#TAP air Flight Booking

[gettapflightinfo]

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.

[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.

[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

[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.”

[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!

[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.

[lazycats-stuff]

I thought of an idea for ra's stories Imagine that the male reader is Bruce's eldest son, and one day on a vacation (maybe he went to the Maldives), Ra's shows up and starts trying to spend time with him. And he has one of the best vacations in the unlikely company of Ra's

Oh yeah... I wish I could go to Maldives... Away from this winter and cold weather in general.

Summary: (Y/N) goes to the Maldives to relax. Ra's has some intentions.

Warnings: Ra's and (Y/N) just hanging out, (Y/N) doesn't know what the hell's going on, maybe a growing relationship?

(Y/N) sighed in relief as he left the plane. His legs were slightly cramping due to the fact that he has spent over 20 hours on the plane. He stretched as he made his way to pick up his luggage. The flight was nice and he slept for a better part of it. He ate some of the food that they served, but the food didn't fill him and he wasn't full by any means.

So first stop is to get a seaplane and then got to his resort. Then the first thing he is going to do is sleep a little bit and then go out and explore the Maldives. He is still jet lagged, despite sleeping for a good part of the flight.

He rubbed his eyes as he made his way to the pick up for the seaplane. He took the VIP plane of course. Bruce paid for everything and gave (Y/N) a hefty amount of pocket money to spend on the way he pleases.

Bruce also bought the return ticket. (Y/N) needed this vacation. After months of just being stressed due to a case, Bruce decided to send him on the vacation the moment that the case was over.

(Y/N) didn't have any complaints about that. Especially when Bruce paid for everything.

(Y/N) sighed as he was put in the seaplane, waiting for the plane to start. His luggage was put somewhere in the back. After 10 minutes of waiting, they started going to the hotel, well, resort. Bruce has booked a 5 star hotel and it was near the beach and it had a bar.

And more importantly, there was Wi-fi connection for free. After landing, (Y/N) quickly made his way to the front desk, checking in quickly and then going up to his room. The view was breathtaking.

He laid down on the bed, taking his phone out of his pocket, calling Bruce. He promised that he is going to call him when he got to his hotel room.

He waited for a second before Bruce picked up.

" Hey, you got into your hotel? " Bruce asked with a breathy voice.

" Yup. Are you lot on patrol? " (Y/N) asked and Bruce hummed in agreement.

" I won't keep you then. Let the others know that I made it safely. " (Y/N) said, bidding Bruce a goodbye for now..

Bruce bid him goodbye too and (Y/N) ended the call. He took his shoes off and took his clothes off, leaving his boxers on. He just dozed off, allowing himself to sleep for a couple of hours.

(Y/N) opened his eyes, yawning quietly. He looked at the time on his phone. He got here in the morning and noon has passed. He stood up, taking his towel, quickly changing into the swimsuit he brought with him.

He put on a shirt too and took his phone. He tapped his pocket for the room key and off he went. It was just perfect time for him to go to. It was starting to get warm and he just needed to get refreshed.

He walked down to the front desk and stepped out in the warm air. For November it's hot and this weather in Gotham is just impossible. (Y/N) wished for this weather to be in Gotham. The cold was just getting on his nerves at this point.

He put his towel down on the sand and took his shirt off. Shoes got off too and he hid his hotel room key and phone into his sneakers, then put the shirt over it.

He turned back to the beach before just running in. He dove in when the water got to his knees. The water felt heavenly on his skin and when he emerged he smiled. The stress seemingly melted away and he was more calm.

And his blood pressure has gone down. He swam around for a while, enjoying the water. He turned his head to check on his stuff. His eyes widened when he saw a familiar face.

What the fuck is Ra's doing next to his towel? (Y/N) quickly swam to the shore shaking his head to get the water out of his eyes.

" Ra's? " (Y/N) asked as he walked up to the man who was just in a white shirt and green swimming shorts.

And sunglasses too. A stylish bastard.

" The one and only. " Ra's smirked as he took his sunglasses off.

" What the hell are you doing here?! " (Y/N) asked, blood pressure raising automatically.

" I just took a vacation. Even I need a break from my work sometimes." Ra's replied in his smooth voice, his Arabic accent seeping through on purpose.

The old bastard.

" Where are you staying? I could use some company. " Ra's said and (Y/N) just took his towel to wipe the water off of him.

" I'm not telling you where I'm staying. " (Y/N) replied hastily and Ra's smirked.

" Are you staying in the Four Seasons nearby by any means? " Ra's said and (Y/N) stopped using his towel and then he put it around his neck.

" As luck would have it, I'm staying there too. " Ra's said and (Y/N) has thought about changing hotels. Or calling Bruce. But Ra's is either going to follow him to another hotel just to annoy him.

" Why can't I spend one vacation in peace? " (Y/N) wondered out loud and Ra's still smirked.

" Am I really such bad company? "

" Yes. " (Y/N) answered without any hesitation.

" I can recognize a lie when I see one. I'm not here to ruin your vacation when I came here. I didn't even know you were here. " Ra's said and (Y/N) just wanted to die. Sure, Ra's is not a liar, but still.

" I should have gone to Greece instead of here. Or Bahamas. " (Y/N) said as a matter of fact. He really should have.

" Now now, it's not all that bad. We can spend our vacations together." Ra's said with what looked like a genuine smile.

" Oh God. Spending my vacation with my arch nemesis. " (Y/N) said, rubbing his forehead.

" How about you get refreshed and then we can go to the bar in the hotel. " Ra's suggested and by God did (Y/N) need some alcohol now. But wait, Maldives are an Islamic country.

