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thragedys · 4 months ago

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Midnight Visitor

Sol x Reader

Synopsis: Thanks to the takeout you ate last night, the effects of food poisoning from poor catering have finally kicked in, hitting you when you least expected it. To ensure you’re properly cared for, Sol takes the duty of watching over you.

Word count: 1.8k

Includes: Gender neutral reader, sick reader, Sol being soft, affection, trespassing, jealous Sol (+ more!)

After undergoing a series of nausea and intense dizziness, Sol insisted on walking you home despite being out in the city with him and Hyugo. It was as though all life was drained from your face, the only support you had while walking was Sol’s arms holding you upright.

Food poisoning… Should’ve never eaten from that takeout place with less than three stars in their reviews.

Grabbing the key from your bag, he unlocks the door and escorts you inside, directing you to your bedroom while you whine and hold your face in your hands. Even the slightest tilt of your head would send you spiralling sideways, a recipe for disaster as your stomach decides to conjure its own storm.

Inside the kitchen, Sol spots a paper bag. The logo of the company which made you unwell is there, presented in a large font. Retrieving his phone, he snaps a picture of the logo, alongside the contact details printed on the back. He’ll deal with that later. Currently, he has more important things to tend to. You.

Rummaging through your cupboards, he successfully finds some medication that will ease the aches in your stomach. As for your dizzy head, the best thing he can do for you is close your curtains and encourage you to get rest. Fluid intake is also vital, it’ll aid dehydration. Returning to your side with a glass of water and some pills, Sol places them on your bedside table and sits on the edge of your bed.

“Are you okay? Let me feel your head.” Sol sighs, placing his palm flat on your forehead.

“Sol…” You whine, one hand remaining on your stomach and the other clutching his free hand.

“You’re not that hot, yet. Leave your window open—”

“No! No, I can’t! You’ve seen the news…”

“You will be fine, I promise. Fresh air will make you feel a lot better.”

“I’m sorry for burdening you with this…”

“Don’t be. I’d rather it be me taking care of you than anyone else.”

“I’ll buy you a—”

“No. Sit down.”

“Ugh, Sol—”

“Rest.”

“I’ll buy you a thank-you gift when I’m better…” You mumble, pouting at him as he leans against the doorframe.

“Send me a text or call me if you need me. Doesn’t matter what time it is.”

“Text… Call… Yeah.” You repeat, rubbing your eyes while burying your head into the pillow.

“Don’t forget, take your medicine.”

“I’m gonna take it… Now.” You reach over and drop the pills into your mouth, then take a small sip of the drink to wash them down.

“Goodnight. I hope you feel better soon.”

Before leaving, he waited until he heard your breathing pattern change, signifying that you were asleep. Alongside the medication, he slipped in a sleeping pill, its dosage strong enough to keep you out for the correct amount of time.

As if he would leave you alone so easily while you’re sick.

Right now, however, his main concern is dealing with the business that made his soulmate ill, after all, what good is a company in operation if its only achievement is casting a vast majority of its customers extremely unwell upon eating their cheaply sourced food?

Upon arriving back at his apartment, he stripped from his usual attire and threw on a set of his darkest clothes, a matching surgical mask to cover what remained exposed on his face. A complaint wouldn’t be enough, they clearly racked up enough of them online but did not change a singular thing about their selfish ways.

It was just after midnight when the streets were soundless and the civilians were tucked away inside of the safety of their homes. Strolling down the deserted sidewalk, Sol stops outside of a building, comparing the logo to the one saved in his photo album. A perfect match.

Subtly, Sol explored the perimeter, tracing the outline of the building before returning to the front. It’s no wonder why all of their customers become unwell, the amount of trash that remains behind the building is piled up, much taller than him.

There is no point in teaching those who do not wish to learn. An ignorant mind reflects an ignorant heart. Only the careless would profit from neglect like this.

Flicking his lighter on, he tosses it to the ground before walking away, the flicker of flames igniting in the distance as he glances back. It won’t be long before a passerby calls the fire department, but that’s no concern to him. When the authorities see the state the building was in previously, they could rule it out as the impact of an unkempt business.

His feet led him back to your apartment, the open window a much easier entrance for him as he climbed up. After all those locks you’ve bought in the past, he’s surprised you never gave up your safety protocols. Securing his footing, he creeps back into your bedroom, kneeling beside you as you rest peacefully in your slumber.

You are so beautiful. Every feature of your face was crafted with tender hands. He traces over your lips with his index finger, slowly drawing his hand back.

“Hi, Pumpkin.” He whispers, leaning in to press his lips against your cheek. “I’m going to check your temperature again.”

This time, Sol uses the back of his hand. Thankfully, he would say you are around average, partially a slight bit higher than usual.

“Good… You’re going to be okay. You might be sick tomorrow but I’ll come over to make sure you aren’t alone.”

“You like having me here, don’t you? You feel so safe, so loved.” He strokes your hair similar to how you would pet a fragile animal. As his hand ventures under the blanket, he comes in contact with something.

“You still sleep with the plushie I bought for you? You…” Sol’s smile expands, his cheeks lighting a subtle shade of pink. “You must love it. Or me. I hope it’s me.”

In your sleep, you moan, your body beginning to shift. He strokes the side of your arm, calming you down as you endure whatever dream is unfolding. After a while, your body stops with its relentless motions and goes still again.

“This is our special time together. It’s my favourite part of the day.” Sol’s lips curve up, his eyes filled with adoration as he clutches your plushie close to his chest. “I’ll make it smell like me again, don’t worry.”

“Mph…” Your lips moved, but he couldn’t decipher the sound that left them.

“Hm?” Sol pinches your cheek, a procedure to test if you’re awake or not.

You must be mumbling to yourself since you didn’t respond to his touch.

“I’m guessing you missed smelling me then. That’s cute.” When he finished rubbing the plushie against his flesh and clothing, he tucked it under your chin. “You’re cute.”

“He doesn’t deserve you, you know?” Sol mumbles, sinking onto the bed beside you, fingers toying with your hair.

“He would never do the things I have done for you.”

“I know you prefer me. It’s okay if you don’t want to admit it right now. I can wait.” He rolls onto his side, your face now in view.

“You make it hard for me to leave every single time…” His pitch was low, an almost pouty tone as he nuzzled his head against your chest. Lifting your limbs, he wraps them around himself, drawing the blanket over both of your bodies this time.

“I’ll just stay like this for a few more minutes… Then I have to go.” Sol closes his eyes, the therapeutic beats of your heart are a soothing melody to his ears.

…

Sunlight filters in through the curtains, a bitter breeze hitting your clammy skin. Compared to yesterday, you’re feeling a lot better, the only thing remaining is the dull ache in your stomach. Rubbing your eyes, you squeeze your plushie, only to hear a strange noise.

Last time you checked, this plushie shouldn’t be able to communicate. Shooting your eyes open, you find a mess of green hair sprawled out on top of you.

“Sol?” You rub your eyes again, unsure if what is in front of you is reality or a fever dream.

“Yeah…?” Sol mumbles in response, his body shifting. Then he goes still, springing up from his previous position. Shit.

“I thought you left last night.”

“After you took your medicine, you asked me to stay. You went out like a light but I made sure that you were okay.”

“Did you have this on yesterday?” You tug at his hoodie. “I’ve never seen you wear clothes like this before.”

“These are my comfy clothes, that’s why. I keep the hoodie in my backpack.”

“Oh…” That food poisoning must have hit you hard to leave you so delirious. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“…?” Sol flutters his eyelashes while your hands cup his cheeks, drawing him near. Your lips plant a peck on his forehead, a suiting reward since he went out of his way for you.

“Ah… You shouldn’t have to thank me… It’s what anyone would do.” Sol rubs the back of his neck, a flush spreading over his face.

“I feel sick. Like I’m going to throw up.”

“I’m not surprised. Let’s get you to the bathroom. Get all of that food out of your system for good.” Sol stands first, offering his hand to assist you to your feet.

“I don’t like vomiting.” You mope, refusing to move despite your stomach cramping further.

“But it has to come out. You’ll be okay, I’m right here.” He grabs your hand, squeezing it gently.

The only option is to get up if you don’t want to clean your bedsheets. Swiftly shuffling between rooms, you kneel before the toilet and allow your body to regulate itself, removing the foreign pathogens that invaded your meal. Sol rubbed your back, making the process easier. There wasn’t a lot of retching, but you still felt that familiar burn in your throat when you were finished.

“Any more?” Sol pats your upper back and you shake your head.

“I’ll cook for you this time. No more buying from trashy food places.”

“But they’re cheap…” You puff air into your cheeks, taking your toothbrush which he handed you to remove the bitter taste from your mouth.

“My meals are free. Don’t be ashamed to ask.” Sol takes a final glance at you before heading back to your kitchen, scouring the cupboards in search of something to work with.

For you, he would do anything. Make anything. Even if it’s from scratch. No matter the simplicity or complication of a request you have, he will ensure that you get what you ask for. You don’t deserve anything less. If only you were aware of the lengths he has gone and is still willing to go for you.

#tkatb vn #tkatb sol #the kid at the back x reader #the kid at the back sol #the kid at the back vn #fanfic #sol x reader

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zephyrchama · 11 months ago

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Listening to Magic Moment on a non-stop loop has forced me to write this.

Writing Prompt: MC giving "free massage" tickets to the brothers.

Under the cut. Gender neutral MC, second person, one section for each of the 7 brothers.

Warnings: Nothing hardcore but there is suggestive content (every person has different boundaries so I don't know whether to classify it as some or a lot?). One section almost has a violent outburst (guess who lol it's satan's part), that might be unsettling to some.

The Seven Rulers of the Devildom had expensive taste. Must be a side effect from being some of the most powerful and influential millennia-old entities around.

The student council gave you a regular allowance and there was some side change from various part time jobs, but no way could you afford a custom designer brand gift for each of your housemates. When probed for details about what they’d like, they always say they’d gladly accept anything from you. That’s surely true, but you wanted to gift something they’d actually use and appreciate.

So after weeks of thinking, you got a bag of nice craft paper and some cute stickers that reminded you of the brothers. You holed up for an evening with a Do Not Disturb sign on the bedroom door. Late at night a couple days before Christmas, you snuck into the festively decorated living room and dropped your gifts into the brother’s stockings. Those were also your idea, and technically a gift with some little snacks inside, but now they also contained an extra surprise.

On Christmas morning everyone would wake up and discover your “Free Massage” tickets. One use per ticket. Valid forever.

Lucifer ---

You assumed Lucifer would use his ticket quickly, given how exhausted he often was. Despite being as busy as ever, he showed no intention of using it. Perhaps he thought the gift was beneath him and forgot about it entirely. Perhaps he needed hints to remind him.

For days you would check in on him more and more frequently. Send him a text, inform him that you were around if anything was needed. “Don’t forget to take breaks, ok? I’m here if you need me!”

One evening you boldly slipped into his room on the pretenses of returning a book. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. A sleepy Lucifer was towel-drying his hair after a shower. He sat on the corner of the bed, clean pajama shirt folded neatly beside him.

You took a seat on his other side. The book was large enough to occupy a third space. “Thanks for lending this to me. It was a surprisingly helpful reference.”

“I told you it was, didn’t I?”

He sounded amicable to conversation. Time to go on the offensive. “Do you need any help with that? I have a nice hair dryer from Asmo.”

“No,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I have the same one. I just prefer simple routines like this before bed.”

One rejection wasn't enough to deter you. “How was your day? Did anyone cause you trouble?”

You would have known if one of his brothers had acted up, but maybe something else was on his mind you could take advantage of.

“It was particularly uneventful. Quiet, for once. I’m glad to have this evening off, I have to be up early tomorrow.”

Shot down again. Now Lucifer was reaching for his shirt. Before he put it on, you grabbed his shoulder and weaseled your arm under his armpit and around his back. Not the smoothest move, but he stopped to humor you.

“Is anything on your mind?” he asked.

“It’s just that you’ve been so busy lately, I’m worried about your health. You’ve got to take it easy from time to time.” You rubbed your palm over his back. “I’m sure you get sore when you’re overworked.”

“Indeed. However, it’s something I’m used to.”

He re-folded the shirt and got up to put it away. “Would you like to stay the night? You must miss me, seeing as I’m so busy.”

“Absolutely!”

In the spare moments it took for Lucifer to hang up his shirt, place the returned book on its shelf, and walk back to the bed, you already made yourself at home in the sheets. He chuckled, “someone’s eager.”

The lights turned off and he slid into bed by your side. After only a couple of minutes, Lucifer shifted to face the wall. He already appeared asleep. He must really have been tired after all. Under the warm blanket, you reached to stroke his back again.

A novel idea formed in your mind. If all your attempts failed while he was awake, maybe subliminal messaging while asleep would be effective. You snuggled up close and whispered into his ear, “massage ticket… Use… the massage ticket…”

You weren’t expecting a reply, but Lucifer’s deep voice whispered back at you, “why would I waste such a valuable gift?"

"You're awake?" you gasped. Lucifer's prank had been unexpected. You began softly punching his back. "I thought you fell asleep."

"I'm awake, and I wasn't planning on using that ticket. Especially when you go through the trouble to do interesting things like this.”

Mammon ---

Mammon’s ticket had been confiscated. He no longer had it because he got up early, the most excited out of everyone to receive his shiny new presents, and once he saw what was in his stocking he knew that each of his brothers had one too.

Beelzebub walked in on him rooting around in everyone’s stockings to snag their massage tickets for himself and tackled him, as he thought Mammon was stealing Christmas chocolates. The commotion attracted everyone else and Mammon’s ticket was vetoed in a unanimous vote. But he still deserved a gift from you.

Instead of letting him choose a day and time like the others, you visited Mammon’s room when you felt like it. He was still pouting.

“You know I’ve been on my best behavior all year. S’not fair!” He punched the couch in frustration. He really had been getting into less trouble lately. It felt bad seeing him so down.

“Do you want one now? A massage, I mean. Don’t tell your brothers. It’s a limited time offer since you don’t have a ticket.”

“Ya mean it?”

You nodded, and his misery turned into excitement. He literally jumped up. “Well, do I get a little somethin’ extra too? Since I don’t have my ticket, ya know. Somethin’ to make up for that. I’ve got this nice little outfit you could wear that’s-”

You quickly cut him off before the Avatar of Greed gave too many demands. “Limited time offer with terms and conditions. Take the massage right now as-is or leave it. Up to you.”

“Aaarghh alright, alright. I’ll take it. Feel honored! I’ll humor your little massage for a while!”

Mammon dramatically pulled his shirt off but kept wearing the silliest, smuggest smile. He really was cute when trying and utterly failing to act tough. He sprawled himself out on the couch, “let’s see what you’ve got!”

