#I’m still traveling but managed to do these on the plane

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part twelve | r.c

summary:

“Mom, let me just take care of this, okay?”

Your mother didn’t look entirely convinced, but she nodded anyways, sitting back down as you walked out of the living room, heading straight to the front door. As you stepped out on your porch, craning your head to find the motorcycle, you let out an exasperated sigh, when you recognized the owner.

“Seriously?”

JJ let out a bright grin when he saw you on the porch, driving around in a circle before he came to a stop in front of you.

“Hey princess, I was starting to think you’ve been hiding from me.”

OR; home from your trip, a surprising visitor manages to distract you from your Rafe-shaped problems

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mini Topper pov, bad Spanish (from me, let’s just pretend it’s flawless in this chapter for plot reasons) (DeepL im looking at you), translation at the end

word count: 4,1k

author’s note: ooop the cat’s out of the bag! i told you, jj would be back👀 i wonder what he’s up to this time… happy reading, as usual, i look forward to what you’re thinking 🫶🏼

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. twelve: “take the road less traveled by”

“You need help with that?”

“Why are you even asking?” you said, pushing the suitcase towards Rafe, then climbing up the stairs into the jet.

Something was different.

Topper didn’t exactly know what it was, but something changed in the last twelve hours. Rafe didn’t immediately disappear into his bedroom after they had dinner, instead, he stayed out on the patio with Topper, having a drink of Ward’s expensive whiskey he hid under the kitchen island. Topper even laid awake in bed, keeping an ear out for suspicious sounds when everyone had gone to sleep, expecting to hear a door opening and closing, but nothing. When they made their way over to the airfield, Topper expected a silent treatment from you, or maybe Rafe being especially short-tempered, but he was surprised when everything was normal. At least it seemed to be.

When everyone was on board, buckled up in their seats, the pilot started take off procedure, and Topper leaned over to Kelce, hoping the noise of the plane would block what he was gonna say.

“Hey, don’t you think they’re acting weird?” he whispered in Kelce’s ear, and he looked at him confused.

“Who?”

“Rafe and Precious.”

Slowly, Kelce turned his head towards your seat, where you were napping, your head leaned on Rafe’s shoulder while he was scrolling on his phone. Then, he looked at Topper again, giving him a look.

“You’re acting weird,” he pointed out, slipping his AirPods out of the case. “And don’t breathe in my face, it breaks me out.”

With that, Kelce put both of his AirPods in, drowning out Topper, who only settled into his seat with a frown. Something definitely changed.

“Mom? Dad? I’m home.”

Even though the hadn’t seen their cars, you still called out. But the house seemed to be empty. You left your suitcase in the laundry room, before you headed straight to your bedroom, changing your clothes before throwing yourself on your bed with a deep exhale.

When you first packed for Nassau, you couldn’t wait to leave. Now, it felt so good being home again. Funny how things worked out.

For the first time, you were alone since you broke things off with Rafe. It was weird, how almost nothing changed between you, except for the fact that he probably would have spent your last night in Nassau in your bed. But that was just the thing, wasn’t it? You didn’t know any other way of being around him. Honestly, the smartest thing to do was getting some distance, which was partly the reason why you were so glad to be home. Smartest didn’t mean easiest though, because avoiding Rafe meant avoiding Topper and Kelce too, and how were you going to explain that?

Suddenly, you remembered what Topper said to you at the Spring Fling.

“Seriously precious? You know this isn’t gonna end well. And it won’t just affect you and Rafe, it’s gonna affect me als Kelce, too. How the fuck are we supposed to choose sides if you’re our best friends?”

At that point, you thought Topper was being dramatic, but now it seemed like reality. To your horror, you weren’t even sure if either of Topper or Kelce would choose your side, if it ever came to it. Yes, they were all your best friends, but at the end of the day, they were all guys. And guys usually stuck together.

And were you willing to lose your friends just because you couldn’t deal with your feelings? Not the easiest pill to swallow. With a small sigh, you turned over in your bed, feeling like you could use a little nap. Just before you fell asleep, your phone buzzed next to your head and you picked it up, squinting at the screen.

rafe [04/23/24: 2:21 pm]: you get home okay?

precious [04/23/24: 2:22 pm]: yeah

The small read appeared under your messages as soon as you sent it, the ellipsis popping up. They stayed for a good while, making you wonder what the fuck he was writing, until they disappeared. You frowned, then, the ellipsis returned, before your phone buzzed again.

rafe [04/23/24: 2:25 pm]: are we good?

Seemed like you weren’t the only one thinking about this.

precious [04/23/24: 2:26 pm]: yes

You kept it short, because there really wasn’t much more to say, locking your phone and muting it for good measure, before you rolled over, quickly falling asleep.

When you stirred awake agian, you were disoriented at first, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. The sun was still up, the orange glow in your bedroom telling you it was nearing sunset, so you mustn’t have been asleep for long, but you could tell that someone came home in the meantime, because you could hear the tv.

With a yawn, you padded on downstairs, finding your mother in the living room, snuggled up under a blanket. She lifted her head when you appeared in the doorway, clearly surprised to see you.

“Hi mom.”

“Hi honey. I didn’t know you were home already.”

“Yeah, I got home a couple of hours ago,” you replied, slinking into the arm chair. “No one was home.”

“I was having lunch with Anne at the country club and your father is at work,” your mother explained, taking you in. “How was Nassau?”

You shrugged. “It was nice. Good weather, the usual. How have things been here? Anything new?”

“Not much to tell,” your mother said, “been having some migraines lately, but otherwise things have been the same.”

“Migraines?” you asked, raising a brow at your mother and she nodded.

As if on cue, the sound of a motorcycle revving its engine suddenly filled the neighborhood and your mother groaned in annoyance, rubbing her temples with the tips of her fingers.

“Not again.”

“What is that?” You asked curiously, trying to get a peek out of the window.

“Some kid keeps turning up in our drive way with his bike, revving his engine like a goddamn hooligan,” your mother complained and you turned back to her with a frown.

“Is that why you’ve been having migraines?”

“What do you think?” your mother snapped at you. “I’ve been calling the sheriff’s department about it, but by the time they get here, he’s always gone.”

“You called the sheriff’s department over this?”

Your mother glared at you, your tone suggesting that she overreacted. “What was I supposed to do?”

The motorcycle engine rumbles to life again and your mother winced, reaching for her phone, but you stopped her.

“Mom, let me just take care of this, okay?”

Your mother didn’t look entirely convinced, but she nodded anyways, sitting back down as you walked out of the living room, heading straight to the front door. As you stepped out on your porch, craning your head to find the motorcycle, you let out an exasperated sigh, when you recognized the owner.

“Seriously?”

JJ let out a bright grin when he saw you on the porch, driving around in a circle before he came to a stop in front of you.

“Hey princess, I was starting to think you’ve been hiding from me.”

“That would imply that I waste my time thinking about you.”

JJ clutched his heart, as if you’d just shot him. You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, biting back a laugh.

“You really know how to bruise a guy’s ego.”

“What are you doing here, JJ?” you asked, leaning against one of the porch posts, crossing your arms over your chest.

JJ let out a small laugh, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair.

“Wanted to show you my bike,” he said, as if it wasn’t obvious. To prove his point, he revved the engines loudly, and you could basically see your mother steaming with fury in the living room.

“You’ve been giving my mom headaches with your bike,” you pointed out, the corner of your mouth ticking up.

“Well, tell her my sincerest apologies,” JJ replied, bowing his head with a flourish. “I was trying to see you.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“Me?”

He shrugged, fixating on the mirror on his left handlebar. “I mean, yeah. I was able to fix it with the money I earned from working at the Country Club. Thanks to you. The least I could do is show you where the hard earned money went.”

Your smile softened a little and you ducked your head.

“I’m glad I could help.”

JJ gave you a grin, giving the bike a gentle clap on the exterior.

“It rides like new,” he said proudly and you snorted a little.

“I’ll take your words for it.”

“Or you could try it out yourself?”

You raised an eyebrow at him and he only met your look with a straight fact, tilting his head towards his bike.

“Come on, just one ride.”

JJ wrapped his hands around the throttle and you quickly held your hands up, stopping him.

“Please don’t do that again. My mom is this close to flipping out,” you told him, but he only grinned at you.

“So princess, what do you say? You down for a day outside of your castle?”

A laugh on your lips, you fixed him with a look before you gave in. Taking a few steps back to the front door, you yelled: “Mom, I’m going out!” before you shut the door behind you, jogging down the steps to the drive way.

JJ pulled a helmet out of nowhere, handing it to you, despite his own lack of one.

“Where’d you get that?” you wanted to know and JJ winked at you.

“Can’t reveal all my secrets now, can I?” He teased. “Now go ahead and put that on. I ain’t got enough money to repay your parents if something happens to you.”

“Yeah yeah, and people say chivalry is dead.”

You shook your hair out, grinning at JJ while you put on the helmet, before swinging your leg over his bike, settling on the seat behind him. As expected, you were sat snug behind JJ, as one did as a passenger on a bike, and you tried not to let it affect you, only doing a half assed job about it.

“Don’t be shy to hold onto me tight if you’re scared,” he said over his shoulder and you only gave him an eyeroll. You wrapped your arms around his waist, just as he revved the engine one last time, driving off your property.

Despite the helmet on your head, your hair fluttered in the wind and you felt an odd sense of freedom. The boys have never taken you on their bikes before, mostly because it was inconvenient when it was the four of you, you just tended to take a car, but they also often argued that it was too dangerous. You called bullshit on that.

Figure Eight blew past you as JJ rode the bike down the street. You weren’t exactly sure where he was taking you, but he wasn’t exactly taking the direct route towards the Cut like you had expected. Instead he drove along the coast, until the road turned into a dirt pathway, leading uphill, the sun rays filtering through the branches of the tree. JJ slowed his pace, when you finally reached a clearing by a cliff, coming to a stop.

JJ leaned the bike to the side, his foot supporting the weight, allowing you to get off. You took your helmet off, shaking your hair out before pushing the helmet in JJ’s hands, before you walked to the cliffside, not waiting for him to join you.

“The infamous JJ make out spot,” you mused when JJ finally sidled up to your side. You didn’t turn to look at him, but you could tell that he was grinning.

“Ah, my reputation precedes me.”

“I aspire to be as delusional as you sometimes,” you snorted with an eyeroll, sitting down on the grass, stretching your arms out behind you. It didn’t take long for JJ to do the same, his legs sprawled out over the ground. A comfortable silence settled over you, while you took in the view. It was pretty nice, you know, considering what this spot was known for. In all fairness, the view probably was the reason for its popularity among your horny peers.

“Thanks for getting me out of the house,” you then said in a somber tone; the look JJ gave you was a surprised one, his brows raised.

“Didn’t you just come back from… Wherever you were?”

“Eh.” You shrugged with your shoulders. “I mean yeah, but I was with the boys, even if we were in Nassau, it didn’t feel like I was doing something new. This is not routine for me.”

JJ looked at you with a glint in his eyes. “Well, then it’s my honor to break you out of your routine, princess.”

He then eyed you up and down carefully, before meeting your eyes again. You raised a brow at him, unimpressed.

“Nassau, huh? I been thinking that you’re glowing more than usual.”

“Oh come off it,” you laughed, throwing your head back. “Seriously, do you just come up with these lines or did someone have to teach you?”

“‘s a quality I was born with, princess,” JJ said with a wink, as if it was something to be smug about. You merely snickered, knowing arguing with him about this was no use so you pushes yourself to stand again.

As you dusted off the dirt off your hands, you glanced down at JJ who was still sprawled on the floor, watching you curiously.

“Come on, let’s go get some tacos,” you suggested. “My treat.”

His nose wrinkled as he hesitated but you only rolled your eyes.

“Or does your fragile masculinity not allow that?”

With a sigh, JJ pulled himself up, regarding you with an impressed look. “You really know how to push my button’s you know that?”

“‘s a quality I was born with princess,” you mocked him and he only barked out a laughter, handing you the helmet, that sat on the saddle of his bike. The drive to taco truck didn’t take long, with you giving JJ the directions over his shoulder, holding onto him a little tighter than necessary. The sun had set while you had sat on the cliff side, the remaining heat of early summer dissipating as the dusk crept onto the island; you felt the wind biting at your bare skin as JJ sped his bike over the island.

You were almost glad when you finally pulled up by the truck, climbing off the bike before JJ settled down. Unconsciously, your eyes flitted over the tables as you took off your helmet, not recognizing any of the faces that were there. At least none that would throw a fuss over you spending time with JJ Maybank willingly. Not that you cared what people were thinking, but you weren’t in the mood for explaining yourself.

As usual, Spanish music floated from the inside the truck as you approached it, and it didn’t take long before Mateo came up to the window.

“Hola hermosa,” he greeted you, leaning on the counter to peer down at you as you smiled up at him. His eyes swept to the back, where JJ was standing behind you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Mateo looked back at you, his eyes full of questions. “No Rafe today?”

You shook your head, though his question was warranted, had you ever come here without Rafe?

“No, no Rafe today,” you replied with a wry smile. “Can I get some carne asada tacos?”

Mateo gave you a quick nod, turning to prepare your order, his eyes still on JJ who sidled up to you, curiously glancing over the display.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I want to eat?”

“For some reason, I think you’ll be fine with whatever I ordered,” you quipped back and JJ gave you an exasperated look. Mateo’s eyes never left you during this quick exchange, and he cleared his throat, pressing the tacos onto the grill.

“¿Quieres chile en tus tacos?” he asked JJ, who only furrowed his brows, turning to you. You bit back a laugh, shaking your head.

“He’s white, Mateo. No spice for him.”

Mateo let out a small grunt and JJ hummed, crossing his arms as he looked you over.

“I didn’t know you speak Spanish.”

“I get by,” you answered with a shrug, making Mateo snicker. He shook his head as he flipped over the tacos.

“¿Desde cuándo andas con este chico?” He asked you, and it was then that you realized the reason for his sudden switch. “No da más que problemas.”

Your eyes flitted over to JJ, who was none the wiser, muttering under his breath as he read over the menu. “¿Estás haciendo una suposición basada en su apariencia?”

“No hermosa,” Mateo sighed, giving you a look. “Olvidas que Carmen tiene tu edad.”

Ah, Carmen, his niece. She must have been in JJ’s grade in Kildare County High.

“Estoy segura de que Rafe tampoco aprobaría que pasaras tiempo con este chico.”

You tried not to let your anger flare up at his words, your eyes snapping up to Mateo. You weren’t sure if it was because he brought up Rafe, or because he was insinuating that you needed anyone’s permission when it came to the company you were seeking.

“I’ll be fine, Mateo.”

Your tone was cold, and your switch back to English told Mateo everything he needed to know. His warm brown eyes softened when he looked at you.

“Sólo intento cuidar de ti.”

Mateo slid your order over the counter along with two cans of coke. You handed him the money, with plenty of tip, despite your sour mood, grabbing the two cans of coke, leaving the food for JJ to take as he trailed after you to a table on the far corner of the court. Wordlessly, you cracked open a can of coke, taking a sip while JJ sat down with your food. Your sour mood must have been showing on your face, because he only took a quick look at you before biting into his taco, immediately moaning out.

“Holy fuck this is good.”

“Still questioning my taste?” you asked him, bemused as you pushed the other coke can towards him, reaching for you own tacos. JJ shook his head quickly, shoving the rest of his taco into his mouth, already reaching for his next one. He was acting rather clumsy, the sauce running between his fingers as he tried to maneuver the taco as cleanly as he could. It was kinda cute, you weren’t going to lie. You had perfected the art of eating tacos, with just a squeeze of lime, but that was after years of practice.

“First time I’ve seen a Pogue talking smack about me,” JJ said offhandedly, licking the sauce from his fingers. You raised a brow at him, but you weren’t surprised; just because JJ didn’t understand the language, didn’t mean he was slow.

“First time, really?”

JJ gave you a look, swallowing his second in two bites before he answered.

“You know what I mean.”

You shrugged, your palms finding the edge of the bench as you leaned back. “Mateo means well. I just don’t like being told what not do to.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” JJ snickered, wiping his hands on the napkins. “Besides, you can’t listen to Mr. Diaz. He’s biased.”

“In what way?”

“Carmen. She’s his niece, right?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “… Yeah. What have you done to her?”

“Oh ye of little faith,” JJ sighed, balling up his napkin and tossing it on his empty paper plate before responding. “She was pretty into me, approached me during a party down by the boneyard.”

“So you hooked up and then ghosted her.”

JJ fluttered his eyelashes at you, metaphorically zipping up his lips with his fingers. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“You’re so annoying,” you said in exasperation. Nevertheless, a laugh escaped you and JJ grinned, like that was his goal all along.

You spent the rest of the evening sat by the food truck, with Mateo occasionally peeking out from the truck to see you still sat with JJ. It was mostly spite, that kept you rooted at the spot, but you genuinely really enjoyed JJ’s company, which you didn’t expect. While his first impression on you did prove to be true, a charming flirt, he also showed surprising depth, especially when he talked about his friends. He was clearly fiercely loyal to them, which did remind you of your own friends, but you tried not to think about it too long.

The neighborhood was quiet when JJ finally dropped you off in front of at home. The house was dark, your parents must have already gone to bed, so you tried to keep your voice down. The last thing you needed right now was your parents throwing a fit when they found out whom you’d been spending time with.

“Thanks for today,” you said softly, his helmet under your arm. “It was… Nice.”

JJ swept his hair off his forehead, grinning at you. “Careful, people might think you actually like me.”

You rolled your eyes at him with a head shake, shifting on your feet, before you offered him his helmet back. JJ glanced down at the helmet, before pushing it back into your hands.

“Keep it. You might need it next time.”

Like you said, charmer.

Ducking, your head, you smiled at the ground before lifting your head again. You didn’t know what you were thinking, or if you were thinking at all before you leaned in to kiss JJ. Even though he wasn’t expecting the kiss, he was quick to kiss you back, his hand on your waist. If it weren’t for the helmet, you were sure he’d have dragged you right back on his bike with him. Before it could get any further, you pulled back as much as you could, JJ’s grip on your waist tight.

“Good night, JJ,” you murmured your mouth curled up in a grin. JJ sighed softly, before he let go of you.

“Night princess.”

You chuckled quietly to yourself as you headed back to the house, the porch light flickering on, but you don’t turn back to him, despite knowing he was still there. Just as you reached your front door, you turned your head.

“Hey JJ.”

He lifted his head, his face illuminated by the porch light, a raised brow. You opened the door, halfway into the house before you answered.

“Next time you want to see me, just text me. I don’t need my mom on my ass because your bike’s exhausting pipe giving her migraines.”

JJ only laughed, his hair falling into his face. “I don’t have your number, Princess.”

“Ask Sarah.”

You shut the door behind him, but you could still hear his laughter over the roaring of his bike as he sped off the drive way. You were still grinning as you placed the helmet on the dresser by the front door. This night had not gone the way you had expected it to go.

Turning the lights on, you walked upstairs to your bedroom quietly, shutting your door behind you, before you laid on your bed.

“Aw, fuck,” you hissed, as something poked into your waist, and as you reached under your blanket, you were surprised to find your phone. You hadn’t even noticed that you’d left it at home. The screen lit up, with numerous notifications, most of them trivial, some of them Rafe.

rafe [04/23/24: 7:26 pm]: you wanna go grab pizza?

rafe [04/23/24: 8:02 pm]: ?

rafe [04/23/24: 9:31 pm]: rude as fuck

It was then that you realized, in all the hours you spent with JJ, you hadn’t once thought about Rafe.

“Huh.”

────────────

translation:

“Do you want chili on your tacos?”

“Since when do you hang around with this boy?” & “He’s nothing but trouble.”

“Are you making an assumption based on his appearance?”

“No, hermosa.” & “You forget that Carmen is your age.”

“I’m sure Rafe wouldn’t approve of you spending time with this boy.”

