#au: airport

[kingofbodyrolls]

Gosh, I remember reading this a few years back and I've actually read it multiple times, it's just so incredible 👏🏾 the smut is freaking hot, and Jimin is just 🤯 well, he's being a sweet fluffball, but then a smexy God 🥵 like wtf! The duality is insane! One of my favorites and I'm looking forward to rereading part two ✨💜

turbulence | (m)

pairing: Jimin x Reader genre/warnings: smut smut smut! in public. lol. fingering, oral sex, they’re in the airport. honey blonde jimin in all black because that warrants a warning. words: 9.3k summary: On your first flight the cute boy next to you helps to sooth your nerves, and on the second flight he soothes something else.

a/n:  Yeppeun – pretty. Jeh-bahl – please/I��m begging you. Just in case you were wondering :P enjoy!

sequel – accelerate

Trying your best to hide your nervousness, you smile shyly at the airhostess as you step over the threshold and onto the aircraft, showing her your ticket and being directed towards your seat. Finding your place, you take a deep breath and settle in, claiming your window seat and quickly putting your bag on the seat next to you and rifling through. After a moment of looking you become confused, positive you’d put your earphones in before you’d left the lounge but quickly deducting that you must have left them behind.

“Seriously?” Pinching the bridge of your nose with a sigh, you lean back into your seat and look out the window, watching the people prepare the runway below you. The plan had been to listen to music and possibly nap for the next few hours of your flight but the chances of relaxing with all the noise from the plane and the turbulence you would no doubt encounter would make that very hard.

Having accepted your fate and trying to calm your nerves, you’d sunken so far into your seat with distracted concentration that the clearing of a throat wasn’t enough to catch your attention and you were jerked back to the present by fingertips tapping against your arm. Jumping in slight shock, you try to swallow the gasp on your lips and quickly lock eyes with the boy leaning towards you, his fingers still slightly brushing your arm.

Keep reading

[awnrii]

epic the musical except it’s modern day except their flight home from a business trip got severely delayed. and nobody dies

[kittyoperas]

I wish I knew how to quit you.

[zu-is-here]

*relaxing elevator music*

[kingofbodyrolls]

This was just really really amazing; utterly funny (like I was laughing at certain points), so much sexual tension that evolves into satisfying smut 😗

Flight 18

Summary:  Korean Air Flight 18 leaves daily from Los Angeles traveling to Seoul.  You’ve taken this flight before, but this time you’ve got an irritating passenger in the neighboring seat.  Little did you know that he would end up giving you the ride of your life.

Wordcount: 9500 ish.  This was only supposed to be a small drabble, but I got carried away.

Warnings:  Sex sex sex!  Oral sex for everybody.  Finger banging.  Penis in vagina. Sex with strangers! Sex in a bathroom so if you are germ phobic, good luck with that.  Also, dirty talking vulgarity galore.

Notable:  It’s Hoseok y’all!  So you can stop nagging me about how I don’t have any Hobi fics!

____________________________________________________________

“See something you like?” The man sitting across from you at the boarding gate stretched out his hands and spread his knees further apart, as if inviting you to take a closer look.

“I… I’m sorry.  I was just zoning out.  I didn’t even realize I was looking in your direction,” you lied.  

“Uh-huh.  Sure.  Tell yourself whatever you need to, “ he replied with a smirk.

You ignored him, raising the book you had been reading higher, covering your face in an attempt to hide your embarrassment.  The truth was you had been staring, but not because you were attracted.  Instead you were appalled that anyone would show up to an airport dressed like that.

This guy, whoever he was, had shown up to the airport wearing shorts that appeared to be nothing more than a pair of gray sweats that had been cut off at the knees and a denim jacket that he had only bothered to use two buttons to close.  He had on no shirt underneath and with his jacket being barely closed, a large portion of his upper chest and his abdomen were visible.  His sweat-shorts were hung low on his hips to make sure the waistband of his Balenciaga underwear was visible for all to see.  A hat kept his hair completely covered – the only modest thing about him.

To think that guy would presume that you might be looking at him because you found him attractive was laughable.  He looks like the kind of guy who got kicked out of his apartment for not paying rent.  Probably couldn’t afford rent because he wasted all his money on stupid designer underwear.  His landlord probably kept the rest of his wardrobe as collateral.   

