yet another fanfic for the cat dad au. hotguy admits his feelings for ariana griande on live tv. it all works out in the end
A crash sounds through the flat, followed by quick steps and the slamming of a door.
Sitting on the floor assembling a jigsaw, Ariana sees Kitten's ears perk up. A moment later, the eyes follow, snapping upwards, pupils dilating. She knows what it means. Scar is home, and Kitten is excited.
And so is she.
She walks out into the hall, ready to greet her friend, but there’s no one to greet. Instead, shoes are strewn on the floor, a jacket thrown haphazardly beside them, and Scar is nowhere to be seen.
Confused, she looks over to her left—and the door to Scar’s room is closed. That’s a thing that doesn’t happen often, so she’s immediately worried.
Peeking out from behind her legs, Kitten asks, “Where’s Scar?”
He sounds disappointed. Ariana crouches down to his level and curls her fingers around his head. Kitten immediately leans into her touch, closing his eyes.
“Why don’t you go and work on that puzzle, huh, kitty?” she says, gently scratching behind his ear. “Scar will come back and be amazed by the progress you’ve made.”
Nodding eagerly, Kitten brushes up against her a couple of times and races back to his jigsaw.
Standing up, Ariana smiles fondly before pausing to check her phone. She hasn’t touched it all day, too busy hanging out with Kitten to care about the usual stream of notifications, but clearly something happened at Scar’s work and it would be a good idea to try and find out what before she actually talks to him—
The smile slips.
As a public figure, she always has her notifications muted. Right now, she doesn't know whether that's a blessing or a curse, because her phone is blowing up.
Fumbling with her pockets, she fishes her earphones out and unties them as fast as possible, jamming an earbud into her ear and clicking on the first clip she can find.
She's met with the sight of flashing lights and gathering crowds, and immediately Ariana feels her heart skip a beat when Scar comes into view. Dressed as Hotguy, he's radiant as ever, and no amount of seeing him can stop every look from feeling as if it's the first one.
Shaking herself out of her lovesick thoughts, she tunes into the audio—just in time to hear a reporter ask, "Hotguy, what can you say about your relationship with Ariana Griande?"
Oh. Oh stars.
"M-my what?"
"Well, you're together, aren't you?"
A step back.
"I—I don't know what you're talking about."
"Come on,” the reporters smile. “It's clear from the way you look at her. You love her, don't you?"
"No, I—"
"Hotguy, your feelings towards Ariana have never been a secret. So come on, the public wants to know—who asked who out?"
Hotguy takes another step back, looking uncomfortable.
"Uh—no one asked anyone out. She doesn't—we're just friends."
"Friends don't look at each other the way you look at her. There's no way you two aren't dating."
Lights flash and Hotguy shrinks in on himself, hands coming up to fiddle with his necklace.
"No, we aren't—we're not dating. We're not."
"It's obvious you are, though. You can keep your secrets, Hotguy, but the fans know—"
"Look, you can say what you want about me, but don't touch her, okay?” he finally snaps. “It doesn't matter if I'm in love with her, she doesn't feel the same, and I'm not going to stand for you all spreading lies about her."
"So you do love her?"
"I—I—"
The clip ends there.
Despite her composed nature, a stutter goes through her chest.
She knew that Scar had a crush on her—it's hard not to pick up some things, with how flustered he acts around her—but this is different. Hearing Scar admit it, especially like that—and he said he loved her. The word he used was love.
Ariana doesn't think anyone's ever used that word for her and meant it.
Putting her phone away, she takes a breath to calm herself and walks up to Scar's door. Her emotions are all over the place, but she knows above everything that she has to talk to him—now.
Unsurprisingly, a knock yields no reaction, and after taking another deep breath, she spreads her fingers and pushes the door open.
Inside, it's empty, save for a Scar-shaped lump of blankets that makes warmth grow in her chest as she approaches it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ariana places a hand on the lump and it jerks, making a weak attempt to scoot away.
"Scar," she says softly, rubbing his arm.
For a moment, the lump is silent. Then a tiny voice mumbles, "I'm gonna drown myself."
Amused but also concerned, she asks, "Why would you do that?"
Scar doesn't answer. Instead, he burrows deeper into the blankets. Ariana gets the sense that he's trying to make himself look like he's not there.
If so, he's failing miserably. He'll never stop being there for her.
"Scar."
There is a long moment of silence, in which Ariana can feel her concern growing. Being forced to reveal a secret is never fun (even if it was only ever a secret to one person), and especially on live TV—
She tries her best to ignore the butterflies fluttering about her stomach. Looking at the man before her, she thinks she still fails.
Finally, the silence is broken, "Just go away."
"Why?"
Scar sits up, swivels around to face her and starts to explain, hands thrusting up and down, "Because I'm pathetic. And I know you agree, and so do I, I think so too, and it's okay if you leave."
