#not a single brain between them. they are vibes ONLY.

[fruitlicense]

I think I’ve figured out my favorite chemistry for the DC Trinity, as follows:

Superman and Wonder Woman are the kind of friends who treat each other like siblings, but they 100% mean it. They laugh, they hug, they get at least one meal together every week, they occasionally finish each other’s sentences, and when they’re in the same room you can tell they genuinely like each other. They know each other like siblings, too - one won’t know every detail about the other, but they can pull out years-old esoteric stories that no one else had any idea even happened, and they each have a keen sense of who the other is deep down. Clark and Diana know each other’s dreams, fears, and morals, and that trust is visible. The only thing that tells you they’re not actually related is that when they disagree, they argue like well-adjusted adults, without any psychological manipulation or maiming. Sparring is a bonding activity for them, not a way to express anger.

Wonder Woman and Batman have a bond that is entirely platonic but mind-bogglingly deep. They should have the kind of relationship where it’s perfectly normal for them to shower together after a mission and discuss what the Justice League’s next steps should be, but if you point out that it’s kind of weird for them to share a showerhead and a shampoo bottle they’ll act like you’re weird for pointing it out. Bruce is washing blood and concrete dust out of Diana’s hair. There are no sexual or romantic vibes whatsoever. They’re at a level where it’s almost like they’re two halves of the same mind, like if they got into some crazy magic mishap where they were sharing a body it would move like a well-oiled machine. Even when they disagree or argue it seems like a single entity having an internal battle. They have crazy trust, like knowing-every-corner-of-the-other’s-brain trust, to the point that the greatest way to show their affection to each other is allowing each other their secrets. Bruce doesn’t pry past Diana’s hard lines and she knows when to stop pushing him, and those boundaries are honored because literally all the others are gone.

Batman and Superman, however, have inexplicable vibes. At a glance they act like coworkers, or like good friends, but if you look longer than thirty seconds there’s something between them that’s tangible enough to cut - it’s also weirdly horny and literally no one else wants to get involved with it. You could walk into a room where Clark was making coffee and Bruce was doing paperwork and they weren’t talking to or looking at each other and you would feel like you were intruding on their marriage bed. They keep up the same level of professionalism with each other that they do with the rest of the Justice League but they might as well not fucking bother, because somehow it still seems like they’re incapable of not broadcasting that they want each other carnally. They also have a deep level of trust, but it’s not familial or platonic. It’s more like the kind you have with someone you’re so deeply in love with that you can’t fathom not sharing your entire self with them. The world could end in burning flames and they’d survive it without going insane as long as they had each other. No one is actually sure if they’ve ever acted on these feelings, or if they’re even aware that they have them.

All three of them would burn the world down for each other, obviously, so it’s a damn good thing they’re saving it instead.

[lostintransist]

Hell's Spawn | It Means Fuck Off

I wasn't planning on posting this yet but I need some feel good chemicals going in my brain before I give my professor the award for being the single most unhelpful teacher I have ever had in my entire life. Mans is actively making my life harder and not easier.

AO3

CW: Mommy issues, lots of negative self talk, general staring at women's bodies even though they just want to be left alone.

Trading shifts, what a simple way to alter the course of one’s life. Something akin to missing a train or a flight delay causing you to miss a connection, some exterior force course correcting you to where you need to be.

Leaning on one elbow on the stainless steel counter studying your text book you can feel your brain melting in your skull. Being a fourth-year medical student had taught you that while one could get a fever hot enough to “cook” the brain in the skull it wouldn’t occur from studying for too long. The voice of your mother itched in the back of your mind, telling you to give up and move on, you’ll never be more than a whore.

That had always been her favorite insult to hurl at you. Puberty hit you like a truck from a number of your favorite animes, transporting you into a woman-like body over the course of one summer. You still had the stretch marks.

Your mother hated it and hated you. She would never say that though. The high-powered pick-me lawyer could never let it be known that the only love she had in her soul had to be provided by the attention of a man. Psych 101 had been an enlightening class. You had nearly decided to go for a psychiatric residency before the chemistry classes debased that idea in your head.

When residency was over and you were settled somewhere you had decided to find a therapist to help you unpack all the shit that your mother had endowed you with. Her snide comments, wool-encased bricks lobbed at you from her high tower where she held both the power and the autonomy to keep you a prisoner, pelted you even now despite the years and distance between you.

The only escape you had found had been concurrent and AP classes in high school and a scholarship to finish your bachelor’s degree in one year directly out of high school and across the country. You worked your ass off for a few years to be old enough to never need her money again and passed the MCAT on the first try. The local medical school had accepted you at twenty-six, an old maid in that first class filled with nineteen and twenty-year-olds. That is how you had landed at a late-night cafe as a barista. You took as little student loans as possible and that meant working late and rising early for classes.

Coming full circle, you had traded shifts with the owner. Lucky bitch had five of the hottest boyfriends who were also boyfriends you had everseen and the bitch was ace. All that luck wasted on someone who didn’t ride their boyfriends until they whimpered night after night after night. God, you needed to get laid.

She had told you when you agreed to switch though that a group would be coming in to use the private room around midnight. She had warned you not to be alarmed but they would all be covered head to toe and would pay with cash. What she had failed to mention is that all four men who would appear at midnight, like wraiths wrapped in darkness, is that they were fucking jacked. They were ripped. To be frank you weren’t sure how any of them put shirts on or how the fabric didn’t rip like they were Bruce Banner turning green. Every one of them wore a surgical mask.

They all stepped to the counter, menacing vibes a miasma that eddied around them. Several patrons were scattered about the space, in quiet conversation or the clacking of keyboard keys, offering the illusion of safety. Aiming a well-trained smile any customer-facing worker would recognize at the men you greeted them.

“Hi welcome in, what can I get started for you?”

The tallest, broadest one, scanned the menu before glancing down. The demons in your mind began howling when instead of landing on your face his gaze landed firmly on the shadows of your cleavage peaking above the edge of your shirt. You had forgotten you had agreed to this shift until it was too late to change into the high-necked band tees you normally wore. The soundtrack of self-hate had always been easier to ignore if you could avoid drawing attention to your body.

“Four large black coffees, sugar and cream on the side.”

No please, no thank you. Fine, whatever wouldn’t be the last person tonight even that wouldn’t treat you with the same respect a wandering cat would receive.

“And you want all of those hot?” You tap away at the screen as you wait for his answer.

“Yes.” His voice should be much lower than it is, but it is still pleasant on the ear. The curl of his tongue around the words tells you English was not learned at his mother’s breast.

“Okay, your price is pulling up, this system slows down after midnight.” You roll your eyes at it, “If you give me a moment I can get that ready for you and let you into the room you have reserved.” You catch sight of the one with blue eyes that burn trailing those selfsame irises down one collarbone, to the bunching of skin, and then trailing back up to the other side.

The sniping words, whore, bitch, no good wench, nothing more than pussy, tits, and a mouth, fly through your mind, debris in the storm picking up speed. Grown and a world away her words still cut at you like glass.

Four hot coffees are settled on the counter as you count out change and return it to a leather-gloved hand. Did he have to buy specialty gloves to ensure that they fit?

The third man shifted his head toward you from behind his sunglasses before turning back to observe the room. A smudge of black hair peeked from below his hat.

Carrying the key along with several packets of sugar in your apron pocket and the carafe of creamer you can feel the fourth man’s eyes digging into your spine directly above your bra strap. No skin had been visible on him since the moment they entered the shop. That level of dedication impressed something in you.

You would have stayed impressed except the man couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Unlocking the door you stepped aside and let the men trail in, careful to keep your back to the wall by the premise of holding the door open with your foot. Once everyone found a seat you set the creamer on the table and turned to leave.

The completely covered one caught your wrist, fiddling with the ties of your bracelet. A friend had given it to you last Christmas when your mother had tried to reach out to ‘mend fences’. Turns out she was getting married again and her fiance wanted to meet the prodigal daughter.

The dainty silver beads pressed into your flesh as he dragged a thumb over them.

“What’s all this about? From a lover?”

The accent on his words tickles your senses. Then the understanding of his question settles home.

Customer service mode leaves your face and body, the bitch your mother always claimed you to be coming out.

“It reads fuck off,” you wrench your hand from his grip and slam the door shut behind you. When you settle back in the kitchen you fire off a text to your boss.

<Heads up, ended up snapping at one of your special customers.

Next, you fire off a message to Quinn, seeing if he could come in a half hour early so you didn’t have to close alone if the layered lechers stayed until closing.

Quinn confirmed he could be in early.

The parade from the conference room occurred as Quinn was arriving, leaving him to hold the door open for them as they passed. Closing duties went faster with Quinn collecting all the dishes for cleaning and you were home and in bed, books prepped for class in the morning on the table.

You woke a few hours later to a reply from your boss.

>Whatever you did they probably deserved it. You know I will back you 100%. But John says they seemed to like you better for snapping.

If you didn’t have to rush to avoid being late for your eleven am class you would have rolled your eyes. They liked being snapped at, that you were mean to them? Yeah, right.

Hell Masterlist | Masterlist

@demothers-empty-blog @beloveds-embrace (boo I hope you like your surprise.)

[linddzz]

Sat here and combed through all your jayvik analysis posts giggling and kicking my feet but PLEASE tell me more about the whole dom/sub thing, especially the whole “they have absolutely not discussed that this is the dynamic, it just happens and neither of them acknowledge it” because that is genuinely so interesting. Like I could already tell Viktor had hella ‘quiet calm collected dom’ vibes especially compared to jayce’s ‘excited protective puppy who would FOLD at being called a good boy’ energy…

But the whole bit on the bridge where Viktor smacks his hand away without even looking? And Jayce EARNS BACK TOUCHING PRIVELEGES? Fucking scrumptious please tell me more.

god i need to get to writing my fic bc I feel like "talk more about it" would be solved just by me dropping the link This ended up being TOO LONG so I split it between me going feral about that bridge scene and then me going feral at other moments of nonverbal communication that I use to feed my Dom/sub "oh you two are just LIKE THAT" interpretation. So. here's part one

That bridge scene tho...im so normal about it

hhhggg god that bridge scene is one that I rotate in my brain so much because it is such a small moment that makes so much of their dynamic click. For me, specifically, it clicks the "submissive like a guard dog is submissive" dynamic, where Jayce is, on a surface level, the stronger and more forceful of the two while Viktor is the one actually holding the leash (until he's too tired to because he's dying, and I only half joke when I say that their issues at the end of season 1 are because Jayce is suddenly the equivalent of a dog holding it's own leash and getting stressed out about it.

Jayce's touching before the bridge come across as pretty overbearing honestly. He's holding his hand out to keep Viktor from speaking out...

Heck, while the still screenshot doesn't show it too well, Jayce slings an arm around Viktor with enough force that it knocks Viktor off balance for a second and shoves him forward a little.

Viktor got dragged to the hexgate when Jayce is looking into shipping discrepancies happening there, even though it obviously doesn't involve him and he does NOT want to be there.

(In hindsight this is a hilarious bit of showing that it did not occur to either of them that there's no goddamn reason for Viktor to be here. This is council business, Jayce outright says "I'm a councilor now Viktor" which does not answer why tf Viktor needs to be there. these twits just handle all problems as a unit lmao. The tragic flip is that this is could then be a breaking moment when Viktor goes back to the lab, realizing that him and Jayce are not, in actuality, a single unit anymore. because Jayce got a second job that is not Lab With Viktor oh my god you codependent dweebs)

Up until that point it would be really easy to see Jayce as being presumptive and unintentionally overpowering Viktor in personality. Heck, it's what I thought the dynamic was as I was watching Season 1, though even as I thought that it seemed somehow...not quite correct.

And then the bridge scene.

Even before the hand-smack, there's a flip on the reading up to this point that Jayce has been accidentally bowling over Viktor by force of personality/physicality. Jayce comes in hot, upset, angrily standing over Viktor and chewing him out, and Viktor is just like "....and??"

Viktor is calm if baffled and annoyed at Jayce's frustration (also; Viktor just rolling his eyes and shaking his head at the actual riot happening a few yards away? hilarious. i love him.) His almost nonchalantly confused tone when he asks "what difference does that make?" always gets me. the entire back and forth says, to me anyway, that Jayce may be more brash and socially competent, but he's not overpowering Viktor at all, actually.

Viktor is going to do whatever the fuck Viktor wants.

This is immediately made clear by the much beloved hand smack. Viktor doesn't even look up, and his smack shows that he is perfectly capable of setting a hard boundary on Jayce's touching, and that Jayce will IMMEDIATELY fold and apologize when that boundary is set. That smack makes it suddenly clear that when Jayce goes for the shoulder touch right after apologizing, Viktor consciously allows it.

idk WHY but I also love this little tiniest moment when Jayce is going for the second touch. Viktor glances back as Jayce approaches him (looking like a cat with its ears pinned back lmao), then looks away as he accepts the second touch and they move on. It's such a tiny detail of showing Viktor, who is still pretty pissed at Jayce, seeing the touch as it comes in and then deciding to let it happen. im rotating them in my mind. please send help

In my framing of them being a guard dog/handler dynamic, the bridge scene is us seeing a moment of the leash getting a sudden sharp tug to bring the guard dog to heel. It resets all the earlier instances as being ones that Viktor allows to happen, because he doesn't see a need to correct it.

fuck man this doesn't even get into the bridge scene as a major crack between them as the moment Viktor loses his trust that Jayce will understand his decision. i am unwell

[jeanmoreautemple]

TGR wrap up thoughts:

Chapter 17 might just be the worst torture in the whole series. This is why I can’t read an Andrew POV book. My heart woudn’t take it. I hope Zane gets paralyzed or gets killed violently or something.

Chloé Moreau was a full on mob wife that could have civilians killed just like that? And the Algerian arms dealer that Elodie was sold to was a contact of hers?? Carmela Soprano or Connie Corleone vibes I’d say.

JEAN HAS A CHILDHOOD!! EXY YOUTH!! TEAMMATE!!! THAT CARES!! and knew about Elodie!!!!

I want to apologize to everyone for doubting Jerejean being balanced, it’s clear Jeremy will need Jean as much as Jean needs him.

Jeremy exclusively sleeping with people who treat him like his family??? Belittling his efforts and calling him a whore?? Who choke him and don’t care that they leave marks on him?

Jean finding Laila hot!! Jeremy wasn’t completely lying when he told his mom Jean had a crush on her, and I know it makes him nervous.

Annalise blushing just from seeing Jean in person- the satisfaction I felt was unmeasurable.

Jeremy obsessing over Jean’s taste in women but not in men? Getting crazy jealous of Laila, Renee and Annalise but not Kevin? Interesting.

Jean knowing how to braid hair!!! Because of Elodie!! 🥲 Laila brushing Jean’s hair and Jean braining hers??

So many wrist and temple kisses???? This is beautiful. And in a Nora book??

Elodie is officially “missing” and interpol can’t track her sale? Oh Nora don’t make me hope…

If she’s actually dead then both Noah and Elodie would have been dead for 4 years as of 2007, assuming Elodie was killed shortly after being sold to the armsdealer in Algiers.

Jean is already good at cooking, ceramics and knows how to drive a motorcycle 🥹

Jeremy’s biological dad is in Korea? He was removed af with Jeremy in their call but I seriously think he’s gonna support Jeremy if he decides to leave the Wilshires.

Jeremy and Jean being called faggots and whores by Jeremy’s hookups, his biological brother, Warren Wilshire, the press and other exy players, and just about anyone outside the Trojans… it was enough with Jean’s rumours and Lucas… WHYYY NORA

Overall Colleen, Thea and Sergio and this Finn might have been the nicest ravens to Jean? But he still puts Zane in that group after chapter 17 wtf.

Jeremy craving Jean so badly when Jean leaned into him and was between his legs in the hotel room vs Jean getting immediately uneasy and putting Jabberwocky between them when Jeremy put his head near Jean’s crotch area… I can’t wait to see how Nora will handle them getting intimate.

A word for word confirmation that every single person in the nest knew Jean’s age. I don’t have to delete my three posts about it yayy.

Now the public knows Jean’s age too!!! Hope the slut shaming drecreases a bit too.

Jeremy needs to cry. In Jean’s arms.

William Hunter basically saying he’s on Jeremy’s side and not Mathilda’s… I hope they keep in touch when Jeremy leaves for good / Mathilda & Warren kick him out in book 3. I wonder if he’s gonna be the one to give Jeremy his passport and other documents ?

Derek, Derrick and Sebastian not being sure whether Jean likes girls but not having any doubts on whether he likes men lmao.

Cody going “can I ask you something? You can lie…” when he mentioned that Jeremy must absolutely love how Jean says his name hshshsh EVERYBODY KNOWS.

Renee and Jean lying to each other when they ask if they are okay 🙃

Renee supporting Jerejean?? Idk how to feel about that, it’s been only a few months! She’s stronger than me for sure.

Cat and Jean matching bikes!!!

Aaron driving Andrew’s car after the trial!!!! LETS GOOO

Andrew and Renee being press partners and Andrew not saying a single word, BFFs.

Idk how to feel about the Ravens going psycho on live TV. They weren’t even playing or trying to hide it, they were just swinging for the foxes. I felt like it was all very convenient and kinda fanservicey.