Since the greedy demon hogged all of the couch space, there was nowhere to sit next to him within arm’s reach. With a “don’t mind if I do,” you decided to crawl over Mammon’s legs and sit on his butt.

In a moment of shock he wiggled out from under you. You would have toppled over the side of the sofa had Mammon’s famously fast reflexes not scooped you up, now placing you atop his chest. “Whaddya think you’re doin’, huh? Who said you could do that?”

“You did! How else was I supposed to… Look, do you want this or not?”

His scowl, no matter how big, couldn’t hide the blush on his face. “Yeah, ok, but just… warn me this time… Ok?”

Leviathan ---

It had been nearly a week since you last heard from Leviathan. After Christmas, you thought you might not see him at all until the new year. There were so many holiday game events happening, after all.

“Think I’m stuck,” read the message that popped up on your DDD late one night.

“Can’t move. Requesting reinforcements. And food.”

Concerned, you popped into the kitchen for whatever palatable finger foods you could assemble on a plate and began making your way to the third born’s room. You knocked, but there was no answer. It had been a while since he gave you a password, but it didn’t seem to matter now. You just walked in.

Leviathan was slumped over in his gaming chair, surrounded by roughly ten different screens. Each had a different game and one was streaming some idol talk show. His trash can, while still relatively contained, was almost overflowing with energy drink cans and snack packages. Levi didn’t seem to notice you walk in. He had been gaming for days. You set the plate at the edge of his PC desk.

“Dang. You live like this?”

Bleary-eyed and vitamin D deficient, he still shrieked. ��Whuh? Don’t scare me like that!!”

“I came to answer your distress call. You’re stuck?”

“Oh, right. I did send that, didn’t I.” He turned back to the monitors briefly to pause a few things and save a few others. It was impressive how much he could multitask.

“My back’s turned into a pretzel. I thought I’d finally take a break, but when I went to stand up I couldn’t. I think I’m stuck to the chair, lol. If I, uh, use the massage ticket, could you help me?”

“’course I will. Here, drink something.” You slid him a juice. The gamer chair was pretty tall, blocking all access to Leviathan’s back, so you started tapping away at his shoulders. He scrambled to take his headphones off, which helped.

“Sorry to call you in for such a stupid reason. I know this is a disgusting sight..”

You shook your head, though he couldn’t see it. “How’s your game progress?””Oh, about 80% done everything? 85? But it’s mostly the daily quests now, I’ve maxed out on all the top prizes from the main event stories. Look, I even got this Christmas bow set. It has trash stats but looks like a tree and fires little candy canes.”

A big burly warrior with a Christmas hat on one of the screens demonstrated the weapon.

“Uwaah, you know that really helped. I think I can try to stand now.” Leviathan made a made show of setting his legs on the ground and leaning forward, only to magnificently slide back into the chair. “Ow. Ok. That, uh, wasn’t what I planned.” He turned away. “Don’t look at me.”

“No! Don’t give up!” You spun the seat around and he squeaked In astonishment. “We’re gonna make this happen. Levi! Do you trust me?” It was all or nothing. You dramatically reached out your hands. You knew you could do it. You were going to pull this demon out of the gamer chair.

Steeling his resolve, Leviathan nodded and grabbed your hands. You asked, “ready?”

He confirmed, “Ok… Ok lets go! One!”

“Two!”

As you shouted “three!” in unison, you tugged back with all your strength. Maybe you could have pulled a little less, as the two of you went flying backwards. There would have been some real damage if Levi didn’t cushion your head from the tiled floor with his arm.

“Woaaah it woooorked! We did--”

Mid-celebration, he seemed to notice he was in a compromising position on top of you. After barrel rolling off to the side, his voice got noticeably quieter. “We did it… yeah, uh… Sorry about--”

Leaving no room for negativity, you reached around his back and hugged him before he could finish the sentence. “I really missed you, y’know? Come out of your room more often, Levi.”

His face wasn’t visible, but you’re sure it was bright red as he stammered a soft “alright.”

Satan ---

Satan texted, asking if he could redeem his massage ticket after a long and tiring day. Said it was urgent. His presence was always in demand at social events, galleries, and book shop unveilings. After five busy events in one day he just wanted to return

home to relax with a book, but some idiots were running around the library playing war with rubber band shooters. His fuse that day was incredibly short. So he retreated to the comfort of his room, but each thudding footstep down the hall sounded irksome and brought Satan one step closer to snapping.

When you knocked at his door, wrath was seeping out the cracks into the hallway. He practically screamed at you to get inside. Satan was shaking on the edge of his bed, crushing an unrecognizable object in his hand. The room was dreadfully cold. You rushed to his side, practically jumping into the empty space next to him.

He barely acknowledged you. Rubbing slow, small circles on his back had a quick effect though. Upon hitting between his shoulder blades, his tense muscles loosened and he leaned against your side. You could hear him grinding his teeth. After a long minute passed he exhaled in relief.

You scooted back a bit and guided his head to your lap. Stroking continuous circles, one hand was in his rich blonde hair, the other against his shirt fabric. “Thank you for coming,” he muttered, rubbing a cheek against your thigh.“You really saved me there.”

“Any time. Do you want to talk about your day?” Your voice was low and soft.

“No. Just keep going.”

Gently pulling at his shirt collar, you loosened it to caress the back of his neck. He was still in his outdoor attire. He’d tell you about it in time, once fully calmed down. He tried to apologize for the outburst, though it wasn’t your fault and he didn’t quite know what to say. You brushed his hair back, combing it away from his forehead to let him know things were okay. It became your personal mission lessen the stiffness in his back. You’d work your way down his spine until he relaxed.

“Maybe I could read you a book, too?” You suggested, squeezing his shoulder. Satan shifted his hand to rub your knee in appreciation.

Asmodeus ---

Asmodeus set aside a whole spa evening to use your massage ticket. It was special. He filled his bath with high-end fragrances so his skin would be extra silky. He extended an offer for you to join him in the water, heated with magic to be the perfect temperature, but you said you’d wait in his room. Those baths can take hours. You’d be too pruny to feel, let alone massage anything. He had plenty of interesting magazines to flip through in the meantime, and you got to enjoy the plush sheets on his bed.

He waltzed out of the bathroom in a magnificently fluffy robe, another Christmas gift he’d received from somebody. “Thanks for waiting! Were you lonely? I’m allll ready!”

A brand new skincare set waited on the vanity, stocked with creams and masks for you to try together. Asmo plopped into a seat while you pulled up a spare chair behind him. “What are we starting with first?”

He rifled through the packages. “This!” A matte purple, gooey liquid. “I tried samples of this before, it smells divine. Come here!”

You let him plop a dab of the gloop on your nose and rub it into your cheeks. “There! Give it a few minutes and then wash it off. In the meantime, shall we begin? Hm?”

He turned to face the mirror and wiggled impatiently for his massage, cheekily sliding the robe off his shoulder. “I know you probably can’t wait much longer.” You both laughed. With the robe around his waist, you got to work redeeming the ticket. Pounding against his back didn’t seem to phase him at all, and Asmo hardly moved from the strength of your fists as he rubbed another cream under his eyes. He launched into a story about some fan who sent him a thirty page letter the other day.

“They described my beautiful eyes really well. It was even scented, and each page was another scent. Isn’t that wild? Do you think they did that themselves, or are the pages sold like that?” His eyes peered at you in the vanity mirror. “Hey, can you rub a little harder?”

“Oh, sure!” Knowing it would be hard for you to physically hurt him, you put a bit more force into each tap. “What scent was your favorite? Like, could you distinguish them?”

“Actually, yeah! There were lots of fruits like cherries, strawberries, one was pine scented, and a rose one of course.” Asmo glanced away from his own reflection once again and he shifted his weight back towards you. “Hey, hon? Harder?”

You obliged, squeezing his back muscles with as much strength as you could muster. “Is that… Was it the longest fan letter you’ve gotten?”Asmo let out a barely distinguishable moan. You almost thought you imagined it.

”Hm… Not by far…” He started, but trailed off. With a big breath, he moaned louder and leaned back further. “Oh, come on, harder… ” He wrapped his arms around his chest and wiggled.

“Asmo!? What the-- are you…? Gross!” You lifted your hands in shock and he burst out laughing. Without anything supporting him up, he fell into your lap in a fit of giggles. “Did you think I was serious? Ahaha! You’re so cute when you’re flustered!”

Beelzebub ---

“I ate something that didn’t agree with my stomach, can I redeem that gift for a massage? It might make me feel better.” That’s what Beelzebub asked one afternoon, stopping by your room after noticing the door open. It’s rare for something to upset Beel’s stomach. It must have been really rancid.

“Yeah, of course! You wanna do it here or your room?”

“We’re already here. If you don’t mind.” Beel walked in and made himself at home, smoothing out the covers on your bed.

You got up to shut the door, but wondered if a run to the kitchen would be useful.

“Will ice help? Or any kind of medicine?” Maybe even normal food would cancel out the bad stuff and make Beel feel better, but he declined. Beel already propped his head up on your pillow and laid down.

“You’re gonna lay face up? How am I supposed to rub your back?””My stomach hurts. I thought you could rub that, and I would feel better.””Oh.” Nobody else had been able to look at you directly while giving massages. This was more embarrassing.

Beelzebub realized he hadn’t taken his shirt off, but didn’t want to stand and repeat the process again, so he just pulled it up to his chest. His breathing did seem more labored than usual. Out of pity, you didn’t roll him over. “I haven’t done this way before, so tell me if it’s uncomfortable.”

The demon was so much bigger than you, it was hard to find a good starting spot. “You can sit here,” he said, patting his waist. “Only if you want to. I don’t mind.” So you scooted on up, placing your legs to the left and right of him. Beel is so muscled it was like sitting on a warm rock.

“Where does it feel uncomfortable? Here?” You prodded a bit around his stomach, careful not to make him sick.

“Pff, haha, yeah. That’s it.”

“That tickles?”

“Yeah.”

While Beel softly giggled, you worked your hands along the soft spots between his ab muscles. “What did you even eat?”

“A bath bomb.”You couldn’t help laugh along with him. Beel continued, “I didn’t know that’s what it was until Solomon told me though. I thought I maybe I accidentally had his cooking. It looked delicious. But I think it started expanding, and caused an ache.”

“I can’t blame you there. I almost ate soap once.”

“Really? You?” You were always the more level one when it came to food. “Did it look good?”

You nodded. “Boy, did it. And it smelled amazing, I could smell it from across the room. You probably smelled the bath bomb the moment you walked in that building, right?”

He vigorously nodded. “So you do get it!”

Beel reached up and pulled you into a big hug, catching you off guard so you practically fell on top of him. “Thanks for making me feel better.”

Escaping from one of Beel’s hugs was no easy feat, so you happily went along with it. “Any time. If you ever see one of those fake cupcakes again, maybe we can put it in the bath water and see what it does together.”

Belphegor ---

“I’ve got a fun idea. Meet me in the observatory?

When you showed up to Belphegor’s summons he was counting stars. The observatory was dark but the stars were bright enough to illuminate his silhouette standing in front of the window. He greeted you with a warm smile.

“I brought my ticket. I have a special request though.” Waving the massage ticket in

his hand, he came to meet you in the middle of the room. As your eyes adjusted you could make out that an old telescope was set up next to the fountain.

“ A special request? I guess I could hear you out since I came all this way.”

The two of you took a seat on the floor. For several moments, the only sounds were your own breathing and the soothing flow of water. When he didn’t start explaining, you were afraid Belphie might fall asleep in the peaceful silence. “Are you really gonna wait for me to ask what it is?”

“Yeah. If you wanna know, you should hurry up.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“What did you want to do?”

He reached to adjust the telescope in front of you at your eye level while explaining. “I thought we could stargaze together, but instead of just talking about what we see, we could draw them on each other’s backs. If you draw the constellations I can tell you what they are. When it’s my turn, I can show you what they look like and tell you stuff about it. What do you think?”

If your eyes could have stars in them, at this moment they would. “That sounds like a really fun idea.”

“Hehe, right? I told you. So take a look, what do you see?”

Belphegor turned his back towards you while you excitedly peered through the telecope. It was easy to focus and you quickly found a target to study.

“Two there, and then… Ok, I think I’ve got it. What’s this?”

You started to replicate what you saw with little knocks for stars, and connected them by slowly drawing arcs between the points. Belphegor’s jacket would slide over his shirt though, messing up the curves.

“Hm…” He sighed. “I thought I would be pretty good at this, but it’s hard to tell what you’re drawing.”

“This might be easier without the jacket,” you admitted.

“Really? I’m too tired to take it off though. Take it off for me?”

His brothers spoiled him too much, just like you did, so Belphegor didn’t move a muscle when you tried to peel off the warm jacket. You had to get in his personal space and lift his arms up for him. You told yourself the struggle would be worth it when you finally wrestled it off of him and could wear it yourself. He was being too uncooperative though, and eventually suggested “how about we switch? I don’t want to take this off, I’m comfortable now.”

Dejected without your warm prize, you agreed. The telescope stand rattled against the ground as he readjusted it and you turned away from him. “Do you still really want to use your massage ticket if I’m not the one doing it?” you inquired.

He hummed and hawed, mulling it over while gazing up at the sky. “Yeah, I do, if it lets me do fun stuff like this with you. I got one, let me know if you have this star sign in the human world.”

The first couple pokes sent tingles through your skin. The stars were really far away from each other, drawn on opposite sides of your lower back, but you weren’t prepared for such a delicate touch and had been distracted. “I don’t… think so? Hold on, draw it again.”

“Don’t you know? It goes like this.” He poked again, a little lower. You let out an

“eep!” and subconsciously scooted forward.

“Wait, I’m not done.” He was clearly holding back laughter. “I haven’t shown you this other one yet.”

The next constellation felt less like the trace of a star, and a lot more like Belphegor just wanted to tickle your sides. “Do you know what this is called?”

“Khh hahaha, no, I don’t.” The laugh-riddled admission further encouraged him. He wiggled lines all over your sides and crept his way to your stomach.

“I guess we have a lot of constellations to talk about then. Good thing the sky is so clear tonight.”

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 months ago

Text

We've Got Time

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!French/American!reader

Summary: You return to Los Angeles from France to visit your childhood friend Lucy Chen and find everything your heart has needed.

Warnings: fluff, r makes Tim a little nervous

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“Come on!” Lucy groans. “I told you not to eat macarons when you can’t share.”

You smile guiltily and set the pastel pink macaron back on the hand-painted dish beside your phone. “Sorry, Luce.”

Lucy sighs, and a pang in your heart reminds you how much you miss her. She became your best friend during summers in America as a kid, but you haven’t had a chance to visit the States in too long.

“How’s policing going?” you inquire.

“As good as it can, I guess. Tim is still grumpy and finds something wrong with most of my decisions, but I’m learning.”

