#also like from flooded dms

[deus-ex-mona]

up next on chapter 36 of idol sengen… _(:3 」∠)_

[dykedvonte]

You brought up a lot of good points but one you mentioned and I always see being forgotten is Anya’s perspective on what she wants done.

When she asks Curly what he would’ve done it’s not accusatory or her reacting to badly to already empty promises but almost a genuine plea. She wants to know what he would’ve done and I think that was his biggest missed chance to actually provide support for her and possibly come up with a plan with her that made her feel more secure and not anxious enough to tell Jimmy so soon. Her telling him was a very real act of desperation in my mind. Hoping that he’d have some epiphany or realize the gravity of his actions and be reasonable. With a guy like Jimmy that is very far fetched but you can’t expect her to not want to be hopeful or have the best judgment in such a state of distress.

Everyone immediately assumes Anya wants the biggest punishment and the most consequences for Jimmy in those moments. No one ever asks what Anya actually wanted to be done outside of wanting to be heard and understood. Everyone assumes what she wanted to be done has something to do with the locks and med bay, with the gun or Curly physically confronting Jimmy. It’s all solely based on the discussions and arguments of what he could’ve done but again those conversations always forget those solutions are not realistic for what the setting and story are trying to comment on on so many different scales. It’s making her desires linked directly with Curly’s actions and I think that misses so much on the discussion for her.

She never asks for locks but comments on them. She hides the gun because she can also understand why Curly would not want her or any crew member to have unfettered access to it, but she also knows she can’t let Jimmy have access to it by leaving it in place. Discussing what Anya wants solely through the physical blocks that could be provided misses out on what she wanted on a social factor, a very big aspect of the game. She wanted to be heard and I feel like people aren’t hearing her when they solely talk about her desires under a lense of just needing protection.

It’s harsh to say, but the assault already occurred, there’s no act Curly could’ve taken to nullify that fact and I think people lump that together in the whole conversation, which also takes the blame and responsibility of that action off of Jimmy entirely. The one concrete want and desire from Anya we have is wanting to be understood. Her comments and questions are all subtle ways to have the others, mainly Curly, to get where she’s coming from without directly having to say it. She doesn’t just want to have to tell him every time but have those little details be seen. She likely knows he can’t magically add locks to the room, but she wants him to understand her concerns on why there aren’t any in the first place. She wants him to get why Jimmy’s comments make her so uncomfortable but he doesn’t, not to the extent he needs to. He tries to keep them seperate but the act feels hollow cause he doesn’t understand exactly why it’s such a relief for her.

I think Anya just wanted Curly to get it more than anything else. Even if he did all what people say he could’ve it would always be a hollow feeling for Anya if he didn’t understand why it was an issue for her in the first place and that’s a big thing people miss in the conversation. It’s not just caring about her concerns, which he shows he does, but seeing where they stem from. Maybe she did want the authorities involved, maybe she did want Jimmy dead. None of that would feel good if Curly was just following along with it and that’s a big point of the dead pixel. He doesn’t get why it’s a problem for her but accepts it as a problem. That not getting it is a damning factor for him and the rest of the crew in the end.

Anya and Curly to me are two characters that get each other but also don’t understand each other. They have similar sentiments but they go about things in such different ways they are like tragic but good fun house mirrors to each other. To not know but understand. To understand but not know. People treat aspects of the game as if things are spelled out for the characters when they aren’t even spelled out for us. That’s part of the commentary and I wish people understood how much of that is part of Anya’s character motivations.

Really like the recent analysis. I know I speak of curly in a more defensive way than most but I generally try to get the point you made across at the end of the day with my analyses on him and his behaviors.

People love to lock analyses around Curly solely based on what he could’ve done as a physical action and have this avoidance to acknowledging the realistic barriers at play when it comes to those solutions. It’s. The game tries to treat the pre-crash section as if they are grounded in social and organizational realities. So the what if he did this questions about the situation always fall short when the real answer is he either couldn’t or it wasn’t an actual viable option. But then when they talk about what he actually did do it’s surrounded by such bad faith interpretations that his actions were completely intentional or still not affected by outside sources. He’s a very much “road to hell is paved with good intentions” character. He cared too much and that’s a big part of his problem.

There’s such a “perfect victim or nothing” mindset in the fandom where people can’t admit that there are no such things as perfect victims but that also shouldn’t mean that even if there were it would absolve them of the mistakes they made. People want to moralize every action of every character that they don’t realize that some actions are done without any specific morale factor. People just do things, like you said. People assumed failed intentions immediately flip the thought process behind them “he meant to do good but bad happened, he must be bad” and that just is not how people work. It’s how perceptions work but only of the observer.

It’s such a sensitive topic because, yes, you are supposed to be frustrated, even mad, at what Curly didn’t do, but you have to acknowledge the fact these were good intentioned acts even if that good intent did jack squat in the end. That his responses are human and it’s supposed to be uncomfortable and hurt that they were realistic faults of his.

He enabled his friend and it ended bad for everyone including him. No one really tries to argue this fact but everyone seems to think it has to be tied to the morale dilemma and not certain human natures and social factors.

This is all to ask, why do you personally lean towards thinking Curly wouldn’t turn Jimmy in? Are you speaking in the short term of realizing how bad he got or long-term/overall? I feel like he could but it would not be easy and no matter the necessity he’d always have this guilt at feeling bad for doing it.

Ah yes Curly the most imperfect human man character.

Yep yep yep absolutely, people love to assign morality onto characters and call them good or bad and diminishing the depth and nuance of Mouthwashing, filling discussions with bad-faith interpretations or speculating on inconcrete understandings of the incomplete, intentionally vague, context. I adore Mouthwashing to no end for having this oppressive suffocating and constant atmosphere surrounding everything in the game. Really shows off that the environment festers, no one well-meaning guy could create a happy ending with individual actions alone because it's all systematic.

To elaborate from your question tho, at the point Curly was in (if Anya wasn't pregnant scenario), definitely no don't think so (would depend on Anya a too on whether or not she would go to the authorities outside). Curly knew Jimmy was a danger, and I do believe that subconsciously Anya's report to him on Jimmy gnaws at him, but not vividly enough. I want to point out a moment where Anya tells him about the pregnancy, he begins asking "Who would you-", then he's nudged by Anya that she told him and he should know who it is, and he does, instantly saying he's known him a long time and will talk to him. That moment of, for a second not connecting that Jimmy is the assaulter responsible just makes me drag my palm across my face for how much of a man (derogatory) Curly acted like for one dialogue line. Like he just 'forgot' for a brief moment that Jimmy harassed Anya prior? Granted, he instantly believes and takes Anya seriously, immediately dropping the search for the gun he was on in that scene, realizing the severity of the situation and of Jimmy. We also don't know what Anya has told him specifically, how long ago it happened, etc. but the 'implications' of the scene make me believe Jimmy's known sexual harassment on the ship slipped Curly's mind due to him being more invested in "the bigger picture" of Jimmy, not latching onto a harmful and a very serious fucking trivia fact about Jimmy because of his perception of who his friend is as a whole (and with his foggy sleep-deprived mind at the moment), 'losing a needle in a haystack' with how much unknown history Curly and Jimmy shared, so to say.

Maaaybe in some other circumstances, like if Jimmy didn't crash the ship or smth long term I could see him doing it, it would take a lot effort like you said, no matter the necessity. We will never know. If we're going into speculation and imaginary scenarios though, if Anya HERSELF were to try and get justice, Curly would be backing her up undoubtedly (still not disconnecting himself from Jimmy though and feeling guilt on his behalf). But that's all suppositions from my reading of the characters.

[teruthecreator]

would you be willing to beta (or something similar, i think just talking about it would help, honestly) a fic? i just have this idea that refuses to leave my head, and i started writing but i'm having a little bit of trouble with it

sorry but i don't know you

[luvmanifesting]

HOW I INDUCE IT AGAIN..???

my dm’s are SMOTHERED in questions so i’ll answer everything here as detailed as possible, after my two recent posts regards to what i manifested (which is the one i got most questions about ill explain how i induce pure consciousness)

i wanna remind you guys i don’t use pure consciousness EVERY DAY i just induce it unintentionally, but again i said this in my first post of how i induce pure consciousness. i literally lay down and daydream and thats it. i only affirm maybe like 2-4 times and then my consciousness shifts because i’m too busy to affirm and worry about the 3D. AND thats literally it i’m being so honest with you, thats all i do. now how would i be aware i’ve induced it? well in my opinion it just feels like nothing is there anymore i can’t really explain it😓 And i simply come back to reality from just wiggling my toes. its not hard guys please please FOR FUCKS SAKE stop crying about how its hard to do, sorry if i come off rude but the constant DMS of how i do it and how to induce is a lot to take in, i literally have a life. maybe try not to vent to me? i’m not a therapist nor a scientist i’m not going to have answers to everything. My DMS will be off for a bit not because im irritated but because its flooded and it overwhelms me. i don’t have time to reply to 567 messages. i’m still in school and timezones are completely different i’m IN JAPAN.

SMALL RANT

also i wanna do a face rev soon should i do one?? it won’t be now but it’ll be when this semester ends japans schooling system is different from america I ALSO wanna show you guys my life on ig should i do that too??

[amsznn]

can you do a story about how chris and the reader meet at tara’s party but before that, reader accidentally revealed that she found chris cute and the she went viral for it (idk if that makes sense)

SOCIAL MEDIA FRENZY - c. sturniolo

2 days ago..

“chat are we enjoying this haul? don’t flame my style in the comment section.” you warned to your viewers on instagram live before grabbing the next package of clothes off the floor, ready to show your 14k viewers the next batch of items. “next youtube video when?” you read off from a comment.

“this was going to be a youtube haul, but i got lazy so..new video this week!”

your rise as an influencer had to be studied. from a random youtube vlog that you made out of the want to romanticize your life a bit and a rant on tiktok people found funny that gained 2.5 million likes caused you to not only receive near to 3 million subscribers on youtube but almost 1.9 million on tiktok.

this was only in the span of 2 years. growing and working to not only please your new fans but to also have fun for yourself as you still decided to go to college for that degree.

social media was just a hobby for you like a lot of people say. but you truly couldn’t expect the new wave of attention you would revolve for a simple comment you made.

the next item of your haul was a fitted cap that you saw at a pop up shop in your city. you recognized it from somewhere else and decided to buy it since it was also cute.

“guys this cap i actually bought because this youtuber, chris sturniolo also wears it in his videos.” at the mention of the social media star your comments flooded. “guys calm down, im not crazy, he’s just cute okay?” you laughed before setting the cap down then moving to the next piece of clothing.

soon enough you ended the live and went on with your day as normal. filming a bit of your vlog for your new video, answering emails from brands, doing some household chores and of course, settling down in your bed with some snacks for your nightly tiktok scrolling.

as soon as you opened the app you got bombarded with a screen recording of your live with the bit where you said chris was cute. it was all over. even on twitter you began trending for the potential new relationship between you and the social media star.

all you could do is read the comments, some encouraging and some hateful, watch edits of you two being shipped, and quickly text your manager profusely apologizing for the mess you just made.

you groaned while rolling around in your bed. sometimes you just forgot you were too well known to be spewing whatever nonsense came to mind.

which brings us here.

at taras party.

since she was inviting influential people, and her friends, you were a definite invite on her list. and you knew either all of one of the triplets would be there too.

you were nervous to bump into chris. would he even speak to you? and if he did would he be uncomfortable or understanding? well you were about to find out in a moment since he was walking in your general direction.

you mustered up all the courage you could and began to walk towards him. feeling the need to apologize to him since the situation was your fault and it must be annoying for him as well.

you came to a stop as he turned his body to fully face you. your breath hitched for moment taking his appearance all in. his black hoodie and black baggie jeans with his messy hair was a lot to take in in person.

either way you were gonna say what you needed to say. “hey, my names y/n. you might know me. or not thats fine too!” you stumble across your words for a minute before taking a deep breath. you could feel his eyes on you but you remembered hes just a person too.

“you may have seen the plenty of edits and a lot of my supporters in your comment sections or dms, and i just wanted to say im sorry since its been going for three days now and you must be annoyed.” you said it all in one breath and finally met the boys eyes. instead of confusion you were met with a look of amusement.

“oh you’re completely fine. honestly i felt bad for you since you were getting a lot of hate for a simple comment.” chris shrugged while giving you his signature smile. you smiled as well glad that he seemed fine with the recent uproar.

“ive heard worse.” chris said while grimacing at the thought which caused you to laugh nodding in agreement. the night went on with you and chris sticking together for the majority of the party. introducing one another to friends, chris introducing you to nick (your new best friend) and overall having a great time. before you left chris made sure to get your number and texted you to make sure you arrived home safely.

you couldnt help the smile that was spreading on your face as you recall the events of the night. maybe making that comment wasnt so bad after all.

walking towards your room of your apartment, you plopped down onto your bed and decided to make a quick instagram post for the night.

and guess who liked the post?

a/n: i hope yall enjoy this cus i sure did (i was so close to making this into a smut 😭)

[euphorajeon]

'make it right' with jk for the 1k celebration pleeeaaaasssseeee 🫶

light of the morning

— request: jeongguk + make it right - bts

— pairing: jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff, angst

— word count: 2.7k

— warnings/tags: idol!jk, college student!oc, mild angst, they're best friends, insecurities and self-doubt thoughts.

— summary: in the eternal night that seems endless, jeongguk finds his peace in the light of the morning.

— author's note: hi anon! thanks for requesting :) summary is obviously inspired by the lyrics of make it right, which i used as the general inspiration for the story. i hope it doesn't stray too far from what you had in mind, hehe. enjoy!

a continuation of opposite of sun. i suggest to read that first before reading this!

masterlist

‘Jeongguk Takes Over Times Square With a Surprise Performance’

‘Massive Crowd Gathers In Times Square for a Jeongguk Surprise Performance’

‘Jeongguk Surprises Times Square Crowd With a Free Concert’

It’s been a day since Jeongguk’s surprise performance at Times Square, and the media headlines praising his performance just keep flooding in. In the articles, there were no flaws in his performance. Impeccable. Perfect. The media especially highlighted the way his fans only got a 30-minute notice before the performance, yet they were able to fill up the streets of Times Square. They were loud, singing along to his songs word for word, and Jeongguk is so proud.

The praises didn’t only come from online articles, they also came from the radio hosts and interviewers who were lined up in Jeongguk’s schedule today. It’s refreshing to answer questions outside of the usual ‘What’s your favorite food to eat in the US?’ and about his surprise performance instead. Jeongguk is grateful that his manager, Namjoon, scheduled these interviews after the performance instead of before it.

“Do I have any more interviews for today?” Jeongguk asks Namjoon, peeking at the clock on his phone. It’s only a little after seven in the evening. He knows it’s a silly question to ask, already knowing the answer by the look on Namjoon’s face.

“You have two more, actually,” Namjoon answers regardless. “Plus taping for two songs for one of them. I thought you knew this already?”

“Uh, yeah, just making sure.” Jeongguk clears his throat, eyes still on his phone.

“You’ve been checking your phone a lot today. Something wrong?” Namjoon inquires, a worried look replacing the duh one he had on his face earlier.

“No. Everything’s okay.”

Yes, something is very wrong.

It’s been more than a day since he video-called you, a little over a day since his performance at Times Square, and little less than a day since he texted you the YouTube link of said performance. In that time frame, his phone is completely void of any notification from you. No texts, no calls, even no tweets or an Instagram DM. You’ve been totally silent and it’s starting to get on his nerves. Why are you leaving him in the dark?

“You sure? You look like you want to punch someone.”

What he wants is praise from you! No, he doesn’t want it, he needs it. All the flowery words from the media and radio hosts mean nothing if he hasn’t heard one from you. Ever since he started his singing career, your opinion has always been one of the first ones he seeks. Without it, he’s lost. Left wondering whether his performance deserved the accolades, or they were only for his pretty face.

