#my brain is a runaway train

[thebibliosphere]

Streaming services that don't let you speed up the play speed are a surefire way to make sure my ADHD ass doesn't watch anything.

Please, I want to be interested and take this in, but oh-my-god-is-the-rest-of-the-world-swimming-uphill-in-mollases?-speed-up-speed-up-speed-up.

[scottstiles]

is it possible to get actual ptsd on behalf of a tv character?

[waloeders]

in other news. ive been thinkin how an sao au would work with tomu. he'd fit into it so easily, i mean hes gamer mcgee, he'd be in the beta yknow. i think kei could fall into it (especially if he was ordered to cuz its "suspicious") but i doubt dabs would?? hes the only one who would go "no fucking way am i gonna play a vr game lmao" but ah well.

in this au he just gets talked into it or somethin. he's stayin at a friends (ish) place temporarily who gets one n is like "lol im gonna try ur new game first!" <- guy whos just made a grave mistake

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 16 LOVERBOY #1 & #2

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | sexual innuendos, swearing, mentions of sleepwalking

NOTES | written cut ahead!! followed by more smau slides :) jaemin redemption arc is about to be in full swing but trust that does not mean sunshine lollipops and rainbows for our girly y/n also I'm actually a sucker for dystopian movies, like the maze runner trilogy??? 🙏🙏🙏🙏 i feel like I've watched every dystopian movie out there but if anyone has any recs send them throughhh or just to geek over the movies then my inbox is open 😭‼️

Minjun was nothing short of everything to y/n.

When she woke up to find him gone, her front door ajar, she felt the room close in on her. Her heart raced like a runaway train and panic gripped her chest. In no less than a few seconds, beads of sweat formed over her forehead, her breaths shallow and rapid.

She had rushed out of the apartment in a frenzy, calling out his name like her life depended on it. Constricted for air, her body ran on autopilot, down the dimly lit hallway and then down the stairs to search each floor the same way she had searched her own. To no avail. With each step her stomach churned further, sinking, overwhelming. The feeling of nausea ran deeper, stronger, her heartbeat beginning to sound in her ears. Loud and so painfully unforgiving.

She couldn't lose him. Not now, not like this.

Every noise seemed amplified, every shadow morphed into a lurking threat. She felt trapped in a whirlwind of far too many emotions she couldn't recognise. Her mind had become a storm of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. Time seemed to slow down as her panic escalated, consuming her every thought and sense.

Where could he be?

Useless, she felt so utterly useless. She had raced a thousand times, millions of laps of the track during practise and yet when it really mattered, she couldn't find her feet moving fast enough, she couldn't run with the same speed no matter how hard she urged herself to. Her life was on the line, her everything, and her attenpts seemed futile as she raced up the stairs again, across each floor and down again, over and over. How could she have been so careless?

Her pants grew in their depth, the lack of oxygen getting to her brain and causing her vision to blurr— mixed with the tears that overcame her vision, y/n was struggling to keep going.

She couldn't breathe.

Her legs threatened to give way beneath her and yet the determination that coursed through her veins wouldn't relent.

There was no way she would give up without finding him. She wouldn't be able to live with herself. Her motivation, her happiness, her reminder to keep going and keep trying, Minjun had been every single one of those things and more, her family, her best friend, so utterly irreplaceable that she already felt the hole within her heart widening.

Circles. She felt like she was running in circles, searching the same corners of the same floors she had already looked over a hundred times, desperation evident in her frantic movements, worry painting her features.

It had been 20 minutes and she hadn't found him, not a single sign of him— she'd lost him. She was so sure. He was gone and it was all her fault.

Y/n had given up on far too many things in life, but if there was one thing she knew she couldn't give up on, it was him. Minjun was her purpose, in every meaning of the word. She could give up on herself, but she could never give up on him.

She forced herself to think, though her thoughts had become slow, foggy as she repeated the words in her head, think y/n think.

Where could he have possibly gone?

When she finally arrived on the 7th floor again, ready to search her apartment, considering the small chance he may have returned, y/n felt her heart drop. The feeling of inadequacy overcame her being— unable to stand her body found the floor.

And the feeling of relief, though present was so agonisingly fleeting that she couldn't push herself any further.

There he was, sleeping peacefully in Jay's arms, safe and sound. The Park let his eyes land on y/n, sleepy gaze softening at her panicked state. desperately wanting to ask if she was okay but not knowing how to.

He was barely conscious himself, struggling to make sense of the situation in front of him. All he knew was that he'd found Minjun banging against his door no less than a few seconds ago. The traces of slumber were still visible in his squinted eyes and messy hair.

He couldnt find himself to care, not when she was like this.

"Y/n what hapenned?" his voice was hoarse, but soothing, "are you okay?"

The words rested at the tip of her tongue but she couldn't bring herself to speak, shaking her head. She took ragged breaths and gasps for air, a broken eyed stare on the younger boy, her hand clasped across her mouth for the fear of waking him.

Jay found himself conflicted, at an inner battle with himself, not wanting to leave the girl in this state for even a second, but not wanting to wake the sleeping boy in his arms either.

"He sleepwalks" was all she could breathe out, her voice cracking sharply. How he had made it out of the front door in the first place, she had no idea. It had never been this bad, but she knew it was no excuse. If only she had been more careful, none of this would have ever hapenned.

Jay's mouth fell open, finally piecing together the information as he crouched down beside her, cradling her head in his free arm, rested against his chest

Her tears flowed so incessantly, pained and burning against her cheeks, the bitter feeling of guilt caught in her throat, heavy. Shoulder slumped as her body rested against the railings of the staircase behind her, her soft cries echoing throughout the empty space, loud enough for the door opposite to swing open to reveal a concerned, but equally as confused jaemin.

"I've got her" jaemin said, immediately letting his arms wrap around her, rubbing small circles against the small of her back, her tears soaking through his shirt. And though hesitant, Jay nodded, earning a puzzled look from jaemin when he stepped into y/n's apartment to tuck minjun back into bed.

But that was the least of jaemin's worries when y/n, the girl he had always seen so strong, unbreakable in fact, now shook in his hold, suddenly seeming so fragile.

"It's okay peach, I've got you, let it all out"

Something about his voice, his presence, something about that moment washed over her like a gentle wave, soothing the knots of worry that had twisted tight within her. And though nothing could negate the pain, the disappointment and the thoughts of self doubt playing in her mind like a broken record, his hold had offered her worlds of comfort. Even if for a second, y/n felt the weight lift off her shoulders and her racing heartbeat began to settle.

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[xtra7s]

First, I love your work!

Second Clicking ont the yes baby button made me feel things !

Third I was wondering if you could write about Leighton or Renée who has an hidden anxiety disorder

Thanks ♤

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦

Leighton Murray x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Your girlfriend Leighton is struggling.

Content: Anxiety attacks, fem reader, ummm idk fluff

Word Count: 1.1k

a/n: LOVE REQUEST SO MUCH HOPE I DID IT WELL IM SORRY ITS SHORT (Glad the button made u feel things)

masterlist

Leighton's heart raced like a runaway train, each beat reverberating through her chest like a drumbeat of impending doom. She stared blankly at the pages of her math textbook, the equations and formulas blurring together into an indecipherable mess. No matter how hard she tried to focus, her mind refused to cooperate, consumed instead by a rising tide of panic.

"I can't do this," Leighton whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own ragged breaths. "fuck I can't do this."

She raked a hand through her hair, tugging at the perfectly styled blonde locks in frustration. This wasn't like her. Leighton Murray was known for her sharp intellect and unwavering confidence, especially when it came to academics. But now, faced with the looming specter of failure, she felt utterly powerless.

The fluorescent lights of the college dorm hallway cast a stark glow on the beige walls, as Bela, Leighton's roommate, hurriedly dialed Y/N's number. She could hear the faint sound of Leighton's pacing from the other side of the door, mixed with the irregular rhythm of her breaths.

"Come on, pick up," Bela muttered under her breath, anxiety lacing her voice as she waited for the call to connect.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Y/N answered. "Bela? What's up?"

"Y/N listen, something's wrong with Leighton. She's freaking out about something. I don't know what to do."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the urgency in Bela's voice. Leighton was known for her impeccable composure, if she was hyperventilating over something, it had to be serious.

"I'm on my way," Y/N said without hesitation, grabbing her jacket and keys before rushing out of her own dorm room.

Minutes later, Y/N knocked on the door of Leighton and Bela's room, her heart pounding in her chest. Bela opened the door, her eyes wide with concern as she stepped aside to let Y/N in.

Leighton was pacing around her room, her usually perfectly styled blonde hair in disarray, and her hands shaking as she clenched and unclenched her hands.

"Leighton, hey," Y/N said softly, crossing the room to grab ahold of Leighton's hand softly, stopping the pacing. "What's going on? Why are you so worked up?"

Leighton looked up, her blue eyes swimming with panic and vulnerability. "Y/N, I… I don't know what to do. My brain is all scrambled and I can't memorize these formulas for shit I don't know what's wrong with me."

Y/N's heart broke at the sight of Leighton's distress. She smiled sadly at her, offering a reassuring squeeze to her hand.

"Hey, look at me," Y/N said, her voice steady and soothing. "You are more than capable, Leighton. You're brilliant, and you know this stuff. I know you do, you're quite literally the smartest girl on campus."

Y/N noticed Leighton's breathing picking up, and she gently guided Leighton to sit down on the edge of her bed.

"Hey, it's okay," Y/N said soothingly, her voice a beacon of calm in the storm. "Just breathe with me, alright?"

Leighton nodded shakily, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Y/N settled down beside her, taking Leighton's trembling hands in her own and guiding them to her chest.

"Feel my breath," Y/N instructed, her voice soft and reassuring. "Inhale… and exhale."

Together, they began to breathe in tandem, the steady rise and fall of Y/N's chest a comforting rhythm against Leighton's fingertips. With each breath, the tight knot of tension in Leighton's chest began to loosen, replaced instead by a sense of peace and calm.

As they continued the exercise, Y/N whispered words of encouragement, her voice a gentle melody soothing Leighton's frazzled nerves. And with each passing moment, the storm raging inside Leighton began to subside until all that remained was the quiet serenity of the present moment.

"Better?" Y/N asked, her eyes searching Leighton's for any sign of distress.

Leighton nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, Y/N," she said, her voice filled with gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Y/N smiled back, her heart swelling with love for the girl sitting beside her. "You don't have to do anything alone, Leighton. I'm here for you, always."

Leighton's breathing began to slow as she focused on Y/N's comforting words. With each steady inhale and exhale, the tension in her body began to ease.

After the storm of panic had passed, their fingers stayed intertwined as they basked in the calmness that filled the room. But amidst the tranquility, Y/N couldn't shake the nagging concern that had been gnawing at her since she first saw Leighton in distress.

"Leighton," Y/N began softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "do you… do you have an anxiety disorder? I'm so sorry if that's rude to ask, I've just noticed you get really.. panicked sometimes."

