#well you CAN but it's not a great plan if you don't want to get banned from fucking aldi or something sjjs

[fictober-event]

The Prompts for Fictober 2024

Fictober Event, The prompts for 2024 Here is the list for October this year. Write something short (or long) and tag it with #fictober24 in the first five tags. Let’s see your creativity!

"that was good work"

"it's been a long time"

"I know you better"

"no, we're not doing that"

"it's a new day, let's go"

"I'm not giving up"

"follow me if you want to live"

"are we happy?"

"don't listen to me, listen to them"

"is this normal?"

"well, that worked out great"

"did you hear that?"

"that's not the point"

"did you stick to the plan?"

"let's try this"

"no, I'm not okay"

"strangest thing I ever heard"

"you always have a plan"

"this is getting ridiculous"

"I saw your eyes light up"

"we've done worse"

"why are we doing this again?"

"we can fix this, I know we can"

"you didn't do anything wrong"

"it consumes me"

"you were the first"

"let me remind you"

"just say what you want"

"how did this happen?"

"I won't let you down"

"it's always been you"

This event is open to fanfiction and original fiction. Start the first of October. You do not have to do the prompts in order. Tag your posts with #fictober24.

Please state at the top if your entry is original fiction or fanfiction and what fandom. State common warnings and triggers at the top and tag accordingly. No AI generated text or art.

I reserve the right to not reblog fics that I find inappropriate. I will reblog things here on @fictober-event, follow this blog to see all the entries. Go forth and write!

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 24 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley intended to take care of a few important things while he had the week off from work, but a quick visit to base brought with it a change of plans.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language, smut, very hands-on Bradley, spanking, 18+

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

The following day, instead of dressing in a uniform or flight suit, Bradley pulled on jeans and a tropical print shirt while he watched you get yourself ready for work.

"You look cute," he murmured as you wiggled into a dress and some simple flats. "And I like it that you're officially living here now instead of just staying for a few days."

"The commute is not ideal," you told him immediately. "But this is." You placed your hand on his abs before giving him the sweetest kiss that left him soft inside. "This is ideal."

Fuck. He was so in love it was insane. As soon as he was back in your presence for a few hours, having sex and eating pasta, he could barely remember how miserable he'd been on that deployment. It was like nothing else mattered as long as he kept coming back to you.

"Let me pack your lunch," he whispered, tilting your chin up for another one of those kisses. Then he was on his way to the kitchen before he could make you late for school. Before he got home, you filled the refrigerator with everything he liked to eat, and he inhaled two yogurts and some peanut butter toast while he made your sandwich. 

The notes you opened from the box he sent were on the kitchen counter, and he smiled. Nat covered for him big time on Christmas Eve so he could make that happen. He was excited to get to see her when he stopped by North Island, but he had to get you to work first.

"You don't need to drop me off. It's so far out of the way," you told him as you appeared with your tote bag. "I'll drive myself."

When he pouted, you laughed. "Come on, Gorgeous. I want to. I need to stop on base anyway."

"Oh, can you remind Marty and Nat about Career Day?" you asked, holding your bag open for your lunch.

"Nat's coming, too? You'll have the whole of the Navy there, Baby."

"The kids would love that."

Bradley narrowed his eyes. "As long as I'm still the favorite."

"You're irreplaceable," you promised.

You weren't exaggerating one bit when you said the commute was a killer. Bradley hummed along to the radio and held your hand, barely making it through the Starbucks drive-thru line and up to your school before the last minute that you needed to be there.

"I love you. Bye," you told him, kissing him quickly before jumping out the passenger door and running up the sidewalk with your enormous drink in one hand. He was absolutely addicted to the coffee now as well, and after he was sure you made it inside, he sipped his own cup as he drove back down the highway.

It was strange to be going through the guard gates this late in the morning, and when he approached the hangar in his street clothes, he heard Nat's voice and sassy whistle immediately. 

"Looking good, Rooster. Did you forget to do your laundry? Did you forget what time work started while you were deployed?" she called, and he made a point to mess up her hair when she gave him a tight hug. "You're the worst."

"I missed you too, Nat," he told her with a laugh. "Thanks for looking after my girl."

She shrugged and said, "I'm always in the market for drinking wine and talking about you behind your back. Plus, she's actually great. Hanging out with her is the best."

"Yeah," he replied, laughing harder. "That's why I want to do it all the time. I intend to do it forever."

One of her dark eyebrows shot up, and she smirked as she said, "Like forever, forever?"

He ducked his head and cleared his throat. "Yeah, but engagement rings are expensive." Natasha screeched and punched him in the shoulder. "Why are you like this?" he asked as she smacked him several times and jumped around excitedly.

Bradley was saved from being attacked when Maverick walked in with his familiar clipboard in hand and a frown on his face. "Phoenix, you're supposed to be in the tower. Rooster, welcome back. Why aren't you dressed?"

"My vacation days got approved," Bradley replied as Natasha quietly crept away. "I'm off the rest of the week. Didn't anyone tell you?"

"It's probably in my emails." Maverick's frown faded away as he pulled Bradley in for a hug. "I was a little worried for a minute there that you'd end up back in Norfolk." He slapped him on the back. "If you're off all week, why are you here?"

Bradley chuckled. "I just wanted to see everyone. Like you said, I was a little worried about Norfolk, too."

Maverick eyed him closely. "And did I hear you say something about an engagement ring?"

It wasn't like there was anything to hide. Bradley figured it was pretty obvious to everyone by now that his relationship with you was the real deal. Hell, Maverick even compared it to his own parents. "Yeah, I'm going to buy one this month. I just need to juggle some finances around to make sure I can get her something really pretty. But I'm going to start looking today."

A slow nod turned into a beaming smile, and then Maverick said, "Before you do anything, I have something you might want to know about."

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

You were dead on your feet at work. Staying up half the night making love and snuggling left you with a smile on your face, but you couldn't stop yawning. Your students noticed right away as you drained your coffee and groaned when the bell rang signaling the start of class.

"Did you have a hard time sleeping?" Jayden asked.

"A little bit," you replied, remembering the way you had to keep pinching yourself to make sure Bradley's strong arm wrapped around you all night was real.

"Was there a loud noise that kept you up?" Nia asked.

You tried not to snort as you thought about Bradley's moans and grunts in your ear as he fucked you from behind. "Something like that. It's time to review our spelling words."

Even though you insisted that Bradley didn't need to drive you to work, he did, and he promised he'd be back right on time to pick you up at the end of the day. But he was such a liar. He arrived at your classroom fifteen minutes before dismissal time with rosy cheeks and eighteen envelopes.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw's here!" Nia called out when your boyfriend knocked on the door before slipping inside. 

He made a beeline right to you, placing a rather innocent kiss on your cheek. "I hope you don't mind, but I wanted to drop these off," he said, holding up the envelopes. The top one had Jackie's name on it, and your heart soared. Butterflies took off. You had to work really hard not to kiss him again.

"We don't mind," you told him, and you watched him pass out the individual notes he must have written for your students while he was deployed. All eyes were on him as he walked around your classroom, delivering envelopes and answering questions.

"When did you get home from the Atlantic Ocean?"

"Was the food good on the aircraft carrier?"

"Are you coming back for Career Day on Friday?"

Bradley took everything in stride like he always did, but his eyes returned to yours frequently, and his flushed cheeks left you feeling dizzy.

"I got home yesterday," he said, voice deep and commanding as he set the last of his envelopes down on Violet's desk. "The food was terrible. So bad. Nothing like the Pacific Fleet. Nowhere near as good as what you ate on your field trip to North Island. I'm thinking about writing a letter to complain."

"You should," Violet told him seriously. "Yummy, balanced meals are so important."

"You're so right," he replied with a nod. "And yes, I'll be back on Friday for Career Day. Your teacher worked so hard on it, I wouldn't miss it for anything." You were gripping the edge of your desk now as he smiled at you.

"I didn't know you were allowed to wear anything except your uniforms," marveled Oliver.

Bradley looked down at his patterned shirt and laughed. "Should I stick with the flight suit for Friday?"

Then the dismissal bell rang, and your kids started to scramble. You usually had them packed up and ready to go a few minutes early, but Bradley was clearly more exciting than the end of the school day. 

"Don't forget about the spelling test tomorrow!" you called out as they all exited the room in a mass of chaos after high fiving your boyfriend. "Thanks for surprising us," you said as you spun to face him.

"Thanks for being so perfect that I can't stay away from you."

Your cheeks blazed with warmth as you ducked against his chest. Muscular arms wrapped you up in a hug as you muttered, "Did you remind Natasha and Marty about Friday?"

"Mmhmm."

"And did you get to see Maverick?"

He paused before squeezing you a little tighter and kissing the top of your head. "Uh, yes. I did. Now will you let me take you home so I can get back to my busy schedule of eating delicious food, napping and fucking you senseless?"

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

Bradley spent the following day unpacking more of your stuff while you were at work. You had all these fancy things he needed to make room for. Like an air fryer. And a rice cooker. Things he would have never used otherwise, but he didn't mind having them here now. 

He took breaks to read from the journal you kept while he was away, often smiling and laughing at what you'd written in your daily log. It was no wonder he fell in love with you through your writing; you were just the same as you were in person and so authentic this way. Then he read about the day you helped Edith with some chores, and he sprawled out on the couch with a groan.

You were the sweetest thing in his life. One time, Vanessa told him that Edith was annoying and only wanted attention. He rolled his eyes then, and he rolled them again now. She was elderly. Of course she wanted attention. But Bradley knew she also had arthritis, and helping her with yard work was fast and painless for him. He couldn't imagine you saying anything like that.

Bradley slipped into a hazy daydream, thinking about how he wanted to propose to you as his feet hung over the end of the couch. He wasn't going to last long now, and he knew it. Not with that ring tucked away in a Zip-lock bag which was duct taped underneath the bathroom sink vanity behind the pipes. If nothing else, he knew it was there, and he could rip it down any time he felt like asking you to marry him, but he wanted it to be special. Really special.

Maybe he could write something for you. Maybe he should take you out to dinner again. There had to be a way to make it just right so you couldn't say no.

After a few more minutes of indulging in the fantasy of having you as his wife, he stood up and attempted to use the air fryer to make lunch. Pretty soon he gave up and made a sandwich instead before walking next door to knock on Edith's door.

"Bradley!" she said, pulling the door open for him. "You're home. Your girlfriend told me you were deployed earlier this month."

"I just got back on Monday. A little bruised, but no worse for the wear," he told her with a smile. "I wanted to see if you needed help with anything."

"Oh, your sweet girlfriend already changed my light bulbs for me," she told him. Then she lowered her voice and smirked. "She's a looker."

"Yeah," he confirmed with a nod. "She's Gorgeous. She also moved in with me, so if I'm not home and you need something, you can always ask her, okay?" 

Edith fretted her hands, and Bradley leaned back out the open front door, knowing she wouldn't agree to his help unless she paid him in some way. Truthfully, he really did feel like playing the piano anyway. "It looks like you've got some weeds that need to be pulled, and your downspout is loose again. How about you think of a cool song to teach me, and I'll be back in like fifteen minutes?"

He ducked outside before she could answer, but he could hear her tapping away at the piano keys as he yanked some dried up weeds out of the soft soil. While he worked, he pictured the sheet music that Edith kept stacked up inside the piano bench, and he started to come up with an idea. The more he thought about the pages stacked up in his own house, the more he liked his plan. 

He was all smiles when he sat down for her to teach him how to play a Bob Dylan classic, and he was still whistling the tune when he went to pick you up from work.

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

On Thursday night, Bradley had you snuggling on top of him on the couch when you should have really been going over your final plans for Career Day. "You are such a distraction," you whispered, arms and legs wrapped up with his to keep warm since you were wearing nothing but his old sweatshirt.

His fingers flexed on the back of your thigh as he smirked and turned his head to face you instead of the TV. "And you're the best for helping me relax all week." His breath was warm on your cheek, and he kissed you there, saying, "Don't stress about tomorrow. It'll be perfect."

You nuzzled your cheek against his shoulder. "I still have to put all of my guests in order. I need to schedule the most impressive presentation last, for the grand finale."

"Okay, so put me last then, Gorgeous."

You grinned and tried not to giggle. "I was actually thinking Marty."

Bradley's hand slid up from your thigh, smoothing over your butt, and you knew what was coming even before you clenched with need. Bradley smacked you one time, and you moaned as he soothed away the sting with his palm. You were instantly aroused, fingers tingling and ears burning. Bradley's dark eyes were wide, searching your face, questioning what he should do next. When you nodded once, he grunted, and that big hand landed on you again, breaking the silence.

"Fuck," you gasped, rear end stinging as Bradley cupped and squeezed you, pulling you a few inches up his body so he could kiss you. His cock was getting hard in his gym shorts, pressing against your belly, driving you wild.

"You like that?" he whispered between heated kisses, but you barely wanted to take the time to breathe.

"Yes," you replied, mouth mashing against his. Both of his hands came up to your waist, yanking the sweatshirt over your head and dropping it on the floor. Then your lips were back on his as you moaned into his mouth.

The sex had been so sweet since he got home, and neither of you could be blamed for wanting so much of it after going so long without. But this was something else. Bradley's fingers dug into your flesh, and his kisses were rough. Demanding. You spread your legs a little wider, arching your back, silently begging for him to spank you again.

He did not disappoint.

You were aching, whining his name, enthralled by the cocky smirk on his face and the possessiveness in his eyes. "You want more, Gorgeous?" he asked, voice dark as his smirk grew. When you nodded vigorously, he kissed your lips so softly before he said, "You'll schedule me last for Career Day? I think it's where I belong, since I'm the most impressive."

Oh my god. He was playing with you now. You knew he wasn't actually jealous of Marty or Nat or any of the classroom parents, but he knew that you knew that your students would always think he was the most impressive. You would, too.

When you tried to kiss him, he pulled his face away from yours as he stroked your tender rear end with his fingertips. "Yes," you promised, "I'll put you last. You're the most impressive."

"Good girl." 

You gasped as he spanked you one more time, then he kissed you before pushing you up so you were straddling his thighs. When he yanked down his gym shorts, you were treated to the sight of his cock, thick and hard, smacking against his abs.

"Clearly I think you're impressive," he grunted, licking his thumb before running it along your swollen clit. It took no more coaxing before you had your hand wrapped around his cock, guiding him right where you wanted. You sank down on him, already a mess as he thrust up into you, hard.

"Bradley!" His hands were on your breasts, cupping you as he bucked his hips up again.

