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radio-fmm · 2 months ago

Text

Dear Luffy

Luffy x fem!reader

2k words, sfw

Sanji finds out about your crush on Luffy, would he be able to keep the secret?

Masterlist | Pt. 2

Sanji’s heart dropped to the depths of his stomach as he stood still in the middle of your room, a piece of paper in his hands

Truth was he didn’t wanted to be in this position, as incriminating as it looked

You had lost your glasses that morning. You had been looking everywhere but to no avail, the task becoming quite difficult without them too. Of course Sanji being the gentleman he is, offered to help you look starting with your bedroom

Big mistake

His eyes bore at the letter in his hands that had wrinkled under his unrelenting hold. Luffy’s name spelled at the top with dear attached to it with your handwriting makes his eyes drop out of his skull

You like Luffy?

Of course you do, Sanji then recalls all those times you decided to stay up later to accompany him on his night watches so he ‘wouldn’t fall asleep’ face beaming. How you were always, without a doubt, the first to jump on his crazy ideas and adventures. All of the times he had catch you sneaking around the kitchen late at night, only to then find out that Luffy send you for snacks for him to eat knowing he wasn’t allowed. That look of adoration he’ll catch in your eyes when looking up at your Captain

It was unmistakable

“Sanji! I found them!” - Your voice echoed trough the hallway and the cook curses, without missing any more seconds he hides the letter on its rightful place under your pillow and drops to his knees, hopefully he’ll look as if he was innocently searching under your bed he didn’t

The sound of the doorknob followed by his name makes the blood rush to his ears, heart thrumming in his chest as he prays he can meet your eyes like a normal person, trying not to think about the huge secret he just read about

“Thank god my darling!” He gets up at the speed of light, he’s surprised he didn’t passed out from the harsh movement

Immediately you feel something is wrong

Sanji stands in the middle of your room, eyes darting in every direction, clammy hands fiddling with his cigarette, a nervous smile on his features

“Are you ok San-“

“Fantastic! Why wouldn’t I be?-“ Slowly and desperately, the blonde makes his way out of your room, fumbling every step and almost falling along with your dresser that was tucked on the corner of the place -“Anyway, I gotta go back to the kitchen, dinner won’t cook itself!”

Finally he reaches the handle and disappears, his heart pounding and mouth dry

“Nami was right, he’s kinda weird…”

Shit shit shit, he feelt dirty, invading a ladys privacy like that? Unforgivable. What panicked him the most tho, was not what he knew or how he found out, no no no

It was the fact that he knows he won’t be able to shut his mouth about it. Sanji is a bad liar, specially lying to beautiful ladies, and as it turns, there’s 2 very much noisy ladies aboard The Sunny

Shit

His mind in a reverie, shaky slender fingers scavenging for another cigarette as he made a bee-line to the kitchen

“Mr. cook” Robins calls, echoing trough Sanji’s head, a shiver running down his spine as he looks up to her, head resting on her palm, prying eyes examining his every move

“Oh! Tigress, didn’t see you there” he fakes a smile as better as he can, hoping she wouldn’t ask any questions

“Did y/n find her glasses?” There’s a squint, very small and almost undetectable when she mentions you, waiting for a reaction from the poor blonde cook

He sweats, heavily “Ah yes! She did” a painfully fake giggle scapes his mouth along with the smoke he was keeping in. They both stare at each other, as if waiting for someone to do or say anything… after a while Sanji excuses himself to the kitchen, knowing he’ll be safe once he steps in

Very loud, very incorrect buzzer

His relief is short lived as he enters the kitchen and he catches a glimpse of Nami. She was working on some maps, ponytail and glasses on sketching the day away. Sanji’s blood runs cold

You see, there’s a difference between being questioned by Robin and being questioned by Nami, the latter lacking as certain touch when it comes to her words… and being the queen of noisy

“Nami swan” he drags the last word as in disbelief, she has never in the time they had sailed, worked on her maps in any other place that isn’t her office

The navigator’s head snaps. Completely unaware of the panic petrifying him at the entrance “Oh hey Sanji! The sun hits the kitchen at this hour, better light” she points to her work before getting back to it

Surely he could make it right? Cook for the whole crew without spilling a syllable of what he had read, sounds easy enough

Again, very loud incorrect buzzer

“LUFFY?” Nami’s voice echoes trough the walls, her maps long forgotten as the poor poor cook stood mortified in front of the half cubed vegetables for the soup he was planning to do

Turns out the navigator was far more preceptive than he thought. Sanji was reciting every single detail of what happened within 30 minutes of him just smoking like a psycho and cutting vegetables in terrible cubes

“You can’t tell anyone! She would never forgive me for accidentally snooping around” he begs, resuming his meal prep

“Whatever, that’s not the important part! We have to do something with this” she presses the matter with wide eyes

“No”

“Yes!”

“Darling we-“

“We should what?” Both of the very loud crewmates remain frozen, eyes wide and mouth agape as the Captain himself stands at the door, nostrils open as he takes in the aroma of the soon to be dinner, behind him walks Robin, a sly smile on her lips

Silence, deafening silence

“What were you talking about?” Of course the archeologists pushes the matter, already knowing something was stewing between the two

“Nothing” both culprits answer as they resume their individual tasks that had been forgotten

Robin is no fool, she notices how both steal panicked glances at her Captain who is just completely lost on the dinner cooking up in front of him to notice. How Sanji, the best cook she had ever had the chance to encounter is messing up steps as he fights to make the soup. How Nami kept re drawing the same set of mountains on the map

The tension was no joke

“Captain, did Mr. Shooter showed you the impressive fish he caught this morning?” Luffy brightens at Robins words

“WHAT? I have to see it! Bet it would taste delicious!” In a blink, Luffy has left the kitchen enticing a relieved sigh from the cook that does not go amiss for anyone

“You two are going to tell me what’s going on”

That damn soup was taking way too long, Luffy was bouncing up and down impatiently, stomach loud with hunger. You being the good friend that you are decided to try and get a snack, maybe a little flutter from your eyelashes would get Sanji to budge and let you take something before dinner. The Sunny was rarely quiet, the sound of the oceans waves crashing on the ship a sweet melody that had you skipping happily. As you neared the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks as a set of voices reached your ears, was there a meeting or something? Weird, Sanji doesn’t like a lot of people around when he’s cooking

Curiosity got the cat, you rest your ear flat against the door trying to make out the conversation behind it

“… a letter… it was an accident… she really likes him… he has no idea… you know how Luffy is…”

A surprised gasp leaves your mouth before you can catch it, hands run to your mouth as you stay put before the door, brain scrambled as it glues the pieces together

Someone found your love letter

The sound of heavy heels approaching the door takes you out of your daze as you scurry away like a cat, running away from the inevitable. You hear Nami call your name but the embarrassment doesn’t allow you to turn as you scape to your room

Closing the door behind you with a loud tud, you run to your bed and find the letter under your silky pillow, your face turning red as you imagine one of your crewmates reading your words. You can hear your heart in your ears before you reap the letter, the sound deafening on your quiet bedroom. How pathetic you felt, like a spec of dust on a shelve with your feelings in your throat

Of course you were a no show for dinner, worried faces on Sanji, Nami and Robin who decided to leave you alone, the damage already done they didn’t wanted to pester you any more than they already had

You were a very shy person when it came to this kind of things, which was funny considering you were usually a very confident and outspoken person, but feelings? they were too much for you, opting by writing them down which you now see as probably a bad habit. You curse for the millionth time staring up at the ceiling in hopes the ocean would leak in and take you away, spitting you on the other side of the world. A couple of nocks on your door stop your train of thought, you don’t answer making the person on the other side impatient, so they opt to just open your door

Luffy stares at you for a moment as so do you, he didn’t know what was happening thank god

“Are you ok? You didn’t came down for dinner” something Luffy didn’t joked about was food that’s for sure

“Yeah I’m… just a little tired”

He grimaces, a rare look on the strawhat boy it makes you wince

“But you need to eat” he retorts

“I’ll eat later Luf, don’t worry”

He stares again, big chocolate eyes looking you up and down, a contemplative hmm vibrating from his chest. You remain frozen, still too embarrassed to even meet his eyes for more than 5 seconds

“You know you can tell me anything right?” Luffy had this amazing ability of always finding the correct words, your face falls and you swear your pulse had accelerated enough to be audible. You sit with his statement, and you feel troubled. Of course he’s right as he always is, it makes you feel stupid to even think about being embarrassed about having feelings, but you steal a glance at his face and the red in your cheeks remind you why are you feeling so mortified

Remind you how dear he is to you

You would hate yourself forever if you were to ever ruin this, this friendship and trust with your Captain. You value that above all else even if it means hiding during meals

“Yes, of course Luf” you smile, a hurtful kind of smile that makes the rubber boy grimace even more

“I can eat with you if you want”

“I said I am tired”

“Yeah but like, if you are up for it later” his genuine concern bends your will, not being honest to him burns like acid

“I’ll let you know if I go to the kitchen”

Finally Luffy gives you the most beautiful bright honest smile, then he just disappears

This whole situation was so stupid, why were you embarrassed about feeling feelings? How dumb. If someone would’ve told you how difficult it would be to deal with love at sea, maybe you would’ve thought a little more about becoming a full time pirate

Of course you went down to eat your dinner later that day, of course Sanji happily warmed it up fro you and of course Luffy joined you

And of course he ate half of it

Pt.2

#one piece #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x you #monkey d luffy x y/n #monkey d luffy #monkey d. luffy #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #luffy one piece #one piece one shot #luffy oneshot #fanfic #one piece fanfiction #wirting

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kairoot · 5 months ago

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𝑴𝑶𝑶𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 — 西村力.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: during the village’s annual moon festival, the moon shines big and bright. legend says that it reveals a person’s true emotions under its light and can rekindle lost feelings. when you move to the little romance village, it’s bustling with talk of the festival and a famous local painter. deciding to see what the gossip was about, you attend said moon festival. but what happens when you run into this unknown artist under the moon’s light?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: niki x 𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 : fluff , s2l, soulmates (???), folklore kinda thing.. 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 : no 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : riki is kind of a loner .. ( 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 ) : special thank you to nini ^^ @flwrstqr for proofreading for me, I love u ♡︎. pls leave reblogs, they are much appreciated !! ♡︎ WC: 3.3K

THE VILLAGE SQUARE WAS a kaleidoscope of lights, colors, and laughter. Lanterns hung from just about every surface, casting a warm, golden glow over the cobblestone streets. The air was full of sweet scents, coming from every corner of the small town.

You weaved through the large crowd, taking in all of the sights and sounds. It was beyond anything you’d ever experienced. Being a new resident to the town, you couldn’t understand what all of the excitement was about over one festival but now you felt the same way everyone else did.

Melodic strains of the village’s music played, causing people all around to dance together, not caring if they were strangers to one another. You smiled, the sight somehow bringing you joy.

After walking a few miles, an older shop catches your eye. The traditional decorations hanging outside the tiny building, with a crescent moon sketched on the wooden door. You opened it to walk in, the small bell ringing as the door moved.

You were greeted with the sharp tang of an earthy aroma of dried clay and the rich smell of more wood from the easels, frames, and shelves. The subtle hint of fresh pencil shavings, and the crisp scent of new canvases waiting to be transformed.

A few employees smiled and waved at you, their kindness making you feel welcome as you got ready to explore this new environment. The store was quiet; the only noise being a few painters conversing with one another, the low traditional music that played in the background, and pencils or paintbrushes moving against the canvases.

You walked further into the shop, wandering around the shelves to look at different tools and paintings that had been hung up on display.

You ran your hand over the wooden shelf, another crescent moon etched into the dark surface.

This town is serious about the moon, you thought.

You continued your mini journey through the aisles, amazed by some of the artistry inside of them.

But a certain painting seems to pique your interest. You let your feet guide you to the image, captivated by the delicate brushstrokes that brought the scene to life. Just as you let your fingertips graze the painting, another hand brushed against yours. Startled, you pulled your hand away at the same time as the other person’s, causing the art to fall to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologize to the stranger, before you both chuckle at the small incident. The stranger crouches to pick the canvas up from the ground, holding it with a firm grasp.

You look up, only to see a much taller male in front of you, dressed in all black with a paint splattered apron tied around his waist. His eyes sharp but filled with surprise as he stared back at you.

His beauty captivated you in a way. In a way where you couldn’t even find your words or perhaps even start a conversation.

You both stood silently until he sucked in a breath, hesitant on whether he wanted to say something.

“So, uh—, arts’ your thing, too?” He glanced at the painting in his hands and then back at you, a gentle smile making its way to his face.

“I guess I’ve found it kind of interesting lately,” you beamed, feeling a bit more at ease. “What about you?”

“Yeah, uh, this is mine actually..” He trailed off. Your eyes widened in surprise, suddenly feeling guilty for the incident that had occurred a few minutes earlier.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to knock it down, I was just curious, and—“

He looked down, chuckling, “It’s no problem. I was thinking of chunking it anyway.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “But it’s way too good for you to just throw away like that.”

He shrugged, still smiling a bit. “I don’t know.. I’m just not too fond of it.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “Why’s that? It seems really beautiful to me.”

He looked at you with a spark of enthusiasm in his eyes. “Well, if you’re interested, you can make your own. I give mini-lessons from time to time. If you’re free, I’d be happy to show you some techniques.”

A smile crept onto your face. “I’d love that.”

“I’m Riki, by the way.” He extended his larger hand.

You shook his hand, the warm and firm grip making you feel as if you had butterflies in your stomach.

“Y/n.”

The sunlight filtered gently through the shop's windows, casting a warm, inviting glow over the art supplies and canvases. You arrived at the store a bit early, your excitement barely contained. Riki was setting up a small workspace in the back corner, his movements precise and deliberate. The room was filled with the rich scents of paint and wood, a comforting backdrop for the lesson ahead.

“Hey,” Riki greeted as you walked in, his smile making your heart flutter. “Ready for your mini-lesson?”

You nodded, trying to maintain a calm exterior but feeling a tingle of nerves. “Definitely!”

Riki’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he motioned for you to join him at the small table. “Alright, grab an apron and we’ll start with some basics. I’ll show you how to create depth and texture in your painting.”

You took one of the dark aprons off of the hook by the door and took a seat. Riki’s proximity made you acutely aware of his presence. He stood close enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the earthy aroma of the paint. As he demonstrated the brushstrokes, his hand occasionally brushed against yours, sending a shy smile to your lips.

“Alright, so you want to use a light touch for the highlights,” Riki said, his voice warm and encouraging. He leaned in slightly to show you the technique up close, his face just inches from yours. The closeness made your cheeks warm, and you found it hard to focus on the painting as you became acutely aware of the soft sound of his breath and the gentle way he spoke.

“Like this,” he continued, guiding your hand with his own. His fingers were careful and steady, and you felt a gentle pressure as he helped you maneuver the brush. “The key is to layer the colors gradually, so it builds up the texture without looking too harsh.”

His hand lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary, and you couldn’t help but glance up at him. Riki’s eyes were soft, and his smile was reassuring. “You’re doing great. Just remember to relax and let the brush do the work.”

You nodded, trying to steady your breath as you followed his instructions. The way he spoke to you, with such patience and attentiveness, made your heart race. Each time he leaned in to offer guidance, you felt a flutter of shyness but also an endearing sense of comfort.

Riki moved to the other side of the table, giving you space but still offering occasional tips and encouragement. “You’re really picking this up fast,” he said with genuine admiration, his voice carrying a note of pride. “You have a natural eye for detail..”

You blushed at his compliment, focusing on your painting with renewed determination. “Thanks. I’ve really enjoyed learning from you.”

He smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting a hint of something more than just professional interest. “I’ve enjoyed having you as my ‘student’.”

As the lesson continued, you found yourself growing more confident. Riki’s careful instruction and the way he interacted with you made the experience both educational and heartwarming. Every time he offered a correction or praised your work, it felt like a gentle nudge toward something greater.

By the end of the session, you were both smiling, the painting before you a testament to the techniques Riki had shared. “I think you’re ready for more advanced techniques next time,” he said, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. “But for now, you’ve done really great.”

You beamed, feeling a mix of accomplishment and affection for the kind-hearted teacher who had made your art journey so special. “Thank you. I can’t wait for our next lesson.”

As you packed up your things, Riki’s gaze lingered on you with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m looking forward to it too,” he said softly. “See you soon.”

You left the shop with a smile, carrying not just the knowledge of painting but also the warmth of a shared connection.

A few days later, the festival was in full swing again, but this time it was a different night. You decided to take a quiet walk to a nearby beach, not too far from the festival setup. The moon hung low in the sky, casting its silver light over the ocean waves.

You carried with you a small set of painting materials, inspired by the techniques Riki had taught you. Setting up on the sand, you began to paint the scene before you: the moonlit waves and the gentle shimmer of the water. With each brushstroke, you used the tips he had given you, trying to capture the serene beauty of the moment.

The night was quiet, save for the soft sound of the waves and the occasional distant laughter from the festival. As you worked, you felt a sense of peace and contentment, lost in the beauty of the moment.

After a while, you sensed someone approaching. Turning slightly, you saw Riki walking towards you, his eyes bright with curiosity and admiration. He stopped a few feet away, watching you paint with a soft smile on his face.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice gentle. "I didn't expect to find you here."

You smiled back, feeling a flutter of happiness at his presence. "I needed some quiet time to practice. I’ve been kind of inspired."

Riki moved closer, sitting down next to you on the sand. His proximity was comforting, and you felt a warm sense of connection as he admired your work. "You've really captured the essence of the scene," he said, his eyes scanning your painting. "It's like seeing the world through your eyes."

His compliment made your heart swell with pride. "Thanks.. I’ve been trying to use the techniques you taught me.”

“Oh, really?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on his face. “My techniques?”

