#flight attendant tings

[chariaki]

Love is in the flight 💞

Flight Attendant!reader × Passenger!Suna Rintarou

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who's eyebrows perked up when he saw you greet him when he was boarding the aircraft.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who halted the line of passengers boarding the aircraft because when you smiled and said "Good afternoon, Mr. Suna", he froze up and didn't know what to do with himself.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who was glad to see you again, walking down the aisle in business class cabin that he was in.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who felt oddly jealous seeing you greet everyone in the business class, especially with those snobby men eyeing you up and down whilst trying to hit you up.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who quickly called for your attention assistance, so he could subtly get you away from those disgraces of humanity and have your lovely attention shift to him.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who was delighted to hear you introduce yourself to him, despite him already knowing your name because he kept looking at you the whole time while you were assisting other passengers in the ailse, thus, catching eye of your name plate.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who asked how you knew his name when you greeted him earlier, and when you said you were a fan of volleyball, he asked who your favorite team was, and you replied with MSBY Jackals.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who was determined to make you like his team more, and eventually... him.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro would press the assist button despite not having any problems. He simply just wanted to see you, but got dismayed when a different flight attendant showed up instead.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who was embarrassed to specifically ask for you, but nonetheless, still did.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro whose eyes sparkled when you greeted him happily and asked what was wrong, all with that beautiful smile on your face.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who took a few moments to form coherent thoughts to talk with you, but it took him longer because he wanted to just stare at your face.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who registered how weird he was acting, and excused himself to you. Settling for just requesting wine.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who figured he needs some liquid courage and ignorance in order to act more "normal" with you.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who contemplated whether or not he would sound impudent or shameless to ask for your number, or if you would even call him if he gave you his number instead, y'know, to seem modest and less cheeky. But then again!

Passenger!Suna Rintaro whose slowly losing his patience for himself because of all the overthinking he's doing.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who realized he should be a man and just spike his shot.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who immediately asked for your number when you came back with his wine.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro whose eyes were wide in anticipation to your answer, and when you chuckled and teased that you aren't supposed to give it to passengers, he immediately looked down with a cute pout on his face.

Flight Attendant!reader who was intrigued that she could make the famous athlete act like that.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro whose head perked up, cheeks flushed red and eares tinged pink when you said you were joking and that he was an exception.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who quickly takes his phone out and hand it to you.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who was happy to see your pretty name, along with the quick selfie you took as your profile in his contacts.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who was proud of himself for not being a whimp and opening an opportunity to see you and talk to you more.

Passenger!Suna Rintaro who impatiently waits for meal service time to arrive in hopes of seeing you again.

[bookskeepers]

imagine you're just walking down the street, hand enclosed in tsukishima kei's, and you're both in college but it's summer break so you're visiting him and his family in miyagi.

none of the other karasuno vbc boys attend the university that you and tsukki do, but yamaguchi knows you exist and has met you before. of course he does, he and tsukki are best friends.

anyways, you've heard about how tsukki was in high school, both from yams and tsukki himself. aloof, cold, borderline mean -- he still acts that way towards others, but rarely towards you (unless you're bantering, of course (which is frequently)). he's seldom mean to you both on purpose, slightly less so accidentally.

so when you hear someone call, "tsukishima!" from behind you, and he slips his hand out of yours as if it's instinctual, you think this might be another one of those times where he's being mean by accident. you watch as he whips around, eyes alight with an emotion you can't quite identify, face pink from a blush as if he was caught during some scandalous act.

you turn around at a slower pace, trailing your eyes from his golden optics to where he's looking at -- a short, bright-haired ginger boy and a taller, darker-haired guy. they're holding hands, and you feel a pang of jealousy -- tsukishima's friends are comfortable to show their relationship in front of him, but he doesn't feel the same to show you off to them.

"hey shrimpy," you hear him say, his low tone tinged with that mean edge you've come to recognize. "see you haven't grown any taller since i left."

you don't pick up on 'shrimpy's' response, nor do you hear any other part of the conversation. your heartbeat's too loud and all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, feeling the familiar prickles of jealousy and anger begin to invade your system. the conversation is brief, however; the dark-haired man glares at tsukishima before rolling his eyes and tugging the ginger away. when they're no longer in sight, tsukishima seems to realize he's no longer holding your hand.

he reaches for it again, apologies written in his eyes as he intwines his fingers with yours once more. "sorry," he says after a bit of uncomfortable, tense silence. "seeing those two triggers my fight or flight response."

you're not used to hearing him say 'sorry,' so it catches you off-guard when you do. you glance at him, holding eye-contact. "so it's not because you're ashamed to be with me?"

"what?" he seems genuinely appalled. "no, of course not." he uses his grip between your fingers to pull you closer and plant a kiss on your forehead. "didn't you hear what i said?"

you shake your head. he gives you a soft smile, one that you know's reserved just for you. "well, they asked me who you were and i said you're my lovely partner."

a blush makes its way up your cheeks, and you try to focus on the conversation that just happened -- if you strain your mind, you realize that tsukki did, in fact, introduce you as his partner. and the ginger's response comes to the forefront of your brain, as well. "did you agree to go on a double date with them?"

"yeah, i did," tsukki responds. he presses another kiss to your face, this time planting his lips on your own. soft, sweet, chaste -- none of which were adjectives anyone would use to describe your tall, blonde partner. "it's about time i show you off to my friends, right?"

[muzansfangs]

hii ogm!! i'm loving the drink event and can't wait to see more stories! i wanted to request a manhattan with muzan (fem reader) where muzan is a politican, similar to in Kimetsu Academia where hes a politican!

sorry if i wasn't being to direct!

feel free to deny the request etc and have a great day! <3

The grass is greener on the other side.

Starring: Muzan Kibutsuji x f!reader;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, age gap between Muzan and the reader but the reader is 21, corruption kink, anal sex, modern au, unprotected sex, mention to reader stretching herself out before the encounter, pet names, slight degradation, use of handcuffs;

Plot: You knew only one thing for sure and thus was that Muzan Kibutsuji was your father’s rival. With the incoming election day, you were busy running errands for your father, when you found yourself face to face with the devil himself. From that infamous night, you always found yourself tangled into the silky bedsheets of Muzan’s bed, allowing him to strip you off of your sense of self-preservation, dignity and purity with every secret meeting.

Drink chosen: MANHATTAN (anal sex, corruption kink, handcuffs, shy reader);

MASTERLIST FOR THE EVENT | RULES FOR THE EVENT

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"Dad, I can't make it to the conference in time. My flight got cancelled. I'll take the next one in the morning" you blatantly lied to your father, eyes staring at the golden number decorating the white door of the hotel room you were supposed to meet the reason of your little defection at.

It was not the first time you abandoned your duty as the daughter of a man running for becoming the next Prime Minister to follow your lecherous whims. You felt ashamed of yourself, when this started. You were not that kind of girl, but this man had clearly brought out the worst in you, convincing you it was perfectly fine to fight for what you wanted. To be a little selfish was essential to live without regrets.

Even if your choices would have hurt and disappointed the ones you loved.

But if they did not know about your whereabous, they would have not suffered, right? Therefore, here you were, telling lies to the man who raised you, spoiled you and treated you like a princess since the day you were born. All of this for the sake of a secret affair with his younger rival, the very man he was competing with to conquer the hearts of the electors.

“Don’t worry, honey! You have already done so much for me. — your father reassured you from the other side of the phone, causing your stomach to clench as the remorse ate you from the inside out — You will attend the next one” he exclaimed confidently, while you fluttered your eyes close and nodded your head mournfully. If only he knew where you were, if only he saw you now, wearing that scanty dress to please Kibutsuji, he would have undoubtedly watched his perfect little girl turn into a stranger, a backstabber deserving nothing but vituperation.

“I’m sorry, dad. For real. I’ll be rooting for you anyway” you said with a tinge of sorrow in your voice, right before knocking on the door and hearing the sound of footsteps approaching it from the other side.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know you will. I really have to go now! Take care” your father said then, right when two piercing red eyes locked with yours on the threshold of the hotel room you deemed as nothing more than the Gates of Hell.

Your breath was suddenly stuck in your throat and you barely forced yourself to end the call with a “Bye, dad” before Muzan snorted and stepped aside to invite you in. He was visibly displeased at the sweet way you had whispered the epithet rightfully reserved to the man you shared the same blood with.

He hated the fact that you were his daughter and, if he had to be honest with himself, he had decided to lure you in his den to get back at him. At least, at first. Horrified at the idea of growing attached to you, something that had inevitably already happened, he tried to act distant, but you constantly made it hard to let him consider you nothing more than a cheap harlot. Why? Those eyes of yours, your shyness, were endearing to say the least.

“You can’t stay away from me, can you?” he mocked you, closing the door behind you and watching as you kept your eyes transfixed on the polished marble floor under your shoes.

“I wish I could. It’s not that simple” you whispered, shrugging your coat off of your shoulders and abent-mindedly hooking it on the clothes hanger.

The moment your voluptuary curves were exposed to his gaze, you felt it. Shivers ran down your spine, while you did not dare to turn around and face him. It was unncessary, anyway. He walked stauntered towards you like a predator, his hands searching for yours as he pressed you against the wall. His cologne intoxicated you, while his hot breath fanned the shell of your ear in a scandalous way that made your thighs squeeze together. Planting your palms to the wall before you, he intertwined yours fingrs and nuzzled your cheek with his pointy nose.

“I think it’s true what they say. The things we love are frequently the ones that destroy us” he murmured in your ear, his lips tracing your jawline hazardously.

No matter how many times you had crumbled at his feet, granted him the chance to break you down and build you up again, his touch left you always in a haze. Your cheeks heated up, a knot between your eyebrows, as you tried to hide your face from him. If only you could understand how much that tender trait of your personality drove him nuts.

“Don’t hide from me” he stated, surprisingly tenderly as he reached his hand up to wrap it on the back of your neck.

His grip was secure, when he forced you to crane your neck to meet his gaze. His lips captured yours shamelessly, hungrily, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lap at your parted lips and enter your mouth with the same confidence he held when he walked on a stage. Arrogant and unhinged, demanding and never coy he snaked his arm around your waist to make sure your back was flattened against his firm body. Timid moans fell from your lips, sounds he galdly swallowed, whilst leading you towards the king-sized bed at his back.

Lifting your lids to peer up at him, you hesitantly turned around to be face to face with him and your hand cupped his smooth cheek to run your thumb over his cheekbone. Theoughout the time you two had spent together, you had learned to read his body language. He never gave you the chance to be the master of your sea, but he did not disdain small attentions that oulked the strings of his heart. He had almost given you the impression he was touch-starved, as a dog who had been forced to just bark and growl all of his life and showing off his sharp fangs to keep potential threats at bay.

Muzan had barely opened up with you about his past and personal life. All that he asked of you was someone to keep his bed warm at night, even if you had to crawl into the darkness with him to quench his thirst for you.

You kissed him again, slowly, making sure your bodies were pressed up, that not an inch stood between you two. He reciprocated your attention, careful to remark how you were merely able to take the initiative because he had reluctantly allowed you to. You would have never forgotten it anyway. Not when his hands unceremoniously tugged the straps of your dress down your shoulders and proceeded in ripping it apart. You gasped, the sound of the garment coming apart at the seams making you knee buckle.

Muzan flicked his gaze up, tugging the ruined item down your curves to expose your body to him. The way you bit onto your lower lip nervously, still striving to avoid his plum red eyes made him want to ruin you over and over again. Every single time you two met, Muzan stripped you off of things he had yet to touch. Today was not an exception.

“What? Are you sulking over that dress? – he taunted you, quirking a dark eyebrow up before unbuckling his belt hastily – Ask your dad to buy you a new one. After all, he would be ecstatic to shower you in gifts” he bitterly commented, discarding the leather item onto the floor and shoving you down onto the bed by pushing onto your midriff.

His cold touch made your skin sizzle and your mouth went dry, when you lifted yourself up on your elbows, watching him stride to his suitcase and delving his hand into it, rummaging to draw something out.

“Or you wish it was me the one who sent gifts to you, huh? I bet you do. But, mon chéri, you know your dad would toss them into the bin. Therefore, I am forced to give you something else. Something your dad cannot see” he bantered again, his words sounding like a dagger in your heart, words representing the lyrics to the melody played by some metallic object clinking in his hands.

With your heart thrumming into your chest, you let your eyes wander to figure out the source of the chiming only to feel your breath hitch in your throat, when you found out they were shiny handcuffs. The look on your face spoke volumes, your body shuddering in anticipation as you kept on switching your focus from the object dangling from his index and his face.

Mischief twinkled in his eyes, watching in delight as you shifted your position on the bed in sheer desire and pure terror of exploring your tastes, terrorized to find out that you were probably as deranged as he was.

“You are noxious to me. You’ve poisoned me. I should not be here and let you mess me up” you uttered, sitting in a kneeling position on the snow-white sheets of the bed.

Muzan grinned and grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, face dangerously close to yours as he grinned at your face “Then why are you here? Why are you not in the crowd rooting for you daddy, huh? You’re royally screwing up, darling” he cooed, forcing you to lay face down on the bed.

With your cheek pressed against the rose-scented blankets, you chewed on the inside of your cheeks in a spiral of self-deprecation. He was right. You had deliberately chosen to follow him that infamous night and, much to your dismay, the following ones. It was all on you and your greedy heart, hypothetically assuming you still had one in your chest.

Muzan climbed on the bed behind you, his hands reaching for your wrists and pinning them togther behind your bed as he slapped the cuffs around them, factually preventing you from moving your arms freely.

“Have you done what I had asked of you?” he then inquired, hands already slipping underneath the waistband of your thong and dragging the thin item down your thigh.

“Yes, I did” you whispered, ashamed of yourself as he hummed in return.

The things you had done for him, things that had not even crossed your still innocent mind made you want to rip yourself apart. But how? How could you blame yourself for wanting him?

“Splendid. — Muzan chimed, reaching for something behind him on nightstand — Just relax. Look, I’ll let you see your beloved daddy while I fuck you up, alright?” he sarcastically taunted you, as you began to put the dots together. The remoter, he had grabbed the remoter. He remembered the exact hour your dad was supposed to speak to the Country.

Sweat beaded your forehead as you squirmed underneath him, a hoarse chuckle rambling from somewhere deep into his chest as the screen of the tv projected the smiling, proud face of your father. His eyes seemed to bore right into yours as Muzan fumbled behind you with his pants and grasped your hips into his calloused hands.

“Ah, look at him. My rival has a good taste in neckties. Where does he buy them? Marinella? Those are surely italian-coded” the raven-haired man behind you noted, deliviring another unfathomable kick in your guts.

“You are a bastard” you whispered, eyes widening as he pressed the girthy tip of his cock against your puckered hole. The stretch left you breathless, eyes watering in the process. Frankly, seeing the face of your father partially blurry was far way better than having a clear vision.

While Muzan grunted, makinf sure you could feel every inch of his cock dilating you, the words your dad said made you choke out an uncontrollable sob.

“My sweet daughter could not be by my side today. Her presence is a blessing. Hopefully, she’s now somewhere out there to bless someone else’s day. I love you, sweetheart!” your father said and there was a burst of applause to echo throughout the room.

Wincing softly in pain, hips rotating to accomodate to the intrusion in your most private area, you had to endure the way Muzan sneered and began to rhythmically thrust into you, a crazed expression on his face as he pounded into you without much care of your condition “Oh, you have no idea. Her ass is a fucking blessing, sir” he mocked your father, earning a stifle moan from you.

You wished you could space out, but it was impossible. The stimulation you were receiving was driving you mad. The pain gradually subsided, causing a series of unbridled moans to erupt from your throat. Drool was running down the angle of your mouth, back arching convulsively, as you heard every words your father said and felt every comment Muzan made.

“Fuck… Nah, I’m going to have to send my regards to your father, kitten. — he rasped out, giving you one last thrust, before pulling out with a groan and releasing onto the small of your back — After all, I’m going to steal his lucky charm from him, once I beat him” he whispered after a few seconds.

Trembling, astonished, you closed your eyes and laid there with a drained expression on your face. Muzan Kibutsuji was going to be the death of you.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! The third request for my event is done! Honestly, I hope you’ve enjoyed this one as much as I did. Why? Guys, come on, it reflects my main story “Guilty pleasure”. I felt like I had deprived you of ‘Politician Muzan’ for way too long not to write this one as soon as possible. Now, likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

Until next,

X O X O

TAGS: @doumadono @axesfordays @tomorika-pura @cursetopia @the-dark-creature @yazzzmints

[sebflix]

mile high club ; sebastian sallow (m)

pairing: auror!sebastian x auror!reader(f)

genre: one-shot smut, modern au, colleagues that basically get together after a one night stand

warnings: all characters are 18+! fingering, kissing, begging, dirty talk, unprotected sex, mirror sex, spanking, creampie, car sex mentioned, they have sex in a plane bathroom

word count: 6.5k

chapter synopsis: as an Auror assigned to attend a conference, you find yourself on the plane, only to bump into the one person you've been avoiding. a confrontation leads to an unexpected encounter in a cramped aeroplane restroom.

other notes: heavily inspired by meredith and riggs from greys anatomy, specifically the plane scene

links: ao3, masterlist

[read on ao3]

“Ladies and gentlemen, as we prepare for take off, please ensure that your seat belts are fastened, your seat back and tray tables are in their full upright position. Thank you.”