“You’re good at everything you decide to put your mind to, Lucy, and no matter what this Tim guy says, you’re going to be a great cop.”

“I think an éclair would make me a better cop,” Lucy replies with a dramatic pout.

“Éclairs au chocolate make everything better.”

“Boot!” someone yells in the background, causing Lucy to roll her eyes.

“Bye, Lucy,” you say. “Je t’aime.”

“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t tease me with macarons and French countryside on all of our calls. But… I love you, too.”

Your phone screen changes as Lucy ends the call, and as you trace the paint on your plate with your eyes, you decide what to do. It’s time to visit your best friend.

You straighten your jacket as the U.S. customs officer looks through your bag. Your French and American passports sit on the metal desk as he lifts a wrapped Saint Laurent box.

“Uhm,” the man begins before mouthing a few words. “Contenu de cette…”

“I speak English,” you offer with a smile. “It’s a purse, gift for a friend.”

He nods and returns the box to your suitcase before he leans forward to zip it. “You’re free to go. Welcome to Los Angeles.”

“Thank you.”

As you pull your suitcases through Los Angeles International Airport, you smile. Your excitement to surprise Lucy increases as you near her police station, hoping to brighten her day.

“You’re looking for Chen?” someone asks.

You look up from your phone and across the police station lobby. The officer is handsome - stern but attractive, which tells you he’s…

“Officer Bradford, I presume,” you reply as you stand. “I am. I understand if she’s busy, though. I can surprise her later.”

“Surprise? Oh, you’re the friend that lives in France.”

Your eyes widen in surprise that he’d remember that. When you nod, he turns and walks away. Left to stare after him, you shrug and pick up your bag. You have Lucy’s address, so you’ll wait for her at her apartment.

“Yes, sir,” Lucy says.

You stop and watch the doorway where Tim went, and when Lucy steps through, she freezes.

“No more French countryside in the background, as requested,” you joke.

Lucy gasps as she runs toward you, and you’re wrapped in a signature Lucy hug. You tighten your arms around her as she whispers how much she missed you.

“Napa’s not close enough to the French riviera for you, Chen?” Tim asks as she steps out of your arms.

“Oh,” you tut, shaking your head at him. “There’s no comparison, mon chéri.”

Tim’s lips quirk up as he tilts his head to the side. You ignore Lucy’s questioning look or her growing smile following your pet name.

“I know you’re at work,” you tell Lucy, “but I just had to let you know I was here.”

“Thank you! I’ll give you a key to my apartment and you can stay with me, okay?”

“Lucy, I can’t impose-“

“Forget I asked, I’ll get the key.”

Lucy rushes away before you can argue further, and you’re left alone with Tim again.

“Thank you for letting me see her,” you say. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I just didn’t want to hear her complain about missing you for another hour of patrol.”

You smile and agree, “Sure.”

“Uh, so, how long are you in town?”

“I’m not sure yet,” you answer with a shrug. “I came in on a one-way ticket.”

Tim nods, his fingers fidgeting along his belt. “Chen’s taking a while.”

“She is.”

After an awkward pause, Tim sighs and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Yes?” you encourage.

“If you need anything while you’re here, I could- could help you out. If you want.”

“And how would I be able to ask for your help?”

“I could give you my number.”

“What would Lucy think?” you ask quietly, smiling so Tim knows you aren’t saying no.

“Probably a lot.”

You laugh as you pass your unlocked phone to Tim. He types his information in quickly, then sends himself a text before he returns your phone, his fingers brushing yours.

“Here you go!” Lucy announces as she returns. “Make yourself at home, and I’ll be back around 7, after my shift ends.”

“Merci, amie.”

As you hug Lucy, you wink at Tim over her shoulder. A trip to Los Angeles was the right choice for more reasons than you thought.

“What’s mon chéri mean?” Tim asks as he and Lucy leave the station after their shift.

“I think that’s a question for the one who called you that, Tim,” Lucy replies. “Maybe you should take her out to dinner and ask all about it.”

“But we-“

“You’re terrible at hiding your vast emotional range, Tim. Call her.”

The next night, you meet Tim outside a restaurant of his choosing. After you gifted Lucy the YSL bag and a vintage band t-shirt, she repaid your kindness by letting you borrow a dress and helping you prepare for your date with Tim Bradford. Now, you laugh to yourself as Tim walks to greet you.

“Petit Trois,” you murmur. “You do know that taking a French girl to an American French restaurant is probably a terrible idea, right?”

“Probably. But the chef is French, and you’re the only person I know that can tell me if this is authentic cuisine,” Tim answers. “Unless you’re in the mood for American, in which case, there’s a McDonald’s down the street.”

“No, let’s try little three. If they don’t have éclairs au chocolate, though, you owe me a Frosty.”

Tim offers his arm, and you loop your arm through his as he leads you inside. The conversation comes easily, and between Tim, Lucy, and all of the good memories you have here, you’re beginning to wonder if you even want to return to France anytime soon.

“You met Lucy when you were kids?” Tim inquires after you order.

“I did. My dad’s American, and we spent summers in California when I was young. Lucy was the best friend I ever had, and we stayed close. Even after I moved back to France full-time.”

“What’s your favorite thing about France? Besides the pastries, of course.”

“The scenery, the slow and easy pace. It’s so different from America, but it’s beautiful.”

“It sounds amazing.”

“What about you? What makes California home?”

“The Dodgers.” You shake your head, and Tim offers, “Everything I love is here. It’s all I’ve ever known, and I feel most like me in Los Angeles, I guess.”

“That’s beautiful, mon chéri.”

Tim still doesn’t know what it means exactly, but he falls for you when you take his hand and call him yours. Everything that you love about France, what makes it beautiful and special to you, he sees it in you: your beauty, kindness, and grace. Lucy seemed to think something would happen between you and Tim, and, for once, he wouldn’t mind if she was right.

A week after arriving in Los Angeles, you’ve settled into Lucy’s guest room and have made no plans to leave. You’ve gone out with Tim, caught up with Lucy, and remembered why you loved summers in Los Angeles.

“Lucy,” you begin as you bake macarons together. “Can I ask you something?”

“About Tim?” she guesses.

“Not just Tim. I… I’ve been thinking a lot and I’m not sure I want to go back to France. Not for a while, at least.”

“Are you serious?” Lucy asks excitedly, dropping her spoon onto the counter. “Don’t say stuff like that if you don’t mean it.”

“So, you’d be okay with it? Me staying? I could get my own place or pay rent, whatever, but…”

“Of course, I’d love to have you here!”

“Do you think Tim will want to keep seeing me if I stay?” you ask softly.

Lucy lays her hands on your shoulders and smiles. “Tim feels exactly the same. He wants you to stay because he likes spend time with you. Maybe even more than that.”

“But, he-“

“No,” Lucy interrupts. “Trust me on this. You have to follow your heart. You taught me that when we were kids, remember? My heart couldn’t buy me a plane to France, but it was still good advice.”

You nod and lean forward to hug Lucy. “Merci,” you say against her shoulder. “I’ll follow my heart.”

Lucy pushes you back and points to the door. “Do it now.”

“The macarons,” you argue.

“I can finish them!” she replies. Then, she purses her lips and admits, “I can do my best.”

You assure her they’ll be perfect before you grab your bag and rush out the door. Your outfit feels incomplete without the jacket you like to wear over your tied shirt, but it’s the least of your concerns as you follow your heart straight to Tim Bradford.

“Hey,” he greets as he opens the door. “Did we have plans? I was just-“

“Je t’aime,” you interrupt breathlessly. “I love you, Tim. And I’m staying in the States because all that my heart wants is here.”

“Don’t stay just for me or Lucy, okay?” he says, stepping toward you. “Whatever you want-“

“It’s all here. I want to stay.”

Tim smiles and says, “Well, with all this time, maybe you can teach me how to make your first love.”

“Éclairs au chocolat?” you fill in. “Anytime, mon amour.”

“What are you calling me?” he inquires.

You lay your hand against his cheek and promise, “We’ve got time for you to learn.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯#the rookie x reader #the rookie abc

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peachsukii · 8 months ago

Text

⭑˚. ⇢ you make a gift for katsuki's 18th birthday.

-`☆ day one of the explosive birthday celebration ! ☆´-

It's the week of Bakugo's 18th birthday - you and all of class A have plenty of plans arranged to make it special for him! You know he's going to feign ignorance, like he doesn't care about all of the love and support, but deep down is a sucker for it. Midoriya and Kirishima had all of the party supplies ready to go, stored secretly in their dorm rooms. Sato bought all the ingredients he'd need to make snacks and a cake for the party while the girls stashed away a bunch of party favors, splitting up everything between their rooms. Everyone was ready to celebrate their favorite explosive hero!

There's was just one thing left for you to do - find him a present.

What exactly did Bakugo want? He never vocalized desiring anything material in nature, not even All Might memorabilia. Getting him a gift card felt a little flat for such a milestone birthday, you wanted him to feel appreciated. With everything the class has gone through in the last three years, especially him and Midoriya, he deserved to be spoiled and shown how important he is to everyone.

In your mind, you went through the things Bakugo liked: hiking, cooking, All Might, spicy foods...maybe novels? You'd heard from Midoriya that he loves to read, but you didn't press him on what exactly his favorite genre was. Scribbling a bunch of ideas into a notebook, you brainstormed for awhile before the perfect inspiration struck - you can make him something!

Immediately, you call Midoriya to run your idea by him.

"Hey! What's up?" he answers cheerfully.

"Hi Izuku! I'm prepping a present for Katsuki's birthday and wanted to get your input. You got a few minutes?"

"Of course! What did you have in mind?" Midoriya seemed pleased that you chose him to help with your little creation for his best friend.

"Here's what I'm thinking..."

───

Later in the day, you return from the craft store with Midoriya, a couple of bags in hand with supplies for your gift. He helps you carry everything back to your dorm room and unloads it all onto your desk.

"Do you want any help making the book?" he offers.

"I think I'll be alright, but if you could get that recipe from Shoto, that would be a huge help!" You dump the supplies out onto your desk, spreading everything out neatly to begin working.

"Sure! I'll go ask him for it now. I'll be back soon!"

Midoriya exits your room quietly as you take a seat at your desk, prepping to start working on Bakugo's present. It wasn't anything fancy or flashy, but thought the sentiment was worth more than any lame gift card. You'd decided to make him a custom recipe booklet! It would be blank, with the exception of one recipe, for him to fill in as time goes on. You know how much he loves to cook and thought it would be handy to keep his favorite meals in one place. The first recipe would be a surprise - Fuyumi's mapo tofu recipe. Bakugo wouldn't shut up about it for weeks after going to Todoroki's house for dinner back in their first year. He more than likely had it, but having it be the first in the book sounds like a decent surprise.

A few hours and paper cuts later, you've crafted a cute little recipe booklet, bound with black rings and packed with subtly decorated pages. You chose not to theme the entire thing, more so just adding in areas for him to fill in instructions, ingredients and cooking time to the pages for reference. The cover was a burnt orange with a blank label on the front, plastered with a bunch of bright stickers of various styles - smiley faces, leaves, stars, food and other accenting themes. You didn't want to assume what Bakugo would want to label it, so you left it blank with some letter sticker sheets inside the cover. The rings are able to be opened, that way he can add additional pages in the future and expand the collection.

Your phone buzzes on the corner of your desk, a text notification from Midoriya appearing on screen.

[Izuku] stopping by with the recipe! [You] great! doors open, just come in when you're here

Midoriya knocks on your door a few minutes later, slipping inside your room and waltzing over to your desk. He looks down at the book you've crafted, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Awww! This is so cool, he's going to absolutely love this. Don't be offended if he doesn't say it though," he jokes, shaking his head with a smile on his face. "You know he's still not great at expressing that kinda thing."

He hands you the recipe on a piece of paper. "Here, I wrote it down for you. Fuyumi's ecstatic you asked for it!"

"Thank you!" you gleam, studying the page's contents. "This'll work perfectly."

Midoriya leaves you to finish your present in peace. You copy over the recipe information onto the first page, organizing it neatly by the sections you created. It's finally finished! At least, that's what you thought until one last detail popped into your head.

Grabbing a black marker, you add in a short and sweet message to the inside cover of the book: "Happy 18th birthday Kats! Looking forward to years of your cooking. - ♡ (Y/N)"

Your heart flutters in your chest as you stare at the words, hoping he'll smile seeing it anytime he opens his recipe book. You grab the muted orange wrapping paper and neatly fold and tuck the book into it, tying it together with a black bow.

Waiting until the end of the week to see his reaction is going to be torture, but worth the wait to see him smile.

extremely flattered to be included in kae's bakugo birthday celebration series! be sure to check out each story this week leading up to his birthday on 4/20 ♡

⇢ master post

-`☆ ᴅᴀʏ ᴏɴᴇ: Coming April 14th - @zanarkandskylines

ᴅᴀʏ ᴛᴡᴏ: Coming April 15th - @xbabyd0lli3x

ᴅᴀʏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ: Coming April 16th - @angels-fantasy

ᴅᴀʏ ꜰᴏᴜʀ: Coming April 17th - @starieq

ᴅᴀʏ ꜰɪᴠᴇ: Coming April 18th - @lowkeyremi

ᴅᴀʏ ꜱɪx: Coming April 19th - @queenpiranhadon

ᴅᴀʏ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ: Coming April 20th - @cashmoneyyysstuff

((inspo for the recipe book! it would obvi not be as aesthetic when he'd use it lol but it would have a little decorative templates for him to fill in)) 💥🎁 tags; @gina239 - @mystic60 - @meowze4r - @icedemon1314 - @bigsimpo343 - @ah-mya - @whezdostuff - @berry-vioo - @seonne - @slayfics

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugo fluff #bakugo x reader fluff #bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x y/n #bakugou x y/n #katsuki x reader #bakugo drabble #bakugo imagine #☆.rei writes

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fernandopiastri28 · 7 months ago

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stop to smell the flowers ❀ - oscar piastri

Oscar is so incredulously smitten for his girlfriend to the point he doesn't even know how to express it with words- so he does it through actions and gifts. ~ (self indulgent and SO short)

“Baby?” A soft echo of his voice vibrated through the eerily quiet apartment, not a single noise besides his shoes scuffling against the carpet. Oscar set down his bag on the kitchen counter, toeing his shoes off and kicking them to the side.

He waited again for a response from his girlfriend- but to no avail. He raised his voice slightly higher this time, moving closer towards the shut door of their bedroom. Keeping his noise down, Oscar pressed down on the handle of the door, attempting to keep the screeching creak to a minimum so as to disturb her, or wake her if she was currently sleeping.

To his unsurprise, his girlfriend was curled up in bed, her head resting at the very bottom of her pillow. Her bottom lip was puffed out over the top one, lashes sweeping over the tops of her cheeks. The quiet whistle of breathing filled the room, cutting through the silence from a lack of a fan going in the background.

