#like clothes and jewelry and it's not betraying her cause or being greedy?

[fireballofinsanity]

27. How do they relate to their appearance? How do they wear their clothing? Style? Quality?

Character Solidifying!

27. How do they relate to their appearance? How do they wear their clothing? Style? Quality?

Admittedly, her appearance isn’t something Sera thinks all too much about or a normal basis, but how she looks changes a great deal on where in her life she is. For the most part at any time, you can count on her being as clean and presentable as she possibly can be at all times; hair brushed and neat, clothes as tidy as she can get them (which is difficult to keep up while a homeless traveler), teeth brushed... She likes to make sure she’s presentable, even if her outfits can say otherwise.

Clothing, on the other hand, changes depending on which point in her life you’re looking at. One of her core beliefs is that no matter how poor of a lifestyle she leads (living in trees, surviving on a handful or so of berries a day for meals...), there’s always someone out there who has it worse than her, and that’s left Sera with the desire to give everything she can to someone who can use it more than her. As a result, at this point in her life, she own three dresses at most, and not a single one of them are free of holes, tears, and snags in the fabric. She tries to keep them clean and presentable, but that’s easier said than done when they look more like rags than actual dresses, fitting her decently, but not exactly well. More modern verses are worn-down skirts and a pair of light, torn pants, a product of being able to stay in homeless shelters and help out.

Should she find a home with someone, like she has with Ky, she eventually does learn she’s allowed to have possessions without it coming off as greedy, and slowly begins widening her wardrobe, though she still has a limit on just how much she keeps, and does still occasionally give large chunks of it away. This is where she settles into her daily style - Well-fitting but still relatively loose, modest skirts and dresses, the occasional pair of jeans, and light sweaters make up the majority of it, with perhaps a single formal dress in the mix, just on the off chance it’s needed. All the fabrics are cheap cottons at best, but they’re also clearly taken care of... And if one looks close, she’s made sure any fabric reaching her wrist, as well as occasional, delicate pieces of jewelry, are as loose as can be. She can’t stand anything tight-fitting and especially nothing tight on her wrists, nor coarse fabrics - If she’s going to wear a wool anything, it’s going to be a wool shawl in the dead of winter at best and then give it away the next day.

A fun fact: Sera’s unbothered by her clothing and appearance while she’s homeless, regardless of verse. To her, they’re well-worn and show she’s a hard worker, and she is, to back up those claims - But she is bothered whenever she’s among good friends and companions whenever they’re among other people, such as being around Ky whenever he had to be around others before she moved in. On the flip side, she’s not embarrassed by herself... She’s embarrassed her companions must be (are, in her mind) embarrassed and having to wander around with someone beside them who looks like she just walked in off the street... Even though she literally did. It’s not her, it’s what people must think of them for having her close.

[parkers-gal]

maybe a cute little blurb about tom and the reader announcing they’re engaged to their parents/families?

enjoyyy :)

requests are open

wc: 1.5k (sorry, went overboard with this)

—

Tom gave you no option, really. You had no choice but to love him, to fall for him as hard as you did. Oftentimes, you thought about how inevitable it was, how inevitable he was. You knew his trap was inescapable, but you were too exhilarated, too thrilled with the idea of being his, that you let him trip you. You let him, let him trip you until you fell hard.

If Tom had fallen any harder, he was positive he’d break his nose for the fourth time in five years. But no, he definitely fell, but he didn’t hit rock bottom. He’d fallen for you, and that was the scariest thing in the entire world to him — losing you, falling so hard and fearing if you’d leave. He knew if you did leave, he’d never recover, never truly live the same way.

So he’s asking for you to be his, for forever. Granted, forever is a long time, and that’s almost what Tom loves most about it. He loves calling you his, knowing you’re connected at the hip, in the mind, with your hearts. But he also loves having the security of everyone else knowing it, too.

You love it too — you love what the ring symbolizes. Your Tiffany & Co. ring, a dashing 1.27 carats. You love Tom, and the way his mind works — he didn’t go the traditional route in getting your parents’ blessing and buying a ring. Instead, he’d asked you casually.

“Hey, love.” Tom walks into the kitchen, sitting on the counter beside the stove where you’re heating the kettle for some tea.

“What’s up, baby?”

“Do you… wanna go shopping today?”

“For what?”

“A ring.”

You freeze, glancing up at him with shocked eyes, eyes full with pleasant surprise.

“A ring?”

“For… you. For us- for… marriage?”

“Tommy…” You lean back, mouth open slightly. You can feel tears starting to form, starting to wet your eyes. It’s love — you can feel it — it’s love that’s wetting your eyes, your cheeks, your face. It’s love that causes these happy tears. “What’re you saying?”

“I’m saying…” He jumps off the counter, grabbing both of your hands after coming closer to you, filling up the space between you and him. “That I want you to be mine for… the rest of my life.”

“Tom,” You pout. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That you’ll let me?” His eyes are more hopeful than they’ve ever been in his entire life. Even more so than when he’d auditioned for Spider-man. He’s practically on his knees for you, sacrificing his heart in return for yours. “That you’ll let me be yours?”

