#yes i know i am one of those this reminds me of a book people but like

[songofwizardry]

not to be a one-note person or one of those "man this reminds me of a book I read" people but so many times recently I have thought, "I need you to read the word for world is forest by ursula k le guin and then we can have this conversation again"

[goldsbitch]

remember that

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. But everyone need assurance that they are still loved sometimes. The first time Lando almost slept on a couch blurb

warning: couple fight, angst

It was bad. This time, it was really fucking bad.

After weeks of snarky comments being swallowed in, the "it's fine" line being burned into Lando's ears almost on a daily basis and growing minutes Y/N had to wait before Lando decided to respond to her texts, shit finally hit the fan.

They hadn't seen each other for two weeks now. Inevitable fight broke out right as he crossed the threshold. Postponed dates and forgotten dinners lined up. They couldn't help themselves and put it all on the table. First it was the fact she didn't smile upon seeing him, then it was a reminder that he promised to bring something from Italy and forgot. It went on and on and on. She sat at the dinning table, while he leaned over at the kitchen counter.

"Lando, sometimes it feels like I'm in a relationship with your assistant and not you! For heaven sake, this week I had to call him, once again, when I could not reach you. Do you know how embarrassing it is?" she half-screamed into her hands.

Lando took a breath so deep an average yoga teacher would be jealous. "How am I suppose to be expected to pick up on a race day. You know that I get super busy and distracted."

"Funny how you never were when we started dating," she murmured bitterly.

He had to turn away, couldn't watch his love giving up on him just because they were not in the honeymoon stage anymore. "Yes, but now I'm winning races! Closer to my dream that I've ever been. It's different now."

"I'm glad I met you back then, because obviously you'd not date me if we met now," she couldn't stop those words that rotted in her coming out.

A beat. Maybe it was time to actually break the rule for once and go to sleep angry, because it was getting out of hand. "You know what, that's probably true and it breaks my heart that once I start doing well, you're suddenly not the supporting girlfriend anymore."

A crushing blow. "Tell me how am I suppose to support you if you don't even answer my phone! We used to talk for hours!

"Maybe understand that I can't!"

"I do! But you can't assume that I'll let you push me away completely!"

Lando thew his hands up in desperation. How could she not see it? "I'm coming here to you whenever I have a slightest chance! And I come what? You constantly dragging me through the mud."

"Oh interesting you mention that. How sad that your assistant had to remind you of my sensitive skin before you having him book me an "apology mud massage" when you cancelled on me few weeks ago," se shot, knowing it would hit the target.

"How do you even know that!" he said, unable to comprehend that he did not even control his paid assistant, not mention his own life anyway.

"Well, I talk a lot to you assistant! And he slips up!" It was a weird friendship between people who both wished they could get a little more info out of Lando.

"That's it. I can't deal with this now," he said, with the intention to sleep on the couch for the first time in their relationship. He didn't even know why he chose that action, walking towards their bedroom and dramatically bringing a pillow and a blanket over to the sofa, but if this is what couples did when the fought, there must have been a reason for it.

It absolutely infuriated her. Sparked up something she hoped she'd never feel. "Oh, sleep tight." she spitted with bitter undertone.

"I will!"

//

They walked around each other in silence, him getting ready to sleep on the couch and her cutting her skincare short this time and spending more time debating whether to close the bedroom door as they usually would or leave it open. Just in case.

He could hear her shifting back and forth. It angered him a little bit, since he was the one playing a cruel joke on his already tired muscles.

Thousand things she wanted to say and only one came to her mind in a form of an actual sentence. There goes nothing. "Do you still feel good about this?"

"What?" he whispered, not expecting her to speak to him again before the next day.

"Nevermind, forget I asked."

"About what!" He hated when she did this. If you didn't catch up at the first moment, she did not give you a second chance.

"Do you still feel good about us, being together?" She cursed herself for asking this. Dangerous questions brought up explosive answers. She wished for a reassurance and a rejection. She snuggled deeper into her blanket and turned around to face the door. As if wishing for him to stand there and coming back to her.

Lando hated her question. In fact, it made him furious again. But it was a peace offering, he had already learned that before. "Even here, lying on the bloody couch, because we're fighting...It's the place I wanna be at."

Anxiety kicked in Y/N. "What, you mean like away from me?"

He laughed lightly. She was always thinking the worst. "No, silly. The exact opposite...We could both be at thousand different places at the moment. But we're not. And for me at least, it's because like---I want to be with you. I hate that we'd drifted apart lately. I'd love to be in bed with you, laughing without a care in the world, like we usually do. But, we can't do that now. And yet, I'd rather be left on the couch if I know you're next door than all alone in my bed." His words hit like small drops of rain after a long draught.

She whispered, choosing her words carefully. "You're my twin flame. You make my soul light up in fire, make me feel like I'm the sun. Do you know what my biggest fear is?"

Lando also tuned into sweeter tone, one that was more familiar from days filled with sunshine. "What, my love?"

"That we're gonna burn out. You and me, ending up like an epic love story. The good ones work because they end in tragedy."

"You're always so poetic," he smiled, proud to think he was her love story.

"There is no other way to describe how you'd changed my life. Flipped it upside down the moment you walked into the same room."

Lando chucked. "Yeah, remember that?"

"How could I not."

"You were not having a good day."

Finally, she spoke loudly again. "So, what? Everything was going to shit and the event we were doing had to be perfect before the 'important people' arrived".

"Such an ego boost to know I was your priority before you even met me," he uttered, happy to push her buttons.

"Oh, and you were so cocky! Just laughing around, like we were some sort of comedy sketch."

"Well, I'm sorry, have you heard yourself when you're upset? The way how your voice goes up seven octaves higher?" he laughed, his breath feeling lighter now.

"Coming from you, that's rich! You were giggling in a tone so high the elderly couldn't hear you!"

"I'm so happy I managed to bag the grumpiest person in the building. And bare in mind there must have been around 500 people there."

"980 if you could in staff as well."

He let out a heavy sigh. "You with your pristine memory."

She paused before responding. "Yes. Wish I didn't have that sometimes."

"Wish I had at least a pinch of that."

Silence fell in both rooms. Heavy breath and wondering eyes. The lack of their touch suddenly being more obvious than before. Playing a contest who will reach out first.

"Lando?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Can you back here, please?" she said, somewhat nervously. Lando took a pause. There was nothing he wished for more. It hurt to fight. But he figured a relationship needed that sometimes. As the poets say, you loose a woman when you forget to cherish her. He liked to think this went both ways. And they both started slacking a bit. He could only affect his own behavior, with the hope that she'd also come to the same understanding.

"I'd like nothing more in the world, my love."

[biblicallyaccuratecrow]

isat thoughts: the bright flower (flower symbolism makes me mentally ill)

[woe, spoilers be upon ye!]

So, the bright flower visually resembles a pansy. Which feels innocuous until you realize. Pansies are symbols of remembrance. Because it sounds a lot like the French pansées, meaning thoughts. And in Old English, it was referred to as ‘heartease’ because it was thought that carrying one around would remind the person that they were loved, truly and wholeheartedly, by the one who gave it to them.

Now. I want you to let that sit for a sec.

Siffrin gives every party member a flower. It’s a gift, a way of showing that he cares about them. That he loves them. Isabeau says that he’ll treasure it forever.

Bonnie asks why, and then looks at it sadly.

Mirabelle says that she’ll press it in a book to keep it forever.

Odile says that it’s proof.

Siffrin doesn't know what it's proof of, but... of course, it's proof that he loves them. And more than that- that he won't forget them. Even if they forget him. Even if this all meant more to him than it did to them.

Then there's the people outside the party.

Euphrasie can't accept it. She is stuck, like Siffrin. She won't remember. Can't remember.

The King takes it. Instead of asking if Siffrin remembers like he usually does at the start of the battle, he asks if they will remember him. No matter what you say, the battle still happens. But if you say no, the King laughs, and says that he'll remember Siffrin after they're defeated.

The King knows, then, what it symbolizes. Even if Siffrin doesn't.

When you try to give the flower to Loop, they refuse it. They refuse it, again and again, turning it towards other members of the party, to those more deserving of it.

And when they finally take it...they act like nothing happened. But they took it. Quite literally accepted a reminder of love the only person who can care about them.

Do with that information what you will, but...

If you take the flower in Act 5, you can pluck it. If you keep it until after the King, siffrin will remark that it's still there.

If you look at it during act 6, however, you get this.

(You still have the flower.)

(...)

(You guess it's yours, now!)

It's yours now. You don't give it to any of the party members.

It's a reminder of love. Not for the party- they know, now, far better than they ever could have before. No, it's for Siffrin themself.

A way to remember that you are loved.

anyways insert disc 5 you are mad and i am in pain, your days are numbered /j

[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!

[fluffy-bluffy]

Messages for you people

Hello everybody ✨ a very tiny PAC in the form of poems. I hope this has some messages for each and every one of you. I have chosen these poems for your pile intuitively. None of them are written by me and credits to the rightful owner.

Just a warning that this is a general reading and it is only for entertainment purposes. So take what resonates and leave the rest for others.

Let's get started 💪🏻

Pile 1 ---- Pile 2 ---- Pile 3 ---- Pile 4

Pile 5 ---- Pile 6 ---- Pile 7 ---- Pile 8

Pile 1

Who are you,

Really?

You are not a name

Or a height, or a weight

Or a gender

You are not an age

And you are not where you are from

You are your favourite books

And the songs stuck in your head

You are your thoughts

And what you eat for breakfast

On Saturday mornings

You are a thousand things

But everyone chooses

To see the million things you are not

You are not

Where you are from

You are

Where you are going

Pile 2

When you start to feel

Like things should have

been better this year,

remember the mountains and valleys

that got you here.

They are not accidents

and those moments weren't in vain.

You are not the same

you have grown and you are growing

you are breathing, you are living.

You are wrapped in

endless

boundless

grace.

And things will get better

there is more to you than yesterday

Pile 3

When you are washing the dishes,

washing the dishes must be the most

important thing in your life.

Just as when you are drinking tea,

Drinking tea must be the most important thing in your life.

Drink your tea slowly and reverently,

as it is the axis on which the whole world revolves - slowly , evenly, without rushing towards the future.

Live the actual moment.

Only this actual moment is life.

Pile 4

No need to prove anything

to anyone more than

anybody realisation you have been

incredibly strong. You have taken

care of things alone. you have

fought with all your might.

you have had too little rest.

It's okay to stop and let

your guard down for a while.

It's okay to just stand still

or stay afloat. it's okay to

not feel alright. it's just human

To hurt. it's okay to surrender,

as we will never forget that we

will begin again.

Pile 5

You being here , presenting yourself

to the world, despite your thousand

messes and scars, is an accomplishment.

I know there are many things that

drain you silently. I know you

have a lot of struggles that have

been there for so long. you deal with

so many frustrations , fight with so

many inner demons.

I want you to know that I am proud

of you and believe that you are

strong. don't say you're weak.

don't think you're incapable.

what you are showing now is great

courage. You will get through this

and when you do, you will go many

places, celebrate great stories, move many people

believe in yourself

Pile 6

If you feel you are a mess,

please look at the stars

and realise that they are too.

Look at the formless clouds

and tangling branches of the tree

they are too

listen to the songs of birds

and crickets,

you will find no melody in it.

but they continue.

Because sometimes it's the greatest thing we can do -

be a mess and continue

Pile 7

Forgive yourself for the

mistakes. You're in the

process of making you

better. those who do the

same will understand you.

those who don't, let them

go for they will slow you

down

move forward and uplift

your heart

Pile 8

When things are hard and you

feel like you cannot go on

any further from here, remind

yourself of this : sometimes

it's the difficult that brings

out the best in you and shows

your truest strength. but you

have to believe in yourself

more than your circumstance

in order to grow and make

progress you cannot let the

difficult turns in your journey

stop you from moving forward,

from fighting for the life you

truly deserve

Thank you for reading this PAC. Will be bringing the next one really soon. Byeeee.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Chosen

I used to love Otome games.

Used to love the genre, predictable as it could sometimes be. It was bright. Fun. A colorful bit of escapism built on love and power fantasies. I read the books. Watched the animes. Engaged with the fandoms freely and with an enthusiasm I can barely remember now.

It was a lifetime ago.

Before I... before, like a monkey's paw wish, I got granted every OI fan's DREAM. I somehow, someway, died and was reborn. A genuine isekai all of my own. I laugh now... I really do... I was so fucking EXCITED.

I was a FOOL.

The world is not a story. PEOPLE are not characters. You can not push the "right" social imput buttons and have a happy ending pop out. Time moves as it always has and always will. Day by day. And? Just because you are HERE? Does not mean you are SPECIAL.

I was old enough to know that, thank the Gods. Or I would have made a likely terrible mistake. Probably a fatal one, by now.

How, you may ask? Surely if you are reborn, you are special! Important to the "plot"! HA. Ah yes, the all forsaken PLOT. That damnable thing, chaining out fates and making us dance, like toys, for the Gods amusement. No, I was merely a replacement part for one worn out and broken down. A soul that gave up.

This dance repeats, you know.

They aren't done with us yet. Not bored of us, all the twists and turns we might take. She could not keep fighting. Keep raging. And so she was replaced. Now I live... a changeling in her place. Knowing my role yet careful to defy it. But... oh...

Oh, how almost IMPOSSIBLE it is to defy it.

I am supposed to HATE her. The Protagonist. The Chosen One. Saintess and beloved. The God's special little thing. Showered in adoration and silks, pampering and protection. While we all DIE. In this, their STUPID fucking Holy War, that we CAN NOT WIN, against "The Dark".

How HELPFUL, my liege. How incredibly SPECIFIC. Is "The Dark" the demons that tore apart my squadron a fortnight ago or the undead that rose and devored an entire village of terrified innocents? How do we STOP them? END this infinite string of atrocities?

Oh? "Only the SAINTESS can push back The Dark"? Well then! It's a good thing she safely tucked away in the CAPITAL THEN, isn't it!? Far from the front lines where we NEED her! Thank the GODS she's getting her chance to play "fuck, fuck, marry!" with the nation's finest while we all DIE!

I remind myself again, desperately, I am not allowed to hate her.