You stifled a laugh, amused by your own thoughts on why this stranger showed up to the airport looking like that.  Attracted to him? As if.

Keep reading

[andluxup]

inktober day 1: backpack

decided to make a new blog and post all of my inktober art so far! this may or may not have been a conversation i had with myself at the airport...

[moonshynecybin]

i thinkkkkk this one is gonna be part of something larger but here's the first part of a fic (2.8k so far) where the first chapter is literally just rosquez having a conversation in an airport set around jerez 2024… i also wanted to add some good ole marquez brother goof arounds:

“Look, if you’re just gonna make fun of me—”

“No, please! I wanna hear the rest of this,” Alex says, leaning into Marc’s space and raising his eyebrows, goofy. It makes Marc let out a big laugh— full and loud. He stretches against the plastic of the airport gate seating, the movement pulling at overtired muscles. It feels like they’ve been here forever.

It’s been a long journey back to Spain— storm delays and rerouting stranding them in the airport for hours. They’re still here waiting for a connecting flight, puttering away next to their gate and shooting the shit. It’s been a good weekend —a podium for him— but he’s tired, and ready to be home.

“No no no no, I’m done.” He settles into his seat, pushing Alex’s face away from him. Alex cackles, and Marc points at him. “But you should do that professionally!”

Alex pulls one of his mild, exasperated faces, and it makes Marc smile wider. They’re probably being too loud. Marc doesn’t care.

“You know,” Alex points out, dragging out the last syllable of know so it sounds like knowwwww, “You are the world’s absolute worst loser.” 

Marc shrugs. “It’s a good thing, too— in our line of work you have to be.” He’s unrepentant. It’s how he’s built.

He ignores the face that Alex is surely making and leans down to rummage through his carry on, looking for headphones. For sure, if he has to lose to anyone, he’d prefer it was Alex. With him, the nagging bite of loss usually manages to morph into something lighter, more fun, just because he knows Alex won’t ever blame him for how he gets, how involved he can be in winning. That doesn’t mean he enjoys losing—he’ll never enjoy that—but it takes it back to being a game. None of the anticipation of a sour aftermath that he’s faced in the past, the wait for the other foot to drop, and the play to slide towards resentment without him noticing.

“I doubt losing at a video game will help you gain a competitive edge on the track,” Alex asserts dryly, turning his attention back to his phone and tapping open the Kindle app. He’s been obsessed with those fantasy novels, lately. “You can’t win at everything.”

“Trust me, I know,” Marc laughs, rubbing at his arm. He needs to call his PT. Whatever. “But! I don’t think that first thing is true.” Banishing the thought from his head, he leans over to poke Alex in the arm. Alex swats at his hand, not looking up from his book, and Marc pokes him again, harder this time. “I have a winner mentality.”

“You have a loser mentality. You just lost.” Alex is staring at what Marc thinks is the table of contents.

“Semantics.” Another poke.

Alex looks up, incredulous. Victory. 

“You were cheating! And you still lost!” 

“But you don’t have any proof of that.”

And Alex shakes his head like he can’t believe him, laughs again. “You are insufferable.”

Marc grins and Alex sighs, scrubs a hand over his head.

“I’m going to go grab some water. Maybe eventually they’ll let us board this fucking plane. You want anything?”

Marc shakes his head.

“No, I’m good.” He ate earlier. He opens his phone back up, thumbs over his home screen. Nothing looks exciting. He hasn't been on instagram so much lately– avoiding comments.

He sighs and contemplates opening his dating app. He doesn’t.

Nothing’s felt— he’s busy. 

It’s always been too much— too complicated with his schedule, with travel, timezones, turning over battles in his head. Braking maneuvers and tire pressure edging out any relationship before it got off the ground properly. Lately, since his arm, and since Alex had told him to go find someone— it’s been nagging more.

But no one gets it. Not like he does. And he’s just never found someone that felt like they were worth all of the effort it would take, keeping a relationship together in a life like his, bending himself around racing. There’s been flashes, some false starts, but nothing has ever–

He hears a distracted chuckle behind his back, a light sound, happy, and it hooks him, hard. A sucker punch. He glances over, his previous train of thought abandoned.

