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Plan the Best Travel Vacation to Hamburg

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

1. HafenCity

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

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

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

2. Port of Hamburg tour

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

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

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

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

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

3. St. Michael’s Church

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

The best attractions in Hamburg

Strandperle

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

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

Jenischpark

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

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

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

Schanzenviertel

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

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

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

Fischmarkt

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

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

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

7 Hamburg Nightlife Experiences

1. Grosse Freiheit 36

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

2. Rote Flora

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

3. Herzblut

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

4. Docks

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

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

5 Alster Arcades

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

6. Neuer Wall

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

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

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

7. Europa Passage

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

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

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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!

[thecattishdragon]

I'm just gonna... -dumps all of my N headcanons-

- Pansexual

- Adhd & Autism

- 20 years old

- Born/created on April 22nd

- Height: 6’6

- Ptsd, scared of loud noises

- Likes carrying Uzi around. Mostly does it when she’s tired or feeling sad.

- Knows a lot about many animals, not just dogs. Often randomly brings up facts about animals during conversation. 

- Has dents and scratches from J and V. Most of them are covered by his coat, so nearly nobody knows.

- Collects random things he finds interesting. Stickers, Books, Rocks he finds cool, and various shiny things are some of the things he collects the most. He gives shiny things, cool rocks, etc. to Uzi :>

- Rubs his claws together and taps them on things to stim

- Curls his tail around himself holds it in his hands when uncomfortable/nervous/scared

- Launches self into the air like a cat whenever startled

- Pets Uzi’s tail like a dog whenever it’s around (It LOVES him for this)

- VERY fluffy and soft hair. 

- likes headpats and scritchies ^^

- Sometimes chases tail when bored (Did this A LOT before the events of Episode One)

- Defensive of Uzi when J is around, Curls tail around her, pulls her closer, etc.

- Gets VERY flustered VERY easily. He can go from chill to a blushing mess just with a small kiss or a flirtatious remark

- His hair is just long enough to be pulled into a little ponytail. Uzi finds this absolutely adorable but TELLS NOBODY

- Often eats things he’s not supposed to. Chalk, wood, dirt, etc. His thought process is “I wonder what this tastes like.. Nothing bad will happen if I eat this, right? 

Ehhh it’ll be fine” Most of the time it’s fine. *most*

- His voice can go veeerry deep.

- Just as oilthirsty as J and V are, he’s just most excited about the HUNT, not the killing itself. He has single-handedly contributed to around 2/4 of the corpse spire

due to him wanting to be seen as somewhat useful

- Does like most anime, even the violent and gory ones.

- Sometimes has flashback episodes or nightmares where he vividly relives all the traumatic stuff that’s happened to him. Completely silent most of the time, tail curled around himself, trembling, sometimes wings covering himself, eyes closed tightly or just staring into the void

- He loves reading. He can read BIG WORDS like DISCOMBOBULATE and ABOMINATION

- Freaks out whenever he’s near a cute animal. Which, to him, is EVERY animal. Tessa has had to stop him from petting a crocodile before.

- Gets spooked and hides under the nearest bed, table, chair, couch, blanket, pillow, etc. or behind Uzi like a dog whenever there’s fireworks or lightning. He does 

think that fireworks are pretty when he doesn’t hear them

- Carries Uzi when she’s tired on long flights

- Separation anxiety

- Has the urge to touch EVERYTHING. Whether it be a cute animal or weird thing he found on the ground, he wants to touch it.

- You know this boi gives the best hugs and cuddles <3

- Clings to Uzi in his sleep and covers her with his wings. Most of the time he doesn’t even do it consciously, he just automatically does it.

- Frequent :3 :0 :D :) :( D: XD :3c etc. user

- Extremely skilled in making/preparing all kinds of drinks

- Was never really the same after the events of the show. He’s recovered well, but he’s not exactly the same. More easily saddened/angered, jumpier, anxiety levels higher, etc. 

[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.”

[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.

[theladyofbloodshed]

SJM Romance Week - Day 1 - First Date

@sjmromanceweek

With a fear of flying gripping her tight, Nesta just wants to be left alone to spiral in her panic - that is until a swaggering man holds her hand during take off.

The sweating had begun the second she reached the security line which was never a good sign. Nesta tried to act calm, tried not to keep glancing over her shoulders at the security agents as they scanned bags and bodies. Every damn time she made the machine bleep despite ensuring she had no metal on her, as if the machine knew she was panicking and wanted to enhance her worry. True to history, the machine went off and she stepped onto the painted feet for a guard to wave their wand over her. She didn’t know why she was so worried about the security part; Nesta wasn’t smuggling drugs.

Two hours of agony followed.

The duty-free shops didn’t hold her appeal although she’d toyed with buying alcohol to take the edge off things. She’d taken a Xanax already and mixing wouldn’t go well. A book. A new book to keep her occupied, that would do. She checked her gate, double checked it then triple checked it. Lurked near it way before it was boarding time with her new book clutched in her clammy hands. Nesta mentally catalogued her day. She’d watered the plants, Gwyn already had the spare key to water them when needed, she’d turned everything off, locked the door because she’d checked multiple times, had her travel documents on her phone and printed, had only taken hand luggage so it wouldn’t be lost. Everything would be fine. Of course it would be. She was a planner. But she couldn’t plan who was piloting the plane. Couldn’t plan the weather. Couldn’t plan if a freak bolt of lightning struck the plane and zapped them off the face of the earth. Nesta swigged down mouthfuls of sparkling water. She hated it but it made her burp and that alleviated her churning stomach.

When the agents called for boarding, Nesta was first in the queue. Priority boarding had been purchased so she could panic in her seat. Her legs trembled up the metal stairs to board the plane. Planes flew every day. Hundreds of them. All crisscrossing across the sky. And she’d be on the unlucky anomaly. Because of course she would. Nothing ever ran smoothly in her life.

With an eye mask on and a mindfulness podcast blaring in her ears, Nesta tried to block out the rest of the boarding. She was vaguely aware of bodies moving down the aisle or slipping into seats behind or in front of hers, the judder of chairs or slam of the overhead storage. When an elbow knocked into her to take the seat, she didn’t react, just kept listening to the soothing voice telling her to focus on her breathing.

Fingers tapped on her arm repeatedly until she peeled off her mask.

A man with dark-hair tugged into a loose bun at the nape of his neck was gesturing to her headphones. An air steward was watching, life jacket held aloft for the display. ‘Switch to airplane mode or turn off your devices for take off please.’

Nesta fumbled with her phone, hands trembling to change it. She listened to the safety warnings, terror soaking in.

‘Can we swap seats? I don’t want to look out of the window.’

‘Sorry, sweetheart, but I need to leg room in the aisle.’ The man gestured to his broad thighs and long, muscled legs.

Nesta knew well enough that if she even dreamed of closing the hatch on the window, a flight attendant would snap it back up so she could see just how high they were. Once the safety demo had finished, Nesta plugged back into her bubble. Her belt was on but what use was that against a plane crash?

As soon as she felt motion, Nesta was gripping her seat belt as if clinging onto it might save her. Her hands trembled, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth in her fear as the plane approached the runway.

Then a hand reached for hers. Calloused fingers slid against her own.

Nesta ripped her mask and headphones away in one fell swoop.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘You seemed nervous. Thought you’d want a hand to hold.’

The man’s hazel eyes fell to their hands, still entwined then Nesta yanked that away too.

And then the plane was barrelling along the runway, the force pinning her to her seat so she grasped for that hand again. He gave a low chuckle and cradled hers with both of his. Nesta screwed her eyes shut, not wanting to glimpse the moment they took flight or the way the land below would become more and more distant. At Emerie’s encouragement, she’d watched take offs on YouTube, had even tried to play a flight simulator but both of them had freaked her out just as much.

‘Is it just take off or landing too?’

Her words wouldn’t come out. The whole thing was traumatic. The only reason she was flying was because her sister was due to a drop a baby boy any day and Nesta had agreed to be there for the delivery and first couple of weeks of his life. Without a maternal figure, Feyre had decided that Nesta was the closest thing – ignoring the fact neither of them had a clue about babies.

‘What does that beeping mean?’ she hissed.

The man just brushed his thumb in a circle against the back of her hand. ‘It means we can take our seat belts off, sweetheart.’

Reluctantly, she forced open her eyes. People were already releasing their belts and heading to the bathroom. She had held her own urination on every flight. Only poor planners didn’t go before take-off. It would be just her luck that a plane would meet a fiery end whilst she was sat on the toilet.

He leaned over to slide the hatch down, hiding the outside world from view then his fingers headed towards her lap. Nesta was too stunned to react even as he undid her belt.

‘And what happens if this plane starts to plummet from the sky?’

‘I’m sure you can figure out how to put your belt back on,’ he replied, an easy grin on his face. At her terse look, he added, ‘Relax. This plane has never crashed before.’

Nesta busied herself with her book despite the undercurrent of fear threatening to drown her every time she thought too deeply about how the plane remained airborne. The man next to her read the in-flight magazine then began drumming on the fold-out table.

‘Do you mind?’

‘Have you got a request?’

Nesta’s brows drew together. ‘Stop drumming. It’s irritating.’

When the trolley of beverages was a few rows away, he turned to her. ‘What are you having?’

‘Nothing. If I drink, I will need the bathroom. I am not getting up or going there and tempting fate.’

He gave a bellow of a laugh. ‘You’ve thought of everything. You know if the plane crashes, it will make no difference if you’re sat by me or on the toilet.’

Her face must have paled because he added, ‘But it will fly safely to our destination.’

