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xbaepsae · 4 years

Text

5280 feet (m)

“Never in your life have you met such a cocky, yet still strangely attractive, person. His words really struck a chord in you, and now you really can’t stop imagining your legs wrapped around him…or his cock in your mouth.”

[jimin x flight attendant!reader]

genre: mile high club!au, smut, slight pwp, some humor, some fluff (if you squint)

word count: 5.8k

rating: mature

warnings: uhhhh unprotected airplane sex lmao, fingering, oral, cum shot, more unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of alcohol, language

a/n: please tell me i’m not the only one who fantasizes about being a member of the mile high club?? LOL. i planned this fic a while ago, but forgot about it until yesterday. and surprisingly, all 5k+ came pretty naturally; of course, i never intended it to be 5k lol. the plot just kept continuing. xoxo

“I think one of these days, I’m just going to collapse and die,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee. It tasted dark and bitter—much like your mood right now.

“Oh, you’re being dramatic,” Seokjin rolls his eyes, “you love this job.”

He was right—you did love being a flight attendant. It was probably the best decision you’ve ever made, and you’ve made a lot of bad ones. Instead of completing the standard four years of college, you managed one measly semester and decided school just wasn’t for you. The only reason you applied was for your mother’s sanity anyway; you promised you’d try, and try you did. Obviously, your mother freaked because your life was doomed—a fucking college dropout; what good could come from it?

Well, five years later, you’d consider your life pretty successful. Not only have you traveled all over the world, but you’ve met some interesting people. The only downside to this career was the demanding, god-forsaken hours.

Take your predicament right now as an example; you woke up this morning at around four o’clock, dazed and confused, before remembering that you spent another night at a hotel in an unfamiliar city. You’ve never really been a morning person, so you’ve yet to master the early morning calls.

After an entire day of flying, along with an array of rude and needy passengers, you are on the last flight of the day—the flight that is going to take you home to your bed.

Pulling your suitcases behind you, you and Seokjin make it to the gate of your final assignment for the day and greet the pilot. He lets you know that the flight is going to be over two hours and you’re completely okay with that.

“Whatever will get me home tonight, Yoongi,” you smile tiredly, realizing that your coffee is already finished.

“It shouldn’t be a terribly full flight, so I think we’ll manage.”

Yoongi boards the plane first, along with his co-pilot, to make sure everything is working properly, and lets you and Seokjin know that you two can board in ten minutes. In the time you still have to wait, people begin arriving at the gate. You hope Yoongi is right, and that the flight isn’t packed, because you honestly aren’t in the mood to deal with the audacious demands of people right now.

Quickly excusing yourself to the restroom, you freshen up a little and give yourself a little prep talk, “You can do this, y/n—just one more flight and then you have the rest of the week off.”

You are so looking forward to your break. Rarely do you ever get so many days off in-between your schedule, so you’re beyond excited. It was finally time for you and your bed to become reacquainted with one another.

When you get back to the gate, Seokjin offers you a smile. “Looking better.”

“I feel much better; maybe the caffeine is kicking in after all.” Some of your favorite workdays were the days you and Seokjin got to work together. It wasn’t often since your airline has multiple crewmembers, but these last rotation days have been fun—minus today since you’re in a rush to go home. “Got any plans when you get home?”

“I think my wife just misses me, so we’ll probably just be staying at home,” he laughs, and you wistfully sigh at the thought of marriage.

At that moment, you both get a notice to board the plane and you excitedly hand one of the desk attendants your boarding pass. As you both walk through the boarding gate, you can’t help but muse, “Must be nice to have someone to return home to.”

“Weren’t you seeing that one guy…?”

“Oh, Namjoon?” you ask, and Seokjin nods. “Yeah…I was; unfortunately, that didn’t work out.”

“What happened?” he asks.

Shrugging, you say, “I guess it was because I was busy? Being a flight attendant means I’m not always home, and Namjoon wanted someone who could always be around.”

“Are you doing alright though?”

“Oh yeah,” you nod, “I’m fine. Our relationship wasn’t that serious anyway and if I’m being honest, I really didn’t like Namjoon that much.”

Boarding the plane, you and Seokjin stow your bags away and begin preparing the necessities for the flight. After so many years in the business, all of this prep feels like second nature to you. Within minutes, you have almost everything prepped just in time for the passengers arriving on the plane.

As people begin boarding, you wear your best smile and greet them. One by one, you watch the different people boarding—you see everything from families to singles. Although you’re smiling at everyone, you’re not one hundred percent paying attention, that is until you catch the persistent gaze of one passenger.

You aren’t even actively looking at him; but you know that feeling of someone watching you? Well, for some reason, he was staring you down, so you had to look at him. And when you do, an immediate wave of heat rolls over your body. The moment he passes by you, towering a few inches above you in your modest heels, you catch a whiff of his cologne that sends a pulse down to your core.

Good thing you’ve perfected at least your poker face because hot damn that was that a fine piece of man in front of you. You’ve encountered hot passengers on other flights but never has someone affected you like this. Perhaps it was the swagger in his walk or the confidence that permeated the recycled air, but it was intoxicating.

From your peripheral, you notice that he found a seat early on the plane—meaning he was seated in first-class. You didn’t even pay attention to what he was wearing. Was he a businessman? Those are the types that always sit in first-class.

Soon, the doors of the plane shut, and you have to begin with the plane briefing and safety protocols.

“Y/n, for the safety demonstration, I’ll take the back half of the plane and you stay here in first-class, okay?” Seokjin asks from somewhere, but you can’t even focus. You absentmindedly nod before realizing that you’ll be in close proximity with that man from earlier. You’re about to protest when your friend suddenly speaks up again. “Actually, can you stay in first-class and the front of economy today? I’d rather be in the back of the plane.”

Oh, great. “Uh…sure. That’s fine, I guess.”

Beginning the safety instructions, you once again feel the same heated gaze from earlier and wonder if it’s because you look like a mess? Was there something on your uniform? You’ll be the first to admit that flight attending uniforms weren’t the cutest things in the world, but it was the standard, so you have no choice.

After you finish the safety instructions, you move onto the pre-flight service in first-class. You peaked and noticed that mystery man is sitting in the last row of first-class, so you don’t have to immediately talk to him. Even as you bring glasses of champagne and various other cups of liquor to the other passengers in first-class, the feeling of being watched never fully goes away. And eventually, you find yourself in front of him.

“Good evening sir, is there anything I can get you before we take off?” you try not to directly look at him.

“Yes, I’ll have a glass of your best red wine and you,” he says so smoothly, you almost don’t catch the bit at the end.

When you do, your eyes flutter to his. “Excuse me?”

“I wanted you to look at me, doll,” he smiles, and you feel your heart explode. This man was unbelievably attractive. You momentarily glance at his clothing and he is indeed wearing a suit. But he wears it in such a way that isn’t overly stuffy. Underneath his blazer is a simple white button-up, but the top two buttons are open and leave little to the imagination.

“Anything else besides the wine, sir?” you ignore the comment made about you.