Listening to his frenzied stammering, Ariana feels a tentative, trembling kind of elation start to blossom in her throat.
"I'd prefer that, in fact," Scar continues, unaware as her fingers start to shake, "it would be better than this, than pretending that you don't hate me when I know you do, why wouldn't you, after what you just found out—"
"Scar," she cuts him off. "I'm not leaving."
"But—"
Ariana grabs his face with both her hands and kisses him.
Scar freezes. Slowly, his hands come up to weakly grapple at her arms and she feels his entire body shudder in her hold. He doesn’t make an attempt to pull away, however, and so she stays as she is, mouth pressed to his, joy growing in her lungs.
The kiss lasts for only a few moments, but it might as well be eons before they break apart. Inhaling, tasting Scar’s breath on her tongue, she opens her eyes and looks.
Scar’s face is soft, eyelashes still half-lowered, previously unseen freckles standing out on his cheeks—by the stars, Ariana has never been more in love. Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, she finally says, a tinge of humour entering her voice, “Maybe the reporters were right after all.”
Breaking out of the love-induced trance, Scar giggles softly, “You can’t say that.”
“I’m Ariana Griande, I can say whatever I want.”
“Yeah,” he breathes, staring unabashedly at her lips. “You can.”
Ariana goes to kiss him again, but he catches her wrists in his hands.
“You’re sure?” he asks, and suddenly he looks painfully uncertain. She knows that Scar doesn’t think he deserves anything good, and it’s clear that he’s having trouble believing that this is real.
She’ll do whatever it takes to disprove him of that notion until it may as well have never existed.
“I’m sure.”
Scar relaxes and presses his forehead to hers. She wants to feel his lips on hers again, but she leans closer to him and contents herself with the heat of his breath against her open mouth, the pressure of his hands that come to settle on her waist.
A soft purring reaches her ears and she smiles. Kitten must be delighted.
And stars, so is she.
127 notes
·
View notes
Warm with Wine (also on ao3)
Arthur laughed. Merlin wanted to gag.
To her credit, the young lady was beautiful. First daughter of a repubale lord, she was donned in fine jewels and layers of fabric. But Merlin believed, even without all of her coin, she would’ve been gorgeous. Not enough to rival the Lady Morgana, no, but enough to catch the eye of most men.
Enough to catch the eye of Arthur.
She’d arrived with her father to the council gathering, along with several other young ladies of the court. Uther had arranged it for something or another, the crop yield had seemed very profitable this season, but it seemed that the lords had all seen another opportunity. Many of their fair daughters had come of age this spring, and Prince Arthur wasn’t getting any younger.
“They make a fine pair, don’t they?” Gwen claimed, coming to rest by Merlin’s side. They waited along the edges of the large dining table that had been drug in earlier that morning. It was decked high with food, roast duck and boiled vegetables, fruit and warm bread. Uther sat at the head of the table, as was expected, but Arthur had found himself further towards the center, forced to make pleasantries with the visiting nobility.
He did not seemed forced now, however. His eyes were alight in a way that showed focus and intrigue. Merlin new nothing of the lady besides her looks, he barely recalled her name, but her father had seemed as bustling and pigheaded as most country lords. It seemed his daughter did not hold his same demeanor. At least, she didn’t with Arthur.
“I set Arthur up with some books on dress making,” Merlin grins. “It seems he took quite the fancy to it.”
Guinevere chuckled and pushed roughly on his arm, “Hush now.”
“It was opt time he learned to dress himself.”
“Women can know more than the latest fashion, Merlin,” she scoffed with an exasperated smile.
“I know. I’ve met you haven’t I. I’m sure she had a marvelous library at her estate. One her father should take an interest in.”
Across the table, the maiden’s father let out a loud and obnoxious laugh.
“Quite,” Gwen frowned. “But an intelligent and beautiful woman would make an excellent consort for the prince.”
“Talk of marriage already, Gwen?” Merlin smirked. “Always the romantic.”
“Of course it’s far to early,” she said. “But Arthur is on his second cup this evening. And I hear the blood runs hot in the days before summer.”
“What are you implying?”
“Just make sure you knock in the morning.”
“Stop.”
She laughed at the horror on his face and pushed his arm once again. He pushed back.
“It would be nice if he could settle down though,” she said as they sobered. “He’s always so high strung.”
Merlin scoffed, “Don’t remind me.”
“His father puts a lot of pressure on him. I would love to see someone with wish he could share his burdens. Someone who would help carry his load.”
Merlin hummed.
“Does it not bother you?” he asked. “The expectation for him to marry noble?”
Gwen gave him a confused look, before her face suddenly grew red. “No, no. Of course not. Perhaps once upon a time, but I do find myself having moved on, as of late.”
“You’re as red as Arthur’s cape, lovely lady.”
She pushed his arm harder, “Because you speak of embarrassing things!”
