#was feeling too nauseous to write yesterday
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can you explain that post about jann wenner? i know he was the founder of rolling stone (?) magazine but idk much else
(Post anon is referring to!)
Okay so before I jump into this, I just want to make two disclaimers:
Firstly, that Im not an expert on Jann Wenner or Rolling Stone Magazine. I read the first 50-or-so pages of Sticky Fingers by Joe Hagan (and I enjoyed it btw, I just haven’t finished it yet because it wasn’t really clicking for me at the time!), but beyond that, this isn’t really my area of expertise. So I might be missing a few things here and there, which any of you are welcome to add if I have missed them and you feel they’re important!
Secondly, Im also not trying to take sides here. Im just trying to put the reasons why Paul has historically disliked Wenner into a post—and you can call him petty for them or you can say ‘fair enough’. That’s up to you.
So why has Paul disliked Wenner in the past, and why are people surprised about him referring to Jann as a “friend”?
Essentially, from what I know of The Situation here, Paul has historically disliked Rolling Stone Magazine and Jann Wenner because of a few things.
Firstly, a lot of the magazines critics gave his solo/Wings works poor reviews. I won’t get too much into music-criticism side of things, because you can find reviews of his albums archived on the rolling stone website easily enough, and I don’t think it requires much explanation to see why Paul would resent the magazine and certain critics for that. I will however just throw in this tid-bit from Jon Landaus review of RAM in 1971 as an example:
The album’s genre music—blues and old rock—is unbearably inept. On “Three Legs” they do strange and pointless things to the sound of the voice to liven it up; it doesn’t work. “Smile Away” is sung with that exaggerated voice he used for the rock & roll medley in Let It Be: it is unpleasant. The “When I’m Sixty-Four” school of light English baubles is represented by “Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey,” a piece with so many changes it never seems to come down anywhere, and in the places that it does, sounds like the worst piece of light music Paul has ever done. And “Monkberry Moon Delight” is the bore to end all bores: Paul repeats a riff for five and a half minutes to no apparent purpose.
(I know I said I would try not to take sides here, but come on, Monkberry Moon Delight is a banger through and through!)
But then there’s Lennon, Remembers and the role Jann Wenner had in the aftermath of the Beatles breakup, and as well the construction of a certain historiographical narrative which Erin Torkelson-Webber cites as ‘The Gospel According To John’.
Lennon Remembers was an interview conducted in December 1970 between Jann Wenner, John Lennon and Yoko Ono, where John remarked a lot of not-so-nice things about people he’d known, including Paul McCartney.
The interview was published in the magazine in 1971, and John was allowed to edit it. But then Wenner wanted to publish it in full in book-form, which John objected to. Regardless though, Wenner made a $40,000 book deal and published it anyway.
John never spoke to him again after that.
Joe Hagan mentioned his interview with Paul on this podcast interview (which id highly recommend recommend listening to in full, it’s interesting!), and said:
I was asking [Paul] questions that nobody had ever bothered to ask him: What’s your opinion on Rolling Stone and the coverage you and your relationship to its publisher?
[…] [Rolling Stone] were partisans for John Lennon, and that John and Yoko used Rolling Stone to telegraph their independence from the Beatles. Well it turns out that Paul had an opinion about that. And he felt strongly about Rolling Stone as a result, or he had kind of ambivalent feelings—and sometimes not ambivalent—about Jann Wenner.
[…] And then over the long term, of five decades of Rolling Stone, the invention of the Rock N’ Roll Hall Of Fame […] He’s observing, Paul McCartney is, that his legacy as a member of the Beatles is being downplayed to John Lennon, making McCartney the second banana. In which he’s like ‘no, the songs are Lennon/McCartney. We co-wrote these songs.’. So he resents that and now he’s at the stage in his life where he’s really wanting to make clear what he believes his legacy is and should be and what he thinks of Jann Wenner and Rolling Stone; where they play into that. Negatively, in his mind.
[…] I mean you’re talking about a view of the Beatles history and legacy through a different lens. You know, the lens of a magazine that mediated a lot of their mythology, Rolling Stone. Jann Wenner had a lot of power and at the outset was a John Lennon devotee. And he took John Lennon’s side, really.
He also goes on to talk about the Rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame incident, where he says:
When he was telling the story of how Jann had, in his mind, screwed him over on the Rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame induction, he was unvarnished. He was like ‘Jann promised me id be inducted, after I did him a solid, did him a favour—and I pick up the paper the next year and Im not inducted. And he says a bunch of choice words, you know? And I thought, well he wouldn’t just be saying that if he didn’t mean it.’
And in Hagans book, he also writes in more depth about the Rock N’ Roll Hall of fame fiasco:
It wasn’t just the underrated groups who disliked the opaque internal dynamics of the Hall of Fame. Even Paul McCartney felt Jann Wenner was back to his old tricks. McCartney didn't attend the Beatles' induction in 1988. But in the early 1990s, Wenner tried befriending him in the Hamptons, inviting Paul and Linda over to look at his new Picasso. Shortly after, McCartney got a call from Wenner. “He asked me, would I induct John into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame,” McCartney recounted. "I said, Yeah, sure.' I put the phone down, and thought, ‘What about me?’. The thing about John Lennon-McCartney is we were all equal.”
When McCartney asked if he could be inducted too, Wenner said it wasn't up to him; there was a nominating committee, which now included onetime Elektra A&R man Danny Fields. “And it was like, ‘Oh, no, we can't do that, we can't do that,” said McCartney. “In all my dealings with him, it's never up to Jann. It's up to these ‘other people’ who are down the corridor somewhere. His thing just happens to have ‘Owner, Editor’ on the door, but they're responsible for things.”
Indeed, the offices of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame resided inside Wenner Media, which charged the foundation $80,000 a year for rent. According to Paul McCartney, Wenner told him that if he agreed to induct Lennon, the Hall of Fame would induct McCartney the following year. And so McCartney inducted John Lennon in 1994, reading an open letter to him that recounted the highlights of their lives together. […] The next year, McCartney discovered that he was not in fact being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. “I rang Jann and said, I’m getting all the papers; I don't appear to be in it. You fucking bastard,” said McCartney, “We had a deal. A verbal contract that was not worth the paper it was written on. So that didn't endear me to him.” (Wenner said he didn't remember making such a deal.)
Far from receding into the past, the history of rock and roll was a living drama, beholden to the same old Rolling Stone agenda, which was Jann Wenner’s agenda. “It all added to this historical thing, that John was really it in the Beatles, and the other three weren't it, by implication: said McCartney. “To me, me and John writing, it was so equal. And sometimes it was not equal. Sometimes I was absolutely the one that got his ass out of bed. Which I don't go round saying. You won’t find me saying, ‘Oh, it was me!’ You'll find other people saying, ‘It was him! It was me!’ I don't want to do that. I'm happy with half credit.” (pg. 447-48)
As I mentioned before, Im still yet to read Hagan’s biography in-full—I do however own a copy of it, and on the blurb there’s a quote from Paul where he says:
Jann is very good friends with Bono. But you can see it. I think it's a little bit obvious. When I saw that, I thought, “They're gonna get a great review. Whether it's great or not.”
Im not sure when or where this quote came from, but Im fairly certain it came from an interview conducted between Hagan and McCartney—so from that I have to assume its a fairly recent thing Paul has said, given that the book was only published in 2017. And you can tell from these interviews with Hagan that, at least a few years ago, Paul still seemed to hold some type of resentment towards Wenner and his magazine. Hence why people are surprised about him describing Wenner as a “friend” in his recent instagram post.
In that same interview with Hagan I transcribed earlier, he also mentions Pauls agenda in saying these things:
When you’re interviewing people about this subject in particular, its not like you come to them and they’re just innocently waiting for the question. He has an agenda, Paul McCartney. He’s thinking, ‘you know? Im finally gonna lay this one down. You know, Im gonna tell him what I think.’ And I knew this was the case because towards the interview he looks at me and he’s like: “this isn’t gonna be a whitewash, is it?” And I said “No.”. And he said, “Good.”
And I do feel it’s important to recognise that the things Paul said about Wenner to Hagan (just a few years ago) weren’t done so in a vacuum. It’s no secret that Paul is a good PR man, and generally speaking, he doesn’t give off the impression that he’s someone speaks before thinking. So for him to speak negatively about Wenner kind of tells us that, as Hagan points out, there is an agenda against him.
#sorry for taking like 2 days to answer this lol#was feeling too nauseous to write yesterday#and then had to pack all day today because im moving to Liverpool on Friday (yay!)#so yeah. late reply but hope it was informative! <3#there's also a few other things ive come across in hagans book which im happy to post if anyones interested#but yeah hope this helped my luv#jann wenner#paul mccartney#beatles historiography#erin torkelson webber#lennon remembers#beatles#joe hagan
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ONE OF THE BOYS [PART 3]
-> While you pine hopelessly over your best friend, Eddie Munson. You hear the sentiment 'one of the boys' one too many times and you've decided to change that. All in the name of the one boy who won't even look at you, or so you think.
-> eddie munson x you (she/her)
-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst
-> warnings - strong language and suggestive themes [no smut]
-> a/n Oh, my god. When I tell y’all that everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. I stayed up all night writing and editing just to get it out today, so you don’t have to wait another week when I’m off from work again. Yesterday, I was going to surprise y’all with a back to back upload, but when my laptop died and all of my content got deleted, I needed a pause. Anyway, I hope you enjoy Part 3 of a series I didn’t know would become a series.
[Part 2] Part 3
-> <-
You decide to wake up at five because your eyes wouldn’t stay shut any longer. Ripping the blankets off your body, the cool air nips at your skin. You shove your toes into your slippers. Tripping over your tennis shoes, you rethink how close you are to your desk. Feeling around for the corner, you find the desk and you begin to aim yourself the other way. You yelp when your waist collides into the doorknob and you silently curse to yourself while trying desperately not to wake your family. Shuffling through the dark, you take mini steps to your bathroom.
Closing the door behind you, you flick on bathroom light. Squinting, your eyes adjust and the shock of the bright room dulls. You use the toilet first, before your bladder combusts. While washing your hands, you meet your own face in the mirror.
Mornings weren’t your best look. Your hair mats to one side because you’re a side sleeper. Sometimes when your sick you’ll lay on your back to keep your stomach from getting nauseous. Instead of drying your hands on a towel, you toss them back into your hair to mold and shape what’s on your head. Massaging your scalp, you forget your worries for a moment. You wash your hands of the hair that sticks to your hands, and then you dry them off.
You bounce back from the shower when you twist the hot water handle. Water splashes in your face anyway. Steam breathes into your bathroom and you almost feel suffocated by the hot air. That’s what wakes you up in the morning. You strip, then step inside allowing the beads of hot water to bake your skin. The soap you use is plain and boring. It moisturizes the layers of your skin without leaving a scent behind. You watch the bubbles drain below you.
Leaving the shower is harder to you then getting back in. Your day will begin as soon as you step out. Going to school feels like a chore. Your classes all have projects due by the end of the week or by the end of the month. Then there’s the obvious boy you are trying to avoid. Before you can imagine any lewd situations between yourself and him (and trust that you have plenty), you switch off the water to your shower.
You don’t like washing your face in hot water, so you wait until your dry and you have a towel wrapped around your body. The icy water pricks at your pores. You dry, and you apply a thick layer of moisturizer to your skin.
Finding yourself vulnerable in a towel, and thrown into darkness once again because you have forgotten your clothes in your bedroom, you shimmy across the hallway once again.
When you choose a lotion, you act as though you won’t pick the same option you have been for as long as you can remember. The label reads ‘Fruity.’ Simple enough. Throwing on an extra spritz of perfume to compliment the lotion. You like to spray perfume while you’re bare to ensure the smell sticks to you, rather than your clothes.
Wrapping yourself in your robe, you want to take a peak at the sky. Rain clouds form above. Gray all day. You happen to, also, see that Eddie’s trailer is dark. Wayne Munson’s truck is on, and he’s in the driver’s seat waiting for the engine to warm. He goes to work early, and he stays late. That’s how you got to spend so many days and nights at Eddie’s growing up.
You’d tell your mom that you were spending the night with your friend Robin, and she would cover for you in a heartbeat. She must have known what was going on before you did. Did that even count - if you didn’t know?
You shy away from the window.
Going through your closet, you find an acceptable pair of denim that’s right on your hips and loose at your ankles. The striped sweater you call your favorite will scratch at you skin all day, so you put on a plain shirt on underneath.
If the you from a few months ago, saw you sitting at your desk whipping out all of the tools and the sponges that it took to apply makeup to your skin, you’d shrivel in a corner and cry. You got used to the feeling of the brushes against your skin. The way your face feels with a bit of foundation. And the sticky feeling of mascara pressing on your eyes.
As you finish powdering your nose, your stomach growls. Your hungry.
The sun is beginning to wake, and you’re able to move through the home a bit smoother. You find yourself in the kitchen pawing through the refrigerator. No one has gone grocery shopping in a few weeks, so your options are limited.
You take the box of Honey Comb cereal off the top of the fridge. A bowl off the drying rack will do, and there’s even a spoon next to it. You pluck out your mom’s cigarettes that she “hides” inside the box. She doesn’t count them when she smokes, so you know that you can sneak one into your pocket for later.
After pouring yourself a bowl of cereal, and stealing your mom’s cigarettes, you grab the milk from the fridge. It’s heavy. When you open the milk the rancid sour odor spoils your appetite.
“Jesus!” You curse.
The expiration reads about a week ago. Gross.
You toss the milk.
Even though you’re completely grossed out, you shovel a few bites of dry cereal down your throat. Dipping your head under the sink for a drink of water, you slurp down the crumbs sticking to the sides of your mouth.
By the time you’ve brushed your teeth, your watch reads seven fifteen in the morning. If you head to school now, you’ll be there by seven thirty.
That’s exactly what you do.
The drive is quiet. Most of the town hasn’t woken yet for their day. Shops still have signs in their window that read ‘Closed.’
You’re allowed into the cafeteria with the other early birds once you get to school. Finding a group of girls you’re in home room with, they welcome you for a study session.
“You look so pretty,” Michelle gushes over your makeup.
You smile. “You too. I love your shirt.”
“I got it on sale,” she tells you the name of the store. “We should all go shopping on Saturday.”
“Girls day out!” Lisa snaps her fingers. “Count! Me! In!”
The three of you small chat for a bit, before you dive into your awaiting assignments. They’re there to help you. You reciprocate the action when they want advise.
The school bell rings.
You pack up, and you wave goodbye for now. But, you’ll see them again in just a few moments when you get to class.
Heading to your locker for the first time in months, you have to try the code twice. The third time’s the charm. You take the specimen in your locker between your index and your thumb. Finding the nearest trash can, you throw the moldy sandwich away. At least the smell hadn’t penetrated through the bag yet.
You’re just zipping up your backpack after ridding yourself of about a hundred pounds of unnecessary textbook weight when someone shouts at the end of the hall.
Petty squabbles between students, you’re usually able to ignore. However, as all the noise is headed in your direction, you hear your name in between cursed and yells. A catastrophic tornado blows your way. Your feet are firm to the ground in terror.
Roxie’s purple, and about to blow a blood vessel judging by the vein nearly popping out of her neck. Hot on her trail is petite Indie, who’s begging for Roxie to just listen to her.
“Hey, you!” Roxie jabs her finger in your face.
Indie tumbled over her own feet, “Roxie!”
You check over your shoulder in hopes that someone might be there. No one is there except a few onlookers she’s drawn in her tirade. Now, you’re thinking. Eddie couldn’t have spilt the beans this quickly. Could he?
“Oh, I’m coming for you, bitch,” she snarls.
You’re toast.
Roxie is larger than you in all retrospects, but she’s especially big in muscle. If she’s about to pummel you, then you’ll be knocked over and split in two like a pin and she’s the ball going a hundred miles an hour.
“Can’t we talk this out?” Indie asks through gasps of air.
You stare between them. Indie isn’t after you by the worried expression she holds. Still unsure exactly what Roxie’s prattling on about, you decide to wait before you interject.
“Is there something going on between you and Eddie?” Roxie demands.
See, you knew their relationship wasn’t casual! Still, you did nothing wrong. Yesterday, you didn’t even express to Eddie that you liked him in the first place. You wanted to drop the conversation, and he kept going. This is his fault. Why isn’t he about to get a fist to the face? Who’s to say he hasn’t already? Yikes.
Roxie sucks her tongue to her teeth.
“Uh-,” you’re still loading in the information, and you hesitate to answer right away. “N- no?”
“Is that a question?” Her hot breath hits your nose.
You bring your hands down to your sides because you can’t let her see you trembling like a leaf. If she smells fear, she’ll know she’s won. Her prey is hers for the taking.
You’re tired of this. “Eddie and I have nothing going on. We’re just- just friends.”
You have a hard time saying that, but not for the reasons that Roxie has in mind. You’re not even sure if Eddie wants to be your friend anymore.
“Okay,” she sticks her tongue into the flesh of her jaw, and then says. “How come last night he moaned your name instead of mine?”
Blood rushes to your ears. Your face is on fire, and you’re sure everyone can see so.
Onlookers jeer and whisper amongst themselves. Rumors are already beginning from mouth to mouth; and, hitting ear to ear.
You would also like to understand what she meant by “moaning your name.” Spare the details. Obviously, you knew what happened last night. You wipe the winner’s smirk off your face, before Roxie even notices.
“I don’t know,” you fold your arms across your chest. “Shouldn’t you ask him?”
Roxie squares her shoulders. She clenched her fists until her knuckles are white. Cursing a few more angry words your way, she’s a bull ready to charge. You might as well be wearing all red.
“What’s going on here?!”
Miss Brown sticks her nose into the hallway and notices the crowd of people. Before anyone can do anything rash, she pushes her way into the center of the chaos. With an ostentatious sort of sigh that suggests she’s better than all of you, she starts breaking up the fight.
“Off to class,” Miss Brown shoo’s them.
“Let’s go, Roxie,” Indie grits her teeth.
Roxie eyes you one more time. “Fine. I’ll be seeing you later.”
You gulp.
It’s time to play a new game around school: Hide from Roxie! Winners get the very rewarding prize of not getting their face beat in.
You dart from class to class all morning. A huge target sticks to your back with Roxie aiming for a bullseye. Meanwhile, Eddie is still no where to be found. He’s probably hiding under his sheets at home, full of shame when he mistook your name for hers.
That’s just fine by you. You still didn’t want to see him either. Or, maybe you did. First, to clear the air about you liking him. A little flimsy crush isn’t going to break a friendship, right? You’ll get over it in time. Secondly, you’re sure that him naming you is a big misunderstanding. He just got distracted or something.
After lunch was over, you planned to sneak through Mr Campbell’s empty classroom. He doesn’t have afternoon classes, and you can easily shoot through since there is a door on either side of the hallway.
“Over there!”
Roxie has the cheerleaders involved now. No doubt they want a piece of judge, jury and conviction too.
Colliding into something solid, you topple over onto the tile. You’re swept away in thought and you forget to watch where your going. Mr. Campbell has that skeleton on wheels that he’ll leave just about anywhere. But, you haven’t knocked over that stupid skeleton.
It’s Eddie.
“Oh, God,” you rub your backside.
Eddie gasps, “What are you doing?”
