#not meant to be taken literally by author

[littleapocalypsekitten]

I don’t even know if the author / artist is active on tumblr at all anymore...  Just... wow, this hit me with a little flashback.  The last time I remember being in a church for an actual service.  (The last actual time I was in a church was when one was a polling place and I was there to vote. For Obama).   I wasn’t a “churched kid” at all.  I just kind of got into it when I was a teenager because of weird anxieties - and...hit it hard.  Because it was within walking distance of my house in nowhere, Arizona, I was into a Baptist church.  They weren’t awful - racially diverse and no casting out of demons (whoa!), but there were still beliefs there that I now find unfortunate, to put it generously.  One of them was the “no women pastors” because of that verse.  (It was especially weird, my church did not teach it a set in stone thing, like they believed that it applied only to a time and place because of some specific conditions with the education of women in the Roman empire at the time, blah, blah, blah, so, theoretically, a woman could be called to lead and teach,  but they still followed it because, you know, Baptists).  Cue me moving to Pennsylvania and trying out a Methodist church in my new neighborhood (well, it’s an old neighborhood now, I haven’t lived there - or been to the church in over a decade).  The pastor that gets up to speak is a woman and she speaks, specifically, about the uphill climb it was against church-authority to be able to do what she felt called to do.  Her sermon was about women’s rights and stuff.  I completely agreed with it.   Yet, the entire time, I wondered “Is this wrong?” and felt uncomfortable because of what had been instilled in me before by the Baptists.  I posted about it at some place I was online at the time after it and my formerly-Orthodox Jewish friend said that she’d felt something similar when going to Temple at a place with a woman speaker. It made me feel less alone that this was.... well, kind of a thing across conservative religions, I guess, and that other people were having those weird feelings of breaking away.  You know, something that you agree with, but you wonder “Is this wrong?!” because of what you were taught previously.  

can’t believe I used to put up with this

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

i need to either never read another play or story by this author ever again or i need to go to the library and binge every single one of his many works and i honestly don't know which would be better

[lesbiansanemi]

I truly do not get the spy x family hype….

[lupinqs]

MIGRAINE ━━ paige bueckers x teammate!reader

☆ ━ summary: on big east media day, you’re unfortunate enough to get a migraine

☆ ━ word count: 2.9K

☆ ━ warnings: descriptions of migraines, throwing up

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, based off of this req

☆ ━ author’s note: two fics in one night omg WHO AM I??? also i promise this is not rlly dramatized y’all this is quite literally how my migraines are …….… wish i had a paige during them 😞

BIG EAST media day—it’s today. Usually, you don’t mind media days at all. Actually, you tend to enjoy them. But, clearly, today you’re not meant to.

As soon as the sun broke through the windows of the New York hotel, Paige had woken to the sight of your scrunched-up face, a hand pressed to your temple. You both knew what it meant: you had a migraine, and today of all days, it had to hit with full force.

Paige had immediately rolled out of bed, grabbing your migraine medication from your bag that you’d luckily remembered to bring in a “just in case” situation. However, you’d been resistant to at first, knowing full well that the medicine would upset your stomach like it always does, but Paige had insisted, forcing you to take it. “You know we can’t skip today. Just take it, baby. It’ll help with the pain.” Reluctantly, you’d taken the pills, and with an an hour, just as you were sitting in hair and makeup, the side effects hit. You’d bolted from your chair, leaving the startled makeup artist behind as you rushed to the bathroom to puke your guts up.

Paige had followed immediately, kneeling beside you in the small, cramped bathroom stall, rubbing your back as you heaved into the toilet. The nausea subsided eventually, but Paige was worried you’d thrown up all the medicine in the process. You hadn’t had time to find out, though—there were interviews to do, and you, always the professional, was stubborn enough to push through.

Now, you and Paige sit side by side, a row of reporters in front of you, microphones held up like weapons ready to attack. The lights in the gym are blinding, and the low hum of chatter, camera clicks, and reporters scribbling notes fill the space. It’s the last place you want to be.

Paige, sensing your discomfort, takes the lead in most of the interviews. She fields question after question, her voice steady and charming as she answers everything from season goals to the team’s camaraderie. Next to her, you sit rigidly in your chair, staring at the ground, fingers pressing hard into your palms as if trying to will the pain away.

Every so often, a reporter directs a question at you, and Paige watches closely, knowing that forming coherent, professional sentences is probably the last thing you want to do. Still, you force a tight smile and give a short, clipped response, voice strained but composed. The pain etched across your face is subtle, but it’s there—just enough for Paige to notice, though you try your best to keep your expression neutral.

It’s damn near agonizing for Paige to watch you like this, especially when she knows how badly you’re hurting. She can tell that the migraine’s wrecking you, she’s been there for so many at this point that she knows all the little signs like the back of her hand. She wishes she could turn the lights down, quiet the reporters, and just take you somewhere dark and silent to rest. But there’s nothing she can do—you just have to endure it.

As the interview drags on, one reporter, a man who looks younger and more inexperienced than the others and who’s clearly growing impatient with your curt answers, rudely points at you, addressing you by name before saying, “You really don’t look like you want to be here today. I mean, is something wrong with you?”

The words come out sharp and are strictly unprofessional. Your eyes flicker toward the reporter, though you can’t see half of him due to the darkness shadowing parts of your vision. You open your mouth, then close it, unsure of what to say. Your brain is hardly functioning, the throbbing in your skull is unbearable, and you can’t even muster the strength to care about his tone. All you want is for this to be over.

But Paige cares.

Her gaze snaps to the reporter, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Her posture shifts, body leaning slightly forward, protective instincts kicking in immediately. Usually, she’d stay more poised, composed, let her media training do the work for her. But she isn’t about to let anyone talk to you like that, especially not today.

“Excuse me?” Paige’s voice is sharp, cutting through the room. She’s sure that there’s a camera recording this right now but she quite literally could not care less. “What did you just say?”

The reporter, startled by Paige’s reaction, fumbles for a moment before stammering, “Um, I just mean that she looks… unwell. She’s not really answering the questions.”

Paige’s jaw tightens. “Maybe you should think before you speak next time. She’s here, answering your questions to the best of her ability despite not feeling great, and you should respect that instead of makin’ snide comments.”

The side of the gym they’re on grows even quieter, the weight of Paige’s words settling in the air. You, who’s still staring at the floor, blinks, heart swelling with gratitude. You don’t really have the energy to defend yourself, let alone sit up with your eyes open against the bright lights, but knowing Paige has your back—it’s everything.

The reporter, realizing he’s on thin ice, mutters an apology, his face turning red under the harsh lights. Paige doesn’t bother to acknowledge it, her focus shifting back to you, her hand subtly reaching out to squeeze your knee under the table.

The rest of the interview continues, but Paige’s attention is divided now. She keeps on eye on the reporters, answering questions with ease, but her other eye is always on you, watching closely. Your face has gone even paler, and every few minutes, your eyes flutter shut as if you don’t even have the strength to keep them open against the blinding pain.

Finally, the session begins to wind down, and as soon as the last question is answered, Paige is out of her chair, gently taking your arm and leading you away from the microphones and cameras. The two of you step into a hallway, away from the noise and lights, and as soon as you’re alone, you lean heavily against the wall, closing your eyes with a shaky breath.

“Jesus,” you mutter, rubbing your temples. “Feel like my head’s about to explode.”

Paige wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “I know, baby. You did so good, though. We’re almost done, okay? Just a little longer, and then I’m taking you back to the hotel. Dark room, no noise, just you and me.”

You nod, though even that small motion seems to cause you pain. And you pray that she does good on that promise, especially as the two of you go back into the gym. You end up sitting on a bench next to Azzi waiting, resting your head on her shoulder, eyes squeezed shut in a desperate attempt to block out the harsh gym lights and constant noise. Your head throbs with a relentless pulse, nausea rolling in waves, and your entire body feels like it’s on the verge of collapse. Azzi’s softly rubbing your arm in a comforting rhythm, whispering little encouragements.

But when Geno and CD approach, apologetically telling Paige that she and you have one more interview to do, Paige immediately starts protesting.

“No. No way. I can do it by myself,” she says firmly, already standing in front of the two coaches, shielding you from them like a protective wall. “She’s not in the right state for this. Just look at her.”

Geno and CD turn their heads to look over at you. You’re still slumped against Azzi, face pale and drawn. Your lips are pressed into a tight line, and your eyes are glossed over, clearly fighting back tears of pain. It’s not a pretty sight.

“I know, Paige,” CD says, eyes soft with sympathy. “We hate this as much as you do. But this interview is important. She’s got to do it, too.”

Paige’s jaw clenches, eyes flashing. “CD, come on,” she says in what can only be called a plea. “Please—she’s hurting. She’s in pain. You’re tellin’ me we can’t work somethin’ out?”

Geno sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wish we could, kid,” he tells her. “But this is the last one, I promise. After this, you can take her back.”

Paige mutters a curse under her breath, her frustration boiling beneath the surface. She glances back at you, who’s face is so pale and worn-out that it makes Paige’s stomach twist.

“Fine,” she says finally, voice tight with defeat. “But this is the last time I’m putting her through this.”

Geno and CD both give a nods of understanding, and Paige turns, making her way back over to you. Kneeling in front of you, she places a gentle hand on your knee. “Hey,” she whispers, her voice soft with regret. “I’m so sorry, baby, but we gotta do one more interview. Just one more, and then you’re done, yeah?”

You open your eyes, and the utter pain in your expression makes Paige’s heart ache. You look like you’re damn near about to cry, eyes brimming with unshed tears, but you nod weakly anyways, ready to do what you need to even though you’ve clearly hit your limit.

Paige sighs, hating this situation more than anything. She leans in, pressing a light kiss to your forehead, hoping in vain that it might ease some of the pain within your cerebrum. “I promise, after this, I’m taking you away, okay? I ain’t letting anyone stop us.”

You nod again, swallowing hard as you fight to keep yourself in check. Paige stands, gently helping you to your feet, and together, the two of you make your way toward the interviewers, you subtly leaning on Paige as much as you can, because if you’re honest, you can’t see most of your surroundings.

The interview itself is a nightmare. The questions seem never-ending, and although Paige answers most of them, there’s still some directed only at you that you’re responsible for. Each time, you know you sound stupid, voice hoarse and response almost incoherent. The lights are too bright, the noise too overwhelming, and by the end of it, you visibly look like you’d rather die than be here.

As soon as the interview is done, you don’t even wait for Paige. You rush out of the gym, once again heading straight for a hallway where it’s at least a little bit darker. Paige hurries after you, catching up just as you half-collapse against the wall, fighting tears.

“It hurts so bad, P,” you cry raggedly. You clutch at your head, hands trembling as you press them to your temples before moving them over to your eyes, squeezing them shut and pressing your palms against them hard. “I—fuck—I can’t—”

Paige’s stomach constricts. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you close, pressing your face into her neck to shield your eyes from any and all light. “Shh, I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Paige whispers, making sure to be as quiet as possible, voice filled with soothing warmth. She gently rubs your back, rocking you slightly as you’re near-sobbing against her.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Paige murmurs thickly. “I shoulda fought harder to get you outta that. But I’mma take you back to the hotel now, okay? I don’t care what the fuck else we’re supposed to do today.”

You don’t respond with words, just nod weakly against Paige’s neck, fingers clutching tightly at the blonde’s shirt as if trying to ground yourself.

Paige carefully guides you to sit on a bench in the hallway, leaning you back against the cool wall. “Wait here for just a sec, okay? I’mma be right back, just gotta tell Coach and CD we’re leaving.”

You nod again, your eyes fluttering closed as you rest your head against the wall. Paige brushes her thumb over your cheek, her heart splinting all over again at the sight of you in so much fucking pain. Then, with determination in her step, Paige turns and goes in search of Geno and CD.

When she finds them, they’re in the middle of talking to a few other staff members, but Paige doesn’t care. She marches up to them, her expression set in stone.

“I’m taking her back right now,” Paige says firmly, unwavering. “I’m sorry, but I don’t care what else we’re supposed to do here. She’s in too much pain, and I’m not putting her through any more of this. And I’m definitely not sending her back by herself.”

CD looks like she wants to argue, but one look at Paige’s determined face, and Paige can tell the older woman knows it’s pointless. Geno sighs, his shoulders sagging.

“Go,” he says quietly. “Take her. We’ll handle the rest.” He gestures to himself and CD, then over to where Azzi, Ash, and Sarah stand.

Paige nods once, her gratitude unspoken but clear. She doesn’t waste another second, turning on her heel and heading straight back to you. Once she gets to you, she helps you up, wrapping a firm arm around your waist. The two of you head toward the doors and then are out into the cool air of the New York streets. The noise of the city hits you like a wall—cars honking, sirens wailing faintly in the distance, the chatter of pedestrians—but Paige moves quickly, guiding you down the sidewalk.

The hotel is technically within walking distance, but Paige refuses to put you through that. Instead, she stops at the curb, pulls out her phone, and hails an Uber.

“It’s okay,” she whispers as you press yourself against her side, hiding your face in her shoulder as the nausea rolls through you again. “‘M not making you walk, don’t worry.”

The car pulls up almost immediately. Paige helps you inside first, sliding in next to you and carefully pulling you into her side again, buckling your seatbelt for you. It’s probably the shortest car ride of either of your lives, and you don’t say a word for any of it, just continuing to rest your head on her shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. Paige presses a soft kiss to your temple, reassuring you you’re almost there.

When the car pulls up to the hotel, Paige thanks the driver quickly, helping you out of the car with her hands steady on your hips. You cling to her without hesitation, your legs barely cooperating as, by this point, the majority of your body has gone numb. She doesn’t mind, though, guiding you through the lobby and toward the elevator. The ding of the doors makes you wince and Paige notices immediately. “I know, baby,” she murmurs softly, guiding you inside and pressing the button for your floor.

The ride up is quiet except for your unsteady breathing, and Paige’s grip never loosens. As soon as the doors open, she’s leading you to the room, swiping the keycard and pushing the door open in one smooth motion.

“Here we go,” Paige says gently, helping you inside. She lets you stumble toward the bed, watching closely as you basically collapse onto it with a shaky breath. Paige then moves to the windows, yanking the curtains shut until the room is bathed in near-total darkness. The relief is instant—you let out a soft sigh, your body relaxing just slightly as the pressure in your head dulls a little without the presence of light.

Paige isn’t done. She rummages through your bag until she finds your medication again, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge before kneeling next to the bed. “Hey,” she says softly, brushing your hair back from your damp forehead. “You gotta take this, yeah? It’ll help.”

You groan faintly in protest, turning your face into the pillow, but Paige doesn’t back down. “Ma, c’mon,” she coaxes, voice firm but still tender. “I know it sucks, but you gotta take it. Just one more thing, and then you can rest.”

Reluctantly, you crack your eyes open, barely able to see her face in the dark, but you feel the pill pressed gently to your lips. You take it without complaint this time, swallowing it down with a sip of water Paige helps you hold.

“Good job, baby,” she praises, pressing another kiss to your forehead. She sets the bottle on the nightstand before kicking off her shoes and climbing into bed with you, immediately wrapping her arms around you. She pulls you close, her chest flush against your back, one arm sliding under your head to cushion it while the other wraps proactively around your waist.

“I’ve got you,” she whispers softly into your ear, her breath warm against your skin. “It’s okay, baby. Just breathe. ‘M right here.”

You whimper faintly in response, you body still shaking, but you relax the tiniest bit in her hold. Paige’s touch is gentle, her thumb tracing slow, soothing circles over your stomach as she tries to calm you down. She presses a soft kiss to the back of your head, murmuring sweet nothings that you can barely process through the pain.

A small sob escapes you as a particularly harsh stab to your skull hits. Paige only pulls you closer, holding you like she can absorb all of your pain into herself. “I know it hurts. I know,” she says softly, her voice cracking slightly as she wishes, more than anything, that she could take it all away for you. “But I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’m here. Always.”

And she means it—Paige Bueckers would hold you through every second of the pain if it meant you didn’t have to face it alone.

[fishnapple]

What new skill should you learn

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

CARNELIAN

The most prominent one that I get is public speaking skills. Your usual way of speaking might not get you enough attention when you are in front of a crowd or talking to a large audience, even online one. May be your voice is too soft or sounds quite young or bubbly, or you don't like to share too much about yourself, your opinions. It can make you seem more approachable, but in situations that you need to assert yourself, to be taken seriously, then it can become a disadvantage. And when you are in those situations, you might over compensate by being defensive or rigid, trying to assert yourself more than necessary.

You need to develop a firmer tone, and the words you say, your body language should also convey a sense of authority. But it's not a battle for power and domination, you just need to make yourself more visible, to make your energy more solid and grounded. This will help you in situations that require exchanging ideas in a large group, delivering your message to many people, rallying, persuading, teaching, or simply telling a story.

Research more about social skills in a group setting, observe the people that you feel are popular or well respected, observe their body language, their posture, their tones in different kinds of conversations, their choices of words, their silence, etc. This may sound mechanical but if you treat this skill just like math or painting, instead of thinking that social skill is something innate, you will see that with appropriate observations and enough practice, you can achieve a certain level of proficiency. This will open more opportunities for you and raise your confidence.

CLEAR QUARTZ

The stone of Pluto, South node and North node, all are "standing up", they are trying to make a statement (each side of the crystal is very narrow, it can fall over with just a gust of wind, I normally couldn't replicate the same position). The theme is about changing the old and embracing a new mindset. I think it has to do with how you take care of your appearance, your style.

Right now, you seem to be staying in the safe zone when it comes to styling yourself, making yourself more beautiful. This might be due to restrictions in early childhood, traditional values, what society deems appropriate or trendy. You might not want to focus too much on appearance because it seems superficial or vain, or takes too much of your time and energy.

But doing so will rope you the chance to express yourself more truthfully. Beautify yourself not because of how you will be perceived, but because it's a way to show love for yourself. You look into a mirror, you feel happy, you want to compliment yourself, you feel that silly stray strand of hair is adorable, not thinking about how will everyone say, how you are not like someone.

So the advice for you here is to be more adventurous in styling, expand your knowledge about fashion and styling, explore yourself more , give yourself the freedom to experiment more, to rebel more. Creating a unique image, a "public persona" is not just for some celebrities, everyone can benefit from that. Because behind that seemingly surface action, is the journey of discovering your deeper self. As within so without.

The theme of transformation is also applied to learning new languages. The languages should be totally different from your mother tongue, giving you more chance to connect with people from various parts of the world.

OBSIDIAN

The phrase "navigating the world" appeared in my mind. I got several meanings from this. One is in the literal sense as driving a vehicle, going around, navigating the roads, so learning to drive a new kind of vehicle might be the skill you should learn, or even learn to swim or row a boat. There are lots of movements, travelling and moving around. You should be more active in the physical sense. But this is not really about exercise or going to the gym, it's about moving your body, being in various places, experiencing different things. Your life in this period needs lots of expansion and movements. You might feel that you don't have enough resources or energy to go on trips, or you're simply someone who doesn't like travelling. But it will make your life stagnant. Travelling might not seem like a skill, but it is, all the planning, packing, preparation and the ability to adapt to the new place, all or these take skills.

