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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 5 months

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Studious VI (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+ FINALE

Five months after your reconciliation, you and Aemond have grown ever closer. When he returns from his first time away from you, you have a surprise ready for him.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: kissing, oral sex (M and F receiving), p in v sex, fluff

Author's Note: And with this, the series is complete! I want to thank you all so much for all the support y'all have given my silly little story. I truly cherish every reply, comment, or like it receives.

And fear not! This isn't the end of the journey for our lovely, stupid couple. On the 21st, I will be releasing another short fic as part of my 12 Days of Smuff event. If there will be anything more beyond that, it remains to be seen!

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here - Read Part V Here

My Masterlist

Taglist is in reblogs

Studious VI

It was the middle of the afternoon, and though the sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky, there was still a chill in the air. You had uncovered all the windows in the room, so it was quite cold within the stone walls. Therefore, you were curled up on a large, plush chair – Aemond’s reading chair – contentedly snuggled within your oversized robe.

And only the robe.

Vhagar’s mighty wingbeats had thundered above the keep not long ago. Thanks to the open windows, you’d heard it clearly – the chill was well worth it. A rush of excitement flowed through you, and you immediately traded your warm dress and stockings for the robe and took up your perch.

Aemond had been gone for four long, lonely, torturous days, and you were determined to be there the moment he walked through the door to his chambers.

It was the first time he’d left King’s Landing since your wedding five months ago and the first time the two of you had been apart for more than a few hours since your ‘reconciliation,’ as you had come to call it. Both of you argued passionately against it.

Neither of you could bear to be parted only two weeks after Grand Maester Orwyle confirmed that your nightly activities had resulted in the child now growing within you. Aemond wanted nothing more than to be by your side every moment until the babe was born. You weren’t opposed to it, though you did wonder about the practicality of such an arrangement.

But the Queen and the Hand insisted on Aemond going, rather than one of his siblings. The unfortunate result of his being the dutiful and trustworthy son, you supposed.

So, you had gone with him to the edge of the woods and watched as he mounted Vhagar and flew away. Of course, he had kissed you deeply before he left. Long enough for both Vhagar and the Dragonkeepers to begin subtly voicing their impatience. Had they not been there, you likely would have shared a more thorough goodbye.

Still, the four days felt like four years, four decades, four centuries. You would have gone mad if you hadn’t found something to do to fill the Aemond-shaped hole in your life. So you filled your time with planning how you would welcome him home.

You were sure he would be very pleasantly surprised.

Time passed quickly while you were held in suspense. The sound of soft, steady footsteps soon began echoing from the hall, and you just barely contained a squeal of delight. You readied yourself to leap, standing atop the chair to give you a better chance of actually landing on your target.

Then the door opened, and you pounced.

Thankfully, Aemond caught you easily. His strong, lithe arms wrapped around your hips and rear as if on instinct, and you were once more safe and secure.

You didn’t get to see his reaction to your leaping upon him, which you only regretted slightly as you pressed your lips hard against his

Aemond made a choked sound of surprise that soon faded into a low, passionate moan as he teased your lips open with his tongue to deepen the kiss. It still wasn’t your favourite sensation – a taste you had to acquire – but after days without it, it was almost enjoyable. Almost.

“I missed you so much, Aemond,” you whispered between kisses, strained and desperate as your fingers clawed at him, seeking to touch every inch of him. Every inch you had missed.

Aemond’s brow furrowed, but he did not stop kissing you. “I was only away four days, my love. Could you miss me so much in so short a time?”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eye as you touched the tip of your nose to his, widening your eyes and making a show of pouting. “Did you not miss me as well?”

He gave you the slightest glimpse of his startled fish face before kissing you again. “No… I longed for you every minute we were parted. It took all my strength to resist the temptation of forgoing my duty and returning to you. I missed you so much I ached.”

“Show me,” you commanded, smiling against his lips as you watched the realisation that you had never doubted his missing you dawn on his face with an affectionate, put-upon smile.

You squealed as he pulled you closer to his chest – you had not thought such a thing possible – and brought the hand that had circled your waist to cup your neck as he began kissing you again. Fiercely. Passionately. Lovingly.

The rooms were a blur as he began to blindly carry you into the bedroom, depositing you squarely in the middle of the bed. You were granted only a moment to catch your breath before he was on you again, his welcome weight pressing down on you as his heat continued to soak into your bones.

“If you were wearing anything else,” Aemond growled as his hands started furiously fumbling with the tie of your robe, “I would tear it to pieces.”

You bit down on his bottom lip, ever so slightly harder than you normally did to scold him. It did not work. It only prompted him to kiss you deeper.

“Were you ever to tear even a single thread of this robe,” you panted. “I would return to my father’s keep and never speak to you again.”

“Then I will be very careful, and…” Aemond trailed off when he opened your robe and realised you were bare beneath it.

His eye raked over you slowly, studying you as if you were a master artwork. His chest heaving, he slowly traced his hand from the base of your throat down to your navel, and when you shivered at the sensation, he shivered too.

He splayed his hand over your still-flat stomach, his eye sparkling as if he could see the babe within. “How is it possible that you become more beautiful every day?”

You laughed, reaching up to cradle his cheek in your hand. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Aemond. And I dare say that your eye is quite biased towards me.”

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Your beauty is utterly indisputable. Any who behold you and do not see it must be truly blind.”

You could not suppress the smile that came over you, wide and unyielding. “I will remind you of those words when I have grown as large as a bear and have the temper of a taunted goose.”

Aemond chuckled lowly, moving his mouth along your jaw and onto your neck. “Then I will say them again, for nothing could alter how I feel about you, my love.”

Any smart reply you had was quickly forgotten as his mouth followed the path his hand had just taken. Your only complaint was that his mouth was far slower. He would press a kiss or two against your skin, then momentarily lose his grip on whatever restraint he had. Then, he latched on, laving his tongue upon you as if he wished to devour you. Sometimes, he even lightly nipped you with his teeth, but he never failed to soothe the pain with more gentle kisses.

You could have happily let him continue for hours. But you had made plans, and you were going to follow through. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him close enough for you to whisper against his cheek. “Jiōrna mazumbilloti, ābrazȳrys.”

Your use of the Valyrian mother tongue surprised him, breaking him immediately from his lustful haze. He sat up and leaned over to kiss your cheek swiftly enough that you could only catch a glimpse of a mischievous smile.

“So close, but…” he apologetically kissed your nose. “You are ābrazȳrys. I am valzȳrys.” He pressed his finger on your skin just above your heart. “Ābrazȳrys – wife.” He moved the finger to his chest. “Valzȳrys – husband.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and fuck me, valzȳrys.”

He obliged, his mouth continuing its path down your front after a brief return to your breasts. The closer he came to your center, the louder your moans and pleas became.

He pulled away slightly when he finally reached your dripping cunt, chuckling slightly. “Oh, how I’ve missed this beautiful thing,” he mused.

You spread your legs as much as you could in a show of impatience. “Well, then you should do something about that, shouldn’t you?”

“I suppose.”

A desperate gasp escaped you as you felt him gently blow a cold breath onto your heated core. Your back arched as he did it again, tracing a line of cool air up and down your folds.

“Aemond,” you breathlessly begged, “I’ve already waited so long. Please, don’t tease me like this!”

You watched as he looked back up at you with a wicked grin. “I’ve waited just as long, my dear. I want to savour this. Make up for lost time.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, though you could not deny his plan sounded quite pleasant. “Savour me, then.”

He did.

Aemond’s mouth was thorough. In the five months since he’d first pleasure you like this, he’d become as skilled and precise with his tongue as he was with his sword.

His tongue found your pearl almost instantly and began teasing it ever so slowly, as if it were a game for him. He alternated between pressing on it, drawing circles and various shapes upon it, and sucking on it like a candied lemon.

He did not stop until he’d pulled two releases from you. Only then did he finally acknowledge your entrance beyond merely pressing against it with his chin while he focused elsewhere.

Had he not been so eager to lap up every bit of wetness from you, you were sure the bed linens would have been ruined for how much slick spilt from you. But he was voracious in devouring you – moaning and gasping nearly as much as you were. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he came simply from being buried in your thighs. He’d done it before, after all.

Your hands found their way into his hair as his tongue delved inside of you, his wonderful, glorious nose still giving your pearl the attention it craved. Holding onto him was the only way you could withstand the intensity of what he was doing to you, to keep it from overwhelming you.

It also helped that when you tugged on his hair or slightly dug your nails into his scalp, he groaned in pleasure, sending delicious vibrations through you as his hips bucked into the bed. And when your release barreled through you, and you pulled on his hair like it was the reins of a dragon, he nearly screamed against your cunt.

Aemond gazed up at you, his face glistening and flushed. “My sweet ābrazȳrys,” he hummed before ducking his head back between your thighs again.

“Ah, ah ah!” You scolded, using the hands you had in his hair to drag him back to your face, causing another satisfied moan to escape him. “By my count, I’m at three, while you’ve yet to have even one. Unless…?”

A glance at the front of his trousers confirmed that he had not come simply from pleasuring you, and you sighed dramatically. “Still at none, then.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Aemond placed shortcut soft kisses all over your face before retracing his path downwards. “Let me give you more.”

You yanked him up again, kissing him fiercely. “No. My turn.”

He rose onto his knees as you pushed on his chest, his eye never once leaving yours. You smirked as you sat up with him, your legs still between his.

“I’ll rid us of these,” you said as you began unlacing his trousers – fortunately, he’d removed the belts for his sword and dagger before he’d even come to his rooms. You nodded to his doublet. “If you get rid of that.”

You had still yet to master the ridiculous clasps and buckles on the damnable thing. And Aemond resisted all your efforts to have a new, less complicated garment made for him.

At least he did not tease you about it this time and began to remove it swiftly.

Still, you accomplished your task before he did his, and he fumbled slightly as he threw the rest of his clothes on the floor as you grasped his red, weeping length in your hand and began returning his affections.

“Oh gods,” he groaned, forgetting his doublet entirely. “Oh, dōnus riñus… sȳros. Sȳros!”

His hands flew to your head. He didn’t pull at your hair or dig his fingers in. Aemond never did; he was always gentle. He simply cupped the back of your head with one hand while the other held your cheek, stroking you with his thumb in time with your ministrations.

He had been right when he said that learning to please a man was substantially easier than learning to please a woman. There were some things you had to remind yourself of the first few times you’d done this – don’t squeeze too hard, don’t take him too deep, and never use your teeth.

But you’d had plenty of practice and knew precisely what Aemond liked.

You knew how much he liked it when you used the tip of your tongue to trace his slit before swirling it around the head of his cock.

You knew the way he liked you to play with his stones – caressing them lightly with just your fingertips, and every so often giving them the gentlest of tugs.

You knew exactly how to pace yourself in a way that drove him wild without speeding him towards an early end.

He begged. Several times, he begged you to go faster, to let him finish. But after he’d told you what he meant by “practice” in his diary, you knew he could take it. Knew he enjoyed it.

“Please,” he said breathlessly. You looked up to find tears streaming down from the corners of his eyes.

For a moment, you slowed, worrying that you’d pushed him too far, until he pulled you back down onto him so far your nose nuzzled into the silvery hair at his base.

Your hands went to his hips, bracing yourself while he pulled you forward and back. Always gently, but with more speed than you’d allowed him thus far.

It was the first time he’d ever taken charge in this particular scenario. He was always dominant in all other intimate moments, but never with this. Whenever you held him in your mouth, you commanded the prince.

The thrill of it sparked a burning heat of desire in your core, and you moaned around him.

It was enough.

Aemond pulled you as close as he could until your brow rested against his stomach, and he reached his peak. His entire body shook as he spilled himself down your throat. And he did not release you until he heard you struggling to keep him so deep.

“Oh, my darling, did I hurt you?” he asked as he again laid himself atop you.

You laughed, kissing him deeply. “No, Aemond. Well, maybe a little bit, but it’s a good hurt.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Don’t be, please. It was less of a hurt than you being gone.”

Aemond rolled onto his side to kiss you once more, languidly, now that the initial rush of lust had faded. You could almost feel his adoration as if it were a tangible thing. You held it tightly, and would never let it go. When he finally pulled away, his lips only left yours for a moment before he was again trailing his mouth along your neck to your chest.

“Well?” You asked. “Do you like your surprise?”

“It was wonderful, my love. Would it be indelicate of me to ask for more?”

You narrowed your eyes, tugging on his hair just enough to draw his attention away from your breasts and back to you. The moment he saw the confusion on his face, it was reflected in his own.

“This was not the surprise, Aemond.”

“Then what is?”

You smiled, looking dramatically over the bedchamber. Aemond only stared at you, waiting for you to speak, until you were forced to seize his chin and turn his head.

Then, he finally saw.

As his eye roved across the walls and shelves, he rose until he was kneeling in the center of the bed. You laid back against your pillow, watching him admire what you had spent the last four days doing.

The bare walls were no more. Now, they were filled with paintings, tapestries, and even a few little sculptures. By the bookshelves – which you had filled with as many trinkets as possible – you’d hung paintings depicting some of your favourite stories from fiction and history. A wrought-iron dragon flew across the space above the doorway. On another wall, a tapestry depicting your home keep surrounded by a field of dog roses hung proudly. And above the head of the bed, a new tapestry you had made in secret these past few months.

“Vhagar,” Aemond whispered when he saw it.

You let out a sigh of relief – you had not been sure whether he would recognise her. After all, the only time you saw the dragon was when Aemond took you to visit her. Making sketches on those few occasions would have swiftly given away your secret. Fortunately, Helaena was more than happy to help you in its creation.

Aemond moved closer to admire the tapestry, one leg falling off the bed. He started, looking down to find his foot had landed atop a plush blue rug. When he looked up to gape at you, his eye caught on the bursting of colour atop the armoire.

His plain stoneware and metal vases had been joined by others more intricate and brightly coloured. All of them were now filled with a vibrant bouquet. The one you’d painted yourself when you were young and thought yourself the next great painter was filled with bright pink dog roses, much to his delight.

“You decorated,” he said in awe as he faced you again. While he’d been surveying the room, you’d sat up, holding onto his arm and resting your head on his shoulder.

“No…” you teased, savouring that quick moment of his confusion before continuing, “I moved in.”

His face crumpled with an affection so strong you hardly knew how he contained it all.

Except you did know.

You did it, too.

“My dearest,” he sighed, “I – ”

“I love you, Aemond.”

The colour drained from his face, and you swore his breathing halted.

A roiling storm of emotions passed over his face. Unbridled joy, sweetest relief, depthless love, and a single moment of fear beneath it all. He’d told you only to say those words when you truly meant it with all your heart. His worry that you didn’t was clear.

You held his face in your hands and pulled him forward until his brow rested against yours. “I love you, Prince Aemond Targaryen. Not only with my whole heart, but with all that I am.”

A tear fell from his eye, and a soft whimper escaped his lips. “Oh my love,” he murmured like a prayer, “my love…”

Then he was upon you again. His mouth against yours, his comforting heat warming you. He wrapped his arms around you – one on your waist, one at your shoulder – and pulled you against him so tightly there was nowhere you were not touching.

“I love you, Aemond,” you repeated every time your lips parted from his. Each time, he nearly sobbed at the words.

You kissed for a long while, until you at last felt him hardening against you. For only a moment, he pulled away, his eyes still damp as he looked down at you.

“May I?”

Your only response was a smile and another kiss.

Aemond entered you in one long, gentle thrust.

That moment of stillness and adjustment was no longer strictly necessary, but you both still enjoyed it.

Just a moment to look at each other. To see the joy and now, the love within them. A moment to revel in the connection you shared and bask in the feeling of being whole with each other. Aemond kissed you again before he started thrusting into you. Both were gentle and slow, allowing you to cherish each other. You were not fucking to find release, but to simply be together.

There were times when Aemond was completely still as he ravished you with his mouth or hands rather than his cock. There were times when he rutted into you like a beast, only stopping so he could prolong the connection. And there were times when both of you were still, just embracing each other, breathing together, and knowing that you were loved.

Eventually, you could hold off your instincts no longer. You squirmed against Aemond to seek more pleasure – more of him. And he happily obliged. He braced one hand on your hip as he began to move. Faster and faster. With smooth, practised thrusts.

He was so familiar with your body that it did not take long for him to have you gasping as you approached your peak. He was already brushing against that wonderful spot inside you with every movement of his hips, and when he brought a finger to gently tease your pearl, you could not hold back.

Nor could Aemond. He buried himself in you entirely, his face falling into the crook of your shoulder as he moaned your name, along with several High Valyrian words you did not know.

You lifted his head to bring his lips to yours and kissed him until his breath steadied again.

“No,” you whined as he moved to sit up and pull his softened cock out of you. “Stay. Please.”

Aemond smiled as he understood your meaning, again pressing his hips against yours to keep himself inside you as he rolled you onto your sides. “If I could stay forever, I would.”