“What am I-,” you snap. “What the hell are you doing? Your girlfriend almost tackled me like linebacker!”
Eddie shushes you. “Do you want her to hear? She’s not my girlfriend. I told you it’s casual.”
“Casual?” You want to yell, but you also don’t want her to hear. The last thing you need is for Roxie to see you in the same room as Eddie. “Whatever you have is not casual.”
“I messed up, okay?” He rubs his temple. “Jesus!”
Your chin lifts at the familiar brrring of the school bell. Now, you’re skipping class. You’ll get another hour of detention no matter if you stay here or go to class.
“You’re hiding from her too?” You conclude.
Detention doesn’t matter to Eddie. He just wants to ensure you’re okay. Judging by the way you’re creeping through empty classrooms, you’re doing just about as good as he is.
"I'm not hiding," he jumps when someone's locker slams. "Okay, so maybe I am hiding."
"This is so humiliating," you cry.
Eddie apologizes, “I’m sorry-,”
“You’re sorry?”
You’re grateful that the light in the room is limited. Otherwise, you don’t know if you could have a conversation with him right now. Eddie has these eyes that you could simply drown in.
“It was an accident,” he claims. “You’re the one who said-,”
“I didn’t say anything,” you correct him. “You’re the one with the wild imagination.”
“Wild imagination?!”
“Maybe I do like Jeff, hm? Or- or maybe I’ve come to realize that Gareth is a great guy. Did you think of that?” You stand before him, while he scrunches down into a chair. “Eddie Munson you’re selfish - no, you’re self centered. All about Eddie- it’s Eddie’s world and we’re all just there like puppets on strings.”
“You done?”
“No!” You snap. “Yes.”
“How could you call me self-centered when you’ve been prancing around this place like the rest of the guys don’t exist? Everyone wants to know where you are all the time. Why would I know? Oh, because you’re supposed to be my best friend,” Eddie rubs his hands across his face. “God, when did things get so complicated?”
"When you started calling me one of the guys in middle school, and I just wanted whatever you wanted,” you admit out loud. “Why do you think I changed when Gareth mentioned Roxie? I thought that’s what you wanted.”
Eddie’s unreadable. Although dark, you can see his thoughts bubble and burst.
“It doesn’t matter,” you continue. “You don’t like me like that.”
“Who’s to say that?” Eddie’s voice comes out barely audible.
You shake your head. “Don’t pity me.”
Eddie kicks the stool from under him, “I’m not.”
“Eddie,” you pick at your nails. “What we have is a great friendship. I’m lucky that you’re in my life. I don’t want to risk messing that up. Are- are you okay with that? Are we okay?”
Eddie doesn’t want to leave the air so broken. While the words are spelled out in front of him, he can’t find a way to bring them out.
“We’re okay,” he says.
-> <-
Flicking a green bean on his plate with a fork, Eddie can’t be bothered to bring the food to his lips. Nothing passes his mouth. He watches the ice crystals on his steak defrost because he doesn’t want Uncle Wayne to worry that he’s messed up dinner, since this is the first one they’ve shared in a while. Wayne told his boss that he wanted to be home tonight for Eddie, and here he is.
“You’re not eating?” His uncle points out because Wayne has eaten half of his meal, and he worries that Eddie is appearing a bit gray and slender.
Eddie replies. “I ate a lot at school.”
“In the years that you’ve been under my roof, you haven’t stopped eating,” Wayne lowers his head to meet his nephew’s eye. “Try again.”
Eddie pushes the microwaved dinner aside. A low hum comes from the television, and he’s not even sure what’s on. Someone’s bobbing around like a baboon trying to make a woman smile. Yet another attempt from Wayne to make Eddie relive his childhood, he guesses.
“That girl your seeing isn’t pregnant is she?” Wayne presses when Eddie won’t talk. “Eddie Munson, I’ve told you to use a condom-,”
“No,” he cocks his head to rethink. “No, she’s not.”
Even if Roxie was pregnant, she’d get an abortion and make Eddie pay for it. Actually, he still owes her for the condoms.
Eddie wants to be done with women for a while. But, there is still this pinching on his ears that reminds him you’re still there. He’s actually wearing a pair of your studs that you forgot at his house one day. Since Eddie is prone to losing just about everything, he’s decided to wear them so they don’t get lost. No one even notices except for him. They hide behind his hair.
“Look,” Eddie wets his lips. “If I tell you, then you have to promise me you won’t do that weird ‘oooh’ thing you do. Got it?”
Wayne claps his hands together. Say no more. He’s solved the case! That little lady across the park has had her eye on him since the day Eddie moved in. Wayne really likes her. ‘Thinks she’s a great ball of sunshine that can keep Eddie under control. He’s been just waiting for Eddie to wake up and smell the coffee!
“Really?” Wayne excites.
Eddie exhales. “Don’t-,”
“Wait,” he lectures. “You’re not seeing both of them are you? Eddie Munson that is wrong, and I won’t tolerate that behavior. I taught you better.”
“No-,”
“Seriously, boy. Wear a condom. It’s not just for you, but her too you know?”
“Wayne-,”
“You can’t be spreading your butter on everyone’s toast.”
“Wayne!”
“I knew it,” he blabs on. “Ever since I caught you two brushing each other’s teeth. Oh, I saw this coming - I did!”
That incident happened once, and Wayne would never let Eddie live that down.
You smoke one joint.
After sitting in his room complaining of boredom, you tell Eddie you had never brushed someone else’s teeth before. He hadn’t either. You wanted to try. But, Eddie would only let you if the offer went both ways. Wayne burst in when you were scrubbing his tongue. You splattered toothpaste all over the mirror, while Eddie tried to keep you from squirming so he could scrub your teeth.
“You need to learn how to knock,” Eddie tries sailing with the conversation his old man is going on about.
Wayne challenges. “You know there’s no closed doors when you have girls over, Eddie.”
“Oh, my God.”
Reliving the memory, Eddie wants to make more with you. Cooking. You’ll cook. He’ll burn food. You’ll tell him he’s doing a wonderful job anyway because you’re too sweet to tell him to get out before he burns the house down. Eddie visions that you’ll teach him a better way to organize his clothes. You’ve already tried to show him how to fold, but Eddie only lasted a week doing your method before going back to shoving the clothes in whatever drawer is the least bit full. He’ll now admit that he only let you teach him because he wanted you close. He wants you close. Always.
It’s not just domestic stuff he sees. He wants to take you on a date. Many dates. He wants to take you out of Hawkins, even if it’s for just a day. He misses your laugh. Seeing you cry today broke him. Knowing that you’ve changed everything for him, and he didn’t notice. Because at the core of all the makeup and the hair, he guesses, that he just didn’t care. He loves all the extra, don’t get him wrong, but all he can see is you.
“What are you going to do, boy?” Wayne wonders.
Eddie replies in a question, “What if everything goes wrong? I- I can’t lose her, Wayne.”
“Son-,”
“What if I just turn out like him? Like my father?”
Eddie’s lip quivers, as he bites back the tears he’s been holding onto for years. Not a day goes by does he not miss his father, even if the years weren’t kind to him. His father is locked away somewhere in State, but he hasn’t visited. They’ll take one look at Eddie and they’ll try to lock him away too.
“That’s not you, Eddie,” Wayne opens his arms. “Come here.”
Eddie drops his head onto his uncle’s shoulder. Tears slide down his cheek and across his chin.
“Deep breaths,” he rubs his hand across Eddie’s back.
He doesn’t cry for long, and Wayne wipes his tears when he’s calmer. This isn’t a usual interaction between them, but neither of them care. Wayne takes away a stray eyelash from Eddie’s cheek.
“You like this girl?” Wayne says as a fact more than a question.
Eddie nods.
“You have to try,” he insists.
“Yeah, okay,” his nephew agrees.
Wayne and Eddie end their conversation there. Eddie eventually eats (after microwaving the food because he could have broken teeth on that steak), and the show that his uncle makes him watch isn’t half bad. Their night comes to a close when his uncle snores.
Mouth agape, head tipped over and his feet propped up, Wayne would be out for the night.
Eddie tucks his uncle’s toes beneath the blanket Wayne was hugging. Tip toeing his way into the kitchen, he puts both forks into the sink along with their drinking glasses. The TV dinners find home in the trash can. While Eddie left the television on to lull his uncle in his sleep, Eddie flicks off the living room and the kitchen lights. He sneaks off to his bedroom, the only bedroom in the trailer. Wayne gave up the space for Eddie to grow into.
Eddie finds that sleep won’t do.
You project onto his ceiling like a film about his life. There you are. Every new milestone. Eddie didn’t think about just how many times you were there for him. His birthdays come to mind, even the ones he didn’t want to be there for because he doesn’t always feel like he deserves to be celebrated. You’d sneak off to get him a beer when his uncle was distracted with all the other kids invited.
When you kept him from going outside, while Wayne drove up in his brand new van that was a gift for Eddie when he got his license. Wayne took on extra hours just for him. That might just have been the night his heart beat a little faster for you. Watching you perform songs in your living room in that ridiculous feather boa and sunglasses, Eddie’s drawn to laugh at the memory of you out of tune and off key. You didn’t care. The hair brush you swore was a microphone was just not working that night. You’re much better performer in the shower, you’d said.
Eddie sits up in bed, and he can see that your bedroom light is still on. Your curtains are drawn, but your silhouette dances about. Bouncing up and down will sometimes get rid of your last bit of energy, Eddie’s witnessed your routine first hand. Your wild, and Eddie finds this fascinating.
When your silhouette disappears, but the light remains, Eddie concludes that you’re reading a chapter book. You told Eddie to try reading sometime because that’s what helped you get to sleep. He bought his first book that very same day.
The Lord of the Rings was your suggestion. Not that he hadn’t found it first, but he wasn’t about to point it out. Eddie sees the book hidden under a lighter he used last night.
Smoking seemed obvious to him. He couldn’t sleep, so he would light up. With Wayne home, though, Eddie didn’t want the smell getting to him. He’s pretty sure Wayne knows he smokes by now, and he doesn’t care. Eddie isn’t a reckless smoker by any means, and he keeps to himself. If Wayne found out he was selling, that would be a different story.
Never the less, Eddie reads page after page of the same book he’s been fascinated by for weeks. He immerses himself into the books wishing he could be the hero, rather than the one who runs in the face of danger.
Eddie hears your front door open and close. This interests him and tips his head up. Tossing the book aside like he’s suddenly been hypnotized, he looks through his window.
You’re on the porch in thin pajamas and a robe. A lit cigarette slots between your fingers. You only smoke when you’re stressed. Pacing back and forth, Eddie understands that you’re talking to yourself. He just can’t make out the words.
This is creepy. Eddie shuts his window, and sinks back in bed. Leaving you alone - leaving you alone.
The words in his book blur into blobs of unrecognizable text. All he can see right now is you on that porch. You’re alone - and you’re probably cold. He has a blanket that he could offer. Maybe he could- no, he is leaving you alone.
Eddie wants to untangle the knot he has in his belly. He even tries to convince himself that he’s still hungry. But, he knows he won’t eat. You’re there. Even if you were caked in mud, you’d still be the most beautiful girl in the world to him. Actually, he has seen you caked in mud before. You were definitely hot then too.
Oh, God. What was he doing?
Pulling open his closet now, Eddie finds a jacket to slip on over his pajamas. He takes an extra blanket with him. It’s a bit torn up, but the blanket is clean. Wayne washed the blanket a couple of days ago, along with Eddie’s sheets which he claimed he could smell from across town. Eddie was not that dirty. It was the weed - but, er - don’t ask about the stains. He doesn’t know what they are or where they came from. Seriously, don’t ask.
Wayne is still snoring in the living room. He mutters in his sleep when Eddie opens the front door, and he doesn’t see Wayne stir once the door shuts.
His uncle stretches, and wakes up enough to take a leak in his bathroom. By the time he returns to the living room, he catches a glimpse from the window in the living room. His boy is with you on your porch making you smile and making you blush.
Wayne doesn’t need to spy. He’s seen this movie before when his brother made moves on his girl. It’d be a few more years until Eddie is born, but the picture is already there.
“Atta boy,” Wayne cheers to himself.
Eddie’s sitting with you, and sharing a cigarette. You’re not sleeping either. Dried black makeup you haven’t smudged off is stuck under your eyes. He wants to swipe it away, but he doesn’t know if he should.
“Is your mom in tonight?” Eddie asks.
You shake your head. “No, but my dad is such a deep sleeper. He’s nothing to worry about.”
Eddie worries about your dad catching him there with his only daughter, then your mom who likes to call you both “crazy kids.” Your dad is stern. Overprotective. He’s jokes about having a gun locked away somewhere, but Eddie still has no idea if he is joking. You won’t tell him because truthfully you don’t know.
“What’s got you up?” Eddie brings the blanket closer to you because he sees your shoulders dance.
You shake your head blowing out smoke to the left where Eddie isn’t.
Eddie takes a drag from the cigarette after he says, “I don’t think I’ve been all that honest with you.”
He reads your face.
“Not like that,” he can’t look at you, so he counts the floorboards of your porch. “I said we’re okay, but I don’t think we are.”
Your heart skips in your chest. “What do you mean?”
While Eddie might not be able to look at you, your eyes are all on him. In the moonlight, he’s like this shiny thing. You can’t put your thoughts into words, but he’s carved by the shine of the moon. He might hide his face with his hair, but when he hunches over you relax a bit.
You haven’t been able to put yourself in bed. Knowing that Eddie was there had wrecked your mind. You’re itching to be near him.
The whole day you thought about nothing, but him. How unsatisfied you are with your earlier conversation. You thought being the one to take charge in the conversation, and assert yourself, might make the blow easier. Truthfully, it hurt even worse.
You spent the evening sobbing in your room like a baby. Friends. You signed your name at the bottom of that contract. But, then, you thought about the day you’ll find a nice boy that will like you back. You’ll get married. You’ll get a house. Everything will be okay. But, as you thought about your life, your mind wondered about Eddie. What happens when he finds a girl? He’ll have a wife and he’ll have a house too.
You’ll be at that wedding. Sitting in a chair that’s not too close to the front, but also not all the way in the back. The band sits in front of you. They might not be able to pronounce the brand name, but their check cashes on their suits. All of your friends are his friends.
Eddie’s fiancé is faceless, but her gown is breathtaking. They’ll say ‘I do.’
You’ll cry along with them, but the tears you shed are ones you let out at a funeral. Are you just supposed to sit there and pretend like you don’t want to throw up?
Because that’s not you standing at the alter.
That’s some chick he’s met on the road while he tours with the band. Sure she’s great. But, the sight sickens you. Maybe that means your selfish, but you can’t do this. You can’t see Eddie with another woman. You refuse to see it because Eddie’s always been with you.
“I’m sorry?” You’ve spaced out while Eddie is speaking.
He begins to say, “please don’t make me repeat myself.”
Throwing the cigarette to the ground, you stamp out the flame. You wrap your hands around his neck, and you pull him forward. Eddie's lips meet yours in an awaited embrace. Longing and passionate. His hands burrow into your hair pulling you ever closer. The tender touch of his fingers fall to your waist to tell you he's not going anywhere.
You can't be sure which one of you pull away first. But, when your eyes open you breathe a sigh of relief. Eddie is still there, and he's about as hot in the face as you feel. You let out a breathy laugh, and he hides his grin behind his hair.
It doesn't take long for him to ask,
"Can I take you out sometime?"
And, of course, you say. "Yes!"
-> <-
tags: @hellfirenacht @queercodedcharacter @ogoc-19 @littlewinchester1 @stardustingold @ghost4love @spenciesprincess @animechick555 @foggyfooz @aactuaaltraash @loves0phelia @sofaritsalrightt @thisisktrying @somethingvicked @sebastiansstanswhore
#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson preference#eddie munson imagine#angst#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fluff#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things preference#stranger things fic
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Hi!<33 hope your having a great day!<33 let me just say that I love your geto x reader x Gojo x Shoko stories! They're so funny and sweet! I just love how you write them and their dynamique with the reader! And once I started reading the series I couldn't stop imagining the trio finding out one day after she didn't attend class that poor reader is sick! 🥺 How wold they take of her? (I can't stop imagining Geto and Gojo arguing with eachother while Shoko snuggles with reader and feeds her soup 😂)
Anyway if you don't want to do this ask that's fine! ☺️ Lots of kisses and continue the good work! 💕 (If I mispelled something wrong sorry! English's not my first language)
in sickness and in health (geto x reader x gojo, shoko x reader)
this is totally not just me trying to tide you all over because the main series is taking a long time to write
masterlist
warnings: sick ppl are gross, wear masks, wash ur hands, celsius is used instead of Fahrenheit bcs i say so
You should’ve heeded your body’s warnings to you. Laying in your bed, thermometer sticking out of your mouth as the fever relief patch on your forehead sticks despite your sweat slick self.
Hearing the beeping, you eyes glazed over as you pulled the instrument out, saliva feeling repulsively thick as you stared at the thermometer screen, your breaths short and your pajamas feeling abnormally warm, sticky and gross.
39.4 °C.
You’re absolutely burning up. You shouldn’t have gone with that plan. You knew. You knew, yet you still did it anyway.
“Just get on!” His arm is waving at you from afar, his white button up billowing in the summer breeze.
“Come on, trust us!”
“Plus!” He smacks a smiling Suguru’s shoulder. “Suguru doesn’t skip leg day!”
You should’ve never trusted him. You and Shoko both. Not when he had all 4 of you squeeze onto that bicycle.
“WAHAHAHAH!” Gojo was hysterical as he laughed at your three river-soaked forms. Laughing merrily at his dry and perfectly put-together state from using Infinity to save himself.
“You all look terrible! AHAHAHAHA!” He’s pulling out his phone to snap a quick selfie shots. You’re helping Shoko, shifting a lock of her wet hair away from her face to reveal her grumpy expression.
“Come here.” She beckons you closer, a sweet smile, dripping with anger on her face as her hand moves to tuck your wet hair behind your ear.
Suguru grunts as he looks towards his significant other’s camera, eyes flittering to both you and Shoko sharing secrets as she cups a hand over your ear. You’re both fine. That’s a relief.
His eyes focus back on his still cackling boyfriend. His brown eyes darken with a thirst for payback. “Satoru~, help me out why don’tcha?” A chirp sweetened with an affectionate tone, a benevolent smile bestowed as he holds an amicable hand out, waiting to be helped up as he sits in the water, drenched to the very bone as his now translucent shirt begins to stick to his skin.
You hear Gojo snort in retort, waving off the black-haired sorcerer. “Ya think I’m gonna fall for that? Try harder, babe.” He’s very obviously eyeing the now more exposed Geto, before his eyes met yours. Prepared. Ready.
Shoko is done, her gaze surreptitiously meets Suguru’s own.
“Satoru…” Your watery eyes and helpless expression meets his, a tremble pairing your frowning lips and gem-like eyes shining with your feeble tears.
“Are you not going to help me…?”
Hook, line and sinker.
“L-look, it w-wasn’t on purpose,” He’s gulping as he starts to trek into the water, his shoes getting soaked. Infinity has been forgotten. “I only wanted to-!”
He’s tackled back by 3 weights, all landing on top of him as they start to laugh and splash water onto his still surprised form.
You’re nauseous, head on your far-too-warm pillow as you smile slightly at the memory. Okay. Maybe it was worth it. Just a little.
