#and sometimes they walk me to my connecting flight

[tj-crochets]

I would argue that at least some of your current super powers are useful and great, given the superhuman speed at which you create amazing crafts!! (I would kill to be able to sew/knit/crotchet so fast)

You know, I had not considered that a superpower, but maybe I should! Speed crafting! :D Thanks, nonny! I gotta say I like the speed crafting power a lot more than I like the "detect the presence of mint/coconut/lysol by wheezing" powers lol

[lilasamaaa]

Wicked games | Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Genre | Fluff, some light angst.

Word count | 1.5K.

Warnings | Some sexual innuendos, reader playfully gaslighting Max.

Summary | You love Max, you really do. But there’s just something about your brother’s teammate… as a driver, of course. 

Author's note | This piece was requested! Thanks to the lovely anon who came up with the idea, I had so much fun writing it! This is shorter than what I usually write, but I wanted to keep this one light and fun :)

"Babe?" Max's voice comes from the living room. "Are you ready to go?"

This weekend, it's the iconic Monaco Grand Prix, and you're delighted not to have to take a flight and endure jet lag from the other side of the world for once. Not that you're complaining about having the privilege to travel so much, but you understand what flight attendants mean when they say that flying makes you age prematurely. Before the bustling week begins and paralyzes the entire city, you, your brother, and Max had agreed to go eat lunch at your favorite place before the boys had to attend their pre-race press conference.

"I'm almost done," you shout back, placing bobby pins in your bun, when you hear the footsteps of your boyfriend approaching until they reach the door.

"We're..." Max starts before his gaze lands on you. "Oh, no, baby. There's no way you're wearing that."

You arch an eyebrow, observing your boyfriend in the large mirror of the bathroom.

"What's wrong with my outfit?" you ask, tilting your head.

"You're not really going to wear that, are you? Not while holding my hand?" Max replies, starring at your white tennis skirt and red Ferrari polo while you let out a hearty laugh.

"I might be your girlfriend, Max Verstappen, but I'm a Ferrari fan first and foremost. You knew this when you first asked me out."

"Of course I know, baby, but there's a difference between supporting Ferrari and... walking around with their colors on the street. With me."

"Are you playing territorial right now?" you ask, putting both hands on his chest, struggling to suppress your laughter.

"If you're so set on wearing red, why don't you try something more... Discreet? Like the red dress I brought you from Miami?"

"I'm wearing the polo, Max. It'll make Charles happy. And Carlos too," you add, winking at your boyfriend before walking towards the living room.

"Huh? What's the connection with Carlos?" Max asks, following you. "Is Carlos invited to the restaurant?"

Ever since Max and you started dating, several years ago, this has been your favorite game. Never gets old. You just love mentioning the Scuderia and its drivers. It's not that he hates the team, no, after all, as Sebastian once said, everyone's a Ferrari fan. But while Max understands your attachment to the team in relation with your brothers, there's one thing he finds less understandable... Your fascination with the other driver.

"You didn't tell me Carlos was coming," Max says again, still following around while you put on your jewelry.

"I didn't think it was important," you shrug, smirking.

Let it be clear : you don't feel anything for Carlos. No attraction whatsoever. But ever since the Spaniard joined the team and became a close friend of Charles, your relationship naturally developed to the point where today, you genuinely consider Carlos as a member of your family. You've even met his own, spent holidays with them, and you've crashed at Carlos' place multiple times before. Sometimes, when you need someone to talk to and Charles and Max are too biased, too closely involved with you to provide good insight, you call Carlos. The same way the driver always comes to you when he's got girls troubles. Yes, the two of you share a beautiful, tight bond. And knowing there's no ambiguity between the two of you (Max knows it too, deep down), you love driving your boyfriend crazy by mentioning Carlos.

"What's the matter, Max?" you ask, turning around, smiling at him.

"Look, I don't say anything when you sleep on his couch, or when you spend hours on the phone with his sisters. It doesn't even bother me when you check his results, and I surely didn't say anything when you celebrated his victory in Australia while my car was giving me hell," Max continues, gesturing with his hands. "But isn't this a bit much?"

"What is?"

"You said we were going out... As a family? Like, your brother, you and me?"

"Carlos is family," you reply, playing dumb.

"You..." Max starts, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, yeah. Whatever." your boyfriend says, throwing his hands in the air.

As Max and you arrive hand in hand in front of the restaurant where Charles and Carlos are waiting, you don't miss the look your brother gives you upon seeing you dressed in the red polo.

"You're fucking impossible," Charles mutters while kissing your cheek.

Once inside, as the four of you walk over to your table, you still see the opportunity to drive Max crazy by sitting across from Charles. Next to Carlos. Diagonally, your boyfriend watches you, eyebrows furrowed, a hint of annoyance in his eyes.

"Miami was so fun," you start, taking the menu.

"You and I must have a different definition of the word" Max says, rolling his eyes.

"Well, it's not so unpleasant to see someone else cross the finish line before you, for once," you reply teasingly.

"Like in Melbourne?" Max asks with an ironic smile.

"Like in Melbourne," you nod, winking at your boyfriend before turning your attention to the Spaniard. "You did so good, Carlos. I'll have you know that I was rooting for you from the start."

"Yeah," Charles interjects, rolling his eyes. "We know."

The table is engulfed in a heavy silence, and you enjoy yourself so much, your eyes sparkling mischievously.

"There's some tension in here, am I right?" Carlos asks after some time, looking at all three of you in turn.

"She's been bugging me about you all morning," Max replies, taking a sip of his coke. "She thinks it's funny."

"Why would you do that?" Carlos asks, looking at you, eyes wide. "You know he's going to push me off-track because of you, next time."

"You're better than them, that's all," you reply, eyes fixated on the menu in front of you. "They just can't admit it."

"Now, that's just nasty coming from my own sister," Charles says, laughing. "Take that back."

"Leave her to it," Max says to your brother, giving you a meaningful look. "She's decided to be bratty today. She knows it drives me crazy."

"We should all know less about each other," Carlos says before gesturing for the waiter to come over, while Charles tries to hide the red from his face with his menu.

The meal goes well, the false tensions easing over a succession of delicious dishes. But you're not done with your little game. Not yet. As the server clears your plates and refills your wine, you lean in towards Carlos.

"What dessert do you recommend? I'm in the mood for something sweet," you ask Carlos, fluttering your eyelashes innocently.

Across from you, your brother sighs, running a hand across his face, while Max stares at you in a way you know all too well. A look that tells you that once the two of you set foot back in your shared apartment, you're going to pay for your behavior. Big time. But for now, you don't care, leaning over Carlos' menu, your shoulders pressed together. The Spaniard is so innocent, so far from imagining that you're using him to lead your boyfriend exactly where you want him.

"Their crème brûlée is delicious," the driver replies mechanically, eyes still looming over the piece of paper.

"Crème brûlée it is, then," you reply, setting back in your chair. "I just love to make them crack," you finish, locking eyes with Max.

That's it. You're fucked. Max's usually clear eyes are dark with annoyance and desire. Feeling the heat in your lower belly, you lower your gaze, finding it hard to meet your boyfriend's eyes. You can't wait to get home, knowing that with the afternoon of interviews ahead of him, your boyfriend will have to suppress his desire until tonight, amplifying his frustration. After dessert, the four of you head to the cashier, where Max pays for everyone before leading you all outside.

Carlos gives you a quick hug before heading back to his car, promising to call you soon, knowing that the other two drivers will follow him in a few moments. Charles approaches you, and you throw yourself in his arms, pressing your nose against his neck.

"You've got to stop doing that," your brother mumbles playfully in your ear. "You're not the one who has to deal with his awful mood in the paddock afterward."

"He's just so easy to rile up," you say, as both of you let out a laugh.

Charles pinches your cheek before waving to Max and joining Carlos in his car. You find yourself facing Max and give him a radiant smile. Perfectly innocent.

"You're the worst," your boyfriend starts, crossing his arms against his chest.

"You just love me," you say, sticking out your tongue.

"I'm going to ruin you tonight," he concludes, pulling you towards him before kissing you passionately, his hands grazing your buttocks, barely covered by your short skirt. "Show you who's better than who."

"I can't wait," you mutter against his mouth, softly biting his lower lip before taking the keys from his car in the back pocket of his jeans.

"Can't wait," you repeat, watching your boyfriend walk away until he disappears into the backseat of Carlos' car.

[roosterforme]

How You Play the Game Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley are both determined to enjoy your last day together, but that doesn't mean neither of you are hurting. More than anything, he wants you to stay with him past the World Series. You wish you could reassure him that's what you want to do, too.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, angst, smut (18+)

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Bradley's words were echoing in your ears. "What do you have in New York that you couldn't have in San Diego? Here. With me."

You couldn't answer him. There was nothing you could say, really. Instead you sat on his lap until your tears stopped and you felt like you could breathe again. Breathing was always easier around Bradley, because he seemed to be the only one who wasn't rushing you or shoving you along through deadlines and connecting flights and time zones. 

You couldn't exactly tell him you had stronger feelings for him after knowing him for nine whole days than you did for the last guy you dated for a year. And you couldn't tell him you felt lonely in your own skin sometimes, like nobody else could understand how hard it was to love your job but hate the constant demands. You couldn't tell him that feeling lessened with each passing day he was near you. 

When you finally eased away from him and kissed his lips, you tried to smile as you said, "Let's just enjoy our last day together." That was all you could offer him. That was all you could have from him in return.

Bradley closed his eyes, and said, "Sure, Ace." And you couldn't fight the urge to smooth out the crease along his forehead with your lips. You kissed him there, and he didn't stop you. There were so many things you didn't know about him, hadn't bothered to ask. And there was no reason for him to ask you either, because this was all a fling with an expiration date. But you were curious, especially after spending so much time in his home. 

You were still smoothing your fingers along the scars and lines on his face when he opened his pretty brown eyes and tried to smile at you. By the time you were on your flight to Boston on Monday morning, you'd be craving the feel of his skin and the scratch of his mustache.

"It's late," he said softly, his voice raspier than ever. Your lips were on his before you could even reason with yourself that you needed to start pulling back in self preservation. And of course he kissed you back just right with his big hands on your back. When you pulled away, there were more tears in your eyes, and you wanted so badly to hide them. But he kissed your cheeks and said, "We should try to get some sleep. I want you to have energy when you're in Boston."

You nodded and stood, and you watched him gracefully pull his big body off the cold floor. Wordlessly, he picked up your computer and took your hand, leading you back to his bedroom. He carefully plugged your computer in so it would be charged up for game seven, and he kissed your forehead. "I already brushed my teeth. I'll warm up the bed."

When you slipped into the bathroom, you had to scrub at the tear streaks on your face as more threatened to fall. You brushed your teeth and used the toilet, and then you realized you still hadn't actually booked your flight. You were swiping at your tears when you walked back into his bedroom and saw him in bed with his head on his pillow and his hands over his eyes. 

He must have heard you, because he sat up a little bit and pulled the covers back as he said, "Come on, Ace." Then he paused. "You're crying again."

You located your phone and whispered, "I still have to book my flight." You were clutching your phone to your chest as Bradley took a deep breath and patted the spot in bed next to him. You slid in, and he wrapped his arms around you, making it somehow easier and harder for you to open up the airline app and search.