“I know.” You nuzzled into his neck. “In fact, I’d quite like it if you did.”

“Then so I shall.”

A long, peaceful silence passed between you. Your flushes faded, your breathing calmed, and the evening air began to blow through the windows and cool your hot skin.

The day was not yet over. There was still dinner to attend, and Aemond likely needed to meet with the Small Council to discuss his trip. Yet neither of you moved. You simply laid there, basking in the bliss of holding the person you love.

You loved him. You loved Aemond so much.

He’d said it so often to you in the past five months. You had a lot of catching up to do.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you,” he replied.

“I love you.”

“I love you…”

485 notes · View notes

sleepyconfusedpotato · 7 months

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I don't know if you ever received this ask or had this idea before but here goes nothing Since Ghost already met Jade's family, what if she meets his? ....angst material. Sorry not sorry.

Oh my God... Anon... You sparked something in me, and I cannot go to sleep now without posting this. Thank you so much for the idea.

(I think I'm gonna make a full on comic out of this, and I will make an art at some point for this fic, but let's use this lovely GIF of Ghost first)

She's The One

Jade meets Ghost's family.

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC) Word Count : ~ 1.8k words Warning : Medium to heavy angst and mentions of death, but ends with a full on fluff because you know me mate I want Ghost to be happy ok.

Title and story inspired by the song 'She's The One' by Robbie Williams

"...How's your family, Simon?"

Jade asked Ghost. They had been having a small outing, which included watching the cinema together and going around the streetside shops to find new wardrobes for Ghost to wear. He initially thought that it was unnecessary, but as Jade insisted, he went anyway – as long as he could spend his off-duty time with her.

He'd met her parents, and though he was apprehensive about it at first, they turned out to be pleasant and strong people. It was such an unfamiliar feeling for him, to have a family to come home to, a supportive family and kind and can take care of their own. He's foreign to that concept.

Ghost just stayed silent to her question, his expression which was usually unreadable turned sorrowful, his eyes gazing down at the pavements they walked. She thought she should change the subject before Ghost muttered,

"You want to see them now?"

Jade opened her eyes wide in surprise, not expecting him to say anything about meeting his family this fast, and the way he said 'now'...

The woman knew Ghost wouldn't ask her that question if he was adamant as he was a straightforward person. And so, she answered, "Of course, if you don't mind it." He then proceeded to enter his car that was parked not far from where they just watched a movie in a cinema, not forgetting to open the passenger door for Jade beforehand.

They drove for a full 30 minutes of silence, save for the sound soft songs on the radio. As Ghost drove, Jade looked out the window and understood that they were going to a familiar place that she had passed by a few times in her life. He drove to the nearest available parking area, parking his car flawlessly before stopping the car engine, leaving the both of them in complete silence.

Jade felt the atmosphere around him grow heavy, his hands still on the steering wheel as if he was still pondering whether or not he wanted to get out of the car. He let out a soft sigh, took his keys and got out of the car. Jade got out of her own and looked at the surrounding area.

Cemetery.

The sun had disappeared behind the heavy grey clouds that constantly covered the England skies. Tiny drops of water had touched her cheek, in such a way it reflected Ghost's inner thoughts right now.

The man looked at her, "Over here." He walked with Jade following right behind him. After about 10 minutes of walking and treading through the tall grasses, Ghost stopped in front of a group of gravestones, four of them, which were placed more tightly together than the other. The grasses were tidily short, a sign that the keepers attended to these graves properly.

Jade then looked down, reading the engravings on the stones, and her heart shattered to pieces.

"Susan Riley, November 17th, 1965 - December 24th, 2017"

"Thomas Riley, July 21st, 1990 - December 24th, 2017"

"Elizabeth Riley, May 8th, 1991 - December 24th, 2017"

"Joseph Riley, March 19th, 2013 - December 24th, 2017"

It was his mother's birthday.

She looked up to find Ghost's eyes gazing down at the names as well, noticing that the ground he was standing on was right at the front of his mother's grave. No tears in sight, only sadness, and as an MI6 agent of two decades, she could deduce an expression of regret. Jade didn't need to wonder why, as the dates of their deaths were all the same - the reason he hid his identity, lived as no one, avoided any relationship with anyone, and the reason why he was adamant about meeting her parents – His past came to haunt, and it's target was not him.

Jade couldn't say anything. What could she say? That she's sorry this happened? She knew Ghost hated that phrase the most, of someone pitying him, that they wished things could be different. But what use is it to wish? It happened. His entire family died because something happened during one of his missions, and his family paid the price for it.

As if on cue, she heard a small sniff from him the same second the raindrops started to grow more frequent, falling harder, creating white noises and wet spots on their clothes. Being the Londoner she was, knowing that sunny days were never really sunny, Jade fished out her floral purple umbrella, holding it above Ghost's head beside her, making sure to cover his broad shoulders fully as her left shoulder grew wet.

She saw his face, and it was enough reason to stay silent and let him grieve. She didn't know if this was the first time he'd visited their graves after years or if he always come here at some time every year, but no matter which one the answer was, if she could see one thing, it was that his tears never seemed to run out after more than a decade.

Jade let him cry, the sound of his sobs completely drowned by the white noises of the heavy rain.

She knew that he wasn't much for any physical touch, nonetheless, she lifted her other hand softly and rubbed at his back, going up and down in an attempt to soothe his sorrow. And after a minute of him not flinching away from her touch, Jade mustered up her will to slowly encircle her arm around his own on his side, their sides touching as she rubbed his bicep, and going even further as she leaned her head to touch his shoulder.

Ghost's shoulder still shook for a few minutes as he cried his heart out, Jade kept doing what she did as he let his sorrow out.

Soon after, another surprise hit her when she heard and saw that the rain started to slow down, albeit still going down on both of them. Her other arm started to grow sore after moments of holding the umbrella high to accommodate his height, yet what alleviated the pain was the fact that she felt a small weight on her head, realizing that Ghost had eased his cries, now only soft sniffs, and that he leaned his head on top of hers as well.

He still stayed silent, not a word spoken ever since they arrived, but she knew that this was a good sign that he knew that she would be there for him, even when he was vulnerable.

"Happy birthday, Mrs. Riley."

Jade muttered softly, the man beside her still looking down on his mother's grave even though he was slightly dazed at her words.

"This is our first meeting, but I can tell that you were a kind person, and an even more amazing mother and grandmother."

He then glanced at Jade as she continued, "Your son is a very skilled and intelligent man, traits which I assume he got from you. He's confident, a great leader-- oh! And he's handsome as well, so that's a plus."

That prompted a scoff out of his mouth. Nevertheless, she went on. "He's not much of a social person. He's a little bit intense and stiff - We can work on that. He shot my hand once! I have the scar to prove it. His choices of words are sometimes foul, though, again, we could always work on that." Jade joked lightheartedly, seeing him softly smile above her.

"But if there's one thing about him that I love, is that he's a strong man with a warm heart, and I don't have to assume to know that he got it from you." Jade continued. "Your son is the strongest man I know, and I will stop at nothing to protect him and make him happy."

Ghost looked down at her, astounded at her words. "Thank you for bringing him into this world. Happy birthday, Mrs. Riley."

As she finished her message, Jade looked up with a soft smile, "I'll be sure to bring some flowers the next time we visit, and every year after that."

She thought he was going to say something, until the arm that was intertwined with hers moved, though nervously, gliding across her back and found its home on Jade's shoulder, before lightly pressing and pulling her towards him. Jade blushed, not only at the warmth of his body but also at the fact that he initiated the touch.

"Thank you, Lottie." He muttered in his deep voice, "So much."

"Anytime, Love."

After about 15 minutes of standing in front of the graves, the rain had stopped, and the sun showed up to light the rest of the day as the sky turned orange. Jade had stored the wet umbrella back in its container and hung it on her wrist before she walked back to the car per his request. Jade figured he wanted some alone time with his family, and so she obliged.

"How's she, Mum? She's a beautiful bird, isn't she?"

Ghost finally spoke, his hands tucked inside his pockets. He then glanced at his brother's grave, smirking. "What about you, Tommy? You think she's the one?" He asked no one, not expecting any answer anyway, yet he just wanted to let it out.

"I thought I'm gonna bite the dust on some fucking rathole somewhere, and that was what I wished at some point, but..." Ghost sighed, shifting his weight on his hip, "I kind of want to die an old man, after living my life to the fullest with her-- Fuck, I can't believe I'm saying this." Ghost chuckled at his own words, not expecting it to be this heartfelt. "I'm arse over tit for her. Yeah, you're gonna laugh at me for this Tommy, but at least I didn't laugh when you said the same thing about Beth."

"And Mum, knowing you, I think you'd like her. She's a bit like you, in a way." Ghost confessed, still eyeing her name on her gravestone, "She cares too much. In a good way, and I find it endearing." He suddenly recalled the memories he had with Jade, from the first moment they met to this moment, replaying them over and over and being surprised about how much she reminded him of his mother.

"I want to protect her with all my life. I love her, Mum."

And with that, a burden on his shoulders felt like no more. He'd never said those words to anyone, and he might be insane to be in love with someone considering how he'd lived his life, but he'd made a promise to protect her, and if he'd be a fool, then a fool he would become.

"Anyway, she's waiting back there, and I'm hungry. So I'm going to leave you now." Ghost then stood up straight, his hands still in his pockets. He glanced at every single one of the gravestones, before looking at his mother's.

"Happy birthday, Mum."

-----

(All of the Riley's birthdays are entirely made-up. Their date of death was also made up, but I remembered there were something with Christmas, so I'll just place December 24th to make my heart hurt more) ಥ_ಥ

Anyway, thank you for reading, and hope you love this! (❁´◡`❁)

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw #cod #simon ghost riley #cod mw22 #sleepy answers #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #charlotte jade le jardin #call of duty oc #ghost x oc #ghost x jade #simon ghost riley fic #simon riley #call of duty fic #call of duty mw2 #angst #tw angst #tw death

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eddiexmunsonlover · 5 days

Text

One Step Away From You (Chapter 4)

ExBestFriend!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

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Chapter Summary: Your off-handed comment to Jason catches up to you. Before things get out of hand, someone swoops in to your defense. A heart-to-heart ensues. WC: 6.4k Warnings: MDNI. Explicit language. Fatphobia/bullying from Jason. Jason almost hits you. Brief references to toxic family relationships and abuse.

Saturday, September 21st, 1985

The ever so alluring smell of bacon and pancakes invades your senses, stirring you from your slumber. You rub your eyes as you look at the clock on the bedside table. 10:35 am. You slept in, though you can’t say you’re surprised. After the day you had, you must’ve really needed it. You roll out of Steve’s spare bed, making sure to re-make it before you venture down the stairs.

The smell intensifies with each step down the stairs and into the kitchen, spotting the stack of pancakes and bacon waiting to be picked. Steve is pouring a cup of coffee, eyeing you as you grab a plate and start loading it up.

“Morning, sleepy head”

“Morning, haircut” you respond, taking a quick bite of bacon. Groaning softly in pleasure, “You know, Steve. If you don’t figure out what you wanna do for a career, I think you’d make a great little housewife.” You smirk to yourself as you pour syrup onto your plate. Steve scoffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that. Know any takers?” You laugh with him before you catch a glimpse of Robin sitting on the couch, eating her own plate.

“Oh, hell yes.” you say excitedly when you see and hear Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? playing on the TV. You quickly scurry over to join Robin on the couch with your own plate. Steve joins soon after, all leisurely eating your brunch and watching Saturday morning cartoons. After you’ve all finished your plates and are relaxing before eventually having to get ready for your work shifts, Steve speaks up.

“So, we gonna talk about what happened yesterday?”

You look between him and Robin, confused. You quirk an eyebrow up at him.

“Uh, what happened yesterday? What do you mean?”

“I mean, something happened yesterday, didn’t it? You seemed a bit…off.”

Goddamnit. If Dustin hadn't learned it from you, you're now sure he learned his ability to read people so well from Mr. Steven Harrington too.

“Did you talk to Eddie?” Robin asks softly.

You sigh, crossing your arms over your stomach.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell us anything. But if you want to, you know we’re here. I’m also just really nosey.” Steve adds, causing a smirk to tug at your lips before you take a deep breath.

“Yeah. I talked to him. Ran into him after lunch, literally. And uh, let’s just say it did not go well. He kinda flipped out on me. But, I kinda deserved it. Aaand, I kinda slapped him. But, he kinda deserved it.” You let yourself laugh a little, taking in their surprised faces.

“So yeah, based on that I don’t think we’ll be friends again anytime soon. At least I can say I tried.” You finish with a shrug.

Robin reaches out and rubs your arm soothingly as Steve looks at you with sympathy and in thought.

“I’m sorry, Y/N” he sighs, “Maybe just give things some time to cool down, I’m sure he’ll come back around.” He gives you a soft, crooked smile.

“Yeah, maybe. And if not, I’m sure I’ll be okay.” you say, more to yourself than to them.

You pull into your driveway an hour later. You sit there, finishing your cigarette as your eyes linger on the now familiar van across the street through your rear-view mirror. You look longer than you’d like, finally tearing your eyes away to throw out your cig. Cutting off the sounds of Black Sabbath as you turn off the ignition.

You slowly shuffle your way to the mailbox at the end of your driveway. Flipping through the spam and advertisements when you hear a familiar sound, a skateboard. Your eyes follow the sound, a figure shaded by the sun. You know who it is. If it wasn’t for the skateboard, it’s the flaming aura around her head under the sunlight. A big smile stretches across your face, leaning against your mailbox as she rides closer into view. When she’s close enough to see your face, her eyes widen and she nearly stumbles off her skateboard, eliciting a giggle from you. She stares at you for a second as she comes to a stop, sliding her headphones down to her neck.

“Hey, you.” you say cheerfully.

In a second, she’s running to you, wrapping you in a tight embrace. You feel the shakiness as she inhales a deep breath.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, the ever elusive Red.” You smile as you return the hug, briefly rubbing her back before she pulls back to look at you.

“W-How?” She looks toward your trailer, “You moved back?!”

“Yep, just this past week. I tried keeping an eye out for you at school, then Dustin told me you moved here. Knew I’d catch you eventually.”

Her smile falters ever so slightly at the mention of Dustin.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, it’s a piece of shit but it’s a roof over our heads I guess.” You nod in agreement, pondering how to approach her. If she’s been avoiding the party, you worry one wrong move will send her running away from you too. You decide to go the easy route, knowing you might not get a truthful answer right away.

“You and mom doing okay?”

“Yeah. She’s either working or drinking most of the time, so” she shrugs nonchalantly, a move you see right through. “But I can take care of myself just fine anyway”.

“Well, if you ever get bored entertaining yourself, just come and give a knock, okay? I gotta get going for work here soon, but maybe we can go out to the drive-in or something soon?”

A small smile tugs at her lips as she nods lightly.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Oh, and you know. If you ever need a ride, I’m already giving the knuckleheads rides home after school and since we’re neighbors, I can just stick them all in the bed and give you passenger seat privileges.” You ramble before noticing the way she begins to awkwardly sway at the suggestion. “Or ya know, I can just kick them to the curb and save myself some gas with just you.” You quickly offer. She forces a small laugh before shaking her head.

“No, that’s okay. It gives me more time to skate anyway.”

Great, I’ve already messed this up. Just add it to the list…

“Alright, well the offer’s on the table anytime. For anything.” You insist, giving her an out to the conversation as you begin to move back toward your driveway. She only nods in response, before putting her skateboard in place to ride again.

“See you later, Red.” You wave before heading into your trailer to get ready for work.

During the slower phases of the work day, your mind drifts to worries of Max. How she’s really doing, how you should approach her, how to get her to open up to you. It’s a welcomed distraction considering the other places, or people, your mind would be wandering to otherwise. You and Max had gotten fairly close over the summer, you gave her opportunities with and outside of the party to get away from home, from her asshole step-brother. Being the only other girl and older, she often confided in you. Whether it was about her brother, her relationship with Lucas, or the struggles of girlhood, you were there for her.

Since Billy’s sacrifice to save her from the mall fire and his resulting death, she’s closed off. Isolating from everyone close to her. That happened to be something you’re familiar with. Something that helps you to understand her, something you can use. You know you need to take it slow though. Based on her initial reaction to seeing you, you know she's missed you, and know that connection is still there. There’s just some walls you need to chisel down first.

Take it slow.

That connection is still there.

Just some walls you need to chisel down first…

Those dark curls… chocolate button eyes… cutest fucking dimples you’ve ever seen in your life.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, frustrated with your brain and your heart. Both deeply longing for him… before the shock of pain with the memory of his words hits you.

Just let it go. Move on. He’s not your Eddie anymore.

It was bothering Eddie more than he’d ever admit, even to himself. You. Thoughts of you swimming around his head with every emotion he could think of, was bothering him.

