#like you have the opportunity to attend the biggest night in fashion | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rogersevans · 2 years

Text

Enchanted | IIII

Summary: You didn't expect filling in for your colleague would have the most successful man in Boston besotted with you.

18+ Content Below the Cut, Minors DNI

masterlist | one | two | three

“He what?!” Lizzie shrieked through the speaker as your moved around your kitchen, pouring yourself a large glass of wine whilst the food you had in the oven cooked.

“Don’t make me repeat it.” You grumbled, rubbing your temples to dull the headache that was currently working its way behind your eyes. “It’s like I have a stalker, but without the creepiness.”

“It’s still fucking creepy. It’s like he has this hold on your life, all he needs now is a basement in his house to keep you there.” The blonde shrieked through the speaker and Ari’s low chuckle could be heard on the other end. “I can totally see him making you his basement wife. Did you know that was a thing?!”

“I don’t think you’re helping.” You appreciated the striking contrast in his tone compared to Lizzie’s, even if it did have the tiniest hint of disapproval to it.

“She isn’t.” You grumbled back, resting your phone on the counter as you bent down to check on your cheap oven meal you grabbed on your way home from work. You don’t know how Ari had become a part of your daily life, but here the beefcake was providing you advice and guidance on how to deal with your... situation.

“Did you respond to him?” You didn’t, too angry to think of a witty response. The anger never left you all day or two weeks after the fact. It still burned inside of you, making your skin feel hot and prickly with how bothered you became whenever you thought too much about it. You’d spent the past two weeks stomping around the office, muttering to yourself as you watched in envy as Ellie flitted about attending endless interviews.

Especially when she’d been given the opportunity to interview Mrs Mackie. The one name on top of your bucket list to interview. Your boss fully aware of this, but still held eye contact with you during the morning briefing as she alerted Ellie of the good news. A slick smirk tugging at the corners of her lips, like she was enjoying it.

Ellie had approached you, tail between her legs, hat in hand and the biggest puppy dog eyes she could muster. You liked Ellie, you found her to be bubbly and eager to please. You’d worked next to each other for the past year and she was the least annoying co-worker in your office. But there was a reason she worked on the fashion, she was a fumbler, constantly tripping over her own words. You almost lost your temper when Ellie danced around the subject of asking you for help in preparing for the interview with the most powerful woman in Boston. But you knew it wasn’t her, more like your boss advising her to do so.

So, you stayed late all that week to help her prep for the Friday interview. You were convinced Ellie had your number on speed dial by this point.

Your boss was surprised when you sent over your finished articles by Thursday afternoon, a day earlier than she’d asked. Convinced you’d fail meeting the deadline with Ellie relentlessly pestering you. Like she wanted you to fail, like it was your fault Chris Evans had reprimanded her in the first place.

Three texts from Chris sat in your messages, and all three had gone unanswered. But, of course, left on read. You found yourself re-reading them as Lizzie waffled on about her day in the background:

Chris: Enjoy your first day back, Princess.

Chris: What? No thank you?

Chris: Go to dinner with me.

The third text had you faltering, blinking at your screen in shock. It had come through earlier on your walk home. Almost two weeks of blissful silence from him.

Well, that’s if you don’t count the younger looking man that had been seen outside of your apartment and office on numerous occasions. His blue eyes would ungracefully look elsewhere whenever yours met them.

On the third night of his watchful presence, you startled him when you rapped your knuckles against the blacked-out window, a Tupperware of something in the other. You learnt his name was Jake, that he worked for Chirs, unofficially, too scared to ask him to elaborate you handed him the Tupperware before darting back into your apartment building.

Now you felt used to his presence. You’d built up a routine with Jake. You’d learnt that he wasn’t the smoothest of talkers, he fumbled a lot, made a lot of references you didn’t understand. A techy genius. Every night at 6pm on the dot, you brought him down some food. Every night something different.

You remember hearing Jake call out to you when you stopped dead in the street, making sure you were ok. The sound of him cutting the engine brought you back to the present to stop him from getting out of his car. Dismissing it as reading something you read online.

It took you a few minutes to regain composure, your eyes re-reading the message when you stepped into your apartment building. Your fingers twitching to reply to him, something snarky perhaps? Anger mixing with something you weren’t sure of. Something that felt a lot like... Butterflies? That’s when you felt it, your heart hammering against your ribs, winding you. Your palms sweaty as you reached to press the button for your floor in the elevator. A warm feeling blooming in your chest, making your cheeks flush.

As you re-read the message now you couldn’t stop your mind from picturing what he would wear to a date. Would he be dressed in a perfectly pressed suit? Or would it be more casual? Does he even own a pair of jeans? Wait, hold the fuck up. Did you want to go on a date with him?

Before you could answer your own question the sound of another call coming through had pulled you from your reverie. Your mouth going dry and the sight of the name.

Chris.

“Shit.” You mumbled, suddenly flustered as you stood from your bent over position.

“What? What’s wrong?” Lizzie asked, ignoring how you interrupted her story.

“Nothing. I’ll call you back.” Was all you said before deciding to end the call and accepting Chris’s. “Evans.” You greeted him curtly, placing your palms on the counter top, starring ahead of you.

“There you are.” He called through the speaker, his voice deep and soft. His tone indicating that he was happy to finally hear from you. “I was beginning to think you were ignoring me, princess.”

“I just answered to tell you to fuck off.” You spat, earning a low chuckle from him. “Stalking can land you five years of prison time, as well as a hefty fine.”

“You don’t seem to have a problem with it. What was it tonight? Casserole? Very domestic.” Chris hummed in response. Of course, Jake had told him you’d been feeding him.

Rolling your eyes, you spun on your heels to turn the oven off before turning back to your phone. “Oh yes, Jake, I like him, he’s very charming.” You purred into the speaker, smirking when you hear him huff in annoyance. “He knows how basic human communication works. Unlike you.”

It took him a couple of minutes before he could respond, calming his nerves. You were trying rile him up and it was working. He hated the effect you had on him, the hairs on the back of his neck sticking up with irritation.

“Go out with me. Just one date.” He gently purred at you, causing your heart to flutter furiously.

“My answer is still the same. No.” No matter how much your heart rate increased around him, how nervous he made you. The answer will always be no. No matter how much you felt yourself wavering with each no.

“You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you? Don’t make me beg.” He pleaded softly, his tone light.

“Oh please, have you ever had a women say no to you before?” You couldn’t stop the roll of your eyes thankful he couldn’t see you as you found yourself leaning into the call. Resting your elbows on the counter and your chin in your palm. Genuinely interested in his answer.

“Well-”

“On second thought, don’t answer that question.”

“Common darlin’,” he drawled, his accent coming out thick as he spoke and rendering you weak in the moment. “I’ll beg, don’t think I won’t. Is that what you want? Get me on my knees?”

You didn’t mean to stay silent you had the perfect response lined up. But his accent caused the words to fizzle out on your tongue, your mouth opening and shutting a few times before he spoke up again.

“Say the word and I’ll be round within the hour, on my knees baby.” He cooed from the other end, a deep chuckle rumbling through his chest when he heard your squeak of a you wish in response.

Sebastian watched from his seat next to Chris, his eyes lighting up in delight when he heard you hang up on his friend. Not being able to hold back his laughter. “You’re fucking whipped, you know that right? And she won’t even give you the time of day.” His fist now balled up and covering his mouth to hold in his laughter.

“Shut it, Stan.” Chris snarled, twiddling his phone between his thumb and index finger before sliding it into his pocket. His mind on your response and how your voice had become higher in pitch when you spoke.

“I think it’s sweet, Evans finally got himself a girl. Who knew you were capable of human emotion? Me and the Mrs had bets on when the time would come, she doubted you.” Anthony mocked from his chair, sat opposite his friends. They’d been having a meeting when the topic of conversation had changed to you, Chris doesn’t even remember how it happened. But one daring comment from Sebastian about how Chris didn’t have the balls to ring you and ask you out had him dialling your number so quick he almost stuttered when you answered.

“Damn straight I did.” Came a fourth voice, a lot softer than their deeper ones, making all three men turn their heads in the direction of the door.

Mrs Mackie. Anthony’s girl. She had been somewhat of an enigma over the years, rarely seen in the eyes of the media, but her presence was strong within their world. She and Chris had been friends since they first opened their eyes, born days apart from one another, her being the eldest. A fact she liked to remind the Bostonian of. She had more experience in their field of work then all three combined, her father being the head of the biggest crime family in Boston. Something that rivalled the Stans.

A thing of beauty, she had every man she met falling at her feet. Including her husband. They met when they were teenagers, Chris had shielded her from his friends at first. Until she had him pinned, giving him a mean Chinese burn, forcing his hand. Like she always did.

Anthony was 18 when they met, two years her senior, and he still remembers the feeling of butterflies erupting through his entire stomach when he first laid eyes on her. He became enamoured with her, spent time getting to know her, driving her to school, showing up at her bedroom window unannounced in the middle of the night, they’d spend hours talking. It took him three months to get the courage to ask her out, he remembers it perfectly, she’d cornered him in her room. Demanding to know when he was going to ask her out.

“There she is.” Sebastian cooed with a beaming smile, ignoring Anthony’s eye roll.

“You doubtin’ me?” Chris greeted his longest friend, his tone light and teasing as he stood to plant a gentle kiss to her cheek, giving the small of her back a gentle rub.

“Don’t I always?” She quipped back, giving his arm a quick squeeze before moving round to greet Sebastian with a tight hug. “Someone needs to keep you in check.”

Both men watched as she sauntered around Anthony’s desk, resting her hand on his shoulder before giving his lips a quick peck and shoving his shoulder for him to move. It never ceased to amaze them how soft he was for her. It shouldn’t shock them how he lifted himself up from the chair with ease in seconds and holding the chair out for her. But it did.

From the moment they met they knew he was a goner. From the across the room, she had him in the palm of her hand, then her eyes met his and he was falling so deep they struggled to pull him out.

“Now, who’s this poor girl and what have you done to her?” Leaning back in the chair, she smiled when she felt Anthony’s hands rest on her shoulders.

“You told her?” Chris directed at Anthony, his brows shooting up in surprise.

“Not everything.” He clarified with a wave of his hand. “I told her there’s a girl. But I thought I’d let you fill her in.” Smirking across at him, earning a huff from Chris.

Chris began explaining the whole story, from the first day he met you in the elevator to now. Too caught up with his story and finding himself becoming frustrated at how things had transpired between you both. The hard stare, one that if looks could kill he’d be 6ft below quicker than he could blink, coming from the fiery female directly opposite from him going unnoticed by the frustrated brunette. Her annoyance growing the more Chris spoke.

It happened all at once, like a blur of colours as she stood from her seat, her hands firmly pressed against the desk as she leant over and lifting one to smack him upside the head. Everything about the woman might be tiny in comparison to the bulky, and pure muscle of the three men in her presence. But make no mistake, her strike was powerful.

It had Chris faltering mid conversation, leaving him to rub where she’d just smacked him and mumbling a quiet, what the fuck. Blinking at her as he watched her sit back down, leaning forward and her nostrils flaring. “What the hell are you doing?” Silence is her answer, Chris becoming confused quicker than his brain could catch up. “Let me get this straight,” she continued, holding her hand up to silence his ramblings when he did deicide to speak. “You cornered this poor woman in your office, encouraged to talk about something you knew you’d have a problem with, then have the audacity to get her suspended?!” Shaking her head in anger, mumbling something about how dumb men are.

“I got her, her job back!” Chris tried to reason with her, his hands going up in surrender. Anthony and Sebastian both tittering to themselves at this point, standing off to the side. Anthony loved seeing his wife in action, nothing got the blood rushing to his dick quicker.

“Don’t even get me started on that.” Her voice now low as she snarled. She had a lot of passions in her life, a lot of things she cared about. The main one being her family, specifically her daughter. Which lit the fire within her to create a more equal society for her to grow up in. She fought hard for women and their rights. “You do realise women have to fight so much harder than men, just to be heard? Do you think I got to where I am because of my talent or dedication? No, but I worked hard to make people see past my last name.” Taking a deep breath through her nostrils, she allowed her eyes to flutter shut, taking the time to calm down before she opened them again. “You took her job away from her and then gave it back! Do you have any idea of how powerless that made her feel?”

“Baby.” Anthony cooed, taking a step towards the desk tentatively, wanting to help his friend out. Watching the 6ft man cower under her stare, knowing how intimidating his wife can be.

“Don’t defend him,” she demanded with finality, her head whipping in his direction and her brow arched. “Or do you want to spend the night on the couch?”

“You’re on your own on this one, man.” Was all Anthony said before he ushered Sebastian out of the room, ignoring his protests and whines of Evans is having his ass handed to him right now and I’m missing the show.

“Now,” she continued once the door clicked shut, taking in Chris’s sheepish demeanour. “You like her, don’t you?” His opened, then closed, then opened again. He did this a couple of times before she interjected. “I thought you did. Although, it’s a funny fucking way of showing it.” She huffed, relaxing back into the big leather chair. “This isn’t the 40’s. You can’t just throw your weight around, act like an alpha male and bang your chest to get her attention.”

“I don’t do that.” Chris defended weakly, his chest puffing out in defence and brows frowned. Oozing alpha male attitude.

“You’re such a fucking ape.” She grumbled in return, making Chris snort in retaliation. The tension suddenly easing in the room. “But you’re my best friend and I love you, Evans.” The soft smile that now graced her lips, had his unspoken anxieties settling in an instant. Not that he would ever admit it, but she scared the shit out of him. He remembers how she used to pin him with one hand when they were kids, no underestimation that she could still do that now. No matter their age.

“So, out of pity. I’m going to help you.” He beamed across at her and she couldn’t help but return it back to him. “But,” she warned, dragging the word. “You do as I say, none of that CEO energy bullshit. You want the girl; you listen to me. Got it?”

Chris couldn’t have nodded quicker, almost giving himself whiplash. On the edge of his seat, listening intently to every word she spoke. Detailing her plan.