"Look at you," he rasped, fucking you rough while his hands were gentle. You bounced up and down, bracing yourself awkwardly on the too small couch. "Where do you want me to touch you?" he asked, eyes glued on your face and body. "Show me."

Without hesitation, you wrapped your fingers around his right wrist and moved his hand back to your butt. "A little more," you told him, voice shaking as he fucked you so good. Then he spanked you again and again, and you could feel it everywhere as you cried out. 

It was too much and not enough, and you bit your lip as he alternated between soothing you and spanking you until you were shaking, orgasm building. "Baby, you look and feel too good like this," he whined, wrapping his hands around your hips. "I'm so close."

But you were already there. You came as you leaned down and kissed him, those big hands sliding up, stroking your shoulders and neck as gently as you were used to while your ass tingled. You were making some wild sounds as you rode him until he filled you with his cum, then the two of you were panting in unison as your forehead came to rest against his.

You could feel him smiling, mustache brushing your lips as he said, "That was fun. Didn't know you would like it so much."

You moaned and said, "I'm as surprised as you are. And I'll put you last tomorrow. You're the grand finale. Obviously."

"Obviously," he agreed. "Just keep in mind, I'll be more than happy to spank you when you give me a hard time like that again." His lips found the side of your neck, his cock was still inside you as he murmured, "Got it?"

"Oh, loud and clear."

He chuckled, nipping along your skin as your butt throbbed a bit. You didn't want to move, but his stomach started loudly growling. Carefully, you started to sit up, brushing your fingers through his hair as you said, "It's been hours since you ate. Let's find something in the kitchen."

When you stood on wobbly legs, Bradley stayed lounging on the couch, guiding you and turning you so he could place one soft kiss on the spot on your butt where he had spanked you. Then he got to his feet as well, picked up the sweatshirt, and put it back on you.

He kissed the back of your neck and told you he never wanted to leave you again while you made him a grilled cheese sandwich. "Love you too much," he muttered, hand on your thigh as his leg brushed your tender rear end.

You thought about the weeks he was deployed without communication and how awful it was, but this right here was worth it. Making love in bed and rough sex on the couch. Learning what makes each other tick and sharing meals and enjoying how good it feels to have him hold you. All worth it.

When the sandwich was ready, you cut it into four triangles and took a small bite out of one before holding it up for him to eat it. "Thanks, Baby," he whispered, finishing it in one bite before you fed him the second one and then the third in similar fashion. He was finishing the last piece when he wrapped his arms around you and said, "Okay, Gorgeous, now I'm ready to help you get organized for Career Day before bed."

You laughed. "I just need to write a few things down and pick out an outfit."

"Oh. I wouldn't wear anything too tight," he suggested, smirking once more. "You're about to be sore tomorrow."

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

Okay, Maverick. Okay. Career Day is up next, and I need something nice to be there for Marty. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[mehiwilldoitlater]

can you do black myth erlang shen x reader please 🥺

It hurts. Please, it hurt. Stop!

Are you even speaking? Spears and swords don't stop to fall over you, and you wonder if you can even feel pain any longer.

You just wanted them to stop.

Those are celestial guards, fighters of the gods, and they have no mercy on the mortals, especially the ones that plan to revive the great sage. And you were so unlucky to have lost your friend.

How could it have happened?! Why was it happening?! They didn't see how already in pain you were?! They keep it going, and they laugh!

You just want everything to stop; your vision is just red and dark.

Then a light strike, and you're not in pain anymore. Ah...so is here where you die? You wanted at least to say something to Yuán Fèn and Bajie, maybe a goodbye...

You didn't get the chance to end your mission. You feel bad, mostly for these things.

///

Suddenly, icy air fills your lungs.

It's sudden and painful, and it's mostly a sign that you're pretty much alive but very much hurt. You can't see properly; your vision doesn't work so well. Why can you see only with your left eye?!

You tried to reach your head with your hands but could sense only the pressure of one of them. Something is attached to your face—just the same sensation on your left hand. 

Gauzes, someone had put some bandage on your face and hand. You still tried to move your right harm, but you can't feel so much; did it fall asleep? 

You tried to put yourself up but met only a wave of more pain in both of your legs. You wanted to scream, moan, or anything, but you could only wheeze, coughing from the dryness. 

Only then you felt something—rushing movements—they were fast and so many. Many small people? Or just one thing with so many legs? You couldn't tell; wherever you were was so dark. The rush of the feet stopped when some more heavy ones got closer to you. Someone had held your head gently, raising it from the cuschion where you were, then something smooth and cold touched your lips, a bowl maybe. 

A liquid started to carefully flow in your mouth, avoiding you to suffocate or spill it. It was... so bitter. It felt awful, but your throat started to feel better. It was warm.

You tried to understand who was tending to you, so you kept looking at the looming figure. Were they talking to you? He seemed like a man by his posture and

No, it couldn't be. It must have been a dream or a sick joke. You gulped, but before you could do anything, Erland had already put you back in your bedding.

///

Oh, how much you wished that was just a delirious dream and allucination provoked by the pain. Tò be just the product of your mind, another of those visions that you had during your adventure.

Instead It was true—scarefully true.

He didn't speak too much; he didn't speak at all. He just tended to your wound, fixed the bed, made you drink that bitter liquid of his, and then went back to... something. He was just there, doing something in that desolated place. 

The house was small, very small; the only objects present there were the bed where you were recovering, some big jars, a small bundle of sheets in a corner, and a fireplace, where usually the pot mumbled and boiled something that you guess he was feeding you.

It wasn't like you couldn't do much in your state; the only thing you could do was just sleep and hope that nothing bad could happen.

And when you didn't sleep, you thought.

Why was he caring for you? He was preparing you for a formal execution? Was he planning to kill you in front of all the monkeys and Yuán Fèn? Maybe hunting you for fun?

Every time those worries started to come into your head, you felt nothing but pure fear and pain. You should have died there. It would have been merciful. 

One day you finally broke that silence, the day you realized that the absence of sensitivity in your right heart was because there was nothing there. One of the soldiers had damaged so much your harm that it was cute off.

You started to panic, to move, and to make sounds that were near a lament. Then you felt something nudging and crying next to your face, pressing and lapping, then something stronger trying to stop you.

"You need to stop; your wounds may reopen."

He seemed calm in his tone, and he kept his composure even when you started to punch him in the chest and get out of him and that place.

"Of you're in pain, tell me. So I can fix it. I have medicines, but you need to calm down."

How could you calm down?! You're hair was ripped off! You kept struggling, moving your stump against him, trying to gain anything, but nothing came to you. He realized the situation and stod up.

"Don't worry, I prepared everything."

And so he revealed, inside one of the big jars, covered in the same strange bitter medicine, your severed harm, that was still moving, imitating the movement that you were trying to do with it.

///

And so, things didn't change that much, except that he was taking your limb in a magic option, and he was taking you the same things to heal your wounds.

He said that, by mortal standard, death was inevitabile, but with that medicine he could save your harm and your eye, which you learned was lost, and he just kept it there. The creepyness of the hole organs in a jar aside, you felt like something was clearly wrong.

He was Erlang Shen! The deity that struck down Sun Wukong! The one that had officially killed him! Why was he curing you?!

You couldn't trust him; you could trust Yaoguais and all but him?! NEVER!

"Came on," he tried to make you drink again the medicine; "without it, your body will take longer and the harm won't stick."

"Firstly," you said, moving the bowl away from your."I'm not a paper doll that you can just fix with glue. And secondly, I don't trust you!"

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already. Instead, I'm tending to your wounds. Is not trustful enough?"

For him, it was more like taking to a child that refused the cough syrup.

You rolled your eyes; he was right—he could have killed you, and the possibility of being dead by his hand still lingered. Your only option was to play whatever game he was playing and try to get the first chance to escape from... wherever you were. By the look of the outside, where are you back to the New West? The snow was its notable characteristic after all.

After another nudge of the deity, you finally took the bowl from his hand and swallowed in one gulp the medicine. Your face produced a grimace by the savor.

"Ugh! It's so bitter...what did you put in this staff?!"

"I don't make medicine. I take it from the celestial court."

That I take it was more similar to stealing it. But, for your own sake, you held your tongue. When made sure that all the medicine was consumed, he hummed, satisfied, and silently sat near the fireplace.

Now, with a better look, you realized that it wasn't a house per se, but a very small temple. 

"Why did you steal someone else's shrine?"

After that sentence, you thought Mayube would hear him complain about your insolence or just to tell you to shut up. Instead, he kept tending to the fire, using a long metal rod.

"I didn't steal it; it's mine."

"Yours?" You seemed perplexed. "It's so simple. I thought you had something a little more."

He chukled a little without diverting his gaze. "I don't want to attract attention."

What a strange man, you thought, and so you decided to go back to sleep. But still, one question needed an answer.

"When I was on the brink of death," you spoke between the sheets. "You were saying something. What did you say?"

He stode silently, stopped in his thought, then spoke.

"That I won't allow you to die."

///

On your surprise, you found out that one of the most tolerable things there was no one else but Xiaotian Quan, Erlan's loyal dog. Despite his scary look, the jaws that could easily rip of your head, and the fact that it was a deity, that dog was everything but pure joy.

You couldn't understand why, but it just adored you, snuggling to you when the fire died during the night, asking for food whenever its master wasn't looking. How could you resist?!

"You're so nice, you know that?"

Every time the god left the house for hunting, something you learned he did on a daily basis for all of your meals, the duty of guarding you, maybe monitoring your escape, was set on the dog. You obliged to stay in its warm, caressing his mantle and scratching his muse.

"You're very cute... I wonder if you feel lonely here. I would be, but I'm mostly bored."

You sighed, turning in the bed. You tried to avoid thinking about your state and all. Erland said that it was almost time to reattach the arm, but you still need the medicine for your legs and eye.

"I hope Yuán Fèn is all right... I hope everyone is safe. Things were getting off lately. Everything is...."

You massaged your poor eyes with your good hand.

"I really hope that Sun Wukong is worth the pain!"

You didn't want to have doubt; you wished that your faith was strong like Yuán Fèn and Bajie's, but everything was so hard. How could they just accept it? And staying there, medicated by the one that had killed that you guys were trying to revive, didn't help at all. That statement...what wnated you alive? What was his game?

Come to think of it, no one ever came to come for you—not a deity, not a celestial warrior, not a Yaoguais. It was like no one knew where you were except for the dog and Erlang. Was he hiding you? But for what reason?

You stopped thinking about it when you heard the sound of a huge deer falling to the ground and the sound of a knife starting to cut the meat. Does it really need to do it right there!? Even Bajie had so much decency to move away or wait for you and Yuán fèn to sleep!

He seemed too concentrated to care, so he kept going with his work and stopping the dog to come to him and try to take some meat for himself.

It was...almost a cute scene... Blood of the poor deer aside.

"What are you doing in this?" You finally decided to break that silence.

"You need to eat, no?"

"No, I don't..." You covered your face with your hand. "I mean this! Helping me, curing me, and all! Why?"

"I have my own motives. Wich, I prefer to keep to myself for now." He said, giving a small slice of meat to Xiaotian, letting it lick the blood from his fingertips.

"And you? You're clearly not cut out for this; what is it that you searching for in this quest of yours?"

"I just want to go home. They said that, maybe, Sun Wukong knows a way to send me back. I don't know if it's true, but it's worth the shot." 

You didn't even know why you admired it; you just said it. Maybe it wasn't such a big revelation in your head; it's not normal for someone to go back to where you belong, even if this desire wasn't so strong in recent days. He hummed and kept on cutting and putting the meat in the pot on the fire, alongside some water. He didn't say much; he just acknowledged it, you thought.

"And what if I can do that and send you home?"

Your eyes widened as you looked at the man who had just admitted that he could have done that from the beginning, like he was just telling you some directions on the road. But then suspects rose again.

"What's the catch?"

He stopped, finally looking at you, straight in your eyes.

"You stop this foolish quest of yours, alongside your friend. Give up the relics, and I'll send you back. No more fighting, a normal life."

You loved your gaze, looking at your still remaning bandage hand. He could do that; he could send you back. In front of you, stirring a suo, there's your way home ticket. And the price...

A fire started in your chest, looking at him with a newfound vigor.

"Are you basically telling me to give up?!"

"Tò surrender..."

"Then I refuse! Me, Yuán Fèn, and Bajie had made the impossible! The sacrifices that we made, what we had accomplished... NO! I will never betray my friends! I'll find my way home on my own terms!"

"And what if Wukong is not able to help you? What'll you do then?"

"Then...then I'll still search for a way! I'll never turn my back on the Destined One, NEVER!"

At this rate, you really started to fear that he could be angered by your stubbornness and loyalty towards your friend; instead, he rested quite, with a small smile on his face.

He seemed satisfied, and I kept cooking while you decided to stay silent after that outburst. He truly was something hard to get...

After a few hours, the same soup was served to you, and... It wasn't that apprising. It didn't smell bad or have a bad smell; it was just so blended with every one of your senses. It was just boiled meat in some water.

"There, eat now. You still need some energy."

You held the bowl, admiring how some good pieces of meat had gone wasted in some hot water with not even vegetables or some actual condiments. You took a sip of it; the savor was more of some dirty hot water, blood that had remained in the pot, and the disappointment of being fed like this.

"Are you sure you're a deity?" 

"What kind of question is this?"

"Because to be one, your cooking skill really stinks. Do you even know salt exists?"

At this point, you really thought that you were done. You gulped a chunk of meat, afraid to look at the face of the man, imagining how enraged he must be after hearing such an insult. You really couldn't keep your mouth shut, did you?! Why did you have to meet all those friendly deities that didn't care about status?! Now you must have angered the ONLY deity that you really didn't want to!

"Umpf, I never cooked for anyone. You try if you're that good."

You raised your eyes and...a pouty child, an kid that his mother had taken away the dough because he was making a mess with the flour. His arms crossed, offended by a remark that was true, by the way, his feet tapping the floor in a sign of nervousness, pinting out that your comment had left a mark on him, and his gaze...fixed on somewhere else in the room, maybe on his dog, enjoying its meal with the head of the deer.

Did you embarrass him?

The next day, he was able to gain some good ingredients. Some chilies, some salts and peppers, even some nice fresh onions. Where did he find them? You'll never know, but you must admit, he was quite good at following your distractions. He was careless and followed every step by your hand, and at the end of the job, he ate the soup in silence, without saying anything after that.

He must have found it quite good too.

///

"WAIT! Wait, wait, wait, please! Can't we ask someone else?!"

"No one will be able to help us. I can handle it; please stay still." He took away from the fire the long and thick needle and the silk string attached to the end of it.