If I hate her, I become an antagonist in this little play. Doomed to die a gruesome and needless death. My men need me. The people need me. The live and breathe and fear for their lives. At the mercy of cruel God's who do not care.

I almost... It is enough that I almost wish my Master was here. But no, HE stayed back at the Magic Tower. Lost interest in me the second the merest HINT that his beloved pet prophecy might be about to be fulfilled. I was his student for most of my life. Chased up and down that mind-bending hellhole for years, giving my everything to meet his every standard.

Does he even remember my name?

Ha ha... gods, as I stare down at the battle map, one of so SO many... I feel brittle. How long will we fight? How many of my men must DIE, before that God coddled BITCH gets off her ass and comes to do her JOB?! We've lost Redwell. Lakehill is covered in ghouls. And no one we sent near the forests of Mirth ever reports back.

But at least the crown prince is getting his fucking birthday party while his people starve. While they run for their lives. Cower from demons and the damned. Because his Twue Woooove~ can't be allowed to put her dainty little self in DANGER now CAN she?!

I'm seething. Furious. Nails digging into the wood on the table before me. I know I should be planning... but I just... gods, I just so ANGRY. So tired. How long can this continue? Am I going to die here, just so those fuckers can DRAMATICALLY "save the day" at the last second? As though they had not let thousands die? Only for it all to begin again? What am I supposed to d-?

Like a roll of thunder and an earthquake combined, the non-physical world SHAKES.

Weight. POWER. Like a mountain appearing from no where, to drop down upon us all. It is CRUSHING. And every bit as dark as being buried beneath tons on soil and stone. My legs nearly give out. My grip on the table before me the only thing keeping me up and alarm bells start clanging outside my tent.

This is it.

I don't know what's about to happen, but I can FEEL it. I... I can not possibly hope to win. It's over. I know, in my heart, I will go out there and fight. Die. Because I refuse to die cowering. Because maybe it'll make a difference for my friends, for the others, for those that yet live. Every monster I slay is one less they fight.

But... this is it.

It's over.

I wish I felt braver. Glorious and filled with light. A beacon of hope, perhaps. But all I can offer is fear and anger and SPITE. Locking my knees so I can stand. Blinking away the tears so I can grit my teeth and bare them. Grabbing my staff so can go a die with the others. Today I shall burn the world. I promised myself.

Take them with you.

Take every last one of those fuckers WITH YOU.

The battle is ugly. It always is and always will be. I heal where I can but kill faster the most can blink. Waves of fire. Blood turned to ice turn to shrapnel bombs turned to flying storms of blood ice shards. Wind attacks and void pockets. Puppets made of mud and rock and bits of armor. The blood of the fallen only making it all that much stronger, that much more terrible.

Magic in war hold no beauty.

I wish I never had to see it again.

"Grandlearner, you've been practicing." A rich voice observed from behind me, sounding pleased. "Good~"

Between one instance and the next, the crushing ocean of power moves between the far side of the battle field to right behind me. I move, spin. Fire my strongest short-range piercing in the desperate hope to gut the man now far too close. I... am effortlessly countered.

He didn't even have to move his hands.

There, standing in the heart of an open battle field, is a man in impeccable fomal clothes. Spotless, dispite the ash and dust, the blood and gore. Almost inhuman in his otherness, compared to the death and suffering surrounding him. He looks like a proper well-to-do gentleman ready for a stroll. The sort of ambiguously ageless bachelor that had haunted the royal university's halls every time I was sent there, to collect something for the Tower.

Too old to be some boyish flirt, too young to be a rougish mistake. It feels false. Mocking. Like a mask held up by some grinning beast. Something older then it seems, effortlessly blending in with the Power of the current age, all the better to play them like fools.

Then the words register and my blood runs cold.

"Learner". It's what a Master calls their personal magical students at the Tower. There are lineage, of a sort. Like bloodlines, almost. Since most never leave. A way to pass on your teachings. Your name and traditions. It's not like we often have the chance to have biological kids. Too busy with our studies. So it's considered effectively the same.

My Master's Master. Who was said to be one of, if not THE, greatest Mages of the last thousand years, possibly longer. Said to have simply vanished one day. Rumored to have "lost his mind" and left the Tower for places unknown after some great argument. Foremost expert on The Dark.

Now standing h...here. Right... Right here. With the enemy army. Of dark and terrible things. The very abominations he once studied "academically". Oh gods. It doesn't take much to put two and two together.

"I've come to collect you, my dear." He says, the very picture of charm as my men scream and suffer around him. As they fight for their lives against his monstrosities. As... as they LOSE. "It has come to my attention, that my unfortunate disappointment of a student has been neglecting his duties to you."

He sweeps his hat gallantly from his head, holding it against his heart at just the right angle, as though offering to merely take me for a stroll. Picture perfect etiquette. As though this were high society and not a warzone. The disconnect stuns me for long moments. "Collect" me?

He strolls forward. Expensive shoe leather somehow unstained by the terrible muck of the battlefield. The blood and mud, the spell water and ash. Amusement rolling off every line of his form, as I try to keep the distance between us. As I struggle against the sucking filth to keep my feet under me.

"I would like to say I am surprised... but honestly? I am not. He always WAS easily distracted by shiny trinkets of little worth. The shinier the better. Like an empty headed little magpie. Disgusting really, how little he values loyalty. I DID try to instill some values. Hard work. Good, honest, study. Some modicum of rationality..."

"It did not work." He sighs, stepping over the fallen body of my Cordelia, my reserve healer. Gods, please no, I told her to RUN... "Unlike myself of course. I, my dear, know EXACTLY what your worth. How you have been WASTED on that little ingrate. It truely has been a theme with him, hasn't it?"

"Tossing aside anything who doesn't fit his perfect little vision. His Master, his Learner, nothing is sacred to him. All he shall ever care for is his little divine tart, won't he?"

The grin that spills across his mouth is like poison through veins, it terrifies me. His face is arranged in a mask of pleasantry. But the look in his eye... that look was coldly covetous. The sort of hunger that would sooner kill than release its hold. It wasn't lustful, I was a child too him. An infant. But I was, perhaps, all that remained. The last piece of his lineage he could possibly still steal away. Corrupt.

I refused.

It... it did not matter much, in the end.

Every spell, he counters. Every attack, he matchs with effortless neutralization. The well of his magic is like the sea. Deep, dark, and crushing. I rage against it, even knowing I stand no chance. I... I have to TRY. I can do no less. Even as I slowly collapse.

Water and ice, electricity and transformation, wind and fire. I try to EXPLODE HIS ORGANS for the Gods sake. In the end, with nothing left, the well of my magic nearly bone dry... I swing at him. Put my back in to it. A staff is a staff after all. It even has a pretty hefty rock in it. It'd probably take out a few teeth.

He, of course, catches it.

Bastard.

He looks CHARMED. Utterly delighted. As though my defiance and struggle are some cute little game. The tantrum of an adorable child that does not wish to submit to their nap. The world swayed as my body begs me to just pass out. To escape within myself. Recover. My legs can no longer hold me. I glare. At last, long last, I let myself HATE.

If that BITCH had just DONE HER JOB. I would not be here, at the mercy of a mad man. While she frolics about, in her happy little tale of love and misunderstandings? I have suffered. People have died! The world has fallen to slow and crumbling RUIN.

Gloved hands cupped my cheeks.

"That's it, little one~ My precious child. Get angry. RAGE for me. Let Master see your fire~" thumbs stroked my cheeks. Looming and entirely too close. There is a glee in that eye, a madness. "We are going to set this world FREE. You? Oh dearest you are utterly PERFECT. Master will take care of everything, understand? All you have to do?"

"Is give in."

Next -->

[universalitgirlsblog2]

💖💋🥂IT GIRL ERA 2024💖💋🥂

💋1) Start putting yourself first . Choose yourself Put your own needs and wants first. What do they advice in flight ? First put your oxygen mask and then try to put others oxygen masks. It is not about oxygen masks.

💖2) Get a social media detox. Social media can be very toxic. We often get into fights with strangers or see toxic people in the comment section or compare ourselves with others. Get off Tumblr , Instagram , Facebook etc. It will help you alot.

🥂3)Get rid of victim mentality. Victim mentality can make things worse for you. You aren't a victim of your reality , you are the creator of your reality. Start taking responsibility and control of your life .

💋4) Believe in yourself . Like Elle Woods said , " most importantly you must have faith in yourself." You must have unwavering faith in yourself . It doesn't matter if others perceive you as less , make sure you don't perceive yourself as less. Your opinion of yourself matters the most.

🥂5) Start taking care of yourself. Self care will save you . Always put your self care first. Go to gym or workout at home. Do skincare. Take care of your hair. Get a mini hair spa. Self care will increase your energy and lower your stress levels. It will boost your self-esteem too.

💖6) Create a vision board. You can make vision board on Pinterest or make one in real life. Just make sure it inspires you and reminds you of your goals. Vision boards are very powerful tool.

💋7) Stop focusing on others. Focus on you. Don't think good or bad about anyone . Be focused on how you can make yourself better. If you don't get time to think about others , good ! Focus on yourself. Except the ones who are close to you , you shouldn't think about others or compare yourself . Just focus on how you can get ahead and make yourself better. I hope this made sense.

🥂8) Love yourself. Self love will save you. Listen , write or speak affirmations. Adopt the IDAF mindset , stop caring about others opinions. Don't compare yourself with others. Let go of toxic cycles and people. Be kind to yourself.

💖9) Remember what Jang Wonyoung said ? I DON'T CARE. YOU ARE YOU , I AM ME . ADOPT THIS MENTALITY. Enter your wonyoungism era !! Wonyoung said that if it's something she didn't do , then she doesn't care. That's where her iconic statement " you are you I am me " came from . Start being okay with people misunderstanding you. Don't try to explain yourself and waste your energy.

💋10) Give importance to your education . Education is the most powerful weapon. Read books. Watch documentaries. Study to learn , not just for good grades.

🥂11) Value your time. Realize how important your present moment is. Don't waste time on unproductive things. Do things that your future self will thank you for . Don't do things that your future self will curse you for.

💖12) Have different role models for different things. Let's say for developing a strong mindset , you can look upto Song Jia , Wonyoung or The wizard liz and for academics , you can look upto Hermione Granger , Elle Woods or Rory Gilmore .

💋13) Stop fighting with stupid people. Even strangers online ! Honestly , strangers online can be very toxic , annoying and stupid. Don't waste your energy arguing with stupid people or people who aren't willing to understand or listen .

💖14) Stop looking yourself through the lens of your past self. It's okay if you made some mistakes . Mistakes are the proof that you are trying. Forgive yourself and learn from them. Stop putting yourself down and keep those mistakes as a lesson. Yes you made some mistakes but after those mistakes , you learnt and made yourself better.

🥂15) No more self- depreciating humor. Your mind doesn't know the difference between reality , fiction or a joke.

💖💋🥂This advice is very basic and simple. But this advice will help you alot. Don't just read this post , make sure you follow this. Happy new year !!! 💖💋🥂

[mostmouse]

The Swordsmith with a Cute Name

Hotaru Haganezuka has gone missing in the swordsmith village, surely his wife must know where he is, right? The thing is, he sort of only visits at night.

(Hotaru Haganezuka x f!reader, explicit, 5,800 words, slight yandere themes) as always - cross posted to my AO3 :)

Tanjiro marveled at the entrance of the Swordsmith Village, the architecture striking him. Growing up in the mountains, he had never really been exposed to such buildings, and he didn’t want to count his time in the entertainment district. Waving to the people milling about on his way to the chief’s residence, he sniffed the air, trying to see if he could scent his own swordsmith. While he could catch a faint smell, he couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from.

Moving into the chief’s home, he listened to the older man speak of Mr. Haganezuka, balking as he openly threatened the man. Tecchin sighed, “We’re searching high and low for him, and I’m sure his wife has met with him in these last few months, but I can’t catch her with him!” He pouted, “I don’t have it in me to ask her to set a trap though, it’s already a miracle that Hotaru even managed to find a woman who would tolerate him.”

Tanjiro gasped before lighting up, “Mr. Haganezuka is married?! That’s wonderful!” Tecchin sighed delightedly, holding his cheek in his hands.

“Isn’t it just so? I raised him, so I know how difficult it can be. No matter what that woman has ever done, she’s a pure hearted angel in my books. I wish she’d join me in trying to detain Hotaru.”

Tanjiro laughed, slightly awkward. “I’m sure she’s making sure he’s safe and well cared for while he’s out.” The two continued to gossip before one of the other men in the room reminded their chief of his other commitments. “I’ll head out to acquaint myself with the village.” Bowing low, he smiled, “I’ll keep an eye out for Mr. Haganezuka. If I run into Mrs. Haganezuka, is it alright if I associate with her?”

Tecchin brightened up, sitting taller, “Yes! See if you can get her to open up about Hotaru’s whereabouts. Perhaps she’ll tell a young man as handsome as you. I’m sure Hotaru won’t mind, but he’s always been a bit possessive over her.”

Tanjiro’s smile was strained. “Ah, I hope so, too.” Gathering Nezuko’s box, Tanjiro got up to leave, bowing once more at the gentlemen before taking his leave. The hot springs were an overwhelming scent, but if he focused hard, he could almost track his swordsmith’s scent. Patting the box, he whispered to his sister, “Let’s see if we can find Mr. Haganezuka’s wife, I’m really curious what she’s like!”

Hearing Nezuko’s hum of affirmation, he trotted along the small village’s dirt streets. Eyes scanning everyone around him, he huffed slightly. “Everyone’s wearing those clown masks… How am I supposed to- ah!” Perking up, he caught a whiff of Mr. Haganezuka, jogging forward until he found someone in a pretty mask carrying leather goods.

“Ah! Excuse me, are you Mrs. Haganezuka?” Hearing your name, you turned to face him, shoulders straightening as you saw this boy had no mask. He must have been a visitor, how did he know your name? You weren’t a swordsmith, instead you crafted leather accessories for the swords your husband made.

“I am, and you are?” Tanjiro blushed as he forgot his manners, bowing deeply, he introduced himself. However, you interrupted him before he could mention his relationship with Mr. Haganezuka. “Oh! Tanjiro! You’re a client of Hotaru’s, aren’t you?”