“Jeongguk, we’re here. Put a mask on and smile. You can worry about your best friend later,” Namjoon says the moment the car comes to a stop in the parking lot of a building somewhere in New York. Jeongguk looks at him as he’s getting off the vehicle, confused. His manager throws him a small smile. “Don’t look like that, it’s kinda obvious you’re thinking about her.”

“I haven’t heard from her since yesterday, hyung,” Jeongguk sighs. “I have the right to be worried.”

“You’re not the only one with stuff to do, you know? Maybe she’s busy too. I’m sure she’s fine,” Namjoon tries to reassure him. “Give her a call after this, to ease your mind.”

Namjoon is right. You’re probably busy juggling midterms and your part-time job back home. The chasm he felt yesterday opens back up, gaping to remind him that you two are worlds apart. Superstar Jeongguk who replies to texts in seven business days has no right demanding a reply from a regular college student after only one day.

Two more interviews. Two more songs to perform. Then he can hear your voice, see your face, and everything is going to be okay again.

Jeongguk finishes his schedule for the day a little after 1 AM. He tries to call you in the car, on the way back to his hotel. No answer. Tries again when he reaches his hotel room. Then tries again after he showered and changed into comfortable clothes to sleep in.

Ten missed calls.

Jeongguk goes to sleep with a dark cloud in his mind, completely restless.

In the morning, when the sun is already up—the way the moon is in Seoul, where you are—Jeongguk cracks his eyes open to stare at the ceiling in his room, his heart still heavy with worry. Also heavy is his head when he sits up on his huge hotel bed, likely due to his tossing and turning in his sleep all night. It doesn’t help that his lockscreen is still void of notifications labeled with your name. You’ve been MIA for almost two full days. Where are you?

He sends seven more bubbles in your chatroom, a sigh slipping past his lips when the tiny word under the blue bubble only reads delivered. He’s on his last thread of hope when he clicks on your contact picture to video call you, and that thread snaps when all he’s staring at on the screen is his own puffy and tired face.

Maybe he should order some breakfast. Get something to munch on, pry his mind away from the thought of you and what you’re up to in a country far, far away from where he is. He hopes you’re okay. He hopes you aced that midterm you were up until three to study for (although you spent the good part of the last hour talking to him on FaceTime). He hopes you’re eating well and not some instant cup ramyeon or shitty take-out from the Chinese place by your apartment that you frequent because it’s cheap.

After skimming through the room service menu, Jeongguk places an order of breakfast enough to feed five people. (What? He needs his energy. And a distraction.) The kind hotel staff who took his order informed him that his food will be ready in around 20 minutes. Good. Plenty of time to track his schedule for today and not think about you. (So much for a distraction.)

As it turns out, his itinerary for today is not packed with work schedule. Namjoon had only written ‘Explore’ along with a note to bring the camera noona who usually follows Jeongguk around to film all of his adventures as an idol. Said “adventure” is typically limited to dressing rooms of music shows, though. Oh, maybe Namjoon wants him to stroll around the city and make a vlog out of it, give his fans a little peek of what he does in his down time in New York.

In order to do that, he has to shower, get dressed, and maybe get his makeup done. He definitely needs to get his hair done, though, there’s no way he’s going out with this bird nest atop his head. Or maybe he could go natural, let his hair breathe for the day. Namjoon said it makes him look like a college boyfriend, and apparently, his fans love the look. Throw some hoodie and jeans on, and Jeongguk would be ready to go to class with you.

Ah, you again.

His mindless scrolling on Twitter in procrastination halts, the words on his phone not registering as his mind goes back to you. What would it feel like to go to class with you? To watch your focused face in class, trying to absorb knowledge from the professor? To be there next to you, answer your question whenever you struggle to grasp a concept? To be your college boy—

A knock on his door interrupts his thoughts.

Jeongguk stills, waits for the shout of room service! to follow, but it never comes. The clock on his phone tells him it’s only been 10 minutes since he ordered breakfast, so maybe it’s not room service after all. Maybe it’s a staff member, coming to tell him to get ready for the day.

As Jeongguk makes his way to the door, come some more knocks, this time more tentative than the one prior. Before he could reach the door, the person on the other side speaks.

“Jeongguk..?” It sounds muffled by the door, but the voice rings familiar in his ears. It’s the voice he last heard almost two days ago, via a video call connection between New York and Seoul. Could it be? No, it couldn’t … right?

Jeongguk’s eyes are right in front of the peephole just as the voice sounds again: “It’s me, Bun…”

There, in front of his hotel door, stands a girl 15 centimeters shorter than him, dressed in black jeans and her favorite sage green sweater, with a lump of black fabric hanging off her left arm. A faded black baseball cap sits on her head, so faded it looks almost navy. When she finally looks up to peek at the peephole, Jeongguk loses his breath.

It’s you. It’s really you.

Jeongguk is so stunned that he’s frozen in place, just staring at your confused expression that slowly morphs into one of anxiety.

“Did Namjoon give me the wrong room number..?” you mumble, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

Jeongguk has never yanked a door open that hard in his life.

You tear your eyes away from your phone, jumping in surprise at the sudden movement. His eyes lock with yours, and the shock on your face melts into a smile.

“Hi!”

You’re obviously exhausted, having just got off a 14-hour flight from Seoul, moving 13 timezones backward, seeing the sun when you’re supposed to see the moon. But the way you beam at him is full of glee, your eyes bright despite the obvious fatigue. Jeongguk is mesmerized.

Wordlessly, he reaches for your shoulders to pull you into a hug. They feel more prominent than the last time he hugged you, and he doesn’t know whether it’s from your haphazard eating schedule or just … time. He doesn’t remember when he last gave you a hug. Doesn’t remember the last time he saw you in the flesh like this.

“You just woke up, didn’t you?” you say from somewhere near his collarbone.

“Maybe,” Jeongguk mumbles. “Maybe not. I feel like I’m still dreaming.”

“Up in the clouds, are we?” you chuckle. “Well, if you’re done dreaming then maybe we could come in? Backpack’s starting to hurt my shoulders.”

It’s right at that second that Jeongguk just realizes the huge backpack hanging off your small frame. The poor bag is bursting at the seams, like it’s gonna comically explode if you even try to unzip it. Jeongguk closes his fingers around the small handle on top, testing the weight.

“Did you fit your whole life into this? Why is it so heavy?” he complains, immediately untangling your arms from his body so he can slide the backpack off you and onto him instead. “I feel like I’m about to do the 20 kilometers march in the military.”

“Hah! Try navigating JFK with that on your shoulders. It’s way harder than the military,” you huff, following Jeongguk into his hotel room.

He sets your backpack down on one of the couches, turning around to get answers to a thousand questions in his head, but pauses when he sees you’re still standing by the door. Your eyes are scanning the room slowly, stopping at Jeongguk to look at him with an unreadable expression on your face.

“What?” Jeongguk says.

“It’s huge,” you say. “The room, I mean. They usually are in your vlogs, but it’s different seeing it in person.”

This could turn into another conversation about their differences quickly, but Jeongguk is not in the mood to deal with distance today. For once, you’re an arms-length away from him. He doesn’t want to fuck this up and send you back to KST, 13 timezones away.

“Eh, I think your backpack is bigger.” He shrugs. Safe route, for now. “What do you have inside that bag, really?”

“My brick ass laptop, thank you,” you say sarcastically, finally going deeper into the room just to give your backpack a protective hug. “Still have a midterm to finish and submit here.”

“You still have midterms and you’re here in New York?” Jeongguk gapes. “Why?”

“Because you asked me to be here,” you state like it’s obvious. “Well, not like that, but you looked so sad on our last video call that I booked a flight here as soon as we hung up the call. Didn’t really realize the weight of it until I was watching your performance with Yeseo and I blurted out that I bought a ticket to New York and how maybe it was a stupid thing to do on a whim like that. She looked at me like I was stupid and said I should totally go. So. Here I am.”

If selective hearing is a sin, then Jeongguk would be guilty because he heard nothing beyond the part where you said you were watching his performance.

“You watched my performance?” He parrots his thoughts. “But you said you would have been asleep…”

“No sleep is worth my best friend’s sadness.” You throw him a small smile. “Actually, Yeseo set an alarm for it. And then I went to have the midterm with a terrible headache because I didn’t get enough sleep. But it’s worth it, the performance was amazing. You did great on that stage.”

“I did great…?”

At this point, Jeon Jeongguk should change his name to Parrot Jeongguk, because all he ever does is just repeat things he heard. First his thoughts, now you.

“Yes, of course you did great, Jeongguk. Wasn’t it obvious, the way your fans were screaming their lungs out for you?”

I only wanted to hear it from you, Jeongguk thinks. The media headlines and praises from the radio hosts and interviewers flash in his mind, all positive feedback for his performance, yet still planted a seed of doubt in his mind. It caused an ugly darkness to settle in his mind, one that worsened with every call you didn’t pick up.

“Why’d you ghost me, then?”

Way to ruin this moment, Jeon Jeongguk.

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry. Between catching up on sleep and rushing for the flight, I just didn’t have the time to look at my phone at all. Also, I was on the plane? It takes a long time to get here from Korea if you didn’t know.”

“So it’s not because my performance is bad?”

You get up from your position on the couch to grip him on the shoulders, your nails digging into the material of his t-shirt. You have to strain your neck to be able to look him in the eyes, but you hold his gaze firmly like the position doesn’t hurt you at all.

“Jeon Jeongguk, listen to me. Your performance was great, you looked handsome, your singing was on-point, your high note was awesome, your dancing was super cool, and the crowd was really loud. I don’t know what kind of validation you seek, but I personally think everything about your performance was perfect.”

Yours. I only want your validation.

Slowly, the darkness in his mind begins to disperse, replaced by this warm beam of light piercing through the clouds. It settles in his mind like a blanket, protecting him from any more bad thoughts. He thinks it’s because of you, bringing light wherever you go. Can that light be shared with him? Will he glow from the inside out if he connects his lips with yours? Why does he want to lock lips with you?

“Jeongguk, are you okay? You look like you’re floating in the clouds again.”

Yeah. No. I want to press my lips against yours. Can I?

Three knocks sound from the door. And then: room service!

Jeongguk clears his throat (and his mind along with it.)

“Do you want to explore New York with me after we have breakfast?”

Jeongguk might want more, and he might be ready to admit it. After all, the light to his darkness is here. If not now, then when?

“Sure, it’ll be a fun best friend adventure!”

…maybe some other time.

a/n: thank you for reading! i'm planning to have a part 3 of this but let's see if i can actually find the time to write it ahah

[izzabela]

Show You My Impurities - Lin Kuei x fem!chubby-curvy!reader (scenario fic)

in which different scenarios show how the brothers react with you being insecure in a flattering dress

a/n: i know i updated my rules, but i'm gonna pump this and another req i got privately. from now on, though, do not send me requests in my DMs when reqs are closed

ship[s]: tomas, kuai liang & bi han x fem!chubby!reader (scenario)

warning(s): smidge of angst, body insecurity, suggestive endings, non-kanon

guys ignore the text on this gif, but also don't because it's lowkey hilarious

=====================

Bi Han

As Bi Han sits outside of the private dressing room of the shop you two were in, you stood in front of the mirror dejected and down.

You and Bi Han were out shopping after you realized some of your clothes didn't fit anymore. While Bi Han didn't see anything wrong with it, your heart sank as thoughts of yourself flooded your mind.

You were naturally a bigger girl. Beautifully large thighs, natural hips, a just a bit of a cute pudge on your belly, you were a bit bigger than the other girls. While you had the support of Bi Han (the fucking grandmaster), it didn't stop people or your mind from talking bad about you.

Back in front of the mirror, you sigh as you pull on the part of the fabric that hugged your waist a little too tight. It rolled over your natural curves and made you self-conscious.

You were drawn out of your thoughts with a light knock on your dressing room door.

"Madam? The grandmaster would like to see you now," the fitting room attendant announces behind the door.

You sigh once more, "I'll be out soon. Thank you."

Your flats drag with the unbearable weight of your thoughts as you walk out to see Bi Han on the circular couch in the foyer of the fitting room. He's reading a book, but the quickest glimpse at you and you're the only thing in his eyes.

"Àiren," Bi Han breathes as he gets up to see you in the dress.

Your smile is unstable and wobbly, and the matching wave doesn't help as it solidifies how the dress makes you feel. You try to stop picking at the fabric hugging your body, but the habit persists.

"I'm not sure this is the right dress," you say timidly. "It shows... too much."

Bi Han sets the book down, closing it without its bookmark, and meets you near the mirror.

"And why, àiren, do you think that?" Bi Han treads carefully, hands resting right above your love handles.

The wobble in your smile turns into a frown as hidden tears streak down delicately. You breathe a shuddery breath as you pull away from him and look into the mirror.

"Look at me!" you cry as you pull the fabric again. "It's hugging all the wrong spots, it's too tight, unflattering, and awful on a woman like me!"

Forgive Bi Han, dear reader, as everything you were telling him dissolved into nothing but dust as he looked you up and down over and over again.

All he could see was the beautiful woman he was dating. How that softness of your legs was highlighted with the dress, your little bum beautiful and round, and your breasts pushed together due to the technology in the dress allowing to support a woman's breasts without the need of a bra.

Where you saw impurities, he saw defining characteristics, features that were unique to only you.

And as the grandmaster to a large organization, unique strengths were something he could identify within a heartbeat.

Bi Han's semi-PG thoughts were interrupted as you sniffled and wiped your tears in front of the mirror. He coos as he hugs you from behind, large arms snaking around your soft waist and over your belly.

"Àiren," Bi Han starts. "You are lovely."

You've heard such words from family and friends before, hell even from Bi Han from time to time. This time, though, it felt like you experienced real life superpowers.

You smile weakly, but it's genuine as Bi Han peppers kisses on your neck and the dip of your shoulder. You giggle softly as his hands find yours and link up with them, and you can feel his hands use yours as he roams your body.

Every part of your body he goes over, you gain a new appreciation for all of your curves, the lovely lady lumps of yours, and the overall softness of your figure.

"Feel better, àiren?" Bi Han asks, hands finding a new spot dangerously close to your bum.

You give a hearty laugh, and the friction between you and Bi Han's trousers causes a certain something to poke at your behind. You turn behind you and meet his eyes with a knowing look.

"Really darling?" you tease. Bi Han just chuckles as he presses your bum on him harder.

"I hope to show you another way to appreciate yourself as well," he says quietly, kissing up your neck as he guides you back into your stall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tomas

You drop your shopping bags on the floor of yours and Tomas's shared room. He was out today, training the initiates with his brothers. Your friends hit you up via letter to go shopping, and after looking through your wardrobe, it was time to acquire new garments.

Your old clothes were already pretty big considering you were a bigger and curvier girl, and while it was normal for anybody to gain weight, you felt different about it.

Your hips had grown wider, thighs larger, and waist just a bit bigger than before. You felt different, and not in a good way.

After your shopping spree with your friends, you come back home with all the new shirts, skirts, pants, and most importantly, dresses. Trying each one of them on, you couldn't help but tug on the ends of the fabric.

A habit you had, plus a bit of a scratching problem when you got nervous. But when Tomas was here, all of these issues were like it never existed.

Except he wasn't here right now. Your only other weapon against your mind was preoccupied, and you were losing the battle.

After trying on new trousers for meetings, leggings for training, and shirts for all sorts of occasions, dresses were the last clothes to cover. By the gods you were nervous.

Trying on the first one, it was a long-sleeved body con with a slit that stopped at your thigh. You swore that it looked shorter on the mannequin.

Damn it, corporate shopping centers.

You vehemently rubbed your hands down the dress to try and bring the slit down, but it was made like that. Looking at yourself in the full body mirror that stood next to the dresser, your eyes were wide in fear at the sight of you.