It’s— 

He's heard that laugh before. 

They haven’t seen each other— properly, actually exchanging words— since last year. The end of the season. They were both in the bathroom at the Lights Out Gala. Marc in a tux, Vale in a flannel. Marc had held the door for Vale as he had left. 

Vale, once he’d registered his presence, had thrown him a thin lipped, restrained smile, and thanked him. Asked him vaguely about his surgery. Moved on.

And now he’s on the phone, a few feet away, and he probably hasn’t even seen Marc yet. Instead, he’s chattering lowly, head slightly tilted as he drags a thumb over the handle of his suitcase.

Marc has to wonder if stuff like this happens to other people.

Alex hasn’t left yet, but is about to. He's noticed, of course he noticed, and he tugs on Marc’s sleeve, voice low. “You need me to stay?”

Marc shrugs, shakes his head. He's been around Vale before, after everything, in close quarters even. It's fine. 

He's had a lot of practice.

Those last few years, before Vale retired, after Argentina—after Sepang, really, though he maybe hadn’t processed it yet— he worked on it a lot. On taking Vale off of the pedestal, making him more of a person. On realizing he was always going to have a different relationship to Vale than Vale would to him.

He works hard at that distance, enforcing it, maintaining it. Tending to it.

And he had gotten somewhere better, once he had realized that. Had stopped trying to say hi to him every time he saw him. Vale is his hero, and he knows by know that that’s never going to change completely. The precise way his presence lights Marc up, makes him giddy, the disbelieving undercurrent that Valentino Rossi knows his name— but he also has come to terms with the fact that it's never going to be like he imagined when he was twenty, and he thought maybe he could matter as much to Vale as he did to Marc.

He knows that.

But it was an adjustment. It took some time. It’s better now. He's used to it.

Now, he can sit at an airport gate with him and ignore him.

He’s probably been staring at his phone screen a little too hard. 

“Allora— so, how have you been?” A voice asks, simply, closer to his ear than it should be. Of course.

He puts the emphasis on you, the full force of him narrowed on the word. Marc stays very, forcibly still. Projects calm.

Vale’s across from him, now, got there without him noticing. His legs are spread out wide in the seat across from Marc, hat pulled low and posture easy. His face is neutral— pleasant. Marc knows that means absolutely nothing.

Vale’s gaze charts over him, carefully, taking him in. Marc swallows, steels his jaw.

Vale has always had a way of observing. Leveraging that beam of attention. He doesn’t miss a thing, never has, and he looks good— tired, but relaxed, thin frame bundled up in a hoodie, hat pulled low over his forehead. Incognito mode, Marc remembers him joking sometime in 2013, after they had snuck out of the paddock to grab a drink at a bar post media day. But you always dress like that, Marc had said, probably too confidently, and Vale had laughed, had leant in and said Well, if I want them to recognize me, I just wear the Yamaha shirt.

Marc blinks. Vale’s eyebrows are raised, expectantly. He’s been quiet too long.

“Why?” He asks pleasantly. No use pretending.

“How have you been?” Vale asks, evenly, continuing as if Marc didn’t talk. “It has been a few months, yes? Since we’ve seen each other? The gala?” He looks away, shrugging. “I wondered about your arm– it seems better.”

“You could have texted.” Marc says, furrowing his brow. He's being overly serious, he knows, but he’s curious. He didn’t expect Vale to text, knew he wouldn’t actually. It still, despite it all, prickled at him. Whenever he was injured, before, Vale would always ask. He hadn't, anytime in the last four years, despite the severity of the injury.

So why is he asking now.

Vale huffs a laugh, swipes a thumb over his phone case, waves it lazily. “My number, it ah, leaked.” He makes a face. “I had to get a new phone a while ago. I don't think your contact made it over.”

It’s better than him deleting it. Better than Marc expected, to be honest.

It could also be a lie.

“Oh. Well.” Marc, says, unsure how to continue. He smiles at Vale anyways, lifts his good shoulder, combing through his brain for what he actually wants Vale to know about his arm. Not lying, just slightly to the left of the truth. He doesn't want anything getting back to Pecco, but Vale can sense insincerity from a mile off.