“How about your name?” he asks, leaning towards you. Was he flirting with you?

You offer a passive smile, “I don’t think that’s on the menu.”

“Are you sure you’re not on the menu? Because,” he licks his lower lip, “I would love to have those long legs wrapped around me or maybe your sweet lips wrapped around my cock.”

If people could turn into puddles, you’d be a total melted mess right now. Instinctively, your thighs snap together, and you release a shaky breath. You nervously look around and hope no one thinks anything suspicious is happening right now. Quickly, you excuse yourself and air out the top of your uniform. It is too damn hot in here.

Walking back with a glass of red wine, you hand it to the extremely forward stranger. “Here you so, sir. I hope you enjoy.”

“I’m sorry if I was being too forward a moment ago,” he takes a sip of the wine and you watch as he licks a drop off his lips. “But you’re too beautiful and I can’t take my eyes off of you.”

“No, it’s…attractive,” you admit, which not only surprises him but surprises you too.

He gives you another mega-watt smile. “The name’s Jimin.”

“Y/n,” you finally relent just as Yoongi announces that the plane is ready for takeoff. Leaving Jimin with a last look, you go and take your seat as the plane lifts into the air.

***

Once the plane reaches a certain altitude and seat belts can be unbuckled, you begin the process off offering refreshments to the other passengers. You and Seokjin tag team this feat and Yoongi was right, there aren’t as many people on this flight; this makes the whole process much easier. Even though you’re occupied with offering cups of ginger ale and sprite to passengers, you can’t stop thinking about Jimin.

You blame the fact that you haven’t had a proper orgasm in a few days. Mix that with your awful day, and you’re dying for a sweet release. For the last half hour, Jimin has had you all hot and bothered. Never in your life have you met such a cocky, yet still strangely attractive, person. His words really struck a chord in you, and now you really can’t stop imagining your legs wrapped around him…or his cock in your mouth.

“Are you okay, y/n?”

You blink at Seokjin, “Fine—just tired.”

Putting the refreshment carts away in the back, you both do one round of garbage collection before Seokjin excuses himself to the makeshift lounge. On this plane, since it is a bit bigger, there is a little lounge for the crew. However, it only fits one person usually. Pouting, you make your way back to the front of the plane and double check with a few passengers.

As you’re about to pass first-class, you feel your core tighten from the thought of being in close proximity to Jimin again. Even though you feel his eyes on you once again, you ignore the sensation and focus on the other first-class passengers.

“Can I have another glass of champagne?” one woman asks, and you promptly bring her another cold glass.

You continue catering to everyone’s needs before you find yourself in front of Jimin again. Never have you been more thankful for the bit of privacy first-class offers because the pure and unadulterated desire that seeps from Jimin almost has you on your knees. “Can I get you anything else, sir?”

“Are you still off the menu, y/n?” he asks, and the way your name rolls off his tongue makes you weak. Your expression only seems to fuel his desire though. “I’ll have another glass on red wine.”

You practically run to get the wine. As you pour his drink, you honestly aren’t sure if you’ll make it the whole flight feeling this tense. There is still at least another hour and a half of the flight, but your self-control is wearing thin. Maybe if you just quickly slipped into the lavatory…your face heats at the thought. In all of your years as a flight attendant, you’ve never even once considered doing something like that.

As someone working in the airplane industry, you’ve heard of the so-called mile high club—people who have sex on planes. You will admit that the thought has always intrigued you, but to actually participate? Not only would you be jeopardizing your job, but also your reputation.

During your first year as a flight attendant, you heard a rumor about a girl who worked on a different airline that got fired for getting caught having sex on the job. You don’t remember the details of what exactly happened, but all you need to remember is that she ended up jobless and you don’t want that to be your reality.

Walking back to Jimin, you catch him staring at you again and tension once again radiates throughout your body.

“Here you go,” you hand him the glass of wine. Just as you’re about to walk away, his hands move to wrap around your wrist.

“Tell me about yourself,” he prompts, taking you by surprise. “What? Thought that I just wanted to fuck you?”

Your mouth drops at his boldness, and Jimin comments something that sounds like you’re cute.

“I mean, I do want to do that too,” he continues, hand wrapped underneath his jaw. “But I am curious to know more about you.”

“I’m twenty-three and I’ve been a flight attendant for almost five years,” you offer, unsure if that’s the kind of information he wants to know. “I love my job and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”

Jimin takes a sip of his wine before saying, “I’m twenty-six and I work in a multi-million-dollar business. I love-hate my job but couldn’t imagine doing anything else either.”

“Is that where you’re headed today?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he unbuttons another button from his shirt and proceeds to take off his jacket. Although you try to be discreet, Jimin catches your nervous swallow. “I do these business trips every month. I have a huge meeting tomorrow morning, which is why I took a flight tonight.”

“Well, if you have a chance, the city is beautiful and you should go sightseeing,” you tell him, surprised that you both are having a normal conversation.

“You’ve been?” he asks.

You laugh in response. “I live there.”

Jimin’s eyebrows perk up. “Oh, really? I wasn’t sure since I know flight attendants spend a certain number of days working prior to flying home.”

“This is my last flight of this particular schedule,” you don’t know why you feel the need to tell him this, but the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“Interesting,” Jimin nods. “Don’t you think we should celebrate?”

At his question, your brows furrow. You don’t understand what he means. “Celebrate what?”

“This being your last flight.”

“How?”

Despite the setting sun casting the cabin in golden hour, Jimin’s eyes appear to darken in the light. Something mischievous glints in them and all he says is, “Three taps.”

***

You have no idea what three taps means.

After that comment from Jimin, you walked back to your seat to contemplate his words. There is no possible way anything can happen—there is less than an hour before they land now. What kind of celebration was he even talking about?

Mulling over his words, you do a walk through all the cabins with Seokjin and snicker when you see his bedhead. “Have a good nap?”

“Even though it was only twenty minutes, I needed that,” he smiles sheepishly

“No wonder you wanted to sit in the back.”

You pick up some trash from the passengers and throw it into the trash bag that Seokjin holds. “You can have a quick nap if you want.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you shake your head. “The flight’s almost over anyway.”

Checking your watch, there should only be about thirty minutes left of the flight. On your way back to your seat, you slip into the lavatory and splash some water on your face. You are still feeling a bit hot and bothered, but your house was within reach. And being home meant you could use all of your delicious toys tucked away in your side drawer.

Just as you wipe the water off your face, you hear a knock on the door. You yell out that it’s occupied, and even double check to make sure you locked the door. You did. So, who knocked? Throwing the paper towel away, there’s another knock on the door…and then another. Your stomach tightens when you realize there were three consecutive knocks—three taps.

You mouth runs dry at the thought of who might be on the other side of the door. There is also a jolt of electricity that runs up your spine at the thought of what’s going to happen, and even more so at the fact that you could get caught. Earlier, you were worried about getting caught and potentially losing your job; however, now, the risk thrilled you.

So, you decide to say fuck it and unlock the door.