Thea showing up again for like 3 pages and fruitfully telling the new gen ravens to kill themselves?? I’ll take it😭 but proclaiming absolute loyalty to old racist Tetsuji? Didn’t Jean say that he killed a freshman boy in her last year?

Jeremy and Renee speaking for the first time on the phone, about Jean!! How awkward was it? I want them to meet in person but it’d be so bittersweet for Jeanee.

Cat and Laila suspiciously made absolute 0 comments on Jerejean this book, when even Renee was teasing. Jeremy erasing the text message about Renee’s looks so Laila wouldn’t start asking questions, but then he just openly searches for a Marseillais French teacher? They are being careful af.

Jeremy blurting to Jean “Maybe Laila’s not as good with her tongue” is CRAZYyy and Jean recovering surprisingly well by saying “I will tell her you said that” . It’s as if Jeremy always has his feelings in check except with sex?? He’s worse than Jean.

I still can’t believe Warren called Jeremy you little faggot just like that. Fuck him, Mathilda and Bryson.

Kevin’s exy tunnel vision was depressive af to read: “Everything I want and need still lies ahead of me; it is a waste of time to look back so long as that holds true” ????? But he needs to drink to talk and lie about the nest and Riko??

I get Kevin and Thea have grown complacent with the nest and don’t have much need to challenge what they saw and experienced because they love exy first and foremost and they are doing great in that regard but omg I can’t believe Jean is close to being the healthiest ex Raven???

Bryson was such a caricaturesque loser villain, he got beaten up by Jean and only ran away to show his mommy?? He better have been the one to leak Jean’s address.

Oh James Rhemann… the man that you are.

Once again I want to erase chapter 17 from my mind. The trilogy finale better be the happiest I’ve ever seen.

WILL JOSHUA SHOW UP?

Jean’s childhood teammate’s letter, the marseillais tutor, Chloé revealed to call some serious shots in the Moreau family? I think it’s all a big giant red herring towards Elodie 🥹

[cherryredstars]

Do you think you could do a Miguel x fem! Reader who’s really ticklish and is worried that it might get in the way of their fun? Like, they think that getting ticklish during sex will ruin the whole vibe, but Miguel comforts them and proves them wrong.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Blindfolds, Sensual Touching, Breast Play, Clit Stimulation, Overstimulation

Unedited

Your lips purse as you stare down at it.

The blindfold is soft in your hands, the material pitch black. It’s high quality, something you’ve come to expect with everything Miguel buys for you. Wrinkles form over the smooth surface as you clench it in your fists.

“Miguel…” you trail off, the anxiety smeared thick over the single word.

Miguel’s eyes are soft as they look at you, his hand coming to cup your chin as he bends down to kiss your cheek. It soothes some of the anxiety welling in your stomach, and your eyes flutter as you take in the sweet affection.

“It’s okay, baby.” Miguel whispers into your skin, “I promise it’ll feel good, and we’ll stop if it doesn’t.”

You hesitate for a second before nodding, unclenching your hands. Miguel gives you an encouraging smile before he takes the blindfold from you. Your eyes close as he pulls it over your face, the material tickling your cheeks. You can see the faintest bit of light, but it disappears when Miguel fixes the cloth and all you see his darkness.

You jump instinctively when Miguel’s hands wrap around your waist. He chuckles, moving slowly as he lifts your body and lays you flat on the bed. Your hands wraps around his neck, making sure you’re secured to him before the soft covers meet your back.

The warmth of his body disappears, and you can’t hide your pout in response. It quickly disappears when a feather light touch ghosts over your soft nipple, a sharp tingling feeling shooting up your spine. You gasp in surprise, your body trying to turn away from the sensation. Miguel is quick to stop you, his thick thighs planted to either side of your body and keeping you trapped under him with nowhere to move.

The sensation comes back stronger, more pressure put behind the touch. You let out a desperate noise, your back arching as your hands come to grab his thighs. Miguel’s other hand explores the rest of your body, fingers tracing the length of your sides and collarbones. Strong shivers run up and down your body, the small sensation of pleasure trying to fight through.

Your brows furrow as Miguel’s hands disappear, only to be replaced with the wet sensation of his mouth. He hums as he licks at your hardened nipple, teeth slightly scrapping the skin. Your hands plant in his hair, your mouth dropping open in pleasure.

His other hand returns, tickling up and down the exposed skin of your body. You whimper as you try to get away from the familiar tingling feeling and simultaneously gain more pleasure. Your mind goes haywire trying to differentiate between the two feelings, both starting to gather at the pit of your stomach until it aches.

With his free hand, Miguel reaches down to your neglected clit, his thumb drawing smooth circles. You hiss at the feeling, your back arching. Tears start to well up in your eyes from all the sensation, your mind struggling to find where it should focus.

Your body twists as you try to escape from the onslaught of sensations, and Miguel groans around your nipple as he gives your clit a sharp pinch in a warning to keep still.

The unexpected feeling makes you come with a choked sob. Your body twitches as you finish, your mind still caught up in the tingling all around your body. It takes you sobbing out Miguel’s name three times for him to relent, pulling away from your body as you try to piece your mind together.

When the blindfold comes off, your eyes squint from the hazy feelings fogging your brain and from the light. Miguel coos down at you, wiping at a line of drool the began to build at the corner of your mouth. You close your eyes in an attempt to steady your feverish heart, taking deep breaths.

It all goes out the window when Miguel’s fingers slide through the sticky messy between your thighs, a dark look in his eyes.

“Not quite down yet, cariño.”

[gorgeys]

Come to get your fix? - (Margot Robbie x Reader)

At an afterparty, you see Margot for the first time in a long time…

Margot Robbie x femsinger!reader

Warnings: slight age gap (Margot is 30ish, reader is 25ish), mentions of sex, just sexy vibes

A/N: this got a lot longer than it was supposed to be cuz I kinda got carried away with the beginning and the backstory but I hope you enjoy!

2.6k words

There were seven different Met Gala after parties, all of which you had been invited to, but of course you chose the only one that she would be attending.

Well, you really had no other choice.  You had to go to Dua Lipa’s party at Virgo on the Lower East Side.  You and Dua were close friends and all the biggest celebrities were going to be there.

And you were excited for the most part.  It was one of the few nights where you got to hang out with your most famous friends as you danced and drank the night away.

When you arrived, ditching your Chanel gown for a sheer, golden chain dress that resembled royalty, you dove right into the many greetings you’d have to make throughout the night.  Of course you got many congratulations on your new album which had easily risen to the top of the charts with several hit singles.  And, since you had released new tour dates only last night, several celebrities were already expressing their excitement over attending your LA shows.  You thanked them like always, being sure to compliment Zendaya on her new movie and thanking Rihanna for sending you a new package of Fenty Beauty products.

Only after at least an hour did you even find the bar.  You ordered your go-to cocktail and paid for whatever your team wanted to drink, exhaling a long sigh.  Your voice had already gotten scratchy and hoarse from the day’s events plus the long press tour you had endured the past few weeks.  You craved a moment to relax.

But not even a few seconds later did Jack Harlow appear behind you to question why you left him on read for the past three days.  Internally rolling your eyes, you mumbled a vague response while your eyes scanned the room for a distraction.  You only half listened to him as he tried to get in your pants once more, but you fully stopped paying attention when you finally found her.

There she was, sitting in a booth beside Cara Delevigne across the room.  You could tell she was looking for a way out of the situation from the way her shoulders were angled away from Cara and her nails tapped anxiously on the table.

You shamelessly stared, watching her eyes retreat from Cara’s face every once in a while to venture out into the crowd.  Her legs were crossed and she sat as straight as a pin like she always had.  You remembered how her perfect posture alone always made you feel small.  She carelessly flicked her blonde hair back away from her face, smiling at whatever part of the long, winded story Cara was on.

You told yourself so many times that you had moved on. It was a repetitive thought that pounded into your brain each night when you were partying in cities all over the world.  And sometimes it felt like you really did move on. You would naturally send a flirty wink to the cute girl at the bar or grind on the hot guy on the dance floor, enjoying the fruitful chase.

But each morning, when you woke up in an expensive hotel room beside a stranger, you always wished she was laying beside you instead.  It felt hopeless at times when you were stalking her Instagram or scrolling through your camera roll at the many, many pictures of you and her.

You only truly believed you had moved on when you met your most recent girlfriend.  She was finally the breath of fresh air you were looking for.  The thoughts of Margot soon felt far and few in between as a new woman consumed your everyday life.  She was beautiful and sweet and loving and everything you needed.  It was rare for one of your partners to even last more than a couple weeks since you had a reputation of being quite the maneater, but you were glad it did.  She was everything.

Until you were gaping at Margot from across the club.  You could barely remember your girlfriend’s name when blue eyes finally met yours.  They were piercing, like you remembered, and they seemed to look right through you, even from the other side of the room.  Her smile melted as she realized who she was looking at.

You took your eyes off of her for a moment as you accepted your drink from the bartender.  You thanked him and glanced back.  To your satisfaction, she couldn’t take her eyes off of you.  You lifted the glass to your lips and took a teasingly slow slip without breaking eye contact. You watched her take a deep breath, slightly pursing her lips, as she silently contemplated how to handle you.  Oh, how you loved to be handled by her.

Her attention was stolen for a moment as Cara excused herself from the table.  Margot sent her a forced smile and a slight wave before she was lost in the crowd.

You had been dreading this moment for weeks, the inevitable moment when you’d meet her sculpted face that always begged you to come closer.  But now that it was happening, it almost felt euphoric.

“Get lost, Jack,” you said, shoving his shoulder out of your way. He groaned but didn’t protest.  You had set your path of destruction and now there was no stopping you.

You focused on making long, smooth strides in your tall heels and swaying your hips a bit more than usual as her eyes wandered your incoming figure.  Her face was stoic but her gaze was so familiar.  It always made you want to impress her, to be extra good for her.  To be wanted by her was a better feeling than any number one album or one-night lover.  You were glad your dress didn’t leave much for the imagination.

And then, after cutting through the dance floor, you were there, placing your hand upon the table as you slid into the seat beside her.  You pressed your thigh into hers, the only thing between them being the golden chains of your dress.  The rounded booth kept the two of you secluded from the other happenings of the club.

Although you were beside her, you had each turned your heads to match one another, face to face.  Her eyes had never left you and now you could feel her breath against the sensitive skin of your upper lip.

“Hi,” she said.  You were envious of how confident she sounded with your face inches from hers.  Your only relief was the faint quirk of her lips.  You couldn’t tell if it was well-intentioned or mischievous.

“Hi,” you whispered breathlessly, leaving your lips slightly open.  She seemed to take the bait as her eyes devoured your glossy, inviting lips.

“Come to get your fix?” she teased, sliding her tongue across her top lip.  It was something she always used to say to you when you sneaked into her trailer or violently tugged her into the bathroom.

It reminded you of the times when her soft fingers molded your body into whatever piece of pottery she wanted you to be.  The lick of her lips reminded you of all the times her tongue rewarded you afterward.

You clicked your own tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Something like that,” you mumbled, almost annoyed by all the memories she awakened.

“I was surprised,” she began, her nails skimming the chains along your hip, making a high-pitched noise.  You tried not to show how the closeness of her fingers made you feel.  “I didn’t see you with anyone.”

She was obviously referring to the fact that you hadn’t brought a date to the gala.  Of course, knowing your long history, she had expected you to have someone young and new by your side.  After all, TMZ had claimed you were dating four different people in the last two weeks.

You weren’t surprised by her prying.  She always cut right to the chase whenever she was with you.  But you were a little taken aback that she had asked it so outright considering how things had ended between you.

“Well, I was surprised I didn’t see you with anyone.”  You couldn’t help the accusatory attitude that dripped from your voice.

“Hmm,” she hummed with a small smile as if she was expecting that response.  She peered down at her hand as it climbed the chains to sit comfortably atop your thigh.  

It was her “date” that had ruined your “relationship” in the first place.  By “date,” I mean husband and by “relationship,” I mean affair.

It was your first acting gig and in a blockbuster movie at that.  Before you had even introduced yourself, you locked eyes with her across the table at the first script reading and you knew you were hers.

But when she began shooting seductive glances from across the set, you assumed your eyes were playing tricks on you.  When she began grabbing onto you anytime you were in arms reach, you assumed she was just one of those touchy people.  And even that one time when she asked you to “be a good girl” and grab her a water, you just assumed it was a thing she said, even if it made your chest feel tight and your thighs squeeze together.

Because, after all, she was an older, straight, married woman.  Or at least that’s what you thought.

It wasn’t until she got you alone in her trailer, pushed you onto the couch, and attacked you with kisses that she made it clear.  From that moment on, you were her secret and she had to be yours. It wasn’t ideal, but it was still as perfect as could be.  Until it wasn’t.

Before she had even made an advance on you, you knew you were bound to catch feelings.  But you weren’t expecting it to hit you like a load of bricks.  Nevertheless, you knew you were just some affair to her, some sex toy for her to play with, so it was easy to keep quiet and occasionally dream of what could be.

The real kicker was when, a couple days before shooting wrapped, she admitted she had fallen for you.  Your whole world lit up and came crashing down on you simultaneously.   

Hearing those words felt like hearing the song of the ice cream truck on a hot summer day: pure relief. You had loved her unwaveringly.

But what trumped that was the undeniable realization that you were only second to her.  Second to her husband and the life she had created with him.  She could never love you the way you loved her.

So, when promo for the movie was coming to an end, you had to give her the ultimatum. She had put off the decision for as long as possible.  That was until you confronted her in her hotel room in a wreck of tears and rage.

You weren’t surprised, but disappointed when you weren’t her choice.  She had begged you to stay, to spend one more night with her, but you left in a disheveled hurry, refusing to let her see the effect she had on you.

Sometimes, when you lie awake at night, you wish she had never told you she loved you.  Then maybe it would have been easier to walk away and forget about her.  It would have been easier to accept that she was just using you for a couple good fucks.  But here you were, sitting beside her, rehashing your inevitable heartbreak because she was always so irresistible and she loved you

She looked back up at you, pushing her face even closer to yours.  Her smile grew when she saw your lips tightly pressed together and your eyebrows furrowed.  You were always so bad at hiding your frustration from her.

“I left him,” she said, squeezing your thigh.  You could see the excitement within her, begging for a release.

Meanwhile, you felt dizzy.

“Wh-What do you mean you left him?”

“I mean that I left him,” she repeated, smiling wider at your shocked expression.  You were sure you looked so stupid, almost like a dead bug with your eyes wide and your jaw hanging open.  “Just waiting to finalize the papers.”

“Oh my god,” was all you could manage.  Your hand came up to your mouth, covering the gaping hole.  “Oh my god.”

It was the words you had always wanted to hear but at the most unexpected time.  Her hypnotizing smile made your head spin as the colors of the club swirled together in your peripheral.

“I just-I don’t understand.  Why…now?”

She shot you a slightly confused look, as if the answer was obvious, but a lot of time had passed and you finally needed her to be clear.

She used her free hand to remove your hand from over your mouth and drop it into your lap.  Then she firmly grasped your chin, ensuring your eyes never left her candid ones.  Her touch shot warmth up your cheeks and down your neck, just the shock you needed to wake you from your daze.

“Because I know I want you.  And I tried being without you but I just…I can’t,” she confessed, the words scrambling out of her throat as if they had been trying to for days.

Your heart swelled in your chest at her pure sincerity.  Instinctively, you wanted to jump into her arms, to let her have you in every way.  But that little bit of insecurity still creeped up your spine.  The insecurity she had created when she chose him all those months ago.

“Are-Are you sure?”

She only laughed.  Honey may as well have been dripping from her lips as the sound was so sweet.  Every sound that left her lips was angelic.

“I’ve been thinking about this every day since you left.  I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

Her hand left your thigh to tuck a few pieces of your loose hair behind your ear, her hand lingering on the side of your neck.  You felt like you were on fire and she reveled in the way the heat flooded your irises.

But then you felt like you were forgetting something, something important.

“I have a girlfriend, Mar,” you suddenly said, your fingers wrapping lightly around the forearm of the arm that held your chin.

Margot certainly wasn’t expecting that confession this late in the conversation.  But your relationship couldn’t have been too serious if your new girlfriend wasn’t there, hanging off your arm.  She proceeded without caution.

“Well, I don’t see her anywhere,” she said, tilting your head downward with the pull of her hand, forcing you to stare up at her through hooded eyes.  She always adored when you looked at her from that angle, especially when she was knuckle deep inside of you.

You don’t even really know why you said it.  You knew, girlfriend or not, you would always choose Margot.  And she knew that.

“So, you want me or not, baby?”  She pursed her lips in a fake pout, so close to yours.

You couldn’t control yourself and you heard yourself make a faint noise of unbridled temptation.  She seemed quite satisfied by that as her thumb rubbed small circles into your chin, the nail grazing your lip every once in a while.

You both already knew the answer.

“Yes, fuck, I want you,” you said, your voice the most confident it had been all night but still the most desperate.

A feeling of pure bliss consumed your body.  Just hearing yourself say it made a smile creep onto your lips.

