next relationship.

he never has trouble finding people to fawn over him, but he does have a horrible issue with committing. not that he wants to play the field or hurt hearts, but he truly believes no one will ever give him the grace he needs to feel secure in the relationship. he feels like he already has too much baggage, carrying his own and his family’s. at this point, he’d rather have a few hookups as opposed to being let down—jacaerys hates that the most about himself, above all else.

that’s why he so confused as of late. unable to seem get his mind off of someone—something completely unaccustomed to him. you’re fresh at the firm, relegated to coffee runs and still straight to the book but god—jace thinks you're perfect.

he didn't even fully grasp his fixation on you until asking himself why on earth he keeps volunteering you to sit in on his client meetings. he almost shutters everytime he remembers the stupid excuse he forced out after you dared to ask him why—"i just write so slow, and i don't want to miss anything." a lie. jacaerys could tune out a client for an entire session and still win a case, but he determined early he'd rather bask in yout presence instead. however diluted he must keep his feelings...

#i'll write the fic if (1) singular person asks #i have a lawyer!jace brain eating amoeba #but i am not opposed to multiple people asking (pls care)#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen #hotd fanfic #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you #jace velaryon #jace velaryon x reader #modern!jacaerys #jacaerys x y/n #jace targaryen x reader #jace targaryen hcs #jacaerys velaryon hcs #hotd x reader #[.𖥔 ݁🐉 ˖]

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nikkeora · 1 year ago

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For All the Mary Janes

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. what about the mary janes, then?

or, in which you're the mary jane to miles's spider-man

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x reader, e-42! Miles Morales x reader

warning(s); i didn’t have any specific gender or race for r in mind while writing, but rio calls r ‘mija’ once and i think that’s ab it

maybe some incorrect usage of Spanish? Spanish speakers who can respond to my weird questions pls hmu

maybe ooc but it’s been in my drafts so long i just wanted to get it out tbh

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

You and Miles were always joined at the hip. Your parents knew each other well, so your families were together a lot. Mr. and Mrs. Morales saw you like their own daughter, often joking that you and Miles would be engaged when you got older with the way he could never leave you alone.

At least, up till around two years ago.

You and Miles started to grow apart when you got into Visions Academy. He thought it was a stupid school full of stuck-up rich kids who only cared about making connections that would help them along further down the line. You thought it was a good school that had a good track record of producing students that had a lot of success in what they wanted to do.

Some things were said the day before your transfer.

Since then, the two of you rarely texted or called. Mrs. Morales would often come by for coffee with your mom, tell you about how her son was doing and gush over 'how much you've grown' from last Tuesday, but that was about the only way you knew the vague outline of what he was up to.

You'd admit you felt lonely for a while. After all, Miles had been your best friend ever since you could remember. But you also weren't going to go running to him after everything he'd said.

I mean, was it really that bad to want a good future?

Soon enough though, you felt like yourself again. You met new people, made new contacts, and actual friends. Because contrary to popular belief, the people there weren't all mini business men and heartless CEOs in the making. They were just kids, after all.

And then, Miles won the draw. Just a few weeks before the start of the new semester, your parents mentioned that he'd be going to your school from now on in passing.

You didn't think much of it at first. I mean, everyone has that one childhood friend that they fell apart with, right? For the first week or so, you didn't even see his face much. In fact, you didn't see him at all, not even a glimpse in the halls.

That was about to change drastically.

Short story shorter, you caught a glimpse of him walking on the side of the school with pigeons stuck to his hands. A month or two later, Spider-Man climbed through your dorm window, ripping off his mask and ranting about some villain of the week.

"I couldn't even catch the guy-"

"Miles?"

"...You're not Ganke."

The two of you made up that night. He apologized, admitting he was being unfair and was upset that you were leaving his school. It didn't exactly clear everything, but it was a start. The two of you caught each other up on everything they had missed. In the end, the sun was about to come up and the both of you realized you hadn't gotten a minute of sleep on a school night.

From then on, the two of you get closer again. He went to you for the occasional rant or patch up, and he actively sought you out in school now, relieved to see a familiar face in the halls. Gradually, you got close to the point you'd call him one of your best friends and vice versa after around a year of radio static.

Everything was great. He was cute, funny - in an awkward way, but hey, he made you laugh - he looked out for you, and when he talked to you he did this cute little thing where he would play with the strings of his hoodie which he somehow always managed to layer on with like two other jackets and—

Oh yeah, did we mention the crush you had on him?

Because there was one.

Big huge one, right here. Materialized out of thin air looks like.

Which should have been fine. You were perfectly capable of hiding a crush. I mean, come on, it's high school. You would've been eaten alive if you couldn't.

Normally, you would even be confident that you could make your crush like you back. I mean, why wouldn't he?

Two words. One person.

Gwen Stacy.

It was like he could never go even one conversation without mentioning her.

Slight exaggeration? Maybe. Maybe not.

"Oh yeah, that's cool! Y'know, Gwen told me one time that—"

"You got an A, I knew you could do it! I told you so. Did you know Gwen got A's in—"

"Oh hey, you got your hair cut! Reminds me of that time when me and Gwen—"

At first, it was bearable. Sure, she came up annoyingly often whenever you talked, but she had just left this dimension, never to be seen again. Of course he was gonna miss her.

You laughed at all his stories, listened to every one even though he told the same six or seven ones over and over again. You even grew to like Gwen, as if you'd known her for the short amount of time Miles did, too.

But then two months passed. Then six. Then a whole year. Before you knew it, a year and four months had passed since the departure of Gwen Stacy.

And he still. Wouldn't. Shut. Up.

You had tried to understand. You really did.

But you can only hear the same damn jokes so many times before you get a migraine.

Pick any story. You could list off every variation of how Miles would tell it off the top of your head.

Gwen Stacy became the daughter of one of your mom’s friends, so to speak. That one girl in the neighborhood you couldn’t help but envy.

And worst of all, it was like he wished you were her.

Whenever you did something, he would tell you how Gwen could do it better. He would ask you whether or not you thought Gwen would like certain trinkets he found around town, and kept a collection of them in one of his drawers so he could give them to her one day. He was even studying quantum physics instead of art so that he could make his own multiversal gateway - a safe one, so that he could unlock the multiverse, possibly for good.

It hurt when he zoned out while you were telling him about you, thinking about her; your day, what you wanted to study, how your parents were fighting a lot again lately and you were struggling because of it, how you'd joined a new band—

"A band, huh?" Miles suddenly perked up, finally looking up from his sketchbook. "Did I tell you Gwen's in a band? It's called the Mary Janes—"

"Miles would you please stop?"

A pause, both of you mildly surprised at how you'd snapped at him.

The two of you were at your dorm, seated side-by-side on the bed with your legs folded in front of you. It was Friday, the day before Mr. Morales’s pre signing-in party.

The boy looked at you, a questioning look on his face. "What's wrong?"

And that tilt with his head - he really didn't know, did he? You couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

"Miles, I know Gwen's in a band," He tried to say something, but you didn't let him speak before you continued. "I know she's a drummer, I know she does ballet, I know she had to shave half of her head because you couldn't control your powers - hell, the whole school knows that—"

"C’mon, don’t bring that up—"

"—I know every single story she told you while she was here, and I know every single detail of what you two did and how you did it. And I know she does everything I can do and she does it better. I’m tired of hearing it, Miles." His eyebrows furrowed, a slightly hurt look flashing across his face. "I’m sorry you miss her and I’m sorry she’s gone, but I just can’t be around you if all you’re gonna do is compare me to her."

A moment of silence settled in the air. You hoped Miles would understand. Surely, he’d see how tedious this was getting.

"All I’m asking is for you to tone it down."

Another beat passes without a word from the boy. He’s looking into your eyes, but it doesn’t seem like he’s all there. Like there’s a world past your irises that he’s seeing for the first time.

"I- I’m sorry, y/n, I can’t do that." Miles finally says, his gaze turning away from yours and to the sketch he’d been working on for the last hour. You glanced down at it as well, the bright blue eyes of the one and only Gwen Stacy meeting yours.

"You’re the only one I can talk to on this," he said quietly, softly closing the sketchbook and tapping a finger nervously on the cover.

"Ganke?"

"Ganke’s fine, he’s great, he’s just.. not someone I can go to for these things."

You took a deep breath, the guilt of having to tell him ‘no’ building up in your chest. You knew his relationship with his parents were complicated at the moment, and he didn’t really have friends outside of you and Ganke. But still.. it was like he wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in your life ever since your initial reconnection.

It wasn’t like you expected a complete 50:50 give-and-take in relationships, but honestly you felt like you were talking to a robot with very limited audio cues.

"Miles, you don’t listen to me anymore. The only time you actually respond to anything I say is when it’s something even remotely related to Gwen."

"That’s not true!" Miles protested. You watched as he tried to find something to argue his point, only to come up empty. His shoulders sagged a little.

"But you gotta understand, Gwen - I’m not gonna see her again, at least until I figure out.. everything." He said in a quiet voice. "I need to talk to someone. Can’t you understand?”

"I’m not trying to shut everything down, I’m just asking you to pay attention to me every once in a while." You sighed. "And if you’e not willing to do that… do you even think of me as a friend?"

Miles left your dorm not long after that little talk, sneaking out the same way he snuck in; through the window. You dug your nails into your palms, breathing in and out in a steady rhythm to push down any sadness you may have felt. It was the second time you and Miles had grown apart, this time maybe your fault a little more than his. It felt like it, anyway.

Still, you felt like you’d done the right thing.

You hoped so, anyway.

It was an hour before Jeff Morales’s technically-not-captain-yet-but-will-be-soon celebration. Your dad and yourself had come early to prepare everything and set up all the decorations. Your mom apparently ‘couldn’t make it’. It was the third time in the last two weeks she cancelled on plans that your dad was involved in.