Immediately, Jimin enters the lavatory and swiftly locks it behind him. You open your mouth to say something to him but before you can, he steps forward and pushes you back against the sink. Grabbing your face in his hands, his lips crash onto yours. You moan at the sheer force of his kiss. His lips move over yours as if he’s kissed your lips a thousand times. Like he knows exactly how to set you off.

You don’t know how, but clothes start coming off and you find yourself on your knees in front of him. Your breast are already on full display and he leans down to pinch your nipples before moving to cup your face.

“Suck my cock, baby girl,” Jimin coos, rubbing his thumb over your lips.

Unbuckling his pants, you reach into his briefs and pull out his cock. There’s already precum smeared over the tip and hard shaft, and you wonder just how long he’s been like this.

“I’ve been hard since the flight started,” he seems to read your mind. “The moment I saw that tight ass in that skirt…fuck.”

You take Jimin into your mouth without warning, marveling at his size and how you’re already dripping through your panties. You’re no prude, but you’ve never been this turned on in your life.

As you suck on the tip and work the rest with your hands, the sounds that come from Jimin’s mouth feed your desire. He’s surprisingly vocal—his moans high pitched and needy. “Yes…just like that, baby. You suck cock so well, huh?”

You hum in response, and Jimin’s hands weave their way into your hair. He guides you closer to his groin, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You choke at the sensation, but it’s worth the pleasure that Jimin seems to feel. He begins fucking your mouth; body shaking slightly at the feeling of lips around his cock.

Eventually, he pulls away and lifts you off the ground. Unexpectedly, he brings you close for another kiss—the sloppy, messy kind that moves from your lips to your jaw, and curves to your neck and collarbone. As he sucks bruises into the delicate skin of your shoulder, he raises you up on the sink and pulls your panties to the side.

The moment his thumb presses against your clit, you’re done for. You jerk at the way he works your little nub, nearly crying because you’ve wanted nothing more than release. “Oh my god, Jimin.”

It doesn’t take you long to feel the steady build of your orgasm coming. It really has been so long since you’ve felt this good; and when Jimin inserts two fingers inside of you, finding that g-spot, you come undone instantly.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” you arch back against the mirror and Jimin can’t help but stare at your expression in wonder.

“That’s right, baby,” he continues to rub your sensitive clit, helping you ride out your orgasm. “Keep coming for me, and then I’m going to fuck you so good.”

The second you come down from your high, Jimin pushes his cock into you and you let out the loudest moan. He fucks you hard and fast, hips slamming against your pelvis rhythmically. For a second, you wonder if he dances because there was no way normal hips should move that way. But that thought fades when Jimin pulls your closer to the edge of the sink, and somehow manages to get an even deeper angle.

“F-Feels so good, Jimin.”

“Yeah?” he asks, sweat starting to bead at his brow.

You nod in response and look down to see the way his cock looks entering your wet cunt. The sight alone would’ve been enough to send you over the edge again, but you held it in. More than anything, you wanted Jimin to come too. Wrapping your legs even tighter around him, you begin to meet him thrust for thrust. Soon, his hip movements become jerky and you know he’s close.

“I don’t know how much longer I-I can…” Jimin groans, slowing down. “Are you close?”

“Mhmm,” you moan. “I’m almost there….”

With a few more hard thrusts, and a thumb pressed to your clit, you shut your eyes as your second orgasm rolls over you. The way your walls clench around him have Jimin gasping as he pulls out and shoots his load all over your stomach. You watch the milky white ropes mark your skin, and even lift a bit into your mouth.

“You know, I would’ve swallowed,” you muse, loving the way Jimin’s expression darkens once again.

“I guess we’ll just have to do that next time,” he smirks, causing you to become speechless.

You both clean up in silence, and you try to make yourself look pre-coital. Jimin laughs at the way you attempt to straighten your wrinkled skirt, but you just pout because he looks amazing even with the just-fucked look. “No fair.”

“You look hot,” Jimin swears, pinching your butt a little and making you jump.

Jimin sneaks back out of the lavatory first and you follow behind a moment later, walking as casually as you can to your seat. Thankfully, you arrive just in time because Yoongi announces over the intercom that you’re descending soon, which means everyone needs to buckle up.

As the plane lands in the city, the sky is a gorgeous shade of purple dusk. Immediately, you feel reenergized from being home, and also because you just had the best sex of your life…in an airplane lavatory. You blush again at the thought of Jimin’s thick cock inside of you, and then sigh when you realize you’ll probably never see him again. What a tragedy.

The moment the plane pulls up to the gate, and Yoongi turns the engine off, everyone begins filing out of the plane. You bid each passenger goodbye and wonder why you haven’t seen Jimin yet—after all, he was sitting in first-class. Eventually, you realize he’s the last person to leave and when he stands in front of you, he sticks his hand out.

Instinctively, though confused, you shake it and he leaves without another word. You watch him step off the plane and feel…sad? Although you barely know the man, you were definitely intrigued and wanted to see him again. When you move to grab your bags, you realize that there is a slip of paper in your hand. Wait; did Jimin put it there? Quickly opening the note, you read it and a wide smile stretches across your face.

He gave you his number.

***

After you say goodbye to Seokjin and Yoongi, you waste no time texting Jimin.

9:01 PM | You: hi…this is y/n

9:01 PM | Jimin: y/n. didn’t think you’d actually text back lol

You can’t help but laugh a little at his response. Why wouldn’t you text back? Right now, the only thing you can think about is him.

9:02 PM | You: of course. I want to see you again

You send your next text without even fully thinking it through. It was impulsive and a bit unlike you to be so frank, that was clearly Jimin’s forte, but what was there to lose? If Jimin hadn’t secretly given you his number, there would have been no way you’d see him again.

By the time you make it to your car, Jimin hasn’t said anything back. Doubt and worry fills you—was he tired of you already? Maybe you were bad at sex? No, then why would he have bothered with the number anyway? Your mind swirls through terrible scenarios before you receive another message

9:06 PM | Jimin: me too, doll. Meet me at my hotel?

9:06 PM | Jimin: I would’ve waited but my ride was already here waiting for me, and I didn’t know if you…

Your body pulsates at the thought of seeing him now. Earlier today, all you wanted was to go home; now, the idea of warming Jimin’s hotel bed seemed too tempting to pass up.

9:07 PM | You: okay

***

You pull up to the hotel that Jimin sent the address to and gawk at the posh exterior. There are a number of ritzy hotels in your city, and you figured Jimin would be staying at a nicer one, but it was still shocking to experience.

As your mouth stays parted, someone gently taps at your window. You jump a little and see a man standing there. Rolling down your window, you take in his uniform and are about to ask where you can park.

“I can valet park for you, ma’am,” he says, cutting you off. “You’re with Mr. Park, correct?”

Who is Mr. Park? Before you have a chance to answer, your phone vibrates with a text message. Looking down, you see that Jimin’s texted you.

9:30 PM | Jimin: let the valet take your car

“Umm, okay,” you tell the man and step out of the car. Walking around to grab your luggage from the back, you see that another man has already fetched it for you. Is this what it’s like to have money? You quickly thank them both and make your way inside of the hotel.