Sundays were your favourite day. You always took the morning to tidy your apartment and then spent the rest of the day on couch, it was your re-set day. Everyone knew this. Which is why you couldn’t help the confusion in your tone when you answered the call from Scarlett.

“Scarlett? Hey...” She never rang you. She hardly rang her own sister at times, she was more of a texter you’d come to learn over the years. Always claiming to be too busy to call people.

“Are you dressed? If not, throw something cute on, we’re going a BBQ.” She greeted with a cheer.

“A BBQ? What? Scar, its Sunday-”

“I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.” She sang through the speaker before the line went dead, leaving you confused.

Ten minutes later you found Scarlett letting herself into your apartment, key in hand as she pushed the front door open with her hip and lifting her sunglasses so they rested on top of her head.

“How the hell did you get a key?!” You shrieked, pushing yourself off the couch to rest your hands on your hips, your brows shooting up in shock.

“What? I got one cut.” She explained simply with a shrug of her shoulders. “I have one for Lizzie’s as well, just in case of emergencies.” You’d normally find the sentiment sweet, knowing Scarlett wasn’t one for tender moments. But you were to irked that someone had the nerve to disrupt your Sunday routine.

“Scar-”

“You’re not dressed! Come on dingus! I gave you strict instructions, we’ve got places to be, people to see!” Not giving you time to protest she marched over to you and started pushing you towards your bedroom. “Now, you go shower and I’ll sort you an outfit out.” Opening your bathroom door and shoving you in before closing it behind you, not giving you room to interject. Leaving you stood in your bathroom, shocked and confused as hell.

20 minutes later you found yourself in the passenger seat of her car, things had been silent since you left your apartment. The baby pink sundress she had picked out for you rested mid-thigh on you, the hem tickling your skin whenever you moved. The white high-top converses complementing the outfit nicely.

“Wanna tell me what we’re doing?” You finally asked, eyeing her suspiciously from your seat.

“I told you, going to a BBQ.” Remaining tight lipped about the situation, you felt ambushed and flustered. You didn’t like surprises, in fact you hated them.

“Ok,” you huff. “Where is this mysterious BBQ?”

“The Mackie’s.” She mumbled, her eyes never leaving the road in front of her.

“What!?” You shrieked, making the blonde across from you wince. “Are you kidding me?!”

“Don’t panic, alright? I know his wife, she’s a good friend of mine. Total sweetheart. Until you piss her off. But you won’t, because I’ll be there!” What else didn’t you know about Scarlett? It's like she led this double life. The version you and Lizzie were involved in, and the other where she had dealings with the seedy underworld of crime. How flippantly she explained that she was ‘good friends’ with Mrs Mackie, like she was just some regular Joe she’d met at work.

“Why am I even invited? This is weird. I don’t know them.” You whined once you took in the mansion Scarlett had parked outside of, mumbling a quiet ‘fuck’ to yourself. It was like something out of a murder mystery, like you’re about to step onto the set of Downton Abbey. The pink blossom trees surrounding the property making it seem less, off with your head.

“Mackie liked you, plus she wanted to meet you.” The blond shrugged simply, grabbing her bag from the backseat and jumping out of the car with you shortly following behind.

“Meet me? Why?” Rounding the front of the car, your hands smoothing down the hem of your dress. Now you wondered if the dress you were forced to wear was too short, too casual. But as you took in Scarlett’s casual denim shorts and loosely tucked in AC/DC shirt, that had seen better days, the uneasy feeling settled within you slightly.

“She heard what happened at the club, and everything that happened with Chris.” Her hands coming to rest on your shoulders, giving them a comforting squeeze. “Stop asking so many questions and just enjoy the day.” Not giving you another second to protest, she grabbed your hand and lead you around the side of the property, clocking the guards protectively dotted around the property and covering every exit.

You hadn’t even rounded the corner of the side gate when you were greeted by hostess in question, her arms tightly wrapping around you and smile stretching to meet her eyes. “I can’t believe your powers of persuasion worked Johansson.” The rare photos of her circulating the internet had nothing on her beauty in person, there was no hair out of place on her head and her makeup had been applied perfectly. You know the barley there look, that leaves you wondering? Yeah, she nailed it. Her height towered over you only slightly, and her embrace felt like you’d known one another for years.

She was doing nothing for your confidence.

“I’ve heard so much about you.” She teased, reaching over to hug Scarlett, her hands rubbing up and down her back.

“Weird. I haven’t heard a thing about you.” You quipped back, your eyes playfully narrowing in on Scarlett when they released one another.

Her laugh reached your ears and you swore you’d never heard anything more poetic. No one had a perfect laugh, you knew this, if you laughed too hard, you’d snort. Lizzie’s genuine laugh was more of a wheeze and Scarlett’s was more of a cackle. But no. The woman stood in front of you right now had laugh that sounded like it had been crafted by angles.

Ok. Maybe that was a bit dramatic. But you were finding it hard to believe this woman had any flaws.

“My husband told me you were funny.” Anthony spoke about you? Does that mean Chris speaks about you to him? “I’m glad you could make it.” Her tone genuine and her eyes sincere, distracting you from your thoughts.

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” You grumbled, again, your eyes playfully narrowing in on Scarlett’s green ones, earning an eyeroll from her.

“Would you like a drink? Beer? Wine? Cocktail?” Her brows waggling at the last suggestion, her eyes dancing between you and Scarlett. You’d never felt so out of place somewhere.

“Beer is fine.” Was your only reply, Scarlett agreeing with you. You both watched as she spun on the heels of her flip flops, sauntering through the crowd of people, her smile never faltering.

You took the time to actually look around the back garden, if you want to call it that, it more resembled three soccer pitches together. It was beautifully decorated, fairy lights strung throughout, a BBQ- which looked like something they’d bought from the space station, situated by the backdoor, a bar sat beside it with 2 freaking bartenders behind it muddling drinks. A massive pool sat in the centre of it all and off to the far right, a giant children’s climbing frame. The garden was packed with people, some faces you recognised and some you didn’t. The sight of children running around and laughing was something you would’ve picked out of a movie.

“Where’s my favourite girl?!” You heard a gravelly voice call from behind you, looking over your shoulder you caught a glimpse of Chris, your brain going still in the moment.

He wore a navy-blue t-shirt and matching trunks, sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose shielding his eyes from you. He was crouched and his arms open wide and the corners of his lips reaching his eyes in a beaming smile as a young girl ran into them, knocking him back and landing on his ass, both finding the interaction hilarious as he held her close, one hand holding her head and the firmly wrapped around her tiny frame.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You grumbled, turning back to face the rest of the party. There were those pesky butterflies again, fuck you butterflies.

“Oh, don’t tell me. You’re going soft on him?” Scarlett teased a knowing smirk now evident as her elbow nudged your side. “What? You see him with a kid and suddenly your legs are spread?”

“You’re disgusting.” You huff in annoyance.

“And you’re only human.” She quipped back quickly before Anthony’s wife could hear as she approached you both, three beers in hand. Resisting the urge, the look over your shoulder again, a warmth blooming in your chest at the sound of his laughter.

This was going to be a long day.

#chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x fem!reader #chris evans x female!reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x f!reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans angst #chris evans fanfiction #cevansedit #cevans #evansedit

270 notes · View notes

jarchaeology · 2 years

Note

Hi! Okay, i have just discovered your blog in the middle of a night...and..i mean...how..what...i am having a FUCKING blast! Even tho i can't pin my exact emotions: am i horny, sad, confused, shocked, hysterically laughing, having a fashion crisis, cringed all the way, crying because i can't even imagine the amount of shit young fruity jackles was thru because of his looks? Anyway this is super entertaining and it feels like a whole new universe i can explore. Thank you for your amazing skills and time that you are devoting to this, its A-mazing! I kinda want to be friends with you now.. I am also super interested on how did you started to collect this things, what was the motivation to dig, i understood that you are an avid explorer, i totally get that, its awesome, i mean why young era Jensen, what's the appeal for you in these things? I am just super curious, if you don't mind answering, ofcourse 💜 Sending you THE biggest hugs and 1 billion points to your karma for bringing us froofy jackles gifts ✨️

i'm sorry this took me forever! this was so sweet and i had to wait for the time to properly respond. thank you for the kind words. and your patience. 🥰

ok and on to your questions about why this blog and why this subject. someone on the dash asked for young jensen pictures and i decided to give it a shot. i sent what i found over anon. i was good at it, so i kept going.

i am, admittedly, the daughter of an amazing amateur sleuth. my mom is a badass. people think i'm lying when i tell stories about her. she has a personal letter from a US president thanking her for one of her valiant finds. one time, i told her that there was a cute customer at work. all i said was that his name was matt, he was gay, and he lived in the bay area. there are almost 8 million people in the bay area, but she found him within a day. he wasn't even on facebook.

so i've got that going for me. and also, life was really really fucking stressful for me at the time. i needed the distraction.

the narrow timeframe came later. i've said it before, but the people behind soaps weren't selling tv, they were selling a miniature hollywood that they created. a microcosm of celebrity culture that could fill the pages of multiple issues of soap opera magazines every single week.

stars were contractually obligated to attend events and these events were a major portion of the actors' income. if a character did well, the networks rewarded the actors with more appearance opportunities. the show was filmed with lightning speed, and the rest of the week was for interviews and photoshoots and personal appearances. they sold cookbooks and board games and award shows and cds and dolls and cruises.

i saw all of this, and really latched on. it was a puzzle that i could put together. data points were available, and i knew i could find more. it got to the point where anything outside of the soap opera years just really wasn't interesting to me. but also, young jensen was very pretty. so that helped.

#longest answer ever

24 notes · View notes

news4usonline · 1 year

Text

Rihanna and the Super Bowl halftime show

PHOENIX (News4usonline) - The name Rihanna speaks for itself. She is a music superstar. She has evolved into a global brand. She is a fashion and beauty icon. She has climbed her way into billionaire status financially. So what can Rihanna add to her already impressive resume? Performing at halftime of Super Bowl LVII in Glendale, Arizona. “The Fenty highlighter is definitely helping today because I have yet to sleep,” Rihanna remarked at the start of the Apple Music Super Bowl Halftime Show press conference at the Phoenix Convention Center. “We were working at the event all last night, and I kind of just stayed there and prepped. Somehow, I’m here at this press conference right now.”

Rihanna taking part in the Apple Music Super Bowl Halftime Show press conference on Feb. 9, 2023. Photo by Dennis J. Freeman/News4usonline When it comes to artists performing during halftime of a Super Bowl, not only is this the biggest sports stage in the world where the best of the best come to play football at its highest level, entertainers also have the pressure of living up to the billing and the hype. There have been some notable hits and misses for the intermission show. Prince, Michael Jackson, Beyonce & Destiny Child, Janet Jackson, and Super Bowl LVI that featured Dr. Dre, Mary J. Blige, Snoop Dogg, Kendrick Lamar, and 50 Cent round out the Top 5 best performances. Topping the 2022 Super Bowl halftime show with Lamar, Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, Eminem, 50 Cent, and Blige is a tough follow-up act. But no worries, Rihanna is here. Even though it has been years since she last took the stage to do a major concert, Apple Music and the NFL don’t have any qualms about whether Rihanna can deliver. And in a big way. Lately, it’s been Super Bowl or bust for Rihanna. She admitted during the crowded presser that she’s been so locked into her performance that she has pretty much put everything else on the back burner. “I’ve been so focused on the Super Bowl, I’ve totally forgotten that my birthday is coming up. I totally forgot about Valentine’s Day. I’m just like, ‘Super Bowl, Super Bowl, Super Bowl,’” she said. “So, a lot of preparation, a lot of moving parts. And this week, this is the week that it really is being tested. “Everyone, we’re just tightening up everything. Everybody’s dialing in, everybody’s tuning up, and a lot of moving parts. I mean, it’s literally three to four hundred people breaking this stage down and building it back up and getting it out in eight minutes. It’s incredible. It’s almost impossible.” While it seems to be a daunting task, Rihanna is nonetheless thrilled to be a big part of Super Bowl LVII. “I don’t know if I could do that in eight minutes,” said Rihanna. “But we’re excited to do the Super Bowl. We are. We’ve been working on it for a while.” Delving into her Fenty Beauty line and being a mother has largely shelved Rihanna’s stage being able to perform for years. With that said, landing the Apple Music Super Bowl Halftime Show gig was the right opportunity for her now, she felt. “It feels like it could have only been now,” Rihanna said. “When I first got the call to do it again this year, I was like, ‘You sure? Like I’m three months postpartum. Should I be making major decisions like this right now? Like I might regret this.’ But when you become a mom, there is something that just happens where you feel like you can take on the world. You can do anything. The Super Bowl is one of the biggest stages in the world. So, as scary as that was because I haven’t been on stage in seven years, there’s something exhilarating about the challenge of it all.” Rihanna shared with the audience full of media members that part of her success is not being shy about putting her stamp on what she wants, whether it’s her music, beauty line, or performing at the Super Bowl.

Rihanna attending the Apple Music Super Bowl Halftime Show press conference on Feb.9, 2023. Photo by Dennis J. Freeman/News4usonline “I’m definitely not one that’s worried about coming off too bossy,” Rihanna quipped. “I’ve been bossy all my life ever since I was a little girl I promise you this…like helluva annoying, too. I know some people get irritated, but, you know, it’s riding on me. There are a lot of people who are part of this show, and a huge part of the reason why this show is going to be as incredible as it is. I couldn’t have done it without them. “But you know what, at the end of the day, if it flops or it flies, my name has to stand by that. So, I really get involved in every aspect of anything that I do, whether it’s the Super Bowl, whether it’s a makeup product, whether it’s Savage Lingerie. Like whatever I do, I’m that annoying girl who’s going to talk about everything. I want to see the copy on the website. I want to name every lipstick that I make. Like, I care about it. I love it. I love it.” Read the full article

#AppleMusicHalftime #Rihanna #SuperBowlLVII

2 notes · View notes

dbs-superleggera · 2 years

Text

Vice Script Acid Gardens

Event Model

Location: Global

Time of Event: Year Round

A menswear show during which some of the biggest brands in the world gather to display their new selections to buyers, writers, and lovers of menswear from across the globe.