Another one is navigating the complicated social construct. Maybe you feel it's hard to connect to people, there might be walls and the feeling of solitude and not fitting in, that there is something fundamentally different about you. The people that you managed to get closer to (it's likely that they approached you first) will stay close to you for a long time, you have no trouble maintaining a connection. The trouble lies in initiating or forming the connection. There might be an ego here that doesn't want to show their vulnerable side. Silly jokes and banters might seem childish to you. But learning to have fun in a social setting is much more rewarding than you think. Allow yourself to be a child, learn how to tell a story. Debating skills might also be worthwhile for you to learn, learn how to state your opinions clearly and defend your stance.

This group is strangely hard to read, I feel a certain resistance. You might feel that your personality isn't suitable for these kinds of things or you think it would take too much effort and work. You also don't want to imitate what other people are doing. Another reason might be that you haven't figured out what you like to do yet. But that's okay, everything takes time, trials and errors are normal, don't give up on the first try.

TIGER'S EYE

This one is an anti-consumerism movement. You might want to learn how to mend and sew clothes. And not just learn for yourself, but later will you spread the awareness to everyone, or even open workshops related to this.

Running after trends, constantly being bombarded by ads about shiny things that we don't actually need. Basic clothes with good quality cost too much while trendy ones don't last for more than a year. Maybe it's time for you to take matters in your own hands. Learning how to sew clothes might take time and effort, and sometimes, the cost is not small either. But you will be more free to explore styles that you like, create things that you're actually comfortable in. Not many people can proudly display their achievements like someone who makes their own clothes. This is also a great activity to relieve stress and help you practice being patient, especially if you're someone who is quick to get irritated or not very meticulous. It can soften your energy more and make it more focused.

Another way to practice is martial art or self-defense. You have lots of energy that needs to be channelled into various activities, those that keep your body busy.

You might also want to research more about the traditional spiritual and occult practices of your culture, or some traditional crafts in your family, learning about the legacy of our ancestors. There will be surprising knowledge hidden in them that you didn't notice before. You could feel resistant or disagree with many traditional teachings but don't disregard them completely. We can always learn something new from the old and the new always contain the old.

LABRADORITE

This is something that you feel out of your depth and uncomfortable doing, or something that you like but want to keep it a secret, for fear of judgement or obstruction.

I heard dancing and singing. But there's a feeling of gatekeeping. Some people consider these kinds of activities only for those who are gifted and have the resources to pursue them. These skills are put on a pedestal that stops people from approaching them in a more casual way.

Why should you learn these skills? It's to let your inner child be free and out into the open. It's also a way to learn how to control your body, discipline it so it can flow freely, it helps you connect more with your sensuality. Our body is an instrument of life, capable of many miracles, you won't know it unless you let it interact and move with the world around it.

There are various genres for you to explore, but I see traditional instruments or movements combined with modern ones.

Nurturing life such as gardening is another skill you should learn. It helps you be more in sync with nature, you will need to observe the natural cycle of life, to care for each individual and to form a bond with them. If you don't have the space or resources for gardening, maybe try to study more about nature, subjects about biology and chemistry, the ecosystem of forests, oceans, deserts etc. You will be more appreciative of the nature world.

CITRINE

Your energy right now seems to be rigid and doesn't flow properly. There's stress about your health, it's hard to relax, you don't feel comfortable in your body. Maybe you've been too busy lately, your mind is overloaded and your movement is restricted. So you need to learn something that can help you destress, loosen up the hard restrictions around you, and connect more with a softer, more gentle energy. You could call it your feminine energy, regardless of your gender. The feminine energy is within all of us, in your case, it's more hidden. Your loving, more nurturing side could be considered as weaknesses by the people around you. Or, on the contrary, those traits are expected of you forcefully, to the point that your own interpretation of them are buried deep within, you haven't had a chance to actually understand and connect with it.

I think meditation or any form of practice that can quiet the mind and put you in the flow will be good for you. Making art could be one form of it, yoga, intuitive dancing, Qigong, roller skating. Slow, mindful movements or wild, frantic ones just like a child running around, all the while maintaining your balance. You can temporarily forget about yourself, your worries, your responsibilities for a while with these kinds of activities.

Learning to play an instrument can also achieve the same kind of effects. A flute or a lyre.

You should be around children more, learn how to take care of them, how to teach them. Working, being with children can have a totally different energy and requires a different set of skills. I think you would make a great teacher because you have a very protective energy that children would feel safe around you. And in turn, they help you soften up and bring out your compassionate side more.

[fleuryuns]

presenting a fic by @FLEURYUNS

hold me close

IN WHICH jake comes back from tour missing you so much, he doesn’t want to waste a single second to even take off your clothes

PAIRING ⟡ idol!jake x gf!femreader

UNIVERSE ⨯ idol au

WARNINGS ⟡ dry humping (that’s literally it) + cumming in pants

WORD COUNT ⨯ 0.6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . i’m an avid pathetic!jake enjoyer

ENHYPEN going on tour is both an exciting, new and prideful experience and the thing you dread the most. You weren’t able to accompany them as you’d hoped because of school, which meant almost two months without Jake by your side.

It was hard on him, too. Especially filled with the adrenaline from the concert, Jake wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel and spend whatever energy he had left fucking you into the mattress. Then, he’d prepare for the concert the following day, rinse and repeat. Without you, however, he was doomed to weakly jerk off to whatever sexy photos you sent him every now and again, or the few videos he took with you.

Finally, he has you to himself again.

“I missed you so much,” he huffs into your ear.

Jake’s voice tickles your skin, causing you to stutter in your movements. He groans.

Right as he got off the plane not more than an hour ago, he was texting you about how much he missed your touch. He told you he needed you then and there, even sent a picture of his hand on his growing erection in the back of the company van.

Now, you find yourself grinding against him, still wearing the flimsy skirt you wore to campus and he in his loose-fitted jeans, which fold perfectly into your core.

His nails dig crescents into your skin where he lifts a bit of your shirt for a better grip. The pain hurts so good.

Jake pushes you back and pulls you forward in a rhythmic pattern to get you both where you want to go. “Fuck, baby, just like that,” he whispers, a pleasured smirk forming on his face as he shuts his eyes tightly.

His hips grind up into yours, bulge protruding where you need it most. As much as you want to rip the material off of him, you’re too desperate to get off with him to stop now.

You roll forward and he rolls up. “Fuck,” you sigh pleasurably. Your head naturally falls into the crook of his neck.

Jake takes this as an inviting opportunity to suck hickeys into the skin of yours. “Haven’t seen you in so long—” He kisses the skin he just bruised. “—I have to make sure everyone knows you're taken.”

You giggle at his words and his lips trickling down your neck, but it soon morphs into a whine as you feel your core growing warm.

Picking up your pace, you roll your hips into Jake’s crotch. Your cunt runs against his bulge at every angle and it feels so good.

“‘Gonna cum?” Jake pants from below.

Lost in the pleasure, you can’t bring yourself to answer him with words. You whimper against his skin, lifting your head to crash your lips onto his. He pulls your tongue into his mouth, sucking on it and moaning like it tastes like candy. To him, it is.

Jake bucks his hips and suddenly it all comes rushing out of you. You let out a pornagraphic moan while doubling over him, feeling a wet patch forming in your panties. Beneath you, Jake has his own stain on his pants, but he doesn't seem to mind as he drops his head back while catching his breath through quiet shuttered moans.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He’s pulling you in, laying your head onto his shoulder, but keeping your legs draped over his. You feel his rapid heartbeat under the palm of your hand on his chest. “Sorry…”

You tilt your head up. “What for?”

“That wasn’t very gentlemanly.”

“What—you wanted to bring me flowers, too? Before fucking me into next week?”

He laughs.

“I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me.” You attempt to get up, but your shaking legs bring you back down into his arms. “Later.”

[freyadragonlord]

One of my favourite things about the end of The S-Classes That I Raised novel (major spoilers ahead),

is the realisation that the reason why Yoojin and Hyunjae's relationship looks so much like a love story at times is because it actually, honestly is.

Like, we know that sctir is a novel about love since the beginning, that's not surprising. Yoojin's capability for loving monsters (both literal monsters and the human kind) and the power of that love is at the centre of the plot.

But by the time you get to the end, you realise - and the author confirms this themselves in their final Note - that Yoojin's relationship and love for 2 specific people was the true core of the story, and what allows him to save the world in the end:

One is, of course, Yoohyun.

And that love is absolute; you cannot say that it's inevitable, cause we know Yoojin had to make a choice when he was a child between Yoohyun and his parents, and he almost chose his parents, but from the moment he decided to love Yoohyun onward, then it was unconditional and eternal. It's the love of a brother, but also the love of a parent and a caretaker.

And the other person is Sung Hyunjae.

And that love is not unconditional nor inevitable or absolute at all. It's not something that can be taken for granted. We actually see, because of how it ended between them before the regression, and thanks to the White Bird's power of seeing possible futures, that there were so many timelines where Yoojin and Hyunjae would have never come to care about each other fully (tho they are always at least somewhat interested in each other, because their personalities are actually really compatible).

But the White Bird also sees that the only possible future where the world is saved is the one where they love and hold on to each other. And that is how the story goes!

So, just like a romance novel, the necessary end is the one where they both love each other and accept that love. And it's not easy to get there! It's a slow burn.

From meeting to getting to know each other, appreciating each other's skills and intelligence, finding out they have fun together but still not trusting each other, to working on building that trust.

They go from a strong but superficial mutual interest to actually caring about each other as people.

Yoojin has to go through the self-doubt of feeling inferior and fearing that Hyunjae will lose interest in him. Hyunjae has to learn to stop pushing Yoojin away because he doesn't know how to handle having someone he cares about so much, and also someone that cares about him, because nobody in the world (except in part Song Taewon) likes Sung Hyunjae as a person, he is only ever admired from afar.

And in the end, after going through ups and downs and a few "break-up arcs", they make it. They accept their own feelings and each other's feelings.

And that's when Yoojin makes the choice to use the power that the transcendents gave him at the very beginning of the novel, to save Hyunjae. Not the world. Not even Yoohyun! Just Sung Hyunjae!

Yeah, the whole "gather 50 S-Class people", the very thing that gives the novel its title. That is not a power that is used to save the world!! It was meant to, but Yoojin is "selfish", and he will always choose to save the people close to him first.

And being able to love someone so selfishly gives Yoojin the power to save the whole world, too. As a bonus! A reward. Just a side effect.

So yeah. Is it romantic love? No. Canonically, there's almost no romantic love in the whole novel.

But is it a love story?? Yeah. Absolutely it is.

[msilwrites]

Midnight Snack Mystery (Simon 'Ghost' Fic) Part 1

Wife! Reader Pregnant! Reader Hungry! Reader Possessive! Ghost Possessive! Simon 'Ghost' Riley Possessive! Simon Ghost Riley Good Cook! Simon Ghost Riley Husband! Simon 'Ghost' Riley Hungry Wife! Reader. By this time he is already Captain or Major! or Lieutenant Col! Simon 'Ghost' Riley

 Part 2,  Part 3

Long, not so-long, but light hearted read. Warning: Don't read when hungry!! Summary: Pregnant with Simon's child, Y/N experiences intense late-night cravings. Her overprotective husband, Simon, keeps a close eye on her, ensuring she’s well taken care of. However, Y/N discovers a late-night noodle shop that serves her favorite foods—dumplings and noodles—and she can’t resist the temptation. She sneaks out in the dead of night for quick food runs, careful not to wake Simon. But Simon, ever the observant one, eventually catches her in the act and decides he’s not letting her sneak off again without a word.

----------

Midnight Snack Bust

Simon stirred slightly in his sleep, his instincts sharper than most even when off-duty. The weight on his chest—a comforting one—shifted, then disappeared altogether.

His eyes fluttered open in the darkness. Your side of the bed was empty, the covers pushed back, a slight chill left in their absence. Simon frowned. This wasn’t the first time.

He waited, still as a statue, listening for any sound that might tell him where you’d gone. The faint creak of the stairs gave you away.

Downstairs, you shuffled around the kitchen, carefully balancing a plate of toast smothered in butter, jam and honey. The thought of waking Simon was laughable—he was always in full protective mode, which meant no late-night snacks for you unless he hovered like a helicopter. Besides, you could handle it. The kitchen wasn’t that far from the bed.

Except, as you turned with your snack in hand, there he was.

Simon stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a shadowy figure of unimpressed authority. The glow from the fridge cast just enough light for you to see his raised brow.

“Really?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

You froze like a deer caught in headlights, the plate in your hands trembling slightly. “I was hungry.”

“You could’ve woken me.”

“It’s toast, Simon. I think I can manage toast.”

He stepped forward, his size practically swallowing the kitchen whole. “Not about the toast, love. It’s about the stairs. And you bein’ pregnant. You fall, then what?”

You rolled your eyes, but he plucked the plate from your hands, setting it on the counter. Without another word, he scooped you up—scooped, like a bloody princess—and started carrying you back to bed.

“Simon!” you protested, flailing slightly.

“Shush,” he muttered. “You’ve got enough on your plate—literally—without riskin’ your neck for a midnight snack.”

----------

Back in bed, Simon pulled the covers over both of you, his arm locking you in place like a human seatbelt.

“Next time, wake me,” he said, his voice softer now. “You want toast, noodles, a bloody roast dinner—I’ll get it. Just don’t go sneakin’ about.”

You sighed, nestling into his chest. “Fine. But I’m holding you to the roast dinner.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Deal.”

---------- A Wonderful Discovery

One sunny afternoon, you and Price’s fiancée (A/N: Same person from Papa Bear!! Material ;) and many more in this universe of mine, lol! ) decided to meet at a charming little tea house. It had become a bit of a routine—your way of catching up without the boys around to interrupt with their dry humor and war stories.

She was her usual lively self, flipping through the menu even though she’d already decided on her order. You admired how she could make even the simplest thing—like picking a biscuit—seem like an adventure.

“I’ve got to tell you,” she said suddenly, setting her menu down. “There’s this noodle shop. Open late. Best dumplings you’ll ever have. Like, melt-in-your-mouth, life-changing dumplings.”

Your eyebrows rose. “Late-night noodles? Around here?”

She nodded, leaning forward as if sharing a state secret. “Not just noodles—bao buns, dumplings, the works. I discovered it after one of those long nights when John was stuck at the base, and I didn’t feel like cooking. It’s a lifesaver. You’re lucky—it’s right near your place.”

Your interest piqued immediately. The thought of sneaking out for some steaming hot noodles had your mouth watering. “How late are we talking?”

She grinned. “Oh, past midnight. Maybe even 2 or 3 AM.”

----------

That night, as you lay in bed listening to Simon’s soft snores, the thought of that noodle shop lingered. You could almost taste the broth, the tender dumplings, the savory goodness of a late-night food escapade.

The idea began to take root.

----------

Late Night Escape

The idea simmered in your mind all evening. By the time Simon had brushed his teeth, pulled on his oversized sleep shirt, and settled into bed, it had blossomed into a full-blown plan.

You waited. And waited. Timing was everything. Simon’s arm, draped heavily across your waist, rose and fell with the rhythm of his breathing. His presence was solid and warm, a comforting weight—but tonight, it was your obstacle.

Carefully, you began to inch away, moving like a prisoner attempting to slip past a sleeping guard. His hand twitched, and you froze, holding your breath. After a long moment, he let out a soft snore.

Victory.

Sliding out of bed, you padded quietly to the wardrobe, pulling on Simon’s oversized hoodie and slipping into your trusty anti-slip slippers. The eco bag was stashed by the door, waiting. You slipped it over your shoulder, opened the door as quietly as you could, and stepped out into the cool night air.

The noodle shop wasn’t far, but with the chill nipping at your cheeks, it felt like forever. When you finally reached the warm glow of the restaurant, the smells of rich broth and freshly steamed dumplings greeted you like an old friend.

Sliding into a seat, you ordered a large bowl of noodles and a plate of dumplings. The first bite was pure heaven—warm, savory, comforting. This wasn’t just food. This was rebellion. A delicious act of defiance against Simon’s overprotectiveness.

You ate quickly, savoring each bite but keeping an eye on the clock. You couldn’t risk being gone too long, or Simon might wake up. When you finished, you wiped your hands, packed your leftovers into your eco bag, and headed home, feeling victorious.

----------

Simon hadn’t stirred when you returned. You slipped into bed, placing the bag under the bed for good measure. His arm instinctively found your waist again, and you smiled to yourself, utterly pleased.

But this wasn’t going to be a one-time thing.

----------

First Catch

It started feeling too easy. You’d mastered the art of sneaking out: the slow, deliberate slide from under Simon’s arm, the silent shuffle to the door, and the perfectly timed return. Your noodle escapades had become a nightly ritual.

But then, one night, your luck ran out.

You were tiptoeing into the kitchen, quietly opening the fridge to stash the leftover dumplings behind the unassuming bag of lettuce Simon would never touch, when a deep voice cut through the silence.

“Late-night fridge rearranging, are we?”

You jumped, spinning around with a gasp. Simon was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, his imposing figure illuminated by the dim light of the open fridge.

Your mind scrambled for an excuse. “Uh... just wanted some water.”

“In my hoodie? And with an eco bag?” His eyebrow arched, unimpressed.

You tried to tuck the bag behind you, but Simon’s sharp eyes had already caught the unmistakable sheen of takeout containers poking out from the top. He strode forward, plucked the bag from your hands with an annoyingly effortless tug, and opened it.

The aroma of noodles and dumplings betrayed you instantly.

“Water, huh?” He held up a dumpling with mock seriousness. “This what they’re calling it these days?”

You gulped.

----------

Minutes later, you found yourself seated at the kitchen table like a scolded child. Simon, clad in sweatpants and a scowl, had taken over the stove. The sight of him cooking—rolling up his sleeves with a tired sigh—might’ve been endearing if you weren’t on the receiving end of his disapproval.

“You could’ve woken me,” he grumbled, cracking eggs into a bowl with more force than necessary.

“You were sleeping,” you mumbled.

“I’d rather get up than have you sneakin’ around at night,” he said, his tone gruff. “What if somethin’ happened, eh? You’re waddling about in the dark like a burglar.”

You snorted at the image, which earned you a sharp look.

“Not funny,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ll make the bloody noodles if that’s what you want. Just stop sneakin’ out.”

You stayed silent, chewing on your lower lip. No way were you telling him about the noodle shop.

---------

Close Call

Old habits die hard. A few nights later, you were returning from the noodle shop, quietly slipping into the kitchen to stash your leftovers behind the condiments, when Simon stirred upstairs.

He came padding down the stairs just as you were closing the fridge.

“You were gone,” he murmured groggily, rubbing his face.

“Kitchen,” you lied quickly, holding up an empty glass of water as proof.

He hummed, unconvinced, and squinted at you. “Should’ve woken me.”

“For the kitchen?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“For whatever,” he grunted, his eyes scanning the counter before settling on the fridge. “Don’t like you wanderin’ about on your own.”

You gave him your best innocent smile and shuffled past him toward the stairs. Simon followed a moment later, his suspicion lingering like a shadow.

----------

Growing Suspicion

It started with a nagging feeling Simon couldn’t shake. You were always warm when you came back to bed, slightly out of breath, and he could swear he caught the faintest hint of soy sauce and sesame lingering in the air.