Direct flight. 6:35 on Monday morning. One seat left. It seemed too fateful for you to look any further. You could be in Boston late in the afternoon and go right to TD Garden and start your research and maybe get a jump on the exclusive. You bought the ticket and then tossed your phone aside as you buried your face in Bradley's chest.

He must have seen your phone screen, because he whispered, "I can drop you off at the airport." You just nodded as he rubbed his hand up and down your arm, soothing you. "Hey, I thought we were going to enjoy our last day together."

You took a deep breath, indulging in the smell of his skin before you looked up at him. "That's what I want." Bradley looked at you like he was trying to memorize your face before he turned off the lamp next to the bed.

---------------------------

You were curled up sweetly with your head on his chest, but to Bradley, it felt like there was an unmovable weight that was crushing him. Your upcoming schedule would have you flying all over the place, and he wanted to know he did everything he could to let you get some rest now. He wanted you to think back to the World Series with him and smile, not feel stress from it. 

Maybe you'd text or call him occasionally, when you could. The idea of it took some of the pain in his chest away. Just seeing a message from Ace on his phone would probably destroy and excite him equally. 

"Bradley?" you asked softly. Your voice surprised him since your breathing had finally evened out to a slow and steady rhythm. 

"Yeah, Baby?"

Your arm draped across his abs tightened around him as you said, "There are so many things I don't know about you. It's like we did this all backwards in a way, and I'm missing some little pieces of it all. I don't even know how old you are."

"I'm thirty five," he replied instantly. Then he told you when his birthday was in June. 

"I should have known you were born during baseball season," you replied with a smile in your voice. "Where are you from?"

"Virginia. And I gotta say, I like the east coast girls, Ace."

He wanted to make you laugh, wanted to try to ease your mind, but you just said, "They like you, too."

Then you asked him more about his family, but there wasn't a lot to say. And you asked him about the Navy, but there was too much for your last twenty four hours together. And he wanted to know everything about you, too. So he repeated a lot of the questions you already asked, and eventually you yawned and rolled onto your side, pulling him with you. 

Bradley knew it was time to let you get some sleep as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. This time he was almost certain your even breathing meant you were out, and he let himself relax with the back of your body nestled against the front of his. He was nearly asleep now, too, but he indulged in one last question. "Would you stay, Ace? Would you stay if you could?"

Once again he slept so soundly with you cradled in his arms, warmer and more comfortable than he could ever remember being. When he woke up, he'd barely moved, because you were facing him in his arms, still sound asleep. It was Sunday. Game seven. You'd be well and truly gone by this time tomorrow. Bradley wanted to wake you up and talk to you, hear your voice. He wanted to spend the whole day in your presence. But this was kind of perfect, too. You trusted him next to you after just a few nights together. 

He pressed his lips softly to your forehead and let you sleep as long as you needed to, and his reward when you woke up was the look of pure happiness on your face when you realized you were with him. His heart ached as he watched your expression falter just enough that he knew you realized what today meant.

"Bradley," you whispered, voice laced with sadness as you let your palm rest on his cheek before pushing your fingers back through his hair. "Bradley, I-"

But you didn't finish your sentence. You kissed him instead. You were wearing his Padres jersey and a pair of his socks, and Bradley never wanted you to stop. He wanted you to have his clothing at your disposal whenever you wanted to wear it. 

"Ace," he grunted, rolling you onto your back. You didn't let him break the kiss as you kept your hands on his cheeks and in his hair. Your thighs were spread wide for him, and you moaned softly into his mouth when he settled against your core. 

Bradley's cock was heavy and throbbing as he carefully pulled his underwear down around his thighs. Your little moans were so pretty as he devoured your mouth and caressed your opening with his tip until you were bucking up against him with a gasp. 

"I want you."

Well that was fine with Bradley, because he wanted you. And he wanted to give you everything. He wanted you to be his. So he guided himself slowly until he was deep inside you, and he let himself pretend it was already Monday and you decided to stay.

-----------------------------

Bradley's arms were wrapped around you from behind, and his chin came to rest on your shoulder. "Let me make you breakfast. To say thank you for letting me eat all your food," you whispered. It was hard not to smile when you were wearing his clothing and he had you in his arms like this. 

"I'd rather make it together," he murmured softly next to your ear. "Rather spend the whole day touching you."

You closed your eyes and swallowed past the lump in your throat. This would never work, no matter how badly you wished it could. Bradley wanted to touch you all day when you were here with him, but you'd always be away. You'd be chasing exclusives and jumping through all the hoops Greg set out for you. And Bradley would grow tired of your lifestyle, crave someone easier to be with. You were already too much for him.

"Can we make breakfast together?" he asked, and you realized you and he had snuggled in bed for such a long time, you only had a few hours until you had to be at Petco Park. 

"Yeah," you replied softly. You did most of the work, and he did most of the touching, but a little while later, you and he were on the couch again with plates of eggs and bacon. 

Bradley's pretty brown eyes were on your face as you took a bite and smiled softly. "It's yummy. I like cooking with you."

He closed his eyes and balanced his plate on his knee. "We could keep doing this, Ace. We could definitely do this again." When he opened his eyes, he asked, "Maybe I could meet you in New York whenever you finally make your way back there? Or maybe you could come back here if you have a day off? I know it wouldn't be easy. I wouldn't expect it to be. When I get deployed, it's kind of the same thing. We'd understand each other that way."

"Bradley," you whispered. "That would only make things worse. We'd never see each other, and-"

"Just think about it." His voice was low and harsh, and his eyes were pleading. You didn't respond except to pick at the rest of your breakfast silently while he did the same. But as soon as his hand came to rest on your leg, he took your plate and set it aside next to the box of baseball cards you'd been looking through on his coffee table. 

"You have some rare cards," you murmured, daring to meet his eyes again. "They were your dad's?" 

You'd taken the time to ask him more about himself last night, and you kind of wished you hadn't. Bradley had answered every question you tossed at him, and you learned all about Nick and Carole Bradshaw as a result. 

"Yeah, they were my dad's. My mom gave them to me when I was ten or eleven. I've been hauling them around with me everywhere since she died."

"Hey, that's dedication," you whispered.

You ran your fingers along the edge of the box before reaching inside. As soon as your body was no longer touching his, you felt Bradley scoot a little closer and slip his hand around your waist. He found you desirable, maybe even lovely, and when he kissed your shoulder through the jersey fabric, you turned your head to kiss his lips. 

Before things could get too heated on the couch, you murmured, "I need to get a shower and start working on my article. You coming with me?"

You led him into his own bathroom where he turned on the shower and then took his time unbuttoning the jersey. Inch by inch he guided the shirt open, his fingers skimming your skin, making you whimper. "You're beautiful," he whispered, cheeks flushed and eyes on yours as he rubbed his hands along your sides and down to your butt. You shrugged out of his Padres jersey and let it fall to the floor as he kissed you. 

He backed you up against the wall, and his lips were relentless on yours as you moaned his name. When he broke the kiss, he cupped your face in his big palm. "So beautiful." Then you stepped under the spray of the shower, and you were treated to his hands and mouth on your slick body. 

This must have all been part of the long goodbye, because you let him whisper the sweetest words against your skin as you rode his fingers. And it broke your heart a little bit more when you felt his mustache on your ear. Your name was a broken cry on his lips as you used your hands on him as well. 

Your legs felt like jello as he kept you pinned against the shower wall with his body. Your hands were covered in his cum, and he was looking at you with wide eyes and gently parted lips. "Ace." He shook his head. "Baby. Please."

More than anything, you wanted to tell him that you thought you could love him. But you pushed him away from you instead. "I can't be late again today."

-------------------------

Bradley found himself right back where he had been during game one. You and he sat side by side at the narrow counter in the press box at Petco Park. As good as it felt to acknowledge that this was all familiar to him by now, he knew this was the last time for it. You were keeping your stats and typing up your article, but your gaze landed on his face frequently. Your eyes were soft yet guarded, and every time you let your hand rest on his thigh, you kissed his lips. 

He couldn't give a shit about the game. Ten days ago he was as excited as everyone else in San Diego about the Padres, but now it didn't matter. "You want something to eat? Some water?" he asked you softly, glaring at Quincy and the others every time they so much as looked at you. 

"Please," you replied, marking down another Padres home run that Bradley wasn't allowed to cheer for but didn't really want to anyway. 

"Be right back." He stood and made his way to the tables of food. He picked up a plate, but he just stared at everything before glancing back at you. Would anyone be there to make sure you ate and took breaks in Boston? Would anyone else even care? He knew your boss didn't. And he knew you would keep pushing yourself to be better no matter what. 

"Fuck," he muttered, closing his eyes against more tears. He wanted to take care of you in the stupidest ways. Check on you a few times during the day. Make sure you weren't hungry. Keep chocolate chips in his kitchen. "Fuck."

He filled a plate with food as Petco Park erupted in more loud cheers, but only you really mattered. Bradley kissed your cheek as he sat down with your food and water. 

"Padres are going to win," you murmured as you opened the bottle. "By five runs." Bradley just nodded, because even though there were still two innings left, he knew you were probably right. "Are you excited?" 

"About the game?" he asked softly as your hand came to rest on his leg. 

"Mmhmm," you hummed, taking a sip and then setting the water aside. But you looked more apprehensive than happy, and Bradley certainly didn't feel happy that the World Series was nearly over. 

"The only thing I'm excited about is spending tonight with you." 

You laced your fingers with his and occasionally scribbled down the bare minimum on your stat sheet as your head came to rest on his shoulder. Bradley drew shapes on your back through your blouse just like he had during every other game. And he kissed the top of your head just like he'd done in bed. When the Padres won seven runs to two, you set your pencil down and ran your soft hand up along his neck. And the kisses were sweet, so sweet as everyone around you started to pack up to leave. 

Bradley knew there was a race now to be the first journalist to submit a clear, concise article chronicling game seven. He could hear the others talking about it. But you just kept kissing him, kept your hands on his face and in his hair. Nobody said a word to either of you as the press box cleared out, and you were in Bradley's lap with you finally broke the kiss. 

There were tears in your eyes when he whispered, "I have some champagne in the fridge. Let me take you back home so you can submit your article, and then we can celebrate."

"Celebrate what?"

Bradley shrugged and kissed your damp cheek. "Celebrate how fucking cool you are. And how much I like you."

He was happy when you laughed, and he stood with you in his arms. It was a long walk through the crowds of people celebrating. He held your hand, and you stuck by his side the whole way back to the Bronco where he opened the door for you. The desire to make tonight a sweet goodbye instead of something painful had Bradley giving you just the softest touches and kisses. He didn't want this to end. 

You sat on his lap in his kitchen and finished your article, but you weren't rushing it. Bradley kissed your neck and offered up some thoughts as he read what you wrote, and you added some of them to your piece. He held onto you like he had all of those nights in the hotel rooms, and he swallowed against his sadness. He was going to miss doing this with you, too. Just simply sitting with you while you worked your magic on your computer. 

"I think it's done," you whispered, your fingers hovering as the cursor blinked over the Submit icon. "Game seven. That's it."