The young man before you smiled brightly, and you felt your chest swell with sudden affection. He was too cute! “I am! I was wondering… Have you seen him? The chief mentioned that he’s been missing the last few months, so I can’t help but be worried.”

You stiffened, his earnest expression instead now twisting your heart. You stuttered over your words for a moment before plastering a wide smile on your face - not that he could see it. “Oh gosh, no! Sorry! I wish I could help, I really do! But, well, I don’t actually know where he is at the moment, I’m sorry!”

Waving your hand apologetically, you laughed airly. Tanjiro smiled softly, tilting his head. It didn’t take someone with a discerning nose like him to know you were lying. Well, you hadn’t actually lied, you probably really didn’t know where he was, but you certainly have seen him. Tanjiro breathed a sigh, smile not leaving his lips. “If you see him, could you let him know I’m here? I’d like to apologize for chipping my sword.”

Your hand dropped, reaching into the large bag at your hip. “Of course! I’ll let him know!” You chirped in realization, digging for whatever you were looking for with vigor, “If I see him! You know, because, yeah I-I don’t know where he is!” Laughing nervously, you held out a small item to him. “Silly me! Here’s take this, a gift for Hotaru for not being here!”

Tanjiro accepted the small leather sheath, gasping as he pulled out a knife. “Wow!” Eyes widening further, he shouted in surprise as the blade turned black. “It's a nichirin dagger!”

You brightened, clapping your hands. “I’ve been apprenticing under Hotaru for a few years, but unfortunately this is the only sturdy thing I can make right now. I’m actually a leather worker by trade! I craft hilts and sheaths!”

Tanjiro’s eyes lit up in stars, bowing once more. “That’s amazing! I’ll treasure this! I’ll only use it in emergencies!” You hummed happily, holding your cheeks. Tanjiro placed the dagger in his pocket, bowing for the last time. “Thank you so much, if you don’t mind me asking… Where’s the entrance to the hot springs?”

You laughed, reaching out and petting the top of his head fondly. “I don’t mind at all! Here, let me lead you.” You ignored his blush and how he tried to object, taking his hand and leading him away. “Please, it would be my honor! Maybe later you could introduce me to your little sister!” You eyed the box curiously, “I heard she’s downright adorable, I just have to meet her! And don’t worry, the canopy above the main hot springs is full coverage. Even though it's sunset, no light will get in, so she’ll be safe to soak, too!”

Tanjiro’s heart squeezed in his chest, you were much too kind. He couldn’t believe you were the wife of the man who sent him those threatening ink stained letters. Once the two of you approached the steps, the both of you looked up as the love hashira barreled down towards you, shouting.

You laughed delightedly, shouting your greetings as Tanjiro panicked, rushing up to close her kimono. Smiling as Tanjiro fussed over Mitsuri, you waved and walked away, giggling behind your mask. With a renewed pep in your step, you hummed as you made your way to your shared home on the outskirts of the village, nestled in the woods.

Closing the sliding door behind you, you slipped your shoes off, setting down your bag and stretching tall, groaning loudly. Stepping up onto the clean floors, you made your way to the kitchen. Paying no mind to your surroundings, you didn’t notice as your large husband crept up behind you.

Shouting, you felt strong arms wind around you, pulling you against a sturdy built chest. “H-Hotaru!” His mask clacked against yours as pressed himself to the back of your body, arms tightening.

“I saw you talking with Kamado, what did he have to say?” His voice was gruff, you could hear the agitation in it as you whimpered. His large hand came up to cup your mask, pulling it away from your face and setting it down. He was always so gentle with his works of art, but he didn’t bother the same treatment with you, especially when he saw you talking with other men.

“Hotaru, he’s just a boy, what are you so worked up ab- ah!” He hauled you up over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom. “Hotaru! Let me make us dinner, I haven’t seen you in a couple days!” You slapped his back before realization dawned on you, “W-Were you watching us? Have you been watching me on the days I don’t see you?”

He tossed you to the bed, quickly climbing over you and straddling your legs, hands holding your wrists on his thick thighs. “Hotaru! Stop!” You tried to wiggle, knowing it was futile, especially when he was focused on a specific topic or task.

“What did he say to you?” He leaned forward, bandana and mask keeping his expression from you. Squeezing you with his thighs, he huffed, “I won’t ask again.”

You growled, fed up with the cold welcome from the man you loved, “You’re being jealous! I don’t get a ‘hi’ or a kiss, or a ‘good evening honey, how are-’ ahh!” He tugged your wrists up, body quickly following as you were brought to his chest, his arms winding around you in a tight hug.

You pouted, not wanting to talk about it but knowing you wouldn’t get anything from him if you didn’t - the man was ridiculously stubborn and could hold out much longer than you. He always had his swords to go to when he wasn’t getting his way. “Nothing! He didn’t say anything, just that he was sorry for chipping his sword. Tecchin spoke with him earlier so he knew you were missing.”

You whined a bit, going slack in his arms, “I think he knew I was lying he asked me about you… But he didn’t press it. I gave him that dagger I’d been working on. It turned black just like his blade though, I’m sorry.”

Your husband’s grip relaxed a bit, though he didn’t move from where he was perched on your lap, still keeping you contained. His burly hands came back around and held your cheeks as he sighed heavily. “It’s not your fault. All the blades I’ve made have turned black as well.” Groaning loudly, he set his jaw on the top of your head.

Cautiously, you brought your arms up, slipping his mask off before tugging his bandana away from his head. His hair spilled from where it was tied up in the fabric, cascading over his shoulders in a flowing wave.

Sighing as you tended to him, you spoke up in a small comforting voice. “Hotaru… Do you wanna get up for me and we can make some dinner?” He scoffed, gritting his teeth, his jaw tense where it rested above the crown of your head. Sighing, you pet his thighs. “You'll be less grumpy once you eat, sweetness.”

Pushing your shoulders back, he fixed you with a hard glare. “You know how I feel when you speak with other people.” He gripped your cheeks with both hands, “You’re mine. You know that. Why do I have to keep reminding you?” His perfect lips turned to a sneer, and you recalled how he was only okay with you speaking to a handful of people in the village.

You pouted, your lips squished together and preventing you from speaking. Growling you tried to shake your head to escape his grip, however that had him holding onto you tighter. “You’re mine.”

His voice was as rough as his lips as he crashed his against yours. Whimpering at the force, feeling the impact on your teeth, you tried to wiggle away from him. His hands came up behind you, twisting in your hair and holding you in place. His tongue pushed past your lips, teeth clacking as he ravaged your mouth.

You whimpered, hands pulling his hair as you tried to break free. Even though you were sure it wasn’t because of you, he pulled away, moving only the smallest bit away from your mouth. His burly body blocked everything else from your line of vision, the only thing you could see being him. His eyes bore into yours, gaze intense, and you knew you wouldn’t get away from him unscathed.

You whimpered, his hands pressing you down onto your back as he slipped off you. “Don’t move.” You gave a sharp shout as he tore your kimono open and off of you, easily slipping off your undergarments with deft fingers.

Hotaru’s rough hands pawed over your freshly displayed body, nails scratching you slightly. You whimpered, body jolting with each touch as he moved downwards onto his knees. You tentatively pet his hair, gasping as he grabbed your palms and pressed them to the side of the bed, flat. “What did I just say?”

He didn’t move, staying still as his eyes stared up at you from between your legs. Your mouth was dry as you looked up towards the ceiling. “D-Don’t move.” His grip tightened as he bit your thigh, ignoring as you cried out.

“And what did you do?” Hands leaving yours, he pushed your thighs wide open, admiring your cunt. You whimpered above him, shouting as he bit your other thigh.

“Moved! I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry, ‘Taru, please!” Huffing at your words, he abandoned your hands and instead kept to holding your thighs. At his silence, you shuddered as his breath puffed over your slit. Now that he seemed wholly uninterested in what you were doing or saying, you knew the night was only beginning, his impressive and irritating focus narrowing in on pleasuring you until he had his fill.

Gasping, your hips jerked as his tongue slid up your slit, slow and wet. “Hotaru…” You grabbed at his hair, knowing he was so focused he wouldn’t be paying you anymore attention outside of eating you out.

His hands gripped the fat of your thighs, tongue pushing past your slit and dipping inside your cunt. Your back arched at the feeling, basking in the pleasure for as long as you could. His mouth went to work as his hands groped you, moving up your body and squeezing anywhere he could reach.

Peering above your chest and tummy, you moaned lowly at the sight of him between your legs. His eyes were half lidded, a blush on his cheeks, and showing no indication of looking up at you, entirely enraptured in your sweet cunt. You tossed an arm over your eyes, the other resting in his hair as you wrapped your thighs around his head.

Sighing, you let him lick you, drooling over your already wet cunt. “Hotaru~” You felt him press his face closer against you, tongue shoved deep inside you. Arching your back, you pulled his hair, the man staying silent as he moved upwards to suck your clit.

“Ahh!” You shuddered at the feeling, moaning and crying out as his hands shifted to your hips. Gripping you tightly, you moaned at the rough treatment. He lifted you up higher, hands moving to cup your ass while his eyes slid shut. He pawed at your skin, squishing it in his palms as he sucked your clit tight into his hot wet mouth.

Writhing on the bed, you pulled his hair, letting your legs fall open, thighs resting on his broad shoulders. “Ahh~ So good~” You pet his hair as he slipped his tongue back into your cunt, licking you hotly. You rocked your hips in his grip, grateful he wasn’t holding you down this time.

Moving his head, you felt his tongue slip deeper inside, his own rough moans muffled by your plush skin. You whimpered loudly, head falling back as you felt him move one of his hands from your ass. You swallowed tightly, anticipation rattling your lungs as you felt him slowly curve it around your thighs to settle between your legs, just under his mouth.

You whined as one rough finger slipped inside you, the size of his digits easily outmatching your own. “Please, Hotaru~” He delicately pet inside of you, reacquainting himself with your body. You rolled your hips against his face, whining once more as he ignored you, steadying his hand and stroking you with one digit.

His tongue soon left you, moving up to your clit as he sucked once more, feeling your swollen bundle against his tongue, his finger soft inside you. You cried out, bucking your hips as you pulled his hair, his mouth not stopping as he sighed against you, eyes closed and tongue licking you rapidly.

“H-Hotaru! Ahh- fuck! Please!” You arched your back, dragging him so close to you that his nose was pressed against your mound. “‘M gonna cum! Haah~ Ah!” Your breath stuttered from your lungs, writhing against the soft comforter as your husband stayed on his knees, unbothered by your reactions.

You gasped for air as he continued, thighs quaking and sporadically squeezing his head before falling back open. He kept his hand firmly cupping your ass while the other slipped another finger inside your tightening cunt.

Sighing hotly, your hands loosened in his mane, petting flyaways from his sweaty forehead, laughing breathlessly as his eyes were still closed. “Hotaru… It’s not fair when I can’t l-look at your handsome face…” Your words trailed off, soft sharp moans falling past your lips as he built his speed back up.

Whimpering, you tried to push him away, knowing full well you couldn’t. “W-Wait, Hotaru, please!” He moaned gruffly against you, and you were sure his cock was aching and hard in his pants. “Please, Hotaru, I want you inside me! I know yo-ahh! K-Know you want it, too-” You covered your mouth with your hand, crying out as he curled his fingers inside you.

You had no idea to what end he would stop, it wasn’t uncommon for him to become so hyper fixated and focused on making love to you, whether that be with his mouth or cock. You knew he wouldn’t stop until he was done, and it didn’t matter if you were conscious when that time came. After much practice together, your beloved husband blossomed into quite the lover, but as with his sword making passion, he tended to allow himself to slip into a specific sort of headspace.

You writhed, legs kicking behind his head as you pulled your hands back up to yourself. Holding and fondling your chest, you cried out, his hand moving faster. “‘Taru! Fuck!” Panting hard, you felt him let go of your clit, catching his breath as his fingers tapped at your gspot. You arched again, body bending and back popping at the stretch.

He leaned back, admiring your reactions and how you squeezed and pulled at your breasts. Licking his lips, he watched your cunt flutter around his fingers, pulling back before thrusting them into you, the rough pace making your upper body curl. Your hands moved to fist the blanket instead, gasping and panting for air as your climax approached.

Growling, he dragged his hand from where it was squeezing your ass, pushing one of your thighs off his shoulder so he could nibble and suck marks into your plush skin. Crying out, he felt you tighten on his fingers, but it wasn’t enough to stop his fast pace. Moaning as he bit down, his hazy eyes watched as you arched high, hands blindly seeking and finding his long, wild hair.

“Ah-!” He winced as you pulled hard, eyes never leaving your face as you finished hard a second time. Leaving your bitten thigh, he pulled his hand back, spreading your legs so wide the brief thought of you splitting apart echoed in your blissfully empty head.

Moaning loudly and wantonly, you felt him replace his digits with his tongue, pushing past your plump cunt to lick inside you. His nails bit into your skin as you moved to twist his hair around your fists. “Hotaru!” You babbled incoherently, moaning as his wet fingers curled up to rub your clit fast and hard. “Ahh!” You curled forward screeching as he overstimulated you.

You could handle it when he cooled down a bit, giving you a slight break between orgasms, but you knew if he kept it up, you’d be passing out sooner rather than later. You were always a little sleepy after one climax, him getting you off repeatedly back to back was just mean.

Thighs quivering, he basked in your noises, surrounding himself with your perfect body, the taste of your cum making him strain in his now painfully too tight pants. Breaking away from your cunt, he panted heavily, fingers pinching your clit as he nibbled your plump slit. Crying out above him, he could barely make out how your upper body writhed for him.

Catching his breath, he dove back in, mouthing over your throbbing clit and three digits pounding your sweet spot. You screamed aloud, trying to scoot away from him, pushing him away and kicking your legs. “No! Stop! ‘Taru!” He had you on the brink, he could feel how tight you were wrapped around his fingers, knew you were at your limit.

It had been days since he’d last seen you, since he’d last touched you. He knew you were busy with your own jobs as well, coming home to an empty bed with no energy to touch yourself. He had to make up for lost times. It was a mantra in his head, to make sure you felt amazing before he even had a chance to feel good himself.