One night, as you slid into bed beside him, he cracked an eye open just enough to catch you pulling off his oversized hoodie. You were trying to be quiet, moving with all the stealth of someone trying not to get caught.

He didn’t say anything. Not yet. But his mind was racing.

The next night, he pretended to be deep asleep as you started your routine. The slow untangling from his grasp, the soft shuffle to grab your hoodie and slippers. He cracked his eye open just as you tiptoed out of the room, eco bag in hand.

Simon lay there for a moment, his jaw tightening. He didn’t believe in jumping to conclusions without evidence—years of military experience had drilled that into him. But this was his wife, and the secrecy was starting to itch.

----------

The Watchful Eye

The next few nights, Simon kept up his act. He watched you go through the same routine: hoodie on, bag in hand, slippers padding softly across the floor. Each time, he waited until you were out of earshot before sitting up and staring at the door.

He debated following you right then and there but decided against it. Instead, he lay back, staring at the ceiling, letting the suspicion simmer.

Until one night, he’d had enough.

----------

Caught in the Act

Simon Riley, a man known for his ability to track an enemy through any terrain in total darkness, cracked one eye open as he heard the faint creak of the bedroom door. His wife, waddling like a stealthy penguin in his oversized hoodie, had escaped once again.

He sat up, running a hand down his face, and muttered, “Bloody hell.” This was the third time this week, and it was starting to feel personal. He reached for his jumper, his movements slow and deliberate.

By the time Simon made it outside, you were already a good distance ahead, waddling down the street with your eco bag swinging by your side. He trailed behind, staying in the shadows like a proper ghost, his breath visible in the chilly night air.

When you entered the noodle shop, he stopped just outside, watching through the window. You were already at a corner table, your face lighting up as the server placed a steaming bowl of noodles in front of you. Then came the dumplings, and your joy was almost palpable.

Simon shook his head, muttering, “Unbelievable,” before pushing the door open. The little bell above the door jingled, but you didn’t notice—too engrossed in your noodles.

He approached silently, stopping just behind you. “Enjoyin’ yourself, are ya?”

You froze mid-slurp, a noodle dangling from your lips. That voice. You’d recognize that deep, gravelly tone anywhere.

Slowly, you turned your head to see Simon standing there, arms crossed and a single brow arched. His expression was equal parts amusement and exasperation.

“I, uh…” You scrambled for an excuse, your voice muffled by the noodle still in your mouth. “Toilet break?”

“Toilet break?” he repeated, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down. “Love, the loo doesn’t serve dumplings.”

A/N:

Just a heads up—Captain Price’s fiancée in this story is the same lady from Papa Bear Material—Mama Bear! So, if you've read that story, you might recognize her. As for the characters of Y/N, both are technically the same person, so feel free to choose who you identify with!

Y/N’s been caught. And now, Simon’s not having it. And with that, stay tuned for Part 2. Simon’s not letting this go anytime soon…

Edit: Part 2 is here!----->

[entitled-fangirl]

His betrothed.

Barty Crouch Jr. x reader

Summary: The youngest Black sibling is getting near courting age. Regulus and Barty have a plan, and Sirius doesn't like it.

Warnings: the Black family literally, cursing, siblings fighting, idk

Author's note: I wrote this while I had a fever, so if it's horrendous, let's not judge :|

Part 2!

Masterlist

....................................................................

"Siri…?"

Sirius turned his head to look over his shoulder. 

Sweet little Y/N Black was standing behind him with a worried look in her eyes.

Being the caring older brother he was, he pushed James slightly, making room for her to sit next to him at the Gryffindor table of the Great Hall. She accepted, sitting down gently, her expression never changing.

Remus saw the look as well, and seemed to be just as concerned, "What's going on?"

They weren't the only two marauders concerned. In fact, they all were.

When Sirius' sibling Y/N was sorted into Gryffindor, Sirius had physically cringed. He couldn't stand seeing his darling little sister go through the Black family's mental and physical abuse due to her house. At that point, away from Walburga's watch, the marauders had taken the girl under their wings. During the summer, she still remained in the Black household at Grimmauld Place with her twin Regulus. But during the school year, she was raised by Sirius.

Hence, where this situation had come from.

James threw an arm around the girl's shoulder, leaning close to her ear, "Whatever it is, you can tell us. That's what we're here for."

She simply stared at the plate in front of Remus across the table.

The four boys stared at each other, worried and unsure of what to do at this point.

Her small voice came out, "Mum is having me go to my first… meeting…. This winter…"

Sirius' hand had a steady grip on his fork, his knuckles turning white. His voice was low. Scarily low, "What."

Remus leaned forward to him, "Pads, control yourself in front of everyone."

Sirius' head lifted to him, "I would, but she's 17 fucking years old. Too young to be staring this… this shit…."

The girl remained unmoving, James' eyes never leaving her, "Y/N…?"

A small sigh came from her lips, "that's not all…"

Sirius looked as if he would explode. "Not…all?"

Peter finally peeped, "Is everything going to be okay?"

She looked up at him, "I'm not sure…"

Sirius rubbed his hands over his face before leaning on the table, "Alright, sweetheart. Tell me."

"Mum is… well… setting up… alliances…"

Sirius knew what that meant. Merlin, he knew what that meant. And he was angry. Beyond angry.

Remus' eyebrows furrowed, "…alliances?"

She nodded, her frame getting smaller as if she was shrinking into herself with every word, "It's…. Well it's when-"

Sirius interrupted, "Mum's marrying her off."

The table went silent, each boy trying to come to terms with what they had heard. 

Finally, Peter spoke up, "to…. To who?"

All of their eyes were on her. Well, almost everyone's eyes.

She shrugged, "Mum hasn't told me yet."

James, who had been staring off past the siblings to a different table, was holding a slight smirk to his face. "I bet I can tell you who it is."

Y/N looked up to him with teary eyes, her emotions finally getting to her, "Who?"

His eyes never left the person, his head moving as if to point in that direction. Sirius and Y/N followed his gaze.

Barty Crouch Jr. sat at the Slytherin table, his eyes flickering up in her direction every few seconds. When he saw the entire table looking in his direction, he quickly looked down at his food, as if forcing himself to not look up at her again until they looked away.

Sirius' voice was practically a growl, "It's. Not. Gonna. Fucking. Happen."

James sighed, "I don't know if you get a choice, Pads."

Remus looked up at Y/N, who was near tears. His hand reached out, grabbing hers from across the table, "Hey. Are you alright little dove?"

That was their name for her. Little dove. She was no animangus. But, hoping to make her feel included, they had given her a name during her 3rd year. And it had stuck ever since.

She shrugged, her bottom lip quivering. "I'm not sure."

He nodded, "That's alright. We'll figure this out… Pads?"

Sirius was in his own world. His eyes flickered around the room at every person, as if anyone could jump out and take her from them. 

When Regulus entered the Great Hall, Sirius immediately jumped up, walking to him. "Regulus…"

Regulus stopped, confused. Sirius never spoke to him unless it had to do with Y/N. "…what."

"I want you to tell me what the fuck Mum is doing to her."

Regulus sighed, "Let's…," his eyes wandered around, "Let's get away from listening ears."

…

"What the hell, Reg?!"

"Hear me out, Sirius!"

"No! You're letting Mum marry her away like a piece of fucking meat-"

"-THAT'S NOT TRUE!"

Sirius went quiet. The only sound in the hall was the occasional student that walked a few corridors over. His voice finally came out calm, "What… what do you mean?"

Regulus sighed, "It's… complicated."

"Yeah, I can fucking tell…"

"Crouch…," Regulus looked like he was ready to get hit by his brother, "he asked."

Sirius' eyebrows furrowed, "Asked for what?"

"Sirius, please. Don't make me spell it out."

"He asked for Y/N?"

Regulus nodded, "He's liked her for the longest time, really. Since I can remember. And when Mum mentioned that she was going to make arrangements for me soon, I panicked knowing she'd be soon after. I told Crouch, and he said he'd happily marry Y/N. And I helped him win Mum's favor." He looked back up at Sirius, "Look. Don't judge me. I'm doing what's best for her."

Sirius scoffed, "'what's best for her'? What's best is getting her away from the hellhole we call our family. They don't fucking deserve her. Marrying her to a fucking death eater, Reg? Not the brightest idea you've had. Merlin…"

Sirius slowly began to walk away until Reg spoke up again, "I thought it through, Siri. Swear to God."

The 7th year stopped, turning around once more, "…how?"

Reggie sighed again, "Crouch… he's… he's only a first generation death eater. There's not many responsibilities he has to hold. He's loyal only to himself and those he deems worthy."

Sirius thinks it over, "And would he be loyal to her?"

Regulus let out a small laugh, "Merlin. He is already."

When Sirius didn't answer, Regulus continued, "He may not be close to his father, but… it gives her options. If they decide to run away, he can protect them. And if she decides just to leave Bartimus, then his father could protect her on his own. Crouch brought it up to Mum as a way to give more connections between the death eaters and the Ministry. But, we both know. It was for her protection."

Sirius was staring to be slightly shocked at his brother's reasoning, "I…. Okay?"

Regulus gave a final statement. "And He'll treat her well, brother."

"How can you be sure?"

Reg shrugged, "Don't believe me? Make them interact. You'll see. He's like a loyal dog. He'll do anything for her."

Sirius sighed, "I should wring your neck. But I won't. Because you've thought this out so well. I won't say I'm agreeing with it. But… I'll let it grow a bit. To see where it goes."

Regulus smiles, "That's all I ask, brother."

….

Sirius entered the Great Hall once more, sitting in his spot with a huff. At this point, James is gently running his hands through the girl's hair. She's talking to Peter and Remus over an omelette, her mind far from the previous conversation.

He interrupts, "We're talking about this later. The four of us."

She turned, "Not me?"

Sirius' tone turned condescending, his voice harsh, "When have you ever been a part of the four of us? You're not a marauder."

James' hand in her hair immediately paused, Peter dropping his fork clumsily. Remus choked on his drink. But none of them said a word in her defense.

She stared at her brother with a guilty look that slowly morphed into slight hatred. Her voice was still as soft as always, but it held a bite to it, "Fine. I didn't want Mum to know I'm around the Black family traitor anyway." She stood up, leaving the table without another word. 

Remus stood up, watching her go, "Dove?"

But she had already left.

She approached the Slytherin table, her red and gold tie standing out from that side of the room. 

And Barty Crouch Jr. was already looking for her, noticing her leave from the Gryffindor table. 

She stood behind him, quietly trying to speak up, "Excuse me?"

Barty's eyes closed. Her voice was so sweet. He never got to hear it. And she was trying to speak to him. This situation couldn't be better. 

He turned around on the bench, a small smile gracing his face and a happy look in his eye, "Hello. What do you need?"

She pointed to where Regulus always sat, "Could I… maybe…?"

He looked over to the spot next to him before immediately, "Oh. Yes. Please."

She sat, finally taking note of the people around him. The most notable one being Lucius across the table.

Lucius held an arrogant look in his eyes, "What? The blood traitor finally got tired of you too?"

Barty's jaw clenched, "Watch your tone, Malfoy."

Malfoy snickered, leaning forward. "Why are you here, Black?"

Barty was becoming highly irritated, "Hey. What did I fucking say?"

Lucius held his hands up in a surrendering way, not saying a word, but his eyes were saying more than his mouth needed to.

She stood, "I'm sorry. This was a dumb idea…"

Barty grabbed her wrist. "No, please. I want you to sit."

She hesitantly does so.

A silence falls over the table before Barty breaks it, "Regulus hasn't been back since Sirius drug him out. Think he beat him up?"

She laughs, "No. I'm sure that just had a small fight is all."

Barty smiles, "I have a feeling I know what it's about."

She nods, deciding to avoid the subject. "Do you have classes today?"

He nods as well, "Just one. Potions. Tell me yours."

She pulls out her wand, waving it. A small piece of paper lands on the table, her entire schedule written on it. She begins to study it to give him an answer.

He leans over to her, peering at it slightly over her shoulder. He smiles, "You have astronomy tonight?"

She nods, "It's my favorite."

He points at one of the classes for the day. "I know where that is. Why don't I walk you?"

She shakes her head, "You don't have to. I know where it is, I just-"

His voice was a whisper, "-please. I would love to."

She decided to look at him finally, and when she did so, she found their faces to be inches apart, his deep brown eyes staring longingly into hers. She felt her face heat up, a light pink shade overtaking them. They stayed this way for a while before she decided to talk first, her voice softer than a whisper as she caught him staring at her lips, "Do you really want to marry me, Crouch?"

He smiled, "More than anything."

The moment sat for a while before she looked away, now a deep shade of red. "Perhaps you can walk me to class then."

"And a walk after dinner."

She looked up at him, "…a walk?"

He nodded, "Please."

He points at another class on the paper, "I can walk you to this one as well… if you'll have me?"

Her eyes soften as tried to see if this was a joke. If he had an ulterior motive. But he didn't.

Regulus came up from behind, completely unnoticed until Y/N felt a kiss to the top of her head and a small, "scoot over."

She did so, pushing herself closer to Barty, who held a smile on his face the entire time.

Regulus could feel the stares from the Gryffindor table. He looked up to meet their gazes, smiling in an almost mocking way at the sight of the two betrothed finally bonding.

She was still looking at Barty, "I…. Yes. I would…. I would like that very much."

He nodded, "Then it shall be done." He stood up, grabbing his books next to him, "I must get to potions, but I'll meet you by the Gryffindor common room entrance before your class, yes?" When she nodded, he gave a nod to her brother, "Regulus," then took his free hand, grabbing the girl's hand, kissing it gently, "Y/N." And with that, he left.

.................................................................

[tally-vi]

i was only gonna write in the tags but that turned into a rant so

warning! don’t open the tags unless you want a long unorganized rant!

ABOUT THE ALEX KISTER SITUATION

Just found out about the situation, and this might give me hate, but I think its important to say:

LETS WAIT TO HEAR ALEX KISTER

As disgusting as the allegations are, we shouldnt turn this into another Kwite situation. People are already jumping the gun and claiming that him being a creep is the absolute truth, but we all need to wait.

I hate saying this, but this could be fake. I don't like thinking this but after so many cases of shit like this I can't help but have to doubt and wait.

If the allegations are true than I will post here and apologize for doubting the victims. As someone who suffered with stuff like that before, I hope to God that no one ever goes through something like those people did.

Anyway, I might go to bed now, I hope he responds soon so I can have the full picture

[iamgonnagetyouback]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ run away

synopsis: the potter house is still heavy with the weight of sirius running away when the phone rings. you answer without thinking—only to hear a broken whisper on the other end. sirius..? silence. then, almost hesitant—y/n? regulus black never calls, never reaches out. but tonight, his voice is quiet, unsteady. he doesn’t ask for comfort. just to be heard. and you don’t hang up content warnings: black brothers angst like too much angst, mentions of telephone usage, use of y/n once author's note: i literally cried while writing this ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 1,511

The house still smelled like rain and warmth and home, but there was something off in the air—something heavy, like the ghosts of words Sirius hadn’t spoken yet. The walls seemed to hum with it, the kind of silence that wasn’t really silent at all, just waiting for someone to break it.

When Sirius stumbled through the door, he wasn’t just tired. He was wrecked. Ruined in a way that wasn’t just about the night or the journey or the cold rain still clinging to his skin. It was deeper than that, something carved into the very marrow of him.

Physically, you could see the damage—the way his hands shook when he ran them through his tangled hair, the way his clothes clung to him, damp and disheveled, the way his chest rose and fell like he had been running for miles and still hadn’t stopped. But it was his eyes that made your stomach twist.

They were empty. Not in the way that meant he felt nothing, but in the way that meant he had felt too much. Like someone had taken a chisel to his ribs and hollowed him out from the inside. There was something shattered behind them, something raw, something that shouldn’t have existed in someone as young as he was.

And beneath it all, beneath the exhaustion and the cold and the ache of everything that had come before this moment—there was hesitation.

Sirius stood in the doorway like he wasn’t sure if he should be here. If he was allowed to be here. His shoulders were curled in, defensive in a way you had never seen before, like he was bracing for something—like the weight of an entire life spent waiting for a slap or a sneer or a word meant to cut deep had followed him even now, even here, to the one place that was supposed to be safe.

He didn’t know how to be wanted.

He didn’t know how to be safe.

And he didn’t know if he was allowed to want those things.

For a horrible, aching moment, you wondered how long it had been like this. If there had ever been a time in his life when Sirius Black had come home and felt like he belonged there. If he had ever walked through a door without the lingering fear that this time, this time, it would all be ripped away.

It made you feel sick.

Because this wasn’t a stranger standing in front of you, looking like the world had swallowed him whole. This wasn’t some distant name in the halls of Hogwarts.

This was Sirius. Your brother’s best friend. Your almost-brother.

And he didn’t even know how to let himself be here.

Your parents didn’t ask questions, didn’t press for details. They just took him in. The way they had always said they would. The way you and James had begged Sirius to believe, time and time again, when he brushed off bruises with easy grins and covered up scars with careless words.

Your dad clapped a hand on his shoulder, firm but gentle, the kind of touch that said, You’re safe now. The kind of touch Sirius had never received from a father before—not like this, not without conditions. And your mum—she..she had simply held him. Wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in, like she was trying to shield him from every cruel thing that had ever been done to him. She smoothed his rain-damp hair, rubbed slow circles into his back, just like she had done for you when you were small, when you had scraped your knee or woken up crying from a nightmare.

At first, Sirius had barely reacted. He stood stiff and still, like he didn’t know what to do with kindness when it wasn’t laced with ulterior motives. But then, for just a second, his fingers curled into the fabric of her cardigan. Just for a moment. Just long enough that you saw it—the way his shoulders caved in, the way something inside him caved in.

And then it was gone. He pulled away like it had never happened, like he hadn’t let himself need something, even for a fraction of a second.

James was different. James had never looked at Sirius the way other people did. Not like a Black. Not like a disappointment. Not like anything less than family. Just like a brother.

He didn’t ask if Sirius was staying. He didn’t offer. He decided.

“C’mon, mate. You’re staying in my room.”

No argument. No hesitation. No moment of doubt or waiting for Sirius to earn his place. Just James, just certainty, just the unshakable, undeniable fact that Sirius belonged here.

It wasn’t the first time he had said it. It wasn’t the first time you had said it, either.

If it ever gets too much. If they push too hard. If you don’t have anywhere else to go. Just come here. No explanations. No questions. No conditions.

Just come home.

And now, after all these years, after everything—he finally had.

You had been on your way to your room when the phone rang—sharp, jarring against the hush that had settled over the house. It made you jump, made your breath catch in your throat, the sound so out of place after everything that had just happened.

You had been on your way to your room when the phone rang, sharp and sudden against the silence. You grabbed it without thinking, pressing the receiver to your ear.

"Hello?"

At first, nothing.

Just the distant hum of the line. The faintest trace of static. A breath, maybe—so quiet you weren’t sure if you imagined it.

And then—so small, so broken, so unlike the person it belonged to, you barely caught it—

"…Sirius?"

You froze.

The voice it was- it was familiar.

Too familiar.

The voice was wrong, and yet—not. It was fragile in a way you had never heard it before, stripped raw, like someone had taken all the armor and arrogance and sharp edges and crushed them under their heel.