Bradley nuzzled against your neck. "Send it in, Baby. It's incredible, and people can't wait to read what you wrote." As soon as you sent it, you checked your email inbox for the receipt, and Bradley's eyes caught on the fresh batch of people trying desperately to recruit you. He tightened his arms around you as he skimmed the names, and he had to force himself to say, "Let's open that champagne." 

He didn't even have flutes, but you didn't seem to mind that he poured you some in a pint glass. You tapped it against his and then took a few sips, but when you met his eyes, you set your glass on the counter. "I'll never forget you, Bradley."

"Fuck," he gasped, setting his glass aside as well. Now your mouth tasted like the champagne as you and he slowly made your way back to his bedroom. He wanted to make it last for the rest of the night. Every button on your blouse was a privilege for him to undo. Your warm skin was soft against his rough hands. Your voice telling him you'd miss him sent the ache in his heart up into his throat. 

He was choked up by the time you were in his bed, completely naked and whispering his name. The room was mostly dark, but you were beautiful, and your voice was everything he wanted to hear. You pulled his body down on top of you, and his mouth found yours like it was a magnet.

He made love to you, fingers laced with yours, hands on the pillow above your head. Every roll of your hips soothed him and broke his heart. Every whisper of, "Bradley," left him wanting to beg you for more after this. Tomorrow and next week and next year. He wanted to stay buried inside you so your soft moans would never stop. Soft kisses to your face became more as he could taste the salt from your tears. 

"Don't cry, Ace," he whispered, dragging his lips to yours. You hiccupped softly, and he knew you were broken like he was. And he thought you felt like a better version of yourself when you were with him. He knew he was better around you. "Baby, don't cry."

"Can't help it," you replied as you nibbled on his lips. "You're just so... you're good. You make me feel good in so many ways."

When he rubbed his big hand down the length of your arm and neck to your chest, he felt your fingers in his hair. The words were right there along with the desire to say them. Would he feel better or worse if he did? Your soft hiccups turned to gentle moans as his fingers reached your clit. He knew exactly what you liked now, and he knew how to give it to you. Your hands held his body tight to yours, and his shallow thrusts grew erratic as he got close. And when you came for him, your body shivering before loosening into languid limbs and softer kisses, he pushed himself deep. For the last time. 

"Baby," he gasped, lips cascading down your neck as he came to rest on you. You held him close for so long without saying a word, he was a little afraid you weren't going to. But when you did, he kind of wished you hadn't. 

"I'll never forget you."

You slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom, and Bradley took a minute to get himself cleaned up. He had to wipe his eyes as he leaned on his dresser, the ticket stub from game one hanging right in front of him. When he looked in the mirror, he looked truly miserable. When you returned from the bathroom, your face looked pinched in the darkness as you tossed your loose items into your luggage and set your tote bag next to his bedroom door. Then you slipped into his Padres jersey without a word and climbed in bed. 

When he eased himself next to you, he felt your hands on him immediately. You rolled onto your side and tugged on him until he was snuggled up behind you. When he wrapped his arms around your waist, you squeezed his hands until he wrapped them a little tighter. His lips were right at your ear as he whispered, "I'll take you to the airport. I'll drop you off. I already set an alarm."

Your response was so soft, he barely heard you say, "Okay."

But even your breathing was a little rough. Shallow, shaky breaths seemed to be the only thing either of you could handle, and Bradley tried to kiss your chin and jaw, tried to offer you comfort, but he was hurting too much. He just wanted to know what came next, and if you told him nothing, then he'd be devastated. But not knowing was worse at this point, so he forced one deep breath in and back out of his lungs. 

"Will you call me? From Boston?"

Your shallow breaths turned to a sob. "Bradley. That's not a good idea."

He held you a little tighter. Pressed his lips to your ear a little harder. Trying to live without you in his bed or at least your notifications on his phone screen just didn't seem possible at this point. "But you're everything I've been looking for, Ace."

"Bradley."

He could be good for you. He knew he could. But he didn't know what else to say as he clung to you, memorizing the way you felt and how you smelled. So he said the only thing he could. "You know how to reach me. You know where to find me."

You nodded your head against his pillow and whispered, "I know." And that was just the thing. You knew, but he didn't. He wouldn't know where you went after Boston unless you told him. He had no idea where in New York City you lived. He'd only have your phone number and your articles to read unless you wanted him to have more of you. He just wanted more of you. He wanted you to stay with him in any way you were willing to. And that's why he said it. Because it was true, and he was sure he wouldn't regret saying so.

"I think I'm falling in love with you."

You didn't say another word to him. He must have fallen asleep eventually to the warmth of your body. He must have dozed soundly, calmed by your presence even though subconsciously he knew it was going to hurt again soon. But when he woke up to his alarm going off, you weren't next to him. The spot was still warm as he killed the alarm and ran his hand along the sheets where you should have been. 

"Ace," he rasped, panicking as he jumped out of bed and reached for his underwear. "Baby?" he called out as he pulled them on. He flipped the lightswitch next to his door and squinted against the intense brightness, but he noticed immediately that your bags were gone. The bathroom was empty. "Ace," he whispered as he darted into the kitchen. All he found was the mostly full bottle of champagne and the two half empty pint glasses.

He ran both hands through his hair as he paced around his kitchen and living room, tugging at the roots in frustration. His heart was beating so fast, he was sick and dizzy. He couldn't even look at the baseball card collection still out on his coffee table. Then he ran back to his bedroom and picked up his discarded phone. 

He called you, and it rang for a long time. When he got your voicemail message, he hung up and tried again. Once again it rang through. When he tried a third time, you ignored his call. Or maybe you'd turned your phone off. It went right to your voicemail. With tears in his eyes, he listened to your voice tell him that you weren't currently available to take his call, but you could leave a message for later. 

He walked back toward the door with tears in his eyes and turned the light off. As darkness surrounded him, he stumbled back to his bed. When it was time for him to leave a message, he swallowed hard, waited a few seconds and then said, "See ya, Ace."

Then he ended the call through his blurry tears and tossed his phone onto the floor as he climbed back in bed. 

-------------------------

I hurt my own feeling so much. Thanks for crying with me @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

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[shegatsby]

Hi I'm not sure if you're taking requests if not then please completely ignore this

If you are I was wondering how you think Hannibal Lecter might propose to his female s/o?

No Warnings!

A/N;Hi guys, hope you're having a great day. Enjoy this short imagine. Love you all.

Hannibal planned this trip  a year ago and  he scheduled everything  according to it. His patients, his work with the FBI. He seemed extra prepared for this trip which made you question him. You knew his character, he was always ready for anything but this time was different.

Analyzing people rubbed off on you from him, you’ve been together for 3 years now and living together for 2 years and obviously some of his personality traits made their way to you. You weren’t sure whether  you had affected him the way he did but this last year he was more settled and sometimes carefree. Of course those occasions were pretty rare, but it was fun to see him opening another bottle of wine after being tipsy or cancelling his work just for a get away with you.

When he made the last phone call about his work he was free. ‘’We won’t be bothered anymore, my love.’’ He kissed your temple and together you left your shared home to catch the flight.

Weather in Italy, Portofino was something you needed. Baltimore was too cold for you. He rented a villa up the hills, overlooking the entire town, sea, forests, buildings. The view made you feel you belong to Portofino, maybe one day you’ll live here with him.

You were on the balcony, being in awe of the sight before you while Hannibal was being in awe of you, he hugged you from behind, kissed the tip of your ear. You giggled like a child, he loved that about you, admired your nurturing, yet, carefree spirit. He was aware that together you were in the perfect balance.

Hi hands went to your stomach, he imagined you carrying his child. Before you, he never imagined having someone in his life, of course he had some people that he saw time to time bur being in a committed relationship was something he never dared to dream. The sun was setting, he made you turned and looked at his deep maroon eyes.

He planned everything and it was time,

‘’My dearest, 3 years ago today was the first time that I saw you. You were drinking your coffee, just the way you like, and reading your book.’’

You smiled, you were reading ‘’A Philosophy of Walking’’ by Frédéric Gros, he made a comment about it, thus, you started talking about great philosophers for 2 maybe 3 hours.

‘’But we were so caught off guard by our instant chemistry that you left without bestowing me nothing but your elegant name. Thanks to my connections with the FBI, I found you.’’

You remembered the big bouquet of flowers on your work desk after a day, how scared you were…

Soon you’ve come to realize that Hannibal Lecter, even though he was the epitome of the modern gentlemen, deep down he was a hunter. He lived to chase and catch, you gave him a chase which was worth the ride.

‘’I never want to let you go, what we have is real.’’ He let go of your hands to get a ring from his pocket. You could feel the tears of happiness forming, ‘’Be mine. Forever.’’ You kissed his lips, ‘’Yes,’’ you whispered, ‘’forever.’’

Thank you for reading. :)

[ronearoundblindly]

No Promises (3)

Lloyd Hansen x rival assassin!Reader

I Left You Something On The Body (see previous or LH Masterlist)

Summary: You and Lloyd take to leaving consolation prizes for whichever one of you 'loses.' It...escalates delightfully.

Warnings for DARKFIC. Language; descriptions of sexual situations, toys, various paraphernalia. Smut-adjacent (masturbation). MINORS DNI. I have plenty else for you on my Light Masterlist, but this is not for you! WC 982

And you do; you let Lloyd have several open contracts after the keycard incident.

Sometimes you wonder about the man providing the most fun you’ve had in years, but mostly, you relax in a noisy city high-rise with a spectacular view. A small vacation between assassinations. You drop off the network for a month or so, picking up a straight-forward job nearby, and then show up at the target’s house to find him already dead.

Pinched onto the body, overtop a blood-soaked button-down, are golden nipple clamps.

You snort in disbelief.

The sick bastard, he’s really wooing you now.

A thin chain between the clamps sports a tied tag.

To: The Cobalt Cunt

You let out a dreamy sigh, the little tingle in your mind of possibly fucking (with) him again vibrating to life. You even miss him in a weird way.

On the reverse of the tag, it reads, “not safe for lace.”

It’s on obviously and more fun than you ever imagined. At some point, you can’t tell if you two are letting each other get places first on not. The money is, oddly, totally irrelevant, and your career takes on a renewed joy.

Lloyd claims a target. You show up, kill them, and drop off an intricately-packaged Gucci jock strap with “Eat Me” embroidered at the back of the waistband, right above his asshole.

For good measure—and to remind him what he’s missing—you add a spritz of your perfume to the cup.

That’s where you want to be nestled, it implies. That’s where you belong, right against his dick.

Sadly, the next ‘surprise’ takes a while as you two are not after the same jobs. There’s plenty of work to go around till you find an oblong box wrapped in brown paper on the armchair ten feet from an enormous bloodstain.

 With an empty scotch glass and a crumb-covered plate beside it, you know Lloyd’s been trolling for your attention. His snacky, sweet-tooth is somewhat notorious.

Your inconspicuous, purposefully plain gift waits patiently, the soft whipped cream of a strawberry shortcake dripping down its serving stand.

There’s no rush though, and you make a little ritual of opening it to reveal a beautiful dildo with golden speckles throughout the silicone molding. It is absolutely from a cast of Lloyd; you’d know that curve anywhere.

If that’s as close as you can get? Fine by you…

The rest of him barely participated before anyway.

Geneva.