You chuckled lightly, nodding, “Yes, your technique.”

You continued to paint, occasionally glancing at Riki, who watched with genuine interest.

The moonlight cast a soft glow on his features, making the moment feel even more magical. After a while, Riki spoke, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

"You know, the legend of the moon... it's said to reveal the truth about one's emotions," he began, his eyes fixed on the waves. "I've always been afraid to let the moon see mine, not after what happened before."

You looked at him with curiosity. “What happened?”

He sighed softly, looking out at the ocean. “I once let the moonlight reveal my true feelings and it led to heartbreak. It was... painful.. But that’s a story for another day..”

He turned to you, his eyes sincere and vulnerable. “Somehow, being with you, I don’t feel that fear. There’s something about tonight, and about you, that makes me believe in the magic of the moon again.”

You felt a pang of sympathy and reached out, gently placing your hand on his. “Riki, you don’t have to talk about it if you’re not comfortable.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. “Thank you. It’s just... hard to think about sometimes. The pain was so real, and it made me afraid to show my true emotions again.”

You squeezed his hand gently, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Take your time. I’m here. Though we met nights ago, I’m here.”

Riki‘s eyes softened, and he gave you a small, appreciative smile. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

The moon’s light bathed the beach in a gentle glow, illuminating the quiet understanding between you. Riki’s honesty and openness resonated deeply, and you felt a sense of connection that was both comforting and profound.

He shifted slightly, moving closer to you until your shoulders almost touched. The warmth of his body next to yours was a silent reassurance, a wordless promise of support. “You’re really something, you know that?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you turned to look at him, finding his gaze already on you. “I could say the same about you,” you replied, feeling the intimacy of the moment deepen.

Riki’s eyes held a mixture of vulnerability and strength, a silent testament to the pain he carried and the bravery it took to admit it. He took a deep breath, his fingers brushing against yours as he spoke. “It’s just... sometimes the memories are too painful. But being here with you, it makes it a little easier to bare.”

You felt a surge of tenderness for him, your heart aching at the thought of the hurt he’d endured. “I’ll be here, whenever you’re ready.”

He nodded, his eyes glistening with unspoken emotion. “Thank you. It’s... it’s a lot, but knowing I have someone who understands means everything.”

The waves whispered their secrets to the shore, and the moon shone down, wrapping you both in its gentle embrace. The moment was filled with quiet revelations and tender support, a reminder that sometimes, the simple act of being present could be the greatest comfort of all.

As the night continued, you returned to your painting, the brush gliding smoothly across the canvas. Riki watched you with a gentle smile, his eyes filled with admiration and something more—a tenderness that was growing stronger with each passing moment.

Unbeknownst to both of you, the moonlight was beginning to take effect, subtly enhancing the emotions between you. Every glance exchanged, every soft touch, carried a deeper meaning, an unspoken promise of what could be.

You finished your painting, setting the brush down and turning to Riki. He reached out, taking your hand in his. “Come on,” he said softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let’s take a break.”

He led you to the water’s edge, where the waves gently lapped at the shore. The cool water splashed over your feet, sending a delightful shiver up your spine. Riki laughter filled the air, infectious and free, and you couldn’t help but join in.

You ran along the shoreline, the waves chasing after you, and for a moment, all your worries melted away. Riki caught up to you, grabbing your hand and spinning you around, both of you laughing as you stumbled into the shallow waves.

The moonlight danced on the water, casting a magical glow over everything. You splashed each other, the cool water mingling with the warmth of your laughter. Riki’s hand never left yours, his grip firm yet gentle, grounding you in the moment.

At one point, he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as the waves rolled in. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you under the moon’s tender gaze. You looked up at him, your heart swelling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name but felt deeply in your soul.

“Riki,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the ocean.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “I know,” he replied softly, his breath mingling with yours. “I feel it too.”

The moonlight seemed to intensify, casting a silver halo around you both. The moment stretched, filled with unspoken words and shared feelings. Then, with a gentle tug, Riki led you back to the shore, where you sat together, the waves gently lapping at your feet.

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into you. The night was filled with love-filled glances and quiet intimacy, a perfect blend of comfort and connection. The magic of the moon had done its work, weaving a spell of closeness that would linger long after the night had ended.

You both sat in comfortable silence for a while, the rhythmic sound of the waves providing a soothing backdrop. Riki’s fingers traced gentle patterns on your hand, his touch sending a pleasant shiver through you. He seemed lost in thought, and you didn’t want to disturb the quiet peace that had settled over you both.

But then, as if needing to break the silence, he spoke again, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever fully heal from what happened. It’s like a part of me is still stuck in that moment.”

You turned to him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. “Healing takes time, Riki. And it’s okay to feel that way. Just remember, you don’t have to face it alone.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I do. Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here. And if you’re not ready, that’s okay too.”

Riki’s gaze softened, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours.

The intimacy of the moment deepened, the air around you thick with unspoken emotions. Riki’s fingers continued to trace gentle patterns on your hand, each touch sending a warm, tingling sensation through you. You could feel the connection between you growing stronger, the bond solidifying in a way that felt both natural and profound.

As the night wore on, the two of you shared stories, laughter, and moments of comfortable silence. You found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn’t expected, sharing parts of yourself you usually kept hidden. Riki listened with genuine interest, his responses thoughtful and kind.

Eventually, the lure of the waves became irresistible again, and you found yourselves splashing through the shallows, once again, laughing and playing like children. Riki’s laughter was infectious, his joy a balm to your soul. You chased each other through the surf, the cool water a delightful contrast to the warmth of your growing affection.

At one point, Riki caught you around the waist, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. You laughed, the sound pure and free, your heart swelling with happiness. He set you down gently, his arms still wrapped around you as the waves hit your ankles.

The moonlight bathed you both in its gentle glow, casting a magical light over the scene. Riki’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

“Thank you for tonight,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “For everything.”

You smiled, your heart full. “I should be the one thanking you. This has been... amazing.”

Riki’s eyes held a promise, a silent vow of what could be. “Let’s make a pact,” he said softly. “No more hiding. From the moon, from each other, from ourselves.”

You nodded, feeling a surge of hope and determination. “Deal.”

The night continued, filled with love-filled glances, quiet intimacy, and the gentle lapping of the waves. The magic of the moon had woven a spell of connection and understanding, one that would linger long after the festival lights had faded. As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, you knew that this night would be a cherished memory, a moment of pure, unadulterated connection.

And as Riki‘s hand found yours once more, you knew that even if you had met only nights before, for some reason you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

✩

TAGLIST: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz @enha-stars @dioll @jakesangel @cupidscourt @violetwitchmcu @haohaoshoe @randomgirl02228 @wonsdoll @powerpuffstuts @flwrstqr @elysianiki — send an ask to join.

#kairoot #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #niki enhypen #enhypen niki #nishimura riki #niki x reader #niki fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fic #enhypen ff #enhypen fanfiction #𝒮𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑒𝑑，ℳ𝑖𝑙𝑎𝑛 ⊹ ₊˚

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ckret2 · 5 months ago

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Chapter 71 of human Bill Cipher trying to debate his way out of still being the Mystery Shack's prisoner. Soos has found the stolen Journal 4 in Bill's possession and has to decide what to do about it in light of everything else he's learned about Bill lately.

[*this chapter was renumbered to squeeze in the Axolotl plot arc! If you. Haven't read it yet, go back to ch 61 and read it!]

Soos stared dumbfounded at the journal with a 4 on the cover that he'd pulled from Bill's hiding place. Ford had lost Journal 4 last fall—he'd said gnomes had stolen it. How in the world had Bill gotten it?

Soos sat in the attic window seat and flipped through it. The first few pages were Ford's journal entries—his observations of the dimensional rips they were glueing shut in Gravity Falls post-Weirdmageddon, a hand-drawn map highlighting various places around the globe he wanted to investigate, a few drawings and observations of paranormal beings he hadn't seen his first time in town, half a sketch of a gnome that ended with a jagged scribble across the page followed by a page that said "Shmebulock" over and over.

And then a page that said, in an unfamiliar handwriting of jagged, narrow gray letters: "CURSED BOOK! If your name is Mabon Mason Pines, STOP READING NOW or ENJOY YOUR HEX!"

Bill had written page after page of some weird code of gray and yellow-green dots and dashes. A few sentences in English—every one of them was a threatening message to Ford. "Everything would have been fantastic if you'd just helped me finish, Fordsy." "You'll regret not siding with me when you had the chance." "You should have known better than to let your idiot brother turn you against me." "Sixer, you're lying to yourself every time you say you never worshiped me, and you know it. You spent the first third of your life running away from the god you were raised with and the second third chasing after me. Don't waste your last third denying it. YOU'RE MINE." A small, worrying diagram of what looked like the interdimensional portal. And a sticker.

Wait, hold on.

A sticker. One of Mabel's. The rest of the page was the same as the others, the two-tone dots and dashes, except for the sticker, and an arrow drawn from one paragraph to the sticker.

A yellow smiley, its round edges filled in with black marker to make a triangle, over the words "Good job!"

Soos stared at the sticker.

####

A couple of weeks ago, Melody had texted to let Soos know that there was a mess in the upstairs bathroom, and the kids said they'd been fighting a werewolf ghost.

When Soos had gotten home the next morning, Melody had pulled him aside and quietly told him she hadn't wanted to worry him and the Stans, but she did not think it was a werewolf ghost.

When Soos saw the bathroom, he didn't think it was a werewolf ghost either.

It was a scene from a horror movie. Menacing magical sigils painted all over the walls in blood and toothpaste, Bill's zodiac painted on one mirror, the other mirror broken, glass and water all over the floor. It looked like the site of a really wet demon summoning. This contained none of the hallmarks of ghostly or werewolfish activity. Why would Bill do this?

Soos was kind of reluctant to ask Bill. Bill still sorta scared him sometimes. Sure, he looked like a lost 18-year-old, but Soos knew what teens were like in a fight. So he asked Mabel instead.

Mabel pursed her lips uncomfortably. "Ask Dipper."

So Soos asked Dipper.

Dipper winced and. "Promise you won't get mad."

Soos considered that. "Yeah, I guess that's a fair deal."

Dipper confessed that Bill got accidentally locked in the upstairs bathroom for like a whole day, because he and Mabel didn't hear him yelling. Not because they were out of the house when they shouldn't have been. They were just... somewhere else in the house. Doing something loud. For the whole day.

While Bill was trapped alone.

####

Soos had vented to Abuelita about cleaning the bathroom. Like sure, he got Bill was annoyed about being stuck, but that seemed excessive.

Abuelita had made the observation that sometimes people in profoundly bleak and oppressive situations would just... destroy whatever was around them. Like punching a hole in the wall or snapping a pencil when you were angry, but much more so. Not because they wanted their surroundings to be destroyed, but because that was the last and only thing they had power over, and they needed to feel like they were in control of something. Even if that thing was merely changing their environment from ordered to chaotic.

Bill didn't have control over very much. He probably hadn't since he died. Soos didn't know what kind of space triangle afterlife Bill had been in before he showed up as Toga Lady, but it couldn't have been great if he'd come straight back here.

Soos could remember the one time weeks ago he'd let Bill into the bathroom to shower and forgotten to come back and let him out. How Bill had screamed so all the Mystery Shack's tourists could hear; how he'd seethed in Soos's face, how he'd said he'd rather blow their collective cover and throw them all on the mercy of the town's law enforcement than remain locked in the bathroom a second longer than they'd agreed upon. Soos had thought Bill was just impatient and hotheaded.

Standing in the bathroom, looking at the material evidence of Bill's claustrophobic terror—the broken glass, the spilled blood—he wondered.

####

The same day, he had felt a breeze in the gift shop and found the trap doors to the roof left open. He'd climbed up, shut them, and in between tours he'd visited his office to check yesterday's security tapes.

He saw Wendy coming into the shack to hang out the morning before. That was fine. Soos had discovered she did that from time to time on days the shack was closed, but she wasn't doing anything bad and she hadn't brought it up yet, so Soos didn't bring it up either. Maybe she just needed a private place to hang. Teen stuff. He was just glad Wendy felt that safe at the Mystery Shack. Maybe she'd just gone up to hang out on the roof and forgot to shut the trap doors...

And then, right there on screen, Soos saw Bill letting himself into the gift shop, through the door, which he shouldn't be able to open. A chill shot up Soos's back. The door curse was their only real means of containing Bill. If he could use doors now, he was out, there was no way they could trap him without doing something crazy like locking him in the bunker and hoping he didn't kill himself.

Or could he use doors? Soos thought back to the frantic messages on the bathroom wall, written in Bill's own blood—his desperation over being unable to escape. Maybe he could use doors but not doorknobs. That was okay, maybe?

On tape, he saw Wendy run into Bill. He saw Wendy take Bill onto the roof. Out in the open air, where he could just... do whatever. But he didn't do whatever. Soos fast-forwarded the tape until Wendy and Bill came back down, and Bill simply returned to the living room.

He'd had the perfect opportunity to shove Wendy off the roof or escape. He didn't take it.

If all Bill was using his new door skills for was ducking into the gift shop and hanging out on the roof with Wendy, Soos thought maybe it would be kinda mean to take that away from him. There weren't a lot of other places Bill could go in the shack. (Soos kept seeing the blood on the bathroom wall. He kept trying to imagine what kind of helplessness would drive someone that far.) Maybe Bill needed the open air.

So Soos had put the security tape on his desk, not sure what to do about it.

####

A couple of day after that, while Soos was restocking the gift shop in between waves of tourists, he'd seen Wendy reading an oddly dull-looking booklet instead of one of her usual magazines. He tilted his head to glance at the cover. The Oregon state driving manual. "Aw dude, gonna get your learner's permit?"

"Think so," Wendy said. "Don't tell my dad."

Soos remembered Wendy groaning about her dad wrangling her into doing errands if she ever got her license. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks."

"What made you change your mind? You were totally against getting a license a week ago."

"It's probably those stupid Gleeful Auto commercials that have been worming into my dreams." Wendy laughed. "I'm just waking up in the morning like, neeeed caaar."

"Oh yeah! Heh, funny coincidence, Melody says she had a dream like that too. Sometimes she gets these like, dreams about monsters watching her in bed? But one time, the monster was Bud Gleeful, whispering in her ear about a big car sale. She totally woke up laughing!"

"Ha! Annoying car commercials should be banned, man. Why do we need to be told multiple times a day to spend thousands of dollars?"

"You make a salient point."

They fell silent for a moment as Wendy read a couple more paragraphs. Then she said, "That, plus... I was talking to Goldie the other day."

Soos looked up from the t-shirt he'd been putting on a clothes hanger. "Oh. Yeah?"

"About where we wanna go when we get out of town."

"Huh." Very casually, Soos asked, "What did Goldie say?"

"He wants to go on some big vacation. Like a world cruise or something, I dunno."

"Huh." Soos wondered if that was true. He tried to imagine Bill Cipher as a tourist. Floating triangle in a Hawaiian shirt with a camera hanging from a strap and a fanny pack. What kind of places would he even visit? Soos bet he wanted to visit the pyramids. Heh. (Was that stereotyping? Maybe that was stereotyping.)

"And I told him I'm moving to Portland for college."

"Oh, hey, I didn't know you were thinking about college."

"I... actually, never told anybody else before," Wendy said. "I've been thinking about it for years, but part of me felt like it's just a fantasy? But Goldie said when he got out of high school, he did the same thing—moved to another town, made a new group of friends, all that. And... I don't know, actually talking to him out loud about it just... made it feel real, you know? So I thought, if I'm gonna move to Portland, I should probably start planning for it. Starting with how I'm getting there." She held up the driving manual.

Soos nodded slowly. "Huh. Yeah. That's a pretty mature way to look at it."

And that was what Bill was talking to Wendy about on the roof? Just... listening to a teen vent and helping her figure out her future?

And so, Soos took the security tape off his desk and put it in a drawer.

####

A few days later, Soos had heard the downstairs bathroom sink running for several minutes, assumed someone had forgotten to turn it off, and went to turn it off himself—and had caught Bill, in the dark, half undressed, washing himself in the sink.

After Soos had backed out and profusely apologized, he'd asked, "But—how come you're washing in the sink? I can let you in the upstairs bathroom if you need—"

"Worry about your own grooming habits and leave mine alone," Bill snapped. "As long as I don't smell, what do you humans care how I do it. Soap is soap and water is water."

It took Soos several days to realize he didn't think Bill had had a shower since he got locked in the bathroom. And nobody had noticed, because Bill made sure nobody noticed, because he'd been keeping himself clean in the bathroom he couldn't get locked in.

####

Dipper would go all summer without showering if he could get away with it; Stan showered like once a week and had constant old man smell; Abuelita also showered weekly and had a more refined old lady smell; Soos didn't know when Ford showered, but he'd never caught him doing it and Ford always smelled weirdly like burned hair. Soos showered almost daily during tourist season—that Mr. Mystery suit was hot—but outside that might go three days at a time. Mabel showered near daily.

From what Soos had observed, Bill was showering like, at least twice a week. He didn't know how often Bill cleaned himself in the sink in between.

That meant he was showering more often than two-thirds of the house.

Yet he was the only one in the house living under the threat of being thrown in the tub at 3 a.m. if someone decided he hadn't bathed enough for their tastes.

The reason Bill had refused to shower during his first week of imprisonment was so he could use the condition of his body as a bargaining chip—with no physical possessions in the world, his own body was the only bargaining chip he had—to try to buy a little more dignity. In return, his captors had taken more dignity away. They permitted Bill less autonomy over how to take care of his body than the household's children had.

Dipper had never gotten forced into a bathroom he couldn't let himself out of.

####

The day after the eclipse, Ford had pulled Soos aside and said quietly, "Soos, as soon as you have some time—could you repair the door to the kids' room? Before the end of the day? The latch has been broken since the tooth fairy's attack."