" I thought that Maldives is in an Islamic country. " (Y/N) said and Ra's nodded.

" They are, but due to tourists coming they had to allow it. Maldives, survive off of tourism so they needed to adjust a little bit. " Ra's explained and (Y/N) felt a little bit better knowing that there was alcohol. Does (Y/N) drink often? No.

Does he drink when he is stressed? Yes. And now he could go for one.

" You know what, screw it. Why not? " (Y/N) accepted and Ra's smiled once more.

" I will see you in an hour. " Ra's said as he walked off of the beach, leaving (Y/N) alone. (Y/N) laughed after a moment, letting it all sink in.

What has he done to himself?

(Y/N) changed into some shorts that reached his knees and a white shirt. He made his way down to the bar, room key and phone in a little fanny back around his left shoulder, hanging and resting in the center of his chest.

He saw the bar and made his way to it. Ra's was sitting at one of the tables a little bit further away from the bar. It seemed quiet and private enough for a conversation. Ra's waved him over when he saw him and (Y/N) slowly walked there.

(Y/N) sat down across from him. It seems that Ra's is drinking their tea.

" I have ordered some black tea. I must say, it's one of the better ones I have tried in my on this Earth. " Ra's said and (Y/N) shook his head.

" I can believe so, but I'm not a fan of tea in general. "

" I know that. I saw a great variety juices, cocktails, beers, wines... Even the famous Coke. " Ra's suggested, bringing the mug to his lips.

" I could go for something with less sugar. " (Y/N) admitted, turning his head to look at the waitress.

" Coke for me please. " (Y/N) said to her with a smile and she left to get it.

" Do you really need a break? I don't think you know the meaning of the word vacation. " (Y/N) asked crossing his arms, leaning on them.

" I don't? " Ra's asked, interested in (Y/N)'s thought process.

" Yes. From what Damian told me, just work, the League, then the Light, but then you stepped down from the Light... All in all, you work. I didn't even think that you even know the meaning of the word." (Y/N) mused, a small smirk on his face.

" Oh? " Ra's asked, now completely amused. " Well, I can assure you, I need some vacation time. I haven't been to the Maldives in a long while. Would you believe me if I told you that I needed to destress? " Ra's said, taking a sip of his tea.

" I needed to destress, not you. I had an awful case for months and once it was over, Brue sent me here, all expenses paid. "

" I have to digress here a little bit. I thought you were going to order something alcoholic. " Ra's said as he watched the waitress put the Coke and glass in front of him.

(Y/N) thanked here and turned his attention back to Ra's.

" I need to stay vigilant with you. Alcohol might impair my judgement and I have to vigilant. " (Y/N) said, taking his coke to try it. It was a nice and pleasant taste. Less sweet than in the USA.

He is officially addicted.

" Now, I have a proposition for you. Since we aren't alone on vacation anymore, how about we spend some time together? I was going to fly out to Male, the capital. I haven't been there for a long time and I always found it beautiful. " Ra's said, looking directly into (Y/N)'s eyes.

" And I wanted to invite you to come with me. It's always better to have some company. " Ra's said and (Y/N) raised his brow. Huh.

" You know what? Why not? When? "

The two quickly fell into planning for the evening. (Y/N) didn't expect to say yes to Ra's, one of his enemies, but he is on vacation. It should be an universal rule that you shouldn't be an enemy with your enemy on vacation.

Enemies should tolerate one another during vacation. After planning the time to go to the city, they just fell into a nice casual conversation. Something that he really can't say, normally, about Ra's. They talked about everything they could think and Ra's appreciated the way he intellectually challenged him.

(Y/N) and Ra's have come back to the hotel, both exhausted from all the walking and eating that they have been doing. Food from Maldives is on a whole another level. (Y/N) felt like he was bloated like never before.

Ra's was no better from the food.

The two had a nice stroll in the city and have shared something that could be called a date. But was it really a date? (Y/N) thought of it like that, but did Ra's did?

Ra's insisted to walk him to his room. (Y/N) just brushed it off to Ra's being an old fashioned gentleman. Ra's has lived for over 800 years and has a lot of experience with lovers. Probably with both genders too.

But then, why would he insist on walking (Y/N) back to his room if this wasn't a date? Why would the time they have spent in the city be so nice and almost intimate?

And why would Ra's want to date him? Damian is like a brother to him and would that stop Ra's from dating him?

Ra's seemingly didn't catch on (Y/N)'s tornado of thoughts in his head. They stopped in front of (Y/N)'s room and (Y/N) felt awkward beyond belief.

Why now?

" I must say, I had great time with you (Y/N). I hope that we will see each other again. Unfortunately, I have to leave tomorrow, but I most definitely will see you once you get back. " Ra's said, face dangerously close and he moved to kiss (Y/N)'s cheek.

(Y/N) allowed it. Just for the record.

" Look forward to seeing you. " Ra's said as he gently lifted (Y/N)'s arms to kiss them before leaving (Y/N) in the hall, dumbfounded.

Why is this happening to him? Why is he looking forward to it? He turned to unlock his door, before Ra's came back.

" What's going on? " (Y/N) asked, confused.

" I have some great news. I'm prolonging my stay. Whatever comes up, Ubu can handle it. " Ra's said and (Y/N) had to smirk at that.

" Wow. So we are going to see each other tomorrow? " (Y/N) asked hopefully.

" Of course. I have so many activities planned. " Ra's said and with a last kiss to (Y/N)'s cheek, he left to go to his room. (Y/N) sighed quietly. He is screwed.