A handsome, swaggering smile was offered to the air stewardess when she approached. ‘Two coffees, chips, M&Ms and whatever drink has the most sugar.’

There was a veritable feast laid out in front of him, but a coffee was placed on the little table that he unfolded at her seat. The M&M pouch was torn open and shook in front of her face.

‘Go on, treat yourself.’

‘Do you just fly around the country and trap women in airline seats so they can’t get away?’

He ran a hand against his black hair. ‘Should I have gotten the peanut ones?’

Nesta took a few and tipped them into her mouth.

‘Careful, sweetheart, you don’t want to choke while the plane is crashing.’

‘You are not funny,’ she complained.

‘When they need to identify your body, what name will go with it?’

This time, she nearly did choke on her handful of M&Ms. ‘Are you serious? Is that how you’re asking my name?’

He spread out his hands, evidently pleased with that terrible line, awaiting her answer.

‘Nesta.’

‘Cassian.’

They chatted as the plane continued on its journey, drinking their coffee and eating his snacks. They shared the can of coke, her inhabitations well and truly lowered by the Xanax if she was willing to swap saliva and drink from the same can as a stranger. At the first signs of turbulence, Cassian was there to hold her hands and murmur embarrassing stories about his friends to stop fear paralysing her.

Once the cabin crew had swept through to collect the final few items of rubbish on the short flight, Nesta was clamming up again. She knew what was to follow.

‘Cabin crew, prepare for landing.’

Clouds streamed past the window, adding to the turbulence. Nesta was too scared to even reach for her mask which had fallen on the floor.

Cassian wound his fingers into hers. ‘I’ve got you, sweetheart. It will be okay.’

Every bump had her gritting her teeth so hard, it was a wonder that one of her molars didn’t crack. Cassian just kept talking in a low voice about inane topics to try and shave the edges off of her fear. His arm wound around her shoulders, forehead touching her temple, whilst his other hand still held hers.

‘This is the nicest first date I’ve ever had.’

That snapped something in her. ‘This is not a date.’

The nose of the plane dipped and her stomach lurched from the motion.

‘We’ve had coffee and snacks. We’re holding hands. You’ve shared your deepest fears of dying in a blazing crash. To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.’

Nesta ground out, ‘I hate the Smiths.’

‘Everybody does,’ he said.

With a bump that made her squeeze Cassian tighter, the plane landed. It sped down the runway and Nesta kept her eyes firmly shut for the entire duration until Cassian murmured that they had stopped.

‘You see, a safe flight after all.’

‘Fortune was cruel enough to put me next to you. A crash would have really tipped it over the edge.’

Cassian lifted her bag down for her, his black t-shirt rising to expose a strip of his taut muscled stomach. His own was a well-used duffle which he slung over his shoulder.

They walked together towards the airport building.

‘Do I get your number then?’

Nesta cocked a brow at his boldness. ‘Absolutely not. I’d rather be the one that got away.’

‘Every flight I’ll think of you, wondering if you’re stealing another man’s snacks.’

Nesta pressed her fingers to her lips and blew him a kiss as they parted into two different lines at security.

The man had to be mad, she decided as she passed through passport control. No sane man would just start holding a stranger’s hand – and she was an idiot for reciprocating that touch. But it did sting a bit that he’d accepted her refusal so easily. After how tactile and caring he’d been, she thought maybe Cassian would have pestered her again for her number or her socials. Whatever. His loss.

Her fear of flying meant that she’d sweated through her deodorant so she hurried into the bathroom to change her top, clean her arm pits with a baby wipe then slather on more deodorant to appear a little less dishevelled. Nesta spotted Cassian waiting at the baggage carousal for more belongings to come rolling around so she scurried past, avoiding his attention. Fantasy was more fun than reality. Maybe he’d be her one that got away.

After passing through anything to declare, Feyre was waiting for her. The huge belly wasn’t a surprise but it was still a shock to see her little sister so heavily pregnant.

‘Wow, look at you!’

‘I am peeing every ten minutes,’ she replied, holding up her belly.

‘Hi, Rhys.’

‘Nesta,’ he said, swooping to press a kiss on her cheek.

They’d met once. And it had been awkward as hell when Nesta realised he was eight years older than her. He wasn’t the sort of man she’d ever choose, but Feyre seemed happy. They were on “Christmas Card closeness” usually so Feyre’s call asking her to come and be close for the birth had meant a lot. Meant enough that she was willing to fly two days later.

‘Where’s the rest of your luggage?’

‘I had it sent ahead.’

Feyre patted Rhys on the arm. ‘Nesta hates flying. Everything is planned to an inch of its life. No detours, no unnecessary waiting. On the plane, off the plane.’

Even being in an airport, with its constant business, had Nesta itchy. ‘Shall we go?’

‘Do you want to head to the car, ladies? I’m worried about you standing for so long, darling.’

Feyre shook her head, golden hair cascading from the motion. ‘I’m fine. Cassian won’t take that long.’

‘Cassian?’

Nesta could practically hear the alarm bells ringing in her head.

‘My brother,’ said Rhys.

‘He works on an oil rig but he’s home for a couple of months now so you two can argue over who is the best uncle or auntie,’ teased Feyre.

There he was, striding through the doors, duffle bag slung over one shoulder while pushing a cart loaded with three more bags. His eyes snapped straight to her, a slow grin spreading over his face.

They said their greetings, Nesta and Cassian pretending that she hadn’t just been clinging to him in terror on the flight here then they fell into step together, walking slightly behind Rhysand and Feyre.

‘Fortune favours you,’ he murmured.

‘Did you know who I am?’

Cassian gave a hearty laugh that had Rhys glancing his shoulder at them. ‘Not at first. You looked familiar then you said your name and I realised you were Feyre’s sister.’

‘Lucky me,’ she grumbled.

With one hand pushing the trolley, he slung the other arm around her shoulders. ‘So, about that second date.’

[the-au-thor]

Mirrorball reader x Spencer?

(I mean this in the way like she is what the song lyrics say but also taylor lover? BAU member?)

DEAAAAR I'm so so sorry. I've been busy and trying to write something that felt right to me. I didn't know if you wanted angst or fluff but I'm delusional and I love love soooo here we go! If you wanted something different just let me know.

All I do is Try | Spencer Reid x MirrorballBAU!Reader

Words: 1.2 k

The atmosphere inside the jet on the way back home was tense. The recent case had been exhausting, to say the least. Despite successfully closing the case after a week away, there was no real joy; people had died, individuals who would never return home to their families like you and your team. Your foot, suspended in the air over your other leg, moved to the rhythm of the music from your headphones. Trying to entertain yourself, you read a book on your Kindle. In the middle of a catchy paragraph, you looked up to find Spencer's gaze. He lightly covered his mouth with his hand while holding one of his books with the other. His face was somewhat tense, eyebrows furrowed. You knew it was due to concentration and fatigue.

You mimicked his furrowed brow, covering your mouth like he was. Then, you hid your half-smile and playfully raised and lowered your eyebrows. Spencer saw this and lowered his gaze, this time more relaxed, releasing a silent laugh that translated into a smile. He removed his hand from his face, revealing a teasing expression, sticking out his tongue. You laughed from your seat, changing your posture, both feet now on the ground. You placed the Kindle on your lap and made a silly face to make him laugh. He returned the gesture and then laughed loud enough for others to turn their heads, though their expressions didn't seem curious. It was as if they had expected to witness both of you sharing a laugh. Quickly, they turned back to their affairs, exchanging knowing glances. Oblivious to your teammates' silent conspiracy, you and Spencer silently observed each other, the echoes of laughter in your eyes.

You took off one of your headphones and tapped the seat beside you, inviting him to sit. He didn't need much persuasion to get up and join you. You offered him your headphone, and he took it silently, putting it in his ear. He glanced at you with a know-it-all expression.

"Folklore again?" You rolled your eyes.

"Ugh, just listen and be quiet."

Spencer continued to watch you with a half-smile as song after song played. He saw you chatting with J.J via text while moving your head to the rhythm. Spencer then realized that every time Jennifer claimed to be reading on the jet, she was actually lying and chatting with you, sending funny baby memes and travel destination posts. You also shared TikToks with Penelope, exchanging the weirdest and stupidest videos, prompting her to respond with laughter. The rest of the flight was in complete silence, only accompanied by your music. He wasn't a fan of pop music before meeting you, but after that, he discovered that you would go everywhere with your headphones and Kindle, reading romance novels and sighing over fictional love stories. You played songs from your playlist loudly on every occasion, and far from annoying him, he found it adorable.

When the jet landed, Spencer barely felt like moving. He was tempted to ask if he could camp there that night; the mere thought of traveling home meant too much energy expenditure for him at that moment. Spencer watched you entwine your arm with Morgan's as you descended from the jet, trying to lift his spirits. He chuckled when you jumped and kissed Derek's shaved head, despite his grimace. Eventually, he gave in, laughing along with you, relieving the tension from his shoulders. Spencer bid farewell to the rest of his team alongside you. He saw you kiss your colleagues' cheeks with a smile and lighten the mood with something funny. Spencer drove the car back home feeling a bit less tired. He thought he was being discreet, glancing at you during every red light, and you half-smiled without taking your eyes off the window, captivated by the city lights and people walking their dogs on the sidewalks.

When they arrived home, Spencer suggested ordering Chinese food since they were hungry but too tired to cook.

"Don't be silly; I'm making tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches," you replied with a smile.

