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Drunken Love

A/N: OMG guys, it took forever to write this due to my busy schedule as of late, but my classes are now complete. Hooray! 😆🥳 Thank you all for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. ❤️❤️ Art generated on: niji・journey

🥃staring: FatherBestFriend!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

      🍴preview: Without looking at him, you nodded, feeling his burly arm around your waist and soon his breath fanning against your ear. “I want you to forget about your troubles and give your worries to me to bear.” He uttered, caressing your lower back in gentle, loving circles. 

“And in return, allow me to make things better for you, mi amor.” 

💰summary: After four years of studying abroad, you return home to a 'Welcome Home' party hosted by your father. However, you quickly realize that nothing has changed—your father remains the same rude and selfish man, solely focused on money and his business. As before, you're expected to conform to his strict rules and spend your days under his watchful eye. But with just a glance, Miguel O’Hara, your father’s best friend and business partner, seems to shatter all your desires to comply with your father's suffocating expectations, and offers an enticing escape...

Just like before…

🔥tw/cw: Age Gape, Big Dick Miguel, Body Worship, Car Sex, Cock Bulge, Cunnilingus, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Forbidden love, Modern AU, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Size Difference

❤️‍🔥Pet names: Amor (Love), Bebè (Baby), Cariño (Darling), Mi amor (My love) Princesa (Princess), Querida (Dear)

     🖤Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

 🥀 Word Count: 8.2k words

As you stepped through the wrought iron gates of your father’s manor, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. It had been four years since you last set foot here, having been away studying abroad. Now, back home, everything felt familiar...

But not in a good way.

The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the aroma of sizzling meat on the grill, filling the air as your heels clicked cautiously on the smooth paved pathways leading to the center of your father’s luxurious backyard, where your 'Welcome Home' party was to be held. Yet, deep down, you knew it wouldn’t be the warm reception you hoped for.

The atmosphere exuded polished formality, with every blade of grass meticulously groomed to perfection. The yard held an aura that compelled one to straighten their posture and don their most radiant smile. Small tables, draped with white cloth, adorned the grassy area, displaying an array of finger foods and appetizers. Servants circulated with trays of alcoholic beverages, adding to the air of sophistication. Every attendee was elegantly attired, clad in lavish dresses, uptight suits, diamond necklaces, and gold bands, engaged in hushed gossip in small groups.

‘No wonder Jessica styled me this way,’ you thought, scanning the guests who greeted you with smiles, waves, and brief 'Welcome back's.' Jessica Owens, your personal assistant whom you hadn’t seen in years, had welcomed you at the airport and accompanied you to select a divine outfit tailored to your tastes for the occasion.

A one-shoulder column sequin dress hugged your figure, its scarlet red fabric boasting a leg slit that offered a glimpse of the matching closed-toe, ankle strapped heels you wore. Bold chandelier earrings adorned your ears, drawing attention to your exposed shoulder, while a delicate bracelet with sparkling gemstones adorned your wrist, subtly shimmering in the light.

Makeup further accentuated your beauty—a radiant red lip, sultry eyes, and flawless complexion with highlights completed your look. Your hair, styled as per Jessica's suggestion, cascaded around your face, having been released from an updo to frame your features perfectly.

You could feel eyes on you from every direction, a sensation you didn’t miss on your time away. The overwhelming attention began to stir a wave of nervousness within you. Seeking a moment to collect yourself, you slipped away to a secluded corner of the gathering, observing the events of your supposed 'Welcome Back' party from afar.

Musicians played a steady and upbeat tune, chatter and fraudulent giggles echoed throughout the night. Amongst the festivities, an even more rambunctious laugh caught your attention.

Your father, gleaming in a tailored suit, stood at the center of the gathering. Just like you remembered, his smile was as polished and white as the silverware laid out on the tables, scrubbed to perfection and shining like stars. Studying your father like a book, you couldn’t help but notice his forced chuckles and strained cheeks from grinning too much, a sight that churned your stomach.

After all these years, he remained unchanged—viewing you as nothing more than a tool for gaining him attention.

So why the hell did you expect a warm hug and genuine affection from him without a crowd present? 

Rolling your eyes, you politely signaled to a nearby server to fetch a champagne glass from his tray. You knew you would need it to endure the rest of the evening filled with your father's rehearsed conversations and gestures.

Taking a long sip from your glass, relishing its divine taste and the sizzling burn down your throat. Upon lifting it from your lips with a contented sigh, a voice filled your ears, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"Look at you, all grown up."

The abruptness of the deep, Latino-accented words left you momentarily speechless, a whirlwind of emotions bursting inside you like fireworks against a starlit sky.

There was no mistaking whose voice it belonged to...

It was one you could never forget during your time away, and just thinking about him made butterflies dance in your belly.

"Miggy?" 

You called out the sweet nickname of the older male in shock, turning your gaze up to the towering figure before you, successfully avoiding choking on your champagne in the process.

True to form, his tan face retained its stoic expression, marked by a scowl, tight-knit bushy eyebrows, and stern amber eyes, yet even you could see the familiar corners of his lips draw up into a tight lipped smile. 

"It's nice to see you again, Y/N," he replied nonchalantly, causing your entire face to light up. "Miggy!" You exclaimed, throwing your free arm around his neck as he chuckled lowly at your enthusiasm.

"What did I tell you about hugs, hmm?" he inquired, practically whispering into your ear, though you couldn't ignore the loving undertone in his deep voice. "That you didn't like them, but I do it anyway," you giggled, standing on tiptoes to deepen the embrace due to his towering height. Despite himself, you felt one of Miguel's burly arms wrap around you, pulling you close in return.

You sighed in contentment, his body heat engulfing your smaller self compared to his massive 6’9 height and muscular figure. The Latino's woodsy and wealthy cologne clouded your senses just like before, as the nostalgic feeling of security filled your being. 

I take it you missed me, Cariño," he uttered from above you, his gruff voice rumbling through the expanse of his chest. You nodded, snuggling into his beige collared and button-up top, eliciting a rare hum of contentment from the typically stoic man.

After a while, his arm gave your body another comforting squeeze before reluctantly pulling away. You pushed back the pang of sadness at his sudden absence of warmth.

Clearing your throat, you redirect your focus, following Miguel's gaze to the bustling, fancy gathering, a tranquil silence settling between the two of you.

"How was studying abroad?" Miguel's deep voice, though always soothing, retained its usual coldness. "It was honestly fun," you smiled, recalling the freedom you enjoyed without the scrutiny of your father's strict eye. To your surprise, Miguel scoffed in amusement, shaking his head.

Your eyebrows raised in confusion, and you turned to see him taking a sip from the glass of bourbon you hadn't noticed before in his hand. "What is it?" you urged, causing him to shake his head dismissively once more. But upon his amber eyes catching your growing pout, an expression you knew was always his weakness, he heaved a sigh.

"Dios mío, ese maldito puchero tuyo…" He muttered under his breath, turning to face you fully. "I'm not... pleased with the amount of 'fun' you had away," the older male stated, leaving you confused.

"W-what are you talking about?" you chuckled, watching him nod towards your champagne glass. "You are drinking... You didn't before," he acknowledged.

You followed his gaze to your half-empty champagne glass, a remnant of your previous gulp. "Why does it matter? It's just one glass," you stated, emphasizing your point with another sip, which seemed more like a gulp in Miguel's eyes.

"Querida, before, you could barely handle half a glass, let alone one," he scolded, unable to tear his eyes away from your alcoholic beverage. You gave Miguel a small smile, his overprotectiveness—a trait you actually missed while you were away—evident in every word he uttered.

"Relax," you tried to reassure. "I can handle my alcohol now, Miggy. There's no need to worry." At your words, he huffed, turning his gaze from you back to the gathering unfolding before you. "So you went abroad to become a party animal?" he asked under his breath, the question unsettling you like a disturbed hive. Your face twisted in confusion and a hint of hurt at his comment. "No, I didn't. I went because I wanted to, something I see you still do not understand," you explained, feeling your fingers tighten around the underside of your glass in growing irritation.

Miguel sighed in disapproval, taking a gulp of his dark brown drink. "I just find it hard to believe," he replied. "Studying abroad of all places?" he chuckled, tapping his ringed middle finger against his glass. "I didn't take you as someone to run away from your problems, princesa."

"I didn't run away," you retorted, shooting him a small glare before finding your eyes drawn to your father, who was shaking hands with a well-dressed man and woman. The more you stared at your 53-year-old father, the more your thoughts churned. 

‘Did you leave because of your father?’ you pondered as he was indeed one of the reasons, but mainly you departed to study far away from home to pursue your dreams—something your father greatly opposed.

Being away from your father and his strict rules felt like taking a breath of fresh air. It was the most free you had ever felt. But now, back home, the overwhelming restrictions and harsh regulations felt suffocating, and you wanted nothing more than to retreat back to the paradise you found on your own…

Your thoughts were soon interrupted when a set of ringed fingers gently cupped your chin, turning you to meet the owner of such calloused digits.

With surprise, you found yourself face-to-face with Miguel, his features still stern, his jaw clenched, but his touch gentle, and the coldness in his eyes replaced with something softer.

"I missed you, mi amor..." 

He whispered suddenly, his thumb caressing your skin affectionately. Your heart fluttered at the vulnerability in his words, as memories of every moment spent with him flooded back: Every conversation, every touch, every kiss, and every passionate night rose to the surface of your mind. 

Like a reviving fire, his mere words set your body ablaze. 

You never saw Miguel in this state, never heard him utter something affectionate to you as his love was mostly shown through his actions, making his confession leave you shocked and speechless...

Despite your disapproval and your desire for him to move on, Miguel had waited for you as he promised. The thought of you being gone from his side was unbearable for him. 

Every waking moment was excruciating, every sleeping night insufferable.

He knew how much you wanted to pursue your own dreams and be free of your father, whom Miguel knew all too well as someone very snobbish and selfish. But being away from you for so long was a pain he couldn't bear.

You and Miguel loved each other in secret, the two of you became so good at pretending, one only saw you two as just friends. But your father and Miguel were close—

Very close.

Miguel and your father were business partners before they were best friends. Your father managed the finances and marketing of their shared bourbon line, while Miguel owned distilleries and oversaw production, even owning his own bars where his bourbon was the highlighted beverage.

Their booming business soon forged a friendship, and like welcoming one to the family, your father introduced Miguel to you.

At the time, you were young, and Miguel was evidently older, but when your eyes met, you both fell hard.

You started off as friends, Miguel being a wise, older male you went to for advice, and you were someone who kept Miguel company, even though he once adored being alone. 

The more time you spent together, the deeper your feelings grew, until you both made it official to date in secret.

From then on, private getaways, hidden touches, and shared nights of passion became the norm, despite knowing how enraged your father would be if he discovered such a thing. But neither of you minded; staying attentive and careful kept your secret safe.

It wasn't until you confided in Miguel about your desires to leave and study abroad that reality kicked in.

All at once, your hidden life of fantasy collapsed.

You were going to leave to pursue your dreams, departing from Miguel for four years...

Miguel loathed that, and even more, he despised your reasoning. He wanted it to be because of your strict father, the overbearing rules he'd set upon you. Miguel didn't mind if you left because of him even! But you weren't going for either of those reasons.

"For me, Miggy. I want to go for myself," were the words you stated when he inquired why you must go.

He detested your reason because he knew he shouldn't fight you in the matter; it was what you desired. But he was selfish—possessive even. He wanted you, needed you by his side, so he couldn't accept you leaving him.

Many arguments ensued on the matter. He demanded you to stay, while you found every good reason to leave and achieve your dreams, ones that your father opposed you seeking. It ultimately led to you deciding to put an end to your secret relationship with Miguel.

It wasn't because of the many fights and arguments, but because you knew he loved you too much—too much that you didn't want him to miss you so intensely that it hurt, to the point where it would leave him in an irreparable state. 

To spare you distress and further heartbreak, Miguel agreed to end things, despite his sorrow and disdain at the thought of breaking up. However, while you were concerned about his emotional stability, Miguel's workaholic tendencies got the best of him after your departure—a trait only you could suppress.

He threw himself into his shared bourbon business with your father, meticulously tasting from each of his twenty distilleries, meeting daily with all his workers for updates, making significant improvements on the bars he oversaw, and even holding one-on-one meetings with your father to explore new ways to expand their bourbon industry. He became addicted to caffeine and deprived himself of sleep, to the point where hibernation seemed like the only cure to replenish his exhausted body. 

Miguel worked tirelessly in this manner simply to avoid missing you, and he consumed so much of his own bourbon that he might as well have emptied an entire distillery on his own.

Nevertheless, his attempts were useless…

Miguel thought of you and craved you every day. He spent his days recalling every aspect of you: your smile, your laugh, your fragrance, your hair, your body, and even your affection, which he once found discomforting due to his lack of familiarity with it, but now desired more than ever.

Despite Miguel's best efforts to forget you, he only fell deeper in love with you.  

His days of agony came to an end when Miguel was invited to dinner and golfing with your father. There, on the field, Miguel discovered that you'd be returning back home—back to him.

His heart skipped a beat at the exciting news, leaving him unable to perform a good swing as his golf game with your father proceeded; but to hell with it...

You were returning, and that was all that mattered.

On the day of your Welcome Back party, he found himself picky over his outfit, clicking his tongue and angrily muttering in Spanish at every disappointing attire he came across... until he found the one.

A beige, loosely buttoned top, styled with a matching sienna brown blazer and dress pants was his selection. Pairing it with his attire, he added dark umber oxfords.

To accessorize, the Latino added a complementary belt that matched his shoes and a classic watch with brown leather straps. Gold rings adorned his thick fingers, and a simple chain graced his exposed, muscular throat.