Bruce can't find about this for now... (Y/N) should see where this goes.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: i know the game and fight were like two weeks ago but i couldn’t stop thinking about it lol. just a fun little thing - enjoy! (and literally as i go to post this, bb gets added back to the skills comp as he should’ve been in the first place so go defend your fastest skater title, mat😘)

word count: 4.5k

tw: oral (m recieving), cursing, chicago blackhawks slander, dirty talk

summary: after mat’s fight during the blackhawks game, you’re both worked up with extra energy to get out of your systems

“Fuck you!” You jump to your feet, screaming, adrenaline rushing through your veins. “Go fuck yourself!” Your stomach turns watching Mat fight, but you also can’t ignore the throb between your legs.

Unconcerned with the fact that you’re solidly in enemy territory, your shouting gets louder and louder. Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch Mat scrap with Chicago’s number 43. Mat shifts and drops Blackwell to the ice, the refs and the other players skating over quickly.

“That’s right,” you crow, the people around you starting to boo. “Get fucking wrecked!”

Mat skates off, helmet gone, hair flattened to his head and jersey half off. He scowls and tugs the jersey back over his head and you pump your fists in the air. “That’s my man!” You jump up and down, flipping off a few Chicago fans that are shouting at you.

“Girl,” Alexa, Noah’s girlfriend, tugs at the hem of your vintage Islanders sweatshirt, laughing, “you’re going to get us killed. Sit down!”

You drop back down into your seat and shoot her a grin, “what a way to go out though!” You laugh and take a sip of your beer, turning in your seat when a Chicago fan a few seats down leans over to shout at you.

“Real classy behavior, lady,” he sneers and you flip him off with a bright smile.

“God, where to even start with the classy as hell Chicago Blackhawks organization?” You tap at your lower lip thoughtfully. “Patrick Kane? Jonathan Towes? Corey Perry? So many options to choose from.”

“Gonna bring up shit that doesn’t mean anything?” The man snaps.

You lean halfway out of your seat, getting a little louder, “your team sucks ass from top to bottom.”

“Suck my dick, bitch.”

Alexa coughs into her drink and you shrug at the man, shouting, “at least I’m supporting a team that hasn’t been sued twice for covering up sexual assault.”

“Oh my god,” Alexa mutters, covering her face.

“Fuck off, bitch,” a second man, sitting next to the first, shouts at you.

With a little three fingered wave at the men, you turn back to the ice, settling into your seat. “Oh, I love when men can only think to call me a bitch in the face of actual facts,” you sigh, heartbeat still pounding from Mat’s fight and the confrontation.

A few Chicago fans in the general vicinity are looking at you, booing and flipping you off. You return the gestures happily, with a sarcastic smile on your face.

“You’re batshit insane,” Alexa says, looking impressed and a little awed. “I’m terrified of you.”

You knock her shoulder with yours and tease, “as long as you love me more than you’re terrified of me.”

“Jury’s still out,” she snorts.

The game ends in tragic fashion during overtime, but you’re still so proud of Mat, buzzing with energy to see him when he gets back to the hotel. You and Alexa had booked a room in the same hotel the boys were staying at, spontaneously deciding to take the trip to see the boys play since neither of you had been to Chicago. The team flies back to Long Island tomorrow afternoon and your flight leaves just a few hours later, so you’ve got a few hours with Mat tonight before you have to go back to your own rooms, knowing he’ll have left packing to the last possible second.

Alexa’s lounging on her bed, scrolling through her phone, when there’s a knock on the door. You jump up from your spot on your bed and rush to the door, yanking it open and nearly knocking Noah out of the way in your hurry to jump into Mat’s arms. He laughs and catches you easily, wrapping his arms around your lower back as your legs hook around his waist.

“First career fight?” You grin at him, peppering his face with kisses. “So fucking hot, baby.”

“Y’know,” Noah comments dryly from behind you, “I had assists on two of our goals.”

You turn your head and grin at him, “you want a kiss too?” Mat’s hands grope at your ass, pulling you tighter over the growing bulge in his jeans. You wriggle happily over him, enjoying the low groan that vibrates against your shoulder.

“Not from you,” Noah laughs, dropping a kiss to the top of Alexa’s head. She snuggles up against his side and laughs a little.

“Let’s get out of here,” she says, “before these two forget they’re not alone.” Shooting you a wink, she grabs Noah’s hand and drags him out of the room, the door falling shut behind them.

“Thank god,” Mat huffs, leaning his forehead against your collarbone. You kiss the top of his head, rubbing your fingertips into his scalp. “I’ve been waiting to see you all night.”

“Well you’ve got me for the next few hours, completely uninterrupted,” you reply, holding onto him like a koala. “Let me see your face, I need to make sure no damage was done.”

Mat pulls away from you, grinning that crooked grin you love so much. He looks a little tired, but the only damage from the fight is a cut on the bridge of his nose and a little cut on his forehead. Not nearly as bad as you were thinking. “Do I pass inspection?” He teases, bouncing you a little in his arms.

You hum, “you’ll do,” before kissing the tip of his nose and then slanting your lips over his. Mat deepens the kiss, licking over your lower lip so your mouth will fall open. You groan into his mouth, grinding your hips down over his erection. The kiss is a little frantic, all teeth and tongue, and you’re out of breath when you break apart. “Put me down, I wanna reward you,” you pant, unhooking your legs from around his waist and letting them fall to the floor.

“What?” Mat’s mouth is back on yours, arms still wrapped tightly around your back, your chest pressed to his. You wiggle against him, grinding your hips over his, more than happy to feel him harden under you.