"Uh, sure, I can probably do that," Soos said. "How come?" The latch had been broken for a couple weeks, and the Pines hadn't been worried about it before.

"Right now, the door can swing freely with just a push," Ford said. "I think Bill's figured out how to use that to get in. Which is worrisome, since he shouldn't be able to use any doors..."

"O-oh." Soos thought about the swinging door into the gift shop. "Yeah, uh... sounds bad. Byyy the way—how'd you figure out he knows how to use the door?"

"Dipper says Bill somehow got in and out of the room last night," Ford said. "Mabel fell asleep in the living room and Bill carried her upstairs. I really don't like the thought of Bill being able to get his hands on the kids while they're asleep and defenseless."

Ford was mad at Bill for tucking a kid into bed? That was the big red flag? "No problem! I'll fix the door right after work."

The next time Soos visited his office, he took the security tape out of his drawer, rewound it, stuck it back into the tape recorder, and let that day's security camera footage overwrite and erase the evidence of Bill's visit to the gift shop.

####

And now, today, carrying Journal 4 in both hands, Soos trudged downstairs, trying to figure out what to do with it. He had to return it to Ford, obviously—but Bill and the Stans were already in the middle of a discussion that sounded a lot more like an argument. Flinging a stolen journal into the middle of the proceedings would just make it worse. Maybe he should wait until they were finished and everyone had cooled down a little—?

While Soos was upstairs, the discussion had apparently moved into the kitchen. He hovered awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, watching.

"What do you mean, you need kitchen access," Stan was asking, "you already have kitchen access. It's never been off-limits! Even after you peed in the sink!"

"It's not kitchen access if I need to ask someone else for permission to eat anything but snacks."

"No one's making you ask for permission! You can take what you want!"

"Okay, fine. So what can I eat?" Bill gestures at the shelves. "Go on. List anything you can think of. Anything."

Stan grimaced, and glanced at Ford to see if he was willing to walk into the obvious trap first.

Ford looked at the nearby shelves. "Cereal."

"One point for Stanford Pines! Cereal! So am I supposed to eat dry cereal for every single meal, or—?"

"No, of course not."

"All right, then what else?"

"Brown meat," Stan said. "We've got plenty of brown meat. It's good for you!"

"You didn't give me can opener rights," Bill said.

"Huh."

"So no brown meat," Bill said. "No canned soup, no canned chili, no canned fruit, no canned vegetables—"

Ford cut in, "Some of the cans have pull tabs, you don't need a can opener for those."

"Terrific observation! As soon as you realized I could open those cans myself, you moved them all under the counter because you thought I'd use the sharp edges as weapons!"

"It's... possible to open cans without a can opener, I did it sometimes while roughing it in other dimensions—"

"Yeah, wearing off the metal rim with a rock, right? Lemme just go outside and grab a rock—oh wait." Bill crossed his arms.

Ford sighed, and turned to Stan to suggest something else.

Stan surveyed the available supplies, spotted the bread, and said, "You could make sandwiches!"

"With what filling?"

"Uh..." Stan kept looking.

Meats and cheeses, of course, were kept in the fridge. Along with jelly, condiments, most vegetables... tuna or spam weren't options, they were canned... "Hey, we leave out some meats that don't need refrigeration. Sausages and stuff."

"Right, right. The ones that don't need refrigeration because they're wrapped in plastic you need a knife to cut," Bill said. "Sometimes I bite the plastic open with my teeth and rip off chunks of sausage with my fingernails, that's always fun! Then you put the leftovers in the fridge, and I'm out of luck until we buy another sausage."

"You could put... peanut butter on your sandwiches?" Ford tried. "Peanut butter's nutritious."

Bill fixed him with a hard look. "For the past five weeks, every time I've gotten a meal without asking someone else to help feed me like a baby, I've had nothing but peanut butter and banana sandwiches, peanut butter and jerky sandwiches, peanut butter and raisin sandwiches, and peanut butter and potato chip sandwiches. And we're out of bananas, jerky, and raisins." He pointed at the tortillas. "Once I decided to get creative and made myself a cold peanut butter quesadilla! I can't even add spices, because guess where the breakable glass spice jars are kept?"

"Pasta," Ford tried. "We could keep the pasta out."

"Oh, wow, that'd be great! I just love pasta! But I can't open the microwave and I can't turn on the stove! How do I heat the water, Stanford?"

Ford frowned. "Hm."

"I can cook, you know—not that any of you bothered to ask! It might not suit your tastes, but it suits mine! I wouldn't need your help to eat if you didn't make me need help! I am sick to death—" his voice went thick and took on an uncharacteristic waver, "—of having to beg to... eat." He cleared his throat, squeezed his eyes shut, and rubbed his eyelids with one hand. "Sh-shouldn't even—need to eat." He clenched his jaw to keep it from trembling.

Stan and Ford exchanged a guilty look. Stan said, "You don't have to beg— I mean, we know the, uh... position you're in..."

Bill was silent for a moment as he tried to get a tough face back on. His voice came out as a rough whisper—too thick to get any louder without breaking. "I had to negotiate to get burnt eggs."

Ford winced.

Soos was dumbfounded.

When had Bill had to negotiate for food? He could all too easily understand how it might have happened—Bill was an annoying guy, sometimes they had to pull out dumb bargains to get him to do stuff. But bargaining for food should never be on that list. Meeting Bill's basic nutritional needs couldn't be dependent on whether he was annoying that day. If it was, he'd starve.

It sounded like he was starving. Right under Soos's roof. He hadn't even noticed.

He thought about the piles of junk food trash upstairs and the bag of chips Bill had hurled across the room.

Ford said, "We'll... discuss it."

"We'll figure something out," Stan said. "I mean it."

Bill nodded silently. Head down, without uncovering his eyes, he hurried out of the kitchen and toward the stairs.

He nearly bumped into Soos's chest without noticing him. Soos backed up a step, tucking Journal 4 under his arm. "Whoa, hey!"

Bill froze, head jerking up. "You." His voice was thick and his glare was watery and poisonous. "Don't you have anything better to do than eavesdrop?" He tried to elbow past Soos, smacking his leg with his umbrella. "Move."

Soos realized uneasily that Bill's face looked a little slimmer than it had when he'd arrived.

He stepped in Bill's way. "Can't go upstairs right now. Attic's being cleaned."

"I didn't ask you to clean!"

"I'm not cleaning for you, dawg. It's just gotta be cleaned."

"Fine! Whatever!" Bill veered around the staircase and stomped down the hall, muttering, "Can't decide when I eat, can't decide when I shower, why should I get to choose when my hovel's swept..."

Soos's leg hurt where Bill had smacked it. (Bill couldn't even control whether or not he cried; all he had control over was making someone else hurt.)

In the kitchen, Stan murmured, "Didn't even realize we don't keep anything decent out on the counters. They're so crowded..."

"Chip bags take up a lot of space." Ford sighed. "I assumed he'd get a serving with everyone else whenever Mrs. Ramirez cooks."

"He does, but she only does dinners. And he'll only eat it if he watched her cook it. I've seen him get lunch with Mabel, but I don't know what he does when she's not..." Stan spotted Soos on the stairs. He tiredly called, "Soos? You need something?"

"Uhhh..." Soos hid the journal behind his back. "Nope! I just thought I'd come downstairs! For no reason." He awkwardly walked up the stairs backwards, journal still tucked behind him. "And—and now I'm going up again." He stopped at the landing and scooted sideways up the next flight of stairs. "See ya."

He pressed the journal to his chest and returned to the attic.

####

When Soos and Abuelita moved into the shack, the first thing Soos had done was turn Ford's ground-floor study into a bedroom for Abuelita. Because she was a little old lady, and not quite as steady as she used to be, so Soos didn't want her constantly going up and down the stairs—because falling once, just ONCE, could send her to the hospital or worse. That was how serious it was! You don't mess around with that!

Bill tripped and fell on the stairs so often that they could use it to tell when he was awake. And nobody had thought to offer him a cane? Did anybody even ask if he was alright?

When Bill first arrived and tried to murder everyone, naturally, he came out of it pretty banged up and bruised. That was to be expected. It was self-defense. They'd gotten used to seeing Bill with scrapes on his arms and legs, rope burns around his ankles, and the angry purple-black bruises of chain links over his arms. But in all the weeks since then, Soos hadn't seen Bill bruise-free once. Bruises on his shins and arms, scrapes on his elbows and knees. Soos had seen him with a four-inch burn on his forearm. Bill had brushed it off.

In Bill's first few days in the shack, he'd resorted to peeing in the kitchen sink because nobody had bothered to give a guy who couldn't open doors a way to use the bathroom. And they were the reason he couldn't open doors in the first place!

He threw up in the living room in the middle of the night and went upstairs to sleep on couch cushions on the floor and nobody had talked about it.

He burned off all his hair and was so upset about it that he stole Soos's zodiac blanket and hid under it for half a week, and everyone but Mabel just ignored him.

In less than a month in the Mystery Shack, Bill had lost a tooth.

He had been dragged out of the house during a weird weather phenomenon while terrified out of his mind. Soos had seen Bill cowering on the ground in fear, Ford looming over him, grabbing him by the collar and snarling in rage. Bill had been pleading with everyone in hearing range not to make him go, and had come back in such a state of shock he could hardly walk.

And yet, he'd protected the whole town from getting hurt in zero gravity—and he'd brought a pet for Soos.

They'd tried to execute Bill two days later.

####

Soos sat in the window seat, flipping through the remaining filled-in pages in Journal 4. The last few pages were packed with stickers. A cat that said PURRFECT! A smiling fish that said A REEL PAL! Bill had started a little collection of pizza slice stickers for some reason. A couple of holographic rainbows, a smiling scratch-and-sniff sun. (Apparently, the sun smelled like lemons and oranges. Astronomy facts!)

Soos reached the current page. Bill was using several pieces of paper—regular printer paper and notebook paper, folded in half—like a bookmark. Soos unfolded them. A list of animals ranked by fuzziness. (Soos was satisfied that he'd been placed under the "smooth and squishy" category, but wondered whether he should be bothered by the fact that he shared the category with pigs and slugs.) A drawing of Bill riding a looping rocket ship and waving a fishbowl helmet above him. A drawing of a blue house with a couple of kids and a pig in the window. Several drawings of shape people kinda like Bill: a pink heart person labeled "Me in Flatworld," a stern-looking red stop sign wearing sunglasses labeled "Bill's parole officer," Bill dancing, the pink heart protecting Bill from some villainous-looking shapes—all clearly Mabel's art.

Several notebook pages in someone else's handwriting detailing names, addresses, and contact information, with statements Soos couldn't make sense of—as if maybe someone had been asking somebody else questions and writing down their answers. He thought the questions might be about how some people had reacted to the end of Weirdmageddon. He got the impression the people being discussed had known that Weirdmageddon was coming. He got the impression they were disappointed it hadn't happened. There were several questions at the end: How will we rendes-vouz? (Whoever was writing didn't know how to spell rendezvous, but to be fair Soos wasn't 100% sure either.) What supplies do you need? What are your interim orders?

Soos stared at the notebook papers.

He flipped back through the journal again, looking at each page more closely.

Sometimes the two-tone dot-and-dash segments had a stray human word: a few characters he recognized from his Teach Yourself Japanese workbooks, sometimes words Soos thought might be Arabic but honestly he didn't have a clue. At one point he listed half a dozen human names that Soos didn't recognize. The most common character was a stretched-out letter M (Mabel?), followed by a 6 knocked on its side (Sixer?).

The dot-and-dash segments had occasional amateurish illustrations. Sometimes they were human stick figures; sometimes the stick figures' heads had symbols off of Bill's zodiac wheel. He saw Stan's fish symbol, Gideon's star symbol, and Mabel's shooting star symbol. Ford's stick figures were the only ones with hands; Bill consistently gave them six fingers. The doodles were like particularly esoteric cave drawings; they were so bad that Soos couldn't tell what most of them were supposed to illustrate.

Except for one featuring Bill (as a triangle) and Mabel and some other inscrutable figures in a really awesome car with flames on the side, its coolness limited only by the fact that it was all in gray and yellow-green crayon. When Soos had been in high school, there had always been a couple of kids who didn't know how to draw anything except expensive cars or name-brand sports shoes, but they drew them in extreme realistic detail. Apparently, Bill was that kind of artist. Nothing but stick figures and the sickest crayon car Soos had ever seen.

It didn't do anything to dispel Soos's impression of Bill as a lost alien 18-year-old.

On one page, in sloppy lines of handwriting that meandered drunkenly up and down the paper, Bill had written, "I don't get why you won't give me a second shot. I asked you to join my gang. I serenaded you in a pyramid. I got a fantastic makeover. I offered you godhood. I showed you my dimension. I didn't torture you until I had to. I even made you a skin couch! I know how much you've always wanted a leather furniture set! I've given you everything from chicken zombification magic to jelly beans, what does it take? What am I missing?"

Soos reread Bill's other messages to Ford. All that "you'll regret not siding with me" junk wasn't threats. It was the impotent rage of a socially inept teenager who didn't understand his own creepiness had driven his friends away. It was the whiny moan of some guy going "Why doesn't she like me anymore" about an ex-girlfriend who had told him five times she didn't like him anymore because he didn't listen to her. Like that guy Wendy dated last summer. So like, a jerk, but not a terrifying world-ending monster jerk, just an annoying creep jerk. A regular jerk. A human jerk.

Soos stood, gave one last look at this journal—clearly stolen, definitely a violation of Bill's "no writing materials" restriction, completely stuffed full of mysterious messages to outsiders and some kind of weird alien code that could say anything at all and might have been super dangerous—and he slid it back into the ripped seam in the attic seat cushion where he'd found it.

He finished vacuuming up the potato chips Bill had flung across the room, thinking about how offended Bill had been that Soos had given him any food except what he'd asked for, remembering what Abuelita had said about people who destroy the things around them when they feel like that's the last and only thing they still have power over.

Enough was enough.

####

(Hope y'all enjoyed! Next week we may interrupt our regularly-scheduled programming to post a TBOB-based chapter I'm inserting early into the fic—it depends on if I get it done by next Friday. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts on this chapter!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #soos ramirez #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(Dec 12 edit: chapter has been renumbered)

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fairyysoup · 3 months ago

Text

the devil i know

chapter three: i smoke out your darkest side

(repost)

fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: Your favorite accidental demon boy toy maims your piece of shit manager, learns a bit about your past, and visits you in a dream.

cw: explicit, witch!reader, reader is 21+, eddie is immortal, deal with a demon, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, wet dreams, lucid dreaming, handjobs, skin on skin grinding, teasing, horror, very intense bodily harm done to a minor character (tongues are lost), blood, gore, bullying/harassment, mention of past abusive ex, dead dove: do not eat

please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

EASTWICK, YOUR JUNIOR YEAR

The book you found at the garage sale a town over has to be fake. Right? You’ve spent weeks flipping through it, looking at the pages and reading the words over and over, trying to somehow carve them into your memory.

It seems so improbable, but the notion bounces around in your skull for so long that it grips hold somewhere in there, wiggling down into your belief system until you just can’t seem to get rid of it.

Magic is real. Witchcraft exists. It has existed, in different forms, throughout history. You’ve just never considered that you could practice it for yourself, until now.

Part of the reason that you decide to try it is that you want to see what’ll happen. You have an insatiable curiosity, and if it works out, you may have just discovered the cure to all that ails you, so to speak. But the other part of it is a quiet desperation for something more.

Being sixteen sucks. But being sixteen in a small, puritanical town that’s stuck in the past, when you’re considered too weird to eat in the cafeteria without getting wads of gum stuck into your hair by the assholes on the football team, is worse.

You have no support system, and no way out. Your family won’t even pretend to understand. So, you’re taking to naïve leaps of faith, instead.

The moon is bright enough to illuminate the clouds moving in the sky around it. The air is thick with late spring mugginess and oncoming rain, stifling your skin. The candles arranged in a circle around you don’t help with the heat. Beneath you on the dirt, you’ve used red painter’s pigment to sketch out a pentacle, for lack of a better understanding of how to “cast a circle.”

In your hand, the little cloth doll you’d amateurly sewn together stares back at you with two black button eyes. You’d been very careful when you clipped off a piece of Matt Anderson’s backpack strap to tie around its neck. The wad of ABC gum that he’d shoved into your hair is wrapped in it, and stuffed inside the doll’s body, making it lumpy– but it doesn’t have to look perfect.

It just has to work.

You pick up a cheap plastic cigarette lighter and flick it on. The flame glows yellow in the dark, illuminating the crude red smiley face you’d drawn onto the doll’s head.

Fucking Matt.

The polyester cloth sizzles when you hold the flame to it, barely singeing the edges. All your rage, all your pent up anger and aggression toward him and the impromptu haircut he caused, floods out of you. The smiley face warps. One of the little button eyes pops off. The stuffing inside is going to catch on in a second–

“Oh, my GOD. What are you doing?”

You drop the lighter with a yelp. Over your backyard fence, your neighbor, Jessica, stares at you with wide eyes.

Jessica is your age, your longtime neighbor and one-time friend, when you were very little. You grew apart in middle school, when she discovered cheerleading and you discovered teen angst. She doesn’t talk to you much anymore, unless it’s to give you a hollow, backhanded compliment.

“Jess�� I didn’t– what are you doing?” You squint at her in the darkness. Her blonde hair is up in foam rollers, a baby blue bathrobe wrapped around her willowy shoulders.

“Well I saw fire out here when I was getting ready for bed and I wanted to see what was– I wanted to make sure you weren’t, like, in trouble.” She takes in the circle of candles around the red pentacle, the lighter, the mutilated doll in your hand. “Are you, like… a Devil worshipper?”