As he put on his outfit for the party, he found himself more nervous than excited. The last few times he'd seen you weren't on good terms. The days of secret getaways, kisses, and passionate touches always led to an argument about your departure, so he was worried you'd still be upset with him…

At the gathering, he found himself eagerly watching the entrance for you, his glass of bourbon in hand. His heart rose and fell with each arrival of another lavishly dressed guest, leading him to believe you wouldn't show.

Until you did...

It felt like everything stopped—the melodic tunes from the musicians faded away, the jumbled conversing of the partygoers ceased—as the only thing he heard was his heart beating loudly against his chest.

You were always beautiful to the older male, but tonight, after not seeing you for so long, you were utterly breathtaking.

His gaze trailed along your figure, remembering all the times he held your form in his hands, felt your body heat, and soft skin. He instantly noticed how enticing that scarlet dress hugged your body, teasing him to do the unthinkable right there, be damned to who was watching.

But amidst his burning desire, in that moment, he could only think one thing, and one thing only: 

"Gosh, I've missed you..." 

Before he could ponder or stop himself, he found himself leaving his spot to walk over to you, and the closer he got, the more his heart felt like it wanted to burst from his chest as flashes of what you shared before played on repeat in his head.

And now as you gazed up into Miguel's hardened amber eyes, you could see love for you in them. His thumb gently tracing patterns along your chin as you were still processing his touch, the closeness and the confession that spilled from his lips.

‘He... missed me?’ You repeated to yourself, almost finding it unbelievable if it wasn't for how he was looking at you as if you were the only woman in the room.

“M-Miggy…” You whispered when suddenly your heart dropped at the sound of another voice approaching.

“Why, if it isn't my little angel?”

Like the speed of light, you jumped away from Miguel to cast your eyes onto your father, instinctively gaining the urge to hide behind your champagne glass.Miguel's face returned to its usual expression of stoicism, hating how the both of you were interrupted. 

“Hello, father,” you said, lacking your previous enthusiasm that you showed Miguel, however, your father ignored you, hastily turning his eyes to his best friend and business partner instead. “And, of course, Miguel O'Hara,” your father grinned, giving the Latino a firm handshake before going into a ramble. “I'd love to set a meeting with you about the idea of releasing a limited-edition bourbon,” he proposed in a jolly tone, business seeming to be the only topic he spoke of.

“Imagine just how much buzz would circulate amongst customers, the collectors, and don't forget the drive sales,” your father beamed at the thought as you watched the interaction between the two men in silence.

Miguel simply grunted to show his attentiveness, but neither agreed nor disagreed with your father's business idea. “I'd rather enjoy welcoming your daughter home. We can speak about business at another time,” Miguel stated, casting a glance over at you before turning his sharp gaze back to your father.

Your dad's smile faltered at being dismissed, clearing his throat. “Of course, of course,” he concurred, turning to you due to Miguel’s mentioning of you, his daughter. “I'm happy you are… back, daughter. I hope you used your time away wisely,” he added, causing your eyebrows to narrow. ‘Wisely? What the hell does that mean?!’ you thought, knowing your father was an expert at backhanded comments and sly insults that can be described like poisoned cake—you never noticed the venom underneath his sweetness.

“I did. I enjoyed doing something to benefit myself for a change,” you politely said, adding more salt into the wound by downing the rest of your champagne. Your father's eyes looked down at your empty glass and then at you in irritation.

Casting a fake smile, he glanced at Miguel. “My apologies in advance, my friend, but it's nothing new seeing my disobedient daughter behave so poorly,” your father said, feeling your stomach twist into knots when he looked back at you, his facade of kindness dissolved into a snarl. “She thinks that she owns the place after leaving for a few years, it's only right I put her back in her place,” your father stated to Miguel, more than you.

Keeping your gaze on your horrible parent rather than the older Latino, you waited for your father's harsh words knowing they were to rain down on you like hellfire, and like anticipated…

it did…

“Listen here, girl, you might have fled from here for whatever reason, but I didn't,” he spat, eyes full of hatred staring back at you. “Without me, our family name would have been forgotten long ago; but for the entirety of my fifty-three years of life, I've worked my ass off to provide for us, and I'll continue to do so until my dying breath,” he said in anger between the three of you.

“And now that you've returned, I won't allow my selfish brat of a daughter to ruin things for me,” your father growled as you narrowed your eyes at him, reciprocating his disdain, but it only seemed to amuse him even more. He chuckled, giving your cheek a harsh pinch. “So do not think being away changes a thing, I expect the same from you as before—obedience and perfection,” he said, patting your face with each word. “Understand, or do I need Miguel here to say it in Spanish for you?” he asked with a smirk as it took everything to prevent the frustrated and angry tears from spilling down your cheeks.

You couldn't hear or see anything or anyone, only feel the overwhelming feeling of entrapment once again. It engulfed your being, feeling like a pair of hands were strangling you, and you were powerless against it…

All over again.

With a shaky breath, you stared back at him with eyes full of raging fire. “Yes…I fucking understand,” you said through gritted teeth, causing the businessman to laugh.

“Good and clean that attitude, girl. I never did like that mouth of yours,” he said, glancing over at Miguel, whose face was still completely hardened, emotionless, but a kinder tone was used by your father when speaking with him. “If you'd like, the meat is being served at the buffet table as we speak, my friend. I heard it's very tender and is satisfactory when hot,” your father smiled. “But I hope you enjoy the gathering. Miguel. Daughter,” he growled, casting you a glare and a hint of disgust found in the way he addressed you before he departed entirely—disappearing into the bustling yard of elegantly clothed persons and leaving you enraged. 

You stared at the spot your father previously stood in, a blazing fire of anger sizzling inside your being. Gripping your wine glass so tightly your knuckles whitened, you turned on your heel, shoving the empty cup into a passing servant's hands on your way out. 

Everything faded around you as the only thing you desired in that moment was getting away—from this party, rich society, and most importantly, your asshole of a father. You didn’t walk far before a large hand grasped your wrist, pulling you into a secluded spot out of the ear and eyeshot of the partygoers.

With a piercing gaze, you looked up, ready to release the fury that had grown inside of you when your eyes met Miguel’s narrowed, yet, concerned ones. His towering frame cornered you against the trunk of one of your father’s massive oak trees in his backyard, a tree he ordered to be particularly planted in this area.

Although Miguel normally didn’t care for others, finding empathy a hard thing, his heart tugged whenever you became like this. “Are you alright? It looks like you want to strangle someone?” He asked, amber eyes tracing every detail of your face in search of what you were feeling inside, but your turmoil was evident.

You released an unsteady exhale, the calm before the brewing storm. “Y-You saw him!” You exclaimed. “T-That rich bastard that has his money shoved so far up his damn ass, he’ll probably believe the sky is green if it means his pockets will be filled.” You ranted in anger, every word making you feel so much better, leaving you to continue your spurge. “And he’s so controlling that it’s suffocating; whenever my father is in the room…, I-I feel like I’m dying, Miguel.” The confession left your lips before you could stop yourself, angry tears beginning to run down your face.

“A-And, he pretends he’s such a great father, going around speaking of me—of my hobbies, interests, and so much more that is all bullshit. He doesn’t know and doesn’t care to know.” You cried, trying to wipe your cheeks clean of the tears, but they continued to fall despite your efforts. “My father only cares about himself, more than anything else.” You said in a brittle voice.

“The world can end tomorrow and he’ll still be trying to get over on everyone, and count every dime he has to make sure his pockets are hefty before his time ends.” You sniffled, shaking your head in irritation, the fury in your voice escaping into sorrow. “And…I’m just done. I can’t- I can’t do this anymore.” You admitted with a trembling sigh.

“I can’t be around him anymore, live with his lies, under his rules, and like I cannot exist in his presence.” You told Miguel as after your venting, you looked up at him to find his usual stoic features staring back at you. His tanned face devoid of emotion as he simply stood over you, listening like he always did.

You bit your lip, feeling a little embarrassed after saying so many deep things to Miguel—things you’ve never actually told him in-depth, but could simply be noticed as your father didn’t hold anything back from the rich Latino. “I’m sorry, I-I’ll just go.” You said, trying to walk around him when his hand was placed onto the tree behind you, blocking you under him. “No.” He said with the shake of his head, his coffee-brown curls swaying with the movement.

You gasped, eyes snapping up to meet him in confusion when his large hand cupped your rose-tinted cheek, his thumb delicately swiping away a stray tear. “I hated the way he speaks to you; I’ve always did.” He uttered, disdain found in his deep tone. “I’ve offered you many times in the past, Querida, to let me handle it— let me handle your father, and you turn me down each and every time.” He sighed, his amber orbs staring down at you in a blend of rage for the situation you were in, but also in sympathy.

A frown graced your lips, remembering what he spoke of. “Yes…I-I did, because it’s my burden to take on—my problem to deal with, not yours.” You tried to explain. “And if you intervene, it’ll surely ruin things with your shared business with my father.”

“To hell with it.” He spat, his hand moving from your cheek to grasp your hips possessively. “We've tried it your way for years and nothing has changed.” He retorted in anger. “Your father continues to treat you like muck on his shoe while I have to sit and watch.” Miguel said, his eyes narrowed in irritation, his jaw clenched, but his anger settled upon seeing your tears start to flow once more. 

“Listen to me, Cariño.” He began, staring into your eyes. “Your burdens are my burdens—your problems are my problems.” He said, determination etched on his tanned face. “I will not sit around any longer and allow your father to treat you like this, I can’t, and I won’t.” He blatantly told you.

Your heart fluttered at his words, despite not agreeing with Miguel's logic. Looking over his stern features, you could see that there was no way you could stop him—when his mind and heart were set on something, he sought to see it through. You averted your gaze away from the Latino, torn on the newfound decision he’d made. 

A quietness settled between the two of you, the gentle breeze of the wind, tunes and laughter from the distant party filling the silence.

Miguel's thick eyebrows furrowed, not expecting your reaction to be this. He rubbed your hip soothingly, trying to meet your gaze once more. “May you do something for me, Querida…? Y/N?” He said, your name being uttered by him was rare, using it only during serious talks, just like this one.

Without looking at him, you nodded, feeling his burly arm around your waist and soon his breath fanning against your ear. “I want you to forget about your troubles and give your worries to me to bear.” He uttered, caressing your lower back in gentle, loving circles.

“And in return, allow me to make things better for you, mi amor.” 

His words made your stomach flip as your head snapped to meet his gaze. Since you’ve arrived back home, a new side of Miguel has been introduced to you—one that you had never seen.

Before, he was always cold and stern, mostly only affectionate through a slight caress of the cheek, stroke of the hair, or even through a kiss that usually was controlled and led by him. 

He’d never actually spoken sentiments in this way to you, and it made you utterly speechless.

“M-Miggy, I-” You tried to reply but your brain had become mush. Miguel gave you a tight-lipped smile, shushing you with a shake of his head once more. “Come…” He simply whispered, taking your wrist and turning to leave when you hastily stopped him. “Wait, wait, we can’t just leave together. I-It’ll lead to suspicion,” you told the Latino. Despite your hate for your father and the status your family held, you didn’t want to anger him, nor damage his most cherished reputation, believing you’ll surely bring a monster out of your father if you did so.

Miguel looked back at you with tenderness in his eyes. “What did I tell you, hmm?” He asked with a smirk, his gaze instantly mesmerizing you and leaving you unable to speak once more. “Let me take care of things with your father and the rich assholes out there,” he assured in his gruff voice that usually held a rough edge, now gone and replaced with a loving tone that made you melt.

The Latino leaned in close to you, his arm pulling you to his body by your waist. Miguel gazed down at you, his rich, woodsy cologne filling your senses and the feeling of his pecs against your body made a rush of desire burn up inside of you, replacing the fire of hate you previously felt for your father. “Let me make things better for you, amor,” he told you once more, but this time, the adoration for you was evident in his voice.

Your heart skipped a beat, noticing just how close the two of you were—lips just a hair's breadth away. “O-Okay,” you finally mustered, unable to prevent yourself from pulling him into a searing kiss. Miguel groaned in surprise, his hand gripping your waist tightly while his other clawed into your hair, drawing you closer to him.

Gasps of air escaped you, incapable of stopping as with every kiss, it cured the need that you both craved of each other. Teeth clashed and tongues entwined, hands gripping clothes to try and close the nonexistent space between each of your bodies. You only parted when in the distance, a loud applause filled the air, one that startled you both.

Jumping in each other’s embrace, you shared a gaze over at the gathering to find your father in the center, continuing to entertain his guests, their attention solely on him.

You rolled your eyes at the anticipated sight, turning back to Miguel to see that he was already staring at you. His amber orbs burned with longing, and when he pulled you close once more, you could feel his evident bulge pressing into your thigh.

“I can't wait another minute, amor. I need you. Now,” he practically demanded in a hushed whisper into your ear, a kiss pressed upon your lobe following his desire. However, his words and arousal sparked a fire inside of you, matching his own longing.

With just a shared gaze, he knew your response without you having to utter a single word…

‘Let's get out of here.’

Your fingers combed through Miguel’s coffee brown curls, pulling him deeper into the intoxicating kiss you shared as his large hands roamed your bare skin. You moaned into his lips when his hand grasped your breasts, squeezing the sensitive flesh. His ministrations caused the peaked tips to harden as his fingers didn’t hesitate to flick and roll them. Miguel’s mouth continued to ravage yours, your moans becoming lost in your shared passion.

Your eyes fluttered, trying to recall past events on how the two of you ended up in the backseat of his black Lamborghini Urus, unclothed and practically devouring each other like two rabid animals; but the only thing that came to mind was the burning desire to feel him, touch him, taste him... 

Just like before...

“G-goodness, I missed you.” You whimpered between kisses, his lips trailing along your jaw as his massive body pressed you into the leather cushions, his heavy weight and body heat only arousing you further.