Moaning around your clit as it was snug inside his drooling mouth, his eyes flicked up to you. You laid there in bed, palms over your face as you gasped and shouted. As he laved his tongue over you, teeth pressing against your burning skin, he rubbed his calloused fingertips over your gspot, switching between pressing and rubbing hard to pounding them with quick movements of his wrist.

Finally, your head fell back, screaming as your voice cracked, finishing hard and bucking your hips against his jaw. He quickly abandoned your clit as he felt hot cum flood down his digits and into his palm. You cried out weakly as he voraciously ate you out, tongue pressing inside your cunt and fucking you.

Gasping and whimpering, your hips jolted as he licked up all your cum, dragging his tongue up your slit before flicking your swollen clit. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, his mouth moved away from you, letting your legs rest against the end of the western style bed. He sat back on his heels, licking his hand clean as he watched you closely.

Muscles rippling beneath his clothes, he hovered above you, kneeling between your legs as his intense gaze watched your face. Blinking slowly, your dazed bleary gaze found his face, muddled from your airy state of mind. Breathing heavily, you managed a small weak, “‘Taru?”

Sighing above you, he kissed your forehead. Letting your eyes close, you felt him slip off the bed and pull you up into his arms. Maneuvering with you in his grip, he turned down the sheets, sliding you inside them. You hummed, comfortable amongst the soft sheet and plush pillows. Feeling yourself drift off, you registered faintly of your husband crawling in with you.

You tried to call out to him, but your throat was tired and dry. Cracking your eyes open, you moved your lips, about to call out to him before he got comfortable, but instead cried out loudly as you felt his thick cock fill you in one thrust. “Hotaru!”

You heard him groan above you, the tight fit rattling his spine. You cried out as he lifted your legs, hips quickly pistoning inside of you. Sobbing incoherently, you clawed at his chest as he hovered above you. “I- Stop!” His cock split you open, the messy sounds echoing around you as your husky voice called out to him.

Blinking rapidly, you tried to focus on his face, whimpering as his eyes bore into you, sweat dripping from his tense visage down onto you. He was quiet the entire time, not speaking as he fucked you roughly. Groaning and panting, he was otherwise silent as he focused entirely on your expression.

Writhing beneath him, you gripped his wrists as he held your hips still, his own crashing into yours roughly. “I can’t! S’too much!” You tossed your head to the side, brows pinched as he filled you up just to pull nearly out, filling you once more.

Your husband grunted above you, shuddering at your words. With a sharp gasp, his thrusts faltered, moans stifled as he rubbed your overstimulated and sore clit. You slapped his chest, tears at the corners of your eyes, “It hurts! Stop it, stop!”

However, Hotaru paid you no mind, panting as his climax washed over him, hips bucking without rhythm as you felt him pump his cum inside you. Dragging your nails down his chest once more and shaking your head, tears slipping down into your hairline. “No more! Please, ‘Taru!”

His gaze was focused as he met your own, but you whimpered, body quaking as you didn’t see any recognition in his intense stare. Instead, his eyes drifted down your body, large palm pressing into your belly. You choked out a moan as he moved his hips subtly, cock stroking your gspot as he pressed down harder.

You could see the edges of your vision turn fuzzy as he began to pump his hips again, the pace just as face and brutal. Gasping, you coughed roughly, hands pulling at his weakly, whimpering and crying out. As he pounded you, feeling your breasts bounce, your sudden climax had you shrieking before your field of vision went cloudy and you passed out.

Hotaru watched you from his position above you, admiring your blissed out expression as he made love to you. Licking his lips, he moaned as you finished around him, cunt once again tightening like a vice, squeezing him tighter than you had all night. Moaning loud and sharp, he winced while his hips continued their pace.

Panting heavily, his drool dripped down to your chest, your eyes closed and face no longer pinched. Gritting his teeth, he bowed his head forward, hips jerking roughly. After his intense orgasm before, he couldn’t deny that the overstimulation was beginning to hurt him as well. Grabbing your legs, he pressed them to his chest. Anchoring his heels in the soft bed, he pressed you tighter up against yourself.

Now that you were unconscious, it was easier to fold your body how he wanted to. Gritting his teeth, he felt himself reach deeper inside of you. “Ahh! Fuck!” Eyes closing, his face tensed as his body slowly began to as well. Panting desperately for air, he felt himself shudder as he finished once more, filling you with more hot cum.

Hands fell from your legs to either side of your head, sweat and drool dripping from him down to you as you remained blissfully unaware of how his cock throbbed and pulsed inside your hot cunt. His body quaked with aftershocks and pumped a bit more cum deep inside you.

Fisting his hands into the pillow on either side of your face, he groaned. His energy was spent, having already been exhausted from his training out in the forest surrounding the village. He wanted to keep going, not quite satisfied with his work, but having to admit he was as spent as you were.

With his last coherent train of thought, he moved your legs and slid out from between them. Collapsing next to you, he pulled you so your back was flush against his chest. Using his legs, he dragged the blankets up closer, tossing off the top comforter, and draping the two of you in the soft thin sheet.

Catching his breath, he littered your shoulders with kisses and bites, not caring if they would be visible above your kimono in the morning. Everyone in the village knew you belonged to him and him alone, so it wouldn’t matter if you were marked up. Sighing tiredly, his hands drifted over your body, scratching you with his nails before cupping your breasts.

Feeling sleep overtake him, he squeezed you before allowing himself to pass out.

All too soon, however, his eyes were cracking open once more, groaning as the sun shone through the window. You were still sleeping soundly next to him, face buried in the pillows and back rising with each deep breath.

Stretching tall, Hotaru felt his joints pop and crack. He didn’t like to stay too long after sunrise, preferring to train when the morning was still cool. Sitting up, he winced at the dull ache in his hips. He rolled his shoulders, swinging his thick legs over the side of the bed, moving to get up before your smaller hand grabbed his wrist.

Humming in thought, he turned, looking for your eyes under your mess of hair as it was splayed out on the pillow. “‘Taru…” Your grip was weak considering you were barely awake, and it would have been child’s play to break away from you. However, your enormous husband smiled softly, turning and crawling back into bed to cuddle you into his strong arms.

You hummed happily, eyes closing once more as you settled in his grip. His voice was husky as he whispered in your ear, delighting in how you shuddered, “Good morning. How are you feeling?” You laughed softly, the sound barely passing your lips.

“Sore. Wonder why that is? Don’t think I’ll-” Yawning widely, you rolled your shoulders, “Don’t think I’ll be able to walk very well this morning.” You blinked blearily at him, a soft smile on your tired face.

He couldn’t help but lick his lips, grinning smugly. “You’re lucky I let you leave the house at all.” His hand drifted down, grabbing your ass roughly, smirking as you moaned and hid your face in his chest. “You’re mine. Nobody should ever get to see you again. The only forge you have any business being in is mine.”

You laughed softly, kissing his chest where you could reach him, “You’re not even in your own forge nowadays, Hotaru. I get lonely without having you.” He scoffed at your words, grumbling under his breath.

You squealed as he squeezed you tight. “Don’t care. Don’t let me see you getting too friendly with anyone else while I’m gone, understand me?” His gaze was on you now, pulling you back from his chest.

You sighed lovingly as you took in his face with the morning sunlight. “You’re so handsome, I love you.” He crinkled his nose, watching as his words went in one side and out the other. Sighing at your helpless nature, he pulled you into his lap before sitting up.

“We can make it to the hot springs and back before it's time to make a proper breakfast.” You whined in his grip as he stood up, placing you in a nearby chair as he found some clothes for the both of you. Tying you up in a loose kimono, he grabbed another larger one for himself, tying it closed and moving to lift you up once more.

You giggled happily in his arms, still veiled in a thin shroud of sleep. “You wore me out last night… I’m not sure I remember half of it.” Hotaru grunted, grabbing his mask before walking to the entryway and grabbing yours as well.

Slipping on his sandals, he hefted you up higher in his arms, “You passed out.” You were speechless for a moment, staring at him from under your sunny mask, before laughing quietly to yourself.

“You’re horrible! Tecchin was right, you’re a handful!” Hotaru snorted under his mask, holding you closer to his chest. You listened to his heartbeat as well as his deep voice as he spoke up once more.

“Please, you’re just as much of a handful. We’re a perfect match for each other, no one else could handle us.” You laughed again, waking up as the sun filtered through the trees as he carried you to the hot springs.

Leaning up, you tapped his cheek with your mask then his ear over his bandana in a makeshift kiss. “You’re right… I’d be a mess without you, you know.” Resting your cheek on his chest once more, the two of you basked in the morning sunlight together.

Wiggling your nose, you looked away as you got closer to the hot springs. “Gross.” You felt your husband’s shoulders shake slightly, silent laughter at your childish tone. “Oh well, at least I get to soak with you!”

You nuzzled his neck, rubbing his chest as he crested the steps to show a large pool of steaming water. You wiggled in his grasp, hearing his laugh softly as he put you down before scrambling to pick you back up as your legs gave out. You slapped his chest as his arms wound around your waist, pulling you snug and tight against him once more.

“You did this! This is your fault!” You slipped your mask up to rest atop your head, smiling fondly at your beloved. Once yours was secured, you moved to tug his off along with his bandana.

Hotaru pouted at you before smiling softly and kissing you gently. Sitting you on the edge of the spring, he easily stripped you of your kimono before stripping himself down as well. Wading into the spring, he bundled you back into his arms and sat the two of you against the inner wall.

Sighing contentedly, you apologetically pet the red scratches on his chest. “Sorry…” You smiled up at him softly before kissing them, noticing how some had dried blood on them. “I should trim my nails down a little, I think…”

He grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles before relaxing back, stretching his legs out. “Don’t worry about it, I was the one who pushed you last night.” You smiled, relaxing against him, mischievous eyes looking up at him.

“And yet you’re not apologizing.” Your husband scoffed, not bothering to look down at you, opting to squeeze you tightly instead before loosening his grip just as quick.

“Because I’m not sorry. You’re my wife, I’ll take you however I please whenever I want.” You balked at his steady words, his tone final.

“Hotaru Haganezuka! You’re bad!” You bit his chest before blowing a loud raspberry against him. He laughed loudly, moving so that he could kiss your forehead. You slapped him lightly, shaking your head but basking in his laughter. “What on earth am I going to do with you?”

He hummed, relaxing back against the spring’s wall again. “Stay with me. Forever.” His suddenly sincere tone had your chest welling up in affection and adoration. Sighing softly, you rested back against him, smiling.

“Of course. Always.” Hotaru pet your hair, relaxing in the early morning rays in the deserted hot spring with you in his arms. Thoughts of work began creeping into his head, but he pushed them off, wanting to spend just a little more time with you in sweet intimacy.

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐬

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: HAN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: HOGWARTS(? IT’S MORE OF A COLLEGE THAN JUST HOW IT ORIGINALLY WAS. I JUST WANTED THE HOUSES)!AU, IDIOTS TO LOVERS, READER IS IN SLYTHERIN, HAND KINK, FINGERING, CLIT PLAY, PUBLIC SETTING, TEASING, UNPROTECTED SEX, BOOB PLAY, PULL OUT METHOD, PET NAMES (BABY) ☾ ━━━ WC: 4.2K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Han Jisung was annoying to Y/n. His personality, his little pranks around campus, how he challenged everything she said, and his good looks. The last part she hated the most. Since their year hit puberty, Jisung was one of the guys people from every house tried asking out or had a crush on. She, unfortunately, was no better. But she refused to let it fester.

     “If you keep staring at him, he’s gonna find out you like him,” Seungmin scared her out of her thoughts.

     “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Y/n scolded him and punched his shoulder.

     “I’m just saying,” He chuckled and rubbed his shoulder, “You should stop reading all those enemies to love books in the library. It’s starting to influence your love life.”

     “You’re just trying to get hit today,” Y/n challenged him.

     Jisung watched the two’s interaction from across the courtyard. He had been listening to Minho and Chan talk till he caught a glimpse of Y/n over the yard. Now playfully arguing with her housemate.

     “Jisung!” Minho yelled at him.

     “Yeah?!” He answered, scared

     “What do you think?” His friend asked

     “No, yeah. Totally,” Jisung tried to sound like he was paying attention but Minho and Chan both knew better.

     “Alright. I’ll ask Y/n out after class then,” He deadpanned his friend

     “Huh?!”

     “He’s not asking Y/n out, relax,” Chan reassured him, “Just trying to get your attention for this weekend.”

     “What’s this weekend?” Jisung asked, eyes still on Y/n as he watched her and Seungmin walk away.

     “Hogsmeade…” Chan reminded him

     “What about it?”

     “If you weren’t busy daydreaming, you would know,” Minho retorted.

     “Ji, what do we do every Hogsmeade visit?”

     “Oh! Pub! Got it!” Jisung remembered, “I’ve got to get to class. Later.”

     Jisung bolted up and grabbed his things and quickly left the two.

     “His next one is with Y/n, isn’t it?” Chan asked

     “Yep.” Minho popped the ‘p’ and the two sighed. Opting to go to their classes.

     Jisung spent the majority of his class with Y/n stealing glances at her. Both of them sat in the back so he found it easy to look across the room and see her concentrating on the lesson. Not aware she was doing the same thing. 

     Every class, he tried to work up his courage to ask her out but she was always out the door before he could. Y/n had caught his glances a few times and did not want to find out what they were about at the end of the day so she’d left as quick as she could. Didn’t help they shared all their classes. So even though she wanted to see him, she didn’t at the same time. 

     Jisung just had to wait another time and would complain to his friends during the weekend. 

     “Why don’t you just send her a letter?” Hyunjin suggested when Jisung brought up his problem. 

     “Yeah. Then you don’t have to do it face-to-face,” Changbin agreed

     “Yes, get rejected over mail.” Jisung said, “Chan, you guys are in the same house.”

     “And I have zero clue about what she says about you,” Chan added

     Jisung laid his head on the table. Chan patted his back to reassure him it’d be okay. Minho eyes drifting towards the door. “Felix probably knows,” he said, seeing the blond walk in with the girl they were talking about and their two other friends— Seungmin and Jeongin.

     “Okay, but he’s always at quidditch practice so how am I—” Jisung had to stop midsentance when he lifted his head and saw the group. 