Lloyd’s pissed and tired after the flight. Suzanne is the fucking worst and made him repeat the plan three times because her pea-brain is as sharp as a limp dick.

He dances down the plane steps, noticing a welcome party that is not his people. One sunglasses-clad, black-suited fellow walks up to Lloyd with an enormous gift basket.

It’s so goddamn pink Lloyd recoils and squints his eyes.

Good christ, it’s hideous. He loves it in a sick way.

Pink cellophane, fuzzy pink handcuffs, a sparkling fuchsia cock ring, rose gold anal beads with pesto-colored rope connecting them, and strawberry flavored lube.

Mood restored, Lloyd chuckles, turning on his heel to get back on the plane.

He’s going home. He has toys to play with.

He doesn’t bother to explain shit to Suzanne. One of these days, he’s just going to pop her for free.

This one doesn’t coincide with a job at all, but that’s what makes it all the sweeter to you.

Delivered to the place you’re staying for the week is an adorable, yellow stuffed rabbit with a pull-cord. Across its tummy is 'sunshine' in cursive letters.

You honest-to-god squeal in delight as you listen to each of the five custom recordings programed in.

Lloyd tuts then says “should have sized up my ring, you cock-drunk whore,” a deep gasp and a squelch punctuates the end.

Oh boy. It’s Christmas in July. Happy you!

You fake your own shocked gasp at the second soundbite.

“Know you don’t taste like fucking strawberries,“ he grunts before bitterly adding, “but I’ll take one for the team and eat that pussy any day.”

Third: “Bet I was the best you ever had, even when I wasn’t awake, you poor thing. So needy…”

Fourth: “How hard did you come, Sunshine? Be honest.” He laughs like the cat who got the cream to end that one.

Finally, the last of the pulls is just the slapping noise of him jerking off and finishing with a deep moan.

Now, at least, you know what Lloyd sounds like when he comes.

Utterly self-satisfied, Lloyd goes about his life of luxury.

He’ll be damned if he’s going to break and go to you. Fuck that. The thrill of this taco-and-hotdog game is worth it anyway.

He still works, and not every job revolves around you.

For one such fulfilled contract, he’s being paid in artwork and has the delivery men bring in the large framed canvas to uncover in his current villa’s sitting room.

The expectation is a well-known portrait.

It’s a painting alright, but it’s…very modern.

Lloyd crosses his arms over his chest and smothers a proud grin.

The torso and open legs of you stretch out facing the viewer, gold leaf embossed nipple clamps and their chains dangle over your stomach, and the blunt end of a golden dildo sits nestled in your cunt. There are brush strokes and paint visibly raised from the surface.

He wonders whether it was done from a photo or whether you sat there, bare, for some artist to reference for hours, maybe even days.

Lloyd had a spot in mind for his real payment, but this will do nicely. He’s quite pleased with the view. It shall go over the mantle in the bedroom, and he shall fuck whoever he wants—his fist included—while staring right at it.

The half dozen or so other people in the villa’s great room who can all see the painting don’t say a fucking word.

How the hell is he supposed to top this?

A/N: Full disclosure, I'm pretty sure this is the funniest thing I'll ever write, and I'm okay with that. I can't stop laughing 🤣🤣🤣

[Next Part: A Blazer Full of Bullet Holes]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

blue art deco divider by @/saradika-graphics--thank you for your beautiful work!

[evlia]

Christmas ideas? 👀

Oh yes yes

I’m currently obsessing about workplace AU where john and gale work in the same company/office and john is obviously that one employee who everyone gets along with, everyone likes and everyone has a crush on and gale is a new one, who doesn’t really try to get to know his colleagues, who is quiet and reserved and just sticks to his desk and work at hand.

When the Christmas time comes john starts wearing ugly sweaters, humming annoying Christmas tunes and laughing all charming and perfect when the flustered girls point out the mistletoes above them.

Gale doesn’t like Christmas, doesn’t celebrate any holidays really, because his family never did and even when they had a dinner to “celebrate” his father would make sure to make everything taste bitter. So naturally Gale doesn’t like john, doesn’t like the way he smiles all bright and happy, doesn’t like the way he sings the stupid songs even though he knows he’s bad but doesn’t care, doesn’t like that everyone gets his attention but gale.

Meanwhile john is trying his very best to get gale’s attention, is making a fool out of himself in hopes that he will somehow see the glimpse of a smile on his face but the man seems immune to his charm, sometimes looks at john all moody and brooding and john is pretty sure that in the back of his mind he’s picturing punching john in the face.

The very last day before the holiday weekend, before Gale leaves the office he hears the news about the incoming storm and the warning to stay inside and safe. He leaves his desk 15 mins early (which never happens) and rushes to his car to make it home. When he circles around the building he sees john egan standing there, in the falling snow, dressed like the most dumb person ever, thin jacket and not even a scarf or a hat, nose red and shivering and gale knows he’s about to do the stupidest thing in his life.

To quicken things up gale learns that john was planning on flying to his family for holidays but of course his flight is canceled and of course there’s no taxi and gale thinks “he’s going to freeze to death” so offers him to take him home, but because the weather is getting worse and dangerous they can’t make it that far. When they are close to gales apartment he starts to realize that what he’s about to do next is THE stupidest thing he’s ever done but he still offers john to stay over his, until the weather gets better and john obviously agrees.

That’s how john egan appears in gale’s apartment, where there’s no Christmas tree, no decorations, no lights. They spend the time together and even though it’s awkward at first they both discover that they misjudged each other, they start to get to know each other and exchange little details about their personalities over the dinner that gale cooked and eventually john learns why Gale doesn’t like Christmas, learns why Gale prefers to be alone, learns that Gale is actually very funny and has this dry sense of humor that keeps john on the edge, matches his teasing with sarcastic comments and john has never felt more connection with anyone else in his life.

John stays the night and keeps tossing and turning in gales guestroom, can’t stop thinking about the evening he shared with him and about the fact that he has to leave in the morning.

When the morning comes, it seems that the storm has ended and roads have been cleared so they share awkward conversation about how john can leave now and he can get a taxi no need for gale to drive him he has already done enough. When the taxi arrives and gale walks him to the door they both linger there, like both of them want to say something and don’t know how and maybe both start speaking at the same time

“Maybe you want to…”

“I don’t want to…”

John laughs and nods at him, urging him to go on

“I just wanted to ask you if you’d like to.. uh.. maybe stay? Here, with me? In my apartment I mean.. I know you think I don’t like you but I do, I really do, always have actually so.. I was just wondering if you’d want to…” when Gale sees john face, eyes wide and mouth open in shock, he immediately feels stupid for saying all of that.

“I’m sorry, forget it, you’re going to your family to spend the holidays with them, why would you want to.. forget I said anything”

“Will you punch me if I kiss you right now?”

Gale thinks he imagines it, there’s no way john actually said that but then he comes closer, closing the space between them and his gaze flickers to his lips, he raises his hand, like he wants to reach him, touch him but it just lingers in the air, unsure

“I will punch you if you don’t “ and john laughs that bright laugh, but his gaze stays fixed on his lips, briefly moving to his eyes and his laugh softens into the fondest smile as his hand finally sets on gale’s jaw and leans in…

Yeah, anyway, I have another ideas too but as you can see this got out of hand real quick

[outsideratheart]

Be Still With Me (Leah Williamson x reader)

A/N: I think we are feeling a little heartbroken today. 

You watched as it happened from your sofa in Barcelona with your two England team mates beside you. The way you saw it pop when they showed the replay left you dreading what was to come because it was clear that Leah had tore her ACL. Sure it could have been a twist or a dislocation but your gut went to the worse scenario and you knew it was right.

If you weren’t already booked on a plane to London the following day you would have booked a flight there and then. Leah wasn’t just a team mate or your co captain, she was your best friend and the love of your life. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to be by her side so you can tell her that everything will be ok even though her Champions League and World Cup dreams were over.

After your match day -1 training at Stamford bridge the statement was released, you of course were already aware of the results of Leah’s scans as she called you the moment she had them. You did your duty, completed the training and the press conference but as soon as you were done you left your team to be by Leah’s side. As the team captain and fellow victim of an ACL tear Alexia didn’t argue, in fact she encouraged it stating that she knew Leah would need you now more than ever.

The drive to the house you shared whenever you were home was long and silent. Your mind was trying and failing to come up with words that could comfort Leah. You had been in contact with her mum who told you that her daughter wanted to be left alone so nobody but her would be home when you arrive. There was an eerie atmosphere when you walked through the door but nothing brought more concern than the sight of your girlfriend. Leah laid on the Sofa, her leg elevated and tears running down her cheeks.

“Oh sweet one” it might have been as much your home as it was hers but to you gave her space so you stand in the doorway that connected the hall to the living room.

“It’s over” a defeated expression is etched on her face and you couldn’t blame her.

The only thing you could do is hold her and that’s what you did. You let her cry into the crook of your neck whilst stroking her hair in a gentle motion hoping it would bring her comfort like it had in the past. 

“Why is this happening to me? It feels like I’ve just come back” Leah hated being on the sidelines. Her ankle injury was her biggest challenge so far because it limited what she could do, it wasn’t like how she pulled her hamstring the season prior. 

“I can’t answer that. The world is cruel sometimes and bad things happen to good people” you felt helpless. The woman in your arms craved reassurance but you didn’t know how to give it to her. 

“We had plans this summer and now I’m going to miss it” 

You and Leah lead the team to the Euros final and you planned on doing the same in the World Cup. Strategies had already been talked about and after the loss against Australia, you and Leah wanted it more than ever. You didn’t want to feel like that again and you both found comfort afterwards in knowing that you always had each other, in the good times and bad but now Leah wouldn’t be by your side for one of the biggest tournaments of your career.

“That’s not important right now Leah—“

“The world cup isn’t important? You of all people can’t tell me that. You get to go and you get to—”

Leah was venting her frustrations and you were her target but you wouldn’t let her push you away, not now, not ever.

“It’s not the most important thing right now, you are” 

Her eyes softened as you spoke. There is a reason why you are her person and it’s because you stay by her side and alway have her back, you love her with every fibre of your being and she feels it with her word you say and every kiss you share.

“Will you stay for my surgery?” 

“I don’t know if I can stay but I can come back. Just tell me when and where, I’ll be there” 

The distance between London and Barcelona had never been an issue before. You would go back to you home country when possible and Leah took any chance she had to visit you and spend some time in the Spanish sun. Now though the distance felt twice as far and you hadn’t even left yet. The next 7 weeks would be tough but you’d find a way to be there for her even if you were 707 miles away.

“Will the team be ok with it?” The last thing Leah want to do is cause any issues between you and your club.

“I don’t care if they do. I’ll go to training, games and any other team commitments. What I do in my spare time is none of their business”

You could see the sun begin to set; a pink tint covered the once blue sky. Time was ticking down but you didn’t want to leave and it wasn’t as if that was an option at the minute. Leah had fallen asleep after the two of you discussed her surgery and recovery which lead to her crying once again.

She looked so peaceful as you watched her chest rise and fail was every even breathe but you knew once she woke up the restlessness and worry would return. You wanted to protect her from the world, she didn’t deserve the pain she was going through.