You close your eyes, trying to block out the shuffle of people around you as the final preparations for take off unfold. The rustling of bags, the click of overhead bins being opened and closed, and the low murmur of conversation as people find their seats and settle in.

Its not that you hate flying. But the turbulence, the unnatural way the plane shudders through the sky, always leaves your stomach in knots. The whole ordeal is laughable really. You’re a great flyer on a broom, travelling to all sorts of places. Yet here, in this uncomfortable seat, you feel queasy.

You inhale deeply, trying to steady your nerves. As an Auror, you've faced dark wizards, magical creatures, and more dangerous situations than most can imagine. But somehow, the mundane act of flying in a metal tube at high speeds unsettles you in a way few other things can.

Your boss has entrusted you to represent your department at a conference in Los Angeles. You attempted to get yourself reassigned, but both you and your boss knew you were the best person for the job. You exhale slowly, steeling yourself — not just for the flight, but for the challenges that await on the ground.

A wailing child abruptly pulls you from your thoughts, and you open your eyes to the sight of a young mother struggling to buckle her crying toddler into his seat beside you. The boy’s face is flushed with frustration, his small fists pounding the air as tears stream down his cheeks. His cries cut through the ambient noise of the cabin, drawing sympathetic glances from other passengers.

The mother, frazzled but determined, murmurs soothing words as she fumbles with the seatbelt, her hands trembling slightly. She finally manages to secure him and glances at you with weary eyes, offering an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, he's not usually like this. He just didn’t get a nap today," she mumbles, her voice tinged with exhaustion as she gently rocks her son in an effort to calm him down.

"That’s fine, I know how that goes," you reply with a reassuring smile. Memories flicker through your mind —countless times you’ve had to soothe nervous witnesses or comfort frightened children after an encounter with dark magic. The intensity of those moments is worlds apart from this one, yet there’s a familiar thread in the act of comforting someone in distress.

“It’s our first family trip together,” she continues with a weary sigh, trying to keep her son in the seat. “My husband planned it last minute.” She rolls her eyes, a mix of affection and exasperation in her expression. “He said it would be blissful and relaxing, but it seems like that’s not going as planned.”

You chuckle softly. “Sounds like he had the best of intentions,” you offer, your smile widening. “But I’ve learned that when it comes to travel, especially with little ones, ‘relaxing’ rarely goes as planned.” You catch the child’s eye, and with a slight wave of your hand, he quiets down a bit, curiosity momentarily replacing his fussiness.

She laughs lightly. “You’re telling me. I had this vision of us lounging on the beach, but right now I’d settle for just five minutes of peace.”

Just then, a bearded man approaches, interrupting your conversation. “Excuse me, sorry. Marianne, are you okay?” he crouches down beside your seat, concern in his voice as he looks at the woman next to you. “I can hear him all the way from my seat. Do you want me to take him?” He extends his arms toward his son, his expression a mix of sympathy and helplessness.

Marianne shakes her head with a tired smile. “It’s okay, Robert. Go sit back down. I’ve got it.”

“You both weren’t able to sit next to each other?” you ask, noting the strain in their exchange.

“Like I said, last minute,” she shrugs.

You glance at the man, Robert, and then back at Marianne, sensing how much easier the flight might be for them if they were together. “Well, do you want to swap seats? I’d be happy to trade mine with yours.”

Marianne’s eyes widen in surprise, and then her face brightens with relief. “Are you sure? That would be great!” she exclaims, her tone filled with gratitude.

“Absolutely,” you reply with a reassuring nod. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Here you are now, quickly squeezing through the narrow aisle with your bag in tow, weaving past other passengers and the occasional outstretched leg. You glance at the seat numbers as you move forward.

“38A, 38A…” You murmur to yourself as you navigate past a row of travellers adjusting their belongings. You finally spot your seat in the middle section: a row with three seats, two of which are already occupied. A young girl sits in the middle seat with her headphones on, lost in her own world, while a man occupies one of the aisle seat.

With a small sigh of relief, you begin to put your bags down, but your movement stalls as you catch sight of the man in your row. The brown, shaggy hair is unmistakable. He’s hunched forward, a book resting on his lap, his head bent down in concentration as he reads. His grey jumper fits snugly, highlighting the outline of his shoulders. You could just about see his light coloured freckles scattered across his cheeks, barely visible because of his hair, but familiar enough to make your heart race.

“Oh God.” you whisper, barely audible, as you recognise him. The hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end. The sudden realisation that you’re in the same plane as him fills you with dread. You consider retreating to your old seat and asking Robert to swap back, but before you can make a decision, a flight attendant approaches with a firm expression.

“Miss, please take your seat now. We’re preparing for take off,” she instructs.

Caught between panic and resignation, you take a deep breath and force yourself to settle into your seat.

As you hastily fasten your seatbelt, the man tilts his head from his book and up at your presence and does a double take. His eyes widen in shock, clearly stunned to see you here. For a brief, suspended moment, he gapes at you, his expression a mix of surprise and disbelief.

You lock eyes, a heavy silence settling between you as the plane’s engines roar to life. The vibration of the aircraft and the hum fills the space around you, but your focus remains fixed on him.

This is not what you needed today, of all days. Sebastian Sallow, your colleague, in the same plane as you. What are the chances. He works as an Auror in the same department and the history between you is anything but ordinary. Initially, you clashed with him at every turn when you first started working for the Ministry. You noticed how prone he was to make rash decisions on the field, in stark contrast to your cautious approach, and you found yourselves butting heads more often than not.

Despite the friction, you both made an effort to set aside personal differences for the sake of the job. Over time, what began as professional conflict gradually turned into a hesitant friendship. He became the one to crack jokes and lighten the mood, his relentless humour serving as a welcome distraction from the more sombre aspects of your work. Even the office became aware of it, your colleagues often teasing you about the dynamic. It doesn’t help that Sebastian shamelessly flirts with you openly, even though you brush off every word he says.

But not everything was smooth sailing. One night, during an especially tense argument, you stormed out of the office, stung by something Sebastian had said. His stubbornness kicked in, and he didn’t let you leave without a word. He followed you all the way to the car park, where the confrontation escalated into a heated exchange. What you didn’t expect is to end up in the back seat of your car with you laying against the seats as Sebastian pleasured you between your legs and sang praises about you being a good girl for him.

Since that night, you decided it was a one-time thing — just friends who happened to have sex once. Even Sebastian agreed with you. Despite the mutual understanding, you've been meticulously avoiding him at work. You’ve started taking different routes through the office, slipping out of meetings early, and making excuses to stay out of his way. It feels like he’s everywhere, a constant reminder of what happened that night.

Even though you manage to remain civil, the tension is undeniable. The occasional lingering looks he gives you around the office only amplifies the energy. Still, you’re determined to keep things strictly professional, no matter how challenging it is to dodge the pull he has on you.

Now, here you are, seated mere inches from him on a flight, the weight of unresolved issues looming large as the plane slowly begins to move along the runway. The irony of this unexpected reunion gnaws at you, adding yet another layer of discomfort to an already turbulent day. The heavens were clearly against your luck today, but you were grateful for the passenger seated between you both.

“Hello,” he says, still gaping at you in disbelief.

“Hi,” you reply curtly, the awkwardness hanging heavily between you.

“Where’d you come from?”

“4C,” you raise your brows with a hint of exasperation. “I was playing the good Samaritan, reuniting a family. Serves me right,” you mutter, shaking your head at how you got yourself in this situation.

You turn to him, still puzzled about his presence. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m going to a conference. What about you?”

“I’m going to a conference,” you say, and then burst into absurd laughter as the sheer coincidence hits you. “The National Conference on…”

“Dark Magic Defence.” he finishes for you, a look of disbelief on his face.

You both stare at each other, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. The realisation that your boss has placed you both on the same assignment at this event seems almost too deliberate. You had a nagging suspicion that she did this on purpose, perhaps having observed how the friction between you was affecting work.

“You didn’t mention you were going.” you say, attempting to sound casual but unable to hide your surprise.

He gives you a deadpan look. “Well, neither did you,” he replies, his tone flat, clearly alluding to the fact that the two of you haven’t exactly been on speaking terms lately.

A silence hangs in the air until you finally break it with a raised eyebrow. “You sure you’re not following me?” you ask, half-joking, half-serious.

He lets out an incredulous laugh. “What? You’re the one who just moved into my row! If anything, I should be asking if you’re following me.” The corner of his lips quirks into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you retort, turning to face the front, determined to ignore him.

But you can feel his gaze lingering on you, practically burning into the side of your face. “It is a little suspicious, though,” he continues, his voice playful. “One minute there was some bearded guy sitting next to me, and the next thing I know, you’re here. Almost like magic.”

You shoot him a withering glare, ready to snap back, but the plane’s announcement interrupts you.

”Flight crew, please start readying the cabin.”

You bite back your retort, choosing instead to face forward and snuggle into your seat, trying to relax. But clearly, luck isn’t on your side today because his voice breaks your peace once again.

“Well, this might not be the worst thing in the world.”

“What’s not?” you ask, your patience wearing thin.

“Three whole days… far from home… no one around to bother us…” His voice drops slightly, just enough to make the innuendo unmistakable.

You can sense where this is going. “I told you, we’re done. No more messing around,” you say firmly.

“Not even a little messing around?” His tone is half-teasing, half-hopeful, as if he’s testing the waters.

“We agreed,” You give him a pointed look.

Just as he’s about to push the issue further, the girl in the middle seat pulls off her headphones and glances between the two of you. “You guys wanna switch seats so you’re sitting next to each other, or…?”

“No,”

”Yes,”

You both simultaneously answer. You lock eyes again, the tension now so thick you could cut it with a knife, as the announcement chimes. “Cabin crew, please be seated for take off.”

You give him one last glance before turning away, settling into your seat, gripping the armrests to calm your nerves as the plane’s speed quickens. As the plane takes off, you make a silent vow to avoid any more conversation for the rest of the flight.

If only it was that easy.

Sebastian, however, has other plans. Despite your best efforts to shut him out, he keeps yapping away, oblivious to your obvious attempt at ignoring him. He’s going on and on about the situation between the two of you.

"Look, I know things got complicated, but you can't just—"

You tighten your grip on the armrest, desperately trying to maintain your composure. Maybe if you focus on the hum of the plane in the background and pretend you’re somewhere far, far away, you can drown out his voice. You keep your eyes squeezed shut, your face turned slightly away from him, hoping he’ll take the hint. But he’s persistent, his voice lowering to a whisper that you wish you could unhear.

”You know what they say. Sometimes the universe gives you signs and this could be one of the signs.” he continues, as if you’re not sitting there pretending to be asleep. You can almost feel his eyes boring into you, searching for any sign that you’re awake and listening.

He leans forward, squinting at your face, as if trying to read your very thoughts. “I know you’re not asleep,” he hisses softly.

The girl in the middle seat, momentarily distracted from her music, pipes up, mistaking his words for hers. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Oh, sorry. No, Millie. You’re fine. I wasn’t talking to you,” Sebastian responds, his voice dripping with awkward charm.

You keep your eyes tightly shut, resisting the urge to roll them in annoyance. Finally, you break your silence, your voice muffled but clear. “I’d be asleep if you’d leave me alone.”

Millie, clearly intrigued, glances between the two of you. “Why isn’t she talking to you?”

Sebastian looks at you, a pensive expression crossing his face. “Well, we got together. In her car.”

Millie’s interest piques, and she hums an enthusiastic “yes” as she listens, her curiosity evident. You open your eyes in bewilderment and glance at him in disbelief. You cannot believe Sebastian is spilling personal details about your night together to a complete stranger.

”And then we decided that it was a one time thing and stayed as colleagues, even though there’s clearly still sexual tension here and…”

”And nothing,” You interrupt him, shaking your head at the audacity of him. “For very good reasons.”

Sebastian, undeterred, presses on. “She thinks our relationship might impact our work.”

You interject firmly. “No, there is no ‘our’ relationship, because there is no ‘us’.”

A faint frown flashes across his face, gone in an instant, but not before you catch it. The sting of your words is evident, and a pang of guilt tugs at you, making you wonder if you’ve been too harsh.

Millie, now thoroughly entertained by this unexpected drama, looks between the two of you with wide eyes. You can almost see the popcorn in her imagination as she takes in the spectacle.

You groan inwardly, trying to maintain your composure. “This isn’t a debate, Sebastian. We’re simply not going to discuss this in front of a complete stranger.”

Sebastian smirks, clearly enjoying the confrontation. “Oh, come on. It’s not like we’re hiding anything. Millie here has already heard half of it.”

Millie nods enthusiastically, as if she’s about to offer an unsolicited opinion on your personal lives. “Well, it’s certainly an interesting story.”

Thankfully, the seatbelt sign dings off, and the cabin lights dim slightly as the flight attendants begin their rounds. You take this as your cue. Slipping your seatbelt off, you announce to Sebastian, “I’m going to stretch my legs.” You offer him a curt nod and stand up.

You make your way to the back of the plane, navigating the narrow aisle. As you approach the cramped restroom, you mentally brace yourself for a moment of solitude, hoping to clear your head and avoid further confrontation with Sebastian.

Just as you reach the restroom and begin to open the door, you hear a sudden shuffle behind you. Before you can step inside and lock the door, someone pushes in right behind you, pressing you further into the tiny space. You let out a surprised “Whelp!” as you turn around briskly at the intruder, only to be met with the unmistakable face of Sebastian.

He steps in quickly, reaching for the handle and shutting the door with a definitive click. The small restroom instantly feels even more claustrophobic with the two of you squeezed inside. You try and lean away from him, looking up at his face in puzzlement.

“What—what are you doing here?!” you stammer in shock.

Sebastian, looking unperturbed, simply shrugs. “Well, you said to come in here.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “No I didn’t!”

“Yeah you did. You did that thing, with your eyes.”

“My eyes?” You’re completely lost.

“Yeah, you know, that look.” He mimics you with exaggerated movements, pretending to be seductive as he eyes you up and down. “And then you came in here, so I figured you wanted me to join you.”

You honestly can’t believe what you’re hearing. “I didn’t do anything with my eyes!”

He gives you a knowing look and leans his arm against the bathroom wall, his muscles tensing under his jumper. The cuffs are rolled up to his forearm, showcasing the prominent veins visible across his arm. You gulp, trying to ignore the sudden heat rising in your cheeks.

“Well, it looked like—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Sebastian, there’s no room in here.” You dramatically gesture around the tiny space. He follows your gaze and seems to realise just how cramped it is. He shakes his head and lands his gaze back on you.

“Well, I still need to talk to you,” he insists.

“That’s literally all you’ve been doing!” you retort, vexed. You lean your head forward in defeat, eyes on the floor. “Talking!”

“Without someone sitting between us and you closing your eyes,” he adds with an exhale. You meet his gaze, your frustration bubbling inside you. You roll your shoulders back, preparing for the next round of whatever is going to spew out of his mouth.

“Well, make it quick. I have to pee.”

“Alright, so you’ve made it clear you don’t want us to be together or continue this.”

“Yes, I’ve been very clear,” you confirm, crossing your arms.

“Well, I need to be clear too. You and I…” He pauses, struggling to find the right words. “This thing between us, it’s something. And I can’t just keep pretending it doesn’t exist.”

”Well you have to.”

”I can’t.”

”Not my problem.” You shrug your shoulders at him.

”Can you?”

”What?”

”Ignore it.”

”Yes!” You groan and nod.

”Well I don’t believe you.” He smirks, a hint of playful challenge in his eyes.

“Well, believe whatever you need to believe to get out of here,” you snap.

At that moment, the plane hits a turbulent patch, jolting you both. You lurch forward and slam right into Sebastian’s firm chest. He instinctively wraps his arms around you, turning you both so you’re now pressed against the bathroom door. You look up at him, eyes wide with surprise and something else you can’t quite place.

“Why?” he begins, his voice low and intense.

You don’t respond to his question, so he continues, “Why do we have to ignore this? Back at home, fine, but there’s no one here to see us!”

You remain silent, trying to find your words. Your mind races, conflicted between desire and reason. Your heart pounds in your chest as the proximity between you both becomes almost unbearable. Finally, you say, “That doesn’t matter.” You’re trying to convince yourself as much as him, though the words feel hollow even as they leave your lips.

“Why not?”

You groan, tilting your head back against the door. “You know why.”

For once, he falls silent, his gaze locked on yours, as if he's trying to decide what his next step is. His eyes search yours intently, vulnerability flickering in them.

“Okay,” he finally states, his tone softening. “Then I’ll go.”

The tension between you is so tangible. You stay rooted in place, arms crossed, your eyes locked on his.

“But you might want to move so I can actually get out the door,” he adds, pointing to the closed door behind you.

You exhale slowly, your inner thoughts struggling. You want to move, to give him space and end this cramped, intense encounter. But a deeper part of you resists, drawn to the heat of his presence, the undeniable pull of the closeness.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. You lick your lips unconsicously, and his gaze instantly fixates on them. His focus makes your pulse quicken, a flush spreading across your cheeks as you become acutely aware of every breath and movement.