     “Well,” Minho instigated

     Jisung just slid down in their booth. Hoping not to be spotted, just for Changbin to kick his shin. “Owe!”

     “Sit up!” Changbin said

     “Don’t fight,” Chan reminded as they watched the group take a table on the side of the room.

     “Well,” Minho said

     “Someone cast an invisibility spell and go over there,” Jisung said

     “You need a charm for that,” Chan stated

     “Just rip the bandaid off and tell her you like her,” Hyunjin argued

     “It’s not that easy!” Jisung exclaimed

     “You haven’t tried,” Hyunjin argued

     “Min, where are you going?” Chan asked as the second oldest was getting up

     “Refill,” Minho said, holding up his empty glass.

     “Get me some more too,” Changbin said, holding his almost empty glass up.

     Minho rolled his eyes but agreed anyway. Walking up to the bar and ordering two more drinks. Not his full intention, but he needed an excuse. He felt the need to give his friend a push, even if it meant pissing him up a little bit. 

     Y/n had gotten up from her friend group and gone to the bathroom. Coming out and accidentally bumping into Minho. The male quickly grabbed her to stabilize her before she fell back, even if she wasn’t going to.

     “Sorry Minho. I wasn’t paying attention,” Y/n apologized as she took a step back.

     “It’s okay,” Minho smiled “Got a lot on your mind, you look out of it.”

     “Kind of,” Y/n shrugged

     “Wanna talk about it over a drink?” He offered

     “Maybe another time? I’m here with friends,” Y/n suggested

     “How about next weekend?” 

     Y/n blinked at him for a minute, “Sure,” she finally answered

     “It’s a date then,” Minho smiled as his drinks were handed to him and he walked away. 

     Y/n watched him walk back to his table, handing a drink to Changbin, and noticed the group. Chan, Hyunjin, Changbin, and Jisung.

     Y/n didn’t know how to feel about the last staring at her as she just went back to her friend group.

     “That took a while,” Jeongin commented as she sat in their booth.

     “Accidently bumped into Minho,” she sighed, “He asked me on a date. I think?”

     “Huh?!” Felix exclaimed.

     “It can’t be a coincidence we were talking about your crush then his best friend asked you on a date,” Seungmin laughed

     “It might be,” Y/n defended, “They’re on the other side of the room, there’s no way they heard us.”

     “Either way, I still think you should stop avoiding Jisung and give him a chance,” Felix brought the conversation back to their previous one— her crush on Jisung that she refused to talk about.

     “Nope,” Y/n said

     “Y/n,” Felix sighed

     “You know he’s probably got a crush on you too,” Jeongin said

     “No way,” Y/n denied

     “Now that you mention it—” Felix started

     “No! Don’t mention it,” Y/n interrupted

     “I did notice him staring at you the other day in the courtyard,” Seungmin said.

     “This is not what I wanted to come here for,” Y/n groaned, hanging her head low and covering her ears.

     “The sooner you admit it the sooner it stops,” Jeongin said next to her, pulling a hand away from her ear.

     “Lix,” Y/n whined, looking at the Hufflepuff for support.

     “They have a point,” he shrugged

     “I hate you all,” Y/n groaned

     She absolutely hated how right the three were. She crashed onto her bed as soon as she and Seungmin made it back to the Slytherin dorms. The male followed her up to check in on her. 

     “Hey,” he said, sitting next to her, “We didn't mean to push you back there.”

     “I know, just doubt he returns my feelings,” Y/n groaned, “Feels like I'm just getting my hopes up.”

     “Maybe stop looking away from him when you think he's about to catch you staring and you’ll see what the rest of us see,” Seungmin patted her back before getting off the bed and leaving the dorm room. 

     “Min,” Jisung whined for the umpteenth time, trying to coax his friend into telling him what he had talked to his crush about 

     “We just caught up a bit after she bumped into me,” Minho answered. The same answer he had been giving Jisung since they got back to the Gryffindor dorms. 

     “She didn’t say anything about me?” Jisung questioned 

     “No. You didn’t come up in conversation,” yet.

     “Promise?” 

     “Yeah.” Minho agreed. Getting the boy off his back for now. 

     Didn’t stop him from asking the rest of the week. In between his staring at the girl in question. Getting caught a few times during their lectures by her which ended in a couple of odd staring contests till she rolled her pretty eyes and turned back to the lesson. 

     Jisung laid his head down in defeat and picked himself back up when they were dismissed. 

     “Where’s Min?” Jisung asked as the four out of five in their group slid into their normal booth. 

     “Said he had a date,” Hyunjin answered 

     The group shrugged and let it go. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Minho to go on a date. Their chatter continued as they caught up on classes and their other activities. Specifically the quidditch match at the end of next week. Gryffindor vs Slytherin. This meant Chan playing against Changbin and Minho, which the group always found fun to watch. 

     “No way,” Hyunjin said out of the blue, making the other three look where he was looking. 

     Seeing their friend walk in with Y/n before the two made their way to the opposite end of the room. 

     “I thought he was joking about asking her out,” Chan said in disbelief 

     “Since when has he ever joked about doing something like that?” Changbin asked, “I understand why he did. It is Y/n.”

     “Not helping,” Chan said, motioning to Jisung, still staring at the two. 

     “Stop staring,” Hyunjin said, turning the boy’s attention to the group. 

     “We’ll ask him what it was about later. Just relax for now,” Chan said

     The four did wait it out, not very long thankfully. It was an hour and a half of sneaking peeks at the table before the two got up and Y/n left the pub and Minho joined them.

     “How was your date?” Changbin smirked

     “Eh, not a date. Mostly gave her an ear to vent a problem too.” Minho shrugged and took a seat

     “Would you like to share with the class?” Hyunjin said, leaning forward.

     “She’s got a crush,” Minho said

     “Who?” Jisung asked

     “Didn’t say. Just talked about her issue with it and her friends trying to convince her to talk to him.     “What house?” Jisung asked

     “Didn’t say. He’s not in Slytherin.”

     “Are you gonna fight the guy?” Changbin asked

     “Yes,” Jisung said without hesitation.

     The four looked at each other before just letting it go, at least until Jisung left the table.

     “Are they two blind idiots in love with each other?” Changbin asked

     “A hundred percent,” Minho confirmed

     Jisung spent all week trying to figure out who he was going to fight. Anyone without the black and green robe was under his suspicion. The only ones he had ruled out were Felix and Jeongin. 

     “Are we not addressing Jisung just sticking way closer than usual?” Jeongin asked as the four sat in the courtyard

     “I ignore it,” Y/n shrugged

     “Until he’s not looking at you,” Felix remarked

     “Then she’s daydreaming,” Seungmin smirked, making a kissy face at her to tease her

     “Stop it,” Y/n said, almost hitting him with her divination textbook, the boy effectively dodging it.

     “At this point, it’s going to be Seungmin that exposes your crush,” Jeongin said

     “If she didn’t tell Minho on their date,” Seungmin retorted

     “Why would I tell him? They’re friends.”

     The clock tower rang, signaling the hour. The four got up to head to class and Jisung headed to his own class as well. Potions, one of the many he had with Y/n. Luck managed to be on his side today as their teacher paired everyone up— pairing him and Y/n up.

     Letting everyone get to their stations before further explaining the mixture of the day. Jisung barely paid attention, looking towards the professor but mostly looking at her.

     “Jisung,” Y/n snapped him out of his trance, snapping her fingers at him

     “Huh?” He asked

     “Were you paying attention?” She asked

     “Partially…?”

     Y/n rolled her eyes, “Can you go grab the ingredients?” She asked, showing him the list from her textbook

     “Yeah,” He nodded, grabbing his own and flipping to the page. Getting up to grab what they needed. 

     Y/n let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She should get an award for acting like catching him staring at her didn't affect her. Until Jeongin walked by her table. She forgot for a moment she had him in this class too. 

     The Ravenclaw said nothing. Just gave her a knowing look. Y/n glared at him before Jisung came back to their station. Basket of ingredients in hand. 

     Y/n regained her composure and the two got to work. At least she did. Jisung helped here and there but mostly watched her. Watching every little move; rolling up her sleeves, rereading a step before she did it to make sure she was doing it right to how she tucked her hair behind her ears. The tips of them slightly tinted

     “You feel okay?” he asked 

     “Huh?” she turned to look at him. Confused and cheeks tinted slightly as well. 

     “You feel okay? You look flushed.”

     ‘You would too if you could feel your crush staring at you as you work,’ she thought, “Fine. Just a little warm.”

     “Let me do some of the work. You can read off the instructions,” Jisung offered

     Y/n didn't have time to respond before he took over. Y/n cleared her throat and read him the instructions from the textbook. Trying not to look at him for too long. Even if she couldn't help herself side-eyeing him a bit— eyes lingering a little too long on his hands. 

     ‘I wonder how they would feel in—”

     “Y/n,” Jisung snapped her out of her thoughts. 

     “Sorry,” Y/n said, ignoring whatever he was going to say, and gave him the next instruction. 

     Y/n walked him through finishing the potion. Calling their professor over to check their work. Gladly passed the two of them and had them write a report before they were dismissed. Y/n all but booked her way out of the classroom before Jisung or god forbid Jeongin said anything. 

     Booking it down the hall to the library. Thankful she had a free period and could calm down a bit in the library, study for classes. Hiding as far as she could from thd door and diving into her textbooks, cautiously peering up at the door every so often. 

     Twenty minutes into her studying, she had barely any clue Jisung was a few tables away from her. Pretending to study. It wasn’t till she set her quill down to stretch that she locked eyes with the Gryffindor. 

     Both refused to look away until Jisung looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. Y/n looked back at her book and picked up her quill. Resting her forehead in her hand, her attempt at not looking at him. 

     Jisung originally did come to try and study but now was completely distracted. Keeping his eyes on Y/n as she worked. 

     ‘How can she be so hot while studying?’ Jisung thought. 

     He wasn’t getting any work done, that was for sure. He should pack up and leave but he didn’t feel like it. Rather he leaned back and mentally beat himself up. Maybe he should confess. Just get it off his chest, handle the rejection. Maybe not face to face though. His eyes landed on his textbook. Portal spell. 

     Y/n managed to lose herself in her studies again until she felt a poke on her thigh. She jumped a bit before looking under the table, moving her leg to the side. Looking at the small portal, a hand sticking out with a piece of paper. Jisung’s hand.

     Y/n looked up at him and he just smiled at her. Y/n glared at him before grabbing the folded paper from his hand. 

     ‘I’m sorry for staring in class and just now. I know you find me annoying but I’ve had the biggest crush on you for years now’

     Y/n looked up at him, finding the boy blushing. Judging by how warm her face was, she probably was too. She shifted in the chair a bit and accidentally brushed her thigh against his hand. His hand was warm and it made her shiver a bit. 

     Jisung looked up and watched her reaction. He ran his hand along her thigh again. Hearing a small moan come from the portal he had made under his table and watched her cover her mouth with a fist. 

     “Heard that,” he whispered and watched her eyes go wide, “Feel good?”

     Y/n nodded and tried composing here again. 

     “Can make you feel better. Just gotta spread those pretty legs.”

     “We're in the library, are you crazy?” Y/n whispered 

     “For you.”

     Y/n glared at him from her table. “It's your fault if we're caught.”

     Jisung smiled as he looked down and watched her thighs part. He was impressed with how he managed to open the portal in perfect view of her pussy.

     Y/n scooted her chair in a bit and slouched a bit, giving him a bit of better access as she tried to look like she was still working. Jisung moved his hand forward and ran two fingers up and down her clothed pussy. Not missing the building wet spot he felt, especially when he added a bit more pressure on her clit. 

     Y/n gripped her quill tighter, trying not to focus too much on Jisung playing with her pussy. But it was getting harder as he was moving her panties to the side. Y/n glanced around the area. No one else was in the back with them. She set her quill down, pulled the fabric down her legs and caught Jisung's wide eyes. She slipped the fabric off her feet and sat back. 

     “Let me hold them,” Jisung whispered 

     “What?!”

     “I’ll give the back. Or do you want someone to see you holding them?”

 ��   Y/n handed him the fabric and watched his hand retract from the portal before reappearing. His hand disappeared under her skirt and she could feel the hands she’d been staring at last period. 

     Two of his fingers ran through her wet folds as his thumb slowly circled her clit. Jisung watched her cover up her moans and bury her nose in her textbook. Jisung pressed a little bit more on her clit and dipped the tips of his fingers into her hole. Watching as her head dipped down and she bit her lip. 

     “I’ve barely done anything to you and you look like you’re about to cum,” Jisung chuckled, curling his fingers up into her, “Saw you looking at my hands in class. Get turned on thinking about them inside you?”

     “Yes,” Y/n whined 

     “Can have ‘em whenever you want, baby. Just got to ask.”

     Y/n covered her mouth again and glanced between her book and him. Mind focused on his fingers and the damn near primal look in his eyes. ‘Fuck that’s hot’ 

     Her walls clenched around his fingers. Thumb picked up its pace and brought her closer to her release. Slowly grinding against him as best she could. 

     “‘M close,” Y/n whined 

     “Yeah? Gonna cum on my fingers?” Jisung teased

     “Mhmm.”

     Jisung brought her closer and closer before he pulled away from her. Y/n quickly looked up at him, catching his smirk before he looked down.

     “Look at that pretty pussy,” Jisung’s voice came through the portal. Watching her twitch in her seat. 

     “Jisung,” Y/n whined, suddenly feeling a bit shy under his gaze

     “Can’t wait to taste it.” Jisung’s fingers were in her again and picked up right where he left off— same pace and all. 

     She didn’t know how long Jisung sat and edged her. Every time she was about to cum he would take it away from her. The torture only stopped when the library door opened. Jisung pulled his fingers out of her and closed the small portal. 

     Eyes didn’t leave hers as he licked his fingers clean. Y/n sat up and quickly packed her things before making her way over to his table. Jisung watched her walk over and slowly packed his things. “Come on,” Y/n said. 

     “Where?” Jisung smirked as he stood and grabbed his bag

     “Please, just follow me.” Y/n grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the door 

     “Wait,” Jisung said as he tugged her into him

     “What?”

     “Be my girlfriend?”