You stacked red plastic cups on one of the tables, a cooler full of ice and two-litre soda bottles to your left. Miles’s parents had insisted they didn’t need any help, but your dad had insisted right on back that the two of you wanted to. You didn’t mind. You’d cleared your evening for the event anyway, so it’s not like you had anything better to do.

The one thing that made you kind of regret coming was your lack of a jacket. It’d been really sunny in the morning, so you’d figured it would be a warm night. A breeze picked up and sent a light chill through your body, causing you to just barely shiver.

"Mija," Mrs. Morales called, coming up from behind you and laying a hand on your shoulder. "You’re freezing."

"Oh, I’m fine, mama," you replied, smiling at her. She gave you a look that said ‘we both know that isn’t true’.

"Miles might have something in his room," she suggested, "I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed one of his clothes."

You thanked her but refused, claiming it might get warmer once the guests started to arrive and the party was at full swing. She must have noticed something was off when she mentioned Miles, because she raised an eyebrow and shook her head lightly before asking,

"What did he do now?"

Either you’re really bad at hiding things from her or her motherly sixth-sense worked on you too. You hesitated, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell her. After all, Rio had always been like a mom to you.

"We had a fight - if you can even call it that, anyway, about a girl," you said, fiddling with a plastic cup. "We’re not on real good terms right now, I don’t think…"

Rio looked slightly surprised for a moment, then something seemed to click into place. She sighed and put her hands on your cheeks. "He’s a little bit slow," she said, giving you a sympathetic smile. "But he’ll get there. Eventually."

She then squished your face before immediately letting go, making you laugh. "Now go get yourself a jacket. I don’t want my only daughter to freeze to death."

You held your hands up in surrender as she pointed to the stairs, swiftly making your way down to the Moraleses’ flat. You had a spare key that Miles’s parents had given you a long while ago, when your parents used to have full on screaming matches in the middle of the living room every other day.

Within a couple minutes you’d grabbed one of the dozen coats, hoodies and jackets strewn about Miles’s closet, pulling the soft material over your shoulders as you took a glance around his room. Everything was about the same as you’d seen two or three weeks ago, save for a few new stickers laid about the desk.

There was an all-too-familiar sketchbook on the bed, one similar to what Miles had been scribbling in last night in your dorm, just in a different color. This one looked a bit more used, so you supposed he’d gotten it and packed it full of Gwen Stacy just after she left this reality. The thought put a bitter taste on your tongue.

A half an hour into the party, Miles still hadn’t showed up. He was supposed to be here at least twenty minutes ago, and you could tell his parents were getting both worried and annoyed. Rio asked around for her son as Jeff chatted with some colleagues. Suddenly, an auntie shoved a mic into Mrs. Morales’s hand, drawing everybody’s attention to her by clinking her glass. Jeff looked away in what could only be described as complete horror.

"Um, hi…"

You grinned as she continued with embarrassing stories about her husband, from little anecdotes from when they were dating to how he was almost 10lbs as a baby. It was then that Mr. Morales jumped in, quickly taking the mic away from her and giving his own speech.

"—And to my son…"

You grimaced as he raised his cup, looking around for someone who wasn’t there. The two of you met eyes instead, and you shook your head to tell him he hadn’t showed with an apologetic look. He turned to his wife, only for her to do the same. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"…The reason I do any of this in the first place. So.. I love you Miles."

Afterwards, the DJ put the records on again. People are talking, laughing, congratulating, creating a warm, buzzing atmosphere. You’re dragged away by a few little kids to play with them over by a small cluster of barrels, which they’ve decided is their ‘lair’. You play make believe with them for a little while as their parents stand a bit away with your own dad, occasionally glancing over at you to make sure the kids are behaving.

It’s then that Miles finally shows up, pushing the door open with two boxes in his arms. You follow him through your peripheral vision as he tries to avoid his parents, ultimately failing. You’re not sure what they’re saying, but it doesn’t seem to be going that well. He shows them the contents of his boxes, which doesn’t seem to impress them too much.

After a couple more words, Mr. Morales raises his voice, the DJ trying to divert people’s attention away by upping the volume but ultimately giving up.

"What do you got to tell me so bad?"

"You know what? Never mind."

Miles walked away, pulling his hood up as his dad yelled after him about him being grounded for two months. Must’ve been really bad, huh?

You waited for the music to come back on before you made your way to the exit, ruffling one of the little kids’ hair as he skittered away with his sister. You’re just going to check on him for a minute, just to see if he’s okay. You can do that… right? I mean sure, it might be awkward since things had ended like that last night, but still.

No one else was going to.

You let yourself into the flat once again, approaching Mile’s room with soft footsteps. You’re just outside the door when—

"Are these your drawings?"

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart freezes right along with you. For a moment, you felt like a deer in headlights.

A feeling crawls its way under your skin, cold and slippery. You don’t know how you know, but you’re absolutely positive.

"Missed you too."

Gwen Stacy.

You’re on your way home, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try to warm yourself up during the walk. You lived a little while away from Miles’s place, but it’s nothing you can’t walk.

You’d left the jacket on the Morales’ couch, turning on your heel and leaving the moment you heard her voice.

Damn it.

When had she gotten back? How had she gotten back? What was Miles’s reaction?

What were they doing now?

…Did you really want to know?

As your brain clouded over with questions, you took a wrong turn. Maybe two. Or three. Honestly, you didn’t know. Once you realized that this definitely wasn’t your neighborhood, you stopped yourself mid-step, looking around to see if anything was familiar at all.

Your eyes settled on a building, as there really wasn’t anything other than that around here other than some roads and bridges. One of the windows were glowing.

Then the whole structure began to rumble.

The ground beneath your feet started to turn… black…?

Wha—

You fell.

Not for too long, but you did.

You dropped around six feet onto hard concrete, twisting your ankle in the process. You cried out in pain and surprise.

"What the—?"

"Y/n?"

You looked up at that. You knew that voice.

Except, you didn’t.

The first thing you noticed is that this definitely was not the place you were in before. This place was more narrow, more dark. Light rain pattered on your skin as your hands supported your sitting position, wondering what the hell was going on.

The person who’d said your name was at the entrance to the alley you’d been.. teleported? to.

They took hesitant steps over to you, and, for some reason, you didn’t feel scared that this complete stranger had cornered you in a place you’d never even seen before.

Maybe the voice is what made you think it was alright.

Or maybe it was his face, which made your heart stop its primary function for the second time today.

"Miles?"

But he wasn’t Miles. At least.. not your Miles. This one was skinnier, just a little shorter. His accent had more of a Spanish touch to it and, most of all, his hair was braided into two sections that reached just below his shoulders.

No. He was very much not your Miles Morales.

Nevertheless, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. There was something in his eyes — regret? Happiness? Sadness? Anger? Confusion? Probably all of the above.

He got closer, and closer, and closer. Once he reached where you were half-laying, he crouched down and tilted his umbrella until it sheltered your body more than his.

"…Are you hurt?" He asked, giving you a once-over. You just nodded, still putting all the pieces together.

Had you—

Did you—?

The boy in front of you studied your face for a little while, but then ultimately shook his head and shrugged off his jacket, handing it over to you.

"Come on. It’s cold outside."

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guardianofnightmares · 27 days ago

Text

Attack

“And remember: there is enough fuel in those rods for couple of maneuvers and a descent. That’s it.” Blitzwing said in a stern tone while adjusting some screws on minibot’s backplates. “I highly recommend you to not stray far away from your group for too long.”

He knew that his companion was not that reckless to go on adventures of his own on a battlefield, but it’s still difficult not to worry about mechs’ safety. Even if the targeting systems of an Autobots’ flagship "Endeavor" were supposed to be down by the beginning of an operation, its guns would still be working at full capacity.

Chances of being shot by a random plasma beam were still pretty high.

“I know, Blitzwing, I know,” said minibot sighed in defeat. His spirits were not that much higher than everyone else’s lately.

“But hey,” He continued, “Even if I wanted to, I doubt Megacon would allow me to go sightseeing without him… And if I indeed managed to do just that, my fear of withering away from his lecture about my recklessness definitely outweighs the fun of getting into troubles.”

----------

Phew, third entry for the @blitzbee-week event has arrived at last. Prompt of a third day was "Attack", which turned out to be quite an interesting one to create a piece for. Eventually, I've decided to picture a scene of preparations for one of first major battles in a story of mine. Considering a fact that a mentioned scene takes place at the beginning of a second part/volume of a fanfic, I found it to be a good opportunity to show an evolution of relationship between characters (at least in comparison to previous entries).

Fanfic the scene is taken from is called "TFA: Icarus". You can read it by following a [link] for the series "folder" which also includes an existing teaser (future prologue) for a story. The updates are slow, I know, I am sorry for a delay, I was very busy with a job of mine lately and I do not know when the situation will change for better. Despite all of it, I'm still deeply grateful for every subscription and "like" you leave under works for this project of mine. Know that I see and appreciate every kind gesture of yours).

As always, if anyone is interested to know what's going on "behind the scenes" of a picture, I will provide the full snippet of a depicted interaction under a cut line. Hope you'll enjoy it. Especially those of you, who read previous "chapters" of mine, for you might find a reference here to one of them ;)

Bumblebee finally glanced at a Decepticon sitting on his haunches behind his back. The Warframe’s been checking on a Cybertronian analogue of a humans’ “parachute” for the last half of megacycle, trying to secure the massive carcass on a frame it was not meant to be worn by.

“How’s it looking?” The Bot asked. Not out of vanity, for once, but rather out of practicality - a bleak, outdated “jetpack” was the smallest one they could salvage, and it’s still way too big for a mech of Bumblebee’s proportions. Several kilograms of metal more and it’d have begun to tip a yellow colored Autobot over.

