#they will be with all the others when i eventually finish

[seat-safety-switch]

Quick: what's your favourite colour? Doesn't matter. Capitalism has conspired to eliminate it. Every car now is silver, grey, white, or black. Choice is the enemy of all free people. This improves resale value. Critically, this reduction in choice also reduces the chance that a dealership will end up with a, say, dark-blue(!) car that is totally unsellable except to the mentally ill. We gotta do our part for the dealerships, they're really hurting.

Cars used to have cool colours. For instance, I'm fairly sure that my '78 Volare was brown when it was new. You could also get it in tan, or what Plymouth audaciously called "Augusta green sunfire metallic." Daring stuff, but we had no idea that we were secretly bankrupting them. Back then, cars were ordered on demand, and you'd wait a few weeks before someone in a historically economically disadvantaged area of the USA finished spraying it with paint and put it on a train. No more of that nonsense.

That's why I joined up with a secret band of rebels. We don't want to put a name on our organization, mostly because none of us can agree on what it should be. Our job is to sneak into car dealership lots, and give the cars waiting there a high-quality paint job in extreme wacko colours like "orange" and "red." This, we believe, will eventually bankrupt the dealerships and hasten the fall of our corrupt order.

If that fails for some reason, and we are tortured to death by the politicians who obey those dealerships without question, there is a side benefit. That benefit is that we'll be able to see other cars in a snowstorm even if they forget to turn their headlights on. Is that grey blob over there a car or just another snow squall?

So when you show up to the dealership in the next couple weeks and notice that it suddenly looks a lot more colourful, you can thank us. Maybe just don't look too closely at the quality of the work. We're in a bit of a hurry, and sometimes Tapemaster Theodore doesn't do a really good job masking off the mirrors, handles, tires, and windows, so the paint gets places that it shouldn't. Hey, it's like the 1970s all over again.

[kurooh]

explaining the basic culinary concepts of thanksgiving to choso goes in one ear and out the other, until you start talking about stuffing something, having to pack it all in so it’s full.

“cho, wait, the turkey’s cooking—”

he shrugs uselessly, yanking your underwear off and making sure to avoid the neat knot of your apron at your back. he’d pulled at your shirt eagerly before eventually deciding to leave you in your apron and whatever was beneath it.

choso spits onto his cock and slicks it up along his length, making his skin glossy and sticky. small beads of pearlescent precum spill from the slit of his cock, only adding to the lubrication and making it better. he gnaws on his lower lip as he guides his cock towards your quivering pussy, exhaling sharply when he pushes in.

that first overwhelming wave of pleasure is always the hardest to stand against—you’re so tight and oh so warm, slick walls squeezing him hungrily. heat burns at the back of his neck and he tosses his head back, shakily grabbing onto your hips in an effort to steady you against the kitchen counter.

“fuck, choso,” you moan, eyes rolling back into your skull. instinctively, your ass presses back into his pelvis, an obvious plea for something more. “it’s—‘s so fucking big.”

“it’s the perfect size for you,” he whines, shaking his head to clear the thoughts of cumming prematurely. “arch a little, please.”

you comply easily, choking on a sound of delight when he finally starts to move inside you. like an older car, it takes choso a little while to get it going, but once he does . .

small glass bottles of spices tumble around the counter when you push your arms forward, nails scratching at the granite as you search for something to get a hold of. his hips help to bully his cock deeper inside you, his tip kissing your cervix almost every thrust.

“f-fuck!” you keen, a sob tearing from your throat.

his fingers stroke over your back and he shakily reassures you, a large hand scooping under your chin: “i know, i—ngh, baby . . you’re t-taking it so well.” a beat of verbal silence is filled with desperate moans and the steady clap of skin against skin; when choso speaks again, he’s so far gone you can’t quite make heads or tails of his words.

“i-i love it—i love this pussy, i love you—o-oh god, ‘m gonna fuck you full, baby. gonna show you what stuffed really means.”

your legs tremble weakly, and your face is pressed against the counter while a few tears spill freely down your cheeks. choso’s heavy balls slap against your clit, begging to be emptied and lavished in attention. your back arches and your puffy pussy starts to flutter hard around his cock, teary cries of delight leaving your lips when he grunts and continues to fuck you.

“i-inside, i need to cum inside you,” choso gasps, hand dropping to your throat and pulling you back against him. the new adjustment makes it more difficult for his cock to slip out of you now, and easier for him to fuck deeper.

“cho,” you stutter out dumbly, not even registering the burning smell spreading throughout the kitchen, “jus’ fill me up, stuff me like you wanted.”

it’s as if the words command his body; choso’s breath comes in fast, wheezy pants as his hips stutter unceremoniously and he’s almost out of time to warn you. “i really will,” he gasps, voice cracking and words splintering, “‘m gonna put a baby in you, too.”

hot ribbons of white spill against your cervix, leaving his cock throbbing and soaking in his mess. choso came so hard you can’t help but wonder how long it’ll take for it to finally spill out of you — an hour, at least. his hand presses down firmly against the softness above your pelvis, and the pressure makes your cunt bear down harder on him, squeezing the last few drops of cum out of his cock.

“l-lemme feel it, baby. cum for me, please, need to—” he can’t even finish his sentence before you’re cumming so hard his cock is pushed out of you. it rests against his pelvis, twitching as he hears you ride out the high. it’s nothing but euphoric, filled with relief and excitement all at once—but the illusion quickly falls away when you smell something burning.

the something is your turkey that had been cooking nicely in the oven, becoming crisp and delicious. now, it’s blackened and reeking. choso lightly presses a hand to the center of your back and apologizes.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t think—”

you sigh disappointedly, unable to recover much of the turkey. “i-it’s okay. there’s just a ton of stuffing for it.”

“stuffing?” he asks, as cum starts to drip from your cunt, making your inner thighs messy.

“it’s just an add on to put into the turkey,” you supply, waving plumes of black smoke away. “it makes it bigger, fuller.”

“so, like pregnancy?”

“i guess?” you ask, utterly confused. “who compares turkey to pregnancy?”

“it makes sense to me. i did fuck a baby into you, didn’t i?”

[mapiforpresident]

Secret Hotel Kisses 2

Aitana x Putellas!reader

It had been a couple of weeks since Alexia found out about you and Aitana. To your relief, she’d been supportive—after getting over the initial shock—but her protective instincts still kicked in whenever she saw you and Aitana together. The team had started teasing you both mercilessly about being “Barça’s new power couple,” and Alexia had become something of a watchful hawk, glaring at anyone who dared to poke fun.

You were all at the training ground, finishing up a light session before the weekend game. You were sat down on the grass stretching out your calf. Aitana was next to you, her hand briefly brushing yours as she shifted positions. Even such a small, seemingly innocent gesture made Alexia’s eyes narrow from a few meters away.

“Relax, hermana,” you muttered under your breath, catching Alexia’s gaze as she folded her arms and raised a brow at you.

“What was that?” Alexia called out, her tone playful but laced with mock authority.

“Nothing, capi,” you replied sweetly, throwing her an exaggerated smile as the rest of the team chuckled.

Aitana leaned closer, her voice low enough for only you to hear. “Do you think she’s ever going to stop watching us like that?”

You laughed softly, squeezing her hand when you were sure no one else was looking. “Give her time. She’ll chill out eventually.”

~~~

Later that evening, the team gathered in the hotel lounge to relax. Someone had brought out a deck of cards, and the air was filled with laughter as everyone settled into groups, chatting and playing games. You and Aitana sat together on one of the couches, her arm draped casually over the backrest behind you.

Alexia was nearby, her eyes darting between her card game with Keira, Ingrid and Mapi and where you sat with Aitana.

“You’re staring again, Ale,” Mapi teased, smirking as she dealt the next round.

“I am not staring,” Alexia shot back, though her cheeks betrayed a faint flush. “I’m just... keeping an eye on things.”

“Let them be, capi,” Keira said with a laugh, glancing over at you and Aitana. “They’re cute together. It’s not like she’s a kid anymore.”

“She’s still my baby sister,” Alexia muttered.

Across the room, you were telling Aitana a story from your childhood, one that had her giggling uncontrollably. Her laugh was infectious, and soon you were both leaning into each other, completely lost in your own little bubble.

“Seriously, what did I just say about keeping your hands to yourself?” Alexia’s voice rang out, loud enough for the whole room to hear.

The room went silent for a moment before breaking into laughter. Even you couldn’t hold back a chuckle as you turned to face her.

“Ale, she’s not even touching me!” you protested, throwing your hands up in mock surrender.

“She was about to,” Alexia said, her lips twitching as she tried not to smile.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head.

~~~

Later, after the team had dispersed to their rooms, you and Aitana strolled through the quiet hallway. Her hand brushed yours again, and this time, she laced her fingers through yours without hesitation.

“Alexia’s never going to stop being like that, is she?” Aitana asked, though her tone was light.

You shrugged, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “She’s overprotective, but she means well. Besides, I think she’s warming up to the idea of us. Slowly.”

Aitana smiled, leaning into you as you reached your door. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

You kissed her softly, letting the moment linger before stepping inside. If Alexia still had her reservations, that was her problem. You were happy, and Aitana was worth every teasing comment, every protective glare.

[guksfairy]

pink digital camera | JJK

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | PLAYLIST

wc: 2.6k

notes: jk and y/n's friends meet, hyeonjae and areum crushing on each other <3, nsfw: they fuck in a parking lot, jk records y/n, jk cums in y/n (STAY SAFE PLEASE)

“Fuck I’m so hungry,”

“I’d assume so-we’ve been trying to get you out of your studio for the past 2 hours,” Hyeonjae responds to Tag with a chuckle. The two, in front of Jungkook and Jungwon, on their way to Jungkook’s car. It had been a good while since the four friends have been able to have a proper meal together so they took advantage. It took a long time to convince Tag to leave his studio but eventually they succeeded.

Finally reaching the car, the four friends get in with Jungkook as the driver of course.

“Yo JK what’s this?” Hyeonjae, who was sat in the passenger seat, asks holding a pink digital camera. Your pink digital camera. Fuck.

You must have forgotten it in his car from when you both went on a picnic late in the evening to watch the sunset near the Han River. You had commented to Jungkook how you had seen a TikTok of a girl and her boyfriend who bought a camera just to capture their dates and thought it was a cute idea. So after a quick trip to the store, and a couple thousand won later, you had started filming your dates.

Jungkook is taken away from his thoughts when he hears a jingle next to him signaling that the camera had been turned on. Hyeonjae, who was intrigued and looking at the camera’s quality, was completely oblivious to the panic set on Jungkook’s face.

“Is it yours?” Tag asks from the backseat and Jungkook is quick to grab the camera from Hyeonjae’s grasp, placing it gently on his side of the car in the pocket of the door.

Maybe he should have said something because now the three were laughing at his reaction.

“You seeing somebody, Kook?” Jungwon asks patting his shoulder and Jungkook can only clear his throat and shrug his hand away.

“I think our Kook is in love,” Hyeonjae playfully adds and Jungkook replies, “You guys are just hungry,” and turns on the car.

“Sure, that’s the reason Hyeonjae found a pink camera in your car and you got all nervous,” he laughs and leans back in his seat. Jungkook rolls his eyes and looks down at the camera that’s slightly visible. Feeling a little better now that the guys were focused on their phones.

Had Hyeonjae pressed the little camera button on the side he would have been met with pictures of you and Jungkook. It’s not something ideal right now.

“I could probably have finished my song by now,” Tag says, commenting on how long it was taking for their food to arrive.

“Hyung we barely placed our order. It hasn’t even been five minutes,” Jungwon replies laughing at the older’s grumpy state knowing he’ll cheer up once he has some good food in his system.

“Still,” Tag mutters and the rest chuckle.

“Hyeonjae?” A voice from behind Jungkook calls out, grabbing the attention of all the guys.

“Areum!” Hyeonjae is too quick to stand up and slightly bow at Areum in which she does the same. Meanwhile, Jungkook is once again panicked.

Areum was part of your friend group and here she was talking to Hyeonjae for some reason. He had no reason to worry really. He had never talked to her or any of your friends but there had been a couple close calls.

He remembers when you and Areum had to attend a study group with two guys from your guys’ class and how annoyed Jungkook had gotten because he wanted to take you out that night. He had made his way to the library that night and managed to get you to meet him in an area of the library where no one really went.

Let’s simply say you had a steamy meet up and almost got caught. Had it not been for Areum calling your name from afar, Jungkook wouldn’t have gotten the chance to walk a good distance from you while you fixed your skirt and hair.

“Uh Areum these are my friends Jungkook, Jungwon, and Taegyun but we call him Tag,” Hyeonjae, Jungkook had taken notice, was slightly fidgeting as he introduced them. Huh…

The guys all waved and she did the same, “Hi, I’m Areum,” she places a piece of her hair behind her ear, “You guys are welcome to join me and my friends. We just arrived-unless you guys are on your way out,” she says and all three guys look at Hyeonjae for his response.

Wait. Her and her friends? Does that mean you too? Jungkook knew you would be staying in a class later than usual today with a couple classmates but that’s pretty much all he was aware of.

Should he check your location to see if you’re here? Jungkook doesn’t get a chance to when Hyeonjae replies, “No, we just ordered a while ago. We wouldn’t want to bother,”

“No it’s fine! The more people, the merrier,” she says and Hyeonjae can’t say no. Jungkook sees Tag and Jungwon wanting to tease him for getting so visibly nervous.

“Okay,” Hyeonjae follows Areum to the other side of the restaurant and the guys take that as an invite as well. The three get up and follow. Jungkook, at the very back, a bit concerned. How should he act with you in front of his friends? Ignore you? No, he can’t do that very well but he knows he can’t kiss and hug you either.

The guys take notice that the area in which you guys are eating had suddenly become fancier? The chandeliers were different, the area was quieter, and the people around looked like they’ve never seen anything less than a billion won.

He hears it. That sound. One of his favorite sounds in the world. Your laugh. Your laugh that he loves so much. Your laugh that lets him know that everything is okay.

Jungkook visibly relaxes as you come into view. You’re wearing the same outfit from this morning only now you’re wearing a hoodie. You had decided to wear Jungkook’s sweater that he had left in your room a couple nights ago. Noticing that the day was cloudy you decided to be warm and wear his sweater that was too big but comfortable.

“Guys, this is Hyeonjae, Tag, Jungwon, and…uhm I’m sorry what was your name again?” Areum says looking directly at Jungkook. From the corner of his eye he sees you smile, “Jungkook,”

“Right! Jungkook! Oh and these are my friends Eunwoo, Jimin, and Y/N,”

“Will you guys be joining us?”

Hyeonjae says a simple yes and Eunwoo nods, “I’ll go request a bigger table,” he stands up and walks to an employee.

“I should go inform them we switched tables,” Jungwon says and goes up to the same server Eunwoo was speaking to.

The server is quick in telling the group to follow her and lead them to a much bigger table, enough to fit 10 guests.

Your friends on one side and Jungkook’s on the other. This…was weird.

“So how do you two know each other?” you ask pointing to your friend and Hyeonjae. Jungkook feels comfort in your voice.

“We’re partners in digital art class,” Hyeonjae says.

“Yeah Hyeonjae is really funny. Sometimes we get in trouble,” Areum says and you smile but miss the slight pink pigment in her cheeks.

Eunwoo and Jimin conversate with Jungwon and Tag leaving you and Jungkook sat in front of each other, slightly confused of how you two should act right now.

Jungkook decides to take his phone out.

Me: that’s the fourth hoodie you’ve stolen from me pretty

Your phone dings and you smile.

Y/N🎀💓: Stolen? You left this on my bedroom floor 🙄❤️

Me: it’s not my fault i’m always distracted when i go over

Y/N🎀💓: So it’s mine?

Me: when a pretty girl starts kissing my neck and talking about how bad she wants me i just can’t resist 😞

“Jungkook,” Tag nudges his shoulder and he looks up, putting his phone away and aware that the food is being served and his plate was in the server’s hand.

“Oh yeah that’s mine,” the plate is placed in front of him and the server tells them if they need anything to call her over before leaving them to enjoy their meal.

“Sorry about him, he’s been distracted lately,” Tag apologizes.

“Everything okay?” Eunwoo asks and Jungkook nods.

“Our theory is that he’s love sick,” Jungwon says and everyone at the table is quick to ask who it is like they were life long friends. You sit in your seat with your cheeks feeling warm knowing that he’s being like this because of you.

“Is it somebody we would know?” Jimin says genuinely intrigued.

“It’s nothing really,” no matter how badly Jungkook wants to gloat about you, he decides to hold back.

“He says it’s nothing but I found a pink camera in his car earlier,” Hyeonjae says and you audibly gasp.

Areum turns to you and you quickly make an excuse, “Sorry I thought I saw someone I knew,” and you grab your chopsticks and spoon to eat. Jungkook wants to kiss you so bad. You’re so cute.

“So, Jungkook?” Jimin says and Jungkook lets out a chuckle, “This food looks really good,” he starts to grab his utensils and the group lets out a disappointed sigh. You let out a small laugh and his friends make comments like ‘I bet she’s so out of his league and that’s why he won’t tell us’ that make your friends laugh.

Your group surprisingly got along with his very well. There was a couple jokes here and there but overall a ton of laughs. Jungkook always making sure to watch you every time because he loved it. You’d kick his leg gently under the table and he’d do the same. He was just ready to get out of here. It’s been a long hour of you being near him and not kissing you.

Eunwoo and Hyeonjae ended up splitting the tab afterwards and now you were all stood outside the restaurant.

