#mabel one-shot

[cbmagus49]

Hey guess what it's time for a big ol' Relativity screenshot edit sketchdump!!!!

[ahbogman]

Demon Falls continued 🔎👹🌲📚

[turtleplushi]

Meta Knight needs so much therapy, if only there was a therapist in Cappy Town that could-

[adventuremaker21]

Gravity Winx: Freedom of Fashion

A Month of May-bel one shot from my winx club/gravity falls crossover AU, featuring the chaotic yet harmonic friendship between Stella and Mabel, two of the eight members of the Winx Club

(Takes place during the first semester of year one)

“Almost done…” Mabel said as she finished straightening her desk as she then saw a photo of her two closest friends from the summer, candy and gretta. She hopes they’re ok. As she sees the picture, she sniffles up a bit, missing them. At that moment, a knock was on her door.

“Hey sparkles!!” Stella said from the other side. “Mind if I come in?”

“Ooh, Stella? Yea, please!” Mabel said as she lets her in. Stella then sees that Mabel’s side is peak Mabel-core, while Dipper’s side is unkept due to his nature.

“Nothing says good feelings like a well decorated room, even if you have to share it with someone who once went 2 weeks without a shower,” Stella said, remembering it. As she did, she sees Mabel sniffling. “What’s wrong? Is dipper’s dirty laundry getting you you… like how it’s getting to me.”

Mabel wiped her eyes. “No no, not that. It’s just that… I miss my friends I made over the summer.”

“Ooh, your better parts!” Stella reminded herself. “I wish they could visit, but the last time someone tried to sneak non-relatives here, they all got turned into toads for a week thanks to Griselda the Ghool.”

“And if they get turned into toads, they’ll never forgive me!” Mabel then made herself more upset. “I wish I could contact them.”

“Hey hey, cheer up Mabel,” Stella said while hugging Mabel. “You’ll see them soon.” While she was hugging her, she got an idea. “Hey Mabel!! Wanna help me with this new dress I’m putting together? I’m having a bit of a brain block and need a second opinion, and I don’t trust anyone else in this dragon-forsaken universe except you for this.”

“Wait, really? Not even your closest fashion advisors?” Mabel asked curiously.

“Nope. They don’t have the vision you clearly have,” Stella said as she patted her head. “You have heart, you got spirit, and you got more fashion pizzazz then all of them put together.”

“Then what are you waiting for, let’s do it!!” Mabel yelled happily as the two of them went into Stella’s fashion studio, or known to her roommate Bloom, their shared bedroom.

“Luckily Bloom’s out for the day trying to figure out if that Diaspro girl from the Beta Academy is worth trusting,” Stella told her younger bestie.

“You mean the rock fairy who Bloom caught kissing her crush Sky?” Mabel remembered.

“That’s the one! Anywho, she won’t be back until way later tonight, so let’s go ham!” Stella declared as she showed Mabel what she has so far. It was a long orange dress with a feathery tail behind it

“It’s got a certian… aviary theme to its delicate design,” Mabel inspected as she thought of an idea. “WE SHOULD ADD GLITTER!!”

“Of course, glitter!!” Stella exclaimed. “I knew it was missing something!! And while we’re on it, we should give it matching arm bands that look like wings!!”

“With pretty designs that make it look peacock like?” Mabel offered.

“I don’t know what a peacock is, but if it’s based off of the Solarian Eyewatcher Bird, then I am all over it!” Stella accepted as the two began their great work, with their harmonized mindsets and visions coming together to create something… unique. Something that screams the unbreakable bond between these two Winx fairies.

“We should add a smoke machine!” Mabel suggested.

“And jewels to help the feathers shine,” Stella added.

“And fans so see show that your outfit can fly in place,” Mabel also added.

“AND DRESS POCKETS SO YOU WON'T BE WEIGHED DOWN BY HANDBAGS!!” Both Mabel and Stella suggested at the same time, gasping as they truly understood one another.

“You are now my new bestie,” Stella said as she pulled Mabel into a hug.

“I thought Bloom was your bestie,” Mabel asked her.

“Ok, yea, all the winx club are my besties, but you’re my fashion bestie!! Bloom’s my magic bestie, Musa is my revenge bestie, dipper is my paranormal bestie, Flora is my potions bestie, tecna is my social media bestie, and Layla is my royal bestie!” Stella listed out without taking a breath.

“Aaawwwww, thank you!!” Mabel said as she hugged Stella again. “It actually meant alot to do this today.”

“No problem,” Stella told her as she got another idea. “And tell you what, one day when we’re not swamped with annoying homework or Trix-centric shenagans, why don’t I help you see your two summer friends and tell them the truth of what you are.”

“Sounds like a plan to me!” Mabel agreed as a new pact was created between these two.

“Then it’s a promise. I’ll help you see Gummy and Grettel, or my name isn't Stella Straffi Agabiti,” Stella proclaimed.

“Their names are Candy and Grenda, Stella,” Mabel corrected her.

[anxiouspotatorants]

Since there is exactly one (1) Mabel x Theo fic on AO3 as of the creation of this post, I just want to throw out some fic ideas for others to take freely (and hell, maybe I’ll make something out of these myself too):

Childhood interactions: you can do a lot here, like Mabel making a mystery about Theo or Theo finding Mabel’s sketchbook when she loses it or just cute little meetups that they’ll look back on as adults

Hardy Boys: I mean you could do angsty Theo wishing he could join the pack? Mabel doing another mystery about Theo and the others teasing her about it? AU where Theo is actually a Hardy Boy and a cute slowburn romance?

New Years party: unknown New Years party where they give each other a quick New Years peck that they both think about years later. This is free real estate people, there is so much you can do with these two and New Years parties

Coffee shop AU but instead Mabel has a studio right over Theo’s funeral home

Arthur Conan Doyle-style detective AU: Mabel is part of a detective agency in the late 1800s and is investigating the murder of her childhood friend all the while getting suspiciously close to a certain undertaker

Soulmate AU: You can do so much here. Soulmate tattoos with Theo’s being one in Mabel’s artstyle. Quote AU where Mabel has no idea Theo is her soulmate for ages because his first words to her are in sign language and Theo has no idea because Mabel is a mumbler. The black-and-white to colour thingy but neither knows because they spotted each other during a black out or alarm that set them in the same room as every other tenant at the Arconia, so they both treat the soulmate search like an investigation

Heist AU: Theo is a master jewel thief following in his father’s footsteps and Mabel is a museum guide with a detective streak who happens to be on duty for a touring collection that just arrived

[sicklittleeighties]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Stan Pines, Mabel Pines Additional Tags: Ford cameo, self-care session, they both deserve it after everything they've gone through, grunkle and niece bonding, Self-Worth Issues, One Shot, Family Fluff Series: Part 4 of Stanuary 2023 Summary:

One night Stan hears Mabel crying softly in her room. Struggling with self-worth issues himself, he tries his best to cheer her up and maybe even fixes his own problems in the process.