“I wish I could take your pain away. I wish it was me and not you” You couldn’t imagine not being able to play football for a long period of time having never has a serious injury you career but seeing Leah so broken, you would happily take her place.

“Don’t say that” Clearly Leah wasn’t in as deep of a sleep as you thought “There has been enough of these injuries, we don’t need anymore”

She was right. There has been 110 ACL injuries in the last year and a half within the women’s game. The anger and frustration that each of these player felt were valid and you hoped that the issue at hand would be looked into.

“But it’s true” you wanted Leah to know that you would rather be in her position because her health came before yours.

“It’s a stupid thing to say. Can we talk about something else? No more injury talk” you quietly hum in agreement “How long till you have to go back to the hotel?”

You look at our watch. Technically you were already late but Alexia said she would cover for you which you were grateful for.

“Not for a few hours. Do you want to watch a movie?” Leah nods her head “Mamma Mia?” Your question earns another nod, of course it did, it was one of her feel good films.

You put the film on and felt comfort almost immediately. The way you both sing along to your favourite songs lets you forget about her injury, the night is just another sing along in the Williamson Y/L/N household. 

A couple of hours later the film ends and you know that it is time for you to leave even though no part of you wants to do so. It’s as if you inner thoughts are being said out loud because you feel Leah tap your chest. The action normally comes when the two of you have spent the night on the sofa and it’s time for you to go to bed but the intention is different this time, the two of you know it.

“I don’t want to” you pout.

“You have to. You have a job to do tomorrow and I’d hate for you to get in trouble because of me”

“I love you, you know that right?” 

“Of course I do now go before I the Barcelona team come knocking”

You hesitantly get up, taking your time not wanting the night to end. Much to your surprise and dismay, Leah holds her hands out and you carefully help her up. The blonde’s arms wrap around you neck once she is on her feet.

The way she looked you caused you to fall in love with her all over again. You would never be able to put into words the power her gaze had. 

“Win tomorrow and maybe even score a goal for me?” 

“Oh please, the blues don’t stand a chance. Not when I want to put on a show for my girl”

[izvmimi]

Asta’s hearing is too good for how loud he is, you think sometimes, but there’s no time to worry about how he managed to hear you whisper a curse under your breath as you sort through the closets and coat racks all throughout the godforsaken Black Bulls hideout, looking for your broom. 

“Hey, can I help you with something?”

Asta’s practically peering over your shoulder as you’re bent over, searching, and in all of your distress, you neglect to answer his question, still murmuring under your breath. 

“Where is it? Where is it? How do you lose a fucking broom-”

“___?”

“... the last time I came here, I came into the house by the shed, and that wall was connected to that wall… maybe I should go talk to Henry…”

“___.” Asta’s calling your name a little more sternly now as he follows you, and you’re both walking across the ground floor with him close on your heels like a cat stalking a mouse, but you can barely register any of the calls.

“... okay, so not here, maybe-”

“___!” 

This time the sound of your own name startles you and you whip around, only to see your boyfriend frowning at you.

“What’s going on?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest, now that he has your attention.

“Can’t find my broom and I’ve looked everywhere and Owen will literally kill me if I show up late for one of his cases again and- hey!”

Asta’s taken hold of your hand, and in a flash has your tote bag too, and you're both out in front of the hideout. 

“You know, you can just ask for help, when you need it,” he starts, and as you frown, he calls the Demon-Slayer sword and hops on. 

“Asta, you know I can’t stand on it so this is barely a solution,” you start, but he grins, hoisting you quickly into his arms and before you know it, the two of you take flight in the direction of the capital, your face burning as air whooshes past and he grins at you.

“You were saying?” 

His bright green eyes are slightly narrowed and sly, clearly pleased with himself maneuvering the situation, and you, nestled close against him, find your heart thumping in embarrassment, both due to the precarious position you’re in if he ever were to drop you, the sheer speed, and the fact that his gaze is only on you and nothing else.

“Watch the skies, Asta!” you quip, nearly overwhelmed, as he laughs. 

“Don’t worry, I know this route like the back of my-” he stops quickly, and brusquely, his sword practically nosedives with the two of you on it, and you find yourself screaming before he rights himself, and your heart ascends back to your chest from the pit of your stomach.

“Sorry!” he calls out to an angry flier on their own broom as he zips past them, and you glare at him.

“I’d rather be ALIVE than on time!”

He laughs again, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make it in one piece, I promise. And if not, what better place to crash than near a hospital?!”

“Asta,” you warn, but his cheerful mood quells you, and you decide to appreciate the kindness and look out to the sky and appreciate the view as you approach the bustling city center. 

It’s a beautiful morning and perhaps by the time he drops you off and soars away to start his own day, you consider maybe you don’t need to hurry and find your broom just yet.

[annabelle--cane]

Related to that airport ask, did you ever fly as an unaccompanied minor? I was just reminiscing about flying to France to visit family on my own. I went every summer from ages 8-13. It was a strange experience, being escorted around by airline staff. I haven't met very many people who flew on their own as kids. The Paris airport had a really nice area for unaccompanied kids who had layovers but in other airports I would sometimes end up in like the flight attendant break room waiting to be escorted to a connecting flight.

I loved it though, I love flying I wish I had more opportunity to do it these days.

sure did! my favorite part was getting to skip all the lines. I didn't usually have flights with layovers, but I did also spend some time in flight attendant break rooms when my father would be late collecting me from the airport.

I had a frankly mortifying experience with a flight attendant once, because my protocol was usually to deliberately flip my accent upon arriving in the uk just to stick out like a sore thumb a little bit less (avoiding being singled out as weird in social situations was my primary motivation at the time given that I was thirteen), and as she was walking me to customs and chatting to me about my trip plans she said "wait, if you normally live in the us and are just here to visit then why do you sound like that?" code switched too close to the sun on that one lads.

[allzelemonz]

Robin Reveal: Leonard Hofstadter X Gender Neutral Reader

Prompt: Request, Leonard is a sucker for revealing clothes Pronouns: None Mentioned Physical Sex: Any, vague language is used when needed Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Top Leonard, bottom Reader, Reader wears revealing clothes in a private space, clothing is vaguely worded to make it gender neutral, fingering, penetrative sex, Sheldon is a Dick Grayson fanboy, Leonard is a Tim Drake fanboy, Reader has their own comic knowledge and opinions, based around the argument Sheldon had with Stuart about who should succeed Batman Summary: After a long day at work Leonard comes home to find you trying on an exceptionally revealing new outfit.

Leonard sometimes wonders why Sheldon always has to have his debates while going up the stairs. Coming home from work, all he wants to do is relax with whatever show you happen to put on that will keep Sheldon quiet. But first he must endure the climb. Like Samwise Gamgee escorting a particularly chatty Frodo up Mount Doom.

“Leonard, are you even listening.” Sheldon asks, eyeing his roommate with a particularly high brow.

“Yes, Sheldon.” Leonard responds, hardly registering the question.

“So, do you agree?”

“Yes, Sheldon.” Leonard responds again as he turns the corner, just one more flight to go.

“So you won’t mind telling Stuart that Dick Grayson is the only logical choice to take the Batman mantle!” Sheldon’s excitement catches Leonard’s attention just as they reach their floor.

“Woah, woah, woah. Hold on.” Leonard pauses in front of the door. “Dick Grayson? Batman?”

“Well, yes. He’s the most logical choice-”

“Tim Drake is the most logical choice.” Leonard corrects his dear, very incorrect, friend.

Sheldon’s mouth drops open, “Tim Drake!”

“Yes, Tim Drake! He’s the best detective of all the Robin’s, he’s a tech mastermind, and he’s wildly underrated within the Batfamily.”

“Tim Drake does not hold a candle to Dick Grayson.” Sheldon snips as he marches past Leonard and into the apartment.

“Why did I get sucked into this?” Leonard asks himself before following him inside.

Sheldon has started a glaring period that will likely not end until Wolowitz comes around and says something about Damian Wayne just to rile him. Leonard ignores the stare, but he knows that it continues even after he’s gone down the hallway. He takes his bag off as he walks and opens his door, dropping it on the floor. When he looks up his mouth falls open and he hesitates for a second before closing the door.

“Wh-What are you wearing?” He asks, flattening himself against the door as if it might cave in.

“Just trying something out.” You answer as you adjust a piece of the fabric. “I’ll change in a minute, just wanted to make sure it fit.”

Leonard can’t help himself as his eyes rake over you. The clothing isn’t covering much, barely even the essentials. He’s never been more thankful that you’ve started spending more time here than at your own place. His breath catches in his throat when you look up at him and catch him staring nearly as intently as Sheldon, but with an entirely different intent.

“Is there something you wanna say, Leonard?” You let a smile spread over your face as Leonard squirms a bit against the door, redness flushing over his skin.

Leonard licks his lips and tries to smile, get words out, or stand up on his own. Anything. All of these attempts fail when you make a movement, messing with the bit of fabric that covers you.

“Oh my god.” Leonard mumbles.

“Can you stand, Leonard?”

He manages a nod, but doesn’t move.

“Then come here and help me get this off.”

Leonard moves faster than you’ve ever seen him move before, for a moment you’re concerned he’ll bring on an asthma attack. His hands are on you in seconds, finding a resting place on your hips and connecting your lips as you lead him back to the bed. He giggles with a smile fixed on his face when you lean back and push his jacket off. He follows your lead, stripping everything he can before you pull him back in for another kiss.

You pull him back until he’s above you and let him take the lead. He lowers himself against you and lets his hard dick press into your thigh as he presses further into the kiss. Your hands go to his hair and you relax as Leonard just enjoys the moment. He moves to kiss down your neck and rolls his hips against yours until you can’t wait anymore.

You begin to rid yourself of the outfit that Leonard admires so much and he follows you, shedding his boxes and making sure his glasses are in a safe spot on the nightstand. When you come back together Leonard doesn’t waste any time, he hovers over you and lets his hand sink down. You pull him in for a kiss as his fingers enter you and he stretches you out, preparing you.

Once you’ve urged him along, unable to wait much longer, Leonard lines himself up and pushes in slowly. You stifle a moan, trying to keep quiet with Sheldon in the apartment. Leonard brings your lips back to his to keep you occupied while he begins a steady rhythm, pulling out and thrusting in with the occasional change of angle until you’re nearly screaming into his mouth.

Your orgasm comes too fast and you can’t give Leonard a warning before it happens. Leonard fucks you through it, keeping his kisses frequent to stifle the noises you make before he comes himself. His thrusts become more erratic and he grips your hips tightly as he spills into you. His body falls onto yours and his breathing is heavy as you both come back from your highs. Leonard reaches a hand out, fumbling with his nightstand until he gets his inhaler. He lifts himself off of you and tries to catch his breath with its aid.

“I guess you like the new stuff then?” You ask, breathless as well.

“Yeah.” Leonard says with a laugh.

You laugh along with him for a moment before Leonard’s phone goes off from his pants pocket. He leans, reaching his arm off of the bed and grabbing it out of the pocket. He groans when he unlocks it and looks at the screen.

“What?” You ask, still catching your breath.

“Nothing, just Sheldon being Sheldon.” Leonard sighs and shakes his head.

“What did he say?”

“He wants to know who you think should take over Batman’s mantle.” Leonard tosses the phone back into the floor by his pants.

“Oh,” You chuckle. “No one.”

