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Plan the Best Travel Vacation to Hamburg

Most tours to Germany include Hamburg, Munich, and perhaps the Black Forest or a trip along the Rhine. We’re sure that there are even more grounds to stop by, visit now and discover your own. when it comes to planning your German tourist destinations, however, this eclectic, industrial city needs to be added to everyone’s German bucket list

1. HafenCity

Encompassing the Speicherstadt, HafenCity is a brand new waterside area that turned into made professional in 2008.

Think smooth workplace blocks, rental complexes, and enjoyment amenities, all designed with actual panache and sensitivity for his or her waterfront location.

So a long way from the principal sight to peer is the Elbphilharmonie live performance hall, which merits its entry.

2. Port of Hamburg tour

Don't expect to see nature on these boat tours; instead, learn about what makes Germany's largest port tick.

The Port of Hamburg is a bustling sea superhighway with 9,000 ship calls per year

nearly 300 berths, and 27 miles of the wharf for seagoing vessels or Book Flight ticket on Tap air Portugal.

A barge tour, such as the Maritime Circle line, will bring you closer to the container ship action. Put another way, you could escape the confines of land with a floating techno party on the Love Boat. If speed is your thing, try RIB Piraten, the only speedboat operator permitted inside Hamburg book online flight on Book Tap Portugal.

On the final stretch of this tour, you'll reach top speeds on a rigid inflatable boat that skims the waves at 60 miles per hour.

3. St. Michael’s Church

St. Michael's Church is among the greatest things to do in Hamburg. The church was constructed in the Baroque style in the 1750s. It provides a stunning view over the city that is truly a feast for the eyes. In conclusion, you will undoubtedly have a nice day when visiting this church.

The best attractions in Hamburg

Strandperle

Just because you live in the city does not preclude you from visiting the beach. Strandperle is a fixture along Hamburg's sandy stretch of the Elbe river, which is popular with sunbathers and swimmers during the summer. Strandperle is a favorite hangout for locals and tourists alike, with a large deck of tables, chairs, and umbrellas, a bar, a kitchen, and the harbor in the background.

Open all day Friday through Sunday, you can stop in for a beer and a burger, catch up with cocktails and friends, or rent out the 'upper deck' for an intimate dinner party and fly with Tap air Portugal.

Jenischpark

Jenischpark has an English country feel to it, with its rolling green acres, woodland paths, and stately Jenisch House. The oldest landscaped park in Hamburg, it's a popular spot for summer picnics, but it's also a lovely place to visit all year, especially at dusk or dawn, when the sturdy oak trees become silhouettes against the setting sun.

Jenisch House, formerly the country residence of a wealthy Hamburg merchant, is now a museum specializing in Northern German art and culture, particularly of the nineteenth century, with a ground floor of original Empire and Biedermeier furnishings.

For those who prefer the twentieth century, the low-rise Ernst Barlach Museum down the slope is a tranquil modernist enclave showcasing the work of sculptor Ernst Barlach.

Schanzenviertel

Schanzenviertel, the traditional beating heart of Hamburg counter-culture and site of the much-publicized violent protests during the G20 summit, clings tenaciously to its alternative credentials. In reality, despite the smashed-up stores of summer 2017, the neighborhood is defined by third-wave coffee shops and vintage lamp stores rather than anarchic dissent hubs check tap airlines .

High-consuming hipsters and media professionals have long moved into the "Schanze," pricing out the anarchists and students who gave the district its interest and edge. Only the run-down Rote Flora, a former neighborhood theatre (now a long-contested squat and cultural space), remains a true center of activism and protest.

Nonetheless, Schanzenviertel remains a lively and charismatic district, with a thriving bar scene and several restaurants.

Fischmarkt

Depending on how late you slept the night before or whether you went to bed at all, a visit to the Sunday Fischmarkt is a legendary Hamburg experience. Since 1703, it's been doing brisk, fishy business, with raucous criers promising all the bargains and bawdy banter you could want.

Of course, there's plenty of fish—smoked, fresh, pickled—as well as flowers, fruit, vegetables, secondhand food, and even livestock. The adjacent Fischauktionshalle promises to keep the party going with beer and live rock bands for the tired Reeperbahn reveler and get your flight on Tap Portugal.

There are numerous cafés nearby for those seeking a more restorative breakfast. The Fischmarkt opens at 5 a.m. in the summer, 7 a.m. in the winter, and closes at 9:30 a.m. all year.

7 Hamburg Nightlife Experiences

1. Grosse Freiheit 36

The most well-known location for enjoying Hamburg's best nightlife is here. You will only hear about Grosse Freiheit 36 if you walk about asking people where they think is the best location to have a fantastic night in Hamburg. It is a live music venue that receives a number of visitors each night and is situated on the city's busiest boulevard, Reeperbahn. The Beatles also played here and check Flight to Hamburg!

2. Rote Flora

Various artistic inventories are housed in this theatre. So, if you're someone who wants to see some major and significant things happen late at night, this is the spot for you. Squatters have lived there for a very long time. Bring your crew of creatives here to enjoy the nightlife, meet new people, make art, and have a fun evening!

3. Herzblut

Make a good night's start! This is the ideal fusion of an opulent restaurant, bar, and club. Jordan Mozer's perfect interior design will astound you, but the outstanding dinner will quench your desire for foreign cuisine. You can head to the dance floor for some extra fun when you've finished the dishes and the specialty cocktail. The finest place to go for nightlife in Hamburg with a significant other or family is here.

4. Docks

Do you want to know why Metallica referred to this as the best freaking club in the entire world? Well, Docks used to be a very well-liked movie theatre. Later, it evolved into a club with seating for around 1500 music fans. The DJ here has seen live performances by David Bowie and more and plays all of your favorite music.

The fact that Docks is the center of the most well-known Reeperbahn festival is another major reason you must visit on TAP Flight Booking !

5 Alster Arcades

The Alster Arcades, Hamburg's premier shopping district, is situated along the city's numerous canals and bridges; the only distinction is that it has high-end and exquisite stores rather than streetwear. While strolling beneath the stars and taking in the smells of delicious food coming from across the street, you can peruse the chic jewelry or the cutting-edge fashion accessories available here. Small cafes on one side of the street and a few musicians nearby give the shopping experience here a hint of the Mediterranean.

6. Neuer Wall

Neuer Wall, a kilometer-long promenade, is the most opulent location to blow your savings.

This European luxury shopping boulevard has everything to captivate your eye and win your heart, from haute couture and the best jewels to personalized footwear and designer bags.

It's not unusual to see names like Armani, Jil Sander, Mulberry, Michael Kors, Prada, and Louis Vuitton here. If you're looking for mementos specifically, Neuer Wall's own Brahmfeld & Gutruf carries some of the most captivating jewelry designs. Oh, and don't forget to go across the street to Café Engelchen for your much-needed coffee fix in between and you can book flight on tap book flight.

7. Europa Passage

Do you prefer acquiring the finest jewelry from across the world or shoes? Regardless of which, the Europe Passage is one of Hamburg's best retail centers and a must-stop!

It provides guests with an all-inclusive entertainment center and has more than 100 stores under its roof.

[skybluetrips1505]

TAP Air Portugal Cancellation Policy Explained by Skyblue Trips

At Skyblue Trips, we strive to offer our customers comprehensive information about airline policies to enhance their travel experiences. The TAP Air Portugal Cancellation Policy is a prime example of a customer-centric approach, designed to offer flexibility and clarity.

The TAP Air Portugal Cancellation Policy provides passengers with a 24-hour window to cancel their bookings without any penalties, as long as the booking was made more than seven days prior to departure. This policy is advantageous for travelers needing to quickly adjust their plans. Beyond this initial period, the policy details various conditions and potential fees based on the type of fare and the timing of the cancellation.

By understanding the TAP Air Portugal Cancellation Policy through Skyblue Trips, you can make informed decisions about your travel plans, ensuring a seamless and worry-free journey.

[kaidatheghostdragon]

Crack prompt: Danny has declared war on the curses in Gotham. He is armed with a water balloon gun, but the balloons are full of medical-grade ectoplasm. He targets any location, ghost, or liminal being tainted by curses and/or corrupted ecto - absolutely drenching them before yeeting off again.

This includes the Bats. Danny is smart about it, though. He lived in Gotham for several months before acting, so he could get the lay of the land. He also waits for patrol to be finished before hitting the Bats - he doesn't want to interrupt their Quest to Better Gotham (or be labeled an invader to their haunt).

One night, Danny happens upon Batman patrolling alone and waits for him to finish cleaning up a crime scene before hitting they guy with a half-clip of balloons. Batman gives chase, like he always does, and Danny runs, like he always does. He knows by now that, for whatever reason, Crime Alley is off limits to Batman. The whole alley just gives off "no (other) bats allowed" vibes.

Red hood is just more territorial. Whatever.

At any rate, Danny is enjoying the chase, using just enough ghost powers to stay ahead of batman, almost-but-not-quite taunting him. Crime Alley isn't too far, so instead of turning invisible around a corner like he usually does, he makes his way to the Alley to see if the no-trasspassing rule is enough to stop Batman mid-chase. He leaps across rooftops and weaves through fire escapes, ecto-balloon-gun bouncing by its strap against his back, until finally he's at the border, slightly tapping into flight to make the jump across a slightly wider road into the alley proper.

He turns around immediately, spotting Batman skulking on the rooftop on the other side of the road, stopping the chase and suit half-covered in healing ectoplasm.

"Sanctuary!" Danny yells, pumping his fists in the air from getting caught up in the exciting rush of adrenaline, "I claim sanctuary!"

"Who the fuck is claiming sanctuary in my territory?" Red Hood booms from almost directly behind Danny. He would have yeeted out of his own skin from surprise if he hadn't spent years honing his ghost-fighting instincts. As it was, Danny instead whirled around and emptied the clip of balloons into Hood, purely out of reflex.

Hood stood there, drenched in ecto like his fellow Bat one rooftop over, glaring murder at Danny with glowing eyes. But his haunt betrayed Hood's true emotions.

Surprise, concern, impressed, you-little-brat.

Danny booked it to the fire escape and turned invisible the second he was out of sight.

[etheraltides]

BITTER SWEET ᥫ᭡࿔

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x kook!thornton!Reader

Summarize: Rafe Cameron, a rising name in the business world, desperately needs a date for the wedding of the year. With a major investment deal on the line and his image at stake, he finds himself reluctantly turning to the last person he ever expected for help: Topper’s little sister, a girl he’s bickered with since he could remember.

Warning(s): cursing, mention of grief, drugs.

A/N: I hope y’all like long chapter ‘cause your girl seriously got carried away with building things between them. Feedback is always heart warming <3!

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ Chapter three: Can we call it truce? ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

The hum of the engines filled the cabin, lulling most of the passengers in the business class into a calming state. Most, that is, except for you. You sat beside Rafe, trying to focus on the book at hand, your foot tapping a frustrated rhythm on the floor as he sprawled beside you enough to invade your space, oozing an insufferable amount of calm. Even with the extra room, it felt cramped - his very presence seemed to fill the air in the whole plane. His breathing was annoying you.

Rafe, meanwhile, stretched out his legs, his arm draped across the armrest to the point his fingers would brush your knees if you moved just a tide bi, his gaze lazily drifting away from his phone towards you. "You look like you're about to combust or something." He murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. "What? Didn't that douchebag do a good job with you?"

You gritted your teeth, resisting the urge to smack him across the face with your self-improving book, slamming its cover closed. The last thing you wanted was to have everyone looking at you as you shared your lovely words with Rafe. "Why the fuck are you so obsessed with him? Sounds like someone isn't getting laid..." You gave a cynical smile, thriving as you noticed the smirk dropping from his lips instantly. Now, that'd always be priceless. "I wouldn't be, if you didn't act like you owned half of my seat as well."

"C'mon, don't be dramatic." He stretched out further, nudging your eyeglasses as you tried to dodge your head but of course, his long arms would reach you. His smirk widened when you shot him a warning glare, almost as if daring you to do something. "You're by choice, remember? I can always tell Topper about that broken touron... Plus, I paid for both seats so I technically can be as comfortable as I wish."

"Barely." Your eyes narrowed, fingers clenching around the book. "One wrong move and I'm asking for a different seat."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening enough to grace you with a dimple. A ridiculous dimple that'd be adorable in anyone but not on him. "Go ahead. Maybe you'll find a seat in coach where you belong."

That was it. Without thinking, you raised your hand, drawing the attention of a flight attendant passing by as you smacked your book against his chest with the other, a small satisfied smirk on your lips as you heard him groan.

"Yes, miss? Can I help you?" The attendant's polite smile faltered as she glanced between you, clearly sensing the simmering tension. Even a senseless person could tell. Anyone but you two.

"Yes, actually." You leaned forward, using your best sweet voice but not even it couldn't hide the clipped tone completely. "Could I switch seats? I'm afraid I'd be more comfortable elsewhere."

The attendant looked at you, then at Rafe, and back again, her expression sympathetic but warry. "I'm sorry, miss, but we're at full capacity here in business class. I could check for a seat in coach, but..." She trailed off, her eyes shifting to Rafe's amused expression as he tried to cover his laugh with a cough.

The tension in your shoulders tightened, your jaw clenched as you forced a smile. That’s what you get for trying to be a good human being. “Never mind, I'll manage.. Thank you."

You could feel his gaze lingering on you. amusement sparkling in his eyes as he leaned back, satisfied. "Looks like you're stuck with me." He murmured, his finger hooking on top of you glasses again only to push them lower on the bridge of your nose before you slapped his hand away.

You ignored him, staring ahead and steeling yourself. Yet as the minutes passed by, his presence beside you felt unbearable. You could feel his gaze every now and then, could sense his satisfaction in your discomfort. When the plane finally touched down, you were nearly ready to explode and take the first flight back - but then you remembered your part of the bargain and something strange tugging at your chest.

Hours later, in the quietness of your hotel room, you inspected your dress in the mirror, mind turning over the insanity of this arrangement. Why had you agreed to this? You hardly owed him anything, especially not this. And yet, here you were, preparing yourself to play a role in his life that the mere thought of the idea made you want to throw up. Maybe, deep down, you'd wanted to help, wanted to see him succeed just this once - he had recently lost Ward so... Maybe you could cut him some slack just this once. But as you took one last glance in the mirror, your couldn't shake the creeping doubt that this was all a huge mistake.

By the time you arrived at the beachside reception, you were determined to remain calm, to put up with Rafe and all of this madness for one weekend. You'd view it as one of your college projects. A small leaf of kindness to a boy who lost his father. "I'm doing these for Topper." You thought to yourself. It'd be one less thing for Topper to deal with.

The sun was setting over the ocean, casting a warm golden glow over the guests. It was exquisite honestly. Small tables dotted the pavemented area, surrounded by low, flickering lanterns and decorated with delicate pinkish flower arrangements. The sound of waves mingled with the soft music being played by the band as people chatted and laughed. You inhaled deeply, letting the salty ocean breeze wash over you. It felt good to be away from home. You loved Outer Banks but the way people were always paying attention and gossiping about the smallest steps of each other made you feel like someone had a hand on your throat, cutting your air from time to time. Here, despite a few familiar faces, you didn't have to be Thorton's perfect girl nor live under your mother's pressuring expectations 24/7. Even if you were here to play a fake part, it felt a bit more freeing than being your family's fake part at home. You smoothed down your dress. You could do it and you would enjoy this weekend.

Rafe held back a smile as he shook the man's hand, his heart pumping with adrenaline and pride as South Carolina's biggest real estate agent said he'd love to see some of the properties Ward had left for Rafe back in Charleston either to sell or rent. Rafe needed money after his deception with the Golden Cruise and wouldn't use most of the properties now in his name - that'd be some easy way to make money. The man excused himself with a squeeze on Rafe's shoulder and for what felt like hours, he finally had a moment to breathe.

His gaze shifted through the crowd, looking for a specific familiar face he hadn't seen since they arrived at the hotel - part of him was afraid you'd turn your back and be on your way to Outer Banks now without a word. You hadn't come outside your room when he knocked earlier, though he hadn't exactly waited around to see if you'd answer. He counted to thirty before sending you a text with the location and hour. But now, with the deep hues of the setting sun casting an amber glow across the venue, he spotted you. Faster than he'd like to admit.

You stood on the edge of the terrace, deep in conversation with a small group. The soft fabric of your dress catching the light and floating with each of your movements and the kisses of wind. Rafe's jaw tightened as he took you in, the vibrant color of your dress constrasting with your sunkissed skin and the effortless confidence setting you apart from the crowd. Your lips curled into an easy, practiced smile as you listened to an elder woman, but your eyes held a spark he'd seen many times before - sharp, observant.

A guest brushed past him, and he blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. Shaking his head slightly, he turned and made his way over the bar, feeling the strain of your reality settle in his muscles. You'd worn him thin on the flight, the words you exchange a mix of cutting remarks and barely veiled insults. And yet, here he was, his gaze drawn back to you as if on a string.

While he waited for the drinks, he glanced your way again, just as you glanced toward him - though you looked away just as quickly, a subtle arch of your brow signaling that your attention was far from amused. Rafe's lip twisted into a smirk, though he couldn't shake the strange irritation knotting in his chest.

When he finally turned back with the drinks in his hands, you were nowhere near where he'd last seen you. Annoyed, he scanned the crowd, his brows drawing together. He had texted you to don't be all over the place by yourself, not wanting to risk you doing something wrong that would fall on him. Then, across the terrace, he saw you.

You finally managed to take a breath from your grandma's acquaintances, the tension ebbing away from your shoulders until you felt a hand on your lower back, guiding you forward. You could know it was him before you even looked. That scent of warm spices with a touch of amber. His touch was infuriating to raise a few bumps on your skin. His breath brushed your ear as he leaned closed. "Try not to get too lost in the view, sweetheart." He murmured. "We're her for business, remember? I need you around."

You bristled, shifting away from his touch. "I'm perfectly aware, Cameron. You think I'm talking to them because I'm having the time of my life?"

He laughed under his breath, the sound grating before he sipped on his whiskey. "Relax. You're wound so tight, it's a miracle you haven't cracked yet."

You gritted your teeth, sending him a glare. The comment hit a bit deeper than he probably meant to. "Maybe I wouldn't be if I weren't stuck here with you."

His eyes glinted with something unreadable. "Right. Because I'm such a nightmare." He gave you a once-over, an annoying cockish smirk curling at the edge of his mouth that could barely go unnoticed. Barely. "That's rich coming from the one rolling around with low-life tourists... Just don't embarrass me, alright?"

Your mouth fell open, anger flaring as you held the urge to roll back your eyes. Shit, he would never let you hear the end of it, wouldn't he? Well, you had tried to be civil but he wasn't really helping so two could dance. "Embarrass you? I think I should be the one saying that giving your... history."

"Let's hope so." He said, shrugging nonchalantly but you could notice his jaw clenching, the way he quickly brought the glass to his lips again. You had got him. "This is my reputation on the line, after all."

Of course, he'd give the last word. You felt the urge to shove him, to break through that self-assured arrogance. But instead, you squared your shoulders, grabbed the glass from his hand, and turned your back on him, weaving through the crowd on your own. The farther you were from him, the better. How dared he? Embarrass him? You? He should be thanking you and making sure you were content enough to don't simply abandon him, and not acting like an asshole. "But that was Rafe Cameron." You reminded yourself.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself talking to a few guests, your confidence growing with each conversation and familiar faces. This was more your territory than Rafe's. Some of them you knew because of your grandfather, the others because of your mother, having seen them in the events your family hosted throughout the year - coming from an influential family had its perks as much as it had its downs - but, of course, you wouldn't tell Rafe yet. Then, you notice someone.

Mr. Rossi’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he spotted you. He made his way through the small crowd, his gray hair neatly combed back, a hint of cologne trailing behind him.

“Ah, you have grown so much since we last saw you,” he said, his voice rich with genuine affection. He extended a hand, firm yet welcoming. His grin revealed lines carved by years of smiles.

Before you could respond, Mrs. Rossi appeared at your side, her silk dress rustling softly as she leaned in, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “Look at you,” she whispered with a warmth that made you feel instantly at home.

You took his hand, giving it a confident shake, your eyes sparkling. “Mr. and Mrs. Rossi, it’s so good to see you both!” A touch of nostalgia filled your voice, mingling with excitement. “And not just that,” you added, a playful lilt coloring your words as you shifted your weight, leaning slightly forward. “I’ll be taking my grandfather’s place in the upcoming tennis match this year, so... you two better come prepared.” You finished with a wink, your smile broadening as a flush of warmth crept into your cheeks.