[ Tis a little early, but enjoy!!!! :) ] 

@stanuary

[animefankotaro]

Trans Dipper and Grunkle Stan

Dipper was in the kitchen at the Mystery Shack reading Journal 3. The Shack was rather quiet today. Soos and Wendy were off, Mabel was with her friends, and Ford was in town. So it was only him and Grunkle Stan. Stan had barely known anything about them before they came over that summer. He didn’t know what their hobbies were, their favorite foods, or that they were already 12. But perhaps the biggest one was that he didn’t know about Dippers secret. He didn’t know Dipper was born a girl. Dipper heard Stan trying to con some customers in the other room.

“And if you look at these three dots on this white paper long enough you’ll see the face of Jesus.”

“OOOoohhhh!” They all said.

“He’s right.”

“Only 5 bucks a paper.” Stan said.  They all gave him money and Dipper shook his head.

“If Bill was able to fool me just think of what he would do to these people.” Dipper said to himself. After Stan was done with the customers he came in with some money shooting it like a deck of cards.

“I tell you those people would think a Dixie cup with plastic eyes is real.” He sniffed the money and sat down. “So what’s new with you, kid?”

“Nothing really. Just trying to find anything new in the Journal. I have this paper here with some ideas and...” Stan saw a piece of paper next to Dipper and picked it up. “Hey! Grunkle Stan put that down!” Dipper panicked knowing what was written on it.

“Let’s see. “Ways to stop natural hormones of the human body”, Ways to increase testosterone.” What is this, kid?”

“Well it’s uh, I Um, You see…” Dipper didn’t see much of a way out of it. He tried to make up a lie. “I don’t want to wait till I’m 15 or so to get facial hair so I’m trying to get it early.”

“Then what does this “natural hormone” stuff mean?” Stan asked.

“Oh, well; that means so I don’t get zits and things like that.”

“I see.” Stan put the paper down and crossed his arms. “You know for a second I almost thought you were doing it for another reason.” Stan went back to playing with his money. “What do you mean?” Dipper asked.

“I just thought maybe you were doing it because to impress Wendy.”

“I am. That is what I’m doing.”

“Then just let your body mature on it’s own. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Dipper knew there was though.

“Yes there is, Stan. The truth is. The truth on why I'm looking up ways to boost male hormones is because….I’m trans. I was born a girl like Mabel. I don’t wanna go through puberty. I want hair like you. Granted not as much on my chest. But I want a beard and a deep voice. I can’t do it on my own like you.”

“Well I guess that makes two of us.”

“Huh?” Dipper looked confused.

“I’m trans too, kid. Oh, uh surprise!” Stan gave a fake surprised look. Dipper, however, gave a real surprised look. He was shocked.

“Wait a minute. You. You’re. You…”

“I was born as Ford’s sister Stacy Pines. Even as a kid I knew something was wrong with me. I prepared wearing my brother's clothes and even looking like him minus the freakish 6th finger. My parents were against it, especially dad. The kids made fun of me. The only one who saw me as Stanley was Ford. He always saw me as his brother. I can understand where you’re coming from. But messing with magic could be dangerous. It’s safer to use medicine if you truly want to be a man.”

“I don’t believe it.” Dipper said.

“You surprised me too. For the record I never thought you could be a girl. So I guess you have something going for you.”

“I’ve always had Mabel on my side. She always helped me as kids to become her brother.”

“Your sister’s a good kid. Weird. But good. As long as she’s with you you'll be okay. And don’t worry you’ll also have Wendy, Soos, Ford, and me. If someone messes with you I’ll have something to say about it.”

“Thanks, Stan.” Stan got up as more customers showed up.

“No problem. Just remember your time to become a man will come.” With that Stan left leaving Dipper to think about everything that just happened.”

[countlessrealities]

@rapxir sent: "Fucking christ!" (Mabel, bc we talked about her and Ruby's language habits a while back)

Mabel doesn't have any sort of verbal reaction at the curse. She merely turns her head towards Ruby and pins her in place with a penetrating glare, the kind that makes you feel bad even when you're innocent.

Chocolate brown eyes linger on the older teen's face, as the Pines girl's lips curl in a displeased frown. Then, always without a word, she hands over a large glass jar, already half full with one-dollar bills.

The label says, in large, bright red letters "SWEARING JAR", and that's all the information one needs to get the hint.

[mamabelverse]

Sammery: It's June 15th of 2013, nearly a year since death of Bill Cipher, but no one cares about the demon. Especially today, as this is birthday of local heroes, Stanford and Stanley Pines!

Everyone is excited for the birthday party of the two old men. But one person is especially excited for this.

And this is not anyone else than the twins' mother, Mabel.

A small one-shot, made in honor of 11th anniversary of Gravity Falls and birthday of Stan twins!

[fingertipsmp3]

Playing a game called ‘how long can I put off talking about my various mental problems with a medical professional’. It’s going badly. I recommend no one play this game, 0/5 stars

[isabel3710]

I am a pretty huge Ferbel shipper. For those of you who don’t know Ferbel is a crossover ship between Ferb from Phineas and Ferb and Mabel from Gravity Falls. And despite the amount of fan art there is there is little to non fanfiction (I have found a single one-shot and that’s it). So I decided to do it myself and start writing my own fics. 

I posted the first one to AO3 yesterday. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43547271

[zootopiathingz]

I’ll forever be sad we never got to see Mabel and Wendy say a personal goodbye

[gekkxu]

TAGS

.

[toxicanonymity]

busted (jailbird one shot)

2.5k WORDS, JOEL "JOJO" MILLER x f!READER SUMMARY: You roleplay as cop and sex worker. WARNINGS: I8+, no plot just smut, roleplay, manhandling, handcuffs, bj, unsafe PIV, creampie, fluff. writer chooses not to warn in further detail, read at your own risk. Read alone or see jailbird masterlist for relationship & reader history. NOTES: On hiatus, but this has been in my tumblr drafts since 3/20. Ty for the ask. They've both served time. This happens while Joel's aunt/your former cellmate is still locked up. Ty again to everyone who made me write cellmate's nephew (history) 💀. Divider by @saradika-graphics. @toxicfics for notifications.

Masterlist | Blog FAQs

You sit on Joel’s bed alone, wearing a short skirt, a lace bra, and fishnet stockings he already ripped wide open the last time you wore them. You finish lacing up your boots, tuck a wad of cash into your bra, and get a tictac mint from your purse. Then you put on the bag and close the bedroom door behind you as you leave. 

As you walk into the living room, the front door opens. You realize you’re holding your breath and feel silly. Your heart skips a beat when he steps through the door. 

He pauses long enough for you to take in his whole form. . .tattooed arms swelling out from the sleeves of his slutty, blue uniform. Your eyes fall to his crotch as he turns to face you. The tight polyester pants leave little to the imagination. The whole, massive outline is visible atop his thigh, straining the fabric. He smooths his mustache and tilts his head, checking you out. Then he keeps a straight face as he steps toward you and says,

“‘S’cuse me, miss. Can I see some ID?”

Your heart flutters. You’ve played the part so many times. Played lots of parts. You're used to being who the client needs. But here you are with a little stage fright in front of your boo. And Jesus Christ, there’s something about his prison tattoos bursting out of that uniform. 