Leonard gives you an odd look. “No one?”

“Yeah,” You move your hand to brush back his slightly sweaty hair. “All of the Batfamily have become their own heroes, if Bruce dies Gotham will be fine in the hands of his very large family.”

Leonard looks up at the ceiling, his face screwed into that thinking face he gets when he’s considering something he’s never thought of before. Then he picks up his phone and texts Sheldon your answer. A few minutes later there is a triad of knocks at the door accompanied by your name in an alarmed tone.

[kewpie-aisle]

𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕝𝕝 𝕒𝕝𝕨𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕓𝕖 𝕞𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 A lil drabble/ramble of a warm moment getting ready with your sweetie cutie baby Daichi

pairing: Sawamura Daichi x f!Reader genre: fluff, established relationship, playful banter

wc: 923 words

“Dai, have you seen my necklace?” The soft sound of footsteps can be heard down the hallway and within seconds your boyfriend is leaning against the doorway of the bathroom. Frame blocking out the doorway, his broad shoulders filling out the space. Mind wandering to the feeling of your hands running along the span of his back. Covering the expanse of muscle, the feel of your nails digging in lightly almost always eliciting a hiss from his sweet mou- “Earth to Y/N…hello?” Daichi’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts. Eyebrow quirked, unaware of the inappropriate thoughts his mere presence sinks you into. He brings a hand up after seeing your nod of acknowledgement. “First of all, which necklace? Secondly, where are you going, dressed like that, ma’am?” “The necklace you got me for our anniversary, also don’t play with me. You know tonight is Tsumu’s birthday dinner, I’m still upset about you being called in for a shift last minute.” Picking back up your eyeshadow brush, diffusing out your smoky eye without a glance behind you. Daichi and you had been re-scheduling your calendars for a month to make sure you could both go to your friend’s dinner. Not just for the sake of friendship and a great party, but because the consequences of not making it were catastrophic. 

Missing a life event or party of Atsumu’s, as a close friend, was like a category ten natural disaster. The Miya twin took promises really seriously, and would make all his friends promise to be there for life events like this. When folks can’t make it or bail without ample warning, he took it so personally. The complaints were the least of everyone’s concerns, if you hurt him enough, Atsumu gets petty to even the score. 

One year, Shoyo overslept after a late flight home from Argentina, which normally was understandable. But this had been an impromptu trip right before Atsumu’s birthday. Shoyo had promised him that everything would be fine and he’d be back on time. But after coming home he ended up sleeping almost an entire day, missing everyone’s calls and Atsumu’s party. Atsumu had reassured Shoyo he wasn’t angry, but vengeance hid behind that sweet smile. One month later, Atsumu tweeted out that the Jackals wing spiker was doing a surprise meet & greet and dropped Shoyo’s location. Right as he was on a date with a certain international pretty boy setter. The memories of the blog and fan shipping warfare afterwards was enough to send a shudder through you. Your boyfriend walked away with a groan, already hearing Atsumu’s complaints in his head. “He’s such a baby…” he grumbles re-entering the bathroom, necklace in hand. “My question still stands, the emphasis was on “dressed like THIS. Looking this good for Atsumu? Babe please.” With a click the necklace is on, laying perfectly with the v neckline of your dress, the light catching the gold pendant every now and then. Daichi rests his hand on your shoulder, hands wrapping around your waist to look at you through the mirror. Instinctually leaning back into his chest as you put your brush down. Hand coming up to ruffle his hair, “who’s being the baby right now” you chuckle seeing the smallest pout on his face. Sawamura Daichi has always been everyone’s rock, whether it was his captain days in high school, group leader during college projects, or even the youngest senior ranking police officer in his prefecture. Daichi is a leading force to be reckoned with. But with you, he’s soft, playful, and sometimes needy; a vulnerability that you cherish being able to experience.

Face tucked into your neck, pressing soft kisses to the soft where your shoulder connects, you feel his hum of appreciation rumble through into your head. “As long as I’m your baby.”

“Always.” 

You gently tug at his hair to get him to look at you to make sure he knows it to his core. There shouldn’t be any doubt, not even in a moment of neediness. Not even in a moment of joking around. He looks up at you with a sheepish smile, unwrapping himself and taking your hand to press a small kiss to your fingers.

“You look beautiful as always. That’s much too big a gift for Atsumu, but I hope you have fun.” He thinks for a second before adding “just don’t have too much fun without me” elbowing you gently while stepping back to let you finish up your makeup. He watches as you wrap up the last touches, eyes meeting as you pucker a kiss through the mirror. The smile on his face enough to set off the butterflies in your stomach.  “Try to finish up your shift early if you can, I know it’s never that easy but try.” He follows you out the bathroom as you head to the front door to put on your shoes.

“Awww you going to miss me?” He hands you your handbag and wraps his arm around your waist to pull you close.

You lean up to kiss him and open the door, turn around and cup his face. “Not for me baby, but to escape the wrath of Tsumu. He’s been sending the group chat threats nonstop since this morning. And you still haven’t told him you got called into work”. Daichi’s smile drops in a second, face pale as a ghost. With a wink you close the door behind you, giggling as you hear a thud and loud groan from behind the door.

Please consider reblogging to support! Dividers by @cafekitsune

[sportswriters]

traveling to his hometown - j. swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x reader | f | established relationship | wc: 943 | warnings: none

welcome post!

you came up with the idea of traveling to anchorage for a few days to take care of your well being. jeremy found it great since it’s break season so he had a free week to enjoy before going back to training. he’s always been connected to nature since he was a kid going to hike with his dad, so it was nice for him as well. jeremy picked you up in the morning to go to his parents house so you could all go to the airport together. his sister would arrive a day later with her husband and the baby.

“hello, beautiful. did you sleep well last night?” he greets you with a kiss, then helps you with the baggage.

“just a few hours. i kept thinking if i was missing to pack something,” you confess. “i probably dreamed about it, i just don’t remember. you?”

“well, me too. can’t wait to rest and enjoy the view with you.”

“i’m so glad we’re going together. so glad you came from such a beautiful place, no wonder you’re the love of my life,” you hug his waist, leaving a quick peck on the side of his neck.

“you’re lucky we can’t be late. i could totally go back up to your place so we could smooch for a few hours.”

you just laugh and let go of him, leaving the teasing for when you’re properly alone.

the trip to his parents house and then to anchorage went by pretty fast. jeremy came from a family full of good people, so it was easy to talk to them comfortably. since it was a long flight, everyone took the opportunity to get some sleep — not even the excitement could control tiredness.

there wasn’t a proper plan to follow during the trip, so you hang out inside just enjoying the coziness of the house, taking every chance to cuddle by the fire or outside on the porch. sometimes you would take a walk around the neighborhood, eating delicious food and buying souvenirs. the other day you went hiking in his favorite place, then when you reached the top, your emotions overflowed when you took in how beautiful the world around you was. jeremy stayed by your side, waiting for you to calm down. he was aware of how hard work has been to you, but the difference was that you couldn’t let out this kind of energy like he did on the ice. he was aware that for now all he could do was being there until you got back.

and you did. within the safety of his arms, you felt lighter while you waited for your breath to normalize and your eyes were still puffy.

“thank you, baby.”

“always, my love.”

you and jeremy have been a couple for almost two years, but after these days being so domestic and behaving like a true dynamic duo in every situation, it made you both realize how great of an idea it would be to finally move in together. neither of you knew you’re thinking of the same thing, so a few hours before going to the airport, jeremy took you to the porch to talk, failing to notice that you said you also wanted to show him something. he was nervous, it’s cute, you would’ve paid more attention if you weren’t as much as a nervous wreck.

it’s not like you’re anxious or anything — neither of you —, it’s the expectation. the realization of how much you love one another. loving someone to the point you wish to spend your whole life with, to wake up beside each other, to wait for them to come home.

“you know you’re my home, right?” he asks.

“i figured i might be one of them, yes” you joke, knowing how important his family is to him. jeremy stares at you for a second with a silly smile hovering his features. he pecks your lips twice.

“okay, smartass. i meant to say you’re someone i’m sure i want to build a home with.”

his straightforwardness catches you out of guard.

“jer…”

“wait, listen. i’ve considered a lot of things, but i know you must have your own conditions…”

“baby, correct me if i’m wrong.” you hold his hands over your lap. “we’re each other’s home, that’s known. now you want us to build a home together? is that right? like living together?”

“yes, if you let me.”

“remember i said i wanted to show you something?” you let go of his hands to open an app on your phone, searching for a picture. jeremy is slightly confused by the subtle change of topic, but quietly waits for you.

you smile when you find it. it’s a picture of a cheesy welcome rug with a bear couple and lots of cute hearts. jeremy smiles right when he sees it, used to the silly stuff you send him everyday, especially the ones with couples that act like you two.

“that’s adorable, for sure… wait.” he tears his eyes off the phone to find you smiling at him with your eyebrows raised. “is this what i think it means?”

“i must add that this is one picture from a quite big pinterest folder. i named it our lil ol’ home, see?” you show him the title.

jeremy looks like he could cry at any second.

“my love…”

you stand from your seat to sit on his lap, hugging him with your whole body.

“we’re in this together. i love you so much, jer.”

“i love you, y/n. can’t wait to start buying couple’s stuff with you as soon as we arrive home.”

[danikamariewrites]

So first just finished Fourth Wing and I would just like to say the ending was disgusting wonderful. That’s all imma say about it. And second, could you do one with Xaden and reader where they just go for a night time flight?

I know you did the picnic but a nightly flight of them and their dragons having fun and relaxing sounds wonderful after the headache this book has given me.

Night Flight

Xaden x reader

A/n: I loved the cliffhanger and I can’t wait for book 2 in November! Enjoy this fluffy fic anon I hope it helps ur headache 😭 in this fic Tairn chose reader so reader and Xaden have that mind to mind connection

Warnings: none

After you finished dinner you excused yourself from the table. Liam rose with you but you shook your head, “Take the night off buddy.” He sat back down, hands raised in front of him. You walk past the leadership table and lock eyes with Xaden. He gives you a slight tilt of his head and you wink at him.

About forty minutes later with your cloak clasped around you, you waited in the shadows by the secret entrance to the flight field. You feel shadows twine around your legs and arms. Xaden steps out of the darkness, a smirk dancing on his full lips.

He pulls you by your waist for a kiss. Leaning his forehead on yours he whispers, “I'm happy you wanted to come with me tonight.”

“Me too.” Xaden’s hand slides to yours as he leads you down the passage.

Exiting onto the field you spot Tairn and Sgaeyl nuzzling each other. It always shocked you to see the two dragons in love. You’d find it sweet if they weren’t terrifying.

“I can hear you, girl.” Tairn said in your head. “I know that’s why I thought it.” You shot back.

You laughed at Tairn and he let out an annoyed huff. Xaden chuckles, “Aww you think they’re cute.” Blush covers the apples of your cheeks. You playfully push at his chest. “Shut up,” you laugh.

Xaden gives you a playful look. “Oh, you’ve done it now.” Your eyes widen and you try to run to Tairn but Xaden catches you first. Letting out a playful screech, he throws you over his shoulder and spins.