“I can't complain. The last surgery, it helped.”

Vale’s eyebrows jump, making a little grimace. “I heard, it did not look very pleasant.”

The documentary, Marc thinks, Did he watch the fucking documentary?

“—Now it’s just the bike? Managing the new braking style?” Vale asks. Marc cannot fucking remember the last time Vale asked him two questions in a row.

“Ah, you know. Trade secret.” Vale’s team is also vying for the GP25 — best to keep as much as he can close to his chest.

Vale raises an eyebrow and Marc folds like a cheap stack of cards.

He sighs. nods. Who cares. Vale’s watched him ride for years, he knows Marc still has a little bit to improve on the year old Ducati. He’s seen the data.

“Now it’s just the getting the bike, nailing the setup.” He goes for the PR version of the truth. Nevermind that his arm is still in PT three times a week. The Ducati is good— Marc is having more fun. Fighting at the front. Adjusting easier than he thought he would.

But it’s not a Honda. He needs a bit more time, and he needs– he needs the factory spec. And it looks like Jorge Martin might be the one to get it.

Vale nods, neutral, like the conversation’s ending, like he’s being gracious with Marc’s answer, letting him keep his emotions close— and a sharp, unexplainable feeling digs into Marc’s chest, that same way it did when he was watching him from the seat over in whatever press conference, those first few years. He wants to keep Vale talking. Wants him to keep looking at Marc, wants to— Marc doesn’t quite know, exactly, but it feels a lot like he does on track, when he just can’t quite keep himself from reaching for the win.

He speaks. Vale’s gaze snaps back to him, head following after, a little lazier.

“You? How's endurance racing? Missing anything about MotoGP?”

He says like he doesn’t know. Like he doesn't keep tabs. Like people don’t ask him about Vale’s results.

Anyways, it's hard to be involved in MotoGP and not hear about Vale, even when he’s been retired going into three years now. People talk, always eager for Marc’s opinion on his great rival.

There’s a quirk at the corner of Vale’s mouth. Like he’s won something. Marc curls a fist tight, ignoring the feeling that he’s given information away.

“Some things.” Vale replies, an odd glimmer to him. His brow furrows, then: “I miss how it was around ten years ago, more.”

Marc blinks.

“— Getting old, I mean. It was not so fun, there at the end. I could see everything I wanted to do, every move I would've made on track, ” He sits down across from Marc, leans back in his seat, long torso bending with his lazy posture, the mood shifts and he laughs. “But I was too old! It was harder.”

Of course that’s what he meant. Marc doesn’t— he doesn’t miss Marc. doesn’t think about him much at all, probably. Wasn’t saying he missed how it was between them, ten years ago, when they were friends. Marc knows that.

“I'm getting up there, now.” Marc jokes, “Acosta, he is on the horizon.” He’s not sure it lands, but Vale huffs a laugh anyways, rubs at his eyebrow.

“You?” Vale asks, incredulous. That x-ray quality is back in his vision. He always— He used to always get Marc that way, when he would dial in and make Marc think the words he was saying mattered to him. 

Vale shakes his head, shimmies a shoulder, wags a finger. “No no no no, don’t try that– you are still young, you cant talk to me about old.”

Marc grins. He doesn’t feel it so much, now, the years between them, but it’s a nice reminder of how good it felt, being the up and comer on the scene. The next Valentino Rossi. That was fun.

But he’s older now, has been in the paddock longer than almost anyone, just like Vale had– and he can feel it, dragging at his arm. can see it, in the lines under his eyes, the unfamiliarity of the faces around him.

He wonders how Vale did it for so long. That slow decline— new people popping up every day, ones who learned from him, perfected ideas he pioneered, then using them against him. 

He remembers how he felt on the podium yesterday, and decides not to ask. He leans back.

“Ehhhh, you are not really that much older than me.”

Vale’s expression doesn’t change, still set at his default neutrally animated, but something charges in the air, and Marc gets the sense he wants to say something, toying with the edge of the cliff.

Marc searches for something that won’t rock the boat. He settles on a compliment.

“Pecco was good this weekend— He beat me. You trained him well.”

Vale’s shoulders slide down, relaxing minutely. The charge slips away. Success.