House of Chaárms: Day 1 Tattoo Artist Convention and Shoes & Accessories, Day 2 Clothing and Mecha & Cyberpunk Video Games, Day 3 Resale Market and Jeweler Show, Day 4 Art Show and Tagging Clinic, Day 5 Barber Convention & Fintech Investment Fair, Day 6 Redbull BMX Flatland Freestyle Showcase, Day 7 Mecha & Cyberpunk Video Game Debut ESports Tournament

Influence

Pitti Uomo is one of the world's most important platforms for men's clothing and accessory collections, and for launching new projects in men's fashion. It's held twice yearly in Florence, at the Fortezza da Basso.

A trade show is an event held to bring together members of a particular industry to display, demonstrate, and discuss their latest products and services. Major trade shows usually take place in convention centers in larger cities and last several days

Items showcased at Pitti Uomo can only be bought in Bulk and Wholesale

Business Model

Victoria Secret Fashion Show Business Model Highlights

By featuring young, popular models with huge social media followings, such as Gigi Hadid and Kendall Jenner, plus buzzy pop acts like The Weeknd and Selena Gomez, Victoria’s Secret ensures they appeal to an ever-fickle young audience

“It’s about newness so every year this is updated with the latest music and trends,” notes Oliver Chen, Managing Director and Senior Equity Research Analyst covering retail at Cowen and Company. “This is a way to keep up with millennials.”

Still, that appeal comes at a price. A 2011 estimate pegged the fashion show’s cost at some $12 million; a far cry from the $200,000 to $1 million pricetag of typical fashion shows .

“We don’t disclose [how much we spend],” says Turney. “It’s not as much as you would think and it actually pays for itself five times over.”

Part of its recuperation comes from licensing the show to CBS for an estimated $1 million-plus. Over 9.1 million viewers tuned in to the show last year, according to Nielsen, down from 9.7 million in 2013 . Reports peg 30-second ad prices during the event at some $200,000.

Victoria’s Secret also earns back from corporate sponsorship–six different brands including Swarovski and Fujifilm sponsored this year’s show. For the honor of having your curling iron or chocolate backstage with the models–and accompanying media circus–companies are willing to pay upwards of $25,000.

Victoria’s Secret does not sell tickets to the live event–the 2,000-odd passes are handed out to select celebrities, journalists and corporate guests in an attempt to bolster its scarcity value.

Instead of using human models I'm using luxury goods models

Customer Obsession

Dress Code Competition

Creative White Shoe dress code allows for some swagger

There's an anonymous judge who attends the event and chooses the winner. Winners (one male and one female) are announced at the end of the night. Have social media take on if the right winner was chosen. Cause a debate

Prize

Donation to foundation or charity

2 week full access stay at the Events Host Hotel

Shoes Competition

There's an anonymous judge who attends the event and chooses the winner

Winners (one male and one female) are announced at the end of the night. Have social media take on if the right winner was chosen. Cause a debate

Prize

Donation to foundation or charity

2 week full access stay at the Events Host Palace Hotel

Investment Fairs

Organize Investment Fair for entrepreneurs to bring ideas forward for real estate opportunities

Make this a public event with a minimum net worth criteria

This leads to more connections

Cross Industry Involvement

Graffitiwear Trade Shows Include:

Graffiti Artist

Models

Gamers

Extreme Sports Artist

Fashion Designers

Tattoo Artists

Jewelers

Realtech & Fintech Entrepreneurs

CHIGGA PROPERTY

0 notes

hiraethenthusiast · 3 years

Text

The Hollandairé | t.h.

pairing: ceo!tom x ceo! reader

word count: 16k+

synopsis: exes cross paths on a big event. will they be able to forget each other's mistakes?

warnings: language, sexual innuendos, mentions of an anxiety attack (if you squint), talks about miscarriage, my favourite angst.

a/n: well, well, well im back from a very shitty writers block! look at me, writing angst with exes? oof. can you tell that i absolutely love angst and makeouts in the end? i was somehow inspired by 'idfc' by blackbear to write this fic lol. it took some time and ofcourse i went overboard with it, so hope you enjoy! don't forget to like and reblog! (i even made a moodboard kinda thing uwuwu)

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

"Conan I won't hesitate to knee you in the crotch if you don't stop pulling me off this sofa right this second" You tell your roommate, who is desperately trying to get you to go to a gala with him. Being a CEO brings its pros and cons. Pros being, you have a private jet, you're your own boss and you can shout at people with a reason. Cons being, annoyingly nice roommates. You had just shifted to a penthouse in downtown London with your friend Conan, because you refused to stay alone in this bigass house. (You tried living alone once, you were bored to death)

"Conan leave me alone yoo!" You said whining and hunching back into the sofa.

"Get the fuck up and get ready for the launch dude you promised me you wouldn't leave me hanging" Conan shouts over the voice of the t.v. blaring in the background. You pull you hand away from his grip and reach for the remote to shut off the t.v., focusing back on this tall red-headed figure in front of you.

"You know I don't like fancy shit." You grumble.

"It's YOUR fancy shit, get up Y/N." He says and reaches for your arms now, finally making you stand.

"Call Laura, I really don't want to go." You say pulling your phone out from your back pocket and handing it to him.

"If you haven't realised, your manager is the one who forced me to force you to attend the introduction of your fashion line" He fights back.

"- and Y/N. Hey, look at me. You've dreamt of this for how long? Almost all your life. And if you miss the chance to see your empire expand, it's gonna be devastating. You'll obviously miss the fashion show who's got the actual Rudy Pankow walking on a ramp, you'll also miss the opportunity to see people happy with YOUR work. Now get your ass up and get ready." He says and leaves the room, to get ready himself.

It's not that you don't want to go, you really do. Afterall, all of it is your hardwork. But the reason you're not going is because of that asshole. That asshole with whom you used to go out with once, the one who's current goal is to bring you down. The one and only, Tom Holland. You two used to date at some point, the ones who were in love actually, but the rivalry you two have got going on now has lead to you two knowing too much about each other. More than you know about yourself, the other knows it all. Small arguments turned into big ones, that eventually lead to the two of you leaving each other alone. You don't want to go because whenever you meet him, it all turns up into a big mess and your night is typically ruined, and you weren't in the mood for that, atleast not today. He's just a narcissistic bitch who thinks of nothing but degrading you. And that's the reason you don't want to go. Because you know if you talk to him one more time, these banters will persuade you.

But you do realise that you have to go. You have to go because you haven't gone to the last two launches for your perfume and swim line as well, and if you don't go today, Laura will actually end you.

So you just chug all your tea, leaving the kitchen with a grunt to go get ready.

"Hey Marco, can you send in that pantsuit I got done the other day? Look over for modifications if possible, although it looks great in just the solid colour, and please get it drycleaned." You tell your designer over the phone, to which he agreed and you go into your room to get your hair and makeup done.

"Wear a dress to the launch of your fashion line when it gets famous, yeah?"

"Pantsuits all the way Holland, you know I hate dresses."

"I know you do."

You remember the faint memory from over two years ago, that dream actually coming true, just without the person you dreamt it with.

You put your hair in a low bun with a middle part, giving you a classy formal look, and you do a almost non existent makeup look, only your eyes bold to accent with your outfit. Marco drops off the forest green pantsuit at your house, you giving it a twist with wearing a lace corset beneath the blazer.

"I look hot." You told yourself.

You and Conan leave for the event, you fidgeting in between 15 minute durations, Conan reassuring you that he'll be with you until the night ends.

That didn't last long. You lost Conan as soon as you entered the venue, so you occupied yourself with having conversations with other company owners, hearing how they're doing in the industry, blah blah blah.

"Do I look like I care?" You say to yourself.

You move ahead, only to cross paths with the one and only. He was wearing a cherry coloured perfectly tailored suit, adding a hint of Tom with the glasses. He looked good.

"And what do I owe this pleasure, Ms. Y/N?" He says, twirling his champagne glass in his hands.

"Look Holland I really don't have time for this shit, please take a goodie bag on your way home" You say with a bit of sass and start to move away, only to get your arm held back, making you bump in his chest.

"I see you wore the pantsuit you always wanted to wear at your event, angel " He says, making you pull away from him.

"Don't ever call me that again, and this is a warning." You were about to continue further with your answer, but you were utterly shocked to see the person in front of you.

"Is that the Y/N Y/L/N, in person, the one who's way too busy to answer my phone calls?" He says, making you laugh a bit.

"Jaeden?" You say, laughing heartily.

"In the flesh, tigeress." He says, doing grabby hands at you as an indication to pull you in a hug. You oblige and walk towards him and give him the biggest bear hug you've given anyone in two years. You pull back just to hit him on the chest once, playfully ofcourse.

"Tigeress. Oof haven't heard that in a while" You keep your conversation going on with Jaeden, while Tom is absolutely dumbfounded about whatever just happened in these past few seconds.

There's this hot guy named Jason or whatever, who calls you 'tigeress' and you aren't pestering him for calling you with a nickname but you definitely were ready to give Tom a piece of your mind when he called you 'angel'? Who is this guy?

Tom goes off to find Conan, who was situated at the bar downing a shot of tequila.

"Hey who's that guy Jason?" He asks him, pointing towards you and Jaeden in the middle of the hall.

"You mean Jaeden?" He says, biting onto a slice of lemon.

"Yeah whatever who is he?" Tom asks again, turning towards to bartender asking for a glass of whiskey.

"Why do you want to know?" Conan shoots back.

"Just curious. Can you just fucking tell me now?" Tom tries again, getting frustrated now.

"Chill dude. Jaeden used to work with Y/N a long time ago. He had this crush on her for like forever, but then Y/N went in for entrepreneurship and they were just not in contact with each other." He says.

"Crush huh?" Tom says, gripping onto his glass so tight that his knuckles almost turned white.

"Why do you look like you're about to murder someone?" Conan asks, getting concerned.

"Because I might." Tom says, grinding his teeth while forcing a smile.

The night goes by pretty smoothly, for you. You and Jaeden were clinged to each other almost the whole night, and then Tom watching you both from a distance, trying not to snap hard at people. He just took enough of it, he had to do something. He wasn't really sure why was he jealous, 'maybe because you love her' his heart said, but his mind crossing paths with a 'no you don't' in the middle. He was in a dilemma, but was mostly leaning towards his heart's side. He finally got up from his seat and walked towards you.

"Y/L/N." He says, keeping his composure.

"Yes?" You turn around to come face to face with him, laughing on something Jaeden had said.

"Board of Directors want to meet you on third floor. I was going that way only, wanted to inform you." He says.

"Oh okay. Jaeden I'll be back in a few. And tell me about that Mario Kart incident." You say, your laughter dying as you walk towards the elevator, motioning Tom to move as well. You both enter the elevator and you click the button for third floor.

"So Jaeden's a long lost friend, I assume?" He tries to small talk, failing miserably.

"Yeah, I used to work with him a long time back. Why do you ask?" You say, being the nicest you've been to Tom in two years.

"Just making small talk. So, exactly how long ago, you used to work with him?" He tries again.

"A really long time ago." You tell him.

"When we were dating?" He says, hesitating.

The elevator dings and you reach third floor, both of you moving into a very empty hallway.

"Why do you care Tom?" You say, making him frustrated even more.

"Because you're my fucking ex-girlfriend whom I'm worried about because that asshole has a mega crush on you" He says, making you jerk your head towards him.

"How many whiskeys have you had?" You ask him, because he was sounding oblivious that's for sure.

You turn around to open the meeting room to find it empty, making you glare at Tom once again.

"Why the fuck did you bring me up here Holland, where's the meeting?" You say, narrowing your eyes towards him.

"There is no meeting Y/N, the Board didn't show up this year, remember?" He says moving and fidgeting around the room.

"Then why did you bring me up here, dumbass?" That put him over the edge. He starts walking towards you making you take a few steps back, finally cornering you in the room.

"Because that guy is fucking flirting with you Y/N. That guy has been roaming around the whole night with my girl, touching and hugging my girl in front of me and you expect me to keep my calm? Huh? I don't fucking care okay? You're supposed to be mine and I was a jerk who let you go. I can't stand seeing you with other people. What the fuck is wrong with you Y/N, why did you leave me?!" He shouts at you, making your blood boil even more.

You push him back and stand in front of him, glaring as if you were going to rip his head off.

"No Tom, YOU left me, alright? I cried almost every night after that day when you left, and you didn't even have the empathy to give me a call. You, are too self-absorbed, and not me Tom. It was all you. I haven't been to even one of my launches just because I know you'll be there, you'll be there to put me down again. And why the fuck do you care about whom I talk to huh?" You shout at him.

"Why would I come to every single one of your launches Y/N?! To see you! To see the person who understood me more than I did, just to fucking see your face and calm my nerves!" He shouts back. He moves towards you and holds you chin to put your eyes at his eye level.

"Look at me Y/N. Look at me. Did we mean anything to you? Did I mean anything to you? Look at me in the eyes and tell me you never loved me. Tell me I meant nothing to you and I'll leave this second. Tell me that this was all a lie." He says, making your eyes water.

"You know I can't tell you that."

"Then why do you keep hurting me Y/N?! You hurt me so much! You left me when I needed you the most! I wanted you and you weren't there-" He shouts again.

"SHUT UP TOM, SHUT UP! Stop it! Stop! Please. Stop." You're crying hysterically now, hunching up in a corner trying to calm yourself down. Tom immediately sees it and runs towards you holding your hands and cradling them.

"Hey, hey Y/N. Look at me, look at me baby. It's Tom. Hey baby. I'm here, yeah? I'm here. Stop crying come on babe, please. Love, look at me. I'm here." He says, now running his hand over your cheeks wiping your tears.

"Go away. Go away from me." Is all you say, which makes his ears perk and brings water to his eyes.