“What?” You stand up, still clutching the doll in your hand. “No, why would you ask that?”

“Well, I mean… Reverend Tanner was talking about ‘em in church the other day, and I just thought…” She looks you up and down. Her eyes linger on your oversized Black Sabbath t-shirt, your hands covered in red pigment and soot from the spell you were attempting. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna say anything. I promise.”

“Jess, I’m not a Devil wor–”

“It’s… it’s alright. It’ll be our secret.” Jessica gives you a wobbly, forced smile that you know means she’s lying.

Your eye twitches in annoyance. You probably should say something. Plead your case, make her understand that this isn’t Devil worship. Tell her that whatever the hell she listens to the preacher at the local parish say about ‘lunatic Satan worshippers consorting with the Devil’ doesn’t apply to you, and frankly, probably doesn’t exist the way she thinks it does.

Instead, you just sigh. You can’t foresee her being as big of a problem as Matt or any of his cronies. She isn’t vindictive as all that. “Sure, Jess. Our secret.”

“I, um. Sorry, I’m just gonna…” Jessica gestures over her shoulder, and then retreats back toward her house. Her fluffy pink slippers scuff the wood of her patio as she glances back at you cautiously, like she’s afraid you’ll chase after her.

You watch her disappear inside. Then, with a roll of your eyes, you irritatedly hold the lighter’s flame to the Matt doll, and let it catch fire in your hands. You toss it into an empty Folgers coffee canister and let it burn to shit before you blow out the candles and go back inside. The pentacle on the ground will be washed away with the rain by the morning.

Fuck it all.

As soon as Colin enters his house, Eddie appears on the horizon like a stoic angel bearing a message.

Actually, that’s a fucking lie. He makes the walls cry blood. Always wanted to do that, at least once.

Colin’s a little pipsqueak of a guy in his early thirties, with prematurely thinning hair and skinny legs that make his pants look way too big on him no matter what size he wears. Eddie finds it hard to take him seriously– especially when he’s cowering in a corner brandishing a wooden crucifix like Eddie’s some kind of movie vampire.

“Colin– hey.” Eddie smacks the crucifix out of the guy’s hand, sending it clattering across the floor. Red ooze drips over Colin’s shoulder as he flinches away, whimpering and crying. Eddie rolls his eyes. “Christ, you people are so easy to scare. Okay. Here’s how this is gonna go– you’re gonna quit your job, and I’m gonna make you vomit green pea soup, and then we both go our separate ways and never have to see each other again. Sound good?”

Eddie pauses, tilting his head and squinting at Colin as he starts whispering something. It’s so quiet and wobbly with tears that he can’t quite make it out, so he has to lean close to Colin’s trembling face.

“–thy kingdom come thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven, give us this day our daily bread–”

Eddie sighs. “That’s not gonna work.”

“–forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us–”

“Colin, I’m losing my patience.”

“–lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil–”

“COLIN!” Eddie’s head explodes into a storm of snarling beasts, screeching demons and eldritch beings whirling around each other in a tempest that could rival the Tasmanian Devil. A monstrous jaw with three rows of razor sharp teeth unhinges in front of Colin’s screaming face, roaring at him, showing him the glowing pit of hellfire deep in Eddie’s chest.

Colin continues shrieking even after Eddie’s face returns to normal. Eddie rocks back on his heels, inching away from the puddle of urine Colin just released onto the floor.

“I warned you,” Eddie murmurs. “Needed you to shut up. Now,” Eddie snatches Colin’s phone from the coffee table, pushing it at him. “Call your stupid fucking boss and quit your job so I can get back to my girl.”

Blubbering, Colin juggles the phone in his trembling hands. It takes three tries for him to unlock the damn thing.

After it’s done, Eddie takes the phone from Colin and tosses it over his shoulder. “You just got off so fucking easy– they teach you those fucking manners in Sunday school, too? Stealing tips, making her clean the goddamn bathrooms on her hands and knees. I’d love to kick your teeth in–”

“W-wait–” Colin sniffles, sitting up in his corner. “That’s your girl? The witch?”

Eddie leans back, his jaw clicking into place as he readjusts it– unhinging it like that always misaligns it. He scrutinizes Colin’s expression; the blubbering, frightened little cretin is gone, replaced by a wild eyed and angry zealot.

“Oh, my god. Oh my GOD, so it’s true?” Colin laughs hysterically. “You know they say she burned down her neighbors house because they saw her worshiping the Devil?”

Eddie blinks. “What fucking year is this? 1692?”

Colin doesn’t answer, just continues, “And she never got caught. They couldn’t prove it was her. But now, I bet…”

Colin trails off. There’s something dark and menacing in Eddie’s eyes that wasn’t there before– not even when he lost his temper. Lava pools whirling and stormy, boiling and angry like the buildup before an eruption.

Fear shoots directly into Colin’s mind so hard that he gives a startled jump. After years of skillful practice, Eddie has figured out how to play with people’s emotions in quite the literal sense. Sometimes, he does it harder than necessary.

“I– I mean–” Colin backtracks, “I’m not gonna say anything. I promise. I– I fucking swear on my life–”

“I don’t care about your life,” Eddie says, his voice as flat as he can make it. “I care about hers.”

“Please– please don’t kill me!”

“No, I’m not gonna kill you.” Eddie looks momentarily as though he’s considering launching himself forward and throttling the cowering man, but he sets aside his sudden temperament. “I promised her that I wouldn’t. Which… complicates things.”

Colin squirms. “It… it does?”

“Mm.” Eddie nods, his hands pressed together under his nose as though in prayer. “Because you’re obviously not gonna keep your trap shut, so I have to do it for you.”

Eddie stands as Colin retches. His body contorts on the floor, wailing and gurgling until a projectile stream of blood bursts forth and splatters across the living room hearth. In the midst of the puddle of blood, a writhing tongue curls and twitches, severed on one end like it was cut with a sharp blade.

Colin collapses in a pool of his own fluids. He’ll live. Unfortunately.

Eddie dusts his hands off on his pants and whistles. Out of the shadows, the smoky impression of a dog appears, its glowing red eyes piercing through the darkness and mirroring Eddie’s.

“Dante,” Eddie mutters to the shadow of the rottweiler, standing at attention and waiting for instructions. The dog gives a short whuff of acknowledgement. Eddie snaps his fingers, points at Colin’s disembodied tongue. “Dinner.”

Dante barks and falls upon the tongue enthusiastically. It’s been a while since Eddie’s hellhounds had any fresh meat, only being fed by the souls of the condemned in the Otherworld.

Eddie turns around in a circle, staring around at Colin’s less than stellar apartment setup. He can’t really judge, he was never much of a housekeeper either, but this guy is on a whole other level.

It takes a minute, but he finds what he was looking for beneath Colin’s mattress– hilariously predictable– in a tin pencil box. There’s about $300 in cash, singles and fives and a few twenties in the mix. A couple receipts from a Coinstar machine, as well.

Eddie snatches up the wad of money and shoves it into his back pocket.

You’ve managed to have one or two lucid dreams in your life. In the past they’ve been something mundane– walking through a city or having a talk with an elderly gentleman on a park bench.

This one is different. You open your eyes to something entirely unexpected.

Your dream is bright and colorful, despite it being perpetually twilight. As you gain lucidity, you pick up on different things– damp grass on your bare back, skin on skin, a gentle caress up a naked thigh. You turn your head, and you find Eddie there next to you, stirring as if rousing from a dream of his own.

You– or, your subconscious– has already taken the liberty of stripping him of his clothes, and you lay in the tall grass of a meadow. Your arms are around him, your leg hooked over his waist. He pets your thigh, soft and gentle like he’s doing it mindlessly.

Your hand wraps around his cock and he startles, his eyes flying open as he gasps.

“Oh. This is, um…” Eddie turns his head towards you, snickering as a warm flush spreads across his cheeks. Ringed hands– because of course, your mind would keep the rings in there– come up to cover his face.

You giggle. “Hello, handsome.”

He grumbles something, but he doesn’t manage to say anything of real importance before he moans. You squeeze his cock and roll your wrist, stroking him torturously slow. He throbs in your grip, needy and jumping when you skim your fingers over the vein that runs along his shaft.

“Well, you, um–” Eddie huffs and cracks a smile, dragging his hands down his face as he does to clear away the grogginess that comes from stepping into the astral plane. “You sure know how to make a demon feel special.”

“Not what you had in mind?” you ask, and your voice has a sultry dip to it that makes the demon squirm.

“Mm, I figured–” Eddie’s breath catches in his throat when you lean over and spit onto his cock. The sound that kicks up from it is salacious, a lewd squelch that completely contradicts your pastoral surroundings. You watch him, as his mouth hangs open in shock for a moment. His head drops back against the ground, baring the jumping muscles of his long neck for your consideration. “Fuck– figured you dream about unicorns and lollipops or some shit.”

You hum, looking pointedly down at where your hand strokes him between his legs. “Well, you’re half right. S’what you get for hijacking my dream, you little shit,” you mutter, but it doesn’t come out as caustically as you want it to, because you litter his chest with kisses.

“I just wanted to talk.” He tilts his head, giving you a pointed look. “You seem to have other plans.”

“Well, it’s my dream, and you caught me in a mood, so.” You shrug, rolling your thumb over the head of his cock. You’re gazing down at it like it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen, with heavy-lidded eyes and your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

Eddie groans and bucks his hips up into your fist. His hand comes up to grab your shoulder, a warm touch that sends a shudder through you. “Remind me to do that more often?”

You shake your head slowly. “Nuh-uh, this is a one time thing. You said you wanted to talk, so talk.”

You hadn’t realized just how much his presence would affect you, even just in your dreams. Everything about him screams for you to unhinge yourself, against your better judgment; his eyes, his scent, even his voice beckons you. Something not quite human or tangible pulls at your senses and clutches at your chest, and you’re not sure if it’s hunger or lust or something else entirely, some other primitive urge that you’re feeling in force.

Eddie sucks in a long breath through his teeth, his eyes falling to your hand as it works over him. His own tremble, holding back from touching you how he wants.

“There’s, um. You asked me to– uh–” You start trailing your tongue along his chest in a way that makes him lose his train of thought, your lips dragging over his skin, heavenly soft. “Uhhh– not kill that guy for you. So I didn’t.”

“Good.”

“I cut out his tongue, though.”

“Eddie.”

“Sorry.” He isn’t, really. You can feel it, and you can see it in the ghost of a smile on his face. “He was gonna say some shit about you worshipping the Devil. Called you a witch.”

“Everyone already does. And they’re right, aren’t they?” You sigh, and your breath whispers across his overheated skin. “I’m worshipping a devil right now.”

You’re bolder in your sleep. You guess because, to your subconscious mind, there isn’t as much to be afraid of in dreams. Especially in dreams that you can control. All your hang-ups are, well… hung up. And you can let yourself be as promiscuous as you want, at least until you wake up.

You bite at a spot on his neck that makes him lose his composure. Eddie chews his lip and groans, his eyes nearly rolling back into his skull. He grabs your hip and flips you, until your back hits the grass and his hips rest between your legs.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you gaze up at him. Eddie’s beautiful, so impossibly stunning that it nearly frightens you, almost as much as this aching want burning inside of you does. His dark hair hanging around his face, his flushed skin and glowing amber eyes. He’s the picture of immortal beauty and power, and he’s yours.

His lips are so close to yours, his mouth open so that his breath gets caught in your lungs. His nose bumping your own, almost like he means to kiss you.

Eddie rocks his hips, and you feel his erection grind against your cunt. Splitting the seam of your pussy, parting around him as he slides the length of it against you, getting it wet with your arousal. He isn’t… he isn’t fucking you, per se. But it would take just the slightest hitch of his hips, just a little press forward to change that.

You whimper, clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his back. “Eddie…”

“So you want to play games, huh?” he murmurs, his voice low and bassy in his chest.

You roll your hips up into his. You can’t help it– the slick, soft glide of his cock through your folds, the head catching against your clit feels too good. His lips on your skin, his breath in your ear. It’s been way too fucking long for you, since someone touched you like this. Your head drops back on your shoulders, your back arching as you moan–

You wake up.

You fucking. Wake. Up.

You lay, disoriented, on your bed. Your hand rests on your sweaty forehead as your pussy throbs, hot and angry between your legs. Seething with rage and neglect, begging for the job to be finished.

It was so real. It felt so real, and so good, and you had to go and ruin it.

His scent remains. His smoke fills your lungs, eating up all your oxygen and making your head spin. You struggle to find your balance somehow, trying to quell the ache between your legs, trying to snap back to a reality where you weren’t just about to fuck your dream demon.

“Did you burn down someone’s house?”

You yelp, bolting to sit up in bed. His scent wasn’t just a leftover memory from your dream. You search through the darkness until your eyes find him sitting in the antique chair in the corner of your room, facing the bed, lit only by streaks of light filtering through the blinds from the streetlamp outside. He reclines, immobile, seemingly relaxed as his eyes glow warm and nearly gold in the low light.

You simply cannot handle this right now. Not while you’re coming down from a very near orgasm you just had because of him.

“What?”

“The guy, Colin–” Eddie continues, as if he’s completely unaware of the absolute torture you’re going through. “He said you burned down someone’s house. Your neighbor’s?”

You wonder for a moment if you could hate him for this, but you already know the answer. You could never hate him. Not really.

“C’mon, you can tell me,” he coos, and then winks. “Tell me and I’ll give you a present.”

You squint at him. He can’t possibly mean what you think he means. You get a mental image of him between your legs, his eyes glowing as he peers up at you, his mouth closed over your cunt.

He smirks like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. The fucker.

“Yeah,” you admit, drawing your knees up to your chest. “Yeah, uh. My fucking neighbor– she started a rumor that I was a Satanist in high school. Got everyone in on it. So, I threw a Molotov through her kitchen window.”

Eddie nods slowly. “Amazing de-escalation tactic.”

“It’s not like I genuinely tried to burn down the place,” you huff. “How was I supposed to know they’d just had the floor waxed?”

Eddie laughs, rocking forward in his seat. His eyes sparkle and his smile is sharp when he pulls a wad of money out of his pocket, holding it up between two fingers. “Your tip money. Your wish, my command.”

You’re taken aback, gazing at the paper that seems so bright in the darkness. “Well, that was relatively painless.”

“Was it?” It’s barely a whisper, but something you were meant to hear. Holding his jaw in his hand, fingers splayed across his cheek, he watches you with growing intensity. “Come and take it, then.”

The knowing smile on his lips issues a challenge, one that you would walk away from in any other circumstance. He knows very well what he’s doing. He can read your thoughts, that much is obvious. And since it seems they’re always in the gutter now, he knows how you’re squirming beneath your skin at the sight of him.

You wonder if you were really the one who ended the dream.

Refusing to breathe– you’re afraid that if you do, the sound of it would give you away– you crawl out of your bed and stand on shaky legs. One look at him tells you he’s gloating, watching the way that you struggle.

Ohhhh you hate him. You hate him, you hate him.

You cross the room toward him, moving slower than necessary in order to steel yourself to the shortening distance between you. You stop short of his legs, extended out and crossed at the ankles.

Eddie doesn’t move, his elevated hand still holding the wad of money. “C’mon then, tough girl.”

You stare at him, trying not to give yourself away, trying for all the world not to scream or throw yourself on him. You hesitantly step forward and snatch the money out of his hand before taking a long step back.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you say mildly, trying to keep your voice steady. Even his name sends a rush of warmth through you. The word burns on your wrist. Your body shakes against your will.

Shit. Fuck. God damn it.

He chuckles, standing from the chair, looming over you. “Anything else I can help you with?”

You squint up at him, your voice shaking as much as your hands, now. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right. It was a one time thing, wasn’t it?”

The expression on his face is somewhere between affection and condescension as he suppresses a grin. His hand comes up and he pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, urging you to look up into his eyes.

A note of fondness oozes into his tone. “Don’t play games with me, sweetheart. You won’t win.”

Eddie’s touch sends a shock wave through your body, a shiver so strong that your eyes flutter shut. His voice is so soft, so lovingly gentle that it nearly makes you break down, knees weakening, head spinning.

He leans forward, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear. “I’ll be here, whenever you change your mind.”

There’s an edge to his voice, a tone that hints at some sort of plea in there. You don’t know what it could be for– sex? Your trust?

You trust him to protect you. You approach him the same way you might approach a spirit in your house– unfamiliar, sure, but not immediately a threat as far as you know. Here, let me offer you half of my muffin as long as you don’t set my house on fire, okay? Maybe don’t kill that guy. Or maybe do. Depends on my mood.

You purse your lips, thankful that he doesn’t look at you when you say, “I know.”

You sound a lot more sure than you feel. You desperately want to grab him and kiss him, throw him on the bed and finish what you started in that dream.

Except, you’re afraid. A dream is one thing; sex in the waking world is another. You’re tiptoeing around some strange patron demon-human relationship that you don’t know how to navigate. It’s in the contract that you have to fuck him, eventually. But you and relationships don’t have a good history, and you’re a little frightened that if you make that leap on your own, it’s only going to end badly.

You think of Andy. You think of your abusive ex who still just hangs around, waiting to intimidate you. You think of the reason why you went out to make a deal with Eddie, and you think of the dog tag that you buried as an offering because Andy had taken the last thing you truly loved from you.

You know that Eddie isn’t just some normal guy you’re dealing with. Your attraction to him goes against everything that you understand, but it makes sense, doesn’t it? Because you try. You try and try, and you’re a good girl until you’re pushed too far, and then you do something stupid like make a deal with a demon because you’re sick of having to just be strong on your own. And suddenly you want to fuck that demon’s brains out so bad that it’s keeping you up at night.

But… you don’t know him. Not really. And as bad as you want him, with your body screaming for him, it’s still enough to make you hesitate.