You break into a smile, arms wrapping around his neck, lips by his ear as you whisper your response, feverishly and softly and passionately. “Of course, I’ll let you. You’ve always been mine.”

That day, the two of you went into Tiffany & Co. together, pointing at the jewels and bands and accessories with smiles wider than the Grand Canyon. You had a feeling, later on, that perhaps every store worker was watching the two of you, watching your love bounce off the walls of the fancy shop. They were watching you with jealous eyes, with proud eyes, that you were taking this large step together, and decided to include them in just a small piece of your journey together.

It’s been a month since then, and for the first time ever, you’re wearing your ring out in public. You’re having dinner with Tom’s family and your own family. It’s your parents’ anniversary — at least, last week it was, but they decided to celebrate with connected family later on — which means close family is gathering for a small dinner party.

“Don’t get cold feet on me.” Tom’s chin rests in the crook of your neck as he hugs you from behind. You’re looking in the full-length body mirror, adjusting your clothes as you slip the engagement ring on your finger like you’ve done so many times when you’re alone.

“Never, Tommy.” You return his smile, turning around in his arms and leaning to give him a soft kiss. It’s not a peck, but it’s not messy — it’s passionate and intimate and everything you’ve ever wanted. It’s what you’ve dreamed of, fantasized, read in every romance novel you could get your hands on.

It’s easy, being in love with Tom. It’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done and the most difficult thing in the world. It’s hard when everybody wants to be in your place, when everybody wants to be his. But it’s easy, knowing that he’d never trade his place for anything in the universe. If he’s not by your side, then he’s betrayed everything he’s ever told himself.

He’s complete by your side. That’s cliche, and even he knows it, but nothing has ever felt so true to him. Nothing has ever felt so right.

You lock the front door, holding your potato quiche with two hands as you make your way to the car. Tom sets the gift bag in the backseat before opening the passenger for you. You smile, thanking him, and he steals a cheek kiss before closing the door. You chuckle, setting the quiche on your lap as you buckle your seat belt. He does the same, buckling his seatbelt and shifting the gear, leaving the driveway before offering you his hand.

You accept it, interlocking your fingers. He blushes at the gesture, giddy inside. There’s something so intimate about affection in an act as simple as driving or even cleaning the dishes. There’s something so knee weakening about needing to feel someone against your skin in the simplest of acts. Against your skin in a raw way that isn’t animalistic, passionate yet not feverishly or greedy. There’s something so butterfly-provoking about displays of love in settings that aren’t even romantic.

It’s suffocating yet addicting at the same time. He’s addicting, but not as much as you.

As you get closer to the front door of the Holland household, you find yourself covering your hands with the sleeves of your hoodie. As you enter the house, you’re too caught up in greetings and hugs and food and people to realize you haven’t let the piece of jewelry show.

Dinner hasn’t even been served yet and you’re already growing hot and sweaty. You’re sipping wine, leaning against the fireplace with Tom’s arm around your waist. He’s calmly sipping beer, fingers ever present on your skin. As he leaves yet another kiss against the underside of your ear, you feel urged to ask to make the announcement now, rather than during dessert.

“Can we… tell them now?”

“Really?” He pauses his latest kiss against your neck, whispering back to you. When you nod, he smiles and mirrors your headshake. “May I take your jacket then, kind lady?” He puts on a Victorian accent and you giggle.

“If you insist.”

As your arms are stripped of the hoodie, you hand it off to him for safekeeping in the coat closet. When he returns to your side, your hands are behind your back, waiting for Tom to gather everyone’s attention.

“Hey, everyone, there’s uh- there’s something we’d like to talk about with everyone.”

As Harry raises a brow, he makes eye contact with his twin who hollers for Nikki to come in from the kitchen for a moment. Your parents are bewildered, as is your sister and Harrison.

With a final look at Tom, you smile as Nikki settles onto the arm of a chair Dominic is sitting in. You hold up your left hand, proudly showing off the newest ring to your collection. Your mom gasps first, and Nikki stands up quickly when she realizes what she’s seeing.

Paddy looks at Tom for positivity on what this means, and he can only smirk with a blush brighter than the star he named after you. All in a matter of seconds, your mothers are running towards you, Harrison and Sam and Harry screaming in excitement, in congratulations. Tom is hugging your father, shaking his hand nervously.

Your sister is next to see you, pulling you into her embrace with a teary smile and happy eyes. “You’re… gonna be married.”

You laugh, nodding as you try not to cry too. “Yeah.”

“So he’s the one, huh?”

“Yeah,” You eye Tom, who’s talking to your mother and your sister’s husband. “He’s… the only one.”

When you turn your head back in your sister’s direction, she’s looking at you with soft eyes and an adoring smile. You try not to get flustered, but when you look at Tom again, he’s looking at you already, all the way from across the living room.

He’s smiling in a way he never has before, looking at you as if you’re the only person he’s ever laid eyes on. Goosebumps raise on your skin, a chill sent straight up your spine, and suddenly, you know you’re meant to do this for the rest of your life.