“That was fun! We should do it again,” Areum says and Hyeonjae is quick to answer, “Yeah sure!” Tag laughs.

“Well I hope you guys have a good rest of your days. I’ll see you guys around campus,” Jimin comments and the rest bid their goodbyes. You making sure to subtly send a kiss to Jungkook in which he pretends to catch it and place it on his cheek.

Your group walks in the opposite direction from his and Jungkook can only smile. He’s defiantly going to kiss you nonstop later tonight.

“So Hyeonjae…when are you going to ask Areum out?” Jungwon teases as the four get in the car.

Tag laughs, “Yeah Hyeonjae. Oh Areum of course I’ll eat with you and my friends because you’re so pretty and I can’t help but blush and-” Tag is smacked by Hyeonjae but it only makes him laugh more.

“You guys are idiots,” he says but you can clearly tell his face was flushed.

“You were blushing like crazy every time she talked to you,” Jungkook says driving out of the parking lot.

“Really?” he didn’t even try to deny it this time. Hyeonjae wondered if Areum took notice.

“Yeah but she was blushing a lot too,” and this eases his nerves.

“Anyways I’ll RSVP to the wedding now to save time,” Jungwon jokes and the three laugh as Hyeonjae sighs staring out the car window.

“Hi baby-”

Jungkook couldn’t help it. He needed to kiss you. Without breaking the kiss, he closes the door behind you two and walks you two to your living room couch.

You’re straddling him as the kiss shows no sign of stopping anytime soon. His tongue slipping into your mouth and you follow suite. The kiss getting messy very quick but you couldn’t care less.

After both of your lips were swollen you pull away, intending to remove his jacket when you feel something in his pocket.

“What’s this-oh,” you take out the item from his pocket. It was your camera.

“I brought it so you could transfer the pictures and videos to your computer and send them to me,” Jungkook says trying to even out his breath. His gaze still on your wet pink lips. His fingers touch your lips innocently before they move to your jaw. He lets his arm fall to your waist to hold you on his lap securely.

“Sure we can do that,” you say and put the camera aside before leaning into him for a warm embrace.

“You looked so handsome today,”

“You look so gorgeous all the time,”

You giggle and look at him before pressing a kiss on his nose and going back to your position from before and loving the warmth, “That was weird right? My friends and yours just randomly eating together,”

“I think it was mostly because Areum and Hyeonjae like each other,”

“What?!”

“You didn’t notice?” Jungkook asks. You’re now sat properly on his lap again.

“I was too focused on my boyfriend to notice anybody else,” you says and run your hands through his hair. Jungkook closes his eyes at the nice feeling of your manicured hand just running through his hair.

“Yeah the guys were teasing Hyeonjae the entire car ride,”

“That’s mean. Hyeonjae’s cute,” you say absentmindedly and Jungkook opens an eye.

“Cute?”

“You know what I mean, baby,” you smile and he closes his eye again.

“They’d be cute together,” you note and Jungkook hums in agreement.

“By the way…Hyeonjae said he found the camera…he didn’t happen to look at the last video on it, right?” you ask grabbing the camera and turning it on.

“He turned on the camera but I grabbed it before he could do anything else,” you hum at his response.

“Okay. Good,”

“Why?” ”Did you forget what we last recorded on this?”

“Oh,”

It almost slipped his mind. Last time he filmed something. He couldn’t help it. Your moans were so pretty and his phone was too far. The camera lay on the center console as Jungkook’s dick slid in and out of you with ease. You just sounded so angelic and he wanted to capture it so bad.

“Koo please-” you were close and Jungkook knew it so he said fuck it and grabbed your pink camera you decorated in cute stickers before turning it on and pressing record with flash immediately. It’s not like anyone would see you either. Jungkook made sure to park far from others. He captured your sweet expressions and your angelic begs for him.

“Cum for me baby-fuck. Cum for me darling,” and for the second time that night you felt the warm feeling in your tummy before your release. That was enough for Jungkook to quickly feel the tight feeling and release his warm cum into you.

Your chest heaving up and down trying to regain your breathing as Jungkook, still recording, moved the camera to where his dick was slowly pulling out and his cum spilled down your ass and onto the sweater laid under you.

“Fuck darling,” he pressed the record button again to stop the video, “You’re gonna need to send me that so I could jack off to something when you’re not around,” he joked.

“Koo you have hundreds of pictures and videos of us already,” you say in between breaths.

“Yeah but this one might be my favorite,” he winks.

[melled42]

Idk if this is a huge request or not, but could you explain more about Bell? (The shitten in your au)

I would be thankful, take care.

Yeah, ive done like... 3 pieces of her max but she gets SO many asks lol. the story isn't really ready for her yet, and i'd like to finish what im working on before i do more with her, but i'll give the basic rundown.

she LITTERALY started as a joke baby post but she got so much interaction i said i'd expand on her design and now she seems to just have a following of simps (oops, like lamb like daughter)

most of the old ideas for ewen and nari with her are out of date now on the art, but heres a bunch of plot and some unposted sketches under cut

Nari and Ewen are married and leading the cult still. all the siblings have kids, grandkids and even great grandkids (excluding shamura). Its only after they decide having a child is someone for them to love and raise, not someone who they're forcing the cycle of trauma on that they have Bell. And they adore her. While growing up, one by one, the former bishops, all her aunts, uncles, and shamura decided it was time to peacefully end their long lives. So she sees death as a good thing, the satisfying end to a long life story. So when Ewen and Narinder are ready to die together, even though they say she doesn't have to, she takes on the crown and ends if for them with a last "i love you" between them. She runs the cult now which is more themed around their shared neck wound "rings" and their relationship than just the lamb. She's called "the black sheep" by her followers (or queen if they're kinky, princess when shes younger). she wields the crown as a pair of horns and a sythe, sine the cult of the black rings also referenced Ewen's large black horns and she keeps up the theme.

Baal and Aym are her "brothers" (more of her body guards and technically her cousins but she refuses to call them anything else) and her body guards, staying after their master's death. They've known her since she was a baby and still treat her as one sometimes. She's VERY protective over them, but also will bully them sometimes, like kicking their asses when training and saying they're just going easy on her like when she was a kid, knowing full well she's overpowered by the crown.

Because shes such an oddity, the mystic seller assigned one of their followers to keep an eye on her and, much like her "ba ba" she found the overpowered demigod shes now obsessed with. With some help from Ewen before they passed, they were able to translate their glyphs. Now that helper follows her around disguised as a poor imitation of a regular mortal to better understand her and the mortal realm. Or at least thats what she convinced them to do since she wants them around <3 probably not to their masters liking lol. I haven't decided on a name yet. Bell eventually give them the purple crown (they/it)

Before they left, Narinder was trying to reawaken the crowns, whether for the memory of his siblings, or that the cult was growing too large to be centered on the red crown. They're not very powerful right now and Bell is the leader of the others, more like a babysitter.

The blue crown is with Kalliope (kalli for short) (she/her), a distant relative of Kallamar's who had to fight, both physically and socially, with all her other of age relatives to get the chance, since Kallamar's polycule made a LOT of kids and grand kids. She's kind of bitchy about it and whines about everyone not respecting her or how hard she worked. shes a flamboyant cuttlefish and trans femme. also the crown is worn like an earring. Bell has little tolerance for her and they have a lot of bitchy girl fights.

The green crown is with isop (a kinda combo of isopod and aesop) (he/him) who is a rubber ducky isopod. he's Leshy's great great grandkid, and really only god the crown because no one else on the peaceful forest farm leshy put together in his later years really wanted it and figured it meant free babysitting. he's pretty young and small with a fascination for chaos and violence that only little kids without developed social perception can have, though he more watches at this point. The others tend to carry him or he rolls around in a little ball. The crown is worn like glasses.

The orange crown is with Mycelia (lia for short) (they/them plural) who is a homunculus mushroomo made through experimentation by Heket and Sozo before they died. they're the only one who is actually older than Bell. They're undying because they're a hive mind of all the mushroomo, who have been progressively growing. They can see everything the others see, can spout new bodies when needed and even feed on their own dead bodies. Bell sometimes just kills them when they're frustrated with them or other things. They'd be a threat but they're very monotone and emotionless about pretty much everything and don't care. They've worked with the red crown just because death is a natural boon to fungus and keeps them alive. The orange crown is worn as a necklace.

Heres some sketches since I haven't been able to get the designs to my liking but people keep asking so :T

[arcanewhoosh]

The Bolter

2.2k words

Proofread? Y/N

TW: Minor descriptions of injuries

Arcane Series Finale spoilers

In the aftermath of the Battle of Piltover, you find yourself desperately clinging to a toy monkey head with nails hammered into it.

If you were to ask the regular citizens of Piltover and Zaun, the regular duration of a search and rescue mission is around seven days. While this was, in a way, correct, but it would only reach that many days if there was enough proof that the missing person was alive.

Standard operating procedure only allows a max of fifty-one hours.

You've been searching for nine days, fifteen hours, and twenty-seven minutes.

We don't have the resources right now, there's been too many casualties.

Alone.

There’re too many places to look through. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put the thought in your head-

Through every single cooling duct leading into the Hex Gate.

-the fuse assembly could've survived by other means.

"I have to try, Cait." You say as you put on your pack, loaded with first aid supplies and recovery equipment. Caitlyn moves to grab your arm. Her grip firm, but she's not holding you in any way that could actually prevent you from leaving. You still stop and wait for her to finish what she wants to say.

"It's been over a week. You've barely slept the entire time, and I can't keep changing the subject when Vi asks me where you've gone." She tugs at your arm lightly, willing you to sit down on a nearby chair.

It had been ten days since the end of the battle. Ten days since Piltover and Zaun almost met their demise. Ten days since so many lives were lost; all for power.

Vi was -is- a mess. She could barely pull herself up from the ledge you fished her out of back at the top of the tower. Dread had already begun to creep its way across your body as you made your way up to where Jinx and Ekko's balloon had crashed. The feeling only got worse as you climbed higher, seeing no signs of its three occupants. You started running faster up steps, climbing ladders with speed you never thought possible for you. For a moment the dread had ceded, your adrenaline taking over. But then there was the explosion. And then... And then eventually you heard Vi's cries.

Your body stiffens as you shut your eyes, willing the memory away. "You're gonna have to cover for me a bit longer, Cait." You say as you softly pry your arm free of her grasp. "With how loud that explosion was, there's no way the assembly could've just survived."

"If it was anyone else, maybe I would've stopped searching already. But you and I both know this isn't just anyone else, no matter which side you're on." Caitlyn looks at you for a few moments, you know we'll enough that she's already wavering in her previous attempt to dissuade you.

"You wouldn't have mentioned it at all if you didn't think-"

"I know, I know." She finally says. "I wouldn't have given you the schematics for the structure either."

She sighs, an all too familiar indicator that you've won. "Just... Don't push yourself too much. I know I'm the one that gave you hope that she survived, but at some point..." She trails off. You know she wants to say that she doesn't want you to have your hopes crushed, or to put yourself in unnecessary danger. Especially since the inner ducts have been unstable since the explosion.

"I promise, I'll be careful, Cait. You know me." You shrug and smile at her, hoping that the nonchalant display is enough to convince her that you aren't fatigued out of your mind.

The look on her face says she doesn't buy it. But she says nothing about her doubts, instead nodding your way. "Be careful, I'm holding you to that."

"I will."

"Fucking air vents." You curse as you drop your pack by the wall of the duct. The thump it makes echoing around the cavernous tunnel. You've been walking uphill to get back up to the entrance, but the strain from working non-stop for over a week, the sleep deprivation, and the mental exhaustion was bound to catch up. Maybe Cait was onto something with the whole resting thing.

You let out a huff at the thought. You didn't have time to rest, what if Jinx was somewhere hurt, with no one around- she'd find a way to pull herself out of here and escape-- or what if she was trapped somewhere -this is my second sweep of the vents and all the obstructed entrances have been cleared- You lean against the tunnel wall before slumping gingerly to the ground. Your ankle hadn't fully healed from the battle, and you still had bandages all over your midsection from injuries you sustained.

You take a few steadying breaths before pulling out a map of the vents, marking the sections you've done your sweep of. Your vision swims for a moment, and it's enough for you to shut the map and lean you head against the wall. You close your eyes and steady your breathing, willing yourself to hold it together.

You're no use to me dead. She would say right about now. I'm still alive and you still say I'm useless. You'd reply.

"Yeah, but I say it lovingly." She harks back from her chair, tinkering away at her robot bug thing that she and Isha were using for their little fight club. You turn from the pin board you were making- places in Zaun where new checkpoints had been placed. You drop the purple pen you were using-Isha had stolen the red marker you usually use-- to write and make your way over to Jinx.

"Lovingly?" You ask as you turn her chair around, a grin plastered on your face. She rolls her eyes, but her own smile betrays her attempt at brushing you off. "Don't think too hard about it, you might hurt yourself."

"Looks like you've been the one thinking about it." She scoffs at you, turning her chair back to face her work station. Though she doesn't turn fast enough for the pink dusting her cheeks to escape your notice. "I said don't think too much about it."

"Hey." You say softly, turning her chair around again and pulling up a chair for yourself so you were eye-level. She's pouting, so you know you're not in trouble. "I'm sorry for teasing." You take her left hand and place a kiss on her knuckles. She makes a face.

"Ew, don't kiss my hands, they're covered in grease."

"When are they not covered in grease?"

"Didn't you just apologize for teasing?"

"I'm sorry for teasing, again."

"You're lucky-" She clamps her mouth shut. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning again. The last thing you want is for her to close herself off. You know she's being careful. For someone known to be completely reckless at spontaneous times, she could be just as calculating and reserved. She's slipped a few times already, not explicitly saying I love you, but accidentally implying it or using some variation of the word during a casual conversation. You're no better, but so far, you've been able to avoid slipping.

Maybe you both thought it was too soon to say. Three or four months of you acknowledging that there was something between the two of you might be too soon, but there was a revolution going on, and revolutions are rarely peaceful and without casualties. Who knows what might happen in a few months, weeks, days, or hours. But you don't know what the next few weeks have in store for you.

"I know I'm lucky." You say. Hoping that the implication of, I know I'm lucky you love me, is enough.

But it wasn't, and now I'm here.

You jolt forward, blinking a few times to clear your blurry vision. Had you dozed off? For how long?

You sigh and rub your face with your hands. You do need rest, just for a little bit, then you'd get back to searching for her. You're no use to her dead, after all.

The walk back to your apartment is agonizing. The second you decided that it was time to take a break, your whole body decided that it was the best time for you to feel your exhaustion in its entirety. Your pack was suddenly heavier, your ankle decided to start swelling, and the wound on your side thought it was the perfect time to start bleeding again. Despite your body's attempt to suddenly render you immobile, you're able to meander back to your door after a horrible confrontation with five flights of stairs. Damn that faulty elevator.

You decide that having a view from your balcony isn't really all that worth it as you jam your keys into the lock and make your way inside. You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you pass through the door. The lock never clicked open.

You draw your pistol quietly, and scan the open living room and kitchen area of your home. Deeming the areas clear, you start making your way towards the hallway leading to your bedroom, pistol aimed and ready. Who on the Runeterra's green earth would be targeting you? Leftover Noxians? No. Turn coats like Maddie? Unlikely. Someone from the Undercity with a grudge? Unless they figured out who I am, I doubt it.

You hear a creaking sound from a door to your left, and you quickly kick it open and aim your pistol at the intruder.

"Jeez, you'd think a girl would get a warmer welcome after coming back from the dead." The intruder says, leaning back on a chair and idly scanning a vinyl.

You stare, dumbfounded. A part of you fully believing you've started hallucinating from the exhaustion, or the blood loss, you're not sure anymore. Your intruder, however, seemed to find your predicament funny.

"What, got nothing to say to me?" She asks. She finally turns to look at you, but the grin she puts on quickly falters when she notices the blood from your reopened wound seeping through your uniform. And then she's in front of you, one hand cupping the side of your face, the other hovering just above spots of blood on your shirt.

She asks if you're okay, but you're not sure. You still haven't confirmed whether on not you're hallucinating. So you do the only logical thing in the world and wrap your arms around her.

"Jinx?" Your voice cracks as you utter her name, and you wait. Wait for her to disappear, for your tired mind to catch up and be able to distinguish what is real and what isn't, because a part of you was only ever really using the tunnel search as a coping mechanism and that-

"I'm here, it's okay." She says as she wraps her arms around you and returns your embrace. If it were any other day, it would be you comforting her, offering her words of reassurance, support, affirmation. But this isn't any other day. Because you thought for the last ten days, twenty-three hours, and eight minutes, that she had died in an explosion.

But she didn't, and now you're sure that she's alive, that she's here, and alive, and breathing and-

"I love you." The words spill out of your mouth before you can think of anything else. How could you think of anything else? When those words, you realize now, have been long overdue.

She laughs. You realize how much you've missed hearing her laugh once your tears start falling. "I'm sorry." You say. "I thought, you died."

You stop yourself from hissing as her hug tightens and pain shoots up from your side. You could stomach the discomfort for this. You wouldn't let her go for anything, not again. "I'm sorry I took so long, bubs."-Your heart soars at the nickname- "There were a few... loose ends I had to take care of before coming to find you." She wipes away your tears as she says this, her hands carefully brushing your hair out of your face.

"It's okay, nothing else matters now." Just you you wanted to add, but refrain from speaking any further. You pull away just far enough to look at her, still not letting her go. It's her, alright. Her hair is different, and she doesn't have her pants that that one enforcer described as a half-eaten circus tent, but it's her.