Leighton's breath hitched at the question, her eyes widening in surprise. She hadn't expected Y/N to pick up on the underlying issue so quickly, let alone address it so directly.

"Yeah," Leighton admitted hesitantly, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "I do."

Y/N's brow furrowed in concern as she faced Leighton, her expression a mixture of empathy and confusion. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Leighton looked away, her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor as she struggled to find the right words. "I guess… I guess I was scared," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Scared that you would think less of me, or that you wouldn't understand."

Y/N reached out and gently lifted Leighton's chin, guiding her to meet her gaze. "Leighton, I could never think less of you," she said earnestly, her eyes filled with sincerity. "You're still the same amazing person I fell in love with, anxiety disorder or not."

Leighton's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she absorbed Y/N's words, her heart overflowing with gratitude for the unwavering love and acceptance she found in Y/N's embrace.

"Thank you," Leighton whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Y/N smiled softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to Leighton's forehead. "You never have to face anything alone, Leighton. I'm here for you, always."

And as they sat together in the quiet intimacy of Leighton's room, surrounded by the gentle warmth of their love, Leighton knew with unwavering certainty that no matter what challenges life threw their way, as long as she had Y/N by her side, she could weather any storm.

[seattlesellie]

anything but me; part 1 ♡

pairings: abby anderson x reader, ellie williams x reader

warnings: smut, angst!, mentions of marijuana, secret relationship

synopsis: you, abby, ellie and friends are in a cabin in the middle of a snowstorm. what could possibly ever go wrong?

The landscape, once familiar and inviting, transforms into a hostile and treacherous terrain.

It’s rapid, forming deep, unyielding drifts. it was a relentless onslaught, a tempestuous manifestation of nature's fury.

A snowstorm.

And then a warm, messy kiss, tongue pressing right on the pulse of your neck.

“We can’t-“ You whispered. Shallow breaths, your heart was racing like a runaway train. Pounding rhythm echoed in your ears, palms grew clammy, and beads of sweat formed on your forehead.

It was snowing outside.

And you felt like the middle of August.

“Why?” the blonde whispered, her minty breath caressing your temple. Her heart was beating just as fast, you could feel it against your chest. Her arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you closer and closer with every kiss. You had to break it off.

“Because-“ you whispered erratically. Fuck. She sucked the skin on your neck, suctioning it in between her plump lips. Your cunt was pulsing, she would have mocked you if she knew. “Already?” she’d say, a soft smile creeping on her face.

“Abby-“ you whimpered, as she brought her large hand to cup your clothed cunt. Did she just read your mind? She parted two of her fingers on the delicate spot, just like she spread you wide before divulging in with her tongue. Puffy pussy lips spread open, her favorite.

There was no time for teasing, or for mocking. She needed to fuck you right now.

“Ca- I cant- I cant” you whispered. You almost screeched when she softly patted your clothed cunt. You were ready for a slap.

“Yeah you can…” She grabbed your hair and pulled. “My best girl” she whispered, a glint of cockiness in her eyes. She knew what she was doing. Her praises always paralyzed you completely, completely fucking your brain’s capacity of understanding the outer world out of you. Her needy, nasty girl.

But you really couldn’t. Not right now.

It almost hurt when you had to peel her off of you, to slap her hand away from where you needed her the most.

She pouted. Abby pouted.

“I’m sorry… I- Ellie wanted to talk, she practically begged me to. I told her id come to her room at 10, It’s 10:05” you apologized, eyebrows furrowing in anguish.

“No- No-“ Abby kissed your cheek, trying to catch her breath.

“Don’t apologize, It’s okay, I promise.” She gave you a look, a look that said, I trust you. And you’re mine. And I know how bad you need me. Chivalry was alive and thriving. Ellie should take a masterclass, taught by Abby Anderson herself.

“I’ll be right here, yeah?” She whispered softly, planting a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. It drove you truly crazy sometimes, how a rough kiss was followed by a delicate one, a slap by a caress. Her good girl, and then her slut, her princess, and then her bitch.

“Mhm” you nodded, doe eyed. She hypnotized you. Dragging your feet, forcing them to walk away from her seemed like the worst thing you could ever imagine doing.

But you weren’t an asshole. You weren’t Ellie.

The cabin stood tall and sturdy, nestled amidst a winter wonderland, with its wooden exterior contrasting against the pristine white surroundings. You were dragging your feet, and god, the stickiness in your panties didn’t help.

You hesitated before reaching for the doorknob. With a creak, the door swung open.

“Hey” the auburn haired girl said dryly, as if she didn’t fidget with her fingernails while drawing aggressively just five minutes ago. She was trying to contain herself. Be normal. Just talk to her.

She was wearing a white tank top. It was snowing outside.

“Youre not… cold?” you asked, without even greeting her. You, the thoughtful person that you are.

“M’fine, I turned on the heater” She sniffed. She wasn’t fine, and the heater was definitely off. Her nose was red, eyes puffy, and god, that room smelled like Ellie. Your Ellie.

Was your Ellie.

Before entering her room, you decided you weren’t going to let her win this. See, Ellie had a habit of… dancing around important subjects. She was a master of distraction, knew exactly what to tell you, where to touch you, how to get you to crumble beneath her. She wasn’t evil, she never did it on purpose. The weight of her inner demons pressing upon her were a suffocating presence. They suffocated her, at first. Then, they creeped up on you too. She would yell, and demand you to stay quiet, to shut up. She would argue, and then ignore you, and then argue some more. She would scream at you to leave, and then beg you to let her in. You couldn’t do it anymore.

Thats why you left.

You didn’t know whether to sit or not, so you balanced your weight between your feet. You scratched your chin with your shoulder. Abby. Her scent lingered upon your skin. The cologne, like a silent caress, delicate pine, left an indelible mark upon your being. Your face flushed. Maybe Ellie’s room really was hot. Maybe she was right to wear that top.

You fixed your hair. Focus.

“What did you wanna talk to me about?” You questioned. Ellie was stood in front of you, avoiding your gaze. If she looked - she didnt know what she’d do.

“I don’t know” She said dryly, voice raspier than usual. It smelled like weed. She must have smoked before you entered.

“You don’t know?” you questioned. You tried to avoid rolling your eyes. It was so typical, so Ellie. Of course she didn’t know, she never fucking does.

“I- Can you sit down? Why are you acting like you don’t know me?” Ellie's voice sliced through the air with a tinge of annoyance, her words dripping with frustration. Every syllable carried a distinct edge, as if each letter resented being uttered.

She signaled you to sit on the bed.

You obliged.

She sat next to you, keeping the distance. Funny, how just a month ago, she would have begged you to sit on her lap. She would have pampered you with kisses. That was then, and this is now.

2 strangers.

You felt a lump forming down your throat. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

Ellie stared at the floor. She glanced over to you, and then shifted on the bed. The forrest green duvet emitted a soft rustle, like a gentle sigh escaping its fabric embrace.

She took a deep breath.

Thats what those Youtube videos taught her. “Meditation for beginners” was probably the worst one. “How to deal with anger issues”, yeah, she binge watched 7 of those videos.

“I wanted to ask you…”

You glanced at her. She was biting the inside of her lips, blood was forming. The taste of metal washed over her tongue.

“Fuck-“ She whispered.

“I need you to explain. I need to know why you left.”

your gaze froze, breath catching in your throat. Ellie's question pierced through your defenses, demanding an answer.

“I’m not doing this right now” you said, ready to get up and leave. It’s not like you didn’t expect it, but for some reason, you just couldn’t.

Ellie looked at you with disbelief. As you got up, halfway there, Ellie grabbed your hand forcefully. Before you knew it, you were sat back down on the bed. Your breath hitched. You should have walked away.

“I said I’m not doing this with you.” You made eye contact with her for the first time. Her eyebrows were scrunched, jaw clenched. Your Ellie.

“Are you not even going to apologize? I mean, fuck-“ Ellie's eyes narrowed, frustration burning within her. Her gaze intensified, her pupils dilated.

Apologize?

“Fuck- Apologize?” you laughed in disbelief.

“Holy fucking shit- Wow” you glared at her.

“You are un-fucking believable”

[lesbianrobin]

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Um, it’s like sometimes my mouth is moving faster than my brain and it’s like this runaway train and I cannot seem to get it to stop no matter how hard I try. You know what I mean?

May 27th: 1 Year of Vickie!

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Bonus: Honeymoon

Notes: Something I wanted to do as my brain wouldn't leave me alone about it. A nice wedding as reader now becomes Mrs. O'Hara~

CW: Wedding day shenanigans and a slightly nervous reader and Miguel.

Bonus One: You Slow Down Time, in Your Golden Hour

Word count: 6.4K

You stared into the full-body mirror, nervousness, happiness, and other raging emotions swirling within. You never felt like this, but here you, trying not to sweat your pits as Ronnie turned you over to look at her.

“Careful, I don't want to stick you.” She muttered, sewing a small tear right on the side of your dress. 

“I'm sorry, Ronnie. I didn't mean to zone out on you.”

She waved her hand, digging through a sewing kit and getting right to work. “Nah, don't be. It's a big day for you. I don't blame you for being all up in the clouds and jittery.”

You reared your head back at the mirror and beamed harder. You couldn't believe this momentous event was happening; you simply couldn't.

You were getting married.

You were getting married to your star, your forever, your everything: Miguel O'Hara.

Twisting the engagement ring, you peered at the shining stone. Ronnie grinned, finishing up the last final touches on it. “And here we are.” 

Staring at yours and Ronnie's reflection, you both dawned the same sparkling smile, eyeing the dress in admiration. The dress was beautiful. The flowing skirt embroidered with tiny stars and daisies, the slight puffy sleeves, the V-neck showing just a bit of cleavage. 

It was wonderful, considering that it is an expensive dress as well. 

Ronnie was given this dress by some model who, in a pretentious manner, gave it away along with other clothing because ‘she didn't want to be caught dead with them.’

When Ronnie did research, the clothes were worth tens of thousands of dollars, having her to hoard them away from the public eye.

“But now, since this is technically a very special occasion, I want you to wear and have this.”

You recalled denying her over and over. You couldn't accept a very extravagant item, especially if it was one of her most prized possessions. Yet Ronnie's persistence refused to give in.

She badgered you and even got Miguel to jump on the bandwagon when he saw how it complimented your figure. Even taking notes on the little designs adorning it. 

You did give in by the third week, when Ronnie was standing in front of your apartment one morning holding the dress up to her chest. You were grateful for Miguel being up that early, or you would've tossed her out of your window. She threatened to sneak in and put the damn thing on in your sleep, and you didn't want to take her up on that offer.

Then you got an actual good look, and the rest was history.

“Doing okay?”

“Hm? Uh, yes. Think the jitters are getting to me.” You raised your arms when Ronnie instructed you to do so.