“… It’ll have to do.”

A brisk, honest and not so uplifting answer. But, come to think of it, Bumblebee would’ve been more surprised to hear a reassuring comment coming from a Triplechanger.

A notion that Bumbler was capable of periodically predicting Con’s responses almost made him chortle. The possibility of his team forming a bond with Warframes over the course of a stellar cycle after an escape from Cybertron was improbable at best. And yet, there they were - trying to work as a single unit despite ever present old grudges.

For a goal they were fighting for together against a common foe was more important than any of their just (and unjust) beliefs.

Chances of being shot by a random plasma beam were still pretty high.

“I know, Blitzwing, I know,” said minibot sighed in defeat. His spirits were not that much higher than everyone else’s lately.

“But hey,” He continued, “Even if I wanted to, I doubt Megacon would allow me to go sightseeing without him... And if I indeed managed to do just that, my fear of withering away from his lecture about my recklessness definitely outweighs the fun of getting into troubles.”

The last comment earned him a snort from a companion.

“Yes, he tends to do exactly that. You’d be insanely lucky if that was the only punishment coming upon your helm,” Blitzwing agreed in a more lighthearted tone. “Especially since, it seems, Megatron’s already figured out where someone prefers to spend their shift at once in a while.”

“…what do you mean by that?” Bumblebee asked worriedly after a short lived pause - he could almost “see” a smirk plastered across Blitzwing’s faceplates with the back of his own helm. And if he’s learnt anything about a Con over the last orbital cycles, it’s that him being smug never promised anything good for a yellow and black Bot.

“Let’s just say that if a certain hiding spot is indeed real, I’ll make sure to send you energon treats during a “home arrest” of yours.” Blitzwing mused out loud. A followed groan full of despair, which came from a small mech, made Blitzwing slip an amused laugh.

And here a minibot hoped that Megatron would be any different than a so-called Bossbot of his.

---

Soon after the Trpilechanger’s done everything he could in order to make Bumbler’s descent to a flagship safer, a huge figure appeared at an entrance to a bay. Bumbler noticed a newcomer only when a said mech contacted him via personal comlink, voice commanding yet devoid of usual rasp undertones.

“Time to go, minibot,” Megatron announced, as if wanting to make sure that his arrival was interpreted as a sign to wrap preparations up. It made both Cybertronians to pause their conversation and to look up at an arrived Decepticon.

The red and grey mech stood with his servos being clasped behind his back, polished shoulder pauldrons proudly shining under a warm artificial light. One of his chest plates bared signs of a recent scuffle at one of remote outposts - the right side was adorned with a fresh wielding patchwork, performed by Ratchet himself, which hid an ugly and deep scar.

The sight of a quickly healing wound reminded Bumblebee of an amusing memory he’d witnessed in a medbay the other day - Ratchet and Megatron bickering with each other about who’s a true madmech between two of them, while a medic was performing mentioned repairs. The fact that a Warlord received an injury during a rescue of a red and white Autobot, who stayed behind in order to cover their team’s escape, seemed to slip out of both of their processors. Ratchet was nigh unstoppable in his fury, and it seemed that Megatron’s finally found someone who could rival his own stubbornness. Something, all members of a team were certain of, both older mechs secretly admired about each other.

With raised up spirits, minibot quickly picked up a bag of tools, which laid near a working bench, and waved goodbye to a Triplechanger, who stayed behind to tidy a working place up.

Blitzwing couldn’t hear what his two comrades were talking about while standing at an exit to a bay, but he could still observe the interaction between them.

The height difference between mechs was ridiculous. It became especially obvious when Megatron lowered himself to a ground in order to access electronic panel of a “jetpack”, while Bumblebee was checking on contents of a bag of his. To Blitzwing, the scene almost resembled the way human parent would interact with their child after meeting them from an educational establishment back on Earth. Come to think of it, Bumbler looked like a sparkling in comparison to all of Warframes, which made the situation even more amusing in Blitzwing’s optics.

After switching on needed components, the grey Decepticon activated a program in his own engine’s software. Both mechs synchronized recently updated broadcasting frequencies of their flying gear, and the “jetpack” came to life with a faint glow of its side lights.

A model of a “parachute” may have looked old, but the technology behind an outdated surface was something to be proud of. As if to prove a point, Megatron shifted his wings from side to side, up and down. Minibot whirled his head around just in time to see his own wings mirroring movements of his larger partner with a barely there delay. Created during an expansion of territories on foreign planets, devices similar to Bumbler’s one allowed Autobots to join Decepticons in off-ground battles and explorations, going so far as to copy difficult maneuvers of Warframes with an impressive accuracy.

A true forgotten marvel of Cybertronian engineering.

To say that Bumblebee could barely keep his excitement under control would be an understatement. The way he puffed up his chest plates and spread his temporary wings reminded local workers of a young Warframe after the first successful training session at a boot camp, fears and doubts the Bot had about an upcoming battle diminishing at a prospect of taking the first flight in his life. Even if it’ll mostly be coordinated by a partner.

Bumblebee faced a rising by his side Decepticon with a contagious smile plastered across his grey faceplates, blue optics glowing with eagerness. He said something to him, most likely a spicy remark about his immaculate skills as a Prime soon-to-be Flyer on a battlefield taking place in an outer space. Those jovial antics made Megatron roll his optics, after which he turned an Autobot around with a smirk and (lightly) shoved him forward in direction of a main hangar, where they would join other members of a boarding party.

---

It’s been a while since both mechs disappeared out of the view of Triplechanger, leaving him to his own devices. The grey and violet mech was in a middle of cleaning a working bench when he received a call.

“Hey, Blitzwing!” A booming voice of Bulkhead sounded clearly over the comlink, only interrupted by periodic screeching of metal against metal in a background. “Are you and Bumblebee finished by any chance?”

“Fortune is on your side this time, my artistic friend, - Megatron’s already picked your yellow menace up.” Warframe answered while putting instruments into their designated slots. “What’s the matter?”

“Lugnut and I would really appreciate it, if you joined us with loading ammo on a ship - these electromagnetic emitters are putting a strain even on him. Optimus is already helping us by operating a crane, but I don’t think it’s enough for everything to be finished on time.” A green Autobot admitted guiltily. When Blitzwing was about to say something, he added: “One more thing: Optimus said that he’d like to discuss a plan of an attack with you again afterwards - something about an established route through an asteroid field doesn’t click right with him.“

Of course it didn’t. But Blitzwing could hardly blame him for being extra cautious. Truth be told, he’d expected an ex-cadet to contact him sooner or later in order to go through a plan one more time. Meaning, there’s really no point for him to act getting annoyed at a prospect of doing an additional work during a current shift.

“Alright. Seems that by helping you I’m going to kill two cats with one stone, so, count me in.”

“It’s “two birds”, Blitzwing,” Bulkhead corrected him with an audible smile. “Anyways, I’ll be waiting for you at an entrance 4-06. Thank you.”

With that being said, the bulky Autobot hung up the call, leaving a Warframe alone with his own thoughts, smiling to himself while cleaning the last of used tools from grease and oil.

Many things have changed since the beginning of a new cycle of War, for better and for worse. With the amount of mechs switching sides and betraying their causes, sometimes it was easier to assume, that all around you were enemies rather than to hope you had at least someone to rely on.

Yet, despite every obstacle Outcast Autobots and Earth-stranded Decepticons had to go through so far, the newly formed squad of theirs was a proof that some things stayed the same. That Camaraderie still had a value in an ever treacherous world. And Blitzwing had a feeling that no matter what lied ahead of them, the old healed bonds and recently blossomed ones would stand the test of time.

As if coming to an internal agreement with himself, the Triplechanger shook his helm and finally headed to an agreed upon place of meeting with his unlikely comrades, while silently humming a tune Bumblebee taught him once.

Perhaps, an Autobot known as Prowl was right after all?

Perhaps, it was indeed the right time to start having Faith and Trust in teammates once more?

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metamorphesque · 2 months ago

Note

I don't know how unpopular this opinion is but I strongly hold the position that society today seems unable to differentiate "Art" from entertainment, and this blurring of lines harms both. _ what do you mean?

What I mean to say is that society nowadays fails to recognize the fundamental differences between art and entertainment. Thinking that they are the same or interchangeable does a disservice to both. To me, it's not an "art vs. entertainment" situation. Rather than opposing them, the distinction lies in recognizing their complementary roles because a healthy individual needs both art and entertainment, but for very different reasons.

Entertainment, of course, entertains us; it delights and validates us by affirming our existing beliefs and emotions. It's there to make us feel good — a safe space that doesn't challenge us, as it has been created specifically for our needs and is catering to our preferences. However, it leaves us unchanged and not transformed. Entertainment is produced because there is a public demand for it.

Art, on the other hand, is meant to change and transform us. It's not always delightful, entertaining or self-affirming. On the contrary, it can sometimes feel like an attack on our beliefs and the reality we think we’re living in. Art can be uncomfortable, even disruptive, and by being so, it forces us to engage with it on a deeper level, challenging our perspectives and encouraging us to evolve. Unlike entertainment, art is not made because there is public demand for it. To be more precise, the demand for art exists, but it doesn't come from us — the public; art meets the demands of the time. Real artists are those who can discern the lessons and demands of the time and make them digestible for the public. While entertainment caters to an audience’s desires, art challenges its audience, often presenting ideas or emotions they may not have asked for but need to confront. It’s not about pleasing or fulfilling expectations; instead, art serves as a catalyst for intellectual and emotional growth, pushing society to reflect, adapt and progress.