She had her arms wrapped around a teddy bear, pressed into her chest. It was a small fluffy koala, adorned in a custom made McLaren jersey, a black 81 printed on the back. She’d named it Oscar, the teddy she held close to her each night when he was away.

The real Oscar was returning home to Australia and home to his girlfriend after the Miami grand prix, almost a whole month passing since he’d seen her last on the night after the Japanese grand prix, when he’d brought her to the airport to go back to Melbourne, then flying off to China himself.

Due to her being in her last year of university, her availability to go to every race- or even just most- was limited. She came when she could, but it was more often than not that she was at home, cheering him on from the comfort of her own bed or the couch. They'd gotten semi used to the unfortunately forced long distance relationship they now had, but it didn't make it any bit easier each time they had to part. At times, it felt as if each time he had to leave was just more difficult then the last.

She wasn’t expecting him to come back so soon, and nor did he. He fully thought his flight would be the following day and he got comfortable with the idea of a cosy night at the hotel- maybe a call to her and a movie. It wasn’t until Mark had offered the option for him to fly home just a mere four hours after the race ended- he didn’t waste a minute packing his suitcase back up and boarding the flight.

Oscar peeled back the covers on his side of the bed, making sure as to not disturb her in the process. He slid his shirt off over his head, opening up the closet door to find his favourite shirt. Even after a few minutes of searching both the hangers and the drawers without a sight of it, he looked over at his shoulder, smirking when he saw that it was the shirt his girlfriend had chosen for bed today.

Oscar settled for just a plain white top, his ‘OP’ logo imprinted over the left breast. He unbuttoned his blue jeans, allowing them to pool around his ankles until he stepped out, tossing them into the laundry basket. Now dressed in only his boxers and a far more comfortable shirt then the previous ever so itchy team polo shirt, he climbed into bed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as he breathed in the sweet, floral shampoo that filled his senses. It was his favourite smell- it smelt of home. He nuzzled further into her neck, pressing a few chaste, open mouth kisses to her soft skin.

Holding back from any serious marking, Oscar mouthed at her shoulder, dragging his tongue gently over the fabric on her shoulder, letting his teeth rub against it. “I missed you, beautiful,” He whispered, kissing up along her neck.

She whined, unconsciously twisting around in the bed to be facing toward him. He took the opportunity to press a few consecutive kisses to her lips, enough to settle the desperation for contact that bubbled hot in his stomach.

Her eyes fluttered, looking as if they would open. “Hi princess,” He tucked some of her hair back behind her ear, nuzzling back into said spot to re-immerse himself in the flowery scent.

“Osccc,” Her voice was thick and groggy with sleep, her eyes open by mere slits in order to block out as much light as possible. “You’re back!” She mumbled with as much enthusiasm as possible while still being mostly asleep.

“Mhmm,” A grin splayed across his mouth, burying his face further into the crook of her neck. “You smell so good,” He kissed the junction of her shoulder, leaving his lips there for a few more seconds.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be back so soon? I would’ve stayed up,” She cupped his face in her hands, her fingers temperate against his chilly and rosy cheeks. Oscar gave a weak shrug, ignoring the question in lieu for kissing her more to warm himself up.

“It’s okay- I like this,” Oscar mumbled against her bottom lip, kissing her again and again until his jaw physically ached. “I got you a present,”

She tilted her head back, her left hand still positioned on his jaw- her thumb rubbing over his cheek. “Oh really?” She whispered, giggling as he met her question with a dopey grin.

“In the kitchen,” He rolled away from her, stumbling awkwardly back out of the bed. “C’mon, I promise it’s worth getting out of bed for,” He reassured her when he saw the displeased and unconvinced look on her face.

Begrudgingly, she followed suit- stumbling out of the bedroom door while wiping sleep from her eyes. She clung to Oscar, wrapping both of her arms around one of his, as the bottom of her sweatpants dragged along the wooden floorboard.

“It’s like a welcome home present, but for you- not me,” He handed her a bouquet of an assortment of orange flowers- begonias, marigolds, tulips, poppies. Anything that matched the same papaya colour that she wore across her torso.

Her heart pounded at the gesture, looking up at Oscar with the most fond expression. “Thank you, Oz,” She wrapped one of her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly as her other hand worked on holding the bundle of flowers. “Thank you so much, I love them,” She couldn’t help the smile that stretched from one ear to the other on her face, her body alight with elation.

“Of course, baby,” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, rubbing her back with the hand that held her just as tight as she was holding him. “I think you deserved it with how you’ve been working,”

She scoffed slightly, looking up at him with an incredulous expression. “Me working hard? What about you, Mr ‘Four Podiums in Your Second Year in Formula one?’,”

Oscar gave another mindless shrug, laughing at her comment, “What, like it’s hard?” He teased.

#oscar piastri x original character #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #fluff #f1 x reader #f1 2024 #formula one #formula1 #mclaren #mclaren f1

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anangelwhodidntfall · 10 months ago

Text

Don't Matter: Lewis Hamilton

Formula One Masterlist

word count: 1k

description: a bad experience while out shopping with Lewis has you questioning your relationship with him.

Today was supposed to be a nice day out shopping with your boyfriend. You guys had been walking around browsing different shops when you came across a jewelry store. Who knew a prefect day could go downhill in ten minutes?

"Why don't you look around while I go grab our drinks?" Lewis had said.

"Okay." You said giving him a kiss before walking inside.

You walked inside and went over to the ring section just to look to see if anything caught your eye.

"Hi there, is there anything I can help you with?" The associate asked as she glanced at your outfit.

"No just looking around." You said giving her a small smile.

You continued browsing around as you felt her follow you around, and you let out a sigh. You should've known better than to come in here without Lewis, people like you would always be looked down upon. You reached into your pockets and grabbed your phone preparing to text lewis when your sleeve fell down revealing your charm bracelet that lewis had gotten you for your birthday.

"Security! We have a possible theft happening!" The staff yelled as she grabbed your wrist.

"what are you talking about? I was wearing this when I walked in." You said.

"No you weren't. Nice try though." She said.

"Yes I was! I never take this thing off, it was gift from my boyfriend! See!." You said showing her a picture of you and lewis.

"I highly doubt that someone like lewis Hamilton is dating someone like you, let alone buying a $5000 bracelet." She said.

"Hey! Give me that back! My boyfriend gave me that!" You said as the bracelet was removed from your wrist.

"I highly doubt someone like Lewis Hamilton would date someone like you, let alone buy you an expensive bracelet like this. If you leave now we won't involve the authorities." She said.

You grabbed your bag and rushed out of their nearly crashing into Lewis who had just returned from getting y'all's drinks. He immediately set the drinks down and gathered you in his arms worried about you.

"Sweets what happened? Why are you crying?" Lewis asked gently stroking your hair.

"Nothing. Can you please just go get my bracelet back?" You asked.

"Your bracelet? Why would I need to go get it back?" He asked you confused.

"They accused me of stealing it and lying about my relationship with you. They said that you would never date someone like me, let alone buy me a $5,000 dollar charm bracelet." You said as anger boiled inside his chest.

The bracelet you were referring to was a gift from Lewis for your birthday that had charms on it that meant things to you. He had it custom made for you and never thought that someone would accuse you of stealing. How dare they treat you like that based on how you look? How dare you they say those things to you?

"I'll be back." Was all Lewis said.

"Lewis please it's not that big of deal!" You said following him into the store.

"Does someone want to explain to me why my girlfriend was so rudely treated based on her appearance? Please explain to me where you got the nerve to comment on my relationship with her and then accuse her of stealing?" He said.

"Mr Hamilton we are so sorry, there must have been some kind of mistake." The owner said trying to smooth the situation over.

"No mistake here, your staff all took one look at my girl at judge her and then accused her of stealing and saying some hurtful things. Give me her bracelet back now and believe me when I say your company will never get my business again." He said.

The staff member gave you the bracelet back but it was already ruined a few of the charms had fallen off. Lewis didn't miss the way you eyes water upon seeing the state of your bracelet.

"I'm sorry about the mix up miss." She said.

"No you're not. Your only sorry because my boyfriend and your boss made you give me my bracelet back. You people always look down on people like me and then try to kiss our ass when you find out we have money." You said giving her a nasty look.

You two made your way out of the store and into Lewis's car where you guys drove home not feeling up to shopping anymore.

Lewis hated seeing how much the other day affected you, you had shut down not wanting any gifts from him, and just withdrawn. He had sent your bracelet off to get fixed after that store broke it and it finally came back and he couldn't wait to give it back you.

"Where's mama Roscoe?" Lewis asked scratching his ears.

The two of them made their way towards y'all's bedroom where he found you sitting in reading. he quietly knocked and you looked up at him giving a small smile as you closed your book.

"I got something for you sweets." He said taking a seat on the bed and handing you the box.

"Lew I couldn't..." You started to say but he grabbed your hand and pulled you into his lap.

"Sweets I know what happened the other day made you get into your head...but trust me when I say that there is no one else for me, you are absolutely prefect. I don't care that you don't come from money or have a high paying job. I care only about the beautiful, kind girl who given me the absolute honor of having her as my girlfriend." He said placing a kiss on your lips.

"I'm sorry for shutting you out the last few days, between the incident and what they said, it just got in my head." You said to him.

"No need to apologize, I understand. Just as long as you understand, I will always defend and spoil you." He said making you smile as he handed you a box.

You carefully opened the box and were shocked to see your bracelet that had been broken a few days ago. You smiled as you lifted it up and saw all your charms and been put back on, before throwing your arms around Lewis.

"Thank you for being the best boyfriend ever, I don't deserve you." You said.

"It's me who doesn't deserve you." He said.

"Can you put it on me?" You asked shyly.

"Of course sweets." He said wrapping the bracelet around your wrist before placing a kiss on your knuckles.

"I love you Lew." You said placing a kiss on his lips.

"I love you sweetheart." He said looking at you with a smile.

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x you

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ckret2 · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 28 of human Bill is determined to wiggle out of being the Mystery Shack's prisoner, featuring:

Bill eagerly accepts an invitation to Gravity Falls' LGBTQ club. He is not allowed to go unsupervised. Stan (whose masculinity isn't secure enough for this), Ford (who's still hanging out in the closet), and Soos (who's engaged) aren't quite sure what to do. Luckily, Wendy's been looking for an excuse to go.

####

Melody rushed up to the cash register and said breathlessly, "Hey Wendy—I know it's almost your break, but could you stay on register just a little longer? Two of the baby dragons escaped and Soos and I have to find them before the next tour."

Wendy looked at the customers milling about the gift shop. They'd all just gotten out of a tour and were looking over the available souvenirs, which meant in just a few minutes they'd all be lining up to check out. "Ooh, I dunno. I'm pretty hungry..."

"Please, Wendy? You can take an extended lunch!"

Was that worth handling one extra post-tour rush? "Wiiith p—?"

"With pay, you extortionist." There was no real resentment in Melody's voice. She'd worked register duty. She understood.

"Okay, deal."

"Wendy you're a lifesaver." Melody hurried to the curtains to the Mystery Shack museum.

"Hey," Wendy called, "which ones escaped?"

"Orochi and Ryuu."

"Aww, not Oro. That sweet guy will get eaten alive in the real world."

"Right?" Melody turned on her phone flashlight and returned to the hunt.

A deeply tanned tourist with sun-damaged wrinkles approached the cash register. She wasn't holding any souvenirs. Wendy said, "Hey, how can I help you?"

She looked straight in Wendy's eyes and said, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

Wendy stared at her. Why did this place attract the weirdest customers. "What?"

Very clearly, the tourist repeated, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

"Um. If that's some kind of reference, I don't get it."

The tourist let out that sharp little nose-sigh soccer moms made when Wendy did things like refuse to take a coupon meant for a rival tourist trap, shook her head in disappointment, and left.

Wendy got the feeling she was going to regret staying on register.

Sure enough, within five minutes, the line started forming—and on top of that, Wendy discovered, the cash register drawer had jammed shut, preventing her from making change for the customers paying in cash. She was in the middle of explaining to the fourth increasingly irate child-toting customer that he either had to pay by card or in exact change, when two more customers came in the door and made a beeline for the register.

"Wendy Corduroy?"

"Hey," Wendy said tersely, stuffing a customer's t-shirts in a bag. "There's a line."

"We're not shopping, Miss Corduroy."

Wendy turned to face Sheriff Blubs, with Deputy Durland standing close behind him. The scratch cards. Her fake ID. She was going to jail. Dad was gonna find out about her tattoo. "Oh."

Durland said, "Could we ask you some questions?"

"Uhh..." She looked at the cops, and then at the growing line of customers. "Can I... grab someone to cover?"

####

Bill had been sitting at the kitchen table looking at the doorway, waiting for Wendy to appear for several minutes, when he heard her muttering, "Shoot, shoot, shoot..." from the living room. Here she came.

"Hey, Cool Girl. What's the hurry?"

"Goldie!" Wendy turned toward the kitchen. "Have you seen Dipper or Mabel? The cops wanna talk to me—"

Bill's eyebrows shot up.

"—and the register is insane and I need someone to cover—"

"They're both out today," Bill said. Mabel was over at Pacifica's alpaca ranch to help out for the day—but Bill had the sinking suspicion she'd asked to go help so she could avoid him. No clue where the other one had gone. "Sorry!"

Wendy groaned. Then looked at Bill. "Hey. Have you ever manned a cash register before?"

"Yes," Bill lied.

####

"Thank you so much," Wendy said, holding open the "Employees Only" door for someone Blubs and Durland didn't recognize: a woman with no makeup, no bra, and unshaven legs, wearing an eyepatch, a hideous Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and yellow foam clogs. Durland looked her up and down, elbowed Blubs, and muttered, "Hey Daryl. D'you think...?"

"Mm." He shrugged noncommittally.

The stranger took Wendy's place behind the register with an eager grin and called out, "Okay, let's keep the line moving!"

Wendy approached Blubs and Durland. "Thanks for that," she said. "So... what can I help you with?"

"Just a few questions about your weekend," Blubs said. "Where were you last Sunday?"

Wendy blinked in surprise. "On... Sunday?" She paused a moment, lips pursed as she thought back to the weekend. "I visited Shop Thrifty with some friends."

Blubs nodded, like this confirmed what he already knew. "And what were you doing there?"

"Shopping? I got some gift money I wanted to spend on cheap junk."

"What'd you get?"

Wendy furrowed her brows, but said, "Uh... some terrible horror movies, a doll that looks like a cross between a turtle and a teddy bear, and a clock made out of a hubcap?"

"So you didn't go near the men's clothing section?"

Wendy squinted. "Nooo?"

Blubs scribbled that down in his notepad. "About what time did you leave the store?"