“Wanna - mmmph-“ your words are muffled by Mat’s mouth, captured by his lips and tongue. You pull back with a huge effort, palms flat on his shoulders for leverage. “Wanna suck you off,” you murmur, Mat’s hands trailing up the back of your shirt, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip and tugging at it.

“Yeah?” Mat asks, eyelids heavy over his eyes. He shifts and wedges his leg in between yours, pressing his muscled thigh right up against your throbbing cunt. You whine and your hips move over his leg, the seam of your jeans pressed exactly where you need it. “Wanna suck my dick, baby? What if I wanna watch you get off on my thigh?”

“C’mon, Mat,” your voice comes out breathy, “been wanting to suck you off since you fought. I’ve been soaked thinking about it.” You grind over his thigh as you plead, knowing you’ve won the upper hand when Mat’s fingers dip below the waistband of your jeans to squeeze your ass.

He sucks a mark into the skin behind your ear and you sigh. “Me fighting got you all hot and bothered?” He asks the question against your skin, brushing his nose against your earlobe and you nod.

“Beyond fucking hot, Mat,” you scratch your nails against the nape of his neck. “Glad I got to see it.”

You wiggle again and a little whine forms in the back of your throat. Mat’s mouth curls into a smile against your neck. “Love it when you beg,” he says, a little hoarse. “My girl is begging to suck my cock, what’s fucking better than that?”

“Actually letting me suck your cock,” you gasp, Mat’s fingers digging harder into the flesh of your ass. “Let me, Mat, c’mon.”

He finally shifts his leg, planting his feet solidly, and you grin, breaking from his grip and falling to your knees in front of him. You’re eye level with the bulge behind the fly of his jeans and you grin up at him wickedly. You run your fingertips lightly over his zipper and feel his cock throbbing through the denim. “Can’t wait to get my mouth on you,” you smirk, fingers working at the button and zipper, pushing at the denim until you can trace your index finger over the imprint of his dick through the fabric of his briefs.

“Fuck!” Mat’s hips buck forward and he grabs at your hair with one hand, tangling his fingers in the strands. His cock twitches behind the fabric and you push his jeans and briefs halfway down his thighs, freeing his cock so it bobs up towards his stomach. You lean up on your knees to press a kiss to the head of his cock and Mat groans, grip on your hair tightening. “Baby, babe, please, don’t tease me,” he babbles, hips thrusting minutely.

“It’s a reward,” you grin up at him, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and squeezing slightly, “for fighting. Going to take my time with you.”

Your hand strokes him slowly, palm rubbing against his tip, gathering pre-cum and smearing it down his shaft. His cock throbs in your hand, in time with the way your clit throbs as you touch him. You shift on your knees, pressing the heel of your foot in between your legs and Mat doesn’t miss the movement.

“Going to get off just by touching my dick?” He teases, widening his stance and leaning his upper back against the wall. You hum, focused on getting him fully hard. It doesn’t take much work and within seconds, he’s like hot steel in your hand.

“We’ll just have to see,” you murmur, leaning in and taking the head of his cock into your mouth. A strangled moan leaves Mat’s lips and his hips start to thrust, forcing you to press both of your hands against his hips to keep him in place. You hum around him and swirl your tongue over his slit, enjoying the way he’s babbling your name over your head. He groans, the noise choking off as you take him deeper into your mouth, keeping your lips wrapped tightly around him.

Your nails rake over his skin, fingers sliding over the ridge of bone and then the smooth skin of his lower stomach, until you’re able to rub your fingertips through the light trail of hair under his belly button. You wrap one hand around the base of his cock and take him deeper, swallowing and enjoying the way Mat’s cock bobs in your mouth.

“Baby, come on,” Mat mumbles, “gotta go deeper. Let me fuck your throat. Wanna feel you swallow me.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, tears hovering at your waterline from the stretch of your jaw, and blink innocently at him. Your throat relaxes and he grins, looking a little dazed, when he realizes you’re giving him permission. His other hand comes up to cradle your face, releasing your hair with the other hand so he can hold your face in place while he thrusts his hips forward, sliding his cock deeper down your throat with each movement. The head of his cock bumps against the roof of your mouth, the back of your throat, slides against your tongue with his erratic thrusts.

Saliva drips down your chin, tears rolling down your cheeks. Mascara streaks down your face, stinging your eyes a little.

Mat’s head is dropped back as he rolls his hips, his mouth running constantly. You’re not even sure what he’s saying at this point, too focused on keeping your throat relaxed and not gagging around his thick length. Your hands grip at his ass, nails digging into his skin and he hisses, practically whining when you swallow and your throat tightens around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck. Jesus Christ, fuck me,” he groans. “Love how you look with my dick in your mouth, look so pretty.”

You moan around him, lifting up a little on your knees and leaning in, deep throating him until your nose is pressed against his skin, your chin tucked up against his balls. His scent - a little bit soapy, a little bit sweaty - invades your senses and you feel your panties dampen further. You shake your head a little, brushing the tip of your nose against his skin and Mat’s fingers tighten on your face, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones.

“Gonna come, baby, gotta -“ he mutters, choking off. He leans his hips back a little, trying to pull out of your mouth, but you hold onto his ass, pulling him closer to your face. Mat grunts, his balls tightening under your chin before he comes down your throat, hot and thick.

You swallow for what feels like forever, Mat’s cock still thick and hard in your mouth. He finally pulls back and you drop down to sit on your heels, wiping at your mouth. Saliva and cum make your chin and hands sticky, but you grin cheekily up at your boyfriend. He looks wrecked, jaw slack and eyes nearly closed.