After your argument, he felt a bit of relief. To finally say the words he’d been carrying with him these last few years to you. To finally release the anger and pain out onto you. It felt like a weight off his shoulders in the moment. What he hadn’t been expecting was for you to match it, taking the pain and anger you felt in response, right back out and onto him.

This whole past week you’ve been back has thrown him off. More distracted than usual. More reactive. More irritable. The other boys in Hellfire noticed, taking extra effort to not poke the bull.

Your argument and slap left him even more distracted and off-balance. You’d thrown him off his game for Hellfire for christ’s sake. Forgetting details for the campaign that he’d otherwise would’ve had memorized, left him referencing his notes. He didn’t exude his usual dungeon master playfulness, animated voice and facial expressions coming out muted. Everyone noticed. Eddie’s own off-balanced performance reflected in his players. Nothing had ever distracted him so much to the point of interfering with Hellfire campaigns. The way Henderson eyed him suspiciously throughout the night almost set him off completely, again. He’d ended the campaign a little early, offering a brief apology and a quick lie to write off his abnormal performance on. He’d spent the rest of the night getting as drunk and high as he could in his bedroom until he passed out.

Saturday isn’t going much differently for him. Sitting in his bed with a joint in his mouth as his fingers mindlessly strum his guitar, thinking of you. The anger he felt yesterday is now replaced with guilt. A guilt that sits and churns in his stomach, teetering on the edge of nausea. Maybe that was just the hangover, or maybe it’s from the way he can’t get the image of your tear-streaked face out of his head. Tears caused by him.

You deserved to hear how much you hurt him. Be faced with the consequences of your actions. You deserved that. But as he remembers the look in your eyes yesterday, the way you flinched, the way he caused a side of you you rarely show to come out… he knows you didn’t deserve that. He scolds himself for letting his emotions get the best of him, letting them get out of his control. You hurt him, that didn’t make it right for him to hurt you back. It didn’t even make him feel good. Maybe very briefly in the moment, just to release what he’d been holding in for so long, but it left as quickly as it came.

He sighs as he moves the guitar off his lap, putting out his joint in the ashtray before rubbing his hands over his face, staring up at the ceiling.

He can’t hold on to this anger anymore, he knows it’s not healthy and is only hurting him more. But he can’t blame himself too much for wanting to, it’s one of the ways he’s protected himself in the past. Protected him from getting hurt. You knew that about him. The way he held onto anger at his dad, people in Hawkins, not wanting to waver and give either the chance to hurt him more. You knew almost everything about him, more about him than he’d ever willingly shared with anyone. That’s why what you did hurt him so deeply, and why he wanted to hurt you just as much. And feels like utter shit for it.

Hey, you!

His eyes dart to his window as his brain immediately recognizes your voice. He peeks out to see you interacting with a younger girl he’d seen skateboarding around in the neighborhood and at school. His heart begins to ache watching you, watching you embrace the girl, watching the way you smile at her and ramble.

God, does he miss it. Misses the way you’d ramble and rant about something you’re passionate about, the way you’d cackle and smile when he’d do the stupidest thing he could think of just so he could see it. Misses the way your warm, plump body feels against him when you’d hug or lean your head on his shoulder.

He sighs watching you wave goodbye to the girl and walk inside your trailer.

Maybe he could give you another chance. Now that he’s not so overcome with anger, maybe he’d be able to hear you out. Not overpower you so much with his anger that you can actually have a real chance to explain yourself.

Maybe.

Tuesday, September 24th, 1985

Some things have changed since your fight with Eddie on Friday. Flipped, really. Your eyes no longer sought him out. You do your best to avoid looking at him whether it was in the halls or in your shared classes. Knowing the sight of him would only bring back that sting in your chest.

Eddie on the other hand, couldn’t tear his eyes away from you whenever you’re in his sight. Watching you in regret, longing, confusion, hurt, all twisted into one. Eddie’s confident in himself most of the time, except for in a few areas. This situation with you and how to handle it moving forward is one of the latter. It’s a big fucking mess he isn’t sure how to fix. He knows with the way things went on Friday after you made the first move to talk to him, that it had to be him this time to try to make things right.

You take your time walking down the quiet halls before the end of the lunch period, hearing the distant, muffled chatter from the lunchroom. You open your locker, putting away your books from your morning classes, switching them out with your afternoon ones. Just as you finish putting the last book in your bag, your locker slams shut in front of you, causing your head to whip toward the culprit you didn’t notice come up next to you till now.

“You’ve got a smart mouth on you, don’t you piggy?” Jason seethes out, hand pressed against your now closed locker door. Your smirk at him as you lean against it.

“So I’ve been told.”

“Yeah, well I don’t know who the hell you think you are or who you think you're talking to bu-”

“You know, I remember you from years ago. The last time I lived here.” You interrupt before looking him up and down, “Jason Carver. Back then you were just a scrawny guy, trailing behind the older jocks, carrying that ever so fragile ego in tow with theirs.” You look back up to meet his eyes, brows furrowed above them. “I see you’ve grown a few inches, even bulked up a bit. Looks like that’s about all that’s changed, though.” You watch as he processes your words, your insult.

“You fat fucking bitch” He says through gritted teeth, face turning red.

“Oh come on, Carver. Don’t you have anything fresher than that?” you say flatly, cocking an eyebrow at him. You watch as his body tenses up.

“Looks like I need to teach you and that smart mouth a lesson” He says, taking a step closer to you. You don’t move an inch, refusing to give him the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of you.

“Oh no. What are you gonna do?!” You say sarcastically. “You don’t scare me, Carver.”

You watch as a vein protrudes from his forehead, face turning a deeper red.

It all happens so quickly. One of his arms pulls back, raising in the air in the motion to slap you, but it doesn’t come. Curly dark hair appears behind him, before Jason’s thrown flat on his ass in front of you.

Eddie had been outside smoking before lunch ended. On his way back into the school, he spots you and Jason. He slows his steps, listening in on the quickly escalating conversation. You’re teetering on the edge and you don’t care. As fragile as Jason’s ego is, so is his masculinity. Eddie wasn’t sure if Jason's above hitting a girl, but he knows that’s where this could go. He creeps closer, eyeing the way Jason’s hand begins to twitch. Waiting for the string to snap, and it does. When he spots Jason’s hand raise, Eddie swoops in. With a foot behind Jason’s, Eddie wraps his arm around Jason’s front, pulling him till he’s falling back on the floor.

Eddie was no stranger to fights, the jocks of Hawkins having taken their frustrations out of him plenty of times. He didn’t like putting himself in the line of fire, but he has and would do it in a heartbeat for the people he cares about. Despite how he’s acted, you’re one of those people.

Your eyes widen, at the fact Jason was about to hit you in the middle of the school, and at seeing Eddie before you, swooping in out of nowhere to defend you. Your eyes lock with his and everything slows down, so many emotions and words unsaid flowing between you with just a look. For a moment your mind flashes back to 5th grade Eddie, reaching his hand out to help you off the ground, worry and sympathy filling his eyes. History repeating itself. You take a deep breath as the memory hits you, staring into Eddie’s brown eyes. In that moment, it’s only you two. No one else. No white brick halls. Just you and Eddie, conveying so much to each other through just your eyes.

Jason’s groans pull you from your trance, your eyes leaving Eddie’s to look down at him. You drop down to one knee, getting into Jason’s face. Eyes popping open wide when he senses you so close. You look at him with fire in your eyes as you point a finger in his face.

“Let me tell you something, you piece of shit. I didn’t come back here to deal with your little brat boy bullshit. If I see you try to put your hands on any of my friends, let alone me, again… I will make you regret it. And don’t think that I won’t.” You hiss, voice full of steel. Staring at him with as much intensity as he held earlier. You relish in the brief moment of fear that flashes through his eyes before his face hardens in frustration and embarrassment, chest heaving with deep, short breaths.

A silence falls before the bell rings to end the lunch period, breaking you all out of the moment. Jason quickly pulls himself to his feet before students flood the halls, not wanting anyone to see him in his embarrassing position. You rise with him. He fixes his letterman jacket, staring daggers between you and Eddie.

“Fucking freaks” he huffs before turning around, stomping down the hall quickly as it fills with students.

Both you and Eddie relax, releasing a breath before you’re just standing there awkwardly next to each other. You resecure your bag on your shoulder before chancing a look at Eddie, who's already staring at you. Reading you, assessing you, trying to tell if you’re okay.

You clear your throat before nodding your head at him.

“Thank you” you mutter softly. When he doesn’t immediately say anything back, your body takes the lead, quickly walking away toward your next class.

Eddie considers chasing after you, but he doesn’t know what the hell he’d say if he did. He just watches you walk away before he takes slow steps to follow you to your shared class together.

In the two classes you have together, you can feel his eyes on you. You catch him a few times, eyes locking with his before one of you quickly looks away.

You feel like you have whiplash. From the switch up of the Eddie you faced on Friday that hated your guts, to the Eddie who didn’t waste a second coming to defend you, with only a few days passing in between. You can’t wrap your head around it. You know he cares, he wouldn’t have been so angry before if he didn’t, but you assumed he was done with you, hated you. But someone that hates you wouldn’t rush into potential harms way to defend you, right?

A few more stolen glances and the muffled voices of your teachers’ as you’re lost in thought fills the remainder of your school day. When you leave your final class, stopping at your locker before walking out the front doors, you wonder if he’ll come up behind you, apologize for his behavior on Friday and give you another chance. But it doesn’t happen, making the walk to your truck uninterrupted. You want to chastise yourself for holding that hope, but what happened today can’t mean nothing. It just can’t. You don’t want it to.

You spend the remainder of your afternoon trying to do your homework. It takes everything in you to focus, almost giving up when the calculus problems push you right to the edge in frustration. You let out a huff in relief as you finish the problems and slam your notebook shut, throwing your head back as you slouch in your chair. Rubbing your hands over your face before you hear your mom unlocking the front door. When you note the time and sun setting through your window, you get up and make your way to the kitchen to start making dinner. You browse through the cupboard before your eyes land on a package of pasta. Spaghetti it is.

As you wait for the meat to brown, your mind replays the events of the day. Landing back into the loop your thoughts had been stuck in all afternoon about Eddie. Trying to make sense of it all, of him. The moment your eyes locked this afternoon made your heart ache, and still does when you think of it now.

You aren’t sure when exactly you first fell in love with Eddie Munson.

The first day you met when he came to your rescue from bullies? That time in the woods when you were 10 when he insisted you be the trapped princess his mission was to rescue? The countless Friday nights you spent staying up late to watch The Midnight Special, eventually falling asleep on each other's shoulders? The first time he shared his mom’s records with you? The first time he really opened up to you about the loss of his mom, and the strenuous relationship with his Dad? That night your parents fighting got so bad you snuck out of your window and went to his trailer in tears, consoling you and doing anything he could to cheer you up? That time he almost went to fight your mom when he saw the red mark on your cheek? Or maybe it was the time he told you you’re beautiful the way you are, when your mom and everyone’s criticisms of your body weighed too heavily on your mind?

You can’t pinpoint which event triggered the change from seeing Eddie as your friend, to your crush. What event marked the transition to being in love with your best friend, seeing and imagining him in ways beyond a regular friend would. You aren’t sure when, but you know you’ve been in love with him for as long as you can remember. An unrequited love that made your heart ache with every pet name bestowed upon you, with every flash of that devilish smile and irresistible dimples, with every use of his deep, animated voice for dramatic storytelling. An ache you’d decided for years you could stifle to keep his friendship. An ache that turned into a sharp pain hearing his voice over the phone, hundreds of miles away. A pain you’d decided you couldn’t bear anymore. Maybe if you hadn’t been in love with him, things would’ve been different. You wouldn’t have pulled away.

So foolish. Desperately longing for things you couldn’t have. Longing so desperately you pushed away the best person in your life, the very person you longed for. A decision that didn’t take long for you to regret, but in your mind was too late to fix. Now, after today, you aren’t so confident about that.

You sit on the couch with your mom, eating Spaghetti and watching Magnum P.I. reruns as your thoughts continue. Mindless small talk about your days, vision zoning out as you stare at the tv, petting Henny who sits in your lap, and a heightened awareness of Eddie’s presence only 100 feet away. An hour later when your mom announces she’s going to bed, you ponder how to spend the rest of your night. You know you won’t be able to fall asleep yourself anytime soon, anticipating one of those nights you won’t be able to shut your mind off.

You wander to your room, shutting your door as you reach into one of your dresser drawers for your little stash box. Sighing in frustration when you notice you only have enough left for one more smoke.

You roll a quick blunt before throwing on a flannel and slipping out the front door. You take a deep inhale of the fresh air, relishing in the cool breeze of the late September night as you begin the short walk to the little neighborhood park at the end of your street. You don’t notice the figure on the porch across the street smoking a cigarette in the dark as you walk, taking in the sound of the breeze blowing through the leaves on the trees, the quietness of the park beyond the very faint sound of some network sitcom playing on a tv.

You sit on a swing and begin to move back and forth slowly as memories flood back. This playground hasn’t changed a bit since you first moved to Forest Hills Trailer Park 9 years ago. Paint faded and chipping, old mulch littered around the playground, and rusted metal chains on the swing that creaks with each movement. Eddie and you spent countless afternoons here in the early years of your friendship. Swinging together, laughing as you’d watch Eddie do the monkey bars, spinning each other on the merry-go-round till you thought you’d get sick.

You put the blunt to your lips and light it, taking a deep inhale as you look around the abandoned playground, hoping the weed would help to calm your mind enough to get some sleep. You rest your head against the metal swing chain, feet softly kicking at the mulch and dirt beneath you. You don’t hear the soft footsteps on pavement approaching you till they’re only a couple feet away, head shooting up at the intrusion when the sound meets your ears. Eddie clears his throat, hands in his vest pockets as he stands at the edge of the playground. Your movements still at the sight of him, streetlights illuminating his figure and messy curls. When your body stiffens and you remain silent, Eddie takes a few steps closer.

“I-uh, I come in peace, promise.” He says softly, raising his hands in surrender. “Mind if I join you?” he asks, head gesturing to the empty swing next to you. You only nod in response before casting your eyes down. You take another hit as he sits down next to you, praying the calming effects you sought would kick in quicker.

You’re both silent for a while, the light wind blowing through the trees, neighborhood noises, and soft creaks from the swing set the only sounds filling the space between you. Eddie’s knee bobs anxiously before he clears his throat.

“I um, just wanted to apologize for Friday. The way I acted, some of the things I said… I let my emotions get the best of me. I didn’t really give you much room to talk, and I’m sorry for that.” Eddie says nervously, eyes turning to look at you as he finishes. You nod in response again, not looking his way.

“I understand. I don’t blame you.” Silence falls between you again before you look towards him. “Thank you again, for earlier today. You didn’t need to step in like that.” Eddie chuckles softly.

“Oh, I know you could’ve handled him just fine on your own, but you shouldn’t have had to... It’s no problem, really. Not my first run in with him anyway.” You wonder just how many times Eddie’s had to deal with Carver and the other jocks, just how bad those run-ins have possibly gotten. In a sign signaling truce, you hand your blunt to him, offering a hit. He gladly accepts with a soft smile before taking a hit.

“Since when do you smoke the devil’s lettuce?”

You giggle softly, letting a smile spread to your cheeks.

“About a year now, same with these” You say, pulling the pack of cigarettes from your pocket enough for him to see. Eddie tsk’s in response, passing the blunt back to you.

“Naughty naughty.” He teases in a deep voice, eyeing you while blowing out smoke. You tear your eyes away and back to the mulch beneath your feet, the sight enough to send a shiver up your spine.

After a few more passes between you, the blunt is gone and you’re left to face the inevitable conversation. You rub your sweaty palms against your thighs as you work up the courage.

“I just wanted to say again, I’m sorry for how things went. For dropping contact. It’s entirely my fault and… I’m really sorry for doing that to you, Eddie. You didn’t deserve that.” Your eyes peek at him. He’s faced forward, nodding softly in response as he lights a cigarette. He moves his hips slightly, enough to turn his body more toward yours.

“So why did you do it?” he asks quietly, dark eyes looking up from his cigarette to meet yours. A somber look on his face, a stark contrast from a few days ago. You take a shaky deep breath while turning your head to look up at the stars littering the sky.

You can’t tell him the truth. You can’t tell him you stopped returning his calls because you were so in love with him that the distance, the sound of his voice over the phone caused your heart to ache so deeply that you couldn’t take it anymore, that you’d recluse to your room and cry after each call.

“We were so close and it hurt so much to be torn apart. Every time I heard your voice on the phone… it just” you take another deep breath, “it was just a reminder that I wouldn’t see you again and that just hurt too much to deal with. I didn’t want to deal with it. So… I secluded. I avoided you. I know it might not make sense, that it might not be a good enough answer for you, but it’s the only one I have.”

You didn’t exactly lie. It’s not the full truth but you were still as honest as you could let yourself be. He’s quiet for a minute as he takes in your words before letting out a deep sigh.