"NO! At least put me to sleep! It's going to hurt like hell!" You tried to move away from the stump, only to be stopped by his hand.

"I could rip off your head; that would be more problematic than harm. I'll be fast, but you must stay still." He removed the bandages from what was left of your limb, positioning the severed arm near it.

You gasped, a small tear escaping your eye. You were scared.

He noticed his free hand handing you a piece of wood.

"In your mouth...you'll need it.". 

///

It was like you never lost it to begin with. The same medicine was now an ointment to apply, and he reattached them to help the regrow of the lost parts. Your legs started to feel better too; you could walk with his help or a cane. Xiatian too was a nice helper in that case, being your support and all when you regain your ability to move.

But you were really bored.

"And what...is this?" He motioned towards the numbers of some mini-Snowman, tall as a doll, that you were stilkl making around.

"I don't like talking to you, so I made some company from myself."

"Ah..." he silently reached you, sitting at your side but never disturbing your work.

"They are people that you know?"

"All of them—me and Yuán Fèn—had met them in our journey. Some of them are good; some of them needed the right way; others are lost."

All of them were made with the same round shape, making them similar, but each one had at least one feature that made it different and special. He pointed out one with some small detail on the face.

"Who's the one there?"

"The third spider sister! She's just so nice, you know? They all have the right to hate us, but she's quite the mediator! She loves poetry, and her dresses are so lovely! I like to talk with her; she kind of likes humans!"

"Oh, the spider Yaoguai...and the big one there?"

"The second prince of the flowing sand. He's sad, but he's always nice to me. I hope he can recover soon with his brother."

"I see...and the destine done?"

"Here!" You held pridefully the small snowman, a stick in his hand, and a happy face. So near to your feet, it must have been the first one you had made.

"You really care for him..." 

"I do! He's my friend! ...a very...good friend." He had noticed that silent spark that screamed to be freed from the bounds of morality and friendship. You too were bound after all.

"Well, they're not perfect, but here they are! All my friends! I hope they're fine."

"And where are you? Where's the Bián huá?"

"Oh...me, eh?... I'm not that cool like them. I can just be the one who makes the funny little snowman."

He raised his eyebrow, noticing how little of yourself you were talking. He raised his hand, moving the snow like a whirlwind. The snow, by moving, was forming a small sculpture with your exact semblance.

"....Show off." You blunter out.

///

"And so, my uncle decided to leave the quarry and let it go."

Your laugh echoed in the small shrine. Erlang never noticed how genuine it was before that night.

"You're terrible! I can't believe they ask of all people but you to take care of Wukong!"

"Well," he said, drinking some wine, "I was the only one with enough power to do so, and..." he chuckled, smiled, looking to the ground, and sighed, "He and I... we were so similar. I know no one could have ever bested me, but him."

The words he said, you wonder, how many times he hopes to express those feelings to someone but never finds the right one? How long he kept those weights on his chest? When he talked, he didn't sound like someone full of glory and of himself for defeating one of the strongest warriors in the universe; he seemed sad, melancholic, and regretful.

"Were you friends?"

"...I guess we were." He then aptted your shoulder.

There, something moved in your head. Everything changed; you were no more on that mountain; the shrine had become a vast expanse of clouds; so many people around you—the same that had hurt you.

There were some... no, they couldn't be the Yaoguasi king?! Why were they there?! And...Erlang...why he's covering his hand?

"You have to go to sleep now; you still need to rest."

And, without being able to express anything, he left you there, asking yourself what you just saw.

/// 

The day passed; your body came back to your old vigor, but something was different that day. The air was thick, the snow was falling, and Erlang Shen, after so many days, had finally started to show more emotions than his natural calmness. He was waiting for something.

"Erlang?" You spoke to him, observing how connected he was in front of the fire. Xiaotian was near him, waiting for something like its master.

"About me... sending you home... forgive my lie, dear one. I do not know how to do that."

You were just reaching him to his small spot, near the fire place that he had started in the courtyard, when you stopped in your tracks after hearing him. What? Was that a lie?

"A...lie?...w-why did you?"

"Many before you came... and all of them were swawed away from this path...but you..." His kind eyes met yours. "You surprised me many, many times here."

It was... a test? He was testing your faith. Your trust in the Destined one? And then again, he kept silent, thinking about these weeks alone with you.

You befriended many Yaoguai, chosen kindness. You, that stode in the center of the storm, still believed so little of yourself.

You were a shining star, not knowing how important you were. You started to be important for many... and for him. But this... this is another story.

"Time is near, Bián huá. He's coming, calling by your bounds and your destiny."

"Wh's co-" you realized. Your eyes started to water, remembering about your precious friend that you never, not even a single moment, had stopped hope he could find you.

"Yes," he smiled at you. "This is our last time together."

"I still have so many questions! I need to know! I...i...." those visions. He was his friend. What did he hide that faithful day?! 

"You'll have your answers... as his own."

Sound of steps in the snow. Someone was running, despite the ice, despite the cold. His fluffy tail, his strong and determined eyes.

Yuán Fèn.

"Keep cover, Y/N. You really don't want to see this fight."

///

That wasn't a fight.

You saw your friend fight—that wasn't one—and you couldn't even say that you were in your right mind because, for the first time, you didn't want a winner, nor a loser.

At the end of the fight, you don't know what happened, but light engulfed you, just like the day Erlang saved you from those celestial warriors.

When the light dimmed, you weren't on the snowy mountain anymore.

The warm light of spring danced between the branches of the plum blossoms; the wind slowly hummed between the trees, the grass tickling your feet. The sound of a creek, the chirping voices of the birds...where you even in the mortal realm. And...he was there.

Your normal gourmet was now an intricate Hanfu, pink like the flowers of the plum trees. He smiled a gentle smile; you questioned if it was real or just a product of your imagination.

"...where....are we?"

"I thought you would like some colors."

He remembered you as a prince and you as a princess, one that wondered if she was supposed to fit in her role. He held your hand, asking you one last time...to trust him.

Slowly, your fingers intertwined together, and there you saw it, another vision...

The truth.

You're hands still together, he held so strongly, afraid to lose these last moments. Your eyes start to water again. Small droplets of tears shined through the light.

"You...you and him...you planned it...all this time you..."

"He was a foolish one...to believe that a status could grant him freedom..." he chuckled, a bitter one like his medicines. "And yet... maybe... I too wanted something like that... yet I never had that kind of courage to do so."

Your throat was close, your legs trembled, and he was there, ready to catch you.

"....You..." Hiccups prevented you from formulating more words, but you couldn't stop. "You...suffered..all alone..all this time..I could never."

You couldn't hold it anymore, but his strong arm girded around you, trying to bring an inch of comfort to your heart. You figured out everything, and what you could only feel now was the immense sadness of his own story.

A friend for him, but a villain for many.

"The Bián huá... meant to change the circle... who could have guessed that even with me, you could find some kindness in the end?"

"NO!" Your hand gripped his white clothes. "You've...you've done it for him! You're not evil! You're not like them!"

He sighed,

sad smile on his face. He revealed your face to the light, caressing the eye that he tended with care. A flower appeared in your hair—a small plum flower, white and pure.

"As I would love to fight him over this treasure... this fight has already been won."

"What...what's going to happen now?"

"My dear, your journey...as his own...is only beginning."

And while everything faded, his lips seemed so soft, like those petals.

He still needs to steal something from him.

///

"I can't understand you! Your plan did work! Then why are you still moping around?!"

After the great fight, only Nezha decided to go and meet the sacred divinity.

"Little brother..." said Erlang in a sad tone. "You couldn't understand..."

The young one looked at his own senior...then gasped.

"Erlang...did you just..."

He didn't respond. He just held that flower and a small statue made of snow.

@sun-jglim

@sleepingdramaqueen

@crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld @biankanoir

@cromboloni

@miraclecherryblossomsblog

@masksandfeathers @certifiedsimpinggalore

@cinnamonroll-anon @justrandomlypassing @cute-angi @dressycobra7 @virtualexpertanchor

@szynkaaa

@sleepydang

@kishimiest @marcu-bug

@weaverworks

@kirax-the-lazy-girl @luckyangelballoon

@phoenixeclipse-lmkau

@naarra

[criminal-act7]

The Worst

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Blk reader

Genre: angst and nothing but angst. Smut is just a bonus.

Summary: You left the BAU 4 years ago in pursuit of a new career. You and Spencer made the long-distance work until you couldn’t. Two months after the breakup, Spencer and you meet up for closure.

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (f), fingering

Notes: it's been so long since I've written smut, so I'm kinda rusty. Low key I had Don't Smile by Sabrina carpenter in mu head now. I hope you guys enjoy!

Two days ago, everything was perfect. You had returned to D.C. to visit your old friends and colleagues at the BAU, and of course, to see your boyfriend, Spencer Reid. It had been two years since you left the BAU to study music theory in the Twin Cities, and now you were about to start teaching in Minneapolis. While you missed Spencer dearly, and he missed you, too, the long-distance visits hadn’t been enough. But this time felt different. 

Spencer surprised you with a romantic dinner, and just when you thought it couldn't get better, he proposed. You had dreamed of this moment for so long, knowing Spencer’s cautious nature meant the timing had to be just right. But when he finally asked, your answer was easy. Yes. Of course, yes.

Now, curled up in his arms on the couch, you feel the warmth of his presence, the joy of being together again. But tonight, as Spencer begins to talk about the future, you realize that your dreams may not be as aligned as you once thought.

“You’re not serious right now,” you say, disbelief threading through your voice.

“I am,” Spencer replies, his gaze steady on yours. He gently brushes his fingers across your knuckles.

“Spencer, I can’t just drop everything and move back to D.C. I just started teaching in Minnesota.”

“I know, but if we act now, we can get this amazing house—”

“Wait, what? You’ve already been looking at houses?”

He averts his eyes for a moment, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “I found one. It’s perfect for us. There’s even a wishing well in the backyard. We’re getting married, Y/N. Why not plan for the future?”

“We got engaged two days ago! Spencer, we have time. We don’t need to rush.”

“I know,” he says, his voice softening, “but I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. Besides, we don’t know what could happen.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I get it. I used to work at the BAU, I understand. But I don’t want to give up teaching. This is something I love.”

“You don’t have to give it up,” Spencer says, leaning forward, trying to bridge the gap between you. “You could teach in D.C. or even Virginia.”

You shake your head, already knowing where this conversation is headed. “Spencer, I’m not leaving Minnesota. These kids need me. Music gives them a creative outlet. It helps keep them out of trouble.”

He pauses, his voice quiet now. “What about me?”

Your heart tightens at his words. “What about you? We text every day, we talk on the phone, and we video chat when we can.”

“It’s not the same,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing the back of your hand. 

“If you miss me so much, you could come to Minnesota,” you offer with a hopeful smile. 

“And do what? Teach?” He lets out a small laugh, but there’s no real humor in it.

“You’d make a hot professor,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t land. 

“I don’t want to teach, Y/N. That’s your dream, not mine.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m staying in Minnesota,” you reply. “This makes me happy. I’m finally doing something meaningful, something that fulfills me.”

“You were doing meaningful work before,” Spencer argues, his voice rising slightly. “You saved lives. You were a great profiler.”

“And how many lives did we lose? How many victims never got justice?” Your voice wavers. “I wasn’t happy in that life, Spencer. Not like I am now.”

He exhales, his frustration evident. “So, how do we make this work? You in Minnesota, me in D.C.?”

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I thought we’d figure it out.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t just ‘figure it out.’ What, do you think we can hop on planes every weekend, or after I finish a case?”

“Well, if you didn’t have this all figured out, why did you propose?” you ask, feeling the tension rise between you.

“Because I did have it figured out!” he snaps, his voice sharp. “You’re the one who changed the plan, refusing to come with me.”

“I didn’t refuse,” you say, your tone turning defensive. “I just can’t drop my life because you want me to live yours.”

“We’re in a relationship, Y/N! You’re not single anymore. I’ve always supported you. Why can’t you do the same for me?”

“I’m not saying you haven’t supported me. But why should I give up my dream for yours?”

“Because I don’t think you’d be happy long-term!” Spencer exclaims. “You never mentioned any of this before. Then suddenly, you tell me you’re teaching in Minnesota, out of nowhere.”

You stare at him, the weight of his words settling in. “You don’t think I’d be happy?” he looks you in the eyes, his gaze starting into your soul.  

“Not in the long run. No.”

“And who’s to say I’d be happy with you?” The words slip out before you can stop them.

Spencer’s face falls, his expression pained. “What do you mean?”

“You think I’d be happy moving to D.C., working at the BAU again, getting married, having kids? That’s your plan, Spencer. Not mine.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” he says, his voice faltering. “We talked about this before we even started dating—marriage, kids, everything.”

“That was seven years ago. We’ve both changed. I’ve changed.” you pointed at yourself as you tell him the truth.  He realized that too of course the distance away from him was going to change him. 

His face hardens, hurt mixing with anger. “Then why did you say yes?”

“Because I love you, Spencer,” you say, your voice cracking. “And because I thought maybe, somehow, we could still make it work.” you cry as tears fall down your face.

“But how can we, if you’re across the country?” The silence that follows is thick, heavy. You both know the answer before it’s spoken.

“We can’t,” you whisper.

“So… that’s it? We break up?” His voice is hollow, as if he’s already accepted the outcome.

“I—I think we have to,” you say, tears stinging your eyes.

He nods slowly, his jaw tight. “Alright.” You reach for his hand, but he pulls it away gently.

“Spencer… I’m sorry.” you let out a sob trying to wipe your tears away. 

“Me too.” he says getting up to go into his room and you stayed on the couch crying as you knew he was doing the same. Neither of you wanted this outcome but you also didn't want each other to be miserable. 

The next morning, you woke up before Spencer. Quietly, you packed your things, your heart heavy with the weight of last night's conversation. You had booked an earlier flight back to Minnesota, hoping to slip out unnoticed, to avoid another painful confrontation. 

As you approached the front door with your bag in hand, you paused, glancing toward the bedroom—the one you had shared with him so many times before. To your surprise, Spencer was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes red and swollen from a sleepless night.

"I thought you'd at least have the courage to say goodbye," he says, his voice low and rough. He looks just as broken as you feel, like neither of you have gotten any rest.

“Spencer…” you start, but the words don’t come. He doesn’t look at you, staring at the floor instead. Now he was angry seeing you sneaking into his room to leave the ring and some note. 