“So what aren’t you moving?” Your voices are low, almost hesitant, as if treading carefully around the charged atmosphere between you.

The plane jolts again, and now Sebastian is just inches away from you, his eyes hooded with lust. The closeness, the charged energy between you, is undeniable. Your heart pounds so loudly you can hear it in your ears. The way he’s eyeing your every movement sends a shiver down your spine. You keep your gaze locked with his as you finally make a decision.

“Whatever happens, this never happened. Okay?” You manage to say, your voice trembling slightly as you give him a pointed look.

He simply nods, a slow smile spreading across his face as his captivating eyes remain fixed on yours.

You lean in, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you. Your lips meet his in a soft, tentative kiss. The contact is electric, sparking a heat that sweeps through you both. For a brief, suspended moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist as you give into him completely.

The initial softness melts away as the kiss deepens, igniting a passionate intensity that feels like fire engulfing you both. You drape your arms around him, pulling him closer, your bodies pressed tightly together. His hands grip your waist, drawing you flush against him, the heat of his touch magnifying the urgency of the moment.

His lips move with a fervour that matches the rapid thrum of your heart, as if he’s trying to capture every unspoken emotion between you. As your kiss, memories of the first time you shared together in the back of your car come flooding back. The familiar scent of his cologne mingled with the leather seats, and you can almost feel the cool night air from the slightly open gap of the window. Your fingers tremble as they did then, ghosting over his jawline, retracing the path they took so many months ago. He pulls you closer, one hand tangled in your hair, the other pressed firmly against the small of your back.

You respond with equal fervour, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The small space feels even tighter now, the only sounds being the muffled hum of the plane and your shared, ragged breaths.

“Sebastian… I need you.” You say in between kisses, trying to catch you breath. He lets out a deep sigh in response to your words, then suddenly spins you around and lifts you up onto the small vanity counter. The cool surface of the vanity contrasts with the heat of his touch, sending shivers down your spine. You arch into him, desperate for more contact. He doesn’t detach for your lips, your tongues tangling together as his fingers swiftly unbutton your blouse.

Once he gets it off, Sebastian smoothes his palms over the surface of your skin, leaning forward to press kisses along the column of your neck. “God, you look so hot when you’re mad at me.” He groans, moving down to suck on the skin just above your breast. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

You moan at the feeling of his lips on your skin. His hands roam your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve and contour.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you gasp, even as you arch into his touch.

"Do you want me to stop?" Sebastian murmurs against your collarbone, his breath hot on your skin.

Without thinking, you shake your head, unable to form words as his hands deftly unhook your bra. "No, don't stop," you manage to whisper. He captures your lips again in a searing kiss as his hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. You moan into his mouth, your core instinctively grinding against him as you wrap your legs tightly around him.

He groans and peppers kisses down your breastbone, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. Once he gets to your breasts, he sucks on your peaked nipple, eliciting a moan from your lips. Sebastian's free hand slides down to your thighs, playing with the hem of your skirt. He grows impatient, pushing your skirt higher. He glides his hand up and down your soft thighs, teasing you with feather-light touches. You shiver with anticipation as his fingers creep ever higher. Sebastian's mouth moves to your other breast, lavishing it with attention. You arch your back, pressing closer to him. His hand finally reaches its destination, stroking you through the thin fabric of your underwear. You gasp at the contact, heat pooling low in your belly.

"Tell me you want this," His lips part from your nipple, and his eyes meet yours with dilated pupils. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he waits for your reply.

You lean your head back and look at him. There’s a part of you that knows if this continues further, the chance of keeping things professional will be impossible. You should definitely push him away, and tell him that this will affect your boundaries at work. But the way one hand is slowly stroking the wetness seeping on your panties and the other is idly playing with your nipple, you lose all reasonable thought.

"I want this," you breathe out, your voice husky with desire. "I want you, Sebastian.”

His eyes darken at your words and he crashes his lips to yours once more. His hands push your skirt higher until it bunches around your waist. You gasp as his fingers brush against the hem of your panties.

"Already so wet for me," he groans, slipping his fingers beneath the fabric. You bite your lip to stifle a moan as he strokes you, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure. "I've missed touching you like this."

You whimper, clinging to his shoulders as he works you closer to the edge. The small space is filled with the sounds of your ragged breathing and muffled moans.

"Sebastian, please," you beg, desperate for more.

He obliges, sliding two fingers inside you as his thumb continues to tease your clit. You throw your head back onto the mirror, a wanton moan spilling out as his fingers pump in and out, building a delicious pressure. You try to keep quiet but the pleasure is too much.

“Try to stay quiet, baby. You don’t want someone to walk in, do you?” He teases against your ear, and you moan at his dirty words. He chuckles and reaches behind his pocket to grab his wand, pointing it at the door and muttering an incantation under his breath. He quickly puts his wand back, and focuses back on you.

“Now you can be as loud as you want.” He smirks and curls his fingers inside you as he reaches a spot that makes you close your eyes in pleasure. You're so close, teetering on the edge of release. You start to rock your hips against his hand as he groans at you tightening around his digits.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs against your neck. "Let go for me."

His words push you over the edge. Your body tenses as waves of ecstasy wash over you, Sebastian's fingers guiding you through your release. As you come down from your high, he pulls your fingers out of your core and brings them up in between you both.

Without a second though, he brings them to his lips and tastes your release. “Hmm, tastes so fucking sweet, just like I remember,” he teases. He hums lowly as his eyes locks with yours, licking his slender digits clean.

You stay fixed on the obscene image in front of you, mouth parted slightly as you feel a gush of wetness coming out. You grab the collar of his jumper and pull him into a deep, passionate kiss.

"I need you," you breathe against his lips. "Now."

Sebastian doesn't need to be told twice. He yanks you off the vanity and turns you around, bending you against the counter. You let out a mewl at the new position, pushing your hips outwards desperately.

He pushes your skirt upwards and yanks your panties down impatiently. You hear him fumble with his belt behind you, pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to bring his throbbing cock out. He positions himself at your dripping core, barely pushing the tip in. You cry out impatiently.

”I can’t believe you pushed me away for so long, when we could have been doing this.” He mutters, watching his tip glide between your wet folds.

”Please,” you begged hoarsely, “please,”

Sebastian leans forward to nip at your shoulder, chills travelling across your back. “Please what, baby?” He mocks as he pushes an inch further into you.

You moan at the feeling of being stretched, juices dripping between your legs. “Please fuck me already, Sebastian!” you gasp in fustration.

He pushes his full length into you without warning. You cry out in pain at the sudden fullness. Sebastian grabs your hips and starts to piston into you relentlessly, his thrusts deep and measured. You grip the edge of the vanity, your knuckles turning white as waves of pleasure wash over you.

"God, you feel amazing," he groans, his pace quickening. "So tight and wet for me." You feel a sharp slap as his hand connects with your cheek, followed by the warmth of his palm as he gently soothes the area.

You moan his name in response, pushing back against him to meet his thrusts. The small bathroom is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your loud cries of pleasure.

“Yes, moan my name baby, let everyone on this plane hear how good I’m making you feel,” he growls, watching how he’s fucking you in the mirror, you chin against your chest as your breasts bounce with every thrust.

The way he’s rolling his hips into you makes you roll your eyes to the back of your head. As one of your hands snakes its way to your clit, he grabs it, pinning it behind you on your lower back. “Only I am allowed to make you come. Don’t touch yourself.” Your legs shudder in response as he whispers into your ear. You can only gasp as he pushes into you faster and faster.

“Three whole days…,” He chuckles and presses into the small of your back, forcing you to arch for him even more. “Three whole days of us in a hotel room, with you screaming my name and cumming on my cock like a good girl.”

“Oh god, Sebastian.” You moan loudly, the though of you and Sebastian spending more passionate nights together makes your cheeks heat up. You don’t doubt his words. He is a man that keeps his promises. You found that out about him the hard way.

Sebastian's grip on your hips tightens as he pounds into you relentlessly. "Yes, say my name, just like that," he growls, his voice husky with desire.

You brace yourself against the counter, your legs shaking as the pressure builds inside you, nearly tipping over the edge. He can feel you clench around him, desperately trying to milk his orgasm.

Sebastian fists a hand into your hair and yanks you back, forcing you to look at your reflection. You hardly recognise yourself, eyes rolled back in pleasure as drool trails down the corner of your mouth. He catches your gaze in the mirror as he keeps fucking you without slowing down one bit.

“Watch me fuck you.” He snarls, his thrusts going faster than ever. His face is next to yours, his muscular chest flushed against your back. He never breaks eye contact with you, kissing the skin behind your ear as he pounds into you again and again.

You can feel your orgasm building rapidly, the coil of tension winding tighter and tighter in your core. "I'm close Sebastian," you gasp, your fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth surface of the vanity.

Sebastian's free hand snakes around to rub tight circles on your clit, and you gasp at the added stimulation. You cry out and reach back to grab his exposed forearm, digging your nails into the skin in pleasure.

"Come for me, baby," Sebastian commands, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Let me feel you come on my cock."

His words push you over the edge and you cry out his name as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your inner walls clench around him, as your orgasm rockets throughout your entire body. Hot white clouds your vision as you delve into the euphoric feeling. Your nails dig into his arm so deeply, you’re sure you drew blood.

Sebastian stills behind you as he releases inside of you, grabbing your hips further into him as he comes. He fills you up completely as he thrusts shallowly to ride out his high. He deeply calls out your name, as if he’s claiming you as his.

You both try to catch your breath, still leaning against the cold vanity for a few seconds before you regain your senses. You try to stand up, but your legs feel unsteady, nearly giving way beneath you. Thankfully, Sebastian notices and keeps his arm snaked around you.

He pulls out slowly and steps away to grab a few paper towels to clean the mess between your legs. You blush at the intimate gesture as he leans down to soak up the cum dripping down your thighs.

“Thank you.” you whisper and push yourself up from the counter to grab your blouse. You both redress in a comfortable silence.

As Sebastian buckles his belt back on, you catch him staring at you, a teasing smile on his face as he watches you put your blouse back on.

“What?” You search his eyes, confusion written on your face.

“I just realised that we’re both now part of the mile high club.” He throws his head back in laughter. “I feel like we should high five or something.”

You stare at him blankly for a few seconds before bursting out in laughter. The laughter subsides after a while, leaving you both gazing at each other. A small smile rests on his lips as he takes in your features.

Your hair is slightly disheveled, likely from him pulling on it. Your lipstick is completely gone, and your makeup is slightly smudged. There's an aura around you, almost a soft glow that Sebastian can't seem to look away from.

“God you’re so pretty.” he breathes out, arms crossed together as he leans against the bathroom wall.

Your eyes widen at the abrupt compliment as you drift your eyes away from him in embarrassment. You think you look like a complete mess, yet he’s staring at you like you’re the most beautiful sight on Earth.

The tight space of the restroom seems to shrink around you, the reality of your situation settling in. You search his eyes, a mix of uncertainty and vulnerability evident in your own.

”Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Sebastian automatically reads your face, and moves closer to stand in front of you, his hand moving up to rest on your cheek. His thumb gently grazes the soft skin, watching you with concern.

"I... I don’t know about this," you murmur, struggling to articulate the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. "We work together, Sebastian. This could make everything even more complicated."

His shakes his head, expression serious but reassuring. He reaches out to gently grab your face with his hands. “I get it. It’s complicated. But I do know that whatever this is between us, it’s real. We can figure out how to handle it, together.”

You nod slowly, feeling a mixture of relief and acceptance wash over you. “Okay. I guess...I guess we can try.”

A small, relieved smile tugs at the corners of Sebastian’s lips. “We’ll take it one step at a time. We’ve got this.”

As you both share a quiet, understanding smile, you feel a sense of calm settling over you. “Yeah, one step at a time.”

After a few kisses, you and Sebastian exit the cramped bathroom, carefully stepping out one at a time to avoid drawing attention. You walk back to your seats, each of you subtly smoothing out your clothes and trying to look as casual as possible.

As you approach your respective seats, Millie, who has just woken up from her sleep, takes off her headphones and glances between you both.

“You guys left for a while. Did you clear the air?” She asks with a raised eyebrow.

You and Sebastian lock eyes, a blush mirroring both of your faces as you mumble under your breath. “Yeah, something like that.”

hope you guys enjoyed it! all feedback is appreciated :)

[mchlgayser]

✮ us against the problem ft akaashi keiji

synopsis: Being in a three-year-old relationship with your boyfriend is never a hard task considering how collected, composed, and matured he can be.

─── ୨୧ warning: slight angst, and miscommunication

─── ୨୧ notes: I got my heart broken once again, by a different guy 💔 this pain is unbearable and to stabilize my mental, I'm doing a drabble of the loml akaashi. Question: where to find an Akaashi Keiji? Comment your ideas! ... And feedback, thank you, and happy reading xoxo.

It was supposed to be a date, a date both you and Akaashi planned. A date to reconnect you both after weeks away from each other. It wasn't a problem for Akaashi since he's rarely going out for work but works at home instead but it was the otherwise for you, you are a flight attendant, always traveling and not home but today you supposed to be back after almost two weeks staying in London, England but a scene broke off that you had delayed your way home two days after. To make matter worse, you accidentally lost your phone at the airport during your work hours.

You've had to try calling him a few times but he wasn't picking up. After the problem was solved you didn't waste a single minute but to get home fast. You need to see your boyfriend. He might be getting worried about your whereabouts and well-being. The next wink, you entered the apartment, you could almost sense the clouded-over surroundings, the curtains is not pushed or tucked away like usual. It was dimmed. You put aside the luggage and stroll to your bedroom. The bathroom is running, so you assumed that he was bathing. You sit on the bed hitting yourself with a strong minty cologne of his. That sweet, peppermint smell hints at a tinge of his lavender-flavored shampoo.

As soon as the faucet closed, you stood up straight like you are in the military. The bathroom door slid open and his sight came into view. His half-bare and damp sight with a clean towel top his disheveled hair. He stops on his tracks, eyes moving from your feet to your face. You croak a nervous smile his way but he stood there, not saying anything.

You try to put on your acts, trying not to be so obvious by the fact that you are overwhelmed by his presence after nearly a month of not seeing each other.

'I missed you.' You said, eyes moving around the room watching him rummage through the closet to put on his shirt and short pant 'Yeah, me too.' He throws aside the towel on the bed and moves outside leaving you in utter disbelief. You try to maintain your cool despite the anger and heat building up in you. You stare at the spot he was at earlier, and pick up the towel he tossed away to go and shower, yourself.

You've had to compose your emotion, after bathing you strut your way to his on the couch 'Why are you like this? Are you fine?' You put the back of your palm to his forehead and he lets you be before he momentarily yanks his face 'I was worried, sick. I wonder where could've you been? Why haven't you answered my calls, and why you ditched me on that date? I was... Worried.' You try to reason with yourself but he cuts you off 'Do you know I was worried! And...! That date, was supposed to be our date, the one you promise to be at to spend our time together. You know, these days, it's fewer attempts from you to reconnect us again...' A hitch breath stuck on your throat, it's tight and suffocating. One more word coming from him, you are sure you'll break down in guilt.

Tears began to form in your eyes, you tilt your head back to dry the tear off and wipe the access 'I... I'm sorry... Something happened that day, when I was supposed to get back and my phone... I lost it, I try calling you a few times using co-worker's phone but you didn't pick up... I'm sorry... I'm sorry Keiji, I'm sorry that it seems like I haven't done enough these past weeks, I'm so, so sorry... I will do better-' He immediately brings an arm around you, his palm on your torso to pull you closer. The tears you fight back so greatly earlier fell like endless rain. You clutch on his shirt as you sobs from guilt and fatigue.

Once you calmed down, Akaashi push you away just a few inches to get a closer look at your face, your eyes swollen and tear-stained, your nose red and almost runny. You sniffle and groan at the same time, your nose clogged from crying and you try to unblock it with a harsh stroke of your nose. He took your balling fists, gripping them and bringing them closer to his cheek, his thumbs caressing the back of your palms and occasionally left kisses on your hand.

'My fault. I didn't hear your side of the story at first but can't help by feeling upset. That was so unlike me. I guarantee you, it'll never happen again. Sorry, Y/n.' You jump on him, hands on his neck burying your face in between his shoulder and collarbone.

'We are both at fault but partially mine if you think about it, and it's okay to show your unusual self to me. I fell in love with you who are you, not only the perfect, mature, and composed Keiji.' He fondled your back leaving featherlight kisses on your neck and down your shoulder.

[fafnir19]

Flying like a bird – isn't that ecological?

I looked out the window, the engine's hum vibrating through my chest. The swelling excitement of my upcoming voluntary ecological year in Brazil was tinged with a hint of guilt. Guilt for the environmental impact my flight was causing, despite the carbon offsets I had diligently purchased. As a gay man committed to supporting minorities and environmental conservation, the contradiction weighed heavily on my mind. Suddenly, the airplane lurched, and a wave of red wine splattered me, the liquid soaking through my clothes. "Oh no! I'm so sorry!" Karen, the stewardess, exclaimed, her voice laced with panic. "It's okay," I reassured her, trying to suppress a chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. As I stood up, the wet fabric clinging uncomfortably to my skin, Karen offered a solution. "I can get you a new seat in first class, and also, here's a co-pilot's uniform to change into. It's the best I can do to make up for this mess." Grateful for the offer, I changed into the oversized uniform and made my way to the first-class cabin.