Mr. Rossi let out a hearty chuckle, the sound resonating in his chest. He squeezed your hand before releasing it, exchanging a glance with his wife, who raised her eyebrows in mock alarm. “So, you’re the partner he’s been bragging about all lately.” He said, his tone laced with pride. He leaned slightly closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “I guess we better watch out, love” He said to Mrs. Rossi, who nodded with a conspiratorial smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling with mirth.

“Oh, we’ll be there.” She said, a teasing note in her voice as she crossed her arms gently. “But don’t think for a moment we’ll go easy on you.”

The three of you laughed, the sound weaving seamlessly into the lively background, quickly launching into conversation. You remembered Rafe detailing every single thing about the business partner he wanted to attract but you'd never linked that with Mr. Rossi, an old good friend of your grandpa. You wanted to laugh at the coincide of it all, ignoring the small part of you that worried he'd bring this eventually with your family around.

It wasn’t long before Rafe appeared, a new drink in hand, eyes narrowed as he assessed the scene before him. His gaze swept over Mr. and Mrs. Rossi, then settled on you, a flash of frustration momentarily darkening his features. He took a slow sip, composing himself before approaching with a casual stride, masking the tightness in his chest.

You felt the subtle shift in the room before you saw him, the energy becoming taut. A mischievous smile played on your lips as you glanced his way, catching his eye. Without hesitation, you reached out, your fingers curling around his forearm to draw him closer. “I imagine you’ve already met my boyfriend.” You said, the word ‘boyfriend’ laced with a playful edge that danced just shy of sarcasm.

Rafe’s expression softened as he took his cue, slipping seamlessly into the role. “Not formally.” He said smoothly, a spark of amusement flickering in his eyes as he glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Rossi. “Rafe Cameron.” He added, offering his hand with a practiced charm that belied the tension beneath the surface.

Anne’s eyes lit up as she clasped Rafe’s hand, her touch light but approving. “You’ve got yourself a keeper, Mr. Cameron.” She said, her smile sincere as she exchanged a knowing look with her husband.

Rafe chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “I try my best,” he replied, casting a sidelong glance at you. “Though she makes it an interesting challenge.”

Mr. Rossi nodded, a hint of businesslike interest crossing his face. “Speaking of challenges, I hear your office has been making waves recently.” he said. “I’ll make sure to pay a visit while I’m in town for the match.”

Rafe’s eyes flickered with a moment of surprise as he processed the unexpected connection but remained composed. “We’d be glad to have you,” he said, keeping his voice steady.

You squeezed Rafe’s arm gently, catching the subtle tension in his jaw. “Looks like we’ll be keeping busy.” You said lightly, breaking the moment with a smile.

Mr. Rossi chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Indeed. I look forward to seeing just how much you both can juggle.”

The laughter that followed softened the air, weaving seamlessly into the lively atmosphere. Then Mr. Rossi checked his watch, saying it was time for his speech, joking about how he didn't want his daughter going bradzilla for his small delay.

You bit back a laugh, turning to Rafe. "You don't look happy, boyfriend." The word rolled off your tongue sweetly, a pout on your lips as a hint of mockery shone in your eyes.

Rafe's jaw clenched, and he took a slow sip of his drink, his gaze unwavering as he watched you. "You're awfully smug for someone who almost ended up in coach."

"Oh, come on." You retorted, leaning a little closer, your fingers opening the first two buttons of his shirt as you adjusted the collar, feeling a rush of confidence. God, it felt great to have the upper hand on him. "You needed me here tonight more than you imagined, huh? I'm the reason Rossi even bothered with you for more than a call from his secretary and an invitation to this."

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes looking down at your manicured nails on his shirt before he met your eyes, amusement flickering in them but it was laced with something darker. "Don't flatter yourself too much. He had already invited me here to discuss business. You're just playing your part to make me look more... stable."

"Sure... I'd hate for you to realize he'd avoid you in this crowd but yeah, suit yourself. Maybe I should get a cut of whatever deal you're hoping to land here."

Rafe smirked, leaning close enough that his breath ghosted over your cheekYou should push him away. Nope, couples don't push each other away. Playing your part. "Maybe you're enjoying this a little too much. I hate to say it but you look like you're having fun, princess."

Heat prickled at your cheeks as you realized his nearness, but you refused to back down. Couples don't push each other away and as he said, you were here to play your part. "Maybe I am. Pretending I'd choose you willingly has been quite the challenge though. I deserve a medal for this, maybe a Nobel."

Rafe chuckled, low and dark, your hand felt the vibrations on his chest as you tried to recall when you had rested them there. "Keep telling yourself that.”

You found yourself mingling with Mr.Rossi's daughter and her friends as the evening unfolded, laughing over shared stories about her soon-to-be-husband and single days while you sipped on champagne, letting yourself unwind in their easy company.

Across the terrace, Rafe nursed another glass of whiskey, his gaze wandering lazily around the crowd as he tried to pretend to be listening to whatever the man has been telling him for the past few minutes. He caught sight of a few men gathered nearby, theirs heads turned in one direction as they didn't bother to keep their comments to a low tone. His curiosity piqued - anything that wasn't the man talking the details about his basic sanitation network company. Rafe followed their line of sight and he froze, his glass top mid way to his lips.

There you were, surrounded by a group of women, your laughter light and genuine as you gestured with your hands excitedly, oblivious to the attention around you. You looked radiant, a far cry from the guarded, defensive person he was used to sparring with.

For a moment, Rafe felt his breath hitch. You looked... Happy, and there was something about that image, about you, that made his chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. He couldn't tear his gaze away, struck by how beautiful you looked when you weren't rolling your eyes or trying to push him away. Honestly, he couldn't even remember seeing you this carefree... Ever.

Then he caught the voice of one of the men beside him, a dark-haired guy leaning over to murmur to his friend. "Shit, man... I may shoot my shot. It doesn't look like she's with anyone here."

Rafe felt an unexpected, sharp pang on his stomach that quickly irradiated through him, and before he knew it, he was turning to the man with an arrogant smirk, an unmistakble edge to his voice. "She's taken, actually. My girl."

The man raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise and dissapointment crossing his face that had Rafe's smirk widening. "Really? Lucky bastard, hm. If I were you, I'd be as close as possible to her." He gave Rafe an amused nod, his eyes briefly running over your figure one last time before he turned back to his friends.

Rafe felt his grip on the glass tightneing, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his jaw. He was here for business. To show a clean image - he reminded himself.

As he dawned the rest of the liquor, the words that just spilled from his mouth echoing in his mind. My girl. His jaw clenched as the licour hit his throat, the reality of what he'd implied without thinking twice settling heavily on him. He wasn't jealous. Of course not. This was all just a part of the act, part of maintaining the appearances. He was just making sure they didn't ger the wrong idea - that was all. Definitely.

But as he looked towards you, he couldn't deny the surge frustration that rose in him when he saw another guy approach your group, a bright smile on his face as he joined in the conversation. He watched as you smiled back, looking genuinely delighted, your laugh seemed to pull everyone around you into your orbit. His fingers tightened around his glass again, and he felt a strange mix of pride and irritation twist inside him.

After a few minutes of watching, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Excuse me." He patted the sanitation guy on the shoulder without sparring him a glance nor bothering for a reply. He strode over, inserting himself into the circle with a charming smile, though his gaze was focused entirely on you. The other women greeted him with polite nods, but you turned with an arched brow when you felt his arm circling your waist, pulling you closer to the side of his body as if he had every right to.

"Having fun, baby?" He murmured, his eyes scanning your face, noting the soft flush in your ceeks - either from the champagne, him or your laughing, he couldn't tell. "Seems like you're doing better than I expected on your own."

"Why, jealous?" You teased, not missing a beat, a smirk curling at your lips as you caught the slight edge in his tone.

Rafe's smirk faltered for a split second before he forced a scoff. "Of you? Hardly. Just keeping an eye on things. After all, you are here with me, remember?"

Your gaze narrowed as he was the one to excuse himself earlier when both were walking around together and chatting with the other guests. The glint of amusement in your eyes told him that you weren't taking his words to heart. "Oh, I remember..." You replied, tilting your head to the side. "Just didn't realize you'd be so... attentive."

He shifted, suddenly a bit unsure. "I'm just... Making sure everything goes smoothly tonight, alright?" He muttered, sounding more defensively than he expected. "Look, it's not like I care who you're talking to or anything. We just have an image to keep."

You arched your brow, a playful smile tugging on the corner of your lips as you leaned a little closer, dropping your voice just low enough for only him to hear. "Good. Because I almost thought you were jealous, Rafe."

Rafe scoffed, straightening up and immediately tearing his gaze away from his lips to the ocean behind you. "Please. Like I'd be jealous over you... this." He waved a hand, gesturing vaguely at your figure, thought his eyes betrayed him, lingering a moment longer than he intended. Stupid dress.

The band started playing something softer and Lia, Mr. Rossi's daughter, grabbed the champagne glass from the people's hands, handing it to the first waiter that walked by. "Come on. I want all the couples dancing to this. I'd love to have it on footage."

You furrowed your brows, glancing over at her and then Rafe. The idea of dancing with him sounded absurd, even more in a crowd, making you hesitate for a moment but the mischievous glint in his eyes pulled you in.

Rafe held out a hand, his expression challenging. "What's wrong? Afraid you're going to catch feelings?"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could second-guess yourself anymore and make it suspicious, he took your hand and you let him lead you to the dance floor, feeling your heart speeding up. It's okay. It's just like midsummer - you repeated to calm yourself even if you always panicked during dances on midsummer, afraid that’d take a wrong step and all the heads would turn and see you.

The moment his arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you close, you felt a spark of electricity run through you. It was probably your anxiety, right?

The world around you seemed to blur, the hum of conversations fading into the background as he kept you close, his grip strong but not bruising. Firm as he pulled you into a gentle sway, his gaze locked onto yours with something that made your heart race a bit more. His hating gaze looked a bit different...

For once, you weren't fighting, weren't throwing sarcastic comments at each other. You were simply... around, moving in rhythm, caught up in a moment you hadn't ever thought possible. His hand was warm agaisnt your bare back, his touch not letting you move too far from him as he guided you.

Rafe's voiced dropped to a murmur, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. "You don't always need to be at my throat, you know?"

You raised an eyebrow, a soft laugh escaping. Honestly, you couldn't even remember why it started but you were sure he had given you a reason. "And miss out on all the fun? Never."

He huffed a quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth curving upward as he shifted his weight, leaning a fraction closer. The playful defiance between you seemed to thrum in the small space left between your bodies. A ghost of a smile played on his lips, but his eyes narrowed, holding yours with an intensity that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. “Careful, you might start to like me.”

For a heartbeat, silence settled between you, thick and humming, before you felt the corners of your mouth twitch, shaking your head as a disbelief chuckle left your lips.

“Shut up.” You chuckled, your arms wrapping around his neck tired of holding resting his shoulder because of the height difference.

But as you looked up at him, the warmth of his hand on your back, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, even if it was just for a moment, you’d both let your guard down – and neither of you had hated it.

You and Rafe had just stepped off the dance floor, still laughing over the memory of Topper’s ridiculous stunt at last year’s family gathering. The thought of him, trying - and failing - at impressing everyone with his off-key karaoke performance that he had trained for weeks, was enough to keep the laughter bubbling between you.

“Honestly.” Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “He’s lucky he didn’t break something. I’m not even sure how the microphone survived the entire thing.”

You snorted, your amusement lighting up the moment and you quickly covered your mouth, cheeks heating as you waited for Rafe’s teasing but he did none, the crease on the corner of his eyes deepening as his smile stretched. “I think the whole room aged ten years listening to him butcher that song. We should’ve charged tickets.”

Rafe’s smile softened, and for a moment, the usual tension between you both seemed to melt away. But before you could tease him further, a man approached, his expression serious, as if he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Rafe.” the man said, clapping him lightly on the back, his tone overly familiar. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am about your father. Losing him like that… it must be incredibly hard.”

Rafe’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. He couldn’t even remember this man’s face. Probably someone that saw him and his dad in one of those award parties. “Thanks.” He replied, his tone polite but distant.

The man seemed to ignore the subtle shift in Rafe’s mood, continuing on with his monologue. “Yeah, I can only imagine. Your father was a legend - everyone respected him. I mean, not many people could’ve built what he did. A huge legacy. It must feel like a heavy burden, huh?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flicked to you. You could practically see the frustration building in him, but the man kept talking, completely oblivious to the discomfort he was causing or simply not caring enough.

“You know, the pressure of living up to someone like that…it’s gotta be tough. Everyone’s always expecting you to fill those shoes, to carry on the family name. I don’t know how you manage it, but it must be exhausting.”

The tension in the air was palpable, and Rafe was clearly struggling to stay polite. But before he could respond, you couldn’t take it anymore nor risk Rafe loosing his cool here out of all the places.

“I need air,” you blurted out, voice sharp and breathless. You placed a hand on Rafe’s arm, pulling at him urgently. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out or something. I just— I need to get out of here, baby.”

Rafe looked at you in surprise, his brows furrowing for a second before he caught onto it. He stood straighter, clearly thankful for the distraction. You gave him a small but determined nod, practically dragging him away from the conversation.

“Come on, let’s get to the beach. Now.” you added, not giving him a chance to argue. You tugged him harder this time, the tension in your voice sharp, hoping it was enough to convince the man to leave him alone for the night.

The man was still rambling, oblivious to Rafe’s discomfort. “It’s just… it’s not easy living with that kind of legacy, right?”

Rafe turned back to him with a forced smile, cutting him off before he could say more. “Sorry, we really need some air.” He said quickly, his hand around your waist as if you needed to be supported to the way. “She’s not feeling well, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to stay in the crowd.”

Rafe shot the man a tight smile. “Thanks for the condolences.”

The man looked confused but nodded. “Of course. Take care, Rafe.”

As you pulled Rafe toward the beach, you didn’t stop until you were far enough away from the terrace. You let out a shaky breath, your frustration turning into a quiet laugh of disbelief.

“You okay?” You turned your head back, looking at Rafe cautiously once both had put enough distance between the man, almost reaching the beach.

He turned to you, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. “Yeah. Just… feels like everyone wants to remind me of it tonight.” he said, glancing back to the party before he glanced at you, chewing on his bottom lip as he tried keep his emotions at bay. He had lost the count of how many people came to talk to him about his dad and how impossible would it be to fill in his shoes. “You really saved me there.” He rubbed the back of his head.

“It was nothing.” You shrugged, letting out a long sigh as you felt the breezy air in your face.

Rafe gave you a grateful look, his stiff posture relaxing a little. “No, I’m glad you stepped in. That guy was relentless.”

You stopped just before you could step onto the sand and bent down to slip off your heels, the sound of your dress rustling as you lifted the hem to avoid dragging it through the sand.

Rafe’s gaze lingered on you, a mixture of admiration and confusion etched across his face as you balanced your heels in one hand. For a fleeting moment, you noticed a hint of something in his eyes, something that made your heart race. You released his hand to free up both of yours, but the sudden loss of his warmth sent a strange ache through you, as if you were missing it. Must be the chilly wind.

“Are you coming or what?” you called over your shoulder, a teasing lilt in your voice that made him smile.

The sound of the waves, rhythmic and calming, filled the space between you, casting a serene contrast to the fading noise of the party behind. The cool night breeze touched your skin, making you feel both exposed and comforted, wrapped in the solitude of the beach.

Rafe stood beside you, his features illuminated by the silver glow of the moon. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blunt, rolling it between his fingers with easy practice just to make sure it was tight in place. You watched him discreetly, curiosity stirring as he flicked the lighter and brought the flame to the tip. The brief burst of light illuminated his features – sharp jawline, focused eyes, the way his lips curved slightly as he took a drag.

You couldn’t look away, your eyes tracing the path of the smoke as it curled and rose, dissipating into the cool night air. It felt almost intimate, watching him like this, and you swallowed, trying to steady your thoughts when he turned and caught your gaze.

“Want some?” His voice broke the silence, low and inviting as he could sense your eyes on him.

A rush of nerves surged through you, mingling with anticipation. “I uh… haven’t smoked before. Topper always said it’d look bad for the family and that mom would disown me if she ever found out” you admitted, the corners of your lips lifting in a faint, rueful smile though your voice was quieter than usual, small.

Rafe’s brow arched, the shadow of amusement flickering in his eyes. If only you knew the things Topper did whenever he magically disappeared from the parties. “And what do you think?” The question was casual, but there was an edge of something deeper beneath it.

You took a breath, letting the salt-laced air fill your lungs. “I think I’m done caring about that.”

His smirk grew, and for a second, the intensity in his gaze softened. “Good.” He took another slow drag, the orange ember glowing against the dark, and held it out to you. His fingers brushed yours as you reached for it, a spark of contact that sent a shiver through you.

“Just inhale slowly, let it settle,” he said, his voice steady, a grounding presence in the rush of your heartbeat.

You brought the blunt to your lips, eyes flicking to him once more as you mirrored the movement you’d seen him make. The smoke tasted sharp, unfamiliar, and you exhaled with a cough, eyes watering slightly. Rafe’s smirk turned into a grin, warm and teasing. Almost proud.

“Not bad.” he said, amusement lacing his words. “Better than most the first time.”

A laugh escaped you, loosening the last of the tension. “I’ll take that.”

The two of you walked slowly, the cool sand shifting beneath your feet as the night deepened. The warmth from the smoke spread through your chest, lifting the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, catching the way the moonlight traced the strong lines of his face.

“Do you smoke often?” you asked, more to break the silence than anything else and you wanted to slap yourself for the question. Really?

Rafe’s expression shifted, a brief shadow crossing his features. “Not really. Only when I need to clear my head.” He looked out at the horizon, where the dark sky met the shimmering waves as he took the joint from your fingers, taking a long drag. “It helps keep the noise out.”

A quiet understanding settled between you. “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of what you didn’t say. “Losing your dad…”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, his guard slipped, cracking enough to allow you to catch a glimpse of the raw ache beneath. “Yeah.”

For a moment, the space between you felt smaller, the silence charged with shared vulnerability. You took another drag, the taste still foreign but less jarring, and exhaled slowly as Rafe’s eyes returned to yours, something unreadable in their depths.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer before he shifted his gaze back to the horizon, the moonlight casting a silvery sheen over the waves as they rolled in. For once, the silence wasn’t biting.

You took another careful drag, this time holding it a bit longer before exhaling, just like he did earlier, but you were still unable to get rid of the cough completely. The warmth in your chest spread further, easing the last traces of tension from your body. It was strange and exhilarating to be here, outside the lines your mom had always drawn for you, with him of all people.

Rafe broke the silence, his voice softer, almost contemplative. “You know, you don’t have to be ‘perfect’ all the time.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a hint of something unreadable in his expression. “It’s okay to let people see the real you. Acting like a human being and all.”

The words hit deeper than you expected. You looked down, your toes digging into the cool, damp sand. “I don’t even know who that is half the time" you admitted, the confession slipping out before you could stop it, swinging your heels softly to distract yourself from the embarrassment in your chest.

Rafe turned to face you fully, his expression serious but not hard. “Maybe it’s time you find out.”

The sincerity in his tone made your heart stutter. You met his gaze, and for a moment, everything else fell away - the distant party, the rolling waves, the cool bite of the night air. It was just the two of you, standing on the edge of something that felt completely new.

Before you could say anything, he took a step closer, close enough that you could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way the moonlight caught the flecks of grey in his blue eyes. The scent of smoke and saltwater surrounded you, heady and grounding, mixed with his perfume.

“Rafe…” Your voice came out quieter than intended, the space between you charged with tension.

He searched your face, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah?” His voice was low, a whisper meant for only you.

The truth is, you didn’t know.

You felt the urge to close the gap, to see what would happen if you let yourself fall just a little further into this to see where would it go. But before you could move, he reached out, fingers brushing your cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was fleeting but sent a shiver down your spine.

What was happening?

“I kinda like this version of you.” he said, the honesty in his tone making your heart thump wildly.

For the first time in a long while, you felt seen - not as the person everyone expected you to be, but as yourself. The realization was both thrilling and terrifying. You looked up at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I do too.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and without another word, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his fingers placing the blunt in front of your lips. The two of you walked without a hurry and direction, the few glasses of champagne you had earlier and Rafe's glasses of whiskey distracting both of you from the situation, from what it looked like and what it could possibly mean.

The air between you felt different now, the silence thick with something unspoken, the kind of tension that crackled in the spaces between your words. Rafe’s eyes lingered on yours a moment longer than usual before he shifted his gaze back to the horizon, where the moonlight kissed the waves in a dance of silver and blue.