“I guess I get that,” He does, he felt the pain too. The way his heart ached in longing every time he heard your voice, every time he’s thought about you since. It wasn’t enough for him to stop calling, but he still understands you shared the same pain during every call. “But you could’ve seen me again, you’ve been visiting in the summers this whole time.” he protests softly.

“Eddie, when I stopped calling I didn’t know I was going to come back to visit.” You shake your head lightly before turning your body towards him, mirroring his. “I mean, I figured I’d come back and see my Dad eventually, but uh if you remember, he wasn’t exactly in the best mental state when we left and was also locked up so, I didn’t really know anything about what would happen.” You look away from him and towards your lap, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your flannel. “It’s not that I don’t regret it, I do. But by the time I changed my mind and found out about coming back in the summer I was just… like, paralyzed. It had only been two months after I stopped calling, but I was afraid. Afraid it was too much time that’d passed, afraid you’d moved on and replaced me, afraid you wouldn’t forgive me… so I didn’t do anything. Just let it be. The whole time I just told myself you probably didn’t care much anyway.” Eddie blinks at you, wide-eyed as you finish before scoffing lightly.

“You really think I would’ve ‘replaced’ you that easily? That quickly? You were my best friend too, Y/N. The closest I’ve ever had, even closer than Ronnie, you know that. How could you think I wouldn’t care?”

“Come on, Eddie. You’re telling me your brain never fucks with you like that?” You ask, fingers picking a cigarette out of your pack and lighting it quickly. After an inhale you continue, “I mean logically, I know that you felt the same about our friendship. Plenty of memories and moments to prove it. But I just kept thinking back to when I first told you I was leaving. Sure, you seemed disappointed but you weren’t as upset as I was, you didn’t cry. And despite knowing I've only seen you cry like, twice before in all those years, my brain still just clung onto that. Like ‘See! He doesn’t really care, not as much as you.’” You shake your head in disappointment and frustration with yourself as you take another hit. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“No,” Eddie answers quickly, squashing his own cigarette in the mulch with his Reebok sneakers. He looks at you, a sympathetic look etched across his features. “I know what that’s like.” You’re both quiet at first, letting the new information and understanding fall into place. You rock yourself back and forth on the swing slowly, gathering your words before you speak them.

“Look, I don’t expect you to forgive me and I don’t know what I could do to make it up to you but, I just need to say again that I’m sorry. I would take it all back if I could. I’ve really missed you.” You finish, eyes meeting his. You hope they’re portraying your sincerity as his own search your face. He looks away from you as a small smile tugs at one side of his lips, feet kicking at the mulch below.

“Yeah well… I missed you too.” He breathes out, eyes meeting yours again. A small smile tugs at your own lips. After a few moments of silence, he finishes. “I forgive you.”

He leans towards you, pinky finger extended. You choke out a laugh at the sight, relief washing over you. You wrap your pinky around his, closing your eyes to stop them from watering as your smile deepens.

When your fingers detach, you sigh deeply and open your eyes to meet his again.

“Thank you” you say quietly, warmth spreading through your body. It feels like a massive weight has been taken off your shoulders. The optimism and hope you haven’t felt since last Sunday, before your first day back at Hawkins, creeps its way back into your mind and body. You note how much lighter your chest feels as it moves with each breath, and the knot you’ve felt in your stomach for a week begins to loosen.

You stay there for a while, lightly swinging back and forth as you and Eddie dive into discussions about new bands, albums, and movies that have come out since you moved. Concerts you’ve been to since. Eddie smiles seeing that you haven’t changed one bit since you’d left, even mentioning bands and movies he hadn’t even heard of, promising to share your tapes with him at some point. He finds himself getting lost watching you as you excitedly describe the Journey concert you went to with your cousins in 83’. Smiling when he notices the sparkle in your eyes as you rave about Steve Perry’s voice and how they played your favorite songs. Laughing as you pout in jealousy when he describes the Metallica concert he went to with Gareth earlier this year. It all feels so familiar, so comfortable.

You’re so lost in conversation you don’t notice how much time passes by until Eddie checks his watch and whistles. It’s almost 11:30pm, nearly 2 hours since you first walked down to the playground. The hesitancy you held about your ability to get a goodnight’s rest tonight was gone. You feel like you’re floating as you and Eddie walk the short distance back to your trailers, Eddie telling you about Hellfire’s current campaign.

“You know, you’re more than welcome to join us sometime. You already know half the club.” He offers as you reach the end of your driveway.

“I’ll definitely think about it, thanks.” You give him a small smile.

“Cool. Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” He returns your smile as he rocks back and forth on his heels lightly, hands shoved into his vest pockets.

“Oh, wait! Kind of an odd question but before I forget, do you know anyone around here that sells?” You ask as the thought of your now empty stash box pops into your head. Eddie smoked with you, you figure he knew where to get some around here.

And boy, did he.

A bright, cheeky smile stretches across his face.

“Oh yeah, I know a guy.” He says with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes before he bows dramatically, “Your friendly neighborhood drug dealer at your service, my dear.”

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x plussize!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #bestfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson

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seafoamreadings · 8 days

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week of april 21st, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: the biggest astrological news of your week is the end of mercury retrograde right in the middle of your sign. you can still anticipate a little bit of shenanigans for a few days afterward since it is so close to home for you, but from here on out a little peaceful normalcy re-enters your life. if you need more chaos it'll have to be the kind you make for yourself.

taurus: aries antics are not yet at an end but in many ways your sign now becomes the star of the show. on some levels this will be quite fun for you, especially if you thrive under positive attention from others. on other levels, the shifts and changes can be overwhelming to your stolid and stable sign. try to be surprised and delighted rather than shocked and dismayed. it's probably not all so bad and if it is, you will prevail.

gemini: the end of a mercury retrograde is always good news for a gemini. your mind clears where there was recently any brain fog or fuzziness. the fumbling and bumbling shifts back to your natural willowy gracefulness. other things are going on this week too but this is the biggest relief for you.

cancerians: mercury retrograde has been hard for the cardinal signs like you, but its end this week is a breath of fresh air. meanwhile a full scorpio moon can also help you recharge any intellectual or mental fatigue you have been experiencing lately, but do expect to be in your feelings a bit about it. not that that's a bad thing, no matter what some might say. it is one of your gifts, how deeply you can feel.

leo: you'll have a lot of strong feelings early on this week but by the weekend your head and heart are much clearer. physical exercise benefits you, so head to a gym or just have a little nice gallivanting outdoors.

virgo: the more mercurial virgoans will feel great relief as mercury goes direct at last. but don't jump in too quickly to any contracts or sharing resources. less mercurial virgoans will be more focused on mars-neptune in pisces, bringing some illusions (or disillusionment) to relationships. emilie du chatelet said our happiness depends on our illusions, so it is ok to embrace them to some degree, but don't let anyone lie to you or do you harm.

libra: this week's astrology portends mainly good things (although also shifting things) in your relationships, perhaps some delusion or manipulation occurring in some routine or place of work, and a full moon involving your money. if you've been financially wise and responsible, this could be great news. if you've let your luxurious venusian tendencies get the better of you recently, perhaps less great.

scorpio: you may find yourself saying mercury schmercury to the folks hyped up about mercury retrograde this week, but it's mostly due to the full moon that occurs in your sign shortly beforehand. your daily routines run smoother than ever but your emotions are heated and overflowing. don't try to cram it down. let it out, in private if need be.

sagittarius: mercury direct again may well herald a creative breakthrough. or, perhaps juicier, a new relationship or fling. or even an affair, if you're that kind of sagittarian.

capricorn: your sign and your cardinal brethren will certainly feel a relief of some tension or disarray as mercury resumes forward motion this week. the first half of the week is also a great time for you to socialize, if you have the time!

aquarius: almost for sure, you'll receive some sort of important or, at minimum, 'interesting' message around the time that mercury ends its retrograde this week. and before that/at the same time, the full moon in scorpio lights up your 10th house of status and legacy, so while you may not want to be out there posting any serious news on your socials, it's ok to take credit for work well done.

pisces: if you can, avoid spending money (especially on anything important) until next week. on the other hand, academic pursuits get a major boost and if you're not an academic, at least get philosophical about something close to your heart. by the end of the week a mars-neptune conjunction gives you energy, although perhaps not of the physical sort. avoid lying to yourself or others.

#astrology #horoscopes #horoscope #weekly horoscopes #weekly horoscope #signs #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

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msgexymunson · 1 year

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hi :) i wld love to see your take on eddie sitting in on reader’s tattoo appointment, i just got my foot n ankle done and my lonely little rat brain was overrun w the idea of him reminding me to breathe, being encouraging, taking care of me after (i had to limp outta there lol)

Congrats on the ink bestie!!

Warnings: none I don't think, a bit pine-y, very praise heavy, happy ending

A/N: I wish I had an Eddie Munson by my side at each of my tatt appointments! (Though, on second thoughts, if I did I don't think I'd have any bare skin left!) Not sure if this is where you wanted this to go but I got a bit carried away haha

1.6k words

Masterlist

As you approach the shop you feel your limbs jangling like windchimes. The breath you take in is gulped and shaky, doing nothing to calm your quaking nerves.

Eddie strokes your hands, each held in his ironclad grip.

"Hey, hey, look at me."

Your eyes travel to meet his, heart leaping at the concern etched on his face. Bold, wide eyes meet your gaze with every ounce of care one look could give.

"You know you don't have to do this. Just say the word and we'll walk away."

His concern makes you want to cry, trying hard not to focus on his unending gaze.

"I know, I want to do it." Taking a big breath, you harden your shoulders. "Let's go."

Eddie smiles at your bravery and opens the tattoo shop door for you, giving you a little bow.

Smirking at his gentlemanly antics you take your first steps in and walk over to the counter, gaze being met by a smiling woman with a shaved head and a neck tattoo.

“Hey there, how can I help you?” Her grin’s infectious, all teeth and warmth.

“I’ve got an appointment with you, I think? Are you Miranda?” You give your name and you're led through, Eddie hot on your heels. As you walk past a couple of stations Eddie gives a salute to another tattoo artist, who waves and grins at you both.

As you’re filling out the paperwork, Eddie’s hand finds your forearm, thumb rubbing encouraging circles into the warm flesh.

“It’s gonna be fine, it’s not even that bad, trust me. I’m here.”

As you smile back at him, face warming at his words, you bite back the lump in your throat that always appears when your best friend looks at you like that. Handing the form back to her, the words “First time?” surprise you from your revelry, and you turn to look at the grinning tattoo artist.

“Yeah, it’s my 21st, so it’s a present.” Eddie waves half heartedly with his fingers, indicating he was the one who bought the appointment.

“Cute. Well at least you’ve got your boyfriend here to look after you.”

You cringe inwardly at that, wishing that her words were true.

“Oh he’s- we’re not- “

“Oh this princess is far too good for the likes of me, ain’t that right?” Eddie’s lopsided grin tugs at your heartstrings as he lands a playful punch on your shoulder. A soft frown pulls your bottom lip into a small pout, wanting to say that he is good enough, that he’s everything, but the words never leave your lips.

Miranda’s voice cuts through the awkward tension. “Shame. You guys make a cute couple.”

Your face flushes magenta as you remove your sneaker and sock, grateful to be looking anywhere but Eddie’s face.

As the artist preps the area you risk a glance at Eddie. If he feels awkward, he doesn’t show it, just giving you that cheeky grin of his you’ve grown to love, a permanent etch of mischief lined in his features.

She peels off the stencil and invites you to check out the design. It’s an orchid; roots, leaves and beautiful flowers run up the side of your foot to your ankle.

“Oh, it’s perfect, thanks!” You smile at Miranda and she begins prepping the inks and tattoo machine. As soon as the machine turns on you clench. It must be visible as Eddie grabs your hand forcefully, squeezing your fingers.

“It’s OK, it’s just noisy. Don’t focus on it, focus on me.” You will your eyes to open as you gaze upon his face.

Miranda lets you know she’s going to start tattooing. Your gaze never falters, staring at Eddie like your life depended on it.

The first touch of the needle shocks you, but only a little, and after the initial wince dissipates you continue to look into Eddie’s eyes.

“That’s it sweetheart, doing so well. You’re doing better than I did on my first go!”

You hear a deep voice from a few feet away.

“That’s true, he started crying!” A hearty chuckle follows it.

“Yeah, thanks for that Mac!” Eddie throws the words over his shoulder as you giggle. You don’t believe it for a moment, but you appreciate everyone wanting to distract you.

As time progresses, the sting of the needle begins to feel like more of a burn, and it's getting harder and harder to ignore. As you flinch for the fourth time, nerves spasming in your foot, Eddie squeezes your hand.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s OK, you’re nearly done. Doing such a good job. So brave. I’m proud of you.”

“Eddie, speak to me, tell me something.” You say through clenched teeth.

“OK, er, how about…” then his face lights up. “How about I tell you about the three battle bards who wandered upon a clearing and discovered a fire dragon’s egg?”

“Yeah? What were their names?” You smirk. A bubble of love threatens to burst in your chest.

“Oh, you don’t know? They’re like, really famous.”

“So, what are they called, Eddie?” Your smile widens at his stalling.

“Easy. They were called Ragnar, er, Galduf, and, er… Lemmy.”

“Lemmy??” You giggle.

“Yeah, Lemmy the Gambler, famous battle bard.” Eddie nods sagely.

“Did he sing about a certain playing card by any chance?”

“Oh, so you have heard of him!” Your laughter rings through the shop, making Eddie beam with pride.

He continues to talk you through the adventures of Ragnar, Galduf and Lemmy the Gambler, hands gesticulating wildly, until the colour portion of your tattoo is nearly finished. You were almost lost in his story. Almost.

The burn begins to become unbearable.

“Eddie, shit, I- I can’t!” You tense every muscle, flexing your pain outwards.

Miranda the tattoo artist asks “Hey, if you want to stop we can, just finishing up with the purple though, and then it’s just white highlights, then we are done.”

You see Eddie glance down at your ink.

“Seriously, princess, it's so close now, you can do it.” He looks up at Miranda. “She can do it. Trust me. I’ll get her through.”

Your mouth hangs open at his words.

“Hey, princess, you trust me right? You can do this, I promise. Trust me.”

You nod, unable to focus on anything but Eddie.

“I trust you. I can do this.”

“Atta girl. Being so good for me sweetheart.” Blood blooms in your cheeks at his praise, breath catching in your throat.

It’s the last hurdle. The final touch ups, and everything in you wants to leap out of the chair and run. Eddie’s warm palm presses to your jaw, thumb rubbing comfort just by your ear.

You’re barely aware that you’re speaking.

“Eddie, I can't, I can't, that’s it, I just- no more, I- “

Suddenly, Eddie’s lips are on yours. You don’t have time to think, just feel. They are soft; a delicate, hesitant pressure being applied so chastely as if they were afraid you’ll break, or run. Your eyes widen immediately, caught entirely off guard. Then, you melt. Your eyes flutter shut as your hand reaches into Eddie’s hair, pulling him in softly. Eddie exhales a relieved breath through his nose that fans across your face, as you both kiss each other. Mouths pressing against each other; not opening, but inviting. A teasing promise of what could be to come. You inhale that particular perfume that is Eddie; all sweet snacks, weed, and the spell of his skin.

A noise outside of your kissing bubble draws you back to reality.

“So… I’m done.”

You whip your head around to Miranda, who's blushing, looking a little like a third wheel.

“What?” You gasp, still not entirely on the correct plane of existence. Not when Eddie’s hand is stroking softly at your jaw.

“I’m done! Take a look in the mirror!”

You jump up and hobble your way over to the full length mirror on the opposite side of the shop.

“Oh, oh it’s beautiful! Oh my God, it’s better than I imagined. Thank you!” You hide your face in your hands, trying to snuff out the emotion. Eddie walks over to the till to complete paying for your present. Once your tattoo is wrapped, and you’ve managed to hop outside on one foot, you finally risk a glance at your best friend.

“So.” you struggle out, heart in your throat.

“So.” Eddie mirrors you, fear in his eyes. “I was just trying to help, you know? I thought it was the thing you’d least expect and if you want to pretend it never happened I totally understand and mmph”

The rest of Eddie’s ramblings are muffled as you press your lips against his.

“Do you wanna, erm, go back to your trailer, and we can talk about this? Or just kiss some more?” You smile up at him.

“I vote for, kiss some more.” He grins and lifts you up bodily to your surprise, carrying you to his van. Your laughter rings through the car park, delight and surprise rippling through it like a sunbeam.