He stands up and moves out of the room, closing the door just to hear you crying again. He sits down on the floor with his back on the door now, crying, waiting for you to say something.

"Please, open the door." He says, bursting into tears and hugging himself with his arms, wishing it was you.

Fifteen minutes pass by and you still haven't said anything. Tom misses you so much, and it was so fucked up of you to leave him like this. He was hurt, but he could never stop loving you. Ever.

"Losing you would be a nightmare that I'd beg to be awaken from everyday." You say opening the door, your eyes blood red, hair disheveled making Tom look at you, whose eyes were blood red too.

"What?"

"I was pregnant, Tom." You tell him, making his eyes widen and holding your hand for comfort.

"The day-" You clear your throat "The day we fought is when we lost the baby. I was going to tell you I was pregnant that day, but then that happened." You were crying a bit more now, but still held you composure so you can handle Tom from now.

"The argument gave me too much stress and, and it was affecting the baby so as soon as you left, um, my stomach started aching really badly and, and yeah we lost our baby then. That's why I left." You say, you were crying on his shoulder now, intentionally ignoring his reaction because you knew it would hurt him.

"We, we- lost our baby?" He says, a bit shocked but choking on his tears. You remain silent.

"Hey, hey. Listen. It's okay. It wasn't your fault. It was mine. I shouldn't have fought with you. You were already really worried and I just added onto your pressure. I'm so sorry baby I'm so so sorry." He was full-on crying now, he sniffled in your neck because he was too afraid to show his emotions.

"It wasn't your fault Tommy, it was ours." You say, running your hand in his curls. The way you missed his chestnut curls. It was all good again, well atleast you hoped.

Tommy. That always brought butterflies in his stomach.

You talked everything out in the bathroom, while washing your faces and cleaning up. You both understood that everything was going back to normal, just like the old times. One conversation lead to another, and you spent two hours on the bathroom floor just laughing and having gossip.

"It's been a while." You say laughing, looking at your watch.

"Yeah."

"Why did you say 'my girl' Tom?" You ask him directly.

"Hm?"

"You called me 'my girl' in the conference room. Why?" You tell him, and he instantly remembers that he did do that.

"You're in my head almost everyday Y/N. Even when you're not supposed to be. It shouldn't have been this hard letting go, but it was. I still love you, even if you don't." He says, taking some tissue paper off the counter.

"Who said I don't love you?" You say, making his eyes widen.

"Wha- wh- what are you implying here?" He stumbles upon his words, making you laugh.

"I still love you, you goof."

"Y/N you have to be serious you're making me want things I can't have." He says wholeheartedly.

You say nothing but grab him by his collar and kiss him with full force. After two years, you felt those soft lips on yours again, reminiscing every moment you had missed in these past years. They felt the same, soft and plump, just as if they were made for you. They fit in with yours like a puzzle, that was meant to be solved by these two hearts which were tangled, but now, in a right way. Tom kissed back almost immediately, feeling your lips was like a dream come true. A recurrent dream in his mind. You both pull back to see red and puffy lips and give out a light laugh. He doesn't stop, he keeps leaving peppery kisses all over your face mumbling sweet words again and again.

"I missed you so, so much angel." he says leaving a kiss on your nose.

"I missed you too bubba." you say leaving a small peck on his lips.

"Let's go now, we've been here for almost two hours." You start to move towards the door, but get pulled back by your waist.

"Tell Jaeden to maintain distance, yeah?" He says.

"Or what?" You say in a playful tone.

"Babygirl, I think you've forgotten what I'm capable of." He says, kissing your neck.

"I think I have. And stop kissing me I look shit." You say, laughing.

"I really don't care. You still look hot and I'm trying not to kiss you senseless right now." He says leaving another harsh suck on your skin, which can hopefully be covered by your blazer.

"Are you going to eyefuck me all night or are you going to do something about it?" You say, now kissing Tom's sweet spot.

"Finish this event in the next half an hour. I'll see you at my house babe." He says leaving one last peck on your lips.

You both reach downstairs after fixing your makeup and hair, you reach upto the stage and and hold onto the mic.

"Thankyou all for attending the event. We look forward to having more business with you! Don't forget to post something about our line 'The Hollandairé' on your social media platforms and don't forget to tag us! We are, The Y/L/N's thankyou have a good night!"

He listen to you and smirks to himself, because you do do what you say.

"I'm going to name my first fashion line 'The Hollandairé' " You say making a banner with your hands.

"And I'll be right with you then baby" He says, kissing your cheek.

Looks like he kept his promise too.

tagging some friends whom i think would like to read!:

@hollandslittlekoala @hollandsmushroom @leafy-holland @tomsoxytocin @scarletspideyy @t-lostinworlds

(pls do tell me if you don't want to be tagged further on!)

don't forget to reblog!

ilysmmmm. tpwk y'all!

#tom holland #tom holland and reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland gifs #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #raya writes #raya is a mohmaya #q #smut #angst #fluff #makeout #jealousy

190 notes · View notes

marianomivida · 2 years

Text

Birthday Scenarios for Mariano!

A/N: This’ll include hcs for both your birthday and his. Enjoy <3

Your Birthday

Oh my god he’s so nervous, what does he get you?? He knows what you like but what if the gifts just aren’t good enough? What if he can’t make you feel special on your special day?! He shudders at the thought of disappointing you.

He spends weeks brainstorming and songwriting. If you ever come over he has to try and hide all of those crumpled up pieces of paper so you won’t find him out. He’s a himbo tho so he’s super obvious. His pencil is thoroughly chewed.

At night, he practices the melody for your serenade into the wee hours of the night, much to his neighbor’s dismay.

When he finally perfects it he’s on top of the world, and sets off to go find you a nice gift to go with.

He thinks maybe he should get you some flowers at first, but he always gets you flowers and feels like they’ve lost their charm. He wants to get you something extra special for your day, something he knows you’d like.

He might get come clothing custom made, he knows your fashion sense well enough. It’d be something really stunning, but not so flashy that you’d only be able to wear on special occasions. It would have intricate designs and beautiful embroidery, and all the colors that you love.

When he shows up he gets a little nervous, but when his mother reassured him and he sees how happy you are to see him his nerves instantly melt away.

If it’s a party he’ll happily sing and dance in front of the crowd, and he definitely wants to watch you open your gifts with everyone else. He’s dying to see how much you love it, and will gladly dance with you when the opportunity presents itself. He’ll socialize with the others in attendance the polite amount, but really he’s focused on you.

He gets clingy at times, but it’s just because he wants to be around you and see how much fun you’re having on your day. He’ll play all the party games you want, and he’ll take breaks when you need them too. If you manage to wear him out congrats, you’ve accomplished what many others cannot. Trust me, he had a lot of energy for today.

If you’re not really a birthday bash kind of person, he’ll sweep you off your feet and take you somewhere special. Somewhere secluded, like one of your favorite spots to be alone in or a place away from town that you like to walk to. Then, when you’re alone together, he’ll give you the most beautiful solo performance ever. He’ll sing his song and hit every note with a practiced perfection, and after silence and a one-man applause he’ll finally give you your gift.

It’s packaged with some poetry, and the wrapping is delicate and just a little sloppy. The aforementioned well-tailored clothing is inside with the poem he wrote for you, and it’s beautiful. He doesn’t need a big fancy party to celebrate your birthday, he just needs you.

Needless to say, he deserves the biggest piñata in the world for being such a good boyfriend.

His Birthday

He’s a simple guy who isn’t hard to please. When you approach him and ask a simple question about what he wants for his birthday, he insists that he doesn’t need anything. Though this is true, it’s still always nice to do something unexpected for the big guy because he always goes out of his way for you without ever really asking for much.

The best thing to get him is something handmade and meaningful. Make a gift out of whatever you consider to be your craft. He’s always writing poetry and making songs, and he happily gives those to you, so do what you love doing! You’re an artist? Draw him something. A writer? Write him something!! Bonus points if you try and master his craft and sing a song or write some good poetry in return for his, even if it’s bad.

If all else fails, ask his family! His mother knows him like the back of her hand and will tell you anything you need to know…

He likes books! Of course he does, that seems obvious now. He doesn’t just pull is prose out of his ass, he gets inspiration. I’m sure he’s told you about some of his favorite works before, and if you’re well read and have a recommendation he’d be more than happy to get a good read.

He likes birds. He’s the type to gaze longingly out of his window at night. The birds song keeps him company, and in the later hours the owl in particular likes to talk to him. He’s by no means an animal charmer, but he likes owls a lot.

If you cook him something he’ll faint. He’s a sucker for mushy couple stuff like that, so don’t be afraid to be a show-off for him and do something extra.

The party happens at his place naturally, and his family is happy to see you. They tell you all about how he was waiting for you to show up (bc if you didn’t he’d be bummed beyond belief), and they accept you inside.

The party is pretty standard, nothing big but after a few hours his fam will try and send y’all out into town so that you can have some alone time together for romancey times.

He’d probably prefer that you hand him his gift yourself, it feels more special that way and it gives you more time to explain it to him. He enjoys his s/o’s explanations for gifts, even if you ramble.

He’s happy with whatever you got him, as long as it has personal significance he couldn’t care less what it is. He probably asks you to stay the night (if you’re comfortable with that), since you’re the best gift he could ask for <3

#encanto #encanto imagines #mariano encanto #mariano guzman #mariano guzmán #mariano x reader

80 notes · View notes

oddaodd · 4 years

Text

Her Eyes

· Tommy Shelby arranged marriage imagine ·

warnings : arranged marriage.

(Heapings of fluff and a pinch of angst if you squint)

Y/n never imagined her family would have the nerve to marry her off as part of a deal between the one Thomas Shelby and her father, who had insisted that he couldn’t properly trust the Shelbys if they weren’t united as a family, but there she was, standing outside the church ready to meet the man she would spend the rest of her life with. Her father was a powerful man with many important connections and despite Thomas’s desire to never marry again after grace, he found himself having to accept to the deal. When he fist saw her, scarcely some hours before their wedding, he was intrigued by her beauty and kind eyes, but he put on a nonchalant facade as he introduced himself to the woman whom he would have to live till death do them part.

“Thomas Shelby” he outstretched his hand.

She stared at him for a bit “y/n” was all she managed to say as his rough hand wrapped around her soft one with a firm shake. There was something about him, almost like dream she couldn’t quite place. He was a very alluring, almost hypnotic man and she felt oddly drawn to him just a few seconds after first laying eyes on him.

“Lets get this over with, shall we?” He monotonously said, breaking her out of her reverie before stepping into the church.

The first few months were really hard because Thomas refused to let her get close to him, both emotionally and physically, Grace’s memory still freshly lingering around him. Y/n however was determined to turn their marriage into something more than just a business deal. She would play with Charlie, she would bring Tommy tea whenever he was at home, and she always tried to get him to smile which wasn’t easy, but after a lot of persistence, slowly but surely Tommy let her in. Truth was, despite the circumstances he was somehow glad he met her. Thomas never thought he would find a match to his wit but there she was. They could spend hours and hours just talking as time unsuspectedly passed by. She was an unusual person to say the least, smart, kind, caring, prim and proper, sometimes ladylike, sometimes not, and with very expressive eyes. That’s the first thing he noticed about her when he saw her for the very first time, the pool of mixed emotions in her eyes before their wedding, she didn’t look perfectly sad, but she didn’t look perfectly happy either. He found himself enthralled by her eyes and in the end they were what made him relent to her subtle yet kind acts of affection. She found herself quickly falling for him and he too did for her, although he would never admit it to anyone least of all, to himself. Their relationship grew to become something along the lines of a friendship and she always made sure to give him space not knowing quite sure if he reciprocated her feelings or not, he was a difficult man to decipher after all.

One night he came home to find her sitting in the grass out in the garden all by her lonesome just staring at the sky and his stars. As soon as she saw him she invited him to join her. He sat next to her under the quilt, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at the stars when she was sitting next to him. He had had an overly tense day and seeing her there, toying with the grass between her toes and a quilt over her shoulders, just enamored by the night sky made all his worries disappear for a while. . Thomas had learnt a lot just by looking at her, she was brought up to be the perfect high society lady, but when she was alone or with him or Charlie she could really be her own carefree self, knowing they wouldn’t judge her and he felt glad he had become one of the few who could see her like that. She felt his stare and turned round to look at him, she could feel her cheeks going red when their eyes met and in the heat of the moment, she leaned in to kiss him. A tiny pang of insecurity poked at her insides when he didn’t immediately kiss her back, thinking that she might have had misread the look in his eyes, she pulled away, but he stopped her by placing both his hands on either side of her face and looking into her eyes where he could see a strange strain of vulnerability before kissing her. Hesitantly she kissed back and they became so entangled in each other that everything around them became non existent. He made love to her that night with the stars as witnesses and after that, their relationship flowered into something else.

Time passed and they grew closer and closer together. She earned the trust of the rest of the Shelbys and soon enough she felt like a part of the family, even more so than with her own family.

Every year Y/n´s family held an event to “ rejoice with friends and family” as they put it, but y/n knew it was more of a “I´m richer than you” parade to which all of her family’s friends and relatives were invited to. Knowing that her mother would make a fuss if she didn’t attend, she and Tommy found themselves in y/n´s family home one Friday evening, dressed in the heights of fashion, drinking the most expensive champagne money could buy and sitting through her mothers inquiries about their married life. Y/n´s mother was relieved that y/n had married after all, her biggest fear was any of her daughters not living up to the standards according to which she brought them up to be.

“So, Y/n dear, are you with child yet?” Her mother asked in feigned sweet tone.

Y/n choked a bit on her champagne, not expecting her mom to blatantly ask that. Tommy turned to look at her and after taking a drag of his cigarette replied with a serious face“Not yet Mrs. Y/l/n”

“Oh but you are planning to aren’t you?” Her mother insisted.

“Not at the moment mother” y/n chimed in a bit too harshly for both her and her mother’s liking. Tommy grabbed her hand underneath the table with his free hand to reassure her a bit, but it did little to put out y/n´s feelings of discomfort “and anyway, why does it matter to you? You already have plenty of grandchildren from my sisters” she said this time with a politer tone.