There’s a subtle movement of Eddie’s head, like maybe he can sense your indecision. Maybe he’ll end that torture for you. He’ll read the brimming anxiety in your thoughts and give you what you’re too afraid to ask for. Sex. Sex with Eddie. Sex with your demon… whatever he is.

Sex with his infernal majesty of freaks and misfits.

But he doesn’t. Without another word, Eddie turns, and he disappears into your bedroom mirror. Leaving you to flop down onto your bed, punch your pillow, and scream.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #tdik!fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #demon!eddie #demon!eddie munson #roses*

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creative-caramel-coffee · 4 months ago

Text

Parkers, Pots & Periods

Summary: Reader is Peter’s sister and is going on a field trip to stark industries, the catch? She’s on her period and has POTS… things go badly and Wanda and Nat step in to take care of you.

Words: 2324

TW: Periods, Pain, nausea (no puking), POTS, Cramps, Bullying, fainting, name calling, Flash (that’s its own warning), Flashes “nicknames” for peter, field trip trope.

A/n Hi guys I’m alive! Sorry for disappearing (kinda). My life is chaos incarnate. I accidently got stabbed in the thigh yesterday. But I stuck an avengers Band-Aid on it and I was fine :D

Somehow the universe decided to screw your over three times today. The first, you had POTS, whilst not a new condition it did make the next two things worse. Second you had a trip to stark towers which meant a lot of standing on a tour and being around your class and knowing the avengers would be lurking nearby. And third, the real icing on the cake … you were on your period as if you had blood to lose as someone with POTS and a low blood volume to start with.

So that was how you were doing today as you arrived at school. Sure, you had graduated about three years ago but there had been talks that someone had found out Peter’s identity and was planning something, which was how you ended up undercover to be a glorified bodyguard for peter… well a glorified babysitter with homework. You had been chosen by the team as you were the second youngest next to Peter and as a lesser-known member of the team who was young, you could pass as a high school student without raising suspicions. ‘Yay me.’ You thought sarcastically. Leaving high school was amazing and having to go back to babysit your little brother… not so much.

You skipped training this morning as you were already feeling quite awful due to your period and your POTS which was always made worse when it was shark week.

As you arrived at school with Peter, happy dropped you both at the block around the corner and you shouldered your old school backpack and sighed.

“Let’s get this over with.” You grumbled and peter nodded. Neither of you feeling particularly excited to go on a trip through your own house with classmates who hated you.

Peter was just as unhappy; flash had been giving him shit all week for his internship and wanted desperately to prove the Parker boy a liar today. When you had found out about the bullying you almost intervened before Peter had a talk with you. He reminded you of what uncle ben had said to you both before he died, and your eyes glossed over as you made the decision to respect his wishes and promise to your late uncle.

As your shoes slapped the pavement with exaggerated steps and dragging movements, a grin itched your face when Ned began waving to you from across the quad. MJ looked up and gave a single half handed wave cross salute before going back to her sketchbook, her legs kicked up on the picnic table.

You liked MJ and Ned. They had welcomed you to their group and they knew that you had already graduated but agreed to stay quiet if it meant keeping peter safe. They both knew you and your brothers’ real identities. As the second spider that protected the city aside from your brother and Natasha you had decided to keep your identity quiet until Peter graduated, knowing he would have just as many issues with the press if you were unmasked before he graduated compared to him being unmasked.

You threw your backpack down and threw your head into your arms, letting out an exaggerated groan.

“You feelin’ alright bonehead?” MJ said looking up from her sketch.

You simply grunted before turning your head, still resting on your arms to look at her through a furrowed brow.

“Shark week.” Was all you said, and MJ nodded before turning to her bag and digging around before fishing out a chocolate bar she threw at your head. Your spider sense kicked in and your hand flew up and caught it.

“Thanks MJ.” You grunted.

“Anytime Parker.” She said going back to her sketchbook. You leaned over to glance at the page and snorted. MJ simply suppressed a grin and kept working on the detailed drawing of Flash trapped in a display case at stark towers with a placard that read “Bullied Peter Stark, glass tapping encouraged.” With a drawing of Tony leaning on the display case eating a banana with Nat handing out tomatoes to the rest of the team to throw at flash. Leave it to MJ to make this trip better.

You thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But curse your Parker luck because that was the moment flash began to storm over. MJ quickly shut her sketchbook as flash stood over Peter.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t penis Parker. I wasn’t expecting you to show up today. With your big lie going public today I thought you would be too much of a wuss to show up. Prepare to be publicly humiliated Parker. Today is the day your life is torn to shreds.” He said.

“Like the lie about you having a brain flash ‘cuz I think everyone knows that’s fake.” MJ said flicking a few pencil shavings at him. She glared at him, and he glared back before huffing.

“Whatever idiots. I’ll see you on the bus. Parker don’t forget I would hate for you to miss your public execution.” He spat and headed off to wherever it was Flash lurked between tormenting Peter.

“Petey…” you began.

“No y/n I’m handling it.” He said shutting you down.

“Alright. Alright. I’ll leave it alone.” You said while silently wishing a piano to miraculously fall on flash. You desperately wanted to help but you also wanted to respect Peter’s decision especially as you knew his reason was fuelled by a very personal experience that had changed both of you tremendously.

As the last class before the field trip ended you felt like death warmed over. Your head hurt and your period was only making your POTS worse. As you stood from your chair, you had to hold onto the table as your vision went fuzzy for a second. When your sight cleared Peter shot you a pointed look which you shrugged off and headed for the bus.

If there was one thing you didn’t miss from high school it was field trips, twenty sweaty teenagers in a bus for who knows how long, most likely with no air conditioning which would only contribute to you feeling worse. None of that was appealing to you in the slightest.

As you all filed onto the bus you groaned when you sat down, putting your head in your hands, and taking deep breaths. The cramps had been getting worse all day and they were toeing the line of unbearable.

MJ sat next to you and kept a close eye on your movements or lack thereof.

As the bus lurched with the traffic you suppressed any of the wounded animal noises that were trying to escape you.

After what seemed like a torturously long bus trip you felt the bus slow to a stop. Looking outside the logo of stark towers was the first thing your eyes fixed on.

As everyone filed off the bus you swayed slightly trying to fight off the dizzy lightheaded mess along with the cramping. Life really wasn’t being kind to you.

With a hand resting around your stomach, you watched Peter sidestep flashes foot and walk inside.

The building was cool when you entered which made you feel a tiny bit better but still largely awful.

As the tour guide passed out the lanyards you and Peter hung around in the back.

“I bet puny Parker won’t even have a lanyard, he’s too poor to be let in.” Flash said nearby and your fist tightened at your side in an attempt to stay there.

When all the passes were handed out Flash was the first to point out you and Peter didn’t have one.

“Hey! The Parker’s are missing their badges. We’ll have to leave them behind. Sorry no poor people allowed.” He said with a big grin and Peter looked like a deer in headlights as everyone turned to face the two of you. You just shrugged.

“Friday?” The tour guide asked. “Has there been a mistake?”

“Ms Parker and Mister Parker do not require badges as they have tier 10 clearance, access is granted to all floors, labs and rooms.” A voice said from the ceiling startling a few people.

“That’s Friday.” The tour guide explained “she’s tony starks AI and she runs the tower.”

“I don’t know how you hacked the system, but you will pay Parker’s.” Flash said sticking a finger in Peter’s face.

“Whatever flash, you’re just mad that you have level 1 clearance and can’t go in the toilets without permission.” MJ said as flash stormed off after the group.

As the tour progressed you were feeling worse and worse, all this walking was making the cramps worse, and all the standing was aggregating your POTS. Your vision had been spotty for a while now and your legs hurt. Your midsection was cramping something awful, and you saw no end in sight.

As the group was shown to the museum floor you did your best to stay rooted to your body as your head felt like it was floating away.

“Y/n/n you should really go home. If you sneak off upstairs, I’ll cover for you.” Peter said and MJ nodded.

“I know your white girl, but you’re not meant to be that white… ever.” MJ said and you shot her a small glare with did nothing to deter her.

“Can’t I have to stay with Peter.” You said swallowing down the nausea you had begun to feel.

“I can look out for myself.” He said in a soft tone. But you shook your head which was a terrible idea as you swayed, having to lean on the wall the stay upright.

“Right, that’s enough….” Peter begun but your hearing was fading as Peter seemed to keep talking.

As your hearing and vision began to drift away Peter began softly alerting Friday to the situation, as he requested Wanda of Natasha to come and get you.

As he saw a flash of red hair down the hall, his spider sense flared, and he was just in time to catch you as your body finally gave up and went slack.

Natasha seemed to arrive almost at the same time you passed out into Peter’s arms.

The group had moved on and it seemed they were none to wiser to the avenger’s presence.

Peter looked panicked for a second as he held you up.

“I’ve got her Pete.” Natasha said as she picked you up effortlessly into a bridal carry. “Go catch up with your group Wanda and I will look after her. Don’t worry.”

“Alright. Text me updates.” He said and Natasha nodded dutifully before carrying you to the elevator.

When she arrived back on your floor that you shared with the two redheads, you shifted in her arms, letting out a small whimper.

Natasha walked over to the door to her room, opening it to see Wanda already having everything set up for a movie day.

“Oh my god is she ok? I know Peter said it was bad but … is she out?” Wanda said coming over and fussing.

“She passed out as I got there. She must be feeling terrible.” Nat said as she set you down on the bed gently. Wanda came and sat next to you as Nat changed into some comfy clothes and took to your other side.

Wanda’s hands carding through your hair was the first thing you registered when you came to.

“Nat, I think she’s coming around.” Wanda said softly.

You let out a small, wounded noise as you tucked your knees to your chest in an attempt to stave off the relentless cramps.

“Shhh y/n/n it’s ok. Natty and I have you baby. You’re alright.” Wanda said softly.

You whimpered again and shifted to clutch your midsection.

“Cramps?” Wanda asked knowingly still playing with your hair.

“Mmm.” You said softly.

Before you knew it a hot pack was being slid onto your stomach and your muscles went lax as Wanda pulled you into her lap.

You opened an eye and saw her smiling down at you.

“Hello sweet girl. How are you feeling.” She said gently.

“Bad.” You hummed.

“Chocolate?” Natasha said as she offered you an already unwrapped chocolate bar. Not bothering to use your hands you began eating it while Nat still held it. Making her smile softly in amusement as she fed you the chocolate.

“Oh my god, I left Peter!” You said scrambling to sit up but Wanda kept you pinned.

“It’s alright baby. Fridays watching him and you’re in no condition to be doing anything other than cuddling and watching movies with us. Ok?” Wanda said. She could see the gears turning behind your eyes and gently turned your chin to look at her.

“Okay sweet girl?” She said again.

“Okay.” You said softly.

“Excellent. Now you pick the first movie.” Wanda said as Natasha returned with popcorn despite you not having seen her leave.

As the day went on you began to feel better. Between the salty popcorn Wanda was feeding you and the blue electrolyte drinks that were stocked in Natasha’s mini fridge you began to feel less terrible.

The girls had everything you needed, from a warm heat pack to chocolate to cuddles. You eventually drifted off feeling warm and only slightly in pain. Knowing you were safe with them.

@barbarasstar @charlie56 @vlynes @lovelyy-moonlight

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logysworld · 21 days ago

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Ouch! | Vi x Reader

You're a tattoo artist and Vi wants a tattoo.

Fluff?, suggestive, kissing, flirty, casual! F!reader.

Music played on the radio beside your table, balancing on the plethora of papers and pens that you had scattered around your table. A sketch was finally coming together, just a little something that popped into your mind after months of an artist's block that kept your sketchbooks dry. It was a small yet profound design, depicting two hands just shy of touch. One hand robotic and slender, ripples of metal flowing around each curve that were shaded perfectly in depth. The other appeared normal at first, but upon closer inspection revealed a tension, fingers taut and desperate, scared, as if the other hand was impossible to reach. You sketched a galaxy around the hands, streaks of the sky and swirling stars surrounding them, like the universe itself was gently forcing the hands apart.

The familiar twinkle of your door chimes echoed as someone entered the shop and you peered over your shoulder briefly, not long enough to see who came in.

"Hey, you got an appointment?" You called out, twisting the dial of the radio to lower the volume of the music with one hand while the other continued sketching.

"Do I need one? You don't look very busy in here." She said mockingly, the thump of her boots echoing around the empty room. She was right, the shop had been really really slow lately, it was just a habit to ask each time someone came in.

"Yeah you're right, have a seat on that leather chair. Could you give me a minute- sorry- what's your name?" You looked over at her as she settled into the seat, a pale and bruised (also muscular) hand running through her dark pink hair.

"Vi. And you? What's your name gorgeous?" she asked, turning sideways on the chair to manspread.

"Y/n." you replied, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. Her ice blue eyes scanned your figure when you stood up, following the sway of your hips as you walked towards her.

"Cute name. You're real cute." She tilted her head at you, a curiosity flashing in her expression.

You laughed. "How can I help you, Vi?"

"I want a tattoo. a small one, right here on my finger." She spoke low, lifting the red sleeve of her jacket and tracing the side of her left pointer finger. You noticed a tattoo on her forearm, which seemed to lead all the way up. You leaned in closer, nodding as you took in her request.

"and," her voice went quieter, almost a whisper.

"and I want it to say 'POW!', with the mark thingy on the end?" You nodded and scribbled in your sketchbook for a minute or two. Her hand dropped while you sketched and her shoulders hung slightly. You looked up at her, feeling somewhat sad at the sudden change in demeanor, leaning in even closer instinctively.

"Okay, I can do that. What's the occasion? Or... would you rather not talk about it?" You had already drawn three versions of the design in your book, facing the page towards her for approval.

"That," she said pointing at the second design, "..and its not much. Just for somethin' important to me. I'd actually rather talk about you, gorgeous." she sat forward in her seat, resting her elbows on her knees while she watched you turn away from her. You playfully scoffed at the quick switch in attitude, brushing off her previous show of vulnerability as to not make her uncomfortable. You started tracing the design on paper using the tray behind you.

"Is that so? What exactly do you want to talk about?" You span back around in your seat, now scooting closer to her and grabbing her hand. She bit on the inside of her cheek at your touch, letting her hand rest in yours as you pressed the stencil into her finger.

"With that pretty voice? And that face? I could talk about anything with you, babe."

"You use that corny line on every girl?" you cringed, smiling, eyes glued to her hand as you applied the design.

You heard a laugh, and her chest dropped further towards you.

"Mmm.. no? I only see one girl infront of me right now, and she's just. So. Fucking. Gorgeous. What else am I supposed to say?" she came closer with each word, warmth emitting from her mouth as she spoke.

"Are you gonna keep calling me that?" you rasped, not realising you were holding onto your breath. You tried to appear unfazed, but the red flush on the tips of your ears already gave Vi the sense of satisfaction she was craving.

"Yeah I might. Why? You like it?" she tucked a stray hair behind your ear, her hand lingering on the skin of your neck just below your jawline. You felt chills. she was so close, whispering as if it was sinful for anyone to hear.

You coughed and shrugged it off, pressing the design hard into her finger, causing her to sit up slightly. Her hand was calloused and rough, scarred, knuckles red and blue from fighting you presumed. A dirty bandage wrapped around her palm and ended at the wrist, frayed at the edges.

"What? Pretty girl doesn't wanna talk now? Did I get you all nervous?" her stenciled hand turned to stroke yours and she looked at you with a pout.

You pulled your hand away. She's a troublemaker for sure.

"Vi, please. I work better when im not under pressure, okay?" you sighed, turning to grab the needle and dipping it into the black ink.

"Alright, so you are nervous. Got it." So cocky, you thought. She winked at you, putting her hand in yours before you could grab it from her.

You couldn't help but laugh. "God."

"Damn, gorgeous. I know I'm all great and that, but you don't have to call me God."

"Please shut up, Vi."

"Whatever you say, pretty."

You brought the needle to her skin and started drawing over the stencil. You licked your lips and she sucked in a breath, despite her having such detailed, and definitely more painful, tattoos already painted across her arms.

Her gaze was like a heat wave, so hot and so harsh you felt like you were about to start sweating. She watched you carefully, not your hands but everything and anything else. She watched how you tilted your head back and forth to see how the tattoo looked from afar, and how your legs squeezed together everytime you did so. You bit and squeezed your lips as you pressed the needle into her. God your lips. She let her gaze lower further down, admiring the perfect tone of your skin. You really were gorgeous. She didn't even realize how long she was staring at you until she felt the sting of antiseptic being wiped across her finger.

"All done!" you beamed, standing up and walking away to clean off your needle.

She inspected the fresh tattoo.

You heard her swallow harshly, and turned to see her sad smile.

Her smile morphed quickly into mischief and she looked up at you. "Someone has fast hands."

"It comes from practice, Vi." you smiled feeling proud, turning back around to put away your equipment into their designated sections.

"Oh yeah?"

She stood up from the chair, taking a few steps forward until the space behind you felt nearly gone.

"I'm sure you practice a lot, huh?" she teased.

She raised her arm, allowing her fingers to dance on your shoulder, falling lower and lower, drawing lines on your bare skin. your breath hitched and you looked at her hand. She dropped it to rest on your hip, gripping at the skin free from your cropped tee.

"You're so pretty. Let me look at you." Her voice tickled your ear, sending a shiver through your entire body.

"Vi." Your heart rate picked up.

"Turn around, gorgeous. Please."

It sounded like a command, desperate, but soft, all at the same time. You turned to face her and she smiled, now placing both hands on your hips and squeezing gently at the start of the bone.

"Look at that pretty face."

She forced you backwards as she stepped closer, letting your lower back hit the table with a pang. Your hands came up through hers and you shyly let them lay on her chest, not daring to look into her eyes. Then, her hands left your hips and came around the backs of your thighs, wrapping and bringing you upwards onto the metal table without struggle, spreading your legs around her as she did so.