(You do feel a little better.)
You feel another wave of queasiness hit you once again, your hand over your mouth as you gag, yesterday’s dinner threatening to crawl up your oesophagus and cover your freshly changed sheets with bile.
Oh.
You’ll have to send Shoko a text. You hope she doesn’t mind being disturbed when class has only just begun 2 minutes ago…
——
Insistent knocks at your door wake you into consciousness, your eyes snapping open and trying to clear your cloudy sight.
“C-come in!” Your voice is rough, a consequence that occurred after throwing your guts out in the bathroom. Your stomach hurts, the acid eating at its inner lining as it growls for food.
You haven’t eaten. You probably smell bad. You look horrible.
“A-actually- P-Please don’t come-!” Too late. Your room’s been intruded by 3 individuals.
“Your favourite nurses are here to soothe you back to health!”
You internally groan at the boisterous loud voice. Shoko had told all of them.
——
You see a disgruntled Satoru, cheeks puffed up as he marches into your room with a just as displeased Shoko crossing her arms and pouting.
They’ve been kicked out of the kitchen by a fed up Suguru.
“What do you mean we can’t just buy her instant porridge from the convenience store? It’s instant!” Gojo waves a whisk around as he dons the frilly pink apron, head on Geto’s shoulder and leaning onto him.
Suguru wants to smack someone. He holds himself back as he washes the rice, despite the disturbance, sleeves pulled up to his elbows as he swirls the water within the pot.
It’s for you. It’s for you. It’s for you. It’s for-
“Because it’s not healthy-“ His anger becomes slow irritation as he feels a vein pop when he sees Shoko poking the sweet potato with a pair of scissors.
“Both of you.” His smile is menacing as his aura overtakes the room.
“Get out.”
That’s why both of them were here now, fluffing your pillow, wiping your head with a cold cloth.
“Do you want to change clothes?” You hear Shoko whisper, her voice lulling and pacifying your senses as Satoru does his one task of continuously dabbing your head with a warm cloth.
(He was making a mess of everything else. Shoko delegated him to cloth duty.)
You can only muster a nod. Your clothing is uncomfortable, and she must’ve noticed.
(“Gojo.” She smiles at him as she caresses your warm face. “Get out.”
“Again?!”)
——
She’s helping you out of your clothing, your front slumping into her shoulder as she undid the buttons of your pajamas, the washcloth dragging gently across your damp skin.
Your guilt is starting to kick in.
“I’m-“ Your voice is starting to die. “I’m sorry for being such…” You suck in a breath through your sick haze. It’s hard to breathe. “A burden.” You do. You’re so weak. So useless.
Getting this sick over a culmination of your own horrible habits. Not eating enough, not sleeping enough, not getting enough liquids in during the day… Not taking care of yourself.
You did this to yourself, yet they have to clean up after you. They, who had their lives put together, their own lives to live. Yet, they’re wasting time caring about you.
Do they think you’re doing this only for their attention too? You’re not surprised if they ar-
“Don’t be sorry for things that you’re not at fault for.” Her tone is dismissive but firm. “We’re here because we want to be. Stop being such a downer.”
A pat to your cheek despite the blunt words. A reality to your delusion.
She cares. They care. Deeply.
You could almost cry at her genuity. Scratch that, you already are.
You hide your face away into her shoulder, tears starting to gather.
“…thank you.”
(“It’s not fair that you had to kick me out to do that! I could’ve done it too!”
“Pervert.”)
——
“Aaa…” You’re opening your mouth just as Gojo flies another ‘aircraft’ into it.
(You’re embarrassed. He wouldn’t give it to you any other way. Or normally.)
“Good girl!” He’s ruffling your hair, grin stretched wide across his lips in pure elation as he feeds you.
“Just a few more bites then you can take your medicine!”
You swallow down the piping hot rice porridge that Satoru personally blew on to cool down, the lingering ginger and chives leaving a pleasant aftertaste in your mouth.
“Is… Did you get the syrup version…?” You stare, afraid as you see Suguru holding a tray with the familiar dark liquid and brand, coupled with a tall glass of water.
Satoru’s sunglasses suddenly glint. “Is someone scared of a little medicine?~”
——
Suguru presses the spoon against your trembling lips as you hesitantly part them, allowing the disgusting liquid to run down your throat as he immediately hands you the water.
Your face is grimacing in disgust, in pain and revulsion as you hold the water in your mouth, struggling to swallow down the vile substance.
(You eventually do when Suguru lightly places a hand on your shoulder, relaxing you.)
Applause reverberates throughout your room.
“Congrats!”
“Good job.”
“See? I knew you could do it.”
“…are you all making fun of me?”
masterlist
Notes:
Geto would’ve been the one feeding you, but he saw how dejected Gojo was at not really being able to ‘care’ for you other than being the errand boy sent out to buy the cold medicine.
You drank that medicine after you were promised crepe cake from that nearby bakery.
Shoko was the one who brought up that compromise.
The trio actually wanted to leave the lesson immediately after Shoko got your text. Yaga denied them, but he let them off early on purpose.
Yaga visited your dorm when all 4 of you were in it, coming in to check on you.
He hopes none of 3 get sick from spending so much time with you. Especially with how they basically fell asleep around your bed.
“Kids.” He mumbled, throwing blankets around all of them before he turned the lights off, gently shutting your door.
#geto x reader x gojo#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x reader#whalewrites#getou suguru x reader#dyf au#ieiri shoko x reader#satosugu x reader#jjk fluff
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“ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ꜱʜᴇɴᴀɴɪɢᴀɴꜱ.”
✸ shanks n’ buggy ✸
SYNOPSIS - Being in a relationship with 2 pirate emperors is great, but one aspect that comes with a pirates life is a pirates thirst… no, not that kind, you dog!
CW - gn!reader, obviously there’s some intoxication on both sides, reader is explicitly said to be puking, Buggy is doing some dumb shit, shenanigans ensue.
A/N - I’m back from the dead (work), ready to deliver and slowly (painfully) write my next fic (Christmas themed?)
Probably the first to get black out drunk between the two of you.
He’s been a pirate for most of his life, and drinking was a pleasure he so stereotypically enjoys!
So, when you see his flushed face and goofy smile, you couldn’t help but indulge in his silliness. Letting him play with your hair or kiss you all over your face.
But… when the roles are reversed, he’s 100% on you to make sure nothing happens.
It’s not that he thinks you’ll do something crazy while drunk, no no. Rather, it’s what others would do that scares him.
Pirate bars are filled with crude men swinging their swords around, starting rowdy bar fights which leads to terrified bar owners and civilians to evacuate.
Yes he can take care of you with a simple look- his strong conquers haki coming in play- but he’d rather keep the chance of you safe as high as possible.
“Baby… baby, I’m fine, let me gooo…”
You whines fall on deaf ears, as Shanks adjusts you in his arms once again to make sure your head wouldn’t strain. He chuckles as he makes his way down the wooden steps out of Makino’s Bar, the pounding sound of laughter and drunk men filling his ears.
“I’ll let you go once we’re at the port. There’s no way I’m gonna let you throw up on me again.” He laughs, making you clip your tongue and rub your eyes.
“I didn’t even throw up on you!” You retorted. Which brought another chuckle out of him.
He can remember that scene like it was five minutes ago. Well, maybe because it was five minutes ago. He might be a little drunk himself.
Brushing off the warnings of having too many shots, you took your 21st and started to feel nauseous. Before he could drag you away before you hurled up yesterday’s breakfast. Which happened before he could even get out a word. Leaving him disgusted, but even more worried.
“Sweetheart, trust me, I’m not taking that risk again.” He says, planting an endearing kiss swiftly on the top of your forehead, pulling away at the smell of vomit, Making his nose scrunch up.
Shanks sat you down on the pier of Foosha Village. Rubbing soothing circles on your back, letting you take your course. The night sky shined when it hit the slow waves of the sea, a sky littered with stars. A calm, serene night he loved. Especially with you cuddling into his side.
“Are you feeling better, baby?” He asked, a decimal over a whisper. You nod, groaning into his shoulder.
“Good. Let’s get you home and clean up. And maybe apologise to Makino tomorrow morning if she catches us. Other than that, we can always outrun her fury.”
You let out a weak giggle, despite you still feeling not so great. He holds you in a tight grip, sighing happily and looking up to the sky. Allowing himself to indulge in the beauty of the night sky and the beauty that sits right next to him.
“Remind me to bring a bucket next time.” He jokes, landing him a swift punch to the arm and a goofy smile on his face.
Drinking with him has two outcomes:
Either you’re having good times! A couple of laughs, maybe making some great memories that overlap with some of the more confusing ones of drinking with him.
Or… You’re doing the most batshit crazy thing you’ve ever done in your life.
WITH HIM JUST STANDING THERE.
HELLO!?
When I tell you drunk Buggy can take over the world if he so pleases, I mean it
That man has no inhabitions, no thoughts, just a pure drive to do whatever the FUCK he wants for the next 24 hours.
You wonder how such a cowardly clown can become so brave by just a couple of shots.
And honestly, you can be the same way too. It’s not hard to get caught up in all the excitement and thrill of doing shots with a pirate group and almost ending up with a broken limb.
But MAN-
It’s a really mind boggling thing… Like, you could write a psychology paper on it.
“BUGGY, DON'T YOU DARE MOVE!”
“Huh!?”
Your shouts echo the inside of his towering circus top. There your boyfriend was, drunk off his mind due to some of the finest whiskey found in the Grandline (which he happily took), and placing his left leg inside the brightly human- cannonball. He looks back at you, confused but then displaying a goofy smile.
“Aw, c’mon, baby! It’ll be so much fun, just keep watching!”
The older pirate doesn’t stop himself from doing what he wants, and fully places himself inside the cannon, wriggling around as to get comfy. One of his lackies cackles as he reaches for a match, striking it upwards and starting the fire. Your heart only beats louder and faster at the sight of the small flame.
Of course it didn’t occur to you, that the moment that Buggy the Clown asked you to be his partner, you would have to be his temporary mother when he was shit faced on most Tuesday nights.
But, it’s not too hard to keep him in place most of the time. All he wants are some private cuddling, maybe some kisses and words of affirmation. And don’t worry, when the roles are reversed he’ll do anything to help you, too.
Unfortunately today, he decides to act like a crazed toddler.
Too bad he isn’t, it would be easier to wrangle him up.
“Buggy, baby, love of my life,” You start, slowly inching closer towards the red- faced man as he stared at you with lidded eyes and curiosity. “I really need you to step out of that cannon before you blow to infinity and beyond.”
Then there was silence.
And then there was laughter. A drunken one, slurred and almost high.
“I’ll be fine, I’m Buggy the genius- fuckin’- jester! hit it!”
It was too late, the match lit the tiny rope at the end, as it quickly rises towards where the gunpowder lies.
You plug your ears and close your eyes, not wanting to even look or hear the maniac jester shoot up into the circus top’s top, rip past the fabric and blast off again.
Oh yes… again.
#one piece x reader#op x reader#one piece x you#one piece headcanons#shanks x reader#buggy x reader#red haired shanks#buggy the clown#buggy the genius jester#shanks x you#buggy x you
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the roses and violets have all gone, you took them; blood is red, tears are blue, even my reflection reminds me of you.
tz11 x reader: breakups are tough.
(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), choking (getting back to my roots), hair pulling (his hair has been looking so good recently), description of sadness, insecurity, manipulation (classic tz11 using his body to get what he wants), toxic relationship, makeup sex. idk all my usual stuff. (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)
(a/n: okay, so this one took me a while to write because it’s a lot of tangled emotions that i had to untangle, and it’s a sad one. but, you guys seemed to like my other sad shit, so here you go, maybe you’ll like it. or maybe you just liked sad qh43. whatever. anyways, breakups are hard, and sometimes you feel like you don’t know yourself without another person. it’s a real challenge to find yourself again. just know that you are up to the challenge (i know it) and what a privilege it is, to learn who you are, to grow into a new version of yourself. you guys know my feelings about tz11′s real abilities, so know that i chose this one for him because sugar is my favorite of the names i use. gif is not mine. alright, i’m clocking out of my shift for a bit, taking a well deserved break. don’t know if or when i’ll be back, but enjoy all my works while i’m gone. stay safe. go canucks. sending love to you and your snakes.)
the worst part, the part that was truly a stake in your heart, was that it was your fault. you had been the one to break up with him that night in your kitchen. but you knew it was the right decision, the only decision.
he was always away, and you were bad at communicating, and he got angry so easily, and you were just tired. tired of everything that being with him was. all the guessing and the games and the yelling and all the ups and downs that left you nauseous. it was the right thing to do, something a good person would do, and you knew that.
so much so that you hadn’t cried when you had planned out what you were going to say. you hadn’t cried when you actually did it, or when he exploded at you like a supernova, a bright wave of luminous madness. you didn’t even cry when he left, slamming your door in a whirl of noise and fury. that had been a week ago. how strong you must have been, then.
you were crying now, and had been for what felt like years, like some kind of eternal struggle of a hell. surely you would run out of tears soon, right? surely this mourning would subside? when would the relief come, the freedom?
that felt an impossible distance away now, as you sat on your kitchen floor, hugging your legs into your chest, work in front of you long forgotten. the sobs had stopped, the heaving breaths and choked up throat gone, given way to a slow stream that left your eyelashes damp, cheeks pink, chest tight. your head ached.
you were wearing one of his hats. you had found it yesterday, left abandoned on his hook by the door. he hadn’t grabbed it on his way out, too blinded by rage.
you hadn’t taken it off since. was there a crueler reminder of him? that he once had such a part of you to have his own hook by the door?
you had no idea how long you had been sitting in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. you looked up, sighed, figured one of your friends had come to check on you, maybe brought some food.
the trek to the front door seemed unfathomable. much too long. you’d rather stay here, the memory of that night playing over and over again right in front of you, like some kind of demented hologram. you could still see the flash of hurt in his eyes, watch the hurt burn away into wrath.
the doorbell rang again. you exhaled deeply before pushing yourself up to your feet, began the impossible walk. it would probably do you some good to see a friend. it had been days.
you unlatched the door, kept your hand on the handle a second longer than you should have, experienced a brief flash of jealousy. why should the door get to have his last touch, and not you? with a shake of your head at your foolishness, you opened the door, finally, then froze.
it was him, because of course it was. he didn’t look good, at least not as put together as he normally did. his face looked taut, eyes a bit empty, like someone who had been searching for something for a very long time, to no avail. his hair was messy, stuck up in a million different directions.
your breath caught in your throat, the tears stilled. your hand stopped on the edge of the door. had it only been a week? he looked so different, but at the same time he was exactly as you remembered.
he was silent for a moment, just as you were. when his gaze finally met yours, your head pounded. your chest ached like he had driven a dagger through it. you felt his eyes search your face. he frowned deeper. the tension between your eyes intensified.
“you been cryin’, sugar?” he asked, his voice scratchy, weathered.
oh, that name. you willed all the strength in your body to your knees to keep them from buckling underneath you. at this point you were more sugar than your legal name.
you knew how to be sugar. you didn’t know how to be this new you, this you without him. you only knew how to be his.
“please leave, trevor,” you asked, found your voice a pathetic plea. “you can’t show up like this, it’s not fair.” the crack in your voice made you cringe. “please, you have to play fair.” your last words came out like a whisper, the desperate cry of some sore loser child, unable to come to terms with being tagged.
“i’m not playin’ anything,” he rasped. “no games this time, promise.” his face was deadly serious, it was almost scary. you had always told him that he couldn’t hide anything from you, you could see everything he felt in his eyes. the anger, the hurt, the joy, the teasing, the heat - all of it always flashed like a comet across his eyes, so bright and deep and true.
but now, you were at a loss. you stayed quiet, let the dim light of the hallway filter over his frame, bring him to life.
“i deserve it, sugar, i know i do,” he said, taking a step forward. you knew if you moved you would stumble, so you stayed exactly where you were. “but tell me why you have to do this to yourself.” you could have shriveled away as his raw gaze ran over you. “why do you have to hurt yourself?”
you could feel your lip tremble as your shoulders wilted. because of course he was right. of course it hurt so terribly. “tryin’ to do what’s right, trevor,” you managed.
but then something, something familiar, flashed briefly in his eyes. trouble. “how can it be what’s right if it’s making you feel so bad? if it’s hurting you like this?” he gestured to your face, cracked at the edges with loss and longing.
your chest tightened. “please, trevor, just give me a chance,” you pleaded. “give me a chance to do something right for me, to find someone right-”
your stomach dropped as his eyes flashed again, like a flare gun, like a warning. like the trevor you knew.
his mouth quirked ever so slightly. “oh, sugar,” he said, voice honeyed with pity, “you really want to find someone right? someone else?”
you nodded.
he stepped forward again, shook his head, smiling, now only a breath away. he slowly reached out a hand, tapped his thumb gingerly to your bottom lip, stilled its quivering, dipped his head down to yours. “we both know you don’t know how to want anyone but me.”
you whimpered, stunned by his cruel honesty. as soon as he said it, you knew it was true. so true it made you dizzy, almost delirious.
“you know that, don’t you, sugar?” how quickly your fallen angel had become the arrogant king once again. but wasn’t it the arrogant king that you had fell for in the first place?
and drunk on truth, and tears, and the pad of his thumb on your lip, and his closeness, you nodded. and that was enough.
it was enough for him to flip his hat around on your head until it rested backwards, allowing him the space to duck down and press his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, his broad hands on either side of your face, fingers touching the brim.
and after a week of uncertainty, of wading through an unknown forest, you could have cried at the feeling of knowing, of belonging. finally, him. something you recognized.
you rested one hand on his chest, felt his heart beat beneath you, because of you. the other, you tangled into his messy hair, twisted it around your fingers.
you sighed into his mouth, felt him back you both up until you were inside, against the wall of the hallway, front door kicked shut.
something dug into your back, right between your shoulders. you winced, moaned, soon realized it was a hook on the wall. his hook.
and you couldn’t help yourself, let your anger and grief and desire boil up inside of you, a week’s worth of suffering and longing - you bit down on his bottom lip, hard. enough that he hissed and drew back, just a bit. ran his tongue along the mark and tasted metal. blood.
you met his eyes, found a glaring heat burning there. he brushed a thumb across your cheekbone. “you wanna hurt me, sugar?”
your chest rose and fell in a contemplative breath. you pressed your hand harder into his chest, imagined holding his heart in your hand, making him feel as you had. “i think i do, trevor.”
his mouth ticked upwards again as he brought a hand down to your waist, pulled you flush against him. “hurt me, then.” his voice was a dangerous whisper.
he leaned down again to kiss you with vengeance on his lips, pulled you closer still, off the wall, smoothly took his hat off your head and hung it back on the hook before spinning you both around, one hand still cupping the side of your face.
he walked you both backwards, hanging off your lips the some desperate prayer from a forsaken sinner, until your lower back hit the kitchen counter.
here you both were, in the same place you had ended everything. here you were, willing it back to life, like an ancient necromancer. you never wanted to feel that kind of death again.
you dug your nails into his chest, pulled at his hair, smiled when he groaned, leaned into you further, boxed you into the counter.
you both pulled away for a moment, his breath a sweet warmth on your face. one of his hands slid down to touch your upper thigh.