The extra legroom and plush seat were a welcome relief. As I settled in, the engine's roar filled the cabin, accompanied by the rustling of flight attendants bustling around. "Due to your new seat by the emergency exit, we'll need you to watch a special safety video," Karen informed me with a warm smile. I nodded, paying close attention to the lengthy safety demonstration that followed. My brow furrowed as I noticed the dated gender roles portrayed in the video, and the co-pilot's demeaning attitude toward the stewardesses. After the video finally concluded, I made a mental note to write a complaint to the airline. Karen approached me once more, offering a sweet welcome drink. The sugary liquid offered a momentary distraction from the unsettling video. As I sipped the drink, a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me, and before long, I drifted into a deep slumber. In my dream, I found myself face to face with the obnoxious co-pilot from the safety video, and a surge of frustration bubbled within me. "Hey, you!" I yelled, my voice echoing through the dream landscape. "How dare you treat women like that! You're insufferable! You can't treat women like that!" The co-pilot smirked. "Why not? They love it. Just look at them." Even in my own dream, I was plagued by his presence. My dream began to warp and twist, and I suddenly saw myself in the co-pilot's uniform, strutting through the cabin with an air of entitlement.

I awoke to the gentle touch of Karen, who smiled warmly at me. "You look great in that uniform, ready for your shift as a co-pilot?" she asked. I was astonished to find that the co-pilot's uniform now fit me perfectly, accentuating my athletic build.

I followed Karen to the cockpit, feeling elated at the unexpected turn of events. Taking my place in the cockpit, I began assisting the pilot as we navigated through the skies.

"Where's the usual co-pilot?" John asked, glancing at me with a curious expression. "I thought we could use a change," Karen replied cryptically, her eyes twinkling mischievously. I was eager to prove my capabilities in this unexpected role. The responsibility felt exhilarating, and I relished every moment of it. This was a dream come true - a chance to live out my lifelong ambition of being a pilot.

Suddenly, John excused himself to use the restroom, leaving me alone in the cockpit.

"So, Karen, what's the story behind all this?" John inquired. Karen's laughter filled the space, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, there is a special safety video and a welcome drink that alters the minds and bodies of our ordinary passengers as we have a lack of co-pilots" Karen explained, a smirk playing on her lips. "It's a compromise between the union and the marketing department," Karen explained. "They want the co-pilots to be the epitome of masculinity and to appeal to a wealthy clientele. But it's all about appearances." John's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?" "The union wants heterosexual men who can charm women in every location they land," Karen elaborated. "While the marketing department wants them to be attractive to gay passengers. They've settled on a strange blend of both." "In any case, he is a particularly sweet co-pilot," John remarked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Suddenly, an idea sparked within me, fueled by the of the safety video. I turned to John, my expression determined. "I need a break. There's someone in row 10 I want to upgrade." "Upgrade?" John raised an eyebrow, his expression mirroring a mix of surprise and amusement. "To the Mile High Club," I declared boldly, the words escaping my lips before I could fully process the audacity of my request. John's laughter echoed through the cockpit, the sound mingling with the steady hum of the engines. "Well, well, looks like our sweet co-pilot is ready to make his mark."

As I sauntered down the aisle, I couldn't contain my laughter at the thought of what was to come. Reaching row 10, I leaned in close to the passenger, my smooth voice sending shivers down her spine as I effortlessly charmed her. "Excuse me," I began, suppressing the upheaval of conflicting emotions. "I have a special upgrade for you." The woman's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze flitting between me and the open door to the lavatory. "An upgrade?" "To the Mile High Club," I clarified, my voice tinged with certainty. The young woman's laughter mixed with mine as she eagerly accepted my invitation, a mischievous glint in her eye. We disappeared into the lavatory, our hushed giggles mingling with the steady rhythm of the airplane as we indulged in our risqué endeavor. Moments later, I re-emerged, the satisfied grin on my face indicating the successful initiation of the newest member into the Mile High Club. Returning to the cockpit, I took my place with a buoyant energy, the satisfaction of a successful mission evident in my demeanor.

Karen and John exchanged knowing smiles, understanding the mischievous spark in my eyes. "Done with your break already? You work fast," Karen teased, unable to contain her amusement. "I had to make sure our newest member received a warm welcome," I replied with a playful wink.

The plane landed smoothly in Rio de Janeiro and I couldn't shake the surreal feeling of my dream. After I got out, Karen handed me a business card with a mischievous smile. “If you are interested, the airline is happy to offer you pilot training,” she said. With shaking hands and full of excitement, I accepted the card. I ended my voluntary ecological year before it even started and began my pilot training.

[weclassybouquetfun]

More post SAG Awards pics and IG posts from cast. Including Nick Mohammed who missed out.

Another person who missed out was Phil Dunster who had to leave immediately after the show. But he still got to take pics

and make a new handsome friend in Taylor Zakhar Perez.

Jason looking caught out. Is it because he still has Moe Hashim's tam?

Or maybe it's Jason's newsboy cap.

AFC Greyhounds dance like the Peanuts gang.

And to think it was just an NBC Sports promo for the Premier League and out of that came a show that changed the lives of the cast and formed bonds...

Richmond Til We Die - Family Tings

I don't watch THE BEAR, but I loved SHAMELESS and I felt Jeremy Allen White deserved to be nominated many a times. But as THE BEAR was against TED LASSO, I have wished for his loss so Jason is better than I am because if I were there I'd do a fake-out handshake to Jeremy

-I suspect since James Lance couldn't attend due to UNCLE VANYA commitments, they didn't cancel his flight and instead let his wife Kate Quilton use his flight. Just too much of a coincidence that she would be in L.A during this weekend.

With James Lance's fashion inspo, son at Disneyland Cars Land.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

to give you that little push; I'd like to request a modern!Sihtric x reader where they are reunited after a long time apart. the rest is all you! ;)

Authors note: it all started with the ask, whether I accept modern!Sihtric requests, that left me deeply thoughtful whether I am really up to it. So thank you so much, my dear @sihtricfedaraaahvicius for giving me that little push and setting me on this short, but very intensive journey.

My very first Modern!Sihtric x reader fic.

Warnings: fluff, quite suggestive on the borderline with getting smutty, heartbreak, abuse of alcohol

Summary: see the request, although I have a slight feeling you had something different in mind, when you requested this.

Word Count: 3,748

Part 2

“Please, fasten your seat belt; we are landing,” a voice intruded upon your tranquil nap, jolting you awake. You rubbed your eyes, struggling to comprehend the source of the voice and your whereabouts.

“Thank you,” you murmured slowly, fumbling around trying to locate and secure your seat belt, your head still dizzy. You flinched as the airplane thudded onto the runway with a slight bump, rebounded gently, and then smoothly taxied to a stop at the parking position.

“Fuck! So fast…” you swore silently to yourself. In truth you did not want to get off that plane. You remained seated until the final passenger had exited before rising to retrieve your hand luggage. The irritated looks, masked under a polite smile, that flight attendants were casting at you, did not make you to move faster. You had no reason to hurry, so you took your time. Your head was tucked into the collar of your oversized sweater, its sleeves engulfing your hands. Your rucksack hung haphazardly over your shoulder, giving you the appearance of a turtle, save for the fact that even a turtle might have traversed the distance to the front door more swiftly.

“Have a nice evening, ma’am,” the flight attendant beamed at you as you walked past. Lost in your own thoughts, you didn't respond. It had been five years. Five fucking years since you left on what was meant to be a two-week summer course in the other part of the world and ended up staying there for a half decade. This had been one in a million opportunity, a scholarship and admission to one of the world’s best design schools combined with an offer to work for a renowned fashion house after graduation. Only a fool would have rejected it, and you were so close to doing just that.

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

“Hey, sweetheart, I’ve missed you! How are you doing? How was your flight?” Sihtric’s smiling face greeted you from the screen of your phone.

“Everything’s fine, I’ve missed you too!” you replied, your smile tinged with sleepiness. Glancing at the clock, you noted that it was 9 a.m., which translated to around 7 p.m. at Sihtric's location. Jet lag hadn't quite released its grip on you yet.

“I love you sweety and I miss you terribly. It is so lonely without you here,” Sihtric’s voice never failed to send shivers down your spine.

“I love you too, handsome! Just two weeks to go and I’ll be back home,” your drowsy gaze drifted once again to the clock. "Damn! It's already 9:00. I've got my first classes in thirty minutes! I need to hurry!" With an exclamation, you leapt out of bed, nearly dropping your phone in the process.

You had met Sihtric just a month before at a party hosted by your best friend Gisela, who was celebrating the opening of her very own studio and art gallery.  You had never believed in the love at the first sight, deeming it ridiculous and impossible to fall for someone you hardly knew. Yet, that’s exactly what had happened to you the moment you laid eyes on Sihtric. Seated on the sofa, gingerly sipping your gin and tonic, you nearly choked on your drink as your gaze widened, registering a striking dark-haired young man entering the room. The slightly snug black t-shirt and skinny jeans he wore accentuated his remarkably well-built body. Swallowing hard, your eyes remained glued to his face, tracing his sharp features, pronounced cheekbones, straight nose, and big expressive eyes. His moustache and short beard, covering his chin, only added to his rugged and strong presence. Gisela introduced you, and before you knew it, you had spent the entire evening sitting on the sofa with him, joking, laughing, telling anecdotes from your studies – you had studied fashion design — and raptly listening to his tales. He was a photographer and had journeyed across the globe for his job and passion, collaborating and doing shootings with various celebrities and amassing countless amusing stories to share. With each passing minute, you marvelled more and more why on earth this intelligent, breathtakingly handsome, and evidently talented man had decided to spend his evening chatting with you.

You lived just a few blocks away from the gallery and after the party Sihtric immediately offered to accompany you home, unwilling to let you wander the streets alone at such a late hour.

“Thank you for the stunning evening,” Sihtric said, taking your hand and lifting it to his lips, placing a delicate kiss upon it as you both stood at the entrance of your apartment building.

“Stunning?” you raised your eyebrow in disbelief. The idea that someone could describe an evening spent chatting with you as stunning seemed far-fetched.

“Yeah, stunning. I can't even recall when I last had so much fun," Sihtric's face drew near, his breath grazing your skin and quickening your heartbeat.

“Fuck, does he want to come upstairs?” a thought raced through your mind, but there was this age-old rule on not having sex with someone on the first date lingering in your consciousness. “To hell with the rules, I want him – even if it would be just a one-night stand. Common, handsome, kiss me!” you silently urged, feeling a shiver tracing your spine as Sihtric’s thumb gently caressed your cheek. His gaze bore into you, as if searching for a sign.

“You’re incredibly sweet and beautiful,” Sihtric whispered in your ear. His lips touched yours in the most gentle, tender kiss – the softest, you’d ever had. You closed your eyes, letting yourself melt into that delicate kiss, a pleasant lightheadedness enveloping you.

“Sweet dreams, lovely!” Sihtric’s voice brought you back to reality as he hesitantly pulled away. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“What?” your mind slowly registered the words you just heard, “No, wait!” you wanted to speak, but as you opened your eyes, he was already gone. “What the fuck? Was it a dream? Why did he leave? What did I do wrong?” Countless thoughts and emotions whirled in your mind as you ascended to your apartment, disappointment prevailing. You were convinced, you’d never see him again. He didn’t even have your number; how could he call? You were angry at yourself, believing you’d ruined everything, not knowing what exactly you have done wrong, but being sure it was you.

The greater was your surprise, when you received an early morning call from Gisela the following day.

“Hey there! How are you?” your friend’s ever cheerful voice came through the phone. “Guess what? I just gave your number to Sihtric. You must have made quite an impression on him. He woke me up at 6.00 a.m. today, to ask for your number, miserable that he hadn’t asked you for it. Can you believe it– 6.00 a.m.?”

“What?” you weren’t fully awake yet.

“Don’t mess this up, honey! He’s a catch! See you at lunch tomorrow; I want all the details!” Gisela hung up, leaving you staring at your phone, trying to grasp, what you’d just heard.

So, Sihtric did call, and the next day you had your first real date. You fell for him swift and hard. Being with Sihtric felt like a wild ride on a rollercoaster. He was impulsive and spontaneous breakneck, loving extreme sports like kiting and skydiving. Spontaneously embarking on a mountain photoshoot idea and heading there within minutes, leaving everything else behind, was totally normal for him. Yet, toward you, he was the embodiment of care and sweetness, a stark contrast to his impulsive, daring nature.

You had never had a lover like him before, so attentive, gentle, and eager to satisfy you. With him you felt like a goddess each time. You could still recall the tender touch of his lips on your skin, the delicate kisses covering every inch of your body. The brush of his fingers against your breasts, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. His ragged breath against your neck as he purred sweet praises into your ear, while holding you tightly and thrusting deeply into you, evoking the moans of delight and pleasure from you, arching your back against the mattress.

You’d never been so deeply in love with someone, nor had your heart ever before been so broken as you read the message on your phone exactly one week after your arrival in your destination for the long-planned summer courses. The previous day had been already quite a mess. Your call with Gisela ended up with a quarrel. You had never expected her to react like that. You had shown your sketches to classmates, one of whom turned out to be the daughter of a renowned designer, just moved here to work for a major fashion house. This had led to you being invited to a meeting with the manager of the fashion house, offering you an admission to a top design school along with a scholarship in exchange for a five-year post-graduation contract as a designer for the house. You had declined the offer and just shared the whole unbelievable story with Gisela.

“Are you out of your mind” she shouted at you, incredulous. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you’re considering giving it up for what? A guy, you’ve been seeing for less than a month! You must be insane! What’s his take on all this?”

“I haven’t talked to him about it, and I don’t intend to. I don’t want him to be involved or to feel responsible for a choice that’s solely mine to make. He might try to convince me to accept the offer, but I don’t want that. I don’t believe in long-distance relationships, and we’re not at that point to experiment with something like that.  I love him, Gisela. I don’t want to lose him. I want to go back and see where this relationship takes us,” you tried to argue with your friend, receiving only and annoyed scoff in return.

Gisela was not in a mood to give up. She was resolved to put some sense back in your love blurred mind and kept arguing with you, until you were completely fed up with her.

“I’ve made up my mind, and it’s final, Gisela!” you shouted, ending the call frustrated.

Next morning you woke up with a throbbing headache. You had slept badly, your mind twirling around Gisela’s words. You knew she meant it only good, but you stood firm in your choice. A message notification jolted you, making you smile. It was from Sihtric, you knew it instantly by the ringtone you had set for him.

As you read the message, your smile froze mid-blossom. The words hit you like a freight train: «I’m sorry, but it’s over. It’s time for both of us to move on. I’ve found someone else. » Your phone slipped from your grip, clattering onto the floor. You couldn’t believe what you saw. It was impossible, it couldn’t be real. You snatched your phone back up, your fingers trembling as you pushed the call button.

No response.

You called again, and again, and again. Still no answer. With a loud scream you hurled your phone against the wall. Face buried in your pillow, you started to cry uncontrollably. You lost track of how many times you'd dialed, texted, and cried, but there was no response. He did not even read your messages. Finally, you gave up. Your world had crumbled into thousand small pieces, your silly dreams shattered, and your heart ached. The next two days you spent crying in your small dormitory room. You did not care for the courses, you were unable to make yourself get up and dress, not even speaking about seeing other people. It was on the third day that you were sitting at the table and sipping your umpteenth cup of coffee, that your gaze landed on papers strewn in a corner. The admission letter and scholarship application form lay there, untouched. A rush of emotions urged you to rip them apart, yet something held you back. Tears coursing down your cheeks, you seized a pen and hastily began filling out the form. There was nothing left to return to. The mere thought of returning home, potentially encountering Sihtric and his new love interest, churned your stomach with disgust. Thus, you stayed.

Five years immersed in studies and working as a designer in your dream fashion house. And now you were coming home, although you did not think of it that way anymore. You had been sent to overlook the opening of the new shop and had to stay there for at least half a year to make everything set and running. Half a year felt like an eternity, especially as just before boarding the plane, you learned the name of the photographer that had been hired to shoot the first catalogue – Sihtric Kjartansson. With a heavy sigh, you took a tentative step onto the bridge and began the slow walk toward the exit.

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

“You have to do something about it!” Gisela rushed into Sihtric’s apartment in complete bewilderment bursting out the whole story about the scholarship and contract in one single breath, “It is her chance, Sihtric! She is so talented, and she’s ready to give it all up because of you. Can’t you see? She’s sacrificing her entire future, everything she has ever dreamed about! If you truly love her, you can’t let this happen. Please, tell me you won’t let it happen,” she sank onto the sofa and looked at Sihtric with pleading eyes.

“You know I love her, Gisela, but what are you expecting me to do?” Sihtric asked taken aback by Gisela’s sudden intrusion, attempting to piece together what she was telling him.