“All im saying dear is that you are not getting ny younger and I would certainly not blame Mr. Shelby here” her mother said pointing at Tommy “ if he were to decide the deal he made with your father isn’t worth enough to put up with a woman of your likes” she finished before taking a sip of her glass of champagne and looking over at the couple to asses their reactions.

Y/n opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn’t find the words she needed. Tommy took her silence as an opportunity to get his word in after another long drag of his cigarette “with all due respect Mrs. Y/l/n, I think we are way past the business part of this marriage”

Her mother gave him a forced smile indicating that she didn’t believe a word of it before replying with “of course you are Mr. Shelby”

Tommy smiled at her mother in reciprocity before putting out his cigarette and turning to look at y/n “ Let’s dance, love” he said.

They made their way to the dance floor and swayed to the music “Now I know why you weren’t exited to come” he said looking down at her, trying to lighten her up a little. She barely nodded, too consumed in her own thoughts, her mother’s words ringing In her ears. She would be lying if she were to say it hadn’t occurred to her before, that the distant nagging thought of Tommy only pretending to enjoy her company for the sake of not having another problem to deal with hadn’t kept her up some nights in the past.

“Let’s just go home” she mumbled into his chest.

And so they did and for the next few days Tommy could see that she was a bit distant, sure she always smiled and acted like everything was fine, but no matter how well she acted, Tommy could see right through it, all because of her eyes. She was a proud woman and he knew she would never admit her mother’s words had gotten to her.

One day she was working on some of the flowers she had planted across the property as Tommy approached her. He must have been very silent for when he called her name she gave a little jump.

“God you scared me” she said with a laugh, wiping a bit of sweat of her forehead “Are you in a habit of startling unsuspecting gardening women?” She teased.

“Only on you” he replied looking down at her.

She could see there was something in his mind, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was so she stood up shaking some of the dirt that had collected on her dress before loosely wrapping her arms around him so that she could still see his face and inquired “ What can i do for you dear husband?”

He raised his eyebrows and his mouth curved up ever so slightly. She smiled at him knowing she was the only one who could get him to smile and waited for his response.

“Marry me” he said in all seriousness.

She gave him a coy smile “ But we are already married” she said doubtfully, not knowing what had brought Tommy to request such thing.

“Aye, but i want you to be my wife knowing that I married you for you, because I love you , not as a part of a business deal” he earnestly said before producing a small golden ring with a tiny orange opal from his coat pocket and grabbing her hand (that was covered in dirt) in his “ So, Y/n will you marry me?”

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting but it wasn’t that, it was the fist time Tommy had verbally proclaimed his love for her. Her eyes welled up in tears, a whirlwind of emotions raging inside in full display. Tommy brought one of his hands to her face to wipe away the one tear that did dare to fall. “Of course I´ll marry you Thomas Shelby” she said grabbing his hand in hers and looking at how he, with his other hand effortlessly slipped the ring on her finger before chuckling tearily and crashing her lips on his. They had a small ceremony right there on the garden that same weekend, saying their vows in front of the Shelby family. Unlike their first weeding, everyone seemed happy and even though it wasn’t an “official” wedding, they both knew it was the one that mattered.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby one shot #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby fluff

905 notes · View notes

londonspirit · 3 years

Link

Dan Levy is making his debut at the 2021 Met Gala on Monday, and while the Schitt’s Creek cocreator is excited for his first Met ball, the multihyphenate is most looking forward to people watching—this time, from the event itself.

“I’m a pretty introverted person, and I tend to avoid big parties, so this is really taking a big step out of my comfort zone,” Levy told Vanity Fair. “And I just keep saying to everybody, ‘I don’t know anyone there. Am I just going to be that person in the corner that’s just watching people and not talking to anyone?’”

“But I’ve been assured by friends of mine who have gone that it is a far more kind of celebratory safe space than the intimidating world that I have been creating in my head,” he said, before adding that he recently spoke with Met gala cohost Amanda Gorman to assuage his fears.

“I chatted a little bit with Amanda about both of our nerves being new to the game…. And we kind of said that if all else fails, we’ll just hold each other and get through it together,” the D.L. Eyewear creator said with a laugh.

While Levy may be nervous, his Schitt’s Creek character, David Rose, would be beside himself if ever presented with the opportunity to attend fashion’s biggest night.

“Absolutely nobody would want a Met gala invitation more than sweet David Rose. Just desperate for it,” Levy said.

The comedian, writer, and director—who was invited to this year’s gala by Cartier—called the invite from the luxury jeweler “an honor,” and described his experience collaborating with Loewe’s Jonathan Anderson on his custom red-carpet look as an “incredibly wonderful and fulfilling adventure.”

Inspired by the Costume Institute’s “In America: A Lexicon of Fashion” exhibit and the gala’s theme, Levy worked with Anderson to create a powerful ensemble that celebrates “the resilience and the love and the joy” of the LGBTQ+ community.

“I had asked Jonathan if he would be into dressing me just because…I just love his perspective on fashion and thought that he’d be a really great person to collaborate with on this,” the actor explained. “He’s so thoughtful, unexpected, and artful in his approach to what he wants to say with the clothes that he designs…. Fortunately, he said yes, and fortunately he did have some great ideas.”

As a fashion brand that has long celebrated artists, Anderson drew inspiration for Levy’s red-carpet creation from American artist and AIDS activist David Wojnarowicz, whose work confronted the systematic oppression of gays, while shedding a harsh light on the abandonment the community experienced during the peak of the AIDS crisis.

Adapting two of Wojnarowicz’s famed works, Fuck You F--got Fucker, 1984, and Untitled (One Day This Kid…), 1990–91, for Levy’s Met gala look, the actor said he and Anderson wanted to reflect the artist’s themes of celebrating “queer love and queer visibility” while also sending a reminder that “there’s a lot more that needs to be done.”

The intricate and expressive look, which features hand embroidery and beading, ties into his relationship with Anderson and longtime love of his designs.

“The shoes that I’m wearing are sort of replica of a boot that Jonathan had made in one of his early, early JW collections way back in the 2010s. We had dinner recently, and he said to me, ‘I have known your name for such a long time because you were one of the first people to buy those boots,’” Levy recalled, explaining that when Anderson’s company was smaller, the designer knew all the names of his avid customers.

“When we were talking about putting this look together, we were discussing what to do for the footwear. And I had proposed what if we remake your boots as kind of a personal connection between the two of us. They were such good boots, and I think the younger fashion crowd needs to know just how significant he’s been for such a long time,” he continued. “So there’s kind of like a wink and a nod to a history that we have had together…. It’s amazing to have been a fan for so long and now to get to work with him in this capacity.”

While the boots are a heartwarming detail, Levy also joked that they may be his saving grace for tackling the iconic Met staircase.

“I think that my boots are substantial enough to really ground me…. If all else fails, I know that I’m in very sturdy boots that hopefully will not trip me up. Then cut to—falls down the stairs,” he said with a laugh.

Talking about working with Levy on his Met creation, Anderson told Vanity Fair: “Dan is our gay superhero. Through his comedy, he is able to knock down cultural barriers. We wanted to make something that allows him to make queer love visible and we found that through the seminal works of David Wojnarowicz.”

Levy said there was something “special” about being able to recreate Wojnarowicz’s artist themes into a work of fashion for the Met gala’s world stage.

“I think that has always kind of been what the Met has embodied—doing what you can do to send a message. It’s not just clothes, you're celebrating the impact that fashion can have and culture,” he said.

And in the spirit of Wojnarowicz’s influential AIDS activism, Loewe has donated to Visual AIDS, an organization Wojnarowicz long-supported that continues to promote AIDS awareness and education.

“Jonathan described [the look] as a superhero for the community, and when I put it on, I definitely feel that,” Levy said. “And to me, that’s an America that I want to be a part of.”

#dan levy #daniel levy #met gala 2021

41 notes · View notes

wickedscribbles · 3 years

Text

Ziva and Obi-Wan’s Wedding

I know that I didn’t go into too much detail in the epilogue, but I wanted the honeymoon to be the main focal point for those first two chapters. So here’s a headcanon with a little more information of what the night was like!

Masterlist, Taglist

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Ziva Courtee

Rating: General

Tags: fluff!

Word Count: 929

Requests are currently closed! Thanks for understanding.

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

Okay okay so I spent way too long trying to figure out what they would wear, and even saved a folder of possibilities to my PC, so now you get to see them

This is an Indian bridal lehenga, and I think they are so gorgeous. (Please correct me if that’s not what they’re called.) I had the link to this one in particular via Etsy, but it looks like the listing’s been taken down, and I can’t find the seller. I looked at dozens of them, but this one in particular was the biggest inspiration for what I had in my head for Ziva’s wedding outfit. It’s a little on the simpler side as far as lehenga go, but still stunning.

Of course I gave Obi-Wan a shoulder cape. I am a slut for shoulder capes. Probably all the hours I spent playing the Assassin’s Creed: Ezio Trilogy and watching that broody beautiful man hop around the top of buildings sporting one, but I digress. Obi-Wan’s is inlaid with the symbol of the Jedi Order, and he probably never has a reason to wear it again, but he quite likes it.

OKAY LISTEN I struggled here. Okay? I was riding the struggle bus. Googling for over an hour. I knew --- AND I STILL KNOW -- what I’m imagining when I’m thinking about the suit thing I think he’s wearing. But I have absolutely no idea what it’s called and this is the closest I could get and I’m so frustrated. So here you go. Still quite dashing. (My husband just kept asking, “A bellhop? You want him to look like a bellhop?” 😤😤😤 NOOO I want him to look like a PRINCE it’s his WEDDING)

Okay, onto the wedding itself.

Yes, Anakin went through the steps to legally marry a couple on Coruscant. He did not ask “can I be the officiant at your wedding”. He said “so when I officiate at your wedding --” and then made sad eyes when Obi-Wan and Ziva looked mildly confused. So that’s how that happened 😂

Luke was in a very “clingy-for-Dad” stage at the time, so he was on Anakin’s hip the entire time. Not that anyone really minded ❤

Padme and her handmaiden Dorme took the assignment of fashion consultants very seriously. She tried her best to incorporate the best of both of their planet’s cultural styles into what they wore while still keeping the designs subtle enough for a Jedi to wear (”Even if it is your wedding day,” she said, only half joking.).

It was a small gathering with only close friends in attendance, but held in a nice public courtyard on the upper levels. Anakin, Ahsoka, Padme, Luke, Leia, Stass, Rex, Cody, Riyo Chuchi, a few more assorted clones and Jedi, etc. were there. But anyone who felt like stopping by could.

The ceremony happened at sunset. No they didn’t cry, you can’t prove it yes they did

They stared at each other with heart eyes for most of the time. When they met in front of their officiant (instead of the bride walking up the aisle in a traditional Earth wedding, they meet from either side at the same time, from stage left and right, if that makes sense) the first thing Obi-Wan did was cup her face in both hands and say, “Oh, sweetheart. You’re so stunning. Look at you.” before Anakin could get a word in.

There were no gifts, and no major expenses. Neither Obi-Wan nor Ziva really saw the need for such a thing when they were already excited to get the opportunity to celebrate their marriage with loved ones. (I didn’t really think it’d fit their character, you know? Anakin and Padme, on the other hand, had an extravagant public ceremony once the Order changed the rule on relationships.)

Their vows are similar to those spoken in many places across the galaxy, but adapted to fit the lifestyles of two Jedi.

Instead of exchanging rings, Ziva and Obi-Wan got their matching tattoos right after the ceremony -- and at the same time, which is how the marital tradition works. Two Pantoran tattooists work together to make sure the marks are identical.

There was music and dancing -- Ziva stepped on Obi-Wan’s toes about eight times, but he didn’t mind. They wore each other out, and laughed a lot. Ziva discovered that Obi-Wan is definitely a better dancer than her, but she didn’t exactly expect him to be worse. Padme was too nervous checking Ziva’s makeup to dance much. Anakin, eager to move, danced with Ahsoka or sometimes Rex.

Leia asked Cody if they could get married next.

Riyo tells Ziva that she looks like a princess and Ziva blushes so hard that she can’t look at Riyo for the rest of the night

In a quiet moment alone, towards the end of the night, Obi-Wan senses something in the Force that he hasn’t felt for a long, long time. It’s his Master’s hand on his shoulder, almost as warm and as real as it felt before he lost him.

“Master?” Obi-Wan croaks, hardly daring to believe it. Feeling like a Padawan again, scared to say another word, like it could drive Qui-Gon away. “Is it -- it it really you?”

The Force rings with gentle amusement. Obi-Wan, he says. Did you really think I’d miss something like this?

“All it took was me breaking half a dozen of the Order’s rules,” Obi-Wan jokes.

No, says Qui-Gon, his tone more serious. You are happy. That’s what I was waiting for.

Users Tagged: @blondekel77, @itsamaizeing, @mandossweetgirl, @princessxkenobi, @liadamerondjarin, @neji85, @perpetual-fangirl900, @janonymus0, @chaoticqueenie98, @janebby, @previousloversandmuses, @rennalouise, @captain-rexs-girlfriend, @generalkenhoebi, @star-whores-a-new-hoe, @katiebits1, @sebschicken, @silver-pieces, @aces-tattooartist, @houseofthirst, @darthkenobii, @theforceiswiththisgirl84, @obislut, @mrskenobi19, @starryeddie, @shivvyvic, @where-fantasy-meets-reality, @greeneyedblondie44, @hxrzvf, @bloom-domino-akrum, @tea-rae, @nectav, @hellolitty, @macheremademoiselle, @starwars0b1, @aprilqueen84

#come what may ao3 #wickedscribbles #obiziva #ziva courtee #obi wan x oc #obiwan x oc #obi-wan x oc #obi wan headcanons #obiwan headcanons #obi-wan headcanons #fluff #wedding headcanons #pure fluff #star wars headcanons #obiwan headcanon #obi wan headcanon #obi-wan headcanon #oc headcanons #oc headcanon

34 notes · View notes

fickleminder · 3 years

Text

the years start coming and they don’t stop coming

In which Lilith’s return distorts her brothers’ perception of time.