"Hmm. So pretty." she cooed. The cool of the metal felt like ice on your skin and you shivered, leaning into her. She caged her arms around you on the table and leaned forward, brushing her nose against yours.

"Can I kiss you, gorgeous?" She asked, barely audible. You looked into her eyes and she stared back at you, so so sweetly. You let yourself lean in closer, your lips touching but not together just yet. She sighed into your mouth, the tension so strong you could feel it on your tongue. When you licked your lips she pushed herself onto you and kissed you, hands now holding your jaw. The kiss was soft at first, her lips caressing yours so gently it sent a wave flutters to your chest and stomach. But, when you wrapped your hands around her neck and moaned into the kiss, she couldn't hold back a grunt. She licked into your mouth, hands on your ass as she pulled you impossibly close. You stayed just like that for a while, but a growing frustration played out in her kisses, eventually taking over her hands which were squeezing so hard you swore they could leave marks. Your back arched in response, letting Vi push you further onto the table until you had to support yourself with one hand, the other tangled in her hair.

The twinkle of your door chimes interrupted the kiss and you hesitantly pulled back, but Vi was determined, lowering her kisses to suck on your jaw and neck. You peered over her shoulder, fighting the hands which pushed you back down.

"Vi, just- one sec-"

A nice looking man stepped inside, looking at the designs on the walls before landing his eyes on you, or Vi covering you more so.

"Vi-, shit," you swore under your breath, her teeth nipping on your collarbone.

"Hey! I have an appointm- oh, SHIT, hey, it's fine! It's fine it's fine I'll come back later, tomorrow! Im so so sorry! Shit!

The door chimes clinked against eachother as he ran out and you cursed to yourself. Vi finally paused on the marking of your skin when you threw your head back in guilt.

"Hey, don't worry gorgeous. Atleast you have me."

"Shut up Vi." You rolled your eyes, bringing your hand up to flick your nail on her ear.

"Ouch!"

Any requests send in the inbox 😛 this is my first ever fic so I hope my fellow arcane family approves ♡ rizz #vi forever

#arcane #arcane x reader #vi x reader #vi #vi arcane #arcane fic #rizz #idk what tags to use #arcane fluff #arcane vi

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ghostmaldo · 10 months ago

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ꨄStardew Valley Headcannons: Artist farmer leaves a sketch for their love interest to find ꨄ

This took me so long to write, I’ll cry if this flops, but its fine ;-;

I might draw out the poses honestly… gives me something to do hehe Xp

No warnings, fluff, comfort, GN!Reader

Ask box: Open 💙

~Maldo

ᡣ𐭩 Penny ᡣ𐭩: Ooooh this sweet child, I just want to take her away from all of her troubles-

~It’s been a long day for Penny. She’s been spending most of the day tutoring Vincent and Jas, taking them out into the wilderness and to the library. Standing outside for a moment while the rain pelted the library rooftops. Of course, eagerly chatting with farmer while they ran around town doing their usual chores.

~ Between all that of course she’d have a altercation with her mother. Nothing she can’t handle but that dosen’t mean it dosen’t hurt any less. So, she practically dragged her feet back to her camper (RV? Whatever that thing is called).

~She reaches out for the handle of the door, then she stops. What this…?Her eyes blowing open slightly as she sees a neat envelope sticking out of the crack in the door. She see’s her name written in a sparkly gel pen as she retrieves from the door. Her heart starts to beat a bit harder in chest…

~She carefully opens the envelope. The scent of a sweet smelling perfume pulls at her heart strings further. Someone must have put a lot of thought into this little gift…for her…?

~Unfolding the paper from inside, she takes in a sharp breath. It’s a portrait drawing, of her sitting in fields. It’s gorgeous… It looks exactly like her… Penny marvels at each pencil stroke. Even the little smudges at the ends of the paper catch her eye. She almost feels like crying. And a single tear does fall when she sees the signature at the bottom.

From: (Farmer)

~The farmer, as if one Que, appears behind her. “Oh you found it! I was worried it might-“

~She can’t hold herself back from throwing her arms around the farmer and hugging them tight. The farmer returning the embrace happily. Penny didn’t know how the farmer knew, but she needed to see this after the kind of day shes had.

~She frames the drawing and keeps it in a special place her mother can’t find. Often looking at it when she needs a pick me up and instantly she feels a little better about life.

ᡣ𐭩Shane ᡣ𐭩 Disclaimer: Due to my own personal experiences/triggers I’ve been warned by my friends I shouldn’t play his route and I’ve only really picked up things here and there so it may not be perfect, but I still want to include him as he is still very deserving of affection. That being said, this is where farmer and Shane have a few hearts between each other and he dosen’t hate them entirely ^^

~Another late night walking back alone to his Aunt’s house from the saloon. His head is swimming with all the beer in his veins, swaying from side to side on his feet as he walks. Eventually arriving to his doorstep, through his blurry visions. He makes out his name on the front of his door. “Shaaane… thats my name.”

~His a bit confused at first. Reaching out to touch the letters of his name written in the sparkling gel ink. That’s when realized his name is written on an envelope of some kind. The confusion on his face only deepens. What kind of joke was this? He certainly wasn’t laughing.

~He grumbled as he fumbled with opening the letter. Revealing the picture of himself with his chicken Charlie… He blinks… and blinks again… He stares at the picture for a long time. His drunken mind unable to process what his looking at. At the bottom of the page he reads:

“From (Farmer)”

~He feels a tightness form in his chest. He almost wants to be angry the farmer left this for him to find… Yet… he thumbs over the thin strides of ink forming his face.

~After several minutes of just standing there holding the drawing, he carefully tucks the drawing into his coat pocket. Wondering inside and briefly forgetting about it as he throws himself into bed to sleep off the hangover. The farmer somehow finding themselves into his dreams.

~He won’t bring up the drawing for a few days I think. Not exactly knowing what to say. It isn’t until he sees the farmer one random afternoon buying supplies from Marnie that he catches them before they leave.

“Uhh, thanks for this.” He takes the folded piece of paper out from his pocket, unable to look the farmer in their eyes. “It’s nice…”

ᡣ𐭩Maru ᡣ𐭩

She’s having her afternoon sit near the saloon. Enjoying the warm air and peaceful chirping of the birds near by. Penny usually does by to sit with her sometimes, but she’s pleasantly surprised to find the farmer waving at them. A brand new battery pack in their hand, instantly she perks up, wondering if perhaps…

~ It is! She’s overjoyed to receive another battery pack from the farmer. Maru already knows the exactly project she’ll use it for. She waves the farmer good bye as they have other things to do.

~Once they’ve gone. Something feels different… about this battery pack. Sitting back down and inspecting the object more closely. She noticed theres something attached to the battery. An envelope with her name written on it. “Hmmm?”

~Cursorily, she thumbed the letter open. Using the upmost of care to unravel the drawing inside. Her eyes went wide with surprise. A drawing of her at the clinic writing something on a clipboard. It was so… life like. Just by looking it over, Maru could tell it was done with care. She smiled fondly. A loud, she read: “From, (Farmer)

~Quickly, she hurried after the farmer, hoping they hadn’t gotten to far. Seeing them about to head back to their farm, she blitzed it. Hugging them from behind as she reached them. “Thank you farmer! This is the best!”

~Another one to frame it and place it somewhere special. Considers it one of her most prized possessions.

ᡣ𐭩Sebastian ᡣ𐭩

~Lizard blinking at 10am in the morning. Sebastian reaches to turn the alarm off on his phone. He groans and grumbles for a few minutes before deciding to sit up and move over to his computer. He placed his fingers on his keyboard, the abruptly stopped when he felt a strange sensation on the pads of his fingers.

~Tilting his head, he spotted… an envelope His name written in a neat sparkly cursive. Ugh… he hoped this wasn’t a joke from his mother. He carelessly ripped the envelope open, though he was careful with the contents inside. Unfolding the paper, his eyes landed on a drawing of him… one of him working on his motorcycle. One of the corners of the page reading: From (Farmer)

~Sebastian.exe has stopped working-

~He takes a slow deep breath in, heart beating wildly inside his chest. He found the gesture to be so… sweet. Sebastian admires the piece for a long while before he can focus on anything. He places it somewhere safe but where he can still admire it within his working space. It’s all he can think about for the entire days (And probably for several days after)

~In the evening time, he purposely places himself near the mines so he can show his appreciation to the farmer. He waves them over as soon as he sees them. He becomes a little shy rubbing the back of his neck nervously, but he does want to say something. “Hey, I found the drawing on my desk… Thank you… That was very kind of you…” Will hesitate to go in for a hug but if farmer meets them halfway he will gladly embrace them.

ᡣ𐭩Leahᡣ𐭩 Disclaimer#2: I haven’t tried to romance Leah yet and I know the very baseline of her personality so I apologize (again) if this one isn’t perfect but also still wanted to include her.

~Leah’s been inside her small home for most of the afternoon working on her latest project. Deciding to take a stroll through town to take a small break and stretch her limbs out. She opens her door and catches the glimpse of something fluttering downward and landing on her door mat. An envelope? What could this be?

~ Inspecting the object, she traces her finger over her name. Some of the glitter from the Gel pen rubbing off. She can’t hide the smile that creeps onto her face. She’s a bit giddy over receiving something so mysterious and thoughtful!

~She opens the letter and finds the portrait of herself inside. She’s smiling happily with her house in the background. Lead is amazed by the penmanship. Her eyes glaze over every detail, her heart swelling with emotion. At the bottom of the page is a signature: From (Farmer). She lets out a happy squeal and lightly presses the drawing to her chest.

~Quickly, she runs inside to find a frame for the piece. Placing it on a special place on her wall where she can easily admire it. Then she takes off into town as originally planned. Now with a new motive in mind.

~She’s happy to find the farmer running around town. Lead quickly catches them and pulls them into a warm hug. “Farmer! I didn’t know you could draw! I love the gift you left for me! We should have drawing sessions together!” She’s just so happy and excited to have someone to relate too and the gesture was so sweet to her.

ᡣ𐭩Sam(son) ᡣ𐭩

~Okay, okay, so his already well into his morning routine before he notices anything. He comes back into his room to retrieve his skateboard when he then notices something tapped to it. An envelope with his name written on it. He eyes cursorily as he picks it up. Honestly having no idea what the letter could possibly be about.

~Opening it up, he find the drawing of him on his skateboard. A really well done drawing of him on his skateboard. “Wow.” He grips both ends of the paper and takes a moment to admire it. Eventually finding the signature at the bottom corner of the page. From: (Farmer).

~He breaks out into a wide smile. He can feel the warmth of his own face and his heart swoons. He places the drawing on his dresser before taking off without his skateboard. He briefly pauses outside, having mean to have grabbed it. But his brain is spinning so much he just waves off the skateboard and takes off on foot to see if the farmer might be wondering around somewhere.

~And his right. He catches them coming out of the community center. He approaches them with a smile thats returned to him. “So, when did you have time to sneak into my room hm?” He teases lightly, and they share a laugh together. “Hey but really, that was really nice of you. You’re really talented!”

~Another one to become shy when he goes in for a hug but once he feels the farmer wrap their arms around him, his content.

~He’ll stick around a moment to catch up with farmer, inviting them to hangout with him and his friends sometime at the saloon. He gives them one last hug before letting them get back to their work. The whole walk home his smiling like his on top of the world.

~ Tapes up the drawing somewhere in his room, his mom asks him about one time and he blushed the whole time as he explained the farmer gave it to him. Mom finds it sweet and teases her son about it.

ᡣ𐭩 Haleyᡣ𐭩

~ Haley opens the door to her shared home and finds the farmer standing there, mud and all, trying to place the envelope of the frame of her door. They stare at each other for a moment before he nose scrunches up as she notices the mud caked around their boots. “What are you doing?” She asks a bit dryly before she notices her name inscribed on the letter.

~”Oh! Is that for me?” She plucks the letter from the farmers hand before they have anytime to explain themselves. They stand there awkwardly as she doesn’t hesitate to rip the letter open. Revealing the drawing of her with her camera. Her face turns into one of surprise, a little oh leave her lips. it’s a bit hard to tell at first if she likes the drawing…

~Then she smiles gleefully. Spinning around with the drawing still in her hands and hugging it to her chest (not so gently as Leah but the drawings fine ^^). She goes to hug the farmer but stops when they realize they’re still covered in mud. So, instead, she gently lays her hand on their shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

~”You made me look so pretty! Thank you! If you maybe… clean up a little maybe you can join Emily and I for dinner?” The farmer happily agrees. At dinner time is when Haley hugs them properly now that their clean. Even going as far as to compliment the shampoo they used. “So much better now that all the mud is gone!” (It’s a compliment, I promise)

~At dinner time, the farmer can see Haley’s placed the drawing in a frame and has it in her living room where everyone can gaze upon her beauty capture by the farmer.

ᡣ𐭩 Harveyᡣ𐭩

~”Alright (Farmer), just take this medication as directed and make sure to stay hydrated okay? And try to be careful in those mines!” Harvey’s gives the farmer a friendly smile as they are discharged from their clinic. Linus having brought them him when he found them exhausted in mines some time during the day. He was glad to see they were alright and hoped they found some time to get some rest.

~As his going to finalize his paperwork and pass it on to Maru, he sees an envelope on top of his other paperwork… when did that get there? He read his name on the letter, lightly pulling it from his clip board. He rest up against the counter, pulling the drawing from inside. A drawing of him taking a stroll through the patchy area in town. It’s so lovely… it takes him a moment to realize it is him. “From… (Farmer)”

~His so touched by the kind gesture he just stand there for a long time. Maru has to come find him to notify him he has Marnie waiting for him and he quickly has to tuck away the piece of paper in his coat. Clearing his throat and desperately trying to compose himself. “Sir your face is a little red are you okay?”

Stutters out a: “O-Oh yes! I-I’m fine just a little warm is all.”

~His a little distracted throughout the day and he can’t seem to stifle the rapid beating of his heart. His already thinking of something he can give to the farmer as appreciation… but he can’t seem to find anything he deems would speak his gratitude… Oh well maybe…!

~After locking up the clinic for the day, he catches the farmer out of the corner of his eye. He hollers for them and smiles brightly as they approach him. He lightly scolds them for not being in bed and resting, but quickly forgives them when they show him the bottle of water tucked away in their overalls (Or however farmer may carry this item ^^)

~”Oh and thank you for the uh… letter you left me. That was nice of you…” Is a blushing red mess and his nervously fiddling with his hands. “Um don’t worry about the bill this time. I’ll take care of it… just this one.” His startled when the farmer hugs him out of nowhere. The scent of the earth coming of their clothes makes his mind go a little blank., though deep down he enjoys the interaction.

~Has the drawing carefully tapped onto his clipboard so he always had it with him.

ᡣ𐭩Emilyᡣ𐭩

~Emily’s happily bursts through the doors of the saloon for her shift. There dosen’t seem to be too many patrons yet as she walked over to the other side of the counter. Gus appeares suddenly and catches her attention. “Hey! Secret admirer left this for you.” He claims with a wink as he slides over an envelope to her.

~”Oh! A secret admirer?” She looks at her name on the letter fondly. Closing her eyes as she holds it up above her face, almost if she were trying to conjure a face of who would have left this for her. The anticipation becomes too much as none of the faces she makes seem’s right. She impatiently opens the letter and finds the drawing of her dancing elegantly inside.

~She gasps and her eyes double in size…. Then promptly screams in absolute delight, jumping up and down on her feet. Gus shaking his head and smiling in the back ground while he prepares for the salon. “Make sure to read the bottom left corner.” When Emily hears this, she seizes her jumping and looks back at the drawing. From: (Farmer)

~ It’s at that exact moment farmer walks through the front doors. Emily sequels happily upon seeing them. Immediately running to practically jump into their arms. “(Farmer)! This is so sweet, I love it so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She gives you a tender kiss on the cheek that has farmer melting. Me too farmer, me too.

~Invites them to have a drink at the bar while she works. Every so often coming over to talk with them. Anyone can tell she has an extra pep in her step and her eyes are dazzling every chance she speaks with the farmer.

~ Frames the drawing and places it in a special spot in her room. Frequently picks it up and talks to it as if it the farmer themselves.

ᡣ𐭩Elliotᡣ𐭩

~Elliot is peacefully taking his afternoon walk, his mind a bit busy with thinking about his writings. On his way back, he crosses paths with the farmer. Seemingly in a mad dash to get where they were going, though they do wave at each other and smile before they disappear from his sight.

~Upon returning home, he instantly spots the envelope on his door. “My, my, what is this?” He says to himself, gingerly picking up the letter and delicately prying it open. Inside, is a beautiful drawing of him at his piano. A hushed gasp leaves his lips. He covers his mouth with his finger tips as his in pleasant shock. His eyes travel all over the drawing until he finds the signature at the bottom. From: (Farmer)

~He shakes his with a smile on his face. “Oh, that farmer.” He speaks lovingly. He takes the drawing inside where he sets it on his piano like a sheet of music. Theres something brand new brewing in his mind. He sits himself before the piano, fingers tapping away at the keys experimentally. Until theres a new song dancing on them. It’s not long before his scribbling notes on blanks sheet music.

~Before the sun goes down, Elliot decides to take one final stroll through town. In hopes to find the farmer still running their many errands. Lucky for him, he finds them doing just that. Snagging them as gently as he by the arm, he playfully swings them around. “There you are (Farmer)! If I may have a few moments of your time.”

~Sits them down on the nearest bench and shows them the song he wrote for them. (Yay swooning yet?) Together they sit and chat long after the suns gone down. Invites them over the following day so he can preform said song for them. “For your art of me. I was touched by it (farmer), allow me to show you my appreciation.