Xaden brings you to face him, clutching you to his chest, your feet hovering above the ground. “Come on man, let me go.” He shakes his head. “Nope. Not until you say sorry.” You let your head fall back. “Fine. I’m…not sorry.” He feigns shock. “Wow. I can’t believe this. My girlfriend hurt me and she won’t apologize.”

You scoff at the accusation. “Oh please. Like I could break through this muscle.” Prodding at his chest to prove your point. Xaden puts you down. You walk over to your dragons and mount, ready for your late night flying date.

A few months into your relationship Xaden was still a little reserved. You understood and trusted him. But one night you were particularly pushy and demanded to know where he had been.

Xaden had been disappearing a few nights a week, by himself, which freaked you out. You had went to Liam with your concerns and he told you Xaden was fine. After seeing how worried you were Xaden finally told you his secret.

It wasn't a big deal, he just liked to go night flying alone sometimes. After you both talked about it you felt relieved that he wasn't doing something stupid or dangerous.

After that, he started to open up more about things he liked to do or just random facts about him. He wanted to share things with you. You fell more in love with him. It meant he trusted you as you trusted him. And you would never betray that trust.

Flying across the lake you felt Xaden tapping on your mind. “Wanna do something fun?” You look at him across Tairn’s wings and nod.

He shoots you a wicked grin as Sgaeyl shoots upward. Tairn is quick to follow. They climb and climb at breakneck speed, heading straight through the clouds blocking out the stars.

You let out an uncontrolled laugh, gripping onto Tairn for dear life. As you start to cut through the clouds you lose sight of Xaden. You tuck your head in, attempting to lay flat to Tairn.

You feel him in your mind still, “It’s ok, I’m right ahead of you.” “I know.” You send him a smile, “I love you Xaden.” “I love you too y/n.”

Feeling the cool mist of the clouds was refreshing. You took in the moment and felt lucky to be able to touch the sky with the man you love flying next to you.

Breaking through the clouds Tairn evens out as he and Sgaeyl circle each other. Looking up, your breath catches at the beauty of the night sky. The stars glitter and the full moon is bright. Smiling, you look over to Xaden.

He's watching you take in the view. His lips are set in a genuine loving smile. He's grateful to be here with you. To share parts of himself with you.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

One in Eleven Million

damian wayne x reader x jon kent  - ch.1

(A/N): The plot of this is mostly based off of a trip I took a little over a year ago, though there are liberties taken further on. And my memory is kinda sucky so take any airport lingo with a grain of salt. Also, thanks to @glorified-red for helping me outline this while I was heading to the same place this year and also for being my beta reader. 

This is fully written and has been for two months so hopefully I'll post a chapter a week or so? I am also posting this from hawaii so here's hoping a) I get new fic material and b) i've converted the time zone correctly and this posts late EST. 

If you saw this posted yesterday, no you didn’t. Posting across time zones is hard

wc: ~2300

warnings: plane travel; anxiety

~

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you stepped off the tram. Above your head, the sign read Terminal B in large letters. The people ahead as you stepped onto the escalator were a couple with matching, brightly colored, floral-patterned carry-ons. 

The notification was a text from the airline. You skimmed it as you walked towards your gate, weaving in and out of internal airport traffic. We're ready to board your flight to Gotham (GHM) at Gate B6 and look forward to seeing you soon! The text was right below the one telling you about yet another delay. A quick check of the time declared that making any detours would cut your arrival at the gate a little close. 

“Worth the risk,” you decided for yourself. “Let's go.” 

The escalator opened into the middle of your terminal, a dozen gates from your destination. Even though the airport you were in was spread out massively, you weren’t too worried. Your boarding group wouldn’t even get on the plane for probably another ten minutes, so you ducked into the nearest restroom before crossing to your gate. 

The time in red on your boarding pass caught your eye. 70 minutes late, it read. Any other day, a delay would have been an inconvenience. This time, the buffer actually ended up being beneficial. You needed it when trying to catch a connecting flight—the second of two on your way home—after one already delayed. Your eye caught on a pretzel stand further down the terminal. You could almost taste the pretzels; it had been a while since breakfast. The usual delicious smells were covered by the perpetual airport scent of stale air and commercial cleaner. If you wanted to get close, you’d have to cross the foot traffic. The voice over the loudspeaker curtailed that hope quickly by announcing your boarding group. You sighed. Next time. 

The boarding line was long and you silently thanked yourself for checking a larger suitcase as your primary luggage. Your only current accompaniment was your airline declared “personal item.” There was no way there would be spots for any hypothetical carry-on by the time you got on board. As if to agree with you, the airline employees over the speakers nudged passengers once again to check their carry-ons. 

Like always, it took longer than it rationally should have for people to display their boarding passes and continue into the enclosed boarding bridge. Your chest squeezed as your seat flashed on the screen. The only seat available and in your budget had been a “B”: a middle seat in the back of the plane. Middle seats were the worst, especially when traveling alone. Too often you’d found yourself next to men (and even women, sometimes) that made you extremely uncomfortable.

You scanned the numbers above the seats as the line in front of you blundered along. Someone’s carry-on bag almost smacked you in the face before the line cleared enough for you to be able to see your row. Your heart sank just a little bit when you spotted the two heads in the A and C seats. No hope for an empty seat on this flight, then. 

When you stepped closer, you could see two men—young adults and not older men, you realized, thank goodness—conversing with each other, both tilted into the middle seat. You hoped, privately, that they didn’t know each other well, if only so they wouldn’t be talking right through you the entire flight. 

“Excuse me,” you said, stopping in front of the row, “I have the middle seat.” 

The boys sat back. The one in the window seat had olive skin and dark wavy hair cropped close on the side, dripping down across his forehead and over his eyes. The other, with lighter skin and fluffy dark hair, stood to let you in. You had to take half a step back to let him out. He was tall. And pretty. Nope, Shut Up, brain. You pushed the thought into the back of your mind; he could be the most homophobic person you’ve ever met, how would you know? 

“Sorry about that, go ahead.” 

“Thanks.” You smiled at the boy before sliding clumsily into the row and landing heavily in the middle seat. You shoved your bag under the seat in front of you and sat up stiffly, shoulders pulled into yourself. The seatbelt dug uncomfortably into your thigh. Silently , you shifted, sliding on the smooth airplane seat, to free it. A few minutes passed in awkward silence as the rest of the passengers boarded. Your headphones were down in the bag you’d just squished under the seat. Was it really worth it to grab them now? Yes, you decided, leaning down to maneuver them out of your bag. The fluffy haired boy spoke across the seats. 

“Damian, I can’t get the app downloaded.” 

You sat back up slowly, chest constricting again. They did know each other. 

The boy in the window seat—Damian apparently—looked up from where his head had been bowed over a book. You couldn’t really make out the words scribbled in the margins, but both the text and the handwritten notes looked like something in the Arabic language family. He put his arm out and the other boy reached across you to place his phone into the outstretched hand. 

“You need to turn on your cellular data for the app store. There’s no internet here.” His voice was low in pitch and quiet. The kind people listened to. Window Seat Boy (it felt weird calling him Damian even if you knew his name) easily unlocked the phone—a red-cased, beat up iPhone—and started rifling through settings. 

The other boy turned his attention to you and you gave an awkward smile. 

“I kinda just realized that it’s probably really annoying to be in the middle of us so did you want to switch with me? Like so every time we talk to each other you’re not in the middle?” 

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. The offer was unexpected, but he looked genuine. You didn’t want to wait for him to potentially change his mind. 

“Yeah, um, that would be good—if you’re okay with that?” 

“Oh yeah I don’t care. I don’t fly like this often enough to have a seat preference. But sitting in the middle of two strangers would probably not be it.” 

Your response huff of involuntary laughter surprised you. He seemed sweet. Your guard dropped a little bit as he stood up in the now empty aisle to let you out. You pulled your bag out from under the seat in front of you and dropped both it and your jacket on the now vacated seat before sliding out and standing up yourself. 

“After you.” You gestured to the empty seat. He shot you a grin before maneuvering more awkwardly than you thought possible into the middle seat. 

“These are so cramped. How do people fly like this?” he muttered, then accepted his phone back from Window Seat Boy. You felt a smile tug at your lips, shoving your backpack under the seat as you sat back down.

“It’s the lack of legroom that gets me. There’s barely enough space for my bag, much less my feet.” 

Now, Middle Seat Boy turned to look at you. His eyes—shining from behind black rectangular frames—were a startling crystal blue. A smile spread across his face and you felt your chest squeeze for a different reason this time. You didn’t even have it in you to reprimand your brain; it really was a pretty smile. 

“Yeah I don’t get it. How is this supposed to be comfortable?” 

“It’s not supposed to be comfortable,” you said, “it’s supposed to make the airlines money.” 

There was a soft huff from Window Seat Boy and Middle Seat Boy’s grin widened. He extended his hand, elbow pressed awkwardly against his torso, before seemingly deciding against it and putting it back down. 

“I’m Jon. And this is Damian.” He gestured to the boy next to him, whose face was once again buried in his book. Damian—now using his name felt less like an intrusion and more like decent politeness—gave a brief nod as he was introduced. 

You stuck your hand out and Jon let out a small laugh as he took it. 

You appreciated that he repeated your name back to you when you gave it to him. Most people just barreled on with their misunderstood pronunciations. 

“Are you heading home?” Jon looked actually interested in your answer. 

You debated for a moment before deciding to be honest. There were over a million people living in Gotham.  

“Yeah, heading back. This is my connecting flight to get home. How about you guys?” 

Jon glanced back at Damian before answering. Damian stayed invested in his book. “He’s from Gotham and I’m going back with him so technically, yeah.” 

“Work trip? Or a personal one?” 

Jon opened his mouth then closed it without saying anything. “Kinda work yeah. We missed our,” he paused as if searching for a word, “original flight so now we’re here.” 

You nodded your head understandingly. 

“Oh that sucks. Hope you weren’t delayed too long.” 

Jon hesitated, wincing as he stretched out his left arm. 

“We weren’t, technically. Was hoping not to have to fly like this, though.” 

You shrugged. 

“This is my usual airline so I don’t have much to say about that.” 

Jon found that funnier than you expected, but you felt a smile crawl across your face as he laughed. The crackle of the intercom interrupted whatever he was about to say. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. Thank you all for your patience this afternoon. As you know, weather delays kept the plane from arriving here on time and we are happy to finally have you on board. My apologies for the delay in takeoff. There’s been a slight mechanical issue, but we should get it all straightened out in the next twenty minutes so just sit tight. Thank you for your cooperation” 

You sighed heavily, eyes rolling.

“Of course there is.” 

Jon’s worried expression snapped to you. 

“What?” 

Your eyebrows scrunched down in confusion. 

“'What' what?” 

“You said 'of course there is'. Of course there’s what?”

You felt your shoulders relax. 

“Oh, another delay. Almost every plane I take on my own has some sort of delay. Like my last flight was an hour and fifteen minutes behind. And now this one. I just want to go home, you know? I’m exhausted.” 

Jon slumped in his chair. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

He looked exhausted, you realized, eyes decorated with underbags and body slouched into his seat. He was also wearing two sweaters, even though the plane was more warm than chilly. 

“Are you okay?” 

Jon shrugged, smiling. 

“I haven’t uh—I haven’t gotten enough sun recently but yeah.” 