“you gonna make me regret this?” you whispered, moved your fingers to trace the curve of his neck.
he smirked, chest rumbled, before he hiked your leg up and around his hip, allowing you to feel how hard he was. “missed you, sugar,” he said. “let me show you, yeah?”
you bit your lip, searched his eyes, found them genuine. “show me,” you said, an order, however softly spoken. “now, please, trevor, need to feel you inside me.” as close as you could get after feeling so, so far.
"won’t make you wait, sugar,” he said, pulling your clothes aside and dragging his fingers through your folds, teasing your clit with his thumb. you moaned, tilted your head back. “you’re about ready anyways, hm?” he moved his own clothes, pumped himself a few times.
you braced your hands around his neck for support. “please,” you said, looking up at him through your lashes, a final desperate plea.
he kissed you again, as he pushed inside of you, swallowing your open-mouth moan, stilled as you adjusted to him. he groaned, a deep sound, a sound you knew so intimately and plainly. “there’s nothin’ like you, sugar,” he rasped, his forehead pressed to yours, as he began a pace in and out.
you whimpered. it was almost too much to bear, the feeling of him, so impossibly close. your head rolled back, overwhelmed by both emotion and sensation. you lost your grip on time, on the room.
“look at me, sugar,” he said at some point, his hand coming to support the back of your head, hold your gaze to his. “stay with me.” meaning flooded his gaze. “stay with me.”
you nodded, kept your head up as he thrust harder, teased your clit, felt you clench harder around him. something like a growl escaped him.
you were so close already, every touch amplified by your void being filled, every spark of pleasure immediately burning into a firestorm.
you whined as he thrust harder still. “uh, too much,” you choked. “too much-”
“take it, sugar,” he bit out, “know you can.” he moved his hand from behind your head to your throat, squeezed gently. “take what i give you, hm?”
you dug your nails into his shoulders, relished in the soft warmth under your hands. you swore you could feel his pulse in your fingertips, grew closer, just there. “i can take it,” you breathed, “i will. feels so perfect, trevor.”
he groaned. “missed having you like this,” he rasped. “missed making you cum on my cock.” he rubbed you faster, only his hand around your neck keeping you upright.
you squeezed around him, vision blurring at the edges like a static television, took a labored breath in.
“c’mon, sugar,” he said, resting his forehead on yours, “let me have you.”
you fell apart, so different in the way you had fallen apart that night when he stormed out the door. a wave of pleasure overcame you, complete and undeniable. your orgasm triggered his own, his satisfied groan overwhelming the memory of his betrayed anger that existed in this same place, a week ago.
he leaned his weight forward onto you, wrapped both of his arms around you, held you tight, his exhales a rhythmic lullaby. you held onto each other for a few moments, soaking up each others’ closeness. each other’s being.
it could have been seconds, it could have been years.
“don’t make me go on without you,” you finally said softly. “don’t make me into that girl i don’t know.” you were tired of speaking only in tears. never again.
he lazily drew circles on your shoulder blade with his fingers. “promise.”
a promise, in the kitchen. a promise, late into the night. a promise, you, and him.
and when he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, you believed him.
fin.
#nhl#nhl smut#hockey#hockey smut#smut#dirty imagine#trevor zegras#trevor zegras x reader#trevor zegras smut#anaheim ducks#jamie drysdale#jamie drysdale smut#jamie drysdale x reader#jack hughes#jack hughes smut#jack hughes x reader#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes smut
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Hii can I get Robin x Reader, where Robin wakes up from a nightmare and reader comforts her? I'd imagine it's set after Enies Lobby
ANON ILY THIS IS SUCH A GOOD REQUEST!!! i was kicking my feet and giggling while writing cause robin is best girl ever and hurt/comfort is my jam
summary: fem!reader and robin sharing a bed for the first time after everything that went down in water 7/enies lobby. for context, reader worked for sir crocodile in alabasta and robin took her along when she boarded the merry (but she was unaware of robin working with the government)
word count: 812 words / 0.8k
cw: none!
there are three beds now, in the girls' cabin on the sunny. you aren't sure if you're relieved or disappointed. the shipwright luffy picked - franky is his name, you think - had done a headcount of every member of the crew before getting to work.
the gulf between each bed feels even larger at night. for the first few nights back at sea, you can hear soft, heart-wrenching noises from across the room. your heart sinks into your stomach from the guilt, making you almost nauseous, but you can't work up the courage to get up and check on her.
robin had lied to you.
yes, you know she'd done it for the greater good. yes, you know she didn't mean any harm by keeping you in the dark. but nico robin has been by your side for as long as you can remember, on the sea and in the scorching sands of alabasta. she was there in your worst and weakest moments, and you cherish her. part of you wishfully thought that she too, felt as though she could confide in you just as equally.
she's crying again tonight. robin has always had issues with sleep, though she used to be much more cryptic and closed off about the origin of the problem. sometimes, back in your homeland, she would crawl into your bed after night-watch. never touching you directly, but her presence was warm and comforting.
you get to your feet and slip past a sleeping nami, heading toward the bed farthest from the door and shrouded in darkness. by the time you attempt to make an awkward approach, she is already awake and silently watching.
"i missed you," you whisper quietly, extending the olive branch.
before you can try and come up with something else to say, two hands brusquely push against your back. the motion sends you falling forwards, a familiar laugh and the scent of flowers awaiting. she pulls you close, your face red red red from embarrassment.
"it was about time you came to check on me," robin hums, an errant hand summoned by the devil fruit's magic combing through your hair. "one would almost think you were angry."
"i'm not angry," you grumble. "i was worried. for a smartypants, you've been making real stupid decisions of late. that new captain must be a bad influence."
"it wasn't stupid," she replies, sounding lost in thought. "i did what i had to do. if it came down to it, i was ready to go."
"that's the fucking problem! you convinced yourself you were ready, and-"
"i wanted to live, yes."
"well thank god," you huff indignantly, rolling over so you can face her properly. "i would've been pissed if you dragged me all this way just to go and die like a loser."
she chuckles again, the sound music to your ears. "what was it, mr. 0 used to say all the time? right, yes. we don't lose."
"and die winners?" you finish the familiar saying, "he was always so full of shit. the hell does that even mean? If you're dead, you lose. game over."
robin's breath seems to be evening out, and the throes of sleep are working to snare you too. but you came here for a reason, and you won't just let her ignore the problem any longer. "what were you dreaming about?"
"oh, i don't know," she says, flippant. if you could make out her face in the dark, you're sure she'd be smiling at your imminent frustration. "i never really remember my dreams."
“ever?" you echo disbelievingly, "that's nuts. just yesterday i woke up from an awful nightmare about the captain trying to boil my hair like spaghetti."
"sounds yummy," she presses close to you, now, and her two real arms circle around your shoulders. "but i'm afraid my dreams are top secret, frontier agent miss thursday."
"don't pull that garbage rank on me! you know i'm worth more than... eleventh," you say the last word with enough distaste that robin starts giggling again.
"no offence," robin says, in the voice that means she's about to be totally mean. "but i think your former rank had more to do with uh- how do i put it- your tendency to dispose of your partners."
“it's not my fault he was a dummy and couldn't defend himself," you argue back, mostly for the fun of it. "i really think they underestimated my grand potential."
"well that's why i took you with me, of course," she soothes, and you laugh a little yourself at the insincerity. "i'm serious though, i sleep better with you around. so you are hereby forbidden to leave."
"aye," you snort, raising a wobbly arm in mock salute. nico robin may be a total mystery, but you were raised persistent. and persist you fucking will, until she lets you into her heart.
#one piece#one piece x reader#nico robin x reader#nico robin#requests open#fem!reader#nico robin x fem!reader#baroque works
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You’re not funny…
A/N: I feel not tired at all and kind of nauseous. I think I’m severely dehydrated but drinking the water gives me even more nausea so… tf do I do? Write a fanfic and ignore my problems. I did not proof read it and It’s not a literary masterpiece so please, lower your expectations lol (shuffled my stray kids playlist and we got thunderous this time ;) for our boys thunderous dance moves (I mean that was terrible but I wanna play a song for every fic now so, yeah lol))
Summary: Minho is expecting a nice weekend together that he needed very much but you’re planning to play a prank.
Minho x Gender neutral reader
Minho had been getting frustrated very fast lately. Getting burnt out a lot because this comeback had been so demanding. He could see all the work coming too because they had been told, they were going on tour.
Now he was agitated because he was working all the time and he couldn’t spend time with his loved ones.
He knew what would make him feel better though. Spending time with you. All he was looking forward to all week was a whole weekend with you.
What he didn’t know was that the perfect storm was brewing. At the time where he wanted nothing but affection fhe most, you had the plan to play a prank on him.
You would try your best to swerve anytime he wanted a kiss or a hug. You had seen it on tiktok a lot recently and you just really wanted to try it out.
Horrible timing honestly but you had no idea.
He had called on monday and you would both be spending the weekend together. He hadn’t told you about the tour either because he hadn’t got the chance to. You would never be playing this prank if you knew.
Friday afternoon, he arrives. You hear him knocking on your door and instantly, you ready yourself. Usually you would run to him in the most dramatic way possible and give him a hug. He acted like he hated it but it made him feel wanted.
While he thought about how much he needed that hug, you were making sure you wouldn’t do it. As you opened the door, he stood there for what felt like a century, expecting the hug. You looked st him with confusion.
‘You good?’ You asked with a puzzled look.
‘You usually hug me when you open the door,’ he also looked extremely confused.
‘Oh, you hate it so I thought I wouldn’t do it. Come in,’ you smiled at him. As he walked in, you took the things he was carrying. It was your way of busying yourself.
He let out a sigh as he sat on the sofa, ‘I’m so tired. I could barely sleep yesterday.’
‘Aww, that’s sad. Have you had a hard time sleeping for a while or just last night?’ You came back after putting his bag in your room.
He looked at you and you could see how tired he was, ‘all week. So much work and I just don’t even want to think about it. It’s early as hell but can we watch a movie and take a nap?’
Code for watch something and cuddle. He wasn’t one to just outright ask for physical contact so you had gotten use to recognising when he wanted it and how he asked.
‘Of course we can do that,’ you smiled at him and set up everything for a movie.
You got some sweets and popcorn with the softest blankets. You picked a feel good movie that you both really liked and started to get settled. You played the movie and sat down on the floor.
He was surprised, ‘why are you on the floor? There’s plenty of room on the sofa.’
‘You should stretch out and get comfy. It’ll be easier to fall asleep. I have some work I need to do so I’ll sit here and do it when you fall asleep,’ you said while feigning interest in the movie.
It’s like you could feel him pouting. And he was.
‘Could you not do the work tomorrow?’
‘I’m sorry, my love. It’s urgent. I need to get it in by the end of the day.’
‘S’okay…’ he covered himself in blankets and got comfortable. He didn’t let it show just how hurt he was by it.
He fell asleep after a little while. He woke up a couple hours later and you had nodded off while working on the floor. Your brief was on the table and he looked at it.
He tried to help you with your work sometimes because you liked his opinions on it. As he read through it, he noticed it wasn’t due for another two weeks. That hurt him again because he didn’t understand why you lied.
He moved back and laid back down. He didn’t know how long he stared at the cieling before you woke up. He pretended to sleep when you got up to check on him. You picked up your stuff after you fixed the blanket so it was covering him properly.
After that, you started cooking for dinner. He took a little while before he got up. He acted groggy as he walked into kitchen. You heard him shuffle in and it was so hard not to hug him when he looked so cute with the wayward hair and the puffy cheeks.
‘Sleep well?’ You asked as you moved to the fridge.
‘Mhm, something about this place helps me sleep,’ he smiled.
‘Pff- you’re so sweet,’ you giggled a bit as you gave him some juice.
‘I was talking about your sofa and the tv but whatever helps you sleep at night.’
You playfully glared at him, ‘they’re mine and they help you so ultimately, it’s all me.’
You began washing some extra pots as you let him know what you were cooking and that it was almost done. You felt him get up and walk over. As he got closer, you quickly put what you were washing down and moved away to the stove.
A look of hurt and confusion flashed on his face for a second but it was gone as fast as it came. He followed to look at the food but kept a little distance. He didn’t understand at all what was going on.
You guys set the table up and ate your meal.
He was extremely silent the whole time and it was a very awkward 25 minutes. He offered to do the dishes and as he grabbed the last one, he leaned in to kiss you out of habit as he said thank you. You swerved and this seemed to be his breaking point.
He froze for a moment but then put the plate down and kneeled next to you. He took your hands in his and he looked into your eyes.
‘Y/N, what have I done? I don’t remember doing anything to hurt you and that may also be bad but whatever it is, I’m sorry. Please just tell me and let me fix it,’ he looked so torn up inside and it hurt your heart to see him like that.
And then you broke. (Because you would be a menace to society if you didn’t finally tell him what was going on)
‘I’M SO SORRY! Hold on… I’ll explain,’ You pulled him off the floor and took him over to the sofa. You both sat down. ‘It was such a stupid idea but I saw this prank on tik tok and I wanted to do it.’
The sad look on his face hurt your soul, ‘so you don’t hate me?’
‘God no! I could never!’ You leaned forward and gave him a hug. ‘I’m so sorry! It was a stupid idea!’
He hugged you back in an instant. You were basically in his lap, his face hidden in your neck. ‘Can we just stay like this for a while?’
You nodded and hugged him harder, ‘Can I turn off the kitchen light first?’
‘I’ll pay your electricity bill.’
‘I was kidding,’ you smiled.
‘Someone has to tell you, you’re not funny,’ you could feel him smirk.
‘So mean and hurtful, for what reason?!’ You jokingly sniffled.
‘Feel my pain,’ he laughed.
‘If it makes you feel better, fine,’ you hugged him a little tighter. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘S’okay. I’m just glad it was a prank.’
‘I love you most.’
‘I love you even more’
A/N: I’m thinking of a part two for this. I dont know. Cus I mentioned a tour so maybe it’s worth playing that out a bit. Lemme know what you think.
Please like and reblog and submit your prompts/requests :)
I’m writing anything that comes to mind right now so suggestions would be great.
[I’ve tried to look over it but if there’s anything that isn’t gender neutral about the reader, lemme know and I’ll fix it]
The following parts will probably not come and this was made as a stand alone story. If you’re still wanting to continue reading after this, go for it :) I just wanted to warn you cus if I were you, Id want someone to warn me.
Part 2
#lee know#lee know x reader#lee minho#stray kids#stray kids hurt/comfort#stray kids fluff#skz x reader#skz imagines#stray kids scenarios#skz lee know#hurt/comfort#minho x reader#x reader#skz fanfic#stray kids angst#angst#skz angst#gender neutral reader
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Betrayed.
“I can’t stand him!” Y/N exclaimed, throwing a fit while walking with her best friend, Jaime Reyes. Her anger made her walk faster, making Jaime chase after her. It all started when Jaime noticed Y/N distancing herself from him and he asked why, she said it was nothing and just to mind his own business. During their gym class, Jaime noticed how violet Y/N was when playing a dodgeball match but he couldn’t help to notice how her arm was bruised. He also wondered how she was able to throw and dodge a ball like that. That bruise made him realize that it was the same spot where he hit a specific villain last night. The thought of his best friend being a villain hurts him. He tried removing the thought but it just came back every time he tried to shake it off. After school and on his way home, he spotted Y/N and decided to walk up to her.
“I know you probably don’t wanna talk about your problems right now but ya’know I’m here for you…” Jaime suggested with a soft smile. Y/N turned to him with a dull expression and kept moving forward. Jaime once again followed up in front of her, “Can I at least walk with you? I do feel bad and I can’t stand to see you like this” Jaime pleaded, making Y/N give in. She nodded and the two started walking to the local 7-11 store. On their way, Y/N randomly blurted out “I can’t stand him!” and started marching towards the store angrily. Jaime followed up, hoping to hear more about this mystery guy. “Who? Who’s bothering you?” Jaime asked. Y/N scoffed as she opened the store door.
“You don’t know him…” She said, trying to keep her cool. She couldn’t expose herself to a guy who would most likely betray him to the heroes. “At least you can describe him. I’ll get a better idea of who the hell the guy is. If he is that much of a bother to you then I’ll make sure he gets it coming.” Y/N started chuckling, “And what the hell are you gonna do to this guy? But fine. He’s annoying, always on my ass, and doesn’t stop until he gets his way. Which annoys me because he went way too far yesterday.” Jaime stop to think too far? What does she mean too far? She was the one causing harm and trying to poison the water supply. Is it her? Please... Please… tell me that (villain name) isn’t you, Y/N. Jaime then felt Y/N nudge him. She mouthed you okay? and Jaime nodded. They went inside the store and went to the chip aisle. When reaching for a bag of Takis, the sides of their hands touched each other. The two retracted immediately and looked away embarrassed.
“So…What did he do that was too far?” Jaime asked, trying to change the subject. Y/N grabbed that bag of Takis and walked off to a different aisle. “He- uh… I-I can’t say. Sorry.” Y/N tried to explain but she knew that Jaime wouldn’t believe her. Jaime gave a sympathetic nod. When the two finished paying for their food, they said goodbye and left.
Y/N’s POV
It was very late at night. Almost 4 AM. I had to wait for the perfect time to cause any harm to anyone. Two nights ago, stupid Blue Beetle roundhouse kicked the shit out of me. I thought to myself when I find this bug, I swear I’m going to fucking smash and kill it. As I aggressively put on my suit, a shadowy reflection flew past my window and they left a sticky note on the outside of my window saying “Meet me on top of the xxx building. Rooftop –BB.” I rushed to my window, opened it, and snatched the sticky note. The writing was in all blue ink. I knew who this was. My heart started beating fast, I felt nauseous and anxious. How was he able to find where I live? Was one of the many questions racing in my mind. I crushed the paper and tossed it over my bed as I finished changing into my suit. I flew out the window and headed towards the address. As I was flying there, I tried to retract where I went wrong and how I blew my cover so easily. Nothing came to mind and while trying to come up with another explanation, I had already arrived. There was a figure lurking in the shadows, eyeing me down as I landed on the rooftop of the building.
“Come out, Beetle. I see you in the shadows. Hey, if you were a Shadow then you wouldn’t even make it out of Santa Prisca alive. Your dumb blue armor gives you away” I teased, crossing my arms as Blue Beetle slowly came into the light. I glared into his eyes and stepped closer. Pulling out (some type of weapon) out and pointing towards him. “How did you find me? How did you find where I live?” Blue Beetle didn’t answer but he simply just stepped forward. “Y/n…” Beetle murmured. Y/n? What the fuck? How did he know? I stood there in silence. He walked closer, closer, and closer, but I didn’t move a muscle. Now he was in front of me. I looked down at the rooftop floor while feeling Blue Beetle’s hand reach for my arm. I looked up at him and snarled.“Don’t touch me.” He immediately let go and sighed.