Something in your chest ached.

And then—soft, confused, uncertain—

"…Y/n?"

Your heart nearly stopped.

"Regulus?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

Heavy. Suspended in the space between breaths.

You could hear it—the way his breathing hitched, the way the hesitation deepened.

You had never spoken to him like this before.

Not once.

Not in all the years you had shared a school, a year, a name that carried weight in the world of magic.

Regulus Black had always been something distant. The boy who walked the same halls but never walked with you. The one who never spoke unless spoken to, whose silence had been a language of its own. You had never really known him, never really tried. And neither had he.

But now—now he was here, on the phone, whispering your name like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to say it.

Because he was Sirius’s brother.

Because he had always been untouchable.

And now—now he sounded nothing like the Black heir. Nothing like the sharp, cold figure people imagined him to be. He sounded lost. He sounded frightened.

He sounded alone.

You had always wondered what it was like for Regulus. What it was like to be the son that stayed. The one who obeyed. The one who didn’t run.

But listening to him now, you weren’t sure he had ever really had a choice.

You swallowed hard.

"Regulus?" you repeated, softer this time, gentler.

The silence stretched.

And then, finally—almost too quiet to hear, like he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to be heard—

"Is he there?"

And fuck.

The way he said it. Not demanding, not entitled. Just… pleading.

Like he already knew the answer but needed to hear it anyway. Like the words hurt to say, like they physically hurt.

Like he had spent every moment since Sirius left waiting—hoping—that maybe, just maybe, his brother hadn’t really gone. That maybe it wasn’t forever.

"Do you…" You hesitated, unsure how to navigate this. "Do you want to talk to him?"

Regulus didn’t respond right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before.

"No," he said. "He wouldn’t want to talk to me."

It wasn’t bitter. It wasn’t resentful. Just…matter-of-fact. Like he had already convinced himself it was true.

You didn’t know what to say.

And Regulus, maybe sensing it, maybe regretting it, let out a breath. It was barely anything, just the ghost of a sound, but it cracked at the edges.

"You don’t have to talk," he murmured. "Just… just leave the phone open. I—I just need to say it. Just once."

His voice wavered.

"Then you can hang up. I won’t bother you again."

Your grip on the phone tightened.

Because fuck, you didn’t know what he was going to say. You didn’t know if you even wanted to hear it. But you also knew—you knew—that whatever it was, he had never been able to say it before.

And maybe, for once, someone needed to listen.

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[lucyrose191]

LOOKING AT HER| S.VETTEL

Author’s note; fuck off Amy.

Pairing; Sebastian Vettel x shy!girlfriend!reader

Summary; Reader has grown to love the feeling of Sebastian’s eyes on her but not everyone understands.

Warnings; fluff, suggestive towards the end, Amy’s a bitch.

F1 Master List

Sebastian always had a habit of looking at her, he just couldn't help himself, he found her so beautiful that it was impossible not to admire her. He didn't understand how he was so lucky to have someone so special as his girlfriend.

It had taken a while for Y/N to get used to his gaze, at first it had made her self conscious, she thought there was something about her appearance or her outfit which had caught his attention but every time she asked he always responded the same way.

"I’m just admiring how beautiful my girl is"

She eventually found herself being used to having his eyes on her, in fact she had grown to like it. It made her feel safe and secure knowing he was there and keeping an eye on her. It was like a comfort blanket to her now.

She did feel nervous under his gaze though, the good kind of nervous. Sebastian was always one for eye contact and his gaze was... intense. It was constantly making her flustered, she'd end up forgetting everything, her words, what she was meant to be doing, everything vanished for her when he was around, all she could think about was him.

Sebastian and Y/N were currently out for dinner with some of Y/N's friends, although the pair of them had been official for over 2 years now Seb hadn't really had the chance to meet her friends properly due to him travelling all the time and when he wasn't they were too caught up in making up for lost time to make plans.

Her friends had been shocked when Y/N who was known to be extremely shy and famous for keeping to herself announced that she had a boyfriend, they had already been dating for nearly a year when she had finally told them.

Imagine their surprise when their incredibly private friend revealed just who her boyfriend was; an extremely famous, successful and rich formula one racing driver.

Y/N was currently in the middle of a conversation with her 'best-friend' Amy when she felt her boyfriends beautiful eyes tracing over her body.

Sebastian thought she looked so beautiful, she has dressed up tonight into a long dress and heels. Obviously she looked beautiful all the time but that dress was really doing something.

It didn't take long for Y/N to get flustered, her cheeks had turned a blush pink and she looked down at the table as she tried to remember her words.

Sebastian smiled, he loved the effect he had on her, knowing that he could get her all riled up just from a simple glance was a huge ego booster.

"Why do you keep looking at her like that? Can't you see it's making her uncomfortable" The table went silent as everyone turned to look at Amy who had purposely made sure everyone heard her.

Sebastian was speechless when he saw that she was staring him down. Making her uncomfortable? He looked at Y/N who was in just as much disbelief as he was, staring at her friend, wide-eyed because she hadn't been uncomfortable at all and she really didn't appreciate her rude tone towards the man she loved.

"Excuse me?" Sebastian almost laughed at the ridiculousness of her accusation.

"You've been staring her down for the past 10 minutes and it's creepy, can you not see how awkward she feels? She's literally shifting around in her seat"

"Amy-" Y/N tried to protest, she usually wasn't one to speak up, preferring to keep out of drama but the way the girl in front of her was looking at Sebastian like he was a piece of shit wasn't sitting right with her at all, especially because he was quite literally the sweetest human she had ever met.

The table watched in tense silence as Amy continued to run her loud mouth which was making everyone feel uncomfortable.

"...Just because you're some rich bloke that drives around in fancy cars doesn't mean you have the right to stare at a woman like she's a piece of meat" Seb couldn't believe the audacity of the woman, she knew absolutely nothing about him.

It seemed Y/N was thinking the same thing because she slammed her hand down on the table "Shut up! You know absolutely nothing about Seb or me, clearly, so stop acting like you have the right to comment on him, his job or his actions"

She then turned to her boyfriend who's eyes were filled with pride "Can we go? I don't want to stay here with someone who had no respect for others"

Sebastian nodded, immediately standing from his seat,  placing a couple bank notes down on the table to pay for their meal before grabbing his jacket and holding out his hand for her to take.

He ignored Amy's muttering of "Oh so you need to ask his permission to do what you want as well"

He said a polite goodbye to the rest of the table before the pair of them walked out of the restaurant.

Sebastian briefly glanced away from the the road and over to the passenger seat for the fifth time since they had gotten into the car, Y/N hadn't said anything since leaving the restaurant and it was starting to worry him.

She had sort of curled herself up into a ball, her knees pulled up to her chest with her feet resting on the edge of the seat as she stared blankly out of the window.

Sebastian wanted to tell her to sit up straight for her own safety but his worry for what she was thinking was a bigger priority to him at the moment.

"Liebling?" She only hummed in response which increased the worry he initially felt, she always responded properly to show he had her full attention, believing it was rude otherwise.

He hadn't been too bothered about Amy's words in the restaurant but with how quiet his girlfriend was being, he was starting to think that maybe Y/N agreed with her and maybe he did make her feel uncomfortable.

"Are you okay, schatz?" He asked. Y/N heaved out a heavy sigh as she sat up properly before turning to face him.

"I just hate how rude she was to you, she had no reason to speak to you like that and to do it in front of everyone in a public was just wrong, I'm sorry"

"Why are you apologising to me? You didn't do anything wrong, you handled it brilliantly" Sebastian reached over to grab her hand and link their fingers together, his thumb stroking along her hand hoping to provide some comfort.

"I know you went through the trouble to make sure you were free so we could go to dinner with them and now it's just wasted"

Sebastian shook his head "I didn't make sure I was free for the dinner, Y/N. I made sure I was free for you, you're more important to me than any interview or meeting"

Y/N smiled at his words, tightening her hold on his hand, he really was the perfect man.

"Can I ask you a question though?" He asked, seeing Y/N nodding her head out of the corner of his eye "Was she right?"

"What!?" Y/N couldn't believe the absurdity of his question "Not at all"

Sebastian bit his lip, not quite sure if she was just saying that so she wouldn't hurt his feeling "Are you sure? I'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable"

She couldn't help but giggle, nothing he did could ever make her uncomfortable, he was perfect. "You have never made me feel uncomfortable, Seb. I like feeling your eyes on me" she admitted.

Sebastian looked at her with a small smirk "yeah?"

Y/N nodded "Makes me feel sexy" she sheepishly said, turning back to the window to try and hide the blush on her cheeks.

"Oh, really?" She heard to teasing tone in his voice and internally rolled her eyes knowing he wouldn't let her live this down.

His ego had just grown about three times the size from her confession. It felt great knowing that he was able to make her feel so good without really doing anything. "Don't go all shy on me now, come on" he told her, tugging on her hand slightly.

"You're just going to hold it over my head now" she groaned but turned back to him as he wished.

"I promise I won't, I like that I make you feel good by something so simple" he said. The last part was true but he was totally going to hold it over her head.

"You always make me feel good" she whispered, tracing a finger over the veins on the back of his hand.

Sebastian heard her even though she spoke so quietly and felt like he could melt. What man didn't like hearing those words?

"How about I make you feel good when we get back home?" He asked, his tone suggesting anything but innocence.

Y/N's breath hitched knowing exactly what he was talking about. "Absolutely"

Sebastian smirked, turning his attention back to the road but he subtly pressed down on the accelerator.

He couldn't wait to get home.

[maeintree]

blushes and bruises | l. laufeyson

Summary: Loki never cared for Midgardian traditions—least of all Valentine’s Day. But when the God of Mischief finds himself enamored with the Avengers' beloved nurse, he begins to question everything he thought he knew about affection. Pairing: avengers!Loki x nurse!fem!Reader Word Count: 1.2k Author's Note: made a valentine's day fic! i know it's a little early and i literally just posted.. a few hours ago? and i love brotherly banter. what can i say? i love writing. hope you enjoy this one lovies!

Loki had never been one for sentimentality. He prided himself on being logical, composed, and above all, untouchable. Yet, when it came to you, he found himself unraveling in ways he could not comprehend.

It had started subtly—at least, that’s what he told himself.

A passing glance that lingered too long, an inexplicable urge to listen when you spoke, an unwillingness to look away when you laughed. That laugh—light, melodic, effortless—had a way of sneaking into the darkest corners of his mind, lingering long after you had left the room.

You were different from the others. There was no fear in your gaze when you looked at him, no wary glances or hushed whispers behind his back. Instead, you regarded him as if he were just another person, as if he hadn’t once tried to claim dominion over Midgard.

It was infuriating.

It was intoxicating.

He caught himself watching you far more often than he should, drawn to the warmth you exuded, to the way you moved through the Tower as if you belonged among gods and warriors alike. And perhaps, in some ways, you did.

The others adored you, their affections apparent in the way they sought you out for comfort, for care. Even Thor, his ever-boisterous brother, held you in high regard.

Thor had always been perceptive when it came to his brother, and lately, he had noticed something rather amusing. Loki, the ever-composed God of Mischief, had developed an irritatingly obvious habit—his gaze lingered on you more often than it should. Whether you were speaking, laughing, or merely passing by, Loki's eyes would track your every move, and Thor, being the loving older brother that he was, found endless entertainment in this revelation.

One afternoon, as the two brothers sat in the common room, Thor leaned closer to Loki with a knowing smirk. "Brother.. I do believe you have taken quite the liking to our dear healer."

Loki barely spared him a glance, feigning disinterest as he continued reading. "You are insufferable."

Thor chuckled, undeterred. "Admit it, Loki. You fancy her. I have seen the way you look at her."

Loki’s grip on his book tightened. "Ah, so this is what your royal tutor meant when he spoke of speaking fiction and succumbing to delusions.. you see nothing."

"That was only one time, and, ah, but I do! You, my dear brother, are smitten." Thor grinned, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You watch her like a lovesick pup. It is quite adorable, really."

Loki shot him a venomous glare. "If you value your teeth, I suggest you cease this ridiculous—"

At that moment, you entered the room, completely oblivious to the conversation taking place. You greeted them with a smile, a soft "Hello, Thor. Loki," before continuing down the hall.

The second Loki caught sight of you, his frustration boiled over. Without thinking, his fist swung—directly into Thor’s face.

"Oof!" Thor reeled back, clutching his mouth. "Brother! That was uncalled for!"

You turned at the commotion, eyes widening as you rushed over. "Thor, are you okay?"

Loki, ever the quick thinker, straightened and cleared his throat. "Yes, well… he was choking on a piece of food. I was simply assisting him."

Thor shot him a bewildered look. "I was not—"

Loki elbowed him sharply, offering you a smooth, collected nod. "See? Crisis averted."

You blinked at them before shaking your head with a small smile. "Alright, if you say so. Just try not to kill each other."

As you walked away, Loki crossed his arms smugly, while Thor glared at him, rubbing his jaw. "Oh, you are well and truly doomed."

Valentine’s Day in the Avengers Tower was always a spectacle. The team found ways to celebrate, whether through grand gestures or friendly banter, and this year was no exception. Heart-shaped decorations had mysteriously appeared in the common room, and Tony had been on a mission to outdo himself with extravagant gifts for everyone.

Loki, however, found himself feeling out of place amid all the festivities. Despite being allowed to roam freely within the Tower, he still felt like an outsider.

The concept of Valentine’s Day was foreign to him—another Midgardian tradition that seemed needlessly sentimental.

And yet, there was something about it that intrigued him. Or rather, someone.

You.

The team adored you, and for good reason. As a nurse who had been working with them for quite some time, you had a warmth and kindness that made even the most guarded of them feel at ease. Even Loki, with all his sharp wit and cold exterior, found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t explain.

He hadn’t meant to grow attached. He had fought it, convinced himself that it was nothing more than fleeting curiosity. But every time he found himself in your presence—whether it was a passing conversation in the infirmary, a fleeting glance across the room, or the way you always seemed to see right through him—it became harder to deny.

Which was why he was currently pacing in the hallway outside the infirmary, muttering to himself as he tried to form the right words.

Thor had told him—rather enthusiastically—that Valentine’s Day was a time for mortals to confess their affections. It was a day for lovers, for gestures of devotion, for warmth.

Loki scoffed at the notion, yet here he was, battling the unfamiliar weight of uncertainty in his chest.

When he finally gathered the courage, he stepped inside, clearing his throat to get your attention. You looked up from your work, a warm smile instantly gracing your lips.

“Loki,” you greeted. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He hesitated, shifting his weight slightly. He had practiced this. Rehearsed the words over and over again in his mind. And yet, standing before you, they seemed to abandon him entirely.

“I… I was informed that today is a day where… gestures of affection are exchanged.”

You raised an amused brow. “That’s one way to put it.”

He exhaled sharply. “Yes, well. I… was considering if, perhaps, you would…” He trailed off, frustration flashing across his face as he rubbed his temple. He loathed this. The vulnerability, the uncertainty, the way his pride and fear warred within him.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “Forget I said anything.”

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you. The mighty Loki Odinson, reduced to fumbling over his words like a nervous schoolboy? It was endearing.

“Sure, Mr. Odinson,” you replied easily, your eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’d love to.”

Loki’s gaze snapped to yours, as if he hadn’t expected such an easy answer. He searched your face for any sign of mockery, but all he found was genuine warmth. For a moment, he simply stared, his lips parting slightly before pressing them together again.

“…Right,” he finally said, straightening. “Well then.”

You shook your head fondly. “Come on, Prince of Mischief. I think you owe me a Valentine’s date.”

For the first time in a long while, Loki allowed himself to smile—a real one.

The date itself was surprisingly pleasant—dinner on the Tower’s balcony, candlelight flickering between you. Loki, despite his usual skepticism toward Midgardian customs, had gone through the effort of making the evening special. And just as the night seemed to settle into something warm and comfortable…

The Avengers walked in.

Or rather, Tony led the charge, with Steve and Natasha in tow. “Okay, tell me this isn’t borderline ‘back in the cell’ behavior?” Tony deadpanned, before Steve elbowed him.

“Let the man court in peace, Stark,” Thor grumbled.

Tony clapped Loki on the back. “I'm watching you, Edgelord Supreme.”

Loki groaned. You just laughed.

honestly really wanted to make him flustered out considering i have a headcannon where girls usually fawn over him and he takes it so he didn't really have to ask someone out, ehhh love soft!loki aha

likes, comments, and reposts are much appreciated! hope you enjoyeddd.

[pikahlua]

MHA Chapter 424 spoilers translations

This week’s initial tentative super rough/literal translations under the cut.

1 アメリカ AMERIKA USA

2 ワシントン州 ワシントンしゅう WASHINTON-shuu State of Washington

tagline 決戦から数日… けっせんからすうじつ… kessen kara suujitsu... A few days after the decisive battle...

3 ーーーーご覧の通り全国に渡って快晴となるでしょう ーーーーごらんのとおりぜんこくにわたってかいせいとなるでしょう ----goran no toori zenkoku ni watatte kaisei to naru deshou "----As you can see, it will be sunny all across the country."

4 荒れるかに思われたこの一週間でしたが…… あれるかにおもわれたこのいっしゅうかんでしたが…… areru ka ni omowareta kono isshuukan deshita ga...... "This past week seemed like it was going to be rough, but......"

5 予報を大きく外してしまった事お詫び致します よほうをおおきくはずしてしまったことおわびいたします yohou wo ookiku hazushite shimatta koto owabi itashimasu "I apologize for being so far off the forecast."

6 メリルもう変なこと言うなよ〜 メリルもうへんなこというなよ〜 MERIEU mou hen na koto iuna yo~ Meryl, stop saying weird things~

7 しかし洗濯の際はご注意を しかしせんたくのさいはごちゅういを shikashi sentaku no sai wa gochuui wo "However, be careful with your laundry."

8 風はまだ強く吹いています かぜはまだつよくふいています kaze wa mada tsuyoku fuite imasu "The wind is still blowing strongly."

1 あの日吹いた一陣の風は あのひふいたいちじんのかぜは ano hi fuita ichijin no kaze wa "The gust of wind that blew that day"

2 大きな戦いを経たこの世界に おおきなたたかいをへたこのせかいに ooki na tatakai wo heta kono sekai ni "through this world that went through a great battle,"

3 おーいそれこっち寄越したまえ おーいそれこっちよこしたまえ ooi sore kocchi yokoshita mae "Hey, please move it over here."

4 あ助かります あたすかります a tasukarimasu "Ah, that's helpful."

5 どのような影響をもたらすのかーーー引き続き予報を続けてまいります どのようなえいきょうをもたらすのかーーーひきつづきよほうをつづけてまいります dono you na eikyou wo motarasu no ka---hiki tsudzuki yohou wo tsudzukete mairimasu "what kind of impact will it have?---We will coninue to forecast." (Note: Speech bubbles 1, 2, and 5 would be combined in English to more colloquially say something like: "We will continue to forecast what kind of impact the gust of wind that blew that day will have on this world that has gone through a great battle.")

1 もうお家建ってるぅ‼︎ もうおうちたってるぅ‼︎ mou ouchi tatteruu!! "The houses are already built!!"