“I’m only looking out for you.”

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author's note: honestly it's kind of criminal that the longest chapter of this rafe series so far is JJ centric but oh well.... what are we thinking??

[zsbrainrot]

Happy Buddy Daddies Friday! Rei smiling will always be one of my favorite things to draw

[humanjarvis]

road trip

synopsis: you get revenge on caleb during his graduation trip.

tags: nsfw (mdni), semi-public sex, dry humping, caleb fucks around (figuratively) and finds out, caleb/mc are intimate before homecoming wings, caleb whimpers, caleb wheezes, caleb begs, caleb is pathetic, caleb comes in his pants while mc ignores him  pairing: caleb x reader, reader is mc but uses y/n word count: 968

a/n: i literally got up at 8 am on a sunday to write this i am not well 

As excited as you’d been to commemorate Caleb's last year of college, his graduation trip to the aerospace museum was off to a rocky start. 

Last night, he’d suddenly shut down your plans to celebrate your friend’s birthday before you went out of town, joining his friends’ road trip as his plus-one. He’d said you needed to get some rest before your 8-hour journey, but with the way his eyes went wide and nostrils flared when he saw your outfit, you knew that wasn’t the only reason. 

You’d spent the rest of the night and the next morning angry, and it only got worse when Caleb’s friends came to pick you up. One extra person had decided to come last-minute, meaning there weren’t enough seats for all of you, no matter how tightly you squeezed together. 

As the closest pair in the group, you were forced to sit on Caleb's lap. You’d seethed in unprecedented indignation as he guided you down on him, the scowl on your face widening the smirk on his. 

An hour into the drive, you’re still staring out the window in rage, Caleb's arms secured tightly around you, when you realize something. You know this route. You’d traveled it a couple years prior for your senior trip in high school on the way to some world-renowned aquarium. 

At your realization, your frustration turns into opportunity. The roads on this route are a pothole-ridden nightmare from years of government neglect, and you’re going to use this intel to make Caleb pay. 

Discreetly, you slide yourself further back on his legs, positioning your ass right over his crotch. You conceal your movements through a conversation with Gideon’s girlfriend that you bring to an abrupt end once you’re settled. It’s time for your game to begin. 

At first, you’re subtle. Matching the rhythm of the bumpy ride, you lightly jostle in Caleb’s hold, feeling his fingers flex around your waist. 

“Careful, pipsqueak,” he murmurs in warning. “Wouldn’t want you sliding off.” 

You don’t respond. Your earlier anger is the perfect excuse not to acknowledge him through this entire thing, and you silently bless your short temper. He’s going to unravel with your back turned, you facing forward, your eyes on everything but him. 

When the car hits a small pothole, you lean back into him, “innocently” grinding your ass into his crotch. Immediately, Caleb wheezes behind you, almost concussing both of you the way he falls forward in shock. 

“What are you doing,” he hisses when he recovers, his words more an admonishment than a question. 

Resolutely, you pay him no mind, striking up a group discussion about the museum. What kinds of planes do they have there? How big is it? Have any of you ever been? And all the while, you continue tormenting the man beneath you, using the cavities of the road to assist. 

On one particularly sharp turn, you grind your hips into him a little harder, feeling the outline of his bulge between your legs. At this point, Caleb has caught on. Taking heaving breaths, he leans into your shoulder with a soft groan, muttering, “Don’t do this to me, Y/N. Not here, please.”

As he whispers into your ear, his absence from the larger conversation takes center stage. “You alright back there, Caleb?” Gideon calls from the driver’s seat. “Need any water? A/C?” 

“I’m fine,” Caleb grits out, barely managing to mask his grunt. 

Smiling to yourself, you adjust on his lap as you peer through the windshield, taking in the busy scene ahead of you. There’s some kind of festival going on, it seems, and half the street is blocked by a colorful array of vehicles. The lack of space forces Gideon’s full-size SUV onto the gravelly edge of the road.

Perfect, you think. Time for the grand finale. 

Bracing your hands on Caleb's thighs for support, you let the rest of your body go limp, leaving yourself completely at the mercy of the rocks ruining Gideon’s paint job. Up and down, up and down, up and down you went, virtually bouncing on Caleb’s growing erection. 

“Please,” he whimpers into your ear, not daring to speak above a whisper. Another bounce, and his hands are grasping at your hips while he throws his head back, jaw clenched shut. 

Dutifully, you ignore his cries and your own sticky arousal, refusing to falter until you get what you want. 

As he grows even harder beneath you, Caleb’s pleas grow more frantic. “Y/N, please. I-I’m sorry for last night, just—please. Fuck, please,” he stammers, a tremor in his voice. 

Just as the final plea leaves his mouth, an especially deep pothole throws you from his lap and a few inches into the air. A second later, gravity sends you crashing back down onto his aching, straining cock, and you feel it. Caleb comes hard, mouth dropping open in a silent scream, eyes closing in a mix of ecstasy and shame. To avoid suspicion, he buries his face into your shoulder while he rides out the rest of his high, pitiful whimpers and groans drowned out by the chords of cheerful pop songs on the radio. 

Reveling in the way Caleb’s whines vibrate through your skin, you turn your head slowly, checking your reflections in the rear-view mirror. When the coast is clear, you press a soft, teasing kiss to his hair, to which he twitches under you.

You’re filled with a wicked, awful glee, but you keep your face a mask of nonchalance as you call out, “Hey Gideon, can we stop at a gas station soon? I need to freshen up.”

For the rest of the trip, the Caleb who’d been so proud to forbid you from going out couldn’t meet your gaze, flushing crimson every time he saw you. 

[bucketbueckers]

HIIIII SEXY

if ur taking requests can i request smth angsty for paige ? i was thinking maybe if you could do something based on ilyis by gracie abrams where reader is in love w paige but doesnt think paige will ever like her back cause paige is always flirting w azzi and then paige comes over and acts all flirty with reader and reader blows up at her and is storms out and paige forces her to admit her feelings cause all along paige liked her but she didn’t know if reader liked gworls 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

and it ends happily PLEASEEEE I BEG

I LOVE YOU, I’M SORRY

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: language, teensy bit of angst, girls who hate communicating, reader might be a lil mean but we ball

wc: 2.4k

synopsis: You’ve been in love with Paige Bueckers for years, just another one of the countless moths drawn to her flame. You’d made your peace with only being her friend long ago, but it’s not until a well-timed blow up at Ted’s makes you realize it was mutual all along.

notes: as requested and in honor of finishing my last fuck ass exam 🫶 thank you sm for the request and im hoping i did this justice for you anon!! im sorry its a lil short 😓 but as always i hope y'all enjoy 🫶

Ted’s was supposed to be a welcome distraction to cap off a hectic week. Between two back-to-back away games, constant traveling, terrible naps on bumpy bus rides home, and homework that just seemed to keep piling up, you were ready to unwind and tackle the next week with a clearer mind. However, you couldn’t seem to relax, and the jealousy blooming in your chest like hemlock as you stared at Paige and Azzi whispering to each other wasn’t doing you any favors, either.

The team had invited you out with them, intent on celebrating another regular season conference win. You’re one of their graduate assistants, having served as the team manager for a few years before the position opened up, although you’d built incredible friendships with the girls over the years. Well – most of them, seeing as your brain and your heart couldn’t quite agree on how you felt for Paige. Her freshman year was your first year as team manager and she went out of her way to make you feel welcomed, greeting you every day at practice and inviting you out to team get-togethers.

At first, you’d kept it together. You were strictly friends, not even considering anything else. By Paige’s sophomore year – your junior year – you’d realized that she was beautiful. Like, a dangerous beautiful where you’d find yourself staring at her, even when she wasn’t doing anything more than watching film on her iPad. During her junior year, you were finally able to put a name to your confusing feelings and discovered that you were falling for her – hard – somewhere in between ACL recovery and her corny jokes. You realized it was love at the end of her junior year when you told her that Coach agreed to bring you on as a graduate assistant and she almost broke your spine hugging you. Now, nearly a year and a half into your Master’s program, you’re still hopelessly in love with Paige Bueckers and dreading the day the NCAA tournament begins – because the end of the season means the end of you and her. Because she’ll be on the first plane to Dallas and you wouldn’t have gotten the chance to find your courage and confess to her.

Ted’s was supposed to be a distraction. But it’s not, because the drink you’re sipping on makes your throat burn every time you swallow, and all you can think about is how you and Paige are a ticking time bomb that’s set to explode in April, and all you see is Paige looking at another girl that’s not you, and all you feel is the sickening mix of jealousy and shame that courses through your veins – jealous because all you want is Paige; shame because she’s your friend and you hate the way she makes you feel. You hate that your love makes you a little insecure and you hate that it feels like she’s choosing someone else over you.

Jana, who’s sitting next to you, throws an almost absentminded arm over your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts and back into whatever conversation they’re having at the table. KK is yapping and you barely catch the gist of it – something about Coach making them run suicides and how the new protein powder she’s trying gave her a tummy ache, but the heat of Paige’s gaze on you makes you glance over at her. Her brows are furrowed, eyes hardened as she stares at Jana’s arm around your shoulders like it’s personally offended her.

What confuses you even more is how Azzi notices. She sighs, an exasperated sort of noise, and stands – not without flicking Paige harshly on her forehead and muttering something about “Talk to her” as she slides her way out of the booth and towards the bathroom. Paige’s cheeks are a little red as she rubs her head forlornly. You’d probably laugh if you weren’t feeling so green.

You go to take another sip of your drink, needing to occupy your hands and your mouth if you wanted to appear somewhat put together tonight, but you frown when you realize you’re empty. Catching Jana’s attention, you motion to your cup and she nods, removing her arm and allowing you to make your way to the bar.

You don’t think too hard about your drink order as you rifle through your clutch for your card. What you do think hard about is the all too familiar voice saying, “I got you. Can I get another Shirley, please?” as Paige slides her card across the bar, her free hand finding your wrist like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Paige,” you deadpan, an amused annoyance lacing your tone. “I can get my own drink.”

She grins ineffably at you, but there’s an uncharacteristic hesitation in her eyes. It’s almost enough to make you forget why you’ve been so off all night. “Doesn’t mean you should,” she retorts.

“Oh?” you ask. “You making decisions for me now?”

Paige shrugs coyly. Her hand trails from your wrist to your waist, tangling in your belt loops – not pushing or pulling. Just holding. The touch makes you freeze. You and Paige had always been close. She was a touchy person, but never in public like this. “Just the important ones,” she murmurs. “So I know you’re taken care of.”

You blink at her, mouth suddenly dry. The sound of glasses scraping against the hardwood counter startles you. Paige thanks the bartender as she retreats, leaving the both of you alone at the edge of the bar, and you reach for your drink to occupy your hands as your mind spins. As unsure as you are about Paige returning your feelings, you’re not dumb. You’ve been flirted with before, been around Paige enough to know what her flirting looks like. The gentle confidence in her voice, the way her eye contact is so intense that strangely, it forces you to focus on her because otherwise, you’re sure that she’d find something she didn’t like if you couldn’t face her. The physical contact and the way she’s leaning into you. She’s flirting with you. Under any other circumstance, you’d probably be jumping for joy, but not now.

From the corner of your eye, you spot Azzi making her way back to the table. You make direct eye contact with her. She glances down, taking in your proximity, and she smiles at you. It sobers you up instantly.

“What the fuck are we doing?” you ask Paige, setting your drink back down on the bar and yanking her hand off of you. She blinks, her jaw falling slightly and confusion twisting her brows. “What are you doing? What, Azzi walks away, so you go and find someone else to keep you entertained? The one person who would run back to you anyway?”

“I – what?” Paige asks, hurt lacing her tone. She reaches out for you again but you take a step back, your thighs hitting the stool behind you. “I don’t understand what you mean. What does Azzi–”

You don’t realize you’re tearing up until you register the burn in your throat and the way your eyes sting. “You flirt with Azzi in front of my face all night. She leaves, and you wanna follow me up here, talking about taking care of me? You wanna touch me and buy my drink, ignore this weird push and pull thing we have, and then walk away like it means nothing to you?”

When she doesn’t say anything, you laugh despite the hurt swelling in your chest. “Sometimes you can be such a dick.” You wipe your eyes, trying not to lose your mind when your thumb comes back smudged with mascara. At the heart of it, sure, you’re sad, but the most pressing emotion is anger. You’d rather not be a choice at all than be a second choice.

The both of you pause, just staring at each other, until guilt and realization blooms simultaneously on Paige’s face. She murmurs your name, her voice cracking a little like what you’ve just said has changed her life, but you don’t let her reach out for you as you turn on your heel and walk out.

You know you can’t leave – Aubrey drove you and you’re not built for walking home at midnight. You lean against the railing, your head in your hands, knowing that Paige will likely be on her way. The two of you weren’t one for arguments. On the rare occasions you got carried away, apologies were swift. Guilt of your own bubbles in your stomach – you blew up for no reason, allowing your emotions to get out of hand. Now, you know that you and Paige will have to have another difficult conversation, and you’re not even sure if she’ll still want to be your friend afterwards. This is something you might not be able to come back from.

You feel her next to you before you see her. She leans against the railing, giving you space, and it’s in this devastating little moment that your anger comes back. It’s muted, not directed at her, but at yourself. You’re angry because as much as you want to be angry with her, you’re not, and all you really want is her. It’s selfish – you’d hurt her feelings in the bar, barely thirty feet away from your friends, but your body doesn’t care about that.

She breaks the silence to ask you, unsurprisingly, “Do you like me?”

There’s a million responses on the tip of your tongue. You consider sarcasm, but you feel as though the weight of this conversation needs something a little more genuine. Maybe genuine communication could have saved the both of you from feeling like this. No more cop outs, is what you tell yourself, so you exhale and admit, “I love you.”

You’re not sure what you’re holding your breath for. Maybe rejection. A small part of you holds out for Paige’s agreement. You’re unprepared for the way her arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into her body, and despite the shock, you sink into her anyways, your head falling onto her chest. It feels like acceptance, like forgiveness. “I didn’t know you liked girls,” Paige confesses, sounding a little sheepish.

At that, you groan, resisting an eye roll. “I literally have a pride flag in my Instagram bio,” you mumble. “You want my coming out in writing too? ‘Dear Paige, I’m gay. I’d apologize but you probably should have known anyway. Love, me.’”

“You’re annoying,” she huffs, but you can hear the amusement in her voice anyway. She tightens her hold on you. “I probably…should have done that a little better. At the bar. Don’t want you thinking it meant nothing to me. It does. And I just–” Paige trails off a little, looking for the right words. “I was really scared. I’ve always been worried about doing too much, scaring you off, and losing you forever. I thought…maybe I could drop hints and let you figure out what you wanted, but I never stopped to think about how that would feel from your end. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you say. “For calling you a dick and making those accusations. I was scared and I let it consume me.”

You can feel the tentative smile Paige presses to your temple. “Truce?” she asks, and you nod, your fingers tangling in her shirt as you finally let the tension in your body dissolve. “For the record…there’s nothin’ going on with me and Azzi. She’s been telling me to ask you out for years. She was the first person I told when I thought I was in love with you.”

You pull back a little, meeting her eyes. The earnestness and honesty is clear as day, but you refuse to get your hopes up. “You love me?” you ask, not only to clarify, but also because this is something you’ve spent countless hours thinking about, wondering if it was even possible. To have it so close within reach…you need to be sure.

Paige, in typical Paige fashion, smiles crookedly at you and says, “You want that in writing, too?” She clears her throat dramatically. ‘To my favorite grad assistant, I’m in love with you. I’d apologize, but–”

“You are so fucking annoying,” you seethe, but there’s no real malice in your voice, your smile far too wide to be anything but over the moon. You’d thought about this moment a hundred times – how you’d respond to Paige confessing, or even how your own confession would sound. You’d never planned for it to happen this way. Maybe it was something that was supposed to be a spur of the moment thing. Maybe something out of a rom-com involving rain. Never an argument like this. The realization was never something dramatic with some cinematic soundtrack in the background. It was simple, almost like something clicks into place quietly. It’s messy, but it’s yours. And that’s enough for you. “So what happens now?”

Paige hums, leaning against the railing as her thumb brushes against your jaw gently. “Well…you can let me buy you another drink. Maybe split some fries. And, I don’t know if this is something you’d be interested in…but maybe you could be mine, too?”

You raise a brow, resting your hands over her shoulders. “Oh, really? Is that everything you want?”

Paige grins at you, her eyes flicking down momentarily before finding yours again. Her expression softens. “Not everything,” she admits. “But I’m trying to do this right. I wouldn’t want to assume.”

You roll your eyes, not missing the subtle tease in her words. When her hands drop to your waist, finding your belt loops again, you don’t freeze up. If anything, you melt into her. “Whatever you’re thinking…I don’t think it’s that much of an assumption.”

“Yeah?” she echoes. “‘Cause I’m still thinking about the fries.”

Huffing, you cup her cheeks in your hands, her skin warm against your palms, and you stand on the tips of your toes as you lean in to kiss her. She laughs, although she responds with a mix of softness and eagerness that makes you want more. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more, but you pace yourselves, taking it slow and sinking into the feeling.

When you part, Paige brushes her lips across your temple, her arms tightening around you like she can’t believe she has you. And, maybe, the truth is you’ve always been a little bit of hers, just like she’s always been a little bit of yours. That is all you could ever need.

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.1

Chapter One: Hide Your Heart From Sight

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Celebrities, Starstruck,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Welcome to this disaster of a fic that I have constantly daydreamed about. Logistically, yes, it is so improbable and unrealistic— but there’s a 0.001% chance that it could happen… to you. It’s nice to wonder and dream. I like wondering. Granted, I’ve never worked in production ever… I am studying advertising and arts soooo that’s as much knowledge I have tehe. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: It Could Happen To You by Laufey

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

The hum of the plane’s engines filled the air as you settled into your seat, trying not to fidget. You glanced at your boarding pass again, as if to double-check you weren’t hallucinating. Seat 3B—business class. Marvel had spared no expense for the production team’s travel, but you still couldn’t quite believe you’d be flying so comfortably.

What shocked you even more, though, was the man lowering himself into the seat next to yours: Pedro Pascal. Yes, that Pedro Pascal. The man whose movies you’d watched obsessively before joining this production, the actor who somehow seemed both unattainably larger-than-life and heartbreakingly down-to-earth.

“Hi,” he said with a warm smile, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Looks like we’re seatmates.”

You froze for a moment, then managed a weak, “Hi.” Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you mentally scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete idiot.

“You’re with the crew, right?” Pedro asked, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “What do you do?”

“Oh, um,” you stammered, “I’m just a production assistant. It’s my first big project.”

“No kidding? That’s awesome,” he said, genuinely sounding impressed. “First time working on a Marvel movie? How’s it going so far?”

“It’s… surreal,” you admitted, relaxing slightly under his easygoing demeanor. “I mean, it’s been amazing, but also kind of overwhelming. There’s so much to do, and everyone’s so talented. I…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling.

“I get it,” Pedro said, nodding. “First big gig can be a lot. But hey, you’re here. That means someone saw something in you, right?”

The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. Pedro asked you about your favorite movies, your hobbies, and how you’d gotten into production work. You told him about your love for art direction and set design, your dream of one day being a production designer, and your side passion for writing and music. When you mentioned you played guitar and sang, he raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll have to play something for us on set sometime,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed nervously. “I don’t know about that. I’d probably die of embarrassment.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he replied, his tone light but mischievous.

By the time the plane landed, you were buzzing—partly from the conversation and partly from the fact that you’d just spent hours talking to Pedro Pascal as if he were an old friend.

The buzz quickly faded when you arrived at the hotel. You stood in the lobby with the rest of the crew, listening as the location manager, Duncan, argued with the front desk staff. Apparently, there’d been a mix-up with the bookings. The hotel was overbooked due to a telecommunications conference, and somehow, you’d been assigned to share a suite… with Pedro Pascal.