If you want to be added to my Eddie tag list please give me a shout, I kinda lost it after Rumour sorry everyone! I've got the following so far:

@munson-blurbs @eddiesprincess86 @munsonology @manda-panda-monium @tlclick73 @bookshelf-dust @needylilgal022 @tiannamortis @simple-lovebot

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boylikeanangel · 2 years

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{EDITED: round 3 is over! cast your votes for round 4 here!}

round two of the tournament to crown the Ultimate Supreme Weirdgirl is over! here's the results and the brackets for round 3!!!

we're into the quarterfinals now! the voting page for this round is here. voting ends on october 21st, at 11:59PM GMT / 3:59PM PST. be sure to share this post after you've voted!

once again over 1,000 votes were cast, so thank you again for your participation and passion. we had some real tough matches this round, and a lot of results that I was surprised with. I can anticipate more than a few people being upset with the way some of these matches turned out, so make sure to campaign and vote as hard as you can for your faves in the quarterfinals! once again I'll run through a more detailed version of the results under the cut.

Lydia Deetz vs Ponyo: Lydia Deetz with 570 votes (48.7%) vs Ponyo with 601 votes (51.3%)

Wednesday Addams vs Orla McCool: Wednesday Addams with 834 votes (71.2%) vs Orla McCool with 337 votes (28.8%)

Janet vs Mabel Pines: Janet with 320 votes (27.3%) vs Mabel Pines with 851 votes (72.7%) [Mabel received the most votes out of every girl this round. go girlie!!!]

D.W. Read vs Trucy Wright: D.W. Read with 585 votes (49.9%) vs Trucy Wright with 586 votes (50.1%) [I am literally not kidding. trucy won by one fucking vote. this is the most insane thing I've ever seen. they were neck and neck for a whole ten minutes and somehow someone managed to sneak one last vote in for trucy at 11:59 as I was about to close voting. I've never been so on edge in my life. if there's one thing trucy wins in this tournament it's surviving by the skin of her teeth every time!!!]

Coraline Jones vs Alphys: Coraline Jones with 706 votes (60.3%) and Alphys with 465 votes (39.7%)

Toph Beifong vs Lilo Pelekai: Toph Beifong with 531 votes (45.3%) and Lilo Pelekai with 640 votes (54.7%)

Misa Amane vs Tome Kurata: Misa Amane with 556 votes (47.5%) and Tome Kurata with 615 votes (52.5%)

Velma Dinkley vs Matilda Wormwood: Velma Dinkley with 593 votes (50.6%) and Matilda Wormwood with 578 votes (49.4%) [this was the biggest surprise for me. matilda was well ahead for most of the voting period and then at some point this afternoon velma took over and held on. big shoutout to whatever velma fans found this poll because matilda was honestly someone I expected to sweep the competition.]

#weirdgirl wars #tumblr polls #ponyo #the addams family #wednesday addams #gravity falls #mabel pines #ace attorney #trucy wright #coraline #lilo and stitch #lilo pelekai #mob psycho 100 #tome kurata #scooby doo #velma dinkley

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rocktavian · 13 days

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alf @qvincvnx has tagged me for 9 no-skip albums. his post warned me that this would be the case, but even so: i was surprised how hard it was to nail down my list for this. i kept identifying albums i loved and being like, well. i do skip one.

BUT i have now identified a set of albums that i'm happy with, so without further ado:

A Tribe Called Quest – We Got It from Here... Thank You 4 Your Service (2016) • Janelle Monáe – The ArchAndroid (2010) • Billy Woods – Aethiopes (2022)

Franz Ferdinand – Franz Ferdinand (2004) • Aesop Rock – None Shall Pass (2007) • David Bowie – The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (1972)

Ghetts – Conflict of Interest (2021) • Open Mike Eagle – Component System with the Auto Reverse (2022) • Pusha T – DAYTONA (2018)

And to pass the challenge forward: @gpuzzle, @aquaticsasquatch, @siegesquirrel42, @uudistajanne, @mrn2electricboogaloo, @allhailklisz, the mantle is yours. (Apologies to any civosphere people I may have forgotten – I think I got all of you who've made it to tumblr, but of course the mind is a fallible beast.)

Quantifying and taxonomizing things I like is always a satisfying lil brain exercise for me, and indeed this was a lot of fun to think through. One thing that made this an extra challenge was the profusion of short intro/interlude/skit tracks in hip hop albums – it led to some odd scenarios such as 3 Feet High and Rising, where I like all of the SONGS on the project but still end up skipping five or six tracks because some of em are basically just paratexts :b

Also damn I knew I mainly listened to relatively recent music but it's still a bit sobering to realize that my list is 8/9 stuff from the 21st century lol

#one mans hip is another mans hop

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123pixieaod · 9 months

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pilot!Max x backpacker!Daniel 👨‍✈️✈️💼

Part One; Part Two; Part Three; Part Four; Part Five;

"What do you mean the bus is full?" Lando barks, arms crossed.

The driver doesn't reply. He just stares Lando down, no doubt taking in their fifty pound differences.

"I don't think you understand", Sebastian wades in, clamping a hand on Lando's shoulder as if to hold him back. "We're the crew."

"The crew", the man repeats, the same way Max might repeat Lando's declaration that he should fly the plane today, or Sebastian's musings that he might retire next year. Yeah, right. The crew.

"I'm the captain", Sebastian begins in his soft, soothing tone. "This is -"

"The captain?" The driver sneers, looking at Sebastian's dirty sneakers and lanky blonde hair swept out of his face by a faded hairband. He looks more in place in a 1980's Wimbeldon final then 2am in the airport carpark, desperately trying to charm his way onto the last bus which would get them to Dublin on time.

"Max is my Second Officer," Sebastian continues on, German accent rising and falling like the rolling hills Max loves to look down on. "And Lando here is our flight engineer".

Max catches Lando eye, who clearly is trying not to look chuffed with himself. He hasn't formally been told he's passed his exam to graduate from cadet to flight engineer. Well, there goes that surprise.

The driver's lip sneers, beady eyes regarding the three of them. To be honest, Max can't exactly fault his suspicions. None of them look like high-flighing pilots at Formula One Wings airline. Sebastian, as Max has already gone over, looks like somewhere between a 1980s Wimbledon champion or 1980s pornstar, but either way, not this side of the 21st century. Lando, in his designer joggers and baggy Tee, looks like some frat guy who got lost in a game of beer pong and somehow ended up in the back-arse of Europe. And Max just looks... boring, he supposes. More suited behind a computer, sat at a desk for the rest of his life. Earth-child, not sky-bound.

"If we miss the flight we're meant to be captaining because the plane got diverted to another airport but some driver doesn't believe our story, I doubt F1 wings will be pleased," Lando says, wielding his 'a year at my private school costs the same as your house' tone. Thank fuck he's picked up enough self-preservation to resist doing it around Max.

The driver's lips thin. Lando smirks and even Sabatian looks pleased. After a beat, they go onto the bus.

Sebastian and Lando, the bastards, grab the two free seats beside each other. They manage to give Max a sympathetic look as he rolls his eyes, stumbling done the thin bus aisle to find one final seat free. He's lugging his backpack, packed neatly the night before with his uniform and the still untouched "Flying High: Top 100 Lifelessons From Pilots!" book his dad got him for Christmas.

The bus driver jolts the bus forward, clearly intend on at least giving Max mild concussion for all the hassle he's caused him. Max staggers, grabbing blindly at the chair rests and corner of suitcases precariously balanced down the aisle.

He can only just make out the vaguest sizes and shapes in the darkness, and it takes him far longer than he would like to admit to finally find the free chair. A guy is slumped at the window seat, his legs stretched over the seat beside him, feet dangling of the edge. Max tries to gently wake him, but when the bus driver takes a roundabout with aggression that seems a tad overzealous and Max only just keeps his balance, he roughly shakes the guys' shoulders.

"Hey", he hisses. "Move."

The guy makes a wonderfully undignified "whhugh?" sound before hastily sitting upright, swinging his legs back. Max quickly slides into the free seat just as the driver takes a gentle curve in the road like he's in the Mad Max franchise.

"Fucking hell this driver " the man whispers as Max tries to clip in his seat belt in the dark.

"Sorry", the man tries again. "Didn't mean to conk out on you. Just the fucking change of departure is really the last thing I need," he laughs, a soft, musical sound. Max turns his head, but can only just make out the darkness of his body, the vaguest shape of him. No distinguishable features, no personable details. Just a shadow and the faintest hint of sandlewood and a soft, accented voice.

"Tell me about it," Max says, looking down at his lap. He pressed his fingertips to his sleeve, grounding the lack of visibility in touch.

"What do you think happened?"

"Air traffick control in France unexpectedly hindered the current schedule of the Irish long-haul flights, thus forcing all previous departures around the country to be moved to Dublin." He recites it perfectly, the impersonal email they were all sent one hour ago still fresh in his mind. Fucking French traffick control, fucking up Max’s sleep schedule, like he has fuck all to do with their pay.

The guy exhales. "Well, a little warning would've been nice. I had to sell an arm and a leg to try and get a ticket which would get me to Dublin airport in time. Do you think F1 wings will compensate us?"

Max shrugs, even though the guy can't see him. "Probably not. But who knows, maybe the cabin crew will be late too, and there'll be no pilots around to fly anyway.'

The guy snorts. "Yeah right, as if F1 Wings doesn't send like private drivers or jets or something for their pilots when shit like this happens."

Max smiles in the darkness. F1 Wings couldn't really give a shit about their pilots. They only care if something goes wrong or something goes right - complaints of misconduct, a heroic save, anything beyond the usual and then F1 Wings care. They'll care if him, Sebastian and Lando don't get to Dublin in time for the scheduled departure of their flight. Even though the airline barely lifted a finger to help them, if something goes wrong, then Max knows for sure who'll get the blame.

"So where are you flying to?" The man asks after a beat. Max is surprised, the guy sounds tired, and Max had just assumed he'd go straight back to sleep.

"Qatar," he answers honestly, and then man huffs a soft laugh.

"No way! Me too, at 7, right?" Even though its a question, he doesn't leave time for Max to answer. "What are the chances! What are you going for Qatar for?"

"Work", Max states. He's learned it's just easier not to tell people he's a pilot in scenarios like these. They ask questions he probably shouldn't answer (like why he wanted to become a pilot), request for better meals (as if he has an iota of influence on the catering of the flight), or simply just talking his ear off about their flight simulator game they play at home. It's easier to just be a nobody.

"Sick", the man says, enthuasm undeterred by Max's sparse responses. "I have a layover there for 5 hours, and then flying on to Vietnam."

Max nods. He's flown that run a few times, but mainly under Sebastian's mentorship when he was still a cadet.

"You going home from there?" He asks, and the man makes a questioning noise.

"To Australia?" Max amends.

"Oh, yeah no. Maybe after Asia, but probs not," for the first time, his tone is more somber. He doesn't offer any explanation, and Max knows better then to ask.

"I mean, I know my accent is pretty clear cut," he laughs, momentary beat of quietness quickly shunned. "But your accent is less so. German?"

"Dutch."

"Ah, my second guess!" The man says, and Max can hear his smile.

"I'm Max", Max blurts out before he can doubt himself.

"Daniel," the stranger-no-more says. Something moves against Max's knee, and the man - Daniel - huffs another soft laugh.

"Sorry, I'm looking for your hand to shake."

Part Two!

#maxiel #inspired by my latest trip to the airport and subsequent bus journey #although i did not sit next to any hot Australian men :((#my fic #pilot au

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 8 months

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Title board created by the wonderful @mochie85!

Lesson Seventeen

Thor leaves you and Loki to make your final preparations for the test at the end of the year as autumn begins. But as the date of destiny draws closer, you and Loki come to understand that you may not have the same vision for your future together. Meanwhile, you may not be out of danger just yet...

**MASTERLIST HERE** Pairing: Soft!Dom!Loki x F!Reader Content Warnings: smut, extensive mentions of death, euthanasia, and death-related philosophy, some dark content (though the characters won't be), exile, moodiness, smut, kinks of various flavors (look for specific chapter warnings), trauma and mental illness, reader is a captive, reader has a body count

CHAPTER-SPECIFIC WARNING: showering together, very brief mentioning of cock-riding but otherwise nothing smutty

As if a wall had been broken down, you suddenly thrived in your training sessions with Thor and Brunnhilde. Thor was able to teach you enough battle-related fundamentals that your knives quickly grew in lethality, so that they didn’t feel quite so diminutive next to him and his large, semi-sentient axe.

It was as if Loki's love empowered you to fully realize what you were capable of, both in terms of scale and control. The confidence of seeing the admiring looks on his face as you held your own sparring against the King, or flipped a knife in your hand as he himself had a habit of doing with his trusted daggers, gave you an added sense of pride to help fuel your fire.

With your powers finally under your command, Loki joined your battle sessions, shifting focus from control to defense, and then from defense to resistance, until it was second nature to you. You began to fine-tune your death grip until you could adjust its intensity, like a volume dial on a radio. Doing so tempered the voices of the dead that still guided your power’s use, making it easier to bring it out and put it away.

In between the various workouts, trainings, and lessons, you found yourself beginning to feel like part of a larger, found family with the Asgardians. Even Brunnhilde began to lighten up ever so slightly toward Loki, treating him like a little brother to keep an eye on whenever they worked together. Katja would sometimes watch quietly from the porch if you were outside, a small smile on her face in spite of her loss, always prepared to offer refreshments or advice to you.

On the 21st night of September, the night of the fall equinox, Thor took his leave.

“As of my departure, you’re on your own until the eve of the New Year,” he informed you, the quinjet primed for him, a wary-looking Steve at the wheel.

“Not really,” you said contently, Loki squeezing your hand.

Thor winked at you and turned to Loki. “I’m afraid Fury won’t allow me to come out for the test, but I assure you if something goes amiss, I will do what I can to protect both of you from New York.”

Loki shook his head and leaned in, lowering his voice. “Protect her first,” he insisted. “You know how little I trust those heavy-footed S.H.I.E.L.D. pawns…”

“..yes, it will be done,” Thor assured his little brother, embracing him with rough affection before turning to you again. “I hope you’ll treat him well. Norns knows he never got enough love back on Asgard….Old Asgard.”

You nearly lost your breath as he scooped you right off the ground. You yelped in surprise, causing Loki to roll his eyes and throw up his hands. “Let her go, she’s a mortal! Don't break my lover’s spine, please!”

He released you, before taking one final look at New Asgard, saluting the King, and climbing aboard the quinjet.

“THOR!” Loki suddenly hollered, just before Steve turned the plane’s engines on.

He peeked his head out of the craft. “Brother?”

Loki leaned in, obviously keeping his words out of Steve’s Super-Soldier hearing range. “It would be in everyone’s best interest if Fury or the others didn’t know about Y/N’s and my…well…” he gestured to you, and you waved sheepishly. ‘..daillance.”

Thor winked one final time. “This looks to be a bit more than a mere daillance, Loki, but rest assured, I won’t breathe a word until you come back to New York on January 1st.”

His remark of confidence made you smile, and you and Loki stood back, hand-in-hand, as Steve and Thor flew away, careful to hide your hands close so there was no chance Steve could glimpse the gesture during takeoff.

That evening, as you and Loki showered together, Loki rubbing lavender subs into your back as you bobbed under the stream of hot water, you began to talk of things you never had before: your dreams. Loki heard about how you’d just wanted to belong somewhere that needed you, especially after you came into your death powers as a child and was forced to hide from the world ever since.

“Thinking about it,” Loki mused, running his long, limber fingers through your hair, working a conditioner through the strands, “for the first time in my life, after December, I will be entirely free.”

“You weren’t free to do as you chose when you were young and a prince?” you whispered, leaning your head back so Loki’s fingers could massage your scalp.

“Absolutely not. Is a royal ever truly free, or is he the least free of all?” he murmured. “No, I was always under Odin’s thumb. Then Thanos’. Then S.H.I.E.L.D.’s. The contract states that my success means my release as well. I could leave. See the cosmos. It’s always been dangling before me like a prize I could never reach for. I might finally be able to reach the stars.”

“Oh?” you tried to sound more positively interested than you were about the idea of Loki leaving Earth.

“Thor is going to travel. He’s found some companions,” Loki continued. “Perhaps we have that wanderlust in common. The idea is quite appealing, I will confess.”

But, going with you would mean leaving Earth behind…I don’t want to, you thought, as if he could hear your thoughts.

Loki lightly ran his nails down the back of your neck, sensing pleasurable shocks down your spine. “I see I make you tremble, my lustful pupil. Perhaps we should rinse you down and then take you to bed to dry off.”

You decided in the moment to let your intrusive thoughts go. You had more important things to attend to.

October was warm, and the heat wave extended into early November. New Asgard had come into a small windfall of sorts, when an unanticipated change in a local current brought an abnormally large school of fish by the fjord, giving the village such an excess that they were able to sell to a regional grocery in Oslo. The resulting income paid for repairs to the school building and library, as well as a small memorial for the victims of the Sígrblót massacre.

Brunnhilde was beginning to gain headway in her mission to recruit you for the New Valkyries, and was beginning to teach you about their history in between sparring matches. The more she sold the idea, the more it occurred to you that she was right. Perhaps your ties were here the entire time. After all, the season thus far had passed with no incident since Thor’s departure. You were confident now that there couldn’t possibly be any objections from S.H.I.E.L.D. Loki concurred, marveling at how far you’d come in ten months.