“Why Y/n? Why would you go through this path? You know better than this.” He said, trying to get an answer from me. I knew better than to answer. After all, anything I say can and will go against me. As I was still glaring into his eyes, his face armor started to retract back to his suit. I broke eye contact and turned my head away, refusing to lock eyes with him. No, no, no…not him. Not him! My head started to get foggy and blank. I felt nauseous and took a few steps back. I couldn’t believe that the boy that I cared for, my best friend, Jaime Reyes, is a fucking traitor and gave me that awful beating two nights ago. “Look Y/n, can we please talk about this? Please just hear me out.” I ignored his suggestion. Still not looking at him. I was angry, betrayed, and sad. Tears wanted to come out of my eyes but I held back. With a sour look on my face, I gazed into Jaime’s eyes and mouthed “I’m sorry” He looked at me with confusion. “I’m sorry? Sorry for what?” he asked, looking at me like a pathetic pleasing bitch. I shook my head repetitively and walked towards the edge of the rooftop. I leaped off of it, disappearing and never to be seen again.
Jaime’s POV:
I rushed after Y/N when I saw her leap off the edge of the rooftop but when I tried looking for her, she was nowhere to be seen. I attached my face armor back and flew back home. As I was flying back, I kept thinking to myself What does she mean when she said she’s sorry? What was she sorry for? Days went on and I haven’t seen Y/N attack since. Which is probably a good thing but she wasn’t at school either. It’s like she disappeared from the face of Earth. A few months went by and I still haven’t seen Y/N at all! I asked around at school such as Paco, Brenda, and the staff but they haven’t seen her. I talked to the principal but I didn’t get much from him. The only thing I got from him was that Y/N is no longer in their school system.
When I was dismissed from school, Brenda and Paco both offered to walk me home but I declined. Once I got home, I didn’t even think of patrolling for the night. I just wanted to rest. I can’t help the feeling but I miss Y/N.
I woke up to a crowd outside of my house screaming and yelling but I couldn’t hear anything. My mom rushed into my room screaming into my ear but I couldn’t understand what she was saying for I was still half asleep. She dragged my arm into the living room and turned my attention to the TV. The news reporter was saying something but for some reason, I couldn’t understand what it was that he was saying until I started reading the words that were displayed on the screen. My face froze, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
Local High School Teenager Jaime Reyes Is the Superhero Blue Beetle.
a/n: AHHH THIS TOOK SO LONGGGGGGGG. IM SORRY MY GRAMAR IS SO DOOKIEEE :((
Word count: 1,483
Character Count: 7,572
literally ty @miguelnation bc idk if this is even angst or not
#ambcassspeaks#ambcasswrites#xolo maridueña#xolowithfacialhair#xolo mariduena x reader#xolo mariduena#blue beetle x reader#jaime reyes#blue beetle#cobrakai#miguel diaz#miguel diaz x reader#angst#angst with no happy ending#plot twist#crappy writing#female reader#dc#dc comics#detective comics#jaime reyes x fem!reader#jaime reyes x y/n#jaime reyes x you#jaime reyes x reader#dceu#comics#y/n#cobra kai x reader
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Falling For the Devil [Part twenty-six: "The Big Win"]
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader
Summary: Nelson, Murdock, and Page obtain a big win on a court case that makes the news. You were planning to go out and celebrate with everyone at Josie’s until you unexpectedly overhear something that keeps you at home and in tears.
Or
Your mind mentally spirals telling you that you’re not good enough for Matt.
[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]
Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence
Word Count: 4.3k
a/n: This is a light angst installment with some comfort at the end! I am still steadily trying to bring all 75 (soon to be 76) installments over to tumblr but there are SO many. You can find the list of installments that are on tumblr for this series here. Also, always feel free to chat and leave some love, it is always much appreciated!
Eyes scanning the menu above the register as you waited in line, you tried to decide what you wanted to grab for dinner. You'd stopped inside a Vietnamese restaurant near The Bulletin after you got off work, starving and in a hurry.
Matt had invited you out to celebrate at Josie’s tonight with Karen, Foggy, and Marci. Their firm had won a huge case yesterday–so big of a win that it had made the front page of most print and digital news outlets in the city. Bianca was the one who'd written the piece for The Bulletin, Ellison claiming you were a little too close and therefore too biased to write the article. But you'd smiled at the front page this morning, eyes focused on the image of Matt’s smiling face next to Foggy and Karen on the courthouse steps.
When you'd spoken to him on the phone at lunch he'd been so excited. He had been talking animatedly to you about all the calls their office had received today as you listened with a large smile on your face. You were proud of him and eager to share in his excitement tonight.
Which was why you'd decided to swing by the restaurant to grab some takeout. Your plan was to rush home and eat before changing into something less business casual and just plain casual before celebrating with your friends. And thankfully it was a Friday night, which meant you all didn't need to hold back with your celebrations.
As you were very much considering ordering some beef pho to eat and warm you up before your walk to Josie’s later, your eye caught sight of Matt’s face on the woman's phone in front of you. Smiling, you saw it was the article about their firm and pride flooded you again.
But it quickly left you when the young woman gasped loudly and shook her friend's arm, drawing her attention to the image.
"Oh my God," she hissed, her finger pointing at Matt’s face. "That's the sexy lawyer I told you about!"
You saw her friend glance over at the phone screen, her brows quickly rising high on her forehead at the sight of Matt’s picture. Your stomach felt like it sunk to your knees, a strange feeling washing over you. You knew you shouldn't be eavesdropping, but with what came next, you couldn't stop.
" That's the hot blind lawyer you fucked?" the friend asked in awe.
It felt like time had slowed down just as someone punched you in the gut. She slept with Matt? Your Matt?
"Yeah, a couple of years ago when their firm just opened. I see him around the courthouse sometimes when I'm there," she continued. "Seriously, that man's tongue is magic . And his stamina is insane."
You flinched, a sick feeling swirling in your stomach. Jaw tightening, you tried to fight back the nauseous feeling in your gut thinking about her hands on Matt’s body and his hands on hers–the same hands he tenderly touched you with.
"I actually saw him the other week," the woman continued on, entirely oblivious to your world falling apart behind her. "Was hoping to get another night with him. I mean, no one has compared since that night I had with him. And he somehow looks even more fit now under those dress shirts. But apparently he has a girlfriend? Says he's not like that anymore."
"Well whoever she is, she sounds like a lucky bitch," the friend said, eyeing the photo of Matt appreciatively again.
Yeah, you definitely felt like you were going to be sick.
"That man is wasted on one woman," the other woman grumbled. "There's no way he's satisfied with her. Unless she's like, some sort of sex goddess rolled into a model's body."
Flinching again, you involuntarily took a step back from the pair of them. You did not want to hear this. You did not want to think about this.
"Why would that matter? It's not like he could see her," the friend pointed out.
The other woman laughed as if Matt’s blindness was some sort of joke. The sound grated on your nerves, your teeth grinding together. Suddenly you found yourself no longer even remotely hungry.
Turning on your heel, you sidestepped the person behind you and headed straight for the exit. You felt like you couldn't breathe as you pushed out of the restaurant door, tugging at the collar of your coat and your blouse. For a moment, all your brain could conjure up was the sound of that woman's irritating voice moaning Matt's name.
Tears stung at your eyes and you roughly wiped the heel of your palm over them, exhaling a rough breath and heading in the direction of your apartment.
You just wouldn't eat dinner before going out tonight–not the end of the world.
But as you walked back to your building, you couldn't shake that gross feeling in your stomach. It was churning and twisting and at one point you were positive you were going to dart down an alley and throw up.
You told yourself the reaction you were having was ridiculous. It's not as if Matt cheated–he had slept with that woman before he'd even known you. Years ago. And when she'd apparently propositioned him recently, the thought making you cringe, he'd turned her down. Which was good. That was not something to be upset about.
And it's not like you didn't know Matt had a past. You'd sure as hell watched the flirting on the sidelines for the year you'd been pining for him. Foggy sure as shit had made enough comments about Matt ever since you'd known them about how Matt had been a huge flirt since his college days. Hell, you only had to look at Matt to know he attracted attention.
It's not like you didn't have a past, either. Matt sure wasn't your first relationship or the first person you'd ever slept with. Sure, the number difference between the two of you was probably vast and you'd never had the nerve–or maybe it was also the lack of charm–to have one night stands, but you had a past, too. So it shouldn't even matter.
Though none of that logic remotely quelled the jealous and insecure beast rearing its head inside of you. Because knowing all of that didn't change the fact that you'd just had to see one of the women Matt had slept with and then hear her talk about just how great in bed he was. Your Matt. The one who held your hand and would walk you home from Josie’s, or who clung half-naked to you on an almost nightly basis. The one who you had been slowly stepping out of your comfort zone with, who made you feel safe and secure.
As you entered your apartment building, you wondered just how you were supposed to go out to Josie’s tonight and look Matt in the face without picturing him between that woman's legs. Without thinking about that beautiful mouth–the same one you'd spent so long dreaming about kissing and now actually being able to kiss whenever you wanted for the past few months–kissing her .
You rubbed the heel of your hand over your eyes again, wiping the dampness away.
No, this was stupid. You weren't going to think about that. You loved Matt and you were happy for him and you wanted to go out and celebrate him and your friends' success.
Crossing your arms over your chest, you made your way into the elevator. As you waited for it to ascend to your floor, you told yourself you'd stop thinking about it.
…but you did often find yourself worrying lately that you weren't enough for Matt. He had slept around a lot before you came into the picture, clearly he had never been satisfied with just one woman. So what made you think Matt was really going to be content to just settle for you? You weren't like those confident women he always went for, which certainly translated in the bedroom. You weren't as timid with him as you used to be, but you were sure he never had to reassure those other women he had slept with. Was it just something different for him, sleeping with the shy, awkward chick? Getting you to let loose and then eventually losing interest in you when you weren't as nervous?
Your heart ached at the thought, your chest feeling like it was constricting as you unlocked your apartment door.
No, Matt wouldn't do that.
…but maybe it wasn't intentional. Maybe he didn't realize that's why he'd been drawn to you in the first place and when you were no longer so damn nervous and timid in the bedroom he wouldn't find you as appealing. Maybe he'd go back to the confident women he was always getting hit on by. Or maybe he'd find another awkward woman.
You were crying by the time you locked your door behind you, tears steadily streaming down your face as your mind continued to spiral. You couldn't make the thoughts and fears stop once they'd started coming. There was no way you could go out to Josie’s tonight, not like this. You'd ruin everyone's night.
Rushing forward you flung yourself on your couch, burying your face in the cushions and crying. Your mind kept telling you this was ridiculous, that you were drastically overreacting to what had happened, but then it would moments later throw wave after wave of insecurity at you. You almost hadn’t heard your phone ringing with how hard you’d been crying into your couch cushions.
Sniffling and trying to control your sobs, your head rose from the cushions. You noted the obvious darkened and damp spot your tears had created on the gray fabric before your attention shifted to your ringtone loudly cutting through the silence in your apartment. Sliding your phone out of your dress pants pocket, you glanced down at the screen. You were grateful that it was Karen’s name you saw instead of Matt’s; you didn’t think you could manage a conversation with him right now. Clearing your throat, you tried to will the tears to stop.
“Hey Karen,” you nervously greeted, your voice cracking ever so faintly.
“Hey!” she greeted back excitedly. “Just calling to let you know I’m on my way to Josie’s, but Matt is finishing something up at the office for a minute. Foggy went to stop by Marci’s work and grab her before they headed over. Just didn’t want you to be alone wondering where everyone is at.”
“Oh, uh,” you answered hesitantly, the lie coming out of you before you knew what was happening, “I have a lead I need to follow up with tonight. For a–a story.” You hoped she didn’t catch the way your voice had broken as you spoke.
“Oh, I…thought Matt said you were coming out?” she said slowly.
You heard the phone shift as Karen called back to Matt, who was most likely in his office. A moment later there was more shifting before you heard Matt on Karen’s phone.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Matt began, your eyes closing and fighting down another surge of tears, “I thought you were coming out to celebrate with us? Did something happen?”
“No,” you answered, voice barely audible. Clearing your throat again, you tried to sound normal. “Something just–just came up at the last minute. I need to–to follow a lead. For a story. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ll make it.”
Fuck, you felt like a huge asshole, especially with the dejected sigh you heard over the line.
“Oh, okay,” he said slowly. “I’ll stop by after Josie’s then? I won’t stay late.”
“No!” you answered quickly, cringing when you did. “No, you just celebrate with your friends. Have fun, okay? I’ll uh, I’ll talk to you later.”
You had to hang up, tears already starting to pour back down your cheeks again. You were a monumental asshole lying to Matt like that. A shitty girlfriend for not going out and celebrating a huge win for him and a shitty friend for not celebrating your friends.
It was better off this way, though. You would certainly bring everyone down tonight if you came out. There’s no way you wouldn’t break down at just the sight of Matt, thinking about all those other women he slept with. Thinking about how you’d never be good enough. How you’d just plain never be enough for him.
No. You needed the night in to cry out your insecurities and get your head on straight before you saw him again. You wouldn’t ruin everyone’s night, just your own.
Pulling yourself up off of the couch, still softly sobbing like a pathetic mess, you made your way to your bedroom. You changed quickly into a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a large, comfortable shirt before turning your phone on vibrate and tossing it onto your nightstand. Then you proceeded to draw back the sheets of your bed, forgoing dinner and everything else as you buried your face in your pillow and cried.
_______
Something was buzzing near your head and you groaned, rolling over on the mattress. You had a killer headache and as you opened your eyes to the darkened room, you realized your eyes were burning, too.
From crying yourself pathetically to sleep, you remembered a moment later. Another groan left you as all of your stupid thoughts came rushing to the surface now that you were conscious again.
Realizing your phone was vibrating on your nightstand, you threw a hand out and grabbed it. It was barely ten at night, you’d passed out in your bed for a couple of hours apparently.
And of course it was Matt that was calling you. That insecure feeling swirled and twisted uncomfortably in your stomach at the sight of his name on the screen. With a sigh, you answered the call, pulling the phone up to your ear.
“Matt?” you asked, voice a little thick with sleep. “Something wrong?”
“Yeah,” he answered briskly. “Why were you lying to me?”
Your eyes narrowed at his question. How did he know?
“What?” you asked him.
“You sounded off but I tried to ignore it,” he explained quickly. “Figured you were busy and distracted. So I went out to Josie’s, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So I thought I’d stop by and see if you were back from following your lead–but you’re asleep. I’ve been knocking on your door for the past five minutes. Did you even have work?”
Biting your lip, you knew you couldn’t lie. He was outside your front door after all, he’d certainly be able to hear your heartbeat.
“No,” you whispered.
There was a sharp exhale from Matt over the line before his tone softened into something timid. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked next.
“No,” you answered quickly. “No, you didn’t.”
There was a long pause, one that only grew that uncomfortable feeling in your gut. You felt nauseous waiting for Matt to respond, your palm sweating against the phone.
“You know I can hear your heart, right?" he told you. "That wasn’t entirely true." He paused a moment as your brows furrowed. "What did I do wrong, sweetheart?" he asked nervously.
"Matt, you didn't do anything," you answered firmly.
Throwing your sheets off of you, you climbed out of your bed and headed down the hall. He was silent on the line as you moved, probably more focused on you making your way through your apartment towards the front door.
Quickly unlocking it, you swung it open to reveal Matt before you. His glasses were hiding his eyes but you could see the downturn of his mouth. You both lowered the phone from your ears, hanging up. Stepping aside, you let Matt into your apartment. You really felt like you were going to be sick now with him standing in front of you and closing the door behind himself.
"Why did you lie?" he asked, his cane gripped tighter in his hands as he gazed down at you. "What happened? Why did you–"
He abruptly paused mid-sentence, head tilting to the side. Your own head cocked to the side, wondering what had interrupted him. As you watched him, you saw his hands grip the cane even tighter, his lips pressing firmly together like he was fighting something down. His head shifted back towards you, his expression still partially hidden behind the glasses.
"Sweetheart, why were you crying?" he asked slowly.
You blinked hard a few times. How the fuck could he know that?
"I can taste it in the air," he answered as if he could read your mind. "Tell me the truth, what happened? What did I do?"
"I told you, you didn't do anything," you answered, voice wavering. You could feel the tears starting again.
Matt raised a hand and pulled his glasses off his face. The sight of him only had your tears spilling back out of your eyes. He looked so pained . His bottom lip was starting to tremble as he gazed down at you, his own eyes beginning to glisten with tears.
"Talk to me," he begged. "Please."
"It's–it's stupid," you muttered.
Matt shook his head roughly, taking a step towards you. "No it's not. You're clearly upset," he said.
"I–" you broke off before you even began.
What the hell were you supposed to tell him? That you couldn't stop mentally picturing him with other women? That you felt less than? That you were afraid he was going to break your heart and leave you?
"Hey," he said, tentatively brushing his fingers along your shoulder almost as if he was too afraid to touch you. "Don't get lost in your head. Talk to me. You can always talk to me."
Wiping your hands across your eyes, you turned, making your way to your couch and sitting down. Matt hesitated a moment before he followed, leaving a bit of space between the two of you that you most certainly noticed.
"Are you–" he began nervously, clearing his throat and glancing down at his fidgeting hands, "–thinking about ending…things?"
Your eyes went wide, jaw dropping at his question. "No!" you shot out. "No, that's not it."
He glanced back up at you, his expression still tortured, his own eyes still watering. "Then what?" he asked.
You grimaced, your gaze dropping down to your lap, hands twisting the fabric of your sweatpants. "I was planning to grab something to eat before meeting you all at Josie’s," you mumbled. "And there were these two women in front of me, and one of them recognized you from that picture in the article."
You swallowed hard, recalling what she'd said. Those mental images fought to resurface with him sitting beside you and your eyes snapped shut.
"Recognized me?" he prompted.
"From when you…slept with her," you whispered.
Matt shifted on the couch, moving more towards you. "Sweetheart, I didn't–"
You shook your head quickly, cutting him off. "No, I know. She meant a while ago. Before we even knew each other. But I had to listen to her talk about how great in bed you were," you said with a cringe. "How she tried to sleep with you again the other week. And when she said that you had told her you were with someone, she made a comment that you'd–you'd never be satisfied with one person."
"What?" he asked, brows creasing together.
"And I knew it was stupid, and I tried to leave and forget about that even happening," you continued, a few tears still sliding down your cheeks, "but I couldn't stop picturing you with her. And then I was thinking about what she said, and I worry that she's right. That you won't be satisfied with me." Your voice picked up speed as you began blurting your fears out. "That you'll get bored of me. Or that you'll miss sleeping with someone new whenever you want. Or that you'll get tired of having to reassure me–in and out of the bedroom. Or maybe I won't be as timid in the bedroom and I'll lose whatever novelty I had for you and–"
"Stop," Matt said, firmly cutting you off. "Just stop, sweetheart. Take a breath."
Your heart was hammering away in your chest, your hands twisting the fabric of your sweatpants even faster between your fingers.
"I'm sorry you had to overhear that," he began after a moment. "I certainly wouldn't have wanted to hear someone talk like that about you, either. But sweetheart, I love you. You're not some novelty. You're not boring. And you are more than enough."
His hands reached out, grabbing your shoulders in a tight grip. You glanced up at him, taking in the earnest expression on his face as his eyes fixed along your left cheek.
"I slept around because I was lonely and young and I liked the attention," he admitted. "But ever since you've been in my life, especially as my girlfriend, I have been far from lonely. I don't want anyone else. I just want you." One of his hands reached up, cupping your cheek gently. "I love you. I've told you before but I'll say it again–I have wanted you since the night your friend who's far too interested in my ass told me to buy you a drink at Josie’s. Please believe me when I tell you that I don't want to lose you."