As soon as you arrived, you kicked off your shoes, letting them fly across the room. Then you took off your jacket and performed that magic trick that even Spencer, an expert in the field, couldn't comprehend yet. You moved your arms, slipped your hands inside your blouse, and voilà, your bra was somewhere over the sofa. Spencer laughed after your victory dance; he knew you hated wearing a bra more than anyone, and that ritual upon returning home was something that, far from causing him any horror, made him happy. With him, you were yourself, free.

After dinner, Spencer relaxed on the sofa, watching a rerun of an old soap opera on the retro channel. The dim lights in the room suddenly brightened, and "Paper Rings" started playing on the speakers. Spencer rolled his eyes but smiled, knowing exactly what would happen when you slid across the living room floor in your pajamas and sunglasses. Spencer turned off the TV and gave you his full attention as you began lifting your legs and arms, your hair swaying around you while performing your living room choreography.

You approached him without missing a beat, a skill Spencer admired because, while he didn't have two left feet, he also didn't possess the abilities of a natural dancer. His expertise in the area was due to the countless parties at Rossi's house and all the times Penelope, J.J, Emily, and you dragged him onto the dance floor. The truth was, he could never refuse a dance, even when you invited him to join in wearing pajamas in the middle of his living room. You let out an excited squeal when he stood up to dance with you. You hugged him around the neck, getting closer as you both moved to the music.

"That's it, babe! Move those hips!" you cheered with a smile, making exaggerated facial expressions with the sole purpose of making him laugh. "I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with a paper ring, uh huh, that's right, darling; you're the one I want," you sang, releasing him to twirl around the room.

Spencer played along, watching you dance, seeing your feet move with agility, spinning in the middle of the room like a brilliant disco ball; a diamond, a necklace of emeralds. The most beautiful thing in the room. Like a light that captured his attention. "You're the one I want, in paper rings," you balanced your hand in the air, pointing to your ring finger, and ran to the center table to embrace the photograph you both had taken at the Universal Studios. "In picture frames, in all my dreams" you let go of the frame and hung onto Spencer's neck, throwing bothh of you onto the sofa with a final performative flourish that made him laugh. Spencer and you stayed in that position, lying on the sofa, breathing heavily and still hugging each other. Spencer looked at you; tiny, almost microscopic droplets of sweat slowly sliding down your forehead, your wild hair around your face, and your crystalline eyes. He released your grip from his neck and brought one of your hands to his lips for a kiss. As he pulled it away from his mouth, he looked at your fingers and smiled.

"Well, it wasn't a paper ring, but I did my best," he said, referring to the delicate and meaningful ring he couldn't resist putting on your finger after two years of officially dating.

You returned the gesture, kissing his hand this time, and smiled once you had caught your breath.

"The best decision I've ever made," you murmured, feeling Spencer's fingers caress your face as he studied you with his detective's furrowed brow. "What?"

"My love, I know this case was tough for you too."

"W-what are you talking about?"

He sighed, gently caressing your forehead, this time with both hands and moving the massage carefully to the back of your neck.

"I know what you were doing there for us: being this cheerleader who always brings a smile to our faces. And hey, I get it," he clarified, "but if there's anyone you don't have to pretend to be okay all the time with, it's me."

You opened and closed your mouth, somewhat stunned.

"I...what?"

Spencer let out a tender laugh and kissed the tip of your nose briefly.

"Yes, like the song; 'When no one is around, my dear, you'll find me on my tallest tiptoes, spinning in my highest heels, love. Shining just for you,'" he responded. "You don't have to do that for me all the time or be stoic for me. I can handle your fatigue, your sadness, or your anger just like you do with me," he offered with kindness and willingness.

That, and seeing him recite that song somehow made him even more attractive. He identified the new smile emerging on your lips and smiled back.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," you replied too quickly. Spencer knew you were lying. His sly smile widened, and he moved a bit closer to you.

"Heeeey," he sang, "Even in your worst lies I saw the truth in you."

You furrowed your brow. "Are you quoting Taylor Swift against me? Because I'm pretty sure the lyrics weren't like that."

Spencer lowered his hands down your sides, hugging your waist with a mischievous smile.

"Let's put a mark our friends will see on your collarbone, shall we?" He offered, lowering his lips to your neck to start kissing it. You squirmed, feeling a tickling sensation. "Oh my God, look! Hand under your sweatshirt..." he moved his hand over your skin, and you stopped him with a smile, not entirely convinced.

"Baby, what are you doing?"

He shook his head while continuing to kiss your neck.

"I thought that with all the times we've listened to the album on every car ride, you'd know the lyrics by now. It's 'baby kiss it better,'" he replied, feigning impatience, making you laugh.

You took his face between your hands to look into his eyes.

"I've created a monster."

He looked at you, closed his eyes, and started singing, "And I can see us twisted in bedsheets, August sipped away like a bottle of wine."

"It's not August."

"Come on, your husband here is trying to seduce you with Taylor Swift songs. How many times have you heard that happen?" he complained.

You laughed, your entire body aching from your laughter. You hugged him and let him love you. Apparently, this time, it was his turn to shine for you.

[cowgurrrl]

A plea for tenderness

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: bitch something came over me I have no idea what just happened also thank you to @pedges for helping me work out this plot idea I owe you my life

Summary: Things with you and Joel finally come to a head [7.3k]

Warnings: 18+ MINOR DNI, one bed trope, brief period talk, stress, implied anxiety, yearning, miscommunication, my first time writing smut 🤠 (please be nice), dirty talk. fingering, p in v stuff, Joel being a shit head, sub Joel if you squint really hard

"You've got to be fucking kiddin' me," Joel says as he turns on the hotel light. 

It's been a long day. You were due to arrive in New York City this morning, but a thunderstorm delayed your flight. Then canceled it. You maneuvered phone calls between airlines and your managers to get things sorted out. You were also getting recognized in the airport, and it turns out that a line of people wanting to take pictures with you was a security issue. You were trying to be nice and take the time to talk to everyone but with the turn the day had taken, you were overwhelmed and on the verge of tears. Joel and TSA agents had to be the ones to turn people away and move to a more secure location. By the time you landed in New York, it was dark, and you were both exhausted. All you wanted to do was shower, lay in bed, and sleep for as long as possible. You have to be up early in the morning for a press junket, and Joel has meetings all day before you two have to go out for a date night. So, when you walk into your hotel room and see only one bed, it feels like the cherry on top of your entire day. 

"Did Melanie book this room, or did you?" He asks, and you give him an annoyed look.

"You really think I would book us a room with only one bed?"

"Guess not," he sighs. You abandon your suitcases by the door and flop on the bed while Joel settles on the couch. You cover your eyes and take a deep breath. It's quiet, or at least as quiet as New York City can get. Your body aches from traveling, and all the stress it took to get here, and this situation is not helping. As far as the whole world knows, you and Joel can't get enough of each other. He can't just go downstairs to the front desk and ask for another room because he doesn't want to sleep in the same bed as his fake girlfriend. "What are we gonna do?" He asks like he's reading your mind, and you sit up to look at him.

His hair is sticking out every which way, and his shirt is wrinkled from falling asleep on the plane. He looks exhausted, and you can practically see the defeat weighing on his shoulders. Behind the fatigue in his eyes, you can see something heavier. He almost seems guilty. Guilty for putting you in this situation or guilty for not being able to do anything to fix it. You don't know. Your fingers twitch to reach out for him, but you curl them around the blanket instead.

"We're gonna take showers and get ready for tomorrow. That's about all we can do." You say, and he nods. You grab your suitcase and pull out all the toiletries and clothes you need for bed. Joel lingers on the couch, his hands tapping a rhythm into the cushions. You make a couple trips to the bathroom to get all your stuff set up, and when you come back out to grab your folded pajamas, Joel stands.

"I can sleep on the couch. If it'll make you more comfortable." He says, and a piece of you melts at how nervous he looks. You leave your clothes on the bed and walk over, covering his wringing hands with your own.

"You know that if you do that, your back will literally never recover, right?" You ask, and he chuckles. The air feels instantly lighter at the sound, and you smile. "Sleeping in the same bed for a few nights won't kill us. It's not ideal, but we can be adults about this. We'll build a pillow wall and everything if we really need to." 

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," you say. He looks like he wants to say something more, but he doesn't, and you suddenly become aware of just how close you two are. You can smell his cologne, and you're holding his big hands in yours, and it doesn't feel awkward or wrong. It actually feels nice. His thumb brushes against your skin softly, looking down at your joined hands as he traces a line into your skin. You slowly release his hand and step back. "I'm gonna take a shower." 

He doesn't say anything as you gather your things and walk into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. You look up at the ceiling and let out a shaky breath as you try to calm yourself down. You can barely hold his hand without feeling like your skin is on fire. How are you supposed to sleep in the same bed as him? He looked so relieved when you told him it was okay. You can't take it back now. You sigh and turn the shower on, hoping the water will wash away the stress from the day.

You try to avoid thoughts of your schedule for tomorrow and hum so you can't hear Joel's voice through the walls as you scrub your body. He's on the phone with someone, speaking in a gentle tone you've only ever heard him use when he's checking on you. It's the same tone he used to comfort you after the charity event and the one he used to apologize for the hotel room. You shake your head and turn off the shower, anxious to keep yourself busy so your mind doesn't wander. You take the time to brush and floss your teeth, go through your skincare routine, and nervously tear your nailbeds apart. You're surprised Joel didn't bang on the bathroom door for you to hurry up.

When you walk out of the bathroom in a shirt two sizes too big and a pair of bike shorts, Joel is hanging up some nice-looking shirts that will probably need to be ironed in the morning because of how wrinkly they are. He smiles softly as you carry the clothes you wore today back to your suitcase. Joel's bag is sitting open on the bed, and your eyes catch on familiar packages sitting on top of his stuff.