“This has to be a mistake,” you muttered to yourself, your anxiety spiking as Duncan tried to sort things out. But no matter how much back-and-forth there was, the conclusion remained the same: there were no other rooms available.

“Look,” Pedro said finally, stepping in with his usual calm demeanor. “It’s fine. I don’t mind sharing if she’s okay with it.”

You blinked up at him, your mind racing. “I…”

“Hey,” he said gently, noticing your hesitation. He leaned in slightly, his voice soft but steady. “Look at me. I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it. No pressure.”

You swallowed hard, glancing over at Duncan, who looked as stressed as you felt. Finally, you nodded. “I’m fine with it if everyone else is.”

“Great,” Pedro said, flashing you a reassuring smile. “It’s settled, then.”

Duncan pulled you aside before you headed to the elevators. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, his tone fatherly.

“Yes,” you said, forcing a smile. “Is there any kind of form I need to sign, or…?”

“No, it all falls under the NDA from your employment,” he assured you. “But seriously, if you need anything, just text me.”

You thanked him and joined Pedro in the elevator. The ride up to the suite was silent, save for the soft dinging of the floors passing by. When you finally stepped into the room, you couldn’t help but gape. It was a spacious suite with two bedrooms on opposite sides, a small kitchenette, and a cozy living area.

“This isn’t so bad,” Pedro said, dropping his bag by the door. He turned to you, his expression kind. “Do you have a preference for which room?”

You fidgeted with the strap of your bag. “Um, no, you can pick.”

“Ladies’ choice,” he insisted, his tone playful.

“Okay,” you said, gesturing to the room on the right. “I’ll take that one.”

“Perfect,” he said with a grin. “Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

As you unpacked in your room, the reality of the situation began to sink in. You were sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal. For at least a week. And somehow, you had to act like a normal, functioning human being the entire time.

You took a deep breath and flopped over on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Letting out a huff of air in disbelief, you muttered to yourself, “This has to be some sort of dream… or prank, right?”

Placing both hands over your face, you rubbed it in exasperation. “Get your shit together, girl. No screwing things up, no more internal freakouts. He’s a person, like you. Mhm, sure. Yup. Totally fine.”

You sighed deeply, trying to convince yourself of your own words. The suite was spacious and nicely furnished, with plenty of room to keep your distance—but that didn’t stop your overactive imagination from running wild. Every interaction felt loaded with the possibility of embarrassing yourself, but you swore you’d keep it together.

To say people around the production crew had heard about your new roomie was an understatement.

The day before shooting began, you attended a pre-production meeting that covered everything: call sheet details, blocking and camera movement, technical requirements, and a bunch of safety protocols. It was standard procedure but felt ten times more overwhelming knowing your friends would tease you mercilessly.

You sat with your friends from the art department, trying to focus, but they weren’t making it easy. Archie, one of the lead set designers, leaned over with a smirk. “So, how’s life as Pedro Pascal’s roomie?”

You felt your face heat up instantly. “I—it’s not… it’s just temporary,” you stammered, fiddling with the edge of your notebook.

Stephanie, a costume designer with an endless supply of sass, raised an eyebrow. “Temporary or not, it’s the stuff of rom-coms, babe. Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined a meet-cute scenario in that suite.”

“I have not!” you protested, though your flaming cheeks betrayed you. 

Will, an art director with a love for stirring the pot, chuckled. “Come on, you’ve gotta admit it’s a little… serendipitous? You, a huge fan, sharing a suite with the guy? Sounds like fate to me.”

“It’s not fate,” you insisted, trying to deflect. “It’s a logistical mistake, that’s all.”

Max, the trainee set dresser, chimed in with a grin. “Yeah, but a logistical mistake that’s got everyone talking. Even Steve heard about it, and he’s usually the last to know anything.”

Steve, the lighting technician, shrugged. “What can I say? Word travels fast. I’m just here to see how long it takes for Pedro to find out about your… fandom.”

“Oh my god, can we not?” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “He’s going to think I’m a weirdo.”

Rebecca, a fellow production assistant and one of your closest friends, patted your shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, he seems like the kind of guy who’d find it endearing. Besides, you’ve been professional so far, right?”

You nodded hesitantly. “I think so. I mean, I haven’t said anything stupid yet.”

“Yet being the keyword,” Sophie teased, earning a laugh from the group.

Patricia, always the voice of reason, smiled warmly. “Just be yourself. You’re great at your job, and Pedro’s just another actor. A very charming actor, sure, but still just a person.”

“Thanks, Patricia,” you said, feeling slightly more grounded. But the anxiety still lingered, especially with everyone’s teasing reminders of your not-so-secret crush.

As the meeting wrapped up and you headed back to your tasks, you couldn’t shake the nervous excitement bubbling inside you. Sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal might’ve been a logistical mistake, but it was quickly turning into one of the most unreal experiences of your life.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL, LONDON — NIGHT

Dinner with the cast and crew had been lively, filled with laughter, and far too many knowing glances sent your way by your friends. The teasing hadn’t stopped, even over plates of pasta and glasses of wine.

Archie had leaned over at one point, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when Pedro walks out of the bathroom shirtless? Swoon or faint?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “Archie!”

“I’m just saying,” he said with a laugh. “It’s a valid question.”

Stephanie smirked. “She’s probably rehearsing her ‘I’m totally cool and unaffected’ face right now.”

You groaned. “I hate all of you.”

Rebecca grinned. “No, you don’t. But seriously, just enjoy the moment. How many people can say they’ve shared a hotel room with Pedro Pascal?”

By the time the group had wandered back to the shuttle, your cheeks were sore from laughing, and your nerves were only slightly calmed. But as the cold London air nipped at your skin, you found yourself longing for the warmth of the hotel.

Your teeth chattered as you stepped off the shuttle, clutching your coat tighter around you. You didn’t like the cold very much, and London was very, very cold.

The moment you entered the hotel lobby, the warmth began to seep into your body, and you let out a sigh of relief. The elevator ride to your floor was quiet, your mind finally shutting down after a long evening of socializing. By the time you reached your room, you were operating on autopilot.

Tapping your keycard to the door, you quietly pushed it open, careful not to disturb Pedro if he was already asleep. It was just past 9:30 p.m., and you knew the early call time tomorrow would have him resting early.

You shut the door softly behind you, locking the deadbolt before shuffling into the room. You removed your coat, scarf, and shoes, swapping them for the fuzzy slippers you’d packed. The room was dimly lit, and you moved quietly, hoping not to make too much noise.

“Oh, you’re back.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, clutching your chest as your heart tried to escape it. Whipping around, you found Pedro lounging on the sofa, a book in his hands and a soft, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was wearing a plain white tee and gray sweatpants, his square-framed glasses perched on his nose, and he looked entirely too comfortable—like he belonged there. Like this was normal.

“Oh my god, I didn’t know you were still awake,” you said, voice breathless as you tried to recover from the scare.

He chuckled, his laugh low and warm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. You were so quiet coming in, I thought maybe you were sneaking around.”

You set your things on the small table by the door, giving him an exasperated look. “I wasn’t sneaking around. I was trying not to wake you.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” He tilted his head, watching you with that relaxed air that somehow made you feel completely exposed. “How was dinner?”

“It was good,” you said, shrugging as you moved toward the kitchenette to grab a bottle of water. “Everyone was in high spirits, and the food was great. We took a little walk around the city before heading back.”

Pedro closed his book, setting it on the coffee table. “Sounds nice. London at night can be magical.”

“Yeah, it was.” You paused, feeling the weight of his gaze. “Though, I think I underestimated just how cold it gets here. My teeth were chattering the whole way back.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile softening. “Didn’t bring a warm enough coat?”

“I thought I did, but apparently not. I’m not built for this kind of weather,” you admitted with a laugh, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to stave off the lingering chill.

Pedro stood, crossing the room with an easy grace that made your breath hitch. “Well, we can’t have you freezing, can we?” He grabbed the throw blanket draped over the back of the sofa and held it out to you. “Here.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the simple gesture. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I just get cold really easily. Besides, I’ll warm up eventually.”

“Take it,” he insisted, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s not a big deal.”

Reluctantly, you took the blanket, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. It sent a jolt of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the fabric now wrapped around your shoulders. “Thanks,” you murmured, pulling it tighter around you.

“Better?” he asked, stepping back to give you space but still watching you with that disarmingly kind expression.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding. “Much. Thanks, Pedro.”

He smiled again, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged, like something unspoken was hanging there. But then he broke the silence, his voice light. “So, did they give you a hard time at dinner?”

Your face heated instantly. “What do you mean?”

He smirked, leaning casually against the back of the sofa. “I heard some of the cast talking earlier. Apparently, your friends in the art department have been… teasing you about the room situation.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh no. What exactly did you hear?”

“Nothing incriminating,” he said with a laugh. “Just that they’re convinced this is some kind of meet-cute scenario straight out of a rom-com.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, mortified. “I’m so sorry. They’re ridiculous.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, his tone easy, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

Your hands dropped to your sides, your eyes wide. “Flattering?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s nice to know someone thinks sharing a room with me is worth all that excitement.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to process the fact that Pedro Pascal—Pedro Pascal—was standing in front of you, teasing you in the most charming way possible.

“Well, I’ll let you get some rest,” he said after a beat, his voice softer now. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Big day.”

He gave you one last smile before retreating to his side of the suite, leaving you standing there with a racing heart and a head full of thoughts you were too scared to unpack.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — DAY  

You woke to the soft chime of your alarm, the faint glow of early morning light creeping through the curtains. Shuffling into the bathroom with a yawn, you turned on the shower, letting the warm water coax you into wakefulness. You placed your phone on the counter, tapping on a playlist to fill the small space with soft, melodic tunes—comforting background noise that kept your mind from spiraling too early in the day.  

After your shower, you toweled off and began your morning routine. Skincare applied with practiced ease, makeup brushed on with care, you avoided the mirror for too long, focusing instead on the growing anticipation of the day ahead. Pinning your ID to your lanyard, you glanced at your phone again.  

The group chat with your team was buzzing:  

Archie: "We’re fifteen minutes out. Don’t keep us waiting, queen 👑."  

Rebecca: "Text when you’re coming down!"  

Max: "Coffee run? Pls? 🙏"  

A small smile tugged at your lips as you tapped out a quick reply, your fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before you switched apps.  

Your heart did a little stutter as you opened your browser—a Joel Miller fanfic you’d been obsessing over still lingering on your screen. You skimmed the most recent chapter, your thumb pausing to scroll as you half-laughed at the absurdity of sneaking in a few paragraphs before a full day on set. You switched to the chat thread with your online friends, who were deep in a heated discussion about whether Joel would be the type to cook breakfast for his partner. You couldn’t help but chuckle, throwing in a quick, “He’d definitely make pancakes and act like it’s no big deal,” before locking your phone and setting it on the counter.  

Moving on autopilot, you padded into the small kitchenette, barefoot and still humming softly to the tune stuck in your head. You set the coffee machine to brew, pulling out a couple of mugs, a jar of Nutella, and some bread. Your hands moved with muscle memory, spreading the hazelnut spread on toast and slicing up a handful of fruit without a second thought. It wasn’t until the scent of coffee filled the air that you realized you’d made two plates of toast—one for you and one for Pedro.  

The realization struck at the same moment you heard the faint shuffle of footsteps behind you.  

“Morning.”  

His voice was low and warm, still carrying the huskiness of sleep. You froze, phone in one hand, butter knife in the other, as you turned to see Pedro leaning against the doorframe. His hair was adorably tousled, and he was dressed in a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants that somehow made him look effortlessly put together. His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at you, and you nearly dropped your phone in a panic.  

“Good morning,” you managed, your voice a little too high-pitched as you fumbled to lock your screen. The thought of him catching even a glimpse of what you’d been reading was enough to make your cheeks burn.  

Pedro glanced at the counter, taking in the toast, coffee, and neatly sliced fruit. “You made breakfast?”  

“Oh, uh—yeah.” You set your phone down and gestured awkwardly toward the spread. “I made you some coffee and toast with Nutella. I wasn’t sure if you’d want that, and there’s fruit, too. I was just about to cut some more, but obviously, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, and—”  

“Hey.” Pedro’s soft chuckle cut through your rambling, and when you met his gaze, he was looking at you with a mix of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”  

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the sincerity in his voice. “Oh. Yeah. No problem. It’s nothing, really.”  

He moved past you to grab a mug of coffee, the proximity sending your pulse into overdrive. As he poured himself a cup, you noticed his shoulders relaxed and his movements unhurried. He took a sip and let out a small, contented sigh.  

“Perfect,” he said, glancing over at you with a grin. “You’re spoiling me, you know that?”  

Your laugh came out nervous and breathy. “I’m pretty sure this doesn’t count as spoiling. It’s just toast.”  

“Yeah, but it’s good toast,” he teased, holding up a slice as if to emphasize his point.  

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension in your chest easing slightly. The moment felt impossibly domestic—like a scene out of one of those fanfics you’d been reading. Only this time, it wasn’t Joel Miller standing in the kitchen with you. It was Pedro.  

And that was somehow even more surreal.  

Pedro leaned against the counter, his mug cradled in both hands. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. “So,” he started, his voice warm and casual, “what were you so engrossed in on your phone earlier? You looked ready to throw it out the window when I walked in.”  

Your stomach flipped, and you tried to play it cool, even though you were fairly certain your face was now several shades of red. “Oh, nothing,” you lied, brushing a crumb off the counter. “Just the group chat. You know how chaotic they are.”  

Pedro tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Mm-hmm. Sure it wasn’t something more... intriguing?”  

You swallowed hard, gripping your coffee cup a little tighter. “Intriguing?”  

He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes twinkling with mischief over the rim of his mug. “You tell me.”  

“It’s nothing!” you blurted out, a little too defensively. “Just—just boring stuff. Work stuff.”  

“Work stuff,” he repeated slowly, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Because people laugh at boring work stuff while making toast.”  

You groaned, setting your mug down as you ran a hand over your face. “Can we not? Please? I’m already mortified enough.”  

Pedro chuckled, the sound low and teasing but not unkind. “Alright, alright. I’ll let it go... for now.” He set his mug on the counter and raised his hands in mock surrender. “But you owe me a story later. Deal?”  

You hesitated, narrowing your eyes at him. “Depends on how much coffee you’ve had by then. I might need you slightly less smug for that conversation.”  

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, just enough to make your heart stutter. “Smug? I prefer charming. But I’ll take it under advisement.”  

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. The playful banter made the room feel lighter, warmer.  

By the time you both finished your coffee, the atmosphere had shifted into something comfortable and easy. You quickly rinsed the dishes, your hands moving on autopilot as Pedro lingered nearby, chatting about everything and nothing.  

As you dried your hands, your phone buzzed on the counter, and you glanced at the screen.  

Rebecca: “Bus is almost there. Better get your cute butt down here!”  

You shot back a quick reply: “On my way.” Turning to Pedro, you grabbed your bag and gestured toward the door. “I’ve got to head down. My shuttle’s waiting.”  

Pedro grabbed his own bag and trailed after you. “I’ll walk down with you. I’ve got my own ride coming, but they’re always late.”  

The two of you stepped into the elevator, the hum of its descent filling the silence. The confined space suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with unspoken tension.  

Pedro stood close—too close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint hint of his cologne. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you pressed the strap of your bag tighter against your shoulder, hoping it would anchor you somehow.  

“So,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost intimate in the stillness of the elevator. “What’s the plan for today?”  

You glanced at him, his brown eyes watching you closely, the curve of his smile softer now. “Same as usual, I guess,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Make sure everything runs smoothly while you and everyone else look good on camera.”  

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “You make it sound so simple, but I know you’re the one holding it all together.”  

His words caught you off guard, and you looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I just do my job.”  

“And you do it damn well,” he said, his tone sincere now, no teasing edge in sight.  

The elevator dinged as it reached the lobby, breaking the moment. Pedro gestured for you to step out first, and you did, your pulse still racing.  

“Thanks,” you murmured, not entirely sure if you were thanking him for his compliment or just for letting you escape the charged space of the elevator.  

As you spotted your shuttle waiting outside, you turned to him, suddenly aware of how reluctant you were to leave. “I’ll see you on set?”  

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat longer than necessary. “Yeah. See you soon.”  

You stepped outside, the crisp morning air hitting your face as you walked toward the shuttle. But even as you climbed aboard and found a seat, your mind was still back in that elevator, replaying every glance, every word, every spark.

End Notes:

Oh hi! I missed doing these silly bits; I thought to bring ‘em back. But, don’t worry, I’ll try to yap less haha

Yes, it’s super cliche, cheesy, unrealistic, and practically a hallmark movie in the making. But that’s the fun part in fanfiction and writing, it’s all made up and no one here is allowed to “yuck” each other’s “yum” if you know what I mean. ;)

Also, I have no idea how production for film works so I’m researching stuff and making stuff up along the way pls no one come after me T^T

Weirdly enough, I saw a reddit post from someone who works at the front of the hotel desk and they say the one-bed trope/one-room trope; it actually happens pretty frequently lol so who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca

[rafecameronssl4t]

Do Sarah and Wheezie get along with reader in the arranged/forced marriage au? It seems like they’re constantly going to dinners and events for readers family; does she ever hang with the Cameron’s? Is Rose a better mother figure to her than her own?

With the Cameron’s || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: I hope this gives you better insight into reader’s relationship with Rafe’s family plus bonus lil snippet of what Rafe is like during the pregnancy (will go more in depth in another fic)

Warnings: none really (not proofread)

Word count: 1,550

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

Divider by @h-aewo

"Are we running late? What if the plane leaves without us—" Wheezie’s voice quickly gets cut off by Rafe’s sharp tone, his irritation palpable. "Can you shut up for one second?" he snaps, huffing in frustration. His fingers press against his temples as if the very sound of her voice is grating on him.

The sharpness in his words makes you wince slightly, but when your eyes meet Sarah's across the seat, a faint smile tugs at your lips. Rafe’s temper wasn’t exactly a surprise anymore. "It’s our private jet, Wheezie," he continues, his voice now dropping to a bored drawl as he looks out the window, his hand settling possessively on your thigh, squeezing it as the runway comes into view.

"They're not going anywhere without us." You shift slightly under his touch, not used to these fleeting moments of affection in front of the Cameron's, but you say nothing. It’s a part of your dynamic now—Rafe’s firm grip on control, always balancing on a fine line between caring and detached. Rose, sitting in front, turns around, concern flashing in her eyes.

"Is it safe for you to travel, Y/n?" Her voice is soft, almost maternal, a stark contrast to your own mother. You manage a small smile, trying to ease her worries. "Yeah, perfectly fine. I checked in with our doctors." Your tone is calm, almost rehearsed, as if you’ve had to explain this more times than you can count. Rose nods, satisfied, and returns her attention to her phone.

As the car slows down, Wheezie’s eyes widen when she finally sees the jet, her loud gasp shifting everyone's attention. "Woah," she breathes, her face lighting up in awe at the sight of the sleek aircraft, the one your grandparents had gifted you after the wedding. "Pretty nice, huh?" you tease, nudging her lightly. Her excitement was always contagious, and like always, you let yourself enjoy it.

"Your first time flying private?" you ask, winking at her as she nods vigorously, still mesmerised by the plane. The car rolls to a stop, and Rafe is the first to get out, his movements confident and deliberate. Without a word, he turns back toward you, offering his hand. Gratefully, you take it, carefully stepping out, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin.

Your eyes sweep across the aircraft, its polished surface glinting in the sunlight as you feel Rafe wrap your shawl around your shoulders. Your eyes scan the jet, taking in its sleek lines and pristine exterior. It’s a symbol of the life you’ve been thrust into—luxurious, yes, but hollow in so many ways.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, a pleasure to see you again," Anthony, the pilot, greets both of you, extending his hand to Rafe’s first, then yours for a firm handshake. "Good to see you too, Anthony," you reply politely, flashing a smile that feels more natural now. While Rafe and the pilot exchange words about flight plans and weather conditions, you glance back at Sarah, who is still staring at the plane in disbelief.