A strange warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading through your body like the soft glow of embers catching fire. The world felt sharper - every scent, every sound more pronounced. The night air nipped at your skin, but it felt distant, almost dreamlike.

Then it hit you like a wave crashing against the shore: you had just smoked weed. You, the one who had lived carefully, each step monitored, each decision weighed against the unspoken expectations of your family, had done something completely impulsive. The absurdity of it made your lips twitch, and before you could stop it, a small laugh bubbled up from deep inside.

You covered your mouth quickly, but it escaped anyway - another giggle, this one louder and harder to contain. You shook your head, eyes wide with disbelief, and tried to stifle the sound, but the harder you tried, the more it slipped free.

Rafe's gaze flicked to you, his lips curling into a grin as he watched you. “There it is” he teased, a knowing lilt in his voice. “I was wondering when the giggles would show up.”

You shook your head in mock exasperation, still unable to stop the fits of laughter, feeling your cheeks burning in embarrassment. “I can’t believe I just did that. I actually smoked weed. Oh my God. Don't tell Topper!" You looked at him with wide eyes, pointing a manicured nail towards his chest.

Rafe arched his brow, his head leaning down until his breath was touching your ear. “What’s your bargain?”

You blinked for a second, before you pushed his chest away, letting out a dramatic “Ew, Cameron!”

Rafe chuckled, his voice warm in the cool night air. “Welcome to the club, sweetheart. It’s liberating, isn’t it? Letting go for once?”

You nodded, the last of your giggles dying down as you met his gaze. There was something in the way he looked at you - understanding, maybe a little deeper than you expected. It made your chest tighten in a different way now.

“Yeah..." you whispered, your voice softer than before. “It really does.”

The next few moments passed in a quiet, comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft rush of waves against the shore. Every so often, a burst of laughter escaped you, and Rafe joined in, his chuckle easy and carefree.

By the time you reached the hotel, the city hummed with late-night life, a symphony of distant laughter and the occasional honk of a cab. The mix of champagne and weed had left your steps unsteady, your senses softened around the edges. Somewhere along the way, Rafe’s arm had slipped around your waist, steadying you as you swayed with a giggle. The warmth of his touch felt too natural, too easy for two people who supposedly couldn’t stand each other.

“You think we’ll make it to the room before I collapse in a heap of elegance?” you teased, the words slurred with playfulness, though a flicker of doubt clung to the end.

Rafe smirked, casting a sideways glance down at you. “At this rate? You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you over my shoulder already,” he said, voice threaded with a teasing edge, but there was a softness there, something almost protective, that he quickly masked.

You leaned into him, the movement instinctive, your giggle breaking free as you stumbled slightly. “Oh, please. I’m fine.” you quipped, tilting your head up, your eyes catching his. Without thinking, your hand pressed against his chest, fingers curving around the muscle beneath. You blinked in surprise before watching your brows at him. “Damn, nice boobs.”

His eyes widened for a split second before he threw his head back in a laugh, the sound reverberating through him and into you. “Jesus, Y/N.” He felt the heat rise in his cheeks, an unfamiliar sensation he brushed off with a roll of his eyes. He caught your hand as it lingered, the playfulness replaced for a heartbeat with something charged, before he let it go with a chuckle. “Keep that up, and I’ll start charging for these services.”

“So that one was on the house?” you asked, your grin lopsided, unable to hide how much you were enjoying this rare break in your usual dynamic.

Rafe’s gaze softened for a fleeting moment, the walls you both kept between you forgotten under the haze of laughter and the city lights. “Depends. Will you keep assaulting me?”

The two of you burst out laughing, the sound a contrast with the rather quiet lobby but none of you could care less. For once, none of you were being bothered by the image that you were supposed to keep and the animosity felt like a distant memory, replaced by the sharp realization that maybe pretending wasn’t the hardest part after all.

Once inside the hotel, you both went straight to your hotel rooms. You fumbled for the key cards, sliding one into the door, but the red light blinked mockingly. You tried again, turning the card. Still no luck. Your frustration began to mount as you tried once more, and then again, but the door stubbornly refused to open.

Rafe stood back, watching with a bemused smirk. “Having trouble?”

“Are you serious right now?” you muttered, glaring at the door. “These damn things are broken, I swear.”

“Sure, sure,” Rafe said, his grin widening. “You’re not just the problem, huh?”

You shot him an exaggerated glare but couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up again. “I swear, it’s not my fault.”

“Right.” Rafe teased. “Because nothing is broken when you get involved.”

He glanced over at you, his brow furrowed. “Great.” he muttered, pulling the card out and trying it again, only for the light to flash red, mocking him. He tried once more - still nothing. His expression darkened with frustration.

“Rafe, are you sure you know how to use those?” you teased, leaning against the wall, an amused grin tugging at your lips.

He shot you a half-amused, half-annoyed glance. “I’m not an idiot.” he said, giving the card one last try before slapping it against his palm. “It’s the damn door.”

With a sigh, he turned to the door across from yours - the one that led to his room - and gave it a shot with his card. You leaned in just enough to watch, your curiosity piqued. He slid his card in, turning the handle with the same precision.

Nothing. Again.

“Well, that’s just great!” he muttered, letting out a punch on the door before he . He looked over at you, his expression a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

You snickered softly, crossing your arms. “Looks like we’re both stuck.” you said, your voice laced with teasing. “Are you sure you paid for the rooms, Cameron?”

Rafe shot you a playful glare. “I blame the hotel staff” he replied, rubbing his forehead as if this whole situation were somehow their fault. He shoved the card back into his pocket. “Let’s check the front desk.”

As you both headed toward the elevator, you couldn’t help but notice the faint frustration in his eyes. But there was something else there, too - a glimmer of something you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the way he’d been looking at you all night like he was trying to figure you out, or maybe it was just the ridiculousness of the situation.

The receptionist smiled sympathetically, taking the cards from you and swiping them through the system. You glanced over at Rafe, your eyes landing on his red, bloodshot gaze, and blinked in surprise.

“Damn, dude. What happened to your eyes?” you asked, voice a mix of shock and amusement.

Rafe shot you a side-eyed glance. “Shut up.” He muttered, but there was no hiding the playfulness in his voice.

You paused for a second, a small laugh escaping as your mind quickly connected the dots. “Wait, wait. You’re high as hell, aren’t you?” you teased with a grin, whispering as you thought the receptionist wouldn’t hear but the poor lady did a good job at pretending.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, smirking even more. “You’re real observant one, huh.” he replied dryly, his eyes narrowing as he watched the receptionist typing on the computer, ready to cause a scene.

Just as you were about to keep joking, Rafe suddenly pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you. You blinked, a little surprised, but he just raised the phone to show you the screen with a smug look on his face.

There, right on the screen, was a close-up of your face – your eyes bloodshot and glowing red.

You froze, staring at it for a moment before your face broke into a laugh. “Oh my god, really?” you said, trying to stifle your giggles.

You leaned in to get a better look at the photo, your own laughter bubbling up. “That’s cute. We’re matching, Cameron!” you joked, raising an eyebrow.

Rafe shook his head, still grinning. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, but there was warmth in his voice.

The receptionist checked the system again, then looked up, a surprised smile on her face. “Actually, I see that your rooms has been upgraded.” she said. “Mr. Rossi made special arrangements for you. You’ll be staying in one of our premium suites, with an incredible coastal view.”

Rafe exchanged a glance with you, both of you processing the unexpected news. "Upgraded?" you repeated, still a little disoriented. "Wow... really?"

The receptionist handed you two new key cards with a smile. “Yes, enjoy your stay. All your luggages and belongings have been transferred already.”

“Guess we’re living the high life now,” Rafe said with a grin, taking the cards from her.

You snorted at his words, still buzzing with laughter. “Yeah, right… Literally.”

You both headed to the elevator, your footsteps light as you approached the suite. As the door opened, you brows shot up. A king-sized bed sat in the center, surrounded by luxurious vintage furniture. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a panoramic view of the coast - moonlight glimmering on the water, the soft rumble of the waves reaching your ears.

But then you looked at the bed again, and your stomach sank as everything clicked into place. You slowly turned to face Rafe, wide-eyed.

“Wait… we’re sharing this bed?” you asked, the realization slowly sinking in.

Rafe snorted. “Guess so. Unless you want to sleep on the couch.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I’m not sleeping on the couch. But how are we going to-?”

“What? Afraid you’ll be tempted?” He arched his brow, a teasing smile on his lips as he already move to his side of the bed, kicking off his shoes.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’ll take the bed. You can take the couch.”

“Not a chance.” Rafe cut you off with a raised hand. “I’m not sleeping on the floor either, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You paused, thinking it over. “Okay, here’s the deal. You take one side, I take the other. No crossing the line, no touching. Agreed?”

Rafe crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’ll agree to those terms, for now.”

The two of you stood there for a long moment, an unspoken tension between you, both looking each other in silence as if in some sort of staring contest.

“Fuck, whatever.” You sighed, running a hand on your hair as you could feel your eyelids too heavy. “I’m too tired for this shit.”

The soft click of the bathroom door broke the silence as you stepped out, the quiet only punctuated by the steady thrum of your heartbeat. You hesitated, taking a deep breath before moving. The silk ivory nightdress you wore was far too short to be comfortable with someone else in the room. The fabric brushed high on your thighs with each step, and a delicate lace traced the neckline, dipping low enough to tease. A matching robe hung loosely around your shoulders, but it offered little coverage - just the pretense of modesty. You had packed it for the warm weather but you didn’t imagine you’d share a room with him.

You’d taken your time getting ready, hoping that by now, Rafe would be asleep. But as you tiptoed around the bed, trying to slip under the covers unnoticed, the soft click of the lamp switch made you freeze.

Warm light bathed the room, casting shadows that flickered along the walls. You felt his eyes on you, burning with a heat that made the silk on your skin feel even thinner. Rafe was propped up on one elbow, his hand the back of his head and eyes sharper than they should be at this hour. The smirk that curled at the corner of his mouth sent a shiver through you.

He let his gaze travel slowly, unapologetically taking in the way the nightdress hugged your body. The ivory silk clung to your curves, highlighting the bare slope of your shoulders and the length of your legs. The lace skimmed the line of your chest, delicate and inviting. His eyes lingered where the fabric dipped and rose, tracing every detail as if he were memorizing it.

“Couldn’t sleep…” He said, voice low, the tease there but edged with something that made your breath catch. “But I see I might now.”

A nervous laugh escaped you, and you pulled the robe a little tighter, though it did nothing to ease the warmth spreading through you. “I didn’t think you’d still be awake.” you said as if trying to explain yourself, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

Rafe’s smirk morphed into something deeper, eyes glinting as he pushed himself to sit up, muscles flexing under the thin cotton of his shirt and you’d never admit your gaze wandering to the contour of his muscles. “With you bringing the bathroom down? Not a chance.” He paused, the humor giving way to a quieter, more intense look. “You know, you don’t have to hide.” he said, nodding toward the robe that you tightly wrapped around you as you were almost curling on yourself.

Your fingers hesitated on the fabric, heart pounding as his words settled between you. The buzz from earlier, the laughter and sharp words, had dulled into a warmth that made your skin tingle. Still clouded with the weed and the drinks, you take a deep breath and take off the robe, quickly sliding under the covers and pulling it up your chest.

“If you’re trying to make peace between us,” he murmured, eyes darkening as they met yours. “this is a damn good way to start.” The playful lilt in his voice didn’t quite mask the heat simmering beneath it.

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your lips lifted. “I thought the blunt of peace was already shared.” you said, voice soft but daring. The tension between you crackled, unspoken and electric.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he exhaled slowly. “Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, the word low and rough, like it slipped out without permission. He dragged a hand through his face, eyes looking to the ceiling as his head hang back before he shifted, grabbing a pillow and placing it firmly between you on the bed, quickly turning off the lamp.

“Good night, trouble” he said, the nickname rolling off his tongue with a mix of teasing and resignation, as if trying to convince himself more than you.

The corner of your mouth lifted, heart still racing as you pulled the sheets over you. “Good night, idiot.” you whispered back, the space between you feeling smaller than ever, despite the pillow.

The room settled into silence, but the tension hummed beneath it, making sleep a distant thought.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

TAGLIST: @megiiite @melsunshine @maybankslover @wearemadeofstardust0 @lilithblackkk @slutforoldermen @louxmcl @peter-parkers-gf @yootvi @v4mp1rr3

[midnightarcheress]

woke up wanting to write something with my pretty boy kyle and this was born.

cw: nsfw. f!reader. gaz obsessing over the pretty college girl by his side. implied future stalking ig? unedited. part one | part two

someone catches Kyle’s attention on the plane.

his legs are on the verge of cramping and his breath is ragged, running to board his connection flight at the last call. after falling off a helicopter twice in the last operations, he developed an uneasiness of flying, no matter the aircraft, preferring taking the train over being miles up in the air, even if it triples the travel. but this time, he just wanted to get home the fastest way possible for a much-needed night of sleep in his own bed, instead of the barely cushioned military-issued mattress.

he hopped on the plane and made his way through the corridor, gaze fixed on the numbers under the luggage rack, attentively looking for his spot. he stopped by row thirteen, eyes darting between the number and the woman on the window seat. i could’ve sworn i marked that one when i booked? Kyle checks the boarding ticket again – row 13, seat A. it’s the right seat, why is there someone on it? 

an annoyed sigh escapes his lips, gathering the energy to speak up and reclaim his rightfully bought seat. the problem is, he gets ultimately struck when the seat-thief notices him standing and turns to face him. wide eyes meet his brown ones, immediately softening at the sight of your tempting glossy lips and delicate fingers pushing a lock of hair behind your ear. pretty little thing.

“i’m sorry, is this your seat? it was empty on the first flight,” you say, an apologetic tone in your voice as you frantically close the book on your lap and shove it in a bag, “i’ll move back for you–”

“it’s alright, keep it.” he interrupts, throwing his carry-on in the rack and taking the empty middle spot beside you. he smirks at your appreciative nod and watches you settling again on the backrest, buckling the seatbelt at the shining signal hovering your heads and paying extra attention to the flight attendant announcements, even when no one around seems to care. sweet girl, so considerate to everyone.

the plane starts speeding on the runway, and from his peripheral he views your squeezed eyes and nearly white fingers gripping the armrest, breathing quickening during the gravity push of the take off. it takes a moment for you to release your tight grasp and exhale, making his hand twitch with an urge to soothe you, tell you that you’re safe.

he shakes the sensation and leans his head back, focusing on the one thing he can do to pass the time – sleep. but he can’t keep his gaze out of you, glancing to his left whenever you make a movement, no matter how small. the rapid keyboard tapping guides his irises to your laptop screen, catching a few words in a sea of what for him sounds like an alien language. DNA strand? allele? locus mutation?

he sneaks a look through your figure and his eyes land on the familiar blue logo on your hoodie, the same one he always sees on the walk from the market to his flat. uni a couple blocks from me. do you live on campus? or nearby? that neighborhood is awful at night, full of old blokes searching the pubs for a quick fuck with a naive college girl. but you seem smart, not the type to fall for their tricks, right?

the harder he tries to avoid your presence, the more you make yourself known, almost making him feel like it’s on purpose. the way your plump lips wrap on the water bottle, slight drop scaping on the corner and trailing down your neck, your flowery perfume filling his nostrils when you shift on your seat to remove the top layer of your clothing, exposing the low-cut blouse underneath and the soft roundness of your tits. is that for me, sweet girl? need a break from studying so hard? the sudden tightness of his trousers brings him back to his senses, stirring the thought out of his brain. 

keep it cool, Garrick, he repeats over and over in his mind, ignoring the tent forming on his lap and praying to whatever god is out there that you won’t see it, even while standing up and brushing your legs on his knees to get to the corridor due the cramped space. however, he doesn’t miss how the guy by his side shamelessly ogles your cleavage when you step past him, making his blood boil and his fists clench – like he wasn’t doing the same exact thing minutes before.

while you're away, he glances at your screen again, noticing the constant message notifications from the contact ‘Marcus - DO NOT ANSWER’. already looking bad for you, mate. curiosity takes hold of him and he starts reading the texts, silently chuckling at the guy’s pathetic attempts to get your attention. what did he do to earn a cold shoulder, sweetheart? did he hurt you? didn’t he pay enough attention to you? i bet he couldn’t even fuck you the way you deserve. 

he keeps skimming the messages until the grin tugging on the corners of his mouth fades into a frown when he reads ‘you’re gonna regret leaving me’. now, who’s this prick? think you’ll get away with threatening my girl?

his body stiffens when you come back, eyes darting back to the small telly in front of him when your hand brushes on his thigh while sitting once again. he hears your irritated huff when you skim through the messages, shutting the laptop with near violence. i can take care of him for you, love. you won’t have to deal with that by yourself anymore. 

the pilot’s muffled voice coming through the speakers and announcing the landing shortens his daydreams about getting rid of Marcus. it would be a great way to keep himself busy while on leave, making sure to do it fast and secretly, of course, just to protect his sweet little thing. poor guy wouldn’t even know what hit him.

the pressure change on his ear is the telltale sign of the aircraft lowering its altitude, landing gear out to hit the lane and brake the machine. he turns to the side, watching again your knitted eyebrows and how your nails dig into the seat. this time he doesn’t contain himself and his hand gently lingers over yours, the softness of it sending lightning strikes over his body and almost making him cum instantly. 

your glinting eyes find his face with a grateful gaze, lips mouthing a sugary thank you when the plane finally stops. he helps you take your handbag out of the rack with ease, using the situation to flaunt his muscles. i can even pick you up, darling. would love to feel your pretty thighs around my waist. you wouldn’t have to walk a day in your life. 

his eyes follow the sway of your hips through the airport, heart almost bursting when you wave goodbye and flash him a timid smile. you think that’s the last time you’ll see him, he thinks this is just the beginning. a name and university? he’s used to finding people with even less information. see you soon, sweet girl.

[thedensworld]

Wish You Were Here | K.Mg

Pairing: Mingyu x reader

Genre: fluff, angst, established relationship, short!

Summary: Sometimes, Mingyu was miles away from you and he couldn't hold you. He was okay, 'till you called him and and he heard you sobbed.

Warning: mention of someone died, funeral, describing family abandonment.

Mingyu's demeanor turned to stone as he answered your call. Normally, he anticipated your bright, cheerful tone, but this time, there was a heavy silence before he finally heard the sound of your sobs. Something inside him clenched at the unfamiliar sound – you never let him hear you cry.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft and careful as he sensed the fragility in your cries.

There was a moment of silence as you cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself. "My dad..." you began, and he felt a pang of dread as he realized what you were about to say, "just passed away."

Mingyu's heart sank further at your words, a wave of sorrow crashing over him as he struggled to process the news. Despite the distance between you, he yearned to offer you comfort, to somehow ease the pain you were feeling.

Taking a shaky breath, Mingyu felt his chest tighten as a realization dawned on him. He had braced himself for this moment, knowing it would eventually come, yet the reality of it still overwhelmed him. "Baby..." he murmured, his voice laced with both sadness and helplessness.

"I—I'm..." Mingyu stammered, his thoughts jumbled and emotions raw. "I'm so sorry..." It felt inadequate, but it was all he could manage to say in that moment.

Being out of the country when you called at 10 a.m. added another layer of guilt to Mingyu's turmoil. He silently thanked whatever force had compelled him to answer while he was sleeping, sparing him from the guilt of potentially missing your call during his waking hours.

Mingyu's heart clenched as he listened to your tearful voice through the phone, his immediate instinct to be by your side overpowering any other considerations. With a determined resolve, he reached for his iPad, fingers tapping anxiously as he searched for the quickest route home to you.

But just as he was about to confirm the flight, your words cut through the air, halting his movements. "You don't have to fly here," you said softly amid your sobs, your consideration for his obligations pulling at his heartstrings.

"I just want to let you know," you added, your voice barely above a whisper, and Mingyu hesitated, torn between his longing to comfort you and the practicalities of his life back home.

"No, I'm going to you," he insisted, refusing to let distance stand in the way of offering you his support during this time of need.

As Mingyu continued to scroll through plane ticket options, a pregnant pause filled the air, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. He felt the weight of your sorrow, the urgency to be there for you battling with the responsibilities pulling him in the opposite direction.

Finally, he made the decision, booking the earliest flight available. With his phone pressed to his ear, Mingyu began to pack, his movements hurried yet deliberate as he prepared to leave everything behind to be with you.

"Honestly, I wish you were here," you confessed, your words causing Mingyu to pause mid-step, a lump forming in his throat at the depth of your longing.

"I—I just finished the paperwork and stuff..." you continued, your voice trembling with exhaustion and grief, and Mingyu's heart ached knowing you were facing this alone.