"Is there a reason you keep pads and tampons in your carry-on?" You ask, peering into his bag as you brush your hair. 

"They're for my daughters, snoopy." He says, closing the closet door and leaning against it like it's too hard for him to stand upright. You silently curse his stupid fucking Lakers shirt for stretching against the muscles in his arms.

"Oh," you say. How could you forget that the man kissing you against walls and sending you flowers is also a father?

"Oh,"

"How old are they?"

"Sarah is eighteen, and Ellie is fourteen."

"Wow." You gape. It's an involuntary response, and you want to take it back as soon as it leaves your mouth. Joel raises his eyebrows at you as he moves from his spot.

"What?" 

"Nothing. I thought they'd be younger."

"Are you about to shame me for being old?" He asks. He has a playful look in his eyes as he steps closer to you, and you flip your wet hair over your shoulder.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Miller. I just know that other people in the industry have kids later in life. Robert Downey Jr. was forty-seven when his first kid was born." You say, and he laughs, shaking his head.

"Well, that's definitely not me. I was a couple months away from turning twenty-three when Sarah was born."

"That's crazy. So, you were, what? About twenty-six when Ellie was born?" 

"I guess it would've been right around there, yeah." 

"What are they like?" You ask. 

"Well, Sarah's smart as hell. Gave me a run for my money when she was younger cause she'd have to teach me how to help with her math homework. She's also sweet and gentle. Wouldn't hurt a fly, and if she did, she'd probably cry about it for a month," he says, his eyes lighting up as he talks about her. You smile as you imagine a much younger Joel sitting at the kitchen table with a little kid, cursing under his breath about fractions. "Now, Ellie... Ellie is quick. Just as smart as Sarah, but she's a little more extroverted. She's never met a stranger and is probably the funniest damn kid alive, but if you tell her I said that, I'll never forgive you."

"And they get along?"

"For the most part. They're still sisters, y'know? They have little fights and whatnot, but they love each other."

"Sounds like you hit the jackpot." You say, and he smiles.

"Yeah, I guess I did," he pulls his phone out of his back pocket and scrolls through his photos, turning it around when he finds what he's looking for. He shows you a picture of two girls sitting on a nice-looking couch with guitars in their laps. One has long, dark, coily hair pulled from her face, and Joel's crooked smile tugs at her lips. Her legs are long and crossed in front of her, and a butterfly necklace hangs from her neck. The other is shorter, with cropped, wavy brown hair covered with a baseball hat and silver rings adorning her fingers. She looks focused, a familiar line creasing her forehead as she strums the guitar. He points to the girls and identifies them as Sarah and Ellie, respectively.

"They're beautiful." 

"Thank you," he says, suddenly shy. He tucks his phone into his pocket and looks down at you. "They, uh... they asked about you when I was just talkin' to 'em."

"Really?" You ask, and he nods.

"Asked when I was gonna bring you around. They think bein' an actor is way cooler than bein' a singer."

"I mean, obviously." 

"Maybe I shouldn't introduce you three. I have a feelin' you guys are gonna create a mini army against me."

"They sound like headstrong girls. I doubt they need me to start an army." You say, and you both laugh. 

"Would you... wanna meet them one day?" He asks. You chew on the inside of your cheek as you fight with your brain. Part of you wants to smile and jump up and down at the idea that he trusts you enough to introduce you to his daughters, but the other part wants to cry because this isn't real. But meeting his daughters wasn't in the contract. Neither was sending you flowers or offering to sleep on the couch.

"Yeah. One day." You say. He smiles and nods. The deep brown of his eyes twinkles as a slight blush rises to his cheeks. 

"Okay." He says as he turns from you to pull some clothes and toiletries from his bag, that smile never leaving his lips even when he leaves the room to get in the shower. You find yourself smiling, too, as you climb under the covers and mindlessly scroll through your phone. He doesn't take as long as you did, but he's still in there for a good few minutes before he walks out in a bleached Foo Fighters t-shirt and black sweatpants. You subtly watch him put his things away and get ready for bed, his back muscles entrancing you when he turns to plug his phone in. 

He lingers on the other side of the bed, nervous and unsure, making you laugh. You pull the blankets out from their tightly tucked corners and pat the spot for Joel to lie down. He pauses for another second before climbing into bed next to you. He smells like lavender and aftershave, and his hair is damp as he rests his head on the pillow. You put your phone away and reach over to turn off the light on your side of the bed so you can each get some sleep, but he doesn't move. You look at him over your shoulder when the light on the other side doesn't flicker off.

"You're sure this is okay?" He asks.

"As long as you stay on your side, Miller," you joke, but he doesn't so much as crack a smile. You sigh and lie down so you're face-to-face with him. "This isn't your fault. This is just one bump in the road. There's no reason to let it ruin our whole trip, okay?" You ask. He takes a deep breath through his nose, the gears in his mind working loudly before he nods.

"Okay." He says. He stares at you for another beat before reaching over and turning off his lamp, casting the room in total darkness. He lies so his back faces you, and you feel his body relax into the mattress. Surrounded by the city's sounds and Joel's breathing, your mind rests for the first time all day. Crooked smiles, gentle hands, and butterfly necklaces invade your dreams, and, for once, you don't bat them away.

A distant car's honk stirs you from sleep. You can hear birds chirping and subways screeching as the city slowly wakes up around you. Your muscles still ache from your long day of travel the day before, but you're comfortable and warm. The early morning sun shines on your face, and you grimace, burying your face into your soft pillow. But, when you move, a firm body moves with you, and you freeze, suddenly wide awake. 

Your eyes blink open, and you find yourself curled against Joel's chest, his Foo Fighters shirt close enough for you to make out individual bleach spots. Your hand is curled between your face and his chest, and you can feel how the air comes and goes from his strong lungs. One of his hands rests on the back of your head like he's cradling you, and the other is wrapped around your waist. You're totally enveloped in his warmth and his smell. 

How the fuck did this happen? When you fell asleep, he wasn't even facing you. Did this happen while you were sleeping, and if so, who reached for who first? You want to spiral. You want a reason. You want to find a way to wiggle away from him to protect yourself, but he's so comfortable, and you haven't slept that soundly in years. 

You slowly move so you can look up at him. His face is relaxed as soft snores leave him, and his damp hair has dried into the most perfect fluffy head of curls. That worried line he gets between his brows when thinking hard is nothing more than a wrinkle when he's like this. He's beautiful. Carefully, you take your hand from his chest and reach out to trace the line with your thumb. He doesn't stir or jump at your touch. You swear, he unconsciously leans into it.

Your fingers move across his face in quiet reverence. You trace his eyebrows, the curve of his nose, the dip of his cupid's bow, and his jawline with soft fingertips. It feels like you're memorizing his features lest he disappear right before your eyes. It feels like you're begging yourself to never forget how his hair falls over his forehead or how the scar under his jaw curves upward just so. It feels, for once, like you're not worried about what happens in the next five minutes because he's right here, and you need to count every single freckle before you can do anything else. 

He inhales suddenly, and you feel him start to stretch before he feels you. Your hand rests on his cleanly shaven jaw as he opens his eyes, at least four different emotions playing out behind them when he realizes what happened. Golden rays of sunshine filter through the curtains, making him look like someone's version of an ancient god. He opens his mouth to start to say something, but you lean in to kiss him before he can. 

His lips are soft and tentative against yours before his mind catches up with his body. Then, his hold on you tightens, pulling your body flush to his, and he kisses you like his life depends on it. You bury your hands in his hair as his hands come to your jaw to deepen the kiss. There's a little teeth and tongue as his arms rest on either side of your head, caging you in. It feels like he's everywhere and nowhere all at once. You need more. You squeeze his shoulders when he kisses a line from your lips to your jaw and down your neck, gasping when his teeth scrape against your skin enough to send electricity down your spine. He soothes the barely there pain with a soft kiss, taking his time to taste your skin. 

"Joel," you breathe. He kisses the shaky incantation of his name away as his warm hands slide under your shirt and skate up your ribs. Your back arches, and you press yourself closer to him, desperate for any kind of contact. His thumb barely brushes against the swell of your breasts when the grating default iPhone alarm sounds. You both jump and startle out of the moment. His hands leave you, and he shuffles to smash the off button. You do your best to get your heart rate down as he sits on the edge of his side of the bed with his back to you. It's dead silent, and for a minute, you think maybe it was all a dream, but your lips are still buzzing, and the skin he kissed and nipped and licked stings with the reminder that he was just right there.

"It's seven o'clock." He says, his voice cracking over the syllables, and you nod at the ceiling. He stands and moves to his suitcase to pull out some clothes, actively avoiding your eyes. When he disappears into the bathroom, you cover your face with a pillow and hope a meteor will rattle through the atmosphere and burn you from the earth because that would be easier to understand than whatever the fuck that was.

You're sitting on the couch with two hosts of the Today Show, a pretty pink dress flowing around you as you listen to them talk up your most recent project to go to theatres, but you're not all there. In the background of their questions and the hot lights beating down on you, you're going through every single movement that led to Joel Miller kissing the life out of you this morning. You're stuck on the minutes just before seven am when nothing mattered more than his body against yours. He left the hotel room without a goodbye while you were washing your face, and you won't see him until later tonight. So, you're stuck tracing the shape of Joel's nose into the hem of your dress like it's the answer to an important question on a final exam. 