You stand still in the middle of the room and he slowly paces around you. A few feet away, but close enough to smell the cigarette he must have enjoyed outside and the cologne he reserves for date nights. The sight and smell of him makes you tingle. His touch might make you physically swoon. He clears his throat, and your face heats up. You lock eyes with him, and there’s a sparkle in his gaze, but he manages to hold firm, not breaking. 

“I, um – I have it somewhere.” You rifle through your bag.

“What’s that in your brassiere, ma’am?” He takes a baton off his hip and gestures to your bra cup. Your chest is lightly dusted in a caramel flavored shimmer powder.  

“Oh,” you stammer, looking away.  “I dunno why I put this here when I have a purse,” you mutter, half out of character.

“Just what I was thinkin’,” he cocks an eyebrow at you. He begins to stalk around you again, getting a little closer with each step, closing in on you. Then, he holsters his baton and stands behind your back, close enough to feel his body heat. You turn your face to the side and his scent wraps around you. 

His hardness lightly grazes you, and you push your ass back instinctively. His left hand comes to your hip as his right hand snakes around your torso.  His voice is deep and gruff.

“I’m thinkin’ this is dirty money.”

He trails his fingers slowly up your sternum, then over the curve of your left breast to your black push-up bra. You watch the faded barbed wire flex on his hand as he slides two fingers into the bra cup, retrieving the cash. He lowers his volume and his lips brush the shell of our ear. “Real dirty, honey.” 

“It’s nothing,” you shake your head, getting into a better rhythm. 

“Lemme take this off your hands,” he offers and lifts the strap of your purse off your shoulder. He stuffs the cash in it and tosses the purse to Mabel’s easychair. The tictacs rattle as it lands. He returns behind you, and this time, both hands go to your hips.

“I’m thinkin’ we can work somethin’ out,” he murmurs. His hands meander up your sides, then back down. He holds onto your hips and pulls you back against him, lightly grinding his hard length against your skirt, making you throb. 

“Fuck, Jo,” you whine in a whisper, pushing back on him like you shouldn't be. He exhales what you're pretty sure is a laugh. You can picture his smile. You're not ready to throw in the towel on this scene. You compose yourself and ask, “What are you doing?” You step forward, away from him, then turn around with a glare. 

He slowly rubs his arousal and adjusts himself. Then he puts his hands on his hips and shifts his weight. He looks you up and down, slowly shakes his head, and clucks his tongue.  

“Y’know, I didn’t wanna have to do this.”  He reaches behind his back for his cuffs, and you head for the door. 

He grabs you by the arm, and you continue to pull away. 

“No,” you protest emptily, tingling at the thought of him getting rougher.

He wraps a strong arm around you and you keep squirming. He lets you pull away toward the door until you’re up against it. He presses his weight against you with a forearm on your upper back and warns, “Resisting arrest?” 

He wrangles your arms behind your back, and the cold metal edge makes you shiver as your first wrist is cuffed. The second cuff clicks into place and he tightens them. Your cuffed hands desperately feel around the front of his pants, and he shifts his hips to help you find what you're looking for. You softly moan when your palm meets the hard length in his pants. 

“So now ya wanna be good,” he taunts, then lets out a barely audible grunt, pressing his hips forward, arousal swelling against your palm.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, officer.” He takes your hands and puts them on your mid back, and you keep them there. He yanks the whole skirt up over your ass in one go, watching your ass drop, fishnet diamonds stretched over it. His hips push forward and his hardness makes you throb. 

“Spread’em,” he commands. 

You widen your stance. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then wedges a hand between you and the door. Your palms rest on his tummy as he shoves his hand between your legs and feels how wet you are through the pre-ruined fishnets. 

“Alright, let’s make a deal,” he growls, then cruelly takes his hand away without so much as putting half a finger in you. 

He grabs you by one arm and pulls you over to the sofa. “Knees,” he murmurs, and helps you down onto the carpet. He pats your head then sits down on the sofa with a sigh, manspreading. He splays his arms out on the back of the couch and looks at you affectionately for a moment before his face hardens again. He takes off his fake utility belt in a hurry. 

“Got five minutes to convince me not to take ya in,” he warns, "If ya can handle it." He lifts his hips, giving you a rush of arousal. He pulls at his uniform pants, and they snap open at the side. This must have been quite a hit all those years ago on stage. For you, he's not wearing anything under them. You glance at his hip tattoo. Yeah.

He frees his massive cock and wraps his hand around the clean shaven base. He squeezes it as he looks at you darkly. "Such a bad girl." He scoots toward the edge of the sofa. Your hands are still handcuffed behind your back, skirt still sitting up above your ass.

You lean forward, dip your head, and he feeds you his cock. You slurp the fat head into your mouth and he sighs, watching you with a softening scowl. "Fuck yeah," he breathes. His knees bracket you and help you balance with no use of your hands as you bob your head. He moans as you suck him. You stretch your jaw, sucking at the smooth, salty tip, then take a few inches into your mouth and hold it, feeling him throb. "God damn," he curses softly. You suck with the back of your throat and carefully take as much as you can, expertly swallowing his length. You take him so deep that your lips brush his shaved pubic skin, and your eyes prickle with tears.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Get up here.” 

You slowly let his cock out of your mouth, and a string of slobber falls away with it.

He grabs your arms and helps you stand. He could stand to be rougher about it. But he's all but abandoning character, overtaken by the way you make him feel. The real you.

He helps you balance as you kneel onto the sofa, straddling him with your thighs spread wide. His breaths are heavy and getting heavier as he eyes your tits and the front closure of your bra. 

He sits up straight. He wraps an arm around you and interlaces his fingers with one of your cuffed hands. "Doin' so good, baby." With his other hand, he swiftly unhooks the front clasp of your bra, and the cups break apart, letting your tits fall out.  He takes a nipple into his mouth, then passionately licks and kisses his way up to your mouth. He palms one breast as he sucks the other and holds your hand behind your back. He pulls you right against him so your clit presses against his warm, hard cock and it makes him moan against your breast as he throbs against you.

He moves you, grinding his cock on your clit. He kisses your breast again, then drags his nose up your chest and feverishy kisses you everywhere on his way to your neck, where he sucks you long and slow. He lets go of your hand and slides his hand down, reaching under your ass to your cunt, where he slides his fingers through your slick then spreads you open for him.

He maneuvers you up to get clearance for his cock. He runs the tip through your slick, then massages your clit with it before notching at your entrance. You twitch at the contact, then begin to sink onto him and he pulls you down with a grunt.

"That's my girl," he breathes.

His lips find yours, and the kiss is long and slow with him seated fully inside you. He moves you on his cock, and his hips roll under you at a slow rhythm, stretching you with his girth, making you twitch already. You break the kiss with a moan.

You look down between your bodies, then purr, “is it hot in here, officer?” 

“God you're fuckin’ hot,” he gushes with urgency.  He reaches in his shirt pocket for the key to the handcuffs and wraps his arms around you. His cock twitches and he fumbles around as he uncuffs you. You rip open his snap button uniform top, then cradle his face and your lips smash back together and his tongue finds yours. He pulls you close. Your tits press into his chest and you moan into his mouth as you roll your hips.