2 タケノコみたいィィ‼︎ TAKENOKO mitaiII!! "Like bamboo shoots!!" (Note: I think what is meant by this line is that the houses are springing up quickly like bamboo shoots.)

3 一週間が過ぎた いっしゅうかんがすぎた isshuukan ga sugita One week has passed.

4 蛇腔戦以降手つかずだった復旧作業が急速に進んでいる じゃくうせんいこうてつかずだったふっき��うさぎょうがきゅうそくにすすんでいる jakuu-sen ikou tetsukazu datta fukkyuu sagyou ga kyuusoku ni susunde iru Restoration work, which has remained untouched since the battle of Jakuu, is rapidly progressing.

5 戦いの後 たたかいのあと tatakai no ato After the battle,

6-7 アメリカを始めとした多くの国からたくさんの支援が アメリカをはじめとしたおおくのくにからたくさんのしえんが AMERIKA wo hajime to shita ooku no kuni kara takusan no shien ga starting with the USA, lots of support from many countries

8 続々と届いている ぞくぞくととどいている zokuzoku to todoite iru arrived one after another.

9 彼らの戦いを見て動かすにはいられませんでした かれらのたたかいをみてうごかすにはいられませんでした karera no tatakai wo mite ugokasu ni wa iraremasendeshita "As I watched their battle, I couldn't be kept from mobilizing"

10 審査機関から図面貰えたんで しんさきかんからずめんもらえたんで shinsa kikan kara zumen moraetande "I received the blueprints from the inspection authority."

11 建てられるとこから建ててっちゃいましょう たてられるとこからたててっちゃいましょう taterareru toko kara tatetecchaiumashou "Let's start building where we can."

small text 建築基準法もクリア けんちくきじゅんほうもクリア kenchiku kijunhou mo KURIA "They clear the Building Standards Act."

12 オーケー OOKEE "Okay."

1 超常以前はこの規模の復旧に10年以上はかかったでしょう ちょうじょういぜんはこのきぼのふっきゅうに10ねんいじょうはかかったでしょう choujou izen wa kono kibo no fukkyuu ni 10nen ijou wa kakatta deshou "Before the [advent of the] paranormal, a recovery of this scale would have taken more than 10 years."

2 しかしこれだけの"個性"が寄り集まればきっとすぐにーーー しかしこれだけの"こせい"がよりあつまればきっとすぐにーーー shikashi kore dake no "kosei" ga yori atsumareba kitto sugu ni--- "However, if all these quirks come together, surely soon---"

3 元には戻らないですね もとにはもどらないですね moto ni modoranai desu ne "It's not going back to how it was before." (Note: This is a transition with an excellent double meaning. The doctor is delivering this news to Katsuki about his arm, but the line serves as a poignant conclusion to what was said previously on this same page. The previous lines essentially imply: "Surely if all of us with our quirks come together, everything will go back to how it was before!" The doctor's final word on this page is meant to show that no, things won't go back to the way they were before. Things have changed.)

1 手術前にもお伝えしましたがこれが最善です しゅじゅつまえにもおつたえしましたがこれがさいぜんです shujutsu mae ni mo otsutae shimashita ga kore ga saizen desu "I told you this before the surgery, but this is the very best [that can be done]."

2 我々も彼の活躍を見ております故…手は尽くしました われわれもかれのかつやくをみておりますゆえ…てはつくしました wareware mo kare no katsuyaku wo mite orimasu yue...te wa tsukushimashita "As we are also watching his [ability to] flourish...we've done everything we can."

3 なんとか接合に接合を重ねて形は留めましたが なんとかせつごうにせつごうをかさねてかたちはとどめましたが nantoka setsugou ni setsugou wo kasanete katachi wa todomemashita ga "We somehow managed to keep the shape by arranging his joints on top of each other, but"

4 リハビリで動くようになるかは…明言できません リハビリでうごくようになるかは…めいげんできません RIHABIRI de ugoku you ni naru ka wa...meigen dekimasen "whether he'll become able to move again with rehabilitiation...I can't state [for certain]."

5 ヒーロー活動を見据えるならミルコのように義肢の選択も… ヒーローかつどうをみすえるならミルコのようにぎしのせんたくも… HIIROO katsudou wo misueru nara MIRUKO no you ni gishi no sentaku mo... "To ensure his hero activities, you can also choose prosthetic limbs like Mirko..."

small text 1 リハビリィ？じゃー切ってくれ リハビリィ？じゃーきってくれ RIHABIRII? jaa kitte kure Rehabilitation? Then just cut me loose.

small text 2 ※決戦前のミルコさん ※けっせんまえのミルコさん ※kessen mae no MIRUKO-san ※Mirko-san prior to the decisive battle

6 いーや良いよ いーやいいよ iiya ii yo "No, it's fine."

1 俺の"個性"掌　由来だもん おれの"こせい"てのひら　ゆらいだもん ore no "kosei" tenohira yurai da mon "The source of my quirk is the palms of my hands."

2 勝己…！ かつき…！ Katsuki...! "Katsuki...!"

3 それに sore ni "Additionally,"

4 あいつは"持って"すらなかったんだ…… あいつは"もって"すらなかったんだ…… aitsu wa "motte" suranakattanda...... "that guy didn't even have one......"

5 どんなキツイリハビリだろーがやってやんぜ今すぐ どんなキツイリハビリだろーがやってやんぜいますぐ donna KITSUI RIHABIRI daroo ga yatte yan ze ima sugu "No matter how intense the rehabilitation is, let's do it right away."

6 まだ負担の軽い訓練しかダメ まだふたんのかるいくんれんしかダメ mada futan no karui kunren shika DAME "Anything but the lightest of training yet would be bad."

7 は‼︎ ha!! "Hah[?]!"

8 ���よりねまず心臓よ君は うでよりねまずしんぞうよきみは ude yori ne mazu shinzou yo kimi wa "Before your arm, it's your heart first of all."

9 エッジショットの見事な縫合と心肺蘇生がなきゃ君　死んでたんだから エッジショットのみごとなほうごうとしんぱいそせいがなきゃきみ　しんでたんだから EJJISHOTTO no migoto na hougou to shinpai sosei ga nakya kimi shindetanda kara "If not for Edgeshot's magnificent sutures and CPR, you would have died."

10 あの状態で戦い切ったのもちょっとよくわかんないのに あのじょうたいでたたかいきったのもちょっとよくわかんないのに ano joutai de tatakai kitta no mo chotto yoku wakannai noni "How you managed to finish a fight in that condition I don't really understand, but"

11 何でその後数キロも移動できたのかワケわかんないんだから なんでそのあとすうキロもいどうできたのかワケわかんないんだから nande sono ato suu KIRO mo idou dekita no ka WAKE wakannainda kara "how you were able to move several kilometers after that I also don't understand."

12 生かされ…応えたという他ない いかされ…こたえたというほかない ikasare...kotaeta to iu hoka nai "You were kept alive*...I have no response other than that." (*Note: This word for "kept alive" means also "let live," "revive," "resusciatete," "bring back to life," "restore," "put to good use," "make the best use of," "capitalize on," etc. I bring it up because the meaning here could change depending on whether or not the story elaborates on this moment in future chapters.)

13 とにかく絶対安静だからね とにかくぜったいあんせいだからね tonikaku zettai ansei dakara ne "Regardless, you absolutely must rest, okay?"

1 起きたかい おきたかい okita kai "You awake?"

2 まさかオールマイトと同室なんて… まさかオールマイトとどうしつなんて… masaka OORU MAITO to doushitsu nante... "I can't believe I'm in the same room as All Might..."

3 塚内くんの計らいだよ つかうちくんのはからいだよ Tsukauchi-kun no hakarai da yo "It's Tsukauchi-kun's arrangements."

4 そっか… sokka... "I see..."

5 警備が楽なのと病室も有限だからね けいびがらくなのとびょうしつもゆうげんだからね keibi ga raku na no to byoushitsu mo yuugen dakara ne "[It makes] security easy, and hospital rooms are also limited."

6 オールマイト身体は… オールマイトからだは… OORU MAITO karada wa... "All Might, your body..."

7 こんなにボルト入れるの初めてだって言われたね こんなにボルトいれるのはじめてだっていわれたね konna ni BORUTO ireru no hajimete datte iwareta ne "I was told this is the first time they inserted a bolt like this."

8 緑谷少年は？ みどりやしょうねんは？ Midoriya-shounen wa? "And you, Young Midoriya?'

9 …腕の感覚が少し…ーーー… …うでのかんかくがすこし…ーーー… ...ude no kankaku ga sukoshi...---... "...There's a little bit of sensation in my arms...---..."

1-2 転弧の命を救ける事はできませんでした てんこのいのちをたすけることはできませんでした Tenko no inochi wo tasukeru koto wa dekimasendeshita "I couldn't save Tenko's life."

3 心に手を伸ばして憎しみが砕けても こころにてをのばしてにくしみがくだけても kokoro ni te wo nobashite nikushimi ga kudaketemo "I reached out to his heart, and even though his hatred was crushed,"

4 転弧は最期まで てんこはさいごまで Tenko wa saigo made "to the very end, Tenko"

5 敵連合のリーダーでした ヴィランれんごうのリーダーでした VIRAN rengou no RIIDAA deshita "was the leader of the League of Villains."

6 臨死体験した身から言わせてもらうと りんしたいけんしたみからいわせてもらうと rinshi taiken shita mi kara iwasete morau to "Let me tell you this as someone who has had a near-death experience,"

7 最期にどんな表情だったかだと思うよ さいごにどんなカオだったかだとおもうよ saigo ni donna KAO (kanji: hyoujou) datta ka da to omou yo "I think it's in the expression on his face at the end."

8 もう…壊したよ もう…こわしたよ mou...kowashita yo You already...destroyed it.

9 それは…… sore wa...... That......

10 明日のおまえら次第だな あしたのおまえらしだいだな ashita no omaera shidai da na depends on you all tomorrow. (Note: I think a more apt, less literal way of saying this in English would be "That depends on all of you tomorrow...who you will be, what you will do.")

1 せいぜい seizei "To the fullest,"

2 頑張れ がんばれ ganbare "do your best."

3 そこに泣いている少年がいなかったのなら そこにないているしょうねんがいなかったのなら soko ni naite iru shounen ga inakatta no nara "If there wasn't a crying boy there,"

4 やっぱり心は救ったのだと思うよ やっぱりこころはすくったのだとおもうよ yappari kokoro wa sukutta no da to omou yo "I think his heart was saved after all,"

5 OFAの使命と共にね ワン・フォー・オールのしめいとともにね WAN FOO OORU no shimei to tomo ni ne "along with One For All's mission."

6 譲渡したんだろう？伝わってきたよ わたしたんだろう？つたわってきたよ watashitandarou? tsutawatte kita yo "You transferred it to him, right? [That much] was conveyed back to me."

7 …はいけれど ...hai keredo "...Yes, but"

1 まだ残り火が燻っているのを感じます まだのこりびがくすぶっているのをかんじます mada nokori bi ga kusubutte iru no wo kanjimasu "I still feel the embers smoldering."

2 なんで動けるのあんたはああ!!!!! なんでうごけるのあんたはああ!!!!! nande ugokeru no anta waaa!!!!! "How are you able to move!!!!!"

3 かっちゃん！ Kacchan! "Kacchan!"

4 無事でよかった…！ ぶじでよかった…！ buji de yokatta...! "Thank goodness you're okay...!"

5 すみませんオールマイトこの子貴方が無事か心配してたみたいで すみませんオールマイトこのこあなたがぶじかしんぱいしてたみたいで sumimasen OORU MAITO kono ko anata ga buji ka shinpai shiteta mitai de "I'm sorry, All Might. This kid seemed worried about whether or not you were okay."

6 出久くんもごめんね いずくくんもごめんね Izuku-kun mo gomen ne "Sorry to you, too, Izuku-kun."

7 ……残り火って ……のこりびって ......nokori bi tte "......You said embers."

8 え e "Eh?"

9 じゃあそれ… jaa sore... "So then..."

10 おまえ… omae... "you..."

1 "無個性"に "むこせい"に "mukosei" ni "[will become] quirkless..."

2 うん un "Yeah."

3 でも… demo... "But..."

4 元々なかったものだし もともとなかったものだし motomoto nakatta mono da shi "It was something I didn't have originally, so"

5 惜しいとかはないよ おしいとかはないよ oshii toka wa nai yo "I don't have any regrets."

small text 渡そうと思わないと渡せないモノだし わたそうとおもわないとわたせないモノだし watasou to omowanai to watasenai MONO da shi "Since it's something I can't transfer if I don't want to transfer it." (Note: Izuku is saying he has no regrets about transferring One For All because, by definition, he couldn't have done it if he didn't want to do it. He has no reason to regret something he wanted to do aka he accepted it.)

6 すごい夢を見させてもらったなって感じ すごいゆめをみさせてもらったなってかんじ sugoi yume wo misasete moratta natte kanji "It feels like I was allowed to have an amazing dream." (Note: This is similar to what Star & Stripe said as she died.)

7 どんな汚え手使やあ どんなきたねえてつかやあ donna kitanee te tsukayaa What dirty tricks did you use to do it, (Note: This is a flashback to chapter 5.)

8 "無個性"が受かるんだ "むこせい"がうかるんだ "mukosei" ga ukarunda you quirkless twerp? (Note: This is a flashback to chapter 5. Also note that in this line, Katsuki's memory is that he spoke the kanji for mukosei as "mukosei" aka "quirkless." In the original for chapter 5, the kanji were still mukosei for "quirkless," but Katsuki pronounced it as "temee" for "you bastard.")

9 じゃあ僕はその上を行く じゃあぼくはそのうえをいく jaa boku wa sono ue wo iku Then I'm gonna rise even higher than that. (Note: This is a flashback to chapter 121.)

10 行かなきゃいけないんだ…！ いかなきゃいけないんだ…！ ikanakya ikenainda...! I've gotta keep growing too! (Note: This is a flashback to chapter 121.)

11 俺に追いつかれてンなよ出久 おれにおいつかれてンなよいずく ore ni oitsukareteNna yo Izuku Don't let me overtake you, Izuku! (Note: This is a flashback to chapter 423.)

1 えええ eee "Ehhh?"

2 泣っ なっ Na- "Cry-"

3 っちゃん⁉︎ cchan!? "-cchan!?" (Note: The new "Wacchan!")

4 いや… iya... "No..."

5 ええ… ee... "Ehh..."

6 っだァ… ddaA... "Ngah..."

7 マジで… MAJI de... "Seriously..."

8 マジで… MAJI de... "I seriously..."

9 おまえに…何しとったんだろうな俺 おまえに…なにしとったんだろうなおれ omae ni...nani shitottandarou na ore "wondered about what I had done...to you."

10 なんとなく nantonaku "[I thought] somehow,"

11 ずっとこのまま zutto kono mama "[we'd go on] like this forever,"

12-13 競い合って追っかけていくって きそいあっておっかけていくって kisoiatte okkakete iku tte "competing and chasing after each other."

14-16 なんか思ってた なんかおもってた nanka omotteta "I had been thinking something [like that]." (Note: The spaces between Katsuki's phrases and words indicate pauses like he's sobbing.)

17 やめてよらしくない…！ yamete yo rashikunai...! "Stop it, this isn't like you...!"

18 とりあえずまだ…残り火あるし…‼︎ とりあえずまだ…のこりびあるし…‼︎ toriaezu mada...nokori bi aru shi...!! "For now, I still...have the embers...!!"

19 身体　弱ってるからメンタルも弱ってんだよ からだ　よわってるからメンタルもよわってんだよ karada yowatteru kara MENTARU mo yowattenda yo "Since your body's weakened, your mental [strength] is weakened too."

1 強くなったんだよ つよくなったんだよ tsuyoku nattanda yo "You've become stronger,"

2 2人とも 2りとも 2ri-tomo "both of you."

3 初めて会った日から随分変わった はじめてあったひからずいぶんかわった hajimete atta hi kara zuibun kawatta "You've changed considerably since the day we first met."

4 あの日駆け出した緑谷少年は あのひかけだしたみどりやしょうねんは ano hi kakedashita Midoriya-shounen wa "Young Midoriya, when you ran out that day,"

5 私にとって最高の��ーローだった わたしにとってさいこうのヒーローだった watashi ni totte saikou no HIIROO datta "you were the greatest hero to me."

6 だが今は皆を奮い立たせる だがいまはみんなをふるいたたせる daga ima wa minna wo furui tataseru "But now you inspire everyone."

7 皆にとっても最高のヒーローだ みんなにとってもさいこうのヒーローだ minna ni tottemo saikou no HIIROO da "You are the greatest hero to everyone."

8 そして… soshite... "And..."

9 これを伝える暇を私にくれた これをつたえるいとまをわたしにくれた kore wo tsutaeru itoma wo watashi ni kureta "you gave me the free time* to convey [all] this," (*Note: In English, the context for this word, "free time," would probably make more sense as the word "chance." Ex. "You gave me the chance to convery all this.")

10 爆豪少年も… ばくごうしょうねんも… Bakugou-shounen mo... "Young Bakugou, you too..."

11 最高のヒーローだ本当にありがとう さいこうのヒーローだほんとうにありがとう saikou no HIIROO da hontou ni arigatou "You are the greatest hero[es]. Thank you so much."

1 子どもの頃は こどものころは kodomo no koro wa When I was a child,

2-3 戦いが終われば世界は自動的に平和になると思ってた たたかいがおわればせかいはじどうてきにへいわになるとおもってた tatakai ga owareba sekai wa jidouteki ni heiwa ni naru to omotteta I thought that, once a battle was over, the world would automatically become peaceful.

4 けれど keredo But,

5 僕らの物語は終われない ぼくらのものがたりはおわれない bokura no monogatari wa owarenai our story cannot end

6 戦いのあと僕らが明るい未来を示せるまで たたかいのあとぼくらがあかるいみらいをしめせるまで tatakai no ato bokura ga akarui mirai wo shimeseru made until after the battle we can show [you] a bright future. (Note: This is a callback to how Sir Nighteye said the world needs smiles and laughter or else it won't have a bright future.)

1 更に向こうへ さらにむこうへ sara ni mukou e Go beyond.

tagline 1 少年たちを待つ新たな日常はーー しょうねんたちをまつあらたなにちじょうはーー shounen-tachi wo matsu arata na nichijou wa-- A new daily life awaits the young man and the others--

tagline 2 No.424　エピローグ　堀越耕平 ナンバー424　エピローグ　ほりこしこうへい NANBAA 424 EPIROOGU  Horikoshi Kouhei No. 424 Epilogue Kouhei Horikoshi

[bradshawsbaby]

Love in the Air

Pairing: Rooster x Female Reader

Summary: You weren't expecting anything interesting or exciting to happen on your flight from Virginia to San Diego. But what happens when you decide to shoot your shot with the handsome stranger sitting in front of you on the plane?

Word Count: 12.5k

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to my dear friend, @ryebecca for giving me the idea for this one! I've been mulling it over in my brain for a while now, and the super adorable Netflix movie Love at First Sight gave me some much-needed inspiration to finally see it through to completion. This story exists outside of the Mr. & Mrs. Bradshaw Universe, which is sort of a first for me, so I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Travel anxiety, some very mild angst, discussions of parental death, brief language, lots of fluff.