Margot quickly copied you.  She raised your chin to meet hers and wasted no more time.  Finally, finally, she kissed you.  She didn’t care who was watching as she firmly held your face, guiding you in every which way.

She was the only person in your universe and you were the only person in hers.

lmk if you guys want more Margot or any of her characters!! I will def write for Barbie, Harley, and even Naomi.  I will prob write something for Barbie soon so stay tuned!

And if you have a request I haven’t responded to, I’m really sorry it’s taken a long time but I am working on it!

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

Im reading time travel fanfic rn heres a bunch stuff i havent seen yet. Theres A LOT of sw fanfic out there so they might exist but heres what i couldnt find when i did my last time travel fanfic binge back in like 2018 and im looking for now

I said this in its own post but WHERE are the fics where someone from tcw travels to the future, sees how much it SUCKS, and then go off the rails trying to fix it when they return

Old! Man! Clones! gimme one or a group of post- or rebellion era clones that end up in tcw. NO CLONE should be THAT AGE at that point in time and you can take that in so many directions

The time travelers are R2D2 and 3CPO only. This is hilarious chaos

Where are the crack fics? Every single fic is sad

Back in 2018 there was like 2 Ezra Bridger time travel fics DESPITE THE FREAKING FACT he found the world between worlds PLEASE tell me theres more now

Back in 2018 there were almost NO Leia time travel fics PLEASE i want to see her try and murder Anakin on first sight THE ANGST CONTENT IS RIGHT THERE

Han telling Obi-Wan that Leia named their kid after him. Obi-Wan is awkward. Han proceeds to say "the kid still turned to the dark side like his shitty grandpa, but hey, the thought was there!" slaps him on the shoulder and then walks away

Idk what age the twins are but they come from a universe where they grew up with Uncle Ben and around enough of his friends that they learned embarrassing stories about him. Someone says they're in a situation and one of the twins is like "i think what he's saying is this is between a 'told the Jedi Council they could kiss his ass as a teenager' and 'accidentally got married for the fourth time' on the Uncle Ben's Fuck Ups Scale" in front of a Anakin who's only ever seen the Perfect Jedi™️ Obi-Wan Kenobi act

Actually how about adult Anakin meeting teenager Obi-Wan? I havent seen that before

Anakin looking at Leia and immediately seeing Padme before becoming ultimately CRUSHED upon hearing her last name is Organa. Anakin's brain then jumps the gun to "i died in this war and Padme gets remarried"

Luke may be the (highly controversial at this time) Jedi but Leia is the diplomat and manages all the talking at the Temple/with the Council

Leia seeing her parents again!! Not Anakin and Padme. She talks to Bail and Breha!!

Leia spitting fire at Anakin as she yells to everyone in the room what he did to Alderaan. That he is a MONSTER and will NEVER EVER be her father

The tcw Council meeting the og trio. They get upitty about how Luke runs things. They get mad when they find out Leia was married. Han responds that "we're divorced so this attachment thing you're all upset about was apparently not actually a issue for her. Also, shes not a jedi"

Yoda and Luke vibing together on a frequency unseen before. Everyone already doesnt like Luke (the tcw jedi see him as some uneducated hippie) but this is just unnerving

OLD MAN BEN MEETING MASTER OBI-WAN KENOBI. It has been IMPOSSIBLE for me to find a fic with this since ppl always go the "reappear in younger body" trope

EDIT: ive thought of more

Found out i said this years ago but you know what its still true and i only found TWO fics like it when i searched yesterday: Ezra AND Ahsoka in tcw together

Obi-Wan and Luke appear in the tcw era. Obi-Wan convinces Luke to be Luke Lars, Anakin's nephew. Luke tries to get to know Anakin. Anakin tries to come to grips with the son of a guy he met once calling him Uncle Ani

A lot of fics the time traveling jedi just folds and regressed into their past self which is a valid psych thing but you know what fics i dont see? The trust being broken irreversibly. The jedi spent 3 years fighting with the clones and the next TWENTY being hunted by them. Give me a jedi that cant be calm around their old men. That cant walk on a star destroyer without fear. That attacks everyone who loved and trusted them in this time before running because survival takes over. In Obi-Wan's and Ahsoka's case, fight and flee hardest against Anakin

EDIT: more additions

Ben and Leia from the Kenobi series magically appear on the Negotiator/Resolute. Ben looks like he's homeless and Leia is a sassy child. Leia calls Ben "a old man that crawled out of a dumpster" and the clones laugh while Ben looks like he needs a drink. Cody sees how skinny Ben is and gets concerned. Anakin walks in on the clones thirsting over Ben and Anakin is traumatized. Obi-Wan thinks Ben must be a older brother or cousin or other relative of his birth family before he thinks time travel. Everyone thinks Ben is being cute by calling Leia "your highness" and "princess" before whoops what do you mean thats Alderaan's princess???

Same as above but sadder. Ben and Leia manage to slip out and by the time the group figures out Ben is Obi-Wan they're long gone. OR Ben looked around, realized he was surrounded by his trauma, and fought his way out. Either way Ben and Leia end up being chased by them planet to planet

[quiurifam]

Hi there!

I'm not too sure if you take requests, but I just HAD to jump on the opportunity before it escapes me! I literally cannot find anyone who writes for MK11 anymore. Everyone has moved to MK1 (which is completely fine and valid, but I just don't vibe with a lot of the rewrites).

Anyway! If you are taking requests, can you please write MK11 Shang Tsung x (preferably female) reader fic where the reader is a member of the Special Forces or an assassin and infiltrates Shang Tsung's Island as a concubine or servant to learn his behaviour (to either bring the information back to the Special Forces or kill him later). And Shang Tsung LOWKEY kinda into her, which catches her completely off guard because she's trying to blend in. So there's this constant tension between them because she's so worried he knows her true purpose and is just messing with her. You can take the fic however ur want to, write as much NSFW as you please, it's ur fic. I ONLY ask that at some point he finds out and he makes a deal that he's just going to keep her on his island to pamper whether she wants it or not (low-key a bit of a yandere LMAO)

Feel free to ignore if ur not taking requests or not comfortable <333

╰╮✾╭╯𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘 𝕋𝕤𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕆𝕟𝕖-𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕥╰╮✾╭╯

𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒅

Shang Tsung(MK11) x fem reader

Warnings: NSFW; Blow job; Dry humping, Yandere vibes at the end;

I 100% ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴡᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ғɪᴄs ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs ᴇᴠɪʟ ᴍᴀɴ!! I ᴛʜɪɴᴋ I'ᴠᴇ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ T-T

֍⚏⚌♚╰╮✾╭╯♚ • • • • • • ♚╰╮✾╭╯♚⚌⚏֎

You had accepted this dangerous mission with a courageous front, ready to show once more why you had such a high position in the Special Forces. The mission was only three simple steps but the dangers were on high level, first infiltrate Shang Tsung's island, then get intel about Jax's imprisonment, and pass it on to Sonya before the Mortal Kombat. For that to be accomplished you had started your part several months before the actual tournament, debuting as a new servant there, doing your best to be careful and not appear dishonest in your performance, while also trying to get closer to the evil sorcerer.

As far as you could tell everything was going smoothly, it seemed that luck was on your side, from the moment you started tending to the island’s affairs Shang seemed quite amused by your presence, you didn't let your guard down obviously, but it was not like you could decline fulfilling the man's demands. That meant being up and down the island with chores upon chores he wanted you specifically to complete, and honestly the more time you spent there, the more it seemed he was singling you out. At first you had a problem with that, purely because it was irritating to see how he commanded you around with that stupid arrogant attractive smile, now you were more used to it, you had to be to not jeopardize the mission.

Now what was worrying you a bit lately is that his attention on you seemed to only be increasing, an uneasy feeling growing in your stomach as you made your way to his private chambers. In the six months you had been working for him this was the first time you had been called to his private chambers, and while you were sure you hadn't been irregular on your behavior you still couldn't shake the thought that maybe he knew, maybe your position here had been compromised somehow and he was luring you into more reserved place just to kill you behind the curtains. You couldn't die now so close to completing the mission, a mere two months before the tournament with all the information Sonya needed safely stored in your brain.

Taking a deep breath you knocked on the dark wood door, informing the sorcerer you had arrived. When you entered you were met with a sight new to you, Shang Tsung was in an intricate robe, so long and overflowing with fabric it cascaded all the way to the floor, extravagant designs adorned his torso and sleeves, all in vibrant shades of red, black and gold. And still despite the more ‘casual’ setting he was as composed and proper as you could've expected from him. It was a pure demonstration of his status and wealth, it proved once again to you that evil could also be charming and attractive contrary to what others may say. He cleared his throat with a snobbish smile on his face, your stare not going unnoticed by the man. Embarrassed, you walked forward and began talking.

“Is there something you need from me sir?” You were extremely intrigued to know why you had been called here.

“There's something I want to discuss with you, in relation to your work here.” Your work? It couldn't be more chores could it? No, he wouldn't have called you here if it was something as simple as that. There was something different this time. “I have a proposition for you.” He said.

“What would that be sir?” You felt nervous asking.

“I want you to take care of my personal needs.” He said it like it was all the information you needed. Processing the words you were trying to understand if he meant what you thought he meant. He continued, noticing your lack of a reaction and words “Sexualy, dear."

“What?!” It came out before your brain even realized your mouth had moved, you had a shocked expression and your mouth agape, you couldn't accept that! He was evil! He was hot but he was evil! Your thoughts were stuttering, one crumbling on top of another as you tried to decide your answer. Should you take a bite of the apple? You already had all the information you needed so there was no necessity to get more intimate with him… but maybe one time? One time couldn't hurt…

He extended his hand towards you, inviting you to take it, to accept his offer. You hesitate, this was definitely something you would've to omit on your report of the mission, if anyone knew you had slept with the sorcerer your reputation would be through the ground. Still in the end you took his hand, way more mesmerized by his looks and manners than you had previously realized. He smirked proudly and pulled you closer by the hand.

“Excellent choice.” He cooed as he leaned closer to your face, he was slow in his moves as if still giving you time to back out, but at this point you had already made your decision. You pushed forward connecting your lips with his, he didn't waste a second in taking charge of the kiss, the hand that was holding yours left for you lower back while the other took hold of the back of neck.

His kiss was commanding, nothing like you've had before, he wasn't forceful but instead guiding. He was guiding your body the way it most pleased him, and he was damn good at it. He drove you breathless, holding the kiss for as long as he wanted to.

“So cute, you'll serve me just fine” He said looking at your flushed face, he sat on his bed, undoing his robe but not taking it off, he motioned to his lap. “Don't stall now girl, you've got a job to do.”

You kneeled and looked up at him, just the way he wanted, you could tell he liked to see the power he had over you. Freeing his dick from the rivers of expensive fabrics you spat on it, both to lubricate it and to tease him, not breaking eye contact once as you began to pump his dick. You licked a long stripe on the side of his cock before taking his head on your lips, teasing his head you pressed and moved your tongue against his slit. With furrowed eyebrows and little patience he grabbed your hair and pushed your mouth down on him.

You were barely halfway down, his thickness making your jaw ache. Concentrating on not gagging you continued slowly taking more of him, and with tears almost forming in your eyes you were able to take him fully in your mouth. You stopped for a few seconds, focusing on your breathing, then started bobbing your head up and down his shaft. His hand still rested on top of your head, but without a firm grip this time, letting you take the reins for a moment if it meant you pleasuring him. He didn't hold back on the sounds, not at all ashamed of letting you hear him, he looked down and leaned back, letting out a condescending laugh.

“I always knew you would be a perfect fit for this.” with his feet he pushed your knees apart, losing your balance you gagged on his cock as you almost face planted on his crotch. “Don't worry dear, I'll help you too.” He fitted his shin between your thighs “Go on, use it.”

Shamefully you brought your knees further apart, slotting your cunt against his leg, and on the same rhythm you sucked on his cock you rubbed yourself up and down on his leg. Feeling humiliated at best with the way you dry humped him like a dog, you concentrated on the feeling instead of your position, but Shang Tsung wasn't making it easy for you.

“Look at that, I should have you like this in my throne room, let everyone watch how well you do with that mouth of yours.” His words, as mortifying and shameful as they were, did not fail to do a great job in getting you even more wet, and a part of you was seriously asking itself ‘what the fuck’. “Have you by my lap all day...” His words were coming out more strained now, he was biting his lips, almost stuttering with his moans cutting through his words.

Rutting faster against his leg you were desperate to chase your high, and you could tell by this point Shang was close to him.

“Don't swallow, I want to see it in your mouth.” He warned you. You just kept on chasing that feeling, your clothes so wet they had gotten the sorcerer’s leg wet too. He moved his shin a bit, pressing it more against your pussy and that is what made you reach your orgasm, you moaned against Shang's dick as you cummed hard and untouched. Your long moan was enough to also tip Shang over the edge and he released his load on your mouth.

You remembered not to swallow and he took your chin on his hand telling you to open up, you obeyed him and showed your mouth overcome with his cum, some of it spilling out from the sides and dribbling down your chin. He gave you a satisfied hum, telling you that you could swallow it now.

He pulled on your side onto his lap, resting the side of your face against his chest and you relaxed into his hold.

“I will release you of most of your chores if you agree to maintain this.” He said, gently caressing your thigh, this was so different from the Shang Tsung you knew you could barely believe it was him at all and not some sketchy shapeshifter.

“You want me to be your booty call?” You asked genuinely.

“Do not use such words to describe this.” He seemed offended at your implication, but you knew you were right.

After that day he did in fact significantly lower your work around the island, in exchange you were spending more time in Shang's company. In all honesty, the times you spent with him were a great distraction from your anxieties as the day of the Mortal Kombat arrived. Most of the time you worried about how smoothly things would go on the day of the rescue and on your way out, you trusted Sonya on her skills and you were sure she could get Jax out of here with little to no trouble, but you still couldn't shake your worries away.

When the day arrived you found yourself at the main location where the tournament would be taking place, you'd seen the participants and amongst them Sonya, you had to be extra careful to not call any attention to yourself but still be able to pass on all the information to your commander. You were currently the closest person standing next to Shang, he insisted on it, you didn't mind most of the time the way he seemed to enjoy your company, almost like he craved it, but today being right beside the sorcerer wouldn't do you any good. After a few fights the competitors had a break, in which you took the opportunity to sneak away and to talk to Sonya far from the main arena.

“So? Where can I find him?” She didn't waste a second, and you didn't either quickly relating all the information you had gathered, where he was, how to get there, the condition he was in, how to best get in undetected and leave undetected.

“I'll be going after him immediately, gather your things fast and meet us at the dock.” You confirmed with your head and she went on her way to free Jax.

Just like you agreed you didn't waste a second more, returning to your room and swiftly packing whatever you considered important to not leave behind.

“I should've predicted that.” The booming voice sounded behind you startling you, turning around, you were met with a very disapproving looking Shang Tsung. “You know, were you anyone else I'd have you dead in seconds.” You took a step back, assuming a defensive position.

“Don't come any closer, sorcerer.” You warned him. He let out a humorless snicker.

“So now I'm “sorcerer” to you?” You felt a strange force pulling on your wrists, before you could react your wrists were suddenly bound by his green magic, similarly to a handcuff.

“What th-?! Release me now sorcerer!” You tried to pull against the magic, but it did nothing. He got closer to you, grabbing your chin and tilting it up for you to look at him.

“You will not leave this island, not now, not ever. I'll personally make sure of it. And you'll stay put in this room till you've learned your place.” His words were spoken in a low but authoritative tone, his face mere inches away from yours. “Now be a doll and don't make a mess while I go resolve the situation with your little friends.”

He let go of you, turning his back to leave, he stopped right outside of your door, slightly turning his head without really looking at you.

“Expect my presence again tonight, we will have a talk about this more in depth.” The doors closed themselves shut behind him, locked by the same green magic tied to your wrists. Defeated, you sat on your bed, this mission just had gotten a lot more complicated and maybe you had failed to notice just how deep Shang Tsung's obsession with you truly ran.

[gladiatorcunt]

- # 🎰 All or Nothing (Ace in the Hole) !!

cw: afab!reader, breeding, implied murder, inaccurate fallout au (vault inspired by Fallout 76 bc i just wanted one mention of appalachian horror vibes), reader lowkey has a old man fetish (mentions of age gaps though no specific men are mentioned), childhood best friends to strangers to lovers (forcibly), future extreme dubcon, fallout typical sexism and expectations & creepy behavior (attempted grooming (?)), biblical undertones, ambiguous time period, implied southern setting & characters, unedited

1k event / commissions

It’s been so quiet for ages now, deathly silent as if everyone in the world was perfectly sound asleep. Your world consists of metal tunnels buried deep underground, a myriad of dark rooms that are meant to simulate the life you’re supposed to have on the surface. A cafeteria, where there’s hearty chuckles and playful ribbing over food even astronaut’s would have turned their noses up at. Piles of meat the same color as a fresh corpse, slightly moldy cheese and bread on the days the ego maniac people in charge are feeling fancy.