"I dunno, probably like three or four?"

"Did you go back to the store later?"

"No? I went home and was there all night, you can ask my family," Wendy said. "What happened at Shop Thrifty?"

"A-ha!" Durland pointed over Blubs's shoulder. "How did you know something happened at Shop Thrifty?"

"Because you're cops and you're asking questions about it."

"Oh."

Blubs patted Durland's shoulder. "Keep trying, darlin'. You're becoming a better detective by the day." Durland beamed.

To Wendy, Blubs said, "But as it happens, we're investigating a burglary." He flipped through the pages of his notepad. "I don't suppose you saw any suspicious figures while you were shopping, did you? Perhaps hanging around... the men's section?" He pulled out a crime scene photo to show Wendy.

Wendy had to stare at the photo a moment to make sense of the empty clothing rack; and then she cracked up. "Did somebody steal every pair of pants in the store?"

"Every pair of men's jeans."

"Oh, man. No, I didn't see any pants burglars hanging around—"

Durland said, "We're calling the thief the Bootcut Bootlegger."

Wendy snorted. "But uh... I guess I'll call you if I see anyone lurking in a dark alley selling jeans?"

"We'd appreciate it," Blubs said. "And, could you tell us the names of the friends you went with. So we can ask them if they saw anything too."

Wendy, who was no snitch, said, "No."

Durland shook his head sadly. "Kids these days. They don't know anything about their own friends. Not even their names."

"Nope," Wendy said. "Is that all you needed, officers?"

"I got one more question," Durland said. He leaned a bit closer to Wendy and pointed at the stranger manning the cash register. "Who's that new gal? I didn't know the shack hired somebody."

"Oh, Goldie? We didn't exactly hire anyone, he's just staying at the shack a while—"

"Ha! 'He'! I knew it!" Durland smacked Blubs's shoulder. "I told ya! Didn't I tell ya?"

"Heh. You sure did."

Durland cupped his hands around his mouth. "Whooee, you at the register!"

"Sorry, I can't make exact change, so I'll do you a favor: just round it to—" Goldie blinked and turned toward the heckling cop. "Yello?"

"You're queerer'n a three-dollar bill, aren't you?" Durland called. Wendy cringed and quickly pulled out her phone to shield herself from the scene of public humiliation.

Totally unperturbed, Goldie replied, "I'm probably the queerest bill you've ever met! Why?"

Soos wearily trudged through the curtains from the Mystery Shack's museum. "Hey, Wendy. We found Ryuu, but we still can't find..." His gaze fell on Goldie and his voice died. "Wendy? What's he doing—"

Durland walked past the line of customers to lean on the counter in front of Goldie. "Hey, how long are you in town? You oughta come to a Rainbow Club meeting!"

"It's the local LGBTQ support and social group," Blubs explained. "We meet weekly at Town Hall. We're actually meeting this evening at seven!"

"We haven't had any new members in ages," Durland said. "Please say you'll come. We're so bored!"

The more they spoke, the more a grin spread across Goldie's face. "Gentlemen, you had me at 'rainbow.' I'd be thrilled to come! My schedule's free! I've been spending all my evenings cooped up in the shack because I don't know anybody in town." He slowly turned his grin toward Soos, who was watching in slack-jawed horror. "But hey, it's not like I'm locked up in here—right, officers?"

####

When the last customers trickled out and Wendy returned to the cash register, Goldie flashed her a quick smile. "Hey, Cool Girl." He nodded toward the Museum. "I saw Questiony tug you aside, are you in trouble?"

"Nah, not really. I guess he's just bothered I grabbed a non-employee to sub instead of getting him or Melody."

"I won't call the labor board if he doesn't." Goldie handed a wad of bills to Wendy. "Here."

"Thanks." Wendy looked around for somewhere to stow it until they could get the cash register drawer unstuck. "Hey, how'd you handle the customers paying in cash?"

"Told 'em I'd give them a discount for the inconvenience: if they were willing to round up to the nearest dollar from the sticker price, we'd eat the rest of the sales tax so they didn't have to fish for loose change. Everyone was thrilled."

Wendy processed that. "Oregon doesn't have a sales tax."

"Sure, but how many out-of-state tourists in a hurry remember that?"

"Ha! You went to work for the wrong twin, Stan would've loved having you in the shack."

"The Pines just don't appreciate what I bring to the table," Goldie lamented, swooping around the counter. He walked up to the "Employees Only" door, stopped, surveyed it like he wasn't quite sure what to do with it, and then very casually made a right turn into the curtained entryway to the museum.

A minute later, Soos escorted him back, an arm around his shoulder. "Museum's closed, dude," he said sternly. "We're looking for an escaped baby dragon."

"'Baby dragon'?" Goldie echoed. "You mean a lizard with fake wings glued on its back?"

"I mean—we're not telling the tourists that, but yeah."

He pointed toward the cash register. "Like the one stuck in the cash drawer?"

There was a pause. Wendy dropped to her knees to peer at the crack at the top of the drawer. "Oro! Can you hear me, boy? Are you in there?" She heard something rustle. "Holy—Soos!"

Soos shoved Goldie into the living room and hurried over to help.

####

"Less than five minutes," Ford muttered. "He's unsupervised in a public space for less than five minutes, and he makes contact with local law enforcement and sets up a social engagement. This is why he's not allowed out of—" He pushed up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, grumbling.

Ford, Stan, and Soos were seated around the living room table, discussing how to handle the situation. With the sheriff and deputy expecting Bill, they couldn't not let him go, lest the cops come by again to ask what had happened—and the odds that they'd be satisfied by an answer from anyone but "Goldie" were slim.

"This is what he's been waiting for," Ford went on. "He's been biding his time for an opportunity exactly like this."

Soos said, "I'm sorry, Dr. Pines. It happened so fast! I wanted to go all, 'No, you can't go,' but then the cops would have gone, 'Why not?' and I didn't know how to not say he's our prisoner—"

"It's not your fault, Soos," Ford sighed. "It's not even Wendy's. She doesn't know how risky it is just to let him talk to the public."

"So, what do we do now?" Stan asked.

Soos said, "Maybe make him an 'I bite tourists' shirt?"

Ford said, "I suppose... we let him go. And one of us will have to supervise him."

Stan asked, "At the gay club?"

"At the gay club."

Stan, Ford, and Soos—two of whom had grown up in a time when "gay" was one of the worst things a person could be accused of being, and one of whom came from a very Catholic family—eyed each other uncomfortably.

From the doorway, Bill called, "Can I choose? I'm trying to decide who'd be funniest."

Without looking at him, Ford snapped, "Go away, Bill."

"Fine. I'll be upstairs." They listened for Bill's footsteps to recede up the stairs.

Stan spoke first. "Not it. No way. Absolutely not. What would the ladies think!"

Wryly, Ford said, "I doubt any ladies you might meet there would have been interested anyway."

"Well, what would the guys think! What if someone flirts with me, would I have to flirt back to maintain my cover? I'm not that good an actor. It's not gonna be me." He crossed his arms in finality, then looked at Ford expectantly.

Ford hesitated, then shook his head. "Not me." Stan cocked a brow, but when Ford didn't say anything else, he just glanced at Soos.

"Uhh." Soos tapped his fingers together. "I guess I might be kinda sorta willing? I mean, I wouldn't really mind? But, the thing is, I'm engaged, to a woman, and like, Melody would understand if I explain it's just to keep an eye on Bill. But what if people think me 'coming out' right before the wedding is because I'm cheating or—or dissatisfied or something?" His eyes lit up. "Hey, maybe Melody could come too! We could pretend to be bi. It could be like a date! Would that be weird? Two straight people at the queer club on a date pretending to be bi? It—it feels weird." His eyes un-lit up. "I think that's probably weird. It seems disrespectful. Yeah, no, maybe I shouldn't do that—?"

"Are you guys talking about Rainbow Club?"

The trio started and glanced toward the door to the gift shop, where Wendy was leaning in.

Soos said, "Yeeeah, haha, it's kinda awkward, but, Goldie wants to go, but he can't go by himself... so somebody's gotta take him... it's this whole thing..."

"Oh? How come? It's not that far a walk if you cut past the old church."

"Uhh..." Soos looked at Stan and Ford for help.

After enjoying exactly three seconds of awkward silence, Bill called from the doorway, "I'm under a curse that makes it impossible to open doors!"

"Wow dude, sucks for you!"

"Haha, I know right!"

Ford stood, slammed a hand on the table, and pointed at the doorway. "OUT!"

Bill raised his hands, rolled his eye, and left.

"So, hey," Wendy said. "Rainbow Club's for 16-year-olds and up, and I've... kinda been trying to work up the nerve to go for a while, actually. Just to, you know, explore... options?" She shrugged, grimacing self-consciously. "Maybe this is my excuse. So, if you need someone to open doors for Goldie, I could go?"

Stan, Ford, and Soos looked at Wendy with the blank surprise of two men raised in the sixties and one man raised Catholic who sometimes forgot that the categories of "queer people" and "people they knew" might overlap. Then Ford said, "You're not walking there with him."

"I can drive you," Soos said. "I'll just wait outside in the pickup. It's cool, I've got a lot of comics to catch up on."

"I don't know if it's safe letting him walk openly from the truck into Town Hall," Stan said. "Wendy, how do you feel about being handcuffed to him?"

Wendy stared at him. "What."

"That's not necessary," Ford said. "We can use the chain bracelets."

Wendy stared at him. "The what."

"Listen. Kid." Stan stood and put a hand on Wendy's shoulder. "I know we gave you the abridged version of Goldie's history, but lemme make this clear: this freak's on house arrest, and if you're going out with him, you're his ankle bracelet. Do not let him out of your sight. Don't even leave him alone in the restroom if there's a window big enough for him to squeeze through."

"I think his curse covers windows," Soos pointed out. Ford nodded.

"I don't wanna risk it."

"It's okay," Wendy said. "Treat him like a dangerous criminal. Got it. I've got crazy lumberjack ninja training, I can handle him."

Stan eyed her appraisingly, then nodded. "You're all right, kid." He clapped her shoulder and let go. "And if you're into girls, that's fine by me."

"Um," Wendy said. "Thanks? I'm actually not sure if... Thanks, Stan."

"All right. We've got a plan." He waved off Soos and Wendy. "Go have fun with the gays."

####

Wendy sat in the back seat of Soos's truck, staring at her phone, trying to figure out what excuse to give her dad for staying out late. She didn't think he'd mind her going to Rainbow Club—but it wasn't a conversation she was ready to have. Finally, she texted him that she was hanging out tonight with the Mystery Shack crew—which wasn't technically totally wrong—and put her phone away.

Goldie stared out the shotgun seat window as they drove past the sombrero-shaped Los Hermanos Brothers restaurant. "Hey. Can we get nachos?"

"You'll be late to your meeting, dude."

"Can we get nachos after the meeting?"

Wendy piped up, "I'd be cool with a taco run." Easier to tell her dad she'd been having dinner at the shack.

Soos considered that. "I don't see why not." He shrugged. "Gotta get them to-go, though."

"Yeah, fine," Goldie said, a tad irritably. He slouched down, kicking his feet up on the dashboard and crossing his ankles. "I'm not plotting anything nefarious in the restaurant, I just want nachos."

"Then sure, that's cool," Soos said. "Hey. Isn't it kinda... weird for you to eat nachos?"

Goldie turned to face Soos. "Weird how?"

"I mean. You know. Considering you're..."

"Considering I'm what?" Goldie grinned. "What about me would make it weird for me to eat triangular corn chips covered in yellow cheese? C'mon, Questiony. I wanna understand."

Soos glanced toward Wendy in the back seat, and then away. "Never mind," he mumbled. Goldie laughed.

Wendy wondered what on earth Goldie could possibly be that would make it weird for him to get nachos. After a moment of deliberation, she concluded the answer was probably "lactose intolerant." She cleared her throat. "Hey, thanks for giving us a ride, Soos." Even if it probably would've been faster to walk.

"Oh yeah, no problem dude," Soos said. "Hey—aren't you sixteen now? Are you gonna get your own car sometime soon? I don't mind giving you a ride. I'm just curious. Making conversation."

Wendy groaned. "No. I haven't got my license yet, and I don't want to. As soon as I can drive, I'll be useful. Dad's gonna ask me to drive the boys around, and I'll be the friend that gives everyone else rides, right? And being a taxi sounds like crap." She paused, remembering where she was sitting. "No offense, Soos."

"None taken."

"But it's starting to stress me out. My dad keeps asking when I wanna start driver's ed. And I've started having stress nightmares about needing a car in an emergency and not having one? And then Gideon's dad swoops into the dream to offer a Reasonably-Priced Discount Used Car?"

Soos laughed. "Oh man, like all those commercials he's been running on the local stations? 'There's no need to barter—'"

Goldie and Wendy both completed the line, "'—you can drive for a quarter.'"

Wendy groaned louder. "All those annoying Gleeful Auto jingles are seeping into my dreams. How does that even make sense! I don't understand the economy, how do you sell a car for a twenty-five cent down payment and make a profit off of it? What if the customer just doesn't pay the rest?"

Thoughtfully, Soos said, "I think it has to do with interest."

"Well, I'm not interested. Especially when I'm asleep."

"I think Mabel's got a pile of books on controlling your dreams right now," Goldie said. "You could ask her about them."

"Do any of those books teach you how to install dream ad block?"

Goldie laughed. "It can't hurt to check!"

####

"Easy, there," Stan said, watching from his armchair with a can of cider as Ford paced in the entryway, back and forth past the living room. "You're gonna wear a hole in the floorboards."

Ford did not stop pacing. "I should have gone with them," he said. "What does it matter that I didn't want to. Somebody who understands what Bill really is should be in that meeting with him."

"Come on. As long as he doesn't get an opportunity to escape, how much trouble can he really get in? What do you think he's gonna do, kill the sheriff with a folding chair?"

"I'm more worried about his opportunities to network. I don't want him making friends on the outside. That's more people he can manipulate."

"Okay, sure. But how could you stop it if you were there? What would you do, scold him every time he acts nice to somebody?"

A sigh. "I suppose you're right. I just... don't like not knowing what he's doing there."

Stan took a sip from his cider; swirled it a moment; and then cleared his throat. "Hey, Ford, uhh. You know what? Crazy thing, but—I was surprised you didn't volunteer to go to the gay thing? I mean..." He unnecessarily cleared his throat again. "Ever since high school, I always kinda thought you... I mean, I assumed... not in a bad way, mind, but I just sort of figured... Well, I must've assumed wrong. So. Sorry, I guess."

Ford had stopped pacing to look at Stan. He waited for him to finish stumbling through ellipses; and then, hands stuffed in his coat pockets, he said to his feet, "You didn't assume wrong."

Stan waited. "Uh-huh?" he said encouragingly.