You swallowed hard, a light laugh falling out of you at his comment about Katy. Matt's thumb gently wiped the tears off of your cheek, the rough pad stroking your skin. His words had soothed that jealous, insecure beast in your gut, but now you just felt guilty for letting those fears cloud your mind this evening.
"I'm sorry," you whispered. "It was stupid, I told you it was stupid. And I should have come out but I didn't want to ruin everyone's night. I figured if I stayed in I could just wallow and maybe push it all down and tomorrow I’d be fine."
"Sweetie, don't push those feelings down," he urged. "Because that's when it comes out like this; you shove it down and then push me away instead of just talking to me."
"I'm sorry," you whispered again, shame burning in you now. "I shouldn't have. My mind just started spiraling and I couldn’t make it stop."
Matt's hands pulled you in towards him, wrapping you in his strong arms. Immediately you buried your face in his dress shirt, eyes closing as you inhaled the comforting scent of him. Your own arms hesitantly wrapped themselves around Matt’s waist in return.
“I’m sorry I ruined your night, Matt,” you apologized again into his shirt. “I’m sorry I didn’t come out and that I lied and–”
“Shh,” he shushed you, one of his hands stroking down your hair. “Stop apologizing. Just next time something like this starts growing in your mind, tell me. Please?”
You nodded against him, the tears finally stopping. Shifting above you, you felt him slowly draw you away from his chest, both of his hands coming up to hold your face gingerly in his large palms, tilting it up towards his. He smiled warmly at you, his eyes creased at the corners and filled with so much affection that you felt even more stupid for your earlier thoughts.
“I don’t regret buying you that drink at Josie’s,” he murmured. His forehead lowered to yours, his gaze almost meeting your own. “There’s not a number far enough away from one, remember?”
Your smile grew at the little saying you’d both steadily picked up over the past few weeks about how neither of you regretted that situation Katy had practically forced on the pair of you.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you, too,” you whispered back.
Closing the distance, he brought his soft lips to yours. He kissed you with so much feeling in the way his mouth moved, it was as if he wanted you to never question his love for you again. Your hands that were still on his back gripped his dress shirt tight and pulled him in further towards you, closing that little distance there had been between you on the couch. His hands still held your face firmly to his, even as he gradually and almost reluctantly broke away from your mouth. He rested his forehead against yours, a small smile on his lips.
“Did you eat dinner yet?” you asked.
He huffed out a laugh, lightly shaking his head against yours. “That is definitely not what I thought you were going to say,” he told you. “But no.”
You grinned, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “I can’t celebrate with Foggy and Karen, but I can try to make it up to you. I’ll order us dinner and we can celebrate here,” you offered.
Matt straightened beside you, that smile growing on his mouth. "I'd like that," he replied. "But only if I get to reassure you after dinner one more time." He shot you a wink that had you giggling. "Or maybe two more times."
Still laughing lightly, you slid a hand out from behind his back and grabbed Matt by the back of his neck, drawing him into you for another kiss. His own hands quickly dropped to your hips, pulling you onto his lap and causing you to quickly catch your balance, both legs now straddling his lap.
"And maybe–" he mumbled against your mouth between a kiss, "–one time–" his mouth landed back on yours, "–before dinner."
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x fem reader#matt murdock fic#matt murdock series#matt murdock fanfic#daredevil x female reader#daredevil x reader#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock angst#fftd
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waiting for forgiveness (pt.1) - a Steve Harrington imagine
summary: this is another imagine of friends to lovers (but part 1). Idk writing these are really what gets me in the writing mood and I just love the feel of them so no, I don’t think I’ll ever stop writing them :) this features sneaky fuckboy steve :( Steve and reader have potential to become more than friends, but steve jeopardises this by making a mistake at a party... I am going to do a pt2 sometime soon, too :)
Thanks to @urfriendlywriter for a couple of dialogue prompts sprinkled throughout. Amazing account which I’d highly reccomend.
word count: 3.4k
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As you’re tying the last knot in your dirt-streaked trainers, you hear the familiar grumble of the engine pull up outside your house. Quickly, you jump up from your place on the bottom stair and throw your bag on your shoulder.
“Bye, Mom!” You call out to her, wherever she may be in the house. Without waiting for a response, you twist the door handle, feel the familiar pull and waft of warm, early summer air hit your face as you step out. Everything about this time of year is like heaven on Earth to you. The lighter nights, the sound of kids riding round the neighbourhood on their bikes until late, everything makes life seem so happy. These feelings make Monday mornings that bit more bearable.
Squinting in the morning brightness, you wander over to the passenger side and swing the door open. “Howdy, partner.” You beam, putting on your best Southern accent, as you duck into the seat. It’s the greeting you started using as a joke, but one which soon stuck and became ‘your’ thing, and you love it. However, this morning, he returns it simply with a smile. The leather of the seat crunches and crackles underneath you as you shift to put your belt on. You try not to think anything of Steve’s rather cold greeting.
Rolling the car back onto the road from your driveway, he makes no attempt to make any conversation with you, at all. You’re left staring out of the window for a few minutes, watching the trees go by in a flurry, when you become uncomfortable with your unusual silence. “So, how was the party?”
You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been waiting since yesterday morning to ask him. He went to Leah’s birthday party that she held on Saturday night; you weren’t invited. Even though people know how close you two are, only Steve seems to get invited to these sorts of things.
“Yeah! It was good, thank you. Got home pretty late.” He turns his lips up into a forced smile and nods his head, turning his head briefly to take you in before returning his gaze back to the road. Just seeing you sitting there, blissfully unaware of what he did on Saturday night, he can feel the guilt pooling in the base of his stomach.
He’s felt physically sick with guilt since Saturday night. He was drunk, but that’s no excuse. Plus, he kept telling himself that it’s not like you guys are dating, he had no loyalties to you. But seeing you sitting here now, it’s a totally different story. He changes the subject before things can get anymore awkward.
“I rented a new movie though on Friday, I think you’d like it. It’s all philosophical and shit.” He grins as he finishes his sentence, and you wish he’d asked you to watch it with him.
You nod passively, returning your eyes back to their place to look out the window. “Sounds good, you’ll have to bring it in for me to try.” He cracks the window open slightly to let in a stream of cooler air from outside to circulate the warm car. You’re grateful for the noise the wind makes as it whips in through the window, filling in your awkward silence.
As Steve pulls into the car park, he slides it into park and starts to gather his things, you feel the awkward tension has settled in the car like a thick blanket, smothering you almost. To ease the nauseous feeling rising from your stomach, you climb out of the car and smile at Steve over the roof of the car. Closing the door softly, he starts to lock up the car and you both walk round to meet each other at the front of the car.
His head is shifting around in every direction, scanning the faces of everyone returning to school after the weekend, everyone coming together in a colourful blur of backpacks and hoodies. “You sure you’re okay this morning?” You approach him tentatively and he almost flinches away from you. The sudden movement stirs the feeling of nausea again, cementing the thought that there is definitely something up with Steve this morning, and he hasn’t told you what. You furrow your brows deeply at him, but he does everything he can to dart his eyes everywhere, so they don’t settle on your own.
He nods his head, and his hair shifts slightly, he runs a hand through it and you both start your strides towards the main entrance of school, “Yeah. Just tired, you know. Had a busy weekend.” And that’s that...
You separate as soon as you get into the hallway, and you make your way to your locker. Tick-tick-tick-tick swoosh. The musty smell of the inside of your locker smacks you in the face. Your lip turns up in slight disgust, the smell as if all the previous owners used to keep their used gym gear in there. You still haven’t gotten used to the pungent odour, and feel oddly ashamed of it, even though you do your best to keep it nice and fresh. You grab what you need from inside your locker and exchange it with some books from your backpack then clunk the door shut, jumbling your locker code around before walking towards your first period.
The morning passes you by in the usual Monday morning haze. Double maths followed by social studies does nothing for the tiredness that seems to have plagued you since you woke up this morning. Around you, people have been talking about the party that happened on Saturday night. The one Steve was invited to, but not you.
The day passes by as any day usually would, you meet everyone for lunch and Steve is still acting strange. He picks at his dinner, usually wolfing it down as if he hasn’t been fed for weeks. After ten minutes or so of forced conversation with everyone, he stands up, clears his tray then makes his way out of the dining hall.
“The fuck?” Dustin looks in his direction after he’s left. “Who pissed in his cereal this morning?” He looks to you, his eyes wide with a look of suspicion painted across his features. “You know anything about Mr Grump Ass today, (y/n)?”
You shake your head softly, the corners of your mouth turning down in disagreement. “Nothing. He was awkward and quiet on the way here. It was weird.”
The rest of the guys tut but carry on their conversation as usual. They start to get ready to pack away, leaving you and Dustin sitting with your trays, sipping on the cartons of juice provided in a place that is encouraging you into adulthood, but still providing drinks as if you can’t be trusted with an actual cup.
“I think something happened at that party, Dustin.” You open up to him now that it’s just the two of you. He’s the piggy in the middle. Only Dustin knows that you and Steve like each other. He’s just as close to you as he is Steve, but he often finds himself taking your side than Steve’s if there’s ever any sort of disagreement.
“Has he said anything to you?” You quiz the boy now that you two are alone, not wanting to sound psycho in front of the rest of the group.
You watch his expression carefully, able to read him like a book. It’s unchanged, his eyes filled with confusion more than anything else.
“Nothing at all. That’s what’s so weird.” He shrugs his shoulders and moves around some left-over peas on his plate, stabbing them onto the end of his fork.
Later, sitting alone in last period, the usual assholes jeer around you about what got smashed in the house, who threw up first and who made out with who... blah blah blah.
You couldn’t care less, until you hear Steve’s name enter their conversation. Then, your attention is all on them. Unobvious, of course, you keep your head down and draw random squiggles on your page to make it look like you’re working.
“Dude, where the fuck did Harrington end up anyway?” One of the guys blurts out as he clears his throat, obviously raising the volume of his voice to return their party to the centre of the attention in the room. You roll your eyes to yourself, how fucking pathetic.
One of the other guys puffs air out heavily, laughing loudly. “Inside Leah, that’s where.” A roar of laughter erupts from their table, and you hear the slap of skin on skin as they high five each other.
The emotions all arrive at once, embarrassment, devastation, and the intense feeling as if someone has your stomach between their hands and it is clasping it tight. You try to make your body seem relaxed, but it feels that every fibre of your being has bolted into motion and your body is shivering with tremors of sadness. Still, your back is to the boys as they continue to joke about Steve’s actions over the weekend.
“My boy disappears for half the night,” The first boy starts, through a fit of supressed laughter, “Joins back downstairs, after...” you hear a slapping motion, a steady, rhythmic slapping motion. Your eyes fall shut; you know what they are mimicking. “Then moves onto Clarissa!” The laughter starts up again, causing the teacher to finally approach their desk to have a stern, but quiet word. After she leaves their table, the boys quieten down and seem to turn their attention towards their work. How respectful..
To them, this is harmless banter. But, to you, he’s lied to you. You feel he’s betrayed you. But why? You guys aren’t together, you aren’t in a couple. But he knows how you feel, he would know how much this would hurt you. Hurt you both. You know he wouldn’t usually do anything like this, so the fact he has is causing a lot of confusion for you.
You allow the rest of the period to pass you by as your head becomes a swirling mess of negative thoughts, every outcome of this situation plays through your mind as you hear the scribbles of pencils hit the rest of the class’s paper.
With a start, you gather your things as the tinny sound of the bell rings aloud. You head straight to your locker to exchange some of your things. When you get there, you key in your code as usual, listen out for the familiar sound of the lock falling out of place, but it doesn’t come. You try again, re-setting your code, then switching the dial back around. Again, you’re met with the unappealing clunk of metal on metal when you try to open the locker door. Usually, you’d brush it off, try again and switch the dial once more. However, with the mood you’re in today, you push at the locker with an open fist, causing a loud smacking sound to ring out with an immediate stinging sensation burning your palm.
“Woah, what’d the locker do to you?!” You hear his voice call out from down the hall, he approaches you, but your eyes stay fixed on the lock. You try once more, almost holding your breath as you turn the dial and hear the clunk of the lock falling out of place. Gracefully, but with a deep creak, your locker door opens, and you start to sort through your things, carrying on as if Steve wasn’t stood there. “Everything okay?” He asks, tentatively.
“I’m gonna get the bus home tonight.” Your answer is short and sharp as you rearrange the final items into your bag and look round your locker.
“Oh.. oh okay. Um,” His eyes search your face but get nowhere, you refuse to even look at him. “Has something happened?” He rests his hand on the locker that is next to yours, his hand spanning out across the front. Trying to seem uninterested, you keep your eyes fixed in your dark locker.
Without a word, you swing your locker shut with a slam. The adrenaline of having him near you, added with the information you just learnt in the last hour, is enough to make you shake. Turning on your heels, you walk away and towards the exit doors to the car park.
Steve stands for a few seconds, bewildered. What on Earth just happened there? He watches as you push the doors open and step out into the afternoon sun.
Quickly, he catches up with you and runs in front of you. Luckily, everyone had started to make their way home so the car park is becoming emptier, but to your realisation the quietness also means that the bus has gone. For a millisecond, your eyes meet, and you exhale quickly out of your nose.
“The bus is gone!” You whine to him, throwing your arms into the direction where the bus is usually parked. Almost blaming him for the absence of the bus.
Steve stays where he is, as if his feet are cemented to the floor. “Why did you wanna get the bus anyway, (y/n)? What the hell is wrong with you?” The tone of his voice is unnecessarily pissy, and you don’t appreciate that one bit.
“Fuck. You.” Is all you can muster up to say right now, the colour in your cheeks making it evident just how much rage you have whirling through your veins right now.
“Excuse me?” He retorts, his face contorting into a mixture of confusion and tiredness. A long day of lying will do that to you.
You scoff and start to walk away in no particular direction as option one out of the two for you to get home has already left. Option 2 is standing in the car park, feeling guilty as sin with a deep pit of regret sitting heavy in his stomach. He knows you know now. It’s obvious. He’s still so unsure of what his reasoning was for asking you what happened, or what was wrong, it’s so painfully obvious. He drops his forehead between his thumb and middle finger, pulling them back and forth along his skin. If he’s alone any longer, he feels like he might break down, collapse into the concrete outside of his shitty high school as he watches the one person he truly cares about, the one person he feels he loves, walk away from him. But right now, that’s not an option. His option now is to follow you and try and talk it through, but not here though.
“(y/n)!” He shouts, causing the last few students’ heads to turn in his direction before going back to their conversations. He starts into a short jog to catch up with you, and he does so successfully. Without thinking, he blocks your path and stands in front of you. “(y/n).” He says softly, as you’re forced to come to a halt. “Please let’s not have this conversation here.”
“Who said I even want to have the conversation? It’s clear what you did and that you don’t give a fuck about me. What is there to converse about, I wonder?” Your voice is thick with sarcasm and that hurts him. Your hurt is so evident, you never take this tone with him.
“It’s really not like th-”
“Don’t even fucking bother saying, ‘it’s really not like that’.” You now glare at him, directly in the eyes. You want him to see the anger lapping away at your pupils like small flames, tears starting to pool in your eyes. “It’s exactly like that, Steve. There’s no excusing it. I had to listen to those assholes jeer and high-five each other, over you getting laid on Saturday night.”
Right then a look of almost relief washes over him, this is fixable, he thinks. “Wait, they said that? (y/n), that didn’t happen.” He half laughs at the confession, then realises it was a mistake judging by the look on your face. “Honestly. I did not get ‘laid’.” His fingers go up in air quotations and you cringe. “I went up with Leah and yeah, we did kiss.”
He lets it hang in the air for a moment, watching your face remain completely unchanged. “And Clarissa?! Did you fancy two for the price of one, huh Steve?!”
Confusion settles within the deep grooves of his eyes as they squint in disbelief. “Is that what people are saying?! I got her a drink, (y/n). Yes, I fucked up, massively, by kissing Leah. But I took Clarissa into the kitchen to get her a drink. Fuck my life.” His head swings back and his eyes search his surroundings. Anger swilling around his head causing heat to rise to his cheeks.
Steve is a lot of things in this moment, but not a liar, and you trust yourself for coming to that conclusion. However, your heart still races in your chest and your eyes still swim with tears.
“Can we sit?” His voice is soft, and you meet his gaze, his own eyes now filling with tears. The emotions he’s felt all day are now bubbling to the surface. “Please?”
You nod solemnly and follow him to the bench a few yards away from you both. It takes a while for either of you to build up the courage to speak, both worried that when you try your voices will come out weak, small and full of hurt.
You decide to take the plunge and clear your throat. “You’ve really hurt me, Steve.”
His eyes bore into the thick tree trunk that sits opposite you both, its branches gently swaying in the breeze as the leaves rustle with the sound of the tender wind. He nods softly, “I know.” He rubs his hand across his mouth, his fingertips scratching the skin beneath his bottom lip as he softly chews the inside of his mouth. “I know.” Now, he turns to face you but you’re already looking at him. You watch as his lip trembles, as his eyebrows faintly twitch with every hurtful thought that obviously snakes its way through his brain. You know his little movements, and you know in this moment in time that he’s truly hurting.
“I thought we were going somewhere, I really did. I thought we were going somewhere really good.” You confess to him.
“We are. We are going somewhere great.”
You laugh slightly through your nose and shake your head; a tear rolls over and down your cheek. “Are we, though? Would you really do that if you thought we were going in the right direction?”
“I’m falling in love with you, (y/n).” He goes to reach for your hand, but you move it away. A bold move, you think.
“No, you’re not Steve. You can’t sit here and tell me that. Jesus...” You shake your head, “What’s wrong with you?!” The emphasis on your words is filled with sadness, so palpable that in that moment if a by passer wandered by, they would feel the utter shame and sadness radiating from you both.
After the short discussion, he’s tried so hard to keep his emotions together, to keep his tears held back until he’s alone later tonight, but now they flow freely. Subconsciously, he’s let them fall and they fall fast. “Can we work on this (y/n)? I know I fucked up; I do.” He rubs the back of his hand over his eyes and your heart feels like it’s breaking in two, watching how vulnerable he looks right now. Even though you’re utterly furious with him, all you’re finding yourself wanting to do is scoop him up and hold him. But you need to value your self-respect. So, you just answer with silence. He gets the hint and nods, sniffing and giving his eyes a final wipe with his fingertips. “I’ll be right here, (y/n). For when you decide to forgive me, if you ever do, I’ll always be here. No matter how long it takes.”
Instinctively, you quickly take his hand in yours and give it a swift, small squeeze. Enough for him to be able to feel it. His eyes quickly go down to your hand and then up to your face, a small smile settling on his lips. You swing your bag over your shoulder and get up, starting to make your way to the nearest public bus stop to get you home. Steve respects that, and wants to give you space, so he lets you leave. He sits there for a while longer until the gentle breeze in the air becomes cold and the chill starts to settle. He knows you’re going to want space, but he also knows, from that little gesture, that you’re not giving up on the two of you, either.
#masterlist#steve Harrington imagine#steve harrington angst#imagine requests#stranger things blurbs#stranger things imagine#stranger things preferences#stranger things imagines#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington fic#steve harrington comfort#steve harrington x reader
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Ritual Report: September 26-7th 2023
“Tried to invoke Azrael, met… Jesus?