You sigh and curse and moan against each other's mouths as you ride him.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “I coulda came soon as ya—fuck–the way you were clawin’ around for my cock just to feel it—ohhhh.”

He playfully plucks at the fishnets then kneads your ass as you fuck. He lets you take the lead, sliding his hands down to your legs, then your boots. He sighs, "Ohh, baby," as you ride him.

“Yeah,” you breathe, feeling sharply on the edge already, with his cock inside you and the ghost of it pressed up against you through those pants. 

“Ohh, fuck,” he pants, “yeah.” His flesh fills yours so perfectly, stretching you around him. Your body wetly hugs his length as he smoothly thrusts up into you. He growls into your neck, “I can't get enough’a ya.” You card your fingers through his hair. 

“God you feel good,” you gush. “So fucking good. He’s kissing your neck wet and sloppy now. You both breathe audibly. "God, I love this cock," you pant. Your breath is shallow with your pending peak. You grind against him, then let it overtake you. “Fuck,” you breathe as your walls flutter around him. 

He groans as you come on his cock.  As you finish your peak, he’s clearly holding back. You look down at his inked torso glistening. 

You both watch where your bodies meet, and you tell him, “i want you to come.”

“c'mere” he takes your jaw in one hand, and brings your lips back to his. He holds you tight, kissing you for a few thrusts, then his lips fall apart to moan and breathe vocally as he fucks you.

He pulses inside, pinching his eyes shut. He groans into your cheek, and you finger his curls as he pumps you full. Then you relax into his arms.

-

You share a long moment without words, and he holds your head. Then he uses his chest to push you slightly off him. He looks you in the eyes, then does a double take down to your tits and dips his head to kiss one before returning his attention to your face. 

You're still on his cock, and the stretch persists even as he slowly softens.

He looks back and forth between your eyes and blurts out, “you should move in.” 

You laugh in shock. 

“‘m’serious, baby,” he says with a smile. You bite away another laugh and his smile fades. He whispers, “Dead serious.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, then breaks away to await your answer. 

You haven't thought about it, really. Not yet, anyway. But it doesn't feel out of the question. You glance over to Mabel’s chair. 

“She knows,” he assures you. It doesn't make a difference right now, but you pray she'll get paroled sooner rather than later. 

“Just think about it,” he offers. 

You nod and bite your lip, running your hand through his hair affectionately, still plugged by his cock. "Tempting," you smile.

“I'm a lucky man either way,” he says.

Your face heats up, and you reflexively lighten the conversation. “Why’d ya cuff me if ya wanted me on top,” you laugh.

“Hell if I know what I want,” he admits. He kisses your neck then murmurs, “Just want ya every which way all the time.”

thank you for reading, and thank you for your support. love you guys <333. my tag list is gone for real this time, sorry. I'm also on a break from writing & reading but had this in my drafts.

[ckret2]

Chapter 46 of human Bill Cipher frantically wishing he was still locked in the Mystery Shack and not getting his wish:

The Eclipse: Part 4

Gravity has fully disappeared from Gravity Falls and Bill finally learns why the Axolotl traveled all the way to Earth to see him. And meanwhile, Ford's in mortal peril.

There were only two ways to remove a pair of magic friendship bracelets. Either both wearers had to consent to removing the bracelets; or one of the parties had to die. The bracelets weren't active if they were only being worn by one person, and a corpse wasn't a person.

The moment Dipper's soul left his body, the thread connecting the bracelets turned visible again.

Bill immediately yanked off his bracelet. He considered just letting it go, reconsidered considering that Dipper's ghost would probably tattle to Mabel, and carefully, slowly reeled the thread in. Without the magic active, it was just normal embroidery floss. The Axolotl's gravitational pull didn't make Dipper's body heavy enough to break the line, but if Bill jerked it just a little too hard, it would snap.

Bill heaved a sigh when the body was close enough he could grasp its wrist. He grabbed Dipper's head and snarled in his dead face, "This is why I told you to get in the cave." He wrapped the bracelet around and around the tree trunk and Dipper's forearm, muttering to himself, "But does anybody listen to the all-knowing immortal dream demon who's seventy times older than their entire universe? No! No, what could it possibly know! Surely we'll get better ideas from the brain-damaged hick who married a raccoon—"

An immense voice said, "Hello."

Bill froze. He slowly turned away from the beast above Gravity Falls.

The voice said serenely, "Look at me, you 8-karat coward."

He slowly turned toward the beast above Gravity Falls. He swallowed hard, steeled himself, and dragged his gaze up until he met the Axolotl's eye and he was gently tugged into the time and space between time and space. "Oh, heyyy," he squeaked. He forced a pained smile. "Didn't see you there! Haha, hi! Wow! Imagine running into you in this dimension on this planet, crazy."

"Yes, crazy," the Axolotl agreed.

"This isn't a regular part of your commute! I guess you've got some time off," Bill said. "Work must be going well!"

"Pretty well. I scheduled an extended lunch break," the Axolotl said amiably. "How's being human going?"

Bill shot the Axolotl a dirty look.

The Axolotl continued to give him a perpetual smile. "Happy New Year, by the way."

"I'll kill you."

"No you won't."

"Okay look, let's just cut to the chase," Bill said. "Go on. Tell me my punishment."

"Punishment?"

"For! Coming back here instead of staying when you dumped me in 3012. I skipped time while on parole. That's obviously why you're here." He looked down, shielding his face with a hand and squeezing his eyes shut. "So stop wasting my time and tell me how much trouble I'm in. I'm a busy guy, I don't wanna drag this out."

"Well," the Axolotl said, "it appears to me that you're locked in your enemies' home, you can't use doors, and you need to be handcuffed to a child to go outside. Is that enough 'trouble' for you?"

Bill opened one eye. "Wait, so." He looked up skeptically. "You're saying I won't get re-executed for breaking the rules. Or—or get stuck in a worse body."

"No," the Axolotl said. "You'll answer to no jailer's voice; what you do now is your own choice. I moved you by a thousand years to free you from your killers' fears. If you decide then to return, it's your own second chance you burn."

"Ohhh. See, I assumed this entire situation was a... prison... thing. Considering the..." He gestured vaguely at his body. "The flesh prison." 

"It's a body. Not a prison. You aren't being imprisoned."

"'Not a prison' my base, if it's not a prison then why can't—" He caught himself before he asked a question, and took a deep breath. "So, there are no rules against coming right back to where I left off."

"Though I think your plan is clunky—not my circus, not my monkey."

"Oh. Okay, great." Bill planted his hands on his hips, straightening up properly for the first time since the Axolotl's arrival. "Huh. How 'bout that. Spent the last two days worrying for nothing!"

"You? Worried?"

"Of course not, I wasn't worried for a second," Bill said. "So if you're not here to punish me—that doesn't explain why you are here."

"Are you asking?"

"You know I'm not."

The Axolotl stared at Bill, patiently awaiting a question. Bill stared at the Axolotl, patiently not asking one.