"I can’t believe I’m about to fly on a private jet," Sarah murmurs, almost to herself. You chuckle softly, catching her wide-eyed expression. "You better believe it, Sarah," you say, the humour in your voice masking the exhaustion underneath. It was a strange life—one you still weren’t fully used to—but moments like these reminded you how surreal it could all be.

You step closer to where Rafe and Anthony stand, their conversation coming to a halt as you approach. "Is everything as it should be?" you ask, your gaze flicking between them. Rafe shifts slightly, turning toward you, while Anthony’s face brightens with a warm, professional smile. "Yes, everything is set," Anthony replies, his voice reassuring.

"The flight to New York should be only around an hour and a half." His smile deepens, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling with a sense of familiarity. You nod in acknowledgment, your hand instinctively moving to rest on your belly. The action doesn't go unnoticed by Anthony, who follows your gesture. "How many weeks are you now?" he asks with genuine curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, your mind blanking under the weight of small details, suddenly unsure. "Oh, uh—34 weeks now?" you reply, though your tone carries a hint of uncertainty. You turn to Rafe for confirmation, and he's already watching you, that rare, softer expression gracing his usually unreadable face. "35 tomorrow, actually," Rafe corrects, his voice gentle as he pulls you closer, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

The motion feels natural, almost instinctive, though there's still a flicker of surprise at how he’s been acting since you've been pregnant. His thumb brushes lightly against your side, almost absentmindedly, as if his hand belonged there. It’s a small gesture, but it lingers, and for a moment, you can’t help but feel a sense of unfamiliar warmth in his touch.

He looks back at Anthony, who nods knowingly. "You're in good hands," Anthony says with a wink, glancing between the two of you before excusing himself to check the final details for the flight. You stay pressed to Rafe’s side for a moment longer than usual, the warmth of his touch and the gentle smile he’d given you lingering. As you follow Rafe up the steps of the plane, his hand reaches back toward you, a silent gesture that feels automatic.

You pause for a moment, looking at his extended hand, then slide yours into it. His grip tightens, pulling you up the stairs with a familiarity that’s still strange to you despite how long it’s been. His attention is already elsewhere, but there’s something steady in the way he holds on. The second you step inside, Wheezie lets out a gasp, her eyes wide as she takes in the lavish interior. "Oh my god," she whispers, her voice filled with awe.

Sarah, beside her, shares the same shocked expression, her mouth slightly agape as she slowly looks around. Rose, ever composed, gracefully accepts a flute of champagne handed to her by the flight attendant, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she takes a seat on one of the plush leather chairs. "I could get used to this," she says with a contented hum, easing herself into one of the leather seats as she crosses her legs, holding the glass delicately.

"You know, Rose, you can use my jet whenever you want," you say, settling into the seat across from her. There’s a familiar warmth in your voice because with Rose, you didn’t have to hold back as much. She’d seen you at your best and your worst, and over time, a genuine bond had grown between you two. "You're family," you add with a small smile.

Your words are warm, genuine, and for a moment, you feel a small sense of pride in being able to extend such a gesture. It was your grandparents’ gift, after all, but now it felt like another small piece of the life you were slowly building alongside Rafe, complicated as it was. Rose glances up at you, her lips curving into a fond smile. "Thank you, Y/n. That's really sweet of you, darling."

She lifts her champagne glass slightly in a subtle toast of appreciation. Between Rose and Ward, you had always preferred Rose. You return her smile, her eyes sparkling with the kind of closeness that comes with shared secrets and long afternoons together. There was an ease with her that you didn’t find in Ward's scrutinising gaze.

The two of you had even started forming your own little rituals—getting your hair and nails done together, sharing gossip that never left the salon. In a family where appearances were everything, it was a quiet comfort to have someone you could let your guard down with, even just a little. Rose had been the one who welcomed you the most. From the outside, she appeared cool and distant, but you knew better.

Rose raises her glass slightly in a toast. "Here’s to us," she says, her tone light and affectionate. You chuckle softly, lifting an imaginary glass in response. "To us," you echo, feeling a familiar sense of comfort in her presence. Rose had become more of a mother figure to you than anything else, a relationship that had blossomed in the shadows of family expectations and high society obligations.

She offered you the warmth and guidance your own mother never quite gave, filling the void with her quiet support and understanding. Rose had a way of making you feel seen in a world that often demanded you play a role. With her, it wasn’t about maintaining facades or living up to expectations—it was about the genuine bond you had formed through shared experiences and mutual respect.

There were times you confided in her—about your uncertainties with Rafe, about the overwhelming pressure of impending motherhood—and she always listened, offering advice that felt sincere rather than patronising. She knew the world you had been thrust into, had navigated it herself long before you, and in her own way, she helped you find your footing.

[madaqueue]

gn!reader - 18+ MDNI (this is fluff and like just him giggling and being cute - wk: 0.4k)

the sun is warm, the river is bubbling, and childe is beautiful. he’s everything he ought to be and more: a boy turned killer, a sheep turned wolf. fear turned strength. and yet, through the violence, through the strain and the bloodshed and the fights that haunt his nightmares, he is utterly, captivatingly beautiful.

(you’d never tell him this, of course. he knows he’s pretty, not even as an afterthought, not when he uses it to his advantage, when he knows he can bat his eyelashes at guards and get ushered inside silently, when he can rest a palm on a stranger’s shoulder and have them on their knees offering themselves to him. it makes your stomach tight, even though you know he’ll always blush and wave his hands apologetically and refuse.)

instead, you let your gaze travel across his torso, over scarred shoulders and down the planes of his chest. tracing down well-earned muscles, to where his hips obscure beneath the river water-

“it’s not polite to stare.”

at his voice, you stagger back. there’s a momentary flinch, something you grew up expecting when being scolded, when you’ve done something wrong.

but the strike only comes as a giggle, bright like the asters blooming through the mud. you think you used to hate the way they smelled this time of year, too nauseating and cloying; since you’ve been coming here to swim with childe, you can’t remember why you would have ever loathed something so sweet.

another giggle, and he shifts to reveal an inch more of his waist beneath the current. “i don’t mind, you know, but you at least have to tell me you think i’m pretty.”

at that, your fists clench and your neck burns. there’s a world in which you do tell him, in which you whisper how captivating it is to watch his limbs move as he fights, how he makes violence look graceful, how you can’t tear your gaze away from him when he does his morning stretches, how you would rip the sun out of the sky because it dares to compete with his beauty (and yet still manages to lose - many things lose to childe, you’ve grown to learn).

but not this world. in this one, you groan, and let your open palm splash water at him. it hits his face in droplets and dampens the strands of his hair, now the same shade as the riverbed‘s flowers.

he lunges back at you (a boy well-trained to never run from a fight), and you let him tackle you, let the cool shock of the water tingle your skin as you’re pushed beneath it for half a second.

when you surface, he’s giggling again, and for a moment you want to pick every aster that dares to listen, undeserving of hearing the sound. but instead, you splash more water at him, and he never stops smiling.

a/n: i think he likes swimming whenever possible bc it was too cold in snezhnaya to do it anyways i want to hear him giggle for the rest of my life

[imhappierthanever]

Mile high club

“Come on, Billie. Please?” You begged her, shaking her arm, trying to persuade her. You always needed each other, but usually Billie was the one to initiate intimate moments between you.

But today you were craving her, her touch, her taste, the sweet sound of her whimpers in your ear - you needed every bit of it and you couldn’t wait. Being on a plane wasn’t going to stop anything.

“Don’t you want to be part of the mile high club?” You asked leaning into her ear, stroking her arm with your index finger, causing goosebumps to form.

Before either of you could manage to say another word, the door to the bathroom was shutting behind you. Normally you wouldn’t go in one of these places for anything. But you needed her so badly that you just couldn’t care in this moment.

She began ripping at your clothes, exposing you to her as you heard the sound of her pants opening up. You gripped the sink biting your lip, waiting for her to reveal more of herself to you.

“Wait!” You said getting down, sliding your body against hers.

“I want you, baby. Let me make you feel good.” You pushed her body to your previous position before taking her underwear and pants completely off, hanging them on the hook on the door. You returned back to her lips, hungrily. Kissing her deeply earning a moan from your girlfriend. You smiled as you let your fingers travel down her body, touching all of your favourite places before they reached their final destination. You bit her lip feeling how wet she had already been. So needy for you. So ready to take your fingers.

You rubbed your fingers up and down teasingly, collecting her arousal on your fingers before you felt the turbulence. It pushed your bodies closer together.

“Lets pretend.” You said gently sinking your teeth into her soft neck. You began again. “Let’s pretend that I’m your little flight attendant. I’ve been walking passed you, teasing you all morning. And you just want me to fuck you in my cute little uniform. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You pulled away from her for a moment, taking her in. Her eyes closed, a smile on her lips as she was beginning to enjoy the moment. She was perfect.

“Just want you to fuck me in your cute little uniform.” She added, pulling you into her, pulling your hand that had left her pussy into her mouth, sucking your fingers one by one, her eyes darkening by each passing second using that same hand, you began grabbing her nipple, rolling it between your fingers before following your same trail back down her body, this time slipping your fingers in.

“So fucking wet for me. So filthy, Ms. O’Connel. But just how I like it.” You began to pickup the pace, fingers fucking into her harder as the wet, obscene sound of Billie echoed in the tiny bathroom. You felt her knees shake as she took your fingers so wonderfully. You felt her hands graze your body, tugging on your clothing.

“Yeah that’s it baby. Mess up my uniform so everyone knows what I was doing when I go back to work. Make a mess on my fingers.” You said still fucking her with your fingers. The pleasure was building fast, everything inside her wound so tightly.

“Does it excite you that anyone could just walk in?” You asked as your free hand found her neck. “ Do you like how your so blinded by being fucked that you can’t even hear someone’s been knocking on the door for the past several minutes?”

You squeezed, just enough to make Billie feel dizzy, your fingers never slowing inside of her. “Come for me baby. Right fucking now. But don’t let them hear you.”

And she did. Billie’s entire body shook as pleasure ripped through her body, a silent scream stuck in her throat as her walls tightened around your fingers. She came so fucking hard you were sure she was seeing stars somewhere above the horizon.

You let her ride out her high, the desperation finally settling, her hips beginning to still as she caught her breath, coming back down to earth. For a minute, all you could hear was billie’s frantic breathing mixed with the soft hum of the plane.

Somewhere in all of this, you slipped your fingers out of her, telling her what a good girl she had been. Telling her she did so well before slipping your fingers into your mouth, tasting her and everything she offered you.

“You’re so addictive.” You said leaning in to kiss her swollen, perfect lips. Billie smiled, finally catching her breath, tasting herself on your tongue. “So are you. That was fucking incredible.” She said twisting a strand of your hair around her finger before you pecked her lips once more, handing her back her pants.

“I’m glad.” You said pecking her lips once again. “Get dressed baby. I know they want us out of here.” You said thinking about the many knocks on the door and the warning sign they turned on at least fifteen minutes ago. You knew you would get some stares on your way out. But it was worth it. She was worth it.

[propertyofwicked]

sea sick | harry lewis

content warning - mentions of sick and throwing up

short, fluff <3

-

you usually didn’t mind helping the boys with filming. it wasn’t often - only for big videos where the boys split up - and since you were the only girlfriend who wasn’t publicly known, it made it easier to avoid suspicion if you and harry were seen together. it wasn’t a big deal at the end of the day you’d just rather avoid the hassle of having a big online presence.

today, however, made you wonder who you’d pissed off in a past life to deserve this. in hindsight, you should’ve realised that when harry said it was a fishing video that it would involve being on a boat. you’d suffered with bad travel sickness your whole life in cars, boats and planes, so getting on a boat and filming could not have been a worse plan, especially with the hot sun and loud men screaming into the lens. so far, you’d been on the boat for close to an hour, trying to distract yourself from your stomach doing backflips by focusing on filming the boys fishing. as long as you stayed in the centre of the boat you weren’t rocked about too much and it became manageable. but every time you had to move locations, sitting on the side of the boat began to bring your breakfast up to the back of your throat.

as long as you could keep it together for the next hour, no one would suspect that you felt violently sick, and you could maintain some aspect of professionalism. focus on the content, and not the blood draining from your face. and it was going so well.

the boat hit into a wave, sending the boat rocking a little to much for your liking. your response would’ve gone unnoticed had harry not been talking directly into your camera with a direct view of your eyes widening and you swallowing a lump in your throat.

“you ok?” he asked, eyes softening and his voice lowering at the sight of you pale and clearly lost in your own head.

“yeah, don’t worry i was just thinking.” at the end of the day, it was easier to lie - you don’t want to take him away from the video.

“hey, you don’t look great, ill take the camera just sit down for a minute, yeah?” he said, reaching for the camera before you could even respond.

“harry, i promise you im fi-”. suddenly it was all coming up and out of you without a moments notice. thank god he had taken the camera or it would be covered in your breakfast.

he put the camera on the bench and walked behind you, holding the sides of your waist to manoeuvre you to the edge of the boat. you’re hands grabbed the railings and your head stayed over the side, eyes screwed shut. harry’s hands come up to your hair, pulling it back and rubbing small circles on your back until you were done saying goodbye to any food you’d eaten that day.

after wiping you mouth on the back of your hand you turn around and rest your forehead on harry’s chest, tears falling down your cheeks. you didn’t mean to cry, it’s just something that happens when you throw up.

“im sorry i just, i hate boats.”

“don’t apologise. it’s my fault, i knew you got sea sick and i still got you to film for us,” he said, hand on your chin pulling your face up to look at him and using his thumb to wipe away a tear, “don’t cry, it’s ok, you’re ok. i think we’re stopping soon. i’m sorry.”

“it’s not your fault, i could’ve said no - i should’ve said no,” you respond as he presses a kiss to your forehead. at the same time, you hear the sound of someone else being sick, and look over to see tobi sat on the floor.

“oh for fucks sake, not another one,” kon laughs, zooming his camera in on tobi.

[secretlittlerandezvous]

First Getaway - Arber Xhekaj

Summary: Arber and Y/n go on their first trip together.

Words: 844

Arber wasn’t exactly an experienced traveler. Y/n knew that going into this trip, but she hadn’t anticipated just how amusing it would be. When she suggested a weekend getaway to Banff which was a mix of cozy cabin vibes and outdoor adventures Arber had enthusiastically agreed. His version of preparation, however, didn’t meet Y/n’s standards.

The night before their flight, Y/N peeked into his duffle bag and raised an eyebrow. “Arber, do you even know where your toothbrush is?”

“It’s in there… somewhere,” he said, flashing her his boyish grin. The same one that usually got him out of trouble. “I think.” He said to himself.

She sighed dramatically before fishing through the bag. “Right, and I’m sure this single hockey sock and… is this a pack of instant noodles? These are your essentials?”

“I like to be prepared,” he said with a shrug, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

The airport was its own circus. Arber insisted on carrying both their bags, determined to play the role of a gentleman. But his massive frame and her oversized carry on made navigating the tight spaces an ordeal.

“Excuse me, sorry, coming through,” he mumbled as he bumped into nearly every person on the plane. Y/n trailed behind him, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing.

“I’m too big for this plane,” he muttered once they finally reached their seats.

“Or you’re just clumsy,” Y/n teased, sliding into the window seat.

“Probably both,” he admitted, nudging her knee with his as he settled in.

By the time they landed and drove up to their cabin in Banff, the scenery took their breath away. Snow covered mountains surrounded them, and the small log cabin, nestled between towering pine trees, looked like something out of a winter postcard.

“This is… wow,” Arber said, stepping out of the car. His hands rested on his hips as he took it all in. “You outdid yourself, Y/n.”

“I know,” she teased, grabbing her bag. “Now come help me unpack.”

Inside the cabin, Arber’s excitement quickly turned into chaos. He couldn’t figure out how to start the fireplace, leading to a heated debate (and lots of laughter) as they both struggled with logs and matches.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Arber asked, holding the matchstick like it was a stick of dynamite.

“Positive,” Y/n replied. “If you don’t burn the cabin down.”

Eventually, they managed to get the fire going, and the warm glow filled the room. Arber sprawled out on the couch, looking smug.

“See? Told you I’d figure it out,” he said.

“After, like, ten tries,” Y/n shot back, tossing a pillow at him.

The next morning, they decided to go for a hike. Y/N had picked an easy trail with scenic views, but Arber still turned it into a competition.

“Bet I can beat you to that rock up there,” he said, already jogging ahead.

“Arber!” Y/n called after him. “It’s not a race!”

“It is now!” he yelled back, laughing.

Halfway up the trail, the competition shifted to a snowball fight. Y/n managed to hit Arber in the chest with her first throw, and he dramatically stumbled backward like he’d been wounded.

“You got me,” he groaned, sinking to his knees.

“Stop being so dramatic!” Y/n laughed, grabbing another handful of snow.

As soon as she turned her back, Arber launched a perfectly aimed snowball at her, hitting her in the back.

“Hey!” she yelped, spinning around.

“Just getting my revenge,” he said, grinning as he backed away slowly.

By the time they made it back to the cabin, both of them were soaked and exhausted. They spent the rest of the day cozied up by the fire, sipping hot chocolate and playing card games. Arber insisted he didn’t know the rules to most of the games, but Y/n quickly caught onto his strategy of making up rules as he went to win.

“Arber, you can’t just declare yourself the winner because you have the biggest hand!” she said, laughing as he spread his cards out.

“Why not?” he teased. “I think it’s a solid rule.”

That evening, they cooked dinner together or at least tried to. Arber was in charge of chopping vegetables, but his knife skills were basically nonexistent.

“Arber, that carrot is supposed to be in slices, not… whatever this is,” Y/n said, holding up a messed up chunk.

“It’s abstract,” he said. “I’m an artist.”

Despite the chaos, they managed to put together a surprisingly good meal. They ate by candlelight, sharing stories and laughter until Y/n couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled so much.

As the night wound down, Y/n leaned into Arber’s side by the fireplace, her head resting on his shoulder.

“I think this might be my favorite trip ever,” she admitted softly.

Arber kissed the top of her head, his usual cocky smirk replaced with something softer. “Yeah? Just wait till our next one. I’ll even remember a toothbrush.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

[alotofpockets]

Travel day | Arsenal WFC

Pairing: Arsenal x Teen!Reader & Kyra Cooney-Cross x Best friend!Reader

Summary: A travel day with Arsenal, where you and Kyra can't seem to sit still. [requested]

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

-----

Ever since you had joined Arsenal at seventeen, you were deemed the child of the group. All of your teammates were immensely protective over you. Leah was the most protective, she had let you move into her apartment, the captain not wanting you to stay somewhere on your own. At first the overly protectiveness was a bit annoying but once you realised that they all meant it well, you started to enjoy the way the team had taken you in as their family member. 

When Kyra had joined the team a year later, you were grateful for another youngling on the team. The girl had quickly gotten the “annoying little sister” status, and it was to no surprise to the team that the two of you got along great right away. 

Today was a travelling day for the team, you were heading overseas for a day of training, and a match the day after. You walk into the living room with your suitcase, kit bag, and your backpack, plopping them all down next to where Leah had put hers. “Hey kiddo, got everything packed?” You nod and sit down on the couch. “Socks, pyjamas, and a charger too?” You get up and walk towards her, handing her the checked off packing list. “I packed everything you wrote down for me.” She looks over the list, and is pleased with all the check marks she sees on the paper. “Alright then, Lia will be here shortly to pick us up. Oh, before I forget. I made you some sandwiches, you can put them in your backpack.” 

You take the sandwiches from Leah, “Lee, what am I supposed to do with this many ham sandwiches? It’s like a two hour flight max.” You laugh at the girl but put them in your backpack anyways. “You can share with Kyra, as I am guessing that the two of you will use up enough energy to need those later.” 