“You just insuated Arthur would have a warm bed not two minutes ago!” he protested. She glared and wrinkled her nose childishly in his direction.
They watched on for a bit more. The young lady leaned in, not enough to touch but enough to be personal. Arthur fought to keep his face neutral. Merlin fought to keep his magic in check. A swooning Arthur was always disturbing. To imagine the prince reduced to a melting puddle over a random woman was always annoying.
Especially with the probability of an assasination far too high for Merlin’s weary bones.
“He’ll always have time for you, though,” Gwen remarked.
“Huh?”
She simply smiled as Morgana called for her and she left his side. Turning back to the prince, Merlin found Arthur’s attention on him. The young lady had received the attention of another across the table, and Arthur had taken the chance to glance at his manservant. He raised his eyebrows in a crudely boyish manner. Once, twice. Merlin rolled his eyes. Arthur did it again before returning his attention to the woman beside him.
The dinner carried on into the evening. Merlin was called to refill the prince’s cup one more time before he remarkably turned to his goblet of water. The noise in the hall grew louder as food was completed and wine came to sit deep in bellies. Merlin found himself fighting a headache as the stars grew higher, wishing he could step out for a breath of fresh air and a glance above. A glance at something that wouldn’t be plain and smoke-hazed stone.
He closed his eyes and breathed.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself once again in Arthur’s gaze. The prince was smiling, a broad grin stretching between crinkled eyes. His nosed scrunched in a happy and charming matter, and wine dusted his cheeks pink despite the water. He looked directly at Merlin, a laxed and carefree look about him, his blonde hair backlit by the fading candlelight.
He was glowing. He shone as he smiled at Merlin, who couldn’t resist a small smile back, looking a bit heavy on his feet but light in his heart.
He shone. Like a star.
Oh.
29 notes
·
View notes
Phullo it is I again!
I am very glad that you actually responded and given me an actual advice since I was worried about the question I sent you.
Though besides that I have another question for you (hoorayyy)!
So, about the reading books earlier- I’m fortunately a bookworm too! It’s just that I notice I prefer reading the genre science fiction/psychological horror more than… anything else!
And while the books I am currently reading, ‘Flowers For Algernon’ and ‘I’m Thinking Of Ending Things’ (these books are seriously so wonderfully made they make want to tear my walls), DO have romantic aspects of it- it’s not really the main plot of the story..
‘Flowers For Algernon’ has amazing storytelling and is very unique- though I’m not sure if you’ve read it before but, it’s actually just the main character taking notes. Hence why there was a lot misspellings which honestly makes it a great touch if you know the context behind it.
On the other hand, ‘I’m Thinking Of Ending Things’ too shares the same uniqueness as the other, possibly even more unique if I must say so myself. Though I REALLY don’t want to make my story similar to them since I want to make it more heart warming than fucked up..
Which is why I feel like I have the need to borrow or buy at least one romantic book because, I lack of it. I mean I accidentally borrowed it one time but it was kind of disappointing.
I don’t know if its a good idea and if I should do it or not since does it really matter of the genre, or just the writing?
Still, if you have any good books that are in the romance genre. Feel free to recommend some to me!
-lots of love, from another bookworm
welcome back! happy to hear you're a bookworm as well <3 im writing those titles down since i read a criminal lack of sci-fi despite loving it
i actually don't have any straight up romance recs - i don't actively search it out (outside of fanfic), so any romance i read just comes with whatever book i've picked up. just straight up romance bores me, unless its a fic with a pairing i actively like. and even then, i need to take breaks from it unless the romance is interspersed with an actual plot. im not a romantically-geared person! i dont have single Main Plot Is Romance book on my shelves!
but imo its really just the quality of writing that helps. ive never been in a romance, im the child of two different divorces, and yet ive been told that i write romance fairly well. go fuckin figure lmao.
so actually my advice on romance is to just like. wow idk what i do is pick apart the romances i see on tv / in writing. what makes them good together, how do they act around each other, what are their love languages, what's their dynamic, what traditional romance things do they partake in, what dont they partake in, do they have anything nontraditional, do they work and why do / they dont they - does that make their relationship more interesting or is it flat. are they a good match.
you don't have to have every answer, but ive found that at least understanding their characters / dynamics, and having them interact in a way that suits them will help your romance feel natural. dont conform to tropes or tradition, that will just make the relationship flat and unrealistic. and you can always sprinkle in little things that you like / would like, which will help ground the romance and get you into the groove
tldr with romance, i think it's better to observe real life (whether that's paying attention to couples or reading reddit threads) & analyze in-love or in-a-relationship characters instead of just reading romance novels. bc honestly, and from what i can tell, they can tend to be over the top or cookie cutter
just realized you did not explicitly ask for romance advice! Oopsie! i got a little carried away here....
18 notes
·
View notes