"You're not upset?" She has the audacity to ask.

"I spent the last week and a half thinking you were dead, upset is the last thing I'm feeling.” A pause. “Wait no, actually, I spent nine days wandering around the cooling vents to look for greasy ass hand prints on walls."

"Hey."

"And I couldn't find any so you must've washed your hands for once-"

"Okay, smart ass, I get it." She says, rolling her eyes before pulling you in for a kiss. Suddenly all the exhaustion and pain you're feeling is gone, and your mind blanks. The only thought running through your head is Jinx and I missed you, and I love you, I love you, I love you as you pull her closer to you.

"Easy, tiger." She puts a hand on your chest to stop you from chasing after her when she pulls away. You let out a huff. She laughs. "You're bleeding, I need to take a look at that first."

"Since when has me being injured ever stopped you?"

She grins at you. "Being away from me that long has you down bad, huh?"  You grumble something about her being unappreciative, and she responds by pulling your face down and placing a kiss on your nose.

"You're lucky I love you." 

[leviathanxprincess]

Introducing the Homicipher Characters to Your Plushies - Pt. 2

The Homicipher Characters come to you in hopes for whatever insanity they plan to drag you into, you instead have a different plan! Showing them your plushies!

Notes: Gender Neutral Reader ! This part includes Mr. Hugeface, Mr. Stitch, Mr. Masque, and Mr. Wheelchair !

Part one here !

Mr. Hugeface

His little human is so cute!!! Look at these small little creatures that they adore!!!!

Honestly they remind him of you!! Because that's what he sees when he looks at you.

I think he already adores plushies to begin with, not that there's an extreme amount in his world but we do know that they're there! We have seen teddy bears!

So once he knows that you not only love them, you have an entire collection, he's so endeared!!

He wants to meet all of them and know their names.

He gives you head pats with his finger because you're just such an adorable little human!

He looks at you and your plushies with such love. Not sure he's ever been more content in his life than this moment.

Mr. Stitch

Such a cute human! He 1000% had other plans to take you on some of incredibly dangerous adventure, but you started talking about your plushies and how could he stop you?

It's fine, he can have his fun later. For now, he'll sit down and enjoy listening to you show off your tiny little creatures.

Feels a small sense of comradery with them? Like look, they all have stitches too!!!

He hopes because of that fact that when you look at them now you think of him.

Admittedly he will get bored eventually, so it might be something you have to do in small amounts if you have that many plushies.

But it's fine!!! As long as he doesn't have to sit still for too long he'll listen each time.

Doesn't really retain most of the information you tell him but it's fine, he's too busy squishing your face anyway for you to quiz him.

Mr. Masque

He's excited to get acquainted with all your plushies!!!

Will learn the names and everything just for you! And will acknowledge how important they are to you.

Can't hold himself back from giving you a bunch of kisses. He can't help but find you so adorable.

Will perform little magic tricks with them if you allow him.

Nothing insane, actually he more of less uses it for cute little things.

You're sad or hurt? One of your favorite plushies will suddenly appear on your lap.

You'll walk into a room and one of them will be holding out a bouquet of flowers or some other sort of gift for you.

His surprises with them can jumpscare you sometimes, but you always adore them nonetheless because they will be sweet gestures in some way.

Mr. Wheelchair

He doesn't really come off as the type to ever really care about any sort of plush toy. At least not at the point he is now.

But it does make you happy, so he will listen.

And I think by the time you finish talking, he's gonna see the appeal.

He doesn't understand how such an object can bring such comfort, but he'll acknowledge that fact for you.

He notices how you hold them when you're upset or suffering in some way.

Eventually he wants to try hold them as well when he's having a hard time.

Surprisingly, he finds a lot of comfort in them too afterward.

[no-thanks-im-stuffed]

I have a Gravity Falls Theory I've been meaning to write down for a WHILE so here goes:

Stanford Pines is no genius and I'm gonna pick apart every single one of "Ford's" scientific inventions/accomplishments to prove it.

Grab a beverage, this is gonna be a long one

[Gravity Falls spoilers, a little bit of The Book of Bill]

Contents:

Ford's "Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness"

Codes and Secrets

Inventions

Ford's Tragic Backstory

McGucket

Why Would He Do This??

After Weirdmageddon

TLDR

1. Ford's "Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness"

I can support most of my claims with the help of Journal 3. Unless Ford had actual, scientific research papers, this is the only research we have from him and it's... not scientific in the slightest. Ford treats his "research notes" like a personal diary. I get that they had to design the Journal to be entertaining to kids, but from a scientific lense (which is what he wants to be perceived through), most of Ford's discoveries are very surface level and sometimes (especially later on) border on paranoid conspiracy theorist rambling.

His Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness is the reason he came to Gravity Falls in the first place. His goal is clear:

but, on the very next page, the ramblings start.

It gets worse once he finds the invisible ink.

"The pyramids were built to appease Bill!" sure, buddy.

(And yes, Bill confirms most of these ramblings about his history in The Book of Bill, but a) he too could be lying about this and b) I don't think he had a nice chat with Ford about who he tricked and tormented to build his portal. It wouldn't really fit into the timeline.)

The one bit of "science" I found him doing was his experimentation with the Bottomless Pit. He threw objects in the hole and only saw some stuff coming back while other stuff went missing. Ford hypothesizes it might be a "Möbius Pit" and even spends enough time experimenting on it that he found out "nothing ever seems to get lost on Friday the Thirteenth". Credit where credit is due.

Anyway, he's documenting all kinds of fantastical creatures in the Journal - adding his whimsical commentary and making random assumptions about stuff without any scientific basis. As he admits himself later on, this is getting him nowhere to actually start his Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness, let alone finish it. It's been SIX YEARS.

BUDDY WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

It took a spark of "divine intervention" to even start doing any meaningful research and it was just Bill telling him "hey there's a weirdness dimension btw".

Ford even admits that he didn't come up with it himself. The next pages are the first actually scientific looking ones so far, but more on that in the Inventions section.

He doesn't really advance on his Weirdness Theory for a while (see McGucket chapter for more), but later in the Journal, Ford has a little adventure with Dipper, talking about "The True Theory of Weirdness". He drops a "weird" jelly bean on the floor and watches it roll uphill towards Gravity Falls. He then states that Gravity Falls is a "Weirdness Magnet" and every oddity is eventually drawn to this place. Which is not a theory scientifically speaking, more like an unproven hypothesis. He didn't develop a model to, let's say, predict which oddity will find its way to Gravity Falls next or when it will happen.

"I explained that I felt in my bones that my arrival at this town, and perhaps Dipper's, too, was not an accident. That we were part of some greater fate the town had in store for us." Very scientific.

2. Codes and Secrets

The Journal has several hidden messages from a good handful of characters, some more encoded than others.

We all know about the Map leading to the secrets of Nathaniel Northwest's fraud from the show. Ford found it somewhere in the library.

It just needed to be folded. Layton ass puzzle. A 12 year old figured it out. Ford couldn't do it. Even Mabel is poking fun at him.

Now on to the ciphers.

One of them is a letter from Blendin, encrypted with the Vigenère cipher. To this, Stanford "aced cryptology" Pines says the following:

He was given the key and still couldn't make sense of it. Of course a cool puzzle for people reading the Journal, but not really helping Ford with upholding his image of being an undeniable genius.

Ford himself mainly uses the Atbash and Caesar ciphers, both being a) literally thousands of years old, b) incredibly simple and c) not his own invention.

Bill uses two symbol substition ciphers.

Now I don't know about you, but if a divine being chose me as the genius of the century to inspire me and said being left tiny hidden messages in my diary, I would stop at nothing to try and decipher what they're trying to tell me. For some reason, Ford did not do this. The first message Bill leaves says "I'VE BEEN INSIDE YOUR MIND SIXER, I KNOW YOUR SECRETS". He could have seen all of this coming wayyy earlier (or just had yet another red flag to ignore).

Anyway, I accidentally solved the code before finishing the Journal just to discover that Bill is literally handing him the solution on a silver platter towards the end.

Girl, what do you mean "???" ??

Now, I know Ford at this point is incredibly sleep deprived, paranoid and traumatized. But come on. If I can solve it 6 coffees in while dissociating, our genius can find the solution to Bill's alphabet using the A1Z26 cipher that he put in the journal himself. Plus, as mentioned, he could have deciphered his alphabet way before The Betrayal when his mind was still sound.

So again, not a good look for Ford in the whole genius department.

3. Inventions

Now let's take a look a the inventions which are most commonly associated with Stanford:

The Portal

The Bunker

The Magnet Gun

The Quantum Destabilizer

The Perpetual Motion Machine

The Portal is not one of Ford's inventions, that much is pretty clear. He "comes up with the idea" after Bill told him about some kind of "weirdness dimension".

Now maybe Ford built the portal. Or McGucket built it (which I find more likely due to his tendency to build large scale metal structures) and Ford helped him. We can't really say for sure.

What we CAN say for sure is that McGucket left the day before the big test, which means the portal was basically finished at that point. So if there was still any work left to be done, it would have been minimal and "even Stanley" could figure it out without help, so Ford probably could have, too.

The Bunker. Designed and built by McGucket (and possibly the lumberjacks before zapping them with the Memory Gun), including the death trap of a security system.

Notice the wording. McGucket insisted he could do it on HIS own. But then went out of his way to ask the lumberjacks and not Ford to help excavate the whole thing.

Why? Why not include Ford? Maybe because McGucket could tell Ford was overworked. Maybe because he thought even with Ford's help, they wouldn't have been able to do it in a timely manner and he didn't want to memory zap more people than neccessary, I'm not sure.

Anyway, the Bunker consists of the Bunker itself, a Security Room, an Observation Room and a Storage Room. On top of that, a Temperature Control Apparatus, a Cooling System and a Cryogenic Tube.

Again with the phrasing. "HIS skill for construction". "telephone HE built". "my assistant really topped HIMSELF with the security precautions". "once F starts inventing, HE can't stop".

A man like Ford wouldn't pass up on an opportunity to tell the world about his own accomplishments, yet they are strangely missing in these pages. However, the sketches documenting McGucket's work have become more technical than they've ever been. They even have small annotations that seem as if Ford asked McGucket what he was currently building.

"F has explained" implies McGucket was once again doing this on his own. Why else would he need to explain anything to Ford if they were doing this together? Plus, again, surely Ford would have mentioned something, anything, if he had participated in any way.

The things he DID mention is that he found a mole man skeleton and "Shifty", the shapeshifting creature. And he saved McGucket once Shifty broke out of their cage (Remember this for later, it'll come in handy). And he conducts tests on Shifty (remember this as well).

On to the Magnet Gun.

Again, passive form. If Ford had modified the gun himself, he would have told us. Chances are it was once again McGucket. Or it was just taken from Crash Site Omega as Ford says in the show that he and McGucket came down there often to loot the UFO for tech.

Lastly: The Quantum Destabilizer.

He actually admits he worked on it. However, he spent 30 years between dimensions. In these 30 years he couldn't find anyone (including himself) to get the Destabilizer working. The Other McGucket, however, was able to do it in less than a week.

Ford claims he was missing a suitable power source which The Other McGucket found, but there's no way of knowing if there was more to those "minor adjustments" to Ford's blaster than Ford would like to admit.

The only invention left is the Perpetual Motion Machine which I will save for the "Tragic Backstory" section.

Honorable mentions:

The Hyperdrive needed to power the portal:

"F's mechanical know-how" vs. "my keen intuition." implying Ford merely found the Hyperdrive, but McGucket extracted it safely.

So the Hyperdrive was looted from Crash Site Omega. Plus, McGucket was the one to realize it was even needed in the first place.

While between dimensions, he was given a Dimensional Translator. Also not his own invention.

The metal plate in his head? Not his invention. Not even his idea. The Oracle did that for him.

The Book of Bill has another example that Ford can't invent for shit: He found the blueprint of Abigale Blackwing's Anti-Bill-Suit in the library (once again, not even his own invention) and drafted a more modern blueprint. And either he completely failed to build it or it didn't work because we never hear from it again. Instead, he installs a retina scanner to keep Bill out of the lab. Which he (probably) ALSO didn't build himself.

In summary:

Portal: blueprint by Bill, (probably) built by McGucket.

Bunker: designed and built by McGucket (probably with the help of the lumberjacks).

Magnet Gun: likely looted from Crash Site Omega.

Quantum Destabilizer: a mess before McGucket fixed it overnight

Perpetual Motion Machine: see below.

Dimensional Translator: Not Ford's invention.

Metal Plate: thought of and installed by The Oracle.

Anti-Bill-Suit: invented by Abigale Blackwing.

In fact, he mostly doesn't even say that he did any of this. He openly admits whenever he took something or McGucket built stuff, and barely calls any of the inventions his own. We just assumed that he can (on account of him being a genius), so we assumed he did.

4. Ford's Tragic Backstory

would only make sense if he ACTUALLY couldn't get the Perpetual Motion Machine to work. We already know Ford is an unreliable narrator and I'm probably not the first one to point out that it doesn't make sense that Stan supposedly cost Ford his entire scholarship by breaking his Perpetual Motion Machine (accident or not).

Think about it from a college's point of view: You hear about a young man who apparently built a machine that violates the laws of thermodynamics. You don't just pass up on something like that just because it didn't work the ONE TIME you came to visit. That would be an exceedingly stupid thing to do. I think they would have given him that scholarship if he even got close to achieving such a feat.

Now let's briefly assume Ford IS a genius whose invention got sabotaged. Ford could have easily fixed it and asked for a second appointment with the judges. This did not happen. And even if he didn't get into his dream school, he could have used this perpetual motion machine for the good of humanity. He didn't do that. If the Machine had ever worked, it would have made international news. It didn't. He would have been world famous. He isn't.

What does that tell us?

Does he even have 12 PHDs as he keeps claiming? In what? For what reason? Wouldn't he get a scholarship for his dream school at some point given his seemingly endless potential? It all seems like overcompensation to me. Reminds me of Tommy Tallarico and his ever-increasing number of Guinness World Records.

However, there is a reason Ford is like this. It is connected to his tragic backstory, but I will include this in the final chapter for narrative reasons.

Also note how even in A Better World, he did not go do his dream college. The science center was built around the Shack that he went to later in life:

And even there, he only manages to make a name of himself with McGucket's cooperation. We already established he couldn't build the portal on his own. My guess that McGucket once again did the heavy lifting and didn't mind Ford taking the credit (as you will see in the McGucket chapter).

5. McGucket

At this point we've already gone over how McGucket built (probably) most of the Portal, the Bunker and everything in it, and got the Quantum Stabilizer to work. We also know that in his free time, he loves to tinker. He canonically built a laptop (with extra keys for Fords fingers), a cellphone, the Memory Gun, several killer robots, the Shack-O-Tron and started an entire ass cult along the way.

And that's just what I picked up on from skimming the Journal.

We only see McGucket make stuff on screen. All this time he's welding together contraptions, piloting giant killer robots, having a blast.

We never see Ford tinkering ONCE. Still, he constantly praises McGucket for his "brilliant mind", "mechanical knowledge" and "skill in construction".

I think Ford was McGucket's assistant. He didn't get ANYTHING done before he called McGucket over for help. In the bunker, all he did was find a skeleton and conduct "experiments" on Shifty (by showing them pictures of creatures and documenting what happens). He led McGucket to the UFO crash site, McGucket was the one to actually extract the Hyperdrive. All of the stuff Ford does sounds more like an assistant's job to me.

I'm also pretty sure McGucket knows that Ford isn't the genius he claims to be. Upon seeing Bill's blueprints, he immediately gets suspicious:

Why would he say this to a fellow genius?

And he's the one who recognizes something is wrong with the portal earlier than anyone else.

The day before the test, he meets Ford at the diner to warn him cause he knows something is deeply wrong - and offers him a thesis paper.

Now here is where things get interesting.

Ford gets angry. But instead of saying something like "How dare you insult my scientific integrity / intelligence", he thinks McGucket wants the Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness to himself, which obviously couldn't be further from the truth. But Ford is too insecure about his intelligence and too curious about the portal to care.

This makes me wonder if McGucket had done this before. They went to college together. What if McGucket wrote Ford's final assignment as well? What if he'd seen him have a meltdown over the introduction and whipped up a fantastic final thesis in an afternoon?

We know McGucket cares deeply for Ford, and we can tell his intentions at the diner were sincere. He doesn't really want or need any credit - meanwhile Ford is starved for it. This is probably also why he's fine being "Ford's assistant" even though he's the one putting in most of the work.

6. Why Would He Do This??

Before we talk about Ford's plans after Weirdmageddon, I have to mention that there's a good reason Ford is pretending to be a genius. This is pretty speculative territory, but I think it makes sense given what we know about the Pines family.

When you're a twin, at least in the Stan Bro's case, you're constantly being compared to one another. Once it has been established that Ford is the "smarter" of the two (true or not), their father latches onto that and soon Ford's intelligence becomes his entire identity. I think just like Stan was looked down upon and neglected for being the "stupid" twin, Ford was burdened with expectations for being the "smart" twin. "You're gonna go far, kid. You're gonna make us so much money, you're gonna get us out of this dump." An INSANE thing to burden a child with.

This goes well for a while - Ford gets straight As and is the pride of the family. His ego inflates. But then something strange happens which I'm sure many "gifted kids" can relate to - he hits a wall. At some point he can no longer brute force things with his intelligence and he has trouble keeping up with his family's expectations. His massive ego gets damaged beyond repair.