A couple minutes later, Lia arrives to pick the both of you up. “Hey kid, ready for today?” Lia asks as she gives you a quick hug. “Yeah, I’m excited.” With your luggage in the car, Lia drives the three of you to Colney where the team would meet up to head to the airport together. 

When you arrive at the airport, and have checked in your baggage and gone through costumes, you arrive at the gate. You drop your backpack to the floor where Leah sits down, and rush off to find Kyra again. When the girl notices you, she dropped her own bag next to Katie, and started running away from you. You sprint after her, chasing her around the gate.

The team watches the two of you run around amused, wincing when you’d nearly miss other airport goers. “Should we stop them?” Katie says to Leah, when you finally manage to catch up to Kyra, and tackle her to the ground. “I say let them tire themselves out, so we have a peaceful flight.” She said the last part as a joke, but seeing the amount of energy the two of you had at the moment, it was best to let some of it out now. 

They let you run around, and go back to their own conversations. Occasionally someone films the two of you, many of the clips either ending up on their Instagram stories or on their Tiktok’s. You had no clue about any of it though, as you were having the time of your life running with Kyra. 

You were grateful for the sandwiches that Leah made for you, when your stomach started growling. Grabbing both yours and Kyra’s backpack, you head back to her. She was sitting by the window, watching the planes move around in the distance. Like Leah had suggested, you shared the sandwiches with Kyra, getting through quite a few of them until Kyra pulled a ball from her backpack, with a sly smile on her face. 

The two of you start kicking the ball back and forth for a bit, before you start to do keep ups together, trying to not let the ball hit the ground. That’s when Katie steps in, and grabs the ball from midair, “Where did you even get a ball?” The older woman asks. “From Kyra’s backpack.” You say in defence, raising your hands up in surrender. Kyra rolls her eyes at how quickly you threw her under the bus, but she would’ve done the same thing if it would have been Leah that stepped in. Katie takes the ball with her, as she sits back down next to Caitlin. “Kids.” She shakes her head, but looks in your direction with a smile.

Once the plane had taken off, it didn’t take long for both you and Kyra to fall asleep.

-----

leahwilliamsonn just posted to their story

-----

Only to be full of energy again as the both of you woke up when the plane landed. You were bouncing your legs up and down, waiting to be able to get off the plane. There was no time for you to let out your energy now, as you went straight to baggage claim and onto the bus that was waiting to get you to the stadium you would be playing in a couple of days. 

However, the moment that you set foot onto the field, you were back to running around on the field with Kyra in tow. Occasionally either one of you would be taken aside to take a picture with some of your teammates, but you always found each other again. 

Once Kyra was taken aside by Alessia for a picture, you ran over to Leah. The girl welcomed you with open arms, “Hi kiddo, having fun so far?” You step into her arms, and hug her tight. “Yes, I can’t wait to play here.” You stay in her arms with your head leaned against her chest.

Kyra walked back up to you with a ball in hand. You look up to Leah, “Yeah, go on. Have fun.” And with that you made your way onto the field with Kyra, finishing the game of keep ups that was interrupted in the airport.

-----

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[moonshynecybin]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Semantics.” Another poke.

Alex looks up, incredulous. Victory. 

“You were cheating! And you still lost!” 

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

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

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

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

Marc shakes his head.

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

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

Nothing’s felt— he’s busy. 

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

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

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

It’s— 

He's heard that laugh before. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's had a lot of practice.

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

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

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

He knows that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So why is he asking now.

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

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

It could also be a lie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marc blinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Once is enough!”

“Apparently.” Marc hits back. 

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

Once is enough. Apparently.

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

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

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

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

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

They haven’t even touched.

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

He smiles.

Maybe he is doing something wrong.

Vale smiles back, and it’s brilliant.

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

[daengtokki]

𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓇𝒹 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝑒

idol!Kim Seungmin x female reader

wc: 8.5k rating: fluff, explicit synopsis: Your only friend sets you up on a blind date in an attempt to get you out of your apartment over a holiday weekend—you almost make the mistake of not going

→ PART ONE → PART TWO

MASTERLIST

˚☽˚.⋆

“You can’t be nervous if I’m nervous.”

He’s right. You take a deep breath and turn to face him again. Kiss him on the lips. Your free hand snakes around his waist, finds the hem of his shirt, and tucks underneath to run over his skin.

His muscles tighten for a second, then slowly relax as your hand moves upward against his side and back across his shoulder blade. He sighs as you touch him.

You haven’t felt this much of his body until now.

Your plane lands four hours later than scheduled. You’re tired, hungry, and your back is killing you. Korea Air is fine, and it always has been, but thirteen hours in coach is something you’ll never get used to. There were no plans to travel home up until three days ago, and it’s a miracle you got the week off to deal with your family. As much as you hate doing it, you don’t mind a change of scenery and a break from your typical work days in Korea.

Honestly, this is the perfect solution to the loneliness and monotony. It was only three weeks ago that you finally got to see Seungmin again, and it’s been a long three weeks, but he has kept his promise of keeping in touch.

Every single day since date number two, he's sent at least one text. You try to send messages only when he does, but occasionally you can’t help yourself, and you send something in the middle of your work day, or right before you go to bed. You’re still a little worried about being a bother, and holding back your clingyness has been difficult, but he always sends something back. Not always right away, but he does answer. And he sends selfies often—those texts are your favorite.

You have failed to mention that you’ve been on your way to Chicago (he sent a text about two hours ago, letting you know the first two shows had gone well), and that you’d be arriving the day before he would also be in the same city. But you’ll let him know soon. You don’t have much hope for getting to see him while you’re both here; he’s busy, and the last thing you want to do is bother him during a tight schedule. But he's been the only thing on your mind for weeks.

You managed to get a ticket to the Chicago concert the night you realized you'd be in town for it, but it wasn’t cheap. Even if you don’t get to see him alone, seeing him on stage will be worth the price.

***

“Who are you talking to?”

There’s a giggle in his ear, and a sharp chin lands on his shoulder. “Why are you smiliiing?”

I.N grabs Seungmin’s shoulders and takes a seat directly behind him, giving him a good view of the phone in his friends hands.

“Don’t be nosy.”

“Is it the girl you’ve been talking to?”

Seungmin half turns and stares at I.N, then looks him up and down, “What are you talking about?”

He stares back wordlessly, a grin plastered on his face. He’s squinting his eyes at him accusingly. “I’m talking about the girl you’re always texting.”

Seungmin picks up his iced coffee, takes a sip, then releases himself from I.N’s stare.

I.N follows him across the room.

“Send her a cute selfie.”

“I already did.”

“Oh, haha!” He beams with pride at thinking he got him to slip up. “Did she send one back? Can I see her?”

“No. And no.”

“I won’t tell anyone else, I promise.”

“How did you know if nobody else knows?”

I.N stops and thinks for a moment, then he side-eyes the other two members that are currently in the same room. They’re too far away to hear the conversation, but Seungmin stands and heads over to them.

“Chan?”

Chan turns and looks at him with a smile. He doesn’t get a chance to speak before Seungmin does.

“Did you tell I.N about her?”

It takes him a few seconds to process what he’s being asked. “No, no…I didn’t tell anyone.” his voice lowers as he realizes what they’re talking about.

“How does he know?”

Chan peaks around him at I.N, who’s already staring wide eyed. He beckons him over with two fingers, and he runs over, unbothered.

“How do you know?” He asks softly, very curiously. “I didn’t tell you.”

“I just guessed.”

Seungmin and Chan stare, speechless.

“I always see him smiling and laughing while he’s texting, and then taking selfies. I didn’t know he was actually texting…” he looks around at the others that just walked into the room. “…texting someone.” He whispers the last part.

“The less people that know, the better…” Chan says, but casually, as if he knows he doesn’t really have to tell I.N. “It’s nothing serious, right Seungmin?”

“Huh…” he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. “Oh um, no…it’s not.”

Chan stares a little longer, “is it?”

Seungmin feels like his mind is being read. “We just talk a lot.”

He nods and leaves it at that. I.N smiles at Seungmin once more before walking off. Then he pulls his phone out to check his notification.

Sounds like you guys had a good time. I did catch some fan videos from last night!

He smiles at the text, and then wonders what you’re doing up at four in the morning.

***

You pull out your phone, hoping the buzz in your pocket is him.

What are you doing up so late? Are you okay?

Oh, you forgot about the time difference. Maybe it’s time to let him know you’re not in Seoul.

“I’m okay. I just landed in Chicago. I had a family thing come up, and I had to come home. I promise I’m not following you.”

You see him typing a few seconds after your message is delivered.

oh, you’re from Chicago! That’s so exciting that you’re here. Are you coming to the concert tomorrow night? Please come!

Before you have time to reply, he’s typing again…

Maybe not if you have family to see

“No, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it.”

let me know what seats you have…maybe I can get you closer

You’re trying to text him and stuff your bags into the trunk of you moms car at the same time.

“I don’t think they’re very close, but I’ll let you know as soon as I get home”

don’t worry, I’ll figure something out

“What are you so smiley about?” Your mom asks and slams the trunk shut.

“Just a text.”

***

“Sooo…”

“Soooo what?” Seungmin glances at I.N. He has an inkling about what he’s getting at, and he’s trying not to indulge him too much. But Seungmin will admit that if any of them were going to find out prematurely, he's glad it was him.

“Can I see her?” He’s careful and quiet saying it. “Please?”

“Fine, give me a second.” He types a quick message and then pulls up the photos you’ve both shared. He finds one of the very few selfies you’ve sent him and shoves it a few inches from I.N’s face.

He looks and his eyes widen, smirk grows. “Oh she’s not…” he stops himself and lowers his excited voice, “she’s not Korean? Oh she sent a text.” He giggled and tries to finish reading before Seungmin pulls the phone back.

“No, she’s not.”

“Where is she from?”

“Chicago. She’s here now, too.”

“Oh she’s gonna come see us tomorrow!”

Seungmin nods and types, “yeah, she is coming. I need to get her a better seat.”

“Sneak her into soundcheck.“

***

The next morning, you wake up to the buzzing of a text notification. A Seungmin message. You open it up and squint through sleepy, jet-lagged eyes. It’s barely 8 am. You slept an entire ten hours, at least.

Good morning 🤍 if you’re able to, come down to the venue at around 2!

A close-up selfie follows. You can only see his eye, a peace sign, and a little bit of hair.

And a heart emoji. That combination is a first.

You reply, set an alarm, and immediately fall back asleep.

And luckily, you don’t sleep through it. At eleven, you’re up, nervous, showered, more nervous, and then when it’s time to figure out your wardrobe, you feel like you’re going to puke. Knowing you’ll see Seungmin is keeping most of your nerves at bay, but the fact that it’ll be at an arena of this size, with this many people (you assume there will be a massive amount of fans already hanging around that early, because you know how concerts here are), and throw in the possibility of meeting his friends…you’re nervous.

It’s as busy near the venue as you expected. And you find yourself enjoying it, surprisingly. Seeing all of the fans gathered around and clearly having a good time, despite the heat, is nice.

You jump out of your Uber and send a text to Seungmin. You need a more accurate location to head to, but for now you don’t mind wandering around and people watching. Just a glance at someone seems to immediately give away their favorite member, and you make it a point to look for anyone who prefers your favorite.

A text message buzzes before you get too far.

there is a staff entrance at the box office, just walk in and pretend like you belong

That sounds like a terrible idea, but you trust him and head in that direction. It’s not very busy there, because the tickets have long since sold out, but there are staff members milling around. You don’t look like you belong, but you also know that attitude and demeanor can get you far, so…

***

Seungmin only mentioned his plan (I.N’s, really) to Chan about ten minutes prior to his last message to you.

“I don’t know if that was the best idea,” he says. “Is she already here?”

“Yes, she’s somewhere outside. And I know.”

“Okay, I might have a solution. Wait here.”

Chan disappears for a few minutes, and in the meantime, Seungmin actually starts to feel a little nervous. His plan was simple: have you walk casually in through the staff entrance he’s already seen used many times that days, by many different people—some with and some without staff shirts or lanyards.

“Even if she gets in using your terrible plan,” Chan returns, and behind him is a man much larger and taller than either of them. “She can’t walk around alone or with you the entire time.”

“She gets her own bodyguard!”

“Chaperone. And she won’t look too out of place with him. “

“Thanks, Chan. Thank you, Jay.”

“No problem, buddy. Let’s go find her before she gets lost.” Jay pats Seungmin on the back and leads him down the hallway. “What does she look like?”

It’s a long walk toward the entrance, but both of them scan every person and group as they pass by. It gives the butterflies in his stomach more time to move up to his chest and throat. “She’s right there!” Seungmin waves and gets your attention before approaching. He doesn’t want to make a scene, so he waits until none of the venue staff is around.

You have a hard time containing yourself when you finally catch sight of him. You don’t remember him ever smiling as wide as he is right now, and it makes your legs tremble a little.

You wave and wait for him to reach you.

“Hey…” Seungmin stands a few feet from you. He seems a little uneasy.

The man following behind him is obviously trying to keep some distance, but not too much distance. “I can turn away if it makes you both more comfortable.”

“No Jay, you’re fine,” Seungmin laughs but doesn’t look away from you.

“Is this your bodyguard?”

“He is, actually. But today he’s going to hang out with you so you don’t look out of place and you have someone who knows what’s going on.”

“Oh, that's a relief.”

“But I’ll take you to our dressing room if you’d like…if you want to meet everyone."

"I'm...I do, but do you think it's too much? I mean, too much too soon?"

"Meeting them?" He thinks about it. His mouth is pushed to one side, puffing up his cheek. "I don't mind if you want to wait. We can always just go right out by the stage for soundcheck. You'll see them out there, they'll probably see you. You'll be a mystery."

"I like that idea. Maybe afterward I'll feel better about it."

He nods and waves Jay over. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. “You look nice.” He lowers his voice and drops his gaze to the floor. But you can still see his smile.

***

You’re sitting a few rows back from the main stage. Your chaperone is a few yards away and much more relaxed out here. There are so many people working the sound check that your extra face is hardly out of place, so now you feel like you can relax and enjoy the view.

All eight of them are on stage, along with a few band members, and some techs. There’s a camera filming everything just off stage, and another directly on stage with them. You watch Seungmin as he interacts with it. He looks relaxed and happy—no more worry in his eyes. You get out the earplugs he gave you, but for now you just enjoy listening to him speak into his mic and headset. He looks at you a few times, but subtly, trying not to direct too much attention.

One of the others keeps looking your way, you assume out of confusion or curiosity. Or both. It’s Lee Know. You watch as he walks along the edge of the stage closest to where you’re sitting. Another member joins him and looks out; this one is smiling, almost as wide as Seungmin smiled at you earlier. You know who everyone is thanks to the endless videos you've watched. It's IN. You try not to make too much eye contact, but you don’t avoid them completely. They seem to know who you are.

Your chaperone appears next to again and takes a seat, “having a good time?”

“I am, thank you for dealing with me.”

“No problem, anything for these boys.”

“Do you know them well?”

“I’ve been working with them for a while now, so I’d say I do. How’d a girl like you meet Mr. Kim?”

The Mr. Kim is said with a bit of sarcasm, but a cute, playful sarcasm. And by a girl like you, you assume he means an American.

“I live in Korea, near where he grew up. We met through a friend. Do we seem like a weird match? I mean…we’re not a couple—"

Jay points up to Seungmin. “Are you sure about that? He’s looking at you right now with those big puppy dog eyes.”

When you look, he quickly smiles and waves before running back to the center of the stage.

***

Your adrenaline is off the charts at the end of the concert. You had an idea of what to expect from footage of other concerts, but being there in person, watching them…watching him, was obviously on another level. You feel like you’ve been introduced to a new little part of Seungmin’s personality. You feel closer to him.

Now you’re back outside in the fresh night air. You haven’t heard from him yet, but you’re not surprised. He’s probably exhausted. You stick around, though. He didn’t mention anything about seeing each other after the concert ended, so you don’t assume anything or get your hopes up (even though they are, by default, always up when it comes to him).

A small group of girls—you can’t really tell how old, maybe around your age—find a place to sit near you. They’re understandably excited and very loud, so you listen in as they talk about their favorite parts, favorite songs, and biases. The loudest of the group is a Felix fan. You sneak a glance at them and one of them notices you.

She waves, “are you here alone?”

You look around and then point to yourself, “Me? Oh, yeah I am.”

The rest of them wave you over with such enthusiasm that you can’t possibly deny them your presence.

“Was it your first concert? It was mine, but not theirs. We’re flying to California for the first two next week.” The girl who looks the youngest, and has a Han Quokka plush strapped to her gestures to the whole group. “Are you going to any more?”

“This is the only one I got a ticket for, so probably not.

“Who’s you bias?” The one who spoke to you first asks.

You hesitate for a moment. Who is your bias? “It’s Seungmin.” The girl continues talking, but you’re distracted by the buzzing of your phone. It’s him.

you are still around, yeah?

“Of course! I’m outside”

Now he’s calling. “Sorry, I gotta get this!” You excuse yourself from the group and answer.

“Hi, it’s a little loud out here.”

“Okay, I just figured calling would be easier. Come back in the way you did earlier, I’m already here.”

“Okay, I’m near there. Give me 10 seconds.”

He starts counting down…

“Okay…nine…”

You laugh and speed up a little—

“Eight…”

—but there are more people here and dodging them is not easy.

“Seven…six…five…”

“Count slower!”

“Fooooouur…three…”

You see the door and push through a couple much harder than you intend, but your hand is pushing the door open just as Seungmin says—

“Two! You did it!”

He’s a good distance away, but you can see his smile. He takes a few steps toward you, but lets you finish closing the gap. He holds out his arms and pulls you into a hug, which catches you off guard. You’re surprised oh makes him giggle. There’s nobody around except for Jay, but it still feels very bold.

“You were amazing.” You squeeze him a little tighter around the waist, and he reciprocates.

“Thank you…I hope you had a good time.”

“I did,” you slowly release him but keep a bit of his shirt clenched in your fist. “What’s your plan for tonight?”

“Hotel tonight…and I think we are leaving in the morning. Unless they change things last minute, which sometimes happens.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to leave right away. It’d be nice if you stayed in Chicago a little longer, though.”

“Yes, it would be nice.” You see him glance at Jay and lower his voice. “I can let you know which hotel, though. And I’ll text you my room number.“

“Oh?” You feel your face getting hot, and Seungmin’s cheeks have definitely turned a shade of pink.

“Unless I have to share the room.”

“Well, you just let know which hotel. And we’ll figure something out if we need to.”

He nods shyly and takes your face in his hands. He doesn’t pull you in for a kiss, though, just gently rubs his thumb over your cheek, and it’s somehow even better.

“I have to go, but I’ll text you.” He disappears with Jay around the corner.

And then you panic a little, because you weren’t ready for a hotel invitation. You’re having flashbacks of the last date, and how heavy things got for just a few minutes. And how Seungmin reacted, because he hasn’t gone that far with anyone yet. Maybe that isn’t what he was getting at. You’ve spent plenty of time with him alone in your apartment, why would being alone in his hotel be any different It’s just a feeling. Just in the way he lowered his voice and blushed. Things will play out how they’re supposed to, though. No pressure. You’d never put him in an uncomfortable situation.

It might be a good idea to prepare anyway.

Going home seems pointless, because the hotel is most likely here in the city. You don’t want to waste time traveling home and then back. You’re already short on time as it is. But when you find a convenience store to pop into, you get a look at yourself in the mirror. It could be worse, you suppose. It was a hot day, and the concert was no different. Besides, Seungmin has already seen you like this. It can’t be that bad.

But you do buy a water to chug, gum, and when you pass by the condoms, you stare at them for far too long. Buying them means you expect something to happen, and you feel weird about expecting it for some reason. Not buying them and being unprepared seems worse, though.