~The drawing sits on one side of his piano much like sheet music

ᡣ𐭩Abigail ᡣ𐭩

~Abigail is wondering the valley late into the evening. Hitting all of her usual spots and now headed for the graveyard. It’s a pretty normal evening when she first arrives. Then theres something laying on the ground that catches her eye. An envelope with her name on it, sitting in the middle of a gravestone. “Ooooh, spooky!”

~She reached for the envelope and looks over the writing. She turns it over a few times to see if there’s anything else mysterious about the object. When she dosen’t find anything more, Abigail opens the letter. Finding a drawing of her playing her instrument in a majestic looking manner. “From: (Farmer)”

~She holds the drawing up to the light to admire the details closer. She’s so touched by the gesture. She has half the mind to run over to the farmers house right now. But decided to simply find them in the morning. By the time she gets there, they’ll be long asleep.

~Best believe as soon as she wakes up for the day shes at the farmers door knocking. When they open the door, she dosen’t waste a second in throwing her arms around the farmers neck in an embrace. “Thank you so much for the drawing! It’s beautiful! I had to come over and say thank you!”

~She’ll stay awhile and chat with the farmer before heading home. But not before she invites them over to possibly have a game night or hangout at the salon.

~Frames the picture and has it in her room where she sees it at least once each day.

ᡣ𐭩Alexᡣ𐭩

~His outside throwing the football to himself before deciding to come inside. His grandparents are out and about at the moment, so he decides to sit at the kitchen table. Once his settled, he noticed something on the table. White envelope sitting undisturbed with his name on the front.

~Thinking its a note from his grandmother, he opens it without a second thought. His face drops when he sees the drawing of him inside. Football in hand. He gawks for a moment, totally caught off guard by the illustration. At the bottom he finds the infamous signature: From: (Farmer)

~He smirks at the discovery. Leaning his head into his palm while still holding the paper with admiration in his eyes. His ears momentarily perk up as he hears a familiar voice outside. His granny, and behold, the farmer themselves!

~Alex quickly gets up from his chair and quickly makes his way outside. Nearly running into his grandmother, she walks inside with a happy, knowing smile on her face. Chasing after the farmer, he catches them just in time. “Running away when you’ve left me such a charming gift?” His smirking but his mostly playing around.

~ Chats with the farmer and manages to slip in they should come over for dinner with him and his grandparents. To which farmer gladly agrees.

~While Alex was away flirting with the Farmer, his grandmother finds the image on the table and decides to place it on the fridge. Alex dosen’t have the heart to move and honestly its the perfect place for it.

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oppropro · 6 months ago

Text

Just a fanfic I have written for @celestialkiri

I am so in love with Sophie and Wukong and thought I might write a story of how Sophie ended up in the JTTW universe. All credit for character creation goes to @celestialkiri @jttw-monkeybusiness. I really hope you like this, I tried my darndest!

Chapter 1 - Bad Luck

Luck finally seemed to be going Sophie’s way. Standing under the awning of a storefront she had never glanced at, on a street she had traveled nearly every day for the past six years, the universe had finally given her a sign.

Her day had not started out so terrible; she had found an anthology of 19th century poetry at a discounted price, as well as a special edition of National Geographics about old world monkeys. Along with a couple of used novels, her outing to the consignment store had been a net positive. Also, her mother had texted her to let her know that Granny had cancelled their plans for dinner that evening.

Sophie had feigned disappointment at the news, truthfully though, she had not been in the mood to have her grandmother lecture her on how she wasn’t in a relationship, how she wasn’t living on her own yet, and how her pursuit of a master’s degree had yet to produce a meaningful career. Yes, Sophie was in a slump: she was moving back home into her mother’s house after her roommates decided to fall in love, marry, and move to the suburbs; and no, she had yet to find any job that would allow her to pay for her own apartment.

It’s not like Sophie wanted to move back home. At least her mother was being supportive. She would not have to pay rent and would have some place safe to stay while she looked for work that she wanted to do; or at the very least would pay well. Nearly all of her personal belongings were already at her mother’s home, and after leaving her old apartment for good, all she had on her was her new used treasures, her sketch book that she took everywhere, the toiletries from her apartment and last night’s pajamas.

Her luck for the day changed when the city bus suddenly lurched forward, sending herself and all the other passengers flying from their seats. Then a clunk, a sputter, and a horrid grinding sound. Finally puffs of white smoke billowed out of the engine. Everyone exited relatively unscathed and stood on the sidewalk and watched as the befuddled bus driver attempted to resuscitate the dead jalopy. A relief bus was on its way, but it was going to be a while, and would be crowded. Sophie looked at the intersection and estimated that the walk home would be two hours tops; too late to be home for dinner but that wasn’t a problem anymore. And so, Sophie continued the rest of her journey on foot.

The weather was sunny and cool, and Sophie took the time walking to contemplate her current situation. She had been searching for jobs but had been met with rejection after rejection: you do not have the qualifications necessary for our position; your qualifications are great, but you don’t have enough experience; you seem to be overqualified for this position, but we will keep your resume on file. The money Sophie had in savings was nearly depleted; she didn’t want to go back to a job as a part-time barista; and online commission work wasn’t enough to live off of. She was starting to feel desperate for something, anything in her field.

Sophie traversed the city sidewalks at a steady pace, mindful not to step on any cracks, a habit picked up from childhood. It started out as some old superstition which then evolved into a routine, an odd competition in which no one but her was competing. Sophie smiled to herself watching her shadow and her feet step one after the other indifferent to the sounds of the street around her. Soon enough, the darkness of her shadow faded, and the colour of the pavement greyed as shadows gathered over head. Sophie looked up and watch the rain come down; a light drizzle quickly turning into a torrential downpour. A large raindrop landed in her eye causing her to shake her rub her eyes until tears washed out any foreign particles and she could see clearly again; she was standing on a crack in the sidewalk. Bad luck.

Sophie didn’t have time to dwell on what her bad luck might be as she sought to closest shelter she could, a storefront awning. It was an unassuming building, windows plastered with pictures of far away landscapes, sunset beaches, and tropical flowers. Above the door read the name Eastern to Western Expeditions. Slightly below the store name, at eye level with Sophie, was handwritten sign on what looked like a scrap piece of orange neon cardboard: Help needed URGENTLY! No experience necessary, Inquire within.

The rain showed no signs of letting up any time soon, and it seemed to Sophie as though the gods themselves had placed her in this spot, at this moment for a reason. At the very least, she would be foolish not to inquire about the job. She opened the door and stepped inside.

********

The chimes at the door rang softly as Sophie stumbled through the threshold. Without any grace she quickly regained her balance. The entrance, it seemed, was a few inches higher than the pavement outside. Sophie scanned the open room to make sure there were no witnesses to her dramatic entrance; there was no one. Despite the crisp white walls, the room was dimly lit due to the lack of natural light blocked by pictures on the shop front window and overhead lights were only giving off a faint warm glow. Probably for the ambiance, Sophie assumed, the floor was carpeted in bamboo mats, the wall art took inspiration from Ming Dynasty art. A desk stood near the back of the room, solid mahogany. No computer or land line, just a small bonsai, a desk sized rock garden with mini rake, and a Tiffany lamp with intricate lotus petals coloured pink and white.

A woman stepped through the beaded doorway with a Staff Only sign above. An Asian woman, slightly taller than Sophie. Her skin was as close to porcelain as Sophie had ever seen. Her dark, lustrous hair tied tightly back in a low ponytail showing off her prominent widow’s peak; not a single strand of hair was out of place. She was wearing white pants and a blazer with hints of a cream frilled blouse underneath. Poor Sophie was so awestruck as the woman met her gaze and smiled that she didn’t even register the peculiarity of what was in the strange woman’s hand: a tray with a tea pot and two cups, already steeped as though this was the exact time tea was to be served. The woman sat down quietly behind the desk and Sophie unthinkingly sat on the other side.

“Unusual weather we are having today,” the woman said as she handed Sophie a cup of tea.

“Yeah,” Sophie replied wordlessly, grasping the cup with both hands. The warmth of the cup made her suddenly aware of the coolness of the room. After a few seconds, which seemed to Sophie like eras, she finally spoke to the woman; “I saw the sign on your door.”

The woman laughed. The sound of her laugh was warm and comforting to Sophie, it put her at ease. It reminded her of the way her mother would laugh at her childhood antics. Sophie felt like she would say or do anything to hear that laugh again. “I was wondering when someone would take notice of my sign. It has been up for quite a while, but you are the first to inquire about it.”

This is my sign Sophie thought to herself Luck is on my side. “As it stands, I am currently unemployed, and I am looking for work. I don’t have a resume on hand, but I can gladly email a copy to you. I just thought I would come inside and introduce myself first and…” Sophie began to feel her breath escape from her, bringing along with it any sense of self-assuredness and cohesion. and inquire about the nature of the job you have advertised… and… it’s raining outside.”

The woman across from Sophie smiled as she took a sip from her cup. There was no sign of judgement on her face. She spoke with a soft authority. “I pride myself as a good judge of character, and I believe you may be an excellent candidate for the position.”

Sophie relaxed her shoulders as she exhaled and decided to take a sip of the tea. It was bitter, but not unpleasant. “Are you looking for an administrative position? I don’t have any formal experience, but I appreciate the importance of keeping organized files and detailed record keeping. As a master’s student I had to…”

“Oh no, no,” the woman interrupted Sophie. “This is not an administrative position. I have been contracted by a client of mine to seeking an assistant on an expedition. This is a travel agency of sorts. We cater to individuals who are interested in more meaningful travel experience; off the beaten path, away from crowded tourist spots and immerse themselves in cultural customs and natural wildlife in small tour groups with a low carbon footprint.”

Whatever remaining confidence Sophie had quickly begun to seep away. “You would need me to travel?”

The woman nodded.

“Like, travel out of the country travel?”

“I can assure you that you will be completely safe on this excursion.”

Despite the woman’s smile the genuineness of her voice, Sophie was anything but assured. Her passport had expired two years ago. What vaccines would she need? Would she need travel visas? Was this a front for human trafficking? Am I being trafficked right now? Sophie calmly placed her teacup on the table as she began to plan her exit strategy. Why were there two cups of tea? How did she know someone was coming? I’m being punked? Is that still a thing? I’m on camera right now? Sophie mustered a smile on her face, “Like I said, I just wanted to pop in and inquire. I will definitely send you a resume later on tonight… or tomorrow.” As Sophie stood up to leave for the exit, the woman rose as well with an unnatural grace which left Sophie speechless.

“I appreciate you coming in” the woman said guiding the bewildered Sophie to the front door. She had her hand on Sophie’s shoulder. Just get out of this place and never think about it again. Just get out of this place. Just get out of this place. Sophie repeated the mantra in her head. It was the only way she could keep her composure. She barely noticed the sound of chimes as the woman opened the door for her.

“It was a pleasure to meet you…”

Sophie was barely paying attention to what the woman was saying. Just step out the door and go home. You are going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine.

“…and Sophie?” the woman’s voice was sounded somewhat empathetic.

I didn’t tell her my name.

“Mind that first step.”

With a firm push from the woman, Sophie fell forward. Not into the rainy street but into complete darkness.

#sun wukong #journey to the west #jttw #jttw sun wukong #fanfic #jttw-monkeybusiness #celestialkiri #sun wukong x reader

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ambrozjas · 11 months ago

Note

reader x gang request 🫶

Reader that can crochet making a sweater for the gang? (separate)

You don’t have to do and if you do, thanks 💓

the gang x reader that can crochet ꨄ︎

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

sorry i haven’t been posting as fast lately, this one took some time and i put MUCH LOVE into these blurbs, so i hope you guys enjoy xoxo 💕

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

some curse words, alcohol, a mention of a threading needle, let me know if i missed anything though !!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“what’s this?” DARRY asked, holding up a maroon crocheted sweater that he found in a box under your bed.

your head snapped to the sweater, remembering the night you spent hunched over a table, weaving a needle delicately through the yarn, sewing them together.

“oh, uh.. it’s a sweater?” you mentally facepalmed, of course it was a sweater.

darry just chuckled and turned it around, analyzing it and every little fiber of its material.

“i mean, did you make it?” he asked, blue eyes gazing at you. your face heated up under his stare, darry always seemed to hold this forward eye contact that nobody could beat.

“yeah, made it f’you actually.” you said, continuing to iron darry’s work shirt and directing your attention to cleaning.

a silence passed between you two for maybe ten seconds before darry let out a small, “ain’t that somethin’?”

“shut up.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“hey SODAPOP, let me talk to you for a sec.” you said, walking in front of him with your hands behind your back. he was on the couch, his attention now on you rather than the television.

“what is it, darlin’?” he inquired, a smile being brought on his face just from the sight of you. the corner of your eyes crinkled as you grinned, “made’cha something.” you said.

“that so? what is it?”

you brought your hands out in front of you, only to reveal in your hands a small crocheted pony, it had a golden brown yarn for its coat and black for its mane and tail, resembling sodapop’s old horse mickey mouse.

you knew how much he loved that horse, and how devastated he was when it got sold. even if it was definitely an ornery horse. so you crocheted him a little version of his old stable pony, so they could meet again.

soda’s eyebrows furrowed and the corners of his lips downturned a bit, before he looked back up at you. “you made this?” he asked. you nodded and rolled back and forth on the balls of your feet, anticipating his reaction.

“do you.. like it?” and before you could say more, soda pulled you down onto the couch to hug you.

“‘course i like it, thank you.” he said, rubbing your back when you hugged him back.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you groaned as you rested your head on PONYBOY’s bed. you were sitting on the floor, already starting to work on a sweater for your him (although, he didn’t have to know that part), but couldn’t settle on a design.

“hey pony, can you do something for me?” you asked, craning your head to look back at your boyfriend who was laying down with a book in his hands, as usual.

“yeah sure, what is it?” he said, his head bobbing from the movement of mouth moving while his chin was on his chest.

all you did was hand him a pencil and throw him a sheepish smile, cocking your head. “what?” he asked, setting the book down and taking the pencil. “what do you want me to do with this?” he asked.

“need you to draw somethin’ for me hun.” you turn to his desk, opening one of its drawers and finding a blank sketchbook before unceremoniously tossing it to him.

“what do i draw?”

“anything.”

“well cant you—,” he paused, taking a second to look at you batting your eyelashes and pouting at him, “—fine.” he mutters, leaning over the book and sketching away.

you smiled brightly, watching him work. he glanced up at you, unable to hold back a small smile himself. because even if you didn’t realize it, he knew that you had him wrapped about your finger.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you had met up with JOHNNY in the lot again, him still frazzled about his home life. it was getting too much at this point, and all he wanted to do was seek comfort in you.

you held him as his shoulder shook with silent sobs, his hand covering his mouth in order to muffle most of them, but your heart still broke as one or two came through.

“i just—,” another cry, “i just can’t anymore.” he said. johnny’s arm were wrapped around you tightly, like you’d let go at any moment and leave him.

your hand rubbed his back soothingly, occasionally coming up to his head and cradling it as if he was a baby. until he cried himself out.

after a while, you both ended up on your backs just facing the stars. you talked about stuff, dreams of moving away from tulsa or a better life. but then you remembered something.

“oh! shit..” you mumbled, sitting upright and reaching over for your bag. johnny sat up onto his elbow, looking at you in confusion. you rummaged through your bag, tongue slightly sticking out of your mouth in focus before you finally found it with a little ‘aha!’ leaving your lips.

“what’s that?” he asked, watching you pull out a knitted sweater.

“it’s a sweater i made for you.” you shuffled over and handed it to him, neatly folded and smelling pretty like your house.

“if you don’t like it—“

“no.” said johnny. “i like it.” he looked up at you. god, he looked perfect. the moonlight hitting his face just right, giving him a blue hue where the light shined on him and his hair.

you did what any reasonable person would be. you grabbed johnny’s face, giving him enough space to pull away, and leaned in to kiss johnny under the moonlight.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you had spent all night working on this sweater for DALLAS. you were sat at your desk with only a small dull lamp illuminating your work for you. your hands were starting to shake and you growing antsy with how long you were sat for.

dallas, as per usual, was bumming it at your house. he was next to you, laying on your bed arrogantly with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and an arm behind his head.

dally watched you work, his head turned slightly where he could watch you and look around the rest of the room from his peripheral. the way you were just so focused was satisfying to him.

you tapped your foot, you wanted to take a break and lay with dallas but you knew that if you didn’t continue with the sweater, you wouldn’t wanna do it later.

finally, you sighed and smile, holding up the sweater so dally could see.

“y’know i’m not gonna wear that, right?” he said, in the middle of trying to blow a smoke ring.

you just hummed, attention mostly on putting all your supplies away instead.

“yeah you will. i know you will.”

“and how d’ya know that?” he said, turning his head all the way in your direction.

“because i speak dallas winston.” and to that, dallas scoffed and looked away, because he knew it too. he’d wear that sweater in private, but he’d never admit to anybody.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

TWO-BIT took another swig of his booze, watching mickey mouse on television. the grainy audio traveling to the hallway where you were walking into the living room from.

“hey, look at this.” you told him, sliding up next to him on the couch. he looked at you for moment, alternating between watching the tv and you.

you showed him the crocheted sweater, hoping he would like it. his eyes were glued to your tv for a while, before you nudged him in his ribs. he shifted away and giggled a little bit, before looking down at the sweater, his lips parting in shock.

“oh m’glory baby, this is amazin’.” he slurred, taking it into his own hands and staring at it, setting down his bottle.

you leaned forward and looked at how many bottles were on the ground.

“how many drinks have you had?—“

“nevermind that! i’m looking at a masterpiece darlin’..” he said, you didn’t miss how his voice broke a little at the end.

“are you cryin’, keith?” you chuckled, putting your hand on his shoulder. he must’ve gotten a bit emotional with how many drinks he’s had.