Soon, he starts questioning everything. "If I'm not the smart guy, who am I? What's left?" He's been living like this his entire life. It's way too late to turn back so he moves forward. And if intelligence can't get him there, at least he can use the smarts he does have to make sure nobody else ever finds out. It's not unlikely for him to develop this attitude and it's the same kind of mindset he brings to taking the Hyperdrive from Crash Site Omega:

In a way, this makes him a con artist like Stanley. Which, after everything that's happened between the two, must feel like such an insult to Ford that he'd rather live in denial than face reality. The reality being that he is about as intelligent as Stanley, too. This doesn't mean that Stan is dumb (he managed to get the portal to work with barely any help, after all) - just that Ford is not as intelligent as he (and everyone else) thought / expected of him. AND that Stanley isn't as dumb as everyone always told him he was.

I think while yes, Stan broke the Machine, Ford couldn't fix it. Or it was never even a Perpetual Motion Machine to begin with. Yes, Ford couldn't go to his "dream college", but was that really his dream? Or his father's? Remember when McGucket offered him the Weirdness Thesis on a silver platter, saying with this he can finally "get his life back", and Ford still refused it? Maybe he didn't want his old life back. Because his old life SUCKED without Stanley in it.

7. After Weirdmageddon

Now that we established what Ford's dad wanted him to be, let's explore what Ford actually likes doing.

Obviously journaling and sketching what he sees, but what else?

Ford loves exploring. He goes on hikes, climbs mountains, visits caves, goes ham on Crash Site Omega. In the Bunker he looks around and discovers a mole man skeleton and Shifty while McGucket did the inventing/building.

He's also great at action hero stuff. He saves McGucket from the Gremloblin, and later from Shifty, he's jumping around the UFO with a magnet gun as if it's the only thing he's ever done, and saving Dipper from the security system, just to name a few.

He even says this in the episode: "I need to train an apprentice to help me fight monsters, solve mysteries, and protect this town." This doesn't really sound like science stuff to me.

So yeah I think Ford lied about being a genius to compensate for his (self perceived) lack of other qualities, he lied about his 12 PHDs, his scientific accomplishments, maybe even some inventions. He sucks at decoding things despite claiming to have "aced cryptology". Instead, he spends most of his time exploring, fighting monsters, stealing shit and getting in all kinds of dangerous situations. Truth is, he is much more similar to Stan than he'd like anyone to find out.

He also doesn't even WANT to do science. He likes the idea of science, like in Sci Fi movies, but not the actual labor that comes with it. Ford has been travelling between dimensions for 30 years. He probably is the only human to ever have done that in his dimension. Surely he spent these 30 years on research? Well...

There's only a single line mentioned in the Journal about doing anything scientific and he didn't even dedicate the entire sentence to it.

He "compared notes with scholars". That's it.

But surely he has so many papers and theories he can finally publish to fulfil his initial goal to "join the ranks of Newton, Tesla, & Einstein in the pantheon of science"?

Nope. He goes treasure hunting with Stanley. Ford seems to have forgotten all about his research. And I think that's not just because he wants to make up for lost time, but also because this is what he truly wanted to do in the first place, before he was forced into the "genius" mold.

To go adventuring, to be creative, to spend time with the family that matters.

8. TLDR

Ford didn't manage to write his Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness.

His Journal is entertaining, but ultimately full of unscientific ramblings.

He didn't build the portal, bunker, magnet gun, quantum destabilizer, or any other invention I could find.

All of his accomplishments can be traced back to either Bill, the town library, or McGucket.

He didn't write his own codes, he couldn't decipher any of the codes or secrets he found, including the ones he was given a solution to.

The Journal makes it look like Ford is McGucket's assistant and not the other way round.

McGucket is amazing and needs to be protected at all costs.

The tragicness of Ford's backstory makes no sense if he actually WAS a genius.

He needed to keep up the genius act because that's what his family expected of him and now he's con-artist level good at it.

He spent 30 years between dimensions committing crimes and preparing for revenge instead of doing science.

he seems to not even LIKE doing science. he prefers exploring, drawing, and getting into dangerous situations.

Once back in his home dimension, instead of doing anything science related, he goes adventuring with his brother.

Disclaimer: I have nothing against Ford, if anything this adds to his character cause I haven't seen anyone even so much as question his status as a genius yet. I just needed to get this out of my system cause this has been brewing in my brain since JULY.

This took me 10 hours to write. Thank you so much for making it this far, this post was brought to you by Autism™

[theoldsports]

| Irish Coffee |

summary: twenty four was the wrong age for everything, except maybe picking up girls in bars at the holidays. Rafe Cameron x Reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: bars, alcohol, passing mention of sexual assault, death of a parent mention.

Rafe Cameron hated karaoke. It was shitty ego-stroking from typically the very intoxicated or the very tone deaf. He didn’t think anyone ever felt good about their performances on that rinkydink stage anyway. It was unpleasant for everyone involved. Truth be told, Rafe thought karaoke was pointless entirely. If he wanted to hear a good version of a song, he would go on Spotify and find one. He thought karaoke was a selfish sport made fun only for the singer, and never for the listener.

In summation, it was fucking stupid.

When he got in Topper’s Jeep, Rafe had been too tipsy to fully comprehend that it was karaoke night at the Swordfish. Now, with another tumbler of b-list bourbon between Rafe’s knuckles, he moped on a stool at the bar.

He felt old when he went out with Kelce, Topper and their other friends. He had started college while some of the other boys he’d grown up with were in their junior year of high school. Rafe didn’t have friends. He wasn’t good at keeping them and didn’t like it when they complained about their problems that weren’t even really problems. The persona he had crafted for dealing with friends, though, had gotten elaborate enough to where Rafe thought they didn’t notice that his heart wasn’t in it.

He didn’t have friends, he had the people he drank with. That was better than drinking alone.

Being twenty-four sucked. Too old for ragers, too young for drinks at the country club. Too many big problems to solve, but everyone thinking he was too young to solve him. Rafe wondered, if he drank enough, could he blackout the whole of his twenties and then he wake up in his thirties locked and loaded?

Some drunk whore was finishing up a song Rafe had only heard in Sofia’s car. She’d played it often. He didn’t know what it was called. It was by one of those superstar white girls with the zillion dollar concert tickets. Rafe didn’t like it. He didn’t like Sofia either anymore. He didn’t like to think about her anymore.

His heartbeat raced. His could feel it beat in his neck when he drank too much. It didn’t used to be that way. The human body couldn’t fail from misuse before thirty, could it? Rafe took a sharp inhale through his nose to push the frantic thoughts away. Everyone leaves eventually, he reminded himself; a mantra. Fuck, he wanted a cigarette.

Topper was on Ruthie leaning up on the wall near a booth. They were out of commission til she got pissy at him for breathing wrong, or something, and they all had to make excuses to leave. Normal Friday night.

Rafe wished he’d stayed home.

A DJ mumbled that the next person was taking the stage, singing Hard Candy Christmas by Dolly Parton. Arguably, this was Rafe’s favorite Christmas song because it had been his mother’s favorite Christmas song.

It was also the week before Thanksgiving and Rafe didn’t think he could stomach Christmas yet.

“Shit…” Rafe muttered into his glass of bourbon.

The girl supposed to sing was being pushed up into the tiny stage by a group of drunk girls. Presumably a bachelorette party by the looks of it. The girl onstage had a frown of surprise on her lips. It was clear to Rafe that she didn’t know this was going to happen. A girl in her party, wearing a veil headband, called out: “Please! This is our song. Please do it for me? You sound so pretty, [Y/N].”

All of her friends were calling and chanting for her to sing. The girl, [Y/N], looked embarrassed. She was very put on the spot.

Eventually, with all the cheering, pleading and encouragement, [Y/N] walked to the center of the stage where the microphone stood.

“Forgive me if this is dogshit, my friends signed me up,” The girl said over the karaoke track’s intro. A few of the girls she was with cheered. “I didn’t come to butcher Dolly in front of y’all.”

This yielded a chuckle from her audience. Rafe rolled his eyes. He was less interested in her humble act, and more interested in where he knew from. Rafe knew a lot of people, and he was starting to cling to the barstool to do what his legs were struggling to do. [Y/N] was a common enough name, but this girl looked so fucking familiar to him. His drunk mind leafed through the catalog of women in his brain. [Y/N], [Y/N], [Y/N], where did he know her from?

Her clothes weren’t anything special. Standard bachelorette party fare. A little too short, but not quite slutty. She was a bridesmaid, maybe the maid of honor. Rafe wrinkled his nose in thought. His contacts stung dry against his eyes. He had stared at a screen too long in the office and now he was sitting under a vent in November. Who the hell left the A/C on in November?

[Y/N]. Rafe hadn’t hooked up with her before. He didn’t think he had, anyway. She didn’t appear to have botox in her face or filler in her top lip with the way she expressed so freely. That meant she couldn’t have been the kid of one of his dad’s business contacts.

He looked at her friends for clues. Immediately, Rafe recognized the bride. Wendy. Rafe had hooked up with Wendy a few times in high school. He was surprised to see she was still on the island; Wendy had been smarter than that. So Rafe probably knew [Y/N] from school, then. What classes had they shared? He tried to place her.

[Y/N] was working through the slow first verse. She didn’t have a perfect, trained voice. Her voice was the kind of voice that sang in the kitchen on Saturday mornings to the radio. A smirk pulled at Rafe’s lip. She wasn’t forcing it, and she wasn’t so drunk that it was pathetic to listen to. “I hate singing in front of people…” she said.

[Y/N] knelt and set down what appeared to be an Irish coffee, and put her left hand over eyes. No ring, Rafe thought. He almost puked at the thought that looking at babes in bars now came with seeing if they were married or engaged, before giving them the once over. Being twenty-four sucked. The girl swayed from side to side on her feet as she moved from the second half of the first verse to the chorus.

…Maybe I'll just get drunk on apple wine.

Me, I'll be just fine and dandy.

Lord, it's like a hard candy Christmas.

I'm barely getting through tomorrow,

But still I won't let sorrow bring me way down…

The girl took some liberties with how she improvised the line endings or creating a harmony line instead of the melody during the way too repetitive chorus. It wasn’t like she was doing something revolutionary, but she also wasn’t just up there doing a cheesy impression of Dolly.

It was a welcome change of pace from the guy’s attempt at some Jimmy Buffet number a few songs ago. Rafe loved music. He loved it. That’s part of why karaoke was such an affront. Rafe played the piano; he was okay. His mom had put him in lessons right after kindergarten and it was the only thing he had stuck with until the end of high school. That was how he honored her memory.

Wait, kindergarten.

[Y/N] sat next to Rafe in kindergarten and early elementary. Holy fucking shit.

Rafe was a walking ad for Ritalin until he was about ten. Arguably, after that too. No one ever helped him out. He was also spoiled, he knew that. The kid talked out of turn, couldn’t follow the classroom expectations, never sat still, and ended up with his green light getting downgraded to a yellow light by the end of everyday. The tantrums he would throw over it where earthshaking. It was exhausting. [Y/N] sat next to him because she was not disruptive. Miss Lisa, their kindergarten teacher had loved [Y/N]. She loved her not only because she was good kid, but because she talked back to Rafe. [Y/N] used her position as calm-girl-forced-to-sit-next-to-shitty-boy to her advantage. She tattled on him daily. Debatably, that made his behavior worse, but the pair had fun sometimes. Rafe hadn’t thought about her in years.

[Y/N] wrapped up the song, trilling fine and dandy… I’ll be fine… over and over with the tinny backing track. He wished she could sing this song along with a guitar the way she deserved. Unexpectedly, Rafe found his hands applauding and his glass on the counter.

Quick as a flash, Rafe stood on unsteady feet and rushed towards the stage. [Y/N] rounded up her Irish coffee and pivoted towards her friends that clapped delightedly at her. Her hands were peeled away from her face now. Rafe almost smiled. Almost.

“Hey ladies, can I steal [Y/N] here for a second?” Rafe hollered over the music as he slumped towards their party.

Wendy’s eyes lit up in immediate recognition. “Rafe Cameron…”

“Hi Wendy,” Rafe said effortlessly. “Congratulations, by the way. You look great.” Rafe’s hookups were getting married now, and he was going to wake up tomorrow single and hungover.

“Thank you, hon. You look pretty good yourself… Please take her. Buy her another drink before we go. We need her loosened up a little.” Wendy giggled.

“Hey!” [Y/N] protested. She was eying Rafe uncertainly. She was trying to place him the same way that he had her.

“Please, ladies, next round on my tab. Congrats, seriously, Wendy,” Rafe said with a sleazy, false grin as a few of the women cheered. “I’ll bring [Y/N] back in one piece.” Gently, Rafe placed a hand on her elbow and angled her away towards the bar. The two walked in relative quiet.

All [Y/N]’s friends giggled. Rafe’s force dimples dropped when they were out of the ladies’ eyeline.

“Excuse me,” [Y/N] started. “Not tryin’ to be rude. Have we… Do I know you? I didn’t catch your name and…” She asked, staring intensely at Rafe. “Is this a setup, because Wendy’s always trying to—“

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Rafe cut in, stopping. He was drunk and forgot his manners. Great impression. Rafe cleared his throat and tried not to slur. “Rafe Cameron. You probably don’t remember me… I… You’re [Y/N] [L/N], yeah? You sat beside me in, like, fucking kindergarten and stuff.”

[Y/N] eyes widened in recognition. “Oh my god!” She gasped. “Rafe! How are you? Oh my god, you’re so tall!” [Y/N] laughed happily. Her faced buzzed warmly from the alcohol.

Rafe nodded at her amused comment. “Yeah, I’ve been busy since I was, y’know, nine.” He snorted.

“You transferred, right?”

“Yeah, Saint Mary’s.” Rafe replied. His mother’s trust had paid for catholic school after she died. He transferred out around the time he was ten.

“I can’t believe we never crossed paths again. You know Wendy from Saint Mary’s then?”

“Yep, that’s right,” Rafe paused. “Come on, lemme get you another drink. You’re the reason I didn’t fail first grade.”

[Y/N] smirked. “That’s probably true. You were an awful student.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rafe smirked. “Way to treat a guy buying you a drink,” he started his walk towards the bar, prompting [Y/N] to follow him. “You got Bailey’s or Jameson in that thing?”

The girl looked down into her nearly empty mug. “Jameson.”

“Smart girl.“ Rafe said easily. [Y/N] blushed. Even drunk, Rafe didn’t miss that expression on her face at those words. Almost too easy.

“Well, if you’re paying then tell the man to make it a double Irish too.”

“Very smart girl. I like the way you think.”

[Y/N] easily followed Rafe to the bar. The man’s broad shoulders slumped drunkenly as he cut through the crowd. When one was as large, imposing and beautiful as Rafe Cameron, crowds parted like the Red Sea. “So, uh, how are you? Did you do the whole college thing, or…?” [Y/N] asked broadly. She next to nothing about him. He wasn’t even the kind of childhood friend to get added on Instagram.

College. That was the default question at their age. Rafe hated this question, but he couldn’t let [Y/N] feel rejected for that question. “I mean, yeah. For a while. I was at Wofford for a year, but I never finished. I like what I do now, though.”

[Y/N] nodded. “And what exactly do you do?”

“Real estate development. I took over for my dad l when he passed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, we get by,” Rafe turned to the bartender, waving a hand for his attention. “Another Maker’s Mark, neat, and a coffee with double Jameson. Put the anything else the bachelorette party orders on my tab.” Rafe said. He certainly didn’t need another drink, but he really liked having something to do with his hands. Rafe would probably have less substance abuse-related issues if he knew how to conduct his body in public in some way that wasn’t a poor impression of his father.

“Very good, Mr. Cameron.”

[Y/N] narrowed her eyes at Rafe. “Big spender… You that much of a regular that they know your name at the bar?” In her world, guys [Y/N]’s age didn’t get called ‘Mr.’ anything anywhere by anyone. The guys she knew still drank shitty PBRs in punk clubs and had girlfriends they had nothing in common with. Rafe’s polish and pedigree didn’t rub off even in such a state of intoxication.

Rafe didn’t have a good excuse. The implication of [Y/N]’s statement was accurate. “Sure,” he replied. He moved through the rest of his sentence like a gunshot to prevent an awkward conversation. “Hey, why’d you pick Hard Candy Christmas?”

“I didn’t pick it. Wendy did.”

Rafe nodded slowly. “Right. Why did she pick it for you, then?”

“Because it’s my favorite Christmas song.”

“It’s my favorite. It’s probably half of the Smoky Mountains’ favorite too. But why?”

“I didn’t realize this was hardball—“

“Please... I asked you a question about Dolly Parton. You sounded good.” Rafe responded. His drink was passed over the counter. He held it close to his chest and leaned his right elbow down to press it into the bar.

“Um, thanks. It’s… I had shitty couple years. I sang that song everyday for months at a time, I think. Wendy and I would go for these drives with the top down and just… Belt that shit out. Makes the bad days better.”

Rafe half-smiled. “So, year-round?” He said accusingly.

“The song? Like, not at Christmas?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, yeah. She says it’s like a Hard Candy Christmas, not that it is one. That’s grounds for year-round. It’s so much more than a Christmas song.” [Y/N] bit back with a smirk. The bartender returned and placed another white coffee cup and saucer in front of [Y/N] with a nod. The girl slurped a sip down without cream or sugar. She barely made a pinched expression at what was obviously a strong drink. Rafe was moderately impressed. He liked that [Y/N] was drinking brown liquor in black coffee this late on a Friday while all of her friends held White Claws and Daiquiris,

“My head hurts. This is the opposite of the Die Hard’s a Christmas movie thing.” Rafe jabbed.