“You're not planning on trying to pull a runaway bride on us, are you now?” She inspected for any other tears or loose strings. “Because if you are, let me come. I don't want to be there when Miguel inevitably freaks out more than usual... Or maybe I'll have Peter record it.”

You couldn't say you were baffled by your friend's train of thoughts, but it still never managed to have you taken aback because of how thoughts chugs along up there.

“No, Ronnie. Besides, my body wouldn't even take two steps before I'm sprinting right back to the altar. I love that man too much, and cold feet aren't an option.”

“That man does seem to have a magnetic pull.” She pinned a part and placed her hands on her hips. “And there we go. You are all ready to go.”

“I'm getting married, holy shit, I'm getting married, Ronnie. What the fuck, what the fuck? Are they ready? Is he ready? Please tell me I have more time to get my shit in order.”

Your boss pulled out her phone before swatting your hand away from your hair, scolding you for trying to mess it up. “I worked on that.” She punched in several numbers, and you listened to the phone ring.

“Do you think he's nervous? Or is it just me? I think it's only me; it has to be me? Right, right?” You crossed your arms and tapped your foot rapidly. “What if he's calm and I'm the nervous one? It's only me!” You started to pace the room, fanning yourself to not get overly sweaty.

After the fourth ring, someone picked up, and Ronnie heard shuffling, then a frantic voice speaking in Spanish at a hundred words per second in the background.

“Calm- Miguel, calm down; it's—yes, I know... No, she won't have cold—go, go sit down! Just relax. Hi, Ronnie. Is she ready to go?” Peter's held a strain in his tone as Miguel continued panicking in the back. 

“About to ask you the same thing. Is he freaking out as much as she is?” Ronnie looked at your worn state, then back at her phone. 

“I'm trying to get him to calm down. He said he's scared if she gets cold feet or if he gets it. I told him he would turn and run straight back to the altar if he tried to do a runaway groom. And he agreed.”

Ronnie snickered and sighed out. “Sounds about right. But she's ready; they're both wrecks, so that means they're good to go.”

“I don't think that means they are ready, Ronnie.”

“They are. Find a way to get him in the car, and we will see you two in five.” She hung as Peter tried to sputter one more thing, but Ronnie wasn't having you and Miguel drag this day on.

“What did he say? He's not ready? Good, grand, I get to relax here for a bit longer.”

“Nope, he's ready. Let's go.” 

You and Ronnie had a showdown. You were wanting to do this, but there was something gnawing at your skin and bones. You couldn't figure out why you were so anxious. Leading up to this day was all fine and dandy. Everything was in order, and you both agreed on how the day would go with relative ease.

Like how you both originally wanted to do a Catholic ceremony, but you didn't necessarily have the right resources. With your mother and father watching the celebration by phone, due to your father's chronic fear of flying, you two didn't really want to go through all those steps. When Miguel explained the steps, your head was caught in a whirlwind, and even with your own research on how to minimize it, it made your head throb. So you settled on simple vows and allowed the officiant to do their thing. 

And the guest list was a breeze to make, even if you both knew the consequences. It made sense for Peter to be the best man and Ronnie to be your maid of honor. You didn't mind Peter's wife tagging along too; you both needed some balance between the two. Short and simple. The way you two wanted it.

Then the next thing you slightly dreaded: your mom and dad.

When you announced the news to your parents about the engagement, they immediately video called wanting to interrogate Miguel. You tried to prevent any form of physical call, only wanting to stick to messages, but Miguel eased you to the idea that talking to them would've been a better option. You did give in, but it was an immediate regret.

“Why are you so big? Do you do steroids?”

“What the hell, dad?”

“Don't talk to your father that way. Now, what's your income salary?”

“Mom!”

“What? I need to make sure he can provide.”

“Occupation?” Your dad stepped more into frame.

“I'm, uh, I'm retired, sir.”

“Doesn't answer my question.”

“Geneticist, sir.”

“Yeah, I don't like him. No scientist needs to be that built.”

“I just searched how much a geneticist could make, and he's retired at a young age? He's good-looking man, smart, and in shape? Good pick. I like him. When are you having children? Keep him because I want beautiful grandbabies!” 

You wanted to evaporate into the air.

“You like him for all the wrong reasons. What are your intentions with my daughter? Do you want kids? Where did you meet her? What are your political thoughts? How much has she told you about us? Why haven't you called us to tell us you've been seeing this man-?”

You hung up and slumped your body on the table.

“Now I see why you only message them instead of calling.”

You gave it a few more days for them to settle down, and it helped. It didn't take long for your mom to love him, to the point where she preferred to talk to him more than you. Your dad did eventually warm up to him, more so when he learned that Miguel was actively trying to seek out your brother to surprise you at the wedding. Your dad accidentally let it slip a couple days before the wedding, stating Miguel is now his new son and how Barkley was a coward for hiding away.

Miguel confessed that he was struggling to find him; even with his old fancy HQ gizmo, it was as if he never even existed. He did feel undoubtedly terrible, and you hugged him, thanking him a million times for going out of his way for a surprise that would've been amazing. 

To help bring the mood back up, you treated him to his favorite restaurant and then came back to the apartment and proceeded to ride him until you both were seeing stars.

Needless to say, you pushed everything to the back of your brain to solely focus on Miguel, the wedding, and nothing else. 

Everything was running smoothly, minus MJ not being able to show up due to catching a virus, so there wasn't going to be any middleman that you and Miguel craved. And Ronnie wasn't helping by forcibly dragging you out to the car. The glimpses of passersby didn't help as Ronnie gave them all a thumbs-up that this wasn't a kidnapping, and you were safe before gently shoved you in the passenger side. Your leg bounced the vehicle, wishing that the botanical garden was halfway across Nueva York.

“You're going to tilt the car if you keep moving your leg like that.” She slid in and started up the engine and pulled off the curb.

“I'm sorry, Ronnie. I don't know why I'm feeling this way.”

“Marriage is a big thing. Committing your life to someone who is willing to go through the ups and downs with you and vice versa. Well, unless you're my cousin.”

Your face bunched up at that. “Why do you say that?”

“She's been married about seven times in the span of five years. She was more worried about the weddings than the actual guy she was getting with.” Ronnie said. “Always keeping up with her needs, barely inputting what the man may want. Every time you saw the groom, they always seemed so dead, tuned out, or going along with it to prevent her from blowing up over the simplest of issues. Kind of sad, so seeing someone excited to be with the person they truly love is refreshing.” 

Your lips curled upwards. It was joy that was amplifying all those emotions that were raging inside. The one that was outshining the rest. 

Ronnie parked and hopped out of the car and dashed to your side and opened it for you. She moved her head around like a vulture, scoping out for the others. Only a few cars preoccupied the other spaces, but she didn’t see the car Peter was taking. You stepped out with her help and pointed out that the officiant was here.

“Hey, we got fifty percent. I see that as an absolute success so far.” Ronnie took your hand, and you two made your way under the pergolas. “You know this would be a gorgeous shot.”

“I'll make sure to tell Peter. I hope he remembered to bring his camera.” When scouring for a photographer, you learned that Peter was one, and he recommended himself to do all the pictures and photo edits.

You accepted his offer but didn't know how the payment was going to work with him being from another dimension. You questioned if it was like another country where you could exchange your currency for theirs. Or if future money would affect the past. They assured you that it should be okay, and if it doesn't, you and Miguel would pay in babysitting Mayday.

“Where the heck are Peter and Miguel? I swear if he did do a ‘runaway groom,’ I'm going back for my bat!” 

You had to pause and grab her by the shoulders to not freak yourself out. “Ronnie,” you began through a tightened jaw and forced smile. “Let's go in and meet the officiant. Remember, if one of us shows up first, we can quickly make sure things are in order. Two, Ronnie. Please. Don't.”

The woman was a bit shaken by your calm yet frightening demeanor. She nodded her head, taking the time to realize stressing you out wasn't the best idea. You continued on as she watched you pull your phone out and dial for your parents. You were immediately met with bombarding questions and what took you so long to call. Your eye spasms, and you were forced to give them a stern talking and practically told them to behave themselves, or you will have Ronnie keep them silent throughout the entire ceremony. 

 

You greeted the officiant, who was settled on one of the splattered painted benches. She thankfully gave an update that Miguel and Peter were on the way, leading you and Ronnie to the entryway to get checked in. There was an employee there if anything went awry or you simply needed help.

“I need to freshen up, please. Ronnie, stay here if they come. Can you show me where your restrooms are?” Your hands fidgeted with the puffs on your sleeves. The officiant decided to go with you in case you needed more assistance. 

Ronnie mingled with your parents, her and your mom squealing how you were marrying a “hunky hottie,” while your father didn't make a peep. Ronnie's phone vibrated in her back pocket. She grabbed it and cupped the screen. It was Peter. She excused herself from your mom and dad and muted them so they wouldn't start raising questions on why the groom isn't there yet. 

“Where the hell are you two?” Ronnie hissed. 

“We're in the parking lot. Had to help Miguel from sweating up his dress shirt too much.” There were two doors being shut. “Where is she? Is everyone here and ready?”

“Yes, now hurry up—you slow bastards!” Ronnie hung up and hurriedly called the officiant to make her way back. 

When she got there, your boss handed the phone to the officiant and made her way to where you and the employee were. 

“Can I talk to her alone, please?” You smiled at the employee.

“Of course.” They shuffled out of the restrooms and into the outside.

“Letting you know now, I'm not afraid to tackle you down if you try to run.” Ronnie checked behind to make sure the counter was dry and leaned on it.

“Did you manage to get a glimpse of him?” You peered at your reflection, giving yourself a final inspection, inside and out.

“Nope. I think I was making my way here when they came in.” She inched over and rested her hand on your shoulder. “You look lovely, by the way.”

The corner of your lips quivered up. “Thank you, Ronnie.”

“Of course.” She laced her arms around your torso, weary about not wrinkling your dress. “You know I have a sixth sense?” 

You huffed a laugh. “Do you now?”

“I sure do. And it's saying that life with him will be a path that's full of wonder and wander. Full of winding and unwinding roads. You know all that good crap.”

“I wouldn't say it like that.”

“And you're going to march down to that archway, talk about how much you mean to one another, and get married.”

“I was going to do that from the start; it was never going to change, Ronnie.” You scrunch your face. “Was this a motivational pep talk?”

“In a way. I was buying time so they could get into position.”

You sighed out, ready to touch your hair to relax, when Ronnie smacked your hand away from it once more. One more look at the mirror, and you dazed into your own eyes, then smiled. 

“Okay, I'm ready.” You linked arms with Ronnie and headed out to a welcoming sunbeam.

Miguel was steeled to the ground. His palms were sweaty, but he didn't want to wipe them. He eyed Peter, who gave him a thumbs-up, and then the officiant, who simply offered a smile. 

The flowers decorating the arch were the same from the first time he shared a kiss with you. He fiddled with the marigold pinned to his shirt and made sure it was not damaged. Checking in the direction you were supposed to come, his mind drifted to subconscious thoughts, praying that nothing was off or if his breath smelled (he made sure to brush and gargle three times).