Part 2 here

You’ve never seen the demon prince look so embarrassed.

“I can call for —”

“No, it’s okay. They deserve this.”

But you don’t, goes unspoken. You can see the pity in his eyes, feel the palpable disappointment in the air. Even Simeon and Luke make sure to hug you extra tight before stepping through the portal to the Celestial Realm, and Solomon promises to check up on you after you’ve returned home.

Thanking Lord Diavolo and Barbatos for their hospitality, you turn towards the final demon in the council room and put on the biggest grin your breaking heart can muster. “Hey, c’mere.”

Satan doesn’t hesitate to throw his arms around you. It’s almost like he’s trying to make up for his brothers’ absence, the way he crushes you to his chest and cradles the back of your head.

You can’t find it in yourself to blame them. As far as miracles go, this is a pretty big one. Lilith coming back to life is an unprecedented event, one not even Barbatos had seen coming. Nobody has any answers either. She’s definitely not a demon, not an angel, not human; just an immortal who knocked on the front door of the House of Lamentation three days ago.

Her brothers haven’t left her alone since. You’re happy for them, you really are, but a bitter part of you can’t help but wish her return had waited until after the exchange program ended. At least Lucifer had the courtesy to pull you aside and thank you on his family’s behalf (though you’re quite certain you had nothing to do with your ancestor’s sudden revival), in addition to making a pact with you as a token of his gratitude.

With that, you could have summoned all of them to send you off just as effectively as Lord Diavolo giving the order, but it won’t be the same and you know it. Your only saving grace is Satan, the one brother who’d kept his head and anchored you in the sea of loneliness you’d been set adrift in over the last few days.

“I’m gonna miss you, cat boy.”

“I miss you already,” Satan laughs softly, pulling back with a warm smile. “I’ll stay in touch, I promise.”

You squeeze his arms affectionately and glance past his shoulders at the closed doors. There’s the smallest shred of hope in you that thinks the others will come bursting through any moment now, scrambling for one final chance to see you. You give yourself five seconds, silently counting down to a pipe dream, before pressing a kiss to Satan’s cheek and releasing him.

“It might not seem like it now, but the Devildom will always be here for you,” Lord Diavolo says as the world around you fades to white. “Farewell.”

“Did you lose track of time at the library again? You missed dinner last night LOL.”

“Levi, be nice!”

Satan only hums quietly in response. He can’t be bothered to correct the assumption; it’s a convenient excuse for when his brothers actually notice he’s missing anyway.

The irony of Levi calling him out isn’t lost on him. While the otaku is still obsessed with his games and shows, he’s no longer as shut-in as he used to be, venturing outside the comforts of his sanctuary more often. Satan has passed by the common room on many occasions to find him and Lilith gaming or binging anime together, and the content expression on Levi’s face proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that the void from his Henry’s departure has long been filled.

“Oh, but speaking of,” Lilith sets her cutlery down and smiles shyly at the fourth-born, “I haven’t had the chance to explore the libraries here yet. If it’s not too much trouble, can you show me around and recommend a few books?”

Shrugging non-committedly, Satan continues with his meal, not once looking her in the eye.

You’ve always wondered how someone with the Avatar of Lust for a brother can have such terrible fashion sense. It should be impossible to go wrong with dressing for a funeral, but you guess life (along with a certain eyesore of a tie) just loves to disappoint you. Still, you’re too glad to have Satan with you right now to care.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Anytime.”

You lean into the demon’s side as he holds an umbrella over both of you. Your eyes are drawn to the flowers he’d placed on your mother’s grave, the only splash of color against the dull tombstone. For the longest time, all you can process is the pitter-patter of the afternoon rain on the plastic wrap of the bouquet, and the comforting weight of Satan’s arm across your shoulders.

“She was in a lot of pain,” you admit after a while, your voice slightly hoarse. “The doctors had to sedate her. She went in her sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” Satan fidgets awkwardly, not quite sure what to say. He’s no stranger to death, but the loss of someone dear is unfamiliar to him. “Perhaps Simeon can find out if —”

“No, no it’s fine. I just — I need to —”

The umbrella is forgotten as Satan catches you, lowering you gently to the ground when your knees give way. You cling to him desperately, and it’s all he can do to draw you close as you start to wail.

Satan barely makes it three steps into the house before getting pounced on.

“How was it? Where did you go? Ooh you lucky demon, I want to hear all the details!”

“Oi, oi! What are you babbling on about?”

“Don’t act coy with me! Lilith saw you at the florist’s yesterday with the most gorgeous bouquet of flowers!”

“Yesterday? But —”

“How come you never told me someone caught your eye? I would have dolled you up, lent you some of my clothes —” Asmo gasps dramatically. “You didn’t wear that horrid jacket to your date, did you?”

Wrestling a hand free, Satan musses his younger brother’s hair. “None of your business,” he growls, walking away with a smirk when Asmo immediately releases him to fix his appearance. “Who do you take me for, anyway?”

“Aww come on, just give me a hint! Do I know them? Is it someone from RAD? Ooh, did you meet them at the library or —”

Ducking into the safety of his room, Satan shuts the door in Asmo’s face.

“Thank fuck. Who picked your outfit this time?”

“Barbatos. And shut up.”

You grab Satan’s arm with a laugh and lead him towards your table, politely introducing him as ‘Stan from work’ to any relatives who ask about the handsome young man accompanying you. Satan’s usual mask is in place, but there’s no mistaking the gleam of wonder in his eyes as he takes in his surroundings.

“Finally,” you sigh, sinking into your seat and grinning sheepishly at the blond. “Sorry about them. It’s just that they’ve never seen me with anyone, so they’re really curious about you.”

“Well, I’m glad you invited me along. I’ve never been to a wedding before.” The romantic in Satan is openly basking in the ambience of the reception. “You mentioned that your niece had gotten married?”

“Technically my first cousin once removed, but yeah.”

“And you’ve not been seeing anyone?”

“You would have been the first to know if I have,” you tease, nudging him playfully. “Apparently a lot of people are put off by the way I dress. Too modest, they say.”

But not without good reason. The pact marks on your body may be slightly faded from disuse, but they’re still discernable if stared at hard enough: Lucifer’s at the back of your neck; Mammon’s over your heart; Levi’s curled around your right calf; Satan’s circling your left arm; Asmo’s dangerously close to tramp stamp territory; Beel’s just under your navel; and Belphie’s on your ribs at the side you like to sleep on.

Passing them off as tattoos without attracting the wrong kind of attention is a little tricky, so you’d rather take a page from Solomon’s book and cover them up. Being called a prude is easier than dealing with cultists.

(It also helps you to keep your mind off of them, because some wounds continue to hurt even after they heal, so there’s that.)

Sensing the drop in your mood, Satan clears his throat to get your attention. It’s only then that you realize there’s music playing in the background, and couples moving from their tables to the floor.

Your companion stands up and offers you his hand, this time with a genuine smile on his face. “May I have this dance?”

Lucifer’s tone books no room for argument. “This will be a family event, so I expect your attendance. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your little escapades over the past few months.”

“Tch.”

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Whatever. I’ll be there.”

Satan has to resist the urge to hurl his hardcover at the back of Lucifer’s head when he takes his leave. That’s no way to treat a book, after all.

Beel’s Fangol team has an upcoming match and it’ll be Lilith’s first time watching him play. She’s been hyped up for weeks, so it comes as no surprise that Lucifer would use the opportunity to turn it into a family outing. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

Gone is the stuffy first-born who can spend days in his office if left unchecked. Lucifer is still as strict as ever, still fulfills his duties to Lord Diavolo diligently, but it’s like he’s managed to master balancing work and play overnight. He makes more time for his siblings now, even if it’s to dole out punishments for their endless shenanigans, punishments that vary in severity depending on how cutely Lilith pleads on their behalf.

Lucifer has always doted on her, and she has him wrapped around her little finger. Belphie has even gone as far as corrupting her into pranking him, and she need only bat her eyelashes to get off scot-free.

Lilith was the catalyst for the Fall, her descendent the glue that brought her siblings back together, and her return the final piece in making their family whole again.

But you were family too, Satan thinks sourly, pulling out his D.D.D. to mark the date in his calendar.

When you invite Satan over to your apartment for tea, he never expected to be introduced to your new housemate: a handsome fellow with chestnut brown hair, sharp jade eyes, a runner’s body, and the softest-looking toe beans he has ever seen in his immortal life.

“Satan, meet Satan!” You hold out the tabby towards him with a shit-eating grin.

Both demon and cat blink owlishly at each other. The blond doesn’t know whether to feel endeared by the feline sharing his name or insulted that you would replace him so easily, but all it takes is a single bop on the nose with a curious paw for him to melt.

Satan the tabby, who normally prefers to scale your shelves and nap between your books, spends the entire day a purring puddle in Satan the demon’s arms, shamelessly relishing in pets and massages to the extent that at some point, you have a very real fear they might just end up absconding back to the Devildom together. Thankfully, some kibble and freshly baked treats help you separate the two for a while, at least long enough for you to get some decent conversation in.

You brew a pot of Earl Grey with the beautifully crafted tea set Barbatos gifted you when you had first moved in, and serve the scones you made earlier in the morning using the baking tools blessed by Luke during your housewarming. You don’t know if the little angel had actually imbued them with Celestial magic, but everything you cook somehow always lifts your spirits when consumed.

Satan has to catch himself in the middle of regaling you with Mammon’s latest half-baked scheme. The wistful look on your face is new; you’re usually eager to hear what his brothers have been up to, but something feels off today. He pours you more tea, slides another scone onto your plate, and waits.

“…Are they happy?” You ask after a while.

The demon knows better than to lie, even if it’s to spare you from the truth he suspects you’re already aware of. “Yes,” he admits grudgingly.

“I’m glad.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

Lilith stands outside his room, holding a tray of tea and cakes.

“Hey, um, may I come in?” Her smile is both hopeful and uncertain. It’s a gamble, ambushing the fourth-born when he obviously has no interest in her. At best, he’ll make up an excuse to turn her away or just ignore her completely; at worst, well… she doesn’t really want to think about that. To her visible relief, he opens the door wider and steps aside.

Satan clears a space for her to set the tray down. There’s the briefest moment of hesitation before he drags your favorite armchair over and offers her a seat as well. He looks guarded but not openly hostile, a promising sign so far.

“You’ve been in and out of the house lately, so I haven’t had the chance to catch you. I thought we might sit down and talk,” Lilith says, pouring two cups of the hot beverage as she chooses her next words carefully. “The others told me about how you were born, but I understand that you are your own person. I’d like to get to know that person.”

A part of Satan is acutely aware of their one-sided relationship; he is familiar with her through Lucifer, but she has never met him. It makes sense for her to be curious about him, though Satan isn’t so sure he wants to return the favor. She reminds him too much of you in the way she prepares her tea, how she sits on your chair, her shy lopsided smile —

But she’s not you, and you’re not her, Satan has to remind himself lest he commits the same mistake his brothers nearly did after your lineage had been revealed. Now in a convoluted turn of events, it’s you who’s gone and Lilith here, and there’s no reason why he can’t give her a chance and treat her like the sister she could be to him.

It’s what you would have wanted.

Lilith tries not to let her shoulders slump too much when Satan quietly stands up and heads towards his door. She’s prepared to pack up and leave until she spots him grabbing several books from a nearby shelf.

“Have you ever read Mid-Fall Murders?” He asks, handing her a hardcover with a shy smile of his own.

“What’s it like?”

Satan’s grip on your hand tightens. “I don’t actually know,” he confesses, shuffling closer so that your shoulder and arm are pressed against his. It’s a strange sight, the two of you lying side by side on your bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

“Will it hurt?”

“No.”

You’ve never heard a single word hold so much promise, but you have no reason to doubt the demon’s sincerity. Satan wouldn’t take pity on you just because you’re —

A light knock on the door, and in pokes Simeon’s head. “Ah, little lamb! I’m glad we made it in time.”

“Not so little anymore, Simeon.” You laugh softly, greeting Luke and Solomon as they trail in behind him. Satan brushes his lips over your forehead before getting up to receive your guests.

The day is as ordinary as it can be. You talk and catch up with your friends, trading stories and laughter over cups of tea that neither grow cold nor go empty. When the session turns into a mini book club gathering halfway through, Luke helpfully retrieves the debated titles from the massive shelf in the living room. He takes a while to find them; you’ve accumulated plenty of works over the years: recommendations by Satan, literature published under Simeon’s pseudonym, and handwritten tomes from Solomon to keep you in touch with your magic. The shelf is practically jam-packed with books, the only exception being a corner on the topmost tier, housing a little space that’s empty save for a worn green collar with a rusted bell.

Come sundown the five of you are still neck-deep in discussion, but as with all good things, the get together eventually reaches an end.

“Thanks everyone, it’s been fun,” you say, reclining back in your bed as Satan wordlessly cleans up. You squeeze his hand when he returns to your side and bid the others goodbye. “Hopefully I’ll see you guys soon?”

“About that…” Solomon clears his throat, wearing the smug look that usually accompanies a trick being pulled out of his sleeve, but this time it’s tinged more with excitement than mischief. “Simeon has a little present for you first.”

The guileless smile on the angel’s face betrays nothing as he steps forward and reaches into a small pouch at his hip. “Solomon, Diavolo and I have a theory. Now, keep in mind that this is all very experimental, but if it works, you’ll have more options to choose from, should you so wish.”

And then he brings out a ring.

“Are you, uh, are you okay?”

“Not in the mood, Mammon.”

“Oi, I’m trying to be nice here! Who do you think covered for your sorry ass when you came back past curfew the other day, huh?”

“What the hell do you want?”

“You may think you’re all stealthy and shit, but your eyes were pretty red that night. I thought you were at a book club meeting. Did something happen?”