As you reach the front desk, the receptionist offers you a smile. “Mr. Park is in the Presidential Suite. It’s on the very top floor, ma’am.”

Your mouth drops again, and you wonder if maybe you had the wrong perception of Jimin. When he mentioned on the plane that he worked for a big business, you figured he was just a normal employee. Yeah, every business has its perks, so you figured that was just the case. However, maybe Jimin is higher up the business food chain than you thought. Also, how did she know you were the person Jimin was supposed to meet?

After thanking the receptionist, you walk in the direction of the elevators. Getting in one, you press the highest number on the elevator and begin to go up. Once you make it to the top floor, you walk out of the elevator and realize there is only one door. You laugh a little; guess there’s no way you can get lost then.

Standing in front of the door, you knock three times and wait for Jimin to answer. Within seconds, he does, and you realize he only has a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is damp, and you marvel at the droplets that cascade down his body. He laughs at your reaction and ushers you to come inside.

But the second you’re through the threshold, your luggage tips over as Jimin pushes you against a wall.

“Hey, doll,” his breath fans across your face.

“Hey, Mr. Park,” you smirk a little. “So, tell me, just how rich are you?”

Jimin chuckles and begins to pepper kisses along your face and jawline. “I was hoping you wouldn’t figure that out. Tends to make people want to stay, if you know what I mean.”

Grabbing his face into your hands, you tell him, “Jimin, I don’t care that you have money.”

His expression softens at your words.

“And how could I not figure that out when you’re staying in a fucking Presidential Suite?” you continue, pressing a kiss on his chin. “Kind of a dead giveaway.”

“Fuck my money,” he rolls his eyes. “I just want to properly bury my face in your pussy.”

Fire ignites in your core as Jimin pulls you away from the doorway and past the main area. You barely have time to admire the ceiling to floor glass windows or the modern layout of furniture because he drags you into the bedroom. Jimin throws himself onto his bed, and you don’t miss the way his towel barely clings to his body. “Strip for me.”

You are still in your flight attendant outfit; however, you oblige and begin peeling the same clothes Jimin tore off your body earlier. You delight in the way Jimin watches your every move. It’s like he can’t get enough of you. Once you slip out of your panties, fully exposed to him, he pulls you on top of his lap for a kiss.

On his lips, you can still taste the remnants of the red wine he had on the plane. But unlike the rushed kisses in the lavatory, Jimin kisses you passionately now. His tongue dances with your own, and he gently nips at your lips before pushing you onto your back.

Above you, he works a trail down your body; sucking your already hard nipples into his mouth. You let out a shuddering moan when he reaches the sensitive skin above your cunt. He licks the skin there, and then dives into your core.

“A-Ah!” your back arches at the feeling of Jimin’s tongue fucking you.

“Your pussy tastes so fucking sweet, baby girl,” he groans.

Jimin replaces his tongue with one finger, and you’re about to whine at the loss of his mouth when his mouth moves to your clit and doubles the sensation. “Fuck.”

“Just like that, baby,” he coos, inserting another finger. “Are you going to come for me?”

You helplessly nod at his ministrations. He continues to suck on your little nub, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. When he inserts a third finger inside your wetness, it sends you past the point of no return and you cry out your climax.

“Beautiful,” he hums, lapping up your release and you’ve never seen anything hotter. Sitting up, he watches you with a smug grin and starts pumping his hardening cock in front of you. “Get on your side.”

Although your legs already feel like jelly, you do as he says and lay on your side. Jimin moves behind you, and the feeling of your back pressed against his chest sends a shiver down your pack. Gently, Jimin lifts one of your legs over his and slides inside of you.

Just a few hours ago, he was inside of you, but the stretch still feels amazing now. His pace is slow, and he presses chaste kisses along your shoulder. After a few shallow thrusts, he hits you with a particularly hard one and you let out a low moan.

“What do you want me to do?” he whispers into your ear, arm reaching over to fondle your breasts.

“I want you to fuck me, Mr. Park.”

Jimin nips at your ear, “What was that, doll? Couldn’t hear you.”

You repeat you statement louder, and he lets out a satisfied grunt. Jimin’s hips pick up their pace and the forearm holding you up falls at the force of his thrusts. The lewd noises coming out of your mouth are loud and brazen, but the dirty sweet nothings that left Jimin’s lips are enough to make you orgasm a second time—well, fourth if you count the two from earlier today.

“Ohmygod, Jimin.”

“Yes, fuck, doll—you feel so fucking good on my cock.” Clutching the bedsheets through your high, Jimin breathes heavily behind you, “Fuck. Where do you want me to cum, baby girl?”

Even though you just came, you still can’t help the moans that leave your mouth. “Anywhere. I-I don’t c-care.”

“Can I come inside of you?”

The thought of Jimin filling you up with his cum is so fucking hot, you nod and feel him explode inside of you. He leans against your shoulder as he coats your inner walls. When he finally pulls out, you fall back onto your elbows and examine the mess he made.

“Has anyone ever told you that your pussy is a wonderland?” Jimin asks, walking towards you with a wet cloth. You’re about to take it from him to clean yourself, but he ends up doing it for you.

You blush at the action. “Uh…I don’t think so.”

“Well, it is,” he meets your gaze. You feel yourself blush even harder.

Jimin discards the wet cloth and you realize this is the awkward part. At least on the plane, you could just go back to your seat. Here, what are you supposed to do? Getting up from the bed, you slip your panties back on and cringe at how wet they are.

“Where are you going?”

You stop in your tracks. “Leaving?”

Jimin pulls back the covers of the bed and slips inside, beckoning you. “Stay.”

“Don’t you have that huge meeting early tomorrow?”

“So?” he asks, and you slip into bed right beside him—sans clothing. “Besides, I want to fuck you again.”

You roll your eyes as he pulls you closer, “Isn’t twice enough?”

“I think I might be addicted,” he admits, which makes your heart stutter.

You’re about to tell him the same, but you yawn instead. Suddenly, you remember that you’ve been up since four this morning and that you’ve been running on god knows how many shots of espresso.

“Tired?” Jimin takes the words right out of your mouth.

Nodding, you mutter unintelligently. You probably should shower and brush your teeth, but you honestly can’t be bothered since Jimin feels so good beside you. His body is warm and comfortable; before you can say another word to him, you’re already drifting into dreamland.

As you sleep tangled in his arms, Jimin grazes his fingers over your face and thinks about how beautiful you look even like this. He wasn’t lying when he said he might be addicted to you. He only met you today and already had you twice, but the desire to have more of you is insatiable.

You are definitely going to be his ruin.

#armiesnet #btsbookclub #bangtan bookclub #jimin fic #bts fic #bangtan fic #bts smut #kpop fic #jimin #park jimin #bts #bangtan #smut #pwp #5280 feet #xbaepsae

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brywrites · 4 years

Text

Flight Risk IX

Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler. Part IX: In which a profiler and a pilot try their best not to care, featuring an incredibly tacky hotel.