He breathlessly chuckled against your throat, pressing a final kiss to your skin before meeting your eyes. “As have I, mi amor,” he confessed, looking down at you with newfound love in his brown orbs. Your heart palpated at the sight as he leaned in to press another kiss to your lips. “Allow us to make up for lost time,” he whispered with a smirk. To your delight, he began to lower down your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake: on your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts, to your navel, and finally settling between your thighs.

He passionately kissed your sensitive, plush skin before lifting your legs up to drape over his broad shoulders, bringing himself face-to-face with what he truly desired. You gasped, your lower back arching and rising off the soft cushions of the truck's seat, thankful for the enormity of your father's best friend's vehicle, as it provided plenty of space for all the activities you wished to partake in.

Your breathing came out shaky from anticipation, the warm air from your lover's lips onto your moist core doing nothing to calm your excitement. “Are you going to make love to it or simply stare?” You asked, almost breathless despite not even reaching the peak of your intimacy yet.

Miguel laughed at your fervency, his massive body rumbling. He glanced down, his eyes meeting yours. “I'm just admiring what is mine, amor—what has been away from me for so long,” he huskily uttered, running his thumb delicately along your folds and pressing a tender kiss to your inner thigh, the sensation spreading through your body like wildfire.

“I... appreciate the admiration, but I don't think I can wait any longer,” you honestly told him with a small panting giggle. Reaching up to run your fingers through his brown curls, a deep hum of satisfaction escaped his throat at your touch.

"So eager for me, princesa. Always so eager," he groaned, pressing a kiss to your throbbing bud before flicking out his tongue to taste your arousal. The sensation eliciting a loud gasp from deep within your chest.

"Mierda, sabes tan bien… Tal y como lo recordaba," he rambled gruffly in Spanish, burying his face into your heat and wrapping his arms around your midsection to pull you closer. His desire to not part from between your thighs was evident in the growing tightness of his bulging biceps around you—his muscles gripping you in a vice like a starving man with his rations.

Your eyes rolled, the sensations so foreign yet familiar as his tongue seemed to be everywhere at once: circling your bud, thrusting into your entrance, and sucking at your soft folds. “O-Oh gosh!” you exclaimed, realizing just how much your body had been craving and missing his skillful intimacy, his age undoubtedly playing a role in his experience.

An unshakable burning sensation in the pit of your stomach began to brew, the position Miguel held you in leaving you only able to succumb to the pleasure he was bestowing upon you. Your hands tangled in his hair, not having anything else to grasp onto, while your back arched into his mouth, seeking more of his lips and tongue.

“Muy bien, babygirl. Hmm…let me taste you.” He groaned, his breath ragged with desire. His thumbs widened your pussy lips, your soft hood lifting to expose your bundle of nerves as he focused his ministrations on the pink pearl. Like his life was at stake, his tongue suckled and swirled on your throbbing bud in a frenzy until you were a trembling mess underneath him. 

“M-Miggy!” You cried out, convulsing and shaking in his arms. “I-I’m cumming!” You screamed out, feeling him smirk against your core. “That's my girl. Come for me, princesa,” he urged, his efforts intensifying as your sensitivity increased. With a cry of ecstasy, you released the coil of knots in your belly, feeling your thighs become drenched in your juices, eagerly slurped up by your lover.

Miguel adored when you were like this, a twitching, moaning puddle underneath him, knowing he was the sole cause of it. It always left him with a sense of pride. 

With his tongue, he traced a final circle around your folds and kissed your clit before lowering your legs back down upon the seats. He hummed in satisfaction at your flushed cheeks and heaving chest, finding the sight utterly beautiful.

“How’s my girl? Not too much, I hope?” he asked with a breathless chuckle, climbing up to brush a strand of your disheveled hair behind your ear and press a kiss to your temple. You sighed in contentment, his tenderness sending a wave of warmth through your being.

You shook your head at his inquiry, eyes slowly flicking up to meet his gaze above you. “No, I’m okay,” you replied, bringing a smile upon the normally scowling male’s face. “Muy bien. I’m not done with you just yet, baby girl,” he snickered, pressing his forehead against yours, his musk and cologne filling your senses. “I promised to make you feel better. I plan to stand by that,” he affirmed, gently pecking your lips. Your heart swelled, and your core throbbed back to life at his words. You returned his kiss eagerly, wrapping your arms around his muscular neck as his gold chain dangled from his throat.

When Miguel parted and gazed down at you, he saw nothing but devotion and love for him in your eyes—a sight that he’d never thought he’d see before. He nuzzled his face into your neck, relishing in your divine scent that he’d missed so much. Miguel’s hands caressed your bare waist, feeling the soft skin underneath his calloused, ringed fingers. His cock was painfully hard, the only thing soothing his need was the subtle grinding of his member against your thighs, and even still it wasn’t helping.

You bit your lip, feeling just how solid and needy he was, the knowledge only making you wetter. “M-Miggy…I need you,” you whimpered, wanting nothing more than to feel him after so long. Miguel grinned, finding your pleas to be music to his ears. He pressed a final kiss to your neck before parting, his hands grasping around your thighs to widen your legs for him.

A soft moan passed your lips at the contact of his tip brushing teasingly along your drenched folds, the erotic wet sounds echoing throughout the vehicle. “Are you ready for me, bebé?” Miguel practically groaned, his hand gripping your thigh, caressing gentle circles into your skin with his thumb. Biting your lip, you frantically nodded, unable to speak with how quickly your heart was beating and how filled with anticipation you were to be claimed by him again after your time apart.

Miguel growled at your response, guiding his length into your entrance as your joined moans filled the truck. You whined, feeling your walls stretch to accommodate his girthy length. “S-So big, Miggy,” you whimpered, burying your face into your arms. 

The Latino grunted, glancing up to see your concealed face. He took your arms in his hands, drawing, placing them to your sides to expose your facial features to his amber eyes. “I want to see you, amor,” he whispered. “I want to see my sweet girl’s face.” He murmured, leaning down to kiss your lips while waiting for you to adjust. 

Soft groans escaped him between kisses at each pulse of your walls around his length. Each peck of your lips was meant to be a cure for his burning desire to fuck your sweet pussy in total abandon after four years of being deprived of it; so he stuck to devouring your mouth whilst waiting for the magic words of your adjustment.

“I-I’m ready,” you told him between his intoxicating kisses, and Miguel promptly began to move. His thrusts started off slow and precise, each of his languid movements pulling a moan from deep within your chest. “S-So good…Miggy,” you were only able to muster, feeling every vein of his massive cock with his steady pace.

Miguel’s amber eyes were always trained on your face, constantly finding adoration for the pleasurable expressions that graced your beautiful features when the two of you were intimate. He leaned down over you, deepening his plunges as he gradually increased his speed until he snapped his hips into you in a frenzy.. “Yes, mierda, you feel so damn good…Fuck. Squeezing me just right,” he hoarsely said, his dark brown curls dampening against his forehead, and his grip on your hips tightening with each thrust.

Your eyes fluttered, hips moving to meet each of his movements. “M-Miggy…right there,” you begged, feeling your lover angle his hips to hit your desired spot repeatedly, causing your climax to hit you instantly. Your loud cry of pleasure erupted throughout the darken truck causing Miguel to smirk, pleased with bringing you to your orgasm so quickly; but not finished just yet. “Yes, princesa. There we go,” he muttered with pants. “But we’re not through yet, bebè. One more,” Miguel said. “Give me one more, babygirl.” He groaned, your stomach coiling again at his desire for you to release a second time as his thrusts resumed. .

The older Latino’s muscles flexed, his pecs and abs glistening with sweat and bulging with each brutal buck, his balls smacking into your ass. You could feel his pent-up frustration for your departure from him for the previous four years, every roll of his hips expressing his longing. “Fuck…I missed this pussy of yours, princesa,” he grunted. “Always so wet and tight for me,” he groaned between loud smacks of wet flesh.

Your chest heaved, legs trembling around his body as his shaft seemed to touch places inside of you that you didn't even know existed. Every plunge of his cock took your breath away, leaving only inaudible moans and slurred, unintelligible words to spill from your lips. Miguel cursed breathlessly, his eyes never leaving your face. He placed a hand above your head on the car seat, his thrusts deepening and making your eyes roll. 

Miguel could feel himself slipping; he was close—he was certain of that, but he wasn’t going to let himself go until you did for the second time. Leaning down, his mouth found your enticing peaked tits, his tongue swirling around your erect nipples. Your eyes screwed shut, back arching off of the cushions of the seat at the added pleasure coursing through your being. Miguel growled softly, sucking your breast into his mouth whilst his other hand dipped down between your legs, his thumb circling your throbbing clit.

With his ministrations, skilled tongue, and brutal pace, your body began to squirm underneath him, all of the sensations becoming too much to bear. A fire seemed to dance along your skin before your vision blurred, and soon another satisfying release washed over you. Miguel's lips pulled away from your breasts, the clenching of your walls bringing him to his climax. “Y/N- Ay cono, I’m cumming,” he said, plunging inside for the final time before a guttural groan erupted from his large chest. He hastily pulled out, his seed shooting from his tip to coat your bare stomach. You softly moaned, feeling his warm essence upon your abdomen, and soon his massive body atop yours once more.

A quiet silence fell upon the truck except for the panting of your joined breaths. You smiled softly down at him, finding his head upon your chest to be precious. “I take it that someone missed me,” you whispered playfully into the quietness once you caught your breath, repeating the same words he said upon the two of you seeing each other after four long years. He chuckled, rubbing your sides tenderly. “Must I admit it?” he asked, making you laugh. “Yes, it’ll make me very happy.”

“Fine,” Miguel stated, looking up to meet your eyes as amusement was gone from his features to become slightly serious. “When you were gone, I was a mess. I didn’t sleep, I drank a lot, and my work filled my days,” he confessed with a sigh, your heart sinking at his words. “Miggy…” you frowned, running your fingers through his hair to soothe him. Miguel melted at your caresses, eyes fluttering closed for a moment to relish in your touch. “I tried to forget you, but forgetting you only made the memories we shared even more prominent, making me want you further, crave you even, despite us being separated,” Miguel told you, while you listened. “So yes… I missed you so much, Y/N,” he smiled, leaning down to peck your lips. “And don’t leave me again, you understand?” he asked playfully, but you couldn’t help but feel that he meant it.

You cupped his face in your hand, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “I promise. I won’t be leaving ever again, but if I do… I’ll take you with me,” you giggled, bringing a small smile upon his lips. However, the topic made your father arise in your thoughts, as any reason for leaving would be because of him. 

Miguel noticed the saddened look that suddenly graced your features, causing his thick eyebrows to furrow. “What’s wrong, mi amor?” he asked, sitting up on the cushion of his truck’s seat, his hand gently rubbing your legs.

You sighed, biting your lip nervously. “My father… I can’t go back,” you admitted to not only Miguel but to yourself. The mere idea of returning to him, his suffocating rules, and lifestyle felt like a death sentence. The older Latino male gave you an emotionless look, his fingers tracing patterns along your calf, his mind seeming to be spinning.

“Then don’t…” 

Miguel's sudden proposal surprising you. "W-what?" you asked in disbelief, your shock making him chuckle. "Then don’t go back… live with me," he suggested. Skeptical, you eyed him, trying to determine if he was joking, but Miguel was always serious, so you knew he was being truthful. 

"But… I can’t just… stay with you, Miggy. It’ll draw suspicion—"

"Shh…" Miguel interrupted with a smirk, stroking your cheek softly with the back of his hand. "I won’t allow my girl to go back to a place where she isn’t comfortable," he explained. "So live with me,’ he stated once more. “I’ll provide for all your wants and needs, allow you to behave and speak however you like without any restrictions holding you down." Miguel's sincere voice was one you trusted more than anyone else's on this planet. 

"And… what if this angers my father?" you asked warily as Miguel chuckled. "You wouldn’t have to worry about that. You won’t have to see your father unless you wish to," he assured with a smirk. "And don’t concern yourself with me; the bastard cannot hurt me even if he tried," he added, reassuring you further. Your heart soared at his words. 

For the first time in your life, you were given a solution—an escape from your father and the enslaved life he’d placed you into. You pulled Miguel into a deep embrace, surprising him with the sudden affection, but he returned it nonetheless, wrapping his burly arms around you and pulling you close. 

Miguel caressed your bare lower back, relishing in your closeness as your next words made his entire body become rigid. 

“I love you, Miggy.” 

The endearing words escaped your lips, something he thought was as ethereal as your shared love for each other. Before he could ponder it, he found himself uttering the same words back—and wholeheartedly meaning it. 

“I love you too, Querida.”  

In that moment, you couldn’t fathom how happy you were about your freedom, but you were even more delighted that you could finally be happy with the man you loved. 

Certainly, there would be challenges and obstacles in the future, but you’ve never felt stronger and more confident to tackle them with Miguel O’Hara, your secret lover and father’s best friend, by your side. 

A/N: Thanks so much for reading!! I just want to say again that I'm very thankful for the patience that you, lovely people have given me for the past few weeks, months probably. 😅 So I'm very grateful. 😊

I have many story ideas, requests and the kink series, Entangled Desires to get to, I can only hope that I'm able to get more things out to you wonderful people in the next couple of days or so. There is a lot to get done as you can see lol! 😅

But once again, thank so much, and just want to give a shoutout to @serpentineaerodynamics. This girlie has been getting my brain flowing, since I've returned and she's gotten me pumped to get back into the groove of things. 💪🏽😁 So thank you bestie! Love ya! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you'd like to add a request to the kink series, Entangled Desire, or have an idea in general, just message me or submit an ask. I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe! ❤️❤️

<3 Taglist:

@oscarissac2099 @powerful-niya @szapizzapanda @mcmiracles @mreowmoreww @thedeva @jadeloverxd @lazyotakuofficial @migueloharacumslut @nattywatty @homewreckingwreck @kinkybandages @prazinos @huniedeux @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @anniee-mr @crimin4llyins4ne @lynxslokley @rice-wife @oharasfilipinawife @migueloharastruelove @rodriash002 @e1f-boi @user3732094737 @truth-dare-spin-bottles @taleiak @alurafairy

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(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

[feanoryen]

House of Finwe ranked by how much they look like Finwe

Uncanny resemblance tier:

Lalwen - Literally just her dad but genderbent. Same facial structure and blue-grey eyes and gorgeous raven black hair. Only difference is that her hair is wavy rather than pin straight like Finwe’s.