Green Houses, meeting rooms, infirmarys, kitchens, breeding rooms bedrooms, you truly have it all in vault 426. Jewel of the Texas Commonwealth. Even the howling coming from above like a hailstorm can be soothing when you have nothing else to listen to. They say your name when your back is turned, when they know you can’t venture out to see them. The temptation has driven people mad before, it will again. Right now, you wander through the vault searching for any sign of life. Yesterday you were arguing with your Ma over what she had done, hitching your wagon to one of the few unclaimed men your age. Now you were wishin’ on stars the elders used to talk about seein’ that you would peek around the rusting corner to find her waiting. You don’t want to wonder why there’s blood on the wall, varying between bright and darker shades of red.

Not a single peep from the man you were meant to marry, ‘your last chance at a proper purpose’ Pa had said. This vault wasn’t strongly steered in the direction of being a hive for breeding, but in these uncertain times more pairs of hands ready to rebuild the world were more than encouraged. Seeing as this bubble of refuge from the acid sky was so precious, every life counts. You knew that future would be yours someday, and you didn’t really mind. It got boring occasionally in the vault, knitting the same garment again and gossiping with your Ma’s friends about the same subjects. Maybe a cock in your cunt would settle your nerves, caring for a baby would be a task that would never end.

The wedding was supposed to be today, at noon on the dot. You overslept, panicking when your kitschy alarm clock didn’t rouse you from your dreamless sleep. It wasn’t until you zipped up your blue and yellow suit and tip toed outside of your room that you truly felt afraid. What reason would you have had to feel the uncomfortable emotion before? Life was so serene and idyllic nestled in the dirt, your vault a poor man’s sword in the stone. An intoxicating comfort zone that you cared more about staying in than fighting against, though there whispers from dwellers who felt otherwise. Your childhood friends, Patrick and Art, who you have drifted apart from over the years.

It was childish, your past feelings of jealousy, it wasn’t hard for them to become the most eligible bachelors in the community. There were only a handful of single young men left these days, or your only option was a old timer who had already broken in quite a few wives. They have the chipped belts and rough hands to prove it, you’ve gotten a rush of fluid in between your thighs when you lie awake and think about it for too long. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too terribly awful if you got saddled with a stern older man, some beaten down part of your brain begs for it. Your Pa’s buddies used to say that they would bet good money on tight your velvet grip would be.

There were many invitations to sit in on their blackjack games left unanswered in your Ma’s nightstand, under brass lock and key.

But to see your friends be giggled and fawned over made your stomach churn, so you pushed them away and focused on living as any good dweller would. Preparing to spend your years with your lips frozen in a smile and your holes split open around wrinkly skin, your shape molded by your husband. If you could’ve known that that would only make more determined to prove their toughness to you, that they would be the hands clasping pearls around your neck and slamming their dicks into your untouched flesh.

“Aw, hell-” A deep voice gasps and grabs ahold of your fore arms, wrestling you into an abandoned bedroom as you walk past.

You squawk, flapping your arms around in an effort to fight. Then you see him, Art, smiling gently and reaching out to cup your tear covered cheek. His other hand is free, which means that the man restraining you has to be Patrick. Where one is, the other will he close behind. There’s a saying about smoke and fire, and you hear the crackling embers as Art gingerly slides his other hand around your neck. A new fangeled set of pearls, hard won and all yours. Call it an engagement present.

“There you are, Angel Face, we were so damn worried about you.” Art coos, the ‘damn’ hissed in a way that gives off a ‘I still haven’t got used to being allowed to swear’ impression.

You think he could the be the angel, a scythe discarded in favor of a well used hatchet lying on the floor. His blood splattered curls call to you, or the absurdity of the situation must be sinking in and overpowering your ability to accept reality. Of course you had sensed their hungry eyes burning holes into your soul, yes you had heard the shuffling and muffled shouts outside your door. The way it would creak open when you were believe to have succumb to slumber. You don’t feel bored, and that’s enough of a thrill for you to recognize where your new place in the food chain is. The bottom.

“I don’t- I- What’s goin’ on? Where is everybody?” You ask, stupid and content to be their lover in distress.

Patrick readjusts his hold on you and wraps his arms fully around you, spinning you around to come face to face with him. If you thought Art looks drenched in blood, Patrick appears to be made of it. There’s lightning in his eyes, a phenomenon you’ve only heard and never seen. But this must be what it’s like, electrifying and God given. You’re stained now, no doubt about it, visibly and in your spirit.

“They went nuts, like a bunch of rabid dogs.” He grunts. “We had to defend ourselves, had us out here runnin’ around like headless chickens because you were gone.”

You weren’t brought up to know much, except that animals will be animals and man reacts accordingly. Patrick’s words make about as much sense as anything ever could, and you’re desperate to believe whatever yarn they have to spin you. Art nods and saunter up behind you. He wetly pecks you on the cheek, his lips ‘Smack!’ing the plump skin as he pulls back. You gasp and they share a foreboding laugh, shoving you further down a long dusty hallway where you can pretend that nothing bad has ever happened to you. That your Virgil and Dante followed after you with innocent intent.

“Get ‘em in the stirrups, Pat. Need these legs spread nice and wide. Don’t we, sugarpie?”

Your heart drops and floats back up at a jackrabbit’s pace, “W-what?”

Your look over your shoulder is perfectly timed, your hair framing your face like a pre-war Hollywood starlet. The kind that could cry at the drop of a hat and deep throat a stuffy executive’s cock in one go. Simmering heat pools in your belly, every circle of hell seemingly setting themselves aflame in your body. And while you know they wouldn’t dare seriously terrify you, they would probably get a kick in their pants if you let a sliver of fear slip. They’re men who no longer have a societies rules to wear as if they were costumes after all, perfectly chiseled faces and painted masks.

Offering you a marriage license so they plant you in a gilded cage, but Midas ghosted his fingers along your roots years ago. When you stumbled in on two boys playing a game that used to be popular in the pre-war days, a yellow-green fuzzy ball bouncing on a wired net racket. You giggled when an elder scolded them for staging their challengers match in the hall. And with the sound of a bell, the walls came tumblin’ down.

Patrick’s grin writes your name on the dotted line, “Our pretty lil’ cock socket, we’ll repopulate in no time at all.”

They had already stolen your wedding outfit that same day way back when, slim pickings have to be snatched up in this dog eat bitch world. But they were something far above dogs with malleable forms and a blunter bite, they were opportunists and God always has his eye on those who can seize what he provides.

The House always wins.

- 2024, do not cop/translate/feed my work to ai

[minziemoon]

Life Series Rare Pairs I Wanna See More Of

Inspired by everyone else on my tl posting their dream team lineups for a life series season, I decided to do my own by thinking of the most random combinations I can imagine that would be entertaining to witness. Some of these are gonna be more detailed, some are just for vibes, and some for shits and giggles. Also I haven't watched every single pov of every single series, and I have the memory of a goldfish sometimes, so forgive me if these aren't all THAT rare. 🙏

1. Cleo + Jimmy

- This duo materialized itself in my brain after a random wild life episode from Jimmy's pov where he had a near death experience and ran to Cleo for comfort. It's occupied a lil corner of my brain ever since.

- I think Jimmy would really benefit from someone like Cleo on his side. Someone who you know you can rely on and come back to whenever you're in need of help. Unless you betray them, Cleo is such a good teammate and has a mom/older sibling feeling to her.

- I can imagine she'd spend half the season convincing Jimmy not to go poking fun at ppl and making enemies, only for her to snap once someone kills her unjustly and goes on to commit arson apon half the server. Then the roles would switch.

2. Gem + BigB

- The difference between Cleo and Jimmy's paragraphs to these two... I told yall some of them are just fueled by the potential of vibes.

- I have no clue how these two would function together. They barely even interact. But that's exactly why I want them together!!!

- I feel like they'd be really wholesome. Knowing Gem she'd bring out the best in him... but I also feel like B would once again betray or back stab her in some way. Either way I've become too curious and invested now.

3. Grian + Pearl

- The fact that the skyblings themselves are a rare pair nowadays is concerning. They don't interact NEARLY enough. The amount of wasted potential is to cry about.

- I feel like they'd be all up in other ppl's business. If Pearl were to turn red before Grian, I think he'd have the same dynamic with her like with red lifer Scar in 3rd life, supporting and encouraging her crimes from afar, really birthing another menace on the server.

- They'd have the time of their lives while red together and I'd be SEATED.

4. Mumbo + Tango

- One episode they're the most miserable wet cats on the map, the next their trap kills half the server. Their fate as a duo would be a gamble.

- Idk if their combined brain power would cancel each other out or multiple. Most likely cancel out. Because putting an uncontrolable nervous wreck with the ticking timebomb of unhingness CAN NOT turn out positive.

- Still, it would be SO entertaining and probably make for funny quotes.

5. Lizzie + Bdubs

- It felt like my brain glitched a lil when remembering these two.

- I feel like they'd be weirdly wholesome?? Like they wouldn't stress each other out. Maybe Bdubs' vocal coards could finally catch a break from yelling every episode. Also lowkey feel like he'd try his best to protect her.

- Pls Watchers, let them build some cute cotteges in the woods somewhere in peace 🙏

6. Ren + Scar

- Ik they aren't THAT rare to see together, but the fact that they've never been close to teaming before is astonishing to me.

- If Scar doesn't turn Ren's thing with Martyn into a love triangle by the end of the season, no one else ever will. The Red Winter would rise once again, but with two kings this time.

- I just wanna see theater kids have fun, okay? Sue me if you must. Martyn can join in too I would not mind in the slightest.

[covetyou]

just a taste

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: cuck!Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: daddy kink, cuckolding, creampie, cum eating, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, male masturbation, one single pussy slap, rimming if you squint, pet names (baby, sweetheart), dd/lg vibes, established relationship, mention of original male character. word count: 2.5k summary: Joel helps you clean up a mess.

A/N: This has taken me so long to write beyond the dialogue because it's all been so distracting that I've had to stop myself and go have breaks, but then I come back and write more horny shit for parts I didn't even intend to write. cuck!Joel is something else.

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You're still floating on cloud nine when the bed dips beside you. A kiss is placed to your cheek, the corner of your mouth. You lick your lips - you can still taste him on your tongue.

"Wake up, baby. Daddy's home."

You sigh and stretch, arching your body into a bow as you pull yourself from your doze, the crumpled sheet falling to your waist as you turn to greet Joel. His hair is mussed from running his fingers through it all day, and his eyes crinkle as he smiles down at you.

"Hey, baby," he whispers, tugging the sheet further off your body. "Just look at my pretty girl."

"Hi Daddy. I missed you," you breathe, softly kissing him, that lingering taste still on your tongue.

A rough hand smooths your hair back from your face before cascading down your shoulder, over the softness of your breast and down between your legs to cup your damp pussy through your panties.

He traces soft kisses over your shoulder, your collarbone. "You have a good day?" The ghost of his words flutters over your skin, pebbling your nipples before he takes one into his mouth, sucking lightly as you melt into his touch.

You smile and nod lazily at him. You had the best day. "Mhm."

He releases from you with a pop. "You did?" He pushes softly against your mound, cupping you more firmly before rubbing his fingers from side to side across the crotch of your panties.

You wiggle your hips away from him, whining in discomfort.

"What is it? What's wrong," he says, faux concern pulling at his brows.

"My panties are all messy, Daddy," you pout, biting your bottom lip as you look at him through your lashes.

"And why's that, sweetheart?"

He keeps rubbing, his hand moving back and forth now across the damp fabric, smearing any mess into your skin with each movement and forcing you to stifle a moan.

"I don't know."

"Hm, I think we both know why your panties are messy, baby."

He raises an eyebrow at you, waiting for your confession. You bite it back and try to look away, his dark eyes boring holes into your skull, seeing right through you. He taps a finger to your cheek with his other hand, his usual sign for you to look at him. You obey. Of course you do, you always do.

"Did you have a friend over to play today?"

"No," you pout again.

slap

His broad hand claps dully against your clothed pussy, all noise and no sting. Still, it makes you gasp as the buzz shoots through your cunt straight to your sleep addled brain.

"Don't lie to me baby."

"Andrew came over to play."

"And did you play down here?" He tickles his fingers lightly over your entrance through your panties, making you squirm.

"No." This time you can't keep back the smile that pulls across your face as you say it. This was your, and you suspected his, favorite game.

He rolls his eyes at you, dragging his tongue across his teeth. He knew when you were lying and, most of all, he knew when you wanted him to know you were lying.

"Let's have a look then shall we."

He peels your sticky panties from your slick pussy, pulling them down to your knees. He looks at your glistening cunt, then to you. He's clearly unimpressed. "Think I'm gonna need a better look."

Rough hands smooth down your soft thighs, meeting at their apex and digging his fingers lightly into your flesh. Large thumbs slide up the side of your pussy and pull you open, exposing you to his gaze. The action makes you clench, pushing a trickle of milky white out from your hole and down the valley of your ass, staining Joel's bed below.

"Baby," he says, a warning tone in his voice. "I think you've been lying to me."

He traces another trickle with his finger, catching it before it can drop down to his sheets. He inspects it, before putting it in his mouth to taste. He doesn't even bother to hide his moan as he suckles on his own finger.

"I think we both know why your pussy is messy, baby. You and Andrew played with each other down here, didn't you?" He slides one thick finger all the way into you with ease and you gasp.

"Yes, Daddy."

"I'm not mad at you, baby," he says as he begins to pump his digit in and out of you, coating his finger in the clear slick if your pussy and the creamy white of your playmates spend. "I just don't like you lying to me."

His finger hooks up into you, making you moan and curl your toes, back arching from the bed.

"You have fun with Andrew?" he mutters, smiling softly, a fondness in his eyes kept only for you as he strokes your thighs.

"Mhm."

"He make you come?"

You giggle at the memory of the many times Andrew had made you come that day. "Yes Daddy."

He shakes his head at you, trying, and failing, to hide a grin by biting the inside of his cheek. This was definitely his favorite game.

"He came too, huh? Right in here?" He pushes his finger into you as deep as he can, curling it upward to hit a spot that makes you groan.

He pulls his finger out without warning, watching your hole flutter in his absence, cum coating his finger and dripping out of you once again.

"I know. There's so much in here baby, he made a real mess o' you. Lemme get this pussy cleaned up." For anyone else, this might have meant grabbing a wet wash cloth or hopping in the shower. But not for Joel. Instead, he slides his finger into his mouth, sucking it clean, and pulls your ruined panties off the rest of the way, using both hands to push your thighs wide as he leans down to lick a thick stripe through your swollen folds.

You squirm, jerking your hips from his grip. "Mnnngh, it's sensitive," you whine.

"Do you want Daddy to stop?" he says, nipping and licking at your inner thighs. Andrew's cum had spilled from you and smeared on them earlier, drying and making them sticky before you'd slipped your panties back on to keep in the rest. Joel doesn't mind, he never does, and he continues to nibble at your skin, tasting the combined release of you and another man.

You look down at him and pout. Of course you didn't want him to stop, his tongue on your pussy was the best feeling in the world, even when it made you twitch.

"Didn't think so, baby. You always want your Daddy, don't you?"

"Always, Daddy," you sigh, practically melt into the bed at his words. Even when you were being filled by someone else, you could never stop thinking about Joel - how much he would love to be there, watching you, listening to your moans, tasting you.

"I'll be gentle," he croons, stroking your thighs with his rough finger tips. "She's so sensitive, huh?"

He keeps his word, going back to lapping at you softly, small licks all over your pussy, suckling at the skin, cleaning you of the evidence of your earlier activities. He presses soft kisses back to your clit, before holding you open, pulling back your hood and lapping directly at your over sensitive nub.

"Keep still for Daddy."

It is impossible to keep still.

"Oh, fu-Daddy," you moan, reaching down to grab at his shaggy mess of hair between your legs. He looks blissful, his eyes almost closed as his mouth engulfs your clit. His tongue laps at it in broad strokes, desperate to bring you to orgasm and force more cum from your tender hole.

You were so oversensitive, so tender, that when he brings a finger back to circle the outer rim of your pussy, you can already feel your release barrelling into you. You whine, high pitched as you come, a feeble little thing in the grand scheme of things, hips gyrating uncontrollably into his face as you tug on his hair.

"Ohhhh."

Joel wastes no time unlatching from your clit and plunging his tongue into your twitching hole. He swallows heavily after each deep lick, swallowing down Andrew's cum as some of the remnants pulse out of you. His tongue teases down beyond your hole, to the crevasse of your ass, flicking over your asshole briefly to collect any drops from earlier as he teases a finger back into your cunt, dragging gently at your walls to pull more cum from you before sucking it off of his finger. He repeats the action, groaning with each taste of another mans cum off of himself.

"Open up," he says, sticking his finger deep in you and dragging it around your walls to collect as much of your slick as he can. You do as he says, letting your jaw fall open as you stick out your tongue, eager to add to the taste still held in your mouth. "Good girl. If you make a mess you gotta help clean it up."

You watch dumbly as he pulls the finger from your dripping cunt and sits up to reach and slide it between your lips. You suckle on the digit, swirling your tongue around it to taste the salty tang of your used pussy. When he removes his finger his mouth quickly finds yours, tongue lapping at your own. You can taste the same salty sweet flavor on his lips, and you reach up to hold him, pulling him into you. You feel the painfully hard bulge in his jeans grind against your thigh.