“Just… leave the ring and go. Please.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you reach for the ring on your finger. Slowly, reluctantly, you pull it off, feeling the cool metal slide away from your skin. For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the symbol of the future you had once wanted so badly.

Tears blur your vision as you gently place the ring on the nightstand beside him. "I'm sorry," you whisper, knowing it’s not enough. Without another word, you turn and walk out the door, leaving behind the life you thought you would share. 

That was the last time you saw Spencer. The breakup was rough on both of you. No matter how much time passed, reminders of him lingered in your life. A month later, a couple of boxes from Spencer arrived at your doorstep—your things from his apartment, meticulously packed and sent back to you. It was everything you had left there, down to the smallest items. The gesture felt like a final goodbye, a clear sign that he had moved on. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. You still had his things. A couple of his shirts, some books, and photos. They haunted you in the quiet moments when you were alone, a reminder of a future that would never be.

Your friend Cassie had advised you to collect his things and move on. “You need closure,” she told you, gently pushing you to take the steps toward healing. But you didn’t at first. You couldn’t. Then, without telling you, she set you up on a date.

His name was Scott. He was a high school English teacher, loved to read, worked out, and was just coming out of his own messy breakup. On your first date, you clicked in a way that surprised you. It felt easy with him, natural. The two of you saw each other a few times, and before long, it had been a month of dates, good conversation, and the start of something promising. But there was one problem.

Every time you went home, Spencer’s presence was still there. His shirts hanging in the closet, the photos of you two tucked in drawers, even old messages you hadn’t deleted. Sometimes you would sit in silence, imagining what his life was like now, wondering if he had moved on in the same way. You’d catch yourself thinking about texting Garcia to ask how he was, but you stopped yourself. Your former colleagues—your friends—were all still close to Spencer. You couldn’t bring yourself to reach out. Not after what happened. You figured it wasn’t your place anymore.

One evening, after a date with Scott, Cassie sat with you in your apartment, and you confessed the nagging feeling you couldn’t shake.

“I feel stuck,” you admitted, pushing Spencer’s shirt aside in your closet. “Every time I try to move on, it’s like he’s still here.”

Cassie nodded, understanding. “You need closure. Real closure. Get rid of his things, talk to him if you need to, but you can’t keep holding onto pieces of him if you want to move forward.”

Her words sunk in, and you realized she was right. So, you broke things off with Scott—kindly, letting him know it wasn’t fair to either of you while you were still processing your past. Then you sent Spencer a text, asking if the two of you could meet to talk. You weren’t sure if he would reply, or if he’d even want to. But you needed to try.

Spencer had tried to move on after the breakup. On the outside, he seemed fine—throwing himself into work, keeping busy with cases. But back at home, it hit him harder. The apartment was eerily quiet without you there. Your photos, the calendar you’d hung with important dates for the both of you, the clothes you left behind—all were reminders of a life that wasn’t his anymore.

What broke him the most was the engagement ring. He found it on the floor after you left, a painful symbol of what could have been. After a sleepless night, he called Derek to vent about it.

“You have to start moving on, man,” Derek had said over the phone. “It doesn’t have to be today, but the sooner you let go, the better you’ll feel.”

So, with Derek, J.J., and Garcia’s help, Spencer gathered all your belongings, packed them into boxes, and sent them to you. It felt like closure at the time, like he was making a step toward healing. He thought he was done with it. Done with you.

Until your text came.

At first, he didn’t recognize the number. It was a message from someone he thought he had put behind him, someone he wasn’t prepared to hear from again. The message explained that it was you, asking if you could meet up to talk.

Spencer stared at his phone for a long time. He felt his heart tighten in his chest, fear rising up. He didn’t want to see you. Getting rid of your things was one thing, but seeing your face—he couldn’t handle that. Not now, not after the progress he had made. So, he never replied.

---

Time has a strange way of healing, but also of leaving scars. Neither of you contacted the other again. A month after you sent that text, you realized you didn’t need to hear his voice to get the closure you sought. You packed up his things and put them away then, you tried to forget.

But life, as it often does, has its own plans.

Two months later, Spencer found himself heading to Minnesota. He never imagined he’d end up there, of all places, in the middle of February. You had moved on in your own way, and by then, you had nearly forgotten that you once asked to meet up. You had put the past behind you—or so you thought. But some things refuse to stay buried.

“Are you sure about this, Reid?” Morgan asks, raising an eyebrow as he leans against Spencer’s hotel door. They had just finished a case today and the team was leaving Spencer had decided to stay another day. No one needed to question why he needed to as they knew the answer.  

“Yes, I think it’s time,” Spencer replied, though his voice wavered ever so slightly.

J.J. leaned forward, her face full of concern. “Do you think it’s wise to meet with her after she contacted you two months ago?”

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, probably not. But she said she wanted to talk, and I should at least hear her out.” J.J. exchanged a glance with Morgan, but neither of them said anything. They both knew Spencer was the kind of person who needed closure, even if it hurt. Pulling out his phone, Spencer dialed Garcia’s number. It rang twice before her familiar voice came through the line.

“You have reached your tech goddess. How may I help you today?” Garcia chirped, her usual brightness evident even over the phone.

“Garcia, can you check if Y/N has a new address?”

There was a pause. “Wait… you want to see Y/N? Are you okay, Reid?” Her voice softened with concern.

“Yes, I’m okay to meet with her,” Spencer replied, but the hesitation lingered beneath his words.

Garcia was quiet for a beat before she said, “Are you sure *she’s* okay to meet with you? I know she asked to meet you, but that was two months ago, and—”

“I know,” Spencer interrupted gently. “I’ll call her before I show up.”

Garcia let out a long breath. “Alright, if you say so. I don’t know if this is a good idea, but her address is still the same. I’ve sent it to you. Good luck, and please, be safe, okay?”

“Thank you, Garcia,” he said, appreciating her concern. 

“This is a bad idea, right?”  Morgan questioned as he watched Spencer walk out the door going off to see you. A bad feeling coming onto him.

“Oh, it is,” J.J. agreed, crossing her arms.

It was an ordinary Thursday night, or at least it started that way. You sat on your couch, a bottle of wine nearby, your laptop on your lap, grading papers turned in by your students. The TV was on in the background, playing a movie you’d seen a hundred times. The cold Minnesota winter had gifted you a snow day, so you decided to get some work done now and relax later. 

That plan was interrupted when a knock echoed through your apartment. Setting your laptop aside, you paused the movie and stood, walking to the door. When you opened it, you blinked in confusion. 

There stood Spencer Reid, bundled up against the cold, his breath visible in the frosty air.

"Reid, what are you doing here?" Your voice was flat, surprise and confusion mixing with a slight edge.

“I came to see you,” Spencer said, shifting nervously on his feet. “I know it’s been a while, but I got your text and thought… why not?”

You stared at him, brow furrowed. “Reid, that was *two months ago*.”

“I know I’m late,” he said quickly, his eyes flicking to the ground before meeting yours again. “But I just finished a case, and I thought—”

“Thought what?” you interrupted, your tone sharper than you intended. “Look, I know I texted you first, but that was then.”

Spencer’s face tightened, a flash of frustration crossing his features. “Well, I wasn’t ready to see you *then*, that’s the issue. You want what you want when you want it.”

You folded your arms, eyebrows raised. “Who doesn’t?”

The tension hung between you for a moment before Spencer sighed. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight, Y/N. Please, can we just talk?”

You paused, considering. After a long breath, you relented. “Fine, you’ve got 30 minutes.”

“Give me 15,” he bargained, his voice quieter, almost pleading.

“You have 10 minutes," you replied, stepping aside and motioning for him to come in. "Starting now."

Spencer shifted nervously, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, snow still clinging to his shoes. You stepped aside, allowing him to enter. He walked in slowly, glancing around as if expecting something to have changed, but your apartment was much the same as it had always been—warm, cluttered with books and papers, and smelling faintly of the lavender candle you always burned.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorway. “Alright, ten minutes. Start talking.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I didn’t respond right away because… I wasn’t ready. After everything that happened, I had to figure out how to deal with it. Losing you—losing us—it messed me up more than I realized. I thought sending your things back would help me move on, but it didn’t. I needed time, and I’m sorry I didn’t answer you earlier.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I get it, Spencer. But you don’t get to just show up here months later and expect me to drop everything. I’ve been working on moving on, too.”

“I know,” he said quickly, looking down at the floor. “I’m not here to mess that up. I just… I thought if we could talk, maybe we could get some closure. Properly this time.”

“Closure?” you repeated, a touch of bitterness in your voice. “And you think showing up unannounced is the way to do that?”

He winced, realizing how it must have looked. “I didn’t plan it well, I know. But I’ve thought about you every day since the breakup. I’ve wondered if we could’ve handled things differently, if we could’ve made it work.”

You stood there, feeling your heart race. Part of you had longed for this conversation, this chance to get clarity on what had happened. But now that it was here, all it did was stir up emotions you thought you had buried.

“You think about it now?” you asked, voice quieter. “You’re the one who packed up my things and sent them back like we were just some temporary fling. That hurt, Spencer. It felt like you had already moved on.”

Spencer’s face softened, regret written in his eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to feel that way. I thought it would help you… and me."

You shook your head, pacing a bit to release the tension building inside. “I’ve been trying to move forward, Reid. I was even seeing someone And you know what? I liked him. He’s a good guy, but I couldn’t fully be with him because I kept holding on… to us.”

Spencer looked at you, his expression tightening at the mention of Scott, but he quickly pushed it aside. “I’m not asking for anything other than to talk. I don’t expect us to get back together. I just didn’t want us to leave things the way we did.”

You stopped pacing and looked at him, really looked at him, noticing the weight he carried in his eyes. “So, what do you want from this conversation, Spencer? What do you need?”

"I just wanted to talk to you to see if we could I don’t know be friends again"

"Are you serious?" you said, your voice sharp with disbelief. "I wanted it to work so badly, Spencer. I uprooted my life to try and meet you halfway, but it was like you couldn’t see that."

Spencer’s expression tightened. "I didn’t feel like you were meeting me halfway. You were building a whole new life in Minnesota, and I felt like I was barely a part of it. You didn’t tell me about your teaching job until you had already accepted it."

"I didn’t think I needed to ask your permission to follow my dreams," you shot back, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I wanted to do something for me, something that gave me purpose."

"And I get that," he said, his tone softening, "but I was supposed to be part of your life too. I felt like you were pulling away, like every decision you made was just... you choosing a life without me in it."

You sighed, the weight of his words sinking in. "I wasn’t trying to choose a life without you, Spencer. I was trying to find a life where we could both be happy. But it felt like every time I chose something for me, it meant choosing against you."

Spencer rubbed his hands over his face, clearly torn. "I wanted you to be happy too. I just... I wanted to be part of that happiness. But I didn’t know how to balance your dreams with mine."

“I know. And that’s why it didn’t work.” You shook your head, the sadness creeping back in. “We both wanted to be happy, but we didn’t know how to make that happen together.”

“So now what?” Spencer asked, his voice heavy with uncertainty.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “You came here for me. We talked it out. I’m done talking. I have your things. I can ship them out tomorrow.”

“You still have my things?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“I can’t forget you, Spencer. Unlike you did,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Spencer looked at you, his eyes pained. “That’s my girl! Still can pull the verbal punches!” he says sarcastically as he watches you disappear into the hallway. 

“I’m not your girl anymore!” you snapped, feeling a surge of frustration. As you look through your closet for Spencer’s box. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Spencer said quickly, his tone apologetic as you came back into the room. Once you find it you look at your room one last time and then you see it. That Sanrio plush Cinnamonroll, it was the first birthday gift Spencer had given you. You loved the thing and still do. 

“Here’s your things,” you said, handing him a box filled with his belongings.

He reached on top of the sealed box and grabbed the small cinnamon roll plush. “This was a birthday gift... You’re really giving this back?”

“Yeah,” you said, tears threatening to spill. “It’s the last reminder of you, Reid.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry. But whether you like it or not, we’ll always have a part of each other in our hearts,” Spencer said softly.

“I know,” you replied, trying to hold back your tears.

“And I’m never going to forget you,” Spencer added, his voice breaking.

“I know that,” you said, your own voice trembling.

“But I have to do what feels right,” Spencer said. “And so do you.”

“Yeah…” you agreed, wiping away a tear.

Without warning, Spencer stepped closer and kissed you gently. The kiss was full of unresolved feelings, the pain of the past, and the hope of what could have been. It was a goodbye you both needed, but it was also a reminder of what you once had.

As the kiss ended, you both pulled away, your eyes locked with his. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of everything unsaid and everything you both had shared.

Spencer took a deep breath, his face etched with sadness. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Spencer,” you whispered, watching as he walked out the door, taking a part of your heart with him.

Thirty minutes later, as the storm outside raged on, Spencer found himself knocking on your door again. The wind howled, and snow battered against the windows. His team had left an hour ago, and he’d been unable to reach his hotel due to the worsening weather. With nowhere else to go, he found himself back at your doorstep.

When you opened the door, Spencer’s heart sank at the sight of you still crying. His own emotions surged as he took in your tear-streaked face. Without a word, he pulled you into a fervent kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the words you both hadn’t said, all the pain you hadn’t fully expressed.

"I'm sorry-" kiss "I didn’t mean-to comeback I just- fuck" he tried to explain himself but he couldn’t stop your lips from meshing with his. This was messed up and you both knew you just didn't care. The kisses become more passionate as he pushes you against the door, grabbing your hips pinning you. Kissing down you neck as you let out a heavy sigh finally able to think.

"Spencer what are we- fuck what are we doing?" You ask as Spencer brings his hands under your  and grabs hold of your breasts. It turned him on knowing you had no bra underneath this shirt the whole time. 

Pulling up your shirt over your head he answers "what feels right" he says going back to kissing you this his tongue slides his way into your mouth. Your body wanted no need for this as you decided to speed things up Spencer had another approach. He quickly slipped his hand inside your panties, feeling how aroused you were. 

"Fuck-" He groans the tip of his fingers running against your slick folds as  you moan. "You're so wet for me" you couldn’t respond to him as he pushes his fingers inside you both groan. You move your legs wider and you need more as he pushes in deeper, your hips pushing against his hand. His fingers curl up inside you, as you start to whine. Pushing them in and out second by second driving you crazy and he didn't want anything but that. 

"Fuck I forgot how good you are at this" you let out as Spencer says nothing getting onto his knees then pulling down your shorts along with your underwear. You stared at him as he completely removed his hand from your pussy. Before he could say anything he brought one of your legs onto his shoulders before completely devouring you. Groaning at the taste of you, he missed this he missed you. The sound of your moans were music to his ears as he licked in-between your folds. Your hands going into his hair hoping he'd push his tongue into you. That was all Spencer needed; he never forgot how to please you. He knew your ticks inside and out. His pants felt so strained against his cock bust first he wanted you to cum on his tongue for him and only him.