"While others are grieving," you whispered, your words heavy with unspoken emotion, and Mingyu's resolve solidified. He knew he had to be there for you, to offer you solace and support in your time of need, no matter the cost.

Mingyu closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him as he sank onto the hotel bed. "You're allowed to grieve, baby," he murmured softly, his fingers gently massaging his temples in an attempt to ease the ache of his own heart.

He heard you clear your throat on the other end of the line, your voice thick with emotion as you spoke. "I know," you replied quietly, your words laden with exhaustion and sorrow. "That's why I called you. I need to shut my brain off for a sec."

Mingyu's heart clenched at the sound of your vulnerability, wishing he could reach through the phone and hold you close. But instead, he focused on the practicalities, knowing he needed to be strong for you.

"Where are the others?" he asked, concern evident in his voice as he thought of your siblings. Mingyu struggled to contain the anger rising within him at the thought of you bearing the brunt of the responsibilities, especially considering you were the youngest in the family.

"They're greeting all the guests," you replied, and Mingyu felt a surge of frustration mingled with empathy for your situation.

"How about you? Where are you right now?" he inquired gently, careful not to add to your burden with his questions.

There was a pause on the line before he heard you sigh heavily. "Toilet," you admitted, and Mingyu's heart twisted with sympathy, knowing that even in your grief, you were finding solace in the solitude of a bathroom, seeking a moment of respite from the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you.

Mingyu's movements were frantic as he packed his belongings, a sense of urgency driving him to prepare for his journey to you. "Babe, I'm going to the airport now," he spoke into the phone, his voice filled with determination. "Please stay beside your father. I'll be there in five hours."

After hastily explaining the situation to his manager and requesting understanding, Mingyu rushed to catch his flight. As he settled into his seat, exhaustion from the whirlwind of emotions washed over him, and he closed his eyes, seeking a moment of rest before landing.

Upon arrival, Mingyu wasted no time in contacting you to let you know he had arrived safely and was on his way. However, your response caught him off guard. You urged him to take his time, to grab a meal or change his clothes before coming to you.

But Mingyu couldn't bear the thought of delaying his arrival any longer. Ignoring your plea, he made his way to your father's room, his heart pounding in his chest as he approached.

There you were, sitting with your body slumped against the wall, the weight of grief evident in every line of your face.

"Kim Mingyu?" Your brother's voice cut through the somber atmosphere, and Mingyu turned to see him standing there, recognition dawning in his eyes. With a polite bow, Mingyu acknowledged him, his attention immediately drawn back to you.

"Y/n said you're on a business trip," your brother remarked, confusion evident in his tone.

"I came here as soon as possible," Mingyu explained quickly before making his way over to you, his sole focus on providing you with the support you needed.

He took in your presence by your father's side, the weight of grief etched into every line of your face. With a respectful bow, Mingyu paid his last respects to your father before turning to you, his hand finding yours and squeezing it gently, a silent reassurance of his presence.

"Have you had some meal?" Mingyu's voice was gentle as he addressed you, concern evident in his eyes as he took in your weary appearance.

You shook your head in response, and Mingyu's smile was warm as he reached out to rub your back, offering you comfort in the simplest of gestures. "Let's have some, shall we?" he suggested, gently guiding you towards a nearby table.

He seated you before fetching a meal for both of you, his eyes never leaving you as you mechanically picked up your chopsticks. Mingyu knew that the food would offer little solace in the face of your grief, but he was grateful that you didn't let your stomach suffer amidst the turmoil of emotions.

Mingyu was glad that none of your siblings seemed to be bothered by his presence. More than that, he was glad that no one bothered you while he was on your side. You seemed more relax and nothing that Mingyu could ask than that.

As you struggled to finish your meal, Mingyu gently guided you outside, away from the suffocating atmosphere of the funeral center. Though his stated intention was to give you some fresh air, you could sense his true motive – to offer you solace in his comforting embrace, allowing you to let down your guard and release the pent-up emotions swirling within you.

"He's resting now," Mingyu whispered softly as he rubbed your back, his voice a soothing balm to your wounded soul. You nodded in acknowledgment, finding a measure of comfort in his presence, his touch, his words.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't there when he left," Mingyu murmured, his voice laced with regret. But you shook your head, murmuring, "Don't be," understanding that his absence was beyond his control and that his love and support now were more than enough.

"I love you," Mingyu whispered, his words a heartfelt promise of unwavering devotion and support. And in that moment, as you stood in his embrace, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, with Mingyu by your side.

[millyh23]

Greece with a Side of Murphy’s Law

Alessia Russo x Reader

word count:

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Alessia had poured herself into planning this trip, hoping for a dream holiday in the sun-soaked beaches of Greece, where she and Y/N could finally unwind from their busy schedules. But things took a bad turn as soon as they stepped into the airport.

They were running late—very late.

“Less, come on! We’re going to miss our flight!” Y/N called over her shoulder, passport clutched in her hand as she power-walked to the security line. Alessia rushed behind, arms loaded with bags, almost tripping over her own feet.

“We’ll make it! I swear!” Alessia gasped, but as they neared the gate, dread washed over her.

The gate was closed.

They watched helplessly through the glass as their plane began to pull away from the terminal. Alessia dropped her bags and slumped onto a seat.

“No, no, no,” she muttered, eyes wide as if sheer disbelief might change the situation. “I booked this months ago.”

Y/N settled next to her, nudging her gently. “It’s okay, Less. This happens…right?”

After hours of rescheduling and waiting for a new flight, they finally boarded. Alessia fell asleep before the plane even left the ground, exhaustion from the morning’s disaster finally catching up to her. Y/N, on the other hand, couldn’t help but stare at the ceiling, wondering if this was a foreshadowing of the trip to come.

They arrived in Greece after a bumpy flight, the hot air blasting them as they stepped out of the airport and into the sun-drenched chaos of Athens. Alessia fished out her confirmation email and gave Y/N a confident nod.

“Alright, nothing but smooth sailing from here,” she declared.

“Sure, Captain,” Y/N teased, grabbing her hand. “Lead the way.”

They arrived at the hotel, bags in hand, ready to finally drop everything and relax. Alessia approached the check-in desk, confident and beaming.

“Hi, checking in under Russo,” she said, sliding over her ID with a winning smile. “Alessia Russo.”

The receptionist scanned the screen, frowning slightly. “Hmm… I see your reservation, Ms. Russo, but it looks like it’s not for this property. It’s for our branch in Lisbon.”

Alessia blinked, her face going pale. “Lisbon? Lisbon in…Portugal?”

The receptionist nodded, tapping at the keyboard. “Yes, unfortunately. It seems this booking is for our Portuguese location.”

Y/N covered her mouth, looking at Alessia with wide eyes. Alessia was at a complete loss, staring at the receptionist as if she’d just told her she’d booked a hotel on the moon.

“Well, can we…maybe book a room here?” Alessia asked, her voice almost pleading.

The receptionist checked. “We do have one room left, but it’s a standard double, not quite the ocean-view suite you booked in Portugal…”

“That’s fine! We’ll take it.” Alessia handed over her card, trying to save face. Y/N squeezed her hand, clearly trying not to laugh.

Once they finally made it to their room, Alessia tossed her bags onto the floor and collapsed onto the bed.

“Not exactly the suite I planned,” she muttered, cheeks red.

“It’s fine, Less. A bed’s a bed,” Y/N replied, flopping down beside her.

They decided to unpack a little to settle in, hoping things would start looking up. But as Y/N opened her suitcase, a frown crossed her face.

“Uh…Less?” she began slowly, pulling out a pair of trousers that were definitely not hers. “Why does my suitcase have someone else’s clothes?”

Alessia whipped around, staring at the suitcase in horror. “No. No way.”

As they dug through the bags, they discovered that neither of them had the right suitcase. Instead of swimsuits, sandals, and summer clothes, they had a random assortment of business suits, formal shoes, and a toiletry bag with initials that were definitely not theirs.

“We…grabbed the wrong suitcases.” Y/N held up a shirt with a defeated sigh.

“Oh my god.” Alessia sank to her knees. “How could this get any worse?”

She felt around for her phone, hoping to call the airport. But her phone was missing. She looked up at Y/N, whose face was turning pale.

“Where’s your phone?” Alessia asked, panic creeping into her voice.

Y/N’s hand shot to her empty pocket, and a horrifying realization dawned on her. “The taxi…”

Both of their phones were still sitting in the back seat of the taxi they’d taken from the airport.

“So…we have no clothes, no phones, and we’re in the wrong hotel,” Y/N summarized, trying to keep a straight face. She looked at Alessia, who was wide-eyed, and burst out laughing. “This is turning into the best holiday ever.”

Alessia buried her face in her hands, groaning, “I wanted to give you the perfect trip, and now we’re living in a sitcom.”

Y/N wrapped her arms around Alessia, pulling her close. “It’s perfect because I’m here with you,” she teased, pressing a soft kiss to Alessia’s temple. “Besides, we’ll laugh about this one day, right?”

Alessia couldn’t help but chuckle, finally leaning into Y/N’s embrace. “Only if we survive this.”

Alessia paced around the small hotel room, biting her lip as she surveyed the disaster around them: unfamiliar business attire spilling out of the wrong suitcases, the single hotel bed that wasn’t quite the dreamy suite she’d imagined, and their lack of phones.

“Okay, we need a plan,” Alessia muttered. “We can’t just sit here doing nothing.”

Y/N, sprawled across the bed with an exasperated look, held up the hotel room phone. “We could try calling someone?”

“Like who? Everyone’s away on their own little trips,” Alessia replied, but a small glint of hope flickered in her eyes.

“What about Katie?” Y/N suggested. “i think she said something about taking Cait to greece during the break, and I’m sure she’d love the excuse to make fun of us for this.”

With a smirk, Alessia took the phone and dialed the number she knew by heart. After a few rings, a familiar voice crackled on the other end.

“Hello?” came Katie’s slightly groggy voice.

“Katie, it’s Alessia,” she said, her voice a mix of desperation and relief.

“Less? Where the hell are you calling from?” Katie’s voice perked up, clearly curious.

“Long story short, we missed our flight, we’re in the wrong country, and we have someone else’s suitcases. Oh, and our phones are somewhere in a taxi. We need help,” Alessia admitted, holding back laughter at how ridiculous it sounded all put together.

The silence on the other end lasted for a second, and then came a loud burst of laughter.

“Oh my god, you two! Only you could turn a holiday into the plot of a rom-com!” Katie laughed. “Alright, I’m coming to get you. What hotel are you at?”

Alessia fumbled with the keycard and relayed the name of the place, barely managing to pronounce it through her nervous giggles. “We’re…at some budget hotel, Katie. It’s not what I had planned, trust me.”

“I bet it’s not. But hey, look on the bright side,” Katie teased, “at least you two are safe and sound, right? And now we can finally go on that double date you guys have been avoiding”

Katie promised to sort everything out,for the price of an all expenses paid boujie double dinner date, and after an hour of waiting and a few more laughs, Alessia and Y/N spotted her at the hotel entrance, an unmistakable smirk on her face as she spotted them.

“Alright, you two clowns, hop in,” she said, patting the hood of her rented car. “And let’s salvage whatever’s left of this holiday.”

As they piled into the car, Katie handed them each a phone she’d picked up from a nearby shop. “Prepaid. Just in case you two lose them again,” she said with a wink.

They made a quick detour to grab clothes and essentials from a local store, Katie playfully holding up outrageous outfits to make them laugh.

As they finally arrived at a beach resort she’d booked last-minute, Katie sighed, grinning at the relieved looks on their faces. “See? Nothing a bit of Irish luck can’t fix. Now go relax.”

Alessia and Y/N wrapped her in a grateful hug, unable to contain their laughter. Katie smirked, pretending to brush them off, but the warmth in her eyes gave her away.

“Go on, enjoy your holiday, you goofs,” she said with a chuckle.

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The End

[secret-sturniolo]

trouble in paradise - matt sturniolo

-one bed/enemies to lovers trope. CONTAINS SMUT! (1.9k words)

warnings - lowkey asshole!matt, arguing, unprotected p in v (pull out method not recommended), pussy eating, fingering

a/n - will this be my writing comeback?

tillies33ssss

"Y/n, please! We're gonna have so much fun, I promise!"

I was laying in Nick's bed as he desperately tried to convince me to come on this trip. The boys go to Hawaii every year, and this year he wanted me to tag along. Of course I was skeptical. Being stuck on a tropical island for a week with my best friend didn't seem so bad, but when one of his brothers hated me? I wasn't so sure. After a few days of convincing though, I made up my mind. How bad could it be, right?

(time skip - 10pm @ the hotel)

"You're fucking kidding, right?"

While in a particularly good mood, I agreed to room with Matt. At least we would each have our own bed, we didn't even have to talk to each other. Until we scanned the card to unlock our room, revealing the single king bed against the wall.

My heart dropped. "This has to be a sick joke." I say, my eyes wide.

After calling both Nick and Chris and the front desk, it was revealed that there had been a mix up with the reservations. The cherry on top, though? The hotel was fully booked. Not a single extra room was available we could switch to, leaving reality to sink in.

I try to keep a level head, knowing Matt was on edge. I move around the room silently so as not to give him any reason to be angry. I watch as he flops onto the bed.

"Have fun sleeping on the floor." He says, expressionless.

I scoff. "You're not serious, right? There's no way you're making me sleep on the dirty hotel floor."

He relaxes his arms behind his head, closing his eyes. He was clearly ignoring me. I let out a small laugh in disbelief.

"Matt, come on. Now you're just being childish."

He opens his eyes, not moving. "Oh, I'm being childish? You're the one who throws a fit every time something doesn't go your way!" He shoots back at me.

"I didn't come to Hawaii to sleep on the floor!" I say, my frustration growing.

Matt sits up harshly, his eyes boring into mine. "You shouldn't even be here at all!" He yells, his words sharp as a knife.

My jaw drops as I take a step back, surprised by his sudden outburst.

"Why were you even invited on this trip?" he continues. "Seriously, I'd like to know. Because it sure as hell wasn't by me!"

I feel my chest tighten, tears welling in my eyes as he yells. I begin to speak, but he cuts me off.

"Oh, are you gonna cry now?" he taunts. "Grow up."

I clench my jaw, grabbing a room key and my phone as I walk toward the door.

"Let me know when you're done being an asshole." I say before slamming the door behind me.

I wander down the hotel hallways like a labyrinth before finding the elevator. I ride down the the first floor, the lobby was empty as most people were sleeping already. I sign on the wall points to an exit. I follow the path, leading me to a small outdoor spa area. Underwater lights lit up the hot tub, curls of steam rising into the cool night air. I slip off my shoes, sitting on the edge of the tub as my feet dangle into the water.

"What is wrong with me?" I whisper to myself, letting a tear slip from my eye. Was he right, should I really not have come? I think about texting Nick, but I figured he was asleep, tired from the jet-lag. I sit in silence as time slips by, letting my thoughts and doubts spiral.

I open my phone, typing a search into google. The screen displays a list of flights, my eyes scanning down the page. There was one flight tomorrow morning, showing 3 seats left. My finger lowers to tap the purchase button before my phone is swiped out of my hand.

"What?!" I jump, looking up. "Matt? What the fuck are you doing?" I say harshly.

He frowns at my screen. "You're leaving." He says, more of a statement than a question.

I reach for my phone back. "Yeah, I was trying to!" I shoot back, clearly annoyed.

Matt's eyes widen slightly at my serious tone. "You're actually serious?" He still holds my phone away from me.

I stare at him, not trying to hide the hurt on my face. "I thought that's what you wanted."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Look y/n, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Then why did you say it if you didn't mean it?"

He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Because I was overwhelmed and tired, and I took it out on whoever happened to be near me."

I sit quietly, not buying his excuse. I hear him sigh as he slips his own shoes off, sitting down next to me.

"Why do you hate me so much?" I blurt out.

I hear him take a deep breath as he tries to collect himself.

"I never hated you, y/n." he pauses. "It's actually kinda the opposite."

I look over at him, confused. "What?"

He kicks the water, sending ripples of small waves into the hot tub.

"You make me feel things I'm scared to feel."

I freeze, wondering if I heard him correctly. "Like what...?" I ask cautiously.

He hesitates for a moment, fidgeting with his fingers. "Like... attraction."

My heart beats faster as I nod slowly, acknowledging his words. My thoughts race, as everything I thought I knew was suddenly changing. He speaks again, nervously.

"It's stupid, I know. I'm just scared that if I let myself feel those things, I'll lose you." He looks down into the water.

I let out a small laugh, grabbing his hand softly as I intertwine our fingers. "I've stuck around this long. I don't think that would change anything."

I watch as he looks down at our hands that rest on his thigh, smiling softly with a small breath of relief.

"I don't want us to hate each other anymore, y/n." He says honestly.

I squeeze his hand. "I don't think we ever did."

A warm blush spreads to his cheeks as he meets my gaze. He leans in closer, pausing briefly to gauge my reaction. I close the gap, our lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss. Our lips seem to fit together like a mold. Matt brings hi hands up to cup my cheek, my own hands resting on his shoulders as we get lost in each other. Desire surges through us before I pull away, my lips slightly parted.

Matt smiles softly, still blushing. " We should probably get out of here, right?" He stands, offering me his hand.

I nod, giggling softly as I take his hand. I let him lead me back through the hotel, up to our room on the third floor. He pulls me into the room, kicking the door shut with his foot. He smiles softly at me before pulling me back in, his lips meeting mine once again, passionate and needy.

His hands wander from my cheeks to my waist, down to my ass, and back up. I sense his desire as I pull away slightly to slide my t-shirt over my head, revealing my simple, black lace bra. His head immediately ducks down, planting wet kisses on my exposed skin. I sigh at the feeling, before urgently tugging at the hem of his own shirt, which was quickly discarded. He tugs down his sweats before walking me backwards to the bed, laying me down gently.

He makes quick work of slipping my shorts down, tossing them away. His eyes rake over my body hungrily.

"God, you're beautiful." He mumbles loud enough for me to hear, causing my cheeks to redden.

He leans over me, his fingers hooked into my underwear. "Can I take these off?" He asks gently.

I nod quickly, desperate for his touch. He pulls them down my legs teasingly slow. I lean up, simultaneously unclasping my bra, leaving me bare before him. His thumb reaches down to rub slow, tentative circles over my clit.

"Matt, please!" I beg, causing him to smirk.

He grabs my legs, sliding my body to the edge of the bed as he brings his mouth down to my core. I feel his hot breath against me as he teasingly kisses my sensitive nub. Using the tip of his tongue, he flicks back and forth, eliciting a soft moan from my lips.

He takes this as a signal to continue, thrusting his tongue into me. He groans as he finally tastes me, sending pleasant vibrations into me. I throw my head back, tangling my fingers in his hair, giving it a tug when it feels especially good.

"Oh, fuck!" I let out a gasp as he suddenly enters a finger into me, thrusting it while he continues to lick my clit.

My legs shake, squeezing against him as my orgasm bubbles in my stomach. I let out a loud moan, a string of curses leaving my mouth as I come undone. Matt continues for a few moments, letting me ride out my high before pulling away, licking his lips with a sly smile. I open my mouth to speak, but his lips are back on mine before I get the chance.

Without breaking the kiss, I feel him reach down to pull his boxers up. I hear a faint slapping sound as his erection hits his stomach. I pull away, looking between us at his dick, dripping pre-cum.

"Do you want this...?" He asks me, seriously.

"More than anything." I reply honestly.

He smiles, sitting back as me pulls my legs once again, letting them rest on his shoulders. I places his hand under my chin.

"Spit."

I give him a confused look, but I quickly oblige as his eyes pierce mine. He uses my spit as a lubricant, slowly stroking his dick as he looks into my eyes.

"Matt..." I urge him.

He nods knowingly, lining himself up with my entrance. He doesn't take his eyes off of mine as he pushes into me, giving me a chance to get used to the stretch. After a few seconds, I give him the okay to move.

His pace starts off slow and sensual, attaching his lips to my neck. Upon my request, he picks up the pace, finding a comfortable rhythm. His forehead rests against mine as he thrusts into me, our lips meeting every once in a while in a quick kiss.

The only sounds leaving our mouths are soft, breathy moans. We didn't need to use words, it was like we could reach each other like a book. Matt changes the angle slightly, causing his tip to hit me in just the right spot.

"Yes, Matt. Right there!" I feel myself getting close once again, my walls squeezing around him.

"Come for me, baby." Matt breathes against my neck.

After a couple more thrusts, my second orgasm comes crashing over me like a wave. Matt isn't far behind me, quickly pulling out and cumming on my stomach with a grunt.