“None of your business.”

“Argh, fine then! This is the last time I try to be a good big brother.”

“…Mammon?”

“?”

“...”

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh, what are you — you can’t just say that and then run off! Get back here!”

“Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…”

Lilith’s countdown echoes along the deserted hallway, prompting Beel to nudge the deadweight on his back. “Belphie, go get your own hiding place.”

“Mmngh… zzz…”

“Come on, or she’ll win this round with a two for one. Again.”

“…Just dump me somewhere she won’t find me then.”

A tall order, especially since Lilith can easily track them down by listening out for Beel’s stomach and/or Belphie’s snores. Still, the sixth-born lumbers through the house as quietly as he can, doing a one-eighty whenever he hears Lilith’s cheerful hums coming from the opposite direction. Technically they can avoid being caught if they keep moving, but that would be cheating. They hid in the attic previously so that’s a no go, their room’s too obvious, the kitchen too tempting, the common room too exposed…

Maybe Levi’s room? The otaku had sound-proofed his walls to avoid distractions from the outside world when he’s gaming, so it’s an ideal location to hide. He can stash Belphie in the bathtub and run interference until time’s up.

Backtracking, Beel breaks into a light jog towards the other wing, keeping his ears open for their seeker. It’s only because of his heightened senses that he’s able to pick up the faintest traces of magic on one of the walls, causing him to pause in his steps.

“Hmm? Why’d you stop?” Slightly more awake now, Belphie rubs his eyes and slides off his twin, who’s studying the blank space intently. “What’s wrong, Beel?”

“There’s something here, something…”

“It’s just a wall —”

“No, don’t you feel it? I know you weren’t around then, but it’s the same glamor as that time Luke went missing and we —”

Beel goes white. He whispers a name, a name not spoken in the house for years, and a door flickers into view. One hand grabs Belphie’s in a death grip as the other twists the knob and pushes the door open, revealing an old yet familiar room.

The place is devoid of life. Most of the furniture are covered by sheets, resting under thick layers of dust. In the middle sits a tree, sagging with age and soft with rot. Sunken footprints mark the demons’ furtive venture into decrepit memory, and the creaking of floorboards with every step only tethers the growing nightmare closer to reality.

A photo frame crashes to the ground.

They deserve this.

Satan feels it the moment the spell concealing your room was broken. It had been his way of protecting your memory, ensuring that your sanctuary would only be accessible to those who made the effort to remember you. He cast it about a year after you had left the Devildom, after he realized that leaving your door in plain sight wasn’t doing you any favors.

Hidden away in an alcove at the back of the garden, curled up with a blanket and a thermos of hot tea, Satan slides a bookmark between the pages of his latest novel and leans his head back, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh.

Even this far away from the house, he can hear the cacophony of screams and shouts, objects being flung and shattered into pieces, a muted bang suggesting that a wall has just collapsed. The fallout comes as no surprise; waking up after living the past hundred years or so in a daze will do that to a person – or in this case, demons.

Although the sounds of fighting call to the rage bubbling within him, the vindictive thoughts of his brothers getting their just desserts cool it to a simmer. He knows he’ll have to face them eventually, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

“Meow?”

Emerald eyes blink open. There’s a faint rustle from the nearby bushes as a tiny Calico wanders out of the foliage, peering around the garden curiously. Upon spotting the blond demon, it perks up and makes a beeline for him.

“Hm? You’re not Callie. Are you new here, little one?” His mood considerably improved, Satan extends a hand towards the kitten. It skips the finger sniffing step and goes straight to headbutting his palm, begging for attention.

“You’re an affectionate one, aren’t you?” Satan caves immediately and scritches away with a delighted chuckle. He examines the markings on its tri-colored fur, wanting to recognize the friendly feline if it comes back in the future. The Calico is mostly white with patches of brown and black splashed over the back of its neck, near the base of its tail, just under the side of its ribs, and several other spots that seem to collectively resemble a familiar pattern…

Satan’s hand stills. He whispers your name, trembling with hope, and the kitten practically leaps into his arms, nuzzling his chin with a happy purr.

#writing #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me lilith #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me replaced mc au

895 notes · View notes

starshine583 · 3 years

Note

For the soulmate letter prompts, Felinette with prompt O please.

O: Opportune outfit (soulmates will eternally color coordinate, even if they have not met one another yet, and often times have similar patterns in their clothing)

(Thank you @symwinter and @desiiigirl for this ask! I had a ton of fun writing it, so I hope you enjoy!)

“We’re here live tonight at the Carrousel du Louvre where Audrey Bourgeois is hosting her biggest party yet! Celebrities of all kinds will be invited, including Jagged Stone, Gabriel Agreste, and MDC herself! Stay tuned to catch sight of these incredible fashion icons!”

Marinette drew in a deep breath to calm her nerves as her miniature limo drove up to the front entrance. She’d been to plenty of parties before hosted by celebrities, but none as big as this. There were going to be reporters everywhere who would hold her under a magnifying glass all evening and powerful, influential people that she would have to tip-toe around to make a good first impression. On top of that, this was going to be the night she revealed her exclusive designer’s dress that she’d kept a secret for the last six months! It was an extremely important event for her, and she didn’t want to mess anything up.

The limo pulled to a stop in front of the red carpet, causing Marinette’s breath to catch in her throat. She quickly checked her hair and makeup, then smoothed out the corners of her dress.

“You can do this.” She muttered to herself. “You’ve already made it this far. Now, you get to show the world why.”

The driver opened her car door, and Marinette offered the reporters a bright smile as she stepped outside. Screams of delight and excitement swept over the crowds of people that were huddled on both sides of the carpet. Cameras were flashing everywhere, almost blinding her, but Marinette kept an elegant stride despite it as she signed a few autographs.

“Ladies and gentlemen, MDC has just arrived at the gala, and may I say her dress looks absolutely dazzling!” A reporter to her left trilled. “The navy blue mixed with those silver dots and stars makes it look like the night sky! And the way the sheer fabric in sewn to the dress makes it look like the stars are trailing behind her as well! It’s truly a fantastic creation, especially with that diamond, crescent moon necklace to compliment it! Could this be that secret design that MDC’s corporation has been hinting about for so long?”

Marinette tried to contain her grin, but by the time she walked inside the Carrousel du Louvre, she was positively glowing. After spending many sleepless nights working on Starry Night- as her design was called - hearing the multitude of praises from the reporters was immensely satisfying. It made the whole project feel worthwhile.

“Oh, Marinette!”

Audrey Bourgeois, having heard the commotion, waltzed over to the Louvre entrance to greet her. She seemed to be as fashionable and haughty as ever, and Marinette pulled an extra bright smile in an effort to please the woman. "Bonjour Audrey." She said politely. “It’s wonderful to see you again. Thank you for inviting me to your party.”

“Oh, think nothing of it!” Audrey replied, linking her arm with Marinette’s to guide her into the heart of the party. “I’ve been dying to speak with you about your latest designs, anyway. You’ve certainly made a name for yourself since the first time we met.”

A bit of tension melted from Marinette’s shoulders at the comment, and she felt a more genuine smile settle onto her lips. The last time she saw Audrey was when she’d been offered that job in New York, the same job that she ended up declining. It was good to know that Audrey wasn’t holding a grudge against her for that.

“Yes, these last two years have been quite eventful.” Marinette agreed. She’s managed to build a small company out of her designs that’s only continued to grow. The fact that she’d already designed things for Jagged Stone and Gabriel himself definitely helped her take-off.

“Indeed. Even my customers all the way in America have heard of you, which is why I wanted to propose a collaboration between us.”

“A collaboration?”

“Yes! Imagine how much popularity you’ll gain if we-”

“Audrey! Audrey Bourgeois!”

Audrey’s pleasant expression quickly soured when someone from across the room called out her name, interrupting whatever proposition she was going to make.

“What is it?” The woman snapped. “I’m busy.”

A man stepped forward from the crowd, his countenance stern and unimpressed. “We were supposed to talk about the location of your next fashion show. Need I remind you that I have other business I need to attend to tonight?”

Audrey huffed and rolled eyes. “Fine, fine, we’ll talk then. Marinette, dear, do me a favor and stay put while I go discuss a few matters with M Laurence.”

Marinette nodded and took to idly surveying the room while the two strolled off to another corner of the Louvre. She wasn’t sure why Audrey would have to leave to talk about fashion show locations, but she supposed it also wasn’t any of her business either. Everyone had their own way of working, right?

The Carrousel du Louvre was an extraordinary place, especially with the gold and silver decorations lining the walls. Lights reflected off of the glass pyramid that dipped into the center of the room, making it shine almost as brightly as it would in the day, and the floors were polished so well that Marinette could actually part of her reflection in it.

The guests were no less remarkable than the setting too. Save for a scarce few, she could recognize every face in the crowd, be it through newspapers, magazines, movies, or heads of rival companies. A part of her almost miniscule in the presence of such greatness. Audrey certainly knew how to throw an enchanting party.

“Yo, Marinette! Is that you?”

A voice that Marinette immediately recognized yelled out to her, and she turned around with an eager smile to greet them.

“Uncle Jagged! When did you get here?”

Jagged wormed his way out of the crowd with a wide grin. “I should be asking you the same thing! That dress looks great by the way.”

Marinette giggled and offered him a little spin. “Thanks! It took me forever to finish it. How have you been?”

“Oh, the usual. I’ve been rock and rollin’ to my heart’s content. Have you tried the food here yet?”

“Afraid not. Audrey told me to stay put until she came back from a meeting with somebody.”

Jagged scoffed and gently took her by the arm. “Audrey Shm-audrey. You’re an adult now! You can do whatever you want, like coming to try these over-priced cream puffs with me.”

Marinette snorted, but before she could reply, a cacophony of squeals tugged her attention to the front entrance of the Louvre. Someone new was joining the party, and it had the reporters quite excited.

“It appears that Felix Culpa has decided to come to the gala after all! There was speculation of him skipping out, but we’re happy to see him regardless!”

Annoyance swirled in the back of her mind at the mention of the actor, though she tried to hide it for the sake of civility. Ever since she started her small fashion business, Felix Culpa has been indirectly stealing her designs and wearing them without giving her an ounce of credit. She’s not sure how, since she’s jumped through who knows how many hoops to keep her projects a secret, but he does. Magazines, social media, behind-the-scenes pictures from his movies- anything he appears in, he’s wearing something of hers, be it a t-shirt or a tuxedo or a button-up shirt with jeans. It was infuriating, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not figure out where the leaks were coming from. No one was sending out emails, no one was going to visit him in person, and no one was posting any pictures of the working process online. And yet, he still managed to match his outfit with everything she created.

She couldn’t even sue him for copyright! Because, technically, all of the outfits that he’d worn so far had been made from a mix of his own wardrobe, and that, unfortunately, wasn’t a crime.

Whatever, she thought to herself with a slight shake of the head. At least he can’t copy me tonight.

“What’s this?” A reporter gasped. “Folks, I’m not sure if I’m actually seeing this, but Felix Culpa has just stepped out in a silver tuxedo with a navy, button-up shirt underneath that matches MDC’s outfit exactly!”

Marinette’s jaw had to have dropped to the floor when she heard those words. How was that possible? There was no way Felix could have coordinated his outfit with hers! No one even knew what she was going to be wearing! Unless this some insane coincidence?

“Oh, Look at that! He even has a small, diamond star clipped to his tie! Could Felix Culpa be dressed as MDC’s moon?!”

Marinette whirled around to face the entrance. This was most certainly not a coincidence. Even if he did decide to wear a silver tux tonight, nothing should have prompted him to wear a diamond star clip. Not unless he was trying to copy her designs again.

“Marinette? Are you alright?” Jagged Stone asked, noticing the sudden shift in her mood.

“I’m fine.” She said, forcing a leveled tone as she eyed the door. “I’m just going to go greet M Culpa, if you don’t mind.”

“ No problem! Come find me by the hors d'oeuvres when you’re done.”

Marinette didn’t bother throwing Jagged a tight smile as she stalked towards the door. Instead, she focused on how, exactly, she was going to call this esteemed actor out on his indirect theft without making a scene. This was a high class party, and she couldn’t afford to make a fool of herself. At the same time, however, she desperately needed to know how he’d been matching her outfits to a fault.

Felix Culpa strode into Louvre a moment later, wearing the very tuxedo that the reporter had described. The silver jacket and dress pants matched the glittering stars on her dress, while the navy blue, button-up shirt underneath matched the main color of her outfit. Don’t even get her started on the diamond clip! It was like the thing had been bought as a pairing with her necklace! The only way he could have coordinated with her that well was if he looked at a picture of her dress directly, which didn’t make any sense. He couldn’t have seen her dress! It’s been in her personal apartment since she started working on it!

His eyes scanned over the room leisurely, stopping when they landed on her, and for a moment, Marinette felt her anger falter, because my gosh was he a gorgeous man. She’d seen pictures of him plenty of times, but they apparently didn’t do him any justice. His strong jawline and defined cheekbones were perfectly framed by his pale, blond hair in a way she’d never noticed before. Then, there was his slender figure that the tuxedo seemed to cling to..

Marinette shook her head slight. Focus! There was a reason I was walking over here!

She offered the man a smile as she approached him, so as not to alarm him towards her somewhat hostile intentions, and he returned the smile with a slight nod.

“I assume you’re MDC?” He said in greeting.

Marinette nodded, barely holding back a sarcastic tone as she replied, “What gave me away?”

A small smile graced Felix’s lips, and he gestured to her dress. “I believe I’m supposed to be your ‘moon’.”

Marinette swore she felt her eye twitch. Was he being smug about it now?

“Yes, it would seem that way.. If I might ask, what prompted you to dress that way this evening?”

Felix glanced over his outfit thoughtfully, before giving her a little shrug. “Nothing in particular, I suppose. I simply felt like it.”

Marinette bit her tongue to avoid scoffing. He simply felt like it? No one accidentally coordinates their outfit with a specifically crafted dress because they ‘feel like it’. That’s just preposterous!