“Ah, he’s a lot better than he was when you showed up at the ranch ten years ago, yes.” 

Marc leans forwards, “Hey!” So much for avoiding fraught topics.

Vale tilts his chin, considering. “What did you say about him? I don’t think it was flattering–”

“—That was ten years ago! I’m wrong ONCE.”

“Once is enough!”

“Apparently.” Marc hits back. 

And it’s good— they’re laughing, Marc thinks, he’s laughing— but that last bit, the apparently, hangs there, snagging in Marc’s mind.

Once is enough. Apparently.

Vale’s smile dies slowly, once it’s clear Marc isn’t about to continue, and it’s odd. Not fraught, for once— though Marc hasn't been the best at recognizing when it was in the past, but he’s pretty sure here. The moment dangles for a second, as they sit across from each other in an airport looking at each other. Vale’s face is doing that thing it was earlier, where he seems to be on the verge of some moment, and his mouth opens. For some reason, Marc flushes hot on the back of his neck. His skin feels tight, and their eye contact holds.

“All good?” It’s Alex, coming back with his Smartwater.

Vale sits up straighter, immediately, posture snapping into place. He nods at Alex, who ignores him, and slides back into his seat. He shrugs at Marc, a little in-joke. What did I do? it asks, fully knowing the answer. Alex has never been as shy as Marc is about his feelings concerning Valentino Rossi. 

And it's that above anything that makes Marc feel like he’s dunked his head in ice water, reality crashing in. The moment snaps as Vale tucks back into himself, leaving Marc off his balance. He feels dizzy and a little off kilter, like he’s done something wrong, like he’s gotten away with something, something illicit, which is ridiculous — he’s just been sitting here.

Nothing’s even happened. They've been two meters away from each other the entire time.

They haven’t even touched.

Vale’s eyes are boring into him, blue and clear. Alert. And Marc catches a flash of— concern, maybe, his brow is creasing— and it tugs at Marc, makes him want to glance back and make him feel easy, lift the corner of his mouth, shrug his shoulders and dismiss Alex’s chilliness. Makes him hot and nervy, out of his skin with the need to do something he doesn’t have a name for.

He smiles.

Maybe he is doing something wrong.

Vale smiles back, and it’s brilliant.

The flight attendant comes over the PA. They’re boarding.

[s0lairee]

it may be a wrench in his pants, but he is happy to see you.

my flight got delayed by two hours. so here, enjoy a lil milo sketch. special thanks to @th3saurus-r3x @moonvalley94 @angelcactus for encouraging car mechanic!milo <3

ft. my fave highlights under the cut

[kingofbodyrolls]

I read this some years ago actually and never got around to reviewing it. In time for my upcoming birthday, I’ll be reading and recommending old fics that I love 💖 This is just so fucking hilarious, don’t get me started. I laughed from beginning to end 😂 And it’s still as good as I remember, if not even better??? Like ✨ I’ve highlighted a few of my favorite parts from the fic. I don’t want to give too much away, but these lines are just so damn hilarious!

Jimin is delighted to comply. “Oh, I’ll follow you into your private area, alright.”

“The only explosive I have is this bomb ass.”

It’s a hot and heavy pant spoken from his red-bitten lips. One look at him and there’s tsunami in your underwear. You’re not sure if you’re aroused, if you’ve gotten your period, or you accidentally pissed yourself because he startled you to death with his sudden murmur. But the only thing you offer him is a glare.

“Well…I think I have something dangerous today.” Jimin looks down and you make the mistake of following his line of sight. Your eyeballs land on his crotch, where there’s a slight tent in his pants, a bulge that looks sizeable. He notices your staring and eggs you on, “Should check to see if that’s a…weapon.”

Like how can you not find this fucking hilarious and brilliant? The writing in it is also just pure gold, the banter, yeah, everything is spot on!

Please go read it, it’s one of my faves 💯

[1/2] the airport couple: p[ass]enger from hell

➾ 8k, frequent traveller jimin x tsa agent oc, enemies to lovers

COWRITTEN WITH @jimlingss 

➾ Summary: As a TSA agent, you expect your job to be relatively easy, most passengers these days follow the rules to the T in order to avoid prolonging their custom checks. But not a certain Park Jimin, who seems to have a problem understanding what 100ml is, or the very simple fact that gadgets must be taken out of the bag, and bomb jokes are strictly off limits. Frequent traveller Park Jimin is your nemesis, but darn is he a cute one.