While you had been reassured many times from your friends, family, Tomas and his family, the thoughts gnawed and festered away in your mind.

Through the mirror, you saw how your hips hugged the dress, how your little belly rolled over in the fabric, your thigh peeking through the slit and bits of cellulite coming through.

While you knew that everyone, Tomas especially, would reassure you, you couldn't help but feel like an imposter- a pig in a dress.

The tears you so badly were holding in began to flow down your cheeks and hit the dress. You sniffle as you waddle over to the bed, head buried in your hands as you wallow in your depressing thoughts.

Suddenly, the door opens and you can hear a certain European man humming a tune and his steps walk on the pebble floor.

"Feather?" his voice is careful as he approaches you. Your shoulders are perked up as you messily try to cover up your tears, but that shit clearly isn't working as Tomas is on his knees as one of his hands is on your knee and the other on your wet cheek.

"Feather, what's wrong?" he asks softly, wiping your endless tears as you get up from the bed. Tomas is definitely taken aback as he follows you to the mirror.

"Tomas, you know what's wrong. I mean, just look!" you cry, pointing to yourself in the mirror as you keep tugging the slit of your dress.

"You can see my thighs, especially the little wrinkles. My tummy is ugly here in the middle, and..."

Tomas didn't hear a single thing since he saw the dress on you through the mirror. If he had a tail and ears, they would be perked up and wagging. Hell, he might even be drooling.

Tomas loved the way the slit teased the legs he's marked over and over again. He loved the way bits of your softness hugged the fabric, sign of your health that he loved to see. And by the elder gods, those hips of yours. Round, voluptuous, and full, his most favorite part of you was accented so well in the dress.

"I just feel like an imposter," you say, and his thoughts were interrupted and brought back to you.

"And why would my feather feel like that?" Tomas asks as he blocks you from the mirror. You sigh as you hold on the fabric again.

"It doesn't suit me, I just said that," you groan. Tomas takes your hands and decides to do something about your inner voice.

"You are ethereal," Tomas whispers as he kisses your forehead. "Spectacular, perfect, one-of-a-kind."

You giggle at every word he uses to praise you, at every kiss he gave you on your face. Tomas holds your face and plants one final kiss on your lips.

"And if you truly feel like you want a change, we can do that too," Tomas assured you. "No matter what form you are, even a worm, I will cherish you."

This was why you chose Tomas out of the many men that threw themselves at you. He accepted you for who you are, and he would support you if you ever wanted to change anything about you.

You kiss him on his lips as a thank you, giggling into his mouth as he opens up for you to explore. You fling your arms around his neck as his hand res comfortable on your lower back. Like well-tailored gloves, he fits well there as he pulls you closer and makes you feel the growing muscle beneath his pants.

"Oh my..." you whisper, looking down at the bulge in his pants. He chuckles as he whispers in your ear.

"There are ways to quell the voice in your head as well," Tomas suggests.

You walk backwards and lead him to the bed once more.

"I'm all ears, commander."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kuai Liang

You stared back into the mirror that threw back the image of yourself. It was you alone with your reflection in the dressing room.

No point in hiding, though, as two more mirrors were angled in your direction. You were surrounded with yourself in this dress, and it felt like you were cornered by a pack of hungry wolves.

You step down from the middle step and sit down and wave your legs from side to side in boredom and sadness.

You were out dress shopping with Kuai Liang for a wedding guest dress. His old friend, Harumi, was getting married, and he and his entire family, and their partners, were invited to the ceremony.

Three shops later, you found a beautiful mermaid dress with long-sleeves and went down to your ankles. On the mannequin, the dress was spectacular. Of course, mannequins are not true to life, but it looked amazing.

Now that the dress was on you, though, you wanted to dissolve into nothing but dust.

You always did your best to ignore the negative thoughts that plagued your mind, but they bit your ankles like a bear trap- unknown yet always there. This dress made it feel like you stepped into a field of them.

Your belly made a sort of "pouch" thing since the dress hugged your curves. Your hips were well-defined in the dress, and it actually accentuated the natural waist you had too.

And elder gods have mercy, the legs. Though covered up, it's no secret that you had legs for days under the dress. And Kuai Liang was the lucky man to see, touch, and feel them.

Despite such charming features, you couldn't help but feel defeated with yourself. As you cried silently, trying to slip out of the dress, a knock came on your door.

"Dove, what is the matter?" Kuai Liang's voice reverbs through the door. You sniffle and wipe your face, trying to put up a façade in your voice before answering.

"U-uh, nothing!" you say with a fake, upbeat voice.

Kuai Liang, bless him, knows you're lying. So instead of leaving, you can hear how his body slides down the door and his bum plop onto the ground.

"I am not to move until you let me in, dove," he states, claiming his spot on the (probably dirty) floor. You want to scold him, tell him to get up, but prolonging it will only make it more embarrassing.

Giving in, you open the door and watch as he falls onto his back. He blinks a couple of times before he sees your blurry image in the dress.

Shyly, you hold your elbow as he scrambles to his feet. He's practically drinking the sight of you like a dehydrated survivor. The very image of you in this dress is revitalizing him.

He can't ignore how full your hips and bum look against the dress, or how elongated the dress makes you look. He can't ignore the way your legs naturally crossover on another due to the dress's shape, or how perfect the dress hugs your waist.

Let's not forget the belly, either. His absolute, most favorite part of you was perfectly snug in its place, creating a sort of "pouch" effect. Hreat elder gods, Kuai Liang's patience was truly being tested.

"Oh dove..." Kuai Liang mumbles, walking over to you and taking your hands in his. "Dove, you are stunning."

You nod sadly as you feel on of his hands rest on your cheek, carefully wiping your tears away as you mumble chicken scratch about how the dress looks on you. Whatever you were saying was being ignored- like talking to a brick wall.

"Kuai Liang, love," you say weakly. "I cannot with this dress, it just doesn't sit well on me..."

The pyromancer shakes his head rapidly, like a child throwing a tantrum. He grabs onto your shoulders and spins you around to look at the mirror, and all three reflections stare back at you.

This time, with Kuai Liang present.

"Are you telling me that I'm being lied to?" Kuai Liang's voice booms. "This woman, in the mirror, is not the one I said was most beautiful?"

You nervously shake your head 'no', and Kuai Liang keeps singing your praises.

"I know who I chose as my consort. I know who I chose as the love of my life," Kuai Liang kisses your cheek and grabs your right hand and spreads your fingers out.

"I know who I chose as my future wife."

You turn around, pink and warm on your face, as you smile and hug him.

"You, dove, are the one I want," Kuai Liang assures you. "And no matter what form you choose, I am going to have you no matter what."

You chuckle and kiss his cheek. "Thank you for reminding me, my love." Kuai Liang, instead of responding as usual, begins to close in on you as your back presses against the cold mirror.

"Um, my love?"

Kuai Liang strips the jacket he was trying on before his arms pin you in the jail cell of his chest.

"Perhaps another addition to your reminder," he nips your ear and kisses your neck.

"So that you will not forget again."

=====================

hello kings, queens, and monarchs, hope yall enjoyed this one!

as you saw, i made a rules and masterlist, so please read that before proceeding to do anything regarding this blog

see yall in the next fic!

[jolalibrary]

2. lemon twist

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter two of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.4k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie being a single!dad to a son. frankie gives reader/you a nickname (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: thank you so much for all the love on chapter one, and the bonus graphic. I'm so happy to bring you chapter two! also, WE'RE POSTING WEEKLY BABIESSS

prev chapter | frankie's ig

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

A soft, melodic tune pulls you into the land of the living, aware of the tug of it, and the immediate reluctance you have to leave the comfort of your dreams.

Your hand hesitates, reluctant to emerge from under the snug warmth of your sheets before your fingers are tapping and searching, all sluggish with sleep, groping blindly as it crawls against the wooden top of your bedside table. It's only when your fingertips connect with the screen does the world fall into silence.

Nothingness. Stillness. Peace.

The perfect environment for your mind to come to itself as you slowly open your lashes, raising a balled-up fist to rub slumber away, as your gaze meets streams of light rolling in through the breeze-blown curtains.

Then it hits you.

Comes to you in a trickle. Then a flood.

One after the other, memories of last night rush over you. Messages sent and received coming to you, recalling the way you'd tucked a pillow under your chest as your thumbs replied quickly to each incoming DM. Then, you recall the giddiness, how it fluttered through you—how it still remains. Still ever-present and very much thrumming inside of you as you begin to smile.

It remains on your face as you roll out of bed. A brief memory of something he said making you laugh as you wash your face, and another when you brush your teeth.

That feeling stays with you as the sun glistens through your kitchen window. One which adds a glow to the place, making the little smoke stains on the walls and the chips on the kitchen counter seem better, less noticeable—and less irritating.

You smirk as you wrap your hand around your mug—because is it too soon to wish him a good morning? Should you wait for him?

Sighing, rolling your eyes, you land on the dresser you were sprucing up in the place a dining table should be. Your eyes linger on it—teeth picking at the skin on your lip—just as it does so each time you come in this room.

A reminder once again that this place should be a home you’ve been building for years, and not just the last few months. There should be photos on the walls of a relationship playing out alongside family and friends, but those ones placed in between are still just empty.

Like so much of your home.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you drop your stare to the newspaper under the feet of the dresser. The stories were told in black and white splotches over in many shades, dotted around as you tested and checked to see what would make the old, worn thing look like something new. The same thing you’d somehow managed to get delivered through a smile and a sweet, please.

You had been, for so long, undecided on the shade.

Yet, as you gaze upon it now, your imagination begins to weave a vivid portrait. It conjures the image of what it might resemble should you succumb to the shade that's gradually painting itself in imaginary strokes.

Sliding your phone from your pocket, you open up your DMs.

Does butterscotch orange come in a paint type suitable for wood? It does. You at work today? Desperate to see me? Just looking to help someone shift paint they can’t sell. What you looking to paint, Rainy?

Taking another sip of your drink, the warmth kisses your palm similar to the temperature blooming in your cheeks from conversing with him again.

Choosing, instead of words, to snap a photo, knowing it'll be easier, simpler.

Watching it send, the little speech bubble appearing as your mind drifts to the hair above his lip, the facial hair along his jaw—the little patch you’d wanted to graze your thumb over.

You think of the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles; when he’d looked pleased to see you in the paint aisle—something akin to a modern-day meet cute you see on the TV.

You coming in today? If I can… gives me something to do this afternoon.

You bite your lip, considering it—whether it’s too forward to make a flirtatious comment. The two of you skirted around it last night, practically river dancing—not quite stepping over, but not quite retreating either.

I’ll get you it ready at the main desk. My hero, Frank.DIY Don’t push it.

It’s the third visit you’ve made, and while you gloss over the paint chippings on the door, you do notice the circular stains on the floor.

They’re brown, smudged slightly at the edges as though someone has, at one time, attempted to clean (whatever it was) quickly after it had appeared. It’s clear they had failed.

Your eyes scan over it, for a moment forgetting anything and everything.

Just existing in today's scent, which happens to be singed wood—chippings of it practically in the air—as the sound of an electrical saw starts up and begins screeching in some distant corner until you hear your name being called.

And it silences everything.

That voice could pull you from anything, you think.

A crisis, your thoughts, a spiral.

You’d heard his voice plenty all last night as you watched videos of him hanging shelves, answering questions likely sent to him on how best to prime a wooden handrail, and still, you weren't sure you were sick of his voice.

That, and DIY had honestly never sounded so hot.

After the shortest walk to the counter, a brief hello, a grin you wish you could try and smother a touch, you’re leaning on the counter. His eyes focused on you, watching every move you make as though looking anywhere else would be a crime.

“You got a Sharpie there?”

Frowning, you feel you can breathe easier when his eyes drop to the counter—rustling around the till area as you rest your elbow.

“Because I forgot mine and I think I should ask for a signature this time.”

Pausing, he slowly lifts his chin, then eyes. “Funny.”

Shrugging, you grin, watching him ring up the tin—occasionally smirking to himself, before shaking his head as you pay, your phone vibrating on the counter that you continue to ignore.

“You gonna be alright with that?”

Scrunching your nose, you pocket your phone and tilt the can on the counter. “Painting a dresser or carrying this to my car?”

Something sparkles in his eyes, a little shimmer. His mouth opening, likely ready to spill nothing but charm and flirtation again, when another voice cuts through—one gruffer, more tinged in age.

“Francisco, what you d—oh, I see.”

Your smile remains, even as you stare up at the older man—the one with wiry whites and spotted greys you’d seen sitting behind the counter on the day you left to get coffee with Francisco.

It’s notable, how smaller, and thinner the older man is—how he moves like he’s pained by each step until he slumps into a chair and puts on the brightest and biggest of smiles before offering his hand.

“The name’s Harry.”

You look at it, only briefly, flicking your eyes to Frankie who looks like he’s wishing the earth would open up at his feet and swallow him whole. A somewhat twisted, forced blank expression and the mildest of eye rolls follow when your hand slips inside Harry’s, offering your name.

“Thought it was Harold,” Frankie says, rather bitterly.

“You have to call me Harold, but she can call me Harry.”

Smirking, you bite your tongue, rolling your lips as you smooth down your blouse—trying not to make any more eye contact with the man you’d really come to see.

Sliding the paint closer to you, you offer a softer smile, one that is nothing short of kind. “It was lovely to meet you Harry, and I’ll see—“

“—Rainy.”

His voice cut through as the can slid from the counter, the sudden acknowledgement of the weight showing—likely scorched across your face as your arm drags down, shoulder going with it, just about saving it from the ground.

It’s only as you look up, do you find Frankie half over the counter, spotting the key rings and cart tokens rolling around the floor—the stand on its axis from his sudden movement.

So, is Rainy my name now?

You caught that?

I did 😏

I wasn’t thinking.

I have to ask.

Here we go.

Do you always wear the hat or is it a Frank.DIY thing? And is it Frank or Frankie or the newly learnt Francisco?

Whats wrong with my hat? And Frankie and Morales were taken.

Morales your surname? I feel I’ve hit a sore spot.

Yes. And you have but you can make it better.

How?

Meeting me for a very boring lunch this week.

You’re really twisting my arm. Which is mean. You saw the stress my shoulder had to endure today.

I tried to warn you. I’ll let you bring your Pinterest board and your saved Reels.

I fear you just want me for my organisational inspiration.

Can’t help you decide if I’m the man for your project if I don’t know what you’re after.

Fair, I guess I can meet you for a business lunch.

Would you be more into meeting me for lunch if it wasn’t a business lunch?

It depends on what kind of lunch we’re talking about.

I’m very badly trying to ask you out on a date.

Oh, that’s what you’re trying to do.

Unless I’ve read this wrong.

Nope, read it perfectly. I guess I have to confess to you that I really would love to go on a brunch date with you, Francisco.

Lunch date. Let’s not get too romantic. Don’t want you to fall head over heels and visit where I work twice in two days.

Has Harold told you how hilarious you are?

It’s nice—the place he’s chosen.

All washed in bright white, yellow splashes and pastel accents. Plants adorn as much of the walls and ceilings as humanly possible, with guitar-infused music softly playing as the door clicks into place behind you.

It's so nice, in fact, you almost want to live here. To spend an infinite amount of time brushing your thumb over the leaves to see which ones are real and which ones are very good fakes. So pretty that it’s the kind of place that if you weren’t looking for him at a table, you’d snap a photo of it all and send it to a friend.

But, as soon as your eyes land on him, he's the only photo you want to take.

White t-shirt, with a dark shirt thrown over the top, still very much all broad-shouldered and wide chest as he smooths his hand down as he stands.

The hat, one that you'd assumed would be a staple, is all but gone, curls at odd angles as though his fingers have been teasing them—tugging and pulling as the ends slightly frizz—as he moves around the table when you approach.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he grins, hesitancy thrumming before he must question himself, snaps himself back into place from dragging his eyes up and down you.