     “After you just fingered me through a portal for how long?” Y/n smiled, grabbing his tie and pulling his lips to hers. Enjoying the way he moaned helplessly against her lips in contrast to the confidence he had moments ago. 

     Jisung pulled her closer before she pulled away, “That’s a yes, right?” He confirmed

     “Yes, idiot. I’ve had a crush on you for a while too,” Y/n said

     “Really?!” he said a bit too loud 

     Y/n shushed him before dragging him out of the library.

     “I was who you liked?” He asked as they got into the hallway.

     “Were you trying to figure out who I liked?” Y/n asked him, almost dragging him down the halls

     “Maybe…”

     “Why?”

     “Wasn’t going to fight them to impress you.”

     “Guess you’re fighting yourself,” Y/n smiled

     “I’ll win,” Jisung smiled as they made their way down the hallways, down to the basement.

     “I know Chan’s brought me into the Slytherin house before but I don’t think it’s going to go well if you bring me into your dorm,” Jisung said

     “It’s why we’re not going to my dorm,” Y/n smirked as she dragged him further into the dungeons.

     Jisung— confused— followed till she pulled him into an old cell, setting her bag down and pulling him back into a kiss. Jisung dropped his bag and happily returned it with the same intense vigor she had as he pushed her toward the closet wall. Y/n moaned as he pressed her flush against the wall. His hands slipped under her skirt and held her hips.

     “Think we should skip the quidditch match this weekend,” Jisung mumbled against her lips as she pushed his house robe off his shoulders.

     “Yeah? And do what?” Y/n asked as he moved his lips onto her neck

     “Have our own match, in bed,” Jisung smirked, moving one hand to loosen her ties and unbutton her shirt a bit 

     “You better start round one right now,” Y/n told him

     “Don’t want me to edge you again?” 

     “Please Ji,” Y/n whined as his hands gripped her ass

     “Fuck you sound so good.”

     Jisung took his hands off her ass and unbuckled his belt and pants. Y/n smiled as his dick was free from the confines of the uniform. He lifted one of her legs and lined himself with her wet hole, all thanks to his teasing in the library. He was glad he hadn’t given her her underwear back either.

     Slowly he pushed into her, listening to her moans right next to his ear as her walls parted for him. He pushed her top and vest up over her chest. Y/n shuddered as the  cold air of the dungeon hit her skin. Quickly warmed up by Jisung’s lips while he bottomed out. 

     “Fuck, feel so good wrapped around me,” Jisung groaned, taking a moment to collect himself before he came to early. He was painfully hard from the library too. 

     Y/n tangled her fingers in his hair as he busied himself kissing her boobs. Moving the fabric of her bra down to get more of her. Y/n whined, getting impatient with him staying still inside her as he wrapped his lips around her nipple. “Move Ji.”

     Jisung groaned in response and slowly pulled out and thrusted back into her. Y/n gripped his roots and bit her lip, trying to stop her moans from echoing off the walls. 

     “Fuck,” Y/n whined 

     “Still sensitive from the library?” Jisung teased, one hand moving between them so his thumb could rub her abused clit again. 

     “Yes,” Y/n moaned and clenched around him. 

     “Shit,” Jisung whined. Circling her clit faster just to feel her clench around him again. 

     Y/n tilted her head back against the brick wall. Feeling her high coming on quickly. Stomach tightening with each thrust and circle on her clit. Walls clamped around him till she finally got her long awaited release. Walls pulsing around him as she shook from her high. 

     Jisung followed not too far behind. The pulsing of her walls sent him over the edge. Quickly pulling out once he felt himself about to cum, pumping himself a few times till his load shot onto the wall behind them. Resting his head in her neck as they caught their breath, coming down from their highs.

     “Were you really going to fight someone for me?” Y/n asked

     “Yeah,” Jisung said, lifting his head

     “Don’t think I could of been in love with anyone else, especially after hearing that,” Y/n smiled and pulled him back to her lips.

     Jisung let her leg down as he wrapped his arms around her, returning the kiss. “Skip the match with me then?” He asked

     “Don’t want to watch your house lose to mine?” Y/n joked

     “Think it’s the other way around baby.”

     “Guess we’ll just have to skip and fight about it on our own.”

     “Yeah we will.”

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST    TIP JAR

☾ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[windvexer]

What counts as a spell? Is intent all you need or do you have to do something before to get it all juicy and stuff.

Hi Anon! What a fun question, because there is no answer except this CAN OF WORMS you just opened.

There is no consensus anywhere as to what constitutes a "spell."

There is even LESS consensus as to what makes a spell go.

Intent is a good starting place. It is probably where you should start for all acts of practical magic.

But I find that in it's common form, the idea of intent + willpower = magic has been diluted past the point of utility for most people.

Like if we're talking about "intent is everything" I'm reminded most closely of Chaos Magic. But Chaos Magic is not a school of "just set your intent and you've worked magic!". It's a very rigorously developed system.

In Hine's Condensed Chaos, he lists the third Core Principal of Chaos magic as technical excellence, and I quote:

One of the early misconceptions about Chaos Magic was that it gave practitioners carte blanche to do whatever they liked, and so become sloppy (or worse, soggy) in their attitudes to self-assessment, analysis, etc. Not so. The Chaos approach has always advocated rigorous self-assessment and analysis, emphasized practice at what techniques you're experimenting with until you get the results you desire. Learning to 'do' magic requires that you develop a set of skills and abilities and if you're going to get involved in all this weird stuff, why not do it to the best of your ability?

Later in the book, Hine likens "magical powers" to the concept of achievements, and goes on to say:

Something which is an achievement is the result of practice, discipline, and patience.

Shortly after:

Chaos Magic is not about discarding all rules and restraints, but the process of discovering the most effective guidelines and disciplines which enable you to effect change in the world.

(In above quotes, all emphasis my own)

But these ideas get taken - and I'll give a big nod to the LOA which is just the worst kind of brainrot for encouraging the "intent is all that matters" mindset - and the ideas get diluted so much that people are literally out here saying, "so all those people who spend years studying magic in order to get results are buffoons? All I have to do is imagine what I want and it will be delivered to me? All humans since the start of history just have to decide they want something and it will happen in a miraculous manner?"

(Not you, Anon. I'm just in a mood)

In my mind, yes - something beyond intent must occur in order to make spells go.

But what?

Anon, have you ever heard that dumb belief floating around that all herbs in a spell can be replaced by rosemary, and all stones in a spell can be replaced by clear quartz, and these two things are "universal substitutes"?

I am 95% sure that this nonsense was based on two very popular dictionaries Cunningham wrote in the 80s, the Encyclopedia of Crystal, Gem & Metal Magic, and Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs.

In the very long entry for Clear Quartz:

Quartz crystal is used as a power amplifier during magic. It is worn or placed on the altar for this purpose.

And from Rosemary:

Rosemary is generally used as a substitute for frankincense.

And I believe that someone somewhere got the idea that since clear quartz amplifies all other powers, it therefore somehow magically Ditto-copies all other powers, and like a shapeshifter somehow becomes something it is not nor ever was.

And, you know. What's the difference between subbing out frankincense and blackthorn between friends?

These beliefs have become so popular that sometimes when unscrupulous blogs rip off entire Cunningham encyclopedia entries and paste them into tumblr posts (without credit), THEY INCLUDE THE EXTRA MADE-UP BIT ABOUT ROSEMARY BEING A UNIVERSAL SUBSTITUTE.

Anon, your question is "is it just intent or do we need other stuff to make it go," but sadly,

IMO common beliefs about the stuff that makes spells go have also been diluted past the point of utility for most people.

Because if I sat here and said, "hey Anon, it's not just intent, you also have to use correspondences ^-^/" then the very first thing you are likely to run into is absolute nonsense about correspondences. IMO, effective utilization of correspondences is a skillset based in research, theory, and technique.

Or if I said, "you also have to raise energy! 👍", this may be mistaken to mean, "set intent but also visualize white light inside of a candle," because the concept of raising energy and visualizing has been (IMO) diluted past the point of utility for most people. I believe that effective utilization of energy work is a song composed of many notes and chords, several of which you must practice before you can utilize it.

And to complicate all of this, which non-diluted things in which combinations you need to make the spell go depends on what paradigm you operate off of, because while there are approximately one billion ways to do magic that works, my currently very dim worldview is that most people who are talking about magic are doing magic that doesn't work,

and in my opinion the actual basis and reasoning, like the rationality behind the magical systems is really important. Because you need that shit to understand what it is within that system that makes the spell go.

And you need to understand what makes the spell go to make the system fit into your life without breaking it, and in order to troubleshoot problems without making things crumble further.

Because when people don't understand the basis and reasoning you end up with "rosemary is a universal substitute" and "imagining white light makes the spell go."

There are a few circumstances where you can totally strip technique from theory and be successful, but there are also a hell of a lot of people out here feeling shit about their practice because their spells never seem to work.

So.

I really just recommend choosing what school of magic you would like to learn about and participate in, and reading an introductory book on it.

This is because it is the job of introductory books to explain the principles and theories behind a system of magic, and most importantly, what makes the magic go, and a step-by-step primer on what you, the practitioner, are supposed to do to make that kind of magic go.

Despite above rambles I'm really not a Chaote, so I can't recommend a strong primer. As far as I'm aware, Liber Null & Psychonaut by Peter J. Carroll is a core text.

For Traditional Witchcraft, try The Crooked Path by Kelden.

For something more Wiccan, I can't recall having anything bad to say about Psychic Witch by Mat Auryn.

If either of these things are too Witchcrafty for you, try Six Ways by Aidan Wachter, which is still witchcraft, but it hits different.

For a general primer on helping your spells go, try Elements of Spellcrafting by Jason Miller.

[alilarew23]

the first manifestation is [in] the body

i want you to genuinely ask yourself if the reason you’re struggling to shift states is really due to a lack of faith/belief in your power as god of your reality or if it’s because you’re biologically addicted to the stress hormones associated with “trying” to manifest your desires.

i think most people, like myself, discover the law of assumption at a time when their inner/outer worlds have crumbled.

they’ve lost something or someone dear to their hearts. they’ve been fired. the business deal they thought for sure they had in the bag fell through.

but here, someone on tiktok says, i have a solution. decide what you want. affirm and persist until it shows up.

now, to be clear, i am by no means against affirmations if they work for you, if you’re truly repeating phrases as a means of reminding yourself you already have/are that which you desire to be, or if said repetition helps you shift states.

if something works for you, great.

keep repeating.

but i think there’s a general misunderstanding surrounding the term “persist” that can (and often does) have seriously detrimental implications for people first learning about/applying the law, especially those who haven’t read or listened to material from neville or edward art (yes, there are other wonderful teachers, but for me, the neville-edward duo is where to start).

persist, put simply, means to know, to continually accept your assumption as true despite lack of immediate evidence in your physical world.

acceptance does not imply—and does not demand—any work on the part of the assumer.

acceptance is by nature gentle.

it is a pleasant, “yes, i already am. yes, everything already is. yes, my prayer has been answered. thank you.”

but there’s this energy a lot of supposed-teachers have attached to the term that makes those applying the law think they need to work.

PERSIST PERSIST PERSIST UNTIL IT SHOWS UP.

meaning, if you are not working, if you are not affirming and visualizing and scripting and SATS-ing every second until who knows the exact moment your desire materializes, it will not materialize.

which then gets people in the state of working, of trying, which by nature has force/anxiety attached to it.

which implies not being/having.

how can you work to get something you already have?

how can you try to become something you already are?

when people start to realize this, usually because they either get exhausted and depressed from all work and no results, or they manifest their first neville book that begins re-orient their relationship to the law, they might have the realization that, oh! this can be…mind-bogglingly easy.

like, i legit just decide i have/am something and go about my life and it appears in my physical world?

what a relief!

but then…immediate anxiety sets in.

NOT, at least i don’t think—and of course this isn’t always the case, there are exceptions—because they don’t believe in the law or intuitively know/feel their power to select and step into the reality of their dreams, the one inherently granted to them by their god-selves, but instead because they have trained their bodies to not trust—to not feel safe within—their power.

to not allow for the naturalness of having/being what they desire to effortlessly take over.

which is the key to successful manifestation.

it’s like, oh, ok, it’s done!

but five minutes later, the body says, where is all that anxious energy i’ve been hit with non-stop for the past seven months?

now, if they could sit with this discomfort, they might realize that, actually, that *lack* of anxious energy is a signal to the inner man/subconscious mind/whatever you want to call it that—hell yeah! we have this thing now!—hence the immediate build-traverse of the bridge of events, and a rapid materialization of said desire in the physical world because they are living in the end (present, not desiring)—and that realization might make it easier to stay in the being/having state.

but instead, there’s the bodily pull-back to the trying state.

which leads only to more exhaustion and frustration and depression and the cycle begins itself again.

but there’s such an easy fix.

i did it.

you can do it, too.

here it is.

STAY.

in that feeling of relief. of ease. of almost-disbelief.

at all costs.

it sounds so silly to say your life depends on you sitting in this sort of discomfort, because—what?

how could simply being/knowing/gently accepting be this uncomfortable?

it shouldn’t be, and i’m genuinely sorry for all of us who have had to do the work of un-learning the persist-work stuff, but also, maybe it isn’t work.

maybe this, too, can be easy.

gentle acceptance.

we already are. everything already is.

it is a blessing to exist in and accept this naturalness.

[amuseoffyre]

Just had GO s2 on in the background while I was doing some craft and some percolating thoughts came out of the first Maggie and Nina exchange.

Nina: See anything you fancy? Maggie: Oh. Yes. Coffee. Nina: The usual, then? Don't tell me, it's in here. You're a skinny latte. Maggie: You remembered :) Nina: A lot of people in this head, and a lot of coffees, but I only remember the regulars.

Now bear with me on this mental ramble as I try and put these thoughts in order. I'll divide it into three points:

Mind-altering and memory muddles

There's a running motif through the whole season about memory and the loss thereof:

Gabriel removing his memory ("all the bits that make you you")

Crowley forgetting who Furfur was repeatedly

Aziraphale and Crowley's miracle basically casting confusion over the bookshop and muddling everyone's minds

the threat of erasure of memory and demotion (and am still sure Muriel is a previous demotee on account of the 37th level thing. 3s and 12s! Those are the recurring numbers in the book! 37 doesn't make sense! 36, yes! 37, no!)

putting memories somewhere else (Gabriel's fly but also Aziraphale's journals)

Coffee

As with the memory element, coffee is a running theme through the whole show as well.