If you had to rank your preferred modes of transportation, flying would probably be at the bottom of the list, beat only perhaps by public bus or bicycle. It seemed that no matter how hard you tried to make it as smooth and easy a journey as possible, your experiences at the airport always turned into one catastrophe after another.

Your flight this morning was supposed to take off at 9:30am, which meant that you had scheduled the start of your day to ensure that you would be at the airport no later than 7:15, accounting for traffic and long lines at check-in and security. That, of course, meant that you had to leave your best friend, Katie’s house in Fredericksburg at 5:45 on the dot in order to make the sixty-one mile trip to Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport, and that was being generous. If the two of you stopped for coffee—which Katie insisted was a must—that alone had the potential to derail your plans, which had you nervously fiddling with the bracelet you never took off, the one your dad had given you as a gift for your high school graduation.

“Relax,” Katie laughed, taking her eyes off the road for only a moment to reach out and squeeze your hands reassuringly, halting your anxious movements. “You’re going to get there with plenty of time to spare. There’s literally no one on earth who’s a more responsible flier than you. Have you ever even come close to missing a flight?”

“No,” you admitted sheepishly, taking a small sip of your hazelnut iced coffee. It did little to calm your nerves, but it was one of the best iced coffees you’d ever tasted.

“Of course you haven’t,” Katie smiled, her eyes back in front of her as she signaled to merge into another lane. “So just take a deep breath and enjoy all this gorgeous fall foliage. I’m going to get you there without incident, I promise.”

Katie knew better than pretty much anyone how much flying tended to stress you out. The two of you had been attached at the hip since the first day of kindergarten. Your friendship had survived all the ups and down of adolescence, boy drama, the separation of going to colleges hundreds of miles apart, heartache, loss, and so much more. She was truly the sister you never had, and you couldn’t be more grateful to have her in your life. Even now that you were living in San Diego, and Katie and her husband had moved to Fredericksburg, Virginia for Josh’s job, nothing could keep the two of you apart.

Using a little bit of the vacation time you’d accumulated at work, you’d taken a long weekend to fly out and surprise Katie for her and Josh’s housewarming party. It had been months since you had seen your best friend in person, and the two of you had spent the past few days acting like a couple of high schoolers, staying up all night eating junk food and keeping poor Josh awake with your loud and hysterical fits of laughter.

You hadn’t realized just how lonely you’d been, all by yourself in San Diego, until you’d witnessed up close how cozy and happy Katie’s life in Virginia was.

It wasn’t that you were jealous of Katie, not by any means. She and Josh had met in college, and you were thrilled that your best friend in the whole world had found her person, the one who was going to be there to hold her hand through life and love her through every up and every down. You had even shed a few happy tears when Katie had confided in you this past weekend that she and Josh were finally trying for a baby.

You weren’t jealous, but you desperately longed for what she had. While Katie and Josh had been happily in love since sophomore year, your love life had been decidedly marked by one failed relationship after another. The most painful of which had been your last boyfriend, Andrew. That breakup had been what had propelled you to accept the job offer that had taken you to San Diego almost a year ago.

“Screw Andrew!” Katie had told you as she’d helped you pack up your entire life into a few suitcases and boxes. “You’re headed to the Hottie Capital of America!”

“I must have missed that moniker on the travel brochures,” you responded dryly, although it was the first time you’d felt the urge to laugh in weeks.

“Um, hello, missy. It’s literally called ‘Fightertown USA,’” Katie said, stopping what she was doing to turn and face you, hands on her hips. “You’re going to end up with some sexy fighter pilot, and I am literally going to wither away with envy,” she giggled, winking at you.

“Yeah, right,” you smiled despite yourself, nudging her playfully.

“It’s true,” Katie sighed, feigning dramatics as she draped a hand across her forehead and swooned onto your bed. “I can see it now. You’re going to make the cutest little Marine or Navy wife.”

And yet, for all of Katie’s confidence, there you were, a whole year later, just as single as you had been when you’d first arrived in Fightertown.

It wasn’t to say you were completely on your own. You’d made some really good friends at work, and you got along with all of your neighbors. You’d even gone on a few dates with some guys from North Island. But none that ever went anywhere.

Spending the weekend with Katie and Josh, being reminded of just how in love the two of them were, made you wonder if it was ever going to be your turn.

“You okay?” Katie asked, breaking your silent reverie as she took the exit leading towards the airport in Charlottesville. It wasn’t necessarily the closest airport, but it was the only one for today that offered the flight you needed to get back home. “You seem so quiet.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” you nodded distractedly, smiling as you took another sip of your iced coffee. “Just a little tired, I guess.”

How could you possibly tell your best friend that seeing her happiness caused an ache inside your chest that hurt like nothing else you’d ever known? You couldn’t. It made you feel guilty enough just to admit it to yourself.

“Feeling a little nervous about your flight?” she pressed, reaching for her own iced coffee as the car came to a halt at a red light. “I know it’s long, and you hate connecting flights, but I stuck some Benadryl packets in your bag, if that helps at all. It sucks that you have such a hard time sleeping on planes.”

Smiling, you leaned over and pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek. What had you ever done to deserve such a good friend? And there you were, lamenting about all the things she had that you didn’t.

“You’re the best,” you told her sincerely, giving her shoulder a small squeeze. “I’m so glad I was able to get down here this weekend.”

Katie beamed brightly, reaching up to squeeze your hand before placing hers back on the steering wheel. “You’re telling me. It was the best surprise ever. I’m just sad I can’t keep you here longer.”

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised, trying to mentally calculate when you might be able to get time off from work again.

“Maybe you can come down for Christmas this year?” Katie suggested hopefully, glancing over at you with her big green eyes.

“Maybe,” you nodded, twisting your bracelet once more as you saw the signs for the airport approaching. “Or maybe I can fly you and Josh out to San Diego.”

“Oh, yes! Christmas on the beach? Sounds perfect,” Katie grinned, looking out for the sign for departing flights.

All too soon, Katie was pulling up in front of the Delta terminal where your flight would be taking off in just a few hours.

“See? Only 7:11! I got you here ahead of your insane schedule, even with the stop for coffee,” your best friend teased, a twinkle in her eye as she indicated the time on the dashboard.

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved her off, laughing out loud as she swatted your hand jokingly.

The two of you climbed out of the car to grab your luggage from the trunk. You’d done your best to pack lightly, which was never an easy task for you, even just for a weekend trip. But somehow, you’d managed to squeeze everything you needed into a carry-on bag. Well, that and a giant duffel that you were claiming was a purse.

“Ugh, goodbyes make me crazy,” Katie shook her head, clearly trying to hide the tears that were brimming in her eyes, which caused tears to spring to your eyes as the two of you reached for each other.

“I love you so much,” you told her, squeezing her tightly as she rocked you back and forth in her arms. “I’ll call you when I land.”

“Text me when you get to your gate,” she said, pulling back and taking your hands in hers. “And let me know if there are any cuties on your flight,” she added with a grin, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“I doubt I’m going to bag any cuties looking like this,” you countered sarcastically, indicating the yoga pants and oversized sweatshirt you’d donned that morning, as well as the messy bun you’d thrown your hair into.

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous no matter what,” Katie scolded you, swatting you on the butt. “Now get going. We wouldn’t want you being late or anything like that,” she joked.

You laughed as well, though your heart ached a bit as you grabbed the handle of your suitcase and began turning towards the doors of the terminal.

“Love you! Talk to you soon!” Katie called out, waving and blowing kisses.

You threw one more wave your best friend’s way, then disappeared inside the terminal, which was already fairly crowded despite the early hour.

As expected, despite the fact that you’d taken pains to get there early and make sure you were on top of everything, the unlucky cloud that seemed to follow you whenever you flew made its appearance once again.

You of course ended up on the slowest moving line at security, only to be heavily questioned by the TSA agent who seemed to be under the impression that you looked nothing like the photo on your driver’s license. Then, when you finally got to the security scanners, you set off the metal detector and had to be publicly groped by another sour-faced TSA agent. As if that wasn’t bad enough, your suitcase was “randomly selected” for extra testing and security checks.

Katie may have loved to tease you about it, but this was precisely the reason why you always left as early as you did to get to the airport.

By the time you were finally rolling your suitcase towards your gate, you were feeling more frazzled than ever. Naturally, the gate had changed since your boarding pass had been printed, and now you had to trek halfway across the airport to find the new one.

You wondered what it felt like to be one of those lucky travelers whose gate was right at the center of the terminal, right near all the restaurants and shops. It had never been you. Without fail, no matter where or when you were flying, your gate always ended up being at the farthest corner of the terminal.

When you finally arrived, triple checking that the gate number matched your flight information, you let out a heavy sigh as you grabbed an open seat at the end of the row. To your surprise, you found that you were seated right next to an open outlet. You never got that lucky.

Turns out, you really did never get that lucky. When you plugged your phone in, you found that it wasn’t charging. Evidently, the outlet was open because it didn’t actually work.

Muttering under your breath, you unplugged your charger and threw it back into your duffel bag. At least your phone was still on 74%. You’d much prefer to have it fully charged, but this would do until you could charge it on the plane.

Glancing down, you realized that you had missed a text from Katie.

At the gate yet???

Rolling your shoulders back and getting more comfortable in your seat, you opened up the message so that you could send a quick response.

Just got here. You’d think I was on the No Fly List with how long it took me to get here.

Katie must have made good time getting home, because it wasn’t long before your phone was buzzing with another text.

😂😂😂 Get yourself a drink!

Katie, it’s not even 9am…

So? A mimosa then!

You laughed, shaking your head. A mimosa didn’t actually sound like such a bad idea right now. Neither did a large iced coffee. But now that you’d finally made it to your gate, you didn’t feel like dragging all your stuff with you across the terminal once again. And you didn’t feel comfortable leaving your things behind, unattended or even in the care of a stranger. Maybe you’d just order one on the plane.

When your phone buzzed again in your lap, you looked down and saw that it was another text from Katie.

Any cuties to share that mimosa with???

You were about to text her back that right now, the only cuties you could see were an adorable four-year-old and an elderly couple who must have been in their eighties when suddenly, the most gorgeous man you had ever seen in your life appeared, as if out of thin air. You were suddenly glad you didn’t have a mimosa or an iced coffee in hand, for you were certain that you would have spit it out in shock upon seeing this guy.

Jaw hanging open and eyes widening, your brain was too fuzzy from lack of sleep to remind you that it was wholly inappropriate and rude to stare.

He truly had to be the hottest man you had ever seen up close in real life. Tall, with broad, thick shoulders and a muscular build. His hair was a golden brown that looked like it was touched frequently by the sun—as did his skin, which was an amusing combination of both tan and pink, as though he should have applied just a pinch more sunscreen than he had. Most surprising of all was the mustache that made your stomach do a strange little flip. You usually weren’t all that attracted to facial hair of any sort, and most guys couldn’t pull off the mustaches they tried to sport, but this particular mustache was the sexiest thing you had ever seen. And somehow, despite not knowing this man from a hole in the wall, you couldn’t imagine him without it. It was like it was a part of his DNA.

Thankfully, he was still staring down at his boarding pass, so he hadn’t noticed your intense scrutiny. Coming to your senses, you closed your mouth and quickly averted your gaze, your cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. How mortifying. Imagine if he had looked over and caught you staring at him, gaping like a fish out of water?

Still, despite your self-consciousness at the thought of getting caught, you couldn’t help but steal another glance in his direction, this time out of the corner of your eye. He looked even taller this time around. It probably had something to do with the way he carried himself, an easy confidence pouring off him. This man knew he was hot stuff, of that you were sure. But there was also something unassuming about him, something quiet and almost humble. He was dressed in a pair of dark sweatpants and an old UVA T-shirt, nothing fancy or flashy. Somehow, however, he managed to pull it off even better than a three-piece suit.

You were startled out of your observations when your phone buzzed again. It was Katie, emphasizing her last message impatiently.

Do you have some kind of magic powers that I was unaware of to make hotties appear out of nowhere? Right when you texted me, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen walked up to my gate.

‼️‼️ GO TALK TO HIM!!! ‼️‼️

At the mere suggestion of going to talk to that guy, your stomach erupted into butterflies. Looking up once again, you saw that he had evidently confirmed he was at the right gate, and had settled down in a seat a couple rows over, facing away from you. God, even the back of his head was handsome.

Are you crazy? This guy is seriously the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. I look like a homeless lady that wandered in off the street. I am NOT talking to him!

Your phone buzzed angrily a moment later.

Will you shut up before I drive back there to hit you upside the head?! YOU are gorgeous!!! Who cares if you have no make-up on and your hair’s in a messy bun? It’s called airplane chic! You’re still completely stunning. He would be LUCKY to have a girl as hot as you want to talk to him!

Chewing your bottom lip, you looked up again, trying not to be obvious as your eyes slowly wandered over the people at your gate, until they landed on him once more. He was on the phone this time, having an animated conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line. Occasionally, he would turn slightly in your direction and you could catch a glimpse of his side profile.

Damn, this man was seriously perfect from every angle.

“Alright, Mav, I’ll see you when I land,” you heard him say—not that you were trying to eavesdrop—before he hung up the phone and dropped it back onto his lap.

It was then that you noticed his phone was plugged into the outlet next to his seat.

Maybe this could be your opportunity? You could casually walk over and see if there were any other open outlets near his. Perhaps you could even make a joke about how it was just your luck that the outlet near your seat wasn’t working. Maybe he’d laugh and tell you some horror story from his travel experiences and the two of you would end up talking until you exchanged numbers. Maybe there was some tiny, infinitesimal chance that this stunning man would actually be charmed by you and possibly even the teensiest bit interested.

Or maybe you would just remain rooted to your seat, terrified to move as you stared at the back of his head.

You were already anticipating the text from Katie when your phone buzzed once again.

The reason you’re not answering me better be because you’re in the middle of a conversation with Mr. Hottie from your gate!!!

Biting down on your lip, you turned your phone over, not knowing how to tell your best friend that you were too much of a chicken to get out of your seat and approach this guy.

At that moment, however, you were suddenly saved, at least somewhat, when a member of the flight crew announced that they were about to begin boarding. Forgetting about Katie’s texts and the hot guy sitting several feet away from you for a moment, you began gathering together all your belongings, making sure you hadn’t forgotten anything.

When your boarding group was called, you did one final sweep around your seat, securing the strap of your duffel bag up on your shoulder and wrapping one hand around the handle of your carry-on before making your way to the line extending from the counter.

As you stepped up behind the elderly couple you’d noticed earlier, your boarding pass slipped out of your hand, floating through the air despite your best attempt to reach for it, and landing somewhere behind you.

Turning to find it, you nearly collided with the tall wall of man behind you, who was bending at the same time to grab it off the floor.

“Oh!” you gasped, startled to find that Mr. Hottie, as Katie had dubbed him, was not only standing behind you in line, but was also holding your boarding pass in his hand, glancing down at it.

“San Diego with a layover in Atlanta, huh?” he grinned, glancing from the boarding pass up to your face. Unsurprisingly, he had a beautiful set of whiskey-colored eyes that made your stomach do the same strange little flip that his mustache had induced. Oh, and up close, the mustache was even sexier.

“Oh, um, yeah,” you nodded dumbly, your tongue suddenly feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds as your brain short-circuited and couldn’t come up with a single worthwhile thing to say.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one,” Mr. Hottie went on, holding your boarding pass out to you. “Looks like we’ve got a long day of flying ahead of us.”

Mouth hanging open, you slowly reached out and took the boarding pass from him, trying frantically to think of something—anything—to say. He was flying to San Diego, too? You were on the same exact flight? Including the same layover?

“I—I—”

“Hey, the line's moving!” someone from the back called out, sounding annoyed.

Turning back over your shoulder, you were mortified to see that the elderly couple in front of you had disappeared and you were, in fact, holding up the line.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, ducking your head as you clutched your boarding pass and reached out for your carry-on. “Thanks again for grabbing this for me,” you told Mr. Hottie, waving your boarding pass slightly before turning and practically running towards the counter.

With his long stride, he caught up to you in no time, his smile friendly and warm as the two of you joined the line of people waiting to board the airplane.

“You weren’t holding anyone up,” he whispered down to you, as if it was some special secret the two of you were sharing. “I don’t know what that guy was in such a rush for. To move from that line to this one? We’re all getting out of here at the same time.”

You smiled at his words, feeling comforted by his reassurance. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Some people are just always in a hurry.”

The two of you were quiet after that, and you wondered if that would be the end of the conversation. You were casting around for anything else you could talk about when he suddenly asked you, “So are you leaving home or heading home?”

Your heart fluttered at his question. If he didn’t want to keep talking, he wouldn’t have asked that, right?

“Heading home,” you told him, fiddling shyly with your bracelet. You laughed softly. “It’s still kind of weird saying that. I’ve only been in San Diego for about eleven months.”

He raised his eyebrow, one corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. “Yeah? Well, I know I’m a little late, but welcome to Fightertown. I hope it’s been treating you well.”

“Oh, it has been,” you nodded, making sure to pay attention to when the people in front of you began moving forward. “I take it you’re heading home then, too?”

“I am,” he grinned, shouldering the backpack he was carrying with him. “Well, actually, I’m kind of leaving home and heading home,” he amended. At your curious look, he explained, “I’m from Virginia originally, but I live in San Diego now. I guess you could say I’m a transplant, just like you,” he added with a chuckle. “Are you from Virginia, too?”

“New York, actually,” you told him, as the two of you followed the flow of people towards the plane. “But my best friend and her husband moved to Fredericksburg recently, so I was spending the weekend with them.”

“Ah, that’s a nice area,” he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced down at you with a smile. At your unspoken question, he said, “I was actually down for a reunion weekend at my school. I went to UVA.”

“I gathered,” you replied teasingly, indicating his T-shirt.

Glancing downward, he shook his head and laughed. “Almost forgot I threw this on when I woke up. Trying to get to the airport on time is a real pain, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” you agreed with a laugh, adjusting your hold on your duffel bag. “Flying is definitely one of my least favorite modes of transportation.”

“Hmm, I don’t know if I’d say that,” he said in reply, an amused look on his face.

Before you could ask him what was so funny, however, you were being welcomed aboard the plane by the stewardesses, who were all smiling and indicating that they expected you to keep moving down the aisle.

Your heart dropped slightly at the abrupt end to your conversation. Now the two of you were going to go to your separate seats, and he’d probably forget all about you. It was one thing to make idle conversation with a stranger while on line, but you doubted he had any real interest in continuing the conversation beyond that.

Sighing softly, you rolled your suitcase down the aisle, pausing every now and then as the people in front of you put their bags in the overhead bins and got themselves sorted. When you finally reached Row 22, you stopped and looked back at Mr. Hottie with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, this is me. I’ll just be a minute,” you told him, pushing down the handle of your carry-on.

“No worries, this is me,” he grinned, indicating Row 21. “I even snagged the window seat,” he added with a wink.

Your mouth went dry. He had the window seat of Row 21. You had the window seat of Row 22. He was sitting directly in front of you.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he said, reaching for your carry-on bag and easily hefting it above his head, sliding it into the overhead bin for you. “Do you need me to put this one up there, too?” he asked, pointing towards your duffel bag.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” you shook your head, holding onto the strap of your bag. “I’m going to keep this one with me. Thanks a lot,” you smiled, not even noticing the line of disgruntled people that was beginning to form behind the two of you.