Fingolfin & Argon - Exact same facial structure and eye color, Fingolfin is almost as tall as Finwe but not quite, Argon is taller than Finwe (& the same exact height as Maedhros). They have a very dark brown shade of hair instead of black however.

Aredhel - 60:40 blend of Fingolfin & Anaire but looks more like Fingolfin and therefore looks a good deal like Finwe. She gets her black hair from Anaire rather than Fingolfin but it still adds to her resemblance with Finwe.

Gil-Galad - Finwe’s genes may have almost skipped Angrod & Orodreth entirely but somehow he ended up 57% Finwe.

Maeglin - Looks mostly like his gorgeous mother except he has Eol’s eyes and somewhat of a sharper bone structure than Aredhel though.

Very similar but still notably different tier:

Aegnor - Looks the most like Finwe out of all the Arafinweans. He has the same smile, a very similar face shape, & the same nose. He’s around 55% Finwe, 40% Earwen, & 5% Indis.

Maglor - 53% Finwe, 40% Nerdanel, 7% Miriel. His body type, his eye color, & his freckles are from Nerdanel. A lot of his facial features are Finwe’s but he has a heart shaped face like Miriel and a similar eye shape.

Finarfin - Exactly 50% Finwe & 50% Indis. Some of his facial features are a lot like Finwe’s except people (including both Finwe & Indis) focus way more on his Vanyarin coloring to realize it. His hair is also loosely curled along with being gold like Indis’s rather than straight.

Finrod - Looks just like Finarfin with Earwen’s eyes.

Curufin - Read Feanor’s and then come back. Unlike Feanor he does get his eyes from Finwe but his are more silvery & sparkly.

Feanor - Barely behind Finarfin in terms of resemblance to Finwe but several people would dispute this and say he looks more like Finwe between the two. He’s 50% Miriel, 47% Finwe, & 3% something original entirely. Neither Finwe nor Miriel have his radiant shining eyes that look like they have shards of pale jewels within them but some argue his eyes are a variation of Finwe’s grey ones. His silky raven hair is undeniably Finwe’s but his is wavy. His stature & body shape are similar to Finwe’s but like Fingolfin he’s still a little shorter. His face is a mixture of Finwe & Miriel’s most beautiful features, but he has a little more of Miriel’s.

Celebrimbor - Almost looks exactly like Feanor except his eyes don’t burn with quite the same intensity. There’s also a little something of his mother in his smile.

Caranthir - Canonically got his hair from Finwe, but also got his complexion from Nerdanel. I see him as as 45% Finwe, 50% Nerdanel, & 5% Miriel.

Fingon - He looks very similar to Aredhel but he’s 60% Anaire and 40% Fingolfin whereas she’s the opposite. He looks more like Anaire but also eerily resembles Maglor in some angles due to specifically inheriting a very similar set of features from Finwe (not sure if this makes his relationship with Maedhros more or less weird depending on your interpretation).

A fair deal of resemblance but also looks quite different tier:

Turgon - 50% Anaire, 30% Fingolfin, 20% Indis. Looks the most Vanyarin out of his family, no wonder why he’s the closest to them. Still looks very clearly Noldorin at the same time though. His hair is still the lightest brown out of his siblings.

Elrond & Elros - 30% Finwe, 10% Earendil, 60% Luthien. Due to genes skipping generations like with Gil-Galad, they look more like Finwe than Idril & Earendil do. If you look closely they kind of resemble Maglor despite how far apartly they’re related to him. Maedhros sees a lot of Fingon in them though.

They have about 1 notable feature in common with him tier:

Galadriel - Same eyes as Finwe, she gets her smile from him too, which she also shares with Feanor. She’s 55% Earwen & 45% Finarfin, but she got more of her dad’s Indis features than his Finwe features.

Maedhros - His diamond face shape & high bridged nose are Finwe’s.

Amrod & Amras - They have his eyes, both the blue-grey color and the shape. Nothing else though.

Findis - She’s almost entirely Indis but she has grey eyes and caramel hair between brown & gold. Her Noldorin heritage shines through due to those 2 things but she doesn’t look her dad particularly.

They just don’t look like him tier:

Celegorm - 95% Miriel, 5% Nerdanel. Almost the spitting image of his grandmother but he gets his height, eye color, & freckles from Nerdanel. His hair is straight so maybe 0.5% of him is Finwe but does it really count?

Idril - Takes a lot after both Elenwe & Anaire but she didn’t get Finwe or Fingolfin’s features.

Earendil - Around 60% his mom, who doesn’t look like Finwe, & 40% his dad, who isn’t related to Finwe.

Angrod - Olwe with Vanyarin hair.

Orodreth - Has grey eyes, but he probably got them from his mother rather than Finwe.

Finduilas - Looks almost like a female version of her grandfather and a golden haired version of Earwen.

[ramayantika]

The dance of the devi

Flowers for the goddess 

in my alta-dyed hands,

I offer them at the lotus feet

of the Mother of the Universe.

***

Gentle blues of the skies move out 

And Surya slowly rises from slumber

in its captivating regal glory,

its golden rays adorning

the Devi’s forehead.

***

I behold the golden complexioned goddess

set in stone with a benevolent smile.

My anklets lay at her feet

with turmeric and vermillion coating

some of those melodious bells.

***

A sweet summer breeze blows by.

A bell jingles and a lotus from her garland

falls to the brown earth at my dust laden feet.

A jingle of bangles and anklets,

A low hum of a mysterious yet beautiful tune,

And a voice sings,

A voice that I can recognize anywhere –

The Devi has risen!

***

Draped in silks and gold,

fragrant garlands around her limbs,

She steps outside to my courtyard,

A very humble stage for the one

who is the abode of this entire Universe.

The sun makes her ornaments gleam, 

yet her moon-like face is the brightest.

My anklets are around her feet

But what truly do I own 

in this illusionary world?

What I receive –

Beauty, intelligence, riches and power,

All comes from her.

***

And by the bright yellows of dawn

I see her dance in my courtyard.

Wherever her feet travel, little blooms arise

and where her hands softly touch,

Golden dust flies.

She twirls round and round

And I see the might cosmic Gods

Swirling around her magnificence.

Her veil, the illusionary veil,

which she playfully casts 

around this world

escapes the clutches 

of her beautiful braided hair.

And now I see. Clearly.

***

She leaps into the air,

Resembling a warrior

and a warrior she is,

for she is the Devi,

The ferocious Bhairavi,

The invincible Durga,

the slayer of Mahishasura.

She is the dark one, Kali,

The slayer of Raktabija.

***

Her dance of grace and elegance

transforms to a dance of death and destruction.

She is Shivatrinayani and Maheshwari.

She leaps and twirls with her trident

and her anklets and the temple bells ring 

harmoniously,

Just like the eternal forces of nature.

Devi is Nitya, the eternal one.

***

I, a mere mortal woman, a devotee

akin to the turmeric and vermillion on her feet

watch the goddess dance in all her glory.

I see all the worlds and this vast universe 

dance with her,

And maybe it is really true:

That everything in the world dances.

Laasya performs in every object,

in the largest to the very smallest.

***

And then I see the radiant one

stretch her palm to me.

I see my world in her hand

And clasp her hand tightly.

Which daughter lets go of her mother’s hand?

So we dance.

***

Stars and galaxies, planets and cosmic bodies,

Fire and snow, gods, demons and mortals,

I see her in everything

And this is the Dance of Realisation.

The music, the drums and the bells slowly fade 

But the dancing soul now awakened

dances in ecstasy.

I see, I hear, I dance, I understand everything now.

***

The Devi twirls, spins, sings, smiles and laughs

And finally heads to her abode, to Shiva, her life.

My life, a thread in her hands,

I now submit to her eternal play 

of this Life’s Dance.

***

I haven't written poetry in a while now. Somehow I couldn't capture this in a story format, it felt bland and very large and long. I didn't like it. The poem format perhaps gives me a little peace to form the vision I once had a few years ago while meditating on the goddess. I will obviously edit this later for the book, but for now here's the first draft poem for the book

Tagging: @swayamev @indiansapphic @jukti-torko-golpo (big thank you to you for the devi content!) @navaratna @rhysaka @krishna-priyatama @krsnaradhika @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @alhad-si-simran @ramcharantitties @kaal-naagin

[jaelaxies]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬

About Love & Romance

fluff; wc:1 k.

 ot5 x fem reader!; kiss kiss fall in love; tw: none .

Txt as my favorite love songs but make it romance

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

✩ Paris in the Rain — lauv (Soobin) established relationship

Walking hand in hand with Soobin in an umbrella that is too little for him but it doesn’t matter that much to him, since you’re safe from the rain; not a single droplet letting his favorite expression on you, that childlike smile and crinkly eyes, fade away. The only thing that matters right now is how full his chest feels at the sight of you reaching for his hand to pull him closer, even if it meant that a part of your hair got wet in the process. “Sharing is caring” you said as you took the handle from the umbrella, Soobin’s hand covering yours softly, while you kept talking about hot chocolate and your upcoming trip to Paris. But for him, everywhere with you felt right. You always made him feel protected and loved, no fancy restaurants could compare to your cooking and there was no brighter thing for him than your dazzling grin. Walking under the rain with your hand in his, was the same as being in Paris under the dainty rain.

✩ Golden Hour —jvke (Yeonjun) lovedrunk hours

This was Yeonjun’s favorite time of the day. Staring at you as the golden hour approached and the sun rays hovered over your features, trying their best to sculpt them in soft hues of gold specks of light. Your hair sprawled all over your back while your head rested on his chest; the light catching onto your body like fairy dust; he caressed your shoulder with circular motions where the sun particularly found a favorite spot. He thanked whoever was the superior power who brought you into his life: a radiant beam of light, an angel with a glorious look in her eyes. When you woke up from your daze, you felt the soft kiss of Yeonjun’s plush lips on your forehead; lingering for a bit until he moved to peck your nose, noticing you were awake. “The sun is jealous it can’t kiss you like I can” he said while you did your best to open your eyes with a half lidded still sleepy smile, a little low chuckle emerging from your throat as you embraced him again; covering his waist with your arms as you snuggled like a koala into his welcoming and familiar warmth. If the sun was jealous that it couldn’t kiss you like that, “I bet it’s also jealous I’ll always have part of him protecting me”

rest of the boys under the cut!

✩ Begin Again —taylor swift (Beomgyu) first date instant love

You were not ready for this and you knew that. But you still decided to put feet into that café that Wednesday: all dolled up, matching red lips with your red cardigan and white dress; you were so nervous you could hear your heartbeat in your ears, like a drumming session. He was already there, sitting and looking at the window. Long brown locks, tall complexion and a beautiful profile; would he think you were boring too? That you were old fashioned and too bland? … Suddenly all of those thoughts washed away when he stood up and met your curious gaze… he was smiling and he had a slight blush on his cheeks. He took your chair and pulled it, just so you could sit comfortably and then he took a seat too. “I bet you noticed how nervous I am right now” he said while laughing a bit at his own antics, the way he fiddled with the pages of the menu or made any small talk and had a joke to compliment the silence. “But I’m Choi Beomgyu and I’m so happy to finally meet you” The last eight months, I thought love could be like an explossion and break everything into tiny little pieces as the flame consumed them; but on this Wednesday as the rain started to pour on a corner caffe, and suddenly the turmoil felt calmer like flowing water on the nearest pond;  I watched it begin again.

✩ Something Just Like This — coldplay ( Taehyun) confession

You thought you knew Taehyun like your favorite book of all time, but for the first time in years, you were caught by surprise at the sight of him at your doorstep: bruised face and stained lip and clenched fists as he spoke defeated “I couldn’t stand the thought of him badmouthing you” His tone was hoarse but still so serious, something inside your chest contracted. You didn’t like this sight at all. “And I punched him, screamed at him… I disappointed you” You finally saw the fresh tears running down the trail of his face. “How am I going to protect you if I’m this weak” That was it, you shook your head and hugged him tightly, his own arms were hesitant until he wrapped you into a fully bear type like hug. His muscles relaxing at the feeling of you caressing his back. “First of all, you didn’t disappoint me…” you cupped his face softly and caressed his cheekbone with a little smile. That was actually going to hurt in the morning, but there was something more important to be said “You could never… Because I have always liked you: strong or not, just like this, Kang Taehyun”  

✩ Candy — red velvet (Kai) grumpy and sunshine

“No one’s ever going to like you anyway” I’ve heard those words since teenage years came around the corner and boys who didn’t take no for an answer wanted some type of revenge. And then, there was always that one response that made everyone shut away immediately. “But I like her” Hueningkai was the weirdest case to her; he never confessed yet he was always by her side. They shared classes, lunch and even some secrets with each other. In her eyes, if he was candy, he would be some type of sweet jelly while she would be the sour type, the green that no one likes and leaves behind. But he was still the same, even now in college. Now she was starting to think that life without Kai was actually pretty boring and repetitive, but when he was around, even in the times where they would knock heads… she feared the thought of him leaving. So that morning, instead of him running to her, she waited patiently in front of their classroom and when his familiar laugh resonated trough the hall, blood rushed into her cheeks. Oh, it was so late, but never too late to finally tell. “Kai… I… I like you too!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

Well this is my first time ever writing in this format, i'm just trying to see if you guys like it! Also i'm thinking of maybe opening requests in the future?