“Anything can be a Christmas movie.”

“Then, so can a song.”

[Y/N] paused. “Damn.” she sighed. She wasn’t sober enough to get her arguments straight.

Rafe didn’t want to conversation to end. [Y/N] was the most intelligent person he’d spoken to all day. It wasn’t saying much, but was noticeable. He asked another question. “What’s your favorite Christmas movie, if you think that’s true?”

“American Psycho.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? That’s not a—“

“Rewatch it. Not having this argument,” [Y/N] chided. The girl glanced over her shoulder at her friends. They were all staring at her and pretending they weren’t. “Listen Rafe, I appreciate the drink. It was really great to see you tonight. I gotta head back to Wendy now. Bachelorette party only happens once. If you’re lucky… But, hey, thank you again—“

“Ask me.”

“Ask you what?” [Y/N] asked. She had no idea where Rafe was taking this. Rafe pushed up the left sleeve of his brown sweater.

“What my favorite Christmas movie is.”

[Y/N] looked at him funny. “What’s your favorite Christmas movie?”

“Eyes Wide Shut.” Rafe replied coyly.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” [Y/N] smiled fully, finally. Rafe damn near smiled back. She took a small step away, gesturing to where her friends stood.

“Can I give you my card? Maybe we catch up sometime.” Rafe asked plainly.

“Yeah, maybe!”

Rafe pulled his business card out of his wallet and extended it to [Y/N]. She looked down at it, cheekily saying: “Let’s see Paul Allen’s business card…” her eyes widened at the writing on the card. “CEO? Of a development company? THE development company on the island.”

“I told you I took over my dad’s business.”

“Rafe, I… I’m barely a grant writer at a 501-c3. How are you a CEO… You’re… twenty-three?”

“Twenty-four two weeks ago.”

“Happy birthday,” [Y/N] said flatly. “What’s happening? Why are you talking to me?”

“Because you helped me pass first grade. I thought I already said that.” Rafe’s eyes never left hers. They were so blue. Too blue. Too blue to be real. Rich people were too pretty.

[Y/N] took a very long sip of her coffee. “That’s wild. I’m sorry, but that’s wild. You made me feel vastly inferior and I’m the friend with my shit the most together.” [Y/N] told Rafe, with a smile on her face.

“I know you gotta get back. I’m not gonna the asshole that kept the girls waiting, but call me. Listen, you’re pretty, so is your voice. We should catch up.” Rafe said. Was he asking her out? That was weird. That was weird, right?

Hesitantly, [Y/N] looked back at her friends again. They were too invested in her conversation with Rafe. Hopefully, they would all drink so much that they forgot it happened.

“Do you like karaoke, Rafe?” [Y/N] changed the subject.

“I hate it.” He replied instantly.

“Why are you here?”

Rafe gestured with his glass to where Topper and Ruthie were making out. “They gave me a ride. And you don’t seem too keen about it either.” He said with a shrug.

[Y/N] couldn’t figure out what Rafe’s game was. He had turned from an unsettling child to a freakish adult. He was blunt and brisk, and either frustratingly honest or an alarmingly good liar. Maybe both. She stared up at him.

“What?”

“What?” Rafe raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, I’m gonna go. It was good to see you. Thanks for the drinks,” [Y/N] took a step back. She started to walk away slightly, still facing Rafe. A looked of what could be interrupted as self-loathing crossed Rafe’s face. He didn’t bullshit enough with her during the conversation to be perceived as likable, and she was leaving. Of course. Nobody liked Rafe when they actually knew Rafe. [Y/N] stopped, thinking. “Rafe?”

“Yeah?” His eyes slid back to her.

“Can you do something for me?”

“Maybe?”

He was going to say no, but it would serve as a litmus test for what kind of man Rafe was. It would help [Y/N] sleep easier to know what kind of bullet she dodged by losing Rafe’s business card after tonight. “Okay, we have a scavenger hunt thing for the party. It’s stupid. One of those… Do X number of shots, get someone to give you a BLANK, take a picture of three of you doing… whatever. Y’know?”

“Sure, yeah. What are you asking?”

“One of the items on the list is Maid of Honor and a stranger accomplish a task she’ll regret tomorrow. Like I said, it’s a trashy fuckin’ list.”

“Are you asking me to hookup with you, or…”

“Worse. Do you know the song Don’t Go Breaking My Heart by—“

“Absolutely not—“

“Let me finish. I said do you know the song Don’t Go—“

“I don’t do karaoke.” Rafe said forcefully.

“Do you want to go out on a date with me, or not?”

Rafe was stunned silent. His mind worked overtime. He suddenly felt extremely sober, in spite of his drunkenness. He sucked his teeth.

“I don’t do Elton John. Sorry.” He muttered finally.

[Y/N] nodded, knowingly. It was a setup anyway. She couldn’t be disappointed. She knew he’d refuse and she could leave knowing she had made the right choice ditching him. “That’s a’right. Maybe some other—“

“But, if you really want me to do this, let’s at least stick to the Christmas thing you’ve got going here.”

“You don’t look very… holly jolly.”

“Ho, ho, ho,” he deadpanned. Rafe was the strangest combination. “Stop givin’ me grief here. Your favorite Christmas movie is American Psycho. Let’s do Baby, It’s Cold Outside—“

“Whoa, waaaay too rapey.” [Y/N] protested.

“American. Psycho. How is that song—“

“Wait, do you know Fa—“

“Fairytale of New York?” Rafe finished.

“You know it?”

“My family’s Irish Catholic.”

They both stood still and looked at each other. Well, Rafe stood as still as he could, but swayed a little on his feet. He wasn’t thinking clearly. Why was he agreeing to this?

For as manipulative as Rafe Cameron could be, he was effortless to play for validation and a pretty pair of eyes looking back at him.

Everyone leaves eventually, Rafe reminded himself. His mouth and his brain were not in agreement. Rafe had lost control of his body as he blindly followed [Y/N] to sign up for the next karaoke slot.

They passed Topper and Rafe held onto his glass like an anchor. He should have switched to beer. Why did he have another bourbon? Topper pulled his face away from Ruthie long enough to look at Rafe as if to say what the fuck are you doing? without any words. Rafe grimaced at Topper, barring his teeth slightly in response.

Rafe leaned in to [Y/N]’s ear and clumsily pushed her hair back. “I’m not a singer… This isn’t gonna be good.” He whispered. Chills crept up [Y/N]’s spine at the sensation of his breath. He knew his way around rhythm and music theory. Rafe was an asshole about music, actually. Jazz, classical, whatever. It was his secret no one else got to have. It’s not his fault that most of the motherfuckers he hung out with only listened to guys with the word ‘yung’ in front of their names. Still, all of that musicality couldn’t make him a singer.

“It’s karaoke.” [Y/N] said like it was obvious. She dragged Rafe towards the stage. “You’re so serious… Stop frowning; you’re gonna get lines on your face. We’re both gonna suck. I wouldn’t make you do this if it wasn’t for Wendy anyway. Promise.”

“This is so dumb; this better be some fucking date…”

[Y/N] pried, with difficulty, the rocks glass out of Rafe’s fingers and set it with her mug on a tabletop by the stage. As she pulled him up to a microphone, she said: “You know the words. Sing the damn song.”

And as the track started to play, and [Y/N] stupid friends all cheered, Rafe slurred the words he knew from every drunken family Christmas party he’d ever had. And he smiled. Just a little.

[judeable-brainrot]

art n pat frotting 😵‍💫😵‍💫 both of their wet cocks just sliding up one another…art’s leaky tip dripping into patrick’s dark pubes !! them just violently making out as they rut into each other, both panting and whining like pathetic little dogs :3

i'm in love with your brain.... MWUUAH!! <3

probably after a heated training session, both just getting their feelings out on the court, sweaty and full of adrenaline. they lock eyes after Art hits a particularly brutal shot with a shout and that's that.

they race back to the dorms, mouthing at each other, slamming each other against walls and the door of their bedroom. Patrick shoves Art onto their twin beds pushed together, working with as much grace as he can to work his clothes off that have clung to his body from the sweat. Art is struggling equally but they get there eventually and Patrick is on him in a second, biting and mouthing at his skin as he rolls his hips against Art's.

"f-fuck Patrick..." Art moans, grabbing at his biceps, eyes rolling back as he rolls his hips in tandem. Patrick groans, pressing his face into Art's neck. "god, you're so good, Artie...fuck that was so good.." Art can barely speak, the sensation of Patrick's wet cock against his, his pubes rubbing against his bare pelvis makes his lungs struggle.

Patrick chuckles. "you're loving this huh? fucking cockslut, always knew it." Art whimpers, hips jerking at the term, the glossy pre staining Patrick's pubs. Patrick moans, speeding up. "yeah, that's it..just like that, oh fuck..!" Art just whimpers and moans under him, nails digging into Patrick's arms hard. "Pat..!" Again, Patrick laughs because it wouldn't be sex with Art if he didn't cum insanely quick. "Yeah, I know. C'mon..just for me. Let me see it.." Art whines, hips bucking hard and fast before he arches and cries out, hot spurts flying from his aching cock. And when Patrick looks down and sees his pubes slimed in Art's cum, his fist finds his own dick and he jerks it quickly to finish on Art's pale tummy before he all but crushes him as he collapses on top of him, their sweat and cum mixing on their skin.

Art pets Patrick's curls softly, Patrick pressing a kiss to Art's chest. "we should play like that more often.."

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Chapter 20: An Elf's Rage

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 7.3k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ The world tilts, friends fight friends, and there is no escape from the carnage.

‘That’s where you’re wrong. This time, we’ll take them all out. Starting with this spoiled bitch.’

Cole’s words echoed in your mind as tensions ran high. You saw the elven soldiers around you as they watched on to what their king would do. Cole was in open subordination and that stance alone seemed to shock a good portion of them. The other portion looked surprisingly calm, faces blank as they watched on with calculation in their eyes. The sun beat down through the thin canopy of trees and you could smell the bustling breeze that carried the scent of flowers in the fields beyond the camp. The fields of your old home that happened to be on the verge of being set alight. 

The gleaming steel of Cole’s sword was pointed at you, just a few metres from your body. Within a few moments after Cole threatened you, Aemond moved from your side to be in front of you. His hand had grabbed your forearm and pulled you behind him. The hand left you to then rest on the hilt of his sword, yet he waited to draw it. 

“You will have to pass me first, Cole.” Aemond’s tone was calm but held a weight behind it that you had scarce to ever see. 

“No, you will step aside and let us finish what you could not.” Cole's words were threatening, not unlike anything he had ever said to you. However, this time it was towards his king and in an area so open. Your mind got caught up in his words. Us?

“Careful now,” Aegon pipped up from beside Daeron as he stood with the other elves, “That is your king.” 

Cole let out a strangled laugh and paid Aegon no mind, his eyes staring intently at Aemond, “You’ve been so blind to your own elves' anger at your inaction.”

Aemond made a move to speak, but Cole did not let him, “So many of your people have grown tired. We want them gone.” You were overcome by anger at his sentiment. 

“So this is why you started the taint? Because you could not let anything go?” You had tried to step forward to get nearer to Cole. All notions of self-preservation had left you, but Aemond’s arm which had been ready to seize his sword flew out to keep you behind him. While it warmed your heart at his innate need to protect you, your adrenaline urged you to fight Cole yourself. Truly, it would not go well for you as you had never held a sword in your life. 

“You be silent, scum!” Cole had lost what little composure he had left when you spoke. It was like he was offended at the fact that you thought it was okay to speak to him, to even look in his direction. 

“Say that again.” Aemond challenged. He moved his hand back to the hilt of his sword and squared his shoulders. The disrespect Cole had shown him, especially in front of other soldiers, would not go unpunished. 

“I said that she is a whore,” Cole spat out, “And I do not fight alone.” At those words, many of the elves standing by pulled out their swords as well and aimed them at Aemond. You nearly stumbled back completely. Almost half of the current forces here – which was already a few thousand total – had sided with Cole. This could not have been sudden but rather planned. Bile almost rose to your throat. How long had he been planning this?

In quick succession, the elves turned on their own soldiers and started to attack. They seemed to already know which were on Cole’s side. Aemond unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Cole to block the elf's strike. You yelped as Aemond pushed you back and out of the way. The wound in your side throbbed. You looked around at the chaos around you. Just moments ago everything was alright and now it had crumbled into chaos. 

Clanging swords against one another rose with a fervour. Elves fought with senseless and reckless abandon, cutting into one another. Guttural screams rose above the clanking metal, intermixing with the sounds of dented armour and cut skin.

Aemond and Cole were locked in on one another. You could not help but be entranced, stuck in awe at the sight in front of you. The way they fought with such skill and precision outmatched any you had ever seen. It was a dance of wrath; born from one friend's growing discontent and the other’s betrayal. 

While Aemond was distracted, an elf from the sidelines came at you with his sword raised. You had no means of protecting yourself, no weapon to even try. You wished, with all your might, that you had learned how to fight for yourself. In all your years, you had learned to live by yourself – but fighting had never been an option. 

The elf, just moments from you, had suddenly stopped as a piece of steel burst forth from his throat. He choked on his blood, the squelching sound being driven into your head and forced to rest there forever in blistering torment. The steel slowly receded and left his throat, causing the elf’s body to tumble to the ground. Aegon stood there, looking at his sword as if he were in shock at what he had done. 

Too soon after that one attack came another. This time from behind you and Aegon would not be able to intervene. Aemond, amid his fight with Cole, seemed to still be keeping a close watch on you. He lunged forward and struck down the elf coming straight at you, but unfortunately, it left him vulnerable and Cole swooped in. The elf’s sword made a brutal downward chop toward Aemond’s side with nothing but unbridled brutality behind it. Cole seemed lost in his indignation towards the King and struck with rage rather than precision. 

Aemond stumbled to the ground, his knees hitting the solid dirt. His sword fell from his grasp and Cole swung his longsword down. Aemond was able to roll to his side away from it and let out a grunt. Cole began to scream as he swung his sword with reckless abandon, each time he hit the dirt, Aemond managed to dodge the swings. Eventually, as Cole paused for a second to breathe, Aemond kicked out his leg and knocked Cole to the ground. Cole grunted loudly as his body, covered in hard armour, hit the ground with a loud thump. 

You watched on, now between Daeron and Aegon for safety, as Aemond and Cole used their firsts to strike blows at one another. They tossed and turned in the trampled shortgrass. Each movement caught a ray from the sun on their now dirtied armour. It was all snarls and bunched-up firsts as they fought. 

More elves came to try and strike at you, each being taken out by Daeron or Aegon. You never wanted to feel this helpless again in your life. If you had any chance of survival, you would not suffer this again. You would learn to defend yourself. The brutality in front of you compounded. It was like hell had opened, spilling chaos from its yoke. 

In your moment of distraction as you watched Daeron plung a sword through a weak spot in an elf’s armour and into his belly, you heard a strangled shout. The voice, so instilled in your bones had never made that sound. The world seemed to slow as you turned and saw a dagger in Aemond’s stomach. There was a small opening in his armour, and Cole had taken advantage of it. The hilt looked a lot like the one that Cole had used to stab you. Aemond’s head hit the ground and he lost his strength. 

Cole kneeled above Aemond. He tilted his head up to the sky, letting the rays hit his face and closed his eyes in victory. His arms were outstretched as if he accomplished all that he had ever wanted. Your eyes slipped to Daeron who was near you and currently fighting an elf. There, resting on his hip, was a sheathed knife. It was not large but had enough of a blade to create damage. You surged forward, no thought in your head other than pure desperation to protect the elf you loved. It did not matter if you had no experience; you would die trying. 

You took it from Daeron's waist causing him to turn to you in surprise. You made your way towards Aemond, seeing his eye closed in pain. In the haze of the fight, his eyepatch had slipped off and you could see the intensifying blue of the sapphire that replaced his destroyed eye. You knew it was a sapphire, he had told you so those weeks ago by the campfire the two of you shared. Yet, he never showed you. That would require a level of vulnerability you did not think he could display. Now, here, seeing him wounded on the ground with his eye so exposed made you think of the memory you saw of when the human prince had attacked him and taken his eye. 

Both times, Aemond was forced to fight someone he thought of like family; always ending in a piece of himself, a part of his soul, being ripped from him and exposed. 

While Cole was celebrating an early victory, you found a spot on his neck that his armour did not cover and you used all your might to drive it into the side. You had come from behind him. With the chaos of everything around, noises louder than ever, he had not heard you. If it was any other scenario, you would not stand a chance against the seasoned warrior. It had been a cowardly move on your part, but again, he had stabbed you first. 

It was only natural you would return the favour with similar cowardice to mock his own. 

Cole choked and scrambled off Aemond as his hands reached up to try and stop the blood from pooling forth. His body convulsed and he scrambled away. He finally looked at you. The amount of gratification that came off of you at the look of realization in his eyes felt almost evil if it was not for the given circumstances. The discovery that he had been bested by a human in more ways than one shot through him. His eyes shone with anger, confusion, malice, and even fear.

With a gargle, faint words came from Cole’s last breath, “For the order.” 

His body crumbled to the ground. As much as you wanted to relish in that moment, your fear for Aemond took control over the carnal side of you that wished to fight. You turned to Aemond and knelt down beside him. Your hands took hold of the wound to block the blood. He looked up at you with a haze in his eyes, as if unsure that you were there. 