"This movie has already sparked many beautiful conversations online about families and growing up. What can you tell us about what you took away from this film?" Hoda asks. You start something about how coming of age is scary, but you were really grateful to get to do this project. You praise the girl who played your younger sister and how well she portrayed that experience. You were going to say something about another costar or the director or something, but it all flutters out of your head when you think about Joel's hands on you. This is fucking pathetic, you think.

"I'm so sorry, I forgot what I was gonna say," you laugh the way they taught you to— good-naturedly and honestly but not too loud. Nobody likes a loud woman.

"That's alright. I think we all know where your mind is right now." Jenna, the other host, chimes in, and you raise your eyebrows. 

"You do?" You ask, a little nervous that they know something you don't. They both hum and nod.

"Does it have anything to do with coming into New York with a certain singer on your arm?" Jenna asks, and you feel yourself relax. You laugh and run your hands through your hair as you nod.

"You caught me."

"How is Joel?"

"He's great. I'm sure he'd be here with me today if he didn't have work. I'm just happy our schedules finally lined up for once."

"Now, we know he is famously very private, but what can you tell us about your relationship? How did you meet? What's it been like to date one of the most famous rockstars in the world?" Hoda asks, her chin in her hand as she stares at you. You smile and fidget with a ring on your index finger.

"Well, you're right about him being very private, so I don't want to give away too much because I kinda like having our little secrets too, but I'm really happy. It's been a little bit of a learning curve for both of us, but we've found something that works."

"That's it?! C'mon, you've gotta give us a little more!" Jenna exclaims, and you laugh, throwing your hands up.

"I'm not one to kiss and tell!"

"I guess we'll have to get Joel in here one of these days."

"Oh, good luck with that. His ability to dodge questions like the plague is one of my favorite things about him." You say as a picture of you and Joel kissing on the charity red carpet appears on the screen. You can't stop the blush from spreading across your cheeks, but you try playing it off as smiling too much.

"Look at you two! You really are a great couple, and we wish you both the best." 

"Thank you so much." You say. They dive back into promoting your newest movie before cutting to commercials. You give them both big hugs and thank them again before being whisked off to do more press. 

You spend the rest of your day answering the same four questions over and over again with your costars by your side. They make it a little easier to get through the day, especially when they tell embarrassing stories from set or play stupid games with you. You're able to take your mind off of Joel for a few hours when you're with them. You make plans to color-coordinate on the red carpet for the premiere because you guys play a family, and that's what families do. Lilly, the girl who plays your younger sister, asks your opinion on dresses and how to tell her stylist that she's hated almost every outfit he's put her in. You give her as much advice as possible and ignore the thought in the back of your head that you would've killed to have someone provide you with advice like this when you first started.

The day goes by faster than expected, and you're back in the hotel room before you know it. Except Joel isn't there when you walk in. Instead, there's a bag on the bed with his handwriting scrawled on a note beside it. Wear this tonight. I'll meet you at dinner -JM, under his initials, is the address of the restaurant where you're supposed to have dinner. You furrow your brows in confusion as you pull a little black dress out of the bag. It's your size, which you have no idea how he found out, but you're pleasantly surprised when it fits. The hem of the dress hits an inch or two above your knees, and the collar is lined with pearls. It's gorgeous and feels expensive as it clings to your body. You pair it with a pair of black heels before doing your hair and makeup.

It's not super common for people in the industry to still do their own hair and makeup, but you love it. You like the time and energy it takes to get yourself ready. There's something meditative about it, which you could use if you're going to make it through dinner. You take some inspiration from Pamela Anderson's makeup looks from the nineties when the public deemed her The Rockstar's Girlfriend. While Tommy Lee is a piece of shit, and Joel is nowhere near like that, you still like the aesthetic. When you step back from the mirror to take in your complete look, power and confidence surge through your veins. You grab your little black purse from the counter and saunter to the lobby.

Paparazzi snap your pictures leaving the hotel and getting into the car Joel sent for you, but you're not annoyed at it for once. You look good. The world should see it. You text Joel that you're on your way, the only communication you've had with him since this morning. You decide that the thing that makes this kiss feel so different and jarring from the others is that it wasn't for the cameras or the press. It was just for you two. You were alone in the privacy of your own bed, and you kissed him because you wanted to, not because you had to sell a story. But he kissed you back. He did more than kiss you back. You sigh as the car rolls to a stop, and the back door opens. Joel stands there in a tight-fitting black button-up shirt and nice slacks, holding his hand out to you. You take it and smile as he helps you out of the car, kissing your cheek once you're in view of the photographers on the sidewalk. 

"You look beautiful," he says, so only you can hear it, and you squeeze his hand. He escorts you into the restaurant, and you two are given a table in the back. It's all too similar to your first-ever date when you were ready to punch him and break a legally binding contract. You order drinks and mess with your earrings as you think of what to say.

"How was your day?" You figure is as good a place to start as any. He raises his eyebrows at you, and you just stare at him like you don't know what he's waiting for.

"It was fine. Got a lot of work done," he says. "What about you?"

"I did a lot of interviews. Got asked about you a whole bunch." You say as the waiter brings your drinks over. You thank him and watch him scurry away before Joel takes a big sip of his beer. 

"What'd you say?" He asks, and you shrug.

"I told them how deliriously happy we are," you say. He grinds his teeth and hums as he takes in your words. You drink your drinks silently until the waiter comes by to take your food orders. Joel must sense lingering eyes at the same time you do because he takes your hand and rubs affectionate circles into your skin. You reach out with your other hand to move his hair out of his eyes and mumble something about him needing a haircut. He hums but doesn't take his eyes off you. You vaguely recognize the look behind the irises and shake your head. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" 

"Like you didn't leave the second you got the chance this morning," finally tumbles from your lips. You expect him to get annoyed or frustrated, but he doesn't. 

"I had to." He says.

"Why?"

"You know why."

"I, obviously, don't."

"If I didn't leave when I did this morning, neither of us would've made it out of the room for the rest of the day." He says like it's common knowledge. You take a deep breath and lean forward.

"I don't believe you." You say. He shrugs, grabs your martini glass from in front of you, and takes a sip. You give him a look, and he smirks. This doesn't feel like a serious conversation anymore. This feels like a game.

"You think too much."

"Oh, is that what it is?" You ask, and he hums, handing you your drink back. You sigh and take a big swig. "You're infuriating." You mumble into the glass. He scoots his chair closer to the table and copies you, leaning forward until he's right in your face. 

"Then, why'd you kiss me this morning?" He asks, his breath fanning across your neck as he tilts his head. His voice is low and curious, if not the tiniest bit smug. 

"Lapse of judgment."

"That right?"

"Mhm," you hum. "Don't think I'd do it again unless I had to."

"Wanna hear what I think?"

"Not really, but I'm sure you'll tell me anyways."

"I think you're lyin'. You know exactly why you kissed me this morning."

"Yeah? Enlighten me, then." You challenge.

"I think you kissed me because you wanted to, and you never act on the things you want 'cause of that perfectly polished Hollywood attitude. And sure, you smile all pretty and keep yourself quiet, but I know you need an excuse to let that all go."

"And what? You're that excuse?"

"If that's what you want me to be," he says, moving so his mouth is right by your ear. "When's the last time someone properly fucked you, huh? Because I barely touched you this morning, and you sounded like you were gonna cry. Joel," he copies the way you said his name this morning, all breathy and desperate. His words shoot straight to your core, and the restaurant is suddenly too hot. You dig your nails into his hand, but he doesn't flinch. No, he has the audacity to fucking laugh. "I bet if I reached under that little dress, you'd just be drippin' for me." Approaching footsteps pull him and that dirty mouth away from you as Joel smiles at the waiter like he didn't just say all that to you. Your food is set down on the table in front of you, but you're not hungry anymore. Joel just stares at you with a shit-eating grin. You down the rest of your martini and clear your throat as you pick up your fork.

"I'm going to fucking kill you." You say quietly, and he chuckles.

"Do your worst, darlin'." 

It could be the ache between your legs or the agonizingly slow way Joel eats his dinner, but it feels like you're at the restaurant for hours before Joel finally gets the bill. What's worse is the New York City traffic you get stuck in on your way back to the hotel. You're about ready to get out of the car and just walk the rest of the way. Joel seems to think this entire thing is hilarious because he chuckles and puts a hand on your thigh, squeezing your skin. "Relax," he whispers, and your jaw clenches as you look at him. Cars honk at each other, and people yell loudly, distracting the driver enough for you to kiss his neck. Your hand rests on the other side of his neck, keeping him in place as you lick at the hollow of his throat. His grip tightens on your thigh when your hand travels down his chest, your fingers working to undo the top few buttons. Your nails lightly scrape over his chest, and a low groan rumbles through him, making you smirk.

"Where'd you go, baby? You were talking such big shit back at the restaurant. I thought you'd be able to handle a little teasing," he swallows hard, and you reach down to palm him through his slacks. He bites back a desperate noise and claws at your wrist to stop your movements. "Gonna cry for me, Miller?" You ask. The car stops in front of the hotel, and he sighs as he looks between you and the tent in his pants.

"Ready to run?" He questions. Before you can even ask him what he means, he grabs your hand, opens the car door, and basically sprints into the hotel, dodging paparazzi and doormen, making you laugh the whole way in. You keep running until you reach the elevators, both of you reaching to punch the button at the same time. You laugh, still breathless from the running and the complete 180 the situation took. Joel shakes his head, fighting a smile, as you giggle deliriously. "There's so much wrong with you."

"Me?! You're the one who made me run into the hotel lobby like a crazy person!" You say as the elevator door opens. He hums as he pushes you through the doors with his body, his lips ghosting over yours when he reaches to press the button for your floor. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him when you start moving. His hands rest on your waist, and he pushes you until your back hits the wall of the elevator, his finger tugging at the fabric of your dress. When the doors open, Joel grabs your hand again, and you two run down the hallway like kids until you screech to a halt in front of your door. 