I really liked how this one turned out: it's particularly special bc i love music and most of the times it's my main source of inspiration to wite; anyways, thanks for all the love🤍❕🥺

As always, feedback is really appreciated and I’ll love if you could reblog or comment if your really liked this one!

With love, *°࿐Stella🤍

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

[talonabraxas]

Pha Yant: of lord surya (the sun) “a ruby flashing in the sky” Credit: JintheNinja (金齊天大聖)

Surya Mantra

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

"Japakusumsankasham Kashypeyam Mahadhyutim

Tamorim Sarvapaapagnam Prantosmi Divakaram"

Meaning : I bow down to the Sun God who is the cause of the day break, who dispels all darkness, who destroys all sins , who is matchless in brilliance, who is the son of Kashyapa and who is as red as a Japa Kusuma flower.

Surya Gayatri Mantra OM Bhaskaraya Vidmahe Mahadyutikaraya Dhimahi Tanno Adityah Pracodayat'

According to Hindu Mythology, Sun is a Kshatriya and born to Sage Kashyap and Aditi who is the mother of Gods. Her sons were defeated by the demons. Aditi prayed to the sun to be born as her son to fight and defeat the demons so that the Gods could get back their due. Sun agreed to it and was born as Aditya. Hindus believe that Sun is ever moving in a chariot drawn by seven horses. Surya, the Sun, is short in stature and has a prominent, shining appearance, with two arms, a curly mane of hair and shining, golden-brown eyes that are the exact color of honey. His mind is incisive and His complexion coppery or golden and He wears clothes of dark saffron. In both His hands, Surya has two red lotuses. The wheel of Surya's chariot represents the year and its twelve spokes are the twelve months.

God Surya (सूर्य) can be called the only god in Hindu religion who can be seen and prayed to in daily life. The Surya is depicted as having a body as shiny and radiant as pure gold. He is believed to be a golden red man with three eyes and four arms, riding a chariot driven by seven white horses. The Chariot harnessed by seven horses represent the seven colours of the rainbow or the seven chakras.

Surya is the life giver, sustaining all life on earth by providing all radiance and energy. He by mounting the wheel of time is also the one who is responsible for the beautiful seasons and causing the cycle of day and night.

The Surya is referred to in Sanskrit as "Mitra" or "Friend" down to the invariable warmth. Surya is depicted with two hands holding a lotus in both; sometimes he has four hands holding a lotus, chakra, a conch and a mace.

Surya in ancient literature

In Vedas, numerous hymns are dedicated to Surya, the Sun personified, and Savitr, "the impeller", a solar deity either identified with or associated with Surya. Even the Gayatri mantra, which is regarded as one of the most sacred of the Hindu hymns is dedicated to the Sun. The Adityas are a group of solar deities, from the Brahmana period numbering twelve. The ritual of sandhyavandanam, performed by some Hindus, is an elaborate set of hand gestures and body movements, designed to greet and revere the Sun.

The mantra in Rig Veda praise to the Surya as :

आ कृष्णेन् रजसा वर्तमानो निवेशयन्न अमृतं मर्त्यं च । हिरण्ययेन सविता रथेना देवो याति भुवनानि पश्यन ॥ (1/35)

(Throughout the dusky firmament advancing, laying to rest the immortal and the mortal, Borne in his golden chariot he cometh, Savitar, God who looks on every creature]

Gaytri Mantra in Vedas for Lord Surya

ॐ भूर्भुवः॒ स्वः॒ तत्स॑वितुर्वरे॑ण्यम् भ॒र्गो॑ दे॒वस्य॑ धीमहि। धियो॒ यो नः॑ प्रचो॒दया॑त्॥

(Om bhoor-bhuvaH svaH, tat-savitur-vareNNyam, bhargo devasya dheemahi, dhiyo yo naH prachodayaat.)

In the Vedas Surya Dev is referred to as the god of light who is responsible for all life on earth.

The Children of lord Surya are : Shani Deva (शनि), Yama, Yamuna, Tapti

Names of Surya

Ravi, Suraj, Aditya, Adit, Bhaskar, Pusha, Divakar, Bhanu

Vedic Mythology with stories

The Mahabharata describes one of its warrior heroes Karna as being the son of the righteous queen Kunti and the Sun. The Ramayana describes Lord Ram (श्री राम) as being descended from the Surya Vansh or the clan of kings as bright as the Sun. The Sun God is said to married to the beautiful goddess Ranaadeh, also known as Sanjnya. She is depicted in dual form, being both sunlight and shadow, personified. The charioteer of Surya is Arun, who is also personified as the redness that accompanies the sunlight in dawn and dusk.

Sun God in different cultures

The Solar deities associated with different aspects of the cultural universe of the society, but for the most part its raw image remains identical. In the 3rd millennium BC, the winged sun was an ancient symbol of Horus. The Neolithic concept of a solar barge, the sun as traversing the sky in a boat, is found in the later myths of ancient Egypt, with Ra and Horus. Egyptian myths imply that the sun is within the lioness,

Proto-Indo-European religion has a solar chariot, the sun as traversing the sky in a chariot. During the Roman Empire, a festival of the birth of the Unconquered Sun was celebrated when the duration of daylight first begins to increase after the winter solstice, — the "rebirth" of the sun.

In Germanic mythology this is Sol, in Vedic Surya, and in Greek Helios (occasionally referred to as Titan) or Apollo. Mesopotamian Shamash plays an important role during the Bronze Age, and "my Sun" is eventually used as an address to royalty. South American cultures have emphatic Sun worship. Svarog is the Slavic god sun and spirit of fire. In Aztec mythology, Tonatiuh was the sun god. The Aztec people considered him the leader of Tollan, heaven.

Surya in vedic Astrology

God Surya is the King of all the planets and is responsible for controlling all their movements. The Sun in Vedic astrology is called RAVI, or SURYA. In western tropical astrology, the Sun rules the Sign of Leo. He is exalted in the sign of Aries, and he is in his fall in the sign of Libra. In vedic astrology the Sun is known as the ATMAKARAKA, means .an "indicator of the soul." The Sun is the indicator of the father, our ego, honors, status, fame, the heart, the eyes, general vitality, respect and power.

He is particularly beneficial for the fire sign Ascendants of Aries, Leo, and Sagittarius. His nature, or temperament is PITTA, or fiery, and the gemstone associated with the Sun is the red ruby. The Sun's metal is Gold and his direction is east. His day is Sunday, and he comes into full maturity and brilliance at age 22.

The Vedas adore him as a witness (Sakshi) of all actions. He is the lord of Leo in the Zodiac. He stays one month in each Rasi and takes 365 days or 12 months to complete a round of 12 Rasis. Worship of Surya on Sunday is supposed to bring in manifold benefits to the worshippers. .

Surya and modern Astronomy

Our solar system consists of an average star we call the Sun, the planets Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto. It includes: the satellites of the planets; numerous comets, asteroids, and meteoroids; and the interplanetary medium. The planets, most of the satellites of the planets and the asteroids revolve around the Sun in the same direction, in nearly circular orbits.

Our solar system the part of whole solar system, together with the local stars visible on a clear night, orbits the center of our home galaxy, a spiral disk of 200 billion stars we call the Milky Way. Again Our galaxy, one of billions of galaxies known, is traveling through intergalactic space. The order of planets revolving around the Sun are: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto.

On February 14, 1990, the cameras of Voyager 1 pointed back toward the Sun and took a series of pictures of the Sun and the planets, making the first ever "portrait" of our solar system as seen from the outside.

Prayers to please Lord Surya

Surya namaskāra

Lord Surya helps one gain his eyesight and SURYA NAMASKAR will strengthen one's bones, cure illness, however severe it may be, cleanses the devotee from his sins and bestows on him progeny, wealth, good-health and long life. He is the cause for rainfall benefiting the world.

The lord Surya is prayed in the simplest way by folding one's hands in a namaskar at the time of sunrise. A simple chant of Om Suryaye Namah pleases the lord Surya. A Hindu worship Lord Surya at the rising of the Sun, known as Surya namaskāra There are twelve physical postures (asanas), which correspond to the twelve signs of the zodiac. During the sun's apparent journey through the heavens it passes through each of zodiac, and is said to triumph over each sign as it enters its domain. Associated with each other of the twelve positions of Surya Namaskar is a specific mantra. The 12 mantras for surya namaskara:

ॐ मित्राय नमः (aum mitrāya namah) ॐ रवये नमः (aum ravayé namah ) ॐ सूर्याय नमः (aum sūryāya namah ) ॐ भानवे नमः (aum bhānavé namah ) ॐ खगय नमः (aum khagāya namah ) ॐ पुष्णे नमः (aum pushné namah) ॐ हिरण्यगर्भाय नमः (aum hiranyagarbhāya namah) ॐ मारिचाये नमः (aum mārichāyé namah) ॐ आदित्याय नमः (aum ādityāya namah) ॐ सावित्रे नमः (aum sāvitré namah) ॐ आर्काय नमः (aum ārkāya namah) ॐ भास्कराय नमः (aum bhāskarāya namah)

The Gayatri Mantra is also associated with Surya.

Another hymn associated with Surya is the Aditya Hridayam, recited by the great sage Agastya to Lord Ram (श्री राम) on the warfield before the fight with Ravana in Lanka. .

[chris-hallelujah]

English Love Affair | m.s.

Matt x fem!OC

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), pet names (baby, princess, etc.), p in v (protected), slight dom!Matt, foul language MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first time writing a fanfic since like 2016 and my first time ever writing smut. Please let me know if it sucks. This is a song fic based on 'English Love Affair' by 5sos. I have not seen this done before for the triplets, however there are HUNDREDS of pieces out there so if someone has done this please let me know. All ideas are my own and I do not give anyone the right to post this to another platform or plagiarize my work.

-

The Sturniolo Triplets had just finished their final show of the international leg of their tour. In order to give the boys and their team a break from the constant go, go, go of tour, it was deemed best to let them stay in London for a few days before heading back to L.A.

Somehow Nick had heard about a local club, The Black Dog, that was the hot spot of the night. Laura encouraged them to go, make some connections with other creators, and celebrate the ending of tour.

Flashing their IDs to the bouncer at the door, they walked in immediately being hit with the night life atmosphere. Loud music blasted through various speakers, the bar was humid with a smell of alcohol and sweat.

Matt sat at a table with Chris across from him, flirting with some girl. Nick had made his way into the crowd of people dancing after he connected with some friends he knew. Chris and the girl shared whispers and giggles back and forth while Matt sipped on his root beer, scrolling through instagram on his phone.

It started on a weekend in May, I was looking for attention, needed intervention. Felt somebody looking at me. With a powder white complexion, feeling the connection.

A suspicious feeling came over Matt as he felt a pair of eyes on him. He looked up from his phone and around the room, locking eyes with a gorgeous brunette a few feet away.

She stood leaning against the wall with a group of friends. A short gold dress hugged her curves like it was handmade for her. She took a sip from her drink and winked at him in the process. He felt his cheeks flush a bit and a smirk come across his face. The girl said something to her friends and began to make her way across the floor to the table. Chris glanced over at Matt and then followed his gaze. Seeing the approaching girl, Chris grabbed the hand of the girl he had been talking to, gave Matt an encouraging pat on the back of his shoulder and went to the dance floor.

By now the distance between Matt and the mystery girl had closed. She smirked and flirtatiously took his drink from him and took a sip. “Well hi there” Matt said with a slight chuckle, “I’m Matt.”

“Ella,” she said returning the drink to his hand, letting her fingers linger on his a bit longer than necessary. “An American boy, huh? What brings you here?” She asked her English accent coming through despite the loud music.

Oh, yea I’m actually famous and just got done touring. How was Matt supposed to explain his travels without sounding cocky? “Uh, I’m traveling with my brothers. They’re somewhere out there.” He gestured to the crowd of people on top of the color changing dance floor.

“And they’ve left you alone? How lucky am I.” Her confidence made her radiant in the best way. Not egotistical but she knew she looked good and she knew she wanted whatever Matt had to offer. She took a step closer to the barstool he was sitting on and leaned into his ear, “since we already swapped spit on your drink, how about we keep this party going?” Her breath tickling his ear. He felt his pants tighten and he wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Oh yea? And what is it that you suggest?” The tension between these two was buzzing.

Before I knew it, it was serious. Dragged me out the bar to the back seat of her car.

Her hand wrapped around his wrist and she led him out the door of the bar. A black SUV was parked not far from The Black Dog. Matt opened the back door and let Ella climb in before following after her. He pulled the door shut behind them and as he turned back he felt her lips smash into his. She was kissing him like he was the air she needed to breathe and Matt was in no way planning on stopping her. Her dress had rode up from all of the movement which gave Matt the perfect access to smack her ass. She let out a small whimper and buried her head into his neck as they both took a moment to catch their breath. "Let's go back to my place, yea?" she managed to get out, "I only had soda, I can drive." Matt nodded and helped her climb into the driver's seat before getting in the passenger himself. Surely Chris and Nick would be able to get back to the hotel down the street on their own.

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

Next thing we were back at her place, a hideaway in Mayfair, all the great and good there.

The car pulled into her driveway and the duo quickly made their way inside, Matt's hand maintaining contact with Ella's waist. As soon as they crossed through the doorway, Matt spun her around and pressed her against the door. The lack of touch during the car ride was making them both hungrier for any sort of relief. Their tongues battled for dominance, hands exploring the other's body.

The story line was so ridiculous. Every single step had me begging for the next. Before I knew it, it was serious. Dragged me up the stairs and it wasn't ending there.

Ella pulled away and took Matt's wrist yet again. She led him up the stairwell and into a door at the far end of the hallway. They passed a few other doors on their way. "Do you have roommates?" he whispered, slowly becoming aware of the situation they were in and how crazy this may look to someone else.