You grab a pack. You grab two, actually. You did get a quick feel of him before. And you remember it well. Now you just have to deal with the awkwardness of checking out with two different sizes of condoms.

You stuff your purchases between the mess of other things in your bag and walk aimlessly for a few blocks. It’s still crowded down here, even though it’s getting late, and you can’t help but start worrying when almost an hour passes with no text from a Seungmin.

Maybe you should have gone home and waited.

But just as the thought crosses your mind, you get a message.

Here’s the address, and my room number is 1344.

Your heart starts to race when you read it. He has his own room, so things will at least be easy. And the address is only another two blocks away.

You text him when you get to his room instead of knocking. You’re afraid to make any unnecessary noise. He's shuffling around in the room before the latch clicks and the doorknob turns. Somehow every time you see him, he’s even better looking.

The door is closed and locked behind you before either of you speak.

“Hi…you got here fast!”

“I was close by. Was I too fast?” You look him up and down. He’s in sweatpants and a black t-shirt, and his hair is a little damp.

“No, definitely not. As long as I don’t look like a wet dog.”

“No, you look very handsome,” you grab a handful of his shirt and pull him toward you. “It’s a good look.”

He leans forward and kisses you on the forehead. It gives you butterflies. You like it, but you can't help but be baffled by his very bold and distinct romantic gestures. Three weeks ago he had a hard time with your hypothetical dating question. But that was three weeks ago.

“Do you want something more comfortable to wear? I can give you one of my shirts.

Okay, so maybe he does want you to spend the night, “Yes, I'd like that.”

He grabs one from his bag and shakes it out. Then he brings it to his face to smell it, “this is clean.”

“Thanks,” you hold it up and look at it.

“It not very big on me, so it should fit okay.”

You head into the bathroom and look at yourself again, try to get the butterflies in your stomach to calm down. Big breath in, slow breath out. It doesn’t seem like he’s trying to drive you crazy, but he’s doing a very good job. You start taking off your necklaces, your bracelets, and then peel off your shirt that’s long since dried from the sweating you did all day. You check yourself for any offending odors, and even though it’s not bad, you take the time clean up the best you can.

It’s been a while since you had to do a sink bath before a potential lay. And every single one before this wasn’t even worth it. Seungmin is different, though. Now you wonder if this is the way you want things to go. In a hotel, with very little preparation. But you may not see him again for a while after tonight. And if this feels good for him, it's good for you.

There is still the possibility that he won’t be ready.

You slip into his shirt, and it's still pretty big. The sleeves reach your elbows and the bottom hem just covers your shorts. You could walk out without them and he might not even realize it—you take them off and fold them up neatly with your shirt and jewelry, look at yourself one more time, and then head back out to him.

“Oh, that looks good on you,” he turns from his seat at the edge of the bed, then pats his hands on the spot next to him. “Come here.”

As you climb onto the bed and crawl toward him, he slowly lies down on his back. “Are you tired?”

“No, not tired,” he props himself up on his elbow to get a better look at you. “Not yet...it takes a while to relax after a concert." He pulls at the hem of your shirt and his fingers slide across your thigh. He takes his hand away, so you grab it and put it back. Seungmin takes the hint and slides his palm to the side and gently squeezes. When he looks up at you, you grin, but he just lets himself fall forward so he can hide his face in the blanket. You hear a big sigh, and maybe a soft laugh.

“What’s the matter?” You lie down next to him and wait until he turns his face to yours. “Minnie?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Do you want to get cozy and watch something? Or we can talk.”

“Yes, that sounds nice.”

You pull the blankets down and fluff the pillows while he gathers himself again. “Which side do you prefer?”

“I’m not sure, I don’t usually have to choose.”

“Okay, I’ll take the left side.” You cover yourself up and relax against the pillows.

Seungmin follows, but he stays on top of the blankets for a moment and stares at you. You stare back and say nothing, then he crawls underneath them, too.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my hands to myself.” You say.

He just pushes himself into the pillows and pulls the blanket up to his chin without a word, but he turns himself to face you.

You do the same.

“If that’s what you want.” He says.

You roll your eyes around as if you’re thinking and hmm under your breath. “Can I come closer?”

He nods.

You scoot yourself toward him until you can rest your forehead against his. “That’s better.”

“Can’t watch anything like this.”

“Oh, no I guess not,” you move back a little and look him over. “Should we—“

“No,” he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you back. “This is good.”

You take the invitation and place your hand on his neck; he moves in for a kiss before you get the chance to, though. And he kisses hard enough to push you on your back. For a moment you think this might be it, but you find yourself hesitating and softening your kiss. Then loosening the grip on his neck.

He pulls back and stares down at you.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do,” you cup his face and hold him there. “There’s no rush.”

“I know.” He comes back down, kisses you once, and then falls back at your side. But his arm remains draped over your stomach.

Your heart sinks a little. It feels like you don’t know what you want. Well, you do know you want him, but you’re nervous. Maybe just as nervous as he is. “Don’t think I don’t want to, because I do.”

Seungmin smiles and sets his head against your shoulder. “I know you do.”

He knows you want him. You’re glad he knows—and you love the way he says it.

“Are you stopping because you’re worried I’m not ready?”

“No, only you know that. I’m just a little nervous, I guess.”

“You’re nervous?”

“I am.”

“You can’t be nervous if I’m nervous.”

He’s right. You take a deep breath and turn to face him again. Kiss him on the lips. Your free hand snakes around his waist, finds the hem of his shirt, and tucks underneath to run over his skin. His muscles tighten for a second, then slowly relax as your hand moves upward against his side and across his shoulder blade. He sighs as you touch him.

You haven’t felt this much of his body until now. You keep going, touching his stomach, his chest. It’s then that you feel his hand on you. It’s warm moving across your thigh, over your hip. His touch is soft, but he squeezes when he pulls you closer.

Seungmin slides his hand down to the back of your thigh and brings you as close as he can manage.

He’s on top off you again, hand still on you, hips gently pushing into yours. You can feel him through his sweatpants, and now your brain only wants one thing: to get them off of him.

“Seungmin,” you get him to look at you. “Seungmin?”

“Hm?”

You pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside.

“Yeah?” He kisses your neck and lifts your shirt. “Are you okay?”

You nod and help him get it off.

“Oh,” he laughs and touches the spot directly below your sternum. “Tattoo.” He looks over you slowly, a little shyly, before placing a kiss on your collarbone.

You run a hand across the back of his neck. The other slides down his stomach until it reaches the band of his sweatpants. Your heart beats wildly in your throat as your hand disappears. Fingers wrap around him and feel every inch as he whimpers softly into your neck. The hand buried in his hair moves down and kneads hard into his shoulder as your fingers stroke him.

Seungmin’s face is still in your neck, breathing hard. Eventually he takes a hand and maneuvers it to pull at his sweatpants. You let go to help slide them down enough to free him. He moans, a little apprehensively, when you touch him again. You know you have to take it easy; he’s obviously very sensitive and you want this to last as long as possible for him.

“I like hearing you, don’t be shy.”

He tries to hold back an embarrassed laugh, but he does a bad job of it.

“Are you comfortable in this position? I could…do this with you on your back.”

He nods, but you don’t know which part he’s nodding to.

“Lie down.”

You let go of him until he’s on his back and relaxing. His face is still flushed and his breathing is a little shaky, but his eyes are almost closed. He seems relaxed enough. You kiss him and wrap your hand around him again. His eyes open fully when you begin to stroke him again, lips part, and you slide your tongue against his.

The moans coming from him become a little louder. His hand lightly grips and slides down you arm.

“I didn’t really prepare for this. It could be better…if we had lube.”

“It feels good.” He whispers and smiles into your mouth. “Oh, I do have some.”

“Where?” You slow down a bit and let go of his lips. “I can grab it.”

“It’s…” he laughs sleepily, “it’s in my bag on the chair, in the smaller black bag.”

You climb over him and jump off the bed. The bag is already open and a few things have been pulled out, but you can see a small black bag on the side. “I found it,” you unzip it and look around.

“It’s in the other little bag inside of that.” He laughs again. “Everyone is very nosy.”

You unzip the second bag, and there it is. It’s small, and still looks pretty full. You turn and look at him, “for when you’re lonely and horny on the road.”

He laughs again. “Yes, exactly.”

You warm a small amount in your hand and push the blanket down a little. You’ve touched him, but you haven’t really looked anywhere besides his lips and eyes yet. Now you watch your hand slowly move up and down , and the warmth and slickness makes everything so much better. You can feel how good it is for him. Your heartbeat drops into your stomach and you can feel yourself getting wetter every time he lets himself moan.

But as wet as you think you might be, his size is still more intimidating than you expected.

“You’re very good at this.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice so soft. “Yeah?”

He bites his lips and nods. “It feels so good.”

The room is warm, and the AC hasn't kicked on again. There are a few beads of sweat forming at his temple—you kiss him there and work your way down to his chest, then across his stomach.

The muscles tighten as you move across his hot skin, further and further down. When you slide your tongue across his head, he moans out the breath he’d been holding since you got to his chest. The sound he makes is desperate. He does it again when your lips close around him and your hand grips a little more tightly.

He wasn’t prepared for your mouth. He breathes out your name and it sends a wave of pleasure through you. His hand touches softly across your back and neck.

He says your name again.

“You okay, Minnie?” You kiss his stomach again and look up at him.

He nods and sits up, “can I touch you?”

You let go of him and straddle his stomach. He reaches for you and runs his fingers over the thin fabric. You put your hand over his and push your underwear to the side so he can feel you. There’s another, almost inaudible moan when he does.

Two fingers slip deep inside as you lean in to kiss him, and with your help, he gets the hang of moving inside of you. You sigh sweetly into his mouth. You’re already much more sensitive than you normally would be. Every little movement he makes is causing just enough friction where you need it. The heel of his palm found your clit and you’re not sure he even realizes.

“I’m gonna come if you keep that up, wait a sec,” you stop his hand and take a deep breath.

“You are?” His voice cracks and he sits up more. His other hand has been digging into your hip, and he finally loosens his grip. There might be a bruise there later.

You grab his face and kiss him hard, then finally maneuver yourself out of your underwear while he’s there to keep you balanced. You reach behind and find his cock, stroke him a few times, and move back. “Are you good if I…have a seat?” You laugh and wrap your other arm around his shoulder.

“Yes, very good,” he holds onto your waist to help steady you both.

When his head slides across you, he smiles and throws his head back. You do it again before carefully pushing him a little bit inside of you. It doesn’t take much to get another sound out of him.

“There’s a lot more to go,”

He looks drunk, but he smirks, “sorry.”

“For what?”

“For having a lot more to go,” he laughs.

“I’m not complaining.”

You push him deeper, just a little, because you’re not sure what your limit will be in this position. And deeper. You watch him carefully. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open. You hold him tightly around the neck with both arms before slowly lifting yourself.

It takes a few more times before you find a rhythm , but when you do, you’re sure the sound Seungmin makes reaches the surrounding hotel rooms. You try to quiet him with your mouth, but it only stifles him a little. You love the noise, but if the others are close enough to hear him, it might makes things awkward.

His hands hold your hips and slowly guide you up and down on his cock. You breath his name into his mouth, and he bites down on your lip. His voice is a whisper. “Is it okay?”

“Yes,” you whine and push yourself as far down as you can. It stings, just a little, and only for a moment. “You feel so good.”

He leans back to watch himself slide inside of you, and the lusty, satisfied look on his face is making the ride even smoother. “Do I?” He takes your face in his hand and runs his thumb along your lips and cheek.

The room disappears and all that exists is the feeling of him; his breath on your neck, his voice in your ears. His hands grip you tighter, lifting you, and holding you steady when he fills you up again. He’s not ready for it when you pick up your pace. His fingers dig hard into your hips—you hear him swear under his breath as he attempts to keep himself under control.

“Talk to me, I wanna hear your voice. Do you like it, Minnie?”

Seungmin kisses your neck, his lips graze over your ear, “yes,” he manages through the soft sounds he can’t hold back, “yes, fuck. You feel amazing.”

You pull him away and look at him, arms still wrapped firmly around his neck. One hand slides up and into his hair. “I like you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Under me, lost in it. I thought you were sexy before…but—“

“You think I’m sexy?” His smile is cute and tipsy, voice is airy. If it weren’t for you holding him up, he’d be flat on his back.

All of the sudden, you’re snapped back to reality. Seungmin is there, eyes wide, but the room is back. You’re no longer floating. You lost control and went a little too hard, and it hurt. You make a pained sound and all of your weight is on his shoulders.

“Did I hurt you?” He holds you up and pulls out, and you’re now relieved to be giving your burning thighs a break.

“No, no you didn’t,” You have to kiss him to get rid of the worried look on his face. “That was my fault.”

“We should change positions.”

You lay back on the pillows, grab his waist when he crawls over you, and your legs fall open and rest on either side of him.

“This is a bad angle for you to look at,” he smiles and hides his face in your neck.

You lift his face back up, “is that a joke? You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever had between my legs.”

He whispers a no and hides his face again, but at the same time, his fingertips slide down your thigh as if he’s teasing you.

”Sexiest…” you moan into his ear and wrap your legs around him to bring him closer.

You don’t need to give him any more direction. He explores you briefly with his fingers before guiding himself in the same way you did; slow and gentle.

“I’ll be careful…” he slides in easily in this position, stopping short to make sure he isn’t going too far.

You take his hips and carefully pull him in the rest of the way. A rough groan jumps out of him when you meet. He stays there and looks at you until you brush the hair from his eyes and speak. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he smiles, looks down your body, then back up to your face. “Just like looking at you.”

“I’m the one with the view,” you kiss him and shift your hips, getting another sound out of him.

Now he’s finding a rhythm, but he’s much more reserved than you were. He seems to know his own limits, and maybe he’s trying not to overdo it and finish too fast.

“Is this okay?” He nuzzles into your ear and whispers before kissing you just below it.

“Yes,” your hands run up his sides and back, his neck, into his hair, “it’s perfect.”

He thrusts into you, very delicately, a few more times before slowing down. Then he stops completely, still inside of you. He’s breathing hard, eyes closed in concentration.

“Seungmin?”

“I just…need a few seconds.”

“Take your time,” you take his hand in yours and help his thumb find your clit.

He moves it in slow circles and watches you for any direction. But he does very well. He has a light touch, and a good pace. His hands are soft and warm. This, combined with him inside of you, looking down at you with eyes drunk with pleasure trying so hard not to come yet, is making everything happen very fast. But you don’t mind.

When he pulls out halfway and pushes back inside, you whimper and the pleased look on his face pushes you over the edge. He smiles and starts fucking you again, and he doesn't let up—you feel it coming. You moan much louder than you intend. He loves hearing it. Your back arches up and your legs squeeze around him. It lasts a long time, and he doesn’t stop—just carefully touches you in the right spot until your body finally relaxes

“Wow…did you—”

You nod and try to catch your breath.

He doesn’t get through his question because it’s his turn. He comes hard and fast. The condom was completely forgotten up until this point, and he certainly doesn’t attempt to pull out. You don’t even allow yourself to dwell on it—you just enjoy the moment.

Seungmin’s mouth hangs open, and his eyes water. His moan is different this time; it’s more feral. His whole body tightens and moves in slow motion as his orgasm passes through him. He pumps into you until he can't take it anymore. Then he’s catching his breath and regaining his composure. He comes down to kiss you, tucks an arm under your neck to bring you closer. He slowly pulls out and puts his weight on his knees.

“Come here…”

He listens and slowly lowers himself next to you. His hair is a little damp from sweat, and his face is pink. It’s a good look for him. You pull the sheet up and over both of you, then wipe at his brow with your thumb.

“That was nice,” he’s still catching his breath. His eyes close and you can see his body soften and relax on the pillows. “That was very nice.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“It was better than nice,” his eyes flutter open and he looks at you. Then he reaches out and pulls until there’s no space left between you. “It was much better than I thought it could be.”

“Wow,” you say into his neck. “That’s quite a compliment.”

“But I’m sorry, it’s probably not great that we didn’t use protection.”

“No, but I’ll take care of it in the morning.”

Someone’s phone buzzes.

“I think that was me,” Seungmin says and reaches behind him. His phone got lost somewhere underneath the blankets. As soon as he glances at the screen, he tosses it behind him again. “Are you going to stay the night?” He asks, arms tight around you again.

“I should get home before my mom starts to worry.”

He nods and tries to hide a pout.

“But you’re leaving in the morning, right?

“I think so, I’m not sure what time.”

“Would it be alright if I spent the night? So we can say goodbye.”

“Yes, that's a much better plan.”

“Can I use the shower?” You wiggle free of his grasp and look at him, “heat, concert, sex…that’s a lot to sleep in.”

Seungmin laughs and nods, “yes, go take a long hot shower.”

***

When you come back to the room, Seungmin is sitting at the desk writing. You can hear soft music playing from his phone. There are fresh clothes laid out on your side of the bed: the shirt you had on very briefly, and a pair of very comfy looking sweatpants.

“Are these for me?” You ask. He’s already cleaned up and redressed.

He closes the book he’s writing in and spins around in his chair, “yes, I’m sure they won’t fit very well, but they’re comfortable.”

“Thank you.” You drop your towel and pick up the shirt.

Seungmin stares at you as you pull it over your head, “what?” You laugh and grab the sweatpants. They are soft and they look expensive.

“Uhm, sorry…I didn’t see you without your bra before.”

You think he might be blushing.

“Oh!” You grab your chest, “I guess you didn’t. Come here.”

“Hm?” He smirks and walks toward you as you lift the shirt back over your head. “Oh…”

You take his hands and he immediately touches you, running his palms, and then his fingertips, over your nipples. They stiffen from his touch. He sits at the edge of the bed and pulls you closer, keeping one hand on your chest. The other runs down your side and over your ass. He squeezes and kisses the spot where your tattoo is.

This could turn into something very quickly, but right now you want nothing more than to get under the covers with him and sleep. You know he needs it.

“I like this,” he pulls at the hem of your shirt when you slip it back on. “You look cute in my clothes.”

***

It’s nice waking up next to him.

The room is still dark because the curtains are pulled shut, but not completely—little bits of sunlight make it in through the sides. You can see his sleeping face, cheek squashed against the pillow, lips slightly parted. He’s curled up tight in his spot with the blanket only covering his lower half, but one bare knee is far up enough to poke out.

His arm is reaching toward you, palm up and fingers curled. You slide your hand over the sheets and gently touch him. His fingers twitch and then close around yours. He sighs deeply, then opens his eyes. First he looks at his hand holding onto yours, then his eyes move along your arm and up to where you’re laying on your pillow.

“Good morning,” he squeezes your hand and moves himself closer to you. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod and pull his hand up to your lips. “Did you?”

“Mhm, very well.”

“Did I tell you how amazing you were last night?” You ask and fluff his hair, “I mean…” you hide behind a hand, “I’m still asleep.”

“Well, I don’t know about…amazing.”

“The concert I mean!” you hide your face in the pillow, and Seungmin giggles as he tries to get you to look at him.

“I was okay I think.”

“The concert was…and you. I was focused on you the whole time.” You clarify as much as possible through your grin.

“You focused on Seungmin the whole time?”

“Yeah, the best part.

“And last night…last last night.” He smiles wide.

“Also focused on Seungmin.”

He pushes himself closer until his face disappears into your neck. “Thank you.”

A knock echoes through the room. Three heavy knocks. The voice that comes through is soft. “Seungmin, are you up?”

“Oh, it’s Lee Know. Stay here.”

You stay put and pull the covers up over your shoulders, but you turn to face the door. Seungmin opens the locks and pulls it open a few inches.

“What’s wrong? It’s still early.”

“I know, but I thought you might want to get breakfast,” Lee Know puts a palm on his side of the door and pushes, “can I not come in?”

“Uh, you can but…” Seungmin hesitates. “I’m not alone.” He gives in when Lee Know takes several steps into the room. He won’t be able to hide you for much longer.