You let out a small huh of understanding and looked out the window open across the aisle from you. It was dark out despite the fact that the sun hadn’t quite set. He wasn’t native to Gotham, you remembered. Cloudy days are the default there, but you knew a couple people who could never make it in Gotham just for that reason. 

It felt weird to put in your headphones and tune out the boy next to you now. Usually, you wouldn’t have thought twice, but you liked him and didn’t want to block him out. Instead, you tucked the headphones back in and pulled a craft project out of your bag, continuing the row of stitches you were on when you put it down at your first gate early in the morning. 

After a moment, you looked up to see Jon watching you. 

“Whatcha making?” He asked, eyes tracing the pattern of your project. You paused, hands stilling mid-stitch.

“Nothing specific really. Just something to pass the time. It’s a pattern I found online a little while back. I kinda enjoy the time on planes and the like that force me to not watch something. Even though technically there’s in-flight entertainment, there’s not too much I enjoy so I’d rather read or something, you know?” You completed the stitch, eyes flicking back to Jon as you tugged it tight. Jon’s head tilted to the side. You had to stop yourself from smiling at the movement. It was cute, a little bit like a puppy. 

“In-flight entertainment?” 

“Like movies and TV shows, whatever the airline puts on it. You didn’t know that?” Jon shook his head. “How often do you fly?” Jon’s eyes widened. For a moment you thought you’d offended him. “I’m not judging you or anything I just—”

“No! No, you didn’t. I don’t…take airplanes much.” 

“Ok well there’s a whole selection of movies on the app, if you have that. This plane has some TV channels,” you said, gesturing to his TV. It was streaming a basketball game, same as most of the others around you. You’d turned yours off before continuing on your project. A quick glance at Damian’s revealed that his was also turned off. “But there’s a better selection of stuff on the app and then you can connect your bluetooth or whatever headphones to your phone and watch with those.” You pulled your phone from your pocket, opening the app and navigating to the entertainment section. 

“See?” You hit the button for the ‘view all’ list and turned the phone to Jon. “You can’t do anything with it unless you’re on the plane but since we are, here it is.” 

Jon pulled out his phone and navigated to the same page you were on, then started scrolling down. 

“This one’s okay but I feel like I’ve seen it a thousand times.” He tilted the phone towards you, display open to a movie from a few months ago. 

“Oh, I meant to see that movie but never got to. Do you recommend it?” 

Jon returned to the main page and shrugged. 

“I think you can do better.” 

You smiled, stuffing your project back into your bag in favor of scrolling through the movie list yourself. 

“Let’s see what they’ve got.”

[novafire-is-thinking]

Something ive realised while rewatching tfp clips

Soundwave is only able to open portals willy nilly cus the mechanism for space bridge technology is on the nemesis, not him. he can only connect to it and make it open portals (which makes me wish Astrotrain was in the show cus I wonder if he would have this tech as well to help with travelling)

My source? When Soundwave is sent out to get a relic of Iacon and alserbeak gets hurt. Once Laserbeak sends his distress signal Soudnwave even forgoes taking out Wheeljack and just leaves immediately to get his partner, but he didn't use a spacebridge, despite the alternative being much quicker and immediate to retrieve Laserbeak. The best answer we have is that he couldn't create a bridge between their two locations because the nemesis was too far to recieve his commands to make one

In Shockwave's hunt for a predacon bone Soundwave arrives at the scene and is able to summon another bridge to let the falling bone piece fall into Megatron's hand. This scene shows bridges are made by commands through him, and there's a limited but large range distance Soundwave is able to make bridges outside the ship

And perhaps bridges can be timed or just made to hold open? because the first bridge remained for quite some time till both mecha ran back in

How dare you question Soundwave’s abilities /lh

When I first watched TFP, I assumed that was indeed the case, but I happen to have an interesting personal take on this.

Why Soundwave Wouldn’t Take a Ground Bridge Directly to Laserbeak

In reality, the writers went that way for the purpose of suspense. They needed to give Ratchet and Raf time to load Laserbeak. Also, the badass shot of Soundwave landing in the dark lol

For plot reasons that still bug me, Laserbeak wasn’t able to tell Soundwave that Ratchet was keeping him captive and had literally violated his body.*

Soundwave only received a generic distress call. He didn’t know if Wheeljack had come alone. For all he knew, the Wrecker could have called for backup in the form of the entirety of Team Prime, who may have set up a trap for him. Soundwave’s a tactical genius—he knows what others know about him. He would have known Team Prime would be expecting him to come via ground bridge.

Yes, Soundwave knew Laserbeak was in danger, but he also knew the Mini-Con was alive. He would have calculated the odds and selected the route at the intersection of the least risk and best potential outcome.

Overall, arriving via direct ground bridge would have been riskier than flying in. At least from the air, he could assess the situation before walking into a potential trap. He’s good, but not take-on-all-of-Team-Prime-at-once good.

Also…

Wheeljack: “I’m sorry.”

Ratchet: “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

Wheeljack: “Uh. Figure you got maybe…two minutes.”

Ratchet: *sees Soundwave flying in*

Ratchet: “Or less…”

Maybe Wheeljack’s estimate really was that bad.

Maybe Soundwave is faster than he looks.

OR

Maybe Soundwave used a ground bridge sometime during the flight, but far enough away from Laserbeak’s location so that he could still assess potential danger from the air.

*This plot hole still bugs me. If Laserbeak had just told Soundwave he’d been loaded up with a grenade and infected with a virus, the Autobots would have lost the race for the relics. You had ONE job Laserbeak! 😡 /lh

Ground Bridge Limitations

I present this glorious clip:

Based on Fix-It’s reaction and everything we’ve seen about ground and space bridges, only one portal at a time can be opened from a single bridge mechanism.

It’s reasonable to assume that when Prowl and Bluestreak engineered the first space and ground bridges (The Covenant of Primus), they found out very quickly that more than one portal per bridge was a bad idea. They would have then ensured that all bridge apparatuses were engineered with these limitations in mind.

However, nothing prevents two separate bridges from opening two different portals near each other, as we see in TFP and RiD15.

All this to say, in the clip above, there’s no way the second portal could have been opened from the junkyard’s bridge. It had to have originated from another bridge apparatus (assumed to be built into Soundwave’s body).

But couldn’t Soundwave have just tapped into the junkyard’s bridge from the Shadowzone and hijacked it that way?

Highly unlikely.

Even taking into account inter-dimensional radio waves, nothing would have happened because, like I mentioned earlier, all bridges are likely designed to prevent two portals from opening at once. (Signal blockers, limited power capacity, etc.)

Soundwave would’ve had to have been physically there to restructure the physical ground bridge mechanism, in order to increase its power capacity (among other things). Even so, the implied physics of portal “streams” prevents this.

And anyway, Soundwave is later seen at the controls, linking himself to the junkyard’s ground bridge. This tells me he wasn’t connected to it before, so the portal he originally opened was all him.

Back to TFP

In the Predacon bone scene, at one point, both portals were open at the same time. This means one of them probably originated with Soundwave, unless the Decepticons figured out a way to build a bridge that supports more than one portal.

But even if they had, it would be considered an exception, since many years after the events of Prime, Fix-It and the others still believe two portals from the same bridge mechanism isn’t possible.

So, can Soundwave open bridges on his own or not?

I think it’s likely that the writers intended for him to be limited in his ability to open bridges, lest he be a little too OP. (As if he wasn’t already. lol)

However, what all of those limitations are isn’t 100% clear. The most common take is that he can only open them when linked to a control mechanism, but there’s at least one exception to that in RiD15.

All things considered, I think Soundwave can open bridge portals on his own.

Things to consider when opening portals without a link to an external bridge control:

Energy consumption

If at all possible, Soundwave would avoid opening his own portals when fighting because it uses up a lot of energy—energy that may be needed in unexpected combat. He’s an excellent fighter, but he has limits that he knows very well. Tapping into an existing control mechanism would eliminate the energy drain that comes with opening portals with a personal apparatus built into his body.

Size limitations

Soundwave wouldn’t be able to open massive ground bridges or even space bridges on his own because of his personal energy (energon) reserves and the limited capacity of the smaller apparatus installed in his body.

One at a time

Like all other bridges, Soundwave would only be able to open one portal at a time—hence why he wasn't able to escape from the Shadowzone by himself.

TL;DR Soundwave can probably open ground bridges on his own, but there are limitations.

[merao-mariposa]

first writing that I publish at least a long-ish WIP: Draft of Death Family going to the realm of death, meeting Kristin and Mamamissa

Trips to visit family must be really interesting for the death family.

I can easily imagine them crossing the barrier between life and death as soon as they leave quesadilla because they want their children to experimente the dominion of the dead.

Yep, Missa owes his boss a lot of reports and Phil is absolutely delighted with the idea of ​​finally seeing his wife again after everything did happend. Chay and Tallulah keep making fun of him about his constantly fluffy wings and the silliest smile on his face, and his cheeks blush however deep down they are really excited too, a little nervous but they definitely want to meet her.

It's halfway there, they are walking along the banks of the River Styx. It won't take long to get there, somewhere, anywhere, where The Goddess is. Dad Philza jokes that flying with the eggs would be faster and easier, because of course his wings had improved considerably in the last few weeks, but in the afterlife his wings were almost revitalized to the surprise of his children. Which was to be expected for an angel of death, surrounded by the dead realm.

Missa jokes that he would leave him behind, of course. Which Phil playfully rejects; is a loyal crow! He would never do that thing of leaving him behind.

He did it in purgatory.

But he didn't do it in prison!

¨No mames Phil, they were going to take us out sooner or later¨ Against the grim reaper's arguments the crow just rolls his eyes and fights back

¨when was the last time you crossed the river of souls, mate?¨

Missa sighs softly, he can't remember the last time he sailed the river. For a long time he has dedicated himself to harvesting souls to help them to make it to the afterlife.

Phil rests his hand on the small of his very platonic husband's back (in the realm of the dead, missa's real form is more likely to come out; he still avoids having a height comparable to that of the cellbit castle, right now? just He's 2 or 3 times Phil's size (he literally can't reach any higher, it's either that or grabbing his pants leg to comfort him) with a soft coo; ¨it's okay dude, don't worry about that¨

Chayanne interrupts the lively (not so much anymore) discussion between his dads before it gets angsty (it's an instinct), signing so quickly with his hands that it is almost difficult to translate what he said.

"Papa Missa can take us OVER the river???"

missa and phil look at each other, in fact that can shorten the path quite a bit, if it works.

This is how much of the way they spend with Tallulah and Chayanne on the shoulders of an even bigger Missa while Philza flies through the skies of said Death´s kingdom, sometimes perching with his children on the shoulders of his husband.

It's all fun and laughter until Tallulah signs a question; "why did Kristin gave me the gift of listening to my siblings". which causes Philza to reverse heis flight and Missa stops completely to see his hija. Chayanne blinks worried about what happened.

¨Tallulah, mi ninha-a, Kristin has no connection to anything on the island… she was blocked from it¨

¨But I know who was not blocked¨ Missa looks at Phil, more serious than he's ever been.

And Phil sighs before looking at his children softly to reassure them. ¨So guys, you wanna know your… erhm, ab-abuela, abuela?¨