Then, he’s moving, gently—enough time to register he’s moving to hug you, and plenty of time to politely decline.

But you don’t.

Allowing his hand to slide over your waist, delicate, very much cautious and all but respectful, at the same time as his breath flutters over your cheek. You almost turn your chin, wishing to all of a sudden curl into it before his lips graze your skin, lashes fluttering before you feel him moving back.

And, fuck, the scent of his aftershave is still washing over you in thick waves. It does its best to slide up your nose and make a home there as heat rushes to your cheeks.

You almost turn, almost catch the last bit of his lips, eyes focused on his, holding, burning them in as you find yourself unable to tear away from it. Two people, swirling, completely lost in only the other—the rest of the world fading to a muted shade, nothing compared to the hue he exhumes in the centre of brightness and pops of colour.

A thing you turn over, unable to stop yourself from stealing stares as he pulls out your chair, before joining you by sitting opposite.

“Thought this was a safe bet, wasn’t sure what kind of lunch person you were.”

“More of a brunch person, honestly.”

He smirks, flicking his eyes up, even if his head is tilted down at the menu.

“It’s very nice—not been here before.”

A brow arched, he smiles—shyer, the beginning of the dimple appearing before he casts his eyes back down.

“What do you recommend, Francisco?”

You don’t miss his snort, the way he sticks his tongue in his cheek as he gives you that look—one that makes you want to keep flirting and testing him all at once. One that makes you clamp your jean-covered thighs together, but secretly hope he notices you doing so.

If he does, he doesn’t show it. Instead, using his index finger to point at various parts of the menu, recommendations falling, rolling—a shimmer in his eyes at certain parts, that makes it easy when someone comes over to ask for your order.

You suspect it’s a favourite, the one you’ve chosen. Something is written into the way he holds your gaze before he stumbles over his words, practically trips, to say his.

It’s only when you’re alone, do you rest your elbow on the table—the coldness of it rising up your skin, rooting you—as you lean your chin on your palm. “So, do I get my Pinterest boards out now or…?”

“Funny.”

You bite your tongue as you smile, staring, admiring. “So, outside of terrorising a man in his own shop, running an Instagram, what does Francisco DIY do?”

Shaking his head, he takes a sip of his water—a bead collecting, remaining on his lower lip for a ridiculously long time, before the tip of his tongue casts it away, and sweeps it from your view.

“My… my friend fights—like MMA. He stopped for a bit, but now he…”

You wait, let it form—let him decide what it is he wants to tell you and when, and how. Sliding your feet out under the table, stretching as you relax into the chair, finding his eyes fixed, concentrated.

“I go to some of his training.”

“Good at DIY and MMA training? Starting to wonder why you’re single, Butterscotch.”

He laughs, soft, rich. “Just… haven’t been looking to date.”

Nodding, you let out a heavy exhale. “I wasn’t either.”

His lips purse, twitch to the side, a smirk half forming somewhere in his cheeks as he leans over, elbow resting on the table, foot catching yours under the table.

Mirroring you entirely as the two of you just stare. And, normally, it would be weird. Odd. But, it doesn’t feel it. If anything, it makes you want to commit each crease from his smiles, each wisp of hair along his jawline that crawls up his cheeks—the patch that could be traced with your thumb, an almost heart shape left, ready to be stamped with a pair of lips.

Your eyes only pull from it when your drinks arrive—when the moment is broken by the real world—as you lean back, let your eyes move to your server, thanking them as you take your drink. And then, the two of you are alone.

“Might change my Instagram name.”

Brows lifting, he pauses his glass close to his lips. “Oh yeah, what to?”

“Rainier Grey���makes me sound elusive.”

Snorting, he shakes his head, sipping on his water before placing the glass down close to your hand. Fingers brushing against it, a thing which makes your eyes flick over your screen.

“I dare you.”

“You dare me?” you say. “How old are you?”

“A man too old for dares.”

You brush your index finger over the back of his fingers, lingering on it, noticing the way they flex as you do as if battling to take your hand in his.

Even if you’re determined to go halves, Frankie’s insistence beats you.

All ‘Don’t argue with me on this, alright?’ said in a tone deeper, more serious than you'd heard to date. And, it's hard not to let heat lick up your spine at the sound.

Even if he’s giving you kind brown eyes as you hold your hands up in defeat.

Smirking, you watch him pay, spotting the picture in his wallet of a boy with a missing-tooth smile almost as big as the man in front of you.

“Alright Morales, but next time it’s my treat.”

“Next time?”

Smirking, you bite your lower lip as you stand, grabbing your things. “Think you’ve earned it.”

Each step to the door feels heavy, a fluttering in your stomach—a grin that can’t be wiped, barely doused when you say goodbye to the people behind the counter.

It grows wider when he gets the door for you, the cooler, outside air creating a vortex of his aftershave all over again (that you hope finds a way to bury itself into your skin) when he opens it.

It’s odd, almost insane—the giddy way you feel as the two of you walk to your car. His fingers are so close to brushing yours, the distance to your little vehicle becoming shorter and shorter as you desperately wish for another few blocks.

Disappointment flares, trying to scratch out the happiness inside your stomach as you pause at the car, trying to smile, but finding it difficult.

Rubbing the back of his head, you watch him roll his lips. “I had a great time.”

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you nod, “Me too.”

“Won't have to wait long, you've promised me brunch.”

“Think I said I’d pay. But, if you want brunch, I’m down to blow your mind.”

You realise too late, mouth hanging open, the words hitting—landing in his ear as you watch him process them.

It’s sluggish, almost lagging, the way his face lights up, the way his eyes widen and his smile grows into something close to what you had across the small table—not tinged in any way by the upcoming goodbye.

“Well, if that’s—”

“Shut up,” you say, cutting him off, hand ready to push his arm, but you slide it around his waist.

Face close to his, bodies almost flush.

You watch him swallow, how his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he flicks his gaze from eye to eye.

Licking his lips, he smiles. “Can I kiss you?”

The moment you nod, he’s leaning—lips brushing over yours, fingers tightening on his waist as you move with him, all delicate, smooth, downright velvety as your other hand finds his neck. Feels his pulse against your palm, the warmth of him against your skin, before your lips part, deepening it, letting him have more, as much as he wants—

Then, he moves you. His palm meets your car, guiding you back until your spine meets the side of your vehicle, and he leaves another mark of him—thumb and four fingers—in the grunge the city throws at your car.

The other is the one he leaves pressed against your lips, all invisible, sweet and aching. Leaning in, your fingers find purpose on his neck, skating around, teasing a low curl as you lick into his mouth delicately.

All teasing, caressing, the arm around your waist tightening as the two of you remain almost flush against the car.

And it’s dizzying, all unexpected—but then, so is he.

More so, when you part—nose against nose, eyes opening to find his doing the same.

“I should…”

Your fingers slide, wiping his bottom lip before resting it on his chin, nail stroking against the hair there. “Okay.”

“I’d like to,” he begins, slowly stepping back, allowing cooler air to flow between where your bodies were pressed together, “Not wait to see you again—and, help you. With your project.”

Rolling your lips, you smile. “I’d like that too—both of them.”

“Alright.”

“Okay,” you smile. “Let me know.”

Nodding, he steps back up on the curb, hand wiping across his mouth.

You actually changed your handle.

Told you, I don’t back down from a dare

Guess I owe you one.

Can I cash it in at any moment?

As long as it’s appropriate, yes.

There goes my idea of daring you to strip in the shop and make out with a paint tin.

Have to just dream about that one.

Oh, I will Francisco.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[fictionalwh0ree]

May i please request Billie x super girly/soft reader? They were friends for years and recently started dating and everyone has always questioned their relationship since they're polar opposites? Tysm!

pink bows- billie eilish

summary: you and billie are completely different, but thats what makes you great. unfortunately, not everyone sees it that way. when some of the hate gets too much, billie knows how to comfort you. word count: 1.4k warnings: none

billie eilish was indubitably the most gorgeous girl you’d ever seen. with the perfect balance of masculine and feminine energy, the perfect balance of cocky and humble, it was hard not to fall for her. you’d known since the moment the two of you became friends that you liked her in a more than just friends way. nothing had happened between the two of you until a couple months back, and when she publicly came out, she also revealed your relationship to the world.

people had known about your friendship, her posting you frequently on her story. people always replied, saying you guys were goals, your contrast being perfect. see, while billie opted for baggy clothes and a hat, you always leaned towards a tank top and a mini skirt, or a nice dress. you always stood out by her side, especially when you wore pink, which was usually. whether it was a pink purse or some detailing on your clothes, you always had it on. you loved the support you got from her fans. they were a light amongst all the hate you received as well.

so, when billie posted a photo of you two kissing, and then when she took you to the grammy’s as her date, you expected more support than what you’d got. besides the blatant homophobia, your dissimilarity had gone from something that made you “goals” to something that got in the way of dating. you received many messages saying things like “what do they even have to talk abt?” or “they literally have nothing in common, this has to be pr.”

you focused your energy on ignoring the comments, taking moments to appreciate the supportive fans who seemed overjoyed with the announcement. when the hate seemed to slow down, billie posted you again. this time, the two of you were matching, both of you in pink tshirts. billie’s shirt was baggy and paired well with her jeans, while yours was a tighter fitting tank paired with a jean skirt. despite all the positivity, new hate comments were coming in. people accused you of trying to turn her into you, saying you were taking away from her style. this was only on one end of the scale, your dms had become flooded with death threats too.

it started to become a lot. you started to pull away from billie a little, taking a little longer to answer her messages, making excuses to not see her, avoiding being in any photos she took. you couldn’t avoid her forever, though. billie wasn’t stupid. being new to the relationship meant you were both afraid to have serious discussions, worried about how it would turn out. on your side, you were scared that billie would think you were stupid or weak for letting the haters get to you. on her side, she was scared to ask what was wrong, worried that you’d either fallen out of love with her or that she’d push you too far.

the last straw was when you finally made plans with her to go get food. she stopped in your driveway, knowing you were probably strapping your heels or running back for your keys that were adorned with a pink bow, and pulled out her phone. she didn’t even realize when you’d walked out of the house until you pulled open the car door. she looked up at you, smiling, until she took in your outfit. you were in simple jeans with a black long sleeve, basic shoes, your hair down, and no makeup. there wasn’t a hint of pink, or girliness, in your outfit. her smile faltered and she tilted her head to the side in confusion. you planted a kiss on her lips in greeting.

“hey,” you said.

“hi,” she said back, uncertainty still evident.

“whats wrong?” you asked, knowing full well what was up.

she started the car, beginning the drive before she spoke again.

“uhm, nothing,” she said, “its just… i’ve never seen you in an outfit like this.”

“do you not like it?” you asked, worried, “i-i just wasn’t feeling the pink.”

“no no, you look great baby,” billie objected, “but, you weren’t feeling the pink? i never thought i’d hear that from you.”

“does it matter?” you snapped, “we’re just going to get food. sorry i don’t wanna put on a dress and heels.”

you crossed your arms, looking out the window. you heard billie sigh and if you would’ve been looking, you would’ve seen the way she bit her lip in thought and glanced over at you, plotting her next words.

“y/n whats been up with you recently?” billie asked nervously.

“what do you mean?” you said.

“well, i don’t know, you just haven’t been yourself recently,” she took a breath, considering whether or not she’d say what had been on her mind.

“do you- do you not like me anymore or something?” she said, eyes flicking between you and the road.

“no, no, billie, thats not it. i promise,” you said, turning to face her while grabbing her hand off the console.

“okay,” she said, smiling a little out of relief, “then what is it? and don’t say nothing.”

“honestly,” you breathed out, “i was just trying to fit in with you more.”

“fit in with me more?” she asked, confused.

“i don’t know, it feels kind of stupid to say,” you confessed honestly.

“it’s not stupid, baby, i promise. just tell me,” she comforted, placing a kiss on the back of your hand.

“well, ever since we went public, i’ve been getting all these comments and dms about how i’m taking away from your style when we match, and how we don’t match, and how we look like a pr stunt because i dress in pink and girly and you don’t,” you said, looking down.

“i guess i just got tired of it. i want people to see us and know we’re together, for real,” you muttered.

“y/n,” billie said, squeezing your hand, “how could you call that stupid?”

“i just shouldn’t have let the hate get to me,” you said.

“its not your fault,” she said, finally arriving at the restaurant drive through.

you sat still for a moment as she ordered the food and picked it up. she parked in the parking lot, finally looking over to you for more than a second.

“y/n, i like your style. i don’t want you to change, for me or for anyone else. part of what makes us work is that we’re different. i know its annoying having people think it isn’t real, but we know the truth, that’s what matters,” she said, taking your hand in hers and placing a kiss on the back again.

you looked at her, biting your lip shyly. you smiled slightly, trying to fight it a little, but it was hard. your cheeks were burning as you looked at her.

“there’s that pretty smile,” she cooed, smiling back at you.

“i love you,” you said.

“i love you more,” she replied, leaning over the console to kiss you on the lips.

she snagged your house keys from the cup holders in the middle, untying the pink ribbon that adorned it.

“give me your hand,” she spoke.

you offered it to her and she gently picked up your left hand, carefully tying a bow on your ring finger, making you blush harder. you quickly rooted through your own bag, finding and untying the pink bow that was on your car keys.

“give me yours,” you said.

she gave it to you, and you tied the ribbon on her ring finger, just as she had done to you, before leaning over to kiss her lips briefly. you pulled away, holding her hand and admiring the two pink bows, knowing one day those bows would become rings.

“lets go,” you said.

she pulled out of the parking lot and as she drove, you snagged a picture of your hands, one that was sure to become a wallpaper, a constant reminder of your love and how it transcends what anyone thinks.

[rootedinrevisions]

Kinktober 2024: Day 7 (late)

SUMMARY: Jake had always been confident, the calm in any storm, but lately, the weight of an upcoming mission had cast a shadow over him. No matter what you tried, his mind remained distant, locked on the challenges ahead. Desperate to help him unwind, you took a bold step, sinking to your knees before him, offering a moment of release from the pressures weighing him down. As his eyes finally met yours, dark with both surprise and need, you knew you had his full attention. In that moment, the tension between you shattered, and what followed was a much-needed escape for both of you.

PROMPT: "You look so pretty on your knees."

KINK: Face Fucking

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT. (Male Receiving Oral)

WORD COUNT: 768

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am aware that I am getting this posted very late. I am so sorry for that! There was a family emergency I was taking care of most of today which didn't leave me any time to write or get anything posted. Hopefully, it's worth the wait!

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 @saucy-sassy-sparkly I  @alipap3 I @dudinhastuff I  @lunatygerqueen   I  @hookslove1592 I @glenpowellluver

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! (I currently have one for Glen Powell & His Characters, One for Bradley/Rooster now, and then a third for WWE/Wrestling. I also can create one for Bucky & other MCU characters if there's interest for more of those characters!)

Jake had been distant for days, his usual lighthearted demeanor weighed down by the upcoming mission. You’d seen him stressed before, but this felt different. He was quieter, less playful, and constantly lost in thought. You hated seeing him like this—so consumed by his duty that it seemed to block out everything else.

Tonight, you were determined to change that, even if just for a few minutes. He was sitting on the edge of your shared bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring blankly at the floor. You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.

“Jake,” you whispered softly, your lips brushing against his skin.

He hummed, acknowledging you but not fully engaged.

You tried again, this time letting your hands wander down his chest, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch.  “You need to take a break. You’ve been thinking about that mission all day.”

“I can’t,” he muttered, his voice tight, as if his thoughts were an anchor pulling him down. “There’s too much riding on this one.”

You understood. His job demanded perfection, and the stakes were always high. But you also knew he needed to get out of his own head for a bit—to relax, even if just for a moment.

You kissed him again, this time more insistently, running your fingers through his hair as you tried to coax him out of his trance.