"Ohhh god Spencer!" You cry as he pushes his tongue into you feeling it tense up inside you making your thighs clench in response. His tongue moves vertically and then wiggles slightly pulling you into this back and forth of need and desire.  The pleasure makes you feel dizzy, pulling on his hair tighter. Spencer lets out a groan sending a vibration through your very core. He licked your clit with long, slow strokes, his tongue pushing inside you as he ate you out aggressively. He used his hands to spread your lips apart, giving him better access to your pussy.

"Spence, ohhh yes! Yes!" Spencer loved how responsive you were, your hips bucking against his face as he continued to devour you. He felt your hands grip his hair tightly once again, pulling him closer. He could barely breathe, but he didn't care. He just wanted to make you come on his face.

"Spencer!" You screamed his name as Spencer felt your body tense, he gripped your hips tightly, holding you down as he continued to ravish your core. He felt your body convulse, your thighs quivering as you shattered against his mouth. He lapped up your juices, cleaning you up before helping you back onto your feet. He wasn't done and you weren’t either.

The two of you kiss passionately as you move to the bedroom as you both try to get Spencer’s clothes off. His vest, shoes, and belt laid in a trail towards your bedroom. When he finally gets into your bed you both couldn't help entangling your bodies together.  Both of your moans and groans fill the room as you grind against one another. Spencer knew how worked up you get when it came to clothing. He wanted to watch you squirm under him, beg him to fuck you. Maybe beg him to take you back. But you were impatient tearing his shirt as buttons flew everywhere. You then changed your positions as you sat on top of him kissing his neck and down to his chest.

He looked at you surprised as then at your body. He pictured you riding him for the last time. Admiring how pretty you look and starting picturing you crying as you reached your climax coming apart for him. Even after all this time you were still so pretty to him. Like a goddess, his goddess. If this was the last time he couldn't ruin you like he wanted to, he wanted to make love to you once last time.

Flipping you back over onto the bed he gets up and starts removing his clothes. While he does this you can't help but wonder was this right? Whatever this was, it was messy and complicated and I thought this was one night. What's going to happen tomorrow? 

"Spencer, are you sure you want this?" You ask as Spencer looks at you.

"Y/n I just had oral sex with you 5 minutes ago and you're asking me if I want this?" Your heart starts beating faster as he moves closer to the bed. That look he gave you as he slowly walked towards the bed. 

"I-I know but-" "But what baby?" You don't say anything as the grabs onto your ankles and pull you towards the edge of the bed. 

"Spencer tomorrow-" he cuts you off looking at you in the eyes, his body pressing against yours as his fingers trails down your thighs and back to your pussy. Touching your folds running circles on your clit before dipping it inside of you again. His fingers pumping in and out of your hole until he had enough.  

"Fuck tomorrow I want to make love to you tonight" he says kissing your lips once more as you let him push his cock inside you. All doubts expelling in thoughts as all you could think about Spencer putting his dick inside you. Spencer groaned softly as he slowly entered you,  he missed this he missed you. Pushing inch by inch gives you both time to readjust. Laying kisses down your neck, his hands cupping your boob's as he kisses those too. Sucking on your nipple as he thrusts inside you. 

"So good you feel so good baby" he whispers in your ear, setting a steady pace. His hips snapping against yours as he fucks you. 

"Ahh- I miss this so much" you moan out as Spencer doesn’t say anything going a little faster as he looks you "you're so fucking pretty" he groans as you run your fingers in his hair pulling him into another kiss. His hips moving faster feeling you clenching around him. Your legs wrapping around his and his hands starting to grip your hips. The bed creaking and the frame hitting the wall but you both didn't care. 

Spencer buried his head into your neck as his thrusts had  gone harder and faster. You were milking him clenching around him, you were close he knew it. He needed you to cum all over his cock. 

"Spence- Spence please!" You cry as Spencer looks up at you in awe "shhh you don't have to beg baby, I'm here" he groans as he shifts his weight and it drove you crazy.  Keeping with that angle he thrusts harder and harder making you do nothing but cry and scream his name.

"Look at me baby" you look Spencer in the eyes, something in the way that he looked sent you over the edge. You came around his cock and in a few more thrusts he couldn't take it anymore. You felt his cock twitching inside you. 

"Spencer cum for me please" Spencer tried to pull out but you quickly pulled him back in. He let out a cry as he came inside you for the first time in a long time. 

The two of you didn't stop there, you both couldn't keep your hands off each other. On your floor, the dresser, in the shower, and in your bed again. Both leaving marks and scratches behind on one another. You didn't know how tomorrow was gonna go but that was something you wanted to deal with in the morning.  

The next morning, Spencer woke up first. The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your face as you slept beside him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel happy. Being with you again, in this quiet, peaceful moment, felt right.

But then the weight of reality sank in.

Nothing had been solved. If anything, last night had made things even more complicated. The storm outside may have passed, but the one between you both still raged, unresolved. Spencer stared at the ceiling, the feeling of unease growing. 

He gently slid out of bed, careful not to wake you. As he stood by the window, staring out at the snow-covered streets, Spencer’s mind raced. How could he go back to D.C. after this? Could he even walk away again, knowing what had just happened between you.

"Good morning, pretty boy," you say, looking up at Spencer with a sleepy smile, your hair a mess. He stares at you, noticing the faint hickies on your neck and the light bruising on your chest. You seemed happy about last night, and that only made the guilt gnaw at him even more.

This couldn't work. He knew that. 

"Y/N, we need to talk," he says quietly, his voice laced with uncertainty.

You roll onto your side, propping your head up with your hand. "I know, Spencer. Look, I miss you like crazy. And I know we hooked up last night, but... give me a year or two, and I'll come back. I could teach in D.C., or Virginia—wherever. I just want to be with you."

"I can’t," Spencer interrupts, his voice tense.

Your face falls, confusion clouding your expression. "What? Why not?"

He sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Y/N, last night was... great, but I think we shouldn't have done it."

It hits you like a punch to the gut. "No," you whisper, disbelief setting in. "You're not doing this to me."

Spencer looks at you, his face pained. "I think last night was just... spur of the moment. We were both emotionally vulnerable, caught up in everything. I think the only reason you're so quick to compromise is because of the sex."

"Are you—" You sit up, fury bubbling in your chest. "You're an asshole, Spencer. You know that?" You shake your head in disbelief. 

"I want you to be happy," he says, his voice soft but firm.

You let out a bitter laugh. "That's rich."

"I'm serious. I don't want you to make a decision based on one night of meaningless sex."

"Is that how low you think of me? You think this was *meaningless* to me?" Your voice cracks as the anger mixes with hurt.

"No, it’s not that. But you love teaching here, and I don’t want you to come back for me and wake up one day realizing you’re not happy with your life. You deserve more than that." You couldn’t believe this, you couldn’t believe he was here saying this to your face. Here you thought you could make your relationship work again.  Hold onto the love you once shared. Thinking that you could compromise yet here Spencer was breaking your heart all over again.  

"Get out of my apartment," you snap, your voice cold, the betrayal clear.

"Y/N, at least understand—"

"No!" you cut him off, your eyes flashing with anger. "You said everything you needed to say last night. Now leave." He wanted to say something else, he wanted you to know that he loved you and that he was letting you go because he did. "Go!" You screamed, making him jump as you threw your pillow at him and missed. 

Spencer stands there for a moment, his eyes searching yours for any chance to explain, but the message is clear. He quickly gathers his things, his heart heavy with sadness as he walks out of the room, the door closing behind him with a final, painful thud.

[dimonds456]

Billford and Abuse: An Analysis

Honestly, as someone who ships both Billford and Fiddauthor, the thing I like about the toxic yaoi ship is the fact that it IS toxic. Like, the jokes are great, but its depiction of abuse is so, like... genuine. Without getting personal, I've been in a really fucking bad toxic (platonic) relationship before, and Billford deadass helped me come to terms with it.

Cuz here's the thing: most fictional abusive relationships just start with the abuse itself. It shows the victim and the perpetrator at the height (or almost at the height) of the abuse, and we see as either one of them is destroyed by it or the victim becomes free. But Billford actually shows the WHOLE timeline.

Something that bothers me about a lot of fictional abuse reps is the fact that you cannot sympathize with the victim aside from "aw that's horrible :(". Cuz it just starts AT the abuse. We don't see how they got there or what's causing the victim to stay. We just know they need to escape.

But with Billford, we see EVERYTHING. How it started out as something Ford genuinely loved, seeing Bill as a friend and someone he could trust, how it made him feel better because he was actually making progress on his research and he wasn't lonely anymore.

To Ford during those early days, Bill was the highlight of his time in Gravity Falls. We can follow his train of thought exactly to where he let Bill possess him with basically no strings attached (pun intended).

That's what makes it all the more devastating. Bill isolated Ford from everyone. He sabotaged his friendship with Fiddleford by planting that seed of doubt in the engineer and pulling Ford further and further into his plans. Then the thing with the portal happened and Ford had NOWHERE to go. Plus, Bill kept trying to get Ford to stop thinking about Stan, to move on and let him rot. So he kept planting seeds of doubt in his own brother as well, causing Ford to further and further slip away.

Then Ford confronts Bill. And the monster is unleashed.

Once Bill realizes he's lost control of Ford's devotion and the illusion has shattered, Bill just LEANS into it. In order to take control back, he started tormenting Ford and just being horrible to him, to try and make him fall in line. Love and fear ARE right next to each other in the brain, after all. And there's NOTHING Ford can do but just fall further and further into paranoia.

Bill demonstrates many real-world abusive/manipulative tactics on Ford, the big one being isolation, since that allows the rest of the everything to even happen, but the way he turns Ford against LITERALLY EVERYONE using paranoia is really true to real life.

Now obviously your toxic boyfriend cannot possess random strangers irl. But you know what he CAN do? Start spreading rumors behind your back. Stalk you. Harass you. Make you feel unsafe everywhere except home (which isn't safe either, but it's better than the outside world). He can spend your money or break your things. Slash your tires. In Ford's case, LITERALLY abusing his body. There's the sticky notes, the threats, the roof incident, all of it just piling one atop the other.

I cannot imagine how fucking terrified Ford must have been to finally send that postcard to Stanley. He was at a point where he assumed Stan would hate him, or at the very least wouldn't respond so why even bother, and he'd just gotten the "steal your eyes" threat. He was out of options, and was absolutely sure he was putting Stan in danger by getting him involved (another irl abuse thing that happens).

He was scared to reach out for help because 1) he didn't want others getting hurt (like Fidds had), 2) he was ashamed he'd let this happen, and 3) he, on some level, felt like he deserved this.

Justified? To a paranoid, scared, abused, irrational brain: Absolutely. In reality? Never. But HE'D built that portal. HE'D allowed Bill to possess his body basically freely. HE'D basically helped start the apocalypse. And that shame would have lead to SO much self-hatred and despair.

His reaching out to Stan was his last resort, his only way out. THAT'S what intrigues me about the ship so much.

I do not want them to make up and get back together. They're horrible for each other. But I do enjoy exploring the dynamic of it, fully seeing the cycle and how it happens, and seeing a whole new side to Ford that we only caught a glimpse of in the show and Journal 3. Plus Bill but his side is more comedic and sad to me I do not take him seriously FSDGHJ

The jokes are great and I love it here, but if I ever write a fic or draw art for these two it's going to be toxic as hell man. And not in the fun way fgsjd

[mama2bears]

The Storm Of Life Chapter 3

Pairing: Tyler/F.Reader

Warnings: None.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

A loud clash of thunder startled you awake, lighting lit up the room. “MOMMY!” the kids starting screaming for you from the other room. “I am coming.” you sighed, standing up. You had a headache and your stomach felt like it was doing somersaults. You felt like you were burning up, yet a chill ran down your spin. Great, you thought. Now I am sick on top of everything else.

“Hey guys, it's okay.” you open the door to the children's room, turning your head as you coughed. “Mommy is here.”

“I am scared.” Harley was crying and hugging her teddy bear.

“Is a tornado coming to destroy this house too?” Billy asked, tears streaming down his face.

Thunder boomed outside again and lighting struck something nearby, shaking the house with a boom. The nightlight in the room went out and the kids screamed. You started to tremble with fear. Was there a tornado out there?

“Hey, everything okay?” Tyler came up behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder as he shone a flashlight around the room.

“We're scared.” Billy cried, “Is a tornado coming?”

“No, this is just a thunderstorm, buddy.” Tyler reassured the child. “No tornadoes tonight. If there was one, we would go into a place called a storm cellar that's connected to the house and we'd be safe in there. This is nothing more then thunder and lighting.”

“Excuse me.” you take off running for the bathroom, feeling your stomach getting sick. You stumbled in the hallway before finally making it to the bathroom fumbled around to the toilet. It was so dark you could hardly see anything.

“You guys stay right here. I am only going across the hall to help your mama, okay?” Tyler said.

The kids nodded and huddled under their blankets.

“You okay?” Tyler asked, shinning the light into the bathroom.

You were sitting on the floor, head hung over the toilet as your stomach emptied it's self of everything you ate or drank in the last several hours.

Tyler got a wash cloth from the closet and ran it under cool water. “Here. This might help.” he said bringing it over to you and brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“Thanks.” your voice was barely a whisper as you took deep breaths and held the cool clothe to your face, trying to get your stomach to settle down.

“Not a problem.” he responded, resting a hand on your shoulder for a moment.

Finally, you decide your stomach was over with being sick and you stood with the help of Tyler supporting your arm and dropped the wash clothe in the hamper.

“Come on, I'll make sure you get back to your room okay.” Tyler said softly, shinning the flashlight in front of you to light up the hall.

“No, I gotta go back with the kids. They're terrified of storms.” you turn to head towards the kids room.

“Let me sit up with them, as long as they are okay with it. You should be in bed resting.”

You shake your head, “I couldn't ask you to do that. I am not even sure they will be okay with a stranger.” you glance at him, “Well a new friend at least. They just met you today. It takes a lot for me to calm them down in storms.”

“It's okay. You aren't asking me, I am offering. I don't have any big plans for tomorrow, and you're sick.” he said, “Go back to bed. I'll sit with them for a bit if they want me to.”

You nod and Tyler leads you back into your room, making sure you made it to the bed. As you crawled under the covers once more he turned and left, closing the door halfway behind him.