“You have to end your relationship with her,” the response was so unforeseen that Sihtric found himself speechless for a moment.

“Excuse me, I have to do what?” he finally managed to articulate, still trying to comprehend Gisela's proposal.

“You have to break up with her. That’s the only way. She will not listen to you otherwise. She does not believe in long-distance relationships and will refuse to stay there anyway.”

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

Sihtric’s phone vibrated again, signalling an incoming call. Seated in his kitchen, head resting on his hands, he wrestled with the urge to answer. It was the fifth time already. He was aware who was calling and knew that, if he did pick up, he wouldn’t be able to repeat the words he’d typed to you just an hour ago. It was a lie. A lie, he immediately regretted upon hitting the send button. But it was done, and you had read it. He knew he had broken your heart, something he'd been so certain he would never do to you. There was no turning back now. Even if he did answer and tried to explain his motives behind the cruel message, there would always be a crack between you, caused by the pain he knew his message had inflicted. He had lost you. He had pushed you away and had done it willingly, for your own good. He loved you too much to allow you to through away your future for him.

As silly as it might sound, he’d fallen for you from the very first moment he saw you. He hadn’t wanted to come to the party. Gisela had hinted that she wanted to introduce him to someone. Her persistent obsession to fix the love life of her friends was sweet but annoying. Yet, the instant she introduced you, Sihtric felt a rush of gratitude for changing his mind. He liked everything about you – your delicate and captivating face, the sparkle in your eyes, your full and inviting lips, your thick, curly, dark brown hair cascading onto your shoulders, and above all, your stunning and breath-taking smile. You were funny and smart, your demeanour so natural and unpretentious, as he found out within mere hours. He did not even notice how the hours passed, as he was slowly drowning in your beautiful eyes, listening to your infectious laughter and your soft voice.  

Desire raged within him, his jeans chafing painfully as he leaned in for a kiss that night. However, for the first time ever, he didn’t wish to rush events, fearing he could scare you off and ruin everything. He was not into a single night crush, he wanted to truly get to know you. It was your third date that he realised he couldn’t suppress his longing anymore.

“Can I invite you for a drink at my place?” he asked upon leaving the cosy Italian restaurant he’d chosen for the evening. It was so obvious what was on his mind, his look so full of desire as his eyes slowly undressed you. He licked his lips lustfully as all he could think in that moment was how you will look naked on his bed, him placing soft kisses down your body. His lips almost did not leave yours from the moment you both got into the taxi until he unlocked the doors of his apartment, his hands starting to pull up your dress as soon as you stepped into the room.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, drinking in the sight of your almost naked body, his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra.

A gratifying groan escaped his lips, his breath literally taken away by the irresistible pulchritude before him, as moments later he had you fully undressed on his bed, exactly as he had imagined it before. Pinning your arms above your head, he planted fervent kisses, tracing every contour, every curve and line of your body with his tongue. He’d imagined this every night since you first met – how he will ignite and arouse you, how he will kiss and pleasure you, making you crave for him beyond imaginable. Your response to his touch, fiery and eager, trusting and passionate, intoxicated him. As he finally pushed his hard length into you, he felt there was no greater delight in this world than feeling your walls clench around him, observing ecstasy pool in your half-lidded eyes, your hips dancing against his, your body quivering under his touch, and your spine arching against the mattress in pleasure he and only he was able to bestow upon you. And as you fell asleep in his embrace, nestled against his chest, he was sure he wanted to keep you, keep you forever.

But it was over now. Sihtric poured another glass of whiskey and downed it in one gulp. He was heavily drunk by now. His phone lay on the table, vibrating again. A message from you. He could see it appearing shortly on the locked screen. The fifth one this evening, amidst the dozen calls, he’d ignored. It was overwhelming. He couldn't endure it any longer. He had to respond, to clarify that the message had been a terrible misunderstanding. That absurd message was his fault, and he was ready to atone for it, whatever it would take, but he craved you back urgently, desperately. Sihtric reached out for his phone, but it slipped out of his numb fingers, landing on the kitchen’s stone floor with a resounding crash. When he finally managed to retrieve it, his face contorted in despair. The entire display was fractured, resembling a spider's web, and was unresponsive to his touch. A loud curse erupted as he flung the useless device against the wall before collapsing back into his chair. Reaching for the whiskey bottle, his fingers closed around its neck, bringing it to his lips. The fiery liquid surged down his throat in relentless gulps, until the bottle was empty and in the next moment it also flew against the wall, shattering into countless shards.

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

"Good morning!" your assistant's cheery voice welcomed you as you entered the pavilion, now transformed for the photo shoot. "Everything's set. The photographer arrived early this morning and had us reconfigure the entire pavilion, but you'll be pleased with the changes. We're quite fortunate – we managed to book Sihtric Kjartansson. He's truly the best and most sought-after fashion photographer right now."

The sound of that name sent a shiver down your spine. Images of Sihtric's face, engraved in your mind, surfaced – the memory of your last goodbye at the airport, thinking that you will meet again in two weeks. His gentle kiss on your forehead, the warmth of his hug, his soft words in your ear, "I'll miss you, sweetheart. You mean the world to me." How foolish you had been to believe it all. To think that you were more than just a fleeting diversion, discarded and replaced after just one week apart. Anger surged within you, wrapping around you like an armour, giving you the strength, you needed to endure this day, as you entered the shooting hall and saw the familiar silhouette behind the camera, his back turned to you.

“Good morning, everybody!” you called out, straining your voice, but it was not necessary – there was nobody else there in the whole hall. Sihtric turned, his expression shifting from annoyance to utter bewilderment, his eyes widening as they locked onto you.

“Hi!” you managed to force through gritted teeth, your body stiff in tension that was taking over you. Those five years hadn’t changed a thing. He was still painfully handsome, and you couldn’t tear your eyes from him. Worse yet, you still desired him. You both just stared at each other unable to say anything until Sihtric finally found his voice.

“Hi, sweetheart!” Sihtric greeted, a mix of surprise and embarrassment colouring his face. “What a surprise! Haven’t seen you in a while. Precisely five years, two months, and five days,” he added, his face flushing as he realised, he had unconsciously used his favourite nickname for you and his precise time calculation felt so awkward and out of place, that he instantly wished to dissolve into the ear if that would only be possible.

You did not notice anything of it. You barely registered his words beyond the unfortunate "sweetheart," that made your heart skip a beat, stirring an overwhelming blend of love and hatred within you. The conflicting emotions surged through your veins, blurring your vision, and before he could see the tears forming in your eyes, you turned on your heels and stormed out of the hall, knocking over a coffee table in your path, and never once looking back.

[cordonianroyalairlines]

All I Want for Christmas Part 1

Series: Cordonian Royal Airlines

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: Various

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Drake, Liam x Max

Word Count: 2,475

Rating: General

Warnings for this chapter: None

A/N: Listen. I had an idea for the @choicesprompts #rewritechallenge holiday edition. I had the whole scene in my head, but then I decided it needed a little lead-up. Then I decided the lead-up needed a lead-up and then these characters completely just took over, threw my script out the window, and took a whole detour to examine a little budding romance between Liam and Max when this story was supposed to be focused on Drake and Riley (and it still is, mostly).

Long story short, it got a little out of hand so I have split it into two chapters. I'm tagging all of the following:

@choicesprompts rewrite challenge, holiday edition TRR x Untamed Heart (one of my all-time favorite movies). @choicesficwriterscreations holiday prompt: Stuck together in the snow; @choicesdecember2023 Christmas and @choicesholidays: This is the worst Christmas ever.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Lassiter, have a pleasant stay!” Riley waved with a smile painted on her face as the last passenger debarked. The smile faded from her face as the guests disappeared down the jet bridge and her eyes took in the heavy snowfall blanketing the runway.

Max noticed her despondent expression. “You okay, Ri?”

She turned toward her best friend and coworker with a sigh. “Remind me again why I volunteered to work this flight?”

“Uh…because your sister is getting married in less than two months, and you needed the overtime to pay for the ridiculous over-the-top bachelorette party she wants.”

“Right. Amelia,” Riley nodded to herself, “I’m doing this for her.”

“I think you do too much for her, Ri,” Max clucked at her like a mother hen, “She takes advantage of your generous nature.”

“Oh, Max, it’s fine. You only get married once!”

He arched an eyebrow at her.

“Okay,” a giggle burst out of her, “Hopefully, she only gets married once!”

“Frankly, I’m surprised she found anyone willing to marry her. Is there something wrong with him?”

“Max!” Riley laughed as she thumped him playfully on the shoulder before turning serious. “I just hope we’re able to take off tomorrow as planned.” Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and she had promised her mother she’d be home so she could spend Christmas day with her parents and siblings.

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

Riley turned toward the voice to find the pilot striding toward them. Captain Liam Rys stopped in front of the flight attendants to announce, “There’s a blizzard headed straight for us.”

“Maybe we could just fly out right now—” Riley started hopefully.

“That’s a negative,” Liam cut her off, “that would put me over my flight limit for the day. We’ll proceed to the hotel as planned and hope for the best but be prepared to spend Christmas here.”

“Remind me why you agreed to fly into Estonia, the blizzard capital of the world, two days before Christmas?” Max grumbled.

Liam’s eyes flicked to him in annoyance. “Because of the obscene amount of money Mr. Lassiter was willing to pay for me to do so. You’ll thank me when you get your next paycheck and there’s a substantial bonus on it, on top of the holiday bonus you just received.”

“It’s okay,” Max shrugged with a tinge of disappointment in his tone, “My brother is in Japan anyway.”

Liam’s expression softened a little. “I’m sure he wishes he could spend Christmas with you.”

“Well, he’s flying with Leo, which he loves. I’m just disappointed that we’re almost never assigned to the same flight.”

Liam averted his eyes, unwilling to tell Max that was on purpose. Bertrand had requested that Max not be on the same flight as himself after the younger Beaumont’s enthusiasm became embarrassing for him. Max had gushed to a passenger about his pride in his older sibling, proudly articulating that, “My brother’s the co-pilot. He’s really good at it. He’s almost good enough to be the pilot!”

Liam shuffled his feet awkwardly, then nodded at Max, “Yes, well…. See you at the hotel.”

“You will?” Max’s head whipped around in surprise. Liam had never expressed an interest in seeing him outside of work before.

“Well, he was a little snippy,” Riley observed as Liam disappeared down the sky bridge.

“But did he seem….I don’t know…interested in-“ a flush crawled up his neck and then flared across his face, “Never mind. Of course not.”

Riley’s brow furrowed. “Interested in what?”

“Nothing. Let’s just get this cabin cleaned up so we can go.”

***

Riley awoke the next morning to sheets of snow pouring from the sky, blanketing the city in white as far as she could see from her hotel window. Which wasn’t that far. The snow was coming down too fast and too thick for her to see past the parking lot.

“Shit!” She aggressively pulled the curtains closed and dove back under the covers.

***

“So, what have you two been up to all day?” Liam asked as the four-member flight crew sat down for dinner in the hotel restaurant.

“Well, I slept in, then I called my mom to let her know I wouldn’t be making it home today and probably not tomorrow either. Then I drown my sorrows in a steaming hot bubble bath.” Riley responded as she pulled the menu over to her.

“Yeah, but then we saw a movie,” Max reminded her. Turning to Liam, he rambled excitedly, “This hotel has a theater in it. There was popcorn and everything! And then we took a cooking class! Can you believe that? The hotel chef hosts a class here once a week, but they did an extra class today because it snowed everyone in.”

Liam smiled at Max’s enthusiasm. “That sounds like fun. Now I feel boring. I read all day. Drake, what about you?”

“What about me?” Drake was busy shoveling a complimentary roll into his mouth.

Riley laughed. “Have you not been listening to the conversation? He wants to know what you did to keep busy today, you dork.”

Drake grabbed his water glass and chugged the cold liquid down to cover the fact that he had not heard a word of the conversation since Riley stopped talking. He was still picturing her in that bubble bath. When he sat the glass down, he responded, “I did my usual morning workout. The gym here is excellent. Since I couldn’t go for a run, I hit the heavy bags and then swam a few laps.”

“How many is a few?” Max asked.

“Twenty.” Drake’s eyes flicked to Max as he answered before landing quickly back on Riley’s face searching for any clue that she was impressed, or at least interested in him.

Not that he cared. She was a coworker, and he didn’t date coworkers.

“All before lunch?” She raised an eyebrow.

He wasn’t sure if she found his morning activities impressive or stupid. Her expression gave away nothing. “I find it hard to sit still,” he answered.

Liam scoffed, “You sit in the cockpit for hours at a time.”

“First of all, that’s different. I’m doing plenty as you well know and second of all, that’s why I need more physical movement when I’m on the ground.”

“Makes sense to me!” Max nodded emphatically as the waitress arrived with the menus.

They ordered their food and ate while making companionable chit chat. After dinner, Max suggested they continue the night across the lobby.

The hotel bar was crowded. The four coworkers quickly parted in the crowd. Drake and Liam navigated to a small table in the back and ordered drinks.

“You don’t want to ask her to dance?” Liam nodded across the room to the dance floor where Max and Riley were laughing and twirling to the music.

Drake followed Liam’s eyes and froze as he watched her sway and shimmy to the thump of heavy base. “I don’t dance.”

“I’ve seen you dance.”

“Not well.”

“So, you’re worried about embarrassing yourself in front of her?”

“What? No!” Drake reached for the tumbler of single malt scotch as the server placed it on the table in front of him and took a long pull as his mind spun with ways to shift the conversation away from his nonexistent love life. “What’s going on with you and Max?”

Liam startled so hard that bourbon sloshed over the rim of his glass. He stared at Drake in a blind panic. “What do you mean?”

“I mean….you usually pay no attention to what the flight attendants are doing when we have layovers. Yet you invited everyone to dinner tonight and you’re the one that was watching them dance. I’m pretty sure you’re not into Riley because if you were, you wouldn’t be pushing me toward her. So that leaves Max. Tell me I’m wrong.”

He lowered his glass to the table with a sigh. “It’s that obvious?”

“To me, but I’ve known you for a long time, Li.”

Liam blew out a long breath. “Shit.”

“Why don’t you just tell him you’re interested?”

“No,” Liam shook his head vigorously, “I can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“So many reasons! Starting with the fact that I’m his boss and that’s a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen.”

“Not if he likes you back,” Drake countered.

“That’s not likely.”

Again, Drake asked, “Why not?”

Liam scoffed as he gestured toward the dance floor. “I mean, look at him! He’s fun and popular and hilariously funny. And look at those dance moves! He’s interesting and cool. What could he possibly see in me?”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short, man.”

“I’m a stick in the mud and you know it. I was the president of my debate team. He was the lead in his school’s production of Beetle Juice.”

“How do you know- “

“Bertrand told me.”

“So, you’ve been pumping his brother for information?”

“Not the point. He’s amazing and fun and talented and I’m….me.”

“Liam, come on, man, you-“

“When I was twelve, I read law books for fun.”

“Geez, okay. Never mind. You’re definitely going to die alone.”

“Shut up,” Liam laughed, “I know you think I’m being dramatic.“

“You fly planes for a living,” Drake reminded him. “In my experience, a lot of people find that sexy.”

“Yes, well, I know your experience is quite extensive in that area but-“

“Are you calling me a man whore?”

“If the shoe fits….” Liam muttered into his drink.

“Insult me all you want, but it isn’t going to change the fact that you’ve got it bad. You should just tell him.”

“Oh, okay, Mr. I don’t like Riley.”

Fuck. Drake took another long drink. The conversation had come full circle. His eyes drifted across the room to find her again. She was still with Max.

***

Riley led Max off the dance floor and to a table as she flagged down a server for some water. “What’s up with you tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve been acting squirely all night and you keep looking around like you’re searching for somebody. What’s that about?”

Max flushed, “Ah….I think I might have a thing for Liam.”

“Wait…what?” Riley shrieked, then clapped her hands over her mouth.

“I don’t know….” Max dropped his eyes to the table. “I mean, you know, he’s hot or whatever.”

“Max!” She slapped his shoulder. “Since when? And why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged. “Just recently I’ve started to notice him more, that’s all. He’s always being nice to me and- “

“He’s nice to everyone.”

“I know, but it’s more than that! I can’t explain it, okay? It’s just…the way he looks at me sometimes….”

“I have never seen you act shy before! You hit on that model last week!”

“Oh, him? Yeah, but that was just--”

“That man is an international star, and you had zero qualms asking for his snap.”

“I know, but- “

“And he gave it to you!”

“Sure, but Liam isn’t just a pretty face, Riley! He’s so fucking smart and serious. He’s sophisticated, and there’s just no way he’d be into a goofball like me.”

“Ah, Maxey, anyone with half a brain would be into you.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”

“Yes. But also because it’s true.”

“No, it’s not. I’m the general fuckup in my family. Just ask Bertrand. Or my father.”

“Max, you’re not a fuckup!” Riley admonished. “You’re just different from your brother and father, thank God! I’m sorry, I know you love him, but Bertrand is the most boring man alive, and your father is a dick, so please don’t judge yourself by his opinion of you.”