“No problem,” he smiled, starting to slide into his row with his backpack still on his back. “Have a great flight.”

“You, too,” you replied, a little sadly, as you crawled into your row, doing your best to ignore the annoyed looks some people were throwing your way.

Needless to say, it was just your luck that the impatient man from the boarding line ended up sitting right beside you. You tried to smile at him, but he just grunted and put his headphones on, completely ignoring you.

Fine by you. Pulling your phone out, you found that you had a whole new series of texts from Katie, demanding to know exactly what was happening.

On the plane now. We should be taking off soon. I talked a little bit to Mr. Hottie. Are you happy?

It didn’t take long at all for her to respond. You could imagine that she had been sitting by her phone, waiting eagerly for your message.

Eeeee, yes, very! What did you guys talk about? Are you sitting near each other on the plane? Did you exchange numbers??? Send me a picture!!!

You laughed softly to yourself as you tried your best to answer all the questions your excited friend had asked you.

Just small talk. He’s actually flying home to San Diego, too. He went to UVA and was there for a reunion weekend. We did not exchange numbers and I’m not going to be a creepy stalker and take a picture of him, but he actually is sitting in the seat right in front of me.

OMG, IT’S FATE!!! So he has the same layover and everything??? And he’s FROM San Diego?! Babe, this is the guy for you!!! You’ve got to keep talking to him!

How would you suggest I do that? Just tap him on the shoulder and whisper into his ear the whole time?

It’s only a couple hours to Atlanta, and then you’ll have the layover, and then another four and half hours to San Diego. You could practically be engaged by the time you land! Just slip him a little note or something. Give him your number!

Your stomach was doing somersaults at the mere thought. Between the two of you, Katie had always been the more outgoing one. She would have no problem slipping a note with her phone number on it to a complete stranger, putting herself out there for the possibility of rejection and utter humiliation. You, on the other hand, preferred to play it safe. It was much more comfortable that way. And sure, maybe you’d never met your Josh the way Katie had, but at least you’d never been hurt too badly, right?

Unbidden, you thought of Andrew and felt bile rise in your throat.

Luckily, you were saved from having to answer Katie right away when the cabin crew made the announcement that it was time to shut down all electronics. Switching your phone onto airplane mode, you slipped it into the front pocket of your duffel bag and took a deep breath, buckling your seatbelt and closing your eyes.

Takeoff was your least favorite part of any flight. When you were a little girl, your parents used to make funny faces and sing silly songs to distract you from your terror. Even now as an adult who was flying all on her own, you still tried to remember the sound of their voices as the plane began its ascent.

It didn’t take too long before you were finally cruising at 18,000 feet and the captain turned off the seatbelt sign. Since you were a Delta SkyMiles member, you got free Wi-Fi on all your flights, so you immediately reached to turn your phone back on to let Katie know you had taken off safely.

As soon as your phone connected with the Wi-Fi, it was instantly flooded with a slew of text messages. A couple were from some of your friends back in San Diego, wishing you a safe and easy flight, but most were from your crazy best friend.

Don’t think you can use being on a plane as an excuse not to answer my texts!

I know you’re a SkyMiles member and you can see these messages!

You better answer me!!!

Shaking your head, you quickly tapped out a quick message in response.

Took off safely. Thinking of watching a movie before we land in Atlanta. You’re crazy and I am not slipping him a note.

Your phone was blessedly quiet for the next several minutes, and part of you hoped that Katie had given up this ridiculous notion. Knowing her as long as you had, however, you should have figured that wouldn’t be the case.

What’s the worst that could happen? He doesn’t answer you? The two of you never talk again? You’ve never seen this guy before in your life, and the chances are good that you’ll never see him again after this. So if you put yourself out there and it doesn’t work out, who cares? At least you tried. And sure, it might be a little embarrassing at first, but like I said, you’ll never have to see him again. But what if you thought about it the other way around? What if it DOES work out? What if this could be the start of something great? Would you really just want to walk away, wondering what could have been and regretting that you didn’t take a chance? You deserve to be loved so, so, SO much! And I know that you have so much love to give! This guy would be lucky if you chose him. Just give it a try, will you? For me? Please! You can’t see it, but I’m giving my best puppy dog face right now. And sending you all the best vibes! You can do this! I love you! ♥️

You groaned at your best friend’s heartfelt message. How could you possibly say no to that? You knew Katie just wanted the best for you, and she wanted you to be happy. You wanted to be happy, too. What if she was right? What if this was your chance? Would you be a fool to just walk away from it without even trying? Like Katie said, at least if you tried, you could say you’d done all you could. And if it didn’t work, then Mr. Hottie just wasn’t the one for you. No harm, no foul.

You were starting to feel like you might need to make use of the vomit bag tucked securely in the seat pocket in front of you when the stewardess stopped at your row to offer you all snacks and beverages. You gratefully accepted a can of ginger ale and a packet of pretzels, nibbling on them slowly in an attempt to settle your roiling stomach.

You were being an idiot. There was no reason to be so dramatic about all this. You could write a quick note and pass it up to him, then pretend it had never happened. Seriously, what was the worst that was going to happen? He was going to get up and make an announcement over the loudspeaker that the girl sitting in 22A was a pathetic, lonely loser? You doubted that very much.

Before you could lose your nerve, you reached into the front pocket of your duffel bag and pulled out the pen you always kept there. Turns out, it really did come in handy. Mercifully, the grumpy man beside you was already snoring, so you could write your note in peace without being worried about him seeing what you were doing.

Hand shaking slightly, you penned a quick letter to the handsome, charming man in 21A.

Hi there. I realized in all our talking that I never caught your name. But it might be good to know, seeing how we’re layover buddies and all. Hope you’re enjoying the flight so far.

You signed your name at the bottom, and then took a deep breath, reading over what you had written on the back of your Delta napkin. It sounded impossibly stupid, but you’d come this far and you weren’t going to turn back now. What was it that people on the internet were always saying? Something about shooting your shot?

Breathing through your nose to avoid getting sick, you reached out a trembling finger and lightly tapped the broad shoulder that you saw peeking out from the seat in front of you. You suddenly realized that he may have been asleep and panicked at the thought of waking him up, but he shifted immediately at your touch and you could tell that he was turning towards you.

Not wanting to meet his eye, you immediately thrust your napkin into the small open space between your seats and the windows, silently praying that he would take it from you instead of laughing in your face.

A second later, you felt his large fingers brush against yours as he took your little note, shifting in his seat once more so that he was facing front again.

What had you just done? Oh, God, there was still another hour left to go on this flight, then a layover, and another four and half hours to San Diego. True, you would never have to see him again after you landed in California, but that was still a lot of time left to have to be in proximity to him if all of this blew up in your face.

You were just about ready to launch yourself out of one of the emergency exits when you suddenly looked up and realized that there was a small white napkin hovering above your head.

Mr. Hottie in 21A was reaching back with your note in hand. Your stomach plummeted and your face and neck grew warm with shame at the thought of him returning the letter you’d written him, until you noticed the red ink on the back of it. 

You’d written your note in black ink.

Slowly reaching out, you took the napkin from his hand, your fingers brushing against each other once more. His were large and warm and calloused and made goosebumps rise on your arm.

Pulse beating rapidly, you turned over the napkin to see the response he had written on the back. His handwriting was a bit messy, more of a scrawl than anything, but it made you smile to look at it.

What was I thinking, not properly introducing myself to my layover buddy? Hope you can forgive me. My name is Bradley. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ve got some Wi-Fi on this flight, do you? If you do, feel free to text me. We seem to be dangerously low on napkins.

At the bottom, he’d written his cell phone number.

Pressing a hand over your mouth, it took everything in you to swallow back the squeal of delight that rose up your throat. It worked! Katie’s silly plan had actually worked! Oh, she was going to gloat about this forever when you told her.

Beaming brightly, you pulled out your cell phone. As much as you loved her, Katie could wait right now. You had an extremely gorgeous layover buddy to get in touch with.

Typing his number into your cell phone, you opened up a new message and contemplated what to say for a moment.

Layover buddies who both just so happen to have some inflight Wi-Fi? Clearly it’s meant to be.

You hoped the message came across as cute and flirty instead of desperate and weird as you hit send, anxiously waiting to see if he would reply.

It took only a moment before your phone buzzed, Bradley’s name lighting up your screen.

Layover buddies who both just so happen have some inflight Wi-Fi AND spring for the window seats? Obviously it’s meant to be!

You smiled and were about to think up a reply when another message suddenly came though.

Oh, and to answer your note—I’m enjoying the flight a lot more now.

The butterflies went crazy in your stomach as you wrote back to him.

Me, too. And that’s saying a lot, considering the four-year-old behind me hasn’t stopped kicking my seat since we boarded.

Bradley only took seconds to reply.

Oof, that’s rough. If I could switch seats with you, I would. But I have to admit that I’m very happy that you’re not kicking my seat.

Wouldn’t be too sure about that, you sent back teasingly before lightly nudging his seat with your foot.

Hey! I thought we were friends!

We’ll see 😉

You and Bradley went back and forth like that for the entire remainder of your flight to Atlanta, the banter light and easy as you teased and joked with each other. You even ended up playing a game of 20 Questions, in which you learned, among other things, that Bradley’s favorite color was red, he once broke his arm when he was seven years old, and he absolutely despised peas.

As the captain announced that you would soon begin preparing for your final descent, you shot off a quick message to Katie, who you had woefully neglected during your conversation with Bradley.

I owe you one. The pep talk and the plan actually worked—I’m texting Mr. Hottie as we speak! Update you soon. We’re about to land in Atlanta.

Just as you sent the message off to your friend, another text from Bradley arrived.

Looks like we’re going to have to turn off our phones, layover buddy. I’ll see you when we land. Food? I’m starving.

Grinning, you had to pinch yourself to check that this wasn’t some sort of elaborate dream.

Same. I’ll race you for some french fries.

You’re on.

When the plane finally landed and the captain turned off the seatbelt sign, everyone practically jumped out of their seats in a mad dash to see who could be the first to get their belongings out of the overhead bins. Since you and Bradley were in the window seats, you took your time, knowing you weren’t getting off the plane anytime soon.

You were surprised, however, when he suddenly popped his head over the back of his seat, grinning down at you. “Good thing our next flight doesn’t leave for a couple hours yet,” he said, indicating the crowd with a good-natured grin that made your heart melt.

You had almost been starting to think you’d exaggerated just how good-looking he was, but nope. He really was that hot.

“Plenty of time to grab those fries,” you laughed, smiling up at him.

When you and Bradley were finally able to step out into the aisle, he opened the bin above your head and reached for your suitcase.

“Let me take care of this for you,” he said, lowering it to the ground and lifting the handle so that he could wheel it up the aisle.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you insisted, not wanting him to think that you expected him to carry your things for you.

“Hey, what are layover buddies for?” he winked, leading the way off the plane.

Once the two of you were standing face to face in the middle of the airport terminal, you began to feel a little shy and self-conscious again. It had been easy to talk to Bradley via text, but now that you were gazing up at his handsome face again, you suddenly found yourself getting just as tongue-tied as before.

Bradley seemed to sense your nerves because he smiled warmly at you, his demeanor just as open and friendly as it had been the entire time you’d known him.

“How about we hunt down those fries?” he suggested, waiting until you smiled and nodded before turning and guiding you towards the main concourse.

The two of you ended up finding a quick and easy little fast food counter, where you ordered a couple burgers, a large order of fries, and some vanilla milkshakes with whipped cream and cherries. As soon as it became clear that Bradley was going to pay for both your meals, you tried to argue and insist on paying your share, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“My mom raised a gentleman, and she would kill me if she thought I was even thinking of letting my layover buddy pay for her lunch,” he told you, winking playfully as he handed his credit card to the employee behind the counter.

You took your suitcase from Bradley as he balanced the tray with your food in his hands, leading you to an empty table towards the end of the concourse.

“Your mom must be very proud of you, I’m sure,” you grinned, reaching eagerly for a fry and popping it into your mouth. “Did you get to see her while you were in Virginia?”

Bradley smiled, though his eyes suddenly looked a little sad. “Yeah. Yeah, you could say that.”

Deciding not to press the matter, you instead turned the attention to his college reunion. That led to the two of you happily swapping stories about your time in college, which landed you on the subject of what you do now.

“A naval aviator? Really? And a TOPGUN graduate? That’s very impressive,” you gushed, mentally picturing him in a flight suit. You’d gone on a couple dates with some naval aviators from North Island, but none as handsome or as charming as Bradley. You suddenly groaned and covered your face with your hand when you remembered what you’d said to him right before boarding the plane. “So that’s what you meant when I was saying that flying isn’t my favorite mode of transportation,” you murmured, feeling a little embarrassed.

Bradley threw his head back and laughed at that, looking genuinely amused. “Hey, I get it. Flying isn’t for everybody. Trust me, some days I wish I had just opted for a desk job,” he grinned, his muscles flexing as he stretched in his seat. “But there’s nothing quite like it, when you’re the one doing the flying. Maybe one day I can take you up in the air and change your mind.”

He looked across the table at you and held your gaze, and you felt sure in that moment that you would have promised him anything he asked.

“So what’s your call sign then?” you asked with a smile, resting your cheek in your hand as you looked into his eyes.

“Oh, you know about that, huh?” he chuckled, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Well, uh, they call me Rooster.”

You had a feeling he expected you to laugh—maybe other girls in the past had—but you just grinned brightly in response. “I like it,” you said simply. “It suits you.”

He let out a small breath and smiled in return. “Thank you. My dad’s call sign was Goose. So I guess it runs in the family.”

“Your dad is in the Navy, too?” you asked curiously, lifting your milkshake and taking a sip.

Bradley cleared his throat slightly, looking down at his lap. “He was. He died in a training accident at TOPGUN when I was two.”

You sucked in a breath at your own carelessness and looked across at Bradley with empathy glowing in your eyes. “Oh, Bradley,” you murmured softly, reaching out and resting a hand over his. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he replied gently, a small smile on his face as he placed his other hand over yours. “But thank you.” He was quiet for a moment before he went on. “It was just me and my mom for a while, back home in Virginia. But she got sick when I was in high school, and she passed away my senior year.”

“Bradley,” you breathed out sadly, your heart breaking for him. You winced when you thought of what he’d said before, about seeing his mom while he was in Virginia.

“She and my dad are buried in my hometown, where I grew up. I go to see them at the cemetery whenever I’m back in town,” he explained, as if reading your thoughts.

“I’m sure that means a lot to them, and that they’re smiling down on you always,” you told him sincerely, squeezing his hand lightly.

He smiled up at you, the sadness in his expression lifting slightly. “I like to think so. I think they’d like you a lot,” he added, then looked away. He suddenly seemed embarrassed.

The two of you sat back, disentangling your hands as you sat in mildly awkward silence for a moment or two.

“What about your parents?” Bradley asked, clearly looking for a way to change the subject. “Do they still live in New York?”

It was your turn to look sad now. “Well, we actually have a lot in common, Bradley. Only I guess my story is sort of in reverse. My mom passed away when I was six years old. She got in a car accident on her way home from work. And my dad passed when I was a freshman in college. Lung cancer.”

“Shit,” Bradley muttered, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You couldn’t have known. And it feels kind of nice talking about it with someone who I know understands. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Bradley nodded, his expression serious as his dark eyes rested on your face. “Yeah, I do.”

You and Bradley sat in companionable silence as you finished your meals, then checked to see how much time you had before your connecting flight.

“I guess we should start making our way over to the gate,” you suggested, glancing at the time on your phone. You had about ten text messages from Katie, but you were too embarrassed to open them anywhere near Bradley.

Bradley nodded in agreement, wordlessly taking the handle of your suitcase and leading you back across the concourse.

“Hey, we got so distracted talking about my job that I never even asked what you do,” he suddenly realized once the two of you were seated at your gate, both your phones charging in a nearby outlet.

“Oh, yeah,” you smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair that had escaped your bun behind your ear. “Funny enough, I actually work for the Midway Museum,” you told him, glancing up at him, only to find that he was already gazing down at you.

“No way! Guess we’re both stuck aboard aircraft carriers for work then,” he chuckled. “What do you do?”

“Well, my official title is digital content specialist,” you said, biting down on your lower lip. You felt like it always sounded a bit pretentious. “Basically, I help run the museum’s digital accounts—social media, their website, email blasts, things like that. My degree is in marketing and communications, so that’s basically what I do.”

“That’s amazing,” Bradley said, and you could tell that he genuinely meant it. Some guys just pretended to be interested in your job as a pretense for trying to get into your pants, but you could tell that Bradley actually cared about what you had to say. He was actually listening. “Is that what brought you out to San Diego?”

“It is, actually. I had been applying to a few different places, and when I got word from the Midway that they were interested in hiring me, I thought that maybe it was the fresh start I needed,” you confessed.

“Has it been?” Bradley asked quietly.

“I think so,” you nodded slowly, absent-mindedly twisting your bracelet around your wrist. “It’s hard sometimes, being so far away from my best friend, Katie—the one I was visiting. She’s pretty much the only family I’ve got left. But I like the life that I’m building in San Diego.”

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear it,” Bradley smiled, his hand lightly brushing against yours as he shifted in his seat. He looked like he was about to say more when the flight crew called your boarding group.

“Looks like we’re going to be sitting near each other again, 21A,” you teased, glancing down at his boarding pass as the two of you rose and grabbed your phones.

“Glad to hear it, 22A,” he joked in return, holding up his phone and waving it back and forth. “And now my phone is fully charged for our trip back to San Diego, so let the texting commence.”

Giggling, you nodded as the two of you walked down the rampway side by side and made your way onto the plane and to your seats without incident. When you got there, however, you saw that there had been some confusion with a young family that looked to have four children under the age of eight. It seemed as though their tickets had gotten split up so that they weren’t all sitting next to each other, and the mother was frantic.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Bradley asked, quickly taking stock of the situation. When the woman looked up at him, clearly stressed out and worried he was going to yell at her, he smiled comfortingly. “I was just going to say that, if you’d like, you can have my seat. I’d be happy to take yours since it looks like it’s next to my friend here anyway. That way, we can all be comfortable and sit with the people we want to sit with.”

“Oh, thank you!” the young mother exclaimed, looking ready to hug Bradley. “Thank you!”

She and her husband quickly got their children settled, thanking Bradley a few more times for good measure, while he took your carry-on and set it in the overhead bin.

Once you had settled in your window seat, Bradley took the seat beside you, grinning impishly.

“Look at that. Now we don’t even need to waste the Wi-Fi,” he murmured, nudging you playfully.

“Things just have a way of working out for us today, don’t they?” you laughed, settling your duffel bag at your feet. “I’m just going to send a quick message to Katie, to let her know I made it onto my connecting flight,” you told him, reaching for your phone and quickly opening Katie’s messages so that Bradley wouldn’t see them.

“Good idea, I should text Mav,” Bradley said, grabbing his phone out of his pocket. At your confused look, he explained, “My godfather. He’s also in the Navy, and he also just so happens to be stationed out in San Diego. He’s going to pick me up at the airport.”