“Hey guys...how are we doing?” Tyler asked. The storm had seemed to be calming down now and the kids didn't seem so afraid.

“Is it gone?” Harley asked.

“For now. I think there are more coming.” he answered.

“Is mommy okay?” Billy asked.

“Mommy is okay, but she's sick. She went back to bed to lay down so she can feel better.” Tyler explained. “You know how it is to be sick, right?”

Both kids nodded, “I don't like to be sick. I feel yucky.” Harley made a face, sticking out her tongue.

“I just want to lay down when I am sick. I don't feel good when I am sick.” Billy added.

“That's right.” Tyler shook his head, “And that's how your mama is feeling right now. How about you guys come down stairs with me and we'll get your mommy some medicine and water to help her feel better, then I'll sit in here with you until all the storms are gone. Will that be okay?”

“You chase storms, right?” Billy asked.

Tyler nodded, “That's right. Sometimes I do.”

“Do you know when there is a tornado?” he asked.

Tyler nodded, “Normally, yes. We have a very good idea when and where the tornadoes are going to hit. That's why we chase the storms. We try to warn people of the danger before the tornadoes come and we help them after the storm.”

“Are there tornadoes coming this way tonight?” Billy asked.

“No, buddy. No tornadoes tonight. I promise. Only thunder and lighting and lots of rain.”

“It's still scary.” Harley added.

“I know.” Tyler went over and gave the little girl a hug, “That's why I am going to stay in here with you after we get your mommy some medicine. I'll stay up and watch the storms to make sure there's no tornadoes or anything bad in them. I used to be scared of storms too, you know that?”

“Really?” Billy asked, “What did you do?”

“Well, come on downstairs with me and I'll tell you while I get some stuff for your mommy.” Tyler picked up Harley and extended a hand for Billy to hold. “Billy, you can be in charge of the flashlight if you want.”

“Cool!” Billy was happy to hold the flashlight and light the way down the stairs as Tyler continued talking. “Now, when I was little like you and scared of storms, my mama would build a little bed out of blankets and pillows and we'd snuggle down and play games, or tell stories, or even sing songs. Sometimes, we'd have milk and cookies for a snack.”

“I want milk and cookies.” Harley whined, laying her head on Tyler's shoulder as he carried her into the kitchen. He sat her down in a chair and Billy climbed up in a chair next to her.

“Alright guys. I am going to fix you some milk and cookies, but you can't tell your mommy about this, okay?”

They nodded as Tyler took down three glasses, filling two of them with milk and setting them down in front of the kids. He got two cookies from the cookie jar and placed them down.

“Can we sing songs and tell stories tonight?” Billy asked in between bites of his cookie.

“Sure buddy.” Tyler agreed, fixing a glass of water for you and getting some medicine for fever and upset stomach. “We'll make a little area of blankets and pillows and we will sing songs and tell stories until you guys are ready to go back to sleep.”

“Yay!” the kids cheered.

Thunder rolled again and instantly, their smiles faded and they got a look of fear.

“It's okay, just another storm rolling in.” Tyler assured them as they finished their cookies and milk. He put their glasses in the dishwasher and then picked up your medicine and water. “Billy, do you want to lead the way again?”

Billy nodded, holding the flashlight and leading the way up the stairs and to your mom.

You hear the door open and turn to look, “Hey, I got you some medicine for your stomach and fever.” Tyler said softly, setting the water on the nightstand and handing you two pills.

“Thanks, you didn't have to.” You sat up and gave him a smile, then looked at the kids, “What are you two doing out of bed?”

“Helping Mr. Tyler.” Billy grinned.

“And we had cookies and milk!” Harley added.

“Hey! That was suppose to be a secret! You gonna get me in trouble!” Tyler grinned then turned to you, “I kept them with me so they didn't get scared. I am going to sit with them until the storms are gone. Sounds like another one is rolling in.”

“We are going to sing songs and tell stories!” Billy added.

“Thank you.” You give a soft smile to Tyler and look over at your two kids, “You two be good for Mr. Tyler, understood?”

“Yes mommy.” they both say in union.

“Okay, guys. Ready to go make a cozy area out of your blankets and pillows?” he asked.

“YAY!” The kids cheer and each grab one of his hands and pull him out of the room.

“If you need anything, let me know.” Tyler called to you as the kids pull him down the hallway and you smile.

The kids eagerly grabbed the blankets and pillows from their bed, and Harley grabbed her favorite bear, Lulu. Tyler helped them set up a seating area in the corner far away from the window and then sat down and both kids climbed up in his lap.

“Alright, do we want a song or a story first?” he asked.

“I like the Mowana song!” Harley said.

Thinking for a moment, Tyler remembered a song from the movie. He enjoyed the Disney movies, but he didn't tell anyone else that. In a way, he was still just a kid himself. As his mama kept telling him...he never grew up.

Tyler leaned back against the wall and wrapped each kid in their blanket, then began to sing.

Every turn I take

Every trail I track

Every path I make

Every road leads back to the place I know

Where I cannot go

Where I long to be

As Tyler sang, his mind wandered. This is what he had always wanted, but could never find. This was where he could not go, but longed to be. Being with you today and being with the kids made him realize what he had been missing all these years. Horseback riding with kids in tow, watching them pick wildflowers for their mama, shopping for the kids, and now...being the protector during a storm. This was what he wanted, but could never seem to have. He dated a lot, but nothing ever really got serious. A family of his own was what he really was searching for all this time, but just could never find. 'Maybe someday.' he thought to himself with a sad smile. For now, this was enough. This felt like home. This felt like exactly where his heart wanted to be.

[tragedybunny]

Fangs and Fairytales - Chapter 4

༺Summary༻

The Netherbrain has fallen and Baldur's Gate has been saved. Excited about their new life together, Astarion and Serafina, a warlock who’s past remains hidden, journey to find a way for him to walk in the sun again. But there is no easy path to happiness and even Sera's own patron blocks their way. Together, they can face it all and find their own happily ever after.

Chapter 3: Astarion has an amorous plan to fix Sera's melancholy, it gets a little delayed by an encounter with a peculiar bard.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav/OC)

༺Warnings༻ Light bondage, anal play, vaginal sex

༺Word Count༻ 4114

༺A/N༻

Hello Lovelies! This is the smutty chapter. Takes a bit to get there, but I promise the second half is steamy. Many and eternal thanks to @icybluepenguin for betaing and always encouraging me! Also, if you recognize a certain bard and his ballad in this chapter - he's on loan from my dear friend @snowfolly If you don't recognize him, please check out Endlessly, one of my fave fics.

Read on AO3 All chapters here on Tumblr

The camp was in high spirits tonight and buzzing with activity. They'd turned the courtyard and upper floor into some sort of communal festival, all because some ostensibly famous bard had come to play there in an act of “charity” that Astarion found gratingly self-aggrandizing. 

The cheery mood and sense of community had even led the denizens to give the camp a proper name, erasing its last ties to Shar.

“Selûne’s Embrace.” He couldn't think of it without disdain. He wanted to be done with gods, and couldn't fathom why everyone else still would cling to them, Dame Aylin excepted.

The bard’s distraction served his purpose though, so he couldn't complain too much. The event kept Sera distracted while he made preparations for a very special night. He'd left a note before trancing telling her to go enjoy herself and he'd be along later, there were some things he wanted to do.

He shut the door to their private cave hideaway with a satisfied smile. Everything was perfectly set, including the items he’d snuck off to the night market in the Wide to procure. Now to fetch his beloved. 

Sera had seemed back in high spirits the last couple of days. They'd started making preparations to travel and Astarion had to admit, he felt more hopeful as well. He still wasn't happy about losing the sun, but seeing Sera smile after that terrible night made even the light of day seem less important. They'd leave in a couple more days after dinner with Duke Ravengard.

The night crowds were thicker tonight, swarming to the surface, bringing along a tide of food and drink for the revelry. Astarion weaved through them with dexterity, avoiding any brushes against his skin that would reveal it as too cold, and any lingering looks that would expose anyone to his too red eyes. 

He glanced down at his fingertips– his nails had become much more claw-like without the tadpole and, though not as animalistic as they once had been, they still required much more attention. Thankfully, the glowing eyes and maw full of jagged teeth had not also returned, those would be much harder to hide. He had a theory that being well-fed had something to do with it. An idea he could possibly discuss with Dal at some point, but for now he’d simply be thankful.

Thus far, they’d managed to keep his nature to whispered rumor, and no one really wanted to force the issue and confirm they were sharing quarters with a vampire. Especially since this particular vampire was the partner of the hero of Baldur’s Gate. It would seem Sera was still his great protector.

And that thought didn't have the sting it used to. They were rather good at protecting each other. 

Astarion’s thoughts were interrupted as he exited the stairs onto the ground floor and the notes of a song reached his ears. His jaw tightened and his teeth ground together. “That fucking song…” The Golden Lyre. 

“Dark haired maiden, play it true,” a rather pleasant voice crooned from outside.

Despite the pleasantness of the voice, the lyrics were still like listening to Lae’zel sharpen her weapon for hours on end. Astarion charged outside, determined to find Sera as quickly as possible. 

“The golden lyre, I beg of you, hold my heartstrings, in your hands.” 

It wasn’t a bad song, it simply was the song; every bard knew it and would play it in every godforsaken shithole in the city. The sort of place he used to haunt. He’d heard it so often, he would find himself singing it involuntarily and recoil, cursing himself. 

“Dark haired maiden, my love, my muse.”

Down the stairs, into the courtyard, Astarion spotted the ridiculous creature, furiously plucking away at a violin, dancing about like an ungainly bird, a mane of gray hair flowing wildly around him. And of course, at the end of a table nearest this display, sat Sera, sipping from a wine glass, with a smile on her face. A smile that was a little too fond for his liking, 

“Oh my love, my muse…”

Astarion shouldered his way over to Serafina, coming up behind her to rest his hands on her shoulders in what was definitely not a possessive manner, fingers on the light blue fabric of her dress. “Hello darling.” 

If her smile for the bard seemed fond, for him it was radiant adoration. “There you are. Done with your business for the evening?”

Astarion suppressed a smile, thinking of what awaited her in their cave sanctuary. “Indeed. In fact, part of it was a surprise for you. Shall we away?” he purred at her. 

“You’re such a tease. I’m dying of curiosity now.” 

He gave Sera his hand and helped her from her seat, ready to whisk her away from the scene and the hells-damned song when the music abruptly ended. The crowd started to applause raucously and Astarion attempted to make their exit before another song that would remind him of his lowest days started. Who knew what else was in the bard’s repertoire; The Wilting Rose, Summer’s Sweetest Wine? They all made him shudder. 

He’d gotten maybe two steps when the bard’s melodious voice called out behind him. “Corellon fucking wept… Serafina?”

At his side, Sera froze, eyes going wide with a look of terror he hadn’t seen since Cazador had bound him into the ritual. Astarion felt himself tense as well; from what he understood of the warlock pact, no one in Baldur’s Gate should recognize Sera. They gave one another a look and Astarion released her hand to wrap his fingers around the dagger always at his side. 

“It is you! Don’t you recognize me, it’s Tali?” The tiny elf – moon, if Astarion was any judge – flailed his arms about, jeweled rings catching the fire light and a fine scarlet coat swaying with the effort. 

“H-how? You shouldn’t be able to…” Sera stared at him in wonder. 

“Exactly.” Astarion gripped his dagger tighter. Had her family somehow found her? Was this their agent? 

Through the vaguest of conversations and some deduction on his part, he'd been able to put together that Sera had accepted a warlock pact with Titania, Fey Queen of the Summer Court to escape an awful family. Said family were almost certainly Patriars here in Baldur’s Gate. Sera had tried to disguise that noble bearing she’d been taught since birth, but he'd seen his share of nobles and rabble. There was no way she was anything but the former. And that was all he was allowed to know, lest the magic that hid her shatter. 

Tali’s eyes went wide as he caught sight of Astarion’s hand at his weapon. “Hells, call off your attack vampire!” 

The last word was so loud that the crowd started to look their way. Though there had been talk, they had worked hard to keep Astarion’s nature as secret as possible. That effort looked to be going up in flames. All because of… whoever the hell this Tali was. 

“Why you–” Astarion began to draw the dagger from its sheath, causing Tali to  back away. 

The sound of Sera’s laughter caused them both to freeze. 

“The two of you are ridiculous, you know that.” Sera turned and gave Astarion a quick hug and peck on the cheek. “He’s an old friend.” 

“One that is now extremely worried about you, I might add!” The bard fell into a sulk. 

“Could you give us a minute?” Sera asked, barely waiting for Astarion’s nod before dragging Tali off by his hand. 

Astarion sighed and tried to bury the frustration of the delay to his romantic plans. Slinking off, he disappeared into the shadows, the attention of the crowd having diminished without their entertainment present. 

Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall, definitely not annoyed with the delay. Agonizing minutes passed as he waited, his fingers tapping against his arm and a fang worrying his bottom lip. Finally, Sera returned without the unwanted company in tow. 

He was already preening for the crowd, readying for another performance. Astarion doubted he could know what had passed between them but at least she didn’t look troubled by it. He held out his arm until she hooked hers through it, giving him a reassuring look, and they started back inside.

“He’s a friend, a friend that seems to have some immunity to Titania’s glamour. It’s fine though,” she answered the question he hadn’t asked.

“Oh so this random bard–”

“Taliesin. Honestly I’m surprised you don’t recognize him, he’s quite famous. He wrote the Golden Lyre.” 

Astarion pretended that did not make his blood boil further. Of course the foppish creature wrote that damned song. “Whatever. He’s allowed around Her Majesty’s spell, but I, the love of your life, am not.” 

Sere halted their progress, turning to shoot him a look. “Astarion, you know that’s not how it works. She can’t just make exceptions.” 

“I know she despises me. And she clearly can make exceptions.” 

Sera sighed and started walking again. “You’re being impossible.” 

Astarion followed, now being pulled along by Sera, despite being a head shorter than him, and slightly built. “Don’t act like it’s not true,” he groused. 

“So you're telling me that all a Fey Queen wanted from you for all this power was a child. How very… cliché.” Astarion was setting up a simple trip wire around their camp. They’d just dealt with a pack of gnolls and didn’t need any more surprises for the night. 

“It's not that simple,” Sera answered from where she stood watch behind him, scanning the horizon for any more danger. “She wants a lineage to serve her, my family line.” 

“And you agreed to that? Was life at home really that bad?” Nothing to compare to his, he was sure. 