“Aegon! Daeron!” Your voice was hoarse, seeping with despair. The two brothers saw you on the ground with Aemond and instantly moved into action. They whistled out for soldiers that eventually formed a perfect circle to protect the royals. All around camp the elves had taken their stances on who they wished to fight for. None of it mattered to you, Cole had this planned coup for a long time with the amount of supporters he had. 

Aegon and Daeron crouched beside you at their brother who had gradually started to weaken. Your hands shook as you tried to staunch the blood. There was nothing around to help. No medical supplies or even any herbs within the immediate area. You tried with all your might to hold back tears, but they silently trailed down your face and carved red lines in the skin. 

“Daeron. What,” You choked out, “What can we do?” You pleaded. It was like all your skills as a healer left your body at seeing him mortally wounded. All Daeron gave you was a solemn look in return. His eyes communicated what he could not do vocally; there was nothing either of you could do to help Aemond. That confirmation caused your shoulders to shake as you sucked in a deep breath. 

Aemond’s wound was serious. It was shaking to see such a strong-willed and powerful being be reduced to nothing but an injured creature. He was the king. Countless tales and bard songs – even in your kingdom – spoke with a fearful reverence at his might and success on the battlefield. Elves were immortal, but still susceptible to death. That you knew all too well in the eyes of your patients. The fleeting of their soul was something you recognized. 

That is why it petrified you to see that same look on Aemond. 

The barrage of elves still threatened to break through the protective circle. Daeron and Aegon had no choice but to join in the fight and left you with Aemond. You were breathing heavily by then, short inhales and exhales made your head feel fuzzy. The surrounding slaughter, a symphony of clanging metal, shouts, screams, and spilled blood intensified the pounding that began to build up in your skull. 

You were trying to think of anything that could work to help Aemond, but nothing came. 

His voice, quiet but heard, reached out to you. Aemond had muttered your name, his one eye trained on your face. You shuffled to rest on your legs and lifted his head to be on your lap. If you could do one thing, it would be to offer him comfort as he slipped from the land of the living. 

“We match,” He croaked out. You furrowed your brows, but all he did was tilt his head to look down at the dagger in his abdomen. He was speaking of both his and your injury. 

“That’s not funny, Aemond.” You reprimanded through tears. 

A faint smile, one you had never seen on him, graced his lips. “I like it when you say my name...” He said with a look in his eye similar to the one you would see between Amara and Liriel. 

Amara and Liriel…

There was a single solution that could save Aemond, but proposing such a thing was preposterous. You remembered, in the first week of your stay in the kingdom, the wedded couple telling you of elf marriages. They could be romantic or platonic, but each had the characteristic of the binding of souls which helped rebuild the body. Maybe his wound could… 

No. 

Absolutely and unequivocally no. 

But what other options were there? What other path was there to take save for watching him bleed out in front of you? 

“Aemond,” Your hands put more pressure on his wound to slow the blood flow. The warmth of his blood was more intense than the small rays of sun that penetrated through the treetops. 

“There is one thing I could do, but –” You were so conflicted in telling him, but it was worth it to at least try, “Take a part of my soul.”  

His eye squinted and the lucidity he was drifting out of came back at your suggestion. He tried to sit up more but grunted in pain. The wound was just small enough to give him time to slowly bleed out. Cruel, but it gave you more time to likely convince him to even do this. 

“What?” 

“It would heal your wound, right?” You questioned. 

Aemond shook his head from side to side, “Yes, but–” 

“Then do it.” You voiced with determination. It would hurt you. You loved him and nothing would pain you more to be so close to him, but not be loved in return. Not allowed to truly be with him. However, that was infinitely better than never seeing him again. Being his friend over watching him die was the best option. 

“You would do that?” Aemond enquired. 

“But would you? Bind yourself to a being you hate?” Your tone bordered between seriousness and a jest. However, Aemond was not looking at you with laughter in his gaze. There was a gentleness there, a vulnerability exposed as he lay helpless on the ground. 

He sighed, “I never hated you. I hated that I couldn’t.” His words struck you so deeply that you had no other recourse than to stare at him. Was it you that was hallucinating? Had you died to Cole and all of this was some sort of manically charged last surge of your mind before it faded? 

Aemond lifted one of his hands to move and grip the hilt of the dagger in his stomach. You put yours over his to stop him as he tried to pull it out. 

“What in the seven hells are you doing?” 

“We’ll need a blade,” Aemond grunted, “If we are to do this.” You understood what he was saying. If you did the ceremony, the wound would begin to rapidly heal; having a knife in the way would be ghastly. A knife was also needed for the ceremony. It was fitting that the same steel used in an attempt to kill you both would be what intertwined your souls.

A sick jest from the gods, perhaps. Even sicker as you knew Aemond was only doing this because he had to, not because he wanted to. 

He sucked in a breath before pulling the blade out. You immediately covered the wound with one of your hands, but knew it was futile. The warmth of his blood, the sheer heat of it, overwhelmed you. 

“Hold,” Aemond winced, “Hold out your hand, rūklon.” You obeyed and gave him your free hand. It was already covered in his blood. He took the edge of the blade and cut a long thin line on your palm. He shakily handed you the dagger before holding out his hand for you to do the same. You gripped his hand, which was significantly larger than yours, and cut down the length of his palm. His fingers twitched just slightly at the pain. 

His cut hand took your cut one and you could feel the blood mixing. 

“Are you sure?” Aemond asked you again. You thought for a moment. It might have been the adrenaline from recent events or the throbbing in your side from your still-weakened state that influenced your decision. Truly, however, you simply could not and did not wish to live a life without him, even if you knew he did not return such affections. 

“Yes.” You told him. He nodded at your words. 

“Repeat after me,” Aemond said. He began to speak in the Old Valyrian Elvish language. You did not understand the words but listened intently so you could repeat them.

“Ondoso ānogar, ondoso ñelly, ondoso soul. Ēva morghon, iksi hae mēre.” He muttered the words while looking into your eyes. You took them in and began to repeat the words back to him. Your voice stuttered multiple times and you felt embarrassed, but you managed to finish. When you were done, Aemond tried to pull himself up, but you stopped him from over-exerting himself. 

Your cut hands were still joined and he used his other hand, also covered in blood from holding his injury, to reach up and cup your face. You could feel the wetness on your cheek but paid it no mind. 

“Do you trust me?” He asked. Your head tilted up and down in confirmation. Your faces were just inches apart and he leaned in slowly. It was like your heart dropped to your stomach as you felt his lips just brush over yours. The skin was soft and quickly the two of you sunk into it. It was tentative at first, full of a delicate nature that sharply contrasted with the ongoing battle. While entirely new for you, it felt familiar; as if it was something you had experienced your whole life. Your heart began to thrum louder than the thunder of the soldier's footfalls on the ground. 

A buzzing feeling started at your joined hands and spread through your body. Aemond’s hold on your face cradled you sweetly and his thumb made back-and-forth motions against your cheekbones. You felt his lips move against yours one last time before pulling away. You had to blink a few times to get your mind back in control of your body that had slipped into a daze. 

The look in Aemond’s eye was tender, “Avy jorrāelan.” He spoke. 

“Avy-” 

“No,” Aemond interrupted you, “That is not part of the ceremony. It’s…” He trailed off. His hand left your face, but his other one did not leave your hand. 

All at once, the two of you let out winces in sync. You felt a terrible, sharp pain in your side where your wound had been before it disappeared. Any sensation of pain that you had and the feeling of the stitches against your skin was gone. Your gaze moved down to Aemond's wound and was immediately surprised that it was gone. Through the small gap in his armour and the tear in the fabric, thick blood still clung to the area. Yet, the wound was gone. 

You were suddenly aware of the fighting around you again and proceeded to move on shaking legs. Slowly, you were able to get up. Aemond, as if never hurt in the first place, moved up and grabbed his sword that had laid disregarded on the ground. He stared down at Cole’s limp body just a short distance from you. The emotions that battled in the storm of his blue eye were hard to grasp; pain, regret, and fondness were the ones that came easy, but others were likely left a mystery that only the elves could feel in their centuries of wisdom. 

Despite the hate you felt for Cole, you were saddened that his death struck Aemond so strongly.

Turning around, you saw that Daeron and Aegon had moved back inside the circle, having stopped fighting. You could tell, by the fact that Aemond had not stopped holding your hand, that they saw what had just happened. The brothers moved forward to speak to their king. 

“Brothers,” Aemond addressed them both. His eye squinted and the scar on his face crinkled as he studied the fighting outside the circle of guards, “You are to get the Queen back to the castle safely.”

Queen?

Your mind stuttered as you struggled to absorb what he had said. You did not sign up for that. It had not even crossed your mind. Surely, one had to be qualified to take up such a position. There were no qualifications in your past to even merit a spot as a lady, let alone a damn Queen. 

“Yes,” Both Daeron and Aegon responded. 

“What?” Your voice fell on deaf ears as the three elves ignored your protests. 

“Bar the gates, do not trust anyone else to keep her safe. Do you hear me?” Aemond’s voice boomed with authority as he stared his brothers down. He adjusted his grip on his sword, glancing every few seconds at the fighting elves.

“Of course,” Daeron responded while he turned to scout for a possible escape route. 

Aemond nodded to Aegon and spoke, “I will stay behind and end this.” 

“Are you serious? You were nearly killed!” You argued. Aemond tugged on your connected hands to have you face him fully. He removed his hold to place his hands on your shoulders. 

“I’ll be fine. It's you that I worry about. Go home and work on that cure, yes?” His voice had calmed significantly from his previous demanding tone. You could do nothing but nod, too focused on the care reflected on his face and the fact that you could feel some of his emotions. It came with the ceremony and you knew it, but it still surprised you. To feel part of another’s emotions was incredibly weird.

You nodded in confirmation and he gave you a tight-lipped smile, “Good.” He quickly kissed your forehead. It happened so fast that you almost did not perceive it. He let your hand go after giving it a tight squeeze. He pushed you gently towards Aegon. 

When Aegon grabbed you to leave, Aemond stopped him, “Brother…” There was fear behind his eye as it darted between Aegon and you. He was scared for you, terrified for your safety. It was odd for someone to be worried about your safety. It had been so long since that happened.

Aegon did not need any words and understood his worry, “I know. She'll be safe.” They both bowed their heads once before Aegon tugged on your forearm to make you follow behind him. You wanted to keep watching Aemond but had to turn away. The last you saw of his figure was him moving to the other side of the circle and going to leave the lines of protection to join in on the fight. 

The guards dispersed and then made a smaller formation around you, Aegon, and Daeron. Your group cut through the elves around you on their journey to the edge of camp. When you had come in, you were on a horse and that time had passed by quickly, but walking it now you could truly see how vast the elvish army was. A chill went down your spine when you realized that this was not even the full army. They were still waiting for legions from the outer corners of their kingdom. 

In due course, your group had made it to the surrounding edge of the camp where many horses stood about, fighting against the ties that kept them near the ongoing chaos. Through a mess of confusion, Aegon had lifted you onto one of the horses and got on one for himself. Daeron and Aegon flanked both of your sides while the other guards that helped you mounted other horses. 

From there, reluctantly, you could do nothing but look back as your horses fled the scene. You wished, desperately, to catch a glimpse of Aemond for any reassurance that he was alright, but could see nothing. 

Blood.

All you could see was blood. 

Your group had arrived back at the castle no less than an hour ago. Since then, you had run to the laboratory with Daeron to make sure all of the brews were alright and if the other healers had been doing their work. You were all still waiting for them to finish, as the potions were on the very brink of being ready. The other healers were excused. You could not remember what Daeron told them, only that you were incredibly relieved when they left the room. 

Looking down at your hands, you could see Aemond’s blood on them. It had cooled and begun to congeal with bits stuck under your fingernails like dirt after a long day of tending to growing herbs. They shook as you tried to wipe away the blood. Turning to a shelf of vials, you could see your dishevelled image in the reflection. Aemond’s bloody handprint had taken over a large portion of your face. In your state of panic, you tried to swipe it off but only managed to add more blood that had come from your hands. 

You began to hyperventilate. The carnage you had witnessed was nothing you had ever seen before. You were lucky enough to grow up in a period of centuries of peace. Precarious peace, but there nonetheless. Two hands shot out to hold yours still. Through the fog of your vision, you saw Aegon looking at you with worry. 

“You there, little lady?” He slowly guided you to one of the tables, where a bowl of water and some disregarded scraps of fabric were. “You’re alright, you’re safe now.” 

“What if this is just the beginning of his blood that is spilt?” You whispered. Aegon had trouble hearing and leaned in, but you could not repeat it. Your mind was running at speeds that you could not catch up with. Aemond was in danger, imminent danger. His soldiers had turned on him. Who was there left to trust?

Aegon had picked up a rag and dipped it into the water. He carefully ran it over the planes of your face. His fingers would ring out the water after washing the blood off and he repeated the process slowly and calmly. When your face was clear, he submerged your hands into the bowl of water and began to clean them off. 

“He’ll… he’ll be alright, won’t he?” You began to ramble, “Ridiculous, selfish of me to worry about only his safety when there are countless sick people in need of saving and soldiers laying down their lives at this very moment.” He had to grip your hands to keep them still as they had begun to shake again. Daeron silently worked a few tables away, potting doses of the potion into vials to distribute to the patients in the hall. 

Aegon thought for a moment before responding, “It is not ridiculous at all to worry about the people you love. You do love my brother, right?” He began to pick under your nails to get the last of the blood out. 

“More than anything.” Your response was immediate and full of truth. 

“Good.” Aegon nodded while focused on your nails, “He needs that in his life. Deserves it.” While his words were appreciative, there was a look of yearning on his face; a deep form of pain that could only stem from some kind of loneliness. 

“I know those feelings are not returned, but I will treasure him regardless.” You wanted to reassure Aegon that despite the desperate nature of your hasty ceremony to keep him alive, there was still care there. While you did not know what you were entirely signing up for, you would do your best to care for Aemond and the kingdom. You may be human, but you were comforted by your achievement of discovering the cure. Surely, that of all things, has won over the hearts and minds of the elven folk enough to grant you an easy transition into your new position. 

Aegon let out a short laugh at your words. He dropped your freshly cleaned hands and looked you in the eyes, “In all your genius skills, the obvious always seems to evade you.” 

Aegon gestured to Daeron who was now standing at the door and calling in some of the other healers. You looked at the filled vials and somehow nothing felt real. It felt like an out-of-body experience. It had not been more than three moons since you were hunched over at a desk in your tiny home in the village, struggling to put together your father’s research. Now, the cure was in front of you and you knew it worked. 

While your heart tugged towards Aemond and the need to know he was safe, your duty was to remain here and begin curing the patients. With time, you could move on and work on the rest of the taint that stained the land. For now, you will fix what you have control over and pray to any and all gods out there that they keep Aemond safe. 

It had been hours of back and forth between the laboratory and the sick hall. There were constant rotations of elves brewing more potions and giving the finished ones to patients. It would gradually heal them, but that period varied from patient to patient. Some had gotten up to walk, while others still lay in a state of pain – though they thankfully described a gradual gentle relief making its way through their body. 

You had wanted to help with making more brews, but Daeron had stopped you. Making the blood sacrifice and dealing with the loss of energy was a requirement to brew it as the mortua terra flower would take from the host. However, according to Daeron, you could not do that anymore. Your soul was tied to Aemonds, therefore any dark magic would not just suck at your soul, but his as well. It would be unfair to the bond you now shared to weaken it in any way. 

Time was spent moving from patient to patient, giving doses to the ones who had yet to receive any and taking notes on the ones who had. It was incredible to see the wiry darkness of the taint start to fade from the patient's skin. The dark purple, almost black bruises that formed on the skin faded over time. The volume of coughing had gone down significantly and it was the longest period between having to summon guards to carry a fresh corpse out of the hall.

On the way to your next patient, you passed by an empty bed. A sharp stinging pain shot through your heart. It was unfamiliar to not see Lyra sitting in that bed and be greeted by her smile. You were too late to save her; which may be one of your worst regrets. It would be a guilt you shall hold for as long as you live. 

You had just made it to your next patient when the two large grand doors of the hall creaked as they opened. You were frozen in your spot as two guards came in to push the doors open further. 

Standing there, battered and bloody, was Aemond. He had sheathed his sword. His armour was scratched, with some of the metal being dented. It was covered in dirt, grass, blood, and some burn marks. You had no idea how the hell burn marks would have ended up on his armour, but only that it must have gotten worse after you left. His eyepatch was put on again, also dirtied. However, he was still standing – that fact alone hit you with more relief than you had ever felt. 

His eye scanned feverishly about the hall in search of something. He had a frantic glint in his eye. You stood up from your crouched position beside the patient's bed and it immediately alerted him to where you were. When he spotted you, you could see the tension in his shoulders ease as they slumped down. His lips parted like he lost his breath. You could see his frame was veiled with exhaustion.

Without wasting a moment, you placed your notebook down on a nearby tray and bunched up the skirts of your dress in your hands to make a rapid move toward him. You speed walked down the centre aisle past the beds of sick patients and healers. They had all turned to look at their king but shied away when you were walking towards him. One thing you liked about elves was their tenacity in providing privacy when needed. 

You had finally reached him but paused, unsure of what to do. What do you do? Should you hug him? He was your husband, surprisingly so. It felt inappropriate to do so, especially in front of the elves. Despite being married, it was not exactly a wanted union. It had been born out of desperation rather than love. 

Aemond did not speak, just stared at you with a certain fondness you could not pinpoint. After being in the hall for hours and tending to elves, you were running on muscle memory alone.