But it wasn’t enough. His mind was miles away, focused on the mission that was still days off. You pulled back slightly, frustration and concern warring within you. You couldn’t stand to see him like this, so you decided to take a different approach.

Slowly, you sank to your knees in front of him, your hands moving to his belt. His eyes flicked to yours, momentarily surprised by your shift in position.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low, his brows furrowing in curiosity.

“Helping you relax,” you said simply, your voice soft but determined as you undid his belt and tugged it free.

You could feel his hesitation as he watched you work the button and zipper on his pants, but he didn’t stop you. Instead, he let out a shaky breath, his body already responding to the promise of your touch.

As you pulled his pants down just enough to free him, you glanced up, and his gaze was locked on you, desire flickering in his eyes.

“You look so pretty on your knees,” he murmured, the compliment causing a rush of heat to flood your cheeks.

You wrapped your hand around him, feeling his length pulse in your palm. Then you leaned in and took him into your mouth, Jake’s hand immediately finding your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as he exhaled a deep, shaky breath. His hips twitched slightly, and you could feel the tension in his body begin to ease.

It didn’t take long before his hand tightened its grip in your hair, holding you in place as his hips began to move on their own. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, the stress of the past few days melting away with each thrust. You could feel the weight of his worries lifting, even if only temporarily, as he lost himself in the sensation of your mouth.

“God,” he groaned, his voice rough, his body finally giving in to the release he so desperately needed. You could sense the shift in him, the way his focus turned completely to you, to the pleasure you were giving him, and it sent a rush of satisfaction through you.

Finally, his movements stilled, and he released a low, guttural groan as he came, his body shuddering as the tension drained from him. He stayed there for a moment, his hand still gently tangled in your hair, his breath uneven as he came down from the high.

When he finally opened his eyes and looked down at you, there was something softer in his expression—a quiet gratitude, perhaps, or a deep sense of relief. He gently pulled you back up to him, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, appreciative kiss.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice warm and genuine. He pulled you into his lap, cradling you close as if he didn’t want to let go. “I didn’t realize how much I needed that.”

You smiled softly, resting your head against his chest. “You need to take care of yourself too, Jake. Not just the mission.”

He sighed, his arms tightening around you. “I know,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “And now it’s time to take care of you.”

[bluesidez]

AHH CMON REQUESTS!! I know the inbox is flooded girl omg.

okay so as a request, i would really love to see a story where black, plus size reader and Miguel take on wedding planning. Reader is happy enjoying cake tastings, dress shopping, venue hunting etc. and groomzilla!miguel is trying to make everything perfect for her. It can be nsfw, but I trust you with whatever the vibe is! Love you down!! ✨✨✨✨

["It’s My Wife’s Day!"]

lab tester: @leoeloo 🩻

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!Reader, black!Reader, PlusSize!reader

summary: No one is going to stop Miguel's fiancé from having the best day of her life, not if Miguel has anything to do with it.

content warning: AAVE (YAY!), sorry to anyone named Elana or Finley, Miguel gets a little mean here (I tried to keep it reasonable but he’s giving Libra Diva DOWN), mentions of food, some cultural (traditional) things from both sides but nothing crazy, there is one scene that could be triggering for my fellow big girls (but it's handled with care I promise), 18+ at the end so MDNI, it's also pretty suggestive throughout

word count: 8,888k EXACTLY (there should be no mistakes for as long as I've been working on it....but hey)

a/n: AHHHH! I was so happy to receive this request! (You have also been very sweet to me since my very first fic and I really appreciate that!!!) I said on my blog that I really love all things weddings, so this was a super fun write. I just love imagining Miguel in this position of making sure that his girl has everything while the girl is in complete bliss. (The mom here was also heavily inspired by my own mom who is much more active than I am in terms of telling people off.) As per our DMs, I did sprinkle in a little GR!Mig mannerisms! And! I added him being super in love with reader…but that’s a given. I do hope you enjoy! Also, I LOVE YOU!

Miguel refers to reader as his wife constantly before they’re actually married.

Also a headcanon for Miguel here that isn’t said explicitly is that his Libra trait of indecisiveness is on at all times. 

Miguel could never forget the day you set his heart ablaze when you said those destined words:

“Yes! Of course I’ll marry you!”

He was over the moon. Weeks of him getting you to warm up to him, months of him chasing after you, years of him trying to show you that he’s the right one for you, and finally, your hand was adorned in the rock he’s been planning for you for eons. You were truly his lady, now and forever. 

The proposal was quiet and intimate, mostly because Miguel was a bit fearful you would say no, a seed of doubt growing the longer he waited. He steadily reminded you to get your nails done and paid for your hair appointments every now and then. Each time he thought he could do it, he chickened out. 

Then, one night under the stars after an unnecessary work event, his feelings just overloaded. 

You were so ethereal.

He remembers you laughing over something his drunk coworker had said, eyes sparkling as you retold the story. Your curls were parted to the side, earrings dangling past your jaw. Your legs were swinging over the edge of his trunk, not a care in the world as you talked with vigor. 

He thought that he couldn’t live without this. He couldn’t have a life without small moments like this with you. He couldn’t imagine a moment where you weren’t by his side. 

So, the words spilled out of him like water. He took your hands in his and poured his heart out. Finally, the ring box that had practically melted a shape into his thigh was being freed. 

You cried when you noticed what he was doing, emotions doing a complete 180. 

“No wonder you kept giving me extra money for my nails,” you let out a watery laugh as you leaned into him. 

Now, here you both were, almost a year later in the middle of wedding planning. 

The theme and colors were carefully handpicked, the venue was booked, and almost every week, the two of you had something to look forward to. 

Miguel was currently prepping ingredients for tonight’s dinner, listening as you chatted about your great wedding dress search of the day. 

“We stopped by one store, but the lady behind the desk immediately turned us down. I didn’t want to ruin such a good vibe, so I left it at that. Ma was ready to hurt her though.”

Miguel felt his nerves tighten at the news, “What?”

“Yeah, as soon as me and my entourage walked in, she ran up to us saying something about a short stock, but we knew she was lying-”

“What’s the name?”

You raise your eyebrows at his abruptness. 

“Miggy, it’s really ok. Don’t worry over this,” you got closer to him, taking his face into your hand. 

“I’m not. What’s the name?”

You pull his face down to yours, “Nuh uh. I’m not giving you the name. We said we weren’t going to be stressed out over this process, remember?” 

Miguel closed his eyes and brought his hands down your body, leaning his forehead against yours, “I remember.” He blew out a breath and squeezed your ass in hopes that it would help calm him down. 

“Good. Now, you stay right here and I’ll go get ready for dinner. I wanna tell you about this poor girl whose dad didn’t like a single thing she put on.”

You kiss him three times, the last kiss lingering a little longer with Miguel humming into your lips and lean back with a warm smile. Miguel’s hands clinged to you until you were too far to reach and you walked upstairs to change into your house clothes. 

Miguel stood next to the island, tapping his fingers against the granite with a tongue poking into his cheek. 

The dress shopping process was the one he was the least involved in, opting to be surprised on the day you walked down the aisle. You wouldn’t even let his family pitch in for the dress, saying something about running up your dad’s pockets. 

But how does a dress shop conveniently run out of dresses once his fiancé walks in?

Right as Miguel was considering googling every dress shop in the area, his phone buzzed to life. 

Just the person he wanted to hear from.

“Hello?” Miguel turned to toss some butter on a skillet, holding the phone between his shoulder and his ear.

“Miguel…”

He stopped in his tracks, knowing the exact tone of voice your mother was using. 

“What happened?”

“Today was so beautiful!”

“But?”

“But that one shop on James Street? Terrible.”

Miguel would have usually chuckled at the dramatics, but this situation was no laughing matter to him.  

“You should have seen the way the people in there turned they nose up at us! One lady was about to jump out of her skin. All of this for some of the ugliest dresses I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Miguel shifted his position and stood up straight, tossing minced garlic in the sizzling butter, “Did they say anything to you?” His hands were gripping the phone enough to leave indents on his skin.

“Other than telling us how she wouldn’t have anything we would like, no. She didn’t even want us taking a seat in the lobby.”

He moved to grab a pen and a notepad from the drawer, “Do you have the name of the shop?”

“Lady Love. They should call it Lady A Lie.”

Miguel smiled, thankful that he could count on his future mother-in-law to be his partner in crime specifically when it came to making sure that no one brought harm to you. The number one thing that he and your mom had in common was their need to spring into action.

“Thank you. She didn’t want to tell me anything.”

“Trust me, if she hadn’t begged me not to act a fool, I would have cussed that heifer out. She was so nasty and so rude. That ol’ cow.”

“They’ll have a notice from my lawyer by the morning.”

Your mother hummed, “Let me get my iPad out and get to rating they store. It was a bleach blonde butched buffoon named Elana at the front desk. She was the one giving my baby a hard time. Nobody in there was trying to stop her either.”

“I’ll remember that,” Miguel could hear you coming down the stairs, fuzzy slides creating a steady tempo against the floor. “Let me call you back later.”

“She must be coming back. Tell her to bring me back my shoes!”

Miguel chuckled, “Yes ma’am.”

You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“Was that Ma?”

“Yeah,” Miguel reached to place some chicken on the hot skillet, satisfied with the simmered ingredients he added. “She said to give her those shoes back.”

“She’ll get them back! I’m using them right now. What else were you two talking about?”

Miguel turns down the boil of the pasta noodles, shoulders tensing, “She was telling me about Lady Love.”

You clicked your teeth, “I thought I told you not to worry about it.”

“I’m not!” He turned the chicken over while you grumbled into his back. “But she called me with very upsetting news. What am I but a good son? I had to listen.”

“You two are gonna work my nerves.”

“Don’t say that. We’re just not going to sit back and let someone disrespect you like that. What kind of man would I be if I just let somebody not treat you right and I have the means to stop it? So, please. Let me do this.”

You huffed and buried your face into his back, fingers pressing into his skin. His words shut you up. 

“Fine.” 

“Thank you, cariño. Now, can you get the salad and the wine out of the fridge? This is almost ready.”

“What are you making?”

“Marry Me Chicken and Pasta.”

“So funny.”

“Ah, I know. It must really work, huh?”

Miguel walked hand-in-hand with you down the fancy boutiques in the shopping district. 

You both had just gotten done wandering aimlessly as you waited for the cake-tasting appointment. Miguel had to be stopped multiple times from buying everything you complimented. 

He was extremely happy to see you giddy about the cake tasting. It was something you’ve been looking forward to since the day you both confirmed a wedding date. 

He’s studied your Pinterest boards heavily, the notifications dinging with every pin. He knows you want to go all out for the cake. Something large enough to feed both of your huge families and something grand enough to match the venue and the theme. 

He arranged for the best of the best to be trying out today and if that didn’t work, he’ll seek someone else. He’ll even bake the cake if he has to, although you’d push him out of the kitchen.

“I hope they have that Biscoff flavor. I heard it was really good,” you turn to him with a hopeful smile. 

Miguel smiled back at you, “I’m sure they will.”

He only lets go of your hand to hold the door open for you, eyes enjoying the view of your body in the flowy dress you were wearing. Earlier, he couldn’t stop kissing over the deep Queen Anne neckline of it, claiming that you smelled too good. You two almost didn’t make it out of the house on time.

“Hello! Welcome in!”

The bakery was bright and homey. The desserts on display were placed on light peach stands and risers and the smell of caramel and cinnamon was strong in the air. Square canvases covered the walls with cute paintings of some of the featured desserts.

“Miguel, look!”

You pull him over to some Miffy-shaped buns filled with different flavored custards. 

“That is too adorable to even eat.”

“But I do hope you’d still be willing to give it a taste!”

You both look up to the friendly face behind the counter. They were a lanky figure with a glitter tattoo of a unicorn cupcake planted on their arm and pink gauges in their ears 

“You two must be the future Mr. & Mrs. O’Hara. Lovely to meet you all.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” Miguel reached his hand out to give a firm shake. 

“My name is Finley and I’ll be assisting you all today. We have several beautiful flavors for you to try.”

Finely directed you both to a square table booth in the corner of the bakery. Miguel slid next to your right side in order to wrap his arm around with one hand and eat with the other. 

“Other than the standard Chocolate, Vanilla, Strawberry & Cream, Red Velvet, Marble, and ‘Wedding Cake’ flavors that we offer, the samples for you here include Tiramisu, Passionfruit, White Chocolate Raspberry, Lemon Blueberry, Cookies & Cream, aaaand Dulce de Leche!”

Miguel’s eyebrows went up, feeling skeptical but open. 

“Woah,” your eyes grew at the neat display of confections before you. “I’m so excited.”

 “I’ll be right over here if you guys need me. Enjoy!”

You picked up a fork and dug straight into the Strawberries & Cream.

“That is so freaking good,” you groan out, eyebrows scrunching. 

“Let me see,” Miguel turned to you with his mouth open, eyes full of mirth.

“Miguel, please.”

“What? It’s practice for the real deal.”

“When we’re the only ones in here?”

“It’s going to feel like an intimate moment just between us, no?”

You sigh, defeated. He doesn’t even budge when you shove a giant piece of cake in his mouth. He grabs your hand before you can retreat, licking slowly away at the leftover cream. 

He focuses on the golden fork, working in between the prongs. Time slows down as you watch the white icing disappear into his mouth. His eyelashes are long and pretty and his lips are plump and a little wet from his tongue. 

One more pass of the fork through his mouth and he’s looking up at you with the same fire from this morning. 

You clear your throat, “Is that how you’re going to eat the cake?”

“Something like that.”

You two slowly but surely make it through the rest of the flavors with you trying to stay unflustered and Miguel trying to up the ante. 

He’s grinning and chuckling at your ruffled state until you get to the Dulce de Leche cake. He harrumphs as you cut into it. 

“No, no, you wanna eat cake so bad, so eat it!”

“This isn’t the cake I was talking about-”

“I’m going to shove this fork so far down your throat if you even think of finishing those thoughts out loud.”

 “You know I love it when you get that way,” Miguel sighs and reaches to eat from the fork before you can say anything back. 

You wait in silence as you watch his face contort from disgusted to neutral to pleased. 

“It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah?”

“A little too sweet. Abuela wouldn’t like it.”

“Do you like it, though?”

He paused as he watched you take a bite. 

“Maybe.”

“Would you like it as our wedding cake?”

“No….”

You smirked at him, “But you want it as your groom’s cake?”

“…Yes.”

He looks so conflicted about it that you almost feel bad for him.

“Miguel it’s ok if you like it, no one is going hurt you. You know you have a sweet tooth.”

“It is really delicious, like eerily so. It’s not my favorite cake, though.”

“Oh? Was it the Cookies & Cream one?”

“Close.”

You look around the plate, confused as to how fruit flavors have anything to do with sandwich cookies. 

Miguel got closer to your ear, lips grazing the top, “My favorite is you.”

You push his face back with your hand while he grins into your palm. 

“I see you two lovebirds are enjoying everything,” Finley walks back over to the two of you. “Any standouts?”

Miguel lists off the ones you were enjoying the most with ease. 

“We also enjoyed this Dulce de Leche one but we decided it would be best for my cake but before we move on, do you have any Biscoff cake samples that we can try?”

“Of course, let me go get that for you.”

He looks back at you cheesing at him.

“You remembered!”

“Always.” 

Finley comes back with a small Biscoff bundt cake. 

“Now, unfortunately, we don’t offer this flavor for any tiered cakes.”

You took a bite and almost soared. The flavors were just the right mix of salty and sweet, some caramel coating the top. 

Miguel looked from you to Finley, “Can you just do it for one tier?”

“Um, I can ask my boss when she comes back-”

“You can leave her number with me. I would really love to talk with her face-to-face.”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Good,” Miguel reaches over to wipe some salt off of your lips. “My wife wants a pretty grand cake and she has some particular ideas. We want to be really involved in the process for the best result. No surprises.”