My beloved Armenian poet Paruyr Sevak has a very thought-provoking piece that, I think, is about real artists. I'll present a rough translation: "They come unoften, yet never too late. / They are born at exactly the right time. / And they get ahead of time itself, / Which is why they are not forgiven".

The role of a true artist goes far beyond technical skill or the ability to produce aesthetically pleasing works that will be liked by many and, thus, make a fortune. A true artist serves as a visionary, a truth-teller and a catalyst for change. They push us to reflect deeply and think critically about the world around us. This is why, in the absence of such people (and I strongly believe that we live in such times), individuals become more susceptible to propaganda, manipulation or conformity, as there are fewer voices prompting them to critically examine their environment. Additionally, without these voices, society loses touch with its emotional depth, becoming more disconnected, indifferent and apathetic to the suffering or experiences of others.

True artists are what we need today. There are many discussions held online about whether today’s celebrities should address "political" issues and the problems we face as humans.

My answer to this is no, at least not for everyone that society considers an "artist." Most of these individuals are mere entertainers who are there solely for entertainment purposes (I would be quick to add that some of them even fail at that). Dozens of them can't even form comprehensive sentences in their mother tongues; how can we expect them to express trustworthy opinions on grave issues? This is one of the reasons why it is highly dangerous to confuse entertainment with art.

#asks #art #entertainment #literature

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o-sachi · 3 months ago

Text

You're My Sunshine - Various Blue Lock

ᯓ blue lock characters with a cheerful and upbeat s/o ᯓ characters; various blue lock chars. ᯓ tags; fluff, sfw, gn reader, no y/n

[🐟]: Trying out a different format for HCs 'cuz I feel like this works better for this request.

Sunshine x Sunshine

This is perhaps the healthiest of healthy relationships. Being around each other simply feels light and easy because they understand each other by heart. Both of you have a positive outlook on life, wanting to pursue happiness together every step of the way. Most likely, this relationship was a result of a strong foundation of friendship.

You two are always playful with each other, finding ways to keep the spark alive by being spontaneous and adventurous with your relationship. You like randomly bursting into a duet in the middle of cooking dinner or going on picnic dates on a weekend afternoon.

There's a good line of communication between the two of you that keeps the relationship afloat at all times. Although, between important conversations would be a lot of laughter, inside-jokes, and flirty banter. There's never a dull moment between the two of you; that's for sure. And warning: HE WILL TEASE YOU A LOT.

He thinks you're the brightest and most beautiful thing in this world. He'll make sure that you never forget he thinks so. And he will compliment you like craaaazy. He's so downbad for you (wholesome-ly).

Affection—both verbally and physically—are expressed freely and frequently. Neither of you feel the need to hold back on it. You always make it your goal to express your appreciation for each other as you continue to support and push each other forward. It's pretty much a relationship that cultivates growth while being genuinely happy. The type of relationship everyone dreams of, basically.

Isagi, Bachira, Ness, Hiori, Niko, Kurona, Nanase, Charles, Lavinho

Sunshine x Sunshine Protector

Not exactly an opposites attract situation... most of the time at least. But it's more so that he likes to take on the duty to protect you and uphold your well-being at all times. He just thinks you're so precious—vulnerable to the cruelty of the world—and would gladly carry the burden of protecting you from all of that on his back.

It's a bit of mystery to you how he can be closed off to the world but so tender and loving with you. But, hey, why are you going to complain about that? Besides, if you do ask him, he'll just grunt at you and ignore it. Deep down he's having a crisis about it though. The tough guy facade is well-practiced after all.

He isn't the best with words, but he makes up for it through other ways—touch, quality time, acts of services, and so on. He'll gladly sacrifice himself if it meant making you happy. He's so deep down the rabbit hole (which is you), but will never admit it... unless you beg him nicely.

Although, he does offer words of reassurance. They come off as rather... stiff. Their words lack a bit of warmth, but they serve to provide you comfort either way. It's mostly because it sounds like advice—practical words. But sometimes all you need are sweet words to get rid of the fleeting worry. Don't fret; they'll get better somehow.

But there will be the rare times when you give him support and reassurance. Of course, he won't say so—you'll just notice it after being with him for so long. He'll be a bit averted to the idea at first, but will warm up to it soon enough. The strength of your relationship lies in this mutual respect and desire to uplift each other especially in each other's lowest moments.

Kunigami, Barou, Karasu, Kaiser, Gagamaru, Raichi, Sendou, Snuffy

Sunshine x Grumpy

This was one hell of a slow-burn. But was it worth it? Hell yeah. Your dynamic is almost the same as sunshine x sunshine protector, but he's a lot more subtle with his "protecting" and best belief he will deny all softie allegations because of it.

But that's exactly what he is—a big softie for you and for you only. But since he's emotionally constipated, he shows his love in... strange ways, but he swears it's normal. He'll act like he doesn't care most of the time, but he'll always have his eye on you. He'll always reject your silly requests, but will humor you eventually when you start showing those puppy dog eyes (his weakness).

THERE WILL BE TONS OF BANTER. But it will mostly be you laughing and him groaning. You like to tease him a lot, causing him to reward you with the nickname "brat". He says so affectionately, of course. Sometimes he'll even tease you back just to shut you up. It works like magic by the way.

One thing he hates the most is to see you cry and he hates it even more if he was the reason for those tears. As much as you don't want to fall apart in front of him—there are rare moments when his callousness gets to you. Suddenly, he no longer cares about keeping up his icy exterior; he'd drop it all for you. He'll scoop you up in his arms and tell you the sweetest things he had never uttered before in his life.

He sincerely thinks you're the best thing in his life. Even though he's so cold and detached, you managed to melt away some of that ice. You balance each other well and that's what keeps the relationship going.

Rin, Sae, Noel

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock headcanons #isagi x reader #kaiser x reader #sae x reader #rin x reader #bachira x reader

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threepandas · 5 months ago

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Your Biggest Fan: Villian/Yandere Izuku

You Ruined His Plan.

No one was supposed to CARE. They NEVER care. NEVER ask questions. They look, at the red shoes, the note, then shrug it all off. Just another statistic. One more gone, of an already "dying breed".

The Quirkless had been a "dying breed" for a while now.

He bet they didn't even know where that phase came from. It was WAR propaganda. Quirkless population numbers were supposed to level out a decade ago, according to estimates. But noooo! They kept DROPPING!

Dropping, Dropping, DROPPING!

Like notebooks and little boys off roof tops.

No Heroes coming to save them. Smiles for everyone ELSE. Just burns and bad grades they didn't earn, ruined lunches and funeral flowers on desks. Kicking and kicking and PUNCHS until they break! Until they fight back. Until THEY are the problem. THEY are the monsters!

Dreams destroyed and online friends who go silent.

Funerals. Mothers who cry but don't protect you.

ANGER and where are the HEROES?

Here... apparently.

She is... she is standing HERE. Arms crossed. Mouth in a furious line as she listens to the principal spew his excuses. She does not look like she believes a single one. Does not look sympathetic or dismissive in the least.

The disgusting trash around her isn't used to it. Are slowly beginning to sweat. Panic. It is beginning to dawn on them... that there could be CONSEQUENCES for their actions. Their criminal neglect and cruel allowances.

She looks disgusted. Furious. And... when she glances at the supposed last words of Hanako-chan? Utterly heartbroken. She stands, feet planted, shoulders back, as she argues and pulls rank. Threatening to ARREST even the police officers THEMSELVES unless they DO THEIR JOBS.

As is her RIGHT. Because this is not JUSTICE. Nor Vengance. But can bring, at least, closure to the soul of a little girl wronged. Prevent others from harm. And she stands as a shield against that harm. It is her JOB, her DUTY, and so help her, if she must hunt each and every one of them down and HAND DELIVER them to a cell? She WILL.

She stands there, in the cold afternoon light, like...

Like A Hero!

He has to slap both his hands over his mouth. To stop his dreadful muttering habit from escaping again. He... he hasn't found anything INTERESTING enough to mutter about in so LONG. Gotten out of the habit of controlling it. His control is shot. And... and OH~!

Ever since Kacc-... Since All Mi... THEM. He hasn't... hasn't BELIEVED in Heros like he used too. He WANTED too! He did! But...? It was like it just... died inside him. Slowly. Painfully. Screaming.

It HURT.

It hurt so, so much. Everything was angry and grey and TERRIBLE. B...But? But! BUT NOW? It's like a giddy spark of light has struck a match inside the empty cavern inside him, lighting up the massive caves where his belief once lived. I..It's so small and fragile. So WARM.

He scrambles back. Hands pressed to his mouth, eyes shut tight, uncaring of the rough brick he's pressed too as he slides to the wet ground. It scrapes him up. But what's a few more scrapes amongst the rest? He's always hurt. It's his life. It's ALL their lives.

He breathes. Savors the fragile warmth in his chest.

"Hey, are you okay?" That voice. No, no it can't be... his eyes shoot open. Startled he looks up. Directly... into... a.. mask.. "You're looking pretty banged up. My Quirk doesn't have many medical uses, so unless you think you've cracked a bone or something, I hope you're good with band-aids. Fair warning though. All the Froppy one's are already gone. Kid's LOVE frogs."

It IS. His Hero. THE Hero. She must have finished up. Noticed him somehow. Sloppy...

Ah!

Already kneeling, she gently takes his hand. Is already pulling out a medical kit from her thigh pouch. He spots "good job!" Stickers and a few lollipops. He... he has QUESTIONS. For the first time in YEARS. Who is she? What school did she go too? What Quirk does she have? Where does she work out off?

Why did she CARE?

Is it a one off? Would she care AGAIN? Her hands are firm but gentle. She keeps him "distracted". Asking him inane questions to take his mind off his pain. Kind. So KIND~! He manages to get her Hero name before she goes. Sends her off with a smile that hurts his face. Reminds him how many years it's BEEN since he's truely grinned.