Nodding, you sent a brief text to your best friend, promising you would call her as soon as you got home, then settled in for the flight and tried to get as comfortable as possible.

As soon as you felt the plane jolt to life and begin taxing towards the runway, your chest grew tight and your grip on yours and Bradley’s shared armrest started to turn your knuckles white.

“Hey,” Bradley said softly, genuine concern in his voice as he glanced over and noticed how on edge you suddenly appeared. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied, keeping your gaze fixed straight ahead on the screen in front of you, which was currently playing some Delta commercial that your brain could scarcely register.

“I think your death grip on our armrest would suggest otherwise,” he pressed gently, his tone remaining light and good-humored. “You trying to take that thing with you?”

Startled, your nervous trance was broken and you glanced down to see what Bradley was talking about. Sure enough, your nails were digging into the armrest so intensely that you wouldn’t have been surprised if they left little crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

Letting out a shaky laugh, you looked up at the man beside you ruefully. “Okay, truth be told, I get a little anxious during takeoff,” you confessed, biting your lip in embarrassment. He would probably think that was silly. He was a fighter pilot, after all. His day job involved flying multi-million dollar aircrafts for the military. And here you were, acting like a scaredy cat over a commercial Delta flight.

Bradley’s eyes crinkled in a way that you found devastatingly charming as he smiled over at you. The look on his face was kind, without a single trace of mocking humor.

“Want to know a secret?” he whispered, leaning in closer to you so that his nose was nearly pressed against your cheek and you could feel his breath on your skin. “So do I.”

“You’re kidding,” you scoffed, shooting him a skeptical look. He was probably just trying to be nice. “But you’re a naval aviator!”

“Yeah, but I’m not the one flying this plane, am I?” he retorted with a lopsided grin. “It’s hard to put the reins in someone else’s hands. So I understand being nervous. Hell, I still get a little nervous sometimes when I’m flying an F-18. Just don’t tell anyone I said that,” he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Oh, of course not,” you giggled, smiling over at him. Glancing out the window, you realized that his conversation had distracted you so much, you hadn’t even noticed that the plane had finished its approach towards the runway and was officially waiting for takeoff.

Some of your nerves returned, and you gripped the armrest once more, but this time, you felt Bradley’s large, yet gentle fingers close over yours. Surprised, you turned your head sharply and instantly met his gaze. It was direct and disconcertingly open as he looked deeply into your eyes.

“It’s okay,” he assured you in a low voice, squeezing your fingers comfortingly. “We’re going to be okay.”

“My parents used to sing to me during takeoff,” you found yourself blurting out suddenly, your cheeks growing warm at the admission. “I can remember my mom doing it when I was a little girl, and my dad used to do it for me even when I was in high school,” you explained shyly, lowering your eyes to your lap.

At that moment, your stomach dropped as the plane suddenly began hurtling forward, seeking enough momentum to become airborne.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to recall the sound of your parents’ voices in order to calm your racing heart. But a new voice suddenly entered the mix as you felt your newfound flying buddy lean across the armrest, his warm body pressing against your side as he sang quietly in your ear.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain…”

Wait a second. You knew that song. Where did you know that song from?

“Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will, but what a thrill…”

Yes, you definitely knew that song. It was on one of the records your parents used to play when you were a little girl. Was it Jerry Lee Lewis?

Gasping in recognition, you whisper-sang the next lyric in harmony with Bradley—“Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!”

He laughed in delight when you began singing along, squeezing your hand with an affectionate grin. “And would you look at that,” he said, nodding towards the window. “We’re airborne. Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Shocked, you followed his line of vision and were taken aback to see that you were already ascending into the clouds, leaving the city of Atlanta far behind. That had been one of the smoothest takeoff experiences you’d had in—well, you couldn’t even remember how long.

“I barely even noticed!” you exclaimed, focusing your attention back on Bradley. You smiled gratefully, your heart melting at the adorable puppy dog look on his face. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You noticed at that moment that he still hadn’t let go of your hand, and your pulse began to quicken, but this time for entirely different reasons.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured in response, his voice low and suddenly husky. It did something to you, that deep, raspy voice of his. “Happy to do it.” He squeezed your hand gently once more, then slowly—almost hesitantly—let it go.

“I haven’t heard that song in the longest time,” you told him, resting back against your seat. “My parents used to listen to it.”

Bradley smiled slightly. “It’s the one song I can actually remember my dad singing. He loved to sing and play the piano. My mom had tons of home videos of him doing it. But that song—that song I can actually remember hearing him sing, you know? I was so young when he—well—I can remember that one. And that’s why it’s my favorite to sing and play.”

“You play the piano, too?” you asked, impressed. “Wow, a man of many talents.” You nudged him playfully, a big smile on your face.

“I’ll have to show you what I can do,” Bradley replied, winking.

Your stomach fluttered at the implication that he might actually want to see you again after today.

“I’d like that,” you admitted, ducking your head shyly. You suddenly felt much more aware of everything around you, particularly every inch of your muscular seatmate. Goodness, he really was huge, wasn’t he? Chewing nervously on your bottom lip, you began fidgeting with your bracelet, tugging at it absent-mindedly.

“That’s a pretty bracelet,” Bradley commented, pointing at it as he watched you twist it back and forth around your wrist. “A gift?” he asked lightly, his tone almost a little too casual.

“Mhm,” you nodded, smiling fondly as you gazed down at it. You could still remember the day you opened it. “My dad bought it for me as a present when I graduated high school. I never take it off.”

“Ah,” Bradley nodded, appearing surprisingly relieved. He was quiet for a moment or two, looking like he was mulling over something. Then he turned towards you and asked, “So, um, is there anybody waiting for you in San Diego? Anyone, uh, special, I mean?” he asked, his cheeks and his ears turning red as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You felt your own skin grow warm in response. Was Bradley asking if you had a boyfriend? And was he embarrassed about it? Just when you thought this man couldn’t possibly charm you any more than he already had.

“Not unless you count my neighbor, Mrs. Flores. She really appreciates it when I walk her dog on the weekends,” you told him, your lips twitching as you tried to maintain a straight face.

Caught off guard by your response, Bradley let out a loud laugh, covering his mouth with one hand as he glanced down at you, eyes twinkling.

“I’m sure Mrs. Flores will be very happy to see you back again,” he nodded, tapping his fingers on his tray table.

The two of you sat in silence for a couple minutes until you finally glanced up and said, “I had actually just gotten out of a long-term relationship right before I moved to San Diego. It was kind of the catalyst for why I decided to take the job at the Midway Museum.”

“Oh, really?” Bradley asked, eyebrows shooting up. Then he cleared his throat, shaking his head. “I mean, I’m sorry to hear that. If it’s too personal, we don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sighed, twirling your bracelet a few times as you thought back on your last failed relationship. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as much as it normally did. Maybe time really did heal all wounds. You took a deep breath before you elaborated. “Andrew and I were together for four years. For a long time, I really thought he was the one. Katie was convinced that he was going to propose on our trip to Greece. It was a dream vacation for me. I had the whole thing planned out for months and months. And I really started to let myself believe that it was going to happen.”

Bradley sat quietly, watching you carefully as he attentively took in every word you uttered.

“We were in Athens, and I had the whole day planned—all these tours and museums. But Andrew insisted that he was too tired since we had just traveled from Rhodes, and he begged me to let him stay behind at the hotel. Being the idiot that I am, I thought that maybe he wanted to put the finishing touches on his big proposal. So I went on the tours by myself. But the last tour ended early, so I came back to our hotel room a little sooner than expected.”

Your throat began to tighten as the story continued, the pain of what had happened next eclipsed only by your embarrassment that Bradley would soon know how pitifully your last relationship had ended. Why had you brought all this up?

“I’ll spare you all the details, but suffice it to say, I found Andrew in bed with one of the cocktail waitresses from the hotel bar. And to no one’s surprise, there was no ring and he never had any intention of proposing. So I flew home from Greece minus a boyfriend and with very little remaining of my dignity. Leaving everything behind and starting fresh in San Diego seemed like a really good idea, so when the Midway contacted me, I jumped at the offer. And here I am,” you finished with a self-conscious laugh, shrugging your shoulders awkwardly.

Bradley didn’t say anything at first, just continued to stare at you in a way that had you feeling distinctly exposed. Your fingers immediately went to your bracelet once again, nervously fidgeting and waiting for him to say something.

Reaching out, he placed his hand over yours and stilled your movements gently. “First of all,” he began slowly, looking directly into your eyes. It seemed as though he was peering directly into your soul. “Andrew is a complete and total loser. If he didn’t know what he had in you, then he never deserved you to begin with. It’s his loss, and trust me, he’ll be regretting it for the rest of his life if he has even an ounce of sense.” His thumb brushed lightly against your knuckles, making your legs suddenly feel like Jell-O. “Second of all, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that, and I hope you know that the way that idiot treated you in no way says anything about you. I’ve only known you for a few hours, but I can see that that guy never deserved you to begin with.”

Feeling bashful, you lowered your head, trying to escape the intensity of Bradley’s dark eyes. It didn’t matter though—you could still feel his gaze.

“You don’t have to say that,” you murmured, not wanting him to think you had just unloaded all of this on him for sympathy points.

“I’m not just saying it,” he insisted, his voice serious. “You’re a special girl, and you deserve to be with someone who treats you that way.”

Someone like you?

The thought sprang unbidden to your mind, causing you to grow flustered. “Th–thank you,” you stammered, worried for half a second that Bradley could actually read your mind.

You were saved from having to make any further comment in that moment when the stewardess suddenly appeared with the food cart, asking you if you wanted any snacks or beverages.

You opted for a Diet Coke and popcorn, while Bradley took a Sprite and a bag of potato chips.

“What do you say? A little toast to my new flight buddy?” Bradley suggested teasingly, holding his can of soda out towards you.

You couldn’t help but smile, lightly tapping your can against his. “Cheers to us,” you laughed, taking a small sip.

“To us,” Bradley grinned. “You know,” he went on, after taking a gulp of his Sprite, “if you ever want to think about getting your pilot’s license, I’d be happy to have you as my wingman—er, woman.”

You laughed aloud at the notion, shaking your head. “Um, did you already forget about how well I handled takeoff? I’m not so sure anyone would trust me behind the controls of a plane.”

“I could teach you,” he shot back, waggling his eyebrows until you laughed again. “Or at the very least, take you up for a little joyride. I’d make sure to keep you safe.”

Your heart warmed at his words, and you found yourself wondering what it would be like to walk through life with this man, to have him be the one you came home to every day.

To have him be the one to make you feel like the most special girl in the world.

“I would like that,” you confessed, pushing your self-consciousness to the side as you looked into his eyes. “I would like that a lot.”

“So would I,” Bradley replied, his expression earnest.

For the next hour or two, you and Bradley shared some of the snacks you’d packed in your duffel bag and talked about everything and nothing at the same time. You had never felt so instantly at ease with someone who had been a complete and total stranger just a few hours earlier. The fact that he had been in San Diego all this time, right under your nose, and that it had taken a flight home all the way from Virginia for you two to actually meet felt like more than just a coincidence. It felt like this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

At some point, you must have finally succumbed to your exhaustion and fallen asleep because when the captain announced that you were making your final descent into San Diego International Airport, you were lifting your head off Bradley’s shoulder and blinking in confusion.

“Hello there, sleepyhead,” Bradley grinned, wiping a hand down his face and rubbing the sleep out of his own eyes.

“How long was I asleep?” you asked, stretching your arms over your head. “I never sleep on planes.”

“Well you definitely slept on this one. I’d say you were probably out for at least an hour and a half,” he told you, running a hand through his hair, which made his sunkissed curls stand on end. “I nodded out, too. Guess we both needed it, huh?”

“Yeah, guess so,” you nodded, smiling at him.

By the time you finally deplaned—after Bradley, of course, had insisted on taking down your carry-on suitcase from the overhead bin and rolling it through the airport for you—you were growing both eager and anxious with anticipation of what the end of your journey would look like.

You and Bradley technically already had each other’s phone numbers, so should you say something about getting together? Would that seem too brazen? Should you just text him tomorrow and hope that whatever spark had been ignited during your travels today wouldn’t be extinguished by the time you both got home?

All of those thoughts and more were running through your head as you and Bradley took the escalator down to baggage claim and the terminal exit.

“Do you, um, do you have somebody picking you up?” Bradley asked as the two of you stepped off the escalator. He stepped to the side to avoid the flow of the crowd, and you stepped with him. “Mrs. Flores perhaps?” he added with a teasing spark in his eye.

“No,” you giggled, shaking your head. “I was just planning to call an Uber.”

“No need,” he said, his chest puffing out ever so slightly. “Mav and I will give you a ride home. He should actually be here already,” he mumbled, almost to himself, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his messages.

“Oh, you guys don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want you going out of your way,” you hurried to tell him, noticing that Bradley still had his hand on the handle of your suitcase.

“Who says it would be going out of our way?” Bradley retorted with that impossibly charming smile of his. “Unless, of course, you’re more comfortable taking an Uber. I don’t want to make you feel like—”

“No, no, you’re not,” you interrupted, wanting to make it clear to him that you appreciated the offer.

Seemingly at an impasse, the two of you just looked at each other and started laughing.

“I would love a ride, thank you. If it’s not too much trouble,” you told him.

“Never,” Bradley insisted. “Besides, you put up with me all day. I owe you.”

“I could say the same thing,” you grinned, reaching into the front pocket of your duffel bag and pulling out your cell phone. “In the meantime, I should text Katie and let her know I landed safely and that you haven’t abducted me or anything,” you teased jokingly.

Too late, you realized your mistake.

“Ah, so you told Katie about me, huh?” Bradley smirked, looking just a tad too pleased with himself. “What did you say?”

“Oh, um, nothing, just that I made a friend while traveling,” you stammered in humiliation, your cheeks feeling like they were on fire. “I’m just, um, I’m going to step over there while you get your bag.”

“Sure, sure,” he laughed, winking at you as he hurried over to the baggage carousel to search for his suitcase.

“Oh my God, how stupid are you?” you muttered to yourself, mentally kicking yourself for your careless words as you sent off a quick message to your best friend to let her know you were alive.

A moment later, she texted you back.

YOU BETTER CALL ME THE MINUTE YOU GET HOME!!! I WANT EVERY. SINGLE. DETAIL!!!

Smiling, you dropped your phone back into your bag and looked up to see Bradley walking towards you, his suitcase in hand.

“Ready to head out?” he asked with a smile, watching as you grabbed the handle of your carry-on and did one quick scan to make sure you hadn’t dropped anything.

“Ready,” you nodded, following him outside to where a slew of Ubers and other cars were waiting to pick up their passengers.

“There’s Mav,” Bradley told you, pointing with his free hand towards the end of the pick-up line, where a handsome older man with dark hair and an easy smile was waving at you.

“Your godfather drives a Porsche?” you asked, your eyes nearly bugging out of your head at the sight of the vintage car. It was in pristine condition and you were certain it must have cost a small fortune.

“Technically, it’s his fiancée, Penny’s car, but she lets him drive it when he’s been good,” Bradley joked, resting a gentle hand on your back as he guided you through the crowd.

Bradley was quick to embrace his godfather when the two of you finally reached the Porsche, slapping him on the back before stepping back and holding out a hand to you. “Mav, I’d like you to meet my new travel buddy,” he grinned, introducing you by name.

Mav, as Bradley kept calling him, offered you one of those easy smiles as he held out his hand, which you took with a smile of your own.

“Ah, so this is the girl from the plane I’ve been hearing so much about,” Mav smirked, shooting a pointed look in his godson’s direction.

“Mav!” Bradley hissed through gritted teeth, his complexion instantly turning pink, even in the shade.

“Ah,” you smirked, feeling vindicated from your earlier blunder. “So you told Mav about me, huh?” you asked, nudging his side. “What did you say?” you teased, tossing back his question from before.

“Oh, he said plenty,” Mav jumped in, clearly enjoying watching Bradley squirm as he opened the passenger side door for you.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s crazy. All those Gs he’s always pulling have finally gone to his head,” Bradley protested, although he was smiling as he said it.

“Oh, I think I’m going to enjoy this car ride very much,” you giggled, winking at Bradley as you slid into your seat.

“Promise you’ll still like me by the time we get home?” Bradley whispered, leaning in close as he climbed in beside you.

You grinned up at him, thinking about how, for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so alone. San Diego suddenly felt much more like home than it ever had.

“Promise.”

[corpseidol]

I saw you said requests are open and thought I’d send one! (Can I be 🦙anon?? If that isn’t taken by someone else!)

Imagine being Aiden’s sibling (and Ben’s cousin) and dating Tyler. Like just what that’d be like? And also had a thought like I could just see happening with being Aiden’s sibling and dating Tyler 💀.

But like Aiden always unintentionally stopping them from kissing?? Even just a simple kiss on the cheek because he keeps unintentionally interrupting/making it awkward every time. Even funnier if they have yet to have a first kiss and Aiden keeps unintentionally stopping it from happening without realizing?? 😭💀

SO FAR, SO CLOSE

author's note : you can be llama anon (i love ur brain)

concept : being aiden’s sibling AND tyler’s gf? genre : headcanons content : curse words, you’re involved with the phantom world stuff

⠀ › ⠀being aiden’s sibling meant handling annoying situations ⠀ › ⠀growing up, aiden was unintentionally your “patience trainer” ⠀ › ⠀unless you have the same personality as him (which would be way worse than the phantom world, you guys would be the cause of world destruction) ⠀ › ⠀dating tyler at the same time meant dealing with both their bullshit ⠀ › ⠀tyler does try to keep it cool, he doesn’t wanna bother you by shit talking your own brother ⠀ › ⠀tyler gets all “aiden was such a… rascal! he was being so!” he would pause to use the right words ⠀ › ⠀gets irritated when aiden interrupts your kisses to the point he literally accuses aiden of doing it on purpose ⠀ › ⠀”i swear you’re trying to start a fight!” tyler complained ⠀ › ⠀“what happened?” aiden scratched his cheek with a dumb smile ⠀ › ⠀tyler would sometimes blurt out cursewords at aiden “you dumb #### i will #### you! i swear to god!” ⠀ › ⠀at some point tyler would have actually yelled at aiden “i can’t even kiss my own girlfriend because of your lemon-headed ass always having to be everywhere!” ⠀ › ⠀like the twins, it was some unspoken rule to aiden that you wouldn't leave his sight unless you're just in your room chilling.

bonus:

⠀ › ⠀absolute chaos in the phantom world honestly. ⠀ › ⠀tyler would check on his sister and you first, obviously ⠀ › ⠀when tyler would save you from a phantom, he would heavily breathe and ask “you okay?” with his weapon up (blushing n kicking my feet) ⠀ › ⠀aiden would smile at this and kill the next phantom before tyler could and ask you “you okay?” before giggling ⠀ › ⠀tyler’s eye would literally be twitching and the others would have to remind them about the serious situation ⠀ › ⠀so many situations where they exchange “that’s my sibling!” and “that’s my girlfriend!” ⠀ › ⠀whenever you are going out on a date with tyler, aiden would come with you to “drop you off” ⠀ › ⠀you could feel the tension when aiden says goodbye with that eat-shitting grin on his face