“Absolutely. Would you still want to place that order for the groom cake? We have a sale on toppers for them right now.”

They place a pamphlet on the counter with countless toppers of grooms in pure agony. Some are being dragged by their wives and others are running away. Miguel turns his lip up and moves his eyes to Finely without lifting his head up. 

“These are very tacky and senseless, so no. We’ll place the order for it at the same time as the main cake.”

Finely moves to remove the pamphlet, face red and eyes wet, “I apologize. A lot of the future husbands enjoy them.”

“Do I look like the other husbands that come through here?”

“N-no sir! Not at all.”

“Tell you what, give me your boss’s number and your business card. We’ll circle back. Thank you for today’s tasting.”

“L-let me at least give you some extra dessert before you leave. Free of charge!”

Miguel helps you stand as Finley hops around the store grabbing any and everything. 

“I really hope you consider choosing us for the wedding.”

“The wedding?”

“Your! Your wedding!”

“Hmph.”

Miguel grabs the box from Finley’s shaking hands and promptly leaves the store with you on his arm. You turn back to Finley with an apologetic look and a quiet sorry leaving your lips, though you’re sure they’re still shocked by Miguel’s behavior. 

“I’m going to set up more appointments. We need a backup cake,” he says as he guides you back to the car. 

“You loved those cakes and you scared that poor person to death.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just me eating these cakes. And those were some of the most horrible toppers I’ve seen yet. Who does that?” 

“You would be shocked to know that not every man is willing to celebrate and proudly love their partner.”

Miguel turned the car on and let the cool AC hit his face. 

“But, if you still want to look at more bakeries, we can. More cake for me.”

You turn his face to yours and kiss his lips gently. 

“Now what’s all this about eating me-flavored cake?”

He shifts the gear into reverse, “Let’s get home and you’ll find out.”

When you said you wanted creative and unique pre-wedding photoshoots, Miguel didn’t hesitate to make sure he could pull it together for you. Now he’s starting to regret it. 

You walked out into the studio apartment with an oversized button-down that looked like it could be his, some thigh-high stockings squeezing at your thick thighs, and some black lingerie peeking through the thin shirt material. Your makeup was simple but jaw-dropping with glossy lips and a lovely blush that brought out a glow to your skin. Your hair was in a blowout style, curls bouncing with every step closer to him.

This specific photographer that you had mentioned in awed passing was known for her eye for romantic detail. Her pictures truly captured the love between couples in raw form. When you showed Miguel the pictures on her website, he was quick to get in touch with her to set up a decent amount of photoshoots. What he didn’t expect was for her to have an influx of assistants and protégés to have wandering eyes. 

“Are you going to move the lights or are you going to keep gawking at my wife like an idiot?” 

The one assistant who clearly didn’t understand what Miguel’s death stares meant jumped at his voice and rushed to move things within the set, the entire back of his neck beet-red. 

“Baby, don’t be like that, he might just be nervous,” you slid your hands up his chest, straightening out his “work” shirt. “Don’t fuss at him.”

 “He should do his job then,” Miguel shifted his gaze from the scrambling boy to you, voice getting quieter as he peered down at your excited face. “You do look beautiful, though. Can’t blame him.”

“You like it?” There was a spark in your eye. It was something that Miguel knew all too well.

He glided his fingers down your back, feeling the heat of your skin through the shirt. Your eyes never left his lips as he drew closer. You could feel his breath covering your skin.

The flash of a strobe light caused you to jump.

“These are going to make such stunning outtakes,” Xina gasped as she moved her camera back up to her face again. “Sorry to scare you. Please continue this and we can do the original plan in a second.”

You laughed as Miguel pulled you even closer, pressing kisses against your neck to avoid ruining your makeup. 

The original idea of the shoot was to have Miguel look like he’s coming home from work and walking in on you dancing around in his clothes. The idea was cute, domestic, a little sexy, and true to life. While it wasn’t the set of photos going out with your wedding invitations, it was something fun for your socials. 

As the scene played out, Miguel didn’t expect you to open up your shirt even more as he came back through the entryway. It made for a nice expression when he looked up to see you passionately dancing around the couch. 

You urged him toward you with your finger, hips moving to the music blasting over the speakers Xina had behind the equipment. Miguel grinned and headed your way. 

With Xina’s direction, the both of you were able to get out lively photos as if it were just a normal day in the soon-to-be O’Hara home. 

By the time you all were finished, Miguel was only in a tucked-in tank top with his hair tossed and turned. You still looked perfect on his lap, grinning down at him as he mischievously bit his loose necktie that you placed on your shoulders.

“Perfect!” Xina smiled behind the camera. “Now, one little thing I like to do at the end of each shoot is have the couple face me with their faces together for one final picture.”

You kiss Miguel on the corner of his mouth and lay his tie on top of his head before turning to Xina. Miguel follows with a lazy grin on his face.

It would have all been so well if that same assistant wasn’t still staring at you like he’s never seen a beautiful woman before when Xina started to wrap up. 

He met Miguel’s eyes and almost turned blue in the face trying to look busy.

There were so many more photoshoots to go in the near future. He’s not sure how he’ll make it through the next ones without making a scene. 

“Miguel! The invitation samples are here,” you knocked on his office door, giddy with excitement.

Miguel rolls back from his desk, glasses perched on his nose, “C’mon, let me see.”

You stride eagerly to his seat and he’s waiting with the same energy, pulling you into his lap once you’re within arms reach. You make a noise of excitement as run your finger under the envelope flap. Miguel leans his head on your shoulder waiting to finally see the design you so meticulously planned. 

You slid the cardstock out, gasping as you saw the paperdoll drawings of you and Miguel on the page. The artists did a fantastic job of designing you both in such a stylistic, yet recognizable way. 

“Oh my god, look at the little outfits!”

You panned through the cut-out clothes, one with you all’s work outfits, another with casual outfits, and the last one with a wedding dress and a tux. You brought the papers up to cover your mouth as you laughed again. Miguel’s heart soared at the charming way you reacted. 

“Look! They even captured your cute nose right!”

“You love my nose, huh?”

“Stop,” you snicker as you pull out the last picture. It’s one from a more recent photoshoot with you both in formal, dressy attire with scissors and measuring tapes in your hands and paper hearts everywhere to match the paperdoll invitation. 

Miguel took the invitations from your hands, wanting to get a better look. It really was one of a kind, something you both would be able to look back fondly at. 

He ran his thumb across the words, really taking in the fact that you’ll be walking down the aisle right into his arms. He read the words once more. 

Save the date…

2025…

Miguel &…

“How the hell did they spell your name wrong?”

You looked up from the picture in your hand with a frown, “What?”

“We waited this long for samples and they spell your name fucking wrong.”

You read over the invitation again and let out a groan, “Of course. Let me call the company-”

“I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure? You looked busy when I knocked, I don’t want you to get sidetracked.”

“Making sure that my wife’s name is spelled correctly on our wedding invitations isn’t getting sidetracked. I’ll handle it.”

You felt your shoulders drop, a tension you didn’t realize you were carrying releasing from your body. 

“Thank you so much, baby,” you sent him the number with a small smile on your face. 

Miguel gave your lips a peck, “Anything for you. Don’t worry your head about it.”

You stood up to leave, but not before he gave your thighs a squeeze. 

When he was sure you rounded the corner, he immediately pressed the number, blowing slowly through his mouth. 

He was about to work his way to free invitations and a year's worth of service once he was finished. 

Miguel laughed at the video you sent him. You were practically glowing with the turquoise waves in the background and braids in your hair. A giant plumeria was tucked behind your ear and you held a big fruity drink in your hand. 

You were out on your bachelorette’s trip, enjoying the waves in the sand as you caught up with your bridesmaids. He hadn’t seen any annoyed texts yet, so he assumed that the trip was not falling to pieces. 

He could hear your friends in the background bickering about how they had to take your phone away sometimes to stop you from texting him. 

“She got a few more months of being a hoe!”

“Will you shut up?! I’m making a video.”

“It’s true, though! We’re about to go get drunk as fuck. Don’t worry, Miguel, we got her!”

You just rolled your eyes and smiled at their antics before the video ends.

The mood of the video contrasted your texts entirely. They really did get you drunk.

“i miss you alreadyyyyyy”

“I miss you too but you need to have fun”

“I’ll see you soon. I’ll be waiting for you at the airport in just a few days.”

“good”

“you better be waiting for me”

“i wont you”

“shit”

“want you”

“you and your dick”

“gonna sing to him”

“Him?”

“yeah him”

“he’s mine”

“gonna love on him”

“and you”

“miss you so baaaaad”

“the bed is empty without you :((((“

“I hope you remember all of this when you see me baby”

“my name is mrssss oharaaaa”

“idk who baby is”

“Ok well Mrs. O’Hara you need to go to sleep”

“i will go to sleep mr ohara”

“gonna dream of you”

“and my big dick”

“You do that”

“Send me a pic when you wake up”

The night could have ended perfectly. He knew you had fun and crashed safely in your room. There were no problems with the resort or the reservations. You were constantly flooding his phone with pictures without talking because of the “No Miguel” rule he was sure your friends set. 

Miguel wanted to close his eyes in peace. 

So when his assistant sent him the picture of one of the most crucial parts of your wedding, he could feel his neck tightening. He called Ben instantly.

“What the fuck am I looking at?”

“The broom! They had a lot of them at the store but this one was plain and white, so I feel like it’s perfect for the wedding.”

Miguel pinched his forehead in an attempt to keep his eyebrows from molding together, “Do you have a schedule for when you’re this stupid, or is it only reserved for me?”

Ben was silent for a second, “I don’t understand, I thought you said you needed a broom? Is that not what this is?”

“A broom to jump over Reily. For weddings. I told you to check with Jess about it because I knew you weren’t going to have the slightest idea what I was talking about. Imagine if I brought this home to my wife. She would be offended.”

“W-what’s the difference?”

He might find out the difference once Miguel hits him over the head with it. 

“I’m going to fire you.” 

Miguel wasn’t really. He was just so tired. 

“Return the broom. I’ll take care of this in the morning.”

Ben was stuttering and blubbering as Miguel smacked the red button. He needed to look at the pictures you sent again. He didn’t need to fall asleep in such a bad mood. 

Miguel was certain that if he were a celebrity, this would be the wedding of the century with the way the bill was racking up. 

Not that it really mattered, because it was his wife’s day. Anything you wanted, he was going to get it. 

You both agreed on a buffet-style dinner for the reception with different stations and servers to accommodate your huge families. 

Currently, you both were tasting the traditional foods that the caterer had to offer and it was looking less than desirable. 

The greens were a bit bland, the catfish was ok, and the mac & cheese was delicious. 

The pork was a bit dry, the wedding cookies could have been better, and the mole was missing something. 

“I think,” Miguel pushed his food around the plate. “It’s missing banana.”

“Really? I’ve never thought to add that before.”

“For future reference, it’ll really make the difference.”

You wiped your fingers above the plate, “I think this might be a sign to leave the traditional stuff to our dessert table. Some of these are great but I’m sure both of our families will be up in arms with complaints. And maybe this is for the better! Tradition is too on the nose.”

Miguel admires your positivity because this is probably the sixth caterer you both have tested out. 

“We know you’re popular from your page, so what is it that you’re most confident in?”

The woman before you all smiled, “Since you're both looking for a pretty ambitious spread, I think things like a pizza bar or build-your-own stations should be the way to go.”

Through another round of dishes, you and Miguel were amazed by the specialties that the chef had to offer from the customization to the endless amount of options.

After a long Q&A trial between the chef and Miguel:

“Do you have simpler options for the kiddos?”

“Is it possible to do this station and this station right next to each other?”

“Should I hire more help for you?”

“Do you sell this mac & cheese separately?”

“Can you try this mole one more time?”

You both settled on five different stations with food ranging from BBQ to fries to candy. No one will be able to say that they went home hungry.

“Are you satisfied?” you rub Miguel’s chest on the way out to the car.

“Completely. I think it’s going to be great.”

The big day was getting closer and closer with finalizations being made and arrangements galore. The cake flavors were chosen, your dress was being edited to perfection, makeup and hair appointments were already made, and Miguel’s suit was tailored like no other. The bridesmaids and groomsmen were all fitted, especially after Miguel’s constant trips to Lyla’s shop. He was there for nearly every snip, tuck, and seam.

The time was really winding down and you both could really feel that as you walked into the reception venue. 

Miguel woke up that day to a phone call claiming that the venue had been overbooked and was seeking him out to cancel his event. He’s never called people faster in his life. The threats that were made was not something he was proud of, but he’s glad he didn’t wake you up.

Now he has the pleasure of watching you glide around the tables in awe.

“Miguel! Look at the plates! The silverware! The centerpieces!”

It truly was magical watching your vision come to light. 

Miguel followed after you with a grin painting his lips, checking every table for faults. The wedding planner was also next to him, waiting with bated breath for direction from Miguel.

“This should be here,” Miguel pointed to a lone party favor in the middle of a plate.

The planner moves it with ease, used to Miguel’s demands at this point in the process. 

Miguel kept walking towards the tables closest to where you and he would be sitting. 

“I thought I said that these two weren’t supposed to be next to each other? We don’t have time for arguments that night,” Miguel picks up two placeholders. “I don’t want to have to carry our aunts out of here myself. Fix it.”

The wedding planner grabbed them and made a note on their clipboard.

“And where’s the centerpiece for our table?” Miguel checks his watch. “It was supposed to be here yesterday.”

“There was a delay in the flowers. They were the wrong shade, remember? They should be here first thing tomorrow morning, and we’ll have the final touches to it.”

“And you’ll have the pictures sent to me?”

“Of course.”

“Miguel!” you were on the other side of the hall by the dessert table. “The lights over here are shaped like hearts! How cute is that!”

Miguel’s arms unfolded, demeanor shifting as he watched you get excited by the different labels. His chest rose up and the scowl on his mouth disappeared. 

“You really love her.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“This is a toast to everyone who has been with us on this long, long journey.”

Your closest friends and family laughed at Miguel’s words. 

Who’s to say that Miguel essentially blacked out making sure that everyone walked down the aisle correctly just a few hours earlier? No one brave enough to bring it to his face.

“You guys have been here from the start. From the moment I decided to pursue this angel of a woman, you guys were right there cheering me on. Now we’re here years later about to take on one of the biggest days of our lives.”

The table was a mix of happiness and nostalgia, excitement and fondness.

“I can’t thank you all enough for being a part of our bridal party. I can’t even thank you guys enough for encouraging us as a couple. The love in this room truly knows no bounds.’

Miguel lifts his glass up with one hand and squeezes your hand with another.

“So here’s to the present and the future. To family and friends. To us, your future O’Hara’s.”

The table clinks their glasses together with a cheer, watching as Miguel kisses you with so much adoration. 

Tomorrow was going to be whimsical.

Today was starting out obnoxious. 

Anything that could go wrong was going wrong for Miguel.

First, woke up almost an hour late due to playing stupid games all night with his groomsmen. He would have preferred one my night with you before the “I do’s,” but apparently that was bad luck. Instead, he got an extensive game night with a couple of beers. Nothing to have him over the edge, but definitely something to make him feel like he was in college again.

Second, he couldn’t find his cufflinks that he had made specifically for this day. They were custom with your initials and your birthstone on them. The room looked like a whirlwind after he searched top to bottom only for Gabriel to have them the whole time and tell him almost forty minutes later. 

He wanted to strangle him.

“Miguel, I have the rings too. There’s no way you think that Peter B. is a better ringkeeper than I am.”

“If you lose them, I swear to god I’m going to-”

“Yeah, yeah. Death, Grim Ripper, stabbing, big whoop. Go calm down.”

Third, for some reason, Peter B. had Mayday in the hotel suite when the only children that were supposed to hit the aisle were his niece and your nephew. 