The Axolotl caved first. "I wanted to make sure you hadn't burned down the dimension yet."

Bill pointed sharply at the Axolotl. "Hey! Hey!"

The Axolotl gave him a look like a toothless gumball learning how to smile.

"Not funny! Seriously, now!"

"I came because you called."

"Wh— When did—?" Bill cut himself off. He thought back to the day he'd spent locked in the bathroom. He recalled the desperate plea for salvation he'd painted on the ceiling. He buried his face in his hand. "That... that was a joke. False alarm."

"I gathered," the Axolotl said.

Bill peeked between his fingers. "But, I did call for rescue. Therefore. You're here to rescue me."

"No."

"Why n—! You said I'm not supposed to be in a prison! You've seen what these humans have done to me!"

"You aren't a prisoner," the Axolotl said. "You're a kidnapping victim. That's outside my jurisdiction."

Infuriating—but it told Bill something important: in the Axolotl's eyes, Bill's captivity wasn't just. And Bill didn't consider the Axolotl any kind of god—he didn't consider anyone any kind of god—but the Ax had a lot of pull in the multiverse when it came to defining the universal concept of justice. That was promising. 

"But I do have a keen interest in your case. I wanted to check in on your progress."

Bill gave the Axolotl a questioning look. "'Progress.'"

The Axolotl said nothing. Bill waited. The Axolotl simply continued to smile. "You haven't asked a question yet. Usually you can't wait to get rid of me."

"Under the circumstances," he gestured again at his body, "I didn't think I could afford to waste it."

"I see. However, I do have a meeting I need to get to."

What was the most important thing he could ask. What did he need to know the most. "So... if I learn my lesson or complete my sentence or—whatever I'm supposed to do... will you turn me back into a triangle?"

"I can't and won't do anything else. I've completed my obligation to you," the Axolotl said. "Whatever happens to you from now on is up to you."

That could mean anything from "you're stuck as a human forever and will die in less than a century" to "there's a secret spell on you and when you meet its conditions you'll automatically turn back into a triangle" to "you're already a triangle, you just need to believe in yourself." All Bill knew was that he wasn't getting any help from the Ax.

"It's been a pleasure as always," the Axolotl said. The world slowly began to move again as he gently returned Bill to the dimension he'd come from.

"Wait!" Bill called. He needed to know—was he still a triangle, somewhere on the inside, buried beneath all this flesh and bone? Or had the Axolotl's transformation rotted him to his core—was he now nothing but a human through and through? If he wasn't being punished, why had his suffocating soul been smothered under a blanket of meat? If he wasn't being punished, why had his own corpse stared him in the eye as if it didn't recognize him? "Just one more question before you go!"

"If you have the time. Up to you."

If he had the time? Bill's eyes darted around. Why wouldn't he have the time, what was he missing—?

His gaze locked on Ford. Floating twenty, thirty feet out from the cliff's edge. Oh.

Bill let the Axolotl's gravity drag him to the edge of the cliff before digging a hand into the ground, holding himself in place. Bill was safe; Dipper's body was safe, and his soul could float home once the Axolotl was gone. But when the Axolotl was gone, gravity would immediately come back—0 to 100, just like that—and Ford was dead.

And the Axolotl was already turning away. The millions of axolotls in the water below followed, moving through and out of the lake as though the lakebed didn't exist, migrating in the Axolotl's wake.

Ford was unsuccessfully trying to swim through the air back to land. Several useless feet of cable from his infinity belt floating around him from trying to fling it at the cliff. The best he could do was stretch an arm toward land.

He met Bill's eyes. The only other time Bill had seen Ford this terrified was when he'd threatened to torture the kids.

Bill looked at Ford, looked at the Axolotl—nearly too far to shout to—and looked down. By now, the future death he'd witnessed earlier was so close that Bill could see more than the blood to be left on the rocks. He could see the body—gray hair, tan overcoat, broken. It was just a few moments away.

Stanford Pines was about to die. Bill Cipher was innocent. Dipper was his witness; Dipper, honest goody hero type, could verify that Bill not only repeatedly told them both to stay away from the thing in the sky, but also warned them to anchor themselves right before totality. Everyone at the shack knew he'd protested, knew he'd warned them, knew he'd begged to stay home. There was no possible way Bill could get blamed for this.

And once Ford was dead, none of the idiots in this town would ever find a way to destroy Bill.

Up to you.

Bill didn't stop to think.

He kicked off the edge of the cliff.

He could see, hovering in the air like a golden arc amidst a dozen blurry failures, the path he needed to jump to reach Ford. The Axolotl's tail was already soaring over the town, his sky blue fins rippling like vast, slow sails. If Bill reached Ford before the Axolotl's influence was completely gone, he could fly them over the lake and they might both survive. 

They collided. Bill had to fling an arm over Ford's shoulder before he managed to get a grip on his lapel; Ford seized Bill's hoodie in both hands. Ford demanded, "What are you—?" He fell silent as their trajectory took a sudden sharp turn from south to east.

"The lake!"

Ford nodded. Why could come if they both survived. He could already feel weight grabbing onto his limbs. He spared a split-second glance down, but with half the lake floating in the air he couldn't tell if they'd cleared its banks yet. "Have you ever learned to swim?"

"You have to learn?!"

Ford prayed, if Bill drowned, that he was a mortal, and that he wasn't the kind of drowner who dragged other people down with him. "Cross your ankles as tightly as you can, cross your arms over your chest, land feet first in the water—better to break your legs than your neck—do not tilt your head, eyes on the horizon—" And that was as much emergency survival advice as he could give before gravity returned in full force.

This wasn't the first time Ford had plummeted into a deep liquid from an irresponsible height over the past thirty years. The hit was softer than he expected—the turbulent lake hadn't settled back down into its normal water pressure—but he also sank far deeper than he expected. Streams of bubbles raced past his vision; maybe it was just the power of suggestion, but he could have sworn they looked like transparent axolotls.

As soon as he had his wits about him, he threw off his coat, tugged off his boots, and kicked his way toward the surface.

Bill didn't.

This actually wasn't so bad, he thought, with a calmness that definitely came from being such a rational level-headed fellow and not from being in shock. Sure, all the air had been forced out of his lungs and his body was screaming in airless panic, but he wasn't his body, was he? This felt just like floating. He would miss floating again.

What was he supposed to do now.

He'd seen humans swim. He tried kicking his legs. He felt stupid. But, he decided—again, with a calmness that definitely was not from shock—that looking kinda stupid was probably preferable to drowning. Although he was curious what drowning felt like. Had he ever drowned a puppet before? He couldn't remember. Didn't seem bad so far.

He surfaced.

Ford was already on shore, on hands and knees, desperately coughing out water, his lungs burning. He collapsed in the sand. It took a couple minutes for him to reach the point where he was breathing more than he was coughing, and another minute of heavy breathing before he had the energy to look at the lake again. Bill was floating on his back about fifty feet away, very still.

Ford croaked, "Bill," coughed again, and tried a little louder. "Bill?"

Without otherwise moving, Bill raised one arm and gave him a thumbs-up.