Before he could go any deeper, you and Ronnie emerged in full view.

Miguel couldn't breathe. He stared as you made your way to the archway, the sun, and the flowers, always adding on to your already mesmerizing glow. Every step was elegant, and his heart pounded the closer you got to him. There was no one else in the world besides him and you. 

You didn't want to seize up, but Miguel in his suit and the floral around him brought you back to the first time you ever came here. The first time he was open with you, the first time you shared your kiss. The start to where you are now. 

Extending his hand, you happily took it and drifted as close to him as you possibly were able to. You saw Ronnie take back your phone and make her way over to her side with a skip in step. Taking his free hand, you rubbed the back of it to soothe you both. “You got this. Lo conseguimos.”

“Gracias, mi Luna.”

“You two ready?” the officiant asked.

You signaled for her to begin.

“We are gathered here today on this lovely day, surrounded by one of nature's many beauties of the earth, to celebrate the love and the bringing unity of Miguel and Y/n.”

Miguel felt his eye twitch and wiped at it before going to the other.

You tried to stop the tears from leaking, but they did anyway. Time was slowing down, the officiant's words getting lost and fading into the back. It was only him.

“Eres hermosa.” Miguel mouthed.

“Eres hermoso.” You mouthed back.

The shared fondness ran deep. You wanted to stroke his face, so you squeezed his hands tighter. Miguel didn't want to wear his sunglasses because he wanted you to see every emotion. You didn't want him to strain himself, but he was insistent. With that, you checked the weather almost every day for a partly cloudy day to wed on. 

You gazed up to a perfect blend of the sky blue and the white fluff lazily covering the sky from time to time. 

You zoned back in when the officiant began the declaration. 

“I would say take each other's hands, but you both already have that filled.” The officiant cheesed. “Now, do you promise to choose each other every day, to love each other in word and feed?”

“We do.” You and Miguel nod.

“Do you promise to recognize one another as equals and support one another in your goals and wishes for the future?”

“We do.”

“Do you promise to always share your thoughts, feelings, and concerns with the other and be open and honest at all times?”

“That means no ‘thinking’ you're okay or insisting. You have that habit.” Ronnie sputtered out before pressing her lips into a thin line when all eyes were on her. “Uh, sorry. Pretend I didn't say anything.”

You huffed out a strong gust of wind and shook your head at your friend. Miguel chuckled and stole a quick kiss on your temple. “I'm here for you.”

“I know, thank you.” You grinned, and you both proudly said, “We do.”

“Miguel, you may now share your vow.”

“Mi Luna, where do I begin?” He shook your hands. “When you came into my life, it was something I never was expecting; it was a path that I thought I couldn't cross, and yet you proved it otherwise. When you allowed me to open up and gave me that space to be myself, it was all so unfamiliar. But whenever the sun and moon drifted into the horizon and the skies, or were hidden by the weeping clouds, you were there with your compassion and understanding.

You made each day feel simplistic; each minute I am around you is an eternity of peace and love that I never want to end. Thank you. Thank you for giving me a chance to want to learn and grow; thank you for showing that there are people who want to be by my side,” he paused to acknowledge Peter, Ronnie, and the direction of the HQ. “That there have always been others who have been there.”

You brushed the corner of your eye, trying not to smear your makeup.

“Mi Luna, mi corazón, mi vida. Thank you for letting the marigolds and lavender pop up. Thank you for showing me these connections and values that lie beneath, waiting to grow. Te amo y nada cambiará eso jamás.”

The officiant gave you the say to recite your vow.

“You big, loveable oaf.” You laughed and sniffled. “That night we crossed paths; I wouldn't have known what was going to happen. I had days of questioning and wondering, asking myself, ‘Is all this real? Is this amazing man before me actually real?’ And yet, the more and more we got to know each other, the more I felt like I've known you for most of my life. I thought of the future with you. I want one with you. You bring in this tenderness and sentiments that always bring these connections whenever you're around. 

“The day you asked me to be your wife was a dream that fell from the light. I had to stop myself from pinching myself because if it were a dream, I wouldn't want to wake from it.”

The night he proposed is something that'll forever have a fond place in your memories.

He brought you to the park after cooking up some cinnamon waffles and playing one of the early albums you got for him. He insisted it was only for nostalgic purposes and that he only wanted to do it on the fly. You held your suspicion, and it didn't ease it when he took you out to the botanical garden and the restaurant you first ate at for dinner. You probed him with question after question until Miguel had you relax. Giving in, you leisurely went along and enjoyed the rest of the evening.

The last stop was the park. The moon was out, and a few stars were stagnant in the sky. You sat on a bench and snuggled up next to one another, loving each other's presence when Miguel made you close your eyes. He stopped you from interrogating and had you comply. You listened out for any sounds when Miguel's voice sounded far away. 

He sat across the other bench and stared right at you with those hypnotic eyes. You laughed and pointed to your own and uttered, “Crimson?”

He smiled and placed his hands in his pockets before making his way to you. He stood there for a few seconds, the orange from the streetlights and the ivory moon competing to be his spotlight. And that's when he got on one knee, and you immediately started to sob. You couldn't recall the speech (he had to retell it when you had to sedate your mind), but you remember saying ‘yes’ repeatedly.

“I love you, mi Estrella. I want to walk on that path with you. Even if it gives us twists and turns, I want to remain by your side through it all.” Your hands were getting wet, but neither of you cared. 

“You have shared your vows, the promises and love that will still flourish and blossom onwards. We witness and bless your vows for the lifetime of your marriage. May I have the rings?” The officiant turned to Peter, who handed them to her. “Thank you.”

She gave you and Miguel the rings and eyed the etched crescent moon on the inside. And on his was a star. The officiant gave the ring exchange speech to be repeated. You noticed his hand trembled when you looked up to see tears rolling down from his cheeks. Even if it was tiny, the smile was radiating, and you couldn't help but return your own beaming one, drops streaming down to your chin. 

“I, Miguel, give you, Y/n, this ring as a symbol of my love, my faith, in our strength together, and my covenant to learn and grow with you.” He placed the ring on your finger, fighting the urge to kiss your hand. 

The officiant looked at you and had you recite.

“I, Y/n, give you, Miguel, this ring as a symbol of my love, my faith, in our strength together, and my covenant to learn and grow with you.” You slipped it on and gave a quick peck to his ring finger. “I'm sorry. I, uh, I couldn't control myself.” You tittered.

“That's okay.” The officiant winked. “Before these witnesses, you both have sealed your pledge with these rings. By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife; you may now kiss the- oh.”

Miguel swept you off your feet into a kiss that he put his all into. The sun warmed your skin, and so did Miguel. Your hands grazed his cheekbones, his nose, whatever your thumbs could touch. 

You were officially married, and the butterflies fluttered inside.

Going to sign your name on the certificate, you caught Miguel staring keenly at the paper. 

“Mi Estrella? ¿Estás bien?”

“Yeah, I'm just... in disbelief I get to have someone as you as my wife. That I get to have this chance at a better life.”

“Of course you deserve it, Mi Estrella. And I will never stress that enough.” You scratch his back when Ronnie yells for you to come over.

“You have other people to blab to.” She hoisted the phone to your face, to your mother gleaming in the camera and your father having a fixed glare.

“We are so proud of you!” Your mom clapped before shoving the phone in your dad's face. “Stop looking like that! You'll add more damn ridiculous than what you need. Say something to our daughter.”

“I'm glad that you are my son. Visit. Soon.” You knew that was more of a demand than a request. 

Miguel draped his arm over your shoulders and pulled you in closer. “Thank you. And we will, we promise.”

“Come on, you lovebirds. Let's get some pictures!” Peter waved his camera around, and Ronnie clapped her hands.

Peter had you two posing around the garden. He was really good at it, having you both feel relaxed and natural surrounded by nature's landscape. The officiant even took group photos of you four, and Ronnie had taken many bad selfish or gorgeous off-guard ones; there was never an in-between with her. You were given the opportunity to freely roam the garden and reminisce about the beauty when you first came here.

You didn't think it was possible for your heart to swell more, but it was proven.

“I'm proud of you, you know?” Peter patted Miguel's back. “Still ways to go, but you'll get there. Especially with her on your side.” 

They glanced over at you and Ronnie chattering away with the officiant, and Miguel was in awe at you. You always managed to hold a presence that made others feel warm, even if you weren't trying. 

“Thank you, Peter. Thank you.”

The three flocked to Peter and Miguel, and you immediately shuffled over to Miguel's side and held his hand. 

“So, we're getting food, right?” Ronnie patted her stomach loudly. “Because I can go for something right about now.”

“We did book a small section for the Asian street food restaurant.” You chimed in. “Would you like to join us? It'll be on us.” You asked the officiant.

“I would love to join, but I have another wedding to head to tonight. And I'm going to need all the rest for that one. But thank you for the offer. I wish you two nothing but these best.”

You all said your farewells to her, thanking her one final time, and watched her leave.

“Alrighty. Any more pictures you guys want to take?” Peter held up his camera.

You shook your heads in unison, your own stomach growling, indicating you're ready to chow down. You all made your way to the cars and down to the restaurant. Being greeted and checking in, you four were seated in a private booth area with barely any noise from the rest of the establishment.

Ordering an array of foods to share, Ronnie recommended for everyone to order a drink to make a toast for you and Miguel. You agreed and got a nice fruit cocktail, and Miguel stuck to a simple glass of red wine.

“This is the part where Peter and I give our thoughts and stuff.” Ronnie raised one of her rounds of shots filled with sake. “I'm going first, so Peter, you have to try and find a way to follow mine up.” She downed the drink and wiped her lips.

“I admire you both. The dedication you give to each other is insane. The way you two interact makes it seem like you have already been together for so damn long. I will never forget the day you walked into my little shop; you were so uncomfortable as hell.”

“You ogled at me for almost a minute.” Miguel piped up. 

“She did what?” You almost gave yourself a crick in your neck to look at Ronnie.

“But the moment my great employee, my amazing friend, came up to the front, I could immediately tell how smitten you were for her.” Ronnie grabs another shot. “Even though you were wearing your sunglasses, you didn't need to see to know. Then, as the days went by, the further love between you was wild. You two made each other comfortable and wanted. An absolute.” She downs the drink.

“Basically, what I'm trying to say is, you two are in love, and no matter what you'll face, no matter how big or little, or how the outcomes may come out, you will see the light within each other.” Another glass. 

Your heart fluttered, and Miguel reached for your hand. “Ronnie, thank you; that was beautiful. You're going to make me cry.” You had to get a napkin to dab at the corners of your eyes.

“Thanks. Cause I certainly know there will be lights being seen on your honeymo-”

“And now it's my turn. Certainly don't know how I could top that, Ronnie.” Peter shakenly laughed. “I'll try to make it short and sweet, because I'm starving.” He bought his wine glass close to his face.