➾ Warnings: Tons of crack, sexual innuendos, descriptions of dick pics, Jimin being an annoying but cute lil shit :-( 

➾ this was conceived after @jimlingss​ and i were talking about how gigantic jimin’s ass is and how it wouldn’t fit in the aisle of a plane so he’d have to turn sideways to walk down it. it was thoroughly enjoyable to write and i loved working together with her again :”) please send her some nice messages! also, there will be a second separate spin off to be posted over at her account later on.

Keep reading

[laylajeffany]

New Story! Christmas Bakery AU

“I bet the reason you can’t measure with your heart is because you don’t even have one!”

Wednesday finally finds a break in her case; all of the victims the serial poisoning she’s been investigating had treats delivered from the Sprinkle of Sunshine Bakery. 

Burned out by the holiday season rush, the last thing confectionery owner and head (re: only) baker Enid needs is a miserable raincloud entering her kitchen, demanding her time. Reluctantly, she allows the detective to stay and investigate, so long as she dons an apron and picks up a piping bag. 

🎄🍪🍯 Part I of III, to be complete before Christmas 🍯🍪🎄

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 26

Part 1 Part 25

“We can’t just make Steve wait even longer because some stupid kids–” Eddie yells.

“Keyword kids, Munson,” Chief Hopper shouts back.

“–got themselves in a little bit of trouble!”

“You mean the goddamn Feds staking out their houses? With guns?” Chief Hopper asks. “That’s the ‘little trouble’ you’re talking about?”

“Why is that my proble–”

“Eddie,” Will says. 

Eddie stops pacing the length of the living room to look down at where Will’s curled up on the couch, hunching in as the voices raise. He sighs, ragged and angry, but sits on the couch, flapping his hand dismissively toward Chief Hopper. “Just fucking go,” he says meanly. “You were always going to.”

“Boy,” Wayne says, warningly. 

Eddie groans. “Fine, just hurry, okay?” Eddie’s nails are ragged from chewing on them. He doesn’t look up as his uncle and Chief Hopper leave the house. 

Mom, Jonathan, Barbara, and Nancy are hunched over at the table drinking coffee and analyzing the maps of the areas surrounding  the lab. Will feels like his intestines are tying themselves in knots. Mike could be being held at gunpoint by now with the rest of his friends. 

Steve’s still stuck on the other side, thirsty and hungry and running for his life. And alone. 

Eddie jumps up and starts pacing again, running his hand through his greasy hair. Some of it comes out in a clump when his fingers get caught in a knot. He looks like he’s unraveling. Without Steve, there’s nothing anchoring him here. Will’s afraid he’ll float away.

“You’re not the only one worried, you know,” Nancy says curtly, not even looking up from the map in front of her.

Eddie stops in his tracks. “Excuse me?” he demands.

“Nancy,” Jonatha warns.

“My parents' house is being watched,” she says, using her level voice like a weapon. “Mike is out there, trapped and defenseless.”

“Yeah, but–”

“And I care about Steve, too,” she snaps.

Eddie’s fingers curl into fists at his sides, one of his fingers sticking out strangely, like it can’t quite curl like the rest of them. 

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but he does sit down, teeth grinding hard enough to be audible. 

They go back to waiting in silence. It doesn’t last long. 

The door bursts open, people pouring in. Mike first, standing by a girl with a shaved head that WIll doesn’t recognize, Lucas and Dustin hot on their heels.

It’s Lucaus who spots him first, yelling, “Will!” and colliding with him with enough force to send him sprawling partially on top of Eddie. More arms follow one after another. Dustin, then Will’s, until they’re all piled onto the too-small couch, sending Eddie falling off the side with an oof.

Voices overlap, demanding answers Will’s not sure how to answer, where to start. He feels his breathing hitch.

“Alright, back off kiddies, let him breathe!” Eddie says, pulling bodies away from Will until he’s got a little bubble around himself. 