Disclaimer: I am not Christian or a Jesus freak. This is VERY weird for me. Yeah I know this sounds crazy, I know I’m probably insane and schizophrenic and whatever yes yes skepticism skepticism upgs whatever whatever. I’m not trying to convince you of anything. As a follower of Lucifer, I am not the type to try and pull this card. Let’s fast forward.
These last few months I have had the extreme inclination to work with and invoke Archangel Azrael. I work very closely with a few other angels and spirits who have been continually encouraging me to seek out the Angel of Death.
Yesterday I tried invoking him for the first time. At first I felt nothing for a long time and I felt like I wasn’t really getting anywhere. It wasn’t until I felt a very… heavy feeling blanket me that I felt any kind of presence. I remember I was laying back in my couch, staring into his candle flame and repeatedly thinking about his name, his sigil, and his correspondences. In another astral journey a couple weeks prior I’d identified the entity as one I have been in close proximity to for years. He asked me then to summon him with a red candle and mugwort which I did during this ritual.
Azrael never spoke, but rather he simply produced understanding. I understood very suddenly that Azrael could not necessarily be invoked, he was something that had to be “becomed” and it was clear to me then that in order to understand him, I had to understand what death was and what death meant.
There then a deal of sorts was made. I remember calling out to the candle that if I could truly experience death without fleeing or cowering, that I would be worthy to witness the angel.
I then began to feel very nauseous and cold. I started to tremble in a feverish way and I remember laying back in my chair and considering the consequences of my hubris. I then experienced the removal of all things, perhaps this is ego death. I lost my body, I was transformed into something else. And as I lay there I remember forgetting what I was. I had no name, I was no longer a human. I was just. And I was also everything before everything knew what it was.
Then I began to understand “nothing”. Not nothing but “nothing”. Nothing to be or to remember or understand. I thought then that this must be Azrael, the lack of. Just ___. And I lay there forever and I was
However, it was then that I saw him and I couldn’t fully understand what it was that I was seeing. I remember it being a horrible, massive and overwhelming thing of many blinking eyes that consumed me entirely. I had nothing to retreat to, I was no longer able to be anything else. I then understood that Azrael is not “nothing” but rather he is very much a thing. He is the thing that is the force of transformation. I found him extremely beautiful.
Then finally, after what felt like millennia, I was me again, and I was at the centre of the universe. There sat a robed creature who would not let me see its face, sitting upon a blazing ball of white light. We were the largest and oldest star in the universe, speeding through the cosmos with the rest of the galaxy chasing behind us in an endless game of tag, trapped in our gravity. In front of us was pure nothingness, as we were moving too quickly for time and light to catch up to us. We were headed into nothing.
And i remember remarking that it felt like we were moving so fast, and Azrael “said” that perhaps we were not moving at all.
What we spoke about I cannot fully remember but I know that I asked him about my book. I am in the process of writing a book that is essentially about the relationship between death and god. I told him that one day I wanted to read it to him, and that I would like his assistance with it. I told him that it was only fair that he help me with my book, as I will eventually become apart of his. He found something about that humorous.
When I awoke fully in my body and self, I felt extremely lonely.
This morning, having not cleaned up the ritual, I tried to make contact again. Now I am deeply confused.
I made an astral leap very very easily, with more ease than I ever had with hardly a warm up or an exercise. I was on a beach, at a campfire created with the trunks of white trees.
There was a man sitting there with a banjo or some kind of small guitar. He had thick black hair- it didn’t go past his ears- and and brown skin. He had on a red and cream coloured robe and white linens. He had very welcoming brown eyes. His smile for whatever reason made me want to cry. He was very cheerful. Very kind.
He was singing towards the ocean. I could tell that he was human, and he greeted me like we were friends. I didn’t say anything, I was very confused. This has never happened.
He then offered me a bowl of rice, told me to remove my sandals (which I suddenly had) and asked me to sit with him. So I did, though I didn’t eat the rice. He gave me a wooden cup which I assume contained wine as there was a red liquid inside. I drank it, it was very sour.
He continued singing towards the water - in a language I could not understand- and towards the horizon I could see many “things” maybe angels, watching us from a distance. He concluded his song and a group of men, maybe 5 or 6 came from down the hills and greeted him. The hooped and hollered (like frat boys) and laughed and hugged him, kissed him, very excited to see him. He looked at me and asked if I knew how to play (the instrument) I said no. The men then disappeared all together, though I could hear their cheers fade out long after they were gone.
The man asked me if I was an angel, and I very confusedly said no, I am a human, are you an angel? He didn’t really answer, just took my hands and looked towards the sky.
I knew altogether who he was, or I guess, who I thought he was and I asked him if he was Jesus. He didn’t really respond then either, just smiled warmly.
I told him that I was a witch and a pagan, that I revered his father but that I will not be Christian. I asked if he hated the fact that I work often with Father Lucifer. He smiled at me, and put his head against mine. We were eye to eye. He told me that I am very complicated- and that all his friends are very very complicated.
He then told me that I spoke to death, I said yes, he asked why. I said I wish to know it as I would know an old friend.
It was only then that I had a “realization” looking at this man. Is this actually Jesus Christ of Nazareth? Really? Oh my? All the things I could ask, what an opportunity! Not being Christian myself I could be so objective, I could get the real truth. But then I started asking questions that you wouldn’t think to ask Jesus. I don’t really know why I asked these questions now that I look back on it. I could have asked him anything.
I asked him how it felt the first time he breathed air, what did he think of water the first time he touched it? What did the smell of smoke or the feelings of digestion feel like to a God made man?? What were his first feelings of life like?
He broke out into a laughter and started putting sand in my hands. It was terribly vivid. I could feel every grain of sand running across my skin. He said he was so overjoyed to be able to experience creation first hand. I said that’s what I do with magick even though it is blasphemous, to understand the gods and the natural ways of the world was like experiencing the beauty of living for the first time.
He said he understood that very well, that “even Lucifer is brilliant to behold when beheld. That’s undeniable, don’t you agree?” and I did. He then told me that Azrael is his good friend and is a friend to all those who love life. He asked me if I am wicked, and I said that I could not stand near him if I was. Noting this, he asked if I believed he was the son of God, and I said that I believed he was a good man, I know nothing beyond that.
I asked him if I should “read his book”, he said he doubts I’d find him there.
He was always cheerful and continued to sing. I just sat with him there as he sung over the ocean waves and the loneliness that Azrael had afflicted me with had lifted altogether. His voice wasn’t perfect but it was beautiful. He wasn’t perfect either, he had some crooked teeth and some blemishes on his skin. He was handsome but not in the way that angels are. His feet were ashy from the sand he spilled a little bit of rice on himself when he ate. I cannot get his smile out of my head.
I’m… conflicted. I don’t worship God and yet this man seemed less concerned with that. He admired my pursuit of Azrael even though I had done it in such an overtly pagan way. I did not pray to Yahweh to see this man that I believe was Jesus, and yet he appeared when I invoked the angel of death. He did not preach to me about the glory of God, he just sang, shared a drink with me and held my hand. He had no problem with me working with Lucifer, he had no problem with me being a witch. He loved- adored creation. He was unlike any angel, he was extremely human and we were friends.
I don’t know what to do with this.
#witchcraft#magick#occultism#witch community#paganism#demonology#witch aesthetic#grimoire#pagan#witchblr#spiritual practitioner#spirituality#rituals#astral plane#astral travel#angels#azrael#spiritualjourney#angelology#luciferian#eclectic witch#invocation
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Presume Not That I Am What I Once Was - The King (2019)
Pairing: Prince Hal/Henry V x female!reader
Description: You and Hal fall for each other as both of your realities come crashing down, all at once.
Word count: 801
Warnings: mentions of sex, female anatomy and allusion to pregnancy, supporting character death (?)
A/N: Hiii! Long author’s note warning. It’s been so long since I’ve posted on here. Of course the first fic I write on return is about the love of my life, Prince Hal. Now, for the record, I will always, ALWAYS see Tom Hiddleston as Hal. Full stop. #HollowCrownSuperiority. But yesterday, I was looking at scenes from The King (with which I take great issue, but we aren’t ready for that conversation) and the visuals (read: Timmy’s face) were giving way too much for me not to be inspired to write about such a complex, clever, and conflicted character. Soooooo here’s 800-ish words about our beloved prodigal son/wayward prince turned King of England. Oh, also, right below here is *probably* my favorite Shakespeare monologue. Very revealing (and confounding) of Hal, and what made me fall in love with this character. <3
Henry IV Act I, Scene ii
PRINCE
I know you all, and will awhile uphold
The unyoked humor of your idleness.
Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wondered at
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapors that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work,
But when they seldom come, they wished-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So when this loose behavior I throw off
And pay the debt I never promisèd,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men’s hopes;
And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glitt’ring o’er my fault,
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
You didn’t know it would be the last time. The last time you would hear the voice he never used around anyone else but you, tender, caring, adoring. The last time you would see him grin like he did when he was too far gone from drink, euphorically gleeful. The last time you would ever be able to touch him. Here, he wasn’t the Prince of Wales; he was Hal.
You weren’t expecting to feel the way you did about him. The way your heart beat faster each time he swaggered into the Boar’s Head Inn. The knot in the pit of your stomach when you’d come downstairs to find Sibyl perched on the prince’s lap with his hand ‘round her waist. You kept your eye trained on him every night, gambling and singing and fucking the night away.
At first, it was just like any other lay with the drunken, unkempt men that passed their time here. Just bodies moving together. Over time he visited Sibyl less and less, and wasted no time pulling you upstairs. He would stay the whole night and hold onto you in his sleep.
He wasn’t expecting to traipse around Eastcheap only for his mind to wander back to you. Back to the conversations you two shared in that Spartan single-room apartment after it was all over, the both of you laying entangled atop sweat-soaked sheets. He loved watching you gaze at him in the candlelight as he murmured tales of his antics with Falstaff and Poins, almost always punctuated with the faint grunts, cries, and rhythmic banging and rocking from all around, a prelude to another round of lovemaking.
It was the night after his father, Henry IV, had succumbed to the pox. Hal wasn’t gentle this time. He fucked hard, the rocking making you nauseous at one point, not that he would have noticed because he had kept his eyes closed the whole time. You wondered what was going on in his head. You wondered when you would summon the strength to tell him. Hal thrusted and thrusted, but it was all for naught. His moans turned to whimpers. He collapsed beside you; head buried in the crook of your neck as he broke into a sob.
“Hey, hey,” you said, turning to him and pulling him into you, your hand cradling the back of his head. His breath came out in warm huffs and tears seeped onto your breast.
“My father...” Hal mumbled. You pulled his face up to yours, thumbs wiping the tears from his bloodshot eyes. He looked tragically beautiful. While you cursed yourself for what was to come, Hal replayed his words to his father’s councilors. Know now that you will be watched over by an altogether different king. Hal assumed – no, he knew – his father saw him as nothing but a royal pain. His thoughts were interrupted by your quiet groan. You winced and looked down, hand to your lower stomach. Hal’s eyes followed. You hadn’t meant to let out a sound, jerking your hand back down to the bed. In fact, you had been good at hiding it. Or so you thought. Your eyes traveled slowly back up and you met your lover’s gaze. You’d never seen so many thoughts go on behind someone’s eyes, grief, trepidation, yearning, remorse… You held each other as hard as you had the very first time, a goodbye of sorts. But that was the thing about goodbyes, endings – no one ever shared them for the same reason.
Snow fell the day Hal became King Henry V of England. The Abbey bells rang out around London. Your hand slid to your belly instinctively and gazed at the city from your window, just barely making out the palace in the distance.
#the king 2019#the king netflix#prince hal x reader#the king#henry v x reader#timothee chalamet#timothee chalamet fic#henry v x oc#henry v x ofc#iz writes
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In your last fic, Luke mentioned that it’s bulking season, so I have an idea pertaining to that. I read somewhere that eating right before going to bed is an effective way of gaining weight, but it can also lead to indigestion.
Maybe Luke overeats before going to sleep with Bella. He wakes up the next morning still feeling really full and now he’s nauseous.
Maybe he tries to hide it from Bella because she warned him about this happening the night before, but he ends up puking and he has to admit she was right
(I love your writing btw, I’ve fallen in love with all of your characters <3)
"No," Bella shook her head, snatching the banana from his hands, "absolutely not, Lucas."
He let out a whine and stretched on the couch, trapping her with his legs and retrieving the banana, "sorry, babe, I need this one more than you do."
"I don't want your puta banana," Bella scoffed, trying to fight him for it, "I just watched you clear four plates of food, Lucas and a weight gain shake. You're literally so stuffed you're breathing wrong. Give me the fucking-"
"Nope," he unpeeled it, ducking his head and belching, "I'm already behind in my weight plan."
"Your weight plan!?" Bella widened her eyes at him, "Luke, you spent half of yesterday's night feeling sick. Stop this, baby, you've eaten-" she scoffed as he gobbled up the banana in three quick bites, "goddammit, Lucas."
"Don't be mad at me," he whined, rubbing his gorged stomach, "it's part of the game, Bells."
"Forgive me if I don't like seeing you feeling sick," Bella cringed, crossing her arms and sitting as far away from him as she could in the couch.
He opted for not saying anything, since any argument he tried surely would only make Bella more pissed. After a minute of heavy silence she let out a sigh and uncrossed her arms, getting up from the couch and stomping away.
Lucas groaned, sliding down on the couch and resting a hand on his stomach. More than a small part of him agreed with Bella. He loved eating, but this was too much. His previous bulking seasons had been harsh, yes, but at least then he didn't have to gain so much.
Now, after two stomach bugs in a row, appendicitis, and the, frankly offensive, amount of weight he had lost during the break up, this one was proving to be particularly hellish. He had gone down two sizes of jeans.
"Here," Bella said, startling him and Luke raised his eyes, puzzled. He had expected her to be sulking in bed. Instead she was holding a glass of water, an antiacid already fizzling inside of it. She still looked plenty pissed off, but there was concern dancing in her eyes, "and come to bed."
"In a bit, I don't think I should lie down right now," Lucas took the glass of water, but didn't let go of her hand, planting a kiss on her fingertips, "thank you, baby."
She rolled her eyes, annoyed still, and pulled her hand from his grasp, only to comb her fingers through his hair, "you can thank me by taking it easier tomorrow," she said strongly, planting a kiss on top of his head, "I'm going to bed."
He knew she was still annoyed, because otherwise she'd have stuck around.
Lucas let her go, sipping on the fizzy water and trying to work up some satisfying burps to ease the tension in his stomach. Eventually, though, the pressure of his belly pressing down on him and the ache in his throat from the acid reflux, started taking its toll. His eyes dropped and Luke yawned, eyeing the short corridor that led to their bedroom. Bella had left the door open, he could see the television light spilling out, but didn't have the energy to get up.
He ended up falling asleep right there.
Only for his alarm to go off at six AM, a room away from him. He woke up with Bella letting out something he could only classify as a growl, sleepily trying to find his phone to turn the alarm off.
"I got it," Lucas said, voice thick with sleep as he stumbled, drunkenly, into their room and patted the bed to find it. She opened one eye, her curls a lion's mane around her head.
"Turn that fucking thing off, Lucas."
"Sorry, sorry-" he finally retrieved it from the mess of blankets and turned off the alarm. 06H05 AM. Bella let out a heavy sigh, turning on the bed so she was facing away from him, "come to bed."
It was so tempting... But he had gym. And then classes from eight to six PM.
"Sorry, baby," Lucas sighed, crawling on the bed so he could plant a kiss on her cheek. She let out a frustrated huff, but didn't bother saying anything else and he got out of the bed, walking to the bathroom.
Normally by morning his dinner had gone down considerably. He had given up on the "3 AM shake" tactic that most football players subscribed to, after the second night it had him bolting to the bathroom to puke everything up. He couldn't even imagine how Vince managed it.
Today he looked just as bloated as the previous night. Instead of his weight being lower in his torso, his belly was still painfully taut from the top of his stomach onwards, making it look like he was puffing his stomach out. He cringed, poking it lightly and belching when the poke awakened a couple gurgles.
Lucas grimaced as the churning started back up and he slowly peeled off his clothes, forced to pace himself in order to not upset his belly more. He didn't normally shower before gym, only right after, but today if he didn't shower he was going to fall back asleep.
By the time he arrived to the gym that was near campus, Lucas was starting to doubt anything was digesting at all. His stomach was gurgling non stop, but it was still rock hard and he had been forced to wear his biggest pair of track pants, because anything else had felt like he was being squeezed like a tube of toothpaste.
Vince was already in the gym, throwing the cross fit ropes, grey tank top drenched with sweat.
"Morning," Lucas groaned, walking closer as he started, or attempted to, his warm up.
"Morn- Damn, Luke, you good?" Vince raised an eyebrow, "I thought you were against the 3 AM shake-" he eyed Luke's bloated stomach, pushing on the fabric of his gym top.
"I am," Lucas grimaced, "this is all dinner. It's sitting like a brick."
Vince whistled, looking shocked, "did you take any medicine...?"
"Which?" Lucas sat on the ground as he attempted to stretch and touch his toes, "I'm just bloated, I don't have heartburn to take TUMS and pepto is just going to back me up," he rolled his eyes.
Vin shrugged, "I guess," he said in a worried tone, "you're just looking a little pasty, brother."
"Yeah," Lucas agreed even though there was nothing to agree. He finally touched his toes and groaned, letting his head hang in the space between his outstretched arms as the position made his stomach ache fiercely.
There was no way he could manage to train at all. Lucas quickly gave up on the possibility of lifting anything today when even trying to lift a dumbell had him gagging against his hand. He joined the aerobics class, trying to at the very least stay moving. Normally he could do the little old ladies class with his eyes closed, but today even that was kicking his ass.
A woman in her late fifties chuckled as she passed him by once the class was over and he was sprawled on the ground, trying to keep himself from puking, "Lucas, this was sad."
"I know," he groaned, pathetically, "rematch next week, Mrs. Fitz?"
"Uhm," she pretended to think about it, "only if you don't pout when I kick your ass. Have a nice day, Luke-" she waved him goodbye, joining the group of married women who were herded near the door, giggling.
Lucas rolled his eyes, staring at the ceiling, only to have the lights shadowed when Vince leaned over him, "flirting with cougars doesn't count as exercising, Luke," he said cheekily, offering a hand to pull Luke up, "did you at least manage to work up an appetitie for breakfast?"
Lucas reeled at the thought of the greasy, carb loaded breakfast that awaited him, "fuck no," he whined and Vince paid him no mind, squeezing his nape and steering him to the showers.
He felt drunk by the time they entered the large communal bathroom. Without any sense of which way was up, the whole world twirling in rhythm with his guts. Lucas wasn't sure why it the nausea wasn't backing down, it had been hours...
He sat down on the bench, trying to muster up energy to undress and Vince, already under the water and washing his hair, glanced in his direction. He was tall enough that even with the stall closed, he had a clear view of the bathroom, "Luke?"
Lucas groaned, spreading his legs apart and tugging on his sweat drenched top. It was clinging to his belly and it was too much. He grabbed the neckline and tugged on it until he managed to undress it, probably damaging the tanktop.
Now shirtless, he glanced down and let out a whine, getting a clear view of his stomach. It was huge and gurgling fiercely.