“Didn’t manage to come just from sucking you off,” you rasp, throat sore and voice hoarse. You reach up to gently stroke over his cock and he leans his hips forward, pushing into your grip.

“Bet that sweet pussy of yours is soaked for me, huh?” Mat says, reaching out to wrap his hands around your biceps and haul you to your feel, your hand falling away from his cock. With his grip on your arms, Mat crushes you to his chest, kissing you sloppily. His cock presses against your stomach, half-hard, and you press against it, making Mat groan into your mouth before he sucks on your tongue.

You hum against his mouth, melting against Mat’s chest. Your clit throbs and you clench around nothing, desperate for a little friction. “Mat,” you gasp his name a little and he knows exactly what you want. His hands slide up your arms and wrap gently around your neck and the back of your head, keeping your face close to his so he can kiss you while walking you backwards to the bed.

“Gonna fuck you so good, baby,” he murmurs into your mouth. You can feel his body vibrating with adrenaline and once the backs of your knees hit the mattress, Mat pulls back to quickly get rid of his clothes, kicking the fabric in all different directions with a a hungry look in his eyes that makes you giggle. Mat grins down at you and leans over your body, pressing his bare chest against your clothed one. “Regular post-game energy has nothing on post-fight energy,” he promises, nipping at your pulse point.

You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and roll your hips, pressing your cunt against his cock. “I can’t wait to find out,” you murmur, arching your back when his hands slide up your shirt to grope at your tits.

Just about an hour later, you roll off of Mat’s chest, sweating and panting like you’ve just run a marathon. “Fuck,” you breathe, thighs sticky and trembling.

Mat turns his head and gives you a lazy smirk, “told you.”

You kick a little at his ankle, shifting and shaking your head at the way your core is clenching around nothing, the feeling of Mat’s cock stuffed inside of you still present. “You need to get into fights more often,” you mumble, watching him wince as he pulls the used condom off of his dick. He twists a knot into the latex and rolls off the other side of the bed to pad into the bathroom. You blatantly stare at his ass, wolf-whistling when he bends slightly to toss the condom.

“I’m feeling very objectified,” Mat teases you, standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. He tries to keep a straight face, but can’t help his lips from turning up at the corners. You drag your gaze over his body, from the top of his head, over his bare chest complete with chain resting against his collarbone, down to his dick hanging between his legs, and back up.

“Mmm,” you hum, still flat on your back, still shaking slightly. “It’s not my fault you’re so objectifiable. Maybe if you were uglier…”

You trail off into a shriek, body jostling when Mat pounces on the bed, covering your body with his and planting sloppy, wet kisses on every inch of your skin he can reach. “Nooo, stop! Oh my god, you know I’m ticklish,” you shriek-giggle, pushing at Mat’s shoulders, trying to wiggle out from under him. He keeps you caged in with his arms and legs, laughing.

“Gonna keep objectifying me, Squeaks?” He asks, marking you up with hickies across your neck and chest.

“Yessss,” you laugh, pressing your chest into his face. “It’s my favorite hobby.” You hook your leg around his hip and dig your heel into the muscle of his ass, getting him to thrust his pelvis forward, bumping against your clit. A spark of pleasure lights up your nerves.

“Cool,” he laughs, flicking his tongue over your nipple. “You can keep doing it after we get some food, I’m starving.” He bites at the underside of your breast and rolls off of you again, leaving you cold in the middle of the bed.

“What?” You sit up, watching him reach for his pants and dig his phone out of the pocket.

“We had like one slice of shitty Chicago pizza after the game,” Mat explains. “And then we rolled around in bed for an hour. I’m starving, babe.”

You’re about to complain, but as soon as you open your mouth, your stomach growls and Mat smirks at you. You huff, “okay, yeah. Let’s order some dinner.”

He turns back to his phone, tapping away at UberEats, and you flop back against the pillows, grabbing for your own phone where it rests on the bedside table. Once you’re settled, you rest your feet in Mat’s lap, his left hand landing on your ankle and thumb tracing an arc over your instep. You wiggle your toes and he pinches lightly at your skin. “What do you want?”

“Mozzarella sticks,” you say absently, gaze flickering onto your lock screen. It’s covered in notifications - the girls’ group chat, Twitter, Instagram, TikTok. What the hell is going on?

Another message comes in from Sydney, making your phone vibrate in your hand. Since you don’t have a password on your phone, you can see her message on the screen: she’s going to be banned from the arena 😂

Who’s going to be banned from the arena?

You tap open the group chat and scroll back to the top where the messages started half an hour ago. Holly sent a Twitter link followed by: our girl! 😂

A sinking feeling forms in your stomach, but you tap on the link, unsurprised when it opens up to a video. A video of you, just a few hours earlier, yelling at the game.

“Oh man,” you groan, watching yourself - filmed from an unflattering angle, of course - jumping and cheering for Mat, before turning and snapping at the Blackhawks fan.

“No mozzarella sticks?” Mat asks, mistaking what you had said as directed at him. He’s still scrolling through UberEats.

“No, um, yes,” you shake your head, looking up. “I do still want mozzarella sticks, but…”

You tap on the hashtag and start scrolling through Tweets, even as texts from the girls continue to roll in. The video is everywhere - Spittin’ Chiclets, B/R Open Ice, Barstool Sports. Fuck, even Frankie’s retweeted it, adding his typical all-caps word vomit captions: GOTTA GO THROUGH THE ISLAND OUR FANS ARE GREATER THAN ANYONE ELSE ANS READY TO GIVE YOU A VERBAL BITCH SLAP LOVE YOU LADY B

You roll your eyes at his caption, pulling the notification screen down and checking to see if he texted you too. He did - a string of cry-laughing emojis and clapping emojis.