Ella nodded, "Yes, Sophie and Emma. But they are with our other friends at the bar," she paused and checked the time on her phone, "They won't be home for a little while, don't worry." This was music to his ears.

"Fuckin' fantastic," he muttered against her lips. The bedroom floor turned into a mess of thrown clothes as they made their way to her bed. Matt laid her down and crawled on top of her. One hand grasped her boob as he kissed all over her chest, nipping and sucking, leaving purple marks. Ella's hands were digging into his back leaving red lines all over.

"Matt," she whined, "don't make me wait any longer, please!" He chuckled against her chest and began to pepper kisses down her stomach. He got level with the black, lacy underwear that was the only thing left on her body.

"What a shame, these are so pretty," he hummed before looping his finger underneath and ripping the fabric off. No, like, literally ripping them off. "I'll buy you new ones, whatever you want." He was already pussy whipped and nothing had even happened yet. He dove his face down and gave one lick from her hole up to her clit. She squealed and buried her fingers into the sheets, trying to find somewhere to put the energy that coursed through her. Matt's hands wrapped under her thighs to hold her steady. His tongue went to work with his nose brushing her clit with each movement. Ella was an absolute mess underneath him, moaning and crying out.

"oh my god!" she yelled, thankful that her roommates were gone. Matt was also thankful because the noises she was making were only turning him on more and more. He focused his tongue on her clit and inserted two fingers into her, pumping them slowly. The stretch burned so good as his fingers brushed the most sensitive spot inside of her. Her legs began to shake on Matt's shoulders. "I- I'm gonna-" she struggled to get words out.

Matt pulled away briefly using his thumb to replace where his tongue just was, "I know, baby, go ahead. Let me see how pretty you look when you cum." His mouth went back in between her legs. That comment was enough to send Ella over the edge. Her back arched and a string of profanities left her mouth with Matt's name in there a couple of times. He kept going, helping her ride out her high, only stopping when her legs fell limp next to him. Matt put his fingers in his mouth to clean them off as Ella tried to catch her breath. "Think you can keep going for me?" He asked. She nodded eagerly and pulled him back down into a kiss. Matt reached for his wallet on the bedside table and pulled out a condom, thankful that he packed one 'just in case.' He slipped his boxers off and ripped the wrapper open with his teeth. His breath caught in his throat as he applied the condom, finally having some sort of contact to his dick that has been hard for what felt like hours.

"Goddamn, Matt, I need you," Ella whispered in awe at his size. Matt made his way in between her legs and threw one over his shoulder. He slowly connected their bodies, trying to give her a chance to adjust. His head flew back as he let out a groan. Ella gasped as he entered her and she took a few deep breaths to relax the muscles in her body. "You're good, thank you for waiting," she said, giving him the go ahead he had been dying for. He began to thrust his hips into hers and interlocked one of their hands. She whimpered at the pleasure coursing through her and squeezed his hand.

"Holy shit, baby girl, you are killing me," Matt groaned looking down where their bodies connected. "You're doing so - fuck - so good." Ella began pulsing around his cock, approaching her second orgasm of the night. This was enough to get Matt to his peak. "Cum with me, princess." The room filled with Matt's groans and Ella's cries.

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

-two weeks later-

When the lights go out, she's all I ever think about, the picture burning in my brain, kissing in the rain. I can't forget, my English love affair. Today, I'm seven thousand miles away. The movie playing in my head of a king size bed means I can't forget my English love affair.

Matt had officially become unbearable to be around. Always catching an attitude with one of his brothers, hiding out in his room, and having no energy in their content. Not only did Nick and Chris notice it right away, but the fans were noticing it too.

'Has anyone noticed Matt seems off lately?'

'Matt has been in a weird mood since they got back from tour'

Matt laid in his bed scrolling through Ella's instagram. She had even posted pictures with her friends from the night they met so he had memories to look back on of her in that dress. His door swung open and Nick and Chris made their way in. "Do you know how to fucking knock?" Matt snapped.

"Alright, dude, what the hell is up with you?" Nick asked, ignoring the fact that they were clearly not welcome in Matt's room and making himself comfy in the desk chair.

"You just barged in here without fucking knocking! Maybe I just want some goddamn privacy and quiet for five fucking seconds!" Matt's voice began to get louder as he sat upright.

"Kid, you know you have been in a shitty mood since we got home. Is this about that chick in London?" Chris pried. Matt knew he couldn't lie to the people he cared for most. Even if he did, they would see straight through it.

"There was something about her - fuck - she's literally on the other side of the world. She's probably living her normal life and I'm stuck here not able to get her out of my head," Matt sighed. Sure, the two texted throughout the day, but surely she wasn't as down bad as he was, right?

"Listen, we wanna be here for you, dude. Cope how you need to cope. But we gotta figure something out for the vlogs, the fans are noticing and so is Laura. If this girl is truly something special, we want to help you figure it out," Chris said, as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Matt nodded, "You're right, I need to get my shit together. I'm sorry."

The brothers shared a productive conversation about Matt and his feelings and the vlogs before Chris and Nick left Matt back alone with his thoughts. He laid on the bed with his hands behind his bed, remembering how perfect his lips fit with Ella's. A buzz came from his phone on the bedside table. His hand reached over and brought the screen to his face. His mood lightened instantly seeing a text from none other than 'Ell <3' The message he read made his breath catch in his throat.

Call me crazy, but I just booked a flight to LA. I need to see you

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Can you do one where they are both obliviously pining for each other? Maybe James pranking Slytherin! Sirius because he thought he was a swot (but really, it’s for attention) and Sirius finding it amusing (but he really likes James’s attention on him or summat) which frustrates James to no end.

Sirius Black, catch of the school but a Slytherin, walks into the Great Hall. He's promptly sprayed by golden paint, catching half of his face, some of his hair, and a section of his robes near the shoulder and neckline. James almost went with a nice Gryffindor red, but he doesn't want anyone to think he's bleeding; this is a prank, not an attack. He went with gold because Sirius has grey eyes and silver is a Slytherin colour but gold is Gryffindor, and it'll be nice for him to finally look less than perfect; gold will be unflattering to his skin tone, James is confident.

Sirius freezes in surprise, but as quickly as the paint started to hit him, it stops. He glances at the shoulder now covered in gold, and in moving to look, some of his hair drifts into view-- also gold. He grins and runs a hand through his hair on the effected side, then glances at his fingers. "No bleed over," he notes. He reaches for his wand and casts a spell to clean it up, but of course James thought of that possibility and accounted for it. Sirius waves his wand and nothing changes. His smile, perplexingly, gets brighter as he notices that the paint hasn't lightened. His eyes go to the Gryffindor table and easily land on James, almost as if he already knew where he's sitting. He winks, still with that wide smile, and James's heart starts beating harder in annoyance.

He meant to bother Sirius with this, not make him smile like a loon. And he still looks good, even though all evidence had pointed to him looking bad with gold. Instead of looking washed out with his complexion, he looks radiant, like the gold warmed him instead of making him look sallow in comparison. It didn't clash with his eyes, it enhanced the feeling that he's deserving of precious metals-- the silver of his eyes a bright spot to enhance the gold colour splashed across his cheek.

Mission result: total failure.

As Sirius turns towards the Slytherin table, easily accepting his golden fate, James scowls down at his food. Gods, he's such an arse. Nobody should react this way when James targets them-- despite what he said to professors when caught-- and they certainly shouldn't react this way after years of such treatment. He started back in first year, trying to make the uptight Black heir have a breakdown that there was something he couldn't control and his parents couldn't fix for him; James knew the type on sight and was confident he would succeed with ease. But first year passed with a single negative reaction, and by the time second year came about, he started (for lack of a better word) enjoying the pranks, never caring if they were ultimately harmless like the paint, or mean spirited like he constantly did in third year. Even that time in fifth year, when he Vanished all of Sirius's clothes in the middle of the Great Hall, Sirius laughed, made some sort of joke to the professors about how he couldn't get in trouble for it because it wasn't his fault, then looked right at James as he turned to get new clothes and smirked.

He's infuriating, seemingly going out of his way to show James how much he doesn't care what he tries next. It's a battle of wills that James has been failing since day one, but he refuses to not win in the end. He just needs some new ideas to shake things up. Hell, at this point, he'll take surprising Sirius with what he's done, even if the other man eventually laughs at it.

"I don't suppose you're on the cusp of letting this go?" Peter asks, hoping for the best but with realistic expectations, considering he knows how James is.

In response, James glares at him.

Peter let's out a small sigh and murmurs, "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"I'll get him one of these days, you'll see," James says, more than a little tetchy.

"You've gotten him every time," Remus says in confusion. He's working on homework and only caught the last sentence.

"He wants for Black to not have such a good humour about it," Peter explains, then turns back to James. "Which is stupid." Remus tunes them out and goes back to his homework-- either because he doesn't care to try to give James advice that he never listens to, or because he actually needs to concentrate on his homework; it can go both ways with Moony. "Anyone else would talk to a professor, and you'd never be able to make Quidditch practice because you'd be holed up in detention every day of the year. He's built a resilience to you, and this is a good thing. It's keeping you out of trouble." Peter pauses and makes a face. "It's keeping you out of detention," he amends.

James continues to glare across the Great Hall at Sirius Black.

Obsessive seems too kind a word for this.

Over at the Slytherin table, Sirius is also dealing with his friends, he's just having a better time of it than James.

"I don't understand why you put up with any of this," Severus hisses. "You can easily bring this up with your parents and get him punished."

Sirius shrugs and takes a sip of pumpkin juice. "Why make a fuss? It's harmless."

"It's not always this harmless," Magaera points out.

He shrugs again. "It's funny."

"It's humiliating!" she insists.

"Strange that I don't feel very humiliated then, isn't it?"

"Are you... doing this to mess with Potter?" Severus asks.

"Partially."

"And the other parts?" Megaera asks. She's known him too long to let that 'partially' become 'all'.

"I find the attention flattering, and it's rather amusing. He's spent the entirety of our school years trying to find something that will make me mad. He still does well in his classes, but imagine what he could do if he took that drive and applied it elsewhere."

Severus's mouth curls. It's almost funny how much he hates James Potter. James hasn't been nice to him, to be sure, but everything that Sirius lets roll off of him, Severus takes personally. "He seems to do well enough in Quidditch with his attention diverted."

Megaera scoffs. "Why do you care about Quidditch so much? None of us play, and we only go to the matches so we have something fun to do." Megaera and Sirius have fun at the matches, at least. Their other friend seems to hate them but shows up to every single one anyways.

Severus scowls further, and Sirius laughs and responds for him. "He only cares because Potter does so well in it."

"Seriously?" Megaera asks, raising an eyebrow at Severus.

"No, it's..." he struggles to think of a good lie and lands on "...House loyalty."

Sirius and Megaera give identical hums of skepticism, and she turns from the question of Quidditch to go back to the prank that started this. "I know you said cleaning it magically didn't work, but do you think a shower will help?"

"Probably, but I don't have time before tonight."

"I have makeup. We can try it where it hit your skin?"

"I'm not bothered," Sirius laughs.

"That's because you're barmy," Severus mutters, under his breath but loud enough for them to hear.

That's where the thread of conversation ends and they begin talking about their first class: Potions.

Sirius's mind lingers on the topic of James, though. His friends won't stop speaking to him or something equally ludicrous if he tells them that he fancies James, but they will look at him like he's sprouted a second head. Easy acceptance is not a possibility-- not that he's going to let that stop him from making a move before the end of their Hogwarts years. 

He's known for a while that he fancies James. It seems to him that James fancies him as well, otherwise how could he explain all these pranks? Most people think it's because Sirius gets under his skin, and he agrees with that except what the definition of 'gets under his skin' is. James seems incapable of not thinking about him, needing to poke and prod to make sure he always has Sirius's attention. He does. Sirius thought it was obvious, even if he tried to mask it from being clear to first years. He can't help but be enchanted by the everything that makes up James Potter.

*

"Does that even count as a prank?" Peter asks skeptically. He's squinting across the Hall, as if closing his eyes will help bring the scene into focus. Flowers rained down on Sirius. It doesn't feel like a prank, and he has no idea how it can possibly be justified as one. Maybe if he tilts his head a little it will suddenly make sense?

But James says, "Yes, of course it counts."

"Uh-huh, how's that?"

"Roses are his least favourite flower."

"How do you even know that?" Remus asks.

"He mentioned it once," he answers, waving him off.

"Okay, following that logic-- giving him a bunch of roses when he doesn't like them very much-- roses are your favourites," Peter points out. "How do you think that's going to come across?"

James looks at his friend, bewildered. "Why would it come across as anything but a prank? I swear, the closer to exams we get, the stranger you become." 

Peter grumbles under his breath, and James stops paying attention to him since clearly he isn't going to be helpful.

Hmph. Sirius doesn't look annoyed or upset in the slightest. He looks happy, for Merlin's sake. James has no idea what he's doing wrong here, but making Sirius's day better is not how this was supposed to go.

*

James and Sirius see each other during class-- most of their courses are the same and have been from year three-- but what surprises James is the way Sirius is beaming. It's not a normal, good-humoured smile or smirk the way he normally does for the pranks to show James that he's not bothered. He seems genuinely happy. Clearly, whatever happened to him this morning before the flowers was enough to brighten his mood for the entire day, no matter what else happens. For Merlin's sake, they're sat in History of Magic right now; no one likes sitting through Binns and his horrid lecturing.

On top of his strangely happy mood, he keeps sending James his pleased smile, as if they are sharing this happiness. James has no idea what's going on, but he doesn't want to admit that to Sirius, so when he shoots James a smile, he raises an eyebrow like he's expecting something. Hopefully, it'll take care of itself and he won't be made the fool. Again.