"Get in the shower, Luke, you just need to wash the gross feeling away," Vince said, very wisely. Normally it'd be a good advice, but today Lucas thought he was past the "wash the gross away" stage.
He all but crawled to the shower and didn't have any energy to wash himself, instead opting for just staying under the cold spray for as long as he could get away with it. Staring at the swirling water, he worked up a nasty wet belch that had Vince saying "Luke?" in a worried tone.
He braced against the tiled wall with one arm, the other one cradling his stomach and swallowed fiercely, battling the nausea, "I'm fine!" he Lucas yelled back. He was not going to lose that dinner after so many hours feeling like shit.
"I'm fine," he repeated, jaw heavy, lifting his head so he could get a gulp of water and spitting it back out to get rid of the sweet saliva flooding his mouth.
Vin was in a great mood as they walked to the nearest café. A mood Lucas wanted to join in, but he could barely participate in the conversation, his head throbbing with the hours of discomfort.
"Cheer up," Vince rattled him by the shoulders and approaching the barista, "hi Jenny."
Jenny was just seventeen, with a round face and big curls around it. She had a huge crush on Leo, of all people, and Vince loved holding this over his head.
"Hi Vince," she smiled brightly, "hi Lucas..." then she trailed off, glancing past their shoulders in search of Leo. Vince's smile was wolfish with how entertained he was.
"Leo doesn't take up the six AM slot anymore, Jenny," he said, whispering, "he's moved to eight AM, before work."
Her face lit up at the new information, "oh yeah? And do you think he'll still come here without you guys?"
Lucas glared at Vince when he nodded eagerly, clearly trying to get Leo in an awkward situation, "yeah, with his boyfriend," Luke said sourly and Jenny's happy smile fell.
"Ah... He's dating?"
Vince rolled his eyes at Lucas, then smiled sympathetically to Jenny, "for almost a year now, Jen, sorry," he said, as if the teenager had ever had a shot.
She pouted, looking heartbroken.
Vince huffed as they sat outside the cafe, a bunch of pastries piled on his plate, a sad looking croissant before Lucas, "well, there goes the extra caramel drizzle I got, Lucas, thank you very much."
"You're an ass," Lucas scoffed, then tried to nibble on the croissant, only to put it down immediately as his stomach let out an angry gurgle at the prospect of more food. Cold sweat broke over his lips and he groaned, leaning and folding his arms on the table, resting his chin on them, "I feel like crap."
"You look worse," Vince said, still annoyed about the previous interaction and finishing up a blueberry muffin in two bites, "we are so gonna lose this season," he said morosely, picking at the berries of the next muffin, "we don't have Jon or Leo in the team anymore. You're a mess-"
"I'm fine," Lucas scoffed, latching his lips around the straw of his latte and sucking in. Yes, it tasted good, but the sugary beverage was too much. His mouth watered in the worst way possible and forcefully swallowed it down, "I'm fine, I just need to bulk-"
"I am broken," Vince continued, ignoring him, "even with all the physical therapy, my shoulder and ribs hurt like a bitch whenever the temperature drops and my breathing isn't right-"
Lucas' stomach churned with renewed fury as Vince's complaints washed over him. He hated losing, had always hated losing... He ducked his head and let out a sick sounding burp to his lap, before grabbing the drink and squeezing it in his hand, bringing the straw back to his mouth.
"-and it's just a fucking bummer, if the Tigers win again I'm going to personally beat up Tyler-" Vince's paused the ranting, frowning, "Lucas, stop-" he reached over the table to grab the drink, "put down the drink."
"I can do it," Luke slurred, pressing his eyes closed and moving back and out of Vin's reach, "we're not going to lose-"
"We're gonna lose regardless of you hurling all over your shoes or not, give me the fucking- Ah, porca miseria," Vince interrupted himself when Lucas gagged harshly, "Luke, c'mon, man..."
It was too late, though. He tried to swallow the next mouthful of his creamy coffee drink, only for his throat tp refuse to work. Lucas groaned, holding it in his mouth, planting the drink back on the table.
Faintly he could hear Vince was saying something, but Luke wasn't even sure of what to do. He couldn't swallow, at all. His stomach clenched and he slammed a hand over his lips, cheeks puffing out in a cartoonish manner.
He felt his chair be dragged, a feat only Vin could manage and then his big hand came to rest between Lucas' shoulder blades, pushing him to lean forward.
The coffee came up without him even gagging. He coughed, spluttering as the liquid hit the ground and struggled to breathe, trying to keep everything else inside.
"It's fine, Luke," Vince rubbed his back in a soft manner, although he sounded a bit frustrated, "just take a deep breath, you're fine."
"I want to go home," Lucas whined, hugging his sick stomach. He knew there was no way his dinner was going to stay down now that his gag reflex was triggered, so his classes for the day were bust, "Vin-"
"Yeah, alright, man," Vince sighed, helping him up, "you're a silly idiot, you know that?"
Luke let out a whimper, exhausted and sick. His nerves were fried and the bantering was lost on him. Vince drove him home, the car's silence so thick one could cut with a knife and he helped Lucas all the way to the door, knocking on it as he unlocked.
"Bells?" Vince called, about to hang Lucas' car keys, but he shook his head.
"Keep it, otherwise you'll be late for class-"
"Well, I can get a ride back, it's fin-"
"What the fuck is happening here?" Bella scoffed, interrupting them both. She was standing on the doorway to the kitchen, in just her pjs, hair in a ponytail, "why are you back home?"
"Because I threw up"
"Because he's an idiot"
Lucas glared at Vince, falling on the couch, "because I'm too sick for class," he explained and Bella raised a judgmental eyebrow, then glared at Vin herself.
"You," she said in a cold manner, "you've been egging him on with this madness, you ass. Get out of my house."
"Me!" Vince cried out, but there was a hint of humor in his voice as Bella crossed the room to shove him out, "I'm innocent! It's not my fault he's got the stomach of a delicate little baby-"
"Out!" Bella scoffed, shoving his arm a little harder, "and take the stupid protein shakes with you!"
"That's theft-" Vince giggled, barely moving with her shoving. His chuckle got interrupted when Lucas let out a sick sounding burp and groaned "...ohgod" sprinting down the hallway.
Bella cringed, pinching her nose bridge, "get the hell out of here, Vince," she said, then turned around, giving up on shoving him out and following Lucas into the bathroom.
"It's not even nine yet, Luke," Bella groaned, crouching next to him. He was folded over the toilet, resting his cheek on the seat, higyene be damned.
"m'sorry," he groaned, "should've listened-"
"Yeah yeah, you should," she rolled her eyes, cupping his face and pushing the bangs away from his eyes, "whatever did you gorge on this morning?"
"Nothi-" Lucas lurched forward, loudly heaving and bringing up another mouthful of foul vomit. Bella cringed at the smell, hitting the flush, while he hung over the toilet water, groaning and panting.
She sighed, moving forward to hold his forehead and rubbing his back with the other hand, "okay, get it up, Lucas. It's just too much food, you'll feel better soon."
"Don't think so," he scoffed, spitting in the water, "I think-" he belched, leaning his forehead on her palm, "I think I really overdid it."
Bella bit the inside of her cheek with annoyance and concern. She couldn't believe he had pushed himself so badly he was actually sick, after so many days sick already.
"Goddammit, Lucas," she sighed, thumping his back lightly when it sounded like he was choking. He let out a whimper, digging a hand on his stomach.
"Bella, kill me."
"I'm considering it," she teased, planting a kiss on his shoulder, "I'm going to let my team know I'll be offline this morning, give me a second."
Lucas groaned, feeling a whole new shade of shitty as he realized he had interrupted her mid work and braced against the toilet bowl again. Despite the puking, he didn't feel even a little bit better. If anything he felt worse.
He pressed his palm against his stomach and pressed, trying to rub it, only managing to give himself a bruise and cough mercilessly over the bowl.
She returned not even five minutes later, seeming a little more at ease than before and crouched down next to him as Lucas continued to dry heave.
"You're done, Lu," Bella sighed, straightening him up, "you're done."
"No," he shook his head, leaning back against the bathtub and hugging his stomach, "I feel awful, Bell... And I'm not done."
She wrinkled her nose not to say I-told-you-so and flushed the toilet again, grabbing their hand towel and wetting it so she could wipe his mouth and the cold sweat all over him.
"Okay, we're gonna go sit in the living room, alright? This way I can work and stay with you."
"But I'm not do-"
"We'll get you a bucket," Bella said, helping him up with a grunt, "c'mon, big guy-"
It took them a minute, Lucas pausing every other step to gag against his hand, but they made it back to the living room. The front door was shut and Lucas scoffed as he saw his car keys resting on the table.
"Vince is such a proud asshole."
Bella rolled her eyes, helping him lean back against the couch pillows, "pot calling the kettle black here, Lucas," she said, voice traveling from the kitchen. Soon she returned with a million things on her arms: his large water bottle, an empty bucket, a roll of toilet paper, her laptop, her laptop support.
"Ugh, I'm sorry," Lucas sighed, curling up, "I completely ruined your day."
"You didn't ruin it. I can code with one hand, it's just very slow" Bella smiled at him, planting the bowl on his arms and the water bottle on the ground as she fixed her set up, "c'mere, baby."
It didn't matter how bad he felt about interrupting her job, Lucas gratefully slumped against her, resting his head on her lap and sighing in relief when he felt her hand rest on his bloated stomach.
Bella kept rubbing circles on his stomach, then up his chest, stroking his cheek and petting his hair... Then back down, in a gentle rhthym. Lucas let out a heavy sigh, snuggling closer.
"I'm gonna take it easier from now on," he promised, kissing the inside of her wrist when her hand went up to stroke his cheek, absently minded.
Bella sighed, leaning in and planting a kiss on his forehead, "I mean, it just seems counterproductive to try to gain weight if you puke everything you ate," she teased, her breath tickling him and Lucas snorted, moving his face to bury his nose against her pajama's shirt.
#emeto#emetophilia#sickfic#mywriting#lucas atwood#overeating#i have not reread this one i am sorry#i'm in a rush so there may be typos - if so i'll try fixing later! ✌️
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30/NOV/20XX
nope.
that's right.
you heard me.
nope.
takin' it easy.
more than i have already.
slept until three pm. not particularly intentionally.
a little extra exhausted after dealing with this whole soul thing. all the time.
skull hasn't stopped hurting since getting home yesterday, and i've got this gross nauseous feeling i don't know how to explain away. probably from the head pain.
so.
for once.
i'm more than happy to listen to one of those guideline things.
papyrus isn't home yet, and i'll be too asleep to ask him to write instead.
nobody here to write,
so you're gettin' nothing.
...leave a note for him?
nah.
that's more writing.
don't wanna do that.
that's enough.
'night.
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Blacked Last Night iv
"For the last time, mum..! don't wanna go." Vivi tapped her finger on her phone as she chewed a bit on her nail, she waited to hear her mother's voice from her phone again. She was looking around her room searching for a pair of pants as her mother called her about going to her aunt Clara's wedding, she didn't know if her aunt knew about her phobia but hopefully she had some sense of what she was going through. Granted she hasn’t seen her aunt since she was sixteen but she still hoped someone told her about her phobia.
"She wants to see you again, you know that your aunt hasn't seen you in three years." Her mother's voice sounded slightly more tired than she remembered, she could hear a can opening and felt a small smile play at her lips. Her father cracking open a can of beer was something she was used to, either beer or soda, he was never a wine person; always complaining about how strong it was. Vivi didn’t mind it personally but that was her opinion that she didn’t tell her father.
"Does she know about my agoraphobia?" Vivi ran a hand through her hair as she pulled on a pair of jeans, though some people would hardly be awake at 6:00. It was the only way she could get breakfast and not be bothered or bump into other students.
"She does, and I've tried telling her that but she says that she'll still be heartbroken if you don't attend." Her mother sounded sympathetic and a sinking feeling came to her stomach, she could possibly have a plus one but she had no mate…okay well she supposed that was a lie but Michael Gavey seemed like the person to not go to a wedding, also she didn’t want people to confuse them for dating.
“Mum…can I bring someone?” She tapped her foot and put a finger to her lip and tapped on it till she answered.
“Yes, though she says that she’ll have to meet the person first.” Then came the question that she expected;
“Who are you thinking of bringing?” Vivi pressed her lips together and tried not to stutter.
“A…friend.” She put on her shoes and popped a pill into her mouth, swallowing it and hanging up after she said she loved her mum.
Okay so…she supposed now she should probably ask Michael Gavey if he wants to come to a wedding.
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“Explain to me again…why the hell are you inviting me to a wedding? Barely know you.” Michael glanced at Vivi as they both spoke in quietly in their French class, they both sat a bit distantly from the other students in the class yet close enough to each other to talk.
“My aunt wants me to go and I don’t wanna go alone…also there’s the possibility that she probably won’t shut it about me being with someone since she did it last time…” That time she made eye contact with him and looked back down; she seemed almost more nervous than she was yesterday, but that could be due to her agoraphobia and not being comfortable in a class.
“Don’t you have a mate to bring?” He glanced at her and she blinked before shaking her head.
“Who’d want to be friends with someone who barely leaves her dorm?” She looked back at her paper and continued writing, a small sense of relatability bubbled in him, he’d always ask himself that. ‘Who’d be friends with the boy with glasses and who is brilliant at math?’ He used to think that it was Oliver who was that friend but well…clearly not. He felt almost embarrassed as he spoke:
“Suppose you’re a Norman no-mates too then?” He heard her stop writing and looked to see her slightly frozen but she swallowed and nodded before speaking:
“Most of them stopped being there when my phobia got worse, I tried going to parties with them but I just kept feeling nauseous and wanting to leave. I kept trying to go to parties with them but I think it became worse…better to just not go to parties than feel like you’re drowning in people.” She swallowed and looked down, picking back up her pencil and playing with the eraser.
“Probably a stupid thing to say but yea…I have no mates anymore, I can think the same goes for you?” His throat felt dry as he nodded and wrote his notes as he spoke.
“Had a friend back in school but they went to a different college, then Oliver came and I thought I had a mate but he liked the posh cunts more.”
Making friends for Michael was always not something he enjoyed; he was an outsider even if he was posh like them, he always resented how it felt like they felt righteous for something that their parents payed for.
“So…Yea, no friends.” It was silence for a moment, say for when Michael tried pronouncing ‘Developer’ in French, to no avail.
“It’s ‘Révélateur‘.” He looked at Vivi who looked up from her notes, he scrunched his lips and took in a breath.
“Yeah I know, just it’s hard to pronounce.” Michael only knew a bit of French and Spanish but he was mostly more good at Spanish than French.
An idea seemed to have come to Vivi as she leaned in and looked at his notes, Michael felt oddly hot having her near him. Enough to where she could whisper into his ear.
“Why don’t we do something? You go with me to the wedding…and maybe help with my agoraphobia, then I’ll help you with French and anything you’d struggling with.” He raised a brow when she mentioned her agoraphobia.
“I…I want to be able to at least get it under control by the time the wedding comes up, last wedding I went to, I was near a panic. Don’t know if I can have it go away fully but I would like to try and have it a bit more under control.” She moved away and played with a loose string from her shirt, he thought about it for a moment and offered his hand.
“Fine then…as long as you also maybe help me with another thing; help maybe do something to Quick.” It was Vivi’s turn to raise a brow and look at him, granted what he wanted to do wasn’t horrible but…still he wanted her to agree to it.
“Okay then…as long as it doesn’t include murder then I promise I’ll help.” She offered her pinky and he suppressed a smile and took her pinky, she returned his smile and nodded.
“Suppose that makes us sort of friends?” Vivi looked at him and he shrugged, her eyes showed curiosity and he thought about it for a moment before nodded and offering her a grin.
“You’re my mate then…though if we go through this wedding and revenge on Oliver, we’ll still be friends.” She nodded and took his hand again, squeezing it.
“Michael Gavey you’re my mate.”
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Yes this is early but I already had a small outline for this part❤️❤️❤️also MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ANYONE WHO CELEBRATES ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️Happy Hanukkah or Kwanza to everyone and I hope you all have a lovely day💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚🎄💚💚💚💚💚🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄
Taglist: @bellaisasleep @prettymuchteddy @fan-goddess @arcielee @sepherinaspoppies @knewwaver @liv-cole @synkverv @valeskafics
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hey rukia! Can I request a fem reader who is sick and tries to pretend like she is okay in front of Hercules, but later on he finds out and ends up taking care of her until she gets better?🙏🙏🙏
Hercules x (fem) reader
A/N: I would die if Hercules took care of me ♥️🥹
All the gods were currently having a council meeting deciding the fate of humanity was filled with gods from every pantheon, save for a certain goddess who had left a little early and was outside the council getting some fresh air. If she knew any better between the fever and dizziness it was possible she was coming down with a cold. Leaning against the wall (Name) felt a bit dizzy and a bit nauseous.
“Are you okay, (Name)? You don’t look so good.”
Recognizing the voice the goddess quickly straightened up the best she could to see a worried Hercules, smiling (Name) did her best to reassure her friend that she was okay. Although Hercules wasn’t satisfied with her answer and before he could say anything else (Name) gently patted his arm with a smile saying she was fine as she returned back to the council meeting.
Placing index finger chin as his lips were curled in a slight pout, Hercules was sure (Name) wasn’t well physically even if she said she was fine. Then again, (Name) always pretended like things were okay when they weren’t and that’s what worried the god.
The next day, (Name) was in her bed with a high fever with terrible cough and breathing was short. While in bed at her home (Name) was sure she over did it by going to that meeting and a a cold shiver ran her spine she felt like the world was small.
“I should have stayed home yesterday.”
“I told you, you were sick!”
Eyes opened wide and heart sinking to her stomach as she heard his voice as her door opened wide to see Hercules wearing a face mask while wheeling in a cart full of supplies, Blankets, Medicine, Food, and even water.
“Hercules! What are you doing here-Why are you here?!”
Mortified of having Hercules seeing in her sick state as she pulled the bed covers to her face, Smiling Hercules mentioned he heard that (Name) was sick by Hermes and as such decided to take care of her for the day.
“The day?! The whole day?!”
“Of course, I want to make sure you feel better!”
Ruffling (Name)’s hair Hercules kept to his word and took care of (Name) the whole day, whether it was helping her eat. Which he prided himself on making the best soup in Valhalla, and after tasting the soup Hercules it was actually rather good. Hercules didn’t even notice when he spoon-fed his beloved patient that her face was hot not because of her sickness but because of Hercules being sweet by feeding her and his smile was as beautiful as ever.
Hercules gave her medicine and while bitter he patted the top of her head saying, “You’ll feel better faster.” Followed by giving her favorite candy, Hercules believed it would help with the bitter medicine. Hercules also gave her privacy and would periodically check on her to see how she doing, quietly closing the door if she was sleeping.
Hercules even ran her bath water which (Name) was grateful for, while (Name) wouldn’t say it she felt like a princess from all that Hercules did for her that day. Perhaps, a bit too much as Hercules rocked her in his arms like a newborn until she fell asleep.
What was supposed to be a day turned into three days and of course (Name) enjoyed every minute of it while in her sickness still. Thanking Hercules when she felt better (Name) was grateful for Hercules being there for her and of course Hercules responded with, “it was the right thing to do.”
Right before sneezing himself.
🎀Rukia-Writes🎀
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