“But what?” Mat finally drops his phone to the mattress and leans back on an elbow to look at you. “What are you looking at?”

You squint at him. “Have you not gotten any texts or notifications?” You ask, surprised that the guys’ group chat isn’t blowing up.

“Probably,” Mat shrugs, “my phone’s been on do not disturb since before my nap this afternoon. I wasn’t really thinking about looking. Why?”

You flip your phone around, showing him the screen. Mat squints at it, watching the video play for a few seconds before he lets out a chuckle of disbelief. “Is that you, Squeaks?”

“Yep,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I, um, got a little heated when you fought. Is Lou going to kill me?”

Mat’s got your phone in his hand now, scrolling through the Tweets and laughing. “No way, you don’t work for him. I don’t think he knows what Twitter is anyway.” He keeps scrolling. “Oh shit!”

“What?” You lunge forward and snatch at your phone. Mat pulls it back and clicks his tongue at you.

“Jeez, you gonna yell at me now too?” He jokes before reading the caption of a Tweet. “Listen to this ‘trashy Long Island fan berates Blackhawks fan.’ Babe, you freaked on the wrong fanbase.”

“I’m trashy?” You yelp indignantly. “Me? They’re the fans that are supporting an organization FULL of sexual abusers! Give me my phone, I want to defend myself.”

“No way!” Mat holds your phone in the air away from you. “Why expose yourself to more shit?”

“Because I’m not the one in the wrong here,” you grumble. “What are the guys saying? Does anyone know who I am? I mean, I wasn’t quiet about cheering for you.”

With your phone still in his hand, Mat picks up his own and taps over to the messages. “Oh, damn. Almost fifty texts from the guys.” He chuckles as he scrolls through them, reading you off the best ones. “Bo says to suit up for next game, we could use your passion. Dobber says two minutes in the box for unsportsmanlike conduct. Ah, nice, Frankie says pizzas are on him next time we’re at Borrelli’s.”

“Pizzas are always on Frankie,” you grumble, draping yourself over Mat’s back to read his phone screen over his shoulder. The guys are mostly sending more videos from different angles and chirping you. While Mat’s distracted by the group chat, you snatch your phone back, returning to Twitter where the fans have figured out your connection to Mat - it’s not like your relationship is a secret, your Twitter is public and your Instagram switches back and forth between public and private when you’re starting to feel overwhelmed - but you don’t love that you’re getting this kind of attention.

You really should’ve controlled yourself better. But you didn’t and now you’re scrolling through hundreds of Tweets that are calling you Long Island trash. There are others mixed in that are supporting you, cheering you on for being a loyal fan and girlfriend, but jeez. The Chicago fans really are kind of nasty.

“Stop looking at that,” Mat plucks the phone from your hands when he sees your forehead crease and wrinkle over your nose. “Are we gonna have to delete your account like Dobber?”

“No,” you huff, chest flushing with emotion. “I just…I should’ve been a little more controlled, but I got so worked up!”

Mat cups your cheek and grins at you, “I like when you’re worked up. It’ll blow over in a few days, but for now, it’s really fucking cool that my girlfriend is so passionate about me fighting.”

You wrinkle your nose up at him and he laughs again, “seriously, don’t worry about it.” He frowns a little. “Fans’ll be talking about our game again by tomorrow. We’re fucking it all up.”

Pressing your cheek against Mat’s shoulder blade, you wrap your arms around his waist. “I’m sorry, Mat. I know you guys are working so hard, things will turn around soon, I’m sure.” You press a kiss to his skin, blowing a little raspberry. “Want your trashy Long Island girlfriend to give you another blowjob?”

That draws a laugh from Mat, exactly what you wanted to do, and he reaches back to rub his fingers over your scalp, massaging gently. He waves his phone in the air, “think you can do it before dinner gets here?”

A challenge.

You grin against his back, hands sliding down his stomach to wrap around the base of his cock. He jolts in your grip, stomach muscles bunching. “Place the order and we’ll see,” you mumble against his back, kissing and biting at his shoulder. His arm moves and you can see over his shoulder that he’s pressing the order button.

“Time starts now,” Mat teases, leaning back against you and giving you more access for your hands to stroke him.

You just barely manage to bring Mat to his finish before his phone chimes with the delivery notification, but it’s intensely satisfying to watch him yank on the hotel robe and slippers with his face and chest all flushed before he runs down to the lobby. You take the time that he’s gone to clean yourself up, showering quickly before getting into your lounge pants. By the time you eat and hang out for a bit, Mat’s going to have to go back to his own room, so you’re trying to curb the temptation to go another round.

Your phone is still going crazy with notifications and when you open Instagram, you notice that Mat’s shared a story. Immediately suspicious, you tap on his little circle, groaning when you see the video of you shouting. He must’ve shared it while he was in the elevator, the fucking menace.

Underneath the reshared video, Mat added his own comment: my favorite trashy long islander 👊🏻💪🏻😂

You swipe up and tap out a reply: i hate you

“Love you too, Oscar,” Mat’s voice echoes through the room. You look up and there he is, carrying the bag of takeout.

“Oscar?”

“Like the Grouch? You know, because he lives in a trash can,” Mat’s grin is shit-eating, “and you’re trashy.”