“I would like to compliment your work, though. It is my understanding that you brought that dress to life yourself?”

“..I did.”

“It’s phenomenal craftsmanship. I’m afraid I’ve only heard of you in name alone, but the praise clearly wasn’t over-exaggerated-”

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. Did he just say that he’d only heard of her in name alone? Meaning he hadn’t seen any of her other designs yet?

“-I couldn’t imagine stitching that many stars onto a single garment.”

“I’m sorry,” She politely cut him off. Did he expect to get away with lying straight to her face? “But did you just say you’d heard of me in name alone?”

He nodded. “I’ve been rather busy as of late and haven’t had time to check with things in the fashion industry.”

“Then how do you explain your other outfits?”

A blank expression fell across Felix’s features. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your other outfits.” Marinette repeated, almost through gritted teeth. “I have proof that you’ve been blatantly plagiarizing my designs for the past two years. How do you explain that if you supposedly haven’t seen any of my work until now.”

Felix raised a brow, appearing to be genuinely confused. “Mademoiselle, I can assure you that I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

This time, Marinette did scoff. How could he not know what she was talking about? If it had been once or twice, Marinette could write it off, but consistently matching her designs for two years? That’s no accident. How else would he manage to-

“Oh, there they are!” A reporter gasped. “MDC and Felix Culpa have already found each other! The moon and stars circling around each other as always. I’ve never seen such a fashionable pair of soulmates!”

Marinette froze, and from the looks of it, Felix froze too.

Soulmates.. Color coordination.. Was that why Felix had been ‘plagiarizing’ her outfits all of this time? Was that why he claimed not to know anything about it even though it was glaringly obvious? Had she been obsessing over a mystery that had had a reasonable answer right in front of her face all along?

Her eyes trailed down to his suit, the suit that matched hers perfectly, and the realization that washed over her nearly caused her to face-palm.

He hadn’t been copying her designs.

He’d been copying her outfit specifically.

Because they were soulmates.

“..What was that you said about my plagiarizing your designs?” Felix asked after a moment.

Marinette let out a defeated sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well, I feel ridiculous now.”

A soft chuckle passed Felix’s lips, and she glanced up just in time to catch the spark of amusement dancing in his silver eyes. Gosh, this beautiful human being was supposed to be her soulmate now? How was she going to cope? How was she going to Alya, the person she’d been ranting to for a good year now, about this new development? Actually, did Alya know about this all along? She always did act strange when Marinette brought it up, with her sly smirks and mischievous smiles and-

Felix offered his arm to her. “I, personally, would love to hear about this ridiculousness if you don’t mind sharing.”

Marinette pressed her lips into a thin line, a blush creeping onto her cheeks, but she took his arm with a huff despite it. “I guess I might as well tell you. We’re probably going to be spending a lot more time together after this, anyway.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Felix replied lightheartedly, shooting her a smirk that made her heart skip a beat.

Marinette glanced away to regain some composure, but failed miserably as she only felt herself blush harder. Darn Felix Culpa and his stupid, breathtaking face.

She absolutely loved it.

(Send me a letter and I’ll do a thing!)

(The next one I’m going to be working on is J for Daminette!)

#asks #felinette #Soulmate AUs

196 notes · View notes

bumbershots · 3 years

Text

SUCK IT AND SEE

Author’s note: HELLO! This is my (very very late) part for the amazing Playlist fic challenge that @harrystylescherry put together. The song I chose is Suck it and see by the Arctic Monkeys. I had it ready back in April but I didn’t love it to be honest, but I do now, so hopefully you will too. In all honesty I loved it a little bit too much so this can be taken as the prologue for a new series, I will be posting the details for it next week :) enjoy!

Summary: Harry reflects on his decision to “Suck it and see” when it comes to his relationship with Selena. He decides that no matter how things turn out… good or bad it's worth the experience and gives him the opportunity to always be the person she needs him to be.

Word count: 2.3K

Trigger warning: mention of depression.

The Wellington is slowly filling up, Harry is done tuning his guitar, his eyes quickly scan the usual clientele. A sigh escapes his lips before he takes another sip of the pint he ordered. He needs to calm down.

It’s a quiet Tuesday night, so the usual elderly gentlemen and a few students occupy the place eating fish and chips and drinking as they argue about football, their families or their jobs. Harry sits by the small stage that is set across the bar, fiddling with the strings of his favourite instrument.

The door has opened at least seventy times, and every single one of them has the nineteen year old craning his neck to see if it’s Selena. But his stomach clenches after finding out, once more, that it’s not her.

“Mate it’s half past ten,” he hears Sarah’s voice from behind and he sighs again before nodding in acceptance and defeat.

“Let’s do it then.” Harry rises and stands close to his assigned microphone while the other two band members also join them in the small platform.

After a year of playing in the most shitty and not so shitty places all over London, the band was offered a chance at a small record company. Tonight was the last show they performed at this place, soon they would be chasing bigger venues and dreams.

With that in mind the bass player, Yuri, steps up to his own microphone to speak. “It’s time for some music.” His sweet voice claims the regulars attention, just as Sarah counts to four hitting her drumsticks together and Mitch plays the opening chord for the first song of the night.

Three years ago, when the band was just a thought drifting around Harry’s mind, he would daydream about this moment, the last show because they’ve finally made it. Their usual fans would gather near the stage for a better glimpse and sing along the familiar tunes. He would finally master a solo and when it was all over, his eyes would meet a pair of familiar ones watching from the bar, she would be equally smiley, a proud look on her face as she claps and cheers louder than anyone.

In the last two months, that mental image has permanently settled on his brain. Harry Styles wanted success for his band more than anything, but not more than seeing her at the end of it all. Which is why after the set comes to an end, he refuses to look up. He knows she’s not there.

Had she come in at some point during their performance, he would’ve noticed, even with all the ruckus done by the now considerable crowd in the pub. If Selena had set foot on the place, Harry would’ve known.

“Thank you for everything, you’ve been amazing tonight and every night before,” Yuri‘s words pull him back from the trance, but he keeps his gaze away from the bar, he settles for the back of the bass player’s head as he speaks for the last time. “This isn’t the last you hear from The Cherry Blossoms!”

There’s a lot of cheering and applause and Harry is suddenly mad about not finding it satisfying enough. He knows he will hate himself for it, but before walking off the stage, he looks over at the bar.

She’s not perched on a stool like the first time they played in here, sipping on some soda because of her lack of tolerance to alcohol. She’s not skipping over to hug him. Where is she? Harry wonders what could possibly be more important than this.

I will be there of course. I’m your biggest fan, after all. She so smugly declared on their last phone call, a week ago.

The urge to call her is too much, but Harry knows that if for some reason, she doesn’t pick up the phone. He will finally lose it. Instead he joins his band mates for a celebratory drink.

Listening to Yuri gush about Sarah’s drumming and complimenting Mitch on his skills as well, lifts Harry’s spirits a bit. If only for the next hour, he’s going to enjoy and bask into their triumph. And he’s so sure that there’s a perfect explanation for her absence, that he does end up having a good time. He ignores the heavy feeling in his chest, a reminder of the power that girl holds on him.

◇

A sleepy Selena Lara mumbles nonsense, slowly waking up and becoming aware of an annoying ringtone blasting through the small flat, it stops for a minute until it goes off again and now she definitely knows the mobile belongs to her.

“Hello,” she greets so earnestly, despite the sleepy rasp in her voice, that Harry can perfectly picture the slow process that is her waking up.

He hears some rustling on her end and it plays like a movie before his eyes. The way she sits up, rubs her eyes and keeps them closed for about five minutes. Harry always gets out of bed before her, and it’s always him watching —watching her come awake, little by little, slow but sure. Harry wishes to be a witness of it more often, everyday if possible. Even if sometimes Selena takes a really long shower, or if some days she only mumbles some words before snuggling herself onto the sofa and falling right back asleep. Harry doesn’t mind, never will.

But he ignores the warm feeling he gets just by thinking about her.

“Where were you last night?” he says instead.

“What?”

“Last night, when the band played its last gig at The Wellington. You didn’t attend.”

“You thought I was going to be there?” Selena flops back onto her side, taking the duvet with her until she’s cocooned once again. “Harry I love you, but you know I couldn’t possibly afford a flight back home.”

“Why?”

She sighs, this conversation was bound to take place between them at some point. “The program at Bunka is… intense, to say the least. I almost failed a class so there is not a chance for a scholarship, I need to find another job if I want to be able to pay for tuition.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” They both know why. If Harry had known that she wouldn’t be there, he would have refused to even set foot at the pub.

“I was embarrassed.” Selena admits with a light shrug she knows he can’t see. “I know I don’t have a valid reason to be, I have proper housing, food, and a job. But I just feel so frustrated at this school.” She mumbles something at the end that he can’t understand, but it sounds a lot like her doubting her own talent.

After eight years of friendship, Harry knows pretty much everything about Selena and vice versa. They trust each other, with all they have. Which is why he’s hurt after hearing about this just now.

“How long have you felt this way?” He asks, not sure if the answer is something he will like.

“About four months.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Harry considers the merits of lecturing Selena, but he would never kick her when she’s down. Also he’s aware that Selena knows she should trust him with things like that, they’ve never been too shy to share their feelings with each other. It’s what brought them into this situation anyway.

It started two years ago, the last summer Selena spent in England, right before she moved to Japan and studied fashion design. It started with them going to that party, separating as usual, agreeing on a reasonable hour to meet at the door and leave together. It started with Selena wearing a skirt that made Harry want to do all kinds of things for her. It started with Harry offering to leave earlier and placing his hand on the small of her back all the way back home. It started with Selena kissing him in the dark and instead of a beginning it felt a lot like crossing the finish line of a marathon.

It kept going even after that summer, because Harry insisted on calling her all sorts of pet names and giving her kisses on the cab ride to the airport. It kept going because Selena got a Skype account and sent Harry an invite. And it is surprising to anyone and no one really that it lasted two years already.

The only problem is that they hadn’t talked about it. The I love you Harry whispered after that first night together and the I knew it! Selena triumphantly acclaimed before bursting out one of her unattractive laughs. To this day remains the only talk they had, Harry doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Shit,” Selena mumbles after checking the time, “I have to get ready for work.” She wants to say something to appease him, anything. Harry is waiting for the words to come out of her pretty mouth.

Selena is good with words, knows a lot of them in English, Spanish, French and Japanese. She was popular for speaking up against unfairness at school, and was running a monthly column at an online magazine. But she doesn’t have any right now. Selena doesn’t want to tell him how much she hates the program, how stupid it makes her feel, how she longs for the day she can finally be done and never look back on it. Selena doesn’t complain. She doesn’t get frustrated. She doesn’t quit. Ever.

“But we’ll Skype tomorrow, alright?” It’s better than nothing so Harry takes it.

“Of course, have a good day baby.”

Selena ends the call and groans. She doesn’t want to overthink about her relationship Harry, it’s the only good thing she has right now. With a shake of her head and a proper stretch of her limbs, she gets out of bed.

But it occurs to her in the middle of a three hour lecture, that she might have been cruel with Harry. He asked if she would attend the gig and she said yes, as if there weren’t thousands of kilometres between them. She knows he will never talk about this, and that she was already forgiven by him. She thinks about the fees his mobile carrier is charging him with all those calls he makes every week. She feels bad about not being able to love him the way he needs to be loved.

Because when it all started she never thought of it lasting past that summer when they made promises hard to keep. But Harry, always kind and attentive Harry, didn’t let her slip away. He gave her space to recharge when she needed it and she always came back feeling guilty about it, because she always enjoys the time apart. He always sent a care package at the beginning of the month with her favourite sweets. He praised all of her designs, no matter how much she insisted they were not even that good. You know nothing about fashion he would say with a roll of his eyes and Selena would smile, forever fond of his antics, forever fond of him and him alone.

It occurred to Selena that she always sort of had a crush on Harry —a crush everyone knew about. But even that didn’t stop her from being cruel to Harry, even that wouldn’t force her to answer his Skype call the next day or the one after that. She remembers how Harry claimed to be the more infatuated one with whatever they were doing. One of their last nights together, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and breathed against the crook of her neck just how many times he’d dreamt about being with her like that.

Selena warned him, knowing that train of thought might lead to a conversation she didn’t want to have, not then. But he laughed and his hot breath against her skin made her dizzy. Sorry, but you’ve got such a pretty face I’m sure it’s going to break me a little. What else is there?

What else is there, Selena thinks now, as she closes her laptop after ignoring all of Harry’s Skype calls. She turns off her phone too, because she knows his MO well enough and that is his next resource. It’s the first time she does it and it feels cruel again. She wonders how much more of this will Harry endure, how long until he stops trying to reach her and finally realises that it’s not worth it. That she doesn’t want him to comfort her, that she is not going to talk about how tired of everything in her life she is. Selena can’t give up, not after everything her family is expecting her to achieve.

But she doesn’t know just how much Harry truly feels about her, how much he longs for her to know that the way she has of caring for him is enough and he will take it, will always take anything if it’s coming from her.

Harry knows that being apart is hard, so he always tries extra hard to communicate, be patient and endure. But having to sit alone at his flat, unable to do a single thing, a single damn thing for Selena, that is something he refuses to keep doing. Having to watch from half the world away, knowing he can’t do a single thing about it. That is enough to break Harry Styles. Without a second thought he opens his laptop once again, this time to search for the next flight to Japan.

He’s a fool, for spending so much money on a flight to see how his friend with benefits is doing. And suddenly he remembers all the times Selena’s been trying not to break his heart. But he can’t help wanting to be there for her, maybe after this, they will finally have that conversation. Nothing is certain as Harry packs a small luggage, nothing really is when it comes to her.

As he boards the aeroplane a day later though, the pressure on his chest disappears. Whatever happens now can’t be a bad thing, not when he’s seeing Selena anyway.

#playlistficchallenge #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles oc #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #SUCK IT AND SEE

21 notes · View notes