“Why is that baby here?” Miguel tried to keep his voice level because it’s not Mayday who ran in here, it was Peter who’s constantly doing what he wanted. She was walking around and chatting with the groomsmen who were kind enough to keep up her conversations. Four-year-olds had a lot to say.

“Ah, she’s just here until her grandma comes by to pick her up!”

“Peter, if I pass out before I see my wife today, you’re going to be the first reason.”

Lastly, when everything was finally settled and he was ready to go to the ceremony venue, Gabriel came running in and almost gave Miguel a heart attack. Something about you and crying and Miguel almost broke the door down trying to get out.

“Miguel, don’t look at her!” Gabriel ran after him as he made his way to your suite.

“I’m not, damn it, I just need to make sure she’s ok.”

He was on your floor in a flash, your friends waiting outside the door. 

“Where is she?”

“She’s inside. We calmed her down for the most part, but her aunt got up here somehow and started to talk shit.”

“Miguel, if Jess and her mom weren't able to remove her, it would have been bad. She kept saying things about how you’re being tricked. She kept telling her that she wasn’t worthy enough to be a bride.”

“What?” Miguel walked towards the door. “Let me in.”

“Let us make sure you can’t see her, first.”

“I really don’t give a-”

“Miguel.”

He turned to Gabriel who pushed his hands down in a pressing motion, “Ya relájate, yeah? She’s not going to be centered if you aren’t centered.” 

With that in mind, Miguel waited at the door until he was allowed in. Your friends said you were in the bathroom with the door cracked. He walked over and turned his back to the door, tapping in a light rhythm so as not to startle you.

“You ok, baby?”

He could hear your sniffles and it took everything within him not to take the hinges off the door just to get to you. 

“No, not really. I, I’m terrified.”

“Honestly, me too.”

The door moved a bit, and your voice sounded closer, “What if I’m not the woman you need?

He scoffed, “And what if I’m not the man you need?”

You were quiet for just a moment, “You are more than what any man has ever been for me. I don’t think there’s been even a day where I could fix my lips to say that I haven’t felt your love and your heart. You’re…you’re everything to me.”

“So how do you think I feel when someone has convinced you that you aren’t enough for me?” Miguel turned his head to the crack. “No woman has opened my eyes like you have. No person has stolen my heart and cared for it the way that you have. I can’t even begin to describe the ways in which you’ve changed me for the better. You are my world.”

“Miguel,” your voice was watery as you took a deep breath. 

“If you want to call this entire thing off and go to the Justice of the Peace, that’s fine with me. We can send our family straight to the reception. I don’t care, as long as I have you.”

“No, I want to still have this ceremony. I still want to present our love. I’m just overwhelmed right now.”

Miguel moves to slide his wrist through the door, “Give me your hand.”

You laugh as you take his hand in yours, careful not to lean on the door and smoosh it.

“You are worthy to me and this is only a new chapter in the foundation that we’ve built. No jealous aunt nor any other family member is taking what we have away. I chose you, you chose me, ok?”

“Ok,” you squeeze his hand as rubs the top of yours with his thumb. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Miguel’s heart was hammering in his chest like a hummingbird fluttering around nectar.

He stood at the end of the aisle with his one hand grasping one wrist and a knot in his throat. The seats were filled with waiting people, but he didn't think anyone was more ready than him. Gabriel had patted him on the back once he was down the aisle, now he stood with his daughter at his side making sure Miguel really didn’t pass out.

Miguel’s tunnel vision shifted as everyone got up to watch you come around the corner. Miguel’s breath stopped. 

You really were his world. 

Your smile was blinding as you stepped towards him, your father’s arm wrapped tightly around yours. The closer you got, the more Miguel could feel the air coming back into his lungs.

As he waited for your father to put your hands in his, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He was so lucky, he couldn’t believe it. 

As he held his hands out, he had to will himself to relax. 

You stepped closer to him, your warm palms bringing life back to his. 

“You’re shaking.”

He looked to his hands and they did have a faint tremor to them, “I’m excited.”

With eyes for only each other, you both made it through your vows. Miguel damn near brought the audience to tears with his imagery of a lost younger version of himself and you finding him in his aimless pursuit of living. How you opened up to him like a waterfall behind thick vines. How you wrapped your arms around him. How you upgraded his life. 

You almost brought him to tears when you spoke about how he loved you. How he stood tall between all that was against you and guided you to better days. How he never went a day without showering you in some form of love, even when he was feeling like shit. How he made you want to grow old with him and walk through life together. 

To the shock of no one, you both said “I do” with ease, no objection to be heard. 

When he kissed you, the world stopped for only a second and came back down with the celebration from your guests. His hands on your jaw brought you closer to him and one swipe of the tongue before he pulled away had you excited for later. 

One more kiss and you both turned to the crowd ecstatically. The broom was placed in front of you both and with three taps on your hand you both took a huge jump over it. Your family and friends cheered even louder. 

Walking down the aisle to the doors, Miguel could actually pay attention to the crowd. So many people were smiling and wiping tears from their faces. It only solidified the love that he had for you. 

You both laugh as flower petals fill the air around you on the way to the car. 

It was really a joyous occasion. 

Miguel was so happy, he didn’t care what anyone else did.

Ok so, he did stop one of his baby cousins from sticking their entire head in the fondue machine, but other than that, he was so relieved.

The DJ announcing you two as Mr. & Mrs. Miguel O’Hara elevated his mood and the trip to the dance floor for the first dance had his spirits high. 

The two of you had a sexy number, with his hands barely leaving your hips and his fingers sliding up the slit of the sparkly dress you changed into. 

After that, it was hard for him to keep his hands off of you. He tried to distract himself with catching up with family, grabbing food from each station, having dance competitions, laying sleeping kids more comfortably in chairs, anything to stop himself from just dragging you to your reserved hotel room. 

When you two stood near the cake feeding each other bites with hearts in your eyes, he couldn’t help but to lean into your ear and whisper, “Still the second best flavor.”

You hit his chest with one hand and covered your cake-filled mouth with the other. 

By the time you drove off with ribbons and flowers trailing the back of the car, Miguel was practically buzzing getting you all to himself. 

He made that known by carrying you bridal style to the room without a care in the world and you laughing into his neck. 

You kissed his neck as he refused to let you, even for the elevator, “You’re so silly.”

“The better to make you laugh, Mrs. O’Hara.”

“I love it when you call me that. Say it again.”

“Mrs. O’Hara. My beautiful bride today, my beautiful wife for life.”

He passes through the door after you reach to scan the keycard. As soon as he closes it you’re on his face kissing all over. 

“My husband,” you say in between the passes of his lips against yours. “Mr. O’Hara. Will you put me down?”

“Nuh uh.”

“Then how will we finish off our night with a bang? C’mon, baby, I have a surprise for you.”

“Fine,” four more kisses and Miguel let you go. 

“Just go sit on the bed and I’ll be right back.”

Miguel laid his jacket on a chair and walked over to the bed. He started to unbutton his shirt carefully, not wanting to tear the expensive material. He slid his shoes off carefully too, sliding into the fluffy slippers the hotel provided. 

He would say he wishes he could have done more for tonight, but the two of you will be enjoying the fresh air of a foreign country in about two weeks time. 

He sat on the bed as he waited for you to come out of the bathroom. There was no telling what you had in store, and he can’t wait to find out. 

“Close your eyes!”

Miguel obeyed, curious as to what you had in store. He could hear the padding of your heels on the carpet getting closer. 

You took his hands and guided them to your ass and with muscle memory, he took a handful.

“I’m already sold,” he said, feeling some light fabric hit his wrists. 

You chuckled at his face, seeing his tongue poked out to the corner and his hands feeling and kneading your body. 

“Ok, open ‘em.”

Miguel parted his eyes to see you in beautiful white lingerie. A white open lace see-through babydoll set hugged your tits tight. Panning down, he could see your thin panty with the string pulled over your hips and the curve of your body on display. Going further down, on your left leg, there was a garter digging into your skin that read “Miguel’s Wife” in bold, red cursive letters. 

“You like it?”

Miguel looked up to you with a tinier veil adorning your hair.

“This garter might be the only thing that makes it out unscathed.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm hm,” he leans forward to plant kisses along the top of your chest, pulling your thick thighs around him. “We’re gonna get a complaint.”

“Good,” you raked your nails down his nape, earning a groan from Miguel as you continued to his back. “I want you to make love to me.”

You start to grind along him, feeling the bulge in his suit pants grow. Miguel hummed and started to remove your top. It looked gorgeous on you, but it was useless to him at the moment. Your skin was sparkling all the way down to your nipples and it only made Miguel want to devour you more. 

You gasp as he smacks your ass and hikes you up, his mouth latching onto your areola like it’s fruit from the chocolate fondue today. 

“I’ve been wanting this all night,” Miguel mumbles into your skin. “You looked so amazing today.”

“So did you,” you tilt his chin up to look at his face. “I saw you looking at me all night. You’re not very discreet.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

He got up with you in his arms and flipped you over, “Everybody there should know how I feel about you by now.”

You were a vision. Smooth skin contrasting with the stark white of the panty and garter, veil sprawled out behind you like a halo. Miguel bent down to kiss you again, truly in awe that this was who he had as a spouse. 

“I want you to know how I feel about you too,” you whisper against his lips. 

You guide his hand from your face to your breast to your panties. You part your legs, thighs shaking in anticipation. Miguel's eyes get wider as he sees your lips through the peek-a-boo hole of your underwear. One swipe and your essence is on his fingertips. 

Miguel brings his eyes back to you as he takes his fingers and brings it to his lips, sucking it off with a pop. 

You bite your lip watching him lick his fingers and unbuckle his pants. 

The air is tight and heated, with you open and waiting and Miguel watching and wanting. 

He leans back and pulls his pants down. You look down hoping to see a peek of what’s about to rock your world. 

At the sight of your name and “MIC” in bold black letters across the band you bust out in giggles. 

You sit up as he comes around to the side of the bed, “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“I’ll never forget it.”

You laugh even more when you see it up close.

“Help me take this off,” he turns around to show your name and “Husband” printed on the back.  

You lean into his back in a fit of giggles, shocked but giddy. 

“We really are soulmates,” you say as you pull the briefs by the leg. “Meant to be.”

Miguel turns back around, bending to slide your mouth with his, “Forever and ever.”

True to his word, it really felt like you were his favorite flavor with the amount of marks he left on your skin before he got back in between your legs. You were so wound tight that with one lick from your hole to your clit, you were already trapping his head there. 

Miguel hummed and hiked your hips up, mouth moving to kiss your lips as if he were making out with the ones on your face. It was absurd how loud it sounded. His tongue kept swirling along your walls while the tip of his nose rubbed against your clit. 

You didn’t know where to keep your hands, but it did look good with your ring dazzling on your finger as you brought your hands to his head buried deep in your pussy. 

“Don’t stop,” you cried as he started to nod his face along your flower. 

Just when you could feel yourself ride to the edge, he took his middle and ring finger and spread you open. You shouted his name as you felt the cool touch of the ring slide in and out alongside the heat of his tongue. 

You don’t remember when you came down, but you remember Miguel’s drenched face kissing along your shaking thighs. 

“No Dulce de Leche is beating that, Mrs. O’Hara,” he reached to pull the soaking lace off, careful not to move the garter. 

“C’mere,” you hold your hands out, wanting to feel him on you. “I’m glad you like it so much.”

Miguel groans into your mouth, grinding his dick along your wet folds. He finds your hands and intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“I love you,” he sighs into your mouth. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

One sweet session later, he had you on your stomach, back arched, and yelling into the pillows as he pounded into you. 

You could see stars as his hips smacked loudly against your ass. The headboard was knocking against the wall with every push. 

Miguel was really feeling the wedding attire as he had one hand gripping your veil by your back and the other pulling at garter. 

When you came around his cock, he was diving in right after, letting go into your sea. The shudders of you afterwards had him moving a little more and turning your face to the side to kiss your panting lips. 

By the time you two finished, you were sure the sun was soon to rise. 

Your hair was a mess, the veil was somewhere across the room, and you both were tangled up in the sheets. 

You laid your head on Miguel’s chest, content to listen to his heartbeat to lull you to sleep. He’s rubbing your arm and kissing the top of your head. 

“Thank you so much for stepping up and making this day so magical for me,” you look up at him. “Words can’t explain how appreciative I am.”

Miguel looked back at you, eyes warm, “I just want to see you smile. Thank you for giving me space to handle things.”

You pucker your lips and he reaches to comply. 

“Now, we need to get some sleep. Gotta regain some energy.”

“You’re absolutely right,” you say as you tilt your eyes down to the sheets. “Because I’ve got a show to put on when we wake up.”

Miguel just laughs as he pulls you onto his chest. 

The birds chirping were a nice background noise to you all’s slumber. 

I went through several episodes of Kitchen Nightmares in order to finish this. BUT! I am happy with the result. As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT!

[crstn-art]

hello tunglr community. friends. i'll be posting less art, if any. I'm shifting focus. M, my friend whom my mask commissions were supporting, is having to scramble together plans to move out by December. Their lease renewal was denied.

One would think that paying rehnt despite the absurd amount of home repairs & issues that the LL refused to acknowledge was his own fault...would encourage a renewal. but it did not. M & roommate D have both suffered long exposure to bio-hazards in every housing situation they've been in (black mold, sewage floods/dripping, vermin). Because of this & SARS, their chronic illnesses have worsened, limited mobility & energy. This displacement will be devastatingly hard.

I'm not gonna be able to draw enough commissions to cover moving, applications, safety deposits, food, rent... the goal is likely to be 9-10k so i'll be straightforward & ask anyone who is able to don8, to please do just that. Part of that goal is a $2.2k need to restore gas before the winter, but $1030 Oct rent is also still due on Tues. ive burnt out so many options in the past 2-3 years, from my connections, art, to overtime shifts. and still trying. It's rlly not something to do alone, clearly. Learn from me.

Please check their paylinks. if u have questions, DM me. show solidarity. care. thank you. there may be a more formal post in the future.

enough people, and you can move mountains.

[ericshoney]

Hate~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: Being a sister of famous YouTubers can be hard, especially with the hate that follows

Warnings: usual swearing, online hate, angst, mean comments/words, name calling,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bitch.

Slut.

Clout chaser.

Fake.

Fat.

Many more comments flooded your latest Instagram post. You saw a good few sweet comments, but they were quickly shadowed by the horrible hate. You knew having famous brothers would cause jealous fans to swarm you, but not to this extent.

Nick, Matt and Chris talked about the hate with you. How there would be horrible people out there who were jealous and rude, who wouldn't show their faces because they were just idiots. You tried really hard to ignore it, only posting on your public socials occasionally.

You were visiting your brothers in LA, having a break from school before your final year. You sat on the sofa, when Chris came running in.

"Hey kid, get your shoes on!" He exclaimed.

"Why?" You asked, already slipping your shoes on.

"We're going to get ice cream." He answered.

You nodded as Matt and Nick appeared from their rooms. You all then left, your focus on your comment section of your phone still.

"What are you looking at, sweetheart?" Nick asked as he sat next to you in the car.

"Just some comments." You answered simply, closing your phone.

"Don't focus on them, kid." Chris called from the front.

You nodded, but silently kept thinking. They had started to get worse, more rude and hateful comments seemed to flood your comment section and DMs. You tried to ignore them like your brothers said.

After the drive, you all arrived at the ice cream place. It wasn't too busy which made you feel better. You started to look at the different flavours across the menu. When it was your turn to order, you told Nick what you wanted, not feeling up to talking to the worker.

You then looked around the place, seeing some seats around. What you also saw were three teenage girls looking at you. They made it obvious they were looking back at you, whispering and pointing your way. You turned away, feeling uncomfortable, only for them to approach you.

"Here you go, petal." Matt said, passing you your ice cream, which you thanked him for.