Ford dug into what energy reserves he still had, shuffled back into the water, and swam over to Bill. "Are you all right?"

Bill gave him a dazed look, opened his mouth, and exhaled a cup of water. Then he started coughing. 

Ford grimaced. "Let's... get to shore." He took Bill's arm to tug him toward dry land.

Bill flailed upright and shoved him off. "Don't—" Hack. "M'fine. I l—" Cough. "I like floating." He lay on his back, shut his eyes, and said shakily, "Don't touch me."

Ford treaded water for a moment, considering that. Bill looked like he'd got the hang of floating enough that he wasn't an immediate drown risk, so Ford said, "I'll... be on land."

"'Kay."

Ford swam to shore and sat cross-legged in the wet sand to wait, staring down at his hands. The Handwitch's ring was a bright indigo blue again, no traces of darkness within the cabochon, as though the lake water had washed it clean.

Should he go do something useful? There weren't many places Bill could go, except to shore; it wasn't like he was at risk of escaping. But then if Bill did make it to land while Ford was distracted, he had a chance to make a run for it without the bracelet—

Ford stood up. "Bill! Where's Dipper?!"

Bill raised one arm and pointed up.

Ford looked at Gravity Peak. A small speck high above, Dipper was looking down over the cliff's edge. Ford waved to him. Dipper waved back. Well. That was inconvenient. Maybe Ford could restrain Bill with the infinity belt's cable in the meantime. (He reeled the cable in while he was thinking about it. He was fortunate it hadn't tangled on anything while he was underwater.)

"We have to rendezvous with Dipper. Get over here."

"Just leave me."

"Not an option."

Bill let out a pitiable whine, but, after a moment, managed to figure out a way to slowly paddle-kick his way toward land.

When his heels hit sand, he rolled over, crawled onto land, and lay down. "Gravity," he groaned. "I hate gravity."

"I'm not too fond of it myself right now." Ford's limbs felt like lead. Some combination of spending a day and a half in steadily reduced gravity, the exhaustion following a near death experience, and waterlogged clothes. "Where are the enchanted bracelets?"

Bill lifted one hand from the elbow and pointed toward the cliff again.

That'd be just Ford's luck. All the same, he said, "Really?" Bill would hide them if they were on him.

"Yes, really. Whaddaya want, a strip search?" He gestured vaguely toward his body without lifting his head. "Go ahead. 'M not moving to help." His arm flopped back down.

Ford decided that was a bluff he did not want to call. "Fine. We'll put them back on when we rendezvous with Dipper." If Bill tried to escape, Ford wasn't sure he was in any condition to chase; but then Bill didn't seem to be in any condition to run, either.

"Surprised you wanna wear matching bracelets with me. If I'd known, I woulda made you a friendship bracelet." Under his breath, Bill muttered at the sand, "But m'sure it'd've been a waste of thread."

Ford decided it was more prudent to hold his tongue. "Can you walk?"

"If I have to." For as difficult as Bill made getting to his feet look, one would think he was being subjected to the gravity of Jupiter. Ford offered his hand; Bill smacked it aside.

"Well. My raft is still in the cave behind Trembley Falls, so we'll have to borrow a boat." Ford pointed toward Tate & Backle's Bait & Tackle at the far end of the lake. "Think you can make it that far?"

Bill—barefoot, soggy, and slumped like he had the whole weight of the world on his shoulders—gave Ford the most pathetic look he'd ever seen Bill wear. Ford empathized completely. But Bill only sighed and said, "Let's get going."

####

Tate lowered his magazine to give Ford a critical look. "Dr. Pines," he said. "You get caught out on the lake when the gravity came back?"

"Something like that."

He shook his head. "Shoulda listened to the news."

"The news?"

"Dad's been making public warnings since yesterday. 'Stay anchored and keep your head down.' Reckon you must've missed it."

"We've... been camping." He'd have to ask Fiddleford about that later. "Listen—do you have a boat we could borrow? It's an emergency. We were separated from Dipper and we have to get across the lake."

Tate raised his hat just enough to give Ford a look that told him exactly what he thought of his merit as a guardian—Ford figured he deserved that—but then stood with a sigh. "All right, I'll see what we've got."

He paused, then gestured behind Ford with his chin. "Who's the lady?"

Ford turned. The shop's door was propped open and Bill was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed tight, staring blankly out across the lake. "Er—Goldie. She's... staying in the shack a few weeks."

"Hm." Tate raised his voice. "Ma'am?"

Bill didn't budge.

"Ma'am—Miss Goldie?"

That time he turned to give Tate a faraway look. "Me?"

"Yes, uh—you're soaked to the bone. Would you like to borrow some dry clothes?"

"Oh." Bill considered the question for a little longer than necessary. "If you want."

Ford explained, "She inhaled a lot of water."

Tate nodded. "Think we've got some out-of-season stock in the back, there might be something big enough for..." He caught himself before insinuating something about a lady's weight, and mumbled, "Well, it'll do." He headed to a door behind the counter, paused, looked Ford over, and reluctantly said, "I s'pose you can get something too."

####

Tate had a motorboat in good working order, so he let them borrow it, with a stern request to have it back by the end of the day. And so they set out—Ford in waders that went up to his chest, a bandana he really hoped was keeping his embarrassing neck tattoo hidden, and a t-shirt that said "The worst day of fishing is better than the best day of court-ordered anger management classes"; and Bill in a makeshift skirt Tate had apologetically improvised out of a beach towel, a sweater depicting a pine tree constructed out of fish that said "MERRY FISHMAS", and a pair of novelty slippers shaped like rainbow trout.

"I'm never giving these shoes back," Bill informed Ford as they crossed the lake. "I don't care whether we buy them or steal them. They're hilarious." It was the nearest thing to personality Bill had demonstrated since landing in the lake.

Ford supposed he was in no position to tell Bill he couldn't keep them, considering that Bill had... well.

Well.

Ford should say something about that. He didn't know what. He didn't know where to start. (Bill's question came back to him: if Ford didn't believe anything Bill said, why did he keep trying to pry information out of him?)

(Because, he realized—beneath thirty years of every nerve in his body screaming "DON'T TRUST HIM"—part of him was still hoping Bill would say something he could believe.)

Ford cleared his throat. "It's... impressive that you didn't panic while you were underwater," he said awkwardly. "That must have taken remarkable self control."

"Oh. Eh." Bill spread his hands vaguely. "I wasn't really paying attention to what was happening. I was thinking about other stuff."

Ford blinked. "While you were drowning?"

"It wasn't a very severe drowning."

Ford huffed.

This was probably a conversation he should have later—Bill's brain only appeared to be half on—but, if they had it later, Ford wasn't sure he'd get anything but yet another polished lie. 

And so he steeled his nerves and asked, "Why did you save me."

Bill didn't answer. He stared silently at his rainbow trout slippers.

"Bill—?"

"Hold on," he said. "I don't know, just—give me a minute to make something up."

It was the first time in a month and a half—the first time in years—that Ford was absolutely certain Bill had just told him the truth.