He collapses on top of me, both of us sweaty and tired. After a few minutes, he props himself up on either side of me, smiling down at me in adoration.

"You're incredible." He tells me, causing me to giggle slightly.

"Yeah, we're definitely doing that again."

He kisses me, and in that moment I knew I was right. This was only the beginning.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: mile high mat!!!! he’s here and he’s a menace!!! anyway, he doesn’t wear the green suit in the fic but it’s absolutely mentioned and i wanted to use the pic so 🤷🏼‍♀️ also i’m going to see frankie valli perform tonight and this fic title pun made me laugh when i thought of it. enjoy!!

word count: 3.7k

tw: dirty talk, airplane fooling around, over the clothes groping, fingering (f receiving), handjob, entirely unrealistic plane sex

summary: mat’s bored and horny on your flight to venice and it doesn’t take too much convincing to get you on board with his plan

“Stop that,” you murmur, barely moving from your contorted position in the airplane seat, head resting against the closed window shade. Mat’s hand freezes on the inside of your thigh, halfway between your knee and the apex.

“I’m bored,” he complains quietly, fingertips tapping against your leg. “Entertain me.”

Eyes still closed under your eye mask, you turn your head in Mat’s direction and wrinkle your nose at him. “Entertain yourself, I’m trying to nap,” you sigh, knowing sleep is so far beyond your reach. You love flying, but you’ve never been able to manage more than a ten or fifteen minute cat nap on international flights, and that’s when you’re in first class. On this flight, that you accidentally fucked up and booked in Premium Economy, even with the slightly improved legroom, you’re never going to be able to sleep at all.

And Mat’s barely been able to keep his hands off of you, which is partially your fault since you lifted the armrest between your seats and slung your legs over his lap in a futile attempt to get comfortable.

“If I entertain myself,” Mat says and you can hear the grin in his voice without even being able to see him, “then I’ll cop a charge for public indecency. And that’s federal time on a plane.” He pinches the inside of your thigh and your socked foot kicks out, twitching against Noah’s forearm.

“Sorry, Noah,” you whisper, lifting the eye mask just in time to catch the tail end of Noah’s eye roll. You smack your foot against Mat’s thigh in reprimand.

Noah looks miserable, stuck in the aisle seat of your three-person row. He sighs heavily and catches your eye, “I hate American Air.”

A giggle catches in your throat at his forlorn tone. He and Alexa had been booked on a flight to Venice the day before yours, but it was delayed enough that they ended up changing their flight to join you and Mat. A decision you’re pretty sure Noah regrets more than anything else in his life.

Alexa is passed out in the seat across the aisle from Noah and he shoots her a look of pure longing jealousy, that she doesn’t have to be sitting next to you and Mat.

“We’ll be good,” you promise, pushing the eye mask further up onto your forehead. “Won’t we, Mat?”

Mat lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug and shoots his teammate a downright evil smirk, “can’t promise anything.”

“Fuck you,” Noah groans, reaching across Mat’s lap and snatching the eye mask off of your head. You let out a startled burst of laughter, watching him yank it roughly over his eyes.

Mat grins delightedly and you smack his chest. “You’re so awful, Mat,” you shake your head at him. “Don’t come crying to me when you’re the number one prank target in the locker room in the fall.”

“All worth it,” he says, letting his hand cup over your cunt, palm pressing firmly against your clit. The sudden pressure makes you yelp, a noise that you try to muffle by biting down hard on your tongue. Mat grins lazily at you, moving his fingers slowly back at forth, teasing you.

“Stop that,” you hiss, tongue throbbing from the force of your bite. Your clit throbs in response to Mat’s touch and he grinds the heel of his palm against it, your hips twitching upwards. The last fucking thing you need is to be horny and unsatisfied with five hours left in the flight. “Mat,” you warn in a voice that’s more strangled and breathy than threatening.

He chuckles under his breath and gives your cunt another little squeeze before pulling his hand away and settling it back on your thigh, closer to your knee. “Can’t help it,” he mumbles, leaning in close to you. “Didn’t even get in a pre-airport quickie and it’s a seven hour flight, Squeaks.”

Your eyes narrow at him and you pull your legs back towards your space, trying to ease the slight hip cramp that’s settling into your hip. “You’ve definitely gone longer than that without touching me,” you reply, even as your stomach twists with the look he’s giving you. As much as you like to be organized when you travel, the late night flight and host of errands you’d had to get done before leaving for LaGuardia had given you very little time between getting through security and boarding the plane. A quickie hadn’t made the to-do list.

“Not in the last two weeks,” Mat counters and you hate that he’s right. You’ve both been insatiable since the season ended and you’re genuinely starting to worry you might be a nymphomaniac. His hand is warm around your ankle, thumb brushing over the knob of your bone, making slight goosebumps rise on your skin. You don’t protest when his hand drifts higher, palm rubbing against your calf and back down. The repetitive motion is soothing and you let your cheek fall against the headrest, blinking sleepily at your fiancé.

“When we get to the hotel,” you give him an easy smirk. “I have a feeling the spirit of amore will overtake me.”

“I like when the spirit of amore overtakes you,” Mat laughs quietly, squeezing your calf gently.

“Now let me try and sleep,” you prod at his thigh with your toes. “Watch a movie or something.”

“Yeah, watch a fucking movie or something,” Noah deadpans from Mat’s other side, eye mask still firmly covering his eyes. You press your fist to your mouth, muffling your giggles. Mat grins wickedly, reaching forward to tap at his screen. He selects Step Brothers and pops his headphones into his ears, settling back into his seat, hands still on your legs. You know he won’t stay quiet for long, but you hope you can at least get a quick nap in before he starts complaining about his boredom again.

You manage to sleep for a solid thirty minutes, the most you’ve ever gotten on a plane, before you squint your eyes open reluctantly. Mat’s laughter is muffled next to you, his sweatshirt’s collar pulled up over his chin while he watches the movie for the millionth time.

His hands are resting on your knees now and you stay still, just watching Mat enjoy the movie. Your head rests against the wall of the plane, cushioned by your hair and the hood of your own sweatshirt. After a few moments, Mat senses your gaze on him and looks over, lips tilting up in a crooked smile. He pops the earbuds out of his ears and pauses his movie.

“Good nap?” He asks and you nod.

“But now I have to pee,” you wiggle your feet in his lap, “so let go.”

Mat wordlessly lifts his hands from your knees and you swing you legs back into your own space, shoving your feet into your sneakers before standing, hunched over so you don’t hit your head on the underside of the overhead compartments.

“Sorry, Noah,” you tap his shoulder, shuffling in front of Mat. Noah lifts one side of the eye mask and squints at you, nodding when he realizes you’re trying to go to the bathroom. He swings his legs to the side, into the aisle, so you can get out of the row. As you’re shuffling, Mat’s palm lands on your ass in a playful smack and you stumble forward a bit, your feet caught in an awkward position and your body hunched so you don’t hit your head. The jolt of Mat’s little spank nearly sends you into the aisle, but Noah catches you around the waist, making sure you don’t faceplant.

“Thanks,” you whisper, trying not to wake up the whole plane. Over your shoulder, you shoot Mat a glare, making him smile innocently back at you.

Noah grunts a response and you head off to the bathroom on tired legs, shaking out the stiffness as you go. You yawn and step into the tiny bathroom, thanking God that it’s clean. Honestly, you don’t even really have to pee that badly, you just needed to get up from the seat and stretch your legs. Long haul flights are fun, but you always get stiff and cranky right at the halfway point. You take a minute to study your reflection in the mirror, surprised to see that you don’t look as bad as you thought - your hair needs to be tidied up and the skin around your nose and mouth is getting a little dry, but otherwise you look okay.

A quick rap on the door startles you and your voice shakes a little when you call out, “occupied, sorry!”

You’re not expecting Mat’s voice to filter through the thin folding door.

“It’s me, let me in.”

“What?” You frown at the door. “No, I’ll be done in like two minutes and you can have it.”

“Squeaks,” you can hear the laughter in Mat’s voice, “seriously, let me in. I don’t have to go to the bathroom.”

You blame the late flight and the last remnants of sleep for how long it takes for Mat’s meaning to sink in. When you realize he means joining the mile high club, your mouth falls open and your eyebrows draw together in an expression of disbelief. “What? No way! Go back to your seat right now, Mathew Barzal!”

The door jiggles a little and you huff, making sure the lock is soldly in place. “Come on,” Mat says, “no one is waiting for the bathroom. I’ve always wanted to do it on a plane.”

“There is literally no room in here for you,” you reply, looking around the tiny cubicle. There’s no way you could do anything halfway satisfying.

“Let me in and we’ll find out,” Mat cajoles and you think of the way his hand had felt cupping your cunt earlier and your cunt throbs with vague interest, your stomach twisting a little. Maybe? If you don’t mind being twisted into shapes…

As if your hand is working independently from your body, you flip the lock on the door and Mat nearly falls inside, the door clattering to the side too loudly. Your eyes widen and you start to push him back out, heartbeat thumping wildly in your chest. Mat catches himself and, with his freaky reflexes, gets himself inside the bathroom and the door shut and locked again behind him.

“Hi,” he murmurs, looking down at you. His body is pressed against yours, barely an inch of space available for either of you to move. The tight press of his body means you can feel the hardening ridge of his cock against your lower stomach and as always, your own body reacts to his, slick forming between your legs.

“Hi,” you murmur back, laughing lightly. “What’s the plan from here?” You gesture between your bodies, a quick movement. “Not a lot of space to work with.”

“No,” Mat cups the back of your head in one huge hand and angles your face upwards for a kiss. His tongue sweeps over your bottom lip and you let your jaw fall open for him to lick into your mouth. Mat’s forehead rests against yours when he breaks the kiss, “not a lot of space. But I don’t need a lot to work with.”

The hand resting on your waist slides lower, under the loose band of your oversized waffle knit lounge pants and his fingers twitch against the elastic of your panties. They’re not sexy at all - plain cotton briefs with full coverage for comfort - but you know Mat doesn’t mind since he’s gotten himself off to the sight of you in your plain panties before. You brace your hands on the small counter and the wall next to you as Mat’s hand finds its way home, fingers sliding against your folds easily. Your knees tremble and his fingers brush up against your entrance, dipping inside shallowly.

“Mat,” you hiccup his name, the heat of his cock like a brand against your stomach even through both of your layers of clothes. Your legs widen slightly, giving him more room to work, and you thank god that you dressed for comfort on the plane.

“Gotta be quiet,” he grins, pressing a hot kiss below your ear. “Can you get those cute little hands to work? Touch me, baby. Grab my cock and make me come.”

Arousal floods your cunt at his words and Mat feels the gush of fluid on his fingers, if the way his lips curl against your neck and his teeth nip at your pulse point are any indication. His thumb works at your clit, teasing the already sensitive nub into a hard, throbbing button. You can barely focus with the way his fingers are working you over, but you manage to trail a shaky hand down his chest and into the waistband of his black joggers.

“Love this pussy,” Mat mumbles in your ear, his body curved over yours. “So fucking wet and tight. Can feel you dripping down my wrist.”

You whimper and Mat grunts when you finally wrap your fingers around the thick length of his erection, the tight confine of his boxer briefs keeping your hand from being able to move that much. The plane dips a little and your grip on Mat tightens reflexively.

“Fuck,” he grunts, a strangled moan cutting off in the back of his throat.

“Sorry,” you whisper, loosening your fingers and starting a brisk stroke of his cock, fully aware that you’re on a time clock. His cock leaks precum, helping your palm glide over his shaft. Mat’s hips twitch, fucking your fist as you stroke him.

He laughs in your ear and plunges two fingers easily into the tight heat of your cunt, making you lift up on your toes, a keen slipping from your lips, your rhythm stuttering over his cock. “Who’s gonna come first, baby?” He asks, nipping at your earlobe. His thumb is relentless on your clit and you’re pretty sure it’ll be you who comes first. “Think the people outside can hear us? Think they know what we’re doing?”

“Oh god,” you moan, grinding your hips over Mat’s hand. The wet squelch of his fingers in your cunt fills the air, muffled only slightly by the fabric of your pants, and the bathroom can’t possibly be soundproofed.

“Baby,” Mat presses his fingers up against your g-spot, making you see stars, “we both know you’re gonna get off on that. Dirty girl, you like that people know what we’re doing.”

Your bodies are pressed together, your hand trapped in between your stomachs, working his cock in short strokes. It’s probably the worst handjob you’ve ever given Mat, but he doesn’t seem to be complaining, muttering filth in your ear as he draws you closer and closer to your orgasm.

His cock twitches in your hand, thickening as the stream of precome flows heavily over your hand. You look down, using your free hand to pull his sweatshirt up a little so you can see the red tip of his cock over the waistband of his joggers, white splatters of his come starting to erupt from the tip.

Mat’s fingers work double time, pumping in and out of you easily. “See what you did, Squeaks? Worked me up,” his laugh is hoarse. “Gonna come just for you. Can’t wait to be in our hotel so I can come inside of you, my favorite place. Filling you up.”

You moan, loudly, and Mat’s free hand clamps over your mouth to muffle the noise. You widen your eyes at him and he grins wickedly at you. “Knew you couldn’t be quiet,” he sounds like he’s being strangled, his voice tight as you stroke his cock, squeezing the tip. Hot, thick come drips over your fingers and your legs shake, pleasure coiled tightly in your stomach. “Fuck,” he grunts and you whine behind Mat’s hand, clenching around his fingers.

Your strokes get sloppy and Mat’s fingers lose some of their precision, both of you barrelling towards your finish. And when you do, white hot pleasure flooding your veins, you bite down on Mat’s palm to muffle your shout. He comes all over your hand in hot spurts and your knees buckle slightly with the force of your own orgasm. You slump forward, leaning heavily against Mat’s chest, trapping your hand between your bodies, fingers working clumsily over Mat’s cock.

“Oh my god,” you groan, muffled by Mat’s hand over your mouth. He buries his face in your hair, gritting out curses until his cock starts to soften in your hand. You’re both panting a little, the small room too hot and airless. “Mat,” you huff, breathlessly giggling when he wiggles his fingers against the sensitive walls of your cunt. “Stop, please, too much, babe.”

“Sorry,” he kisses your neck, withdrawing his fingers. You wince and your legs wobble, your hand shooting out to brace yourself against the bathroom’s wall. The absence of Mat’s fingers makes it all too obvious how wet you are, your arousal dripping languidly down your inner thigh. “That was so fucking good.”

“We’re never doing that again,” you tease, lips curling up in an involuntary smile. Your hand is sticky and leaves a wet smudge on Mat’s stomach and the waistband of his joggers when you pull it out of his pants. You wince and immediately stick your hand under the faucet of the small sink. Mat uses his clean hand to hit the tap so the water flows.

His other hand though, your cheeks heat watching him stick his fingers into his mouth and suck them clean before he nudges you a little to the side to wash them with soap. He smirks at you and dips his head to press his lips to your open mouth, licking at your tongue. You bite down gently on his lower lip and Mat grins against your lips before pulling back. He winks at you, “we’ll see.”

You shake your head at him, laughing under your breath. Once your hands are clean, you yank a few paper towels out of the holder and pass them to Mat so he can wipe up his stomach and you take a few to swipe at your inner thighs, cleaning yourself up as much as possible. “You go first,” you mutter, the reality of the walk of shame back to your seats sinking in.

“You left the seats first,” Mat points out, shoving the paper towels in the trash and adjusting his cock in his pants.

“This is so embarrassing,” you sigh, tossing out your own paper towels and straightening your clothes, grateful that you dressed in a dark grey set. You’re sure there’s going to be some kind of splatter on you and black would show that way too easily. Mat drops a kiss on your forehead and shifts to let you out of the tiny stall. You stumble out into the plane’s walkway and catch yourself on the opposite wall, swivelling your head to see if anyone is looking. Thankfully, it’s still dark and most people nearby are asleep.

You creep back to your seats and Noah’s wide awake, staring at you with a disgusted frown on his face. You wince and wave innocently at him, clambering over his legs to get to your seat. “Good nap?” You ask, smiling sheepishly. If the lights had been on, you know everyone would be able to see how flushed with embarrassment you are.

Noah shakes his head in disappointment at you. “We all know he’s disgusting,” he jabs his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the bathroom, “but we didn’t realize you were just as bad.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you reply, shrugging one shoulder.

“Yeah, okay,” Noah rolls his eyes. Mat comes down the aisle next, barely having waited two minutes.

Mat looks too smug, nodding at Noah and greeting him with a “Dobber” before practically hopping over his legs to get to his seat. He settles back into the seat, arm rest up so you can get comfortable against his side.

“I hate you both,” Noah whines. “And if you think I’m not telling everyone about this, you’re nuts.”

“Not the worst place we’ve done it,” Mat shoots back, smug. You bury your face into his shoulder and reach over to clap a hand over his mouth to shut him up. He nips gently at your fingers and you tighten your grip on his cheeks. He laughs and you can feel him vibrate.

Noah flips you both off and yanks the eye mask over his face, muttering about inconsiderate jackasses.

“We keep scarring him,” you mumble into Mat’s shoulder, feeling bad. “We really need to behave ourselves in public this weekend.”

Mat turns his head to rest his cheek against your hair, plucking your hand off his mouth and lacing your fingers together. “I brought the green suit,” he whispers and you immediately perk up.

“The new sage-ish colored one?”

“Mhm,” Mat hums. His thumb rubs over the back of your knuckles distractingly.

“I might have to amend my previous statement,” you laugh faintly. Mat had tried on the new suit just once before you left and even though he’d had an insane case of bed head and was shirtless under the jacket and barefoot, it was immediately your favorite look of his.

His answering laugh is smug. “Thought you might, Squeaksy. Bet you’ll break first when you see the full fit.”

Thinking of the sea of outfits packed in your suitcase - low cut, crocheted, see-through, silky and flowy, in all sorts of bright colors - you’re pretty sure Mat will break first.

Comfortable in Mat’s arms and his weak will when it comes to seeing you in vacation clothes, you stick out your hand for him to shake, saying, “deal. Loser has to do the laundry and clean the bathroom for a month.”

Mat slips his hand into yours and pumps it up and down, “deal. Get ready to lose, babe. I’m irresistible.”

“Cocky,” you murmur, leaning up to kiss the underside of Mat’s jaw. Your teeth scrape against his stubble and you feel his cheek lift in a smile.

“God, shut the fuck up,” Noah kicks at Mat’s ankle, making you both laugh and apologize insincerely. You yawn and stretch your legs as much as you can with your limited leg room, before closing your eyes. Mat’s head gets heavier on top of yours.

Turns out a quick orgasm is the solution to getting in a solid nap on a plane.

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 18 (18+)

a/n: as always, thank you @bahablastplz for editing!

[ read chapter 17 here ]

[ skz house picture book for visuals in the chapter ]

Chapter Eighteen: Of Beaches and Balconies

The small changes in Chan’s behavior make you feel more at ease around him. You choose an in-flight movie to watch together, and he keeps his hand on your thigh the entire time. When you exit the plane, he extends his hand out to you, and you take it. He guides you through the throngs of people in the airport and you feel yourself shifting into autopilot, taking comfort in following his lead. You’re so used to planning and handling everything on your own that him taking the reins is a welcome relief.

He grabs your luggage at baggage claim, hails a taxi and directs the driver to the hotel. He has you sit in the lobby while he checks in and gets the room keys. Watching him at the front desk, you can’t take your eyes off him. There is an air of confidence about him you’ve always admired but it often felt like arrogance, given the way he has treated you. You wonder if you’ll grow to fully appreciate it on this trip.

He returns to you a few minutes later with the keycards and you head to the elevator.

“What’re you thinking? Nap? Food? Exploring?” he asks as the elevator doors close.

They all sound equally appealing.

You retrieve your phone from your back pocket and open the tentative itinerary you made. Chan leans over your shoulder to look at it.

“Of course,” he chuckles.

“I like organization,” you defend yourself.

“I know,” he muses. “Send that to me, so I know what the plan is.”

“I didn’t have anything planned for today, though—we can wing it,” you shrug, tapping on your phone to send him a copy.

The elevator chimes and the doors open to the 15th floor.

“An entire evening living on the wild side? What’s gotten into you, y/n?” he teases, holding his arm out of the elevator to keep the doors open as you exit.

“I can be risky…sometimes.”

“I’ll remember that,” he replies. “Room 1533, should be all the way at the end.”

You walk down the hallway with him following close behind. When you get to the door, he unlocks it with the keycard and pushes it open for you to enter first. You smile as you enter the room, immediately walking down a hallway with dark walls on either side of you. The first door to your right is the bathroom; it’s covered in sparkling, white marble. There are two sinks, and the shower has two separate heads. You continue down the hallway which leads out into the kitchen on your left, with a refrigerator, stove, sink and an island with barstools around out. To the right is the living room with a gray sofa and a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall across from it.