Crowley chugging espressos like there's no tomorrow

Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death - "does anyone ever choose death?" asks the Metatron, when the answer is obvious

Coffee's symbolism in the final 15. Let me yell about the symbolism of Coffee = Crowley and all things mortal and living and human and earthly. OR DEATH. ("I have ingested things, you know")

The flavours in the Metatron's coffee order also having allegorical symbolism - almond branches in various parts of The Book are a reminder that God is Watching.

The human avatars of the angelic and divine

Initially when I started watching S2, I assumed the parallels between Maggie and Nina were obvious: Maggie, the sunshine one, is the Aziraphale, while Nina, the grumpy one, is the Crowley. But I was wrong.

Nina is the human avatar of Aziraphale.

Maggie: how can you think about that after all this? Nina: People need coffee, I sell coffee, it's my coffee shop.

Nina defines herself by the place she works, it is who she is and she does it because people need it (coffee), much like Aziraphale defines himself by the place he worked (Heaven), it's who he is (an angel) and he does it because people need it (goodness).

Likewise, when they go and tell Crowley off for the way he's interfered in their lives, Nina says she's just getting out of a messy relationship and isn't ready for something new yet (again, Aziraphale and Heaven vibes because that fully impacts every decision Aziraphale makes through S2) and if Maggie is around when she's ready, then maybe, they can try. ("If she's there" "I will be :) ")

And then we have Maggie, the Crowley avatar. Useless at saying what she wants to say, tries to express herself and her emotions with gestures and gifts, offers her company and time when Nina needs it, happy to help her despite the way Nina is wary of the kindness being shown.

By the end of the season, Nina is caught behind the bar of her coffee shop, working and serving ungrateful people, while Maggie is alone in her empty shop, asleep on her counter, paralleling Aziraphale going back to work in a place where he will run himself off his feet to do the right thing, while Crowley is left with an empty shop.

But now to spin back to the original quote from 2x01, it feels like all of these motifs are tying together and foreshadowing something, very possibly an Aziraphale who has lost his memory/had his memories stripped away.

Let me rewrite the lines with only a tiny couple of changes:

Aziraphale: See anything you fancy? Crowley: Oh. Ngk. Company? Aziraphale: The usual, then? Don't tell me, it's in here. You're the demon Crowley. Crowley: You remembered :) Aziraphale: A lot of angels in this head, and a lot of demons, but I only remember the regulars.

If I'm right, he remembers Crowley, but only the surface level like Nina remembers Maggie. Nothing about who they were to each other, nothing about what has happened. But have no fear, Muriel has the bookshop and the thousands and thousands of years of Aziraphale's memories bound up in text form.

Especially prescient since Muriel is given a book by the Metatron Crowley which is a novel where a man pieces together a story from documents that have been left behind. Schroedinger's journals will be making a return in S3, I have no doubt.

[a34trgv2]

Top 10 Cartoons I Hate But Many Others Like

#10. The Amazing Digital Circus: Yes, I'm aware only 2 episodes have been made of this cartoon. I'm also aware that both episodes have been praised by viewers and critics alike. As much as I would love to join in on the fun, I cannot ignore how badly structured it is. From the unlikable characters, the poor world building, the unfocused narrative to the lackluster jokes, poor handling of themes and lack of stakes, this it the kind of unmitigated mess that more infamously bad cartoons are ripped to shreds over. I will say that the animation and voice acting is well done so it's not all bad.

#9. The Owl House: Many people were disappointed by my disappointment with this disappointing cartoon. But no one was more disappointed that I was left cold by the show than me. I love fantasy, magic, mystical creatures and enchanting worlds. The Owl House should've been up my ally, yet in practice I wouldn't even spit in it's direction. With an irritating cast of characters, bad world building, formulaic plots, the writing was already on the wall. Then Amity showed up and it made the show unbearable to sit through. I'm all for LGBTQ rep, but I draw the line at a bully and their victim becoming and item. I'm sure Amity has some sappy sob story about how her parents pressured her into being an entitled brat, but she's still and entitled brat that shouldn't even have friends, nevermind a girlfriend, because her attitude STINKS!

#8. The Loud House: I've made it no secret that despite the warm reception and continued popularity of The Loud House, I was never a fan. I never found it funny, well written, or relatable. All I got from The Loud House was this is one of the most annoying dysfunctional families I've ever seen. I do think it's well animated and I commend the crew for moving forward with the show despite the disgraced creator's termination.

#7. Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur: I consider myself a big Marvel fan thanks to the MCU and Spider-Man franchises. I never heard of Moon Girl or Devil Dinosaur before this show was announced, so I was genuinely curious to see how this would play out. Needless to say, I was not impressed. Despite having dazzling visuals and really good voice acting, the show is just badly made with terrible writing, unfunny jokes, dull characters, and repetitive action scenes. This show clearly has its fans, but unfortunately I'm not one of them.

#6. Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous: Those who know me know I love dinosaurs and am a huge Jurassic Park fan. You'd think a cartoon based on the series would be as exciting and interesting as the movies. Well like so many of the dinosaurs victims, you'd be DEAD WRONG! This show shoots itself in the foot by having 6 unlikable and annoying characters, and not one gets eaten by a dinosaur. Not to mention it's sluggishly paced, the animation is stiff, and the score only reminds me of the movies I'd rather be watching. Clearly I'm in the minority here as I had a blast watching ALL the Jurassic Park movies, even the ones critics didn't like at all, over this.

#5. We Bare Bears: I like bears as much as the next guy, with my favorite cartoon bear of all time being Winnie The Pooh. Despite my fascination with this big, furry creatures, We Bare Bears never made me like the main trio, much less love them. They're all varying degrees of unlikable and the show isn't funny or well written to keep me engaged. They also did San Francisco dirty by making the people so unlikable. The one element that I think would've made for a much more interesting show is Chloe Park. Her character was utterly wasted on this stupid show as she's a kid with a high IQ and is in college but still wants to be a kid. She deserves better.

#4. The Mitchells vs The Machines: As much as I like Sony pushing for more expiremental animated films lately, this expirement didn't succeed in my book. Sure, the animation is amazing and the voice acting's mostly good, but tells such a generic story, has such incompetent and unlikable characters, and I will never get over the fact that Aaron Mitchell sounds like a middle-aged man and not, you know, A CHILD! The worst part about this film is despite it's best efforts, it is just NOT funny. It relies so much on cringy, outdated memes, weak slapstick, and dull visual gags and I never once found it funny.

#3. El Deafo: I was confused as to what this show was supposed to be based on the trailer. Watching it for myself, I found that it was more frustrating than anything. Don't get me wrong, I commend author Cece Bell for turning her personal struggles with impaired hearing into a comic turned cartoon and I fully understand wanting to tell a story from a deaf person's perspective. That said, though, I just despised the execution from the awful writing, the unlikable characters to the terrible sound mixing. As pure as the intentions were, they were sorely lost in the execution in my opinion.

#2. Frog and Toad: When I was a kid, I loved reading the Frog and Toad books. They were simple, yes, but the characters were so interesting and the illustrations were well crafted. This show should've been exactly what I was looking for in an adaptation of the books. What I got instead was a prime example of how NOT to adapt a beloved children's series. Despite having spot on voice acting, the abysmal writing, the incompetent characters, and the lackluster animation really soured the experience. I know the author's children were involved in this, but I don't think they did the books justice. The show didn't take full advantage of the medium and played more like mediocre live reading of the books.

#1. Summer Camp Island: I clearly struck a nerve with fans of the show when I said I hated it. Well, y'all will be please to know that your efforts to change my mind were all in vain. I just couldn't get passed how badly written it was, how hatable the characters were, how grossly unfunny it was. The worst part is that this is a world where anthropomorphic animals and mystical creatures exist, yet they can't tell anyone about the magic on the island. To this very day, I CALL BOLONGA!

Conclusion: I'm not saying y'all are wrong for liking these show and you definitely won't see me call them "overrated." I just wanna offer a different perspective on these popular and well liked cartoons. Some honorable mentions include Miraculous Ladybug (many people love it, I can't stand it), The Ghost and Molly McGee (you all know how I feel about that chatterbox), and the "adult" cartoons that received critical acclaim such as Rick & Morty, Smiling Friends, Bob's Burgers and The Simpsons. Agree? Disagree? Let me know in the comments and I'll see you next time.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Johnny Cade and Steve Randle as Foils

Ok so the great thing about the Outsiders is how every character foils every other character in some way, but there is one glaringly obvious foiling is barely ever talked about and it drives me crazy because it’s brilliant. I’m talking of course, about the similarities between Johnny Cade and Steve Randle.

The brilliance of them as characters is that personality wise they’re almost complete opposites. Steve is cocky and self assured and has a bitter, occasionally cruel streak a mile wide. Johnny on the other hand, is unsure, quiet, and deeply kind. These differences are what people seem to focus on the most when discussing these characters, but as characters they’re actually INCREDIBLY similar.

Both of them are the members of the gang with the worst home lives, coming from downright abusive situations- yes, Dallas had a shit dad, but at the time of the book it’s established he’s living by himself at Buck’s, he’s made himself an adult and as such his home life doesn’t foil Johnny’s, not really. Steve on the other hand, still lives at home but gets kicked out every other week, and ends up crashing at the Curtis place or anywhere else he can find. His mother is deliberately never mentioned, leaving the audience to draw their own conclusions, but it’s clear Steve doesn’t have much of a relationship with her. Either she’s a doormat who doesn’t defend him when his dad is hollering or maybe even beating him around, or she isn’t around at all and she left him with his dad. Either way, Steve has an abusive father (EVEN if it isn’t physical it is DEFINITELY psychological and emotional) and a neglectful mother. We have even more backstory for Johnny whose mother is an emotionally abusive ‘selfish slob’ and whose father beats him viciously. Of all the gang, their backstories and home life are the most similar, and their characters have been shaped by it as a result. (The way Steve is sometimes vilified in this fandom for his very real responses to childhood trauma and abuse, while Johnny is universally pitied is a whole other essay so I’ll save if for another day.) 

Ponyboy even says as much early on in the book;

 “Johnny was high-strung anyway, a nervous wreck from getting belted every time he turned around and from hearing his parents fight all the time. Living in those conditions might have turned someone else rebellious and bitter; it was killing Johnny.”

Rebellious and bitter, huh? Sounds like Steve Randle to me. His presence in the book is to show what kids in Johnny’s situation but without Johnny’s kindness turn into. Yes, Dally foils him a bit in this regard too, but I think Steve is a better, more in your face example of it. Their are other pieces in the book too, that highlight Steve and Johnny’s similar upbringing and the effects it has had on them, without directly calling them out as foiling characters, such as the fact they’re the two members of the gang who Pony calls out as examples when he’s talking about starting smoking young (woohoo nicotine as a coping mechanism am I right?);

“Johnny had been smoking since he was nine; Steve started at eleven.”

Here, the linking of their names even in what Pony views as an innocuous thing- smoking isn’t a big deal to him- forces us as readers to think about why they started. Knowing that smoking is used by the greasers as a tool to help them calm down reminds us that at their core these characters aren’t so different, and they likely felt the need for nicotine to deal with horrible experiences Pony never had to. Ponyboy smokes a lot, and he started young too, but whatever his catalyst was, it wasn’t the same as Johnny or Steve’s.

Yet another attribute that links them as characters is their fierce independence. Johnny is young, and the gang is protective of him, but as his core he is incredibly self sufficient because he has to be. He finds himself places to sleep, is forced to provide himself with food, and prior to being jumped was fine walking by himself. Steve works for a living, and much like Johnny, he too has to find himself a place to sleep and food to eat on the nights where he isn’t safe to be at home. Both Steve and Johnny are also incredibly protective in their own ways, especially of their more ‘innocent’ best friends (Soda is less innocent than Pony by a long shot, but he is still used to a modicum of security that Steve isn’t.) Steve gets angry at Ponyboy on Soda’s behalf when he asks about Sandy, even though Pony had no way of knowing what happened. Johnny kills Bob for Pony and looks out for him a whole lot in the church, then later sacrifices himself when he pushes Pony out of the fire. To their buddies, their main ‘safe’ zones, both Steve and Johnny are ride or die.

Finally, an important scene that rounds out my analysis of them as foils, is when Dally dies and Steve breaks down crying. 

“Steve stumbled forward with a sob, but Soda caught him by the shoulders.”

Here we see Steve Randle pushed to his limit- and Steve’s breaking point leads to tears, whereas Johnny’s breaking point pushed him to kill Bob. There’s a subversion of their roles here, where the usually cold, bitter, hateful Steve shows a sensitive side, and quiet little Johnny Cade gets rough and cold. To me, this just shows once again, how they’re very similar characters, with similar trauma, that has simply shaped them differently and made them tough in different ways. Steve, with bravado, craving a fight all the time because he can’t fight the helplessness or the feelings of being stuck; Johnny, resigned to his lot in life and tough because of it, seeking out love when he knows he will never find it where he wants it; but at their cores the both of them are battered, lonely kids who were forced to grow up way too fast. 

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 17

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

Drew Tanaka's True Love Connections by @buoyantsaturn

Will smiled. "I have an appointment next door with the, uh… Matchmaker lady?” He winced at his own awkwardness, trying to bite back the embarrassment he felt. “Well, actually my friend set it up for me, but-- Sorry, do you know anything about her? The matchmaker lady, not my friend, I mean. I’m just not sure what to expect, you know? I’ve never, uh, done something like this before.” 