Ford shuffled into the living room and took the chair next to Stan. "Truthfully... I can't tell you exactly what I am. When I should have been figuring that out, I was busy writing dissertations and hiding in the woods. Exploring scientific oddities instead of—well—exploring myself. And then thirty years away from Earth, and now that I've only been back among humans for a year... well—I've never figured myself out." He shrugged ruefully. "I can tell you more about eye-bats and gnomes than I could about my own... inclinations. But whatever I am, it's not heterosexual, I know that."

"Huh." Stan nodded slowly, trying to wrap his head around the idea that you could just not know. He could maybe imagine a girl not knowing—the inner workings of a woman's body were still pretty mysterious to him—but in his experience most guys had a compass between their legs that was magnetically attracted to point toward what they desired, whether they wanted it to or not. What was going on with Ford?

Looking firmly at the wall, Ford added, "For one thing, I think there's been too many aliens for me to be straight."

Stan snorted. "Aliens."

"Aliens."

"Well okay, Captain Cork—"

"Stanley, please." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Leave it to my brother to even find a way to be queer in a weird way." Stan grinned crookedly. "You know—when we were getting close to graduating, whenever we talked about treasure hunting and getting babes, somewhere in the back of my head, I was making peace with the fact that maybe you'd find a sailor instead. I was fine with it! I just wasn't expecting you to go for the kraken."

"Stan!" Ford laughed in surprise.

"What! Not your type? What does it for you, Dracula? The wolf man? Mothgar?

"I am not telling you what does it for me."

"Okay, okay, fine." Stan probably didn't wanna know, anyway. Aliens. Yeesh. But who was he to judge, he'd gone on a date with a spider lady. "Is that why you don't wanna go to that club meeting? You don't want to talk about the aliens?"

"Not exactly," Ford said. "Attending a support group for queer people would mean opening up about a private, unexplored... scary part of my own identity. With Bill in the room. Maybe I should go to some of those meetings—but not when he's there." His smile from a moment earlier was gone; his mouth was set in a grim line. "When I thought he was my friend, I—offered him far too much vulnerability that I shouldn't have. I'm not letting him have any more."

And a couple minutes ago, Ford had been beating himself up for not putting himself in that position just to keep an eye on Bill. Stan said, "And he's not gonna get more vulnerability outta you. You don't have to tell that freak anything." Rummaging through his brain for the most supportive brotherly words he could find, Stan added, "But—I'm glad you told me."

Ford nodded. "So am I."

####

When Wendy and Goldie walked into Town Hall's main assembly room, Blubs and Durland were standing at the front chatting. Durland immediately waved. "Hey! You made it! You too, Wendy?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, thought I'd check it out."

"The more, the merrier," Blubs said. He gestured for them to follow him to a door at the front of the room, to the left of the podium. "A larger group uses the meeting room, so we meet in the mayor's office."

The door to the mayor's office was clearly marked by the folding table with snacks across the hallway and a stand next to the door holding multiple flags—American, Oregonian, rainbow, trans, and "Take Back the Falls" battle flag. Wendy paused to puzzle over the eleven varieties of bread on the snack table; when she glanced at Goldie, he'd gingerly plucked up the battle flag by a corner to inspect it. There was supposed to be a ban on acknowledging Weirdmageddon, but Wendy supposed the mayor could get away with showing a little pride in his citizens' resistance movement. "Were you still in the shack during... all that?"

"Hm?"

"The big fight." Wendy lowered her voice, just in case the sheriff felt like enforcing the ban. "That's the flag we flew when we kicked the crap out of Bill's stupid pyramid butt."

"Oh. No. I was locked out of the shack," he said flatly. "Must have missed that." He let the flag drop. "I only remember the part where he kicked the shack halfway across the valley with its own leg."

Tyler Cutebiker waved from inside the office. "Wendy, hi! And a new person! Come in, come in! You're just in time. How's your dad?"

Wendy had been expecting that. "He's good, he's good. Y'know, busy."

"Uh-huh?"

"He's been swamped with work since he got the contract for the deathball arena. He's broken like eight axes, so, I think he's really happy."

"Oh, great!" Tyler beamed. "When we were deciding who to give the contract to supply lumber for the new facility, I thought, 'I know just the man to get it!' I'm so glad we could support our local lumber industry." He hesitated. "By the way, do you know if he ever... thinks about coming to a meeting? I've invited him a couple of times, maybe if you brought it up..."

"Listen. Tyler," Wendy said. "You're cool, but if my dad ever shows up at Rainbow Club, I'm never coming again."

"Okay, all right, that's fine, just thought I'd ask."

The mayor's desk had been pushed up against the office windows, and several folding chairs were set up in a tight circle that pressed to the walls. A couple extra chairs were quickly put out for Wendy and Goldie, and Goldie immediately claimed the seat on the mayor's right. All in all, there were less than a dozen attendees, and Wendy guessed she was the youngest one there by at least five years. One empty chair was left open hopefully by the door.

Once everyone was seated, Tyler said, "Okay, it looks like we've got a couple of new folks here today, so let's all go around the circle and introduce ourselves. Please share your names, your pronouns, and anything you want us to know about how you fit under our rainbow umbrella. There's no pressure, just whatever you feel comfortable with, this is a safe and supportive place for everybody. I'll go first: hi, I'm Tyler, and I use he/him pronouns!" He turned expectantly to his left.

Blubs said, "Hi, I'm Daryl, uhhh he/him, and I..." he turned to stare in Durland's eyes, "am in love."

Durland quickly said, "Hi, I'm Edwin, I'm a boy, and I'm in love too!" They grabbed each other's hands, giggling.

"Aww," Tyler cooed, "aren't you two sweet." He nodded toward the next chair.

"Hello. My name is Tad Strange, my pronouns are he/him, and I'm a cisgender heterosexual ally."

Seriously, Tyler said, "And we appreciate your support, Tad. And the snacks you bring every week."

Introductions continued around the circle. Wendy sorta knew a couple other faces, but didn't know anyone personally. The only other girls in the room were an intimidatingly beautiful woman whose gaze seemed to pass right over the awkward teen with unstyled hair and baggy flannel, and two little old ladies in a throuple with a little old man.

The introduction spotlight finally landed on her. "Hey guys. I'm Wendy, she/her, and I'm, uh... questioning, I guess? Sorta?" She shrugged casually. "Yeah. Questioning."

Tyler said, "Since this is your first time—we keep things pretty casual, here, but I want to make sure this group supports everyone's needs. Do you think you could tell us a bit about what you're looking for in our little club?"

Wendy could feel every eye in the room boring into her. She fought the urge to shrink into her seat. You're sixteen. You're the cool girl. Act cool, girl. "Oh, nothing specific I guess. I'm just... exploring my options, you know. Exploring myself. Doing the self-discovery journey or whatever. So... I dunno what I'm looking for? I figure I'll know it when I find it."

Tyler nodded. "We've all been there," he said. "And I know I speak for us all when I say we're honored to be part of your journey."

And then, to Wendy's mortification, Tyler started clapping, and the rest of the group joined in. She smiled stiffly, feeling her youth even more intensely. What the heck, Tyler, you were supposed to be the cool adult. Wendy trusted you. Politics changed you.

To Wendy's gratitude, Goldie cut the awkward moment short by piping up before the last of the applause petered out. "Hiya! I'm 'Goldie,'" he put air quotes around his own name, "I've never cared what pronouns you people call me before and I'm not about to start now, and I do not have the patience for all the paperwork to figure out my sexuality so we'll just wonder together!"

Tyler laughed. "Oh, you're funny!" A couple other attendees chuckled.

"I'm just getting started!" Goldie blinked his unpatched eye. "Wink. Anyway, I'm here to meet new people and have some fun!" He turned an intense smile on Tyler. "So tell me, mayor—where do the people in your fine town go to party?"

####

By the end of the meeting, Goldie had collected six phone numbers—"I'd give you mine, but I'm between phones right now, long story"—and four loose commitments to do something somewhere sometime soonish. Wendy was simultaneously relieved to have some of the pressure taken off of her as the new person, slightly miffed that she hadn't gotten to know anybody, and resigned to the fact that as the only high schooler in the room they probably wouldn't have had much to say to her anyway.

As the club members milled around the snack table having bread, Goldie elbowed Wendy and muttered, "I can't believe they clapped for you but not for me. Is looking for a good time not a noble enough quest?"

"Pfft. Dude, are you jealous?"

"Insanely."

Thirty years in the ghost dimension must do weird things to someone's need for attention. "When I introduce you to my friends, I'll tell them all to clap for you."

"I appreciate it."

The club loosely migrated through the assembly hall and toward the front double door. Durland reached it first, opened it, and quickly closed it. Agitated, he said, "Daryl! They're out there again."

"Oh, no! Again?"

The group came to a stop. Tyler took over, cracked open the door, and tutted his tongue. Goldie curiously peered over his shoulder, and Wendy took that as permission to look too.

Standing on the sidewalk in front of Town Hall were a dozen tough-looking men dressed in leather, heavy denim, and sharp metal accessories. They filled the sidewalk, arms crossed or fists on hips, glowering toward the doors. Tyler muttered, "Oh, every time we have a meeting. I wish they'd knock this off."

"Who're they?" Wendy asked. "Homophobes?"

"Oh! No no, nothing like that," Tyler said. "That's the weekly ex-convict rehabilitation support group—they use the bigger meeting room. They're actually a very open-minded bunch."

"That's right," shouted the tallest of the group, a muscular bearded man. He pointed at a leather pride patch pinned to his vest over his heart. "Love is love! We support queer rights, trans rights, uh... women's rights? What else."

"Immigrant rights?" a man with a gray ponytail suggested.

"Immigrant rights, that's a good one. And... any other rights, too! Except pig rights."

Another man shouted, "No cops at pride!"

The Rainbow Club turned to look at Blubs and Durland.

They heaved sighs. Durland said, "We'll go out the back."

The group out front visibly relaxed when the Rainbow Club came out without the sheriff and deputy. The bearded leatherman focused on Tyler as he passed. "Ty."

Tyler started. "Oh! Hiii, Ghost." His cheeks went bright red. "W-we missed you at Rainbow Club this week, again. Any thoughts about coming across the hall from time to time?"

"Those cops still showing up?"

"Well, yes."

The leatherman—who Wendy recognized now as Ghost-Eyes—shook his head. "Pass. But we can catch up next time you're at Skull Fracture."

"Oh—okay, sure. I'll see you there sometime."

"I'll buy you a drink," Ghost-Eyes said. "I like your new boots, by the way."

Tyler went red from his hairline down to his shirt collar. "I—well—you too, Ghost!" He quickly trotted off, giggling to himself. Wendy watched him go, then glanced over Ghost-Eyes—tall, broad-shouldered, auburn-haired, bushy-bearded, and as muscular as a bull on steroids—and noted wryly that Tyler had a type.

A high voice from approximately ankle height said, "Oh, hi Wendy!"

She looked down. "Gideon," she said. "Wow! ... Hi."

"Imagine running into you here! I feel like it's been forever! How're your folks doing?"

"Oh, great, great. Uh, yours?"

"We're all fantastic, thanks for askin'. I haven't seen you 'round here before, this your first time attending?"

Ah, great. Of all the people to find out Wendy was trying to sort out her identity. "Yep. Just checking it out. How's... the ex-con support group?"

"Oh it's just wonderful! Highlight of my week, honestly. It's good to talk to people who have gone through the same struggles as you."

"Aww," Ghost-Eyes said. "You're the highlight of our week too, Li'l Gideon."

Gideon started. "Oh, where are my manners! Blathering on like this. Wendy, you remember my friends, right?" He gestured around him.

"Yeah—the Discount Auto Mart Warriors, right? You guys are still hanging out?"

Ghost-Eyes said, "Of course! We have a brotherhood forged in the fires of battle against a chaos god's tyranny. Also, the court requires us to do group therapy, so it's easy to hang out."

Gideon said, "And I'm sure all of you remember Wendy."

The Warriors nodded in recognition. Ghost-Eyes said, "Weren't you the one driving through the weirdness bubbles last year? To get that kid to his sister?"

Wendy looked up at Ghost-Eyes. "Yep. That was me. No hard feelings for the whole trying-to-break-your-arm thing, right?"

"Of course not! You were fighting the man. At that time, we were the man."

Gideon said, "Really a terrible error in judgment on my part, I can't apologize enough."

"Aw, come on," Ghost-Eyes said, "it wasn't all your fault. We were all out there, too."

"No no, I take full responsibility." Gideon reached up to pat Ghost-Eyes's knuckle. "You all trusted me to steer you true and I let you down."

Wendy felt a slight tug on her wrist—and only then realized that Goldie had been a little too quiet, a little too long. She looked in the direction her magic bracelet was tugging, and spotted him waiting just up the street, leaning against Soos's truck, hands pressed to the small of his back.

"It was cool to run into you guys again," Wendy lied, "but I've got friends waiting for me, so..."

"Oh, of course, of course," Gideon said. "Are you working at the Mystery Shack again this summer? Tell Mabel I said hello!"

Wendy flashed Gideon double finger guns. "I will not do that." She power-walked away from Gideon's fan club.

As she caught up with Goldie, she said, "Hey. Sorry for making you wait." She squinted. "You okay?"

Face tinted a deep angry red and wearing the most sour expression Wendy had ever seen, Goldie said, "Sure. Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"You don't look okay."

"I don't control what my face does." At Wendy's skeptical look, Goldie pointed toward the Discount Auto Mart Warriors. "I was—thinking over something ridiculous they said. About fighting a chaos god's tyranny."

"Oh, they helped fight Bill—"

"I know that," Goldie cut in. "It just seems... weird to call it that!"

Recovering cultist, Wendy reminded herself. "What would you call it?"

Goldie considered the question. "Fighting a chaos god's anarchy."

She'd been half worried that Goldie was about to start defending Bill. Instead, Wendy tried to puzzle out the specific differences between tyranny and anarchy, and why it mattered to him. "Huh."

"No rules, no laws, freedom from time and physics..."

That was starting to make sense. "I don't know what Weirdmageddon felt like in the mindscape, buuut everyone I knew was still experiencing a lot of physics. When we weren't being turned into statues or imprisoned in tapestries," Wendy said. "Maybe Bill and his minions had no rules and no laws; but when only the guys in charge can do whatever they want, and everyone else is either serving them or, like, getting hunted for sport? I'd call that tyranny."

Goldie's sour look deepened, but there was something thoughtful in his averted gaze now. Like he was searching for a retort he couldn't quite find. "Huh."

Soos rolled down the passenger window. "Hey, are you dudes ready for nachos?"

####

The gossip grapevine moved faster than Soos's truck. By the time he'd dropped off Wendy and brought himself and Bill home, Wendy had texted a quick summary of "Goldie's" anarchy comment to Mabel, who passed it on to Dipper, in case this was a red flag they needed to keep an eye on; and Dipper in turn had passed the info on to Ford.