You made love to Loki nearly every night, and even the nights you were too tired to be active with him, you found every way possible to be intimate with your teacher, as he showed you more and more of the carnal ecstasies he could offer from his years of exploration in his youth. There was no end to the sensual treats he delighted you with at every turn. Sometimes he insisted you ride his cock in the open air on the crest of the hill, the tall grass not quite able to shield your gyrating body. Other times he would be more in the mood for a full-body massage, the two of you so slick with oils you could barely hold on to one another.

Loki had been touch-starved his entire life, and now that you could touch without fear, and he could touch YOU without fear, he realized that he had much lost time to account for.

For the first time that year, you were completely at ease. You had your love, your power, and your future was beginning to materialize through the haze for the first time…at least until the night of November 10th.

That evening, you sat with Katja on the porch, having your usual tea. Katja had lost a little weight since Ivar’s death, but other than that, she was slowly beginning to regain the color in her face. She was still rather pallid, making the black robes she wore everyday look even more haunting against her skin.

“What kind of test do you think it will be?” she asked, the two of you deep into the subject of next month’s evaluation.

You shrugged. “Neither Loki nor I have any idea. Naturally, Steve was mum, and Thor wouldn’t say anything either. We don’t think they would ask me to engage in a spar, seeing as the whole point of my being here was to control my powers.”

Katja brought her teacup to her lips. “Perhaps a test of will or restraint?”

“I really don't know, and if Loki has no ideas, then the only thing to do now is wait,” you answered.

Your landlady drained her cup and replaced it on the saucer in front of her. “Suppose you pass? Then what will you do?”

Looking out into the indigo twilight while unable to make out anything specific, you twisted your lip in anxiety without saying anything. Your future was unsure as your vision.

“You never discussed it with the Prince?” Katja asked, raising a thin, gray eyebrow. “Or even thought about it?”

Shaking your head, you bit your lip. “I guess I haven’t been wanting to think about it. I like it here. I don't want to think about moving away.”

“Then stay,” replied Katja.

You drew in a sharp breath. “I…don’t think Loki wants to.”

“I see. That fits his personality.”

Licking the inside of your cheek awkwardly, you hesitated before asking your next question. “Was he ever meant to marry on Asgard?”

“Of course,” said the old woman, taking a small cracker to her lips, but putting it back after a second thought so she could continue talking. “But he was never affianced, if that was your question. Neither of the Princes were. The Allfather gave his sons the chance to sow their royal oats as youths before choosing brides for them.”

You sighed in relief. “He had prospects?” you prodded warily.

Katja shook her head. “No one seriously. Only rumors of Princesses from Alfheim, but those Light Elves aren’t exactly the relatably sort. Their marriage bed would have been colder than an icebox on Jotunheim, and I don't believe the public would have supported the union when he could have had an Asgardian maiden.”

You giggled, but quickly came back to the conflict at hand. “I need to talk to him. I think I’d rather do it now if you’ll excuse me, Katja.”

“I can clean this up,” Katja insisted, waving you off. “Or guilt the next person who walks by into helping an old widow,” she said with a wink, which made you smile.

You dashed downstairs, and met Loki just as he was leaving the steaming bathroom, his chest bare and dripping with hot water, his hair slicked back and tied into a bun on the crown of his head.

“Loki,” you began, but his face dropped the minute he understood your tone.

“I think I know what troubles you, darling,” he said. “Shall we make tea and discuss our plans for the future?”

“I already had tea, but I can make you some,” you answered. But Loki shook his head and scooped you into his arms, pressing you against his torso. You inhaled his clean, springy scent, and you felt yourself begin to drool. It took everything in you to break away from him.

You sighed. “Suffice it to say, we will pass our test in December, no matter what form it takes.”

“Agreed,” Loki said with a comforting smile. “I must say, I turned out to be quite the professor.”

You smiled, Loki’s cockiness endearing to you even now. “But what happens to…to us?” you asked, emphasizing the final word. “After the test, and after we are free?”

Loki sighed, his lips twisted as he pondered the conundrum. “I’m not certain.”

“You clearly don't wish to stay,” you added, looking away to prevent him from seeing the tear in your eye. He immediately walked up behind you and wrapped two long, strong arms around your body, enveloping you in his affection.

“This place still has ghosts for me, among the people,” he whispered. “I will never find true acceptance here. They still cannot bring themselves to trust me.”

You shook your head (as much as you could with Loki’s nose nuzzled against your ear). “You saved their lives.”

“Norns, you can marry someone without ever really trusting them,” Loki suggested. “Sometimes the cracks you leave on a soul are too deep to repair. It is in the nature of a crowd to fear.”

You knew the feeling all too well.

Loki began rocking you back and forth. “You can come with me, you know.”

“No,” you decided on the spot. “I think the dead speak to me here for a reason. I think I’m needed here. Perhaps to keep The Flock at bay, or to help Brunnhilde--”

You didn’t expect Loki to moan bitterly, cutting you off with instant regret. “Then, my love, what will become of us indeed?”

“I asked you first,” you replied quickly, tearing yourself away from Loki’s hug and turning to meet his eye. “We’ve just begun to…to be together!”

“I know, I know,” Loki replied, bringing a hand up to your cheek to wipe the tear falling down the side of your face. “Perhaps there is another answer, another way.”

“We can’t give up on each other,” you begged, your lower lip beginning to tremble until Loki began running a soft thumb back and forth over it, the gentle feeling sending both needy and sorrowful thoughts spiraling in your head. “Please, Loki, I love you!”

“And I love you, Y/N!”

“Then I can protect you!” you insisted. “If you’re so afraid of them, of the outside, please let me be your guardian! No one will ever hurt you or even dare to speak against you--”

He shook his head frantically and pulled your head in so he could nestle his face against your sweet-smelling hair. “--no, no, no! Please don’t compromise yourself for me.”

“Compromise myself? I don’t understand?”

“Y/N, you carry darkness in your wake, but your soul is brighter than a star. You carry the most terrifying power in your palm, and yet refuse to part with your kindness, your humanity. I’m afraid I cannot let you turn into a soldier like Rogers, or a brute like the Hulking One. You would need to change to become my bodyguard, and your gentle heart is too precious to compromise.”

You wanted to fall to the floor in a heap of tears, but instead you simply stepped away from Loki’s arms again. “Then…once more I ask…what are we to do about us?”

He looked at you, completely helpless and at a loss for words. That was incredibly rare for the God, and it was never a good sign.

“I…I…Oh, Y/N…”

Instead, he did something remarkably offensive: He fled, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, lost once again in an emotional fog. As you watched him briskly remove himself from the stress of the conversation, you began sobbing loudly, unsure of what to do.

Perhaps it was written on the wall: your time with Loki was limited. The winds were going to pull you apart, and soon. On January 1st, he would take his newfound freedom to the heavens, and you knew inside that you would take your place at Brunnhilde’s right hand, training up a new generation of defenders and Valkyries for New Asgard.

You could deny it all you wanted. You could even strip off your clothes and throw your naked body at his boots, praying for him to reconsider. It would do no good, and you knew it: it wasn’t Loki’s instinct to be tied to one place forever. You’d be caging him if you kept him by you.

Running to your bedroom and shutting the door, you threw yourself onto the bed to cry yourself to sleep. In the midst of your sadness, you were oblivious to the fact that just outside your window, a gang of four men from The Flock had managed to ambush your love, tie him in seidr-resistant chains, and bear him up the hill unconscious, away into the night…

Please reblog and comment if you like!

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zodiactalks · 25 days

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These Zodiac Signs CANNOT HANDLE STRESS

It is said that stress is the disease of the 21st century, and while there might be some truth to it, people have experienced stressful situations for as long as people have been around.

Life itself can be pretty stressful, and we've all reached a point where too much is happening at the same time.

When faced with this situation, some people are capable of keeping their heads above water and solving things quickly and efficiently.

Others will stumble along the way but will find ways to resolve the problem after a while.

The following Zodiac signs, however? They'll either explode, implode, or a mix of both.

These are the Zodiac signs who just can't handle stress.

#1. Aries

It's easy to see self-assured and adaptable Aries as one of the most capable signs when it comes to dealing with stress, but the truth is they absolutely suck at it.

Sure, it takes a lot to get them genuinely stressed, which gives people the impression that they're unflappable, but the moment things get out of Aries's control, they genuinely don't know how to cope.

A stressed Aries will shut down and retreat, and in the worst cases, they'll go nuclear and self-sabotage, which will only make things worse for them.

Aries is many things, but being good at handling stress is not one of them.

#2. Gemini

If you thought Geminis were indecisive, wait until you see them stressed.

Geminis have very high standards for themselves, so they try their best to present a capable and unflappable exterior, and while they can be pretty indecisive even when at their best, they're usually good at handling it.

A stressed Gemini, however, won't even know where to begin fixing things and will grow more and more stressed until someone forces them to step away and relax.

A stressed Gemini will desperately attempt to fix the situation, but will often end up making it even worse for everyone involved.

#3. Virgo

Virgos can be nitpicky and critical in the best of times, but when they're stressed, they become a genuine nightmare.

They will criticize everything around them –including themselves– and will go on the offensive at the slightest inconvenience.

They're the kind of people who make their stress other people's problems, which in turn stresses everyone out, which stresses Virgo out until everyone around them is stressed and no one can accomplish anything.

A stressed Virgo is a Virgo that should be avoided if possible, and if you can't do that, then try your best to not take their bait.

#4. Libra

Is it really a surprise to see Libra here?

Libras are well-known for their need for peace and balance, so a stressful environment is not something Libra can tolerate.

Libras will go to absurd lengths to try to keep the peace, often sacrificing their own emotions and well-being in an attempt to get others to cooperate.

While this might solve things momentarily, Libra will hold a grudge about it, and they'll do it for a long time.

They won't explode or even talk about it, but if a Libra suddenly cuts you off their life, there's a good chance they considered you a stress factor.

#5. Scorpio

Scorpios are a strange case, as they can handle stress in their professional life, but they're absolutely incapable of dealing with it in a mature way when it comes to relationships.

Scorpios work hard to maintain their relationships, be they platonic or romantic, but if they feel stressed or like something is wrong, they'll take the most useless approach to resolve things.

They'll pull away.

A stressed Scorpio will become secretive and withdrawn, they'll give their partners and friends the cold shoulder, and will make solving things much harder than it should be.

#6. Aquarius

With a quick mind that's ideal for problem-solving, you'd think Aquarians would be great at handling stress, but that's just not the case.

That quick mind of theirs becomes a liability when it comes to high-stress situations, as they'll start overthinking absolutely everything.

They'll blow things out of proportion, start doubting other people's abilities, start doubting their own abilities and will second-guess and challenge anything other people attempt to do to fix the situation.

The best thing a stressed Aquarius can do is take a step back, take a deep breath and analyze the situation once they're feeling more relaxed.

#7. Pisces

Sweet, selfless, and very caring, Pisces has the unfortunate habit of playing the victim, and this becomes apparent when it comes to stressful situations.

When stressed, Pisces will refuse to take any responsibility and will blame everyone and everything for the mess they've made.

They'll be completely unable to listen to advice or take any kind of criticism, as they'll take everything as a personal attack.

Once things calm down, they'll go back to being their caring selves, but when they're stressed? Oh boy.

#Zodiac #Zodiac Signs #ZodiacFacts #astrology #astrology signs #Aquarius #Aries #Cancer #Capricorn #leo #libra #Sagittarius #Pisces #taurus #scorpio #Gemini #virgo

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9leaguesofmirrors · 5 months

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Shut The World Away (a Benjamin Denton x Richie fanfic)

I'm well and truly hooked on this ship now, so I'm making it everyone's problem. Have some soft Mavetoad where Richie has one of his frequent nightmares and turns to Benjamin for support

CONTENT WARNING: Nothing too steamy. But there is some making out and a bit of heavy-petting

Since escaping Royston Vasey, Benjamin and Richie had managed quite well. Blackbottom and London weren't exactly close, but it was enough for the journey by bus or car to not be too strenuous. Besides, they lived in the 21st century, so phones were very much still in fashion

While they usually settled on times and dates, there were the odd times where a surprise visit was necessary. Times where it simply couldn't wait. And that's how Richie ended up on Benjamin's porch, soaked to the bone from rain, at 10 'o'clock at night with a stony expression on his face

"Rich?" His boyfriend, dressed in striped pyjamas, wore his concern plainly "What happened?"

"I'm sorry." He said, slightly embarrassed by himself "I couldn't sleep."

Not saying a word, Benjamin let him in. Feeling a firm-but-gentle grip on his wrist, he felt himself being led up the stairs and into their bedroom. The door closed behind him. No other words needed to be spoken for Benjamin to understand

Richie still had problems owning up to having nightmares, that was most likely due to Pop drilling the idea of how a "man" should act into his head from a young age, but it wasn't hard to figure it out a pattern of behaviour: lots of late nights, random texts when he really should've been asleep (but, then again, Benjamin should've been too), and the fact he never denied it when he was asked about them

Even if he wanted to ask now, he didn't have time to. Because Richie had grabbed the back of Benjamin's head and pulled him into a deep kiss. The sort of kiss that somehow managed to be hard and lingering, yet carried a soft quality. Something inexplicably gentle that felt warm and lasting. Their bodies pressed together, less like a puzzle piece and more like a fusion of energies

Grabbing the back of Benjamin's head as if letting go would cause him to fall off the face of the Earth, Richie slowly moved backwards until he felt the edge of the bed bump against the back of his legs. Only when he sat down did he pull away for air, eyes closed and breath laboured

As Benjamin felt himself being pulled in again, he stopped himself. This caused him to lurch forward slightly, bracing himself by place both hands on each side of Richie, leaning against the bed

"Not if you're unsure."

"... What?"

"I mean, you're clearly upset. I don't want to take advantage of you or make you feel forced to do anything. You know, I want to make sure you're sure before you-"

"Ben, who led who to your bedroom?"

"... You led me to my bedroom."

"And who started the kiss?"

"You did."

"And whose still holding the back of whose head?"

"You're still holding the back of my head?"

"So, with all of that evidence in front of us, do you think I'm unsure?"

Benjamin tried to keep hold of his thoughts. OK yes, there was something very attractive about Richie being this assertive, but still, something didn't feel quite right. He sat down beside him, taking his hand in both of his

"I need a distraction, Ben." Richie sighed, his demeanour changing to one of genuine exhaustion, as if he hadn't slept for hours - which, Benjamin guessed, he hadn't "I don't want all of it, I'm not here for sex, I just know I'd rather be here than alone in my head." He felt Benjamin let go, and he looked down "If you don't want to, that's fine, I just-"

His words were quickly silenced by a light twist of his chin and a light press of lips to his mouth and he felt himself shifting closer, craving the comfort and groundedness that Benjamin subconciously knew how to give

It was long until they collided with the pillowy softness of the bed, shuffling so Richie could straddle Benjamin's stomach. He could feel his boyfriend groping slightly at his body from underneath him, his breathing coming out stuttery and needy

It was Benjamin that ripped away first, just for air, and looked up at Richie with eyes that seemed to sparkle. For a moment, nothing else existed. There was no rain outside, no fear, no past - no Royston Vasey or dysfunctional families. It was just them, just him

"Would be wrong to say you look nice?"

Richie furrowed his brows, head twitching to the side

"Just... would it be wrong, given the situation?"

"No."

Benjamin nodded, his breathing shaky, as he took Richie's hand and intertwined it with his own

This was responded to by Richie running a hand up Benjamin's shirt, making him gasp a little at the sudden feeling of warmth

As soon as the contact was made, Benjamin felt his body melting like snow as his breath escaped him. He could also feel the way Richie kissed his neck, as if he wanted to take his time undoing him fibre by fibre. Despite himself, Benjamin let out a gentle whimper

"Rich...?"

"Hm?"

"Is this... I mean, is it helping? Surely I should be doing this to you-"

"Benjamin," Richie said in that assertive, low voice that never failed to make his heart stammer "you're doing fine." He continued pressing his lips against Benjamin's neck, enjoying the soft sounds it brought out

"You're pretty..." Benjamin murmured before he could stop himself

"Pretty?" Richie repeated into his ear with a playful tone, his hand moving down to the hem of Benjamin's pyjama trousers "I thought I was nice."

For a moment, Benjamin's words faltered as he felt that warm sensation moving down further, palming at him with just the right amount of force for his back to arch slightly as he let out a slightly strangled moan

"You are." He gasped out "Pretty. Nice. All of it."

"Really?" Asked Richie innocently, applying just enough pressure to drag out a breathy whine from the man underneath him

Benjamin nodded with a soft smile

"You're a lot of things. Well, to me at least."