“Miguel, I could talk about the first time you let it slip about missy over here or how you were freaking out on what date to take her on.”

You giggled at that and nudged the abashed man.

“But I'm going to say what I haven't said before: you are making your future with a person you love; continue to write your story and look back whenever you need that pick me up.” He tilted the glass toward you. “And I know you're going to let him tell his story, one page at a time. I'm so proud of you, and I will never stress that enough.”

“Gracias, Peter. Gracias Ronnie.” Miguel said. 

“Thank you two for being here for us.” You added in and beamed. 

Clinking your drinks together, the first round of food was brought out, and you guys began to chow down. You and Ronnie watched in astonishment with how much Peter and Miguel tore into the meals; even a couple of staff members were wide-eyed. Peter stayed until desert, heading back home to not keep his sick wife and child abandoned too long. Bringing you both in a bear hug, you said your goodbyes when you had to excuse yourself to answer a phone call from your parents.

Miguel kept his eyes on your figure when something jostled him out of it.

“Heya, business partner.” Ronnie plopped right by Miguel, checking to make sure you were out of earshot. “How is he doing?”

Miguel gave a side glance and leaned back with his arms crossed. “I'm not even going to entertain what you're about to say.”

Ronnie gave a hardy laugh and pretended to wipe some tears away. “Miggy, Miggy, Miggy, always the ones with the great jokes.” She sighed out and patted his back. 

The man creased his brows at your friend. He still doesn't understand how you two get along, but he tries not to question it. He decided to wait and see what she had up her sleeve for her to be acting this way. 

“Yes, Ronnie?”

The woman cleared her throat and sat up straight. “Right, no need to butter you up; you're happy and married to the love of your life, my girl. You know, Y/n.”

Now Miguel was severely lost. He had no idea where she was heading, and frankly, it frightened him some. Anything was possible when it came to Ronnie, but he was going to give that ear.

“Ronnie?”

“Okay, for real, jumping to the chase.” She sipped her cocktail and smacked her lips. “I saw the way your eye twitched when the officiant said her name. Like, sort of, how should I say? Realization?”

Miguel had to keep his composure. He swore he played it off well. “I was trying not to get too teary-eyed from the start.” To Miguel, that sounded like a reasonable explanation; no need to go further into details. And yet, he knew this was Ronnie he was dealing with.

“Okay. Fair.” 

He was shocked; it actually worked for her.

“So why the hell were you looking at the certificate with a thousand-yard stare? And don't tell me it was because you were in awe and got to marry her.”

He blinked.

“Yeah. I overheard that. So tell me… why?”

Miguel was begging you to come back any minute. He was in a frenzy, needing to find some sort of new response. No matter what he pulled out, they all were ridiculous. A voice being cleared jolted him back into reality.

There he was met with a very smug Ronnie.

“You never knew her name.”

Miguel didn't say a word. The silence screamed out, and that's when she slapped the table. 

“I knew it! It made sense why you would never say her name. I thought it was this endearing thing with the nickname, but no! That was never the case.” Ronnie glanced back and went right back to Miguel.

He was embarrassed. His face hidden behind his face in full fledged shame. “Do not tell her. I'll never be able to live it down if she finds it.”

“Oh my God, holy hell. You went through hell and back; you're living with her; you put a ring on it, and you never once bothered to try and learn her fucking name?” 

“Ronnie, por favor! I beg of you, please don't bring it up.” His voice was at the lowest it could go; his cheeks flushed.

“Oh, I won't.” Ronnie said.

Miguel exhaled greatly and leaned back in the booth. “Gracias, Ronnie. I feel like an idiot for never bothering to learn. No puedo creer que realmente hi-”

“Unless you do something for me.” She folded her hands on the table.

“I should've known. I should've known better.” Miguel mumbled and dragged his hands down his face and sighed loudly. “Are you seriously about to blackmail me? You know that's illegal.”

“You call it blackmailing; I call it investing in a long-term business.” She swept her hand in the air, stars in her eyes. 

Miguel wondered if it wouldn't be too bad if you knew he didn't exactly learn your name. He started to weigh the pros and cons when Ronnie tapped the table.

“I will give details on what I would like in return soon enough. I do want you to enjoy your day with your lovely wife.” She gestured to you strolling back in with a giant grin and sparks when you saw Miguel.

“So what were you two chatting about?” You slid next to Miguel and snuggled your body on his.

“How good the meal was and how you two are very much made for each other.”

You were slightly lost, but chalked it up to Ronnie being Ronnie. After leaving the restaurant and Ronnie stealing one more photo of you two on her phone, she drove you two back to your apartment, where you and Miguel slumped on the couch. 

“So, Mr. O'Hara?” You scooted over to him. 

“Yes, Mrs. O'Hara?” He wrapped his arm around you.

“How about we get out of these clothes?”

“Mhm.”

“Take a nice, long, steamy shower.” You rubbed his chest. 

“Mhm?” He took your hands and kissed them. 

“And get some rest?” 

“Yes, please. Having to endure Peter and Ronnie's nonsense was a lot,” he smiled and put his lips to your ring. “But I would do it over and over, knowing I would get to marry my moon and relive this day.”

“Wouldn't you rather do it once so we can make new memories for the future?”

He chuckled. “Is that your way of saying you wouldn't want to be stuck in that loop?”

“... Maybe.” You gave a cheesy smile and leaned in to kiss him. “I love you dearly, mi Estrella.”

“Y te amaré por siempre, mi Luna.”

[dixons-sunshine]

This idea has been clawing away at my brain. I was shuffling ideas around in my brain and trying to figure out what request called to me more when the thought of Daryl trying to teach his kid how to do kid things hit me in the face with the force of a runaway train. Like, just imagine him finding a bicycle while on a run and bringing it back for his kid and trying to teach them how to ride it. Maybe he takes you and his kid out for a day to a lake (that he's made sure is safe and has traps to alert him of walkers) and he tries to teach his kid how to swim. Maybe he teaches his kid how to build a fort with the blankets and pillows in your shared home. Maybe (most definitely) he takes the kid to catch bugs and keep them in little jars with holes on the top for breathing. Basically doing everything with them that his father never did, and while he's having fun with his kid, he's subconsciously allowing his inner child to heal as well.

Might write this if enough people want to see something like this. However, this idea is free of use. You wanna write it, go ahead!

[hereforthefanficsandromance]

Fan Prize Story #1: Training in the Water

Credit: FlamMabel

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Thank you @flammabel for participating in the Act II opening weekend for The Way He Looks at You. I hope you enjoy your prize!

Read on AO3 Read on Blogger Read on Tumblr Master List: One Shots

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Summary

You, a former Jedi, watch Cal practice his forms. He offers to jog your memory on how to do them. Rating: 18+ Words: 2.2K

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You could hear him before you could see him. The sounds of splashing as he moved through the water, practicing, always practicing. You had been traveling with Cal for a few weeks now and his commitment to rehearsing the forms of the old ways impressed you. You knew the forms, but you practiced them much less. It was honestly embarrassing to attempt them in his presence.

Cal had helped you escape a deadly situation with the Ninth Sister. Your ability to save yourself had waned since the Purge. Lying low for years will do that to a body. You weren’t out of shape, per se, but Cal had been training more in recent years than you. Still getting to know the man, it felt awkward to ask him to teach what you both learned as padawans. So you settled for watching him move through the familiar but forgotten movements. Then sneak away to practice in your room aboard the Mantis.

Your short copper hair danced along your temples as a light breeze rustled the trees of the lush and beautiful planet. The sound of splashing grew as you neared where Cal was practicing. Your heart rate increased as you rounded the corner, exposing the handsome man.

He was wearing trousers and an undershirt that pleasantly showed off his muscular arms. You couldn’t help but let your eyes rake across each flexing inch of skin as he moved. His red hair speckled with dark stains from the water droplets he has stirred up.

Cal looks up to meet your eye as you approach. He offers you a cheeky grin and a small wave before returning to his forms. You make your way to a large flat rock by the edge of the water. The smooth stone was now heated to a comfortable temperature in the sun.

You nod your head to Cal and lounge on the rock, thinking perhaps you could meditate here. But the thought of taking your mind elsewhere when the view in front of you is so beautiful seemed impossible. So instead you watched, as you have many times before.

Mostly you tried to stay focused on learning from his movements, but your brain had other ideas. It saw each movement as more than Jedi training; it saw opportunities for how he might behave in a more intimate setting.

His long fingers, trained to coax objects into his hands using the Force, could instead coax out multiple orgasms from your aching- No. You can’t think of him like that. You barely know him. The Order fell, but you can stay true to the old ways. Though there are few Jedi left to complain if you stray.

His powerful body could save the galaxy and make you see stars, couldn’t it? It might improve morale, give him a reward for his years of hard work. Your cheeks flush at the runaway thoughts, and you focus to steady your breathing. Then you hear Cal wading out of the water and approaching your spot in the sun.

“Did you hear me?” He asks.

“Oh! No, so sorry, I was lost in, uh, thought.” You say.

Cal gives you a curious smile. “I was asking if you’d like to do forms with me in the water.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Does it have to be in the water?”

You watch as clear streams travel down his clothes and into the earth. His skin is shiny and sleek. You wouldn’t mind getting a drink off of him.

“The water resistance requires focused and precise movements. It’s a great tool for training.”

“But my clothes will get wet.”

“Don’t worry, we can lie in the sun after while they dry. Maybe just take off any layers that might slow the drying process.”

He says and gestures to his shirt lying under a nearby tree. You look between him and the article of clothing, wondering if removing your shirt is a good idea.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me taking off a layer?” You ask.

“Of course! I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I promise, practicing forms in the water is worth the time to dry.” He smiles and offers you his hand.

You accept the outstretched limb and stand with his help. Moisture moves from his hand onto yours, sharing the cool water between your bodies. Reluctantly, you release his hand to grasp the bottom hem of your shirt. You lift the fabric and remove it from your skin.

Now only in a sports bra and trousers, noticing Cal’s eyes on you. He has the good grace to look away and pretend he hadn’t stared. But you saw the look in his green eyes. The hungry way his eyes raked over your exposed flesh. This new information makes you feel bold and you feel ready to test the waters.

“I’m wearing some shorts under my pants. I’d rather not have to wait for them to dry, so if it’s okay with you, I’ll take them off as well.” You glance up into Cal’s eyes as you ask the loaded question.

Cal swallows hard and nods, keeping his eyes trained on your face. He appears to be fighting an internal battle.

“That’s great! It’s fine, I mean. Whatever you need to feel comfortable.” He stumbles over his words.

You hook your thumbs under the waistband and pull the fabric down to your ankles, stepping out of them. Leaving the clothes on the warm rock. You glance at Cal, and he looks anywhere but at you, his pale skin now burning red.

“I’m ready.”

“Right, um, lead the way.” He says.