(Series Masterlist) ( Previous | Next )

----

The case closes. When it’s time to go home, Reid sees her leaning against the wall of the hangar with a book. Their eyes meet. He stops walking, frozen to the ground. And in response, she walks away and disappears into the jet. Neither of them knows what to say. She gives herself over to the sky, he loses himself in paperwork. The jet has never felt so big. Like there are miles between them instead of just mere feet.

Y/N thinks of Peter Pan. “The moment you doubt whether you can fly you cease for ever to be able to do it.” She doesn’t know what they are to each other anymore. Are they still friends? Were they ever at all? Was Arthur right all along? Maybe she simply is made for staying, not with her airplane heart. Hopelessly circling, never quite finding a place to land.

Reid has never had to do this before, to hurt someone in this way. He’s not sure how to reach out to her after putting this distance in place. And so he doesn’t. It doesn’t ease the loneliness. Only Garcia notices the change, when he stops talking about her.

“She told you how she felt, didn’t she?” Penelope asks, her cheerful smile deflating. Reid averts his gaze. The pained look on Garcia’s face mirrors the ache in his chest. “Oh, Reid,” she says. “Do you really still believe that you’re not allowed to be happy?”

“But you looked so happy together,” Yeeqin laments when Y/N tells her what happened. “I just don’t get it.” She and her girlfriend Saoirse offer to key his car, an offer Y/N promptly refuses. They’re both hurting enough as is. And besides, knowing Yeeqin she’d vandalize the wrong car and need someone to bail her out. After the “graffiti incident of 2014,” Y/N has no interest in doing so again.

And so they stay away. Things return to the way they always were – pilots and profilers. Two separate worlds on the same G550 jet. The only exchanges are simply pleasantries or requests from the team to the pilots, but they never come from Reid. Or announcements about takeoff and landing that almost always come from Captain Dobson. On the rare occasions when Y/N’s voice floods into the cabin, he closes his eyes and lets himself imagine that she’s speaking only to him. Sometimes when the agents disembark from the plane, she watches him go from the cockpit window and tries to remember what it was like when they sat so close.

He stops arriving early. She stops reading in the hangar if she’s not on the jet. They both pretend it’s normal. They both pretend it’s possible for them not to care. That it’s easy, that it doesn’t bother them one bit to be apart like this. That it wasn’t better before.

Y/N goes to dinner at Arthur and Malik’s house. Martin and Theresa are there and she runs around the yard with their older children, Carolyn and Benedict, and coos over baby Douglas. They share cocktails and swap stories and it feels so good to be surrounded by her own team, this makeshift family of aviators. She has movie nights in with Yeeqin and goes out with her and Saoirse anytime they invite her along and it’s so nice to be among friends. But then Martin looks at Theresa with all the love in the world and Saoirse falls asleep on Yeeqin’s shoulder in the cab on the way home and it’s acutely apparent to her that something is missing in her life.

Reid distracts himself with work and with books and tells himself that he’s always been just fine this way, with words and obligations instead of laughter over takeout or meetings at coffee shops. But then he discovers Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close in his bottom desk drawer at work, the copy she’d loaned to him and he’d sworn he would remember to give back to her and suddenly he’s trying not to cry in the bullpen and he doesn’t quite know why.

She learns from Arthur, who knew him, that Spencer’s mentor has been killed. And she can see on their next case that he’s hurting. The sadness in his eyes, the exhaustion evident in his slumped posture makes her want to run to him and wrap him in a hug, hold him close like he held her that night on the couch. But she’s not supposed to care about him anymore.

He sees the way she looks back at him as she boards the jet that day, her eyes lingering on him for just a fraction too long, and he thinks that just maybe she’s going to say something to him. But she doesn’t and he’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed. Either way, Gideon’s death seems only to prove his theory – the people he loves get hurt.

When they come home from the bombing case in Indianapolis, he’s drained from a week of mourning and a grueling chess match with Rossi. As Reid stands in the hangar searching for his keys in his bag, he hears, “Doctor Reid,” and turns to see Captain Dobson standing a few feet away.

“Yes?” he asks.

The captain opens his mouth, falters, and then says, “I’m sorry for your loss.” The sentiment is confusing, as he already told Reid this as he boarded the plane three days earlier. But perhaps Dobson has forgotten the conversation. So he thanks the captain and continues on his way.

Y/N and Reid seek solace in their friends, in their books, in the places that make them feel safe. And they try so hard to convince their hearts that they don’t feel anything that they wonder if it was ever even real to begin with. And for a little while, they almost believe it.

But then comes Nashville.

---

“Did you see the picture Martin sent of baby Douglas in his pilot’s cap?” Y/N asks.

“I did,” Arthur says. “It was cute.”

“The cutest thing I’ve ever seen!” she insists. “I wish he could bring the kids by for a visit sometime, I’m sure they’d love to check out the jet. Do you remember being a kid and how they’d let you go visit the flight deck and see how a plane worked? And they’d give you those little plastic pilots wings?”

“Relics of a bygone era,” Arthur sighs. “I’m sure I still have a pair of PanAm Junior Pilot wings stashed in a box somewhere.” The millennium ushered in a new vision of aviation security and sharp pins and strangers in the cockpit simply aren’t considered protocol anymore. “How are we looking?”

Y/N glances at the altimeter and airspeed indicators. “Flying at 46,000 feet. Currently at Mach point nine. Should be about one hour and ten minutes to destination.”

“Let the cabin now we’ve reached out cruising altitude, will you?” Arthur asks. Typically it’s her job to shift the jet into cruise while Arthur makes the announcement, but she nods and takes the speaker.

“Good afternoon passengers, this is your co-pilot speaking. We’ve reached our cruising altitude of 46,000 feet. At this time please feel free to resume using electronic devices and move about the cabin. We expect to be landing in Nashville in about an hour. Skies are clear, should be smooth sailing ahead. In-flight refreshments will not be served, but you’re welcome to help yourselves to anything stocked in the galley.”

A part of her wonders if he thinks of her when he hears her voice. Not that it should matter anymore. Before she can lose herself in her own thoughts, Arthur asks, “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?”

“Lincoln,” she decides after a moment to think. “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”

Arthur says, “The Terminator,” without missing a beat. The captain is well-versed in cinema, which makes Double Feature one of his favorite in-flight games. The first movie must always be a question, and whoever can come up with the best films in response is declared the winner. Arthur almost always wins, and it’s a challenge to think up films they haven’t already used.

“What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?”

“Hannibal.”

“That’s terrible,” Arthur laughs.

“Dude, Where’s My Car?”

“Brokeback Mountain.”

“Oof, that’s gonna be a long and sad trek to retrieve it,” she sighs. “I’m not prepared for that kind of emotional devastation.” But the game does help to take her mind off of what she’s really feeling. She can lose herself in words and not in wishes. They land GEFF gently on the tarmac in Nashville and when they pull around to the hangar, she doesn’t look out the side window. Y/N stares straight ahead at the horizon. The sky fades from deep royal blue to soft pale periwinkle where the distant skyline rises up to meet it and she loves every single shade in between.