"Such a good girl," he says into your mouth, biting at your bottom lip before entwining his tongue with yours. "He got your mouth all messy too, huh?" he says, and you nod in response, nose dragging up and down the side of his nose with the movement. "I can taste it."

He's shifting back from you then, pressing your body delicately, but firmly, away from himself. You try to protest as he pushes you down into the soft embrace of his bed, but he's soon slipping back down your body and between your legs, sliding two thick fingers through your folds and into your cunt. He slips them into you with ease, pumping slow and deep as he mouths all over your tender flesh, sucking your labia into his mouth and swirling his tongue over your clit with well practiced movements.

You convulse and twitch, bearing down on his fingers as pressure builds in you once more. You clench your muscles, wanting to grip his fingers and draw him into you, but the pulsing of your cunt does nothing but push more of your playmates creamy spend from your hole and into Joel's eager mouth. He keeps slurping at you, tongue plunging into your hole with his fingers to drink down every last drop that leaks out of you.

"Oh, fuck."

He yanks his jeans down, his thick cock painfully hard from being trapped in his jeans for so long. He's been thinking about this all day, sporting a semi for most of the afternoon as he dreamed of devouring another man's cum out of your pussy. He's so fucking close he can't help himself, and he grabs his cock as soon as it's free. He jerks himself frantically as he sloppily eats your pussy, hips rutting into his own fist and tongue desperately seeking out the creamy taste of your hole as it twitches.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he mumbles into your cunt, squeezing his eyes closed, staving off his orgasm as long as he can. You feel his hot breath fan across your exposed pussy as he pants, groaning as he tastes you and moves his fist harder and harder, tighter and tighter up and down his length. You wish it was closer, you wish you could taste him, have his cum flood your mouth and erase the taste of anyone else from your tongue. You could ask for it, beg him, but his face buried in your your sensitive swollen folds is so much that the oversensitivity makes words impossible. All you can do is whine and moan, pushing your hips into his face, grinding into him as you babble the only word your brain can muster.

"Daddy, d-daddy, daaa- fu- daddy!"

You come again, legs clamping hard around his head, pulling him into you tighter when all you want to do is push him away, as sensitive as you are. He's surrounded by you, he probably can't breath, but his tongue doesn't relent and neither does his fist. You try to tug him off of you, hands pulling on his hair as you sob, but it does nothing but spur him on, nose pushing hard into you as he breathes deep one last time before his jaw goes slack and he releases a deep groan directly into your pussy, his cock throbbing in his hand. He comes long and hard, spurts of thick white cum coating his fist and the bed sheets as he comes all over himself and the bedsheets.

You go limp, thighs falling open and hand slipping from his hair, flopping uselessly down between your own legs as you gaze off into space, small whimpers still falling from your lips.

He rests his forehead on your mound, breathing deeply as he comes down from his own high. He places one last gentle kiss to your clit before placing his broad hand over you, rubbing gently, possessively.

"S'all clean now," he mumbles into you and you moan in agreement, even if you feel like more of a mess than when he started.

Joel stretches back, rolling from between your thighs to lay on his back, pulling you toward him as he goes. You curl into him, not bothering to avoid mess of his cum splattered on the sheets. The bed always needed changing after a playdate with Andrew anyway, a little more mess wouldn't hurt.

You card your fingers through his hair as his breath finally starts to steady. He takes a deep breath and shifts, his cock hanging limply against his belly now. This was your favorite thing in the world - curled up in a messy bed with Joel, both of you spent and satisfied.

"Saw Andrew as he was leaving. Told me you came six times today, baby, a new record," he finally says, looking up at you and pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

You laugh, smiling as your mouth finds his. "I lost count after three."

"Mm," he sighs as you place gentle pecks all over his lips. "You'll have to thank him extra hard next time."

"I will, Daddy. Then I'll tell you all about it."

tag list: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75

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[korereapers]

I collaborated with the amazing @laxi0v0 for a cute little event we made in the scriddler server. This is Laxi's art about the fic I wrote, and HONESTLY HONESTLY i couldn't have asked for a better and more supportive partner. Her art is way better than I would ever dream on writing and honestly, Laxi, I'm so glad it was you bc we vibe a lot about our tastes w this ship.

The fic will be on ao3 later, but here, for you guys, before anyone else:

Jonathan takes a sip out his mug, nicely decorated with a pumpkin, the recipe of the pumpkin spice coffee perfected by him for decades. It’s warm, it tastes like fall, and it’s the start of what Jonathan considers to be the best time of the year.

It started like a small tradition for him, when he finally left home and started studying to become the psychologist he wanted to be. Halloween was to be celebrated, especially for freaks like him, abhorrent creatures that made great-granny’s skin crawl. He was proud of that, in a way. It was his moment, it still is, after all of these years, because he is still a freak, he belongs to this weather and these colors more than he belongs anywhere else. He belongs between ocher leaves and the smell of fog, the rain starting to fall over Gotham, only to leave when it’s summer again. The start of his kingdom, of the time he rules over.

Or it would be, if Edward wasn’t so adamant about going to freaking Starbucks.

He doesn’t get it, not really. A malnourished child from Georgia, surrounded by overworked kids that serve them with the most forced smile when Edward asks, yet again, for the infamous Pumpkin Spice Latte. With ice. Oatmeal milk. Whipped cream.

Jonathan wants to die.

“How is this even supposed to be spooky?”

Edward rolls his eyes, green contact lenses barely moving, as if they were starting to get glued to his irises. Which should be a bad sign, but Jonathan is, yet again, not his boyfriend’s keeper.

“Not everything has to be spooky when this time arrives, Jonathan.”

He kind of dislikes it, when he calls him by his full name. He calls him Jon when they are alone, when they are intimate, when their bodies or their hearts are entwined. He doesn’t like when he calls him Jonathan, because that means that Edward thinks he is being too bitter, complaining too much, a complete prick.

It’s not that he dislikes the stupid PSL, either, but it feels like desecrating one of his oldest traditions, and he feels as if he were betraying himself.

“Don’t you like my recipe, then? Do you dislike it so much we have to come here every single week?”

The cashier smiles at them awkwardly as Edward pays for their order, tipping the young lady generously.

“Do you have to take everything personally? I started getting here when I finally had my own money to spend. Is it that hard to just enjoy it, when I want to share it with you?”

Oh. A tradition. Jonathan distractedly drinks from his thematic glass, but says nothing.

They are really different, Edward and himself. To Edward, spending time and money like this… is almost a love language. It’s a lifestyle that he works hard to keep, having dinner in expensive places, getting coffee every time he can. Sharing it with him, because Jonathan is important to him.

Jonathan may be unable to feel fear, and his brain may be as damaged as Edward’s heart, but guilt still crawls its way into his psyche. It still makes him feel uneasy, because he cares, because he understands the feeling, because he wants to share his recipe with Edward because of the exact same reason.

He touches Edward’s hand when they sit, an apology he doesn’t utter but that can be felt in his irradiated orange eyes.

“I like it when you share time and nourishment with me.”

Edward’s expression softens, a glint of blue under the bright green contact lenses.

“Wow, when did you get emotionally aware?” his mouth says instead, and for a moment, Jonathan understands the Bat and his compulsion to punch him in the mouth.

“I’m a psychologist, Edward.”

“... right,” he mutters, his voice cheeky, still clearly a little mad, his thoughts loud. Jonathan loves that about him, his expression when he is deep in thought, when he is trying to understand something. A puzzle, a new riddle in their lives. “That recipe of yours is really important to you, too, if I’m guessing correctly.”

Jonathan nods, his eyes still on Edward’s, who seems to be feeling a little bit too shy to look at him, knowing that they are having an emotionally vulnerable moment.

“It is. I made it myself and… I want to share it with you.”

Edward does smile a little at that, his voice softer when he speaks.

“Let me try it later. I want to give it the thought and recognition it deserves.”

Jonathan’s thumb caresses Edward’s hand, his smile contagious. Like a well concocted virus.

“I would love to.”

—-------------------------------------------

Edward is pretty sure that he is (very unluckily, by the way) dating the man with the poorest taste in the world. Jonathan seems to think that he is hilarious, dressed in his usual costume, even the needles oozing toxin as he sits quietly on the couch.

There is a thing about him that Edward has always loved: how he becomes a different person when the mask is on.

They used to talk about it, back in the day, when they used to share a room in the Asylum. Jonathan felt naked without his mask, his expression dull and almost tense, devoid of what made him himself. Edward, at least, has managed to make those expressions change, the real Jon emerging from behind whatever aloof façade he tries to put on to protect himself, to pretend he is a regular human being and not the freak that makes his heart melt.

He must surely be smiling behind the mask, then. Edward can almost feel him vibrating in excitement, like a small child, and in a way, he kind of is. A reclaimed childhood, the enjoyment of a joy he wasn’t allowed to feel. He can understand that.

Still, the poorest fucking choice of a Halloween costume.

“Really, Jon? The most original idea, I have to say.”

Jonathan looks at him, and he can feel his piercing eyes even behind the mask, the expression of a predator, so dangerous it makes his face flush a little. Birds of a feather, both of them. The Scarecrow sighs, deeply, the sound distorted behind the mask. It’s creepy, he has to admit, which is probably… kind of the point.

“Like you’re one to talk, Herlock Sholmes.”

Edward gasps, indignant. His Poirot costume is nothing to be laughed at.

“Excuse me?!”

He can almost feel the smile behind the mask, because Edward knows him, he knows Jonathan is an avid reader, he knows the difference between Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle, for fuck's sake. He is doing this on purpose, to rile him up. He always is.

Edward's mind goes somewhere else, somewhere private. Somewhere where he is indeed riled up, and Jonathan touches his cheek, looking up at his face from behind the mask, Edward sitting on his lap, while long, dangerous hands go up his thigh, eyes hungry-

The doorbell rings. Edward goes back to reality, Jonathan's eyes on him as he moves towards the entrance, the tips of his ears surely blushing.

When he opens the door, he has to look down, because damn, kids sure look tinier these days. He cannot remember to be this short, this innocent, this…

Happy.

He feels Jonathan's chin on his shoulder, almost jumping in place because the man is silent like a ghost, no matter how eager he is to take part in the holiday.

One of the kids is wearing a Batman costume, and Edward tries his hardest not to roll his eyes, with better or worse success. Another kid is dressed as Harley Quinn, what makes him wonder if these parents are in need of any kind of psychological help. The youngest, a child dressed as Wonder Woman, looks at them with badly hidden mischief, and Edward feels tempted to just close the door.

"Trick or treat!" They ask in unison, and before Edward can answer, Jonathan drops a bag in front of them, full of who knows what, but the kids don't ask.

Such blissful ignorance.

"Thank you Mister Holmes! Mister Scarecrow!" The girl dressed up as Batman says, and the one dressed as Wonder Woman purses her lips in disgust.

"Poirot's moustache isn't like that. You're a fake."

The kid dressed as Harley Quinn laughs in response, taking the bag of candy and running away with Wonder Woman. The one dressed as Batman follows who Edward believes to be her sisters, and he blissfully thanks that they don't have any children.

"Please tell me the bag is full of drugs."

Jonathan chuckles a little, his arms around Edward's waist.

"Hershey's," is everything he says, his sudden lack of malice and evil intent a headache for Edward.

"Oh, Jon. Are you going soft on me?"

Jonathan's smile can be felt in the air, a predator, a killer awaiting their next victim.

"Me? Oh, darlin'..." he whispers against Edward's ear, his distorted voice making him shudder in anticipation. "Never."

[bulgariansumo]

Rambling about Adeline and Eiland's social lives under the cut.

For being the super responsible, super organized, for lack of a better word, nerd, I initially assumed that Adeline would be the type that struggles socially. And to some extent, she does a little. She admits to struggling with balancing her work and her hobbies because her work is her hobby, not to mention how important it is to keep up the town.

But that's where Reina and Celine come in. They will make her take a break from work to hang out with them. I get the impression that Adeline is not quite as prone to feel overworked as much as someone else in her position might be because of how her brain is wired. (Just saw her six heart event. Nevermind! Please rest, ma'am!) Still, she enjoys their company and fits in with them well whenever they do hang out. It may help that having good relationships with members of the community is part of running it, which is her fixation.

Then there's Eiland. He doesn't seem to be friends with any of the other bachelors. That's not to say that he's on bad terms with them, but there's no one he hangs out with regularly other than Errol. Most interactions with Balor and March are business dealings related to his interest in archeology. There's room for some kind of relationship development there, but it's interesting to me that it hasn't happened already.

I feel like a big part of the reason Adeline made friends with Reina and Celine is because they're all girls around the same age, so they probably grew up together (though I can see her having met Celine through Nora instead of the other way around).

I haven't read all of the new stuff related to the recent 0.12.0 update, so I don't know March and Olric's backstory or when they ended up in town. Balor and Ryis are new in town. Hayden is much older than Eiland, but more importantly, he doesn't have an interest in archeology. Eiland doesn't usually hang out with any of the girls, either. Celine sometimes talks about him, but in a very "my friend's brother" kind of way. Even his sister, who he's closest with out of any of the singles, is only ever with him during business or dinner. There's dialogue that implies that they're not really interested in the other's fixation, but they respect it. If Eiland had other friends in Mistria, then they must've left after the earthquake.

This is interesting to me because between the siblings, Eiland is the more casual one. He's friendly enough, he's got a sense of humor, and he's not that responsible (messy room, prioritizes sweets over necessities, hates any meeting or paperwork that isn't archeology-related.) If it weren't for his intense focus on archeology, he'd be the kind of person people his age would find easier to vibe with. But he's so obsessed that I genuinely think he struggles to get through any interaction that doesn't involve archeology or sweets. And that's not as easily translatable to everyday conversation as town maintenance.

I get the impression that part of the reason he focuses so much on the past is because he finds it far easier to understand than the present and the people in it. And judging by some things I read about the update, I think I'm right.

[auras-moonstone]

Hello!!! Hru?! I hope your doing great!

I don't know if the requests are open but i know you're a swiftie and 1989 tv just came out and "Slut!" really reminds me of Jack, so could you do a story inspired by it? Just reader being famous (actress/singer, whatever you think fits) and she is being all love-sick by meeting and dating jack? And she even buy that "i love my boyfriend/girlfriend" t-shirts?

I hope you get my request and i love your writing!! You are the best <3 (And what's you favorite vault track?)

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ slut! — jack champion

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 1.9K

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: jack champion x actress!fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: y/n has to deal with the reputation that has been set on her by the media as she falls in love with jack, her co-star and best friend.

ᡣ𐭩 contents/warnings: mentions of slut-shaming. friends to lovers. instagram posts. fluff.

ᡣ𐭩 author’s note: hiii! <3 thanks for sending this request! when i heard the lyrics “in a world of boys he’s a gentleman” my brain just screamed JACK so i agree with you! and my fav vault tracks are slut and say don’t go <3

ever since y/n started working as an actress, the media has been merciless with her. maybe it was because despite having been in the industry for just a few short months, she was already working with remarkable directors and successful and iconic franchises. media had always had the tendency to bash successful women, and y/n was fully living that experience.

the point was, she didn’t want to give the media more things to trash her for, so she stayed unproblematic and silent. and yet, regardless of all that, they had managed put a reputation on her that was far from the truth.

y/n was kind and had a unique vibe. every co-star spoke highly about her and the media always managed to twist this by painting the picture that she was a “serial co-star dater.” it happened to her with every single movie or show she worked in, and people bought it blindly. the name-calling became part of her every-day life, and she would be lying if she said it didn’t affect her.

she swore she would never make the media be right, and so she set a strict rule—never ever date a co-star or be extra affectionate with them. it was a sad way of living, setting boundaries that were useless because reporters and haters always found a way, but she just wanted to do what she loved. she wanted to be remembered for her good acting and not for who she dated.

but then jack champion walked into the set, with his cringy yet amusing dad jokes and contagious smiles, to turn her world upside down. everything was so natural with him y/n didn’t even notice the way she started ignoring the rules until the scream filming was nearing its end and the thought of not seeing jack as often anymore made y/n’s chest hurt as if her heart was being ripped out.

and then the questions ran through her mind—what should she do? should she act normal, as if realisation hadn’t drawn on her? should she confront jack and ask if there was something more than friendship between them? or should she start putting distance before the feelings got deeper?

what she didn’t count on was that she didn’t need to say anything, jack was not only observant, he also knew her like the words to his favorite songs. he noticed how her head was up in space, how she seemed to be always deep in thoughts, distracted. something was consuming her mind, and it was driving jack insane.

“you’re acting weird. what’s going on?” jack finally asked her, pulling her aside on set. right behind the trailers where no one could bother them.

y/n tensed up. “what? nothing.”

“please, don’t play dumb. if there is someone you can’t fool is me.” jack said firmly. he missed his y/n, the girl who brought him comfort like a cozy warm blanket. “i miss you.”

“i’m here.” she said breathlessly.

“but are you?” he accused her. “something is going on, and it has to do with me.”

“what makes you say that?” y/n asked nervously.

“because you’re especially tense when i’m around.” he said sadly, and it broke y/n’s heart. her mind has been a mess, and she was unconsciously hurting jack. “did i do something wrong? please tell me, we can talk about it.”

y/n shook her head and before she knew it she was breaking down. jack didn’t hesitaste to pull her in. “i’m the problem. i’m sorry.”