Joel pats his pockets feverously as he searches for the room key, making you laugh. You lean in and work on the buttons of his shirt while he fishes for it, his Adam's apple bobbing when you kiss his sternum. The hotel key card shakes in Joel's hand, and he curses under his breath as he scans it again, desperately trying to make it turn green. The second it does, he pulls you into the room with him, pushing you against the door and kissing you roughly. His knee finds its way between your legs, pressing into your core in the most delicious way. You moan and reach for his belt bucket, your nails barely grazing his hard cock, making him hiss before gathering your wrists in one of his hands and bringing them above your head. "If y'do that, 'm not gonna last long enough to feel you," he says, his voice hot in your ear. You whine as he kisses down your neck, leaving love bites on any piece of skin he can reach. 

You grind your hips against his thigh, and you should be embarrassed by the sounds leaving you, but you don't have the mental capacity. Not when you feel this good. Joel releases your hands to push the hem of your dress up, up, up until he can get a full view of the black lace covering you. "Fuckin' Christ," Joel groans. He wastes no time pushing the fabric aside and sliding through your folds a second later. You let out a choked moan and lean your head against the door as he collects your wetness on his fingers. "All this for me, pretty girl?" He asks.

"Ah, Joel," you whine when he makes a pass at your clit, your fingernails digging into his shoulder. Your hips move against him, desperately searching for more friction. 

"I got you. 'S okay. I'm gonna take care of you, okay? Are you gonna let me take care of you, baby?" His voice is whiny in a way you've never heard before, making you dizzy. His middle finger teases your entrance, and you clench around nothing. "Need to hear you say it."

"Please, I need you," you sound desperate, your breath heaving from you as you stand there, almost shaking with anticipation. He doesn't move, and you feel like you're going crazy. "Jesus fucking Christ, Joel, please. I need you inside me." The second the words leave your mouth, he presses two fingers into you, sliding right to the knuckle in one motion. You moan loudly and drop your head to his shoulder as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you. You remember hearing once that guitarists have the best hands out of everyone else in the music world. You always thought it was a joke, but now that you're here with Joel's fingers buried deep inside you and his thumb pressing on your clit, you're inclined to agree. His long, rough fingers reach spots deep inside you that you can't reach yourself, and when they curl just so, stars explode across your vision. His name leaves your lips like a broken prayer as he moves his fingers faster.

"You're so fuckin' pretty like this. Takin' my fingers so well," he's babbling in your ear, which you should've expected based on everything you know about him, but his voice is intoxicating. You pick your head up off his shoulder and keen against him, your hips pushing into his hand. He takes the opportunity to kiss you roughly, all teeth and tongue, as the sound of his fingers moving against you makes you feel like you're burning from the inside out. "You gonna come for me, pretty girl? Gonna let me feel it?" He asks, ducking his head to mouth at your neck. He adds more pressure to your clit, a little mean about it, and you gasp, clawing at his shoulders as your vision goes white. Your walls pulse around his fingers, and sounds you didn't even know you were capable of leave your chest, but he doesn't stop, desperate to pull every bit of pleasure out of you. 

You pull the hair at the nape of his neck and beg him to stop, your breath catching in your throat when he thrusts into you again before pulling out. Without missing a beat, he pops his index and middle finger into his mouth, sucking every drop of your arousal from them. The look in his eyes is dark and completely blissed out as his tongue peeks from between his fingers. That is enough to send a zing down your spine, reigniting the fire in your stomach, and you hastily undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt and push it off his shoulders. He steps backward, and you follow him until his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he falls on top of it. You step back to take in the sight of world-famous, untouchable, tattooed, badass rockstar Joel Miller laid out in front of you, hard as a rock against his slacks and completely at your mercy. 

You reach behind your back and unzip your dress, letting the fabric and your underwear pool at your feet. You kick off your heels before crawling on top of him, his big hands immediately splaying across your waist as he sits up to kiss at the swell of your breast. Your hands pull at his hair when he takes one in his mouth, his tongue flicking over your nipple and making you see stars. "Fuck, you're so good at that," you moan, looking down to see him staring at you. He releases your breast with a soft pop before moving to the other, giving it the same treatment. You don't know what atrocities you suffered in a past life to deserve someone like him taking so much time with you, putting his own orgasm aside to pleasure you, but you’ll take it. "Kiss me, please." You beg. He quickly obliges and takes the opportunity to flip your positions so he's on top of you.

You reach down to undo his belt buckle and push his slacks and underwear down his ass in one fell swoop. He moans against your lips when you take him in your hand, twisting your wrist just enough to make him thrust into your fist. He's panting as he presses his forehead against yours, and a sick part of your brain thinks about teasing him.

"I don't have," he breathes, deflating slightly against you. "I don't have a condom. I didn't think this was gonna happen." 

"I'm on birth control, and I'm good if you're good." You say, and he nods.

"I'm clear," he swallows hard, obviously using every iota of his brain to stay focused. "Are you... are you sure?" He asks. You don't say anything. You just guide him forward and take a sharp inhale as he slowly pushes into you. He's an incoherent babbling mess and buries his face in your neck once he's fully seated inside you. The stretch is painful for a second before it blossoms into a white-hot pleasure at the base of your spine. 

"Joel,"

"Yeah?"

"I need you to move," you say. He moves back slowly, and you feel every inch of him before his hips thrust forward. He sets a dizzying pace— slow and languid at first but quickly shifting to rough and frantic. Your nails rake down his warm back, leaving red scratches on his skin as he fucks you. He's bordering on whimpering as he thrusts into you harder, and you gasp when his thumb grazes your clit. "You sound so pretty when you're fucking me. I can't believe I've gone this long without having your cock inside me. You feel so fucking good." You mumble in his ear, and he keens at your praise, something you store in your mind for later. 

You open your mouth to say something more, but he draws tight circles around your clit, making your pussy clench around him, and the thought flies from your brain. It takes one more hard thrust to push you over the edge, stealing the breath from your lungs and clinging to Joel like he's the last lifeboat in a storm. Joel curses and presses bruises into your hips as he comes inside you, the feeling of it stealing the breath from your lungs. 

His movements still, and his cock rests inside you as you both slowly float back down to earth. Joel presses sweet kisses to your jaw, your cheeks, your forehead, and your nose before finally kissing your lips. He tastes like you and the martini he stole earlier. You take in a shaky breath, not realizing that you hadn't been breathing, and ground yourself in the feeling of his sweaty body against yours. You trace patterns into his back, and he hums at the feeling, making you smile. You stay like that for a few minutes before he finally gets the courage to carefully slip out of you and run to the bathroom to get something to clean you up. He kisses you when you whine at the sensitivity and even tosses a water bottle from the mini bar on the bed, calling for you to drink it as he finishes up in the bathroom. He's gentle in how he cares for you, way more gentle than any other person had been with you. 

When he comes back out, naked as the day he was born, you smile and make grabby hands at him. He doesn't hesitate to climb back into bed with you and unapologetically wrap you in his arms. You rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat as he runs his fingers through your hair, occasionally pressing kissing to the crown of your head or your temple. Then, just like the whole reason this started, you fall asleep on his chest, feeling safe and wanted for the first time in years.

[uhohwhathaveidone]

Hi!

I really like reading your posts. They give me a home like feeling because u always manage to bring out the characters well and the place and atmosphere to life.

I have an idea. What if Seb woke up during weekend thinking he overslept- but he actually woke up super early. He runs around the room to get ready and then he speeds to the great hall, only to find that there is no one. Anxiety gets to him. So he runs to the class and passes by reader who is a prefect and they tell him that it’s weekend. So they fix his messy uniform ( tie and so) and walk with him to some quiet corner of the castle where he falls asleep again but in their arms as she kisses his hand and tells him that he’s safe and alright.

Thank you so much and have a nice day🌻☀️

<3

Overslept? (S.S)

I'm so glad you enjoy! I hope you like this one too, I'm sorry it's late! <3<3

    Sebastian shot up from his bed, eyes wide as he looked around the room. His vision was blurry as he looked to where Ominis slept, not seeing the bundle of blankets on the bed. His head spun around, and he quickly glanced at the clock in the corner, unable to read it as he quickly got out of bed, tripping around his items as he grabbed for his clothes, putting them on. He muttered to himself as he reached for his tie and robe, putting them on half-way as he grabbed for his school bag and slipped on his shoes. “Late? No one thought to wake me up, either. I can’t believe this.” He continued, nearly tripping down the stairs as he hurried out of the common room, earning an odd glance from Imelda, who sat by the window looking into the lake with a book in her lap.

      Sebastian quickly sped through the halls, looking into rooms in search of his classmates, who were nowhere to be seen. He let out a frustrated sigh as he turned to the Great Hall, pulling one of the doors open to reveal its empty contents, the candles that hung in the air extinguished as they floated idly around. “Empty? How late is it?” He muttered to himself, taking a final look around before turning away. He stood for a moment as he tapped his foot, the small echoes of shoe on hard flooring the only sound in his ears as he tried to figure out what to do next. “Ominis could have woken me up, yet he didn’t. Where is everyone, anyway?” He said to himself, biting the inside of his cheek as he turned to walk up a flight of steps, huffing in frustration as he stepped on the hem of his robe, nearly falling down the steps for the second time that day.