“no! i’m just—..” he hunched over and and buried his face into the sweater, taking in the scent of your lotion faint on the yarn.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“awh, hell naw! i’m not wearin’ that!”

“yes you are! get over ‘ere!” you yelled, running after STEVE with the sweater in your hands.

he scurried away, sliding around all the hallways in order to get away from you. you two both laughed as you tried to catch him, and finally you had him cornered.

he was stuck in the corner of your room, eyes darting for any possible way out. you carefully stepped towards him, holding the sweater up by its neck. “nowhere else to go, baby. it’s time.” you grinned, before running at him.

but before you could grab him, steve charged and picked you up, throwing you onto the bed.

you squealed as he blew raspberries in your neck, laughing loudly along with you too.

“just—! just put the goddamn sweater on, will you?” you asked, trying to get through one sentence without giggling. steve held his face in your neck as he thought for a sec.

“can i get a kiss in return?” he lifted his head to look at you, flashing you those beady brown eyes and batting his eyelashes dramatically.

you placed a quick peck on his lips and did your best to push him off of you, throwing the sweater so it’d land on his face. “now put it on.” you laughed softly, and with that laugh, steve would’ve done anything.

when soda came over later that day though, he definitely took notice.

“wow steve, very fashionable today.”

“shut th’fuck up, man!”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ eeek!!! sorry this took so long, all the of gang hcs take me a bit, love :( but i like how this turned out! sorry that sodapop was the only one that didn’t involve a sweater, i just thought it’d be a cute idea 😭🫶

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

#the outsiders x reader #the outsiders #greasers #fanfiction #x reader #darry curtis x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #johnny cade x reader #dallas winston x reader #two bit mathews x reader #steve randle x reader #ambrozjas #kiss kiss

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batsyforyou · 2 months ago

Text

Sauron Sleep Headcanons

Pairing: Sauron x reader

Author’s note: I realized that just because my bigger projects aren’t done, that doesn’t mean I can’t post my much smaller projects.

Taglist: @asianbutnotjapanese

This boy is troublesome.

He doesn’t want to cuddle, in fact I’m sure he doesn’t even know how to sleep or cuddle.

Primarily because Maia don’t require sleep and Sauron would much rather be up in his forge working or at his desk scheming.

However; even if he doesn’t say it, he enjoys your company and will feign being annoyed or put off about sleep itself.

At first he doesn’t seem to notice your lack of attention at night mostly because he doesn’t realize that it’s nighttime. But he does notice your nagging about him going to sleep and getting some rest.

And he hated to realize that your twelve hour nap kept you away from him, kept you from being in awe over him, kept you from fussing over him, kept you from admiring him, kept you from buzzing about his side like a bothersome fly; it even kept you from annoyingly asking stupid questions about his work.

He loathed to know that he missed you when you weren’t there, not that he’d ever admit it. He also came to realize that his refusal to sleep and go to bed hurt you. Every time he denied you he would turn away before he could discover that the face you made wasn’t out of spite or frustration but out of hurt and with your absence he recognized that you stopped asking him to sleep.

Was he inadvertently …fighting with you?

Reluctantly, he understands that he hurt you and he wonders if you knew that he doesn’t need rest. (If only he knew it wasn’t just about rest. Relaxing together, spending time together and receiving affection is important to you.)

So, late at night in his forge he hasn’t so much as started the fire, lifted his hammer or sketched out plans he simply stared at what had been dubbed your spot. Empty and cold.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Rolling his eyes he groans and drags himself to your room. Not bothering to knock he trudges in and strips off his ‘outside’ attire knowing that you hated it when he sat even remotely close to bed in them.

And there you were in a dark room with the fireplace lapping at the stone walls of its home. His bare glittery skin shimmering with every flicker of light and you sound asleep in bed wrapped up tightly in the covers.

Approaching soundlessly he crouched down by your side to watch you. You looked peaceful and warm with every breath you took. He thought that despite being sound asleep that you were lonely.

Observing how your eyes were shut and that you rested beneath the covers he went about the other side and, very gently, pulled the covers down and crawled in. Laying flat on his back he checked that the door was shut and closed his eyes.

… … Now what?

He laid there for several hours unable to fall asleep and he was becoming irritated. How could you do this for so long?

Grumbling, he gave up and instead watched you; taking note of every breath, every twitch of your nose, when you tossed and turned and remarkably, you rolled into his side and snuggled close to his arm. Sighing at his warmth.

Intrigued, he lifted a hand and smoothly stroked your cheek with his thumb. The difference in size between you, softened something in him and he wondered if laying beside you, sleeping or not, was a good idea.

… Well that’s enough sentiment for a suitable amount of years.

Shoving the covers off he dressed himself and went back to his work. And when morning came you could tell that he had been there and was both confused and excited about it. Knowing that he hated compromising you didn’t bring it up simply letting him believe that he was accommodating you in secret.

For the next few weeks he would come to your bed a few hours after you to ensure that you were asleep and lay beside you. Mimicking how you breathed and closed your eyes until surprisingly he fell asleep. Waking up to you grinning down at him he felt embarrassed. Huffing and puffing like his master's dragons downstairs while you laughed.

And it is funny because after his first experience with true good sleep he willingly went to bed with you but he didn’t understand why you always wanted to be pressed against him. He didn’t mind it but he certainly didn’t encourage it. Mostly turning onto his side facing away from you so you couldn’t see the content on his face.

But that didn’t stop you from cuddling up behind him and acting like the big spoon when it was more like you were backpacking him lol. And he liked it, always gripping your hand and bringing it to his lips.

However, with the more you aged and withered the more he held you in his arms and the more he put off his work and stayed in bed with you. Until you died there in your sleep at the ripe age of 80. He never sleeps again. Not even so much as walking down the hall to your room after your death.

Masterlist

#tolkien #silmarillion #lotr #the hobbit #sauron #sauron x reader #mairon #mairon x reader

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bambi-slxt · 8 months ago

Text

🤍𝐒𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞

word count: 2.3k exactly (i'm very proud of myself)

genre/tropes: established friendship, one-sided love (or is it?)

warnings: slight angst

pt two: here

notes from bambi: thank you to everyone who voted for this idea, sorry it came out late please forgive me 🥺

“Can we please get out of here,” Chris grumbled, pulling his beanie down over his face.

“So dramatic.” I tugged my wallet out from under the covers. “Come on.”

“We’re goin’ to Cane's, we’re goin’ to Cane's.”

“You’re chanting again,” I said as I closed the garage door behind us.

He opened my car door, slipping past Matt’s van. “God forbid a man has hobbies.”

“Sure, but you’re not a man.” In true gentleman fashion, he scrunched his nose at me. “Buckle up, weirdo,” I laughed.

We drove in comfortable silence. Darkness had sunken low over Los Angeles, though the city tried its best to keep the light around forever. Apartments glittered up into the night, cars rushed past, and from my speakers, a Travis Scott song thumped rhythmically underneath it all.

As we drove, I rested my left hand atop the steering wheel and touched his arm with my right. Chris looked over with his eyebrows raised. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I said, glancing away from the road for a moment to meet his gaze. “I just think you’re cool.”

“Thanks, kid,” he replied with a grin, looking back to the road. Is he shy? There’s no way.

I drove the rest of the way with my hand resting on his forearm, which he had helpfully rested on the center console.

“Who’s paying,” I murmured, turning the car slowly into the parking lot.

“I got it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you drove, it’s fair.”

“Mkay.”

Walking into Cane's was always a religious experience for me. Voices milled around us as college kids found groups of friends and joined tables together, children ran around begging for more lemonade, DoorDashers ran out with food, and order numbers were called out over the fray.

I sighed. “There simply aren’t enough places where I can get good food for less than ten dollars.”

“Facts,” Chris said. “You want the same thing?”

I nodded and laid my head on his shoulder while we waited in line. Normally not the touchy one in our friendship, something felt different about tonight, I felt different–more open, relaxed. Safer.

That is until he leaned over and pretended to bite my scalp.

Giggling, I pushed him away to fix my hair and he chuckled, looking up to the menu. My stomach tingled.

“–and that’ll be all. ‘Preciate it,” Chris said, taking our cups and moving to the drinks station.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Whaddaya want?”

I filled my cup and surreptitiously watched him fill his. Chris’s arm tensed in the harsh downlighting and the ridges of his veins became ever more prominent. I shook my head to erase the thoughts as though I were some kind of Etch-a-Sketch. I need to chill out.

Chris carried our food out to the car and I tossed him my keys. The parking lot was pretty empty–most people went through the drive-thru. I stepped over a curb and let my body swing around, arms flowing lazily at my sides. The air didn’t feel as heavy at night, even here in Smog City. I felt awake and content with being alive.

“What are you doin’?” Chris leaned against the car braced on one arm, watching me with a half-smile.

“Dancing, clearly,” I huffed, lifting my arms above my head for another turn.

“I’m gonna eat your fries,” he said with a shrug. At my shriek of protest, he snatched the bag of food and ducked into the passenger seat as I tore after him. I slammed the door behind me and fell into my seat, reaching out for the bag. “Give it, jackass!” I yelled with a wide grin. Chris pulled it into the air which caused me to collapse on his lap.

“I give up,” I groaned and laid there with my nose in his stomach.

“So dramatic.” He ruffled my hair again. “Sit up, I’ll get your food.” I looked up at him through the stray hairs he’d created and he looked right back. “What?”

I smiled and sat up, situating myself in my seat again. He paused before handing me my box of chicken and fries. “Did you get extra sauce?” I asked.

“Yeah. I think?” He rifled through the bag as I stole a fry from his box and returned to my own.

“I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

“You’re not slick.”

“yOu’Re NoT sLiCk,” I harped. “I’m just a girl.”

“Just a thief, maybe.”

“You wound me.”

“Don’t steal my fries then.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. Chris tilted his head in disbelief, and promptly proceeded to return the favor.

We munched in the quiet for a while. It felt peaceful, and not awkward at all. Chris could come across that way when he didn’t talk, but he actually enjoyed silence sometimes–it gave his mind time to catch up to him.

“Chris, look,” I murmured, pointing. A group of girls staggered through the drive-thru, laughing their heads off.

“Ooh, okay,” he said, putting his drink down and shifting in his seat. “Here we go.”

Our favorite game–coming up with stories of the people around us. We were the worst people to go to the airport with.

“So, girl in the pink.”

“Definitely planned the whole outing.”

“You think so?” I sipped my drink.

“You can tell because she’s the most wasted.”

“Drinking to forget the annoyance–I can sympathize.” Chris so graciously bestowed upon me a side-eye of putrid proportions, and I pretended to ignore him completely. “My turn.”

“Cool Shirt Girl.”

“Dragged out of the house by the Dress Girl. Would much prefer being at home or doing something more chill than bar-hopping.”

“Oh, they’re bar-hopping?”

I studied the group for a moment. “Yes.”

“Noted.”

“What about Miss Bandana, what do we think about her?”

Chris sat up straighter. “She’s cute.”

“Not the point.”

“So you also think she’s cute.”

“I plead the Fifth. What’s her story?”

He stared unabashedly for a long moment before he spoke. “She doesn’t think she belongs with them.”

I blinked. “Defend your answer.”

“What is this, English class?”

I cut my eyes at him, he smirked, and continued. “Look at how she’s walking, she’s not having as much fun as everyone else but she wants to, look, she’s adding to the conversation, she’s making sure Pink Girl doesn’t fall over…but she’s not starting anything new to talk about, she doesn’t seem super confident. But no one who wears a bandana is shy so it has to be her insecurities about this event in particular, or these people in particular.”

He bit his chicken tender in half thoughtfully.

I sat agape. “Where the hell did that come from.”

“Hm?”

“That was a wild amount of description. And…probably very accurate, now that I think about it.”

“I love these games,” Chris chirped as he settled back into his seat cushion.

“You’re so goofy,” I responded. “Hey Chris?”

“Yep.”

“Why’d you wanna go out tonight?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you want to get out of the house tonight?”

He shrugged, still looking at the restaurant in front of us.

My eyes narrowed. “You left me a two-minute-long rambling voicemail about how bad you needed to see me.”

Chris didn’t react–or at least, not in a way a stranger would notice. His breath changed its pattern, he shifted his feet on the floorboard, and his grip on the armrest tightened. I waited quietly, holding my gaze on his face so he would know he wasn’t off the hook.

He took a deep breath. “I…wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I said softly, sipping my drink.

“How do you know if you love someone?”

I choked on the liquid in my throat. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Like…” he huffed a sigh of frustration. “Like what does love even mean?”

“Well, I think–”

“And how does everyone just know? What does it feel like to be in love? How can you trust that your feelings won’t go away over time? And why am I so scared of it? Who decided what love meant? Why were they the expert, what did they do to be so “in-the-know” about love anyway? Because it’s like–”

“Chris.” He was panting now. “Breathe, kid,” I said, touching his arm again. “Do you want me to answer your questions and give you advice, or do you just want me to listen?”

“No, I want to know, I just…It’s annoying. I hate feeling stupid.”

“And you feel like…you’re stupid when it comes to love?”

“Yeah. The romantic kind.”

I hummed. “You seem to have family love figured out pretty well.”

“Well sure, but I got lucky with Nick and Matt,” he sighed.

“I think romantic love is basically the same.” He looked at me quizzically. “It’s like…Love, to me, is waking up every day and choosing that person regardless of what the day is gonna throw at you. Like if your channel disappeared tomorrow, you wouldn’t ditch your brothers. If your parents died, you wouldn’t leave Nick to deal with it on his own, you wouldn’t ignore how that affected Matt, you know?” Chris nodded thoughtfully. He looked at the dashboard but I realized his mind was probably very far away from the physical attributes of my car. I went on. “Love is different for everyone, so you may not agree with what I think about love, but someone will, and that’s probably one of the people I need in my life. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Chris answered quietly.

“Also, don’t feel stupid. I don’t know fuck-all about math, but does that mean I’m…I don’t know, ‘less-than’ other people who know more about math?” He shook his head and I laid a hand gently on his forearm. “Romantic love is such a small part of all of the love there is in the world and I really think you sell yourself short by placing so much value on people’s knowledge or experience with it. You’ve never been in a romantic relationship before, right? So how would you know? There’s nothing wrong with that, seriously. I haven’t either, does that mean I’m dumb?” Chris grinned at me and I turned away to hide my smile. “Don’t answer that, you dick.” He threw his head back in a laugh, at which point I rolled my eyes so hard it made my brain hurt. “Anyway…” I huffed, trying and failing to appear annoyed, “You’re doing great in the love department. I wouldn’t worry about it at all.”

He nodded and seemed to be satisfied with my answer. “You want a fry?”

“Yes.”

Chris pulled one from his bag and held it out to me. I tried to take it but he snatched it back and held it higher. “Come on, I thought you said you wanted it.”

“Jackass.” I opened my mouth expectantly. Chris placed the salty fry on my tongue and wiped his fry-oil-covered fingertips on my chin as I closed my mouth. I tried to bite him and he yanked his hand away.

“Down, girl.”

“Grrr.”

“Thank you.”

“Hm?”

“For earlier. That helped.”

“Good,” I said, letting the humor filter away from my features until (I hoped) only kindness and empathy remained. “I’m glad.”

A beat of silence passed, during which I turned back to my own food.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

I looked up at him. Chris’s eyes were not on mine. “I love you too, Chris. You mean the world to me.”

“I’m not sure how I love you.”

I sensed he had more to say, so I waited, brows crinkled.

With an anxious inhale, he continued. “I don’t know if it’s…family love or…something else.”

“That’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

I squeezed his arm. “It is.”

A pause.

“Come here,” I said. I gathered Chris into my arms and he pulled me tightly against him, our torso’s separated by the center console. He smelled like cold spices and the mountains. “I care about you,” I whispered, gentle as I could possibly be. “Whatever form that takes.”

His hand slid up and down my back, pressing hard against me–like he was desperate for something, or feeling emotions he couldn’t articulate.

“You are…very cool.”

I chuckled in spite of myself. “Thank you, Christopher.”

“I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied in a more serious tone, squeezing him tight. He returned the favor, and he would continue until his arms ached and his chest begged for relief. We did this sometimes, in moments of great emotion. The words Chris knew could not equate to the sentiments Chris felt, so sometimes we just held each other until we couldn’t anymore. It had only happened twice before.

When he finally loosened his grip, I rubbed his shoulder and leaned back into my chair. “Was that what you called about?”

“Partly,” he said. “Also we haven’t talked so I just wanted to know if you were like…good.” He chuckled. “How’s your love life?”

“Nothing to report.” Liar.

“...That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Say something.

“You wanna head home?”

“Sure!” Say anything.

“Cool.”

I started the car. The engine roared to life as I adjusted my seat and reversed out of our parking spot.

“Thank you for…all of that,” Chris said.

“You’re welcome,” I murmured back, looking anywhere other than his eyes. He couldn’t see the tears in mine–I wouldn’t let him. Chris didn’t need my drama right now.

We drove home with more music than conversation. I dropped him off and watched him walk inside, the boys’ massive garage door sliding down behind him. The car idled in the street for a while as I stared into the darkness.

My phone buzzed in the cupholder–a text from Chris.

iMessage from Orange Juice:

come over more often

i missed hanging out with you

you’re a rly good friend

Thanks <3 you too i guess, I typed, ignoring the hot tears that spilled down my cheeks.

pt two: here

idea inspired by the following track:

request to be on the taglist under this post right here

tags: @pinksturniolo @malirosee @st7rnioioss @nonat-111 @cindylcuwho @evie-sturns @h3arts4harry @fanficsbymia @dazednmatthews @sturniolo-rat @mattsmad @sturniolo04 @bellasturn @blahbel668 @yomamaslays4lyfe @stasiesturn

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