“Oh,” he looks to the spot on the bed where you’re under a pile of covers. “Is it the girl, the one who was at the soundcheck?”

“Did I.N tell you about her?.”

“No, Chan did. I should go. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to go,” you squeak out. You can just make him out from your spot, and when you pull the covers down from your nose, his whole body comes into view. Then you remember that one of them doesn't speak English very well, and you think it may have been him. You repeat yourself in Korean.

His eyes widen a bit. “Should we all get into bed, then?” He can be sarcastic and dry; you remember Seungmin mentioned that as well.

You sit up and look at him with a smirk on your face. “He’s the boss.” You nod toward Seungmin.

“You’re the boss,” Lee Know looks at Seungmin and winks. “Text me if you want to come.”

Now he turns to you, “nice to meet you,” he smirks and lets himself out.

Seungmin let’s out a long sigh when he’s gone.

“Come back to bed,” you move the blankets from his spot and fluff up his pillow. “Please.”

He listens and crawls back to your side. When he puts an arm around your waist and pulls you close, he says, “I was nervous about you meeting him.”

“Lee Know? Why were you nervous?”

“Am…am nervous, I guess.”

“You don’t think he’d like me?”

“The opposite, actually.” He hides his face in your chest and whines.

You oooh into his ear and it makes him giggle. “Does that tickle?” You move his hair and place a kiss there.

“I think you two are very similar.” Seungmin says. “You remind me of him sometimes, especially when we text.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he shakes his head, still shoved into your chest. “But, I just think you’d like him.”

You scoot yourself down until you’re face to face with him, but he still doesn’t lift his gaze. “Hey, look at me.”

He doesn't.

"Minnie?"

This time he listens, but he also gives you his best puppy eyes.

“You think I’ll get to know him and like him more than I like you?”

Seungmin nods.

“And that he’ll steal me away from you?”

He nods again, then stops and shakes his head, "You're not really mine to be stolen away..." he scrunches his face up in thought, wondering if his English made any sense.

“Well, I’m a little flattered you’d think someone else would like me that much. I’m much more flattered you don’t wanna have me stolen away.”

He rubs his eyes and sits himself up on the bed. “I’m sorry, I know we already talked about this.”

“We can talk about it again if you want to.”

He shakes his head and gets back under the covers. His hands find you and start to paw—at your side, your hip. He slides one down your outer thigh, and slowly back up. Then he starts to talk anyway. “He also knows Choonhee very well.”

“Okay, I think I'm understanding. I could have possibly been set up with Lee Know instead of Seungmin?”

You can hear his dramatic whine from underneath the covers. “It is very possible.”

“But I was set up with you for a reason. And you’re the first person I went on a date with since I left home, so I got very lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“Yeah, lucky. Good dates are hard to find.”

Seungmin pokes his head out from the covers and smiles at you. “I’m glad I was a good date.”

"You were a perfect date."

"You should call me Minnie more." He says it's softly, but his hands are in a dangerous spot. "All the time. I like it."

"You were a perfect date, Minnie."

[youngsadlesbian]

Hey hey! I did see that you're looking for a Taylor Swift x daughter reader fic. This isn't much, but I had the idea come to my head, lol. Maybe the reader is about 3-4, and Taylor is on tour at the moment, and she's really struggling with being separated from her mom for so long. And just at random show on tour, she just has enough and bursts out and refuses to let her mom go.

LONGING

pairing: taylor swift x daughter!reader

summary: your mom has been away for a long time, and sometimes the longing is too much, even for tree paine to handle.

a/n: thank you so much for your request. i hope you like it.

word count: 907

warnings: fluff <3

The Eras Tour was in full swing, and you were watching it unfold through the eyes of a three-year-old who couldn’t understand why her mom was always leaving. You were staying in Nashville with Tree Paine, Taylor’s ever-reliable PR manager, while your mom traveled across the country performing for packed stadiums.

The world knew Taylor Swift as the dazzling star who brought joy to millions. But to you, she was just Mom—the person who read bedtime stories in funny voices and let you help bake cookies, even though you always got flour everywhere. The same person who’d been missing too many bedtime stories lately.

“Where’s Mama?” you asked one night as Tree tucked you in.

Tree smiled gently, brushing the hair off your forehead. “She’s working tonight, sweetheart. But she loves you so much. She’ll call tomorrow morning, okay?”

It was the same answer you got every night, and it didn’t make it hurt any less.

It had been two weeks since you’d seen your mom in person, and the daily FaceTime calls weren’t cutting it anymore. This time, when the call ended and Tree handed you a snack to distract you, you flung the bag of animal crackers across the room.

“I want Mama!” you wailed, tears streaming down your face.

Tree knelt down, her calm demeanor never faltering. “I know, baby. I know it’s hard. But she’s going to be so happy to see you in a few days, okay?”

A few days felt like forever. You weren’t having it.

The next morning, Tree woke to find you in the hallway, still in your pajamas, holding your tiny suitcase packed with mismatched clothes and stuffed animals.

“What’s this, troublemaker?” Tree asked, crouching to your level.

“I’m going to find Mama.”

\*/

Tree had seen a lot in her years working with Taylor Swift, but she’d never dealt with a determined three-year-old demanding to join the tour. She made a call, and the next thing you knew, you were on a plane to the next stop: Denver.

When you arrived backstage, the energy was electric. Crew members bustled about, and the faint sound of Taylor rehearsing drifted through the air. But none of it mattered to you.

“Mama!” you yelled, spotting her in the distance.

Taylor turned mid-sentence, her eyes lighting up as she saw you running toward her. She dropped the water bottle she was holding and crouched to catch you.

“Baby!” she said, wrapping you in a tight hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I miss you,” you mumbled into her shoulder, clutching her as if letting go would make her disappear again.

Her heart broke a little. “Oh, honey, I missed you too. So, so much.”

Tree approached, giving Taylor an apologetic smile. “She kind of demanded to be here.”

Taylor kissed the top of your head, tears glistening in her eyes. “Well, I’m glad she’s here.”

You refused to leave Taylor’s side. When it was time for her to get ready for the show, you sat on the counter in her dressing room, watching as the makeup artist worked her magic.

“Can I have sparkles too?” you asked, pointing at Taylor’s shimmering eyeshadow.

Taylor chuckled. “Of course, you can.”

You grinned as the makeup artist carefully dabbed a little sparkle on your eyelids, making you feel like the star of the show.

But when it was time for Taylor to head to the stage, your grip on her hand tightened.

“No, Mama,” you said firmly.

“Honey, I have to go sing now,” Taylor explained gently.

“No!” you yelled, tears welling up again.

Taylor knelt down, holding your tiny hands. “Listen to me, baby. I’ll be right back. And you’ll be able to see me the whole time, okay? You can sit with Auntie Tree and watch from the side.”

You shook your head, stubborn as ever. “Stay.”

Tree swooped in with a distraction. “How about you hold onto Mama’s scarf? That way, it’s like she’s still here with you.”

Reluctantly, you let Taylor go, clutching her scarf like it was a lifeline.

True to her word, Taylor kept looking over at you between songs, waving and blowing kisses. At one point, she sat at the piano and introduced a surprise addition to the setlist.

“This one’s for my baby girl,” she said, her voice soft but carrying through the massive arena. “Because I know how hard it is to share me with the rest of the world.”

She began playing “Never Grow Up,” her voice filled with emotion. The audience sang along, but all you could hear was your mom’s voice, singing just for you.

Tree had to wipe away a tear, muttering, “She’s too good at this mom thing.”

When the show ended and the crowd’s cheers faded, you were still clutching Taylor’s scarf as if it were your most prized possession. She found you backstage, scooping you up into her arms.

“Did you have fun?” she asked, her smile as wide as the stadium you’d just left.

You nodded sleepily, resting your head on her shoulder. “Mama’s the best singer.”

“And you’re the best daughter,” Taylor replied, holding you close.

That night, for the first time in weeks, you fell asleep in her arms, feeling safe and loved. And Taylor, though exhausted from the show, stayed awake a little longer, stroking your hair and humming lullabies.

Because no matter how big her world got, you would always be her everything.

[eddiemunsonappreciationsociety]

SPENCER REID BODYGUARD AU FANFIC

As I step into my house I’m aware that someone is here immediately. My heart picks up pace as I take the can of mace from in my bag, I try to get my hands to stop shaking as I peer around the doorframe into my kitchen. My heart briefly drops when I see a tall man sitting at my breakfast bar drinking tea. His floppy brown hair falls into his face.

“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house?” I yell at him, waving the can of mace in front of me.

I bark at the stranger, tall and handsome and not meant to be sat in my fucking kitchen like he owns the place.

“So you haven’t spoken to Mr Smith yet,” he sighs.

“My dad sent you?”

“Yes, I’m Mr Reid, your new security detail”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am, Miss Smith”

“I am not a child I don’t need to be looked after,”

“Well, I’m afraid your dad doesn’t agree” he shrugs.

I start to rifle through my bag, trying to find my phone. I’m too mad and my bags too full of crap. I start to get frustrated when the tall stranger shoves his phone at me.

“It’s your father,”

I grab his phone off of him

“Dad, what the fuck?”

“I didn’t tell you earlier because I knew you’d flee,” my dads raspy voice travels through the phone “You’re going to go with my friend Mr Reid and he’s going to take you on a nice holiday,”

“He’s what?”

“My plane is going to take you and your new shadow to a nice little island and you’re going to take some time away where it’s safe,”

“This is fucking kidnap,”

“No darling, I’m trying to prevent exactly that happening,” his voice is soft

“Again,” I mutter sharply

“Yes, again” he sounds defeated “please, just go for a few weeks, see it as a holiday, it’s a beautiful villa by the sea, whatever you want I’ll get sent to you”

I don’t respond, my heart is racing and I feel sick.

“Darling, please”

It’s not often Tony Smith begs for anything.

“For how long?”

“A few weeks, maybe longer,”

I manage to stop the scream that wants to ring out of me. The audacity. He’s the reason I’m in danger anyway. Sure, when you’re one of the worlds biggest drug dealers it seems great and the moneys good but people hate you and want to hurt you and have what you have. They take daughters of drug dealers. I find my mind slipping back a little and I shake my head clear of the thoughts. I glance at the bodyguard, he’s dressed in smart trousers, shirt and tie.

“I’m not happy about this, and this guy you’ve hired: have you met him? He looks like a geography teacher. He’s wearing a bloody cardigan,”

Mr Reid finds this amusing, I see him smirk but he tries to hide it by walking away.

“I’ve met him and I know his reputation, you be nice to him,”

“Whatever, how long have I got?”

“Pack now, it’s hot, you leave in an hour. And you leave your phone there”

“I’m not leaving my phone”

“Mr Reid will give you a new one, but it’s restricted. You can’t let anyone know where you are.

“You’re the fucking worst, I’m not going,”

“Yes, you are. This isn’t optional, you will go nicely or you will be taken forcefully. Either way you’re getting on that plane. Go and pack, don’t think you’d like what the geography teacher would bring you.”

I hang up on my dad and hand the phone back to the bodyguard. He takes it and holds his hand out.

“What?”

“Your phone too,”

“We’re not going yet,”

“Give me your phone,” he says if slowly, demanding.

I slam it into his hand and turn on my heel, heading to my room.

I try to clear the rage from me and think about what I actually need to pack. I throw a bunch of clothes, some books and my Switch into a suitcase. My makeup, skincare and other toiletries go in another.

After trying to streamline what I thought of as a full, big life, it feels depressingly small. I pack a total of three suitcases and am still have time to sit in the edge if my bed and have a slight panic attack.

My new bodyguard comes half way through my freak out.

“Cars here, are you okay?”

“I'm kind of freaking out,”

“Yeah, no doubt. Let’s both panic on the plane though,”

I watch him take a seat opposite me on the plane and he smiles, looking around with an almost nostalgic look on his face.

“What?” I ask as I catch his eye

“Been a while since I’ve been on one of these,” he shrugs.

“You had a jet?” I try not to sound bitchy but that’s clearly impossible.

“No, we had one for my old job” he seems unphased.

“What did you do?”

“Oh, we’ve got a while together Miss Smith, let’s not use up all the small talk at once,” he grins at me.

“That’s fine by me,” I shrug and put my headphones in

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 50

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 6k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Friday, February 12 - At Jenni’s place.

I bite my lip to stifle my smile. The image Lucy presents is funny, but I don't want to make her scowl worse. It’s the first time I’ve seen her so impatient, tapping her best friend’s car hood.

“They’re obviously late,” she grumbles.

“They’ve only been gone ten minutes. They’ll be here soon.”

“It’s not funny,” she growls. “Stop smiling like that.”

My smile fades instantly; I don’t want to annoy her any further. Our vacation isn’t starting as I had imagined. Lucy’s been grumpy since I met up with her. She had a terrible morning, having to supervise a first-year student who was punished and left out in the rain. I hope she’s tougher than me and doesn’t fall sick. She was so chilled at noon that she had to stay under the shower for over fifteen minutes to warm up. We planned to leave right after our classes to have lunch in town with Alexia and Ingrid, but we ended up grabbing a sandwich to eat at the airport because we were short on time. It was a good decision, because even though Mapi’s plane was delayed, she managed to get out before we finished eating. Miraculously, we arrived on time for the meeting we had planned with Lucy’s friends. If we hadn’t, I can’t even imagine how Lucy would have been, seeing her already so wound up now. We were supposed to leave at 2:30 PM, but Jenni supposedly lost her phone in the apartment. Seeing Lucy’s worsening state, Alexia decided to go up and help Jenni search for it. I suggested to Lucy that we step outside to get some air to calm down, but it was a bad idea once our friends waiting in the other cars started teasing us by honking.

“I’m going to kill them.”

“Hey!” I exclaimed. “Calm down.”

I was about to put my hand on her back but held back when I saw her dark eyes. The others are openly mocking us. We decided to take three cars to avoid being crammed together with our luggage. Mapi is sharing a car with Ingrid and Aitana, who’s driving. As for the second car, there’s Mary, Caroline, and Beth. As for us, we’re riding with Jenni and Alexia. Lucy draws my attention with a sigh.

“I need a hug,” she mutters.

I smile as I open my arms to her. She leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. This time, I gently rub her back.

“Come on, relax. We’re on vacation. We’ve been looking forward to this for so long.”

The week was tough. We were distant from each other most of the time. I didn’t understand the feeling of missing her, but according to Lucy, it’s just because it’s still the early stages of our relationship. We need to find a balance, and she’s probably right. It only made me more eager to finally be on vacation.

“Hmm... You’re right. I’m sorry for being so unpleasant.”

“You’re allowed to have a bad day.”

She nods before giving me a chaste kiss. The moment doesn’t last long as she returns to nuzzle into my neck. We stay like that until our friends return. Jenni is driving, so Lucy gave up the front passenger seat to Alexia and sat in the back with me. She’s the first to get into the car when they return.

“Did you find it?” I ask Ale.

“Yeah, it’s all good. How’s Lucy doing?”

“Not great, but she’ll be fine,” I reassure her.

“I hope so.”

I nod with a small smile to reassure her. I’m not worried about it. The ride will probably calm her down. I join Lucy in the back. The first thing I notice is that she’s moved my backpack that I had placed in the middle and also took off her jacket. Seeing this, I follow suit, figuring she’s right to make herself comfortable given the long drive ahead.

“How many hours do we have left?” I ask, thinking about it.

“A little less than 6 hours, I think.” Lucy says

“Could be worse,” Jenni replies as she settles in.

She also takes off her jacket. Something tells me they’ve traveled together a lot before, and I’m not sure how to feel about that. The GPS she activates pulls me out of my thoughts as it starts speaking. We’ll be the ones leading the way thanks to it. I realize I didn’t bring my headphone, but I quickly forget this detail when I hear the music playing. Jenni left the radio on with current hits. It’ll fill the silence since Lucy doesn’t seem to want to talk.

“Can I lie down?”

I’m surprised to hear her speak. She’s pointing at my lap, and I quickly understand her intention. I’m not sure how she plans to do it, but I nod in affirmation.

“Of course,” I confirm. “Come here.”

She unbuckles the shoulder strap of her seatbelt, leaving only the lower part fastened, then takes off her shoes and leans heavily against me. We shift to find our positions, and once we do, I hold her close, intertwining our hands. My free hand gently rubs her stomach in slow circles, which seems to soothe her judging by the long sigh she lets out. This week was pretty disastrous. If we didn’t share a room, we would have barely seen each other since she was so busy. The fact that she doesn’t want any affection during the day doesn’t help either. Plus, I had to meet with Wiegman. She wanted to make sure my night troubles were improving, and she confirmed that I’d be returning to my room after the holidays. I need to make the most of Lucy during this vacation. Looking up, I catch Ale’s reflection in the sun visor. She smiles at us, making me blush. This is the first time she’ll see us interact so closely, especially as a couple. I turn away and grab my scarf to use as a pillow against the window. Lucy, already dozing off in my arms, grumbles at my fidgeting. I apologize and stop moving. My head trembles slightly against the window, but not enough to be bothersome. I finally exhale softly, closing my eyes with a small smile on my lips as the car finally starts moving.

Friday, February 12 - Hotel.

I jump slightly when a hand touches my cheek. I look around, almost bumping into Lucy, who had finally slumped over me. The car is empty except for the two of us. She gives me a reassuring smile.

“We’re here.”

“Already?”

“Yeah,” she giggles. “It’s not a myth. You really sleep like a log. I didn’t dare wake you.”

I blush at her remark. I realize I had fallen asleep again for the entire trip. I imagine she didn’t.

“I don’t want to get up,” she tells me. “You’re really comfortable.”

“It’s not surprising with all this fat,” I joke.

Lucy gently smacks my thigh with a stern look, making me yelp in surprise.

“Don’t ever say that. It’s not true.”

She grimaces as she sits up. The position must have given her cramps. She swears as she stretches and unbuckles her seatbelt. I do the same, putting on my jacket and scarf.

“Bundle up well. It’s cold outside.”

I nod, agreeing with her. From what I can see, there’s a thick layer of snow outside. As soon as the door opens, a frigid gust invades the car. To think that in Manchester, everything was starting to melt. Here we are back in the snow. I smile at Mapi, who comes to greet me as soon as I step out.

“Did you sleep through the whole trip again, sleepyhead?” she teases.

“No using that nickname, it’s mine,” grumbles Lucy as she steps out of the car too.

I stifle a laugh when I see Mapi roll her eyes nonchalantly. From the latest updates I’ve gotten, the two have been getting along better thanks to Mapi’s support for my girlfriend. This only makes me happy. I was really worried about the opposite. Luckily, Mapi doesn’t push her on the subject. I would have sided with Lucy. She doesn’t give me many nicknames, so I plan to let her have exclusivity if that’s what she wants. For the past few weeks, she’s been calling me "princess" or even "baby" or "sleepyhead." These nicknames make my heart flutter. They really make me feel like we're together. It's not easy to realize that since we maintain a teacher/student relationship at school.

"Can you help me, baby?" Lucy calls as she takes out our suitcases.

"Yep," I reply, confirming. "See you later," I say to Mapi before leaving.

I help her with the last of our things before joining our friends, who are chatting at the entrance, waiting for us. We all go inside the lobby together to escape the cold, and I must say, we make quite a group, especially with the other girls. The place looked large from the outside, and now that I'm seeing the reception area, I find it stunning. It's a mix of modern decor and a chalet style, thanks to the wooden accents. I stay aside with Alexia and Mapi while Lucy goes up to the reception with a few friends. We have five rooms in total—one for each couple, and the last two will be shared by the four single girls.

"I think the receptionist has a little crush on you," Mapi teases.

I stop my observations, realizing she's talking to me.

"Huh? No way."

"No, I think she's right. He keeps glancing at you," Ale giggles.