THIS WAS SO SICK I LOVED IT!!!!!! flowershop au with a twist oh yes ma’am. also im so pumped drew was in this every time i see her im like hello my love how are you

2. just desserts by @thegoldenappleofdiscord

It’s just a cupcake, Nico reminds himself. Surely that justifies breaking into the infirmary at the break of dawn. or: nico's love language is baking and will solace gets a lot of cake as a result.

end note hate me GIGGGGLIIING. also i am OBSESSED with this author but i haven’t read the solangelo book yet so i haven’t read a lot of her stuff and i’m DYING to. this was as sweet as nico's baking fr!! i'm writing less of a note on this fic (altho i love it) bc the WORDS i have to say about the next one,,,

3. caught in the river of tears that i cried by @thegoldenappleofdiscord*

In all honesty, it was really for the best that Will didn’t think about all the strange things that sometimes happened around him. After all, his mama had more than enough on her plate already. He was a good kid, and it was best everything stayed as it were. (Though admittedly, the flock of flesh-eating maniac pigeons, men with hooves, and the growing darkness in his veins might just make this a tiny bit more difficult than he anticipated) or: will can only push down a part of him for so long (will has plague powers, but he's known it from the very start.)

UPDATE WHEN UPDATE WHEN UPDATE WHEN REESE PLEASE 😭😭i am genuinely so obsessed with this fic and the WAY everything is woven together....like fear is a driving force!! you can feel it!! this is one of those starred fics fr bc it Changed the way i wrote and characterized will. he is fr a character who has been controlled by fear his Whole life actually. of the world and what it takes from him. of the Fates that do not care for your fragile love. of the things they are forced to do. of the precarity of life. and perhaps most intimately and ardently Himself, and the abilities he does not want to have, the life he does not want to live. the parts of himself that do not fit in the mold he has Built for himself and Forced himself into. and this fic shows that so so beautifully like this story is Woven.....i think about it literally all the time it's insane

4. a handful of almosts by @thegoldenappleofdiscord

He’d said it so easily: “Best friends don’t do that to each other, Will.” It had been a throwaway comment after Will decimated him in a card game, which was usually Nico’s forte. Following that had been a furious, “Besides, it’s war. Entirely luck-based. Winning this game doesn’t mean anything. Stop laughing – why the hell are you laughing?” He’d mostly been laughing because of Nico’s expression – eyebrows drawn tight, mouth twisted in an adorable scowl – but also because of the sudden elation pumped into him like helium. They were best friends – and maybe someone else would be hopeful for more, and maybe one day he'll pursue it (he did want it, had wanted it for a long time) but for now, he’s content where they are, sitting in Nico’s room and cursing at each other through a deck of cards. or: 5+1 of will solace being a pining loser

A HANDFUL OF ALMOSTS!!! WHAT!!! every once and a while u just hit a title that Hits u u know. like a handful of almosts. yeah. what a deeply poignant and tragic thing. how fitting for the pjoverse, a universe of people who are haunted by their almosts. god. and then to turn around and make this story FLUFFY?? MAKE IT THE CUTEST THING IN THE WORLD??? "will solace and his rose coloured glasses" REESE!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!

5. Damage Control by @nikkira

“I couldn’t save Lee. I couldn’t save Michael. I couldn’t save Silena.” “You saved Annabeth when she was stabbed, right? And Annabeth was kind of imperative to the whole saving the world effort. The people you save go on to do things and help people and save people. When you lose someone, you lose them. But when you save someone, you save a dozen more people.”

"i dream of the people i could not save. they're mad at me." oh i am UNWELL. ill i tell you. i read this line and had to sit down for a little while like actually. one thing about will solace is that he never stops punishing himself and no one got that like this fic nine years ago

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 16

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Happy Wednesday. I didn't have to change this because apparently the last time I updated was also a Wednesday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You look in the mirror, the steam receding to the frame. You look tired. You feel it. 

You put away the bottles you used for your bath and try some of the brown sugar moisturizer, hoping it might ease the dry spots left from the friction of your pillow. You cap it and place it in the basket with the rest.

You hang your towel on the rack and flip back the silver tab of the lock. You come out into the hall and nearly trip on your own toes. Andy stands casually against the wall, a dark blue towel folded over one arm, his phone in his other hand as he looks at you over the top.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I hope… hope I didn't take too long…"

"Nah, haven't been waiting long," he smiles and scratches his beard, a few tufts out of place as you hear the coarse graze of his fingertips, "sleep okay?"

You lie, "yes…You?"

"God knows I tried," he shrugs as he stands straight, "pretty shaken by the cops swinging by, you know?"

"Uh, sure," you tuck your lip under your teeth, "sorry–"

"You're not the one who needs to apologize," he waves you off and taps his thumb on the side button of his phone, crossing his arms, a gesture that emphasizes his size. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you something before I start the day."

"Oh?" Your brows squiggle together. What have you done wrong now?

"Did you wanna come to the library? I figured if you need to put together a resume for your application I could get together a few resources. It'd be a quiet place to work." He looks almost nervous as you watch his hand squeeze his phone tighter, knuckles white, "we could get some tea down at the cafe, maybe some lunch?"

You consider him and his request. It isn't a bad idea. You don't know where to start with a resume. You only imagine a blank piece of paper, as empty as your life. You try to smile, your cheeks dimpling painfully.

"Okay," you agree. 

You don't know you have the courage to say no. It is his house and it's a thoughtful idea. Amber always said you should get out when you feel grey… Amber…

"I'll go get my tablet," you say to chase away your sadness, "thanks, Andy."

"No problem," he takes a breath, relief uncoiling the tension from him. Had he really been so anxious? "You're the one doing me a favour, so thank you."

"I am?"

"Yeah, I won't complain for the company and it'll give me something to look forward to," he moves towards the bathroom door as you sidle out of his way. His hand seems to float over your shoulder just before you elude it. Instead he presses it to the door. "I'll try to hurry."

🕊️

It feels almost surreal to be back at the library. It's a reminder of everything that's happened. All that's changed.

Andy brings you in with him as he opens. You stand at the counter and watch him. He does everything with graceful certainty. It makes you insecure, there's nothing you know how to do so effortlessly.

When the library opens, it remains quiet. Andy gathers a few books for reference and you take them to the basement, wary of getting in his way as the first patrons arrive. You're much more comfortable in the isolated underground. 

You claim your usual spot and prop your tablet up in its case sideways. You open a book and delve into the basic formatting of a resume. You type your name at the top but the next line stumps you. Address? What do you put? Andy's? You don't even know it.

You skip that and put your email. Phone number? Yeah, not that either.

You work slowly. Your frustration mounts as you distract yourself with making neat margins and inserting lines over inputting any information. You have nothing to add. No skills, no experience, no value. 

You put your head in your hands and take a deep breath. You're overwhelmed by this simple task. How can you expect to have a job? Like Andy and Amber and everyone else. Everything that is so easy for them is almost impossible for you. You are dumb and worthless.

You stay like that for a while, staring at the table, fighting back tears. What are you going to tell Andy? That you're a loser. That all those expectations he has, you can't meet. Maybe you deserve everything you get, maybe Amber didn't deserve the blight of your existence.

"You're here," her voice draws your head up, as if you summoned her with your thoughts.

You blink, not believing she's real. Amber rushes forward and you sit back, staring wide eyed, terrified at her. She winces and stays on the other side of the table.

"What… why are you looking at me like that?" She clasps her hands together, "please, just listen, please," she pulls out the chair and sits, stretching and arm across the table, "I'm not here to argue–"

"How did you find me?"

"It's not that hard, I know you. I'm your sister."

You fold your arms, shrinking down, brow furrowing, heart sinking. Why is she doing this? She's only her to make you feel worse.

"I'm not here to argue, alright? I just want you to hear me."

"You called the police," you accuse.

"You left in the middle of the night," she hisses, "what was I supposed to do? I was scared."

"And so was I," you snap back. "I'm fine…" you look down and spread your hands over the pages, pushing the book flat, "I'm going to get a job."

She pauses and looks down at the book. She leans in and nods.

"That's great," she forces out stuntedly, "I can help if–"

"No," you shake your head.

She sits back and sighs, "what did I do?" 

"I told you. I'm not a child."

"I know you aren't, bubba."

"Bubba?! You talk to me like I am."

She seals her lips and swallows your word with another nod. She puts her hands on the table, as if steadying herself.

"Right, I'm not going to talk to you like a child. I'm just going to say what I came to say and you can choose to hear me or not." She takes a breath and sets her jaw, "that man does not want to help you. You can't see it but he doesn't want what's best for you, I do.

"I know you've made your choice but it's the wrong one. I can't change your mind, police said they won't bring you back, but I can at least try to talk some sense into you. You do what you want, be the adult you claim to be, but at the end of the day, you're my sister and you always will be.

"Bubba, if this all goes wrong, when it does, I will be waiting. My door is open. Today, tomorrow, in a week, a year, whenever you need me–"

She shudders as her eyes glisten and she puts her palm to her chest, "please just think about what you're doing."

You drop your chin. Your heart clenches. Amber always sounds right. She's always been there but you just can't go back. It feels cowardly to change your mind just because you have to do things for yourself. 

And you just don't believe her. You want to so bad but you see what she's doing. Andy showed you what to look for; she's playing the victim. She hurt you, you didn't hurt her. She couldn't handle you being out of control and now she's panicking.

"Bub…" she utters. You just stare at your lap. "Let me know if you need anything. I'll bring you whatever you want–"

"Hoovering," you whisper, tilting your head up slightly at Amber's confused hum, "it's when a narcissist tries to win back someone they lost. Through spontaneous contact and making empty promises…"

"Bubba, how– I wouldn’t do that."

"I thought you wouldn't… before."

She lingers for a moment. She stands slowly and fixes her purse on her shoulder. She looms over the table and lets out a shallow breath that sounds like a sob.

"You know I'll pick up the phone. I'll be there…" she drags her fingers across the table, "whenever you need me."

She hesitates before she turns to leave. You hear her gulping as she steps between the shelves and steps shuffle out from the staircase.

"Hey, what are you–" Andy's accusation fills the silence, "dove! Are you okay?"

"Shut up," Amber growls, "and don't touch me." You look up as she shoves away his hand on her arm, "I'm leaving…" her voice is sticky with repressed grief, "she won't listen. Are you happy you fucking monster?"

He squares his shoulders and looks at her, glares down his nose, "I'm helping her. Something you never did."

"Fuck yourself. If you hurt her, I will–"

"That won't work. You're not going to stand here and scare her," he snarls, "so go."

They lock in a staredown before Amber elbows past him, marching to the stairs and stopping to look back down at the aisle. You sink down and cover your face. You feel a pit swallowing up. This shouldn't be so hard. None of it. Writing this damn resume or living your own life. It's so hard.

🕊️

You sit in the cafe, watching the street through the window from your seat in the corner. You feel as if you're outside your own body, like you're floating over the pedestrians, watching from some secret tower. You close your eyes and see the blank document etched into your retinas. 

The clink of a dish brings your head up. You sit back, limp and barely able to support your own weight. You just feel empty.

Andy sets down a sandwich before you, beside the steaming tea you hadn't touched. He gives a sheepish smile as your eyes bore past him. He sits and places a napkin beside you plate.

Neither the sight or scent of food can stir your appetite. You can't even remember the last time you ate. Last night you pushed around the casserole noodles until he stopped paying attention.

"Looks good," he says as he reaches for his foamy coffee. "I grabbed a little surprise for dessert tonight," he says as he sets his cup down and pats his jacket pocket.

You nod and clear your throat. The simple act hurts.

"Thank you," you force out.

"Well," he hovers his hand over his plate, "dig in. It looks delicious and I'm sure you're starving."

"Uh, sure," you drone and consider the thick sandwich; a croissant stacked with turkey and swiss, a leaf of lettuce and slice of tomato peeking out.

You grab your cup instead and take a swig. You hum, "I didn't even try my tea," you distract him, "how's your coffee?"

"Good, mocha usually isn't my thing but not bad. Gotta try new things, right, dove?"

"Mhmm," you peel away the edge of the lettuce and make yourself nibble it. It tastes awful. Everything is terrible.

"Been a good day, so far, not too busy," he carries on, "how's the resume coming?"

You shrug, "not done…"

He clucks and nods, letting out a long breath. He leans forward and picks up his ham and cheddar on rye. He takes a bite as you tear away some of the croissant and pretend to chew on the end.

"So… guess we should talk," he swallows, "about your sister."

"I don't want to," you whine, "please–"

"I need to know what she said, honey. To protect you. Like last night, hm? When she sent the cops after you like some criminal."

"She was only worried," you rebuff.

"About herself. About making herself feel better by standing on your back," he puts and elbow on the table, lowering his brow in a serious way, "I tell you every day you can do anything, and what did she ever do but tell you not to even try."

You frown. Your heart is in pieces. You don't want to be here. You don't want to be anywhere.

"I'll keep working on my resume," you say, "I'll be done it soon."

He huffs and sniffs at his sandwich before taking another bite. He is silent as he swallows, his gaze weighing on you.

"We can get a box if you wanna take that back with you. No eating in the stacks but just don't let anyone see."

"Thank you, Andy," you say, "I'll be hungry later for sure."

"Mhmm," he taps his foot under the table, letting the silence hang.

You cross your arms and sit back, looking past him to the street again. You wish you had somewhere to be with a briefcase, or were running to catch a bus, you wish you had any purpose but to be a burden.

🕊️

You put the casserole in as Andy mutters to himself and flips through the channels. He says there's some ball game on. You're happy he at least had something to fill the void of your conversations.

You wait in the kitchen. You watch the timer countdown and when it dings you take out the pan. You set it on the counter and scoop out a healthy helping into a plate. You take a fork and knife and rest it on the rim, going to stand in the archway that looks into the front room.

"Do you wanna eat here or at the table?"

Andy looks over, his arm stretched over the back cushion of the grey couch.

"I'll come eat with you," he volunteers as he sits forward.

"No, it's okay. I'm going to lay down… I have a headache."

"A headache? I have advil," his forehead creases with concern.

"Already took something. I think it's going to rain…"

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I… was looking forward to eating together."

"It's okay. Tomorrow," you promise, "please, enjoy and watch your game."

His mouth slants as you approach and put the plate on the coffee table. You feel uneven and wobbly. You just want to sleep until you can't wake up.

"I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow," you step back and hide a yawn behind your hand.

"I hope so," he says, "I'll check on you before I turn in. Just to make sure you're okay."

"You don't have to…"

"I want to," he insists, "you know where to find me if you need anything.'

You slowly back away. You turn and drag your feet to the door. You don't need anything but to be alone.