You turn right and cross through the living room, sparing a quick glance at the balcony beyond the open curtains, until you’re on the other side of the room. Two French doors are wide open, leading into the bedroom. You stop abruptly upon looking inside the room. Chan crashes into you from behind. He grabs your waist to steady both of you from toppling over. His eyes follow yours into the bedroom, taking in the sight that made you stop in your tracks. The room is covered in rose petals, across the floor and on the bed in the shape of a heart. In the left corner of the room is a standalone bathtub and it, too, is surrounded by rose petals.

You can just imagine Lee Know cackling.

“That man must have a death wish,” you remark.

 “Minho,” Chan says, shaking his head. “We should bring some back with us and dump them on his bed.”

You smile at the thought. “They’ll be dead by then…”

“Even better,” he replies, smacking you on the butt as he steps around you. He sits on the bed, picking up a few of the petals. “We can pretend I planned it. Would that make it any better, being your fiancé and all?”

You really wish he’d stop throwing that word around so casually. As if it doesn’t give your heart a reason to beat and want to die simultaneously.

“It might be a little too romantic for you.”

“Ouch,” he drops the petals from his hands. “That hurts, y/n. I can be romantic.”

You arch an eyebrow as he holds out his hand to you. You place your hand in his and he gently pulls you so you’re standing between his legs.

“You’d like it if I did something like this wouldn’t you?” he looks up at you with a knowing smirk.

You roll your eyes and give his shoulders a shove. He falls back onto the bed, right into the middle of the rose petal heart.  Of course you’d like that. But hearing him say it, thinking of him doing something so romantic for the person that will one day be truly and completely his…

No, you can’t allow yourself to dwell on those thoughts.

You climb on top of him on the bed, straddling his waist. You sit up straight with your hands resting on his chest, taking in the sight of him surrounded by the red petals. He looks beautiful, the colors breathing life into his pale complexion and contrasting the dark curls strewn about his head.

You push aside the painful thoughts of the future and focus on the present. You have Chan right now. You’re his, right now. No one else.

“Thank you,” you say, breaking the silence.

“For what?” he asks, placing his hands on your hips.

“For doing a complete 180 today.”

He offers a shrug, “You made some valid points. I chose to come here with you—I have to make sure you have a good time.” He uses his hands on your hips to guide your hips, grinding them against him. “You decide what you wanna do first?”

“Yeah,” you reply, leaning down until your face is centimeters apart from his. “You.”

He smiles in return, bringing a hand up to clasp the back of your neck. He brings you down to peck your lips and in one swift move, rolls you over so he’s on top of you.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” His tone is low as he pulls your legs up so they hook around his waist. He nestles himself between your legs, making himself at home. “Gotta start this vacation off right.”

That first night you don’t venture out far from the hotel. You grab dinner at a nearby restaurant, walk around some of the shops, then return to the room to call it a night. You already feel torn between wanting to see all the things you had planned and staying cooped up in the hotel room with Chan the entire trip. Though, you don’t think he’d object to the latter if you suggested it.

The next day you have an early start in the morning and Chan wakes up without any fuss and gets ready. It makes you smile when you see him come out of the bathroom in comfortable active wear. He must have read through your itinerary and dressed accordingly. You spend the morning on a boat tour along the bay where the guide points out the homes of various celebrities, then out into the Atlantic Ocean. You and Chan are more enraptured by the dolphins you spot, his child-like glee at the sight—look of awe on his face, phone in hand to capture the moment—makes you laugh with pure joy.

You then take a quick taxi ride to Little Havana and walk along the streets. You have lunch at a Cuban café and then stop at an art museum where you take pictures to send to Hyunjin later.

You go out for dinner again and on your way back, the two of you sit for an artist to draw a caricature. Chan laughs when the picture is finally revealed to you and commends the artist for accurately depicting the size of his nose to which you can only shake your head. It’s been drastically enlarged, but you love the picture anyway.

However, you don’t love the fact that you start to question whether or not you’ll be forced to throw it away in a couple months.

Once you’re finally back in the hotel room, you both linger in the kitchen, neither of you wanting to go to bed yet. You’re standing with your back against the island and Chan is seated on a barstool next to you.

“What’s your favorite Christmas memory?” You ask, wanting to talk about anything with him.

“Hmmm,” he hums. The question seems to catch him off guard, as if he had other things on his mind. “When I was twelve, my little sister Hannah begged my parents to spend the holiday on Christmas Island. Have you heard of it?”

You shake your head no.

“It’s just east of Australia—not too far from Indonesia. Anyways, she saw it on a map and thought we’d get our presents faster if we were there.”

“Did you?”

“No,” he chuckles. “And we only got half our presents—whatever was small and convenient enough to pack for the trip. On Christmas Eve, me, Hannah and Luke even tried to stay up all night to try to catch Santa on, but they passed out pretty early.”

“You still believed in Santa at age 12?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow.

“For them, I did,” he replies, and you feel your condescending expression soften.

You try to imagine him as an older brother, keeping the magic of Christmas alive for his siblings. It’s an endearing thought. Your mind then drifts to the fact that he’s not spending Christmas with his family this year. You never asked if he typically went back home or stayed at school for winter break. Now you’re wondering if they’re missing him. And that makes you sad to consider.

Chan stands from the barstool, pulling you out of your thoughts and you immediately feel your body adjust to his movements, uncertain if he’s about to walk away.

He stands in front of you and places his hands on your hips. This change in positioning, the closeness, realigns your thought process to focus on him, here and now. What are siblings, even?

“That year I was almost convinced to believe again.” He grips onto your hips and hoists you up onto the countertop without missing a beat. “After they fell asleep, I could have sworn I heard something on the roof…turned out to be the hotel staff adjusting antennas or something though. Bummer.”

“Have you guys ever gone back?”

“Nah,” he says with a shrug but doesn’t elaborate. “What’s Christmas like with your family—any traditions?”

“My parents never did the whole Santa thing,” you tell him. He gives a nod, showing that he’s listening, but his body seems to have a mind of its own as he starts moving the barstools on either side of you, placing one under each foot. “But for as long as I can remember we’d have breakfast for dinner. Waffles, eggs, bacon, sausage…the works. More food than we could ever—”

You pause as he starts to remove your socks. He stops, too, looking up at you and waiting for you to continue. When you resume speaking, he pulls your socks off and tosses them aside.

“We would watch a holiday themed movie—A Christmas Story, Home Alone, The Santa Clause, uhm…” you blink as his hands move to the hem of your shirt and start to lift it over your head.

“And what else?” he asks casually.

“If I could stay up,” you continue as his hands proceed to pull your shirt up and you lift your arms to help, “until midnight, I got to choose one gift under the tree to open.”

He tosses your shirt on the floor with your socks.

“Did you ever make it to midnight?” He asks, hands now focused on pulling down your bottoms. You lift your hips slightly to allow it and he drags them down over your ass.

You momentarily forget to answer as you watch him, transfixed. He gently takes out one leg then the other before letting them join your other clothes on the floor. You’re not sure what’s happening. It baffles you, really. Anyone listening to this conversation wouldn’t assume anything out of the ordinary is taking place. Meanwhile this man now has you in your underwear, legs spread and feet resting on the barstools as he stands between them.

You don’t make any attempt to stop him, though.

“A few times,” you finally reply. “When I did, I always went for the biggest present.”

“Smart girl,” he says, sliding his hands up your legs, then your thighs, until they can’t move any higher. He grips your thighs, letting his eyes fall from yours down your torso until landing between your legs.

He moves his hand to your center as he asks more questions—is Christmas your favorite holiday? What’s the best gift you’ve ever gotten? Do you prefer giving gifts or receiving? All the while rubbing his thumb against your clit, over your underwear. You do your best to answer, but your attempts at speaking become futile. He smiles at this and finally removes your underwear and bra, leaving you naked on the counter while he remains fully clothed.

He abandons his line of questions and focuses instead on making you come with his mouth. He gets no objections from you.

After breakfast, you start the following morning on the beach. The hotel has reserved sections for guests with beach chairs and umbrellas. Chan—already shirtless and tempting—orders you both mimosas. As he’s lying on his own chair with a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes, you stand to remove your cover up, revealing a retro-styled bathing suit—high waisted bottoms and a halter top, tied behind your neck.

When you lay back in your own chair, you become aware of his gaze on you. You look down to make sure you aren’t indecently exposed, but all your bits and pieces are in place.

“How does everything you wear look so good on you?” He asks in an off-handed manner, pulling his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose.

You blush at the unexpected compliment.

“Maybe you’re just thinking about taking it off?”

 He considers your sentiment before nodding in agreement.  

“Maybe,” he mutters. “Maybe you don’t understand how sexy you are, y/n.”

He winks at you before sliding the glasses back up and looking out at the ocean. A silence falls over you both as the waiter brings your drinks. You cheers, clinking your glasses together before taking a sip.

 “Do you think I’m weak?” you ask him, after a moment.

“Weak?” He repeats, sounding taken aback by your question.

“Like…I’m inferior to you and that’s why you can do and say certain things to me?”

You’re just as surprised as him at your own question. It’s been on your mind a lot lately. Especially given how he had his way with you last night and you just let it happen. Not that you didn’t enjoy it.

“No…” he says after a moment. “I don’t think you’re inferior. Or weak.”

“Is it something you like to do with everyone?” You keep your eyes trained on the water in front of you, not wanting to look at him when he answers.

You don’t even like the way your voice sounds when you ask the question. Like you’re afraid of the answer…or jealous. The intimate things you’ve done with Chan, though, are so different than what you’re used to. You know he’s had, at the very least, three sexual partners before you, but you’re curious if they all bent to his will as easily as you do.

“There are certain things I like, sure—being a little rough, for example, is something I could do with anyone. But most of the shit we’ve done? I don’t know how to explain it…”

You glance over at him, but because of the sunglasses he’s wearing you can’t see his eyes. He seems to be taking his time answering. Choosing his words carefully, perhaps.

“I had an assumption about you,” he eventually continues, “and after our first night together, it confirmed that assumption. So, I pushed further and further, and you were always receptive. Or at least you seemed willing. You still do. Do you not like it?”

There’s a sincerity and openness to his tone you’ve never heard before.

“I do,” you reassure him. “I just never knew if you thought less of me or something…because I always cave and give in to what you want.”

“Quite the opposite,” he replies softly. “I knew you’re very strong-willed. I don’t think you’d just let anyone talk to you the way I have or do the things I’ve done to you. The fact that you allow me to do these things to you, that you willingly relinquish control sometimes is what really gives me pleasure.”

You distract yourself by taking another sip of your mimosa to keep from smiling at his words. You’ve never heard him say such kind things about you. But he’s felt them and seen them, seen you this entire time.

“I think a large part of my willingness has to do with you…” you tell him. “I never thought I’d actually like someone telling me what to do. But you carry yourself with an undeniable amount of confidence…an alpha-male energy, if you will, that gives me an enjoyable kind of fear that I feel like I can be safe in? If that makes sense.”

He nods his head slowly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“So, if I told you to take that top off right now…” he trails off.

“You wouldn’t,” you say, looking around at all the people and families—literal children on the beach.

“I wouldn’t,” he agrees. “Not here.”

And there it is. It’s like there has always been an unspoken agreement between the two of you, right from the start. He will push you out of your comfort zone, but there are limitations. Even that day in the park when you thought he was going to have you suck his dick out in the open.

“None of these people are worthy of seeing you in that state,” he adds, and you just roll your eyes.

You spend the next few hours at the beach together. You venture out into the water, but not too far in. You latch yourself onto Chan’s back as he treads through the water, kissing his shoulders, hugging him tight. Happy to be with him freely.

By the time you make it back to the hotel room, it’s nearly 3:00pm. You both have to shower quickly and get ready for the evening plans. You’re in the bathroom, applying the final touches to your makeup when Chan walks in. You see his reflection through the mirror and your jaw drops. He’s clad in black slacks and a black button up shirt—the top few buttons undone as usual, just how you like it. The shirt is tucked in, and a black belt is looped around his slender hips. His hair is parted on the side, dark bangs hanging over the right side of his forehead. His accessories—earrings, necklace, bracelet, and rings are all silver. He looks so fucking handsome. You fight with yourself to not tear every piece of clothing off him immediately.

He smiles at your reaction, giving your outfit a nod of approval as well; it compliments his. The two-piece set is black with tan colored flowers across it. The high waisted skirt, with a mid-thigh slit, hugs your mid-section and flows down your lower half. The top is a cropped spaghetti strap with a plunge v-neck, leaving plenty of cleavage on display.  

You toss your lip gloss into your purse before zipping it up and taking a few steps back from the bathroom sink, checking out your own reflection once more.

“You ready?” He asks as he comes to stand behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist and leans down, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You nod your head, but you’re unable to tear your gaze away from the sight in the mirror. You’ve never seen the two of you together like this. You don’t even try to hide the smile that breaks out on your face. You look good together. 

He kisses your neck before standing up straight.

“Let’s go.”

Your itinerary for tonight is a tour of the infamous Versace mansion followed by dinner on the premises. It only felt right you’d both be dressed to the nines.

After you get your shoes on and head out of the hotel room, Chan keeps his hand around your waist. In fact, he hardly lets go of you the entire night, except during the meal. If he doesn’t have his arm around your shoulders or waist, he’s holding your hand. It all just makes you so fucking happy and you’re delusional enough at this point to indulge in the façade. You’ve stopped trying to remind yourself that these niceties are just him playing a part.

When you get back from dinner, you and Chan go straight to the dimly lit balcony to enjoy the view and some fresh air. There are two wicker chairs with cushions and a small table between them.  It’s dark and so quiet that even the sound of the waves crashing against the shore reach all the way up to where you are. It’s peaceful. Part of you wishes the two of you could stay here forever and never face reality.

“What’re you thinking about?” Chan asks, catching you zoned out.

“Life,” you reply simply with a shrug.

“Yikes,” he responds with a chuckle. “Let’s not do that yet. Come over here.” he says, jerking his head.

You stand from your seat and take a few small steps until you’re standing directly in front of him, between his legs. Your eyes drift down to his chest, exposed by the top buttons he has left undone. You can already feel your pulse quicken in anticipation from the tone he’s using, the way he’s looking at you.

“Do you know what I’ve been thinking about ever since we got here?”

You shake your head.

“Fucking you on this balcony,” he grips the back of your thigh and pulls you closer. He rubs his nose along the exposed skin on your stomach, eyes closed as he breathes in your scent. His hand slides around to the front of your thigh, searching for the slit in your skirt. He trails kisses across your stomach as he finds it and pulls up the thin fabric.

You glance around you, nervous about being out in the open. Your room is on the corner of the hotel, facing the water. There aren’t any adjacent windows where anyone could see. Plus you’re so high up, it’d be difficult for anyone on the ground to make out what you’re up to. But still, it feels risky. Maybe that’s supposed to be the point.

His hand stops moving higher when he reaches the apex of your thighs, fingers dancing along the outside of your underwear. He leans back and tucks the extra fabric of the skirt into your waistband so it’s out of the way, then pulls aside your underwear with his pointer finger.

He licks his lips as the sight of your exposed pussy just inches from his mouth.

“You gonna let me?” he asks, trailing his fingers up your inner thighs with his other hand.

“Yes,” you reply, nodding and unable to take your eyes off him.

He rubs his fingers in circles against your pussy, middle finger pressed against your clit.

“All fucking day I’ve thought about touching you,” he says, watching you closely, to see every little reaction to his touch. “You don’t know how bad I wanted to lift this skirt and fuck you in the taxi on the way to dinner.”

You moan as your hips start moving against his fingers.

“Oh?” He says in response to your movements. “You would have liked that? Me fucking you in the back of the taxi?”

Yes. The thought of him seeing you and being unable to control himself, needing to fuck you wherever you are does something to you.

His fingers momentarily leave your pussy so his other hand can pull down your underwear. You step out of them, and he places them next to him in the chair. His fingers resume their work, his other hand reaches behind you to grip your ass and pull you closer to his face.

“Take out your tits,” he says before placing a kiss above your pussy.

You nervously glance over your shoulder again.

“Hey,” he calls your attention back to him, halting his movements. He waits for you to lock eyes with him. “Trust me.”

Trust me. It sounds more like a request than a demand. You do trust him. You trust him completely to handle your body with care, to not jeopardize either of you. You wish you could trust him with your heart.

With the plunge neck top you’re wearing it’s easier to just reach in and pull them out, rather than taking the top off. You lift them out and they rest on top of the shirt, making them even perkier, nipples erect as soon as the cool night air hits them.

His hand leaves your ass to cup your breast, squeezing it softly, pinching the nipple between his pointer and thumb fingers, rolling it back and forth. You rest your hands on his shoulders, caressing them.

When he suddenly stands, your hands fall to his chest. He grips the back of your neck with his hand, holding your head in place, just staring into your eyes as his other hand keeps rubbing your pussy. You instinctively raise your leg and set your foot on the chair to allow him better access.

“You’re incredible,” he declares before pressing his lips to yours.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you melt against him. At his words, at his touch. You tilt your head upwards as he kisses you, parting your lips to allow his tongue to enter. His tongue glides against yours and you moan into his mouth.

As he withdraws, he captures your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging on it lightly. He removes both of his hands from you, places a quick peck on your lips then walks over to the railing of the balcony. You’re left standing there, panting and exposed. He turns around, leans his back against the railing, then beckons you to him. You timidly place a hand over your breasts as you walk to him, covering yourself. He arches an eyebrow and as soon as you’re close enough, he lowers your hand.

“I told you about that,” he scolds you. “Don’t hide from me.”

He hooks a finger into the fabric of your top, right at the cleavage, and uses it to bring you the rest of the way to him, until you’re pulled flush against him.

It’s only the third day of your trip but you’ve already come to realize he’s capable of fucking you in many ways. He has not used his authoritative tone with you until tonight. He slips back into his commanding role with ease, and you submit without question. But now you can see more of him through it. The conversations you’ve had have shown a different side to him. You were physically attracted to him before, obviously. But now you see more of Chan through his behavior. And you’re growing more attracted to him. For who he is and not just the way he makes you feel when he fucks you.

You begin to lower yourself to your knees, wanting to take him in your mouth, but he stops you and spins you around. He switches positions with you so your ribs are pressed against the railing, exposed tits hanging out for anyone looking to see. Which, you pray, is no one. He lifts your skirt again, scrunching it together with one hand at the small of your back.

You hear him unbuckle his pants and push them down. You lick your lips in anticipation, hips moving of their own accord as you stare out at the darkened ocean in front of you. You would have never imagined yourself doing something like this just a few months ago.

Your attention snaps back to Chan as you feel his cock rubbing against your opening. He lets out a soft groan from behind you as you arch your back, pushing your ass out towards him.

“Fuck, y/n,” he says, still teasing your opening. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

You turn to look at him over your shoulder, first glancing down at his cock rubbing against you, then up to his face.

“You know I do,” is your soft reply.

He slaps his palm down onto your ass and grips it, causing you to whimper and moan.

“My girl always fucking wants it.”

You bite your lip and turn back around to face the endless horizon in front of you. To focus on that instead of the words he’s just said.

My girl.

He thrusts into you, and you shut your eyes, dropping your head. You want to focus on fucking him and not that phrase. Quite possibly the most beautiful phrase in the English language when falling from his lips.  

My girl.

His other hand tangles itself in your hair, pulling your head back as he rams into you.

My. Girl.

Your eyes snap open but you’re no longer seeing anything, no longer thinking anything. You are nothing but his girl right now. You grip the railing and force your hips back against him, fucking him hard and fast until he comes.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” he groans.

Neither of you expected it to happen so quickly. It honestly feels like an achievement, knowing how long he can hold out when he wants to.

He leans onto you, chin resting on your shoulder as you both catch your breath.

“Chan,” you say, leaning to the side and turning your head to look at him. “Get me off this fucking balcony.”

He laughs and nods. He slowly withdraws his cock from inside you and pulls his boxers and pants back up without buttoning them. In one fell swoop he scoops you up into his arms—one hand on your back, the other under your knees. He carries you back inside and sits you down on the couch.

“Wait here,” he tells you.

He heads off into the bedroom and you hear the sound of running water. You rest your head on the back of the couch and stare up at the ceiling. You can’t deny how fun, exciting, exhilarating that was but you’re glad to be back inside where no one can see.

Chan returns a few minutes later in just a shirt and his boxers. He offers his hand out to you, which you take, then guides you into the bedroom. The main lights are off, but the one above the bathtub in the room is on. The water is still running, but the tub is already halfway full.