The night sky over the Risen Road was turning the brilliant colors of twilight as the first stars appeared.  Astarion had agreed to help with security measures and immediately asked Sera to be his look-out. A chance to spend a little more time with her and “strengthen” their bond. They were on their way to the Githyanki crèche, and perhaps a way to be rid of these worms. He needed to ensure his hold on their warlock leader was as tight as possible. Without the tadpole he might well be entirely dependent on her. 

Oddly, the last couple of nights they hadn’t done much more than chat pleasantly by the fire and share a few kisses. Not for lack of trying on his part. Leading to his desperately attempting to ignore the creeping dread that his protector was losing interest in him, and his mouth was running without much thought. 

Audibly, she inhaled. “If only I could tell you.” 

Astarion felt an awful weight in his stomach, the feeling of knowing he'd screwed up. Only it was disturbingly not like when he'd misstepped in front of Cazador. That was fear of reprisal, of one of his master's many punishments. 

This was… he didn't know exactly. He just didn't like being the cause of any distress to her. “I– no, I should trust you on it. Although I have to say, she'll probably be disappointed if you keep carrying on with a vampire,” he finished with an awkward laugh and was glad she couldn’t see him cringing at himself. 

At least the trip wire was done. No explosions, only noise if something tried to cross into their camp. He stood up, shaking off the clumsy exchange. “There, no gnolls in camp this night.” 

“My hero,” Sera gave him a playful smile and headed back toward the cluster of tents. 

The smile soothed his nerves and he made to follow her when a voice whispered in his ear. 

“Watch how you go, Spawn, I won’t tolerate disappointment in my bargains.” 

That had been the only time he’d heard the voice of Titania, but the threat had remained with him, her distaste for him extremely clear. 

“It doesn't matter. And stop being jealous,” she scolded, and Astarion almost groaned in frustration. 

This night was rapidly spiraling out of his control. 

Letting go of her arm, he pulled her closer to him by her waist. Leaning down to purr into her ear,  “Of course my love, let's not spoil the evening. Not when I have such delicious plans for it.”

He was rewarded with a little shiver and smirked to himself. Oh, how he’d come to know her and what made her body respond. And the love they shared made using his considerable experience something he no longer reviled. For the most part– sometimes the skeletons of the past decided to venture outside the shadowy corner of his mind where he kept them. 

The crowd and the noise faded as he led Sera back toward their quarters. The steady increase of her pulse echoed in his ears, and the scent of her arousal filled the air, more alluring than any perfume. Tonight was safely on its way back to being a success. 

When they reached their room, Astarion swiftly shut the door behind him and locked it. No well-meaning visitors to interrupt them tonight. 

Sera turned to face him, eyes heavy-lidded and pupils wide with desire. “What did you want to show me?” 

“It’s in the cave. But first, take off your clothes.” The words were firm, an order, and he watched her swallow hard. 

For his part, Astarion could give or take control with equal pleasure, but Sera, with the rare exception, desired to relinquish it to another. Which made taking it all the more pleasurable for him. 

“I–” Sera started. 

“Shh, just be a good girl and do as you're told.” 

Her skin flushed a deep pink but she wordlessly moved to obey, already sliding into that space in her mind where thought gave way to feeling and reason to desire; the world ceasing to exist outside the two of them. 

When she was freed from her dress, Astarion– still clothed himself– took her hand, careful to not touch any other part of her, and lead her toward the door to their private refuge. “Go on,” he prompted, letting her enter first. 

He didn’t need to see her expression, the ragged, gasping breath she took told him everything he needed to know. The old Sharran rug had been discarded, and a newer plush one was laid down in its place. Currently, a bedroll had been laid over the top of it for extra comfort. And at each corner of the bedroll, attached to a stake driven into the ground, a leather restraint. Nearby was a small box, open to display an assortment of other toys should the night call for them. 

Astarion wrapped his hands possessively around Sera’s waist and leaned to down to speak in a low, throaty voice. “You see, my love, I think I finally understand your problem from the other night. You simply have too many thoughts inside that pretty little head of yours. So I’m going to fuck every last one of them out of it.” 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the blindfold that had been waiting there and slipped it over her eyes. As he did, each breath came more rapidly despite her stillness, like a rabbit frozen in the path of a predator. “And you are going to lay there, and not say a word while I do it. Just make all those lovely little sounds of yours for me.” 

Guiding her toward the bedroll, he laid her down on it, the soft light of the moon from the opening above them bathing her in an ethereal glow. Even without her sight, she obeyed him with perfect trust, following his commands without falter. She gave over each of her limbs to be secured into the restraints until her body was spread gloriously open for him. 

Leaving her to ponder what was next, Astarion wordlessly moved away to strip himself; spending longer than necessary as he watched her chest heave with nervous breath and the minute movements she made out of anxious anticipation. He could feel himself already hardening without even touching her yet. 

Kneeling next to her, he began to skim his nails over her skin, the faintest of marks appearing in their wake. “Now, what am I to do with you, my poor overthinking, anxious love.” His touch idly circled her breasts, avoiding her stiffened, rosy nipples 

“Ast–” she gasped as his fingers closed around one of those nipples and pinched.

“Ah, I said no words, only noises. Behave or we'll have to find a way to keep you from talking.” 

Sera didn't say anything more, only panted and whined as he rolled the nipple between his fingers. 

It was actually the perfect place to start. Shifting so that he kneeled between her thighs, he rubbed the head of his cock over her slick folds and felt her try to buck into him. He gave a soft chuckle at her efforts. 

“You're not getting it quite so easily, pet.”

Not that he didn't want her desperately by now, but that would ruin the fun. And more importantly the effort he was making to give her this: a night about her pleasure only. 

He leaned forward, the scent of her - wildflowers and forests - filling his nostrils, intoxicating him. Hands resting on her shoulders, her flesh like satin under his fingers, he stilled her. 

His mouth began to water as he leaned down towards one firm nipple. Instead of latching on to suckle at it, bared fangs pieced the skin above it, withdrawing quickly to create two small streams of blood. 

Sera let out a sharp cry and he was thankful he'd thought ahead to set up here, away from their door.

With her delectable blood flowing enticingly, he wrapped his lips around her nipple and sucked. Intoxicating. 

Eyes fluttering closed, he let the taste and scent possess him.  Lazily his hips rolled, cock sliding over her clit, no relief for either of them as he drank the blood flowing from her breast like mother's milk. All the while she gasped and sighed beneath him. 

He could stay like this for hours, teasing the drips from her, not enough to drain her but enough to make his mind and stomach sing. But there was more to be tasted.

With a final lick over the wounds, he withdrew to a noise of disappointment.

“Oh don't you worry, I'm not done with you yet.” 

He’d let himself relive every wicked idea and lustful fantasy he’d had about her while planning tonight. Only some were fit for tonight's purpose, the rest he would get to in time. They had so much of it now. The fantasy enticing him would definitely serve his goal though. 

Getting up, he retrieved a toy and vial of oil from the box, placing them between her legs on the rug, making as much noise as possible. Sera adorably tried to hide her curiosity in silence but the sound of her blood did not lie. 

Coming to stand next to her head, he dropped to his knees, smirking at the intake of breath as he caught her off-guard. “Mouth open, darling, and trust me.” 

Obediently she opened wide for him, a welcoming, waiting hole. 

Very carefully, he placed his knees at her shoulders, and lowered himself over her, sliding his cock into her warm mouth. Wantonly, she moaned around him and he couldn’t stop his own answering groan. Elbows on either side of her hips he gave an experimental thrust, felt her tongue lapping at him. She was good - so, so good, sucking  from underneath him, pliant and submissive.

His hips moved again and he felt his cock twitch inside her. Not yet, he scolded himself. 

Arms wrapping around her thighs, nails digging into her soft skin just enough, he buried his face in her cunt, sodden in expectation of him. Nothing was as intoxicating as her blood, but the taste of her juices, flowing for him, was as close as one could get. Not even bothering to tease, he lavished his tongue over clit, relishing in the much-muted noises. 

It wasn’t enough though. Two of his fingers slipped into her sex, working her as his tongue continued its ministrations. His own hips picked up a rhythm, carefully fucking her mouth. 

Sera’s breath was coming in desperate gasps, the poor thing was nearing her limit. 

“You can wait a little longer, my pet, can’t you? For me?” 

The sound that answered he took for a yes. 

Sucking on two fingers from his unoccupied hand, he coated them with his saliva, and began to tease the last of her holes gently. She was tight and untried, sowith a delicate touch, he worked his way inside. 

Frantically, she lapped at the cock in her mouth, as though to plead with him for release as he fucked all her holes at once. A noise like a scream erupted from her as she shook against him. He could be merciful, he supposed. 

“Go on then, love, come for me.” To punctuate his words, he took her clit between his teeth and sucked. 

It was only moments later he felt her clench around his fingers, and a soft whimper followed. How he wanted to let go too, to spill his seed down her throat and let her taste him. Instead, he pulled his mouth from her and eyed the toy he’d left waiting. 

“Shall I ravage you properly, pet,” he teased, knowing she still couldn’t answer with words, but the thunderous melody of her heart spoke for her. His favorite sound in the whole world, that organ, beating out the song of her vitality, a real and living love. 

“But I’ve got one more treat for you. Now be patie– hgn!” Sera sucked deeply, tongue flicking over his sensitive head. “Naughty little thing,” he scolded. “I should stop right now.” 

They both knew he wouldn’t make good on that threat but still she ceased the attempt to goad him. 

Taking the vial of oil, he carefully coated the small, metal bulb in it. It was delicate work, he knew from horrible experience, but she’d been curious for some time, and was so eager for his fingers just now. The tip of the toy pressed against her and she tried to roll her hips into it. Once, he never would have bet sweet little Sera could be so wanton and needy. And it was all for him. 

Gently, he pushed it inside her, until she had taken it all. A couple of teasing pumps to keep her desperate, and he rose back to his knees, cock slipping from her mouth. 

He took a moment to admire his handiwork; drool running from her mouth, tears escaping her blindfold, her cunt swollen and dripping. 

Gods, she was beautiful.

Kneeling between her thighs, at long last, he gripped her hips, and drove into her, letting out a sigh of relief. Her warm slick squeezed him tight, eager to take all he could give. The feel of the toy inside her pressing against him added another dimension of pleasure, almost too much. 

He thrust with a desperate cadence, his mind fading into only feeling and wanting, almost the same as when he drank from her. The sounds of her pleasure were muted as though miles away. Hips slapped against skin, fingers dug bruises into her skin. 

Again he felt her, climaxing, thrashing, moaning uninhibited now. His cock twitched, gods, it was too much, and he felt himself let go. 

There was stillness and gradually the sounds of the cave penetrated the haze. Sera lay still, her breathing evening out after the exertion. Leaning down, he kissed her with all softness, his undead heart almost quickening with the raw, unbridled, affection he felt for her. 

“You did so well,” he whispered into her ear, “now let’s get you out of all this and into our bed.”

Under a mound of covers, Astarion held Sera close, as she lay with her head resting upon his chest. Idly, her fingers traced lines across his chest. Finally she made a thoughtful hum that drew him from his thoughts. “Yes, love?”

“I was thinking– if this is your treatment for melancholy– do you believe in preventive medicine?” Sera tittered giddily. 

“Oh my darling,” Astarion purred exaggeratedly, “I can most assuredly give you whatever dosage you require.” 

He tightened his arms around her and pulled her up to kiss her properly. They were so lost in the laughter that followed, Astarion barely noted the ease with which he lifted her, strength he hadn’t had before. 

[penkura]

I don't know how to word it properly but I want to request, Penguin and y/n (who are currently not dating) go on a Wano festival date.

Dressed in yukatas, playing games, winning prizes for each other, hand feeding food/takoyaki to eachother to try, watching fireworks near a cherry tree, a petal falls on one of their heads and they brush it out flustering the other a bit ☺️💕 That classic anime/manga trope.

Omg yes, the classic anime trope with Penguin, my heart. 💚💚 This is so cute thank you for this! I can see Penguin in this situation so well!

When Penguin asked you to be his date for one of the post-battle Wano festivals, you were quick to accept with such a bright smile that he couldn’t help but return it. He didn’t think you’d actually agree at first, but when you did, he was ecstatic! He was worried you didn’t feel the same way or would just say no thanks, but even Law could see how much the two of you liked each other. It was a wonder you hadn’t gotten together yet.

He figures the two of you will just see what happens the day of your date, there’s no definite plan apart from the end of the night. There’s going to be fireworks again and Penguin fully intends on bringing you to the hill with a cherry blossom tree to watch them. He does realize there might be other couples there, but it doesn’t matter. He likes you so much, he wants to make this first date special!

Penguin is so nervous though when he leads you through the festival stalls, holding your hand to keep from losing you in the crowd. He was nervous before you two even took off on your own, but when he sees you in your yukata he felt the blush creep up his face as you smile at him and tell him he looks nice in his blue yukata. He stammers out a thank you and replies in kind, which makes you just as happy.

Penguin watches you stare at a stuffed animal that one of the game stalls has, it’s a cute little penguin, making him grin over it. Maybe you’re thinking about him, or maybe it’s just a cute plush to you. Either way, the way you’re looking at it tells him you want it more than other toys or prizes you’ve seen tonight. When he offers to play the game to get it, you try to tell him not to worry about it.

“I don’t want you to waste your money on it! It’s just a plush, I can—”

“No, it’s not a waste at all!” Penguin’s grin is more then enough to make you relent, as he leads you over to the stall and puts down the money for the game, receiving three balls to throw at the bottles set up in return. “Just watch, I’m great at this!”

He might have over exaggerated his skills, but Penguin gets so close the third time, the stall runner gives him a smaller stuffed penguin as a prize. He feels a little bad that he could get you the bigger plush prize, but the second he hands it to you and tries to apologize, you just give him a kiss on the cheek that makes his face redder than before as you smile.

“This is perfect, thank you, Penguin! He’s adorable!”

You both decide to get some food after that, agreeing on a takoyaki stand nearby the game, Penguin stays to wait for your order while you wander off to another stall for a moment. When you meet back up, Penguin takes your hand again and starts to lead you somewhere you can sit to eat, picking a spot near a cheery tree so you can wait for the fireworks too.

“Did you find something at the stall you went to?”

“Oh, I did!” You give him a grin while you pull a small package from your sleeve and hold it out to him, “It’s a good luck charm for you!”

“You…you didn’t need to spend money on—”

“Well you got me the plushie…it’s only fair you get something too!”