You give a small smile, but are internally beaming. There is no doubt in your mind that he is going to check you out as you walk ahead of him. You pass the nervous man, barely brushing your arm against his as you begin the walk towards the water’s edge. Knowingly, you sway your hips a bit more than normal as you walk, giving the other Jedi a small show.

As you step into the shallow water, you turn to look at Cal. All you see is panic in his eyes as he rushes into the water until waist deep. You take your time moving into the water, allowing your skin to disappear gracefully into the blue lake. Cal watches you move, but occasionally glances down into the water directly below him, then shifting.

“The form you were doing, I struggle with this part.” You say, trying to offer a distraction.

You move through the form before getting to the troublesome part where you aren’t sure how to position your left arm to carry the right arm forward uninterrupted. Cal takes the welcome distraction and focuses on helping you. He tries a few times to talk you through the process before it happens. He approaches you in the water, realizing that you need more help than just verbal instruction.

“Like this,” He says gently while stepping behind you and placing a hand on each arm.

Your skin lights up at the touch, allowing him to guide your movements through the tricky part. You become distracted by his touch and fumble, twisting around to apologize. As you turn to face Cal, your thigh brushes against something firm.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you brought your lightsaber in here. Do I need mine? I left it back with my clothes.” You say, embarrassed that you joined in practice so unprepared.

Cal turns deep red. “That’s not…I, uh, also left my lightsaber with my shirt.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you…are you…um…”

“You’re pretty.” He mumbles.

“You are too.”

He cocks his head and gives a half smile. “You think so?”

You bite your lip and glance down before looking into his crinkled eyes. “It’s honestly distracting.”

“My sentiments exactly.” He lets out a laugh.

His hands are still on your arms, frozen from a forgotten moment. You take a chance and rest your hands on his chest, facing him entirely. Cal repositions his hands, resting on your hips.

“Can I…” He trails off.

You nod, not needing to hear more. Cal wastes no time leaning down to brush his lips against yours. Electricity sparks in your body as he kisses you harder. His hands grip you tighter and pull you flush against his body. The angle proving that it was not a lightsaber you felt earlier.

You kiss him back with equal force, wanting him as much as he wants you. Cal wraps his arms all the way around you and steps back, falling deeper into the water, pulling you in with him. You let out a small squeal as you fall, landing softly on his chest as he partially floats.

“Cal, are you sure?”

He nods once then resumes kissing you deeply, his tongue moving in past your lips. You let out a small moan, encouraging him. He breaks the kiss, looking at you with hooded eyes, his pupils dilated and lustful. Cal moves in to kiss down the side of your neck. You tilt your head, and he fills the new void. His hands move up from your waist to figure out how to remove your bra.

You giggle as he struggles, and he sinks his teeth into the base of your neck in response. The sounds of laughter changing to something more primal and needy. He finally frees your body of the offending fabric and pulls away to watch your breasts spill into the water.

His eyes light up and he leans forward to take one into his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue at the sensitive bud. You throw your head back as he works, his other hand snaking up to play with the ignored nipple, pinching and twisting to your delight.

“Cal.” Escape your lips.

You feel him smile against your skin at hearing his name while he pleasures you. Trying to return the favor, your hands move down to his waistband and push them down over his hips, freeing his hard length. You wrap your fingers around him and immediately hear a strangled sound from the man suckling at your breast. Slowly pumping him beneath the water, you imagine what it must look like.

Thoughts interrupted by his expert fingers pushing under your elastic shorts and searching between your legs. He brushes your clit as he finds your weeping hole and you let out a groan. Cal draws back away from the wetness and tries to find the small bud that made you cry out. He wants to hear you make more noise.

He finds the spot, and you cry out his name again. Cal settles into position and rubs deliberate circles around the bundle of nerves. You let loose an array of noises and barely audible swears.

Cal keeps his eyes focused on your face, fascinated by the way his fingers are affecting your body. His other hand travels down to free you of your shorts. Once you kick them off, he uses the Force to pull them from the water and send them to the edge of the shore. His trousers following soon after.

You release his cock to pull his soaked shirt up over his body, causing his fingers to leave your body for a moment. His hair is messy and wet, his incredible physique is now on full display. He gives you a boyish smile and you feel weak at the knees.

Cal pulls you close again, and you wrap your legs around him. His tip pressing against your entrance, you look at him and nod and he pushes in a few inches. You both press your foreheads together as you experience this new and wonderful sensation.

“You feel so good. It’s really…good.” He says in a hazy lust.

Cal reaches between your bodies to pull more sounds from your mouth as he successfully finds your clit again. Your moans give him the permission he needs to thrust repeatedly into your body. You wrap your arms around his neck and meet his movements. It doesn’t take long until you are both panting and approaching your edge. Cal’s fingers become more frantic, trying to time your pleasure with his own.

“Cal, please, I’m close.” You say.

“Me too. You’re incredible. I should have offered to help you with your forms sooner.”

“You can help me with my forms daily if it ends like this.”

A coy smile crosses his lips as he pumps forcefully a few more times. You grip his shoulders hard as your orgasm arrives. Your core squeezing and gripping at the Jedi inside you. Cal swears under his breath as his thrusts slow and grow sloppy. You feel his own release as he fills you with his desire.

You both stay in the water, just enjoying being so close to one another. Finally, he slides out and carries you to shore, your legs still wrapped around him. Cal takes you to the large rock and sets you down before sitting next to you.

“I promised you we would dry in the sun.” He offers a shy smile. “Maybe we could keep working on things out here. I’d like to hear those noises again.”

Cal doesn’t stop his work until you are both as dry as you’ll likely be.

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[apompkwrites]

the guardian kingscholar || leona kingscholar

masterlist characters: no canon, atiena, nuru, jabali, jabori (OCs) genre: angst contains: death, uh mwezi miji is under attack idk what to tell you, some weird magic lore :), very few fighting scenes, injuries summary: with mwezi miji under attack, (name) finds that misfortune follows them wherever they go. notes: have been planning for this ever since atiena... honestly became a thing in the black sheep universe. big big plans because we're getting closer to NRC :DD maybe next chapter? hopefully :D parts: [og post] | [the lesser kingscholar (1)] | [the broken kingscholar (2)] | [the two kingscholars (2.5)] | [the runaway kingscholar (3)] | [the outland kingscholar (4)] | [the grown-up kingscholar (5)] | [the guardian kingscholar (6)] | [the mourning kingscholar (7)]

"...that's why i'm here," you shrugged, the pit in your stomach growing larger and larger the more the silence remained.

having to spill your secrets to the people you now called family ate you alive. the lingering thought that they may very well turn you in was a constant, almost buzzing in your brain.

although, you wouldn't blame them. not at all.

if anything, you preferred them to turn you in. because if they did, you knew that at least they would be compensated for it. you loved this town and if your suffering at the hands of the elders allowed them to thrive the way they deserved?

you would live that life a million times over.

and despite all of that, it would still hurt. you knew that. deep down, you hoped and prayed to whatever god would listen that they would allow you to stay. you would grovel if you had to. or at least, you think you would. thought and actual action were always two separate beings.

"(name)," of course nuru was the first to say something. honestly, you would feel hurt if he wasn't.

"...nuru?" all you could do was utter his name, your ears flat against your head.

instead of responding, he dived at you, his wings spread to wrap around you. they seemed to form a wall, separating you from the rest of the world. here, it was just you and him with his arms thrown around your body.

his breathing was erratic as if he were the one that suffered all those years of torment from the elders. his body shook but his hands remained still, grasping at the back of your shirt in a death grip.

"...they're not gonna hurt you anymore," he muttered into your shoulder, a promise both to you and himself. "i swear on my life."

"get a room, you two," jabali grumbled, swatting at nuru's wing and making his way closer to the two of you. "but... he's not wrong."

"we're not going to turn you in, if that's what you're worried about," jabori promised, saddling next to his twin. "i think you're pretty much stuck here now."

"we're not letting you go anywhere," nuru muttered, pressing his nose into your neck. "not even the king of beasts will take you away from us."

now more than ever you prayed to whatever god would hear you. you prayed more than when you were mourning the sickness of your father. you prayed more than when the elders began their training with you. you prayed more than when you ran away from the kingscholar territory or when atiena was interrogated you about your identity.

you prayed.

and prayed.

and prayed.

and all that you could think as you chased after nuru towards the mwezi miji border was "let me be there on time."

and much like the other times you prayed, no god was there to answer.

what greeted the two of you at the outskirts of town was carnage. you had no clue the beastmen of the dens were this violent. maybe that's why it took a bit for the older people of mwezi miji to adjust to your presence.

bodies were strewn across the ground, blood seeping out of their scratch marks and punctures, pooling underneath their eerily still bodies. the sight made your stomach churn. you knew these people. you knew them and if you were to survive this, you would have to bury their bodies.

the gods were cruel. although, you already knew that.

"ma!" nuru cried out as he soared through the air. his yell tore you out of your thoughts, the harsh realization of your current surroundings dawning on you. you were on a battlefield and there was no time to mourn. not yet.

your eyes immediately landed on the twins, their backs pressed against each other as they fought off a crowd of lion beastmen. jabori took it upon himself to guard against the more violent attackers, pushing them away with his spear. jabali, on the other hand, was more straightforward with his method, punching and throwing the aggressors down to the ground. as expected from the twins.

a few of the remaining guards held their ground, albeit struggling with staggering stances and wounds covering their skin. but what tugged at you the most was atiena.

the guardian of the night, her black wings no longer granting her flight due to a spear lodged in the middle of it, stood in the center of the chaos, now donning her bird mask that covered her entire head. she heaved breaths as she stared down her opponent, who seemed to be on the same level as she was.

"guardian!" you cried out alongside nuru, who called out to his mother as opposed to his boss. the two of you raced towards her only to be stopped in your tracks, as if some force were pulling you back.

"stay back!" she demanded. oh gods, she sounded so tired. "we've lost too many people! deal with the rest of them!"

"...yes ma'am!" was all you could say in response. with a heavy feeling in your gut, you and nurru split off towards the side with more casualties.

atiena knew what she had signed up for the day she became the guardian. she knew that the beastmen from the dens were violent people. she knew what they were capable of.

she had experienced it firsthand when she had come searching for refuge with her newborn son.

she remembered fleeing from the dens, her wings barely enough to ensure her escape with her son completely unharmed. if she were being honest, she was surprised they healed after that.

she remembered the joy and relief she felt the moment she found mwezi miji. it was nothing but a small village with no more than a couple dozen people living there, all of them surviving the outlands due to their collective fear of the dens pushing them together.

that was when she dedicated herself to the town. she raised her son alongside the village, watching as it grew and grew into what it was now. and she was there every step of the way, protecting her saviors in the dead of night.

the bird mask that covered her entire head became a reminder of the fact she had a duty to fulfill. it was sewn together crudely with mismatched patches lining the skull and beak.

she loved this town with her entire body and soul. almost as much as she loved her son, her precious nuru. oh, how she wished to apologize to her beloved boy.

she was sorry, that much she was sure of. she was sorry he would no longer have a mother at his side.

the influx of magic burned under her skin. it hurt to conjure small bits of it, let alone the entirety of it. the magic of the night, as she called it, was something she dreaded using. she hoped that she would die without ever having to conjure it.

and yet, here she was. she knew it was the only way to save the rest of the guard. to save her children.

she stared the beastman down. she had to take him down with her. even if the rest of the dens remained, she knew the overwhelming loyalty they felt for their pack overweighed all else.

and so, with apologies the only thing on her mind, she allowed her magic to overflow.