Dustin still has his palm on Will’s calf, like he can’t help himself, while Lucas and Mike look at Eddie distrustfully. “Who are you?” Mike demands.

“Mike!” Nancy reprimands, making him whirl around. 

“Nancy?” he asks, incredulous, seemingly only now noticing that his sister was in the room.

She rolls her eyes, looking back down to the table. 

Knowing the signs of a Wheeler verbal smackdown when he sees it, Will says, “this is Eddie,” shrinking in on himself a bit when they all turn to him. “He saved my life.”

“Cool,” Dustin breathes, but Lucas’s eyes only narrow further.

“In the Upside Down?” Mike asks.

“That what you all are calling the parallel world?” Eddie asks, swinging his legs out from under his to sit cross cross.

Mike nods, “yeah,” he says. “Where the Demogorgon comes from.”

“Do none of you twerps know what a Demogorgon looks like?” Eddie asks, everyone ignores him.

“So everything is okay now?” Lucas asks. “We can go home?”

Chief Hopper, having made his way inside to loom over them all in the living room with his arms crossed as Wayne closes the door behind them, says, “no way kid. The Feds are swarming your houses.”

“Oh, man,” Lucas says, head in hands. “I’m so grounded.”

“And we’re not leaving Steve,” Eddie says, glaring up at Chief Hopper as Wayne rolls his eyes in the doorway.

“Steve?” Mike demands, whipping his head around to glare at Will. “Nancy’s stupid boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

Will nods. “He saved my life too."

Mike glares at him the way he always does right before he folds. He sighs, slumping down like Will had just asked him to do something abhorrent. “Ughhh, fiiiine. We’ll save stupid Steve Harrington.”

“You kids aren’t saving anyone,” Wayne says, shuffling into the kitchen and accepting the cup of coffee Joyce hands him with a smile. “We’ll get him.”

Chief Hopper asks, “any idea where he’ll be in there?” 

“I might know a way we can find out,” Mike says, turning to the unnamed girl where she’s standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, clutching at the hem of her dirty pink dress. “Can you find him?” 

She looks scared to have all the eyes on her, but nods, looking down. “I will find him.”

Part 27

[cryptic-underground]

Just got back from a three day con and, while I am resting up, I drew some lesbians!!

[kingofbodyrolls]

I remember reading this a few years ago, and I loved it then and I still do ✨ It is incredibly funny, has good banter and dialogue to match. The chemistry between reader and Jimin is just priceless, their friendship is just pure giggles 🥹 It’s also fluffy and will tug on your heartstrings in the best way possible. Just really, really good and definitely also one of my all-time favorites 💯💜

[2/2] The Airport Couple: Park Jimin’s Cock[pit]

 CO-WRITTEN WITH @dovechim

Read the spin-off: The Airport Couple: P[ass]enger from Hell

➜ Words: 12k

➜ Genres: Tooth-aching Fluff, Extreme Crack, Smut (dear lord), Pilot!AU

➜ Summary: Talk about Angry Birds, and most people would immediately think of the mobile game app. But within your circle of friends, it stands for something else. It’s synonymous with Park Jimin, one of the most talented pilots from your batch who also just happens to have anger issues, or in other words, air rage. He is your best friend, but when you get teamed up with him as his co-pilot, you can only pray that things don’t go south… literally. 

➜ Warnings: handjob, cum all over face (and near the eye which is super dangerous), tons of sexual innuendos, unsafe behaviour on a plane (please don’t do this!! This is a work of fiction only, hence please use discretion if any of you happen to be pilots yourself!)

➜ Notes: this was written with the lovely Addie @dovechim, so if you liked this, please send a sweet message her way as well as mine!! we decided to bring Park Jimin’s potential road rage into the air…lol, also please don’t have sex on a plane if you’re navigating/driving it….anyways, enjoy!

Keep reading

[cerealiii]

Modern AU; long distance Kavetham where Kaveh goes on long trips for work and Alhaitham always picks him up from the airport~

Because Kaveh is gone 90% of the time Alhaitham's friends start to think he's perpetually single so they try and set up blind dates for him. He goes for the free food. Anyways, Kavetham have fun with it :P

Oh and Alhaitham totally has a grading rubric set up for these dates lol~ though he never goes past the first date :P

---Cerealiii

230227

[lulublack90]

Prompt 4 - Safe

@jegulus-microfic June 4, Word count 379

Previous part First part

“I don’t see why I had to come,” Regulus grumbled as Sirius dragged him into the arrivals area. “Wouldn’t you rather be on your own to pick Remus up?”