Once the team has departed, she and Arthur walk through the cabin tidying up and making note of anything that needs to be cleaned or restocked prior to takeoff. Arthur won Double Feature (“O Brother Where Art Thou?” “Soylent Green.” “Oh, that is incredibly twisted!”) so it’s her turn to clean the bathroom. Fortunately a short flight like this means it’s fairly clean to begin with. She wipes sanitizes the sink and toilet, empties the paper towel bag, makes sure there’s enough soap and toilet paper. Garbage is deposited in the trash can at the back of the hangar and they return to Geff to grab their own go-bags.

“Listen, Y/L/N,” Arthur says as they lock the cockpit door. “About the IRT job.”

“Arthur,” she cuts him off. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” When he looks as though he’s about to protest she adds, “Please. I just want to go to hotel and take a nap and watch whatever silly romcom is on pay per view.”

He nods and says nothing more. They catch a rideshare from the airport together and she stares out the window at the buildings and billboards that line the roads. She already knows what she’s going to do about the offer. She made her decision after her conversation with Spencer. The choice was clear. But she doesn’t want to discuss it yet. She’s not ready.

They step into the lobby of the Graduate Hotel and her mouth falls open. It’s hideous. There’s a fuzzy tapestry – a fuzzy tapestry of a woman with a hat against a pink background that appears to be made out of the same material as a shag rug. The lamps at the concierge desk have hot pink floral patterns on them. A neon installation that looks similar to a vintage gas station sign announces vacancies in bright green and red light. The armchairs are blue velvet and the hanging lights look like tulle skirts. There’s too much happening at once.

“This is the ugliest hotel I’ve ever seen,” she says.

“Well the more affordable ones were nearly full – evidently this is a big weekend for admitted students at Vanderbilt – they had to double up all of the rooms for the team. But the Bureau managed to get us a discount here,” Arthur replies as they stand at the desk waiting for someone to check them in.

“I suppose a bunch of special agents wouldn’t blend in well at a place like this,” she admits. Hopefully they solve the case quickly and she’s not stuck here too long. True to her word she spends the first night relaxing in her room. The bathroom is beautiful – black walls with gold accents and a glass shower. The room itself is another story. The carpet is a rainbow of jewel-toned diamonds in a quilt-like pattern. The walls are pink and white striped, a candelabra sits next to a pink television. White curtains with a vibrant floral pattern line the window and form a hanging behind the bed. The bed, mercifully, has the standard white blankets and white pillows, though there is hot pink chevron quilt draped over the end and an eerie portrait of Dolly Parton stares at her from above the headboard. Y/N shudders.

Penelope Garcia calls her that evening. She’s waiting to hear back from the team and could use some virtual company. “I don’t even know if you’d like this place,” Y/N tells her. “It’s so garishly tacky. Like a sorority girl and her antique-collecting grandmother chose items from their storage closet at random.”

“Oh it can’t be that bad,” Garcia says.

“Penelope, I am ever the optimist. I love quirky, whimsical adventures. But this is something else. The Dolly Parton painting keeps staring at me, I swear!”

“Let me look it up.” There is the sound of fingers frantically typing on a keyboard. “Oh come on now, the lobby is way cute! And the patio? I just – oh. Oh my. Oh those rooms. You’re right. That’s bad. That’s very bad.”

“I told you!”

“That went from cute to crikey very quickly,” she agrees. After takeout for dinner and watching Serendipity, Y/N falls asleep under the unnervingly watchful eye of Dolly. The next day is completely free, and she heads out to explore the city. Wherever she ends up, she tries to take advantage of the adventures available to her. Just blocks from the hotel she discovers Nashville’s Parthenon – a full-scale replica of the Greek temple which hides an art museum inside. She wanders the galleries and stands at the entrance staring up at the pillars holding the roof up. What would it be like to visit the real thing? She wonders how many times the IRT has gone to Greece before. Maybe they’ll end up in Athens sometime this year.

Café Coco is the cutest coffee shop she’s seen in any city, and she grabs tea and a scone before returning to Centennial Park. Beneath the barely blossoming trees she sits and reads Dandelion Wine. It’s beautifully written and full of longing. That longing seeps through the pages and she can feel it in her bones. Nostalgia for times past and places far behind and things that cannot be. Everything that Spencer said it would be. As she reads she tries to imagine which lines would have made him smile or elicited a wistful sigh. Are the parts she loves most the same as the parts he loves most?

Her phone buzzes with a text form Arthur to ask if she wants to get lunch together at the hotel bar, and she shoves the book and her longing back in her bag and walks over to meet him.They step from the tacky lobby into a bar that seems remarkably normal. String lights and chandeliers cast an inviting ambient glow over the wooden tables and chairs. Country music is playing over the speakers. But as they she and Arthur move closer towards an open table, she sees it. The stage.

“What is that?” she asks. There’s a bear, a pig, and a fox in a wig atop a stage that says Cross-Eyed Critters. Each holds an instrument. And it’s then that she realizes the music is coming from them. It’s an animatronic band. Their eyes and mouths move as they sing and their fabricated bodies turn and jerk with the beat. “What?” she asks again, completely dumbfounded. “What?”

Arthur too is speechless. Then he shakes his head and says, “It’s nothing a drink or two won’t make more palatable.” She snaps a photo on her phone and texts it to Garcia, who will surely get a kick out of it.

As they sit down, a voice announces a new song over the speakers. A slightly tipsy looking man in a pair of red cowboy boots comes to stand in front of the stage. He has a microphone. The animatronics begin to play the opening notes of a song, and then the man begins to sing. This is not just a bar with an animatronic band, it’s an animatronic karaoke bar. The man in the red boots belts out an uncomfortably off-key version of a Kenny Rogers song –“You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away and know when to run!”– with just a little too much bravado.

“I think I’ll need that drink sooner rather than later,” Arthur admits begrudgingly. She has to laugh. This hotel, it seems is full of surprises. But the captain is right. When she receives a spiked cream soda and Arthur has a glass of bourbon and there’s a plate of tacos between them, it’s easier to tune out the karaoke band. She can just enjoy her drink and the light and the stories of Arthur’s first flights with the BAU that have her nearly in tears from laughing so hard. For someone who maintains such a serious demeanor most of the time, he knows how to tell a joke incredibly well. She’s always appreciated that about him.

“Y/N, there is something I wanted to talk with you about,” Arthur says. His tone changes and she knows the time for joking is over. “We need to discuss the IRT offer.” Before he can continue, her phone rings. She glances at the screen. It’s Penelope. Y/N sends it to voicemail. There will be time to discuss the disconcerting robot band later when she’s back in her room. Right now, she needs to focus on Arthur. She knows where this is going and he’s right. She can’t keep putting this off forever. She has to talk about this, and everything that it means.

“I’ve already made my decision,” she begins to say. But her phone begins to ring again, and her heart drops into her stomach. This isn’t about the picture. This is urgent. Arthur must realize it too. His eyes trail down to her phone and she hesitantly picks it up.