He races home. Fingers flying on his phone. His lieutenant can deal with Hanako. Get her settled with her new family. He... he NEEDS too... TOO-!

He SLAMS his shoebox of an apartment open, ignoring the bellowed demands and insults of the filth that live around him. It's only muscle memory that has him locking the dozen locks behind him, to keep out the scum that would attempt to prey upon him.

He... he NEEDS-!

Where?!

There!!!

His "work" laptop. So bleeding edge I-island will be cursing their own bigotry for centuries. If only out of GREED. They don't know what they've lost by turning down those engineers and applicants. But Izuku does. He collects them ALL.

And now it pays off once again.

It take less then a moment. Easier then breathing. And he has EVERYTHING.

Her arrests records. Her case load. Her school records and medical files. Social media. Current audio book. Hero ranking, media presence, the chatter about Her online. EVERYTHING.

It's... it's beautiful.

A "troublemaker" who wouldn't shut up about the injustice she saw around her. Wouldn't stand for it. Got into fights to protect the weak and defenseless. Helped where she could. It put her on the wrong side of the narrative. When she wouldn't shut up about how everything WASN'T fine and what those in power were doing was WRONG.

She was a child, they were not. She HAD the option to shut up and pick her own future over the well being of those around her.

She chose to be a HERO instead.

Like... Like HIM. She was robbed of her DREAM. Of going to UA. The future she wanted, she fought for, needed like AIR.

But... but Aaah~♡ she was so COOL! Didn't give up! She sued. Made a RACKET. And when it got her record wiped but not her chance to enter any Japanese Hero school reinstated? She took the winnings from her lawsuit, her parents reluctant consent, and WENT ABROAD.

Came BACK with a hero license that the Japanese government had to recognize as per international accords. Let her take the final test HERE.

They BURIED her in the rankings. Must HATE her. A real hero, come to SHAME THEM for all they've become~♡ Or, well, HE thinks she will. How can she NOT? When she is so much BETTER?

He needs everything. Bedspread, pillows, posters, sweaters, slippers, MERCH! There's not enough. He should commission some. Where are his notebooks? Ah, no. He needs a NEW one! A better notebook! Oh! Oh! He could COMMISSION a notebook! Oh that's PERFECT!

He may have just met her today?

But he can already TELL~ He's gonna be her NUMBER 1 fan!

#threepandas #yandere #yandere bnha #yandere mha #biggest fan au #yandere izuku midoriya #villian izuku #villain deku #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #bnha deku #deku x reader #tw sui implied #but not really #kiddo is fine #shes actually getting ice-cream with her new adopted parents #who love her and desperately wanted kids but couldnt have any #hero reader #your biggest fan au

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cryptidghostgirl · 10 months ago

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Make You Wish Chapter Two -- Where Is She

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: really super mild versions of cannon violence.

Word count: 2,072

Previous Part: Make You Wish Chapter One -- Seven Years

Master list link:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I accidentally posted this before I was ready tooo ahhhh!!! it's fine. Everything was already written I just had to format it properly and stuff.

Alastor had been at the Hazbin Hotel for only a few days and was already enjoying his time there greatly. It was an entertaining place, to say the least, and now that he had his feet under him, he was intent on making it even more so.

Charlie was pacing around the sitting room, stressed beyond belief. She had gone to speak to Adam the previous day to try and get his support for her plan, only to wind up with the news that the next extermination was coming in six moths, rather than the usual twelve. Alastor watched her duress in amusement as he sauntered into the hotel lobby, side stepping Angel, Charlie, and Vaggie to take a seat at the bar.

"It's nothing we can't handle," Charlie was explaining, trying to convince herself as much as anyone else in the room, "just angels cutting our timetable in half. But who needs a whole year to save souls? Am I right? And next time, when they cut the time in half again and again, we'll just handle it, right?!"

Vaggie got to her feet, grabbing her girlfriend by the shoulders and stopping her from her relentless pacing.

"Yes, we will." she confirmed.

"Oh please," Angel cut in from the couch, his eyes fixed on his phone, "ya had less than half a chance when you started all this salvation bullshit. And now...? Ain' no silver lining this time, toots."

"Sure there is." Charlie turned to him, "We just have to look a little harder for it."

"Well, while you're lookin', the rest of Hell is going nuts."

Angel turned his phone to Charlie, showing all the news headlines of terror he'd pulled up.

"People are already freaking out about the news. Look at what's happening in the Doomsday District."

He scrolled down to a video of a burning town just as a text notification popped up.

"Uh, what is a 'donkey show'?" Charlie asked in confusion, having read the text.

"Ah, heh, nothing." Angel pulled the phone from her line of sigh, trying to come up with a quick lie, "My boss, Val, is just freaked out about the news too. Like I said, everyone's losing their shit."

"Yeah, that is true." Vaggie hummed thoughtfully, a hand to her chin, "Sinners are desperate. Maybe desperate enough to try anything to escape extermination?"

"Speaking of sinners," Alastor said, drawing the attention in the room to him as he turned towards Husk who was busying cleaning glasses, "I think it's time I look up my old partner in crime."

"And what do I have to do with that?" the cat demon gruffly replied, not sparing Alastor a glance.

"Your partner in crime?" Charlie asked, taking a step towards the bar, "I always thought you... you know, worked alone?"

Alastor's grin widened.

"Oh never you mind, dear." he replied, throwing her a glance over his shoulder, "Just a lost soul I'm acquainted with is all."

"Yeah. You've been trying to get her to sell you that soul for what, the past seventy years is it now?" Husk scoffed.

Alastor's eye twitched slightly at the implication of his failure.

"If I wanted it, I would have it." he hummed threateningly, and Husk backed down.

"That's great!" Charlie exclaimed, "So she's a friend of yours? Do you think she'd help with the hotel? Oh! Or maybe that she'd want to be a guest?!"

"Charlie-" Vaggie began but Alastor quickly cut her off.

"I don't see a harm in asking." he cheerily replied.

"And you know her, Husk?" Charlie asked.

He looked up as he placed a clean glass on the shelf, shooting Alastor a glance before nodding.

"Do you think she'd be a good fit?"

He sighed, crossing his arms as Husk turned to face Charlie fully.

"She's a sweetheart, I think you'd get along well." he admitted, "But she's trouble, just like him."

Husk gestured towards Alastor and Charlie's smile widened.

"Well, with all Alastor has done for us so far, I think we could probably use more trouble like him."

"Oh you flatter me." Alastor waved her off, looking away in a false show of humility.

"No really." Charlie insisted, "You-"

"Show yourself, Alastor!" a dramatic call cut Charlie off mid thought.

----

"Um. Alastor?" Charlie hesitantly began, peeking out from behind his shoulder as she watched the havoc he was wreaking on the snake shaped sinner, "I think he's had enough."

Alastor cackled joyfully, not even watching as his shadows destroyed the air ship.

"Nah, he's got a few more hits in 'im." Angle disagreed, enjoying the show immensly.

The shadows tilted the ship forward, dropping Sir Pentious out through the broken windshield. He hit the ground with a thud, right before Alastor's feet. Stopping in his fit of laughter, he looked down at the man, spinning his microphone like a baton.

"Thanks for another forgettable experience." he teased as one of the egg creatures fell from the ship, splattering on the ground beside Charlie who took a step away.

"Thank... you..." Sir Pentious began, his voice pained as he raised his head slowly, "for letting your guard down!"

Almost before Alastor could register what was happening, the snake had grabbed onto his coat with his tail and torn a piece from its hem. Alastor took a menacing step forward, his eyes narrowed.

"Oh shit." Pentious' triumphant laughter died out.

Slowly, Alastor sprouted a pair of shadowy horns. With a snap of his finger, the ground under the snake detonated, throwing him up into the air and far away from the hotel with a scream. He watched as Pentious flew away, retracting his horns and standing with a hand behind his back. Once the snake was out of sight, he at last turned to Charlie and Angel, as well as Husk and Vaggie who had come out to join them.

"Well, it looks as thought I need a visit to the tailor." he hummed, "Husk?"

"Yeah?" Husk grunted.

"Where did you say she was again?"

"I didn't."

Husk crossed his arms defensively and Alastor took a step towards him, his smile a little smaller than normal. There was an odd air between the two of them, a tension every one present could feel biting into their skins.

"Whats that?" Alastor asked lowly, his head cocked slightly to the side.

Husk sighed.

"Last I heard she was working for some imp in Pentagram City." Husk reluctantly admitted, looking away, "As an assassin or something, I don't know the details."

"An imp, you say." Alastor thoughtfully replied, his expression unreadable.

"Look, Alastor." Husk turned back to his master, "Don't fuck this up for her. She seemed pretty happy last time I saw her. You disappearing like that wrecked the poor girl."

"Just means she'll be all the more happy to see me."

Alastor turned, beginning to walk away. At the sound of Husk speaking again, he paused, keeping his back to the quartet.

"Alastor, ju-"

Alastor turned his head, shooting Husk a critical look over his shoulder. It shut the cat demon up almost immedeatly.

"Best of luck, chums!"

"Wait, you're leaving?" Vaggie exclaimed, taking a step forward.

Irritation prickling beneath his skin, Alastor turned back to them once again. It had been seven years, he didn't know how much longer he could wait. Sure, he'd had time in Hell on his own, nearly twenty years of it. He didn't need her per-say, she just made things more interesting, more enjoyable. It just felt odd for them to be parted.

Sure, when they had first met, he had thought she was just an easy steal of a soul. Young, naive, frankly undeserving in his opinion of eternal damnation. But smart, smarter than she looked. Y/n had refused any and all deals with the man and so, he had taken it as a challenge. What had begun as a game: Alastor trying to gain ownership of Y/n's soul ended up as an after-life long friendship.