Ford wondered if Bill really didn't believe he was a tyrant, or if he just didn't want to be seen as one.

When Soos and Bill came in, the first thing Bill did was snatch his hoodie off the coat rack and pull it on, like a snake that regretted shedding its skin and was desperate to slither back inside. Cheerfully, Soos said, "Hey, Dr. Pines!"

"Hello, Soos. Everything went well?"

"Yeah, no problem! We got nachos on the way back, hope that's okay. I left Bill in the truck. Without the keys."

"I almost died of heat stroke," Bill said.

Already headed toward bed, Soos said, "Don't lie, dude. I cracked a window for you."

"Okay, okay. I was fine."

Bill drifted into the kitchen to finish his nachos. Ford drifted after him, leaning in the doorway. Bill had pulled his hood up. He typically only did that when he was in a foul mood, but he'd seemed to be in high enough spirits as he bantered with Soos. Maybe he felt exposed after going into town without his "body" on. (Three decades ago, during the weeks when Ford had been wrestling with Bill for control over his sleep-deprived body, Bill had hidden a vicious little note in Ford's third journal where he mentioned taking off his "exoskeleton" to feed. Ford wondered if Bill saw this hoodie as a substitute exoskeleton.)

"Well?" Ford said. "How was it?"

Bill turned. The false eye on the hood stared blankly through Ford. "Excuse me?" Bill laughed. "Are we on friendly conversation terms now? You want to hear about my day? Or are you just hoping I'll slip up and confess something interesting."

If Bill didn't already know the answer, he wouldn't have bothered asking. "You can't blame me for trying." Wendy hadn't shared much. Ford hoped that if Bill didn't know what the humans had been saying behind his back, he might give away more about what he'd done at Rainbow Club. Talk of tyranny and anarchy was worrying.

Ford could feel the corners of his mouth turning down as Bill's half-seen smile widened. Bill said, "I thought you said you weren't playing games with me anymore." He turned to sit on his chair backwards, legs straddling the seat. "Okay, Stanford! I had a great time! The regulars welcomed the Cool Girl and me with open arms! Fresh air, unfiltered sunshine, an hour of conversation with a roomful of people who don't detest me, a snack table with eleven kinds of bread—"

Ford's grim determination veered sideways off the road. "Wait," he said. "Eleven breads?"

"Yes?"

"Why were— What else did they have? Condiments? Sandwich materials?"

"Forks, napkins, and water bottles. That's it."

"Forks?" Ford echoed. "Forks?"

"Forks."

"Why did they have eleven breads and forks?"

Bill threw up his hands in an exaggerated shrug. "So it's not just me! I looked at that table and thought, 'This seems lopsided,' but who am I, I don't know everything about humans! One grain product or another is just about the most stereotypically human food I can think of, so—"

"No, it wasn't just you, that's—I can confirm that's weird. Why did they do that?"

"I don't know!" Bill laughed. "I don't know, no one else questioned it so I didn't say anything! I wasn't about to out myself as the alien in the room! I just grabbed a Hawaiian roll and made small talk!"

Baffled, Ford ventured, "Maybe it's a... a gay culture thing I haven't heard about?"

"It's not one I've heard of," Bill said, with a tone that suggested if it was a gay thing, he ought to have heard of it. "Hey, the club's token straight guy is in charge of bringing snacks. Maybe he thinks it's a gay culture thing."

"Maybe." It was a somewhat reassuring thought, that perhaps the bizarre spread was somebody's misguided idea of support.

"Glad that mystery's solved," Bill said, as though to him a theory was as good as an explanation. "Oh, speaking of mysteries—thought you'd find this interesting—the mayor's desk is still haunted by bears." He said it as casually as though he were picking up a conversation from a week ago, not thirty-three years ago.

That wasn't a mystery Ford had ever thought he'd get any follow-up on. "Really? Still?" Ford instinctively tugged his journal out of his inner coat pocket and searched for a blank page. "How many?"

"Just two that I saw. I don't know that the third one wasn't roaming the halls, though. I'm not quite the spy I used to be!" He gestured down at his regrettably human body.

Ford waved off the not-exactly-an-apology. "Of course. The limitations of human sight and flesh. Which ones did you see?"

"One male, one female. The smaller female."

"I find it hard to believe the mother moved on without her children. She's probably around Town Hall somewhere."

"If I see her next week, I'll let you know."

"I'd appreciate that." He started taking notes. "Why would they still be there? I would have thought after the last election..."

"I know, so did I." Bill stood and crossed the room with his nacho tray to peer over Ford's shoulder as he lightly sketched out a desk and a couple of black bears lying atop and in front of it. (Ford hadn't seen the mayor's office in over thirty years, but he'd rough out the shape now and fill in the details once he got a look at the desk again, that was how he always did it. Bill had invisibly watched him fill countless journal pages like this.) "The desk was wider. Nacho?"

"Thanks." Ford absentmindedly took a nacho between his pinkie and sixth finger without putting his pen down, and corrected his sketch at he chewed.

"I've got two theories," Bill said. "One: the bears weren't haunting the desk because ol' Huckabone was using it, but because of something he put in it. A cursed talisman or something!"

"Mm. Mayor Befufftlefumpter didn't tend to mess with forces like that."

"Maybe he didn't know it was cursed. Most people can't see the bears. No one else at Rainbow Club acknowledged them."

"And if there is a talisman of some sort, why don't you already know about it?"

"Just because I can see everything doesn't mean I pay attention to everything," Bill said. "I'll snoop for one if you want! Anyway, theory two: they were here for Huckabone, but they don't know he's passed on, and they'll hang around either until they're reunited with his spirit or somebody dispels them. But I don't like that theory as much," he said thoughtfully, "it's not as satisfying. I prefer the intrigue of a good cursed talisman. Don't you?"

"I doubt that whether it's satisfying is relevant to whether it's likely..." Ford glanced toward Bill and almost jumped out of his skin when a wide white eye stared back at him. That stupid hood again. When had Bill gotten inches from Ford's shoulder? His skin crawled retroactively. "What are you doing?"

"Helping?" Bill ate another nacho and offered the paper tray to Ford again.

Ford stared at Bill, stared at his page full of bear ghost notes, then snapped his journal shut and shoved it in his coat pocket. He was an idiot. Ford stalked off toward the guest room. Remember who you're talking to. There might not have been any bears at all. There might not even have been bread.

Bill called after him, "Maybe you should come next week. I think you'd fit right in."

Ice ran through Ford's veins. What did he mean by that? It took a force of will to keep walking to the guest room rather than turn around and confront Bill again.

He shut the door, closed his eyes, and reminded himself: how Bill's eye had glowed stoplight red when he'd threatened to torture Ford's gniece and gnephew; how Bill had shrieked with laughter when he'd invaded Ford's brother's mind.

Ford had been distracted by talk of ghosts and talismans and, and—and bread. (Bread? Really?) Mysterious and mystical talk made it easy to leave those dark memories sleeping undisturbed.

And that scared Ford. Because he thought, for a normal person, it shouldn't have been possible to forget those things, much less easy.

You'd fit right in with my freaks.

He opened his journal, scratched out half his notes about the bear ghosts, and spent half a page untangling how Bill had lured him into a conversation...

And finally concluded that Bill hadn't done much luring at all. He'd just... talked.

He finished with a "DON'T TRUST HIM!!" and underlined it twice.

####

Well. If Bill and Ford were playing verbal games now, Bill had easily won that one.

He'd peppered in twice that he planned to attend Rainbow Club again next week, and Ford hadn't protested. Ford had even said he'd appreciate it. All that, and Bill hadn't had to reveal that he was busily making friends with the local mayor, sheriff, and deputy, or that he now knew where to find his own wayward one-time "sheriff."

All the same. As much as he appreciated getting a win, he wouldn't have minded going 2 out of 3. Bill had done most of the talking. (One of his most endearing flaws, he thought.) He kinda wondered what Ford thought about the bears haunting the desk. Ford had a tendency to overthink everything in such interesting ways.

Patience. This was the longest conversation he'd had with Ford in decades that hadn't consisted of pure, grim business. He was making progress. Maybe next week he could bring home a haunted bear talisman, see where that got him.

He wondered what Ford had thought of his birthday gift.

####

(Thanks for reading! This is probably the longest chapter we've had so far, but I didn't want to cut off before they even got to the club. If you enjoyed, I'd appreciate hearing what y'all think!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #wendy corduroy #sheriff blubs #deputy durland #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #my writing #my art #fanart #bill goldilocks cipher

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hughes86-43 · 8 months ago

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#6 from the fluff oneliners w Quinn!

Congrats on 150 babe 🫶🏼

6. "Take my affection before I choke you with it"

thank you!!

150-Celly! ⭐️

today was your birthday. you’ve never really been a huge fan of birthday gifts. rather, you just preferred if someone took your somewhere to eat or things like that. birthday gifts, no matter how sweet they are, just never appealed to you so you always told people not to get you anything. overtime, people respected that, even your boyfriend Quinn.

however, for this year’s birthday, he wanted nothing more than to give you this special gift. he had been walking by a shop in town with Petey when he went by this jewelry store and saw the most perfect necklace for you. the necklace could be customized to have specific birthstones, initials, or charms on it. he knew that he absolutely had to get it for you for your birthday, even though he knew about your stance of gifts. any other time, he would always respect your wishes but he had to get it for you.

now, you sat at the kitchen island on the barstool waiting patiently for your boyfriend to return from the bedroom as he said he had something for you. he seemed so excited about it that you didn’t say anything about the fact that he got something for you before he zipped down the hallway.

looking up from your phone as Quinn walks down the hallway with his hands behind his back. “so, I know your whole stance on gifts, and before you say anything! please take a look into the bag.” you honestly have never seen him this nervous since your first date three years ago.

doing what you’re told, you open the bag. you take out the tissue paper, and then, you take out the black box inside of the bag. you look up at him and smile. you open the lid of the box to find the most beautiful necklace ever. heck, you couldn’t even be mad that he got you a gift because it’s so beautiful.

you take it out of the box and hold it delicately in your hands. you see what must be your birthstone and his birthstone with each of your initials in the middle. “Quinn, baby, it’s gorgeous, so gorgeous. put it on me please?”

Quinn nods and walks around the island as you hold out the necklace for him. you lift up your hair and he puts the necklace around your neck. “you know, you really shouldn’t have. i can’t imagine how expensive it was.”

he clasps the necklace and places it on your neck. he gives out a sigh, but you know there’s a smile on his face. he says, “take my affection before i choke you with it!”

“i know! i know! i love it, thank you so much!” you turn around to face him and pull his head down to give him a kiss. “i love you, it was a perfect birthday gift baby.”

“i love you, too, no matter what your stance on birthday gifts is!”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagines #hockey imagines #hockey fics #150 celly!

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kalpanahandmadepaper · 2 months ago

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#Handmade Paper Bags #Carry Bags #New year gift Bags #Handmade #Gift Bags #Eco-Friendly Bags #Recycled Paper Bag #Anniversary #Gift Bag #Craft Paper Bags #Customize Paper Bag #Handmade Carry Bags #Christmas Carry Bags #Return Gift Bags #Valentines Gift Bags

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emelinstriker · 1 year ago

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{Twice As Bad AU} Wukong & Macaque ♤ Even Little Things

Art drawn by me.

My little take on @semisolidmind's TAB AU due to peeps asking me to cover that as an X Reader ever since that one doodle I once did for it.

As usual, tweaked some things a bit in the AU just for the sake of the plot- And also cuz I haven't really kept track of all the canon things in the AU, so I'm mostly just using the basic premise of the AU and added/removed some things for the story twist, humor and all that. So please don't take it as canon y'all-

Also, I speedran this within three days to post it earlier than planned, so... Happy birthday, Semi! Have 4k words of ya bois as birthday gift, I guess. :D

TW: Descriptions of death and gore

[TL;DR] Monke have 'yummy' berry if customer have coin.

♤ ~ Emotional Mix ~ ♤

It started out as a regular day at the market for you.

You owned a little stall where you would sell berries you and your little monkey friends collected. You kept on insisting that you wanted to collect them on your own, but the two ginger-furred and dark-furred monkeys just wouldn't leave you alone. Though, their kindness and willingness to help you did prove useful in the end. You managed to garner a lot of berries by the end of the day. How they managed to get them all? You would never know. You didn't exactly question it much either due to how many you were able to sell. Sales were pretty good today as well... And as per usual, your two little monkeys were practically guarding you and your stall, which you found really adorable. They looked like two innocent and fluffy puppies looking out for their beloved owner. And their cuteness did definitely contribute to your berry selling success.

Though, while they were pretty quiet and polite towards your customers that were just there to buy berries, there were some they truly didn't like to have around you at all... More specifically, those who showed even the slightest bit of romantic interest towards you.

Especially that farmer boy.

God, they really hated that guy for some reason.

Even if they just saw him walk across the street, far away from where you actually were, they would already start letting out aggressive sounds of pure hatred. Meanwhile you would just awkwardly wave at the poor guy. Though, besides the few customers that had interest in you, your monkeys were pretty well-behaved when you were around. You found it adorable how they would even help fill up tiny bags with berries like little helpers. And if they weren't doing that, they would either sit or lie around on your stall or cling onto you while you worked. They especially loved body contact with you, so they mostly clung onto you. All they wanted in return for their help was your affection, oddly enough. No snack either, just affection. You only had to give them little kisses or cuddle them a bit and they were already melting in your arms. Another cute thing they would do whenever you were selling berries was to give you gifts...

Well, it certainly sounds cute in theory.

However, their gifts ranged from not only some simple shiny rocks and flowers, but also to literal little animals and insects... Which were usually alive whenever they were the dark-furred monkey's gift, but were most definitely always dead in the ginger-furred monkey's case. Of course, you would still praise them as to not upset them... And while they were highly aware of your discomfort whenever they brought in animals and insects, they just ignored it. Then again, you never thought much of it since in your eyes, they were just monkeys. Just two simple, silly, little monkeys. Why would they respect your discomforts when they couldn't even talk?

Well, despite your little monkeys not being able to talk to you, they did seem to understand you. Which felt really nice, considering most in the village either didn't trust you or enjoy talking to you... So their company was very endearing and appreciated.

Especially in certain moments...

"What do you mean you're out of berries?" A tough-looking man asked, definitely pissed off. So you tried to stay calm and defuse the situation as best as you could.

"Sorry, sir... But all berries are already sold out. The last batch was sold a few minutes ago. B-But you could come back tomorrow and-" "I don't have the fucking time to come back tomorrow! I need those berries now!" He rudely cut you off.