He really can’t argue with you about that, he might even need that good luck charm after tonight. He feels like all his luck is gone anyway, just because you accepted his invitation. Penguin thanks you while he takes the charm, before offering your share of the takoyaki to you. His face goes bright red when you don’t take it from his hand and just eat it right off the skewer, still in his hand, telling him it’s one of the better takoyaki you’ve had.  You laugh a bit at his embarrassed face when you offer a piece to him, which he eats in the same way.

He's so cute.

The rest of your food gets forgotten at you start talking, both glad everyone made it through the fight against Kaido and Big Mom, relieved nothing happened to Law or the other captains, or any of your friends. There so much to be done before your crew takes off, but you’re happy to have a small break, a night to relax and do whatever, especially with Penguin. Once the fireworks start, you watch them for a bit before looking back to your date, smiling as you watch him instead.

You’re beyond happy he asked you out, you had planned to do so before he got to you the day before. The fact he actually asked surprised you, after all the mutual flirting and a few close first kisses, he finally decided to ask you on a date, you went to Ikkaku squealing and non-stop smiling the rest of the day. After the last few years of having a crush on him, it’s nice to see it’s returned, you aren’t worried you’ve wasted time getting to know him better.

You surprise Penguin by brushing a few cherry blossom petals off his hat before placing a kiss on his cheek and laying your head on his shoulder. He knows his face must be redder the candy apples being sold, but he doesn’t mind, not when he puts his arm around your shoulders and kisses your forehead in return.

“This was a nice first date.”

“Yeah…?” You nod as Penguin realizes something, “Wait, ‘first’?”

“Well, yeah,” you glance up in time to see Penguin’s face is red but he’s starting to smile, “I expect we’ll have another one in a few days or something, after we leave Wano. Seems like Captain doesn’t mind it so.”

You shrug while Penguin laughs a bit, nodding.

“We’ll definitely have another date.”

[hils79]

Hils Watches Tibetan Sea Flower - Ep 14

Well, the bad news is I'm now so far behind I've dropped back into the free episodes which feels like a waste of my subscription.

But not for long!

The good news is I've just arrived at a lovely beach front airbnb for my traditional birthday trip away

So that means I have a few days where my only plans are to enjoy the lovely sea views, binge watch as much Tibetan Sea Flower as I can, eat my body weight in cake and chocolate, and possibly make some Ateez gifs.

But for now I'm diving back in. I'll only have time for one episode today as it's quite late but tomorrow the bingeing comences

I am always so delighted by the faces Zhang Haike makes when he has to put up with pangxie being ridiculous and married

I am feeling absolutely fine and normal about Pangzi blowing Wu Xie a kiss

This is somehow even worse than the trap Xiaoge had to put his hand in, and this time they don't have Xiaoge they have Wu Xie

Oh, yeah, I forgot about him

I swear to god, my dude, if you shoot Pangzi I am going to lose my shit

MOTHERFUCKER

DUDE DO NOT JUST SHOVE YOUR WHOLE HAND INTO THE KNIFE TRAP! OMG this episode is so stressful

Did he just get bitten by a snake? I do hope so!

Pangzi has been shot and all he's worried about is the cut on Wu Xie's hand. I'm fine. Definitely not crying about how Pangzi always puts Wu Xie and Xiaoge before himself 😭

I love the idea that Xiaoge's version of teenage rebellion is becoming the leader of an entire clan, curing them all of an amnesia and death disease so he's now the only one who suffers from it.

Teenagers, eh?

Or you could tell them now? Pangzi and Wu Xie are both bleeding you can take 5 mins for them to rest and tell them the story

I 1000% do not want to know what that is or what's inside it

THAT IS A WORLD OF NOPE FROM ME

NO! DO NOT DO THAT!

You are all idiots omg

Well, it's not really DMBJ until Wu Xie has fallen off something

Great, now we're back to the creepy dolls

[scorndotexe]

genuinely sorry about all the dndposting recently it hasn't even been interesting but i'm so desperate to dm. i've got storytelling skills!!! i've got improv skills!!! i want to build a story around characters!!! i want to see what players do with what i give them!!!

[savage-rhi]

💀

[thedreadvampy]

it's been a strange arc so far

when I was 19-21 and having an extremely imbalanced relationship with someone in their mid 30s I was like 'we are both adults so the fact that this is fucking me up is my fault'

when I hit my late 20s and saw how young people in their late teens and early 20s seem now I was like 'oh wait I was so fucking young I didn't know shit about my own limits or about managing relationships and I don't know why someone in their mid to late 30s would be into that except for nefarious purposes'

the weird bit is now I'm into my 30s - not even that far into my 30s - and while I still wholeheartedly believe that last thing about how young (and self destructive) 20 year olds are, I'm also kind of like 'huh, actually nobody I know that age has their shit remotely together and frankly the reason this fucked me up is because NEITHER of us knew what the fuck we were doing it how to cope, for different reasons and at different life stages, and there probably wasn't any malice or intent to control as much as there was Blind Flailing.'

[featherymainffins]

I think it's a hatecrime against me that there aren't any slugs as big as the giant African snail. Why do the snails get to have all the fun I just want a giant slime noodle.

[monty-glasses-roxy]

I feel like I don't talk much about how Roxy's still a asshole in my stuff. So. Um.

Yeah Roxy's still an asshole lmao

[kittyhazelnut]

i am losing my fucking miiiiind

[ceilidhtransing]

The discussions around whether or not to vote for Kamala keep being dominated by very loud voices shouting that anyone who advocates for her “just doesn't care about Palestine!” and “is willing to overlook genocide!” and “has no moral backbone at all!” And while some of these voices will be bots, trolls, psyops - we know that this happens; we know that trying to persuade progressives to split the vote or not vote at all is a strategy employed by hostile actors - of course many of them won't be. But what this rhetoric does is continually force the “you should vote for her” crowd onto the back foot of having to go to great lengths writing entire essays justifying their choice, while the “don't vote/vote third party” crowd is basically never asked to justify their choice. It frames voting for Kamala as a deeply morally compromised position that requires extensive justification while framing not voting or voting third party as the neutral and morally clean stance.

So here's another way of looking at it. How much are you willing to accept in order to feel like you're not compromising your morals on one issue?

Are you willing to accept the 24% rise in maternal deaths - and 39% increase for Black women - that is expected under a federal abortion ban, according to the Centre for American Progress? Those percentages represent real people who are alive now who would die if the folks behind Project 2025 get their way with reproductive healthcare.

Are you willing to accept the massive acceleration of climate change that would result from the scrapping of all climate legislation? We don't have time to fuck around with the environment. A gutting of climate policy and a prioritisation of fossil fuel profits, which is explicitly promised by Trump, would set the entire world back years - years that we don't have.

Are you willing to accept the classification of transgender visibility as inherently “pornographic” and thus the removal of trans people from public life? Are you willing to accept the total elimination of legal routes for gender-affirming care? The people behind the Trump campaign want to drive queer and trans people back underground, back into the closet, back into “criminality”. This will kill people. And it's maddening that caring about this gets called “prioritising white gays over brown people abroad” as if it's not BIPOC queer and trans Americans who will suffer the most from legislative queer- and transphobia, as they always do.

Are you willing to accept the domestic deployment of the military to crack down on protests and enforce racist immigration policy? I'm sure it's going to be very easy to convince huge numbers of normal people to turn up to protests and get involved in political organising when doing so may well involve facing down an army deployed by a hardcore authoritarian operating under the precedent that nothing he does as president can ever be illegal.

Are you willing to accept a president who openly talks about wanting to be a dictator, plans on massively expanding presidential powers, dehumanises his political enemies and wants the DOJ to “go after them”, and assures his supporters they won't have to vote again? If you can't see the danger of this staring you right in the face, I don't know what to tell you. Allowing a wannabe dictator to take control of the most powerful country on earth would be absolutely disastrous for the entire world.

Are you willing to accept an enormous uptick in fascism and far-right authoritarianism worldwide? The far right in America has huge influence over an entire international network of “anti-globalists”, hardcore anti-immigrant xenophobes, transphobic extremists, and straight-up fascists. Success in America aids and emboldens these people everywhere.

Are you willing to accept an enormous number of preventable deaths if America faces a crisis in the next four years: a public health emergency, a natural disaster, an ecological catastrophe? We all saw how Trump handled Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico. We all saw how Trump handled Covid-19. He fanned the flames of disaster with a constant flow of medical misinformation and an unspeakably dangerous undermining of public health experts. It's estimated that 40% of US pandemic deaths could have been avoided if the death rates had corresponded to those in other high-income countries. That amounts to nearly half a million people. One study from January 2021 estimated between around 4,200 and 12,200 preventable deaths attributable purely to Trump's statements about masks. We're highly unlikely to face another global pandemic in the next few years but who knows what crises are coming down the pipeline?

Are you willing to accept the attempted deportation of millions - millions - of undocumented people? This is “rounding people up and throwing them into camps where no one ever hears from them again” territory. That's a blueprint for genocide right there and it's a core tenet of both Trump's personal policy and Project 2025. And of course they wouldn't be going after white people. They most likely wouldn't even restrict their tyranny to people who are actually undocumented. Anyone racially othered as an “immigrant” would be at risk from this.

Are you willing to accept not just the continuation of the current situation in Palestine, but the absolute annihilation of Gaza and the obliteration of any hope for imminent peace? There is no way that Trump and the people behind him would not be catastrophically worse for Gaza than Kamala or even Biden. Only recently he was telling donors behind closed doors that he wanted to “set the [Palestinian] movement back 25 or 30 years” and that “any student that protests, I throw them out of the country”. This is not a man who can be pushed in a direction more conducive to peace and justice. This is a man who listens to his wealthy donors, his Christian nationalist Republican allies, and himself.

Are you willing to accept a much heightened risk of nuclear war? Obviously this is hardly a Trump policy promise. But I can't think of a single president since the Cold War who is more likely to deploy nuclear weapons, given how casually he talks about wanting to use them and how erratic and unstable he can be in his dealings with foreign leaders. To quote Foreign Policy only this year, “Trump told a crowd in January that one of the reasons he needed immunity was so that he couldn’t be indicted for using nuclear weapons on a city.” That's reassuring. I'm not even in the US and I remember four years of constant background low-level terror that Trump would take offence at something some foreign leader said or think that he needs to personally intervene in some military situation to “sort it out” and decide to launch the entire world into nuclear war. No one sane on earth wants the most powerful person on the planet to be as trigger-happy and careless with human life as he is, especially if he's running the White House like a dictator with no one ever telling him no. But depending on what Americans do in November, he may well be inflicted again on all of us, and I guess we'll all just have to hope that he doesn't do the worst thing imaginable.

“But I don't want those things! Stop accusing me of supporting things I don't support!” Yes, of course you don't want those things. None of us does. No one's saying that you actively support them. No one's accusing you of wanting Black women to die from ectopic pregnancies or of wanting to throw Hispanic people in immigrant detention centres or of wanting trans people to be outlawed (unlike, I must point out, the extremely emotive and personal accusations that get thrown around about “wanting Palestinian children to die” if you encourage people to vote for Kamala).

But if you're advocating against voting for Kamala, you are clearly willing to accept them as possible consequences of your actions. That is the deal you're making. If a terrible thing happening is the clear and easily foreseeable outcome of your action (or in the case of not voting, inaction), in a way that could have been prevented by taking a different and just as easy action, you are partly responsible for that consequence. (And no, it's not “a fear campaign” to warn people about things he's said, things he wants to do, and plans drawn up by his close allies. This is not “oooh the Democrats are trying to bully you into voting for them by making him out to be really bad so you'll feel scared and vote for Kamala!” He is really bad, in obvious and documented and irrefutable ways.)

And if you believe that “both parties are the same on Gaza” (which, you know, they really aren't, but let's just pretend that they are) then presumably you accept that the horrors being committed there will continue, in the immediate term anyway, regardless of who wins the presidency. Because there really isn't some third option that will appear and do everything we want. It's going to be one of those two. And we can talk all day about wanting a better system or how unfair it is that every presidential election only ever has two viable candidates and how small the Overton window is and all that but hell, we are less than eighty days out from the election; none of that is going to get fixed between now and November. Electoral reform is a long-term (but important!) goal, not something that can be effected in the span of a couple of months by telling people online to vote third party. There is no “instant ceasefire and peace negotiation” button that we're callously overlooking by encouraging people to vote for Kamala. (My god, if there was, we would all be pressing it.)

If we're suggesting people vote for her, it's not that we “are willing to overlook genocide” or “don't care about sacrificing brown people abroad” or whatever. Nothing is being “overlooked” here. It's that we're simply not willing to accept everything else in this post and more on top of continued atrocities in Gaza. We're not willing to take Trump and his godawful far-right authoritarian agenda as an acceptable consequence of feeling like we have the moral high ground on Palestine. I cannot stress enough that if Kamala doesn't win, we - we all, in the whole world - get Trump. Are you willing to accept that?

And one more point to address: I've seen too many people act frighteningly flippant and naïve about terrible things Trump or his campaign want to do, with the idea that people will simply be able to prevent all these bad things by “organising” and “protesting” and “collective action”. “I'm not willing to accept these things; that's why I'll fight them tooth and nail every day of their administration” - OK but if you're not even willing to cast a vote then I have doubts about your ability to form “the Resistance”, which by the way would have to involve cooperation with people of lots of progressive political stripes in order to have the manpower to be effective, and if you're so committed to political purity that you view temporarily lending your support to Kamala at the ballot box as an untenable betrayal of everything you stand for then forgive me for also doubting your ability to productively cooperate with allies on the ground with whom you don't 100% agree. Plus, if the Trump campaign gets its way, American progressives would be kept so busy trying to put out about twenty different fires at once that you'd be able to accomplish very little. Maybe you get them to soften their stance on trans healthcare but oh shit, the climate policies are still in place. But more importantly, how many people do you think will protest for abortion rights if doing so means staring down a gun? Or organise to protect their neighbours from deportation if doing so means being thrown in prison yourself? And OK, maybe you're sure that you will, but history has shown us time and time again that most people won't. Most people aren't willing to face that kind of personal risk. And a tiny number of lefties willing to risk incarceration or death to protect undocumented people or trans people or whatever other groups are targeted is sadly not enough to prevent the horrors from happening. That is small fry compared to the full might of a determined state. Of course if the worst happens and Trump wins then you should do what you can to mitigate the harm; I'm not saying you shouldn't. But really the time to act is now. You have an opportunity right here to mitigate the harm and it's called “not letting him get elected”. Act now to prevent that kind of horrific authoritarian situation from developing in the first place; don't sit this one out under the naïve belief that “we'll be able to stop it if it happens”. You won't.