Alastor would never admit it to anyone but, in his absence, he had even missed Y/n the smallest bit. She kept things interesting, he told himself, that was all. Always causing discreet mischief, always quick with a joke. A true pleasure to have on the show, as he always used to say.

"Alastor, we need your help. We need you to do your job." Vaggie continued.

"We need a wall." Angel finished for her, gesturing to the portion of the hotel Sir Pentious had destroyed in his attack.

"Of course." Alastor replied, keeping an irritated remark at bay, "Can't let my new project fall into disrepair already. What would the papers say?"

With a snap of his fingers, minions made of shadows pulled themselves from the ground at his feet. So as not to give anyone another chance to stall him further, he quickly turned on his heel and walked off.

Alastor was a man of image, he kept his pace slow and firm. Couldn't have any of them getting any ideas in their heads about the nature of his relationship with Y/n. That had always been trouble in the old days. The minute people saw the pair together, they started assuming things. He had already decided he was going to be more careful about that this time around and this was the first step.

There was a slight bounce in his step as he headed into the city's center, an odd anticipation fluttering in his chest. Alastor pushed it to the side. It was simply the thrill of being back in his old stomping ground that was to blame. It didn't matter he'd already been back a few days and it should have worn off by now, he should just feel lucky to still be so entertained by this place he'd known longer than he'd even been alive. Right?

----

Y/n was sitting at Blitzo's desk, reading through paperwork he had neglected to fill out or file correctly. It wasn't like any one in Hell really payed their taxes, but the mess still stressed her out. She let out a sigh, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her eyes in irritation. She had never had to do this type of work before, not since she'd been alive anyways. How the times had changed.

Noise of Blitzo and Moxxie fighting filtered in through the closed door. It wasn't anything special, anything new. The pair were always at one another's throats, she wasn't worried. What would be worrying, was if things were quiet. This was just the way life sounded now: inelegant and brazen. Nothing like it used to.

The buzzing of her phone on the desk beside her pulled Y/n from her reveries and she picked it up. The collar lay heavy around her neck as she read the message. Y/n had made some bad choices along the way, figuring out how to be on her own. She wasn't pleased with them, but it was what she had had to do. Back then, she hadn't had the need to fight for herself in over sixty years. It was the only thing she could think to do.

She double tapped the text, marking it with a thumbs up before shutting her phone off and leaning her head down on the table. There was no point in wishing for things to be different than they were but, it was just that time of year and the text had pushed her over the edge. A few stray tears trickled out of her eyes.

"Goddamnit, Al." she sighed into the empty room, "Where the hell are you."

Silence pressed its hands against her ears, blurring her perception of the world around her. Y/n had a few seconds, a few nearly peaceful moments before, again, her thoughts were interrupted. This time, not by her phone but by Blitzo calling for her from the other room.

"Y/n!" he yelled and she lifted her head off the table.

"Yeah?" she called back through the closed door.

"Get your ass out here!"

"Why? A client? Can't you handle it?"

"Y/n!" he insisted again, a sense of urgency to his voice.

If this was anything less than an absolute emergency, he was never going to hear the end of it. She was not in the mood for his games today.

"Fine." she groaned and pulled herself from the chair, "I'm coming."

----

Next Part -> Chapter Three -- A Reunion

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buckgasms · 3 months ago

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Sorry I'm not done thinking about Trailer!Bucky

Hope that's ok 🥹

- Becauuuuuuse

- It's because it's so hot there, so like you're always gonna be in something skimpy, and he's always gonna be shirtless or at least got his arms out.

- So you're both just like tempting each other beyond belief.

- And then when you're in the trailer everything's small and smooshed together so there's no real chance for personal space. So you're legs with touch, or he'll squeeze past you impossibly close and wrap his huge hands around your hips as he goes.

- It's outrageous.

- And like imagining hanging your washing out one day and it's all panties and bras and you suddenly feel all embarrassed and hot when you know he's seen them???

- But he feels pretty hot about it too lol. Like does he steal a pair off the line and use them to jerk off???

- Imma say yeah.

🌡️

- And just. The nights sitting out with him as the air gets cooler.

- I mean fuck it.

- Sat on his lap right because who doesn't wanna sit there? Your soft bare thighs pressed in his denim clad ones. He likes jiggling his leg because it makes you jiggle all over.

- His fingers trace along your arms, brush your hair away from your face and occasionally squeeze at your thighs and ass.

- And you get to skim your fingers across his chest, playing with his chain or his rings on his fingers.

- Urgh and imagine what his stubble feels like. So scrubbly and delicious 🤤

- And obviously you're gonna start kissing at some point.

- Again the beard. But mixed with his soft lips and perfect kisses.

- I'm just dead.

- He's going to be such a Dom (because I am a sluuuuut for that)

- But like a soft cuddly Dom who is just obsessed with you.

- Like when he kisses he grips your face in his hands like you are going to disappear on him and he won't let that happen. He loves when you whimper and whine as you kiss. Just makes him even more crazy.

🌡️

- But what makes it trailer park Bucky?

- I think the sexy times are a bit sloppy yknow? He likes it messy and sweaty. He wants to have you quivering, covered in come and sweat and tears and spit.

- But it's so fucking good that you actually don't care.

- Like every evening his mission is accomplished. You are all of those things and more.

- And the talk is going to be on another level.

- I think petnames because I am a slut for petnames

- "Babygirl" "Honey" "Good girl" "Sweetie"

- but also

- "dirty girl" "my little slut" "pretty whore"

- I mean he'll call you anything that makes you flutter or giggle depending on the situation.

- Take it baby. Take all of me honey.

- Look what a mess you are. So fucking pretty.

- You like it when I use you huh? Like being a little slut for me?

- Yknow everyone can hear right? Know they're hearing you cry for my dick baby?

🌡️

Ok id better stop but omg I want hiiiim

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #trailer park bucky

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icepoptroll · 5 months ago

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@june-doe-2024 day 30: Disability Pride Month

***From my Everyone Lives AU wherein an alternate Karnak is the kids' nurse following the Cyclone accident***

In which the kids all come back to life and Ricky finally gets to say his piece. I felt my AU was a good vehicle for this and will probably incorporate this into the fic later down the road.

Wooooooooo!!! My last June Doe for this year! I had the time of my life doing this event. Usually when I do month long art challenges like these I fizzle out by the end of the month and either don't finish or by my last few pieces I'm just not feeling it anymore but this time I think I really finished strong with my last few days. Or, well, comics have never exactly been my STRONG suit but I felt like this conversation deserved one. This is a conversation that we never really got to see in canon. Had I had more time, I probably would have made it even longer.

I always felt like Ricky sort of avoids confronting Ocean on the things she was wrong about, for a lot of reasons. For one, he'd rather occupy his time with things he sees as productive and fulfilling, and he was just never sure he'd get anywhere trying to explain these things to her. For another, he's very observant and he's seen lots of other people's conflicts with her devolve into a debate which she's always trying her damnedest to win. But while he knows who he is and he never felt the need to prove himself to her, deep down it does bother him that this issue never got addressed, and Penny can see it. Something I noticed (at least, in the 2016 version wherein Ricky still has enough lines lol) is that Ricky doesn't really care what Ocean thinks of HIM, but where he DOES feel the need to correct her is her views on the whole of HUMANITY. I think after the accident, getting a lot of time to reflect, he would come to realize that her misconceptions about disability not only affect the way she sees him, but the way she sees disabled people in general. I also did reference the 2018 version here: in that run, Ocean had a line speculating that Ricky had "two? three years?" left to live, insinuating that that's why he shouldn't be the one to come back.

Yes, I definitely could see Penny separately luring the two of them and then trapping them in a room with her to put this to rest, lol. It's the kind of tough love she'd be bold enough to provide. She definitely thinks he deserved a chance to speak his mind and that Ocean owes him an apology.

Mostly. . . Ricky just wants Ocean to love her fellow human. I can't wait to write more of my AU because Ocean's really going to shift her focuses after surviving the crash and I feel like writing all the changes in her thinking and beliefs will be interesting.

Big thanks to @victoriawaterfield for hosting the June Doe event. I had a wonderful time and it worked wonders for my art!!

#rtc #ride the cyclone #ricky potts #ricky rtc #ocean o'connell rosenberg #ocean rtc #penny lamb #penny rtc #artists on tumblr #my art #art #comic art #nurse karnak au #june doe event #june doe 2024

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doodle-pops · 4 months ago

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House of Feanor | Being In An Arranged Marriage With Them

A/N: This was so much I wrote!! For some reason I felt like I made a few of them OOC, but what the hell. It's an AU, so they’ll all be different from the regular Silm verse 😆. I think I broke my wrist whilst breaking a sweat thinking of different scenarios for each of them, but I managed to make it to the finish line! Alas, the final piece! ಥ_ಥ

Warnings: arranged marriage, there are minor angst themes, neglect and loneliness, rejection, comfort and happy endings for most except (Feanor)

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Feanor

He’s not known as Fëanáro without reason. When those words came out of his father’s mouth, as much as he adored his father, he was incensed by the level and nature of the dictation he was subjected to. He felt he was unjustly punished for some unknown transgression by Eru through this method.

Don’t anticipate him to even breathe, let alone glance in your direction when you’re observing him. He would gladly lock eyes with your figure when you’re not paying attention and scrutinize you without remorse. There’s nothing you could say to convince him of your innocence in this arrangement.

He assumes that you had a say in choosing your spouse because he’s Fëanáro, the firstborn and Crown Prince, and everyone desired him. Though politics and royal duties didn’t interest him, he was now aware of the political rationale behind the union. Eventually, he resists continuing his resentment towards his father because his father was compelled into it (in his opinion).