“shhh, it’s okay. i’m here. don’t worry about it now, just take a deep breath. we don’t have to talk about it now, i’m here whenever you’re ready.” he spoke softly, rubbing her back slowly, to try and bring some calm.

they both sat on the ground, backs resting against the trailer. jack held y/n’s soft hands tightly, hoping it would give her the comfort she needed. he had never seen her in such state, and he was concerned.

“it’s nothing bad… i guess. it depends.” she said, reading the expression on the boy’s face, which grew more confused by her words. “i realized some things a few days ago, and they have been occupying my mind. i don’t know what to do with this. no matter what i do, it’s going to change things so i might as well be completely honest.”

jack nodded, pressing his lips on the crown of her head. “not going anywhere, y/n/n. no matter what you say, i can promise that.”

“you know the reputation that precedes me, right? i’ve told you about it.” jack frowned but nodded. “because of that, i’ve set this rule, that i wouldn’t let myself be affectionate with my co-stars. and i have sticked to that rule, until you.”

a knot formed on jack’s stomach. “so it’s about that? you want to put some distance?” god, he hated this. he hated to think about not being able to hold her, but he would give it up if it meant he got to keep her around.

“that’s the thing, jack. the reason why i have been acting so unlike me is because i’ve been trying to convince myself that putting distance would be the wise decision. but… if these days have proven anything is that it would be ultimate hell.”

“why didn’t you talk to me?”

“well, to be honest i was thinking what i should do. you just beat me to it because you know me better than anyone else.” she smiled and jack mirrored it. “that’s… that’s not everything i realized though.”

“okay, go on.”

“when the countdown to our last day on set started, i got this horrible feeling on my chest. the first thing that ran through my mind was that we wouldn’t see each other that often anymore and i felt this hole in my chest… it’s more than just missing a friend, jack. i would feel empty because i like you and you’ve become my person.”

jack’s jaw fell open and he was close to pinch himself just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. the times he has dreamt about this scenario… it felt too good to be real.

“but…” she continued. and reality hit the shore, putting an end to his short-lived hope. “i’m scared of what people might say. it’s still hard for me to not let what others think get into my head, and to even think about the hate that might come your way if we dated, makes me sick.” she shook her head and then her eyes widened. “my god, what am i even saying? i just assumed that you liked me back, i didn’t let you talk. god, this is embarrassing i’m so sorry.”

jack cupped her cheeks. “y/n, y/n, stop. breathe.” the girl nodded and closed her eyes until she was breathing normally again. “okay, now listen to me. if you’re not ready for a relationship, that’s fine. but if it’s because you’re scared of the hate comments towards me, let it go. i don’t care about them, i just care about you. okay?”

“yes…”

“good. i want to be your boyfriend, and if you’re not ready because of what the media might think then i have an idea.” y/n’s curious eyes look up to meet his. “i really like you, too, y/n/n. we can date in secret, to see how things go, and whenever you’re ready, we can tell everyone.”

“jack, that’s a lot to ask to you…”

“you aren’t asking me anything. i want to do this. i want to call you mine so bad—in secret, in public, however you want.”

y/n smiled through the tears. “are you sure?”

“one hundred percent, y/n. never been so sure about something.” he reassured her.

y/n couldn’t even recognize herself. two months ago she had been completely against the idea of being in a relationship and now she was utterly and unquestionably love-strucked.

she used to think she was doomed to being lovelorn because of the restrictions she had put in her relationships with other people. and now, there she was in bed, feeling lovesick just because she hadn’t seen her boyfriend in two days.

though those days helped her make the decision. the relationship between them was beautiful, it was a safe place, it was her main source of happiness. jack was everything to her and she was tired of loving him in the dark. he deserved to be loved out loud, in plain sight. she knew she was going to be the one to pay the price, but it was fine.

“you know there’s no rush, right?” jack assured her for the hundredth time. when y/n told him she wanted to make their relationship public, he remained calm (even though he was jumping on the inside) and sat her down to think it through.

y/n smiled widely. how could she not fall for him when in a world of boys he was a gentleman? “i love you, and if they call me a slut… you know, it might be worthy for once.”

“i love you, too.” he pulled her in for a kiss. “okay. let’s do this.”

“okay. i’m just warning you, i truly believe in the slang go big or go home.”

jack eyed her suspiciously. “spill.”

the girl smirked mischievously and went to grab a bag. “i made us special shirts.”

“lord save me.” jack sighed when he took the shirts out of the bag.

“you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.” y/n said

“you know i’m going to, anyways. like i’d ever be able to say no to your pretty face.”

enchantedliv um, just bumped into y/n y/l/n and jack champion 🥺 they were wearing matching shirts that pretty much confirmed their relationship ????

landrysghost what did the shirts say??

enchantesliv “i ❤️ my girlfriend.” and “i ❤️ my boyfriend.” THEY ARE SO CUTE AND WERE SO SWEET😫

user1 are we really surprised? that girl dates everyone she works with.

user2 he’s too good for her.

user3 she’s going to dump her once she meets her next co-star for sure lmaooo

user3 y’all are so jealous lmao. acting bitter just because you want him, that’s her only crime. there has never been any proof that she dated previous co-stars.

liked by jackchampion, misstrinitybliss, baileybass and 878,913 more.

y/n.y/l/n hi everyone! this is more than me saying i’m taken by the most gorgeous and kindest man on the planet. this is also me getting something off my chest. been wanting to for a while, so here we go!

since the beginning of my career i’d told myself to stay unproblematic which i mistook for never fight back or defend myself.

the media always said i dated too many co-stars—even though that’s completely false. i’ve never dated anyone i worked with (until now)—, so i set this stupid rule for myself: try not to be too friendly with my workmates. i was so scared of proving the media’s rumours right that i built this shell around me, never allowing myself to fully connect with people. and then, a couple of months ago i met jack. he made me forget about those limitations i so foolishly put.

i’m done giving anyone the power to hurt me. i’m done letting people think it’s okay to shame a woman for who they date or not.

i’ve been in a dark place for a long time, and i never noticed until my person walked into my life and showed me daylight. i’m doing better than i ever was now. i’m never staying silent again, i’m going to defend myself, my relationship and my boyfriend. always.

that was all for now, thanks for reading.

ps. i love you, jack. all i need is you <3 thanks for being the best boyfriend, best friend and person in the world.

jackchampion so so so proud of you. this brought tears to my eyes not gonna lie. you’re the sweetest ever i love you 💌 thanks for the shirt, by the way, matches my personality!

y/n.y/l/n you’re so silly😭 i love you more and intend to be cheesy forever 🫶🏻💖

jackchampion certainly no complaints from me!

[nataliasquote]

To The End | CaitVi | Arcane

summary: the first night after everything went down and all Cait and Vi want is some normalcy. Just once.