In your mind, you saw him as another wounded patient that needed tending to. However, you wished for more privacy. 

You reached out and grabbed his hand, your thumb brushing over his knuckles, and then pulled him out of the hall. The two of you silently walked down the torch-lit hallways of the castle and towards your room. 

You released your hold to open your door and usher him into the room. The hearth had been lit to keep the room cool. You could only guess that it was sometime in the middle of the night. Both of your bodies were wrecked with exhaustion. Before Aemond could even think to sit down, you stopped him. He would need to take off his armour if you were to assess and care for his injuries. 

Aemond grunted in pain and tried to take off his right pauldron, but struggled to keep his arm up. You gently swatted his hand away and took over. Your fingers nimbly took off the metal from his shoulders, almost touching the skin of his neck that was exposed by removing the piece. 

You worked in silence, the moment too oddly intimate to speak. You were taking off his outer layer of armour, slowly stripping the soldier away and revealing Aemond underneath. Again, he seemed to always be watching you. Your cheeks heated up under his gaze and you struggled to keep your nerves from making you shake. Each piece of metal weighed more than expected and you could not help but marvel at the strength he possessed. To be able to carry such weight and still fight was a feat. 

Once the metal had been laid out in a pile, you moved on to taking the chainmail off and then the under gambeson. Aemond was left in just his leather boots, pants, and a thin linen shirt. You guided him to a chair and watched as his exhausted body slumped into the seat and his eye closed. He rested an elbow on the arm of the chair and put his chin in his hand. His chest heaved with deep breaths. 

You collected some things in your room that would be needed to help him. Various rags, a bowl of water, salve, and bandages were carefully laid on a small circular table placed beside the padded chair. You stood in front of him awkwardly. In order to clean his wounds, you would need to remove his tattered shirt. 

“Um, I’ll need you to…” Your voice trailed off. Aemond opened his eye and looked at you before moving on to grab the hem of his shirt. He pulled it up partway but got stuck near the shoulders. You could already see large bruises forming on his torso. You helped him take it off and discarded it next to the pile of armour on the ground. 

Your feet carried you back to the door to the room and you opened the door, leaned out, and spoke to a guard stationed in the hallway, “I’ll need some male clothing, could you task a handmaid nearby?” The guard silently nodded and left. You closed the door again and walked back to where Aemond sat and dragged a stool so you could sit down. 

Once on the stool, you soaked the rags and began to work. You started on one arm and began to clean it and then applied a salve to larger cuts. It was difficult to not ogle the lithe muscles of his skin, especially the ones that composed his torso. Aemond trained daily and that habit showed by the nature of his body. You moved onto the other arm. Once that was done, you started at his upper chest. The whole time, he watched you through his half-lidded eye. You swallowed down saliva that had pooled in your mouth and continued your job. 

“They’re cleaning up the bodies now…” Aemond trailed off. You knew what he meant. At this moment, countless elf corpses were being dealt with. Their bodies thrown onto carts to be buried or burned. 

“It’s over?” You questioned as you meticulously wiped away dried blood patches. 

“No,” Aemond muttered, “I don’t know how many were working for Cole. They could still be here in the castle and are most definitely posted throughout the kingdom.” 

You nodded at his words and pulled away to clean the rag in the water. The hearth fire crackled and sputtered while the wood snapped piece by piece. Even in the warmth of the room, the water was cold and trickled off of the rag. 

“I’m sorry for not believing you. When you came to me about Cole…” Aemond told you. Your fight was still fresh. The anger and insults hurled at one another that morning echoed in your mind. If you had simply stayed in your room and talked with him, how much different would things be? You would have never gone to your lab and Cole would not have tried to kill you. Though, he likely would have tried some other time.

“You had every right to not believe me. He was your close friend. I’m only new here, Cole has known you for longer.” You gave him a half-smile and went back to dragging the cloth across his chest. Aemond’s hand went up to grab yours and stop your movements. 

“Yes, but…” He paused. He was battling with himself to speak more, “We have to talk about–” Sharp knocking sounded on your door and you quickly shot out of your seat and away from Aemond. You do not know why you were so eager to get away from him. Perhaps it was fear in what he wished to speak to you about. 

The deal had been met. 

You knew that you were to stay in the kingdom for a year or until there was a cure. The cure had been made and now you have extended past your welcome here. Maybe he would have you sent back home. That thought alone pained you. After all, why would a human be allowed to stay with the elves?

However, you were also technically the Queen. You had married Aemond – despite his likely wariness of it all. Yet, you were unsure of your place here. 

You opened the door and spotted a handmaiden with folded clothes in her arms. You muttered words of thanks, took the clothing, and closed the door. Aemond watched closely as you walked back to him. You held out the clothing to him and refused to look at his form. If you did, you knew that the heat would come back to your face and a redness would coat your skin. There was no need to make Aemond any more uncomfortable than he was. 

Your arms extended and Aemond grabbed the clothes from you. His fingers brushed yours and you felt a jolt trail up both arms. You skirted away and held your hands behind your back. You wanted to curse yourself out for acting so distant. You were closer than ever, souls bonded, yet you could not get through the wall between you two. There was something there, unspoken and present, that prevented you two from being on the same page. 

“It’s best that you get some rest. Fighting for so long has drained you.” You spoke. Aemond stood up from the chair and placed the clothing down where he had sat. 

“About us, we–” 

“The people need their king right now. Eat, sleep, and get ready for tomorrow.” There were still elves among his people who likely sympathized with Cole and his cause. It would be a challenge to find them all and interrogate them for answers. You also could not stand there, exhausted, and have Aemond tell you that your arrangement was only one of convenience.

Your heart would not be able to take his rejection. You had only just lived, that would surely be what would kill you. 

You decided to let him change in your room and took the initiative to leave. When you had finally opened the door with the mission to go back to the laboratory, Aemond had called out your name. Your gaze shifted to him. He stood there, his face was a mix between yearning and dejection. 

“You need to rest as well.” 

You nodded with a tight-lipped smile, “I will rest when all of my patients are cured.” With those words, you closed the door to give him privacy. 

Epilogue: An Elf's Devotion Preview

“I feel as though I owe you an explanation,” Aemond spoke as the two of you began to waltz across the floor with the other dancing elves. 

“An explanation?” You questioned. Aemond’s eye was scanning the room. You could see it in his stance, he wanted to talk about something. Deeply. However, his posture held hints of nervousness.

“I know our union may have been done in haste, but I need you to know that,” Aemond licked his lips, took a deep breath in, and locked his eye on you, “I–” He huffed. You could feel his fingers tighten just slightly as his gaze swept to the floor. You were unsure of how to proceed. You had never seen him in this state.  

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[nikaandtea]

jayvik deep dive

i've been off tumblr for so long, but I must now make my return after this finale because HOLYYYYY (of course, arcane s2 spoilers below)

first off i'd like to preface this by saying that this will be all over the place, as I'm kind of spewing out my thoughts. These two have been my main ship since the very beginning of the show, ever since Viktor became the reason that Jayce pursued hextech. This entire finale I was sitting there with my jaw on the GROUND. We see Viktor's insecurity well back in season one, and that's no surprise. He refuses to walk the stage with Jayce to represent their shared research, he doesn't want to be a bother to the other's uprise in success. But Jayce always was tender and kind to Viktor. When everyone else seemed to brush him off, Jayce saw the determined man within. The night they met and intially made the big breakthrough made Jayce forever bonded to that will and passion within Viktor. He never saw him as an ill man who did science, he saw him as a scientist that was also unfortunately ill. Jayce's world collapsed (i mean just look at his eyes) when he saw Viktor motionless after the explosion. There is NOTHING brotherly about spending days trying to desperately bring him back to life, and growing teary eyed once he returns to him alive. The parrallels between Mel and Viktor as well. Now as for their final encounter in the realm in the end of episode 9, oh boy. The concept of Viktor finding Jayce in countless lifetimes, putting a puzzle together and never seeming to have one final piece for it. Not knowing the only, again, ONLY person who can give that piece; is Jayce himself. Neither of them could finish their journey. Their affection held them together until the very end. Jayce saying how Viktor was always obsessed on fixing the wrongs within himself and helping other do the same. How in the end, Jayce never saw them as that. He saw them only as things that came together to *be* Viktor. The eventually trust you see in Viktor's eyes. "Why do you persist, after everything I've done?" "Because I promised.". They were obviously so terrified of what was going to happen to them, but they had each other. When Viktor was trying to chase greatness, Jayce was chasing after him. It's such a raw display of emotions and connection between them. Viktor softly rubbing Jayce's arm as they go into the unknown, Jayce's hand around his neck. Oh how I wish I could experienece Viktor actually *feeling* Jayce's embrace after being alone for so long. Also the fact that Sky's presence now makes SO much sense, because she knew Viktor wasn't going to miss her. Because she isn't what made Viktor whole, it was Jayce, always. They love each other in every form. They find each other in every universe.

I also want to say they definitely kissed but the budget didn't allow it. It happened, though.

Fanart soon!

[r-eatyourfriends-n]

SMOKED | l.hs 이희승 | Collide pt. 2

bestfriend!heesung x bestfriend!reader

READ PT 1 HERE.

warnings: smut (mdni), pwp (plot's there if you look hard enough), unprotected sex, overstimulation (sort of?), no use of "y/n", light switch!dynamics from both reader and heesung, car sex, unsafe driving lowkey, dryhumping, minor argument, heesung is down bad honestly.

wc: 3.8k

synopsis: days have passed after your first hook up with Heesung, though neither of you have said anything about it. Instead, you continue your search for a good one night stand somewhere else, but your mind and body know where you should be.

a/n: wow! the moral obligation I had to finish this before posting anything else was crazy, but after a huge block it's finally here. If you think this is better than pt1 it's because it is, but it's also because it has been approved by the one and only @molloygendered !!!!! my bestfriend and editor. he wanted to review this again before posting it but I'm a kid on sugar so I held him at gunpoint to approve this. any feedback is appreciated !!! hope you enjoy.

4 unread messages.

sorry to bother u so late

can u pick m up? pls

[Address]

idk if ure awake sorry

Heesung's screen lit up on his desk, breaking his focus from the heated game in front of him. He unlocked his phone, the other hand still gripping the controller tightly. His eyes moved quickly from the texts popping up and then back to the screen, which nearly got him killed. 

The team won eventually, but just barely. Heesung logged out as soon as it was over. He spent the whole time wanting to check his phone.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing?”Jake yelled at him through the call. “We almost lost."

“My bad. Gotta go,” he said in a monotone voice, showing no remorse as he hung up the call despite Jake's groans.

He looked back down at his phone and texted back a short "omw" before getting up from his chair, stretching his arms. His bones cracked, so loud it made him wince at the sound.

With quick steps, he changed into something a bit more decent, just a plain white t-shirt on top of his cargo pants, which had been slowly losing their black tone after each wash. The chains on his thick belt dangled as he walked out of his room and began to head out of his apartment, taking his keys from the cat-shaped key holder you had put on his wall. He had been surprised the first time he hung his keys and a white cat popped up. It was supposed to be a prank, but Heesung never found it in him to take it off despite the fact that it didn't match with the overall vibe of his room one bit. The kitten disappeared inside the box as he left.

The distance to your location was short, or perhaps Heesung was driving a little too fast. Either way, he arrived about fifteen minutes after telling you that he was on his way to pick you up. He parked in front of a small, black gate which led to some stairs. The complex seemed fairly little, but somewhat cozy, with small balconies filled with pots and all kinds of houseplants. Although it was past midnight and dark, he could still make out the colors of the flowers that were placed by the edges of the windows, leaves moving along with the wind.

Leaving the car on, he hopped out, leaning back against  the driver's door to wait for you. Admittedly, it was ill-intended. He hoped your date would see him and would be thrown off. 

The wait felt like eternity. When the door opened, your figure finally appeared in a white dress with black dots, just a bit above the knee. The cleavage allowed for the black choker to stand out, your name's initial dangling softly. Heesung had always wished it was an H instead.

You smiled at Heesung when you saw him, tilting your head in confusion because why was he out of the car? Heesung smiled back at you, a soft beam on his lips. Then looked to your side when a boy appeared next to you.

He eyed your guy up and down as he said goodbye to you. He was tall like you liked them, with flawlessly tan skin and a face that was nothing short of charming, with a sort of boyish appeal to him, and it was obvious why you had said yes to a date in the first place. Heesung swallowed hard, his own jealousy burning down his throat.

You didn't seem too enchanted by the guy, though, looking almost uncomfortable as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. You fake-giggled (at least, he thought you did) and grinned at him politely before making your way to Heesung. The guy appeared to be a little turned off by you getting picked up by another man, for he did not take his eyes off of Heesung as he walked to the passenger's seat to open the door for you, a gesture that you were used to. Before hopping back in, Heesung winked at him, a smug grin forming. After that, you two were off speeding down the road. He'll take the long way home, he decided.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you broke the silence after a few minutes of driving. “You didn't have to wait outside though, it's freezing.” 

"I was trying to scare him off,” Heesung chuckled, a half joke that managed to pass as just something playful, making you laugh and hit his arm.

“I don't think he liked that,” you said after your laugh subsided.

“I think it was you who didn't like him.” 

You went silent for a bit, sulking on your seat.

“So, how was it?” 

“I liked him,” you mumbled, biting your lip in thought. “It was good, yeah.”

“But?” Heesung inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess I was hoping for something more... intense?”

Heesung turned his face, pretending to check something on the rearview mirror so that you wouldn't notice him biting his lip. He hoped you were referring to him, about the intimate moment you two had shared a few nights before, about the bite that was still decorating your shoulder so beautifully. A purple light enough to resemble a bruise; poor clumsy you, tripped and hit yourself with his mouth.

“Intense how?” he asked.

“To hell if I know,” you shrugged.

He furrowed his eyebrows, glancing your way quickly. 

“You clearly do know.” 

“I don't. If I did I would tell you, Hee,” you said, confused.

“Like how you told me you were off to see another douchebag?” Heesung spat. 

His words made you quickly turn your head. And although he wasn't looking at you, you knew he could feel your glare burning through his skin. The sudden change in attitude had been nothing short of baffling. He seemed to keep his eyes on the road to avoid your stare rather than for safety. You couldn't tell if bouncing his leg was anger, anxiety, both, or something entirely different.

“How do you know he was a douchebag?! I told you it was fine!” you whined.

“Did he even make you come?” he asked. 

You opened your mouth to fight back, but the only sound that came out was your breath hitching. It had been such a simple question, but it ignited the memories of your one time affair with him. The soft promises, the surpassed expectations, the sweet, sweet release. Your body began to tingle in the places where his hands had lingered, and you found yourself shuddering on the seat. Of course Heesung had asked that, while knowing your answer, too.

“Sex is not all about that.” you said finally, voice low with uncertainty. 

“Oh, so that's why you fuck every idiot with a mushroom cut.” Heesung mumbled.

“What the hell is your problem? You don't even know him!” your ears rang as your voice raised in pitch.

“Oh I know him; clerk job moron who thinks sticking it in is enough.”

You tried to ignore the fact that he was a receptionist at your esthetician’s clinic who you happened to make conversation with during a long wait. He had been bold enough to ask you to grab dinner and two days later you were kissing in the elevator of his one-bedroom apartment. 

That kiss had set your expectations through the roof, hoping that you had landed your perfect match. And it had been nice, sort of, but not like you had wished for, or had imagined. The way you had envisioned things and the way said things happened were complete opposites. Maybe it had been your fault for already having something in mind.

The conflict his words caused reflected in your face, a turmoil evident as you stumbled out your next words.

“I still don't understand why it bothers you so much. I know I'm sleeping with a bunch of idiots.” 

“You're hellbent on letting these assholes touch you.” he grunted.“ I can't stand it, I don't get it. It's pointless, it's…”

You were barely able to make out the words; he was just rambling, or so you concluded.

“How is that your problem?” you cut him off, bringing him back from his thoughts.

Only then, Heesung realized the slip up. Yes, you were right, and regardless of how close the two of you were, it was ultimately your call who you slept with, which bothered Heesung to no end. Why were you so against calling him again? Why didn't you ask to have sex again? Why did he finally have you, only for you to slip through his fingers? 

He hoped you hadn't caught onto it, but you knew him too well not to. Everything made sense after; his seemingly sudden offer, waiting for you outside of the car, this angry fit.

“I said, how's that your problem? What about it?” you pushed, in response to Heesung's answer, which had been silence.

“You can do so much better than that.” he finally said.

“So,” you smiled at him. “Think you can be my better?”

Heesung pulled the car over, so quickly your body flew towards the door, and he almost hit his chest with the steering wheel. His grip on it was tight, and he began panting. You thanked god about the empty, dark road, otherwise it could've ended in a nasty crash.

Both of your eyes meet, his pupils blown out with a hint of a gleam in them. There was hope, a tad bit of anger, and an undeniable desire. His hands were twitching, itching to touch you, and you didn't remember ever feeling so wanted.

Heesung's gaze slowly drifted to your lips, almost involuntarily. Your mouth fell open to breath, uneven and quick. The car was cold, but your temperature went up like a fever.

“Are you going to kiss me?” 

His gaze met yours once more. “Can I?”

You nodded. It was all he needed to pull you in, holding your face with both hands as gently but firmly as he could. Afraid, in a weird way, that you would disappear if he let go. That this was all a sick dream from his hungry mind and that he was soon to wake up alone, in bed, with you far away from his grasp.