“Bert’s not boring. He just had to grow up fast. My father put a lot of pressure on him and he, unlike me, rose to the challenge. I mean, look at us. He’s a pilot and I’m a flight attendant. Do you remember what my father said when I told him I wanted to be a flight attendant?”

“Yes, but on the bright side, it was the first time he acknowledged your sexual orientation.”

Max snorted, “That’s not funny, Riley.”

“You laughed.”

He bumped her shoulder with his own with an amused shake of his head, “If your point is that my father is a homophobic, controlling, abusive asshole whose opinion should mean nothing to me or anyone else with a lick of self-respect, then point taken.” He lifted his glass to her.

She lifted hers and tapped it into his with a grin. “My work here is done. Now go over there and ask him to shoot darts or something.”

***

“All right, well, this has been fun, but I’m going up to bed now.” Liam pushed away from the table and stood up, stretching as he did so.

“You really are a stick in the mud,” Drake laughed as the server cleared their table and asked if he could get them anything else. “Yeah, an unopened bottle of what we’ve been drinking tonight.”

Liam turned to go but froze as a voice that sent heat shocking through him spoke, “Hey…Liam….you wanna…go play darts or something?”

He turned to find Max smiling at him. Trying to push down the rising panic in his throat, his eyes flicked to Drake, who just gave him an amused smile, then back to Max, who looked uncharacteristically nervous. “Uh…. sure.”

“Great!” Relief washed across Max’s features. Then he remembered himself and begrudgingly turned to include Drake in the invitation. “Would you like to join us?”

“Nah, I’m good. You two go ahead. I’ve got a bottle of top-shelf whiskey, and this hotel has steak on their room service menu. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay then, goodnight and Merry Christmas,” Liam didn’t meet Drake’s eyes as he waved bye and then followed Max to the dart boards lined up against the far wall.

Drake chuckled to himself as he took the bottle from the server and thrust a handful of bills at him. He started for the door, then thought better of it and backtracked to the bar, reaching across and grabbing a clean tumbler to take to his room with him.

He had to dodge a bunch of drunk people on his way back, causing him to veer off course until he was damn near on the other side of the room.

It wasn’t so much that he saw her as he felt her presence. His head lifted and his eyes somehow went straight to her despite the dozen or so people between him and the table she was seated at. Without making a conscious decision, his body angled in her direction, and he made his way over to her, reminding himself the whole way that he didn’t get involved with coworkers.

[hesawifebeaterdanusethegun]

Part Four of my as yet untitled Dark City Doctor Schreber fic! Idk why I keep posting these but maybe some of you will enjoy them :3

Part One

Part Two

            It was hard to believe that Kat had only worked at Doctor Schreber’s office for about three weeks. It felt like she’d been there for years. Things were going well for her lately. She had a great new job, she could pay her rent and afford to eat on one paycheck, and she was even able to start paying down her debts. And her boss wasn’t a creep, she couldn’t forget about that. Finally working for someone who seemed to actually respect her as a person had changed her for the better, and it showed in her outlook.

            Before she’d gotten this job, life hadn’t always been kind to her. She had no family, no friends to speak of, in the City or anywhere else. She was on her own. Usually she liked it that way, being on her own was what she knew, just getting by without the help of anyone else was how she lived. She’d been proud of making it on her own for the time that she had, before that last job threw it all in the gutter.

            She had been walking absentmindedly for a few minutes, her mind wandering through these thoughts as easily as she wound through the streets of the City she’d grown up in. She was lost in though when a man stepped in front of her, blocking her way out of the alley she’d been walking down. He was tall, heavyset but not fat, wearing a long duster coat and sporting a black fedora on his head.

            “Where do you think you’re goin’ little lady?” He grinned, revealing a gold tooth on the right side of his mouth. He smelled as if he hadn’t bathed in several days and in that time had gone a bit overboard on the liquor, though these details she wouldn’t remember later to relay to the police, her panic sending her into fight or flight. Or freeze apparently because that’s all she’d done so far during this encounter. He slid behind her, an arm around her neck, and led her backwards into the shadow of the alley.

            “I was just gonna rob ya, but now I think I’ll have a little fun while I’m at it.” He chuckled as she felt the blade of a small knife at her throat. She panicked at this, slamming her body backward into the man, throwing him off balance and freeing herself from his grip. She turned, kicking him hard in the groin before running away as fast as she could (faster than she thought she could, for that matter). She heard him grunt and hit the ground as she ran. She hoped she’d left the bastard with at least a nasty bruise for his trouble, she’d realize later she’d also left him her bag as a consolation prize, but at least she’d gotten away safely.

She was closer to work than she was home, so she went there, it was the only place she could think of to go, hoping the Doctor would be there. She didn’t want to be alone right now. The elevator attendant eyed her strangely as he pulled the lever to take them to the third floor.

“Bit late for you to be here isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She replied shortly before giving a nervous laugh. They’d arrived at the third floor. She got out of the car and thanked him.

“Well have a good night, little lady,” he said before disappearing into the floor.

His words sent a fresh wave of panic through her and she slid to the floor, back to the wall, while she attempted to catch her breath. The doctor must have heard the elevator door clanging on its way down, as he appeared at the door of his lab a moment later. He looked around, confused and a little worried as to who might be visiting him at this hour, expecting the worst.

Then he saw Kat, hunched over with her back against the wall. He rushed over to her, kneeling in front of her.

“Katherine, can you hear me?” a bit of panic tinged his voice as he spoke. He took her hands in his, they were cold. She was breathing rapidly and he felt as if he could hear her heart hammering. She was in shock. He gently helped her up and led her to the room where they’d conducted that first interview, helping her to sit down on the overstuffed leather couch and wrapping a blanket he’d found in his lab around her back. He pulled his chair up close and checked her pulse, it was slowing.

“Katherine, can you hear me?” he repeated after he’d situated her as comfortably as he could. She slowly looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time. She nodded.

“I can hear you,” she stated flatly, tiredly.

“Katherine, what happened?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, I just… I didn’t know where else to go,” her voice was choked as if she were holding back a sob. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”

Gently he coaxed the story of what happened from her, his anger growing over what she’d been through that night. He wouldn’t let this happen again. Once she’d calmed down he called the police. About a half hour later two officers finally showed up to take her account of what happened. He stayed with her while they questioned her, his hand on her shoulder and a protective eye on her.

After the ordeal was over and the police report filed, they found themselves alone again.

“I’m so sorry about this, Doctor, I’ll just-”

“Daniel.”

“I’m sorry?”             “You can call me Daniel, Katherine.”

“I guess this means you should call me Kat,” she responded with a small smile.

Part Four Section One

[hexpea]

Ch. 17 - Anemone In Victorian England, Anemones were given as symbols of love and anticipation. It's believed that the blood of Adonis caused the flower to spring for the first time, Adonis having loved Aphrodite.

The morning sun painted streaks of warmth across the tatami mats as you stirred from the cocoon of tangled limbs you shared with Naoya, your body still humming with the aftermath of the night prior. A soft knock on the fusuma door interrupted the fleeting tranquility. You extricated yourself from Naoya's embrace and, with a sigh, approached the door.

Opening it, you found Daisuke standing there, a small smile playing on his lips. "Good morning," he greeted, his gaze briefly flickering towards the single futon that gave way to the shared warmth of your night.

"Morning, Uncle," you replied, doing your best to hide any signs of dishevelment or discontent. Naoya, still half-asleep, muttered about his mother leaving as he often did in sleep, the words lost in the haze of drowsiness.

Daisuke's eyes fell upon the purple hickey against your neck, a knowing glint in his eyes. You instinctively covered it with your hair, the action not escaping Daisuke's perceptive gaze. "Your flight back to Tokyo is leaving soon," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I suggest you and your...husband," he emphasized the word with a sly smirk, "get ready."

Naoya's mumblings persisted in the background as you nodded, your patience wearing thin. "We'll be ready shortly," you replied, annoyance lacing your tone. 

Daisuke handed you a set of papers, holding onto them sternly as he looked into your eyes. "Your honeymoon information. Remember what's expected of you."

You nodded and accepted the papers with a yank out of his stern grasp. "Thank you, Uncle. I won't forget."

As Daisuke turned to leave, Naoya's voice, still muffled by sleep, resurfaced. "Mother, don't go..." he murmured, the words lost in a sea of his dreams. He slightly flinched and twitched in his sleep.

Daisuke's eyes bore into yours, the weight of his gaze making it clear that he meant business. "Don't let him linger too long in dreamland," he advised, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Remember, you have duties to attend to."

A surge of anger flashed in your eyes, and you shot back with a defiant tone, "I know what I have to do, Uncle. Thank you."

Daisuke's smirk never wavered. "Good. Get it done," he said, his gaze lingering on you. It was clear that your once loving uncle's patience was also wearing thin.

You nodded curtly before sliding the door shut, turmoil boiling within your chest as you turned to look down at Naoya's sleeping form. You knelt beside him, gently shaking his shoulder, rousing him from his sleep. He stirred groggily, his eyes fluttering open with a hint of annoyance. "What's going on?" He grumbled, his voice thick with sleep and a touch of attitude.

You sighed softly, your patience wearing thin already. "We have to get ready," you explained, your tone clipped. "Our flight back to Tokyo is soon."

Naoya let out a low grunt of acknowledgement as he stretched out on the floor, his expression souring at the reminder of their impending departure. "And what's this?" He asked, gesturing toward the papers in your hand as he slowly rose to his feet.

"Daisuke gave us the itinerary for our honeymoon," you replied, your voice tinged with exasperation. "Plane tickets, the villa, the whole nine yards."

Naoya's lips twisted into a smirk. "Oh joy," he muttered sarcastically. "At least I get to meet my death in paradise."

You rolled your eyes in exasperation. "We have some more talking to do first," you mumbled under your breath, more to yourself than to Naoya.

He chuckled darkly as he got up and began to dress, his movements lazy yet deliberate. "At least you didn't deny your task," he quipped while buttoning his white shirt.

Your eyes narrowed at his words, your frustration boiling over. "I wouldn't have let you cum in me last night if I was planning your death anymore," you shot back sharply, your voice laced with venom.

Naoya's smirk faltered for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes before he masked it with his usual cockiness. "Well, lucky me then," he replied, his tone still dripping with sarcasm. The thought of accidentally impregnating you sent a shiver down his spine, a wave of panic threatening to engulf him. He wasn't usually so reckless, he cursed himself for jeopardizing your already fragile situation with his impulsiveness.

As Naoya loaded your luggage into the car, you stood by, feeling a sense of impending doom creeping over you. Just as you were about to join him, your father and Daisuke approached, their expressions stern and disapproving.

"Y/N," your father's voice cut through the air like a whip, "we need to talk."

You tensed, already dreading the conversation that was about to unfold. "What is it, Father?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Daisuke's gaze bore into you, disappointment evident in his eyes. "You know the gravity of your mission, don't you?" He said, his tone laced with accusation.

You nodded, a knot forming in your stomach. Daisuke had tattled on you once again... "Yes, Uncle. I understand," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how many times I have to confirm that with you."

Your father's voice turned icy as he reminded you of your failure at the reception, the bitterness in his tone palpable. "You ruined what your uncle had planned," he spat, "you jeopardized us."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words crushing down on you. "I won't disappoint you again," you repeated your promise, grinding your teeth together.

Your father leaned in close, the slightly blue hue over his aging pupils staring you down. "You had better not. You know what will happen if you fail me again, daughter."

Your heart sank at his words, the threat hanging heavy in the air. You knew all too well the consequences of failure in your family. You'd seen many family members face such punishment. As your father and Daisuke turned to leave, you hugged them tightly, the sense of finality in the embrace weighing heavily on your shoulders.

"Goodbye, Father," you mumbled, your voice choked with emotion.

Naoya's impatient voice interrupted the moment, his irritation clear as he called out to you. "Y/N, stop wasting time!" He snapped, his tone cutting like a knife.

You gave your uncle and father a small bow before turning to join Naoya, a bitter taste lingering in your mouth. As Naoya closed the trunk, you couldn't help but mutter under your breath regarding your father, "you have more in common with Zenin Naobito than you think..."

Naoya shot you a curious glance, but before he could question you further, you plastered on a fake smile and leaned against the car, ready to begin the next phase of your travels.

As the car pulled away from the Kamo estate, you couldn't shake off the heaviness you felt in your chest. The fading image of your home stirred conflicting emotions within you, the thought of never being able to return crossed your mind. Naoya, sitting beside you, noticed your somber demeanor.

"You're acting like you're never coming home again," he scoffed, a smirk playing on his lips.

You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to mask your inner turmoil. "Maybe I won't," you muttered under your breath, your words barely audible.

Naoya shot you a sideways glance. "What's got you so spooked?" He asked as you leaned forward and gave the driver an address to a certain gynecological clinic. His eyebrows shot up in surprise when you gave the address. "What are you going there for?"

You sighed in exasperation, "I need to consult a doctor to get the emergency contraception," you explained bluntly, leaving no room for further questioning. Your bluntness startled Naoya for a second, though his face didn't show it. "Do I need to remind you what happened last night?"

Naoya raised an incredulous eyebrow at your revelation. "Emergency contraception? You're overreacting," he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, "overreacting?" You shot him a pointed look, your frustration evident. "It only takes once. It doesn't help that I was on fertility treatments prior to Naohiro's death. Who knows if that's worn off yet...? I'm no fertility expert."

He let out a low, derisive chuckle. "Well, aren't you just a diligent little wife. Can't have any accidental heirs, can we?" His tone dripped with sarcasm. "It's been four months. I'm sure you're fine."

You shot Naoya a withering glare, your patience with his arrogance on its last ropes. "Shut your damn mouth, Naoya," you snapped, your frustration evident. "This isn't a joke."

Naoya just shrugged, his smirk never fading. "Hey, just offering a suggestion, princess," he replied casually, leaning back against the seat. "Maybe a little bun in the oven could buy you some time, give you an excuse to delay your little mission."

Your jaw clenched in anger at his insensitivity. "I'm not going to get pregnant just to stall for time, especially with your child," you retorted, your voice sharp with indignation. "And I certainly won't let you manipulate me into it."

He rolled his eyes, the mask of indifference slipping for just a moment as he cleared his throat. But what started as a simple throat-clearing quickly devolved into a fit of coughing, two bloodied cherry blossom petals spilling onto his palm.

Concern flooded your expression as you reached out toward him. "Naoya, are you okay?"

He quickly hid the petals from your view by enclosing them in his palm, his usual smirk back in place as he waved off your concern. "I'm fine, princess," he says, his voice strained. "Just a little tickle in my throat."

As you stepped out of the clinic, relief washed over you as you clutched the small package containing the pill. You wasted no time in getting back into the car where Naoya sat impatiently. Once settled, the driver pulled away from the curb and began their travel to the airport.

"About time," he muttered, eyeing the package in your hand with mild curiosity.

You shot him a glare as you tore open the package and swallowed the pill, washing it down with a bottle of water. "Don't start," you snapped, your nerves still frayed from the whole ordeal.

Naoya rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of concern in his voice as he replied, "just making sure you didn't get lost in there."

As you pulled up to the airport, your anxiety spiked at the sight of the looming planes. You gripped the armrest tightly, your knuckles turning white with tension. Naoya observed you with a raised eyebrow, his usual smirk replaced by a more contemplative expression. He had remembered the stress of flying to Kyoto that previous Friday.

The two of you navigated the airport with ease, this time Naoya kept his tanto knife stored safely in his checked luggage so as to not cause a scene at security. As your gate and departure time got closer, your anxiety continued to spike. Your blood pressure had gotten so high, it almost felt like the entire airport was spinning.

"You're not gonna faint on me, are you?" He quipped, though there was a softer edge to his tone this time. The two of you were walking down the air bridge to board your plane.

You shot him a glare, but the fear in your eyes betrayed your bravado. "Shut up, Naoya," you muttered, your voice trembling slightly. 

You felt sandwiched on the plane as you walked down the skinny aisle toward your seats. This time, with Naoya in front of you, he took the window seat. Despite, you found yourself shaking like a leaf beside him, trying to ground yourself with the 5-4-3-2-1 method, though it provided little comfort. 

Without any shared words, Naoya extended his hand towards you. You hesitated for a moment, uncertainty warring with your pride, but the intensity of your anxiety won out in the end. With a shaky breath, you reached out and grasped his hand, surprised by the warmth and reassurance it offered. Your eyes met briefly, and in that moment, you saw something flicker in Naoya's gaze, something softer and more genuine than you had ever seen before. It was gone in an instant, replaced once again by his trademark smirk which quivered slightly, but it left a lingering warmth in your chest.

"Thanks," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper and essentially inaudible from the rumbling of the plane. To your surprise, he gently squeezed your hand in response.

"No problem," he replied, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Just try not to pass out on me, okay? I don't want to carry your ass off the plane when it lands."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his attempt at humor, the tension in your chest easing slightly. "I'll do my best," you replied, offering him a small, grateful smile. He returned your smile with a small nod, coughing into his free fist and looking away.

Once arriving back in Tokyo, the familiar surroundings offered a temporary respite from the whirlwind of emotions. The echoes of your father's threats and Daisuke's warnings still resonated in your mind, the mounting tension between duty and personal desires had yet to find its resolution.