You fling a pillow at him and he ducks, cracking up. “I’m sorry!” He chokes out, not sorry at all. “But it’s hilarious. Video gets funnier the more you watch and some of those people on Twitter really are quick with the comments.”

“I’m never coming to another game again, Mathew,” you inform him, faux-snootily. He hands you over the foil tin of mozzarella sticks.

“Yeah you are,” he presses a kiss to your temple. “You’d never forgive yourself if you missed me fight again.” He wiggles his eyebrows and takes a bite out of one of your mozzarella sticks.

He’s right and he knows it.

“I’m going to have to private my insta again,” you comment on a sigh, looking down at the notifications piling up.

“You’re gonna be old news in a day or two,” Mat replies. “Something else will happen at a different game and hockey twitter will move on.”

By the time you land in New York the next afternoon, Mat’s right. You’re old news because the team’s fired Lane and hired Patrick Roy as their new coach.

[cierraonline]

Hold up you have an issue with pazzi? Bc the way these far from the truth fics are set up 😂

I don't have a problem with pazzi if I'm also in the equation. If it's not a throuple then Pazzi don't exist to me.

Europe Special Part One 

chapter three: europe special part one

warning:  none

masterlist link | previous chapter | next chapter

XXX

DELTA AIR LINE PLANE

MIDDLE OF NO WHERE

9 HOURS AWAY FROM CROATIA

So, this is it.

You are scored on my heart, Clark.

You were, from the first day you walked in.

With your sweet smile and your ridiculous clothes.

And your bad jokes.

and your complete inability

to ever hide a single thing that you felt.

Don't think of me too often.

I do not want you getting sad.

Just live well.

Just live.

I'll be walking beside you every step of the way.

Love, Will

“Are they okay?” The Delta Air Lines flight attendant walked over to the section where the University of Connecticut women’s basketball team was seated, glancing back and forth between the head coach and Sasha and Azzi, who were sobbing uncontrollably while staring at their devices.

“They’re fine,” Geno waved off the scene, though the gut-wrenching crying had already drawn the attention of several travelers nearby.

“They don’t look fine,” the flight attendant hesitated, unsure if she should trust his word.

“Trust me,” Geno gave her a pointed look. “This is them crying quietly.”

“Well, should I bring them some tissues or maybe a free cookie?” The middle-aged woman suggested, eager to help in any way that might stop the semi-disturbance. Before Geno could tell her not to bother, she strutted away.

“Paige,” Geno tapped one of his guards, reaching across the aisle. “Paige,” he tapped again, more forcefully, disrupting the girl lost in her music, her ruby-red Beats headphones, and a self-motivation book she’d bought from the airport terminal.

“Huh? Wha?” Paige’s blue eyes blinked away from her book and Lana Del Rey’s voice. “What happened?” She quickly pushed off her headphones and turned to see her coach’s semi-annoyed expression.

“Tell the Sasha and Azzi book club over there to keep it down,” Geno pointed to the duo on her right, red-faced and tear-streaked, clutching each other for comfort. “They’re sobbing so loudly that people probably think we’re holding them hostage or something.”

“I told you to ban them from reading,” Paige remarked in an 'I told you so' tone, which her coach clearly didn’t want to hear as he returned to his word puzzle book.

“No one likes a know-it-all, Paige,” Geno rolled his eyes. “Now fix it before we get kicked off the plane.” With that, he resumed his crossword.

"A formal speech, especially one given on a ceremonial occasion (9 letters)... Easy, 'monologue,'" Geno smirked, filling in the word.

“Yo, Thing One and Thing Two, calm it down,” Paige turned to address her wife and best friend. “Y’all are scaring people with your ugly crying.”

“Shut up, Paige,” Azzi glared, wiping under her eyes.

“Yeah, shut up, Paige,” Sasha chimed in, supporting her best friend. “Go back to your depressing music and leave us alone. Don’t worry about what we’ve got going on over here.”

“If it wasn’t for y’all crying so loud, I’d still be reading my book and listening to my ‘depressing music,’” Paige shot back sassily. But she forgot who she was talking to—her wife, aka Ms. Don’t Play With Her.

“Now, you know I don’t have an inch of ugly on me,” Sasha smirked, giving Paige a once-over. “I’m too pretty to ever be called pretty.”

“Who are you?” Azzi laughed, looking at her friend.

“I’ll be that pretty motherfucker,” Sasha smirked.

“A$AP.”

“Yes sir.”

“Rocky!”

“Yes sir!”

“I’m done with y’all!” Paige exclaimed, turning away from them, pushing her headphones back on, and reopening her book.

“Bestie, let’s read the Twilight collection!” Azzi gasped, realizing she still had the books on her iPad, knowing Sasha probably did too.

“You just want me to go on another ‘I hate Bella Swan’ rant, don’t you?” Sasha shook her head.

“Yeah, so I can go on an ‘I hate Alice Cullen’ rant after you,” Azzi grinned.

DELTA AIR LINE PLANE

MIDDLE OF NO WHERE

5 HOURS AWAY FROM CROATIA

“Why are you being creepy?” Sasha mumbled, feeling the gaze of a certain blonde beside her.

“How did you know I was looking at you?” Paige asked, surprised that Sasha, who was dead asleep, could sense her stare.

“I can feel your eyes piercing through my body,” Sasha replied with her eyes still closed, her head resting against Paige. “Now, what do you want?”

“Did you know we’re also going to Barcelona?” Paige’s face lit up with a wide smile, like a kid being handed more candy during a sugar rush.