"I, uh, understand, sir, but-" "I know you still have berries in stock! I can see a bunch in the basket over there!" He cut you off again, yelling in your face as he pointed towards the basket behind you. You grimaced a little in discomfort.

"Sir, those are berries I'll deliver after work to a woman who already paid for them-" "Then give her that money back or some shit, will ya?! Just give me those damn berries instead already!" The man looked like he would jump behind the stall's counter any moment now to launch himself at you, when you suddenly heard very familiar growling coming from behind the man... He turned around, only to see two small monkeys glaring furiously at him.

The man scoffed. "The fuck are those doing here? Are those your pets or some shit?" You gave your monkeys worried glances, not wanting them to get involved and get hurt. This man looked tough and would have no problem getting rid of two little monkeys...

But your monkeys were different.

Instead of backing down, they slowly approached the man aggressively on all fours. Their tails were dangerously swaying behind them as they snarled at him... While they could tolerate the presence of customers in most cases, this was one of the few cases where they really were just out to murder. All they needed was an opening...

Wukong then seemingly stopped snarling for a moment as he whispered something extremely quietly, to which Macaque nodded. While Macaque continued to aggressively approach the man, his brother gave the man one last glare before running up to you instead, launching himself at you. Startled, you stumbled back a bit as he jumps at you. And with seemingly extreme strength, he managed to knock you down to the ground behind your stall. Your stall obscured your vision of the man and your other monkey. You groaned a bit in pain before you looked at the ginger-furred monkey, who just smiled at you with a love-struck gaze. He didn't attack you or anything, his tail just swayed happily as he nuzzled you. You, of course, were confused by his sudden mood change. "Why did you tackle me-"

Then, you heard a scream from the man for just a split second before the other monkey's snarling suddenly stopped. Everything was silent. Suspicious and confused, you held the ginger-furred monkey against your chest while he continued to happily nuzzle into you. You then stood back up and looked towards the front of your stall... The man was gone. But the dark-furred monkey was still there, sitting contently like a good boy where the man once was. His tail happily swayed behind him as well as if nothing ever happened just now...

The man's decomposing body was found hanging from a tree by his own guts in the forest a few days later. According to those who found his corpse, his body was completely mangled. His face was seemingly ripped or mauled off, displaying his skull with his eyes missing. His rib cage seemed to have been crushed and his abdomen was torn wide open. Part of his organs were missing, and a single bloody peach was found buried inside the body. His tongue was ripped off and literally stuffed down his throat, as if it were there to tell him to forever keep quiet... Not to mention all his broken bones that were not just simply snapped, but crushed into pieces. The entire scene was extremely horrifying for those that saw his remains. Some sort of brutal demon must've killed him. Yet the reasons were unknown as to why this man would be murdered in such a gruesome way... What did the man think in his last moments? Was he immediately dead or was he tortured alive? The people of the village seemed to mentally point their fingers in your direction, however. Especially due to how you were one of the last people they saw him with.

That was just one of the strange happenings surrounding you and your monkey companions.

Something else the villagers noticed was the other rather recent murder cases looked similar, though less brutal. Whoever, or whatever, killed the other people also killed this man. But the other victims usually only had their abdomens be ripped open and their organs ripped out, for whatever reason... Though, they all were found with a single bloody peach inside them.

And of course, villagers kept you in mind as a major suspect. Which was sort of understandable since all those people were people who basically told you to get lost and fuck off, telling you that you don't belong in their community. The more people suspected you to be at least involve in the serial murders, the less people would stop by your berry stall. Which in turn made you feel sad and confused... Did you do something wrong?

Your two little monkeys noticed your guilt and self-doubt creeping in, and they didn't like seeing you beat yourself like this over whatever those other humans thought of you.

Thus, they decided now was the time to make themselves known and 'save' you from this unworthy village.

And what better way than to go out with a bang?

So, they decided to help 'sell' some berry bags personally and directly. They packed them up themselves again and snuck into peoples' houses, taking some of their coins and leaving a bag of berries everywhere they went. The two of them were extremely helpful. They came back to you with coins everytime, so you assumed they managed to sell their little bags to happy customers. All would be fine again soon...

...At least, that's what you had hoped.

News spread fast in the village.

A death was reported in the east.

Another further north.

Few more in the west.

The southern area seemed to have multiple dead people already...

People were dropping dead like flies everywhere within the span of just a single day...

The entire panic rising within the village only seemed to enhance your uneasiness as well. You were mostly outside around your stall after all... What if this so called serial killer found you? Or perhaps there was a deadly virus going around and you shouldn't even be outside in the first place...

You held your monkeys close in worry as you feared for their and your own safety, standing behind your stall once more. While you were feeling uneasy, your monkey companions only seemed all too happy and content with no care in the world as you let them nuzzle into you with cute little chirps. Sighing, you looked at all the berries you still haven't managed to sell. Feeling a little hungry, you decided to eat a few of the berries you had. After taking one of the berry bags the monkeys had packed, you grabbed a few of the berries and were about to eat them.

Suddenly, the ginger-furred one stopped you by quickly switching from clinging onto your chest to clinging onto the arm that was holding the berries, stretching his body from your arm up to your hand to clasp his own little hands around it, keeping you from eating the berry. He looked at you with seemingly slightly concerned eyes, shaking his head as he let out quiet noises, which sounded like he was begging you not to eat them. It was strange how strong this little monkey actually was... His tiny hands were preventing you from even opening your hand. The dark-furred monkey also seemed to join in on stopping you from consuming those berries as he nuzzles into your neck, wrapping his tail around the arm that's holding the bag. The sight must've looked funny to others if they were passing by, to be honest.

Confused, you decide to just listen to the monkeys and not eat the berries... Maybe they were just upset that you'd wanna unpack and eat the berries they had so nicely packed for customers earlier. Which would make sense.

Another day had passed and...

Where was everyone?

You set up your bags at your stall and were patiently waiting for someone, anyone, to even just walk past. However, everything was silent for a few hours. Dead silent for a village that had a bunch of gossip going around. Not even your monkey companions were following you this morning, oddly enough. This only added to your fear since those little guys were like your comfort pets.

Another hour passed and finally some sound was heard in the distance. Were those... screams?

Now more on edge than ever, you decided that maybe you should sit this day out on trying to sell... You didn't exactly want to lose your life to some massacre or virus after all. A bit panicked by the scream, you quickly tried to pack up the little berry bags into a basket. But as you were starting to pack up, you could hear a male voice fake coughing to grab your attention. Startled by the sudden noise after all the dead silence, you almost dropped one bag before you turned to face the person in front of your stall... Or, uh... Monkey...?

This dark-furred monkey seemed familiar... Maybe he was related to one of your little monkey friends?

He smirked at you as he leaned against the stall, his tail swaying slowly behind him. "Hey there, sugarplum. Did I arrive a bit too late? My brother and I heard you sell delicious berries here."

You waved your hand dismissively, nervous as you never had a monkey, or rather a demon in this case, being a customer. The nickname was also making you a little nervous, but maybe he was just one of those people who give everyone they see nicknames. "Oh- No, no- You're not late- I just... Didn't think I would get any customers today..."

He leaned in a bit closer to you. "Oh? Why's that? Aren't your berries said to be the best in this village though?"

"Uh, well... Yes, but usually some customers would've already bought some at this time in the day... But you'd be my first customer today." You admitted sheepishly. He only seemed to grin... You didn't know he could hear your anxious heartbeat. He knew you didn't exactly feel safe. But you were still trying to be calm and polite towards even a dangerous-looking demon him. Which he found cute. That's when his ear twitched as he heard something you couldn't hear, making his grin turn into a more... seductive one.

"I'm actually not here to buy any of those bags you're offering. I am interested in one specific berry from your stall, however."

You blinked at him in confusion. "...What berry? They're all pretty much the same?"

"Not all of them." He responded. The simian chuckled as he looked at you with intent. "There's one berry my brother and I have been keeping a close eye on for quite a while now, and we want to claim that berry for ourselves... It simply sticks out. Just like a delicious peach amongst a bunch of mediocre berries. My brother's words, not mine. But I do have to agree with him on this one." He then leaned in a little closer to you, still giving you this sort of seductive grin. "And as an honorable and kind merchant, surely you would love to fulfill a customer's simple request... Right?"

His deep voice made him sound so smooth, but his words and the way he said them also just sounded... Off... This was not a regular exchange for food, that much you could tell. But before you could reply, you heard another voice coming from behind you. "Well, well, well... How's business? Did I miss anything, Macaque?" You turned around in shock, noticing a ginger-furred simian behind you. Some sort of red and gold staff is held loosely on his shoulder as he smirked. Though, the thing that set you off the most were the clear blood spots on his fur, his clothes, and especially on one side of his staff...

"Nah, you didn't miss a thing. I was just mentioning what we wanted to 'buy'." Macaque responded with a shrug as he leaned back a bit, though still resting with his arms on the stall's counter.

They could clearly tell you were scared. And of course, as your beloved monkeys, they wanted to make you feel as comfortable around them as possible. So, maybe a little bit of an introduction would make things easier. The ginger-furred monkey raised his free hand with a little wave, smiling kindly as if he didn't just murder humans a few minutes ago. "Hey, peaches! My name is Sun Wukong. Legendary Monkey King and Great Sage Equal To Heaven! Also strongest demon you'll ever see as well as the most sexy monkey in existence- Aaaanyway, this is my sworn brother, and second-in-command, the Six-Eared Macaque." He said to break the ice, gesturing towards the dark-furred monkey as well.

"Just call me Macaque. And him Wukong." Macaque added with a bit of a shrugging hand motion. Then he moves his hand just enough to point towards his brother with a taunting, shit-eating grin. "It's much easier than Six-Eared Macaque and whatever the fuck long ass title Wukong decided to give himself." He grins smugly, to which Wukong huffs in a rather arrogant way.

"Well, excuse me for having achieved more in life than you." Wukong retorted.

"Great Sage Equal To Heaven was not an achievement if you practically begged for it."

"But Warlord was."

"You didn't even name that title in your introduction though??"

"I didn't wanna make them feel more anxious than they already are, okay??"

"And since when are you the most sexy monkey in existence?? That's bullshit and you know it."

"Hey! That title may be a tiny bit opinion-based, but it is an accurate description of me."

"Could you stop letting your ego go to your head for like five minutes? I'm still the brains in this duo. And the brain doesn't need the muscle's ego surrounding it."

"...Okay, now this is getting fucking personal, you goddamn hypocrite-"

To be honest, you weren't exactly scared at this moment anymore, just confused and uncomfortable due to them arguing and practically being so close to just claw at each other's throats over petty titles. Macaque rolled his eyes at Wukong before turning back to you, trying to get back on topic to avoid Wukong getting pissed at him over nothing again. "So about that 'peach amongst berries' talk-" Suddenly, Wukong quickly wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against his blood-stained armor with a grin. His annoyed mood immediately flipped like a switch to a more love-struck one again.

"Oh? Did our peaches agree? Was my pick-up line enough to convince them~? Did you tell them about the real us yet?" He hummed. You grimaced a bit in discomfort at him suddenly touching you so casually. Especially because you could tell he reeked of death... Was... Was he the one who killed those people...? The more you thought about it, the more connections clicked in your mind... The peach references, the way people described the latest murder of the man who yelled at you, the fact that for some reason it's all connected to literal demon monkeys...

Your heartbeat rose up, making Macaque smirk. "Well, not verbally... But I think they're starting to understand what's happening on their own. What a smart human we've picked!"

"Y-You- Wh- Wait what-" You stammered out in shock, definitely now more scared than ever before. Wukong quickly picked you up into his arms after making his staff seemingly disappear into thin air. His strength was no joke either as he clearly didn't struggle at all in holding you. His tail was happily moving behind him in excitement.

"C'mon, Macaque. We got what we came here for." Wukong stated as he walked a bit further away from your stall. You attempted to escape by trying to move out of his grip, but despite barely even gripping onto you, you were simply just flailing around a bit, clearly unable to escape your cage that were his arms. He simply ignored your attempt at an escape as he smiled contently, giving you a very familiar love-struck look...

That reminded you of your little monkey companions. Your heartbeat spiked and Macaque took notice. He raised an eyebrow at you in confusion because your heartbeat didn't change much since you started flailing in Wukong's arms. "Is something wrong, (Y/N)?"

You stopped in shock, looking at the dark-furred monkey with wide eyes. "W-Wh... H-How do you know my name?"

Ah. Right, right. You didn't know yet.

Macaque chuckled as he cupped your cheek with you still in his brother's arms. "Well, you see... We sorta picked up your name during the weeks, or I guess months at this point, when we were helping you around the village. You know, packing up berries and all that... We even made sure the latest batches had the freshest type of toxin for the best quality!" He grinned maliciously as he crossed his arms. Your mouth hung agape in shock as some tears gathered in your eyes...

"You... Y-You were those two monkeys...?" You asked quietly in disbelief... All those deaths... If they put those toxic berries in the bags you were paid for... Didn't that automatically make you a form of accomplice in their schemes? And you got paid for basically allowing them to kill all these people. You started to sob, "...Oh my god... No, no, no... This- T-This can't be- I-I would never h-help... kill- I-I d-didn't mean t-to-"

Wukong then leaned his head down a bit to kiss your forehead with a faint blush and a soft smile. "Shhh... It's fine, peaches. Don't cry. You can just put all the blame on us if that helps." He said quietly, trying to sound comforting. The warlord clearly didn't care about all the dead people, he only cared about wanting to see you smile. He summoned some form of cloud and hopped onto it with you still trapped in his arms. Then he gave his second-in-command a malicious grin. "Macaque, I'll take them home. Sweep through the village one last time. If anyone is still alive, you know what to do."

Macaque returned his own malicious grin as he bowed a little. And with his bow, a shadow-like portal opened up beneath him, swallowing him into the ground. Meanwhile, you could only helplessly watch as Wukong made his cloud fly high up into the skies at pretty high speeds. If you managed to escape his grasp now, you would just be dead. Looking back towards your village, you could see bodies lying outside, most had no blood as they probably died to the berries, but some were clearly attacked earlier by Wukong... You also witnessed houses collapsing within giant flames...

Even the sky above the village itself seemed to look doomed from afar...

You could even still see another human begging for help before being tortured by Macaque's shadows...

You were just silently crying as Wukong took you away to Flower Fruit Mountain, which would soon become your new home. Whether you would like it or not. You were theirs now. And it all simply started with some small berries...

If only you had known that even the littlest of things could snowball you down to hell.

[ Masterlist ]

#twice as bad au #bad end wukong #jttw x reader #sun wukong x reader #macaque x reader #jttw sun wukong #jttw monkey king #lmk x reader #six eared macaque x reader #six eared macaque fanart #macaque fanart #sun wukong fanart #lego monkie kid x reader #emotional mix #cw: gore #yandere behavior #monkey king x reader #art

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