“Oh, hush,” Sirius scolded. “I needed you to look out for empty parking spaces,” Sirius danced out of the way of Regulus’s fist's as the first trickle of passengers emerged from inside the airport. 

Regulus wasn’t watching closely, as Remus was pretty easy to spot and Sirius had his eyes trained on the door anyway. Sirius inhaled sharply and started bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, looking like an excited puppy. 

Regulus watched as his brother latched onto Remus’s face. He pulled a face of disgust and just as he was about to turn away, big strong hands wound around his waist. He didn’t have to see who was standing behind him to know whose hands they were. 

“James,” He breathed, and spun around to stare up into James’s familiar hazel eyes. James looked down warmly at him and he felt completely safe. “I didn’t know you were on the same flight as Remus!” His voice was a bit squeaky, but for once he didn’t care. 

“I didn’t either until Remus told me what flight he was on, then I wanted it to be a surprise. So surprise,” He beamed. Regulus stood on his tip toes and let his lips press against James’s. It was sweet, searing and as though they’d been doing it for years instead of just last night.

“Right, you two drop each other and let’s go home.” Sirius teased them as he carefully dropped his feet back to the floor. 

“Twat,” Regulus stuck his tongue out at his brother. “Are—are you coming too?” He asked James. Sirius had made it seem like James was coming with them. 

“I am, if that’s alright with you?” James said. He was giving Regulus a choice, and he loved that about James. Barty never gave him choices, just told him what to do.

“Yes. Yes, I’d love that.” He took one of James’s hands and dragged him through the glass doors and towards the car park. Sirius and Remus followed behind, snickering at them. But once again Regulus couldn’t find it in him to care. 

Next part

[morganbritton132]

in the emtts universe, do you think eddie and/or steve would watch movies in other languages with robin? like, my friend and i - she's french and i'm indian so she watches bollywood romances with me and i watch french romances with her every sunday :-)

First, that’s an adorable thing to do with your friend and I think it’s very sweet that you and your friend take a vested interest in each other’s culture.

I can see Steve and Eddie both watching films in foreign languages with Robin separately.

Like, Steve ends up watching a lot of foreign films with Robin by proxy.

Robin insists that the only want to keep a language is to be immersed in the culture and since there’s not a lot of culture in Hawkins that isn’t painfully Americana, she rents out the abysmally small foreign film section from Family Video constantly. Since Steve is with her a lot, he is also immersed in these cultures.

He complains but he also secretly loves it.

He loves how into the movies Robin gets. He loves how passionately she explains it to him. He loves trying to figure out the plots and how she lights up when he gets it right, but he loves it even more when he gets it wrong.

Robin likes a lot of arthouse films that don’t have linear timelines or that are meandering to the point of confusion so sometimes Steve misses the mark completely, but it’s okay. They’ve spent hours after a movie, telling two different stories about what they just watched and Robin never seems upset that Steve just didn’t get it.

Eddie ends up watching films in foreign languages with Robin out of necessity.

In like a ‘my world famous band is about to tour Europe and I just realized that I only speak English but you keep correcting how I do that so maybe I don’t keep English too good either’ kind of necessity to which Robin responded, “Jesus Christ.”

Eddie got a passport and then realized that Gareth took three years of French, Grant spoke fluent German with his grandmother all the time, and Jeff was passable with Spanish, and Eddie. Gee, Eddie was going to look like the biggest idiot on the planet – “Or, you’ll just look like an American.”

“That’s even worse!” Eddie despaired, draping himself across the counter of Family Video. “Help me, Robin-wan, you’re my only hope.”

Help to Robin was an English to Spanish dictionary and a bunch of study material, but help to Eddie was the Italian Giallo he picked up in Indianapolis last week because that was more fun. She sent Eddie off to Europe with an English to Spanish dictionary and a ‘good luck.’

It did not help.