I roll my eyes at their teasing. He’s going to be disappointed when he sees me in Lucy's arms later. I don't really plan on hiding my relationship with her during this trip. All our friends know about us, so there's no reason to. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I feel compelled to take a quick glance at him to see what he looks like. He was indeed looking at me, but when our eyes met, he quickly looked away. He seems to be around our age, if not closer to Lucy's age. I turn back to the girls, who are talking about how great this week is going to be. They say it’s going to be awesome, and I quickly agree before Mapi nudges me.

"What?" I groan.

"You're the one she's calling 'sweetheart.'"

"What are you talking about?"

I frown, following her nod toward Lucy. She’s waiting for me a little farther away, shaking our room key.

"Oh," I say, blushing. "See you later, then."

"Yeah, sure," my best friend mocks.

I grab my suitcase and roll it over to Lucy. She tilts her head and holds out her hand when I reach her. I take it without thinking.

"Did you call me 'sweetheart'?" I ask, feeling shy.

"Hmm," she smiles. "Do I not have the right?"

"Yes, yes," I say, blushing again. "It’s just new."

"True," she laughs. "I can stop giving you nicknames if you prefer."

"Oh no, no. I like it. It was just... unexpected."

"Alright," she laughs. "I'll make sure to continue if you like it. Come on, let’s go up."

"And the others?"

"We're meeting at the restaurant at 6:30."

"Oh, okay."

I glance back at the others for a moment before following Lucy to the elevators. She calls one with a button.

"Do you know if our rooms are next to each other?"

"I don’t think so, but they’re on the same floor."

"And where are we?"

"Room 322, on the third floor."

"Cool."

We step into the elevator, letting go of each other's hands as we turn around. I catch a glimpse of the lobby, where I notice the young receptionist watching us with a new look of embarrassment when I catch him.

"The girls think the receptionist has a crush on me," I share with amusement.

"Oh really?" she smiles. "Too bad for him that you're already taken."

I smile as she pulls me close and kisses me just as the doors close. Oh yes, I’m already taken by the most wonderful person. The doors open to our floor. We easily find our room, which Lucy unlocks. She had shown me photos on the computer, but the reality is much better. It's beautiful. Like the lobby, the room has a chalet style. Everything is made of oak wood, with anthracite gray walls that contrast with the light wood beams. It’s not very big, which makes the space feel cozy. I’m thrilled to share it with Lucy for a whole week. A huge bed, which looks super comfortable, takes up the middle of the room. Opposite it, there’s a TV mounted on the wall that I can’t resist touching.

"Don’t touch everything," Lucy scolds.

"But look, it moves."

I tilt it from right to left to show my discovery, making Lucy laugh.

"I know, baby," she says, taking off her jacket and placing it on top of her suitcase.

Ignoring her, I continue exploring the room. We have a sitting area with a sofa and an armchair, and there’s even a small terrace. When I turn around, I quickly join Lucy, who is in the bathroom. It’s slightly bigger than the one Lucy has at Camp Wiegman. There are double sinks, a shower, and even a large bathtub. I can already see myself relaxing in there. Lucy’s arms wrap around me from behind. I smile as she unzips my jacket. I lean into her to make it easier.

"A whole week just for us," she murmurs.

"Yeah."

I’m living in pure bliss. I step away slightly so she can slide my jacket off my shoulders. I take off my scarf myself and take my jacket to place it with my suitcase, which I had left by the door.

"Shall we unpack?"

"If you want, but there’s only one wardrobe."

"Is that a problem?"

I bite my lip, shaking my head. Oh no, not a problem at all. It’s more like a dream come true.

"No... We can share it."

"Good," she smiles. "It’s strange, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, totally," I giggle.

It’s unconventional, just like our relationship. We’re going to experience a lot of firsts here. The first thing is unpacking our things in this wardrobe. When we’re done, we still have a little time before heading down. So I flop onto our bed, spreading out like a starfish.

"Your shoes, sweetheart."

A smile spreads across my face, now that I’ve heard it. The situation doesn’t seem to amuse Lucy as much, judging by the look she’s giving me. I feel like a little kid sometimes.

"What’s making you smile like that?"

"The nickname. My God, the effect it has on me."

She raises an eyebrow with a small amused smile as I laugh.

"That doesn’t change the fact that you need to take off your shoes."

"Say it again, and I’ll take them off."

"That’s called blackmail."

"It’s not much. It’s either that, or you take off my shoes yourself."

"Fine, but it’ll cost you."

I hold out my foot with a silly grin. She takes off one shoe, then the other, letting them drop to the floor. Hers quickly join mine before she unexpectedly lies on top of me. I groan because she wasn’t delicate at all. Luckily, my bruises don’t hurt as much anymore, or I might have screamed in pain. She giggles as she kisses my nose.

"Sorry for being grumpy earlier."

"Don’t apologize. You have the right to be. You didn’t have the best morning," I say as I gently stroke her hair.

"You’re right, but still," she mumbles before sighing contentedly against my neck. "You didn’t need to put up with it."

She kisses my jaw softly before moving down to my neck. If she plans to apologize like this every time, I’m going to tell her she can be grumpy more often. In just a few weeks, she’s already discovered that this is one of my weak spots, at least from what she’s explored. She’s gotten into the habit of inflicting this sweet torture on me whenever she gets the chance in her room. I let out a surprised gasp when I feel her teeth nibbling at my skin before she sucks it between her lips.

"What are you doing?" I panic.

"Something I’ve never done but always wanted to try..."

"You’re not serious!"

I laugh as she continues. I don’t even try to push her away. Her hair tickles the tip of my nose. I let her finish as she soothes the small bite with her tongue. She kisses it before propping herself up on her elbows to admire her work with a proud smile.

"So, are you happy now?" I chuckle.

"Not bad for a first time," she laughs. "At least the receptionist will know you’re taken."

"I think he already figured that out, you know. Is this really the first time you’ve done that?"

"Yeah," she smiles.

"And you should know this is the first time I’ve ever gotten a hickey too."

"Really?" she raises an eyebrow. "I thought Mapi would’ve done that already."

"She did... But not in visible places, you see..."

"I’d rather not know. »

I bite my lip, understanding perfectly. Maybe this isn't the best topic for us to talk about together. She captures my lips one last time before standing up.

"What are you doing?" 

"I'm going to get ready. We need to head down soon," she informs me as she heads into the bathroom.

"Oh..." I sigh. "Maybe we should've taken a vacation just for the two of us after all."

I hear her laugh from the other room, which makes me smile.

"You say that, but you'll be the first one who doesn't want to leave at the end of this week."

"You're probably right."

"I am right," she asserts. "You love spending time with your friends just as much as with me."

"It's frustrating how well you know me."

I hear her laugh again. I decide to join her, leaning against the door frame. She's just closing her makeup bag. She’s put on some lipstick and probably a touch of mascara. I blush, thinking she looks stunning.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks with a teasing smile.

"Nothing... Just that you're very beautiful."

"Thank you. You're not too bad yourself," she compliments me, smiling even more.

I clear my throat as I straighten up. I'm not used to openly expressing what I think, and even less so to accepting compliments. Lucy seems to understand this because she changes the subject.

"Should I leave you the bathroom?"

"Please."

We switch places, and she takes the opportunity to plant a kiss on my lips. She stays by the doorframe while I touch up my makeup. Suddenly, she seems deep in thought.

"What's on your mind?" I ask.

She takes a soft breath and shrugs.

"I feel a bit guilty. I compared you a lot to Kiera at the beginning."

I stop what I’m doing. It's the first time she's mentioned Kiera since the night we got together. I never pushed her because she never did it with me, but I wanted her to bring it up at least once. It’s important that we talk about it. I just didn't expect her to do it now.

"Why feel guilty? I don’t blame you. We’re somewhat alike. We were both junkies," I joke.

She shakes her head and sighs. It seems my joke didn't have the intended effect. I move closer to her and place my hand on her cheek. She lifts her head with a sad expression on her face. I begin to wonder just how much she thought we were alike. Seeing her like this tugs at my heart. The emotions she's experiencing are pure sadness. I don’t know how to react. Normally, she’s the one who reassures me.

"Exactly. I was scared when you’d go home. Kiera never wanted to stop, even after she tried to quit. She kept going back, again and again, and I was so terrified it would be the same with you."

I have tears in my eyes as she begins to cry in front of me. I've never seen her like this. She usually controls her emotions so well. Her broken voice shows me just how deeply all of this affected her. Panicking, I desperately kiss her. My gesture seems to be well received by the way she returns the kiss. I end up pressed against the furniture, and our exchange is rough. I wrap my arms around her neck to pull her closer.

"I'm so sorry," she says between sobs.

"Hey, shh," I say, wiping her tears with my thumbs. "It’s okay, alright? Please stop, or I'll start crying with you."

She chuckles, resting her forehead against mine. I realize she just needed to let it all out.

"I'm not Kiera. It’s not your fault that she didn’t want to be saved. I promise you, drugs and I are definitely over. You’re the only thing I could ever want—"

I stop, realizing what I’ve just said. Did I really just say that? Lucy laughs, making me aware of the weight of my words.

"I-I... That’s not what I meant," I stammer, blushing.

"Yes, it is what you meant," she teases.

"It’s embarrassing," I say, looking everywhere but at her, which makes her laugh.

"Baby, I’d be worried if you didn’t want me or if you were thinking about someone else... That’s not the case, right?"

"No," I chuckle. "You’re the only one."

"Hmm..." she says with a playful tone. "You’d better be."

I gasp when she tugs on my earlobe. Unintentionally, I rise onto my tiptoes. She takes advantage of it to press me harder against the furniture. She moves down to my neck, continuing her sweet torture. Damn, she’s good at this. I realize our situation when a moan escapes me.

"I— Luce... Please."

My desperate plea makes her stop immediately.

"Are you okay?"

"I... Yeah... I-I just need to finish up so we don’t end up late."

She smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Sorry, I got carried away."

"Oh no, don’t worry."

"No, I’m sorry. I promised to take it slow, and I intend to keep that promise."

I sigh, nodding. She noticed my struggle, and I feel a bit guilty.

"If it’s something you want—"

"No," she shakes her head. "We don’t need to rush things. You went through a tough time, so we’ll take it slow. Anyway, we’ve only been together for two weeks. We need to get to know each other."

"You’re right."

"As always," she smiles.

She kisses me before pulling away suddenly, leaving a void I never thought I’d feel.

"Hurry up and finish. The quicker we’re downstairs, the sooner we can get back to our bed."

I smile, watching her leave. I guess that means our conversation is over. I quickly finish getting ready before joining her in the bedroom to put my shoes back on.

"Can I borrow a sweater? I’m starting to get cold."

"You didn’t bring one?"

"I’d like one of yours if you don’t mind," I say, biting my lip.

"Of course not. Help yourself," she says, nodding toward the wardrobe.

I quickly find a plain black wool cardigan that matches my sweater. Once I’m ready, we finally leave our room hand in hand. Lucy keeps the keys, and I fully intend to let her take care of that for the entire trip. I’d probably lose them. We arrive in the lobby. Lucy guides me toward the hotel restaurant with her hand on my waist. It’s the first time we can act as a couple in a week, and I plan to savor these moments.

"Have you been here before?" I ask her curiously.

"We came here last year. We liked it so much that we decided to come back."

"Did you bring someone...?"

"I was in a relationship, but no."

I don’t hide my pleasure. I’m the first person she’s brought here. I feel special. A waiter greets us upon our arrival. Lucy asks for the table that Jenni reserved for us. Once he finds it, he leads us there. Only Jenni and Alexia are already seated.

"I thought you’d be the first ones here," Jenni says. "You’re slipping, Luce," she teases.

"I have a girlfriend who’s not very punctual," she laughs.

"Hey! It wasn’t my fault this time! Besides, we’re on time, and it’s been a long time since I was last late."

"Thanks to whom?" she brags.

"I’m not going to respond to that provocation."

She chuckles as I slide onto the bench next to Alexia. Lucy takes the last available spot on the bench.

"Did you two get settled in well?" Jenni asks.

"It seems they did..." Ale hints with a smug smile.

I don't immediately understand where she's going with this until I see her staring at my neck. I blush and pull up the collar of my cardigan to hide Lucy's hickey. I regret not thinking to bring a scarf. Her smile widens, but she doesn’t say anything that might make us uncomfortable. We start chatting while waiting for the others. Lucy has decided to stick close to me tonight. Her hand rests on my thigh. I take advantage of this position by leaning into her as she talks mostly to Jenni. It’s clear they share a deep bond by the way they interact. Her friends gradually join us, bringing with them a lively atmosphere. Of course, the last ones to arrive are Mapi and Ingrid, who sit across from us.

“Now you know why I’m always late,” I say to Lucy. “Mapi’s the one who made me like this.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey, Lucy, instead of criticizing me, can we talk about how you went wild on my best friend? You're lucky she let you. I didn’t get that kind of treatment.”

I kick Mapi under the table, and she doesn’t hide her pain. I can’t believe she’s talking so openly about our relationship in front of our two girlfriends.

“Did you two date?” Aitana asks.

“Yeah, we were together, and I’m kind of annoyed to know that some people get more privileges than others!”

This time, she gets a smack on the back of the head from Ingrid.

“You're playing with fire, Girl. You’d better drop this conversation if you don’t want to sleep on the floor tonight.”

I bite my lip to suppress a smile when I see Mapi’s dismayed expression. This relationship must be quite different for her compared to her previous ones. Contrary to what I might have thought, Ingrid isn’t someone who can be easily pushed around. It’s surprising because I’ve always known Mapi as the dominant one in her relationships. That was the case with me, as she initiated everything, and I got the impression it was the same with Ana.

“Sorry, honey.”

“Hmm... Sure.”

“Hey, relax, guys,” Ale interjects. “Aren’t we here to have a good time?”

The girls across from us remain slightly tense until a waiter arrives to take our order. It’s the receptionist from this morning. He smiles at me timidly, but I don’t pay much attention.

“What are the specials again?” Ingrid asks.

“Uh, well…”

He flips through his little notebook. I deduce he’s a trainee from the way he’s handling things. He lists all the specials he’s noted down. Some of them sound pretty good.

“The first one was white wine, right?” Mapi asks.

“Yes, that’s correct,” he replies. “It’s slightly sweet, if that’s what you like.”

“Oh! That’s for us, Ona!” she exclaims, looking at me.

“Umm... Yeah.”

“That’ll be two glasses of white wine for the two of us,” Ingrid starts, pointing to Mapi and herself.

Everyone else makes their choices. The girls all opt for beers. Alexia orders the same as the girls, and then it’s our turn. I’m also tempted by the wine, but I’m not sure Lucy would appreciate me drinking alcohol.

“Scratch the glasses and bring us a bottle of white wine with five glasses,” Lucy beats me to it.

I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She smiles at me, gently stroking my hair.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Would you prefer something else?”

“Oh no, no… I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“As Alexia said, we’re here to enjoy ourselves, right?”

“You’re right... Thank you.”

She smiles before kissing me. It’s the first time she’s kissed me in front of her friends, so it throws me off a bit. When we pull apart, the waiter has disappeared, and the others have resumed their conversation. We join in until the waiter returns with our drinks. I’m so caught up in my conversation with Ale and Mapi that I don’t notice him. But then a cold liquid splashes onto my thighs, making me jump.

“Sh-shit, shit, shit!” the waiter mutters under his breath. “I’m so sorry! It was an accident!”

“Damn it…” I sigh, standing up.

Drops are dripping onto the floor; I’m that soaked. He spilled the entire bottle on me. I’m going to smell like wine all evening because of him. Luckily, I’m not wearing anything white. Another waiter who saw the scene quickly comes over to scold the trainee, who starts to panic.

“I’m sorry, I’ll help you,” he says, stepping forward.

“I’ll take care of it,” Lucy intervenes, gently pushing him away.

I give him a sympathetic smile to reassure the trainee a little after my girlfriend’s attitude. On the other hand, I’m relieved that Lucy stepped in. It’s not like I would have been comfortable with strangers touching me. He takes a few steps back with a crestfallen look while Lucy wipes my pants with napkins.

“Please excuse him, miss. He’s new, still in training. He’ll be severely punished, I assure you.”

“It was an accident; it happens,” I say to lighten the mood.

I lower my eyes to Lucy, who sighs. Our eyes lock immediately. For a moment, I fear that grumpy Lucy is back. I run my hand through her hair at the nape of her neck to relax her. Her muscles do indeed loosen under my hand.

“You need to change. Otherwise, you’ll reek of alcohol all night.”

“Okay, I’ll go up.”

“Can we at least get the cost of a dry cleaning for her clothes?” she asks the waiter.

“Of course, and we’ll bring you a new bottle and offer a second one as compensation.”

“Good. So I suppose this young man won’t need to be fired if that’s what you were planning.”

The waiter simply nods in response to Lucy’s request. I don’t know much about the restaurant or hotel industry, but when something like this happens in movies, it’s usually the punishment that’s expected for the person. So I’m glad my girlfriend took the initiative and saved him from that. I wouldn’t have wished it on him.

“Alright,” she sighs. “Let’s go up.”

I take her hand that she offers and let her lead us out of the restaurant before she changes her mind. We head back to our room. I didn’t expect her to accompany me, but it’s nice of her. The first thing I do when the door shuts is kiss her. She growls, gently pushing me away.

“Take off your clothes before you jump on me.”

“I won’t comment on that innuendo.”

“It’s not my fault you have a dirty mind,” she challenges with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure,” I giggle, unbuttoning my jeans.

I sit down to remove them along with my shoes. I also take off Lucy’s cardigan, which got splashed.

“Can I jump on you now?”

She laughs, leaning in to kiss me again.

“You’re a hopeless case, Miss Batlle.”

“And you’re one to talk? I saw the way you looked at the waiter as we were leaving.”

“He deserved it,” she defends herself. “It’s the least after what he did to you.”

“He’s probably traumatized, poor guy.”

“Whatever. I saved his job, didn’t I? Now, hurry up and change so we can go back down.”

“Hmm... You know you don’t have to worry about him, right?” I ask as I head to our closet.

“Of course. Stop thinking I’m jealous of everyone,” she rolls her eyes, making me giggle.

I put on a new pair of jeans and end up changing into a warmer sweater to replace Lucy’s cardigan. When I’m done, I turn to see Lucy waiting for me on the bed, head tilted. She’s irresistible the way she looks at me. I’m really glad that almost all the scars Korbin gave me have disappeared. I can finally feel at least a little bit pretty for her. I join her to put on my shoes.

“Sorry about your cardigan.”

“There’s no need to apologize. We’ll just send everything to the dry cleaners.”

“Yeah. I didn’t know you were such a good negotiator.”

“Now you know,” she smiles. “Let’s head back down.”

I steal a kiss from her before we return to the restaurant. Everything has been cleaned up, and the bottles have been brought out for the girls’ enjoyment. The evening continues as usual until a discreet throat-clearing interrupts us. We all turn towards the receptionist, who looks like he’s in a state of panic.

“I-I wanted to apologize,” he starts, staring at his feet. “Th-that accident shouldn’t have happened… I didn’t mean to offend you or do my job poorly. I was clumsy a-and…”

The poor guy is scared to death. I imagine it’s his boss who sent him over.

“I-I also wanted to thank you for saving my job…”

“There’s no problem,” I reassure him warmly. “It’s already ancient history.”

“We’ll have the clothes returned to you tomorrow morning,” Lucy tells him.

“No, don’t worry about it. The housekeeper will take care of it when she cleans your room tomorrow morning. They’ve already been informed.”

He seems to relax since Lucy spoke. A friendly exchange takes place between them. He then leaves with a small smile on his face. That conversation must have reassured him. Our first evening resumes when a new waiter comes over to take our orders. I get the feeling we’ve become some sort of VIPs.

We were quickly served, and they offered us the aperitif. Conversations resumed about the activities we could do during our stay. I can tell we're going to have an amazing time with everything there is to do here. I plan to make the most of it, especially since this is our first vacation together with Lucy.