Upon returning home, the need to unpack and repack for the upcoming honeymoon gnawed at you. You dragged your luggage into the bedroom, sighing audibly as you unzipped the bag. Clothing spilled out, a chaotic mix of memories and necessities. Naoya lounged on the bed, a lazy smirk on his face as he observed you.

"Unpacking is such a hassle," you grumbled, glancing over at Naoya. "And we have to do it all over again for the damn honeymoon."

Naoya chuckled, his eyes tracing your movements. "Well, lucky for me, I've got a wife to take care of all that now. You'll handle the packing; I'll just reap the benefits of a well-prepared suitcase."

You shot him a wicked grin. "No way, Naoya. You're a big boy, you can do your own packing."

He scoffed playfully, getting off the bed to pinch your side, causing you to yelp. "Oh, come on, princess. Where's the fun in that? Besides, it's a wife's duty to ensure her husband's comfort, right?"

You rolled your eyes, pushing his hand away. "Your comfort isn't exactly my top priority, believe it or not."

Naoya leaned back, smirking. "Well, it should be. Happy husband, happy life, isn't that the saying?" He gave a sarcastic grin as you glared up at him.

"Happy wife, happy life," you grumbled with a smirk of your own as you separated your clothes from your luggage. "And it's still a fucked up saying."

He stretched his arms above his head as he let out a satisfied sigh as if savoring the comfort. "Well, you did good conquering those flight jitters on the way back. Bet the trip to the Maldives will be a breeze for you," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Don't remind me, it's a seventeen-hour flight," you muttered, shivering involuntarily at the mere thought of more flights.

Naoya, ever the opportunist, gripped your shoulders and leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he teased, "oh, please. Our honeymoon is going to be exciting, and not just because of the destination." He released you with a smirk, adding, "I've got some business to discuss with my father. Can you at least do something useful and empty out my luggage?" His tone was demanding, as if he expected nothing less.

You stared up at him suspiciously, the gears in your mind turning as you rolled your eyes. "And what's in it for me?" You retorted, refusing to let him think he could boss you around without consequences.

Naoya's gaze darkened slightly, and leaned toward you once more, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "Well, who knows? Maybe I'll reward you later, princess." He chuckled lowly before straightening up and leaving you to your thoughts.

"Stop calling me that!" You called out to him as he left, grumbling to yourself as you leaned back over your luggage.

Naoya entered the main room of the Zenin estate with a purposeful stride, his jaw clenched tightly as he approached his father, who seemed entirely absorbed in his paperwork that was sprawled out on the tatami mat in front of him. Naobito remained inattentive to his son entering the room, focused solely on the documents spread out on the mats.

Without looking up, Naobito spoke in a disinterested tone. "If you're here to whine about your marital duties, Naoya, spare me the theatrics. I have more pressing matters to attend to."

Naoya's fists tightened at his sides, his patience wearing thin at his father's dismissive tone. Swallowing his pride for once in his life, he forced himself to remain calm as he spoke. "No, Father, it's not about the damn honeymoon," he gritted out through clenched teeth. "It's about some...symptoms I've been experiencing. I need the clan physician to look into it."

Naobito finally lifted his gaze from the papers, his eyes narrowing as he studied his son's demeanor. "Symptoms?" he echoed, his voice laced with skepticism. "What kind of symptoms?"

Naoya hesitated for a moment, his pride warring with his desperation for assistance. "It's nothing," he muttered dismissively, his gaze flickering away for a brief moment before locking back onto his father's. "Just some coughing and...other things. I need to make sure it's nothing serious."

Naobito regarded his son with a scrutinous gaze, sensing there was more to the story than Naoya was letting on. But he chose not to press further, instead nodding curtly. "Very well. I'll let Dr. Kikuchi know," he sighed, his tone giving no hint of warmth. "But remember, Naoya, this illness doesn't get you out of your duties. You're going to the Maldives to satisfy the generosity of that Kamo asshole whether you like it or not."

Naoya bit back a retort, his fists unclenching slightly as he suppressed his frustration. "Of course, Father," he replied with forced civility, a bitter taste lingering in his mouth. "I'll see to it that my...duties...are fulfilled."

With a curt nod, Naobito returned his attention to the papers before him, effectively dismissing his son. Naoya turned on his heel and exited the room, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. As he made his way back toward your room, he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that his carefully constructed facade was beginning to crumble, revealing the vulnerability he had worked so hard to conceal.

Naoya returned to the bedroom, his steps heavy with the weight of his frustrations. As he entered, he noticed you kneeling on the ground, diligently unpacking his suitcase. His irritation spiked when he saw you folding his button-up shirts instead of hanging them up as he preferred -- as if you would know.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He growled, striding over to you with purposeful steps. Without warning, he yanked you by the hair, causing you to gasp in pain as he forced your body slightly upward.

You gritted your teeth against the pain, refusing to show any sign of weakness. "I'm unpacking your damn bag like you asked," you hissed, your voice tinged with defiance.

Naoya's grip tightened, his eyes blazing with fury. "Well, you're doing it all wrong, you incompetent little bitch!" He spat, his words dripping with venom. 

You couldn't help the surge of anger that coursed through you at his demeaning words. With a swift elbow to his stomach, you managed to break free from his grasp, causing him to double over in pain. "Fuck you, Naoya!" You snapped, your voice laced with contempt. "Be grateful I even bothered to unpack your sorry ass suitcase."

As Naoya staggered back, clutching his abdomen, a sudden fit of coughing overtook him. His coughs were rough and ragged, each one wracking his body with violence. He stumbled to the edge of the bed, his hand pressed against his chest as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Jesus, Naoya, you have to get that looked at," you muttered, concern evident in your voice as you watched him with furrowed brows.

Naoya nodded weakly between coughs, his face contorted in pain. "I...I know," he managed to choke out, his voice hoarse and strained. "I'm going to see Dr. Kikuchi before we leave for our honeymoon." He did his best to add a sarcastic tone to the word 'honeymoon' but the coughing drowned out his tone. 

As he pulled his hand away, your eyes widened in shock at the sight of blood and petals in his palm. For a moment, you were taken aback, but as he glared up at you, you lifted an eyebrow and scoffed. "Maybe you just opened your arrogant-ass mouth too wide near a cherry tree," you retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Naoya's glare intensified, his frustration palpable even through his fading coughs. "Sakura season was over a few weeks ago, idiot," he muttered between ragged breaths.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, refusing to let him see any sign of concern. "Well, it's got nothing to do with me," you declared with a defiant tone. "If I'd made my move, you'd be dead already."

Despite the pain etched across his features, he managed a smirk, his eyes flickering with a mixture of annoyance and something else -- something softer, hidden beneath layers of arrogance and pride. "Don't flatter yourself, princess," he retorted with a strained voice. "You're not that deadly."

You gave a soft smile and stepped closer to him, gently tilting his chin up so he looked up at you. "Come on, Naoya, let me take a look," you said softly, your voice devoid of the usual tension between them. "Open your mouth and stick out your tongue."

Naoya hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering with uncertainty, but ultimately he complied, albeit begrudgingly. As you inspected his throat, you noticed the irritation, furrowing your brow in concern. "Your throat looks pretty irritated," you remarked, your tone more serious now. "But cherry blossoms aren't poisonous unless eaten in large amounts, so it's not that. Unless you've developed a craving," you giggled.

Naoya, still looking up at you while you inspected him, felt a warmth spread across his cheeks, a blush coloring his usually stoic expression. You noticed the blush and quirked an eyebrow at him. "Are you feeling feverish at all?" You asked, your concern genuine despite your usual banter.

Suddenly, Naoya yanked away from your grip on his chin, his expression hardening as he stood up and stormed out of the room without a word. You watched him go, shaking your head in exasperation. "Typical," you muttered under your breath.

A few days later, as you finished zipping up your suitcase from re-packing, you glanced over to see Naoya sitting on the edge of the bed, his expression tense as he awaited the arrival of Dr. Kikuchi. You couldn't help but feel a pang of worry gnawing at your insides as you observed him. Had Daisuke done something to him without your knowledge? Despite his usually hard facade, there was something vulnerable about him in that moment, something that tugged at your heartstrings despite your better judgement.

The sound of soft knocking at the shoji door broke the silence, signaling the doctor's arrival. Naoya's jaw clenched tightly as he stood up to open the door, his demeanor rigid and guarded. You watched him from a distance, your curiosity piqued as Dr. Kikuchi entered the room, his presence exuding an air of professionalism and authority.

"Zenin-sama, good afternoon," Dr. Kikuchi greeted with a polite bow, his expression neutral as he glanced around the room. "Shall we proceed with the examination?"

Naoya nodded curtly, going back to sit on the edge of the bed. The doctor placed his bag next to him and opened it, retrieving the necessary items for taking vitals. As Naoya was being examined, you couldn't help but eavesdrop, pretending to fidget with your suitcase and packed belongings. Dr. Kikuchi began the examination, his movements methodical and precise as he checked Naoya's vitals and listened to his breathing. You watched with bated breath as the doctor then proceeded to examine Naoya's throat, his brow furrowing in concern as he inspected the irritated tissue.

"I'd like to discuss the result of your x-ray that you'd gotten the other day," the doctor began, his tone grave as he pulled up the images on a tablet. "There appears to be an abnormal growth in your bronchi, but it doesn't resemble cancerous tissue. Instead, it appears to be...roots of some kind, the core of it spawning outward from your heart and into your lung tissue."

Naoya's eyes widened in surprise, his mask of coldness slipping slightly as he processed the information. "Roots?" He echoed, his voice laced with disbelief. "What the fuck do you mean roots?"

Dr. Kikuchi sighed, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair in frustration. "I wish I could offer a definitive answer, Zenin-sama," he admitted, his expression troubled. "But this is unlike anything I've seen before. It's as if...something is taking over your respiratory system, but I can't say for certain what it is without further testing."

You listened intently, your heart skipping a beat at the gravity of the situation. Despite his callous demeanor towards you, you couldn't help but feel a surge of empathy towards him.

Dr. Kikuchi continued, his voice somber as he discussed the next steps. "I'll be running further tests on your blood work and the samples you provided," he explained, his gaze focused on Naoya. "But for now, I advise you to be careful and enjoy your honeymoon. We'll reconvene when I have more information."

Naoya nodded, his expression unreadable as he absorbed the doctor's words. You watched him closely now, noting the tension in his shoulders and the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. Despite the usual facade of indifference, there was a hint of fear lurking beneath the surface.

As Dr. Kikuchi prepared to leave, you couldn't help but step forward, your concern bubbling over. "Dr. Kikuchi, is there anything we can do to help Naoya?" You asked, chewing on your bottom lip. "Is there any treatment or medication that might alleviate his symptoms until we know more?"

The doctor regarded you with a sympathetic smile, his gaze softening. "I'm afraid there's not much we can do until we have a better understanding of what we're dealing with," he admitted, his tone gentle. "His cough is moderate and he should be stable for the entirety of your trip. But for now, I suggest he take it easy and avoid any strenuous activities. And of course, if his condition worsens, don't hesitate to contact me immediately."

You nodded, your heart heavy with worry as you watched the doctor leave. Naoya remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor as he processed the information. You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him, a desire to reach out and offer comfort despite the animosity between you.

"Naoya..." you began tentatively, your voice barely above a whisper. "Are you...alright?"

Naoya glanced up at you, his expression unreadable as he met your gaze. For a moment, there was a flicker of warmth in your direction. But before you could say anything else, he masked it with his usual facade of arrogance, his smirk back in place as he shrugged nonchalantly.

"I'll be fine, princess," he replied with forced bravado, his tone tinged with uncertainty. "Just another bump in the road, that's all."

Dates: June 24, 2018 - Naoya and Y/N depart from Kyoto to go back home to Tokyo. June 28, 2018 - Dr. Kikuchi examines Naoya but doesn't have any definitive answers.

[alreadyjackbestfriend]

"alone". jack harlow x reader

PAIRING: Jack Harlow x reader

GENRE: angst, angst, angst

TW: depression, family illness

A/N: I know that some of you are waiting for "by another man" part 5, but I've been very busy and I still haven't decided how to continue this story, so here I bring something small in the meantime <3.

When you met Jack, you were at a point you had never been in your life; after months of therapy and the help of certain medications, you began to feel other emotions besides sadness, and an inexplicable emptiness in your chest. Little by little, you were able to start appreciating and enjoying the little things in life, like having a hot coffee very early in the morning, and it was precisely there where your path coincided with Jack's.

You saw a tall man with curly hair walk through the door, his nose red from the cold and brushing his hands against each other in an attempt to stay warm.

You heard him order some tea, and when he turned around to appreciate the place, while he was waiting for it to be delivered, his gaze fell on you, and without knowing why, you smiled at him. Jack felt that in that moment all the cold evaporated from his body, the warmth of your smile making his cheeks tinge with red.

And the rest was history, eleven months had already passed since that, but at month eight everything had started to decline. Your grandfather had fallen ill, and you no longer had time to attend your appointments with your therapist, and more quickly than expected, your savings ceased to exist, preventing you from buying your medication.

If the first and second month had been hard, without your antidepressants, life was once again becoming unbearable. After helping your grandma take care of your grandpa, you would go straight to your apartment to sleep, or to cry. You didn't have the time or the desire to cook, so you just didn't eat, you didn't put makeup on anymore so you just poured some water on your face and brushed your teeth before forgetting about the world for a few hours.

Jack was away from you, and you made less and less effort to answer his calls, or to appear happy in text messages. You loved him, but your mind was winning the battle again.

You were waking up when you heard knocking on the door. You tried to cover your head with the covers and go back to sleep, but the pounding did not stop. Angry, you finally got out of bed and walked to the front door, ready to yell at whoever was bothering you, but the words caught in your throat at the sight of your boyfriend. He was serious, you could see that he didn't come to give you a nice surprise, but to resolve issues.

“Jack”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure…” you were confused by his lack of affection, but you couldn't get anything back at him if you didn't even answer his calls, right? “I didn't know you would be back so soon”

“neither do I. but i guess my girlfriend not answering my calls for a month was enough to make me take an emergency flight”

“Jack… I’m sorry… I”

“I already know everything, y/n, maybe I've only known you for eleven months, but I've really tried my best and I think I've done well, and I knew coming here first wasn't going to get me answers.”

you swallowed hard. jack did not know about your depression, in these months you had thought that there was no need to tell him. nor about your grandfather's illness, for what? you had always been able to endure everything alone, and you didn't want to drive him away with your problems, but you had done it anyway.

“where did you go?”

“does it really matter?”

“Yes”

“to your grandma’s”

“what did she tell you?”

“everything, y/n, everything you should have told me to be the boyfriend you need and you haven't let me be. I don't understand, is it that you don't trust me?”

"Jack" you said, closing your eyes, in a desperate attempt not to tear them up, "it's not that."

"So what is it?"

You opened your eyes, and two tears instantly ran down your cheeks, "I... I didn't want you to see me this way, I wanted you to remember me as in the months we were able to spend together, the happiest months of my life..." you sniffed, trying to dry your tears, "I didn't want you to know this version, the real me, the one I've been all my life"

“this is not the real you, y/n, this is you trying to live without help” he said, walking up to you and putting his hands on your arms, "and I can help you, y/n, and I want to, because I love you."

you closed your eyes, shaking your head, "this is not your obligation, Jack, I have to take care of myself"

"why? you don't have to go through everything in your life alone, y/n"

“yes I have to, I don't want to drag you down with me”

“You won't, I promise, we'll get through it together”

“no, Jack!” you said, letting go of his grasp.

"why are you so stubborn?!" Jack took his hair between his fingers, pulling it. he was desperate, he didn't know what to do to convince you, and he was hurt because he wanted to be a safe space for you, he thought he was, but you had made it clear that he wasn't. you kept quiet, crying, and you were like that for a couple of seconds, before jack spoke again, “you’re gonna make us both miserable, you know that, right?”

“I know. But I'd rather you be miserable just for a while, and then you can find a girl with a good heart, and a bubbly personality”

“You have a good heart.”

“Jack…”

“And I don’t want a bubbly personality, I want you!”

“I have a lot of problems, Jack.”

“so what you’re saying is I don’t love you enough to deal with that?”

“what I’m saying…” you breath deeply, “is that I love you too much to let you deal with this. It’s not fair to you, and I’ve been dealing with this alone all my life…”

“that’s not love, y/n, that’s fear”

You looked at him, feeling defeated, “maybe I don’t love myself enough to let you do it”

[halcyon-writings]

back at it again with random 2 am fics, the brainworm came to me unexpectedly, will there be a continuation? nav.

alicent sends you a look as you cut into the meat on your plate, you nonchalantly staring at anything but the queen only incenses her further. (well one casually eating as though they had not learned of what had occurred when the royal family attended the funeral of lady laena velaryon would, in fact, do that.)

the children too eat quietly, sensing some form of tension. the pre-meal prayer having already been led by prince aemond.

“a tangle of threads,” you hear helaena whisper, to what others would believe were incessant whispers, hinting at madness. but you knew them for what they were. prophecies. and prophecies could be dangerous things.