Despite how much he wanted to keep it slow, the kiss was just plainly instinctual. It had started soft, as if he wanted it to last forever, which he did. Then it was relentless, like nothing was enough, with your faces pressed so tightly together that you almost felt you couldn't breathe properly. Heesung allowed you a few seconds of air before he was onto you again.

It was hard to keep up with him, but you managed, because this was what you wanted anyway. It was hard to tell if you would ever get to feel something like this again; the desperation, your blood pounding in your ears from the anticipation before he made the move, and your whole body shaking in excitement as if it had a memory of its own, and could recognize the touch. 

“Backseat,” you muttered between kisses. 

He heard you, loud and clear, he just couldn't stop himself. He wanted more. Heesung wanted to do so much with you, and to you, that he was unable to do anything at all. He couldn't bring himself to separate his mouth from yours despite needing the air, and his hands roamed mindlessly and only for the sake of getting a feel. The once deliberate and calculated Heesung was now a wreck in your hands, melting in the heat like a popsicle. Sweet.

But you really had to pull him off, otherwise you'd turn blue. Your nails scratched his scalp as you yanked him back, making him whimper in the process. The way he looked burned in your memory; eyes half-lidded, lips pink and swollen, parted, panting. Even with his eyes nearly closed, you could see his darkened eyes.

“I said backseat, Heesung,” you repeated, letting go of his hair. “Do you want to fuck me or not?” 

In every single position there was. Fingers, tongue, cock, he wanted to give you everything and more, so he scrambled to the backseat as you had ordered. 

This is who you were; demanding and controlling. That one time he manhandled you? Only that, a one time thing, now you wouldn't give in so easily. Not after the little jealousy number he pulled, at least. You weren't all that resilient yourself, but you would drag it as far as you could.

Heesung thought that he had chosen the worst type of clothing possible. Had he kept the sweatpants instead of changing into something else, then maybe the friction would've been more bearable. The rough material of his pants brushing against his cock made him groan whenever he slightly shifted. And when he finally found comfort, you seated yourself on his lap and grinded, hard. 

“Ohfuck,” he whined, his hands flying to your hips to find some leverage. His nails dug into your sides. “You're gonna— I'm not gonna last.” 

You grinded down again. And again, until you set your pace, ignoring his cries. The nails trying to claw at your skin drove you further despite the sting. As much as he tried to slow you down in the name of ‘lasting longer', he still thrusted his hips up to meet you halfway, though his eyes were tightly shut, and lips pressed in a straight line.

“Please, please baby, I don't wanna come yet, please.” 

“Did I just hear The Lee Heesung begging?” 

He looked up at you, teary eyed. His bangs were stuck to his forehead, as sweat had already begun to drip from his hair. That had been enough of an answer.

Yes, you had. It had been about the hottest thing you had ever heard as well. Usually confident Lee Heesung, always took the lead Lee Heesung, would rather die than humiliate himself Lee Heesung, whining and whimpering about coming too fast after some kissing and humping. That same Heesung that had been able to get not one, but three orgasms out of you before even getting close. It was a sight to see.

You stopped, and Heesung sighed in relief, although the calm didn't last long. As a smirk formed on your lips, his eyes grew panicked. 

“If you come, I'll leave this car,” you said, rolling your hips again.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he whimpered. He squeezed his eyes shut again, the shape of his fingers imprinting onto your skin. Back then, when the two of you first had sex, this was the reality of what Heesung felt, even when he did a good job at not letting himself seem so desperate. 

He'd be damned if he looked like a loser in front of you, or so he thought. Because now that your wet underwear was soaking his pants, he was a mess. A hard, pathetic mess, desperately trying not to burst in his jeans from having you on top of him.

You yourself didn't believe you could keep torturing him, only because you were also torturing yourself in the process. His hard length along with the rough fabric of his pants brushed against your clit in a way that sent jolts through your body. It was harsh and uncomfortable while still feeling good enough not to stop.

Heesung's hips twitched with a mind of their own, searching for release against his wishes. You halted, leaning your body back to unbuckle his belt. He groaned at the loss of contact though didn't complain any further, and instead helped you get rid of his restraintments quicker. His breath ghosted over your skin as he sighed in relief, which made you shudder. 

His fingers went down to tease you under your dress, rubbing over the wetness seeping through your panties, and even with the layer in between, he could feel his fingers dampen. Heesung continued until you were left whining and attempting to grind your hips harder onto his hand. Only then did you feel him push the fabric to the side, and the tip of his cock pressed against your cunt.

After Heesung had you the first time, he knew that he couldn't let you go. Days went by where he would still feel your lips against his; the skin of your thighs, hot and sweaty, burning his cheeks as you closed your legs around his head while you came on his tongue. Not one day went by where he didn't fantasize about pushing himself inside you, and in some dreams, he would just stay there. 

But nothing was able to prepare him for when it actually happened. He thought the desperate way in which you lowered yourself on his cock might be too much for you. In reality, it was almost too much for him, as it forced a deep moan from his throat.

It was a little painful, walls tightening and loosening around him to accommodate the quick stretch, though the sting was worth Heesung's debauched expression. You wondered why,despite the uncomfortable, small space, it felt so much better than the first time. Maybe it was how much both of you had seemed to crave it, or the car forcing even more proximity between you two, as the things you could do were limited. Regardless, you could feel your lower region sticky and warm with the slick that had, apparently, dripped out of you and spread around your thighs and ass. 

You could barely hear your over breathing over Heesung's heavy one. His hands massaged the skin of your waist where he held himself, mostly to ground himself to earth, or so you guessed, because he looked completely gone. His cheeks cherry red and his lips a peach pink, and you succumbed to the urge to kiss him. 

This time, it was slow and calculated. He took the time to feel the rest of you, from threading his fingers in your hair, to ghosting his fingers over your spine from under the dress. You didn't fall behind, though, raising his shirt as much as you could to run your nails over your stomach, stopping to feel his muscles tense beneath your hands as you began to move your hips.

“Slow, baby, please,” he breathed out, it came out way more high pitched than he intended to. 

As much as you wanted to keep messing with him, the world had seemed to fade away, leaving you two alone with the car and the small piece of road that you were parked in, and you didn't feel like breaking the moment just yet. You placed your hands on his shoulders for better stability, and rested your forehead on the crook of his neck.

Whispers of praises poured from his lips. You're beautiful, you're amazing, could stay here forever, and another handful that got lost between all the shit's and fuck’s that also came nonstop. He followed all of his words and phrases by kissing your neck, sometimes even biting. You might find a mark when you look in the mirror, but you cared little about that. Instead, you decided to leave a mark of your own, sucking and biting on the most visible place that you could think of. That's when he began to meet your movements, thrusting up messily in an attempt to pick up a pace. 

“Say you're—,” he gulped, interrupting himself. “You're mine.”

“Always have been,” you smiled against the light red bite mark. 

Your voice as you rode his cock kept driving him closer to the edge. Every moan and whine just made him go faster, having already been close to his orgasm from the grinding before. And as you grew tired, it felt as if he was regaining some form of control. Heesung smirked when you laid, practically limp, against him, allowing him to set the speed that he wanted. He remembered that he loved being in control as much as he had loved giving it to you.

“F-faster,” you pleaded lowly.

Heesung pouted, even when you couldn't see him. “No manners, sweetheart?” 

Most likely, you were about to pay a small price for threatening him to leave. 

You swallowed, so loud you were sure he had heard. “Please.” 

“What? I didn't hear you.” 

“Go faster, Hee, please!” you nearly yelled. It had been hard to get the words out after getting him where you wanted.

“There we go!” 

Were you being pushed down on his cock or was he pushing up into you? By this point, you weren't really sure. What you were certain about, though, was that he reached wherever you needed him to, and the squelching sounds were at its loudest.

“Was he good like me?” Heesung asked, grunting through his teeth. “Were you thinking about me while he fucked you?”

He wasn't expecting to get answers, and he didn't. You were too focused on the feeling of your body overheating from the inside out, and all of your muscles tensing. Your walls clamped around him involuntarily as pushed you closer to the orgasm that you had been chasing since the beginning of your date a few hours ago.

Heesung wanted you to finish first, he truly tried, but there was no way to stop the waves of pure pleasure that hit as he came, and the fact that he got to come inside of you just made it hit harder, and you had to help him ride out his climax because he really couldn't move, just kept himself there with his brows furrowed.

You were close as well, so you didn't really stop despite Heesung reaching his orgasm first. Even through his over sensitivity, he helped you reach your own high. He sneaked his hand between your bodies to rub messy circles on your clit. You kept it slow on him, but he went fast. 

It didn't take long for you after that. Feeling you on his cock as you orgasmed almost made him hard again, if it wasn't so late and you hadn't been going at it for what felt like forever—not that he was complaining—. He got to watch your face contort into pure pleasure, better than any daydreams.

Heesung pressed his forehead against yours, unable to do anything other than show you something, whatever that something was. It lingered in the air, in the way he looked at you through his teary gaze. He kissed you, slower than ever before.

Whatever was going through his mind was deeper than lust, you could feel it in the way his lips moved so softly against yours, holding your face with both hands. You wondered if he knew that you didn't plan on slipping away again.

[hey-august]

Helloooo, I was just curious if you’re still (or are) taking requests. I was wondering if we can get some Dom!Buggy and a Siren reader smut thing? I would love to see what you can come up with! If not then feel free to ignore this. I hope you have a great day!! ✨✨

Hello hello, anon!! I apologize for the delay in getting to your request. I was hoping the words would put themselves into the story, but we had to compromise on a different format. 😅

I hope that this bullet list / outline captures enough of what you were hoping for!

WC: ~720 Warning: nsfw, buggy x siren!reader, gn!reader, established relationship, mention of a blowjob, implied getting frisky in a semi-public setting, insertion sex - reader receiving, creampie

Reader/You would either be shape-shifting (human form), or maaabye the half human and half bird variant, and a part of Buggy's crew.

Established relationship, with low key PDA and flirting.

You'd rile Buggy up throughout the day through little touches, looks, and sing-songy comments. Maybe getting a little naughty yourself when Buggy is paying attention - a sneaky hand between your legs or just spreading your legs wide under a table to give him a peek, licking something off your finger etc

Your comments would get more teasing and explicit the longer this goes on. Talking about how worked up Buggy is, he's gotta control that cannon in his pants, how can he think when all the blood is in the wrong head, is he even thinking about the next treasure heist or is he thinking about you moaning his name - like this~

At one point, it seemed like you were going to give him a little extra attention. A make out session that might end with a blow job somewhere quiet. You're kneeling, Buggy is already sweating, and his pants aren't even unbuckled.

Aaaaaand someone interrupts.

He's pissed, you're amused. You send him off, again sing-songy just to rub some salt in that wound. You can't help it, he's just so cute when he's angry.

And you get the reap the benefits, because when Buggy's done with all the other shit that needed him, you're next on the list.

Bent over his vanity, something shoved in your mouth (bandana, scarf, gloves, whatever he has within reach), and he's railing you to kingdom come.

Making you look at yourself in the mirror, telling you to keep the shit from falling off the table top, all while fucking you harder and jostling the poor vanity. It wasn't made for this. Hell, some of the lights flicker from how hard he's bucking into you.

You're practically hugging the shit on his vanity that threatened to fall to the floor. You're soaking the fabric in your mouth with spit. Blinking away tears. And, requested by Buggy, watching yourself in the mirror get wrecked.

Your calves are getting sore from being on tiptoe, the edge of the tabletop is digging into your pelvis. You're aching from how his thickness is keeping you stretched.

Buggy's hands are everywhere, holding your hip, on your shoulder, around your neck, in your hair.

Eventually, his stumped arms are on either side of your waist, holding you in place. One disembodied hand is on your chin and squeezing your cheeks, making sure you have a lovely view straight ahead. Buggy's other hand is holding his own hair out of his sweaty face.

With that sight, you whine and bite down on the soaked fabric as you hit the peak. You're rounding your back and curling inwards, at least as much as you can.

Buggy's ending isn't that much further away. He's hunched over you and his thrusts are frantic as he chases his end with dogged determination.

His movements don't immediately stop when he finishes, there's still an unfed hunger. But it teeters out and he finally stops fucking you.

You're both breathing heavily, although your lungs can't inflate as deeply because of his weight still draped on you. His hand comes up to pull the soggy fabric from your mouth. Your jaw is sore, it feels strange to be able to close your mouth without resistance.

It's not until your shakes come from still standing on tiptoes that Buggy finally moves. Kisses on the back of your ear and little murmurs about how good you feel, how good you make him feel, that you belong to him, while he pulls out.

But not entirely.

His dick is still half-hard enough for him to lazily thrust in and out, more affectionately than lustfully.

Only a few times, though, before he does ease himself out entirely.

You can finally lower your heels to the ground, although you're still leaning on the vanity table.

Buggy gives a nice firm slap to your ass and chuckles. Sure, you might have manipulated him with all your teasing and singing, but he is a very willing participant in this game.

And looking at you - faced covered in spit and sweat, hand still clutching random make-up items, cum dripping down your thighs - Buggy is damn pleased with himself.

[piratefalls]

fuck it friday

the ever lovely @station18908 tagged me for fanfic friday but today has major fuck it vibes, so here's a bit of "buck and tommy random facts as a love language after a night at trivia" aka a thing i make absolutely no promises about finishing but will try

--

For months after that night in a dingy bar, they’d texted each other the most obscure facts the internet had to offer. Every day, sometimes multiple times a day, sometimes even when they were in the same room, their phones would go off at random intervals with messages like:

Did you know that giraffes are 30 times more likely than humans to get hit by lightning?

Did you know that a chicken once lived 18 months without a head?

Did you know that the world’s longest single-word palindrome is “saippuakivikauppias”?

Eventually those random bits of information had taken the place of goodbye or be safe, became their new good morning and good night, and what, in recent weeks, had started to feel like a precursor to something bigger.

Did you know that glass sponges can live for 15,000 years?

But that was Before. Before the breakup, before Buck jumped the gun and Tommy got scared and they both ended up with broken hearts. Before the sour notes of I’ll see you around, Buck filled the loft.

He pulled up his old text thread with Tommy and thought, Did you know that I would have happily spent 15,000 years learning every last thing there is to know about you?

It takes Buck three months in the After to delete the standing date from his calendar.

tagging mostly because i think this will interest them but also in case they have words of their own they feel like sharing @onthewaytosomewhere @priincebutt @thinkof-england (aka the chat girls who've read a variation of this already lol) @newyearknwwme @alasse9 and whoever else sees this because all the other people i usually tag are in another fandom lmao. i guess if you're interested in being tagged in possible future updates just let me know?

[beef-brisket]

((We could probably finish this one up soon, I have a feeling it's going to get sickly domestic, and I can't wait 😫😫))

They eventually fell asleep in each other's arms. Lucifer hasn't felt this happy in years. He knew it was a risk to pursue Adam, especially the way he was doing it. But it was definitely worth it.

Lucifer woke up long before Adam, but he didn't mind. He stared down at the man in his arms, who had buried his face into his chest, their legs and arms tangled together.

Lucifer smiled and kissed his forehead. His heart bet faster when he saw the small smile on Adam's face.

He was so happy that Adam felt safe with him, especially after what they had just done.

He couldn't help but dream about what they could be, where they could go. Would it be moving too fast in Lucifer asked Adam to sell his house, and they bought a place together? Maybe a little farmhouse somewhere.

Lucifer blushed at the thought. A bit of land, all to themselves. Neither Alastor or Steve would know where they are.

One could dream. And when Lucifer closed his eyes and drifted back off to sleep, he did.

Firefighter!au.

Adam is a firefighter who comes to do a show and tell with his team at a local primary school. Lucifer is a teacher there, and he's just completely floored by these extreme hot fireman.

And lucky for him, Adam's job is to show how to put on and take off their gear.

So, Lucifer starts setting little fires, any excuse to call the firefighters. But when they start getting suspicious, he heads to the countryside and starts fires. He watches from far away while Adam and his team puts them out.

Adam's on to him, though. He doesn't know Lucifer does it just to see him, he thinks it's an insurance thing.

He always eyes Lucifer when he shows up to their demonstration days or fundraisers.

And he REALLY shows up when they do an adults only fundraiser 👀

Adam reeaally doesn't like Lucifer. He hates whe people put others or property at risk by being reckless with fire.

Captain Steve: Mr Magne, this is the third time this month that we've been called to your property.

Lucifer: Yes, I know! I'm really sorry about this- but... uh...

Lucifer looks past Steve to the firefighter that has caught his eye. Adam is standing near the truck, pulling his jacket off, leaving him in a dark blue singlet.

Capital Steve: ...Mr Magne?

Lucifer: Hm? Oh! S-Sorry sir- it won't happen again! It's just uh- bad luck!

Adam: Bad luck?! I think your fucking staging it!

Captain Steve: Adam! Enough.

Adam flips Lucifer off before jumping in the truck, slamming the door shut.

Lucifer internally: Adam~.

I really love this idea lol

-

Lucifer paced in his home, he couldn't risk his home or others anymore. He didn't want the fire department catching onto him. Adam might already be onto him.

Oh to have him on him.....

Focus! Fire!

How can he set a fire to see Adam in action again?

Lucifer knows it's wrong, he's become a bit of a pyromaniac just to see his favorite fire fighter do his job.

Maybe he was going too far?

......

Nah. It's fine.

When was the next adults only presentation again? He wrote it down on his calendar.

Fuck, he's all over the place.

Adam flusters him so much, though, Lucifer has a feeling he doesn't like him very much......