There was something about the other's company that seemed to make the past and the future shy away. An inexplicable wash of "something" that made the "nothing" feel less lonely and exposing

Instead, it felt like time was kind enough to stop for them, allowing them to bathe in that floating feeling for as long as they needed to

As their laboured breaths seemed to synchronise, Richie moved his hand slowly and let his head rest on Benjamin's forehead. No words passed their lips, none needed to

For both of them, this was enough

They were enough

#league of gentlemen #the league of gentlemen #reece shearsmith #steve pemberton #mark gatiss #jeremy dyson #benjamin denton #mavetoad

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yamcha-thelonewolf · 4 months

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🫂Toriyama forgets, Yamcha doesn't!

This time I want us to relax a little bit. My last analysis, The Heart's Savior, was very challenging both for me who wrote it and for you who read it, so now it is only fair to lighten the load.

In a poll, I asked you whether you would prefer to know more about Yamcha's life as a fighter or as an ordinary earthling, and if you remember, the second choice won. So here I am analyzing a little trivia that has nothing to do with battles. Well... Sort of! Martial arts still has something to do with it, but it only serves as a background. In fact, I will tell you about an extremely strong friendship, not because the bond is actually intense but because it goes against the narrative choices of Toriyama and Toei Animation. Believe me, guys, this analysis could maintain the connection with a character we hear little about now. Lastly, just because I know it's a kind of topic that many people like, I'm going to talk somewhat about one of Yamcha's many looks.

Let's be clear, this is just my theory, it's quite silly, but at least it might make you smile a little... Well, I hope so!

Before we begin, it seems only fair to warn that the following is likely to be coincidental. Dragon Ball has never dwelled on details, at least not the ones I care about, so it is highly likely that this topic is meaningless. But... What if it doesn't? Assuming Yamcha has a life of his own in this show, talking about it might be worthwhile... Because it would once again show what a beautiful person he is in everyday life.

So... Let's get started!

Don't worry, I told you. I am not going to talk about Yamcha as a fighter, but as I had anticipated it is necessary to understand how incredible he is as a normal earthling.

We are at the end of the Fortuneteller Baba Arc. Goku has finally found out where the last dragon ball is and so sets off with Upa to resurrect his father Bora. Meanwhile, Yamcha and the others await their friend's return at Baba's palace. It is during this wait that Yamcha reflects at length on his own life and he finally decides to ask Muten to make him his pupil.

A new orange Gi is definitely needed!

Freeze! It is not the Turtle School uniform that I want to talk about. Let's go back for a moment... A few hours before the 22nd Tournament begins.

Alright! We've got it!

We are on the plane bound for Papaya Island. Bruce Lee Yamcha has completed his training under Muten, and with this proud pretty face he lets us know that we are going to see some good things. He also seems more mature. He is in his 20s. Guys, many things could be said about this drawing, but in this case I will simply dwell on his outfit. This is the first time we have seen Yamcha in such an elegant look. We were used to seeing him in martial artist outfits or otherwise with looks more suited to his wild nature, so this is a very nice surprise. For a change, he looks great. I mean, you can dress and style him any way you like: Yamcha has the incredible power to be charming in any way. Yes, even with that bowl hair from DBZ...

Jeez, I love him. Let's go back to our outfit now.

Some will remember it for sure, but for those who do not know I want to let you show that this dress has its own origin.

One more step back now.

We are in the 21st Tournament Arc. Yamcha is in town with Bulma and he's training on his own. Muten's only pupils are Goku and Krillin. Many people do not pay attention to it, but if these two boys managed to get into the Turtle School it is because of a character who unfortunately met a brutal end in the show: Lunch.

The deal is clear: If Goku and Krillin can find a nice girl to stay at the Kame House, then Muten can train them. It is the only way to access. So we can safely say that if Goku has become so strong, it is also thanks to Lunch. Fortunately, she is found in her quiet form, but soon her secret would come out...

...Whatever! Goku and Krillin can finally train under Muten. Well, there really would be so much to say about Lunch. She is a character who deserves a lot. She should not have disappeared at all after the great contribution she made to Goku and Krillin. Not only that. She even defeated some Red Ribbon soldiers, she helped Yamcha defeat some criminals because he had a broken leg, in a filler she saves Goku from an attempted "kidnapping," and among many other things she allowed to find front row seats during tournaments! Seriously, she would deserve a separate post.

If we look at Lunch as a function of the protagonist, it is undeniable that she was the mother Goku never had. At least in her good personality.

The same of course applies to Krillin. Let's think it through. She cooked for them, cuddled them before bed, and who knows how many other mother hen things she did. Goku definitely lacked such a figure, so this is also why I consider Lunch an important character in his growth. If Bulma is more like an older sister, Lunch is definitely his mommy. Have you noticed that? Every person Goku meets represents a family member. It's extremely cute.

Be that as it may, as proof that Lunch is a real mom to the two pupils, she decides to give them a nice gift at the end of their training.

Tadaaan! Okay, I admit that Goku and Krillin are really funny dressed like this. They look like two little gangsters, something like Joe Pesci and Robert De Niro as kids, but that's okay. Lunch sewed these outfits for them, and that's what matters. It was done with love.

Seeing her satisfied like a loving mommy getting excited for her kids going to school for the first time always moved me. Although in this case the destination is the tournament, the meaning is the same: Lunch gave importance to their big day by honoring it with this outfit as awkward as adorable.

Well, friends. Now that the puzzle is almost complete, we can go back to our boy! As I said at the beginning, Yamcha begs Muten to make him his third pupil. Once inside the school, it doesn't take long to realize that for all of his three years of training he has been dealing with Lunch as well.

It should be mentioned, however, that the two had actually met for the first time during the Red Ribbon Arc, when everyone leaves to help Goku.

This is the first real moment when they meet. Lunch is in her "evil" form, but a little later Yamcha will also make the acquaintance of her good side.

This meant that during these three years he also cohabited with Lunch, who must surely have cooked for him as well. I think it's a really interesting detail. Unfortunately, we don't know what has happened during these three years, but I would like to point out that this is the first time Yamcha has dealt so closely with a girl other than Bulma. Imagining that he is still very shy with girls, I have no doubt that he has been embarrassed many times in being so near to her. Stop!, I'm not saying he had feelings for her, but she is still a pretty girl, most of the time very naive as well as sensual, so I wouldn't be surprised if Lunch made Yamcha blush without even meaning to. By the way, it would be interesting to analyze Bulma's feelings in this situation, since she has visited Yamcha several times. I don't think she was ever jealous of Lunch, but she may have punched her boyfriend in the head a few times anyway just because.

...They were so cute...

Okay, now the topic is clear, isn't it? The bond between Yamcha and Lunch is one of the least explored things in Dragon Ball. There is no point in talking about it because it leads nowhere, but believe me, for an earthlings fan it is worth discussing.

First, let's start by saying that this is a different relationship from that she had with the other two pupils. If with Goku and Krillin Lunch was able to act like a caring mother, the same cannot be said for Yamcha. Yamcha is not a child like them. He is almost the same age as Lunch, so the relationship must be absolutely equal: they are two friends. Nothing more, nothing less. This does not mean that Lunch took less care of Yamcha. Surely she must have avoided giving him a good-night kiss and things like that, that is.

As for her second personality, it becomes more complicated. We will never know whether "Bad" Lunch felt attracted to Yamcha. We know she loves wild guys and Yamcha certainly is, but I don't think she was that disloyal to her friend Bulma. In short: I am convinced that there was never any sexual attraction between Lunch and Yamcha. They have always been two great friends, proving that friendship between boys and girls can exist.

So... Maternal or not, one thing is certain: when the big day comes again, Lunch gives her gift to Yamcha too.

I don't know how many of you have thought about this. I'm sure I'm not the first one who has thought about it, but geez... It's a detail that has always excited me for no real reason. Perhaps because it is one of those details that indirectly deepens the relationships between Dragon Ball characters, which are unfortunately poorly told.

I mean, try to think of the scene!

Yamcha at that time was not really the type of guy to wear stuff like that. He has lived for many years in the desert, where it is not necessary to wear fancy clothes because the only priority is to survive. Yet in the desert, we don't know how, he also learned good manners, especially with girls. I'm sure he did everything possible not to disappoint Lunch's expectations. Yamcha has always been like that. In order to please others he has often sacrificed himself, so I think something like that happened in this case as well. Let's try to put ourselves in his shoes. He may be gentle and all, he surely must have thanked Lunch for this, but how much he must have cringed wearing this?

It is a bit like putting a bow tie on a wild wolf...

This is precisely how I imagine him: deeply embarrassed and on the verge of sinking underground. "Boy, I feel so ridiculous!"

Don't worry, silly, it actually fits you much better than you think. I don't believe anyone found him as funny as Goku and Krillin were the first time they wore that thing. Anyway, I assume that this is why we don't see himwith that Al Capone hat. "Hell, I can accept the dress... but spare me that thing!!"

Here you can see Yamcha now comfortable in his elegant look and Lunch by his side totally unaware that she was the one who sewed it for him. By the way, I think it's superficial to say this but... It's really nice that she handmade this dress for Yamcha. I mean, his body is much bigger than Goku and Krillin's. She must have struggled a lot! It's a proof to how much she loved Yamcha, too.

Come on, look at her! Here Lunch is as worried as everyone about Yamcha's condition after Tenshinhan broke his leg. The way she addresses him does indeed have something maternal about it, but it mainly shows that she has become attached to him over those three years.

She is so precious...

...even when she is about to kill Yamcha and Bulma in one shot.

Gosh, I love her! It is so nice that everyone has learned to accept Lunch as she is. Yamcha is like that. He always accepted his friends, no matter how they are, he is always there for them and always took care of them. I am convinced that he loved Lunch as he loves everyone else.

So... the topic could end here, but it is not like me to conclude so trivially. I like to go beyond the impossible, in fact even this time I want to extend the whole situation.

The real point of the topic is another.

Unfortunately, Lunch's fate is the most horrible of all. In truth, I don't know which is worse between being forgotten and being ridiculed throughout the show. Let's just say that neither Lunch nor Yamcha were lucky. They also have that in common, besides the fact that both are very close to Tien. I would call it the trio of outcasts. However, if we at least know what happens to Yamcha during DBZ, we know nothing about Lunch. The last time we see her is in a bar, completely drunk because Tien is dead. Another appearance, which is really brief, is during the Buu Saga, when she gives her energy to Goku. I consider these two scenes to be frighteningly sad because in both cases we see her alone and that hurts me a lot. It is as if she has lost contact with her friends. After all, she could not even return to the Kame House because it was now inhabited by Krillin, Android 18 and their daughter. There was no place for her anymore. This hurt even more, because we really don't know what happened to her. Finally, she appears without ever saying anything in the OVA Dragon Ball: Yo! Son Goku and His Friends Return!!

This is quite consoling, but it is not enough. Her presence is highly unnecessary. I think she was thrown into the rabble just to actually pay homage to those who were Goku's friends, but what's the point if she doesn't even say a word? She certainly deserved more since she had been forgotten for almost two decades.

Whatever... Thank goodness Yamcha exists!

He is seriously the hero we do not deserve.

Well yes, Yamcha may be the one who partly solves this great riddle:

...What ever happened to Lunch all this time?

The truth is that there are no answers. Everyone can imagine what they want. One can think that she stayed with Tien (although DBS has ruled out this possibility for the umpteenth time), one can think that she opened a food truck or that she came to visit Muten sometimes. I personally believe that she has not completely lost contact with her friends. At least, not with Yamcha. I mean, we've seen how Yamcha is not the type to quit. When it comes to loving someone, Yamcha is always in the front row. This makes me believe that he has not stopped seeing Lunch. He is too loyal to forget a person who has done so much for him. Plus, if we add that Yamcha was left alone at one point in the story, it makes even more sense that he spends his time with an equally "lonely" friend. I imagine Yamcha as a very nostalgic guy. It would be unthinkable for him to exclude such an important memory as Lunch from his life.

At least, that's how it is for me. Until now I didn't know it for sure, but a few days ago I had an epiphany. That's when I realized that maybe Lunch is still there, we just don't see her.

Dragon Ball Z: The Tree of Might, 1990.

Did you notice anything?

Oh god yes, it's that damn gangster outfit again. I mean, the dress sewn by Lunch. Although it is difficult to identify the timeline of this film, it is still clear that we are in a context far away from OG Dragon Ball. At first I anticipated that all this might just be a coincidence, but personally I like to believe that there is much more behind it. Assuming that indeed it is the dress made by Lunch, we need to consider one thing: it can never be that one she gave him for the 22nd Tournament. It would be really old, plus I don't think it would be able to hold up Yamcha's new body. He's now in his 30s, he has not only grown taller but also added a lot of muscle mass. It is practically impossible for him to have been able to wear it. So... Maybe Yamcha asked Lunch to renew that old dress? Think about it, it makes sense to me. Yamcha is also very cheap. Being a former thief, he knows the value of money well and knows that it is easier to lose it than to find it. He is really funny, but also very cute.

The money accumulated through baseball certainly does not change his stingy nature, that's why it is not strange to think that he turned to Lunch. Of course, also as a matter of affection. I think Yamcha is a guy who is very attached to things, especially if there are a lot of good memories behind them.

I mean, something could have happened like, "Hi Lunchie, how are you? Long time no see, it took me so long to find you! Let me guess, you're hiding from the cops, right?" and then... "Anyway, I wanted to ask you a favor. Going through my closet, I found that fancy dress you had sewn for me for the Tournament. Do you remember? Here it is. I tried to wear it but I only gained a hole in my pants. I'll let you guess where. So... Could you fix it for your bestie?"... So she would say: "Are you kidding, Yamcha? There's no way I'm going to fix that! I'll definitely sew you a new one!"

If so, we could assume that they are still in contact! It would really comfort me to know that Lunch is still part of the gang, even if we don't see her. Yamcha in this case could seriously be the link, simply because he is brought up to be.

That would be great.

I want to believe it.

After all...

...Toriyama may forget his characters, but Yamcha will never forget his friends.

Thank you!!

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tonytonwy · 1 year

Text

Answers from the Past

synopsis: where you see your ex, Ushijima Wakatoshi after two years and remember bittersweet memories.

tags: bit angsty (I'm sorry, I recommend listening to a sad song), past memories are a bit horny, good ending (maybe? depends on the reader muahaha)

You look at the two tofu’s that you’ve just bought, stuck between which one would make a better hamburger. Mhm, spicy firm or herby super-firm, I suppose super-firm would be tastier but then Shi-

“Y/N,” you widen your eyes and turn to see your ex-boyfriend, Ushijima standing there, face still as stoic as ever and a bag full of green vegetables. You suddenly remember those late nights, learning so many recipes that ‘maximised muscle growth’, perfecting ‘Hayashi Rice’ along the way. You ignore how he still uses your re-usable bag that has small cows all over it.

21st birthday, you remember that night, you had planned a surprise birthday party; everyone from Shiratorizawa and Schweiden Alders came, confetti and alcoholic air filling up the apartment. You could never forget Ushijima’s face, it was like giving 20 puppies to a spoilt child: shocked, secretly so happy, and unbelievably still stoic all at once.

“Wakatoshi oh my god,” you’ve always shown your emotions through your face and voice, something Ushijima bitterly cherished. Your voice is surprised, your cheeks slightly flushed, and you’re glad you dressed up a bit at least. “What are you doing here in Hyōgo?”

“I-”

“Wait, let me guess, ‘I am practicing for the national’s game that is in 3 months’?” You say while giving that cheeky smile and eyes shining, and Ushijima’s chest suddenly feels heavy. The last time he had seen that smile was almost two years ago, but he still felt his heart stir up the same way.

“Correct,” he gives a soft smile, and he remembers the ‘telepathy game’ you two would set up randomly where you would stare into his olive expressionless eyes and try to guess what he would be thinking.

To be fair, you got it right about 99% of the time, and the 1% percent you never got was because Ushijima would, weirdly, sometimes get sappy.

You stare into his intense eyes, slowly going closer to his face, lips millimeters away, your smile growing. You were teasing him.

“I bet…” you see how his eyes perk up a bit, interested in your answer. You’re in his bed, sheets messily covering some parts on your body, however Ushijima’s muscular chest is out, shining with the early sun. “Right now, you’re thinking about how you can improve your serve reception.”

You see how his eyebrows slightly twitch and you think you’ve got him again. However, Ushijima shakes his head, a smile peeping through. It’s almost weird how you can read his mind, because he was literally thinking about his serve reception about 2 minutes ago.

“Incorrect.”

“You’re lying.” You look dramatically shocked, and you’ve pulled your face and body away much to Ushijima’s distaste.

“Incorrect as well,” he gives a deep laugh as you punch his chest playfully. “I was thinking about my serve reception a few minutes ago, yes, but now,”

His strong arms cage you in and you’re suddenly being pulled towards him, face to face with this beast, lips once again dangerously close, your eyes are shining with the soft sunlight and your cheeks are unapologetically pink.