This resembles a Bridgerton moment, akin to King George and Queen Charlotte, where you reside in one house while he lives in another, a significant distance away. His father can complain all he wants about the lack of effort to establish a connection, and Fëanáro would simply ignore and roll his eyes.

Throughout the arranged marriage, you will feel completely alienated and rejected. There was a time when you were excited about being wed to the Crown Prince, even though your freedom was being curtailed. Even at events where you’re expected to appear as a couple, you arrive in separate coaches.

Do not expect him to hold your hand or have your arm around his elbow. Fëanáro takes the commitment seriously, as he feels his own freedom has been taken away. Talking to him is futile, for he will merely pretend to listen while focusing on getting drunk to forget the entire night.

“Why do you despise me so much? You act as if I am the cause of this entire arrangement when it is your father who is responsible. Listen, if you intend to ignore me, it might be best if we end this, as I did not willingly sign up for this mistreatment, especially from you. We can part ways and continue our separate lives, or if we are to continue, at least afford me the same respect you expect.”

You displayed remarkable courage by confronting his tantrums and earning yourself a few withering side–glances filled with anger and disbelief, because “How dare you speak to me so openly, as if we are equals?!” Kudos to you; you’ve just earned yourself another round of silence for the remainder of the night and week, perhaps even into the afterlife.

Fëanáro has no intention of making your marriage work. Eru could punish him, but he’d simply retort and carry on with his life. It’s all about his belief that he’s being coerced into the same situation as his father and his determination to avoid making that mistake.

If this arrangement is to succeed, you’ll need to pray seven times an hour, every day, for the rest of your life for divine intervention. Otherwise, you’ll be left complaining about his behaviour and treatment while he remains unruffled.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Maedhros

He had anticipated this situation due to the constant rivalry between his father and his half–uncle, who incessantly engaged in banter to prove the superiority of their respective families. He often found himself thrust into the forefront of this unnecessary competition. Therefore, he approached the arrangement with a sense of neutrality (lie! he chats his mother’s ear off).

As the firstborn of the heir, he fully comprehends the specific obligations that accompany his title and embraces them wholeheartedly. So, when you join your parents for the first meeting, he gracefully accepts his fate as your husband (although he sheds a few tears in private to his mother).

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, My Lady/Lord Y/N. I am Prince Nelyafinwë Maitimo, your betrothed. I sincerely hope that in the brief time before our wedding, we can learn a lot to make our journey as a married couple smoother. Please, do not hesitate to inform me of any discomforts you may encounter, and I will do my utmost to ensure your well–being. Remember, I am your husband, not your master. Have no fear as we build a life together.”

He is a polite and reserved individual, leaning more towards propriety than humour. He barely possesses a funny bone and seldom indulges in levity, which can be one of the more challenging aspects of the marriage. Nevertheless, he is respectful, stands up for you, is considerate, and fulfils all the duties of a husband.

However, he respects your boundaries when it comes to intimacy, acknowledging that you both are strangers. This means separate sleeping arrangements. All other spaces, such as the kitchen, dining room, reading room, coaches, and carriages, are shared.

As a husband, he typically leaves most decisions up to you, entrusting you with the role of household caretaker and offering his input only when you seek an additional opinion or when he believes a change is necessary.

During the initial stages of your relationship, he hopes that you can build good bonds with the rest of his family, particularly his brothers and parents. He is observant of your reactions and interactions with them and adjusts accordingly if he senses any discomfort.

Despite his efforts to avoid such emotions, he becomes sentimental when he reflects on the life he has created with you, even if it feels somewhat mechanical. The absence of arguments and the harmonious atmosphere in the house bring him joy. There are moments of awkwardness, but you’ve both learned to overcome them (and the first time you saw him laugh was when you attempted to make a joke about it).

As your marriage progresses, you encounter numerous highs and lows, primarily stemming from the political aspects. You have expressed your discontent with being treated as a trophy and being involved in unnecessary competition, despite knowing this from the outset. Dealing with this, particularly from his father, is a challenge that you and Maedhros will face together.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Maglor

Maglor is just as composed as his older brother, but he doesn’t quite align with the idea of both of you being used for political and competitive purposes. He grapples with the notion that Maedhros accepted the idea of an arranged marriage for political gain so readily. Now, he feels a profound sadness that he can’t freely choose someone to capture his heart.

However, Maglor makes sure that your time together never feels forced or obligatory. He disapproves of the constant reminder of the arranged marriage hanging over your heads. He’s dedicated to making your marriage healthy and happy, erasing any memory of your freedom being taken away.

Inheriting his mother’s temperament, Maglor is a pillar of strength for your concerns and worries. If you ever feel like you’re falling short of the arrangement’s expectations, or if you’re fearful, confused, unhappy, or distant, he encourages you to confide in him without hesitation. After all, he’s your husband and should be your confidant.

The perk of living with Maglor is a home constantly filled with music and music sheets. You may grumble about the sheets being everywhere but his music room, but he melts away any tension by serenading you with songs dedicated to you. It’s his way of expressing his genuine affection and appreciation for having you in his life.

“I’d like to dedicate my next song to someone I’ve grown close to in such a short time. They’ve found their way into my heart, even if they’re not entirely aware of it. This song is for them, to show how much I truly care and consider them a dear part of my life. So, without further ado, my next piece is in honour of my wonderful spouse.”

Though he may put you on the spot, he hopes that you’ll be moved by his heartfelt dedication. He isn’t being manipulative; his intentions are sincere, and he genuinely appreciates having you in his life.

Among his brothers, Maglor stands out as the most understanding and the one who despises the mistreatment of the arranged marriage. He firmly shuts down conversations that dwell on the circumstances of how you ended up together and replaces them with whimsical tales of your imaginary first encounters. His theatrical skills come into play as he playfully flirts and teases you, creating a charming and flirtatious atmosphere.

Only when you’re comfortable, does he extend his hand or arm for you to hold, patiently listen to your conversations, or spend time planning extravagant surprises.

Throughout your marriage, Maglor’s primary aim is to provide comfort and eliminate any tension or discomfort. You’ll have a loving husband who will fiercely defend your marriage against anyone who challenges it.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Celegorm

Another individual who defiantly scoffs at the arrangement, dismissing it because no one would dare challenge his freedom. Unfortunately, much to his discontent, the news proved true. As a result, he’s now in a fit of rage, flipping tables, and has disappeared for weeks, remaining unseen and unheard.

Tyelko isn’t present during the initial weeks of the arrangement, as he’s off wandering in the forest, complaining to Orome about the perceived unfairness of the situation. All the while, you are left alone in the new house. One can only imagine the shock he’ll experience upon his return.

His return is facilitated by Orome, who encourages him to give the arrangement a chance and approach it with an open mind. Thanks to Orome, your first meeting with Tyelko is relatively amicable, as he meets you standing in the doorway with a concerned expression on your face.

The look of concern you give him is unsettling for Tyelko, as he is accustomed to expecting anger for behaviour. Not knowing how to respond, he might inadvertently snap, making him come across as a jerk. This leads to you becoming reclusive to avoid triggering his temper, making his plan to scare you off fail.

Tyelko soon realises that you rarely speak or interact with him, leaving him to his own devices with homecooked meals and a comforting, caring tone. You even avoid making eye contact when he addresses you directly, leading him to conclude that you’re afraid or hate him.

“Why do you still treat me this way when I have been unpleasant? I don’t like it or enjoy how you look at me. Why must you still care for me when I have been unbothered? Are you manipulating me into feeling guilty? Because if that is the case, I can leave if it stops this unpleasant play. Just why are you still friendly with me?”

You could see the uneasiness in his posture prompting you to feel a sense of pity for neglecting an unheard-of side of him and the pleading tone makes you realise his sincerity. He genuinely wants to know how to end the discomfort in the house.

Accustomed to his harsh nature as described by others, you had found it difficult to imagine him being soft. It was a start in breaking the ice with your views and how you had perceived him to be during the arrangement. To which he scoffed at how you easily fell for the rumours of his roughness (he knows that he’s rough around the edges, but refuses to admit it).

Tyelko cautiously falls into the routine of becoming a caretaker alongside you since you gave him no reason to be hostile. All he can do is hope for the best. He’s still hesitant to let go of his freedom as it brings him peace of mind.

He eventually finds himself slowly warming up to the idea of you doing your best to understand and not readily judge. This eases the preconceived notions he had about you from the beginning. He thought your demeanour was all a façade to control him.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Caranthir

Two distinct reactions unfold the moment he’s abruptly brought up to speed with his situation: firstly, he swears, and secondly, he makes a swift attempt to escape the room. This was far from the life he had envisioned for himself, or any different from what his family had endured. He had heard of such unfortunate circumstances befalling others but never fathomed that he too would become a victim.

He seems rather brooding during the entire introduction, and he’s taken aback by the familiar expression mirrored on your face. He had assumed that you would be delighted, as many individuals often eagerly vie for the role of a prince’s spouse, particularly from the first house.

He remains quiet and distant, wanting to intensify your the distance between. Both of you share similar attitudes towards marriage and living habits, which results in minimal attempts at interaction, with each of you occupying different ends of the house.

Polite greetings are given from your end while he silently grumbles and mutters incomprehensible phrases. You take it as a sign that he doesn’t wish to communicate. Though at times, you tend to feel the weight of his gaze on you, and if you catch him staring, he quickly averts his gaze, returning to his displeasure state.

It’s a significant challenge for him to partially embrace the role of a suitable husband, given the constant reminder of the unexpected circumstances that brought you together. Expressing himself has always been a struggle when in times of comfort forsaken, leading to Caranthir muttering his words grumpily.