      Ominis returned to the dorm, rubbing his eyes as he stifled a yawn, not even glancing over to where Sebastian slept. He placed his wand onto the table beside his bed, kicking off his shoes as he slipped back under the covers. He had just returned from to toilets, fixing his blankets as he snuggled back under them. He furrowed his brows for a moment, hearing the absent sound of Sebastian’s snores, but shrugged it off as he got cozy, drifting back to sleep.

      The ghosts that floated around the halls frowned as Sebastian passed by them, rushing through them without even greeting them. “Well, that was uncalled for!” A woman spoke, earning a quick “Apologies” as Sebastian continued by. Peeves floated behind him, speaking in riddles about how Sebastian was being rude, saying something along the lines of “Waking up on the wrong side of the bed, with looks like that.” Sebastian let out a frustrated sigh as he waved the Poltergeist off, shaking his head as he tried to ignore Peeves. He continued to float around Sebastian, content with pestering the Slytherin, seeing as there weren’t any other students around to torment. “Not now, Peeves! Can’t you see I’m in a rush!” Sebastian shouted, glaring as Peeves as he turned to the colourful menace. “Deary me, deary me! Seems like someone didn’t just wake up on the wrong side of the bed but woke up with a storm cloud hovering over his head!” Peeves laughed, spinning around Sebastian for a moment before drifting off to find someone else to bother.

      Sebastian began to walk faster as he continued up the spiral of steps, muttering about the time as he tried to fix his hair, stray curls falling over his forehead; unbrushed. He passed by a hall without bothering to check down it, cursing to himself as he made his way to where the Charms classroom was held. You furrowed your brows in confusion as you looked away from one of the paintings that had called you over, disrupting your morning rounds. You turned to the sound of the voice, watching as the billow of green and black robes disappeared from the entrance, excusing yourself as you moved to follow. “Students aren’t usually up at this time, who’s running around?” You asked yourself, reaching the end of the hall you occupied, watching as the figure took a sharp turn towards another hall. You hurried to catch up, putting your duties in the back of your mind as you began to catch up, watching a head of brown hair turn and go into an empty classroom. You huffed to yourself; another student trying to sneak something out of a classroom, no doubt.

      Sebastian stood in the middle of the room; eyes wide as a frown formed on his lips. The classroom of empty of students, and there was no sign of Professor Ronen either. “Perhaps I’m later than I thought.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair as he let out a frustrated sigh. You stood in the doorway, smiling as you recognized the student to be Sebastian, who usually took to stealing from the library instead of a classroom. “Didn’t think you were a big Charms fan, Sebastian.” You said, chuckling lightly as he jumped, spinning around to face you with a slight pink tint to his cheeks. “Y/n! I swear, I overslept! I didn’t mean to miss my classes, you understand.” He rambled, stepping over to you. You shook your head as you smirked, letting Sebastian speak. “Did you know that you’re my favourite Prefect?” He asked, wide-eyed as you shook your head once again. “I’m begging you, don’t send me to the Headmaster, I don’t think I could handle another detention this week.” You chuckled as you reached to fix his tie, frowning playfully as you tried to fix the knot he had left. You sighed as you looked him up and down, raising a brow as you took in his disheveled state, biting back a smile.

      “Sebastian, do you know what time it is?” You asked, crossing your arms as you smirked. He shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. “Sometime after nine, that’s for sure. Ominis didn’t even wake me, and the Great Hall was empty, now Charms? I’d be surprised if I had any classes left!” He rambled, pinching the bridge of his nose. You laughed as you shook your head, taking his arm as you led him out of the classroom. “It’s not even seven thirty, Sebastian. Even if you had woken up late, it’s the weekend, we have no classes today.” You said, showing him a clock that stood between two stands of armor, who saluted you in greeting. Sebastian looked at the clock in shock, frowning as he shook his head. “It can’t be the weekend already, can it?” He asked, watching as you nodded, a sympathetic smile gracing your lips. “Saturday, to be exact.” Sebastian continued to shake his head, his thoughts running through his brain as he tried to comprehend everything. “It was just Tuesday, I swear!”

      You walked with Sebastian down the hall, leading him to a small corner you had discovered that homed a rather comfortable loveseat, one that you found yourself relaxing on when you had some time to yourself. You sat him down as you conjured up a tea set, pouring him a cup. “You seem to have a lot on your mind lately; not knowing what day it is and all.” You spoked, gently offering the cup to Sebastian, who took it gratefully as he breathed in the sweet scent of Chamomile filling his senses as he nodded. “Would you like to talk about it?” Sebastian thought for a moment, savoring the warm taste as you took a seat next to him. “I’ve been staying up late, I suppose. Catching up on schoolwork, things like that.” He said, looking around at the plain yet comforting décor that surrounded the two of you. You nodded, taking a sip of your tea. “You seem to being doing the work in the classes we share, are you stuck in a different class?” You asked, turning your gaze to him as he shook his head. “I wouldn’t say I’m stuck on a subject, per say. My mind has been…occupied with other things. I haven’t been able to focus on classes because of it.” He spoke, biting the inside of his cheek. You nodded thoughtfully, giving him a gentle smile.

      “Does the matter that occupies your thoughts have something to do with Anne? I understand that she’s still unable to return to Hogwarts.” You said, your gaze softening as he slowly nodded. “She’s not getting better, and I’ve been trying to think of ways that would ease her pain.” He spoke softly, furrowing his brows as he let out a frustrated sigh. “Nothing that I’ve found is helping either, but I can’t stop looking. It’s taken over most of my time and thoughts, as you can see.” You nodded, moving your hand to fix his hair. “Perhaps you need a break, some time to just relax. People can’t breeze through a whole week and not realize it while still being able to function normally.” You said, smiling softly as you continued to fix Sebastian, straightening up his robes a bit as you set his bag onto the floor. Sebastian only sighed, frowning as he felt his stomach growl. “I don’t suppose the Great Hall will be opening anytime soon?” He asked, a slight smile gracing his lips as he looked at you. You shook your head as you smiled back, looking over at a nearby clock. “Breakfast is served an hour later, of course. You have around two hours until they start serving. If you’d like, we can stay here, you can catch some more sleep, I’ll wake you when it’s time.” You offered, watching as Sebastian nodded.

      “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to sleep after all the stress I went through to get to a class that wasn’t even in session, but I can try.” Sebastian said with a chuckle, setting his cup down as he made himself comfortable. You chuckled with him, biting the inside of your cheek. “My duties for the morning are mostly done, so there’s not much I can do to help you with that problem.” Sebastian scoffed as he poked your side. “What are your duties, anyway? Walking around the halls at seven in the morning, I’d hate to have that job.” You shook your head as you sighed, leaning back into the cushions as you began to explain your weekend routine, smiling softly as you felt his head begin to rest on your shoulder. You spoke softly as you looked over at Sebastian, his eyes visibly growing heavy as you spoke. “It’s not that boring, you know.” You joked, shaking your head. Sebastian let out a small huff as he found your hand, holding it in his own as he let out a small sigh.

      “I don’t think they’re boring, just not my thing. But it’s a good thing you were around, else I’d probably still be roaming the halls thinking I overslept.” He said softly, his eyes fluttering shut as you let out a short chuckle. “Perhaps you would, but I saved the day, like always.” Sebastian’s breath grew slow as he drifted to sleep, allowing you a moment to take in his features as his face relaxed. You hadn’t realized just how many freckles dusted his cheeks, and you smiled as you watched his hair fall back into his face, the small, untamed curls from his bed head laying softly over his skin. You sighed as you rested your head onto his, bringing the hand that he still kept in his grasp up, smiling as you placed a small kiss to the back of his hand as you whispered to him. “You’re safe here. You don’t need to worry about anything, just the two hours of sleep you deserve.”

[barsformars]

A Little More

//

g - fluff

p - jongho x gn!reader

w.c - 1.2k

t.w - none

a.n - i wrote this back in 2020??? i found it in my notion drafts so i edited it a lil bit and decided to post it (i dont think ive posted this? i couldnt find it on my page)

//

You tapped your feet impatiently to a made-up rhythm in your head, constantly glancing up at the clock hanging on the wall right behind your teacher. Urgh, class was supposed to end 16 minutes ago.

"Are we going to miss it?" Jongho turned to ask even though he had already guessed that judging from the way you were acting.

"If she doesn't stop talking right now," you leaned in slightly and replied softly, not wanting to get caught talking in class. That would just mean getting held back a little longer than you would like to. "Gosh, I'm not even absorbing an-“

You pause at the sudden quietness of the classroom, looking up to see Ms Kang with her arms folded across her chest. Uh-oh.

But before she even has a chance to call the both of you out, Jongho raises his hand, making up a lie on the spot as an excuse. "Sorry, they were explaining a question to me!" He nudges you with his elbow, which was your cue to apologise as well so that Ms Kang would just get over it.

"Alright, but next time don't discuss while I'm speaking. Got it?"

"Yep!" You rolled your eyes playfully at your table partner, he has a way of always getting out of trouble. It was just impossible for anyone to dislike him, and all the grown-ups just absolutely adore him.

Thankfully for the both of you (and everybody else), Ms Kang decided that there was no point in carrying on the lesson any further. She said that everyone looked 'too dead on the inside' which wasn't not true at all. It's just the case when school had started as early as 7.30 in the morning, only ending now at 5pm (or rather 5.20pm).

You stuffed all your belongings into your bag hurriedly before helping Jongho with his. Why does he always have a pile of loose notes and books under his table? Now, if it wasn't for how early the sunsets were nowadays now that it’s winter, you wouldn't be rushing him. You never liked pressuring anyone in any way.