“And?” Sasha murmured, shifting to get more comfortable.

“What do you mean ‘and’?” Paige furrowed her brows, pushing her wife off her shoulder. “We’re going to Barcelona... we’ve been together for five years... what’s not clicking, Steven?”

“I’m too tired to think, just tell me,” Sasha yawned.

“Ugh, remember the deal we made?” Paige hinted, not wanting to fully give away the answer. “The promise!”

“Still not following…” Sasha forced her body to wake up, knowing Paige wouldn’t stop pestering her.

“The deal was... we would lose our, you know what, before you turned twenty-one, but only if we did it in Barcelona, without actively planning it, and after four years of marriage,” Paige mumbled, trying not to let anyone overhear.

“You woke me up... to tell me that we’re going to Barcelona... because you’re a horny freaky fuck?” Sasha squinted in disbelief.

“Y-yes,” Paige hesitated truthfully, unsure what response she would get.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Sasha smiled, squeezing her cheeks. “So, what’s the plan for Barcelona?”

“I was thinking we could convince Geno to give us our own room when we get there,” Paige smiled hopefully. “After practice, we sneak away, maybe have dinner at a fancy restaurant... and then go back to the hotel to... you know. Then we switch rings while relaxing on the balcony.”

“You’ve been thinking about this for some time, haven’t you?” Sasha smirked, her eyes filled with adoration for her adorable wife, who, for some reason, was now acting shy. But it made sense—after all, the two had yet to go beyond a few steamy make-out sessions that had almost gone too far.

“Ever since Geno told me the countries we’d be visiting,” Paige’s smile grew more confident as she gave Sasha’s hand—entwined with hers since the start of the flight—a firm squeeze.

“Well, it’s a good thing I packed that set from Fenty in my suitcase,” Sasha’s suggestive tone sent heat coursing through Paige’s body, the same heat she felt when their kisses got dangerously close to crossing a line.

“The hot pink one?” Paige’s eyes widened in excitement. “You mean the lacy hot pink one with the thigh garters?”

“Yup,” Sasha teased, drawing out the last syllable. “And I brought that skirt you love.”

“The short skater skirt?” Paige whispered, eyes bright.

“That’s the one,” Sasha nodded.

“Does Barcelona have sex stores? I-I think we need to visit one,” Paige stuttered, already imagining how their night in Barcelona would unfold.

“I think they do... but we’ve got time, honey. Barcelona is the last destination of the trip.”

“So I have to wait until the end of the month?” Paige’s jaw dropped in disbelief and desperation.

“Yup,” Sasha nodded again. “But don’t worry, we’ve gone years without sex. I’m sure you can wait another month.”

“Y-yeah,” Paige muttered, though her voice lacked any conviction.

DELTA AIR LINE PLANE

MIDDLE OF NO WHERE

1 HOURS AWAY FROM CROATIA

“Oh my God, I can’t take this anymore,” Sasha groaned, unbuckling her seatbelt and standing up to stretch.

“What are you doing?” Paige’s eyes followed her wife’s every move. “The seatbelt light’s on. You need to be seated.”

“I can’t take it anymore. I need to stand or I’ll literally die inside,” Sasha rolled her eyes as she began doing squats in the aisle.

“Sit down before you get hurt. We only have an hour left,” Paige tried reasoning, but from the way Sasha kept moving, it was clear her words were going in one ear and out the other.

“If I sit down, I’ll go insane,” Sasha huffed. “First, my eyes hurt from reading. Second, they don’t have any more ginger ale, and the flight attendant had the nerve to ask if I wanted Coke. Do I look like a Coke-drinking ass person? I can’t even drink soda like that or my—"

“OCD will be triggered by a sugar rush,” Paige finished for her, already knowing the answer.

“And whoever thought these seats were spacious enough clearly never met a tall person. My knees are killing me,” Sasha continued her rant.

“You’re 5’10. Calm down,” Paige rolled her eyes, just wanting Sasha to sit down before they got reprimanded by the flight attendants.

“And you’re about to be sleeping by yourself when we get to the hotel,” Sasha shot back quickly.

“You know you can’t sleep without me, and I can’t sleep without you. So stop with the empty threats,” Paige dismissed her, and from Sasha’s groan, Paige knew she’d won a small argument for once today.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the seatbelt sign is on. For your safety, please return to your seat and fasten your seatbelt.” The voice of the flight attendant echoed through the cabin, increasing Sasha’s irritation.

“She means you, so sit down now,” Paige used her firm voice, the one reserved for moments of urgency.

“Ugh,” Sasha groaned loudly, not caring about the looks she received. “What the fuck are they staring at?” she mumbled, returning to her seat between a deeply asleep Azzi and Paige.

“They’re staring at you, obviously. Seatbelt light means sit down. No seatbelt light means you can stand.”

“My knees hurting means I need to stand the fuck up, and my knees not hurting means I can sit,” Sasha snapped back, pulling her blanket over her legs. “You get cleared, and suddenly you’re all sassy.”

“No, being married to you means I have to be sassy constantly.”

“So you admit you’re sassy,” Sasha looked at Paige with mock seriousness.

“I’m only sassy because you make me sassy,” Paige retorted.

“I can’t make you do anything you don’t already want to do,” Sasha shook her head. “So, you want to be sassy.”

“Stop talking to me.”

“Guess we hate hearing the truth,” Sasha shrugged. “Call that flight attendant and ask her for a Coke.”

“Weren’t you just saying ‘Do I look like a Coke-drinking ass person?’”

“Shut up, Paige.”

Hope you enjoy! should I create a tag list?