“It’s Garcia,” she tells him, before answering. “Hello?”

“Y/N, oh thank goodness you picked up.” The analyst’s voice is a little higher than usual, a little more strained. “It’s Reid. He’s in the hospital.”

#flight risk #fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #imagine #reid x reader #spencer reid x reader

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musutofu · 4 years

Text

【 Round Trip 】 Drabble

Memories are a curious thing. Flimsy and finicky, unreliable with the finer details of things while still holding truth in the broader strokes. Trying to see into the past as it’s been recorded by your mind is like looking at an old photograph that’s been left in the sun for too long. It’s dried and cracked around the edges, brittle to the touch. The slightest prodding at the loose ends of a feeling or sound could lead to it crumbling to dust as you try to keep it in the palm of your hands. And like the dust of former memories you’re beginning to lose yourself in the passage of time. Sunlight has leached your colors into a pale rendition of your former glory, bleached out spots of detail completely until you’re not certain what had filled the space once upon a time. It feels like you’re still there–the old you–standing just at the edge of your periphery, out of focus and only slightly tangible but every time you try to look the wraith strays further from sight. Soon, if you sit idle and let yourself erode to dust, there’ll be nothing left to grasp at. You’ll be gone. And a new person that isn’t you will be left to fill the empty shell left behind. But, if there’s one thing you remember about your life from before, it’s that you were never one to take things lying down. You got up and you fought. In your currently degraded state it’s hard to imagine standing up for yourself at even the smallest grievance and such a large offense that looms behind you has made you turn tail and run. And, for better or worse, you have no choice but to keep going. The deed is done, the betrayal completed. There’s nothing but rage left in your wake and memories of past punishment ring clear in your mind. The sharp, metallic taste of blood floods your mouth at the thought and your jaw pops open to be certain you haven’t bitten a hole in your tongue. You haven’t. The only lingering pain that’s physically tangible are aged a few hours. Throbbing bruises decorate the skin of your thighs and hips, dark bruises across your neck and chest in the shape of half moons; the fruits of your laborious night. A joyous occasion that trumped any and all physical boundaries and left you battered and bruised. “Mommy,” you jump in your seat, so lost in the liberation of the journey that you’d forgotten you absconded with a passenger. “I have to use the bathroom.” In the backseat your daughter is squirming in her car seat, hands wringing her seatbelt as she rocks forward and back as if she’ll be able to fling herself out of it with enough momentum. “Sit back, Chie-chan. It says there’s a rest stop at the next exit. Can you hold it for a little longer?” She slumps back in her seat with a huff, scrunching her nose at you in the rear view mirror in a way that makes her look like an angry puppy. She’s inherited much of her father’s appearance, including his elongated face. For a moment you find yourself annoyed with her just for looking the way she does. Having the audacity to even remotely resemble him while in your presence, but you catch yourself before you can go further down that dark path of resentment. It’s never the child’s fault for being born and if not for your daughter, your life would be only darkness. All the light in recent memories are because of her and you find the heinous thoughts of hatred rescinding from where they intruded. As you wait outside the bathroom for Chie to come out you wonder if your absence has been noticed yet. Probably. Shouji’s schedule rarely changes and he’s been getting home around this time every day recently. It’ll be a few hours before he realizes you aren’t returning and, if you’re lucky, a few more until he’ll be able to find you. The plan is to be on a plane overseas by then. Just as you’re strapping Chie back into her car seat, your phone rings. You’d been certain to turn off all location services and log out of any SNS accounts you’d had open in the hopes of going incognito but without turning it off or, at the least, to do not disturb, Shouji can still try to contact you. And he has. A picture of him lights up your screen as you pull out of the parking lot going only a little over the speed limit. “Chie-chan,” she’s happier now, perking up at your sing-song tone. “Remember how I told you we’re playing hide and seek with Daddy?” She nods excitedly. “That means we can’t tell Daddy where we’re going, so when I pick up don’t mention it or we’ll lose, okay?” “Okay, Mommy!” You answer the call on the sixth ring, putting it on speaker and passing the phone back to Chie. As expected, Shouji isn’t happy with your disappearance. His voice is tight with repressed anger as he greets you. “Honey,” he’s trying his best to not sound upset, “where are you?” “Hi, Daddy!” Chie says before you can make up a lie. She starts babbling on about her day in that way all kids can. A constant stream of information that doesn’t stop for a breath and adds in the most minute details lest you not know what color her shoes are today. Shouji doesn’t interrupt her but you can hear him moving in the background, probably pacing at the thought of you slipping through his fingers after years of keeping you under lock and key. He trusted you not to run from him after all these years and it makes you wonder why you did. Beside the obvious kidnapping and forced lifestyle as a Hero’s housewife he’d been the perfect husband, but something inside you broke last night and the suffocation you’d felt in the beginning came back with full force, weighing heavier and heavier on your chest until you’d made it out the front door. The feeling of weightlessness has only gotten better as the miles fall away behind you. “Mommy!” The car jerks as you jump again, always so afraid of the slightest reproach, even from your child that’s so much like your husband. She’s looking at you in the mirror with those big, dark eyes as if you’ve missed something important. “Yes, baby?” “Daddy asked if you went to the doctors today.” Your hands tighten on the steering wheel at the memory. It was all feigned excitement and empty thanks as the doctors congratulated you on your pregnancy and healthy baby. It was the only reason Shouji had left you the car keys. When you were pregnant with Chie he took you to all the appointments himself, not wanting to give you a chance to run. Unfortunate for him that he thought you wouldn’t now. “I did!” The persona is back. The perfect wife that will surely become your permanent personality if you’re caught. She’s sweet and docile, answering everything with an innocent, coquettish tone. “It’s too early to know if it’s a boy or a girl, but they’re healthy. The doctor gave me some vitamins.” “Mommy, are you sick?” Chie is suddenly upset at the mention of medicine. “No, baby, Mommy is fine.” Shouji soothes her. “She just has to take special medicine so your new brother or sister can grow big and strong.” “I want to meet them.” She’s pacified by her father’s words and you’re glad for it as the airport comes into view. Your takeoff time isn’t for a few hours but you’d rather not start the wait with a distraught child. “Soon, baby. We’ll meet them soon.” It could be all in your head but it sounded like he put extra emphasis on “we” and you’re not sure you like that indirect promise. We means together and together means going back. You take the phone from Chie after pulling into the parking lot. Before Shouji can protest, Chie pouts her goodbyes and hangs up. You let her keep your phone to watch cartoons as you wait at the terminal. Somewhere between episodes five and six, you doze off. Wakefulness finds you much more comfortable than when you’d fallen asleep, the scratchy cushion of the plastic airport chairs doing little to cradle your body as you slept. The cushion beneath you now is decidedly more comfortable and you roll over to indulge in a few more moments of relaxation, though it drains away immediately as your nose catches on a scent that will be forever ingrained in your memory. It’s the distinctly masculine scent of Shouji and as you gain your bearings, suddenly fully awake, you realize it’s all around you. The walls of the cage you’d thought you’d escaped are looming up around you as Shouji’s arms lock you to your bed, hands trapped between your bodies now that you’ve rolled towards him. He knows you’re awake. His hand gently traces shapes up and down your spine as you try your best not to cry or scream and wake Chie from where she’s probably sleeping in her room down the hall. “I know you’re awake, honey. Can I see those pretty eyes?” You indulge him, but only because you fear what he’ll do if you don’t. He’s being kind now, but that can surely change after the stunt you’ve pulled today. “There she is.” He coos at your tearful eyes. “How did you find us?” “Do you really think I’d let you use the car with no way to track it. You running off was always a possibility. I didn’t want to take my chances no matter how good you’ve been as of late. Do you really think you can get away from me? Do you honestly think I’d let you run off with my children?” His hand caresses the skin of your stomach as he goes on. “I’m yours. You’re mine. You’re my wife and the mother of my children. I want you here,” he’s whispering now, cuddling you closer to his chest. “So don’t try to leave me again. If you do, I’ll chain you to our bed.”