“a tangle of threads?” you inquire gently, and the princess’ expression brightens slightly, even though you couldn’t piece together most of them, you knew that she could come to you with her dreams anyway.

she nods, wiping her mouth with her napkin.

otto hightower, from his place across the table sends a disproving look your way that you return with an empty stare. (a personal favorite way in tormenting the man. his subsequent disturbed expression almost makes you crack a smile.)

alicent, even with her shoulder's squared tightly, smiles at her daughter. the girl's comfort with anyone outside of her immediate family was rare, and to see it plainly was even rarer.

“perhaps in a more comfortable setting, we may speak more of these princess,” you murmur quietly, knowing when to press the issue and not was also just as important.

“yes,” and so without a word, she continues to eat.

aegon simply makes a face, reaching for his goblet before frowning at the taste, the lack of alcohol clearly noticed.

he stares at you in silent protest, to which you raise your own cup, with no alcohol but of course he didn’t have to know that, and almost gapes in offense before remembering the company he was in.

you can almost hear him mumbling under his breath in high valyrian.

“young prince, it would do you no good to stumble on the many stair ways of this castle because you’re too full of wine,” you say, as he startles. the tips of his ears turn red and you snort, taking another sip from your goblet.

aemond hides a smile, a rare sight after recent events, and even you hold a tinge of regret for not having been there when it happened. (you couldn’t promise the safety of the princess’ children if you had been present however.)

“i hear vhagar’s been very receptive to the many flights you’ve taken with her, my prince,” you commend, “her previous inactivity, unfortunate as it was, seems to be a thing of the past."

the princeling brightens once more. from your peripheral, you see alicent's squared shoulders relax, but only just and the dinner remains a quiet affair.

[milfdean4dilfcas]

Prompt 2: Day 2

"You fell asleep and i started making funny faces at your kid to keep them amused and the steward mistook us for a couple au" find the prompt here

The airplane cabin hummed with the steady rhythm of flight as Dean settled into his seat, a tired but contented smile gracing his lips. His eyes scanned the rows of passengers, taking in the diverse array of faces around him.

Beside him, a man with a mess of black hair and bright blue eyes settled down, his attention focused on the small baby sleeping soundly in his arms. There was a serene aura about him, a sense of calm that Dean found strangely captivating.

As the flight progressed, Dean couldn't help but steal glances in the man's direction, intrigued by the quiet man and the child he seemed to be traveling with. It wasn't often that he encountered such a sight on his flights, and he found himself drawn to the scene before him.

As the hours stretched on, the little one grew restless, her tiny fingers reaching out to grab at anything within reach. With a fond smile, the man did his best to entertain her, singing softly and making funny faces in an attempt to keep her amused.

Amused by guy's efforts, Dean couldn't help but watch with a mixture of amusement and affection. It wasn't often that he got to see this side of people, and he found himself captivated by the sight. And the guy certainly seemed to be trying his best to keep the kid entertained.

"Hey," Dean called out softly. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but you seem like a great dad."

Castiel blinked in surprise at the unexpected compliment, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Oh, uh, thank you," he replied, his voice tinged with gratitude. "She's my niece. Claire. I'm just travelling back home with her."

Dean nodded in understanding, a friendly grin spreading across his face. "Well, she's lucky to have you," he remarked warmly. "I'm Dean, by the way."

"Castiel," Castiel introduced himself, returning Dean's smile with a small one of his own.

Dean couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the exhausted-looking man. He knew how tiring traveling with a child could be, having experienced it himself when his younger brother was still a baby. With a sympathetic smile, Dean watched as Cas gently rocked the sleeping child, a look of quiet devotion on his face.

As the flight wore on, the guy eventually succumbed to exhaustion, his head lolling to the side as he drifted off to sleep, still holding the baby close. Dean couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for the man's dedication, despite the exhaustion etched on his features.

Lost in his own thoughts, Dean didn't notice when the baby's attention turned to him, her bright eyes fixed on his face with unerring focus. Sensing an opportunity, Dean began to make exaggerated faces, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes in an attempt to make her laugh.

To his delight, the baby stirred, chubby cheeks dimpling with amusement as she watched Dean's antics. Encouraged by the baby's reaction, Dean continued his impromptu performance, eliciting soft giggles and delighted coos from the child.

Lost in their own little world, Dean and the baby didn't notice the curious glances from nearby passengers, nor did they see the amused smile of the flight attendant as she passed by.

It wasn't until Castiel stirred awake, blinking sleepily as he looked around, that Dean realized he might have overstepped. He quickly straightened up in his seat, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he offered Castiel an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry," Dean began, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I didn't mean to intrude or anything. She just looked so bored, and I thought—"

But Castiel only smiled, interrupting Dean's rambling apology with a gentle hand on his arm. "It's okay," he reassured Dean, his voice warm with gratitude. "Thank you for keeping her entertained. You didn't have to do that."

Dean felt a rush of relief flood through him at Castiel's understanding. "No problem," he replied with a sheepish grin. "She's a cute kid."

Lost in his observations, Dean didn't notice the approach of the flight attendant until she was standing directly in front of him, a warm smile on her face.

"Excuse me, sir," she said kindly, gesturing toward the blue-eyed man and the child. "I couldn't help but notice how well you two seem to be getting along. It's heartwarming to see a couple with their child."

Dean's eyes widened in surprise, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he exchanged a startled glance with Castiel. Before he could respond, Castiel spoke up, his voice calm and composed.

"Thank you," he said graciously, his voice tinged with amusement.

"Yeah, we're, uh, together," Dean blurted out, his heart pounding in his chest. "And this is our, uh, child."

To his surprise, Castiel didn't protest, instead offering a small, amused smile as he played along with Dean's impromptu lie.

The flight attendant's smile widened as she nodded understandingly. "Well, you make a lovely family," she remarked before moving on to attend to other passengers.

As she walked away, Dean exchanged a sheepish glance at the man, their cheeks flushed with embarrassment. But beneath the surface, there was a spark of something else – a shared connection that neither could ignore. "I guess we're a couple now," Dean joked awkwardly, his voice tinged with nervous laughter.

Castiel's smile softened as he met Dean's gaze, a warmth filling his chest at the thought. "Yes, I suppose we are," he agreed quietly.

As the flight continued, Dean and Cas found themselves drawn to each other, their conversation flowing easily despite the awkwardness of their initial encounter. They laughed and talked late into the night, sharing stories and discovering unexpected similarities between them.

And as the plane touched down at their destination, Dean found himself reluctant to say goodbye. Summoning his courage, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen, hastily scribbling his phone number onto a napkin.

"Here," he said, passing the napkin to Cas with a nervous smile. "In case you ever want to, you know, go out or something."

Castiel's smile widened as he accepted the napkin, his heart fluttering with anticipation. "I'd like that," he replied softly, his gaze warm and sincere.

And as they parted ways, Dean couldn't help but feel hopeful for the future, eager to see where this unexpected connection might lead. Who knew? Maybe a chance encounter on an airplane could turn into something more – something beautiful and full of promise.

[more-than-a-princess]

Gundham knew that Sonia's birthday was today, and he had spent no small amount of time fussing over what kind of gifts that she would like. He had to get her something. After all, she was one of the few people at school that treated him with kindness, although there were certain other motivations at play. Like his feelings for her. He'd been working at a vet's part time after school, all so he could save to get her something, since his family didn't have much money.

As the school bell rang, and the others cleared out of the classroom, he called out to stop her. "Ah my Dark Queen! If I may but request a moment of your time." The Dark Lord cleared his throat, suddenly feeling jittery and awkward. He'd never gifted someone something before.

"It is your day of birth, is it not? Friday the 13th... Kehehe how befitting for one such as you." He pulled out a decently sized golden hamster plush from his jacket, that looked similar to Cham-P. "I.. have something for you. A replica of Invading Black Dragon Cham-P. He will watch over you and protect you from the unseen calamity that threatens us all."

He lingered for a moment longer, his cheeks tinged red. He had one last thing to give her after all, but he was trying to work up the courage. "One final piece for you.." He pulled out a small wrapped box. Inside was a beautiful silver necklace with a diamond encrusted crescent moon and star pendent.

"Beware, this is actually a cursed artifact! Any other that would touch it would meet an untimely demise! However, your special abilities will protect you. I believe you would enjoy an occult piece such as this." He couldn't seem to make eye contact. "If you do not wish to accept it, I understand. My evil eye will be able to keep the curse at bay for some time! Whatever the case, I do hope you enjoy this special day. Fuhahaha!" Despite the grandiose words, he was feeling very flustered, certain she wouldn't want jewelry from him. Such trinkets were usually exchanged by significant others... and despite his insistence that it was an occult object, it really was just a normal necklace.

Sonia's Birthday Asks 2023 - No Longer Accepting (unless you have spoken with me already about a delay!)

It was one of her more unusual birthdays. To be fair, it was perhaps the first one spent overseas. On her actual day of birth, Sonia Nevermind's plans included breakfast in the cafeteria, attending class, and finishing the very last of her packing before taking a night flight home on the jet. Her assistant, the beacon of kindness that she was, had at least arranged with the security and flight staff for the Princess of Novoselic to be served a piece of her favorite chocolate cake in the air, a secret that would be kept from her parents before landing. With a few days until the annual masquerade ball and plenty of ceremonies and appearances before then, the last thing anyone needed was for the Queen of Novoselic to throw a fit that her daughter's gown did not fit her.

That, and a few horror movies streamed from the comfort of her seat or the queen-sized bed in the back of the plane. Even if she wasn't having a real, normal birthday party, she could still celebrate in her own way.

Her schedule did not, at any point, involve Gundham calling out to her as she got up to leave the classroom. That was something she hadn't planned for, from the genuine surprised look that she hoped masked the panic in her eyes. Despite the fact she adored his company and preferred it over all others (something she kept a secret, if only to not make their friendship awkward), she hardly knew what to say most of the time. Or at least, not until she went over it in her mind to ensure it didn't sound naive or silly: she was well aware that plenty of Hope's Peak students considered her to be uninformed, sheltered, or just stupid to the ways of the world, due to her upbringing and tendency to mix up common phrases. It was why she wanted to take care with her words yet be genuine towards him. It wasn't hard to be open-minded and friendly to Gundham Tanaka: he so often spoke of grand occult rituals, powerful gods, and of course, the variety of feathered, scaled, and furry friends in his care, who often showed up to class (to Sonia's delight. She never minded a bear sitting at its own miniscule desk, it was very well-behaved). 

"Y-yes it is!" She half-affirmed, half-squeaked through her smile. Friday the 13th, whether it was due to pure superstition or one of her favorite film franchises, was meant to be dark and foreboding. Sonia was, at present, neither of these things, as she tried not to look too long at his multi-colored eyes or his carefully bandaged hands that had just disappeared into his jacket. Surely he'd notice, she thought, and he only meant to wish her a happy birthday. Thankfully, she was pleasantly distracted from inappropriate thoughts with a soft plush placed in her hands, made to resemble Cham-P's orange, fuzzy image, complete with chubby cheeks and loving, beady eyes. 

"Oh! It truly is Cham-P, how delightful!" Sonia exclaimed, bringing the small toy up to her face, just as she would the real hamster, and brushed her cheek against its fur. "I feel very much protected already before my journey. He shall keep me safe and in good company during my travels." And after the travels in particular, when she had to set herself on a shelf to be the princess everyone required and expected her to be. It was more challenging every time she went home, now that she'd had a taste of what a normal life was like. What real friends were like. And then...well, what Gundham was like. He was in a place in her heart all his own, one that beat a little faster as he produced a second, smaller gift. 

She might have been sheltered in the ways of navigating a grocery store or using a washing machine (to the point her clothes were now always sent out for cleaning), but Sonia was not so naive to misunderstand what sort of gift could possibly lay within a velvet box. Her breath hitched in her throat as, shifting the weight of the plush to one arm, she opened it with her free hand. It was delicate, beautiful, and according to Gundham, a cursed artifact destined to protect her. He couldn't look her in the eyes for some reason, but if he'd had, he would've seen the soft smile that spread over her lips. Different from the bright and cheerful expression she showed everyone, this one, warm and wistful and wanting, was one she reserved for him. Only for him, though often only when she was alone and couldn't be caught dreaming. But there, in the empty classroom, she couldn't stop herself as she turned over the small pendant in her hand.

"It is perfect, I love it," She breathed, tracing over the tiny crescent moon. With a pink flush spreading over her cheeks, she raised her own, shy gaze to Gundham again. Swallowing, she had one chance to reenact the sort of scene she'd always watched in dramas but never had the opportunity to happen in real life. At least, not with anyone she wanted. "It is just...it is just that my hands are rather occupied by the protective powers of Cham-P, and I would very much like to wear this today, right now. Could you please assist me with putting it on?"

Setting the necklace back in the box and placing the box into his hand, she took a deep breath and moved her hair to one side, letting it fall over a single shoulder to expose the back of her neck. "Thank you, Tanaka-san. I will treasure it dearly. It will be a great comfort while I am at home. I wish I could have invited you to the seasonal festivities, but, my family...well, they insisted that this was an important royal event and I needed to give my duties my full attention."

In short: so Princess Sonia of Novoselic wouldn't eschew her royal ball duties for the solitary goal of asking Gundham Tanaka to dance with her. She certainly spoke of him enough at home and the staff, much to Sonia's dismay, couldn't keep her crush a secret. Within the castle walls, at least.

[gaps-between-stories]

Fic Preview

Check out a sneak peek at an upcoming chapter in my fic Growing Sideways

Ed knew he was being a pretty shitty passenger right now, legs bouncing incessantly as he barely managed a series of short noises in response to Kiri’s seemingly never ending chatter – he really couldn’t give a shit about the new scrub tech who managed to piss off the entire night-time nurse rotation. He would make it up to her later, all he could focus on right now were the signs counting down the kilometers to the airport; the steady shortening of distance only expanding the growing lump in his throat that threatened to constrict his airways if let go for much longer. 

Stede had been texting him since he left Mary’s last night, updating him on his travel status, quippy observations about the absolute lawlessness of people in airports, telling him how much he loved him. He’d also called when he could – during layovers and inbetween way too many bloody security checks and passport control.

At some point last night Ed had fallen asleep, a few hours into Stede’s 9 hour trans-Pacific flight – Stede had paid for wifi on that one to keep messaging Ed, even after Ed had fallen asleep. 

After Ed had managed to get several not-so-helpful hours of sleep – not like he’d been having any particularly restful nights lately anyway – he’d woken up to half a dozen voice notes waiting for him. By that point, Stede was already half an ocean closer, waiting for his too long layover in Tahiti. Ed had immediately called him, desperate to just hear his voice.

They talked the rest of his layover, until an absolute monster of a flight attendant made Stede put his phone away for his second to last flight. Wifi apparently wasn’t available on that one as Stede went radio silent for close to six hours until he landed in Auckland. 

Ed had been absolutely useless the rest of the day, not being able to sit down for more than ten minutes as he moved through the motions of waiting, impatiently, desperately, for five pm to roll around. The hours seemed to take their sweet, excruciating time to roll through the day, seemingly taunting him every time he checked his phone to find it was decidedly not five pm, because the universe definitely hated him.

He was pretty sure that at some point Kiri had pressed a breakfast pie into his hands around two pm, realising that he had definitely not eaten anything that day in between waiting for updates and texts and phone calls. 

Now, from the passenger side of Kiri’s truck, his thumb swiped his phone open every thirty seconds, anxiously waiting for any update from Stede after his last text an hour ago saying that he’d boarded his final flight. The flight was a short one, less than an hour, Ed knew, so he should have landed by now. He should have landed and disembarked and be there waiting. Waiting for him. 

After another excruciating three minutes, his phone buzzed on his thigh, lighting up with Stede’s face. Ed almost dropped the phone with how quickly he moved to answer it, cutting Kiri off in the middle of some new story (he really would make it up to her).

“Stede,” Ed barely managed to choke out, voice cracking and tinged with a desperation he couldn’t even bother to be embarrassed about right now. 

“Oh sweetheart,” Stede soothed, concerned, his voice a balm against Ed’s fraying nerves. “I’m here, my love, ready for you.” Ed was barely keeping it together, chest tight with a thousand emotions that threatened to burst if he didn’t get Stede in his arms in the next ten minutes. 

“Well, I’m ready for you, they are taking quite a while to unload the baggage despite the fact we’re quite literally the only flight here.” Stede addendumed, in his little bitchy tone that Ed was desperate for right now. 

“Okay, yeah, okay, we’re, um -” he looked back at Kiri, who held up four fingers as she mouthed “minutes” – “4 minutes away.” 

Stede gave a pleased little hum, a sound that spread through Ed’s chest as it warmed him from the inside out. “Oh, fab.” There was a pause where neither of them said anything, listening instead to the other breathing. 

“Do you want - ”

“Please keep talking - ”

They spoke over each other, Ed stumbling over his rushed words to get them out before Stede could even consider hanging up. Not to be dramatic, but Ed was pretty sure that if Stede hung up now, he would actually combust before making it to the airport. 

“Please, love, just keep talking. Anything. Just need to hear you.” He managed to mumble out, trying and failing to clear the ache in his throat.