And not just about his intentions to lie to Ford—but about not knowing why he'd saved him.

It meant there was no secret master plan, no manipulative ulterior motives, no cunning illusions. It meant Bill had endangered himself just to save Ford.

There was a universe where Ford then said, "I didn't think you meant it all those times you said you wanted to be my friend again," and where Bill lied—both to Ford and to himself—"I didn't think I meant it either." It wasn't this universe, because neither one of them wanted those words out in the world. Yet they still hovered around them, unspoken.

It didn't make Ford trust Bill. It didn't make Ford like Bill. Bill was still everything he'd ever been—liar, conman, tyrant, torturer—and Ford still hated him for all of it.

But. It meant that for the first time in a month in a half, a muscle between Ford's shoulder blades that had been knotted tight with fear could finally loosen and relax.

Ford was safe.

####

(I first had the idea for this chapter nearly a year ago and I've been dying waiting to post it. I hope you enjoyed, and I can't wait to hear what y'all think! And to those of you in the path of totality, happy solar eclipse this Monday! I totally planned it this way. I did not.)

[persevereforahappyending]

Luck Runs Out |Part 9|

Pairing: Mabel x Reader

Summary: When your luck runs out you unknowingly drag Mabel back into the life, she's so desperate to escape.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 2.9k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Epilogue

Every inch of your body ached, if a part of you wasn’t bleeding it was bruised. Your boss was kind enough not to leave any broken bones. Though you knew that wasn’t for your benefit, you couldn’t exactly go get him his drugs if you had broken bones or were bleeding out. You even had the honor of him beating the crap out of you himself, usually he had one of his lackeys do the beating, he preferred not to get his hands dirty, but it seemed you were special.

You stood there giving Mabel what was surely a bloody smile, leaning against the doorframe to support your weight. Just because he didn’t break any of your bones didn’t mean he made it easy for you to walk. He didn’t even provide you a ride, he made you walk all the way to her apartment. You dragged yourself up the steps to her apartment and just slumped against the door, barely having the energy to even knock on the door. On the bright side the pain from your gunshot wound wasn’t as prominent now, you barely remembered it was there, except for when you moved your arm.

Mabel just stood in the doorway, tear filled eyes and hands covering her mouth. She was acting like she’d seen a ghost; you didn’t think you looked that bad, but you hadn’t had time to check yourself in a mirror yet. Before you knew it Mabel flung herself at you, causing you to groan as you stumbled back, you tried grabbing the doorframe so the both of you didn’t tumble to the floor. For such a little person the girl really packed a punch, but you couldn’t complain, her embrace felt amazing through all the pain.

“I’m mad at you,” she mumbled into your shirt.

“I know,” you mumbled, relaxing into the hug. You wrapped your good arm around her, tugging her closer.

“How are you here?” She pulled back just enough to look up at you. “What happened?”

You sighed, knowing you’d have to explain yourself and everything that happened. “May I come in first?” You asked, tilting your head with a small smile. You weren’t sure if you were capable of having this conversation while standing, it felt like your legs were going to give out any second.

As an answer Mabel tugged you into the apartment by your hoodie, her hoodie. You rested your good arm around her as you left the doorframe, placing most of your weight on her. Mabel was a lot stronger than she looked, she only stumbled when she tried to maneuver you around the furniture. You let out a groan as she tried to help guide you onto her bed. Charlie shot up from the couch, looking around, his eyes going wide when they landed on you.

“Holy shit,” Charlie yelled, jumping to his feet, and nearly tripping over the coffee table as he ran across the room. “How are you alive? How are you here? What happened?”

You opened your mouth to answer these questions when Mabel rested a hand against your cheek. Your eyes drifted from Charlie down to her, as she stared at your face, gently running a thumb over one of your bruises. She slowly pulled down your hood, turning your face in her hands to get a good look at the extent of your injuries. Your mouth hung partially open, unable to answer Charlie as you got lost in Mabel’s warm brown eyes, you couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at you with so much care and worry, the last time someone treated you so gently.

“Guess I’ll check on you later,” Charlie mumbled, clearly reading the room. “Call if you need anything.” You heard him shuffling until finally you heard the door close behind him.

Mabel let go of your chin before making her way to the bathroom. You stayed on the bed, watching as disappeared and your eyes didn’t leave the doorway until she came back out. She carried a small white container, sitting down next to you again. You looked down, following her hands to see her pulling out cotton balls and other materials to help clean up your wounds.

The two of you sat in complete silence as Mabel got to work. She got up, getting a wet washcloth before gently wiping away the dried blood on your face. You watched her scrunched up brow as she focused on wiping away the blood under your nose and off your busted lip. You couldn’t get a read on her, she was taking care of you which was a good sign, but you knew she was already mad and what you still had to tell her was only going to make her more furious. She still looked so cute, all focused and angry.

You flinched, letting out a hiss, and trying to wince away as she rubbed the washcloth near the cut above your eye. She just gripped you by the chin again, gently, yet forcefully, making your head stay in place until she was done. When all your cuts were cleaned, she used her finger to dab ointment on them, making sure they wouldn’t get infected.

“You’re probably going to have a black eye,” Mabel said. She turned your head from side to side, getting a look at her work. “Probably two.”

“Hardly the least of my worries,” you rasped out, letting out a humorless chuckle.

“Shirt off,” she ordered, ignoring your morbid sense of humor. Your eyes widened and you leaned just a little bit further away from her. She only rolled her eyes, wiping her hands with the rag before getting up to toss it into the sink, grabbing the rest of the trash on her way.

“Stop being a baby,” she said, coming back to stand in front of you. You looked up at her as she stared down at you, her arms crossed, and an eyebrow raised. “I’ve already seen you without a shirt, remember?” You nodded, blushing as you remembered, of course she’d seen you without a shirt before, she helped you when you got shot and then had been helping you clean the wound. “Shirt off, now.”

You moved quickly, slipping off the hoodie first. You tried to pull your shirt off in one swift motion but groaned as your injured shoulder moved, it was still too early to be moving with a gunshot wound that was only about a week old now. Mabel stepped closer, helping pull the shirt off your head as you kept your injured arm stable. Mabel quickly stepped back, her eyes scanning over your body. You turned away, looking anywhere but her, you knew she was assessing your other injuries, but you couldn’t help but be self-conscious.

“Lie back,” she said softly.

Without a word you did as she asked, laying down on her bed, using your good arm to prop your head up so you could watch her work. You couldn’t see all the injuries because of the angle you were at, but your ribs were pretty much all black and blue, red patches here and there. They might not have broken your bones, but you wouldn’t have been surprised if you ended up with bruised or fractured ribs. Seeing what little you could see you weren’t surprised that you nearly collapsed on your way to Mabel’s apartment and that you could barely stand without someone or something supporting you.

“I’m going to get ice,” she mumbled.

The next thing you knew she was gone, grabbing ice from the freezer. She came back with a bag filled with ice, wrapped in a cloth. She moved to place the ice on your ribs when she stopped to look at you, the ice hovering over your injuries. You gave her a small nod, closing your eyes as you anticipated the brief pressure of something touching your injuries. You sucked in a breath at feeling the ice placed on you before quickly relaxing.