"ma's really powerful, d'you know that?" nuru grinned, a little giggle following after his words. "she's got this really cool magic trick she tells me about!"

"yeah? well, i bet you my big brother has cooler magic," you snickered your tail swishing behind you.

"no way! ma's totally cooler than your stupid brother!" nuru stuck out his tongue when you punched his arm. "she always tells me that she'll never use it, though..."

"why?"

"because... she said..."

"no..." nuru was glad he was still in the air. he was able to see what his mother was doing. "no, no, no, no!"

"nuru!" you shouted his name once one of the beastmen fell to the ground. "what's going on?!"

"mom!" he didn't answer you. directly, at least. he was quick to ignore the beastmen scrambling underneath him, opting to turn all of his attention to where atiena was.

and what greeted you when you looked over to where he was headed made you feel as if you were watching your father become bedridden.

atiena had engulfed herself and the beastman in black as dark as the night. it was as if she had grabbed the night sky itself, stripped it of the stars and moon and clouds, and draped it over the two of them like a blanket.

it terrified you how one minute, she seemed to disappear. but the next, all that remained was her.

she lay on the ground, her wings stripped of their feathers, leaving behind black bone and the weapon that was lodged in them before. her mask was still on her head, but the top layer was ripped off as if a beastman had torn at the top of it.

what scared you the most was the blood. it was pitch black but it flowed just like blood. it smelled like it, too.

it was as if the entire battlefield was set on pause. no one moved or made a sound. no one until--

"mom!" nuru's cries were harsher than they were before. his voice scratched against his throat, the guttural scream that accompanied his cry tearing at your heart, just enough for you to drop your weapon and race after him. you knew the twins weren't far behind either.

"mom... mama..." he whimpered once he reached her body, ripping the mask off her face and pulling her head to lay on his lap. "mama, wake up... please, please, please wake up."

"she said it would be the last magic she would ever use."

"you used it... you used it, mama, why?" his shoulders shook as he cried, grasping at her fur jacket as if he were a child exploring the world again. "you told me you'd never use it, mama... why'd you lie?"

she never answered him.

taglist: @brokenncrown @help-meplz @destinationdesignation@rainys-personal-garden@kalims@sxftiebee@luxaryllis@auld-a@the-dumber-scaramouche@ayra2452008@tinywho-man @spadecentral @justeclem44 @bajifairyy @mulandi@minteaspoon@kitty-chan33@hornehlittleweeblet2@letskeepitsimpleshallwe@atsuki-mitsuri@catgirlwannabe@miss-puregotti@havens-not-here @valka-230 @sacrificialwife1@cherrykissesss890@nothing-leave-me–alone@carmelchocola@mulandi @a-random-bored-person @shuriiiewrites @chaos-inperson @o01101bean11010o @zolev @psiioniicmatesprit

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Vickie: I don't know what's wrong with me. It's like sometimes my mouth is moving faster than my brain, and it's like this runaway train, and I can't seem to get it to stop no matter how hard I try. . .you know what I mean?

Robin: Uh, yeah, I think I know what you mean. . .

Vickie: *gives her the monster of a pb sandwich* It's a gift.

It is a gift that Robin has found someone who understands her brain. They'll be rambling like a runaway train for the rest of their lives. The cutest scene in the history of scenes. THE WAY VICKIE LOOKS AT HER LIPS. 😍

[justplainwhump]

Bull

Meet B's opponent in his first big fight.

[Dany: Fighting Ring Arc]

This is adapted from an RP with @hackles-up, my beloved B (Beast) is her character.

Content / warnings: illegal fights, forced to fight, threats of noncon, humiliation and dehumanisation, broken bone, shock collar, whumpee x caretaker, bad guy pov. BBU setting implied.

Today's arena was impressive; even though it was as improvised as they all were. Set in the old sports area of an abandoned factory's rooming house, the organizers had invested in quite a bit of equipment and service to make the venue memorable.

Large stage lighting systems were installed on the long sides of the pool, spotlights that would later illuminate the fighting pit on the bottom of the empty pool now dancing over the expectant audience, the caterers flitting between them, and the fighters preparing in a cordoned-off area opposite the entrance.

Bull stood in the fighter's area with crossed arms, his back to the wall, the size of the empty half circle around him a good indicator for the respect he'd earned himself over the past years. He was a favorite; his owner's, but also, the crowd's. Every now and then one of the guests in their suits or evening wear would step in closer to the cordon, look at him, and nod contently before they pulled out their wallets and turned towards the betting stations. He allowed himself a short smile. More money meant more clout, meant more rewards. Bull had started as a desperate street fighter, but he had worked himself up to his own room in his master's house, his own chef, his own physical therapist.

Only thing he'd ceased getting, something other Dogs had, were Chewtoys.

Bull went through them too quickly, Master had said. He'd have to wait for the fights. It was an unspoken law, that everyone who set up an opponent for Bull, everyone who wanted to challenge the champion, added a prize for him as well. He hadn't seen tonight's one, yet. Not that it mattered much. He'd win. He always did. And after, there'd be someone scared and warm waiting for his cock.

Usually, these prizes were runaways, gathered from the street, or discount pets after a third or fourth refurb. Skinny, scarred, pathetic. Most weren't even Romantics. Didn't matter. Bull didn't want to be seduced.

They rarely made it long. Sometimes, spectators of the fights would pay Bull's master extra, to let them watch the aftermath. In those cases, they did last longer. Bull knew how to give a spectacle.

He figured they'd want a spectacle tonight, as well. Bull was the headliner, scheduled for the last fight of the night - as always -, but this time, they pitted him against fresh meat. One of Hank's, this place's head operator's, latest findings. The man was good at spotting potential; but setting his latest toy up against Bull in his very first fight? Risky, to say the least.

From the corner of his eye, Bull saw one of Hank's trainers pointing at him. Ryder. Arrogant, overpriced ass who wouldn't last a second in the pit himself. Only thing he could achieve was mess with WRU products conditioned minds. His Master had brought Ryder in as a trainer for Bull once, because he was meant to be the best. Hadn't worked out well. Bull didn't fight because of weird WRU drugs messing up his brain. Bull fought because he wanted to. Because fighting opened doors for him. Because he couldn't just do whatever he wanted, but was celebrated for it, revered even. His Master had a claim on him, sure, but both Bull and him knew, he could walk away whenever he wanted. He just didn't want it.

Bull's gaze rested on the Dog next to Ryder. Curious, that Hank let Ryder train the newbie. Quite the investment into someone who'd be obliterated. He watched the new Dog with a glint of lazy interest. Big, just like Bull himself. Lot slimmer around the waist, though. Built to be not only strong, but pretty, too. He was younger than Bull, but far older than the usual fresh meat they'd throw on the market.

And obviously pumped on drugs. Bull smirked and gestured at his trainer. Well then. He'd match that. His trainer raced to his side with a drinking bottle. Filled with the good juice. Bull took a big gulp. "What's that guy's story?"

"They call him the Beast. Runaway WRU they found on the trash and built up again."

"Guessed as much."

"There's more though. Something you should know."

"Hm?"

"Bait's his girlfriend."

Bull chuckled. "Pathetic. Dogs don't do relationships." 
"Maybe he's an unusual one. He's going to want to defend her."

Bull watched the pet from hard eyes. "I'll keep him alive then. Let him watch."

The trainer tilted his head, but his reply was drowned out in booming music, tuning over into an announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen! We have a great line up for you tonight, so get those bets in and let’s get this show on the road!”

The new Dog startled at the noise and the following roar of the crowd.

Bull chuckled half to himself. This would be easy. Still. He could make it easier still.

"Where is that prize?" Bull asked, over the cheer of the audience, unfazed by the noise. It would grow a lot louder, when he came up, later. "Get her here. Pay someone if you must. Gonna push some buttons before we're on."

His glance followed the trainer, wandering over the spectators, who cheered as the first fighters of the day were let down into the ring.

There he was, the ring's manager, Hank, standing next to his boss in the first row.

By their side, kept on a short leash, knelt a young woman in a tight black catsuit, her face pressed against Hank's leg.

From the distance, Bull saw Hank shake his head. His boss put a hand on Hank's arm, saying something into his ear, that caused Hank to lift his arm and throw an with an indignant gesture at Bull.

Bull grinned. He always got what he wanted. He made the money tonight, after all.

It was thrilling, to see the bristling Hank stomp towards him, the bait dragged behind him, struggling to keep his pace as she crawled on all fours.

The girl could've been conventionally attractive, Bull guessed, if that was what one was into. Tall, skinny, soft, cute little cat ears nestled in her short hair. She was also humiliated, terrified, and drugged just enough to make that terror plain obvious but render her unable to do anything. That certainly was something Bull was into. He smiled, flashing all his sharpened teeth.

"Don't do anything stupid, Bull." Hank kept the girl on a tight leash, as he arrived just on the other side of the cordon. It wasn't only rope keeping them in, though.

Circuits were embedded in the floor, that would set off the collar of any Dog who crossed it before the time for their fights. Bull knew precisely where these are, and how to avoid them when he sauntered towards her.

He grinned, ignoring Hank's speech.

He could swear the bait was shivering already.

"So, Kitty," he snarled instead, making sure the new guy overheard. "I hear you're used to taking Dog cock?"

It was enough already. From the side, he heard an animalistic roar, alarmed screams from the handlers.

The new guy was lunging forward, gnashing his teeth together, all but dragging the two handlers desperately trying to pull back his leash.

"Dany!" His voice was harsh and raw.

"Dany," Bull all but purred. "They give names to the fucktoys? What a waste."

"Beastie! Stay!" Ryder was running towards his charge.

"Catch poles! Get the catch poles-" Hank yelled orders at the handlers.

The commotion in the fighters' area had stirred the audience, enough for their attention to shift from the fight down in the pit to tonight's main contestants. Murmurs and laughter erupted, even a cheer or two for Bull.

He grinned, taking in his surroundings.

Hank had pushed himself between the Fighters and the girl.

Not far enough though.

At the other end of the area, the WRU pet had shaken off the handlers trying to pull him back and charged towards Bull, letting out a guttural roar.

Bull knew exactly where he could step, and his arms were long enough. His left arm pushed Hank away, his right wrapped around the girl's leash and yanked.