#shouji #shouji mezou #mha shouji #bnha shouji #mha mezou #bnha mezou #shouji x reader #shouji drabble #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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iwritestuffsometimes · 7 years

Text

Unaware

She hated flying more than anything else about traveling. She was a homebody to begin with, so having to go across the country to a state she’d never been in was very annoying. But knowing she had to take a plane to get there in time was horrifying.

She didn’t mind being in the air so much. She didn’t mind the fact that if something goes wrong, she has no real chance out of it. She trusted the pilots to know what they were doing. What she really cared about was being crammed in a small space with strangers. She’d flown for work once before and she vowed never to do it again. Until she got the promotion. And she couldn’t say no to these kind of trips.

In an attempt to make the experience as painless as possible, she got there early. She liked to be the first one to board for her section; it gave her her choice of storage spaces. She sighed and tucked her bag in the overhead compartment. Straightening her shirt before she sat down. She shifted around a little to find a comfortable spot, determined to stay in it for the entire 4 hour flight. She pulled out her phone and switched it to airplane mode as she shoved in her ear buds. She tried not to roll her eyes as a pair of legs landed beside her seat.

She didn’t bother to look up, knowing if she did, it could be misconstrued as a gesture of niceness; a signal to hold a conversation. She wanted none of that. She simple folded her legs underneath her for long enough for the pair of legs to shuffle by her into the next seat. She clenched her jaw knowing that the person had taken the seat nearest her instead of the window seat. There was still one more person to have to ignore before she could unfold her legs. She resolved to just wait that way; folded into an origami version of herself until takeoff. She pulled on her eye mask and cranked the music in her headphones.

She only moved the mask again when the plane began to rumble around her. Takeoff. She’d missed the safety demonstration. She should have been more aware of her surroundings until then, but she reasoned that she knew how to buckle her seatbelt and that was all that really mattered. She didn’t care to look beside her to see if the third person in the row had taken their seat or not. She unfurled her legs and breathed deeply as her ears popped. A song came on she didn’t like. She scrolled through her itunes and picked her favorite album. She pressed repeat. 4 hours of Encore would be the best way to survive this flight and the person who had already taken possession of their shared armrest. She decided she wasn’t willing to fight over it and let them keep it. She darkened her screen. The person next to her shifted around enough for her to notice but she ignored it.

3 hours later, her row mate decided to get up. She held in the groan that came with having to curl her legs back out of the way. They came back a short while later and she went back to her original position, she was just pulling her eye mask down again when the person next to her poked her arm. She ignored it. She was poked again. She didn’t bother to push her mask back up, and only paused her music long enough to say, “I’m not a good flyer. I suggest you leave me alone if you don’t want to wear my vomit for the last leg of this trip.”

She was just about to press play again when the person next to her spoke. “I don’t want to bother you, but you’re bothering most of the people in the next 3 rows.” It was a man’s voice. She said nothing so he continued. “Your music is loud. And you’re humming.”

She pulled her mask up, blushing, as she checked the volume on her ipod. She muttered. “Sorry, I didn’t realize-“ She looked up and froze. For the first time, she saw the man sitting next to her.

He blushed slightly as well. “I was gonna say something earlier but I was too amused.”

“You’ve been sitting next to me this whole time?” She whispered.

He chuckled. “I didn’t, like, get on halfway through the flight or something.”

“I have the worst luck in the world.” She shook her head in amazement.

“Ouch.”

“No!” She said quickly. “Not like that! No. I meant, I hate flying as it is and now I’ve not only made a fool out of myself in front of an entire plane full of people, I was humming your songs for 3 hours.” She covered her face with her hands. “I’m so mortified.”

He laughed again. “For what its worth, even with headphones in, you still managed to keep a respectable tune.” He smirked. “I can’t even manage to do that with in-ears.”

She wanted to laugh but she was too embarrassed. “This is unreal.” She sighed to herself.

He leaned closer to her long enough to pull his phone out of his pocket. “Is now a bad time to say that I recorded part of it?”

“Oh great.” She blushed a deeper shade of red. He pulled up the video and pressed play before she could protest. It wasn’t nearly as bad as she had thought; she wasn’t screaming nor was the music deafening, but it was still embarrassing.

“I was going to post it on instagram, truth be told.” He shrugged. “But seeing as how you’re reacting to it- you don’t find it as funny as I do.”

“Not really, no.” She chewed her lip.

“Sorry.” He smiled graciously. He put his phone in his pocket. “I wont post it then.” He pulled out his computer and began working on something. She sat forward in her chair, too embarrassed to put her ear buds in again. Her leg bounced as she tried to ignore that who was sitting next to her once again. This time around, she failed.

He didn’t turn to face her but leant closer to her. “You can turn your music back on. I’ll let you know if you start singing again.”

“Your music.” She blurted.

He chuckled. “Thanks for that by the way.” She frowned. He looked over at her. “For buying the album. Let alone for listening to it at full blast for 3 hours and not getting sick of it.”

“You’re kidding me.” She giggled. “It’s the best album ever. Of any genre.”

He laughed. “Now you’re just outright lying.”

“No, really.” She twisted in her seat. “I could go song by song – no line by line- of the entire thing and point out why it’s the best.”

“Please don’t.” He cringed.

She blushed again. “Right. That’s weird.”

He smirked. “Totally something I would do though.”

“Doubt it.”

“No really,” He shut his laptop. “If I were in a room with Chris Thile from The Punch Brothers, I don’t think I’d be able to shut up. Have you heard their stuff?”

“Only the couple you’ve suggested on social media.” She said honestly.

He grinned. “What do you think?”

“Not as good as yours.” She shrugged.

He laughed. “You have terrible taste in music.”

a/n theres no real story here but i like the premise anyway. I havent had a chance to proof or even reread so I dont know what entertainment value, if any, this has. but regardless- I liked writing it. I hope you liked reading it. I wont know unless you tell me

#iwritestuffsometimes hh #hunter hayes #hunter hayes fanfiction #hunter hayes imagines #oneshot #fluff #ftlow

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