He brings you to a stop at the side of the tub and silently undresses you, kissing your skin as it’s exposed. He then picks you up again and places you into the bathtub and you immediately relax in its warmth—it’s the perfect temperature.

He remains outside of the tub, seated on one of the stools next to it. He reaches across you to turn the water off and for some reason you find it hard to look at him. This sort of treatment, from him, is new to you. He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing from your knuckles up your arm.

“I can’t stop touching you…and I think it could be a problem,” he says, smiling.

“Then don’t,” you say, with all the seriousness you can muster.

He proceeds to run his hand across your body until he finds your pussy again, beneath the water. He slips his fingers inside of you, fucking you and working your clit to bring you to an orgasm.

“Chan,” you pant as you feel it approach.

You reach your hand out of the tub, grabbing the collar of his shirt. You pull on it with all your might and his expression turns to one of surprise as you pull him up and over into the bathtub with you. He doesn’t let this distract him too long though, he adjusts himself on his knees, his thighs keeping your legs apart and pushed against the side of the tub. His fingers keep thrusting into you, thumb circling your clit. Your hands find their way to his hair and pull his mouth against yours as you come.

Your hips rock against his fingers while you pant and moan through your release. He removes his fingers and looks down at himself—soaked shirt and boxers.

You start to laugh at the sight, and he joins you.

“I’m not even sorry,” you say.

You reach your hands out to unbutton his wet shirt and toss it onto the floor. He removes his boxers and repositions both of you, so his back is against the tub, and your back is pressed against his chest. You lean your head back against him, eyes shut.

You don’t know how long the two of you stay in the tub, but once the water starts to get cold, Chan lets some of it out then runs more warm water in. He grabs your body wash from outside the tub and you both wash up with it. There’s only one towel near the tub, so he steps out to grab it and offers it to you. You look up at his dripping figure, wondering how you got here but not wanting to question it too deeply.

When you’re both dry and in clean pajamas, you waste no time before hopping into bed to get warm again. He pulls you to him, kissing your bare shoulder.

You don’t say goodnight. You don’t say anything.

You don’t need to.  

[ read chapter 19 here ]

a/n: oh my goodness. what a tangled web they're weaving. but i promise, your hearts will be safe in the end. i'm excited to hear your thoughts 😁🩵

i have no idea why tumblr is being a cunt and fucking with the taglist. it will take five names and then no more, no matter if i try it in the original post, a reblog, or in the comments. i am sorry. i hope this still finds you 😞

[meazalykov]

across the pond

lauren james x black!reader ( requested by my mutual @pinkyqil )

summary: you surprise your girlfriend at the euros final

you’ve never pulled an all-nighter in your life before, not like this anyway. sure, you’ve stayed up late cramming for exams, but this is different. 

the glow of the computer screen in front of you blurs with each passing hour. your eyes feel gritty, and your fingers ache from typing, but you don’t stop. you can’t. there’s too much riding on this.

you lean back in your chair, running your hands through your thick, coiled hair, tugging lightly at the roots in frustration. 

the clock on your laptop reads 3:47 am, and the words on your screen are starting to swim, but you push through. you have to. you can’t afford to let anything slip, not with how close the semester is to finishing. 

not with how much pressure you’re under.

columbia isn’t forgiving when it comes to deadlines, and you knew this when you got accepted. 

you also didn’t anticipate how difficult it would be to balance school and life, especially when your girlfriend is lauren james, playing at the highest level of football with chelsea and the england national team.

you check your phone for what feels like the hundredth time that night, no new messages from lauren. 

the last one is still there, sitting unanswered in your text thread, where the argument escalated and left the both of you simmering in frustration.

“you don’t get it, laur. you don’t know how this feels. you’re a footballer, not a college student.”

you regret saying that the moment it you said it, but you were so tired. so frustrated with the assignments piling up and the guilt you felt for not being able to make it to london to watch lauren play in the euro final against germany. 

and lauren? she had been so excited, so insistent that you come, that you be there to watch her on the biggest stage of her career.

“and you think i don’t get pressure? you think i don’t know how it feels to have people depending on me, waiting for me to perform? come on, y/n. that’s not fair.”

you can still hear her voice, quiet but sharp with disappointment, over the phone. that conversation ended hours ago, but it’s still looping in your mind, like some background track you can’t shut off.

you don’t have time to dwell on it now. you stare at the paper in front of you, force yourself to focus. 

the library is quiet except for the occasional rustle of paper or the sound of someone else’s fingers tapping on a keyboard. you’re one of the few people left at this hour, the kind of student who lives in the library when finals loom.

you shift in your seat, the wooden chair creaking under your weight, and refocus on the words in front of you. you’re so close to finishing. if you can just get through these last couple of pages, you can make it. 

you’ve already mapped it out in your head — finish the work, book a flight to london, and surprise lauren before the final.

it sounds simple, but it’s anything but.

the hours stretch on, but eventually, your fingers slow down, your paper complete. 

relief washes over you, your muscles relaxing for the first time in what feels like days. you save your work, upload your assignments, and lean back in your chair with a long exhale.

you did it.

now comes the real test.

you grab your phone, fingers shaking slightly from exhaustion and adrenaline as you pull up your flight app. 

there’s one that leaves JFK airport in three hours, direct to london, and your thumb hovers over the “book now” button for a second, before pressing it. the confirmation comes through almost immediately, and for the first time all night, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. 

you’re going to make it.

you quickly gather your things, tossing your laptop into your bag and making a mental note to grab some coffee before heading to the airport. as you make your way out of the library, the cool early morning air hits you, waking you up slightly as you pull your jacket tighter around yourself. 

hopefully the chairs on the plane are comfortable in comfort plus, since you’ll get your overdue sleep on the plane. 

your mind is racing with thoughts of lauren and the final. you’d said some things you shouldn’t have in that argument, but now you have the chance to make it right.

the cab ride to the airport is a blur, and before you know it, you’re boarding the plane, settling into your seat with a sigh. you shoot lauren a quick text — nothing too revealing, just that you’re thinking of her and you’re sorry about how the conversation ended. 

you doubt she’ll reply before the final, but it’s something.

you close your eyes for a moment, trying to rest before the flight takes off. the exhaustion from the all-nighter pulls you into a light sleep, but you’re too anxious to fully relax. your mind keeps going back to the moment lauren told you about england making it to the final, how her eyes had lit up, how excited she was. 

you’ve never seen her so happy, so ready for something. you didn’t want to let her down, and now, at the last minute, you’re determined to show up for her.

by the time the plane lands in london, you’re awake from sleeping on the whole flight. the moment your phone gets signal, you shoot a quick text to leah, who’s always been a good friend to both you and lauren.

“hey, i’m in london. didn’t know if you had a spare ticket? i know it’s late to ask.”

you’re not even sure if she’ll respond, she’s probably completely focused on the final, but a minute later, your phone buzzes.“

“hi!!! i got you. meet me at the stadium.”

your heart leaps, excitement flooding through you. you’re really going to make it.

when you arrive at the stadium, it’s already buzzing with energy. fans in england jerseys are everywhere, and you can feel the excitement in the air. you make your way to the designated section leah mentioned, slipping past security with the ticket she arranged for you.

you’ve never been in the friends and family section for a game this big before, and it feels surreal to be surrounded by people who are all here for their loved ones, just like you are.

the match is electric. england and germany, battling it out on the pitch in front of a roaring crowd. you feel every emotion as the game flows, biting your lip, clenching your fists every time lauren gets the ball. she’s playing brilliantly, and you’re bursting with pride.

then, chloe kelly scores. you jump to your feet, screaming along with the rest of the crowd, your heart pounding as england pulls ahead 2-1. 

you can barely contain your excitement as the final whistle blows, and england are crowned champions. the stadium erupts, and you find yourself screaming again, jumping up and down with the other family members and friends of the players. 

the joy in the air is palpable, infectious.

and then you see her — lauren, holding the trophy, her face a mixture of disbelief and pure happiness. you watch as she celebrates with her teammates, grinning from ear to ear, and your heart swells. this is everything she’s worked for.

as the celebrations wind down, you linger near the edge of the family section, watching as the players start making their way over to their loved ones. 

lauren is laughing with leah and georgia, the trophy still in her hands, when she suddenly pauses.

“is that—”

her eyes widen as she spots you, standing just a few feet away, talking to jess. her jaw drops, and for a second, she looks like she can’t believe what she’s seeing.

you grin, waving slightly as her eyes lock onto yours.

“y/n?” lauren says, her voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

you take a step toward her, closing the gap between you as she breaks into a run, practically throwing herself into your arms.

“you’re here,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion as she pulls back to look at you, her hands cupping your face.

“there was no way i was going to miss this,” you say, grinning as you brush a curl out of her face.

her smile is blinding, and she leans in to kiss you, soft and sweet, her lips lingering on yours as the world around you fades away for a moment.

“i’m so proud of you,” you murmur against her lips, and you feel her smile grow even wider.

“i’m so happy you made it,” lauren whispers, pulling you into another hug, her arms wrapped tightly around you as the noise of the celebrations swirls around you.

and in that moment, standing there in the middle of a stadium full of thousands of people, with lauren holding onto you like you’re the only thing that matters.

you know you made the right choice. there was no way you could’ve missed this. not for anything in the world.

masterlist

thank you for the request pinky I hope you liked it :D

[samandcolbyownme]

Prompt: someone takes reader to the airport, but only to have their car break down on the way.

Warnings: swearing, angsty? Fluffy, kissing, confessions of love, suggestive language

Enjoy!

══════════════════

The look on Matt’s face when you told the triplets you accepted the job in London, absolutely devistated you.

You knew you needed to go, you also knew that the feelings you once had for him haven’t gone away either.

The decision to break up and stay friends, was mutual, but you both know, that to this day, it was still the worst decision you both ever agreed on.

The days leading up to your flight were heartbreaking as you spent time with your few close friends and of course, the three boys you grew up with.

Each time you left, Matt went to his room before you were out the door. You spent nights out in your car talking to Nick about everything, and he agrees that you should go, it’ll be best for everyone.

One thing Nick said to you one of the nights was as follows, "The Universe sends us exactly what we are ready for at the exact time we need it in our lives.”

It stuck with you since, but you felt like you were overthinking it, at times, like when Matt didn’t go straight to his room the night before you were set to leave.

Or when you got that phone call from your friend saying she couldn’t take you to the airport, family emergency so you let it slide.

You were in a panic. Every one you called was already booked and busy.

Expect one.

You let out a sigh as you tap on Matt’s name, your heart racing as you hear the first ring.

“Hello.”

“Matt?” You ask, not even bothering to hide your nervousness that shakes within your words, “Sorry it’s.. so late..”

“Don’t be. What’s going on?” He asks, voice slightly raspy. It was clear that you had woken him up, “Um, I was just..” you pause before letting out a sigh, “Nevermind. I’m sorry for wa-“

“No.” He raises his voice slightly and sighs, “I-I mean, No. you don’t have to go, y/n. What’s going on? A-Are you in trouble?”

“No I- well. Actually, yeah.. kind of.” You give in, “I need a ride to the airport tomorrow night.”

The line is silent for a few seconds before Matt answers, “It’ll be just me if that’s okay. Chris and nick are going to a party.”

“If you’ll need to pi-“

“Y/n.” Matt cuts you off, his voice lower, almost a whisper, “Please let me do this.”

You close your eyes, taking in a quiet breath, “Okay.”

——

When you opened your front door, Matt was standing there with a, clearly forced, smile, “Hi.”

You press your lips together and give him a small smile as you wheel your two suitcases out of the door. You sling your carry on over your shoulder and by the time you look back, Matt is already walking to the car with your cases.

You were dreading this.

A lot could happen in the hour from your house to the air port.

“Which airport?” He asks as he grabs his phone to pull up the maps. You lick your lips, “Um, it’s LAX.” He nods, tapping his phone before setting it down.

The first twenty minutes of the drive was silent, nothing but the other cars passing and the music playing on the radio filled the tension filled silence.

“So did you just ask me because you didn’t have anyone else?”

His question, the way he asked it, sounded awful of you. You look over at him, “I didn’t want to have to ask you.”

“Why?” He glances over at you and you look away, “I just.. with how you acted when and ever since I told you about London...” You look over at him, he’s looking away, “Matt, the way your face sank..“ you lower your voice, “It broke my heart.”

“Being told you’re losing someone you don’t want to lose and not being able to do anything to stop it is also enough to break someone’s heart.”

You close your eyes, the burn from the tears welling in them cause you to tense up for a second but both of your attention is taken away to the car when it starts to sputter and you both jolt forward.

“What the fuck?” Matt curses as he veers off the road. He puts his four ways on and you look in the mirror and over at him, “What the hell happened?”

He shrugs, turning the car off and trying to start again but the engine just clicks and then it goes silent.

He does look at you, “Are you okay?”

You glance over at him, frowning when you see that he isn’t looking your way, “Yeah. I’m fine. I just-“ you look at the time, “I have to be at my gate in twenty five minutes.”

“Okay, okay.” Matt grabs his phone, “Can you call Nick and tell him that I’ll be late to get them?”

You nod, calling Nick while he figures out the car.

“Miss me already?” Nick asks as he answers. You roll your eyes, laughing slightly, “I mean yeah, but that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Um okay?”

“Matt’s car broke down, we’re like I don’t know..” you glance over at Matt who has his phone pressed to his ear, “Like twenty ish minutes away.”

“Y/n, your plane takes off in twenty ish minutes.” Nick mocks you, “Is Matt calling someone? I don’t-“

You hear Nick fill chris in and Matt starts speaking, “Yeah, I’m about twenty minutes away from the LAX Airport..” he hums, pulling the phone away from his ear as he tells them what street you’re on.

“Okay. Thank you. Mhm.” He hands up and tosses his phone into the cupholder. You turn your attention back to Nick, “Hold on.”

“They said they can get someone out here to look at it as soon as they can. She said it could be up to an hour.”

All you hear is Nick say, “The universe, babe. It’s on your side.” Then the three beeps.

You pull your phone away from your ear and stare down at your lap.

“What did Nick say?”

Matt’s voice snaps you out of your daze, “Oh, um. They said that.. they’ll find a way home.” You look over at him, “Do you.. I don’t know.. ever have moments, where you’re like.. wow the universe actually loves me?”

You look over at him, laughing anxiously. Matt gives you a confused look, “What are you saying?”

You turn towards him, glancing back at your bags in the back seat, “I’m saying.. maybe Nick was right.”

“About?” He raises his brows and you look back up at him, “A few nights ago, Nick told me something.” You laugh slightly, “He said something about how the universe will send us what we are ready for right when we need it most and-“

Matt leans over, cutting your words short with his lips on yours. His hands slide to your cheeks, holding your face gently as he deepens the kiss before pulling his lips away from yours, “You’re right where you’re meant to be.”

You give him a slight nod as your hand comes up to lay on his, eyes looking between his and his lips, “With you.”

He smirks, a smile forming as he grips your chin, “With me.”

══════════════════

I hope you liked this, let me know what you thought! As always, I love you! 🖤 thank you for reading!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[kidvoodoo]

Jeest Mafia AU, snippet under the cut 💚💙

Joost tried not to make eye contact with anyone at the airport, though the stares he received at his battered face were inevitable. How many tall, blond, bandaged, bruised and bloody men were in a hurried rush to the terminal? Odds say: not many.

‘Not that I should be thinking about odds right now’ chided his conscience, ‘that’s how I got into this mess in the first place…’

His pace didn’t falter despite the looks from the other passengers lining up in their respective lines. All of them with bags and luggage alike underarm or trailing behind them, his own, suspiciously absent.

No time to pack, clothes on his back, phone, wallet and a little vial of two small white pills. Security checkpoint nearly put an end to those, but a desperate, puppy-eyed look and his disheveled state made the officer roll her eyes and wave him through, for all she knew, or anyone knew, it was aspirin.

‘Fix more than a headache’ his inner thoughts sneered, ‘steady on Joost, for emergencies only’.

He kept his eyes on the gate numbers, briefly glancing at the destinations. Cabo, Shanghai, Johannesburg, each a far flung place he could have potentially laid low in for months, relax on some resort beach or in a high class penthouse…

But that’s not where he’s headed.

He spies the glowing gate number, the destination? Helsinki, Finland. He got the ticket the same day he got the phone call telling him to leave as fast as possible, his usually calm and monotone source had an edge of panic to their voice, Joost trashed the burner after that and shredded the last of his books and burned them. He left his apartment as the ashes were still smoldering.

Finland eh? The only clue of what was happening next was the note in the ticket envelope, hurried scrawling in broken Dutch gave him simple instructions:

Taxi to the airport, pay in cash. Get on the plane. Make sure you are in the camera view the whole time, locate the Air Marshal and watch him. Once you are off the plane, head to the pick up zone in the parking lot and look for the black limo. Tap on the driver’s side window and give the password.

“Here for Tommy’s boy” he mutters under his breath. The magic words that’ll guarantee his safety and freedom, or will land him a bullet between the brows…

Better than the alternative.

He’s on time for the early boarding and hands the Steward his ticket, eyeing the Air Marshal at the doors to the plane’s walkway. He’s given a smile and some well wishes for his flight and finally, for the first time in several days, he feels a little sliver of calm wash over him.

‘Can’t cut me up on the plane you fuckers’

He finds his seat, window view and close to the front of the plane and plops down, the ache in his joints and back starting to flare up since the adrenaline begins to wear off.

Finland…he’s uncertain exactly what is waiting for him there, he regrets not grabbing a translation booklet at the terminal kiosk but there was simply no time. His new phone is IP hidden for the time being till he can get a VPN to bounce his signal, so no using Google’s underwhelming translation system…

He thinks back to a conversation he overheard at a conference last year. The big guys were all there, each of them with a meaty bodyguard in tow and a pistol or two brandished in plain sight.

He was there on happenstance, just finishing up the numbers to hand to his boss for the last fiscal year when his curiosity got the best of him.

“Baltic’s are at it again,” his boss sneers, tapping his cigar onto the floor, “think they’ll hide behind the Nordic cunts so they don’t have to play anymore”.

“Hm.” Another well dressed older man hums in response. He’s the police liaison, a former Captain who’s been working with the mob for 40 years. “Not much to be done about it Albert, the Fins have the advantage now, I hear they’ve even brought Estonia into the fold now.”

Albert snorts, getting to his feet and giving a couple other well-dressed people a farewell wave.

“Cuz of that little shit,” he grumbles, motioning his bodyguard to get a move on. “What’s his name? Kät-something? The Union fucker.”

“Käärijä,” the former Police Captain supplies, “his Union is very bold for an upstart, cutting off the trade in the Baltic’s disrupts everything. Heard he’s in talks of making a deal with the Norwegians as well. That’s the case? Say goodbye to the big money”.

Joost tried to linger as long as possible to catch the last bit of conversation, tucking himself against the wall and listening close.

“Damn idiot, Norway doesn’t play with the new players, even if the young lady is supposedly running things over there now. He’s a fucking lunatic to think the Baltic’s will stay loyal, he’ll be done by the end of the year, mark my words-“

A dinging noise jolts him awake from his daze, the Flight Attendants are doing their safety check. The doors to the plane are closed and for the first time in weeks, months even, Joost’s tense shoulders drop with exhaustion.

He is safe. For now.

<><><>

Roughly three hours later, he startles awake.

The voice over the intercom of the plane cabin announces in several languages that they have arrived at Helsinki Airport and will begin the landing process momentarily.

He spares a glance around the cabin out of paranoia, nothing out of the ordinary and no unwanted eyes in his direction.

Twenty minutes later and he’s heading out of the plane and into the airport terminal. The weather outside is gray and snowy, the sky a mass of colorless clouds and the sun choked somewhere behind. He shivers just looking at the weather, his cheap suit jacket will definitely not suffice.

He heads down the walkways and tried not to get too overwhelmed with the directions, mostly in Finnish but thankfully also in English.

He’s only a hundred feet from the parking lot when he feels eyes on his back. He tries subtly to peak behind and catch if he’s being followed.

Two men, both in dark blue suits and expensive leather shoes, each sporting a grim, intense expression. They have their hands in their pockets.

Joost picks up his pace, eyes focused on the automatic doors that swing open and shut.

He can hear them closing behind him, their shoes loud against the tiles. He starts to jog.

He doesn’t stop to apologize to the people he pushes past to get out of the door, ignoring the scowls and curses thrown his way. His heart is hammering in his chest, he has but a minute to locate the car before he’s dragged off and butchered in a dark corner…

A car horn blares loudly as he flinches and freezes, he had walked right out in front of a pair of high beams, his eyes don’t have time to adjust as he hurriedly runs around to look.