“How’s that?” She whispered.

“Better,” you rasped out, looking down at her. “Thank you.”

“This seems to be our thing.” She gave you a sad smile as she shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. “You getting injured and me patching you up.”

“It’ll be over soon.”

Mabel looked down at her hands. It was hard to see from your position, but it looked like her hands were bunched up into fists. “What happened?” She mumbled. It was barely above a whisper, if it weren’t just the two of you in the room you surely would have missed it.

“I cleaned up my mess,” you whispered back.

“What did you do?” Her voice cracked. When she turned to look at you, you could see the unshed tears already formed in her eyes, even through the dark.

“I made a deal.”

“These kind of people don’t make deals. Not without a price.”

“It’s a price I’m willing to pay. You, Charlie, the others, you’ll all be safe after this.” You were trying to keep your tone neutral, not that it mattered since you felt your own eyes start to well up.

“But at the cost of your life?” She shot to her feet, looking down as a few tears escaped, which she quickly wiped away.

“It was the only way.” Mabel crossed her arms, unable to look at you anymore. “This is my mess and if I didn’t do something they would have killed Charlie and the others.”

“This isn’t fair,” her voice broke as she looked at you again, her tears flowing freely now.

“I know,” you admitted. “I’m sorry.”

Mabel didn’t say anything else, she stormed off to the bathroom. You didn’t see her again until she came back to throw out the melted ice. She was going to bring you more, but it was getting late, and you decided it wasn’t worth it. You wanted to get a few hours of sleep on your last night alive. Mabel sat at the edge of the bed; you could just make out her profile in the dark.

“What kind of deal did you make?” She whispered, not bothering to turn to look at you.

“I told them I would take them to their drugs,” you whispered back, your eyes never leaving her. “With the condition that they let the others go.”

“What makes you think they won’t turn around and kill them?” She looked in your direction, you knew she was staring right at you, but you couldn’t see her facial expression through the dark.

“They might,” you admitted.

“So why even make the deal?”

“It saved them for now.” Your eyes darted around trying to find hers through the dark. “I tried to convince my boss that his drugs would be gone forever if it weren’t for them. That they saved me and now he had the chance at getting the shipment back.”

You could just barely make out movement. It seemed like Mabel was nodding her head. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning,” you sighed, the fact that this was probably your last night alive plagued your mind. “I told them I needed to do something first. They almost didn’t agree but said they’d kill everyone if I didn’t return to the docks tomorrow on time.”

“What did you have to do?”

“Say goodbye,” you whispered. You could swear you heard a sniffle, but you couldn’t be sure. “I felt like I owed you that much.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

You wanted to deny that, but you knew Mabel wouldn’t hear any of it. The truth was you owed her so much more than just a goodbye, a goodbye was literally the very least you could do. You didn’t think Mabel realized how much she did for you, besides just quite literally saving your life.

“Just rest,” she whispered. She hesitantly reached out, resting her hand on your knee, giving it a comforting rub.

You did as asked, snuggling further into her bed. You were going to ask if she wanted you to move to the couch, but she was already slipping into bed beside you. You froze, in that moment you were wide awake, you didn’t question her though. The only time you had technically shared a bed with her was when you were comforting her the day before. You weren’t sure if that really counted, she was crying, you were holding her, and eventually she passed out in your arms, you just continued to hold her until you decided to sneak out.

You didn’t intend to say anything, if she was okay with sharing a bed again then you were to. You enjoyed her presence and if this was your last night on earth then there was nothing you wanted more than to be next to her until the last second. You relaxed again, shifting your aching body until the softness of the mattress overtook the pain.

You glanced at Mabel, seeing her turned away from you. You stared back up at the ceiling, closing your eyes to finally try and get some sleep. Not even a minute later you felt the bed shift, the sound of Mabel silently wiggling closer filled the quiet apartment. Without opening your eyes, you too shifted a little closer to her, though you were a little less subtle considering your entire body seemed to hurt with every movement still. You and Mabel weren’t touching but you could feel her warmth.

The alarm on your phone went off, you groaned, refusing to open your eyes as you smacked around trying to shut off the alarm. When you finally hit the alarm, you let out a long sigh, you knew when you opened your eyes you’d have to get up, you’d have to make your way to the dock, then in a few hours you’d probably be dead. You turned your head, as you opened your eyes, through your still sleepy vision you caught sight of Mabel.

You blinked away the sleep, Mabel becoming clearer as the seconds passed. At some point in the night, she had rolled over and was now facing you. The both of you had also seemed to move closer to each other, that you were now touching. Mabel had managed to have her head resting on your good shoulder and somehow during the night your good arm ended up wrapped around her.

You hated to disturb the peace, but you knew you had to get moving, you couldn’t be late. You gently rubbed up and down Mabel’s arm. “Hey,” you whispered, your voice raspy from sleep. Mabel only hummed in response. “It’s time for me to go.”

Mabel slowly opened her eyes, looking down and back up at you as if realizing she was in a different position than when she went to sleep. Mabel didn’t pull away though she just let out a sigh, a pout appearing on her lips. Mabel laid her head back down on your shoulder, somehow ending up even closer to you. You sighed, continuing to run your hand up and down her arm, you could probably get away with a few more minutes of peace.

After a few minutes you reluctantly got up. Mabel got up as well when she saw you struggling to slip your shirt back on. She grabbed one side of the shirt and guided your arm into the correct hole. You smiled, silently thanking her for her help. You looked around, your eyes landing on the copy of The Odyssey Mabel had gotten you.

You picked it up before turning to Mabel. You gripped the book tight as you held it out to her. “Take care of this for me, yeah?” you asked. Mabel nodded, taking the book from you.

The two of you stood by the front door. Mabel reached up, cupping your face, turning your head slightly from side to side. “How do I look?” you asked, smiling awkwardly at her. It didn’t really matter how you looked; you were going to be dead soon anyway.

“Still cute if you ask me,” Mabel whispered. Your smile turned brighter at her words, if it was your last day on earth then you were happy, Mabel thought you were cute, considering when you first laid eyes on her you thought she was a goddess.

Your hand rested on the doorknob as you stared into Mabel’s dark brown eyes. Your eyes flicked down to her lips, hers doing the same. You both leaned in, but instead of going all the way you stopped yourself, resting your forehead against hers. You felt your nose brush against hers, you reached up, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face. Mabel didn’t move, she didn’t try to complete the kiss, she just stayed there, her hand resting on your hip as her fingers played with the fabric of your shirt.

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t kiss her. It didn’t feel right to have your first kiss with her only to leave and go get yourself killed. “Thank you,” you whispered one last time.

You pulled away, giving her one last look, seeing a tear escape from one of her eyes. You didn’t realize your own eyes had begun to fill with tears until your vision started to blur. You quickly blinked them away, not taking your eyes off her as you turned the doorknob and stepped out into the hall. You sniffled, shaking your head as you made your way out of the comfort of Mabel’s apartment and into the early morning darkness, walking to your guaranteed demise.