warnings: none, just fluff, small mention of jinx’s 💀

wc: 1.9k

note: I’m hypefixafing on Arcane right now, and also procrastinating… hence this fic was made :) please don’t come at me for accuracy, I only started watching like 4 days ago and I’m here purely for the lesbians and the vibes. Thanks :) (I also will write more if this is well received)

~~~

The bedroom light was dim, just the way she liked it. Vi was never one for bright lights, preferring the shadows to the spotlight. And in the vast expanse of their shared bedroom, the darkness offered her some security.

Her eyes stared off into the distance, focussing on the hazy lights of Piltover through the ornate balcony doors. Her knee was pulled up to her chest, the way it naturally did when she sat. Almost as a defence mechanism, even if she knew she had no reason for that anymore. The lights were blurry to her but her mind was anywhere but there.

So much had changed, and in so little time too. She couldn’t say she’d ever dreamed of being topside, surrounded by this much money and regality - being a Zaunite was in her blood. But sitting here now, her bodyweight being supported by the softest mattress she’d ever felt, Vi felt… comfortable?

Comfort wasn’t something she was familiar with either. From the grief to the jail cell, every day had been a fight to survive since she was barely a teenager. And even now, that nagging voice in the back of her mind that told her things were going to change again just wouldn’t stop. But she had an antidote, and for the first time in her life, she could shut that voice out.

“Singing again?” Someone asked from behind her, breaking the heavy silence she’d descended into. Anyone else and Vi would have whipped around in a flash, pinning them to the floor with her fists. But this voice decompressed her spine and released the tension in her shoulders, smoothing the lines between her brows with a single word.

Caitlyn crawled across the silky bed sheets and slipped her legs round to dangle off the edge, thigh brushing against the other woman’s tenderly. Her arms and shoulders were bare and the gentle brush of Vi’s bicep against her own sent a gentle shiver down her spine and she subconsciously leaned closer, tucking herself under the pink haired girl’s arm as she lifted it up and over her shoulders.

“Humming, actually.”

Caitlyn cracked a smile, resting her cheek softly on Vi’s chest. There was something so comforting about feeling the muscle beneath her skin and the heartbeat in her ear.

“Will I ever get to hear more of that song?”

“In your dreams, cupcake,” Vi murmured, slotting her fingers around Caitlyn’s absentmindedly. They were two old puzzle pieces - ones you wouldn’t think fit together but snapped perfectly into place when given the chance. Her knuckles were scarred and bruised, years of damage laying waste to any softness that was once there. But Caitlyn still stroked her finger across them, feeling the familiar bumps under the pads of her fingers.

“I should’ve asked this before, but… are you alright?” Caitlyn probed, the strap of her eye patch shifting with her frown. “I wasn’t-“

“It’s okay,” Vi interrupted, keeping her gaze on the twisted golden doorknob. There was a moment of lingering silence before she spoke up again, trying to wrap her brain around the events of the last few days. “I’d come to terms with losing her years ago, but now… there’s a part of me that won’t believe she’s gone. That it’s just another trick. That she’ll be back with another bomb and some bullets and…” Vi trailed off, her voice cracking subtly as emotion squeezed her windpipe.

Caitlyn’s hand trailed up the expanse of her girlfriend’s back, tracing the covered tattoos and scars in her mind before her hand came to rest on her shoulder. “She loved you, Vi.”

You could almost hear the gears turning in Vi’s head before she stood up from the bed, gently pushing Caitlyn away with the force.

“It should have been me,” she cried before slamming her fist into the wall. But it wasn’t as strong as her usual jabs and her forehead fell against the cool stone as a sob escaped her, shaking her shoulders. “It should’ve been me.”

Caitlyn rose slowly, approaching with caution before reaching out to cup Vi’s face with a tenderness only she was trusted with. “Vi, look at me.” The stubborn woman didn’t move until Caitlyn pushed a lock of her hair back, her finger brushing across her damp cheek. “Look at me.”

Vi looked up through her lashes with another sob, the pain in her eyes so evident that Caitlyn had to bite the inside of her cheek. She wiped another tear that trickled down, holding on to ground her.

“I failed her.” Vi’s confession was barely more than a choked whisper. “I failed her every single time.”

Caitlyn tugged her into a hug, cradling the back of her head as it fell against her shoulder. She could never forgive Jinx, but there was a part in her that softened for Vi’s sake.

“You haven’t failed anyone, darling. You have to stop convincing yourself of that, please.”

Vi heard her words but took very little notice. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe Cait, she was just too emotionally exhausted to continue. She was the queen of pushing her feelings so far down that they ceased to exist, so when they eventually resurfaced, she either punched them out or… well, she knew no other option.

“I don’t know what to do,” she muttered, her voice muffled by Caitlyn’s silk nightdress.

“You don’t have to do anything right now. Come on.” Cait gently led her to the bed, climbing onto the mattress without letting go of her hand. Vi, on shaky legs, followed blindly, wanting nothing more than to be back in her embrace. She’d been touch starved for far too long and Caitlyn felt like home.

“We will figure it out, one day at a time,” Caitlyn continued. She brushed a small strand of pink hair from Vi’s eyes, her fingers following the trail of her cheekbone and jaw until they settled, carefully holding her chin. “You don’t need to do it on your own anymore.”

Their eyes locked, vulnerability swirling around Vi’s powder blue irises. She wanted to be wrong, but Caitlyn’s expression displayed nothing but compassion and concern. She wasn’t going to let her girlfriend struggle any longer. Not whilst she had the choice.

The vastness of the large bedroom didn’t seem so big when they were intertwined, legs hooked together and torsos touching. Whatever chaos was happening outside those four walls didn’t matter right now, it was just them. Just the twitch of Vi’s lips and the flicker of Caitlyn’s lashes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt safer with anyone else,” Caitlyn admitted. Her eyes averted as she spoke, suddenly feeling exposed. But as Vi’s hand slid up to cup her cheek, the feeling instantly vanished.

“No one’s going to hurt you as long as I’m here,” Vi promised, but more to herself than to Caitlyn. She couldn’t let someone else slip through her fingers again. She’d already lost Vander and Powder, she couldn’t lose Caitlyn too. “I will fight for you, Cait.”

It was overwhelming to hear something like that, and Caitlyn couldn’t stop herself.

“I love you.”

Who knew three words could be such a breath stealer? Certainly not Vi, who’s brain short circuited as those words fell from Caitlyn’s lips. She’d felt it, but saying it? That felt like a curse waiting to happen.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to-“

“I love you too.”

Caitlyn’s face contorted in surprise but she couldn’t hide her smile. Love was powerful, arguably more powerful than the Hexcore, and to be trusted with it in this capacity felt like the greatest task of all.

“What’s so funny?” Vi prompted after Cait let out a small giggle, her cheeks heating up.

“Nothing. It’s just you, looking at me like that and saying-.”

Vi smirked. “Like what?” She tilted her chin down and looked at Cait with darkened eyes, pushing forwards so her bound chest pressed firmly against Caitlyn.

“Shut up,” Caitlyn said, rolling her eyes and pulling Vi’s face closer to hers with one swift movement.

Their lips crashed together with force, hands sliding everywhere as they moved as one. Cait murmured into Vi’s mouth as she felt a hand dip down to her lower back, pulling her impossibly closer with an arch to her back.

They held onto each other tight, scared the other might disappear if they let go. Sounds could be heard echoing through the streets below but the world didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except their lips together and their tongues intertwined. This blissful moment was a stark contrast to their usual lives and Vi never wanted it to end.

“I don’t deserve you,” Caitlyn mumbled against Vi’s lips. And in reality, she kind of didn’t. Because no one could ever truly deserve a soul like Vi, soft despite her hardship but still fiercely loyal to the core.

“For someone so educated, you do talk shit sometimes,” Vi countered, their lips meer inches apart but hands still holding tight. “But you’re a damn good kisser, cupcake.”

“I had a very good teacher,” Cait replied with a smirk, her eyebrow raising slightly.

Vi pulled away, studying her girlfriend’s expression. “I was your first?”

“Of course you were,” she replied, rolling Vi onto her back before climbing onto her hips, straddling her. “Do you really think my parents let me fraternise like this?”

Vi laughed, tugging Cait towards her by her hips so their faces hovered again. The blue haired girl pressed a kiss to her jaw, scattering them like stars along that chiseled edge before shifting lower.

“And to think I thought you were straight…”

That made Caitlyn sit up, her ministrations on Vi’s neck now a thing of the past. A small mark had begun to form just under Vi’s chin and Cait smiled triumphantly.

“You thought what?”

Vi’s hands drifted to her girl’s thighs, feeling the soft skin under her palms. “Remember that night at the brothel?” Cait nodded slowly. “When I tried to set you up with that guy and you fumbled?”

“Oh my goodness!” Caitlyn exclaimed, her hair falling over her shoulders as she laughed. “I thought you were just playing a joke.”

“No, cupcake, I was figuring you out.”

“And it took you that long?” Cait challenged, willing Vi to admit to her defeat. But that stubbornness was deep rooted and she stayed strong, gazing through the hair over her face smugly.

“I had a lot going on, you know.”

Cait rolled her eyes playfully. “All I’m hearing are excuses.”

That was the wrong answer. Vi grabbed her by the hips and tossed her onto the mattress, flipping her like a fighting move so she was now on top, staring down. But her dominance was cut short, just like the air in her lungs, as she stared down at Cait beneath her.

Dark blue hair splayed out across the white pillow, chest heaving in her revealing nightgown. And her eyes… dammit, those eyes. Well… eye. Vi knew her weakness would always be Caitlyn’s eyes and the way she looked at her was enough to make her fold.

“Oh you really are Piltover’s finest,” Vi muttered before lowering her head, ready to show her girl a night they really would not forget…

[millenianthemums]

chapter 5 of the fic is here! it took me a while to finish the art this time. i know i said i’d put less effort into the pieces to avoid burnout, but they’re just so fun… rendering things like this is so relaxing fsr.

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Bill trudged out onto the mud soaked lawn, eager to put as much distance as possible between himself and this godforsaken house. Even the woods, still soaked in darkness as the first rays of sunlight failed to reach them, appealed to him more than the Mystery Shack. Knowing he’d been dragged in there while he couldn’t fight back, he’d slept in there, under the Pines family’s floor… just the thought made his skin crawl. Seemed like even killing him wasn’t enough for them. They just had to keep humiliating him every chance they got. Offering to “help” him after everything they did was just sadistic, even for him. He’d have to remember it for the next time he had an enemy at his mercy.

He had to get out of here. Just being here was infuriating. Plus, if the kid was right about Ford being up, he might get spotted. And chances were, Ford wouldn’t be satisfied with destroying his life just once.

At the thought of Ford, Bill clenched his fists so tight that his claws pierced into his palms. This was all Ford’s fault. He’d ruined everything. He’d drawn Bill in with that sweet, innocent nerd routine, acting all impressed and grateful, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes, making all those stupid promises about eternal fealty and partnership, and then the instant he sensed a single drawback to their deal, suddenly Bill was nothing to him. One little misstep and suddenly nothing they’d done together meant anything, because it never had, not really. All he’d ever cared about was the perks, the knowledge, the secrets of the universe, blah blah blah, he’d never cared about Bill. Not even a little. Why had Bill ever fallen for it?! If only he’d gotten anyone else to build the portal…

He stopped in his tracks. The portal. This stupid flesh brain was going to be the death of him. How had he almost forgotten about the portal?! Sure, it was deactivated, but it had to still be there! Even if it was in pieces, he knew better than anyone how to put it back together. He just had to get it running again, just for a second, and then all his problems would be over! He could get back to the Nightmare Realm, grab his power source, and be back in business!

He hadn’t crossed over the stupid Bill-proof barrier around the shack yet, on the off-chance it might still affect him. Just to be sure, he stuck close to the outer wall as he crossed around to the back door of the gift shop. It was locked, of course, but Bill hadn’t forgotten everything. The birch trees near the house had given him plenty of angles to see where Stan and that dopey employee of his looked for the spare key when they locked themselves out. Sure enough, it was still tucked under the same fake rock nestled against the stairs. As quietly as possible, he eased the door open and stepped inside.

The place was as dark and empty as he’d hoped. Hokey glass-eyed chimeras, stitched together from whatever random taxidermy scraps the thrift store or dump had to offer, leered down at him from every angle as he crept across the room, hiding in the blind spots of the security cameras. This place hadn’t gotten any less embarrassing in the months since he’d seen it; if anything, it looked kitschier and dumber than ever. The random garbage being passed off as “magical objects” and the taxidermy crimes against nature weren’t even trying to look convincing, but perhaps because of that, they were weirder and more eye-catching than ever. As much as he hated to give Stanley Pines any kind of credit, Bill had to admit the sheer level of silliness and brazen, gleeful fraud on display was pretty admirable.

The vibe of the Mystery Shack might have changed a little, but thankfully, the layout hadn’t. The vending machine marking the secret basement door was still right where he’d expected it to be. Those chumps hadn’t even bothered to change the passcode. As he scurried down the stairs, the first genuine laugh since his resurrection began to bubble up from his throat. This was almost too easy.

The laugh died a sudden, violent death the instant he rounded the corner and looked out into the basement.

The portal still seemed to be technically there. Most of it, at least. But the massive, triangular frame had been knocked over and shattered into pieces across the stone floor. The metal was twisted, charred, every visible surface bearing scars and dents as if someone had spent months on end viciously attacking it with every available weapon. Not a single remaining component was unscathed; anything salvageable must have been scavenged for parts. The monolithic structure, this thing that represented millenia of planning and years upon years of hard work and partnership, now resembled nothing more than a heap of scrap metal. Torn apart. He literally tore the damn thing apart.

Bill felt his knees buckle beneath him. He caught himself just before toppling over, slamming a hand against a countertop and leaning against it. This couldn’t be real. Someone had to be playing a sick prank on him. They shattered it. They literally shattered his only lifeline, again. This was a torment he’d pass up for being too on the nose. He was laughing again, but there was no joy in it this time. He just couldn’t help it. This was all just too funny.

Still doubled over with laughter, he started grasping across the counter for something to break. Something to throw as hard as he could, or crush in his hands, or something. Anything. He didn’t care if he made noise, didn’t care if he got caught. He just wanted to destroy something. But of course, just his luck, the countertop was totally clear…

Wait. It was not like Ford to keep a clean countertop.

Bill pushed himself up and took his first clear look at the lab he was standing in. As his eye swept across the cavernous basement, a glimmer of hope started building inside him. Aside from the wreckage of the portal, the place was completely empty. Stripped right down to the floorboards. Squinting, he made out the vague impressions left behind where he’d disturbed the layers of dust coating everything. He was the first living thing to set foot down here in months.

Ford had moved his lab upstairs. Bill put a hand to his face, reeling from the shock of delight. Oh, that poor idiot. He’d ventured up out of his sad little cave to be closer to his precious family. And he’d left the remnants of the portal unguarded.

And why not? The big bad triangle was dead. There was no reason to think he’d ever come back for it. After all, with all that damage, even with Bill’s intricate knowledge of the device’s construction, it would take him months of nonstop work to get it even close to operable again. And there was no way he’d be able to sneak in and out of the shack that many times without being seen by anybody.

Unless he was in the shack the whole time.

Another laugh burst out of him, and this one was pure, utter glee. His old pal Shooting Star had come through for him again. She’d handed him the answer to all his problems on a silver platter, and he’d almost missed it! He’d thought it was too easy, that nobody would ever be that generous to somebody they knew would turn on them, who already tricked them the same way once… but he definitely wasn’t complaining. If Shooting Star really thought helping him was a good idea, he was more than happy to let her keep thinking that.

He’d need to make this convincing, he told himself as he snuck back out the way he came. He’d need to really sell the sob story. Make it seem like he had no chance at surviving even one day without her help. He’d have to swallow his pride a little– maybe even a lot. But it would all be worth it in the end. Shooting Star thought he was a helpless sad sack she could win over with pity, so he would play that part. Just for a little while. Just long enough to get the portal up and running. And then he’d never have to answer to anyone else again.

And he’d show her and her whole family just how far pity would get them.

-

After Mabel had watched Bill scramble out the window with all the poise and grace of a drunk raccoon, she’d trudged upstairs, face planted onto her bed, and passed out within seconds. She didn’t move again until after 1 PM, when Dipper helped Waddles clamber up onto her bed and she was forced to wake up or be crushed to death.

As the enormous pig did his best to climb up and settle on Mabel’s back, she wheezed in protest and flailed out from under him, slumping face-first onto the floor. She aimed a beleaguered stare up at Dipper, who looked entirely too pleased with himself, and said “Et tu, Brute?”

“Definitely not how to pronounce that,” Dipper said with a snort. “Waddles missed you. He wanted to make sure you were alive.”

“I am, no thanks to you guys,” Mabel said with a giggle. Dipper grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet, and she cupped Waddles’ face and rubbed his big cheeks. “You’re not a lap pig anymore, Mr. Sir! You’re the size of a fridge!”

Waddles stretched out contentedly until his widdle back hooves dangled off the mattress, shoving his face into Mabel’s hands. Turns out farm hogs don’t stay adorably travel-sized for long; in less than nine months, he’d gone from fitting snugly in a backpack to almost being big enough to ride. She hadn’t convinced him to stand up with her on his back yet, but she suspected it was less about strength and more about motivation. He always just stared at her like “I know you have legs, bestie.”

In any case, his adorability had only increased as he grew. Mabel gave him a tiny kiss on his flat pink nose, and he oinked softly in response.

“I still can’t believe he even fit on the bus,” Dipper said, patting Waddles on the tummy. “It’s a miracle the bus driver let us bring him.”

“I think he was scared of us,” Mabel laughed. “Probably thought Waddles’d eat him.”

Dipper scoffed. “This guy won’t eat carrots if they’re too crunchy. He’s not gnawing through human bones.”

“I dunno, that bus driver looked kinda calcium deficient.”

Dipper laughed and nudged her shoulder. “C’mon, goofball, go get changed. We’re hitting the lake today, remember?”

—

That lake day was the best day of the summer thus far. Every day they’d been back here– except maybe yesterday– had been the best day of the summer thus far. They hadn’t taken a boat out; Stan and Ford both agreed they’d spent more than enough time on a boat recently, thank you very much. They just found a good spot on the beach and swam, and skipped rocks, and attempted a game of volleyball (none of them were any good at spiking the ball, and it devolved into dodgeball pretty quick), and just goofed around together like a normal family. After all the drama last year, it was just so unbelievably awesome that she and her three favorite people could finally just be a normal, happy family.

Eventually, the sun made its way to the other end of the sky. Mabel had brought her bike along in the car trunk, planning to ride it home just for fun. Once the sunlight turned orange and the shadows started to stretch, Stan pointed out that she’d need to head back soon to catch the last of the daylight. She agreed she’d rather not have to bike home in the dark twice in two days, so she waved goodbye to everybody, joked that now somebody else would finally have a turn to win at dodgeball, and set off for home.

If she had a choice, Mabel seldom preferred to do anything alone. Maybe it was just because she was a twin, and had spent her whole life with a teammate, a best friend who was always there to watch her back while she watched his. Maybe growing up that way meant she never learned how to be alone without feeling like a turtle without its shell. But whatever the reason, if she spent too long by herself, it started to feel like drowning.

But sometime last fall, she’d realized just how fast she could go on a bike. And suddenly she just couldn’t get enough of it, and Dipper, bless him, he’d tried his best to keep up with her, but his poor nerd legs just couldn’t pedal that fast. So she’d told him she preferred solo biking now, and he’d gratefully accepted the excuse not to accompany her on her daily rides.

She really did love the speed. Watching the trees zip by until they blurred into a solid wall of green, feeling the wind lift her hair so it flowed behind her like a tail, keeping pace with crows gliding through the sky above. It was worth a little solitude. And if Dipper knew she’d rather he go with her, he’d bust a lung or fall over and break his arm, or at the very least be uncomfortable and embarrassed the whole time. So it wasn’t a big deal. Really, she was fine with it. Right now, as she traced the twisting road up into the rolling, forested hills and toward the Mystery Shack, she felt almost completely content. Watching the clouds roll gently overhead, catching glints of orange and pink from the setting sun, the songs of birds and crickets washing away any pesky thoughts as she let herself be absorbed into this moment–

“AAAAAUGH!”

Mabel slammed the handlebars sideways and sent her bike careening off the pavement as a flash of gold raced past, just barely fast enough to not collide with her. She couldn’t look at it and save her bike from crashing down the steep hill beside the road at the same time, so by the time she’d managed to wrangle it to a stop, it was gone from sight. But that shrill scream she’d heard, the one she’d mistaken for a fox earlier, hadn’t gone away. And the road wasn’t empty. More small shapes were racing across it, chasing the thing, and these ones were all too recognizable. Her hunch was confirmed when one of them lost its footing and didn’t quite clear the brush at the edge of the forest. An antler snagged against a branch, and a tiny thing covered in sandy brown fur started screeching and thrashing around so violently that Mabel grabbed her grappling hook on impulse. Finally it broke free and joined the pack chasing after the screaming gold thing. Jackalopes. Dozens of the mean little things. And she had a pretty good idea who they were after.