"Hi, your the Sturniolo triplets, right." One of the girls called.

"Yeah that's us." Nick replied.

"Can we get a picture please?" A second asked.

The guys looked at you as you nodded, not wanting to stop them interacting with their fans. You stood to the side as they took some pictures with the three girls.

"Maybe lay off the ice cream." The third girl whispered to you.

"I'm sorry?" You called.

"I mean it's not doing your figure any good." She responded.

"You calling me fat?" You asked with a scoff.

"Yeah, what are you going to do about it?" She replied.

"Her, nothing. Us, something." Matt said.

He then took the phones from all three girls and deleted the pictures they took. You looked at him in shock as he gave the phones back.

"Next time, think about what you say. Our sister is perfect as she is, it doesn't help her with rude people like you getting involved and putting her down. If you got nothing good to say to people in person or online, don't fucking bother." Matt said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and leading you out the shop, Nick and Chris closely behind.

You all returned to the car, you were very quiet as you finished your ice cream. The guys finished theirs too as you sat in the car quietly.

"How long?" Matt asked.

"How long what?" You replied.

"How long as this been going on?" He replied.

"Oh...Maybe a month. It wasn't too bad at the start, just got worse the past month. I tried hard to ignore it, I swear." You admitted.

"Can I see your phone, kid?" Chris asked.

You nodded, knowing there was no point to hide anything. You passed your phone over, watching as Chris went onto your Insta, seeing all the rude, hateful and disrespectful comments on your posts and in your DMs. He sighed seeing them all.

"I'm sorry, I just tried to ignore it. I don't respond honestly. It's just not fun reading them all." You said.

"We're not mad at you, sweetheart." Matt said softly.

"Someone start a live on Instagram." Nick instructed.

Matt nodded and pulled out his phone, starting a live. You were confused slightly on why Nick suddenly wanted to do one now. You saw the fans flood in and the comments soon follow.

"Hey everyone, I know this is sudden but we have a very important subject to discuss. Chris show them the comments." Nick said.

Chris held up your phone, showing the comments the best he could. You then realised what it was about.

"This is our sister's Instagram comments. As you can see, most of them are sweet, but there are a good few that aren't. More of those hateful comments are rolling in and we're not fucking having it." Nick continued.

"If any of you out there think it's funny to leave a hate comment or DM, then one, your not a real fan and two, your just a horrible person. A lot of these comments come from an account that doesn't have anything on. Be a real person and grow the fuck up." He finished.

"This goes for in person too. We just met these three girls who wanted pictures but one was so fucking rude to Y/n that I deleted them. None of us are taking you saying shit that isn't true about our sister." Matt then said.

The live continued, the guys speaking about the topic and how they weren't going to accept anymore hate towards you or any of their other family or friends. You spoke up a bit, but let them have their talk.

When they wrapped up the live, Chris gave you your phone back, letting you see a lot of the comments gone. You smiled at the three of them.

"Thank you." You said.

"Anytime kid." Nick said, ruffling your hair.

[catmarlowastrology]

Transit Jupiter in Gemini for all Rising signs

🗣️ Aries Rising: Jupiter in Gemini is transiting your 3rd house of learning from your environment. Love a bit of gossip? You’re in luck. This transit will flood your life with juicy tidbits about everyone around you. Expect to bump into old acquaintances, or receive bizarre 3am DMs from friends spilling all sorts of tea. Invitations to go out and socialize will be pouring in, so get ready to play social butterfly. You’ll uncover all sorts of secrets about the people who share your daily grind. Have a crush on that cutie you pass every day on your commute? Now's the perfect time to strike up a conversation. In fact, you might want to chat up anyone you fancy building a relationship with, be it platonic or romantic. Networking is your best friend during this transit, and meeting new people on apps could lead to some exciting connections. Basically, this is your golden opportunity to dive headfirst into your social scene and make some memorable connections.

💸 Taurus Rising: Jupiter in Gemini is transiting your 2nd house of finances and possessions. This transit can be tricky sometimes. On the bright side, you might suddenly find people falling over themselves to offer you investment opportunities (assuming you roll in those circles). Your friends and family could also be all over you, urging you to turn your hobbies into cash cows. And it's actually a great time to do just that and rake in some extra dough. Perfect moment to start that Etsy store you've been daydreaming about. But make sure to gather all the info you need and politely ignore the unsolicited advice from people who couldn’t tell a stock from a sock. With Gemini’s influence, money can appear in your bank account quickly but vanish just as fast. Watch out for the shopaholic bug. The temptation to splurge will be strong, with endless cool experiences and shiny things calling your name. Keep a level head and focus on a few key purchases instead of buying everything that catches your eye.

🔍 Gemini Rising: Jupiter is transiting your 1st house. Expect countless opportunities to learn about yourself and grow wiser. If you've been feeling a bit adrift, now’s the time to dive into therapy sessions or binge on self-help books to boost your self-awareness and finally get comfy in your own skin. This transit is also the perfect excuse to play dress-up with your life, trying on different personas and styles to see what fits. You're in a self-discovery phase, and relationships will act like funhouse mirrors, reflecting who you are, who you aren't, and who you want to become (thanks to Jupiter opposing your 7th house). But don't worry, this isn't some grueling self-help marathon (we’re not dealing with a Saturn transit). It's a fun, enlightening chapter where you learn more about yourself and enjoy every minute of it.

🌜 Cancer Rising: Jupiter will be transiting your 12th house in Gemini. This house is introspective, personal, subjective, and takes place mostly in the hidden depths of your psyche. Expect a lot of overthinking, more than usual, to the point where your brain might just pack up and leave. If you have planets in the 12th house, external events might trigger this mental marathon. But if that house is empty, you’re left with your own thoughts. You'll reminisce, ponder, and lose sleep over things that probably don’t matter to anyone else but you. Now is the perfect time to start writing down your dreams and thoughts. Get them out of your head and onto paper, so you can analyze them and maybe even laugh at how absurd some of them are. Therapy is also a great idea during this transit. You'll learn a lot about your subconscious, but brace yourself: it’s going to be mentally exhausting.

🌍 Leo Rising: Jupiter in Gemini will transit your 11th house. Get ready, because your social circle is about to explode. Unlike Aries Rising, who are busy making friends at the local coffee shop, you’re going global. The world is your oyster, and it’s about to serve you a platter of new acquaintances from every corner of the globe. This is the perfect time to join groups and communities where you can share your interests. If you're into social media, now's the time to take it seriously. Get out there, mingle, and talk to as many people as you can. This is your moment to enjoy your time with strangers and make new friends from all walks of life.

🎭 Virgo Rising: Jupiter in Gemini will transit your 10th house. Buckle up Virgo Rising because your reputation and public accomplishments are about to get a serious boost. Jupiter in Gemini loves multitasking, so get ready to juggle new opportunities like a circus performer on caffeine. There's a fun twist here: you won't just be known for one thing, but for multiple things. Thinking about a new career path? Now’s the perfect time to dip your toe in, while still keeping one foot firmly planted in your old job. Who said you can’t have it all? Whatever happens, your reputation is set to expand. You'll be known as the multitasking marvel who can do it all. You might also become famous in your field for your expansive contact list and your knack for connecting people. Embrace the chaos and show off those multiple skills you've been hiding up your sleeve.

🎓 Libra Rising: Jupiter in Gemini will transit your 9th house. This house is all about stretching your horizons and either confirming or totally overhauling your belief system. Brace yourself because this could be the transit that crams your brain with so many new interests that your poor computer gives up and crashes under the weight of all those tabs you’ve got open. Maybe you'll even consider international travel, hopping from one far-flung place to another, just to soak up their vastly different lifestyles and beliefs. If Venus is in this house, people who think completely unlike you might just be the ones to trigger your personal growth and expansive worldview. This transit is the perfect excuse to sign up for every course under the sun, or maybe even drag yourself back to university if that was on your vision board. Let your heart run wild with as many academic endeavors as it pleases.

💥 Scorpio Rising: Jupiter in Gemini will transit your 8th house. This house is the realm of losing control. Maybe you're itching to explore your sexuality? Maybe you're thinking about juggling multiple partners? Whatever wild ride you're on, you'll come out wiser. Gemini loves options and spreading knowledge like confetti, so expect to learn some jaw-dropping truths about yourself and others, especially if Mercury is in this house. If you're the sharing type, brace yourself for a crash course in joint finances. You might discover that your partner has a secret stash of cash they’re funneling into some mysterious hobby. But don't worry, it's Jupiter delivering the news, so it's more of a "well, that's interesting" revelation rather than a life-shattering bombshell (we'll leave that to Uranus, Pluto, or Saturn). Expect to dive into topics that most people run away from. It's all about growth with Jupiter. You’ll emerge from this transit not emotionally wrecked, but definitely a whole lot wiser.

💑 Sagittarius Rising: Jupiter in Gemini will transit your 7th house. Your 7th house is the VIP lounge for getting to know people on a deep, meaningful level. It's not your usual gossip fest like in the 11th house where everyone’s spilling tea. No, this is more like spending a day meandering with someone and talking their ear off. But, since we're dealing with Gemini here, your attention isn't glued to just one special someone. Nope, you've got at least two people vying for your attention. And it's not all about romance, either. Platonic relationships get a spotlight too. Your closest friends live here. Business contracts too. If you work with clients and close deals, brace yourself for a flood of new business. If you're in a relationship, keep an eye out for someone new who might turn your head and tempt you into some extracurricular activities — especially if Venus is in this house. Being an angular house, this transit is a big deal.

📅 Capricorn Rising: Jupiter in Gemini will transit your 6th house. Capricorn, you love it when life is a neat little package. With Jupiter transiting your 6th house in Gemini, you're suddenly all about efficiency and streamlining every aspect of your existence. This transit has you scheduling your life down to the millisecond, convinced that you can overhaul everything at once. So, naturally, you decide it's the perfect time to dive into yoga, Pilates, and kickboxing — all at the same time. Not stopping there, you become a culinary genius, mastering healthy meals like a gourmet chef. And why not throw in some home improvement classes, despite having zero DIY skills? You’re superhuman. At work, you’ve set your sights on the “Employee of the Month” title and are ready to work yourself to the bone to get it. It’s a lot to juggle for one person. The upside of this transit is that you’ll learn a ton about self-improvement. But you're not a robot — don't push it too far.

🎉 Aquarius Rising: Jupiter in Gemini will transit your 5th house. Aquarius, this transit is all about fun! With Jupiter transiting your 5th house, you'll be knee-deep in what makes you happy. You'll discover new hobbies, attend countless cool parties, and go on so many hot dates you'll lose count. The universe is basically Santa Claus, throwing a bunch of exciting opportunities at your feet to make you fall in love with life all over again. If expanding your family is on the agenda, this is the golden moment, especially if your Moon or Sun is in this house. Enjoy!

🏡 Pisces Rising: Jupiter will transit your 4th house. This is the perfect time to connect (or reconnect) with your family and roots. Expect sudden DMs from relatives you haven’t seen since forever popping up in your inbox. You might get an itch to discover your origins and splurge on a DNA test. Learning about your family’s past and culture is the theme of this transit. Thinking about buying a home or moving out? Now’s your chance, as the universe will throw a bunch of cool offers your way. During this transit, you might also suddenly become obsessed with home decor, trying out different styles and buying furniture that either goes wonderfully together... or creates a total eyesore. But the beauty of this transit is that you’ll end up wiser and more knowledgeable. By the end of it, you might just become the local guru on home styling. Who knows? Maybe you'll even be able to tell a chaise from a chesterfield.

[ihopeiexplode]

“I got my hopes up! :(”

. What if streamerboyfriend! Sukuna started dating you during your modeling career?

. A/N: I gave up half way and felt lazy and I also didn't know what the title should be

. Og post

. Streamer!Sukuna:

who found out about you by accident, you were running away from a bunch of paparazzi only to accidentally bump into Sukuna!! Before he could curse you out he saw the hoard of people after you and took the hint you were probably someone famous,

. Streamer!Sukuna:

who might've gained a tiny crush on you!! I mean who wouldn't right?

. Streamer!Sukuna :

who told his stream about his encounter with you thinking nothing much of it until the whole chat box flooded with people being shocked,

. Background character (1): "no way?? As in THE y/n l/n??

. Background character (2): "I'm all for supporting you but I doubt you could even have a chance.🙏🙏"

. Background character (3): "Real honestly!!!"

. Background character (4): "I'm right here but ok!"

. Streamer!Sukuna:

Who was surprised you actually knew him when you happened to DM him on a Friday night

. "Helloo your Sukuna aren't you?"

. "yeah what about it"

. "Nothing I just thought u looked familiar when I bumped into you last week"

. "Is that all??"

. "Uhh yes??..."

. "ok bye

. Streamer!Sukuna

Who acts like he hates you but when he really doesn't... Whenever the topic of you gets brought up during one of his streams his face would immediately go red with a noticeable scowl while doing so

He doesn't like you.

Totally!!!

. Streamer!Sukuna

Who coincidentally just happened to be everywhere you are!!!

Does he stalk your Instagram? Yes

Does he read twitter updates about where you're going? Yes

Does he read anything that has something to do with you? Yes

Does he look like a weird obsessed stalker? Yes!!

But so you fall in love with him because he seems like your knight and shining armour? Also a yes!! (by this I meant that he's coincidentally always there when paparazzis are!! And plus he does a way better job helping you during a paparazzi ambush instead of your dumb lazy sloppy bodyguards)

. Streamer!Sukuna

Who's surprised that you actually accepted his dumb little confession, he meant to do it as a joke at first, and plus why would you accept it anyway? Out of all the confessions, love letters, and gifts you get from other guys, you choose him?

. "This might sound stupid but uhm, I like you..."

. "Wait really? I like you too!!"

. "???"

Over text too...

Bonus+

. Streamerboyfriend!Sukuna

Who hates when you get those "put your boyfriend on a leash" comments whenever he acts too aggressive

[⛩️] @: Likes & Reblogs R appreciated! ^^

Permanent Taglist: @megumisfave

[dweebsfilingcabinet]

Hey Y'all. As yall probably know, I'm from Appalachia. Western North Carolina. Unless you live off the grid, you're probably aware that Appalachia just got annihilated by hurricane Helene. Everyone here needs help, for cleanup, food, water, etc. Why? "The government hates Appalachia", we all say in unison. I don't usually post stuff like this, no, but it's really really important to me to get this out here.

I work at a little shop in downtown Marshall, which was recently submerged under 27 feet of water--to my knowledge thats 5 feet higher than the flood of 1916. The name of that shop is Of Wand and Earth; it's a little metaphysical shop and tea house. We sell all kinds of stuff--crystals, incense, tea, tarot, we do readings, we have a healing temple, and it's a community hangout spot for anyone. You name it. A big portion of proceeds we make from our sage goes straight to funding indigenous peoples foundations. This store does so much good for the community that if I listed it all, this post would go on and on and on.

My shop owner is an absolute blessing--I've known her since this shop got its beginnings, and I was able to finally, formally work here for two weeks before Helene hit.

I know everyone in downtown Marshall, much like a huge portion of Appalachia, needs help right now. I also know that finding reliable sources to donate to rn is kind of hard--but this one is legit. One of my boss' twin daughters made this gofundme.

The donations will go to helping clean and rebuild Artisun, located in Hot Springs, and Of Wand and Earth, located in Marshall (my boss owns both, and both stores are very similar). Funds will also go to helping the employees (like myself) and vendors that sell from both businesses.

If you show me proof of donation, no matter the amount, I'll do a digital sketch of any human character you want--oc, fandom, you name it.

I am trying to spread this as far as I can, so even if you can't donate, please consider giving this post a reblog. This shop means the world to me, as does my town and all of Appalachia. If the news isn't gonna talk about it, I will. If you need/want any proof that I work here and that this store is legit, please DM me. Here's the link:

Here's some photos of OWAE, and what it currently looks like as well.