Black limousine, tinted windows with triple thick bulletproof glass and chrome trimming. The driver’s side window rolls down, a bald man with sunglasses and a mustache regards him blankly.

“P-please,” he stammers, eyes catching the two suited men finally breaching the threshold. “I-I’m being followed-“

“What is phrase?” The driver interrupts, not at all phased by the situation in the slightest.

“Th-the wha-oh yes yes, it’s uh…” he swallows takes a breath and speaks the words softly enough for the man to hear him.

“I’m here for Tommy’s boy.”

The door at the back of the limo clicks open, beckoning him inside.

He all but dives into the car and slams the door shut just as the two men make a dash towards the vehicle, only to stop dead in their tracks mere feet away.

Joost doesn’t have the time to take in his surroundings as he sees what has halted his stalkers. In the split second before the limo peels out with a loud screeching of tires, the window on the opposite side is down just enough to see the startled and blanched faces of the two men, who find themselves held in place by a man aiming a 45 caliber handgun at them.

Were it to fire at point blank range, one of the two men would have nearly had his torso blown open. More than a lethal shot, truly overkill at that point.

The car peels out of the lot and before he knows it, Joost is tossed back into he seat as the limo put some speedy distance between him and the danger.

A loud curse and sound of a window being rolled up. Joost finally levels his eyes behind his cracked glasses to see his savior.

Sitting across from him now with the gun held loosely in his grip is a dark haired man with pale skin. He sports a blunted bowl cut and his facial hair is trimmed and tidy. He wears a long black coat with a layered polo necked jumper and a couple silver chains around his neck. The jewelry matches his pierced ears and nose rings, the whole of his attire is expensive and modern looking.

Joost is drawn into the man’s piercing eyes, blue like his own but with an edge of silver steel, made more intimidating and entrancing by the heavy makeup that lines them.

The man is staring at him, Joost’s palms immediately start to sweat.

“I uh,”

“You are the Dutchman we take in?” The man interrupts, his voice has an hint of annoyance, Joost nods politely and holds out his hand to shake.

“Yes, I mean to say, thank you,” he tries to muster a charming smile but finds himself pinned under the man’s gaze like a deer being watched through a hunter’s scope.

“I’m sure this is a bit of trouble for you-“

“Trouble? I say it is bigger trouble for you and not me. You need a drink yes? I have gin and brandy here.” The man all but ignores whatever Joost was trying to say and busies himself with pouring a drink from a side bar containing glasses and some bottles. “Brandy since the gin is warm, I not have a lot of time to get it ready.”

Joost wants to say something, anything to this stranger but finds himself at an utter loss for words. The man looks at him expectantly, pushing the glass of amber liquor into his hands.

“There you drink that, feel better afterwards. You say you looking for Tommy’s boy? That is what he tell you to say? He think he is funny man, he gonna have to explain to me…” the man trails off, eyes now scanning and taking in Joost’s disheveled appearance. “You have injury? I have some bandage here and some other things uh,” the man stops and searches for a word. “you know, doctor supplies?”

“First aid kit?” Joost supplies.

“Ah yes yes! That is it,” the man grins and digs around a bit before huffing in annoyance and opening the little sliding window to the driver’s compartment. He asks for something in Finnish and the bald man replies. Information gathered, he opens a compartment and fishes out a nondescript black case.

“Okei here it is. Let me see your hand, you have blood on your palm.” He does? Joost was in such a mad dash to get away from the goons who had jumped him back in the Netherlands he didn’t have time to take stock of his injuries. He holds out his hand timidly and the man yanks it none too gently to inspect.

“No stitches I think,” he hums, grabbing supplies to clean and patch the gash on Joost’s palm.

The man’s grip is firm and steady, there is warm radiating from beneath the leather gloves he wears.

“You are Mr. Klein eh?” The man says absentmindedly as he cleans the wound. “I hear you screw your boss out two million euros, not bad.” The man smirks, eyes flickering up to Joost’s face. “I like someone who disrupts the status quo. When Tommy say you in trouble, I had to do something about it. Would be a waste for you ending up in concrete.”

Joost cringes a little at the mention of his dilemma, taking a long gulp of his drink and reveling in the burn.

“I don’t know about disruption, I just did what I thought was right is all. Didn’t think it would go this far…” he wishes he could be more proud, he did take a chunk of money from the hands of the worst men in Europe. Now, he’s a marked man, possibly forever.

The dark haired man seems to sense his discomfort and finishes dressing his hand, grabbing a gauze patch and passing it over.

“What is done is done, you think it is bad thing now, but you make a big move, and now you have a big advantage for the war that is coming.”

Joost finishes placing the gauze over the gash on his cheek, looking at the man puzzlingly.

“What war? And what advantage are you talking about?”

The man leans back against his seat and smiles, his sharp canines peak over his lips and his expression is one of amusement and vicious excitement.

“The war between the Union and the Old Men, tear down their ruined kingdom and make our own. The advantage? That’s easy,”

The man chuckles darkly.

“You have Käärijä in your corner now.”

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober 2024 - Day 22 - Dirty Talk

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : Here is the Kinktober episode for the « Dirty Talk » prompt. Thank you so much to the anon who suggested it to me in the Asks ✨. I hope you enjoy it !

CW : Dirty Talk - Flirting

In the studio's dimmed lights, Marshall paced the floor, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against his thigh. He’d been trying to work with you for months, bending schedules, pulling favors, convincing his team, convincing you. It was almost unheard of for an artist of his stature to try this hard to work with an emerging artist such as you. As it was for such a new talent to be so wary and hesitant to work with such a big name in the industry. When you first got an email telling you that Eminem wanted to collaborate with you, you thought it was a prank and did not even bother replying. But then, you got a call from Paul Rosenberg, assuring you it was real. Anyone would have jumped at the opportunity but you had your reservations : sure, being on a track with Eminem would be huge, there was no denying that. But still, the promise of exposure was not enough to convince you. You didn’t want to be just another pretty voice he’d use on a track. You wanted control, artistic freedom. And as someone who was trying to build a brand based on being audacious and unapologetic, you weren’t sure that he was the right fit. After all, it wasn’t 1999 anymore and, if Eminem was a household name, you really would have wanted to collaborate with Slim Shady.

When you kindly replied that you had your reservations about the collaboration request, you expected things to end there. But they didn’t. Marshall Mathers himself got on the phone with you to try and convince you. And, seconds after you said you would think about it, you received a few files, beats he produced in your Inbox. He offered for you to choose the one you wanted to work on, assuring you that he had made them with you on his mind. You actually loved every one of them and there was only so much artistic courting that you could resist, so you ended up agreeing. And as soon as his team received word that you were on board, they booked your flight and hotel reservation. And judging by the private plane sent your way, as well as the penthouse suite in the fanciest hotel in Detroit, you could tell they were putting efforts into making the whole thing happen.

In truth, Marshall had been obsessed with your music for a while. He had randomly discovered one of your tracks and he had ended up binge-listening to everything you had ever put out. Why you weren’t a superstar yet, he was not sure. What he did know, however, is that he needed to be on a track with you. Soon enough, a big, household name would collaborate with you and he would have lost his chance. Every time he heard your voice, gritty and lush with this edge he couldn’t quite define, he felt himself get pulled deeper into an obsession he couldn’t shake. You were fresh, unlike anything he’d heard—raw, provocative, and willing to cut to the bone. And now, finally, you were coming to his studio to work with him.

The door swung open, and in walked the woman who’d been running laps in his mind for the better part of the year : you. She was as striking as her voice, with a smirk that hinted at trouble, and eyes that seemed to take in everything all at once. One that said you knew exactly what you were worth, and that you were not impressed by his notoriety. One look at you and he could tell you weren’t one of those new artists who got all shy once they were face to face with him, often trying too hard to mold themselves to his expectations. And, of course, he liked it. That was exactly what he was looking for. Being one of the greatest was, in many ways, a blessing, but it was also a curse, especially when one was looking to constantly renew themselves, push the pen and their artistic boundaries.

There was an instant click, a mutual electricity hanging in the air. Marshall didn’t miss the way your gaze lingered on him, a mix of curiosity and challenge. “Didn’t think you’d actually pull it off,” you said, eyebrows raised as you looked around the high-end studio. Your voice, lower than he’d expected, hit him like a sucker punch, all slow confidence and swagger. “Didn’t give myself a choice,” he shot back, holding your gaze. “When I want something, well, in that case, someone, I get it.” You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into that signature smirk. “I guess that makes two of us. Let’s get to work, yeah?”

You settled in, talking about the track, about the way he wanted to play with tension, throw caution to the wind, using some of your work as inspiration and reference. You were on the same wavelength from the start—both looking to take risks, create something that would linger in people’s minds, make the audience feel something intense.

The track he had in mind was something dark and seductive, a pulsing bass line underlying a beat that was slow but biting. He laid down his first verse, his voice smooth and confident, every word dripping with an intentional intensity. He could feel you watching him from the booth, the way your eyes followed every line he delivered. He didn’t hold back, letting his lyrics flirt with the edge of decency, taking up space in a way that dared you to match it. Of course, you were intent on proving that you were up to the challenge. When it was your turn, you took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and let it all pour out, your voice a rich, smoky counterpoint to his. Your verse didn’t just match his energy—it went toe to toe, pushing him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. You turned his words back on him, responding with lines that danced between taunt and temptation. Your lyrics seemed to pull at him, inviting and provocative, every line like a hand wrapped around his collar, drawing him in. As you recorded, Marshall’s mind raced. This wasn’t just a track. It was something else—something that was as personal as it was artistic. The tension wasn’t just in the music. It was in the room, filling the space between you, every glance and every word laced with double meanings.

When you wrapped up, they both took a breath, looking at each other across the soundboard. The track was like nothing he’d done before—raw, sensual, a collision of their styles in a way that felt both inevitable and dangerous. “Damn,” you murmured, still catching her breath. “Didn’t think you had that in you.” He smirked, leaning back in his chair. “I guess you bring it out of me.”

The two of you sat in silence, the unspoken hanging there, both of you fully aware that you had created something unforgettable—not just in the music, but in the connection you had formed, a synergy that was addictive, electrifying, and undeniable. The hypothesis was verified as soon as his team heard it and you saw their eyes open wide with a mix of shock and excitement. They exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves as they processed what they’d just heard. One of his longtime producers. “Man…that was…” He trailed off, shaking his head, unable to find the right words. “It’s insane. I’ve never heard anything like it from you before.” Paul, his manager, practically vibrating with excitement, chimed in. “That track—it’s got this… it’s hot, but it’s intense, like… it’s like you two were…” He hesitated, not daring to finish the sentence. You let out a low laugh and raised an eyebrow when you caught the unspoken word.

Marshall smirked, feeling that same rush he’d felt in the booth, that electricity that seemed to carry through every single line you’d spit back and forth. “It’s a vibe,” he said, his voice casual, but the gleam in his eyes told everyone that he knew exactly what you had both created. “We went all out on this one.” Paul turned to him, a sudden fire in his eyes. “You can’t let this just be an audio track, man. People have to see this. They need to see that tension. It needs a music video—one that’s as raw as the track itself.” His personal assistant, Tracy, nodded, practically bouncing in her seat. “Exactly. I mean, the lyrics alone…there’s a story there. It’s like a back-and-forth, the chemistry, the intensity. You’re going to leave people craving more if they don’t get the full visual experience.”

You glanced over at him, eyes sparkling. “They’re right, you know. The track isn’t just something you hear—it’s something you feel.” For a moment, he let himself imagine it. A dimly lit set, shadows casting just the right angles, both of your voices echoing through a dark, intimate setting. Your verses bouncing off each other, your eyes locked, the tension between you building in every frame. He could see it perfectly—a music video that wasn’t just a performance but an experience, where every look, every gesture, was a continuation of the fire that had been poured into the track. “All right,” he finally said, feeling a grin stretch across his face. “Let’s make it happen.”

His team erupted in cheers, already throwing around ideas for directors, cinematographers, and set designs. But through it all, you and Marshall stayed locked in, that same spark between you burning as bright as ever. You leaned in, your voice low, almost teasing. “Guess you’re stuck with me for a little longer, then.” He gave a slow, satisfied nod, knowing exactly what you’d just set in motion. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Weeks later, the music video finally dropped, it was like striking a match in a gasoline-soaked room—the internet exploded. Within hours, the video was trending worldwide, fans and critics alike flooding social media with reactions that ranged from awe to outright disbelief. It was intense, raw, and more than a little suggestive. The chemistry that had been palpable on the track was cranked up to maximum on screen, leaving viewers questioning just how much was acting and how much was real.

The video opened in a dimly lit, shadowed room, smoky and moody, with neon lighting casting dramatic hues across the scene. You and Marshall faced each other in the middle of the room, your silhouettes close but never quite touching. The way you exchanged verses was more than just a performance—it felt like a conversation laced with danger, anticipation, and something unmistakably intimate. Each line you spit felt like a challenge, each look lingering just a little too long. One of the most talked-about scenes showed you standing nose-to-nose, voices dropping to a murmur as you exchanged lyrics that sounded more like secret fantasies than lines in a song. His hand brushed down you arm, your gaze locked on his with an intensity that made it impossible for viewers to look away. Every second of the video was like a slow burn, inching closer to the edge without ever quite going over it. But the tension between the two of you was undeniable, and that fine line between performance and reality left people buzzing.

Immediately after the video ended, social media exploded with speculation. Fans were dissecting every moment, rewatching certain frames on repeat, turning them into gifs in the process, trying to find evidence that what they’d witnessed wasn’t just acting. A tweet from a prominent rap reactor read: “That video was more than a collab. Did they actually…?” Another comment racked up thousands of likes: “I swear they DID it on camera. You can’t fake chemistry like that.” Even celebrities chimed in. One famous pop artist tweeted, “Is it just me or did they actually record their dirty talk in te studio? 🔥🔥🔥,” while others posted cryptic reactions that only fueled the frenzy. Fans shared memes about “needing a cigarette after that video” or “wanting what they have.” A rumor began circulating that someone from the crew had leaked hints of “off-camera moments” that were even more intense, stoking the intrigue and mystery surrounding the pair.

When asked about it in interviews, Marshall gave his trademark smirk and brushed it off. “We wanted to make it unforgettable. I’d say we did our job,” he said with a gleam in his eye, adding nothing to deny or confirm the rumors. And yourself, just as sly and playful, simply said, “I guess you’ll never know. But you can certainly dream about it.” The ambiguity only fueled the fire. The video racked up millions of views within days, and the speculation became part of its mystique. Fans debated, celebrities whispered, and music critics declared it “one of the sexiest collaborations of the decade,” a “masterclass in tension and allure.”

The two of you certainly had fun watching people’s reaction to the track. Both of you had enjoyed the collaboration, the artistic chemistry being absolutely undeniable, and when Marshall offered to produce some tracks for your upcoming album, you happily accepted. The two of you spent a lot of time in the studio, getting to know each other and joking around whole you got work done. You were kind of amazed that the hype around your collaboration didn’t seem to die down. You were in a cozy corner of the studio, scrolling through your phones and watching the internet collectively lose its mind. Every tweet, every meme, every fiery reaction sent you both into fits of laughter and smirking exchanges. It felt like you were sharing in on some private joke, one that only you knew the punchline to. “Did you see this one?” you laughed, nudging him and holding your phone out so he could see. It was a meme of the two of you side-by-side with captions that read: ’When you make a whole music video just to flirt,’ and ’They can’t act that well… right?’

He chuckled, shaking his head as he read it. “I mean, they’re not totally wrong,” he murmured, his voice low, a teasing glint in his eyes as he looked up at you. You arched an eyebrow, biting your lip to keep from smiling too much. “Oh, really?” You let the words hang in the air, daring him to take the bait. He leaned back, pretending to think about it. “Maybe,” he said slowly, smirking. “Maybe they’re onto something. All those people guessing we weren’t just acting… I mean, what do you think?”. You gave him a playful shove, laughing. “I think you’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Nah,” he replied, scooting a little closer. “You’re the one who keeps egging them on.” He raised his eyebrow, giving her that signature cocky grin. “You love it. Admit it.” You rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “I’m not saying I don’t like watching them squirm a little,” you said, smirking as you glanced down at another comment that read: ’The only thing hotter than the track is the way they look at each other.’ “I mean, they do have a point, though. The chemistry is… undeniable.”

“Oh, we’re undeniable now?” he teased, leaning in close enough that you could feel his breath against your cheek. “Undeniable chemistry, huh?” You shrugged, pretending to be unaffected, though you were pretty sure that he could see the flush creeping up your neck. “I mean… I just call it like I see it,” you murmured, your voice a little lower, a little softer.

There was a charged silence as you both looked at each other, the playful edge lingering but shifting slightly, deepening. His fingers brushed yours, just barely, but enough that you both felt the spark. “You know,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking between her gaze and her lips, “we could give them a little more to talk about.” Your grin was wicked as you leaned in, your voice barely a whisper. “Now that would really set the internet on fire.”

[brooklynn3253]

Unspoken Signals pt 2

Because I kinda want to turn it into a couple parts soooo here we go 😍

The Tiny Kicks that Stole My Heart

Let's get real, pregnancy is a wild ride. It's a constant state of being surprised by your own body. One minute you're craving pickles and ice cream, the next you're gasping for air because your lungs are apparently a tiny bit cramped. And then there's the whole emotional rollercoaster, the hormones making you cry at commercials and argue with your partner over the best brand of toilet paper.

But amidst all the chaos, there are moments of pure magic. Moments that take your breath away and leave you feeling completely overwhelmed with love.

For me, one of those moments was feeling my first kick. It was a delicate flutter, like a tiny butterfly trying to take flight. I remember sitting on the couch, watching a movie, when a little tap, almost imperceptible, registered in my belly. I stopped breathing, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited for it to happen again. And it did. A gentle "hello" from the tiny human growing inside me.

The experience was intensely personal, but it also filled me with a sense of overwhelming love for this little being I was carrying. It was like a secret shared between us, a connection that transcended words. It was a love that was both terrifying and exhilarating, a feeling so profound it left me speechless.

And then, there was Bucky. My partner, my confidante, the man who had already stolen my heart with his gentle nature and unwavering support. Witnessing his reaction to the baby's first kicks was a moment I will never forget.

He was sitting next to me on the couch, his hand resting on my belly, his eyes closed in concentration. When the little flutter came, I stared at him, waiting for a reaction. His eyes flew open, a smile spreading across his face as a wave of disbelief washed over him.

"Did you feel that?" He whispered, his voice filled with awe.

I nodded, a tear rolling down my cheek. He squeezed my hand, his thumb brushing against my palm in a silent reassurance. "He's kicking," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

In that moment, I saw a fatherhood I had never imagined. Bucky, always the stoic, the strong and silent type, was overcome with a tenderness I had rarely witnessed. The love in his eyes was not just for me, but for this tiny spark of life we were creating together.

He started talking to the baby, "Hey, little guy. Did you hear mom talking about pickles? We'll get you some, buddy. Just you wait."

I laughed, my heart swelling with a kind of warmth I had never experienced before.

Bucky's love for the baby wasn't a sudden realization. It had been simmering below the surface, a quiet knowing that he was going to be an incredible father. He was already so present, so attentive, so involved in my pregnancy. He researched baby names, helped me choose clothes, and spent hours reading pregnancy books.

But it was that first kick, that tiny nudge against his hand, that solidified the love in his heart. It was a moment of pure connection, a shared understanding of the amazing miracle taking place inside my body.

The flutter became a bump. The bump became a strong kick. Then a punch. Sometimes a whole-body wiggle. And with each movement, Bucky's love for our child deepened. He would sit for hours, talking to my belly, telling stories of his childhood, his hopes and dreams for the future. He would sing silly songs, read poetry, and even attempt to play the guitar (though his musical talents are questionable, to say the least).

He would rub my belly, whispering words of encouragement, reassurance, and love. He would tell the baby how beautiful they were, how strong, how special. His voice would soften, his eyes would glisten, and I would see the father he was destined to be.

It wasn't always easy. There were moments of frustration, exhaustion, and fear. Hormones raged, sleep was scarce, and my body felt like a foreign land. But Bucky was always there, a steady hand in the storm. He would massage my back, make me laugh, and remind me that I was strong, capable, and beautiful. He was my partner, my rock, my best friend, and the father of our child.

Now, when I feel that little foot kicking against my ribs, or a hand pushing against my side, I know it's not just my body that's changing. It's our lives. It's our love. It's a love that has been nurtured in the womb, a love that is more powerful than anything we could have ever imagined. A love that started with a tiny kick and has blossomed into a lifetime of possibility.