She swung her bike around, and against her better judgment she biked after the throng of bunnies. Sure enough, she was proven right yet again. Just a few dozen feet past the tree line, Bill Cipher, the antagonist of most of her worst recent nightmares, was trying to balance on the top branch of a pine sapling just barely large enough to support his weight, as the jackalopes gathered at its base and leapt up at him, jabbing with their sharp antlers, almost but not quite able to jump as high as he’d climbed. Bill hadn’t stopped screaming since she’d first heard him.

This was certainly one way to cure a phobia.

Mabel jumped off her bike and threw the back trunk open. Frantically, she rifled around through her emergency supplies; multitool, slingshot, glowsticks, sack of ball bearings, fake gold jewelry for tricking fey… maybe Dipper was right about traveling light…

“ARE YOU PLANNING ON HELPING?!” Bill had spotted her, and most of his fear had turned into indignance.

“One second!” Mabel yelled, tossing snacks and weapons aside.

“OH, NO RUSH! TAKE YOUR TIME, NOT LIKE THERE’S ANYTHING URGENT GOING ON– OW!!!” He screeched; Mabel whipped her head around to see that one of those antler jabs had caught him in the ankle. Shiny silver blood poured from the gash.

Mabel wrenched the basket off the bike and dumped it out onto the ground. Finally, her target was revealed: an air horn. She raced toward the frenzy of rabbits and held it aloft. “Hey!” she roared, and just as the jackalopes turned their attention to her, she slammed down on the button as hard as she could.

A shrill, deafening honk crashed against every tree in the forest, filling the air with sound. The jackalopes, as one, all screeched in agony, recoiling from the horn and flattening their ears against the noise. A bold one bared its fangs at her, but she pointed the horn closer and kept the button held down, and soon every jackalope had retreated into the woods. Once they were out of sight, she released the button, and the world was just dull ringing for a few seconds, until her hearing returned with the sound of a sapling breaking in half.

She turned to see Bill lying prone on the ground again, painfully picking himself up. She considered offering her hand, then figured that would just embarrass him further, then figured she didn’t really care and reached toward him anyway. He glared up at her. For a second, he seemed to consider accepting it, but then he stood up on his own with a pained grunt, grabbing the top half of the broken tree and steadying himself on it like a cane to keep the weight off his injured leg. Mabel winced as she realized it was the same one Scout had gotten ahold of the other day. At least he had one leg that maybe didn’t hurt?

“...You okay?” Mabel asked, after a long silence.

His eye turned to stare at her disdainfully. “WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE.”

She stared back at him for a second, assessing. Then she looked away again, examining the trees. She could see that he could see that she could see he looked terrible. He was all scraped up again, his old wounds not quite healed yet and joined by lots of new ones. His legs were caked to the knees with dried mud, probably from a long day of wading through the river and falling down ledges and stepping in gopher holes. He was teetering in place, visibly exhausted. His hat looked almost spotless, like he’d been shielding it at all costs, but his bow tie was in dire need of a spin cycle. And his arms and legs were more bug bites than skin at this point.

She figured she should say something. Fidgeting nervously with her sweater sleeve, she said “It looks like you forgot bug spray.”

To her surprise, he laughed. It was a short, loud bark of a laugh, but it was a laugh. She looked back at him to see he was sitting on the ground, leaning his face against his hands. He looked up at her. “YOU GUYS REALLY JUST LIVE WITH MOSQUITOS, HUH. THEY’RE JUST… AROUND. ALL THE TIME.”

“Well, not in winter,” Mabel offered.

Bill laughed again. It was a little bit more like a real laugh this time; still definitely not happy, more numb bemusement, but it felt like an improvement. “GREAT!” he said. “JUST SIX MORE MONTHS.” He covered his face again.

Mabel looked down at him, watching cautiously. Her hand was tight around the handle of her grappling hook, ready for trouble, just in case this was somehow all a trap. Heck, maybe this was all part of his plan. Maybe he lured out those jackalopes and got himself into a second near-death experience just so she could find him and completely let her guard down. Maybe this was just a big, elaborate, 4D chess evil mastermind long con.

Suddenly he looked up and shouted “WHAT?!?” Mabel jumped back, and by pure muscle memory, her hand shot up to brandish the grappling hook. Unfortunately, her hands had gotten sweaty from all the excitement, and as the hook reached the peak of its arc, she lost her grip on it completely. It sailed out of her grasp, whipped through the air and hit Bill in the side of the face with a loud, solid CLONK.

Bill clutched his head where she’d hit him, too shocked to even yell in pain. Mabel was quicker to react. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean– hang on…” She sifted through her pockets and grabbed her bag of band-aids, and before even thinking about what she was doing, she was already kneeling beside him and pressing a starry band-aid over the bleeding welt between his scales.

Bill recoiled from her touch again, pupil dilated in terror as he scrambled backwards. Mabel pulled back quickly, raising her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, throat clenched tight from panic at the thought that he might strike back.

They both noticed the grappling hook at the same time. It had landed in the grass right next to Bill, easily within reach. Slowly, to her terror, he picked it up and turned it over in his hands. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, her last line of defense. Like Grunkle Stan had taught her: when all else fails, there’s always punching.

But he didn’t shoot her. Instead, he turned the grappling hook over again and extended an arm, holding it out to her handle-first.

Mabel looked at him appraisingly for a second, then slowly reached out and took the grappling hook from him. She returned it to its holster, and then hesitantly held out the bag of band-aids. “Your leg’s still bleeding,” she said softly. “You can pick.”

Bill sighed and accepted the band-aids. Sifting through, he muttered, “YOU GOT A LOT OF THESE STAR ONES, HUH.”

Mabel gave an apologetic laugh. “I like stars,” she said.

Bill let out a soft chuckle in return. After a bit more searching, he chose another star-patterned band-aid and handed the bag back.

“Well, uh… I’ll get out of your hair,” Mabel said awkwardly, starting to scoop all her supplies into the basket and shove it back into place on her bike. “I know you said you didn’t want my help–”

“WAIT,” Bill said. She turned back to look at him; he looked like he was about to say something he really didn’t want to say.

“LOOK,” he said. “I… I DON’T KNOW WHERE I’M GOING. I DON’T HAVE A PLAN, OR ANYWHERE TO STAY, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHEN I’M GONNA HAVE FOOD AGAIN. I THINK AT THIS POINT…” he took a deep breath and forced the last words out with the air, “...I NEED ALL THE HELP I CAN GET. IF YOUR OFFER STILL STANDS, I’LL TAKE IT.”

Mabel didn’t know what to say. She was stunned, full deer-in-the-headlights paralyzed. She twisted the edge of her sweater tight in her hands, trying to ground herself. She knew this was a bad idea. She knew she’d regret it. But in some strange way, she knew there was only one way this could go. She’d made the offer already. There was no going back.

“You’ll have to stay hidden for a while,” she said. “At least until I figure out how to tell Dipper and the Grunkles. And you’ll have to stay close by, so I know you’re not sneaking out to do evil world domination stuff. I’ll help you out with food and stuff, but you have to play by my rules as long as you’re staying with us, or you’re on your own.” She stared straight into his eye. “And you have to swear, on pain of death, that you won’t hurt anybody.”

He stared back evenly. “I SWEAR.”

She held his gaze. This seemed way too easy. “You’re really not gonna stab me in the back?”

“KID,” he said wearily. “I WOULDN’T DO THIS IF I HAD ANY OTHER OPTION. IF I STABBED YOU NOW, I’D GO DOWN WITH YOU.”

Mabel took in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. Just for a little while. As long as you promise not to make me regret this.”

“YOU GOT YOURSELF A DEAL.” Bill extended a hand for her to shake, seemingly as a reflex. Just as reflexively, Mabel flinched back, expecting it to erupt in blue fire like it did last summer. But it didn’t take long for them both to realize, with embarrassment, that things didn’t work like that anymore.

“We’re not shaking on it,” Mabel said. Bill put his hand back down, looking glad for the excuse.

Mabel finished packing up and climbed back onto her bike. “We should hurry if we wanna beat the others to the shack,” she said. “C’mon, get in the basket.”

Bill looked affronted. “SORRY. WHAT?!”

Mabel pointed to the front basket, in case that was where the confusion lay.

“WHAT AM I, A BUSHEL OF TURNIPS?! I’M NOT RIDING IN THE BASKET!”

“I mean, this isn’t a two-seater, so the other option is walking all the way there on that leg,” Mabel said with a shrug. “Which is fine if you really want. I won’t stop you. I’d just much rather ride on the bike if it were up to me. I’d be worried about being stuck out here after dark, and if the jackalopes come back–”

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! I GET IT!” Bill clambered up into the basket. Just like last time, he fit perfectly. He looked furious about it.

As they cycled along the trail, gliding between slowly deepening shadows and bright patches of golden sunlight, Mabel could tell Bill was nodding off. “You can sleep if you want,” she said. “I’m a smooth driver. I carried you all the way to the shack in that basket last night, and you didn’t wake up once.”

“DON’T TELL ME THAT,” Bill groaned, straining to stay awake. “HASN’T MY DIGNITY SUFFERED ENOUGH?”

“Not even close,” Mabel said.

—

Mabel suspected Bill had drifted off by the time they reached the shack. But when she stopped the bike in the driveway, he jolted to awareness and lurched out of the basket as fast as he could. He stumbled and brushed himself off, looking like he’d faced the worst indignity of his life. “LET’S GET INSIDE QUICK,” he said, striding purposefully ahead of Mabel. “I DON’T WANT TO GET SPOTTED, I’VE HAD ENOUGH STRESS FOR ONE DAY–”

Then he seemed to smack his head on thin air. With a yelp, he staggered back away from the invisible obstacle, holding his face like he’d been zapped by something. Mabel trotted up to him, just in time to see a shimmer of light flash across an invisible membrane in the air, highlighting the shapes of strange runes and symbols as it slid up across a massive dome that seemed to encase the entire Mystery Shack.

“Oh yeah,” she said thoughtfully. “That.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?” Bill shrieked. “I DON’T HAVE ANY OF MY POWERS, BUT THAT STUPID DOME STILL WORKS?! HOW IS THAT FAIR?! I HAVE TO BE STUCK AS A MISERABLE PATHETIC MEATSACK AND STILL DEAL WITH ALL THE STUPID CURSES AND SHIT FROM BEFORE?!? WHAT NEXT, AM I ALLERGIC TO PEANUTS TOO?!? WHAT KIND OF ABSOLUTE x7*&^@^%%$--” he cut himself off and glanced back at Mabel, wincing. “DON’T REPEAT THAT,” he said to her.

“I don’t even know what it was,” Mabel said honestly. She thought maybe a bug had buzzed past her ear while he was talking, because she’d totally missed that last word somehow. Also her vision was a little fuzzy for a second, but then she blinked and it was normal again.

“You passed through the barrier just fine when you were asleep in the basket,” she pointed out.

Bill sighed heavily. “CAN YOU STOP MENTIONING THAT?”

“I’m just saying… hmm.” Mabel walked her bike up to where the membrane had been, and crossed it halfway. Then she held out a hand to Bill.

He looked at her, confused and annoyed. She’d tried this twice before and it hadn’t worked, but maybe the third time was the charm. “C’mon, humor me,” she said.

Bill kept staring at her, looking like he wanted to just turn around and walk back into the woods. But then, slowly, he squeezed his eye shut and reached out his hand toward hers. She grabbed it, and he winced like he’d gotten a static shock. His skin was cold, rough and pebbly, like really old leather. She pulled him forward, almost without meaning to– he really did weigh basically nothing– and walked him through the barrier. It was effortless, no indication that anything had been in the way at all. She couldn’t even really tell when exactly they’d passed through it. But regardless, they’d gotten through.

“Knew it!” Mabel released Bill’s hand so she could flap her hands excitedly. “It’s like a vampire thing! You can only enter the shack if one of us invites you in.”

“GREAT,” Bill muttered. He was holding up the hand she’d just let go of, just staring at it, like it had changed in some way he couldn’t quite define. Like holding hands was the most harrowing experience he’d had today.

“Okay, maybe it’s not the best vampire power to have…” Mabel began, trying to lighten the mood. “But at least the sun doesn’t kill you. And you can eat food, and cross running water…”

“YEP,” he cut in, scowling into the distance. “LEARNED THAT FROM EXPERIENCE.”

“...and hold crosses, probably, if you want… and eat garlic! Unless you’re like a cat and it’ll make you sick… and…” Mabel trailed off. “Is it just me or are vampires a downgrade in, like, every way.”

Bill snorted. “IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE A CURSE, KID. DID YOU MISS THAT PART?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve heard boring people call it a curse lots of times, but in those books and movies and shows and stuff it seems like everybody wants to be a vampire!” she protested. “They act like it’s so cool. I mean, I guess you can live forever or something, but, like, you can’t go outside! Or into any building where you don’t know the owner. And Italian food? Forget it! After hundreds of years, that would get sooo old. What’s the point of living forever if it’s no fun?”

Bill shrugged.

“But people always call it a curse for such boring reasons. Like ‘ooh, they’re evil creatures of the night’ or whatever. So I just wrote them off.”

“THAT’S FAIR, ACTUALLY,” Bill chuckled.

“Anyway, the point is,” Mabel concluded, opening the front door and waving Bill in like a fancy bellhop, “Maybe things aren’t great right now, but at least you’re not a vampire. Count your blessings.”

“YEAH, YEAH,” Bill said, rolling his eye as he entered the shack. “I GUESS THINGS COULD BE WO-OOOH WHAT THE HELL IS THAT”

Mabel spun to see what he’d screamed at, hand on her grappling hook again, but was greeted by Waddles lumbering up from the living room to greet her. She squealed with delight and held out her arms to catch his big pudgy head as he shoved it into her sweater, snuffling happily. “I missed you too, baby boy!” she cooed, squishing his chubby pink cheeks as he nuzzled against her.

After a bit, she happened to glance up at Bill, and couldn’t suppress a laugh. He was staring up at Waddles with by far the most baffled expression she’d ever seen in a single eye. “HOW LONG WAS I GONE?” he finally asked, stepping forward and then quickly backing up as Waddles, who was a full head taller than him now, started to snuffle curiously toward him.

“Oh, yeah. It’s June 2013.” Mabel diverted Waddles’ attention with more face rubs, and he went back to cuddling her. “Turns out farm pigs get really big, really fast! My dad was less than pleased!”

Bill just kept staring as Waddles flopped over onto the floor with a heavy thunk, his energy spent. “...NOTED,” he said. He gave the pig a wide berth as he followed Mabel further into the house. As affronted as she was at the notion of anyone finding Waddles “scary”, Mabel couldn’t really blame him for being cautious. There was a non-zero chance that Waddles might mistake him for a piece of cheese at some point.

“That’s why I’m such a good cyclist now, by the way,” Mabel said, leading Bill downstairs toward Gay Baby Jail. “Dad was like, ‘okay, we can keep the pig, but only if you raise enough money to buy all the stuff we need and build a shed for him and stuff!’ So I did a morning paper route every single day for like six months. And Dipper did a bunch of odd jobs to help raise enough money, and in the end we paid for everything Waddles needed and Mom called Dad out like “You signed a CONTRACT, Robert!” So Waddles got to stay.”

“YOU DID HARD LABOR FOR A PIG?” Bill laughed derisively. “YOU COULD’VE JUST BLACKMAILED HIM, KID! I SAW YOUR DREAMS LAST SUMMER, YOU’VE GOT SOME SERIOUS DIRT ON ROB PINES–”

“Anyway,” Mabel said loudly. “My legs are super strong now. Put me on one of those big hamster wheels, I could power California for like a week.” With that, she threw open the door.

Light spilled from the hallway into Gay Baby Jail, and Mabel couldn’t help but wince a bit. She ducked inside and scooped up some of the snack wrappers still lying on the floor. “We can spruce it up a little,” she said. “Add some fun posters, some gamer lights, maybe a lava lamp… more furniture too, ideally… I mean, hey, it’s a blank slate, right? Infinite possibilities! That’s exciting!”

Bill looked around with a half-lidded eye. “MYTHOLOGICAL SCHOLAR, ELECTRICIAN, REALTOR… REGULAR JACK OF ALL TRADES, AIN’T YA?”

“You bet!” Mabel chirped. She knew he was trying to be rude, and she didn’t care. “I can make this work. I’m great at everything. Heck, I bet I can even make it fun!”

Bill laughed. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she thought it sounded more amused than contemptuous. “I’LL TAKE YOU UP ON THAT. SOME CASH COULDN’T HURT RIGHT NOW.”

Through the window above, Mabel heard an engine approaching. “We’ll figure that out later,” she said. “I better go meet them. I’ll be back with food later, the bathroom and stuff’s back there… just stay here until I get back, okay?”

“WAIT, HOLD ON,” he blurted out, and she stopped mid-door-slam. “YOU’RE NOT GONNA TELL THEM I’M HERE. RIGHT?”

“...Yeah. Not yet.” Mabel shifted uncomfortably. “Not until I can think of how to break it to them…”

“KID, LISTEN.” Bill’s voice was grave. “YOUR UNCLES CANNOT FIND OUT ABOUT ME. PINETREE, MAYBE. MAYBE THAT’D BE FINE. BUT STAN AND FORD? NO CHANCE. THEY CAN’T FIND OUT.”

Mabel frowned, clenching the hem of her sweater in her fists. “I mean… I could get them to listen–”

“NO. ” His voice ricocheted around the tiny room. “FORD SPENT HALF HIS LIFE TRYING TO KILL ME AT ALL COSTS. STAN DID KILL ME, AND EVEN IF IT WAS JUST DUMB LUCK, HE MIGHT HIT THAT JACKPOT AGAIN! IF THEY FIND ME HERE, THEY WILL KILL ME, AND I HAVE NO WAY TO STOP THEM. AND I CAN’T GO BACK, OKAY? I’M NOT GOING BACK!!”

Mabel had been backing away on instinct; she realized it when her back hit the wall of the hallway. But the shock snapped her out of her fear, and she stomped back in and yelled “HEY!”

Bill went quiet. He stared at her in shock.

“I don’t want to send you back, Bill,” she said. Her voice was shaking a little, residual fear clinging to her throat, but her tone was firm. “That’s the whole point of all this. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here.”

Bill just blinked. For once, he didn’t seem to have anything to say.

“I’m not going to tell them yet,” she said. “And when I do, I’ll warn you first. And I’ll have a plan. I’ll make sure they don’t kill you, okay?” Unless they have to, she added in her head. She figured it went without saying.

“...OKAY. GOOD.” Bill looked off-balance, like he hadn’t expected to get this far.

“And you’ll make sure I don’t regret helping you. Right?”

“RIGHT. PROMISE.” Then, reluctantly, right before the door closed: “...THANK YOU.”

Mabel didn’t buy that for a second. He was definitely up to something. But Stan’s car was pulling up outside, and again, it was too late to backpedal. She gave a short wave and then slammed and locked the door behind her, scurrying upstairs to sit on the couch with Waddles in the living room, like she’d been there all along, just in time to look totally natural when the front door opened.

“Of course there are still a few small issues with the auto-scaling.” Ford’s voice rang through the house. “But really, the problems it causes are negligible.”

“How ‘bout the time that kraken almost sunk the boat because you tried to set it to 1.5 and forgot the decimal?”

“That was human error, Stanley, that had nothing to do with the prototype–”

“Welcome back, guys!” Mabel rushed up to them, Waddles lumbering behind her to shove his face into Dipper’s shirt.

“Hey pumpkin!” Stan ruffled Mabel’s hair. “You really did beat us home!”

“Told you she was fast on that bike!” Dipper said, petting Waddles and trying to stop him from chewing on his hat. “You see now why I couldn’t keep up with her?”

“Yeah, I’m a superhero, basically,” Mabel preened. “Watch, I’ll go carry all the beach stuff inside by myself. It won’t even be hard.”

“No need!” Ford piped up excitedly. With a flourish, he produced a tiny box and what looked like a laser pointer from his coat pocket. Stan started to say something, but before he could get a word out, Ford tossed the box into the air and zapped it with the laser pointer. In a sudden flash of purple light, the box and its contents grew into full-sized beach chairs, pool floaties, picnic supplies and everything else they’d brought to the lake. It all hit the floor with a crash.

“It’s a more efficient take on the shape-changing flashlight you two invented,” Ford explained. “It auto-scans an object’s default dimensions and can rescale them by any multiple you want with the push of a button! Turns out it makes packing a breeze–”

“Sixer!” Stan yelled with a frustrated laugh. “The whole point of using that thing was to not have to carry that stuff to the garage! Now it’s all piled up in front of the door!”

Ford winced. “Oh. Right.”

“I got it!” Mabel leapt into action. Heroically, she grabbed up all the heaviest things in the pile, started to run for the garage, tripped on a chair leg, and fell on her face. She was laughing before she even hit the ground, and soon they all were.

Dipper reached a hand down to help her up. “Hold on, doofus. I got your back.”

—

Luckily for Bill, the walls of his temporary room were insulated enough to drown out almost any sound before it reached the rest of the shack. It would be hard to make enough noise to give himself away.

Unluckily for Bill, Gay Baby Jail was not particularly good at keeping out noise from the rest of the shack. The ceiling, in particular, was like a steel drum with how every step and jump and fumble of the Pines upstairs echoed through it with painful clarity. It sounded like they were playing a rousing game of “Who Can Throw The Heaviest Thing on the Floor”. And the familiar sound of Ford’s obnoxious hiking boots tromping across the floor, like heavy cloven hooves, echoed loudest of all. And Bill was supposed to be the demon here.

He curled up on the beanbag chair and tried to block out the sound with a blanket. Not that he had ears that he knew of, but he had to try something. It wasn’t just the stomping and the crashing. It was the laughing. They were laughing up there, shrill and careless, like a hoard of jackals. This family of traitors and murderers. They put him in the ground, and they were laughing.

He tried to reroute his train of thought. Things weren’t all bad. In fact, they were a lot better now than they were yesterday. He had a roof over his head– thin and noisy as it was– and he had a plan. He just had to wait until they all fell asleep. Then he’d sneak out and assess things. Scope out the area, find out what he needed for the portal and what was here to work with. He knew there were a lot of useful tools and parts hidden in the shack’s various storage rooms, and he knew where to find the things that weren’t here. He had plenty of time to figure it all out.

And best of all, he had an ally. A mole in the enemy camp. His eye crinkled with amusement at the thought. Ford’s own precious little niece working against him in secret. He couldn’t let him find out, of course. But by god, if he ever did, Bill hoped he’d get to see the look on his face.

It was a really lucky break that Shooting Star was the one to find him. The universe owed him a little luck at this point, he supposed. She was the least intolerable of all the Pines by far; that wasn’t a high bar to clear, but it was something. She was compulsively helpful and much too nice for her own good. She was even kind of fun to talk to; her goofy, weird non-sequiturs were hard not to smile at. And she was perhaps the only person in Gravity Falls who was dumb enough to help him.

No. Not dumb. That was the wrong word. She wasn’t dumb, not really. He knew she was clever from how things went last year, and he could tell from their conversations that she wasn’t naive enough to really trust him. She wasn’t dumb. She was something even better. She was optimistic. That meant that even if she saw red flags, even if she started to notice something fishy, chances were good that she’d still look past them, still hold out hope that she was making the right choice. She’d have hope. And that would be her downfall.

His eye drifted shut. Everything would be fine. All the pieces were in place. He just had to play the game until the portal was ready, and then he’d be home free.

The trick would be staying sane until then.