The rest of the day passes quickly, with James alternating between paying attention to class and looking at Sirius-- not an entirely new rhythm for him, he admits, but he's more distracted than usual, unable to pay adequate attention to either when he tries.

Evening comes and there's still an hour before dinner. Unfortunately, James's lack of concentration during the day lingers, and he walks the corridors aimlessly with his bag still over his shoulder because he hasn't had a chance to drop it off in Gryffindor Tower yet.

He spots a few other students making their way through the halls as his feet carry him around, but no greetings are exchanged. They're heading to their destination and he... Merlin, he feels lost, despite knowing Hogwarts like the back of his hand. Maybe he's especially tired today, and hungry now on top of it.

Sirius surprises him by coming around the corridor, and his feet stop automatically instead of going around him. Sirius strides forward with a smile and a bouquet of roses-- he suspects they're the same roses that James poured over him this morning. "I know these won't last long," he says, confirming his suspicion, "but I figure it's only right to give a few back to you. Roses are your favourite, right?" Sirius phrases it like a question, but there's a knowing gleam in his eyes as he holds the bouquet out to James.

"Erm. Yeah." He accepts them slowly, unsure what's happening.

"You were much more forward than I was expecting," Sirius continues. "With how it's been going the past couple years, I thought we were going to graduate before you asked me out."

Ask- what? Surely he doesn't mean 'ask out' like a date-

"We've been dancing around each other for long enough, so you were right to be so obvious." He chuckles. "Maybe I needed a bit of a kick in the arse instead of expecting you to do everything." And Sirius kisses him. It's a light thing, barely brushing against his lips, but it is definite contact, their mouths touching with purpose.

So he did mean a date. That's... not actually ridiculous. James pulls him back in with one hand, the other holding the roses out of the way so they won't be crushed. He wants a real kiss, damn it. After all these years of not noticing a fancy when it's right in front of him, he deserves a proper kiss.

And Sirius is more than happy to give it to him.

[the-night-that-feeds-if]

You feel a chill down your spine, the hairs at the back of your neck prickle. You don't dare look behind you... The shadow smiles.

The Night That Feeds is a dark fantasy, interactive story.  It will have heavy themes of familial abuse, sexually suggestive themes (perhaps more explicit stuff too, eventually), and other dark themes. A comprehensive content warning will be made available as the story develops.

"This is a story of love, loss, and of trying to find a home".

*** Please keep your mental health in mind when playing games with dark themes. This game won't be as dark as some others, but I want everyone to be safe and healthy when consuming dark content.

Demo currently sitting at 21k words.

✧ Features/Will feature ✧

A customizable protagonist, name, gender, appearance. 

Multiple romance options (barely implemented at this time).

Demons!  Not in the way you may think.

An interesting fantasy land that you get to explore.

!!BARELY IMPLEMENTED--MOST CHARACTERS NOT MET!!

・❥・ Romance Options ・❥・

✧.*

Captain E. Ward: Fame, fortune, infamy... All these and more follow Captain Ward. Their job is a demanding one, an important one, a dangerous one. They seem to be a commanding, playful person, but how deep do their scars run?

Age: 30

["Isn't it beautiful?" They say as they stare out into the void. Nebulous clouds drift behind, trailing the ship. "So Void-damned beautiful, and so fucked up." They look you in the eyes, and lick the edge of their bottom lip. "You sure you want this, with me?"]

They are a lonely person, they crave, and despise attention. They're afraid of intimacy, of love. What kind of life is a life in the Void? Who would willingly share that with them?

TW: Attempted murder (on them), clinginess.

✧.*

Maddock: A surly mercenary, he watches out for you, all due to a 'favor' of a nature you can't discern. The way he looks at you is reminiscent of a deep longing.

Age: Late 30's, early 40's 

["I never thought that I'd be one ta' have somethin' like this at my age. I let my dreams go in my youth." He pats the cushion next to him. "You don' expect things ta' turn out, I've been a merc for so long, felt like all I knew how ta' do."]

He's a gruff man, doesn't got a heart of gold, but if you end up falling for each other, there isn't anything that would come between you.

TW: Possessive, sexual.

✧.*

The Hunger: It's been watching you for a long time... 

Age: ???

["Oh, if it isn't my little bird, what is it? Is your wing broken? You don't seem eager to fly away this time..." It slinks closer, grinning wide. ]

An entity, not... malevolent, at least not to you.  However, it holds a sick fascination for you. 

TW: Yandereish. Stalker. Obsession. 

✧.*

Fellis: A woman who seems to be around your age, she's an eager adventurer, she took a liking to you immediately, and seems keen to stoke the flames hotter. 

Age: 22, 23

["Oh, lovey. There you are." She takes your hand in hers, placing a gentle kiss along your knuckle. "I've brought something for you."]

She thinks you're the most beautiful person she's seen. She may even take up poetry to describe her budding love for you.

NO TW. MEGA FLUFF ALERT.

✧.*

Xep: A strange person, wearing bright crimson robes, with gorgeous star decaling in gold. They wear copious amounts of jewelry, and enjoy the finer things. They were immediately drawn to you, they were forced to this back water of a town, they never expected anyone like you to cross their path.

Age: 27

["I want to hold you, please stay?" Their mouth creeps upwards, the wine has given them a positively radiant complexion, the heat blatant on their cheeks.]

They're a sad soul, after experiencing a heart break that left them devastated, they never expected to find love again.

SLIGHT TW: Mentions of suicide, heart break, mentions of being cheated on.

Credit to:  nyehilism for the sugarcube template, you've made things easier on me as an aspiring IF writer, thank you.

[uchu-no-bashira]

Uchū no Bashira | Small Masterlist

Name: Kiana Aboiye

Age: 25 years old

Gender: Female

Appearance: Kiana is a young woman with a radiant copper-brown complexion, she possesses captivating doe-shaped eyes that were impossible in their color: a galaxy-purple with white flecks, resembling stars in a dazzling constellation. Her hair, cascading down to her mid-back, was a gorgeous blend of deep obsidian black at the roots and a lighter indigo shade at the tips, adorned with enchanting coils. Kiana has bow-shaped and pouty set of lips, irresistibly soft, complemented by a perfect set of wizard-white teeth that formed a dazzling smile. Her playful and warm eyes sparkled vibrantly, and she harbored a cute button nose

Height: 5'0

Build: Fit, Curvaceous. Toned muscle - not rippling.

Hair Color and Style: Deep obsidian black at the roots and a lighter indigo shade at the tips,

Eye Color: Galactic purple with white flecks, resembling stars in a dazzling constellation.

Distinctive Features: Eyes, hair, hoarse voice and rich brown skin.

Background: Born to her father Aadan and Her Mother Ayame, Kiana was the first of nine children. Due to her disposition in life, Kiana was disliked by her own mother - as opposed to her other siblings - and took to clinging to her father in her youth. He loved her deeply, leaving the young child no room to question it.

Place of Birth: Japan (Late Meiji-era)

Family: Kiana is the eldest of nine. She has seven brothers and one little sister. Their names are Ichiro (24), Sizwe(23), Hatsuharu (22), Omari (21), Hiroshi (21), Yasu(20), Tefari (19) and Ai (18).

Backstory: At a young age, Kiana followed dutifully in her fathers footsteps to be a swordsman. Aadan taught Kiana everything that she knew about fighting and the use of their odd - but shared - breathing style. He also taught her the importance of grace whilst hunting demons and to show compassion to those that she had killed. At the age of 15 Kiana took part in Final Selection with her brothers Ichiro and Sizwe, facing many trials and many tribulations. At the end of the long, nerve-pulling, seven days, Kiana was shocked that she made it out alive. After her father's death when she turned 18, Kiana had killed her 50th demon and earned the 'Universe Hashira' title. She also took to her siblings as if they were her own children and fulfilled her duties as a demon slayer as well. Through this, she was constantly ridiculed by her mother, who claimed that Kiana was the reason for her father's death; leading her to have low self-esteem in herself and abilities despite her title.

Personality:

Traits: Brave, Kind, Compassionate, Stern, Maternal, Fierce, Playful, Empathetic.

Strengths: Perseverance, Keen intellect, Quick reflexes, Strength, Speed, Combat Abilities, Adaptability.

Weaknesses: Breathing Technique.

Role: Demon Slayer

Rank: Hashira

Weapon:

Type: Dual Nichirin Akrafena

Appearance: The sword has three parts: a blade, usually made of some metal such as iron; in this case, Nichirin. The hilt is carved metal - solid gold in appearance; and the sheath, usually made of animal hide like leopard, leather and electric eel skin. Kiana's is made of leather. The blade of the weapon, after being presented to her, turned into a stardust pattern with a faint purple hue.

Breathing Style:

Name: Universe Breathing.

Techniques:

Galactic Vortex Strike (Offense) - "Uchū no Kokyū, Ichi no Kata: Ginga Uzu Kōgeki"

Kiana wields two Solar Flare Akrafenas with unparalleled precision. With each swing, she channels the swirling energy of galaxies into her strikes. The blades move in vortex-like patterns, creating a whirlwind of motion that slices through defenses with the force of cosmic rotation. This technique delivers powerful impacts, disrupting the demon's defenses and preventing regeneration upon contact.

2. Stellar Fusion Thrust (Offense): "Uchū no Kokyū, Ni no Kata: Kōsei Yūgō Totsugeki"

Drawing upon the brilliance of countless stars, Kiana focuses intense stellar energy into her dual blades. With swift, precise thrusts, she unleashes this concentrated energy in a synchronized assault. The blades move with the brilliance and intensity of stars colliding, delivering devastating thrusts that pierce through even the toughest defenses.

3. Nebula Veil (Defense): "Uchū no Kokyū, San no Kata: Seiun Bēru"

Enveloped in a nebula-like energy shroud, Kiana enhances her agility and reflexes while wielding dual blades. The swirling patterns of the nebula veil create illusions and afterimages that confuse and disorient her opponents. She uses this defensive advantage to evade attacks and maneuver strategically, setting up precise counterstrikes with her dual blades.

4. Singularity Blade (Defense): "Uchū no Kokyū, Yon no Kata: Tokuiten Ken"

The Universe Breather summons the power of a meteor storm, imbuing both blades with the intense destructive energy of falling stars. With a rapid series of strikes, the Breather unleashes a barrage of attacks that mimic the impact of meteors crashing down from the sky. Each pair of strikes releases a burst of explosive energy upon impact, creating a chain reaction of devastating blows that may overwhelm the demon's defenses. The onslaught is relentless, with the dual blades striking in perfect harmony, leaving the demon little time to recover or regenerate, ultimately reducing them to nothing but dust.

5. Black Hole Rend (Both): "Uchū no Kokyū, Go no Kata: Burakku Hōru Rekku"

Kiana channels the relentless pull and crushing force of a black hole into her dual-wielding style. With each movement, she creates a zone around her that draws enemies in, mirroring the inescapable gravitational pull of a black hole.

As she maneuvers within this zone, her strikes are swift and precise, exploiting the disorientation of her opponents. The dual blades move in synchronized arcs, creating an overwhelming force that compacts and tears through defenses. Her movements are fluid and calculated, ensuring that she remains just out of reach of counterattacks while relentlessly pressing her own.

Enemies caught in the Event Horizon find it difficult to evade or counterattack, as the relentless pressure of Kiana's strikes prevents them from regaining their footing. This technique combines offense and defense seamlessly, making it nearly impossible for her opponents to recover or escape the crushing force of her dual blades.

6: Celestial Ascendance (Hidden form) - "Uchū no Kokyū, Hi no Kata: Tentai Shōka"

When Kiana's Demon Slayer Mark activates, she taps into an ethereal power that grants her the grace and might of a goddess of the universe for five minutes. Her presence radiates an otherworldly aura, and her movements become imbued with celestial energy.

During this brief window, Kiana's dual blades are enveloped in a shimmering, star-like glow. She moves with transcendent speed and precision, her strikes resonating with the power of the cosmos. Each swing of her Akrafena leaves trails of ethereal light, and her attacks become almost impossible to predict or evade.

In this heightened state, Kiana executes a devastating combination of offense and defense. Her attacks are so swift and powerful that they cut through demons with ease, leaving behind wounds that shimmer with celestial energy, preventing regeneration. Her defensive maneuvers are equally enhanced, allowing her to deflect and parry with supernatural grace.

The climax of the Celestial Ascendance Technique is a final, powerful slash that channels the full extent of her temporary divine power. This strike releases a radiant burst of energy that resembles a miniature supernova, obliterating any demon caught in its path while leaving the surrounding environment untouched.

Relationships: How Kiana feels about the other Hashira:

"I was afraid she’d kill me in my sleep and after telling her that, we laughed about it and I found out that she’s actually very kind and intellectual." - Insect Hashira

"He is definitely a God of some sort. How could you look good, be tall and considerate? There’s no way. He’s very skilled, I envy his stealth. It staggers me when I remember that he’s two years younger than me." - Sound Hashira

"She's a slice of Castella cake. She’s a wonderful eating partner!! I adore our chats." - Love Hashira

"He’s terrifying, but very thoughtful despite how he speaks. He’s hurting in a way I can’t understand, but I admire his dedication." - Wind Hashira

"Very quiet. I haven’t sat and talked with him, but I feel he prefers isolation" - Water Hashira

"He fired me up. It pained me to know that he had died in battle. I mourned tremendously." - Flame Hashira

"He is a skilled young boy, very mature and does what needs to be done." - Mist Hashira

"He's a serious one. His katana is amazing. I’ve never seen one like it before" - Serpent Hashira

“He is incredibly tall. He’s strong beyond belief. Very cute. I enjoy spending time with him.” - Stone Hashira

Trivia:

The surface of Kiana's skin is well above 104 degrees due to her Breathing style. She has never had a fever or been sick in her entire 25 years of life.