“I’m thinking about you.” He swiftly kisses you, hands roaming all over your body, giving random squeezes. You give a pleased hum, letting yourself be loved by this man who, years ago, would never say such a thing.

“That was such a dirty move, Wakatoshi,” you get on top of him, straddling his waist while giving a small glare but he’s immune to such childish things. You get down and kiss him all over; neck, collarbone, cheeks being attacked by your overflowing affection.

“I learnt from the best.”

“I guess I’m still pretty good at the telepathy game, huh?” You laugh and hope he doesn’t hear the bitter-sweetness in your voice or how you’re fiddling with the plastic packaging of the tofu. Your shoulders feel heavy and despite how calm you appear, you feel a hurricane of butterflies in your stomach, it’s almost nauseating.

This feeling reminds you of the lonely nights when he would stay late training, dinner getting cold and ending up in the fridge for him to warm up, the endless trips and the helpless agony of loving someone who didn’t love you as much as you thought they did.

It was exhausting, loving Ushijima. You gave everything you had, and you loved it, but, one day, it just all came down.

“I want to apologize,” Ushijima looks at the floor, embarrassment in his tone. “What I did yesterday was incredibly selfish and disappointing.”

“I understand that you’re sorry, but,” you sigh, a headache coming through. It’s hard to breathe, it feels like a knife going in and out of your throat and you want your mum to hold you, tell you it’s okay like when you were a child.

“It was my birthday, Wakatoshi. I just,” you have no words to express how used you feel, how stupid you must’ve look, how absolutely foolish you must be. “I booked the dinner, I invited my friends, I thought you were in an accident because, of course you didn’t go on your phone at all at practice!”

Ushijima winces, not having enough shameless pride to look at you.

“I will try harder to pay attention to your needs,” you know he just speaks like that, it’s his way of communicating that is 'efficient' and it’s usually endearing but right now, it’s annoying, its fatiguing and most of all, it’s not enough.

“My needs?” You feel your voice raise up slightly, “forgetting your partner’s birthday is a basic human thing. I have never once, forgotten your birthday, your mother and grandma’s birthday, our anniversary but it appears to you that, that ‘need’ is a chore.”

“It’s not a chore.”

“Let me finish, please,” you can’t help but let tears stream down your cheeks and your face feels hot with anger, embarrassment, and sadness. You feel so insecure, the fat on your body feels more gross, more heavy, more disgusting, your eyes feel puffy and hurt already from crying last night and your hair feels dry yet oily at the same time.

“I know that volleyball is your life, and I love that aspect of you, but,” you choke a sob and feel Ushijima’s hand on your shoulder but you swat it away.

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry but,” you see his pained look, his eyes still stoic but you see the tinges of sadness, anger, and disappointment. Your fists are white with anger, “I don’t want to be a second priority anymore, Wakatoshi.”

His breath is staggered, as if he’s just played nationals and is on the last point to lose.

“You’re feeling a lot of emotions, I understand that, but can we talk this through?” He puts his hand out, hoping you’ll take it. He needs this, he knows how much he’s messed up.

“What is there to talk about?” You say, your shoulders that were so tense before, falling in tiredness. “You will never love me as much as you love volleyball, you never will love me as much as I have loved you, that’s it. You’re too busy for me, that’s fine, but what else is there to talk about?”

“I,” Ushijima stays quiet. You want him to deny it, to profess his undying love for you, that he’ll train less, but what would that do? He would just resent you for limiting his chances to be the best. Really, you want him to cry and suffer but you’re pretty sure that’s due to the anger.

But he doesn’t, he’s quiet, stoic, and calm and you hate it. The air is thick and suffocating with silence.

“I’m going to my place for today, I’ll pick my stuff tomorrow, or Monday. I’ll see.”

“Is this it?” His voice slightly wavers.

“I think so. I think, we shouldn’t together.” You sigh, more tears coming out. “I need time, to heal and love myself because I’ve used up all my love and energy on you. I’m sorry, Wakatoshi.”

You get your phone, keys and shoes and walk out, those sad, quiet, olive eyes following. You remember the walk back to your house, realizing that fresh air has never felt so cold, revolting, and lonely.

You wince as you remember that moment, looking back, you felt a bit bad for how harsh you were with him. Despite your friends saying that you ‘should’ve broken his heart more’, or ‘hurt him the way he hurt you’, or even, ‘why do you feel sorry for putting yourself first?’.

Ushijima feels the regret and guilt on the back of his neck, like an uncomfortable sweat, the break-up affected him, of course, but he had no idea how much he missed your jokes, your smile, and your accurate guesses. You look healthy at least, for some reason, you have this radiating aura about you. He feels the need to apologize, to redeem himself, anything at this point.

He wants another chance.

“Are you busy now?”

“Are you excited for Nationals?”

You both stare at each other before you laugh a bit, awkwardly but its endearing in Ushijima’s eyes. He’s always found you endearing, even when he told you it was annoying; your loud singing in the shower, the way you had to stop to pet each dog in the park and even when you would tickle him despite his immense hatred for it.

“Sorry, I’ll answer your question, I am very excited for Nationals, I think we will win.” You laugh at his confidence, hands going through your hair and that’s when Ushijima feels his heart drop.

The gold ring shining through your hair.

“You’ve always been so confident.” You say but drop your smile as you see how his face has contorted in a way you can’t really read.

“You’re married.” You’re shocked and confused by his accusation but then your shoulders jump, and you realize what he means.

“Oh yes, well, no, I’m engaged.” You smile as you look at your ring, a small tear-drop diamond. You remember your fiancé's face as you both had breakfast, his big eyes staring at you with such an intensity, you thought you had done something wrong. Only for him to propose. “I’ve been engaged for about, 3 days now. Still not used to it.”

Ushijima, for maybe once in his life, wants a hole to swallow him up. He was about to ask you out, only to find out you’re engaged with a man who, he hopes, is a good one, or better than him at least.

“Did you move on fast?” Ushijima’s says the question quickly, his face serious yet you can see that he’s hoping you say ‘no’, and you give a small smile, his honesty was always one of your favorite things about him. You also think about your fiancé's sense of honesty and realize you might have a type.

“No, after we ended things, it took me a while to start dating again. I couldn’t see a couple and not cry.” You laugh at your pitiful past. “But he became my friend, and I told him, well, about us, and he patiently waited for me,” Ushijima ignores the painful thumping in his chest and how your face flushes a bit, it reminds him of when you two first started going out. Sure, Ushijima has gone out with a few girls but he would mentally compare them to you and break it off before it would get too serious.

“I see, are you his main priority?” He wants to know everything about you guys, for some reason, he wants to see how good this guy is.

“Please don’t compare yourself to him, Wakatoshi.” You say, again reading his mind perfectly without him even knowing. “You were amazing in your own way, but I think it was just bad timing between us, you were so busy with volleyball, and I was so enamored by you, I neglected myself.”

“I-”

“Y/N!” Ushijima sees how a small girl, with grey hair and big yellow eyes comes up to you. “Uncle Shin is wondering what present we should get Mummy and he wants your input!”

His heart shatters harder as you squat down to the girl’s height, giving a big smile. Your motherly instinct coming out as you fix her dress and tie her shoelaces while talking.

“Well honey, I think we should get her that expensive perfume she loves, what do you think?” The little girl’s eyes shine and nods enthusiastically. You get your wallet out, and hand her some coins. Ushijima can’t help but wonder what you’ll be like if you were a mum, and how you would've deal motherhood with him always away if you had stayed with him.

Perhaps it is good you ended things before things got too serious, he thinks bitterly.

“Get yourself some chocolate,” before the little girl takes it, you pull back, “share with Shinsuke, okay?”

“Of course!” The girl seems to finally notice Ushijima and makes a scared face, hiding behind you and whispering, “who’s the scary man?”

Ushijima hears this clearly, but his face doesn’t change, just staring at the girl. He’s in shock, from seeing his ex-girlfriend, finding out she’s engaged and now, an evil little girl appearing out of thin air.

“That man is my friend I haven’t seen in a long time, I’ll meet up with you guys in a few minutes, okay?” The girl hugs you tightly, while giving Ushijima a big glare. Brat, he thinks as she runs off, her pigtails flowing through.

“Sorry, she’s a bit attached to me,” you give a small smile, not sure what else to say.

“I want to say sorry again, y/n, for how I behaved in our relationship. I’ve realized I never quite apologized for how I acted, and I never thanked you for your endless patience. You said that I was amazing in my own way but that’s not true at all. I messed up, a lot, and each time you forgave me and taught me how to be a better partner.” He bows and you try to ignore other customers’ stares.

However, at the same time, you feel this bittersweet jab in your chest, despite it being two years ago, you finally feel some sense of closure as he says those words.

“It’s okay, Wakatoshi. Thank you for your words, wow, uhm, our brains are wired differently I guess, please don't put all the blame on yourself.” You want him to stop apologizing, you appreciate his sweet words but where was this two years ago, you sourly think.

“No, that’s no excuse for my behavior and how I treated you.” You feel your breath hitch, this wasn’t what you were expecting at all. “I hope your partner treasures you forever, in the way I should’ve done so. I also would like you to know that, despite the fact we are no longer together, I still have pieces of you with me, forever. I sometimes sing in the shower, I pet dogs that approach me in the park, I remember all my friends’ and acquaintances’ birthdays. You’ve taught me these things and I will always cherish these bits of you that have now become me.”

You’re not sure what to feel, but you definitely want to cry, it’s a painful nostalgic feeling in your stomach. You’ve learnt so much from him as well. You now watch volleyball matches unironically, you love eating Hayashi rice and read all the stupid ads in a magazine.

“Wakatoshi...”

“I’m not done,” you see how his face is flushed a bit, “I’m trying to amend for the things I should’ve said two years ago. I also want to apologize if I embarrass you now.”

He takes a deep breath, his chest feels so tight and tries to not think about you in a wedding dress, married to someone else, giving that big smile.

“Thank you!” Your eyes widen as he shouts it out, people now fully staring. You see how his cheeks and ears are very red now, “for loving me and giving me an opportunity to be loved!”

He stands up, straight as always, his face still slightly red but those eyes are still stoic as ever. You give a big smile, bowing back.

“Thank you as well!” You shout, not caring about people’s stares as tears threaten to come out. “For letting me love you, unapologetically and shamelessly. And, I hope you find someone who will love you the way I did, or more.”

Impossible, you loved me so much, I didn't know what to do with it.

You look up, still bowing to see Ushijima’s soft smile and a pained look in his eyes, and smile back.

“You should go, the chocolate might all be eaten by now.” Ushijima turns, he had practice in two hours anyways. He feels lighter, perhaps he'll be able to jump better.

"Thank you, Ushijima!" You walk the other way, waving to him as he gives a small wave.

fin.

authors note: break-ups are hard HAHAHA

also feel like ushijima was a bit ooc?? idk idc I wrote this last night sobbing for some reason. anyways thanks for reading:))

#haikyuu #fanfic #haikyuu!!#x reader #fluff #ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader

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marner2tavares · 1 year

Text

the less i know the better

jamie drysdale x reader, trevor zegras x reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: drinking, its a little angsty

There you were again. The place you had been every time he saw you for the last 4 months: under Trevor’s arm. You had always been friends with Jamie, since you were little kids. When he pictured his future, you were always in it somehow. When he left to play in California, you transferred schools so you could be closer to your best friend. But that’s all you were. Best friends.

You caught Jamie’s eye from across the room and turned to say something to Trevor before unwrapping his arm and starting towards your childhood bestie.

“Jamie! You made it!” You hugged him tightly. He hugged you back. Tonight was gonna be the night he decided. The night that he spilled his guts about everything he had been feeling for months now.

He realized he liked you as more than a friend the first time he saw Trevor kiss you. It lit a fire inside him and for a day or two, he couldn’t figure out why. You and Trevor were his best friends. Shouldn’t he be happy for you? He should, but he wasn’t. He came to find out the fire in his stomach that he felt was pure jealousy.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t not come see you on your birthday.” He said with a smile.

“I’m so glad you made it. You know I was gonna be really mad if you missed my 21st. We have only been planning this since we were 12. We were always going to…” He started to zone out on your drunken rambling as Trevor made his way over to the two of you.

“What am I missing over here?” Trevor wrapped his arms around you, which made you laugh.

“I was just telling Jamie how mad I would have been if he no-showed tonight.” Trevor let out a laugh.

“Yeah, she would have been pissed if you missed this. Glad you made it, bud.” Trevor said with two slaps to Jamie’s upper arm. “Need another drink?” He asked you.

“Please.” You replied, giving him a quick peck on the lips before he walked away.

There it was again. That pit in his stomach. He wanted so badly to be happy for you but every nerve in his body was screaming that that should be him that you’re kissing, not Trevor. He smiled through you talking about the gift Trevor had surprised you with this morning, but inside he felt a little bit like he was gonna throw up. It had always been just you and him.

A few hours later, Jamie was making the rounds talking to friends. He was talking to one of your mutual friends about some memories.

“By the way, have you seen where the birthday girl went?” The girl nodded.

“Yeah, I think her and Trevor just left.” Jamie tried not to let his face fall as he excused himself. He walked quickly towards the front door of the bar, making it outside just in time to see you climb into an uber with Trevor getting in behind you. His shoulders fell as he let out a deep sigh. He dropped his head before picking it up and looking up and down the street. He decided to not let the night be a total waste, so he headed back inside and tried to drink down what he didn’t get to say to you.

When he got home that night, Trevor was staying the night at your place, so he was alone in the house. He sat down on the couch and committed the cardinal sin of being wasted: thinking about the past. He let his mind race with memories of your childhood. How you were his first kiss on the playground when you were six. And how you would get in trouble for staying up all night on the phone when you were 13. And the way he felt when you walked down the stairs on your parents house in your first prom dress at 16. Being walking partners for graduation. Every big moment of his life, you had been there. He ended up dragging himself to bed around three in the morning, hoping the hangover wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.

A few weeks later, the three of you were sitting on the couch at Trevor and Jamie’s place watching a movie. Trevor announced that he was going on a beer run and after getting a snack list from both you and Jamie, he grabbed his keys and headed out the front door. You playfully narrowed your eyes at Jamie until he looked at you.

“Ha! I knew our telepathy still worked!” You shouted as you got up and plopped yourself down next to Jamie. He laughed and shook his head.

“It never worked and you know it.” You feigned offense dramatically.

“How dare you say that! It works! What about that time you knew exactly what movie I wanted to watch when I was sick that one time!”

“It was Practical Magic, that's the movie you always want to watch when you’re sick. I’ve seen it ten times because of that” He gave you a look that made you roll your eyes and cross your arms across your chest.

“Whatever, Jamie. It totally works.” He paused for a second before looking at you seriously.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” You tucked your legs into your chest and rested your head on your knees.

“Of course, Jamie, you can talk to me about anything.” He took a deep breath and looked you in the eyes.

“Do you think we’ll always be friends?” You pouted at him.

“Aw, J, of course we’re always gonna be friends. We’ve been friends forever. After I graduate college, I’m gonna get a place next to you and we’ll be at each other’s weddings and raise our kids together and our kids will be best friends! Maybe more than us, but that would be super hard to beat.” You gave Jamie a soft smile.

“Who do you think you’re gonna marry?” He asked you with a look on his face that you couldn’t quite discern, but you shrug your shoulders.

“I don't know, Jams, I haven't figured that out yet.” Then, an idea sparked in your head. You turned to face him with your legs crossed and leaned down to rest your chin on your fist.

“What about this? If neither of us are married in 10 years, we’ll get married.” Jamie chuckled a little bit. He stuck out his hand. You smiled widely as you took his hand and shook it. Better late than never, he thought.

The season came and went quickly and you ended up staying with Trevor for the bit of the summer that you weren’t working. Jamie didn’t want to admit it, but being away from you made his head a little clearer. He wasn’t constantly worried about how he looked around you or if you would ever like him back. It was nice not having to think about those things for a while. Some would even say, maybe, just maybe, he was ready to move on. But, just as quickly as the season went by, the summer went by 10 times as fast and soon enough everyone was back in Anaheim for training camp. After activities were done for the day, Trevor invited him out for a drink to talk about the summer, and to catch up with you.

He really thought about not going, but at the end of the day, you were still his best friend, even if you couldn’t make it home this summer to see him. He understood. You were incredibly busy between spending time with Trevor and meeting his family, then the internship you worked your ass off to get. He really couldn’t blame you for not seeing him. So he went.

He walked into the bar completely ready to carry on your lifelong friendship as a strictly platonic one. He watched you as you turned around on your barstool. You got up and started darting through the crowd to jump on him. He caught you out of instinct. As soon as he wrapped his arms firmly around you for the first time in a few months, he knew he was fucked. He smiled down at you as you started dragging him back to the bar while rambling about how awesome your summer was and how much you missed him. As he sat there on that barstool listening to you talk, the only thing that ran through his mind over and over again was only 9 more years…

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