The whore wouldn't have been any match for him in any state. Drugged as she was, she all but fell right into his arms with a hoarse scream, just as he spun back towards the charging idiot, the girl pressed firmly against his front, right in the Beast's path.

The other stopped dead in his tracks, inches in front of them.

"Easy, buddy," Bull taunted. "We're not on yet."

It sounded like the fight had been interrupted down in the pit. All eyes were on them now. Perfect.

Bull fastened his hold of the fucktoy, acknowledging the press of her warm, tense body against his, her frantic heartbeat against his chest, that caused a pleasant stir in his groin. She'd be fun, later. He leaned in the slightest bit, licked a slow, long strip over her neck, making sure his sharpened teeth caught the light just right.

"You've fucked her before, too, haven't you? Don't you think I too deserve a taste of what I fight for?"

"Bull," Hank hissed. "Step down."

Bull ignored him easily. Hank would acknowledge the rustle of bills around him just as much as Bull did. And even if he didn't - Hank's own boss sure did. All attention was good attention.

The other Fighter took another slow, predatory step towards Bull.

Behind him catch poles were silently, hastily being snatched up. Fingers hovered over controllers. Nobody dared to make a move though. It seemed as if everyone held their breath.

Then, the wannabe-Beast lunged forward, eyes glaring with unbridled fury, his first crashing towards Bull's face.

He had no idea what he was getting himself into. Too bad for him that Bull did.

The bitch screamed, when the pet's fist came crashing towards her. Bull had to leave it to his opponent - he was fast. Good to know. No chance for Bull to wrestle his girl in the line of attack, just to throw himself back and dodge. The "Beast"'s fist brushed over Bull's cheek, but failed to fully connect.

Before he could even withdraw his arm, his eyes widened. His body spasmed. He fell over like a felled tree.

For the tight fracture of a second, Bull expected a shock of his own. None came. So he just watched his opponent crumble in front of him. The whore's heart against him was racing, her shiver a tantalizing distraction on Bull's skin. He gently lowered his mouth over her neck, pulse under his enforced teeth. Her breath stilled. As did the audience's.

"Intermission," the announcer's voice crackled over the speakers. "We've decided to interupt tonight's program, and pull forward our main fight. Please, refill your drinks, adjust your bets, and be ready to see Bull vs Beast, starting in no less than five minutes!"

Bull locked gaze with his Master, in the first row, slight panic in his eyes, gesturing for him to let go. Bull rolled his eyes. Idiot. As if Bull would risk disqualification like that.

He slowly pulled back from her neck, felt the tension of the audience dissolve, just like his Master's.

"I'll finish with you soon enough," he murmured into the whore's hair, loud enough for those spectators around him to brighten up in anticipation.

"Fighters, step back," another announcement cracked.

Bull nodded his head in faux deference and set the prize down to her feet, ready to toss her back to Hank.

Not without a little signature, though.

A slight twist of his arm was all it took.

He felt her bone shift under her skin, heard it crack, just as he let go of her with a swift push.

She landed in a heap in front of Hank's feet, screaming in pain.

*

The audience slowly retreated, ushered back by Hank's security. Handlers rushed in to look after Hank's sorry ruffled Beastie, already sitting up, pale from the shock's aftermath, rendered unable to do anything but growl. What a throwback for the upcoming fight these shocks would prove to be.

Bull's own trainer appeared by his side with a bag of ice for his face, and he reached out to take it. 
His gaze rested on Hank though, and he relished the way the manager's lip formed an asshole. He'd never say it out loud, though. Hank knew where his boss' money came from.

And so he seethed in furious silence as he signalled for a medic to look after his pathetic fucktoy's broken arm.

"Waste of time," Bull mouthed, grinning at Hank and lifting a finger to draw a line across his throat. "She's done. They both are."


----

Dany tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @distinctlywhumpthing @Whumping-on-the-ridge @queenofthenoobs @ocean-blue-whump

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 45 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | season 3 | lesson 44 | lesson 45.2 | lesson 46

did i play all the ruri tunes level last night so i could read the entire lesson and make this post at work? yes.

and i'd do it again BOP BOP

HELP 😭 my man was TIRED

i feel like belphie helped put beel to sleep bc he was too invested in his work and not disappointing lucifer to go to sleep on his own. maybe he was too worried and overused his powers, making beel sleep deeper than he normally does and worrying everyone even more on accident

idk i'm just yapping

maybe it's something lilith related? or maybe it is just an all you can eat buffet with mc and the boys. regardless of if he picks something food related or not, it's gonna involve his family, and i love that about him

thinking about this reminds me of the one bonus scene in nb season 1 (not sure which lesson but i think i talked about it) where beel blamed himself for not telling lucifer about the banshee when it happened and, ultimately, for lilith's death

he and lucifer are so similar in terms of how the feel the need to protect their family at all costs, even if it means killing themselves in the process, and i really wish we got more of the two of them together bc i adore their dynamic

ik we all saw that teaser trailer video...what's going on with him ???

is it a result of messing with the timelines one too many times, or the fact that satan was sentenced to become a human instead of a demon when he fell, or something else entirely?

i thought the post was getting too long, more on this here

shhshdhsgs he's such a dad

with the chapter title being "runaway train", i figured smth like this was gonna happen 😭

aside from that, satan hosting the finals is so on brand for him. gotta love my favorite nerd

but also i'd be PISSED if i was hosting and they didn't tell me shit bc what ???

logically speaking, they won't let anything bad happen to three of the seven lords, their pact holderand best friend/partner, and the demon prince's butler, but anyone with a brain would be panicking if the conductor of the train all of a sudden vanished into thin air and nobody on the train knows how to operate it 💀

hm...

HMMM....

this is probably a stretch, but what if those people are the sponsors for this leg of the science fair? what if they actually want the boys dead?

again, this post is already long so i made a separate one 🫠 mb y'all

:((( pookie

the guilt and helplessness he probably feels for not knowing any of the circumstances despite his status as host, maybe even feeling like he was a pawn of the sponsors who came up with the event in the first place

we know he has self-esteem and self-worth issues and this is not only a punch in the gut, but terrifying bc his self-perceived "incompetence" and inability to help because of his lack of knowledge, something that he usually prides himself on, might end up getting the people he's closest to killed

he can't face the guilt, so he ran

he's so ??? 😭

also, since beel and barb are technically on the same team now despite being competitors before, does that mean they each get a wish if the team as a whole wins, or does the team collectively get one wish? bc just giving one of them a wish wouldn't be fair

and i mean TECHNICALLY force is a part of physics

beel big brain

...we've almost died how many times now?

also, since this part is called "beel's wish", imagine his wish is to save us so we don't die (again) lmao

luke is so not funny 😭

but this is honestly really sweet of diavolo. i had a feeling he'd figure out how to incorporate everyone's wish into his own bc even after winning due to mainly his own efforts, he insisted that it was a team effort

talked about the bonus stories here bc there wasn't enough space for screenshots 🥲

[eye-of-yelough]

i think Gortash’s sole consistent trait is an insatiable desire to know Everything. Insatiable curiosity. it’s his first and only emotion for the first few years of his life, and of course as his brain develops it all too easily becomes a desire to consume Everything. to conquer Everything. to unmake and remake in his own image, to be Everything.

in my interpretation, it’s just a snowball process, maybe he wasn’t born ‘evil’, but he became it very early in life, and i think it would’ve happened regardless of his circumstances; you can’t stop a runaway train. no empathy, no capacity for love, no capacity to see any “people” as equal to him.

for me there was truth in his parents calling him those awful names. does it make them good parents? of course not, nor does it excuse anything, but it creates space for a ‘born this way’ interpretation. for a lil enver gortash who terrorised his parents and the local kids and their pets alike. i also think it’s worth pointing out that he’s the only one of the dead three who doesn’t have a thing that makes him pause, like orin and ketheric. and i think it’s just underselling larian’s efforts to just brush it off as them not having the time, or not wanting to.

but a lot of the reason i have this interpretation is just personal preference to be honest, i enjoy gortash because he’s absolutely terrible and frightening and, for some reason, i enjoy that fear. i enjoy him scary. which is why i have the ‘born this way’ interpretation. it makes sense that people who see gortash as… well. a ken doll to mash their durge together with, might enjoy a different, more humanising interpretation, but as someone who thinks he belongs in a horror, who sees him as incapable of love or physical attraction, ‘made this way’ just doesn’t do anything for me. i like to think he was ripping wings off butterflies just to see what would happen as early as 4.

anyway tldr: i have no issue with people voting ‘made this way’ on poll. i do have issue with people telling me and my friends we’re wrong and bad for enjoying him as a ‘born this way’ villain.

PS: “no one is born evil!!!!1!!!1!!111!!1!1!!1!” it’s fiction. if it was 100% realistic it would be boring.

[xoxosimp]

Water Washes Away

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: Modern AU, descriptions of a panic attack, not beta'd

A/N: This his heavily inspired by a panic attack I had yesterday and this clip of a James Bond movie I so happened to stumble upon

~~~~~

The walls of your bathroom were closing in on you. They would cave in at any second.Your heartbeat was beating faster like a runaway train. It was pumping so hard that it would burst out your chest at any second. Your mind was racing like cars speeding through traffic lights. Your thoughts spiraled into a whirlpool.

You couldn't breathe. You were cursing at your brain to fight for you;  To not go against you. But the panic you felt was stronger than your brain’s instinct to fight for you. You couldn't breathe.

The water of the shower head pelted your skin. Your clothes clung heavily to your body.  And you just sat there. Trying to do something. Anything.

~~~~

All it took was one text message from you.

I need you.

And Bucky broke every speeding law. Passed through every red light. Just to get to you. 

He was hesitant to enter your bathroom because he heard that the shower was on. Out of respect for you, he kept his head down as Bucky opened the door and walked in.He saw you on the shower floor, hugging your knees to your chest trying to catch your breath.

Bucky opened the shower door and took a seat next to you. You clung to his strong bicep, which made him feel how out of breath you really were. 

“Focus on your breathing,angel,” his deep voice softly commanded. He reached for you and so he could place butterfly kisses on your fingertips. “Follow my breathing.

He inhaled for four seconds, exhaled for four seconds. You tried to follow but with Bucky’s familiar touch, he lifted the weight that was crushing you.

Four seconds in, four seconds. You drew the metaphorical box in your head to slow your breathing a few hundred times. 

“ What happened?” Bucky asked.

“ My dad.” You choked on your words. “ I can't do it anymore, Bucky.”

The pain in your voice twisted his heart. He would be your anchor. For as long as he could. For as long as you would allow him. You didn't need to explain yourself. Anything you needed, he would deliver it on a silver platter. Anything you wanted, he Bucky would pull any strings to make it happen. 

“ Do you want me to make the water hot?”

You nodded into his arm. Bucky reached to turn the shower handle, opening up his arms to you. The warm water felt heavenly on your skin and you melted into his arms.

You let him hold you, until the water turned cold again. For as long as you needed him.