When she was sixteen, Kiana's father - Aadan - once looked at Gyomei Himejima as a suitor for his daughter. Kiana refused the offer from her father multiple times because she had no idea who the man was and she had other responsibilities to worry about.

Kiana's eyes look like the center of a universe swirl and each star is linked to an ancestor and their abilities. She needs to keep a high spiritual balance in order to keep her abilities in tact.

Kiana speaks multiple languages: Japanese, Yoruba, ASL/JSL and English.

(Art done by @kingdimitrx)

[astrologyzodiacsigns]

🌟💄✨ Makeup ideas for first decan Venus in Taurus with Venus as its subruler ✨💄🌟

Eyeshadow: 🎨 Embrace earthy and luxurious tones such as deep greens, rich browns, and shimmering golds to amplify the sensual energy of Venus in Taurus. These shades add depth and allure to the eyes while enhancing their natural beauty.

Eyeliner: 👁️ Opt for a touch of glamour with a dark green or bronze eyeliner to define and accentuate the eyes. These shades complement the earthy tones of Taurus while adding a touch of elegance and sophistication.

Lipstick: 💋 Channel Venus's seductive charm with bold and luxurious lip colors such as deep reds, berry shades, or rich plums. These shades exude confidence and sensuality, perfect for making a statement and captivating attention.

Blush: 🌸 Enhance your natural glow with warm, peachy blush tones that impart a radiant and youthful complexion. Soft coral or apricot blush shades complement the earthy warmth of Taurus while adding a subtle flush of color to the cheeks.

[delightingintragedy]

For Apollo's Blessing

How should I describe thee?

Fair golden locks and a smile that could kill.

Youthful, joyous, stern, and wrathful.

Destruction and life, hand in hand.

You are a danger most beloved.

Beaming, glowing, gold of light,

Blood-soaked, hunter of man, silver of bow.

Arrows of plague rain upon the guilty.

Soft, gentle hands heal the ailing innocent.

Lord Apollo, it is you, The Destroyer,

It is you, the Life-Giver!

It is your displeasure that kills.

It is your great joy that we prosper!

Through you we may experience

The luxury of education, poetry, and the arts.

Through you we may know our fate,

For good or ill,

And I pray, gracious, most beloved of Gods,

That it is for good!

Dearest God, fair of heart and fair of complexion,

You most beautiful and kind,

I acknowledge your great and mighty power,

And pray for your favor.

Please, Shining One, radiant and benevolent,

Look upon me kindly,

And grant me your blessing,

That I may carry your courage in my heart.

May I know my power, and be wise to use it.

Lord Apollo, I thank you for hearing this prayer,

And for your many blessings.

[fancifulflora]

Niamh Venegard

This is my Consort for the interactive novel The King’s Hound by @the-kingshound​ . It’s still very early in development but I do recommend it a lot

A portrait of Niamh “Nia” Pendragon, Royal Consort to Arthur Pendragon. Also known as The Hound. (Picrew)

Name Meaning: Bright, Radiant (Old Irish Origin)

Age: 23

Birthdate: 186 of the calendar at the time, November 1st

Pronouns: She/Hers

Height: 160 cm/ 5′3″

Appearance: Pale ivory skin decorated with a myriad of faint scars over the arms and legs with a large tattoo of the Tree of Life on her upper back. Vibrant, deep green eyes with a faint scar running diagonally across her face. Knee-length silky dark brown hair that is often done up in braids interwoven with ribbon or metal hair ornaments- done completely up when in battle. Below average in height with a surprisingly soft frame for her strength and a deep scar cutting her tattoo in half, leading all the way down her spine to her mid back. Hands contrasting the rest of her complexion with the numerous small scars and callouses that decorate her skin. Initially wore the colors green and gold, though with time, mixed in red amongst their dresses. Outside the castle, wears medium to light armor, though would don heavy armor in the front lines of a battle field.

Noticeable Attributes: Fingertips and lips chewed raw, slight overbite

Default Expression: Distant, Thoughtful

Preferred Weapon: Longsword wielded by one hand, Magic

Description:

A brief summary of various different legends, poems, journals, and tales concerning King Arthur’s Hound, sources and validity vary.

While no one can be certain as to how true the tales of Arthurian Legend were, the accounts of The Hound remain relatively consistent. As far as the official records go, Niamh Pendragon was born Niamh “Nia” Venegard, Irish, and the youngest of seven children. Raised harshly and with strict discipline by her family, the Hound and her siblings were deprived of comforts- trained to serve the purposes of her family and country from birth.

Despite the unkind environment she grew in, the Consort had relationships of varying fondness with all her siblings. She was noted to having held them close to her heart- many gifts from each of her family members found amongst her most treasured belongings. Out of all her siblings though, the Consort was especially close to Saraah, her older brother by three years.

During the end of the Irish Rebellion, in order to ensure peace, Niamh was sent to Camelot to marry Arthur Pendragon. And it is in that castle that their legendary bond would grow.

In various journal entries from the time period, many would note the intimidating look of Niamh Venegard, a stare capapble of withering away the resolve of any who dared to meet her green eyes. Some entries even claim that a look from the Hound could turn a man to stone. However, there are also just as many entries recalling the care in which the Hound would treat those around them showing a rather interesting duality to the consort.

The legendary Hound was not infallible however, despite what the legends might have you believe, as there were many reports and poems written of the Consort’s wandering the halls- her suffering from sleepless nights and nightmares- an after effect of the guilt she felt from her time at war.

In her new home, there were reports of rumors that the Consort refused to sleep in bed, take comforts, or even take hot baths despite their room being decorated in a rather elegant and refined manner complimentary to their tastes. Many reasons circulate regarding why exactly this was the case, though the most popular theory was that Niamh simply did not believe themselves worthy of such luxuries.

As time went on however, the Consort became more comfortable with their newfound luxuries, even picking up a fondness for embroidery and cooking in their free time. There were many pieces of their embroidery found amongst the belongings of their closest friends, many journals citing their cooking as quite flavorful, if overly spiced.

Embroidered tapestries and paintings show us that her highness enjoyed wearing dresses in dark shades of green or blue and gold. Over time, the color red would be heavily introduced and the embroidery and style of dress would become increasingly elaborate and ornate. The same could be said for her jewelry and accessories, though the Consort is shown to have a preference for earrings even before her arrival at Camelot- no painting or tapestry of her complete without at least one pair in her ears.

Her hair however, was almost always done partially up with braids and ribbons , and in the portraits of her in battle, her hair was pinned and braided the entire way up. Overall, the Hound clearly put a lot of work into making sure they look presentable- despite the common rumor of them being more beast than man.

With a reported inhuman amount of strength, the Consort weilded a longsword as her weapon of preference- though she has been depicted throughout time with various weapons- possibly a sign of her general profiency in warfare. When in regards to magic, her destructive abilities are well documented in legend, the tales feeding into the numerous horror stories told about her over the years.

From the traces left behind in her vials and brushes, we can infer that her highness wore makeup often, using up bottles of lavender perfumes over the years. Whether it was used as a remedy for anxiety, sleeplessness, or a mere preference of the Consort is still debated to this day. Notes from the servants of Camelot also show us an unexpected side of the Hound, Niamh showing a fondness for sweets that is rather unspoken of by others outside her close friends and the kitchen staff- implying that it was a preference she was secretive of- perhaps even shy about.

Out of all the other figures of Arthurian legend, she was known to be especially close to her king, even beyond the duties of being Consort. She was also known for being close to her servant, Gwyar, her affections for the both of them documented in the letters traded between the three of them- many poems written about the trio long after their deaths. Outside of her possible lovers, it is no secret that she cared for the heir to the throne, Mordred, who Consort Niamh treated as if they were her own flesh and blood. And when reading the journal entries of guards and servants alike, the Hound seemed kind to those serving them, their first impression and general appearance aside.

Overall, her highness Niamh Pendragon was as much staunch a defender of King Arthur as the stories say, though the many accounts of those around them paint a story seperate from the tales of glory and devotion. The words of those around her instead painting the consort as a deeply hurt figure, one who found herself- her salvation in Camelot and its people- the Consort spending her remaining years defending her newfound home till her dying breath.

Bonus Information:

MTBI: ISFJ-T, The Defender

Temperament: Phlegmatic

Zodiac: Scorpio Sun, Capricorn Moon, Aries Rising

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Greatest Assets: Devotion and Selfless

Greatest Flaws: Extreme Self-Loathing

[babbiweeb]

woman of color with a man of flame-kyojuro rengoku (headcanon)

“have the pride of a brown girl and know that you’ll figure out your own beauty in time”-tamara taylor

(anime in gif:unknown)

tw:n/a

initial tags:kyojuro rengoku, female reader, woman of color, headcanon(s), demon slayer:kimetsu no yaiba

genre:comfort & fluff, romance

headcanon theme:i am woman-emmy meli

authors note:when it comes to the color of my own skin, i have always found it to be challenged. to never be enough, but being oh so desperate to be accepted. i know i am not alone with my own turmoil–yet, despite all the nights i found myself comparing my own treasure to others, i could never imagine myself without melanin. our natural beauty is what lures people close. our glow is what makes us so undeniably tempting. the green eyes of envy that pry at our beauty, that still judge us, will be a constant reminder of how powerful melanin truly is. hold your head up high, you set the example for many that adore our color. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The first moment of bliss was when your eyes met-

-When his eyes met yours for the very first time, His fiery gaze couldn't help but trail your skin. He has never once seen anyone of such beauty. It almost became an addiction to simply look–he had no other word that came to mind as he slowly felt a shift within. 

-In secret, he compared you to a “radiant summer day”. The appearance of your skin under the warm sun had melted him. He never felt so sure about anything in his life. It’s as if the sun revolved around you–only you. 

-You reflected gracefully as each beam of sun absorbed into your skin. He is confident in his thoughts–you are the topic of every conversation. 

-Eventually, the courage had overflowed and soon became almost unbearable. He needed to tell you, to shout from the rooftops. You were a goddess in his eyes. One that the gods above had hand picked for him. A woman of divine honey to always remain by the side of flame.

-Kyojuro found your presence to always be welcoming, could it be that a part of you felt what he felt too? Nevertheless, his confession was fueled by the idea of domestic bliss. 

-Kyojuro often pictured the two of you in every season. In the winter, he would cuddle you close–offer you the same warmth you give him every time you bless his eyes with your presence. Warm tea and honey as you both watch the snowflakes fall. The subtle redness from the cold, slowly fading into flushed crimson, as your supple cheeks blush–oh how this would melt away his worries. 

-Whispers of love had finally found its way home. Your heart had accepted him with tender care. The promise of everlasting love within your grasp, with the intent of never letting go. 

-You are his. His very own goddess. 

“You are more than beautiful. You are exquisite.”

The seemingly never ending sting of insecurity-

-Kyojuro understood that the current era of civilization had regarded those of color to be less than favored. The point made clear was that fair skin became the standard for success. In turn, Kyojuro fought to aid in your moments of exhaustion. 

-He was always there. Even by letter, kasugai crow delivered messages of reassuring adoration from the man of flame. No matter how busy, Kyojuro always makes time for you. 

“You shine brighter than gold, and are worth much more than what the green eyed beasts have.”-He says.

“The universe took such tender, loving care to make you. Never forget that.”

“Sometimes I look up to the sky and wonder…does the sun ever envy your glow?”

-His words flow like poetry, filling the air as they reach your ears. Your head is now stained with such delectable praise that drips from his lips like honey. 

-The distinct contrast of complexion had only ever been a topic of conversation, one time. Not that Kyojuro never wanted to hear your worries, this was just simply not a worry of his to begin with. He never once looked at you differently, even amongst the sea of ivory. You were like molten amber. A woman hot to the touch as your confidence grew–oh how Kyojuro cherished the moments of the self-love you gave up to yourself. 

-Kyojuro lived to worship you. 

The love shown in many ways-

-The infatuation grew with each passing day, as his heart yearned for every bit of your soul. His lips did more than whisper sweet gestures–oh he took every moment to show you.

-The warmth of his arms is forever engraved into memory as the passion lingers, covering every inch of your body with pure loyalty. His hands traced your delicate color in adoration. Arms, legs, stomach–every part of you forever marked with his essence. 

-Your face, however, was his treasure. 

-Kyojuro plants gentle kisses in order. Forehead, nose, cheeks, chin, and finally–lips. With each passing breath, his soft voice reminds you of your divinity.

“You are not less than. You are simply bold. The world isn't ready for what you have in store–”-He whispers.

-Kyojuro knows that your fire is utterly magnificent. You envelop those in your wake with smoldering embers as your free mind sets the hearts ablaze.

“My sunflower.”

“You are the light of my life. My desire is to always have you by my side.”

-Kyojuro, while not fashionable himself, tried to purchase garments that compliment your complexion. No matter how mute or bright the color–you wore every piece of traditional wear he brought you. The love you two share knows no bounds. You cherished every little thing he did for you. He proved his love to you in many ways. As his mind, body, and soul all belonged to you. 

-Yellow, however, is his absolute favorite color to see you in. There was something about seeing such a lovely color on skin that resembled the Earth. Our beautiful, nurturing planet all embodied into one.

“You are one closest to nature. You are home.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

authors end note::hi hi! i had a small fit of insecurity not too long ago, and i felt the small urge to write kyo for us women of color! sometimes it’s hard to remember just how beautiful we are! that’s why our comfort characters are here to bring us such peace! kyo is 100% pinoy. idc. it’s canon. i hope you kyo stans enjoyed this short read! as this is color coded for us women of color, i did still want to keep it relatively friendly for all my readers to enjoy thoroughly! however, my message still stays the same–our skin, our melanin, is what makes us so incredibly powerful. alrighty! talk soon okay?

word count:1131

many thank! -babbi₊˚⊹♡

-09/06/23

[luviaeverything]

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