“I’m not quite certain how to put this into words, but I want us to be on the same page during this arrangement. So, I’d like to know your expectations and views of me. This way, if I am to avoid you or limit our interactions to prevent any discomfort or tension, I can meet them.”

It’s not an easy task for him to forge a tiny connection when the circumstances makes it daring. He has to be mindful of his temper while closely observing your reactions to his actions. He critically assesses every aspect and draws conclusions accordingly.

When in his own environment and free from intrusion, he attempts to gradually involve you in his world by silently inviting you through non-verbal gestures. You have to get use to the fact that he doesn’t appreciate talking too much. This can offer insight into his true self, allowing you to connect more deeply.

However, as your relationship with Caranthir continues to develop, there are bound to be ups and downs, especially when dealing with his outbursts triggered by various factors or his siblings’ relentless teasing. One way to show your appreciation for your place beside him is by coming to his defence.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Curufin

I’d like to say he’s Feanor 2.0 in terms of his ideas and approach. However, since it’s Feanor orchestrating the arrangement, Curufin is fully on board and understands his father’s perspective on the benefits. I mean, he’s just as competitive as his father, which is the primary reason behind this arrangement.

Curufin perceives this as a political strategy that he must honour and uphold. From the day you met him, he has had no hesitation in stepping forward and reminding you of the duties you must fulfil as his spouse and the newest member of his household. Your loyalty to him must be unwavering.

Although your initial impression of him left you thinking he was controlling and demanding, all Curufin desires from you, aside from his earlier requests, is your comfort and happiness while living with him. You want to expand your house, sure. You desire a spacious backyard, certainly. You hope for more gifts, without a doubt. If you want to discuss your feelings, he’ll make an effort. If you need space, he’s willing to compromise.

I’m serious about this one; you’ll need to compromise with him if you want your own space—by that, I mean wanting to live separately. If you want separate rooms, he can work with that. Curufin has proper etiquette when it comes to the comfort of those he holds dear.

His top priority is to treat his spouse with the utmost care and respect, ensuring all your needs are met. The only thing he asks is that you don’t take advantage of his vulnerability and exert undue control over him.

“As your husband, it is my duty to ensure that all your needs are met, and in return, I expect the same from you. Whatever you require, please come forward and inform me; there’s no need to conceal your desires. Lay them on the table, and we can work on them together as we were intended to do. I also request that you maintain your dignity and pride when it comes to our new household and family, and everything will go smoothly. Furthermore, I ask that you don’t exploit my kindness and keep our personal life within the confines of our home.”

The entire arrangement may sound controlling and suffocating, but Curufin allows you your freedom. He believes in reciprocity—what he wants for himself, he’s willing to provide in return. He puts in his utmost effort to meet your needs, as long as you show the same enthusiasm.

When he attends an event, his greatest desire is for you to accompany him. He takes pride in showcasing his craftsmanship through the pieces he has created especially for you. He spends hours crafting an array of jewellery to match your preferences.

The surprising aspect of this marriage is his firm stance on conversations concerning your arrangement and your relationship. Everyone is aware of it, but he doesn’t allow others to discuss it, not even his brothers. He sees you as his spouse with the arrangement being a thing of the past.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Amrod

Much like Tyelko, Amrod possesses a rebellious spirit, often disappearing when the harsh reality of his situation becomes too apparent. When he does, it’s typically in search of his mother’s advice and assistance. His primary concern is unravelling the mystery of his father’s role in this arranged marriage. Sadly, his suspicions are confirmed as Nerdanel had no say in the matter; it was entirely Feanor’s competitive nature that drove it.

His mother’s invaluable advice to him was to make the best of the situation and take time to get to know you before making any serious commitments. She became his go–to source of guidance whenever he found himself in a tight spot.

Fast forward to the time when he meets you, he’s fully aware that you aren’t thrilled about the arrangement and even contemplated an escape before the introduction. It hurt to hear that you were reluctant to give him a chance, as he was open to doing so. This prompted his dedication to ensuring that the time you spent with him was worthwhile.

Much like Maglor, he’s determined to fill your days with joy and dispel the clouds of resentment, all while maintaining a respectful distance to avoid overstepping any boundaries. Whenever your responses leave him puzzled, he frequently seeks advice from his mother.

Simultaneously, he avoids his father due to his disgust at being essentially bartered like a commodity for his father’s satisfaction. Any discussion related to his marriage is swiftly shut down, and he walks away. He has no interest in hearing comments or mockery about the arrangement.

However, there’s no need to worry because he receives guidance from his mother. If you wish to converse with him, he encourages you to speak openly and share your thoughts without fear. He wants to hear your perspective on things.

“Please understand that I may not be the most well–known among my siblings, and you may have heard little about me. Nonetheless, please don’t hesitate to express your thoughts. While we may not be romantically involved or incredibly close, I will do my utmost to work towards a harmonious relationship. Please give me the opportunity to build something prosperous between us.”

Amrod is dedicated to establishing a secure friendship between the two of you before any romantic involvement comes into play. He aims to create a space where you can feel comfortable and relaxed without the weight of the arranged marriage hanging over your heads. There’s no rush, and you both have the time to sort out your duties and positions as your friendship grows.

Throughout your journey from friendship to romance, Amrod maintains a gentlemanly demeanour. Though you may encounter some challenges along the way, they will be infrequent. Your relationship won’t be flawless, as it’s impossible to forget that you were both thrust into this arrangement without your consent. However, it’s something you can bond over and find common ground to overcome your fears.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Amras

The quieter of the two siblings, Amras, maintains his silence even when informed of his situation. His irritation is clearly visible on his face, which leaves you anxious about what to anticipate. He reserves his complaints for private conversations with his twin and mother, all due to his father’s insistence on marriage, which he feels is encroaching on his freedom.

Amras’s silence remains constant from the moment you first met him. Your relationship is marred by a sense of being strangers living under the same roof. He refrains from even greeting you, still seething over the situation and pondering how to express his anger.

Despite his understanding that you played no part in arranging this engagement, Amras can’t prevent his anger from simmering. It’s not directed at you but rather at both sets of parents for their low regard for both of you. Amras struggles to find a way to communicate his feelings without intimidating you.

Amras notices your tendency to distance yourself whenever you’re in the same room with him or when you shrink under his silently judgmental gaze. Your eyes rarely meet his, and when they do, you quickly look away. Your actions make him feel as though he has harmed you or been hostile towards you at some point.

“Could it be that you...resent me for the circumstances that have come between us? You hardly speak to me even when I desire it, fearing rejection and silence. I can sense your anger over what your parents have done, and I share that anger. Perhaps we could attempt to build something together, starting as acquaintances and moving from there.”

His voice breaks, and he likely breaks down, allowing you to witness his vulnerability as he cries. He’s confused and doesn’t know what to do. All he wants is your guidance and support to navigate the storm he’s been thrust into. You are the only lifeline in the ocean he can rely on, just as you rely on him.

Amras may appear somewhat awkward, much like Caranthir, as he observes you in your element, awed by your ability to remain resolute. He is eager to assist and hopes that you will show him what is expected of him, as he has few memories of his parents’ dynamics and relationships.

His primary goal is to become the best husband possible for you, but he first wants to establish a basic foundation and compatibility. He follows you like an eager puppy, observing your features and silently appreciating your beauty. He feels fortunate to have ended up with someone good.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Celebrimbor

The moment those words escape his advisor’s lips, he feels a strong urge to toss them out the window. The idea of following his family’s tradition makes Tyelpë shudder. He neither desires marriage nor believes he’s capable of being a great husband, haunted as he is by his old life. He fears that others assume he will repeat his family’s mistakes.

Despite his personal reservations, he acknowledges the political necessity of the situation for the betterment of his kingdom. Consequently, he has no choice but to go with the flow and bear the burden. Upon being introduced to you, he maintains a stiff demeanour, silently repeating to himself, “Don’t mess up, don’t scare them.”

His conduct in this moment is heavily influenced by the obligation he feels toward the prosperity of his people, even though he resents it. Tyelpë can’t help but grind his teeth at the thought, as he believes there must be alternative ways to improve his homeland. However, like everyone else except Feanor, Tyelpe is reserved, observant, and respectful. He listens to you chatter on about the benefits of unifying both kingdoms while silently stewing in his own thoughts.

Polite and approachable, he makes an effort to ensure you don’t feel alienated by his role as your future husband. He respects your boundaries and the need for distance between you, given that you are still strangers.

“Please do not harbour any ill feelings toward me for the choices I’ve made to secure myself. We are still in the process of getting to know each other, and my intentions are far from ostracising you. The concept of an arranged marriage and warming up to a stranger from a distant land is still a challenge for me. I have much to learn, so I ask for your patience.”

During the pre–courtship period before your marriage, Tyelpë is a gentleman and crafts small trinkets as tokens of his growing fondness for you. These may include a hairpin, hair comb, bracelet, earrings, or a simple pendant necklace. He saves the more extravagant designs for when he becomes more accustomed to his role as your partner.

While you need not fear his temper, he kindly requests that you refrain from flaunting your relationship in public, even though everyone is aware of the arrangement. Tyelpë values his privacy and would be disappointed if his personal life became a topic of discussion.

Be prepared to spend nights alone in bed, as he isn’t yet comfortable sharing his personal space. He might suggest having separate chambers until some time has passed and he’s warmed up to the idea of closer proximity. He simply asks for your understanding, as his reclusive tendencies are his source of comfort.

The only potential challenge you may face is his reclusive behaviour persisting for a longer period than expected. He is aware that you may eventually come to terms with being paired with him, but he struggles with it. There are unresolved issues from his past that he needs to address before fully embracing someone new in his life.

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