"If we miss it today, we can just catch it tomorrow or whenever, you know." It wasn't that Jongho didn't like you rushing him, in fact, he doesn't mind it at all. He just rather not see you stressing over something so minor so unnecessarily.

Jongho had a point, but you really wanted to see the sunset today for whatever reason. Or actually there were many reasons. You know how there's always one week in the month where the sunsets just hit different from the other days? That's what you have observed at least, even if you didn't have any scientific information to back it up or prove that was really the case. Anyways, to put it short, the sunsets recently have been extra pretty and if you don't catch it today, you'll have to wait another month. Why? You have classes that extend way past 5 o'clock starting tomorrow.

And besides, you couldn’t wait any longer. As curious as you were hopeful, you really wanted to know who Jongho had caught feelings for. He promised he would tell you on a day the sunset is exceptionally beautiful.

"We still have a little more time left," you said, not bothering to explain your thoughts to Jongho. It's too much effort to try and properly formulate your thoughts into coherent sentences.

"Alright, let's go then." Without any warning, Jongho takes hold of your wrist, pulling you along with him as the both of you ran down the hallway, then the 8 flights of stairs and finally to the open field at the back of the campus.

After all the panting and gasping for air, you tilted your head upwards only to be greeted by light grey clouds filling up the sky. The golden rays of the sunset were barely peeking out from the back despite it extending out like roots greedy for nutrients in the soil.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and checked the time, hoping that maybe this was only the starting and not the end. "They say the sun sets in 6 minutes, so I guess we just wait?" You suggested, already seated on the floor before Jongho could process your words.

He remained standing, looking down at you with narrowed eyes. There was definitely something wrong with whatever you had just said but Jongho couldn't tell if he or you were the stupid one here. "I think that means the sky goes dark then, no? Like when the sun completely sets....." His voice trails off as you tugged at the sleeve of his uniform to get him to sit down as well.

"I don't know, but no harm in waiting just a little while more."

"I guess," Jongho said with a shrug of his shoulders.

But a lot of things can happen in just a little while. For example, Jongho might just muster up a little more courage in this peaceful silence to confess his feelings for you. And in this little while, an amazing friendship could very possibly end, unless you saw him as a little more than only a friend.

Jongho decides not to take the risk just yet; there's no harm in waiting just a little while more. Just a little more, when he can be a little more sure of your feelings as well.

"What's with this weird atmosphere?" You joked, an attempt to ignore how fast your heart was racing right now. Lucky for Jongho, you were too busy calming yourself down that you missed the way his body immediately tensed up at your question.

"Uhm, I'm guessing that's-" Jongho points up at the sky that was very far from spectacular-"all today's sunset has to offer." That wasn't the best way to break the awkward silence but oh well...

"Can we wait 5 more minutes?" You had almost lost all hope at this point but you never know what might happened in the next few minutes. Maybe Jongho would finally decide to let you in on his crush's identity as he had promised. Because if he doesn't, then you might. And if it so happens that your feelings for him aren't reciprocated, you were only going to burden him with your feelings. You don't want that, but right now you're barely holding yourself back. "Do you even remember what you promised me?"

"The thing about my crush?"

"Mhmm..."

"Yea, I remember. But today's sunset isn't it." Jongho sighed as he leaned back on his hands, staring up at the now dark sky. "Just wait a little while more."

"Well, but I don't want to miss the timing just like we did with the sunset today so I'll just say it." Your voice was shakier but in no way more timid than usual, perhaps it was the adrenaline that was rushing through your veins right now. Because right now, you couldn't care less about the weight and consequences of your words.

"Choi Jongho, I really like you a lot."

[elisela]

‘I missed you’ + sterek

west coast swing sterek, wild about you, long distance relationship

—

Somewhere in the air over Colorado, Derek gets cold feet.

It’s insane what he’s doing, actually. It’s just—no reasonable person would buy a last-minute ticket halfway across the US just because they miss the guy they’ve been dating for all of six weeks. Even if he and Stiles talk and text so often that Derek feels like it’s been twice as long, it’s just not … it’s not him. It’s not something he would usually do, and the rush of adrenaline he’d felt buying the ticket and driving to the airport is starting to fade, leaving anxiety and doubt in its place.

He blames Kira. And Jordan, who’d made a considering face and said, “Actually, I think you should go for it,” when Kira suggested he go meet Stiles out west. Lydia had called out her agreement behind him so she’s also on Derek’s list of people to ignore for the rest of his life if this turns out badly; even Allison hasn’t escaped potential blame, because she’s the reason he has a rolled up, ratty poster in his carry-on bag.

This is a mistake. He should just grab a hotel in Anaheim for the night and fly back to St. Paul in the morning. Maybe call Cora and see if she’s still in San Diego, but if she’s not he’d have to explain why he’d asked and he’s not up for that. Another point to the absolute insanity of this decision—he hadn’t even thought to book a hotel before throwing clothes into his bag and leaving.

He needs to never listen to his friends again.

—

A notification pops up on his screen as he’s scrolling through available hotels, then a torrent of them—all the texts from Stiles he didn’t get while he was in the air. Derek hovers his finger over the screen for a few wavering seconds before tapping on it, watching as the screen fills with four hours worth of Stiles’ thoughts, questions, and right at the bottom—

Stiles Stilinski [2:34pm]: Sorry for all the messages I didn’t give you time to respond to

He frowns, swiping away the text from Lydia that drops down in order to respond.

Derek Hale [2:34pm]: I didn’t have service, sorry. Not ignoring these—composing my essay about the validity of pepperoni and pineapple in my head right now, you’ll get the fully edited version later tonight.

Stiles Stilinski [2:35pm]: Heads up that the peer review board is going to be striking that one down as soon as it’s submitted.

Derek grins at his phone and navigates away so he’s not tempted to spend hours talking instead of actually making a decision, then clicks on Lydia’s text so he can put off making said decision for a moment longer.

Then he stares.

Lydia Parrish [2:35pm]: Did you know Jordan’s never been to Disneyland? Unbelievable. No time like the present though, right?

He’d ask if it was a joke, but Lydia had apparently anticipated that and had sent a photo along with the message, Jordan’s outline silhouetted against one of the large airport windows.

Derek Hale [2:37pm]: I didn’t need a babysitter.

Lydia Parrish [2:37pm]: Of course not. I took the liberty of booking you a room at our hotel. The confirmation is in your email. Lydia Parrish [2:38pm]: Coincidentally, it’s the same hotel the team is staying at tomorrow night. Lydia Parrish [2:38pm]: Our flight doesn’t get in until much later tonight, I’ll text you when we land. Lydia Parrish [2:38pm]: Just know we’re doing this because we love you and support you, but also because we knew there was a 90% chance you backed out before the game.

Well—she wasn’t wrong. He sighs, pushes off the wall he’d been leaning against outside the Starbucks, and opens his email as he makes his way outside to where the line of taxis wait.

—

He buys Lydia and Jordan tickets to the game—another thing he’s putting firmly on his questionable decisions list, if only for the teasing that will occur once they realize what he’s brought with him. He goes to Disneyland with them in the morning, takes pictures he’ll share on his Facebook later, and picks up a pair of Yoda ears he thinks Stiles would get a kick out of. Halfway through the day he gets a text—Stiles complaining about an extra mandatory practice, followed by a half-hearted threat to trip and injure himself to get out of said practice. But he really must have to focus because he doesn’t text again until later, just as they’re leaving the park and heading back to the room to get ready for the game.

Stiles Stilinski [3:54pm]: Do you watch my games? Stiles Stilinski [3:54pm]: I should actually be congratulated on my restraint because I’ve been wanting to know if you’ve changed your mind about hockey for weeks but I held back. Stiles Stilinski [3:54pm]: There’s no right answer but there’s definitely a wrong one so you know. Tread lightly. Or lie.

Derek has not really changed his mind about hockey, but it’s not like he’s watching the games for the hockey aspect of it.

Derek Hale [3:55pm]: I watch most of them. Some of them start too late for me though.

And then—inspired, he texts again.

Derek Hale [3:55pm]: Do you want me to watch tonight?

Stiles Stilinski [3:55pm]: Derek Stiles Stilinski [3:55pm]: I kinda always want your attention Stiles Stilinski [3:55pm]: In case you hadn’t noticed

—

Surprisingly, there’s no teasing. It’s the opposite, in fact.

“This,” Lydia says, pointing at where Derek’s unrolling the Marry me, Stiles Stilinski sign, “is romantic. Jordan? I hope you’re taking notes. You could learn a thing or two.”

Jordan grins and rolls his eyes, even as Derek shoots him an apologetic look. “Got it. You want a sign asking you to marry me.”

“Ha, ha,” Lydia says, sinking back into her seat. “I do want some of those fish tacos though, if you needed ideas.”

“You can both go get the tacos,” Derek says, because players are starting to appear at the tunnel for warm-ups and he’d like them both gone. Or there and quiet, but he knows that will never happen.

“Oh no, we’ve got too many people to send videos and second by second reports to,” Lydia says sweetly. “Speaking of—I’m pretty sure that’s him, so—no, Derek, don’t cover your face with the sign, Jesus.”

Derek’s stomach is in knots. It’s too much, it’s not enough; he wants Stiles to come over and give him the same wide smile he’s been used to seeing every day and also wants him to skate by without seeing him at all. His hands feel sweaty as he grips the poster, plastering it to the glass in front of their seats, and he looks down at the concrete floor like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen the moment he sees recognition dawn on Stiles’ face.

“Derek,” Jordan says quietly, warm hand patting Derek’s back, “he’s smiling, man. Look.”

Stiles is less smiling than grinning maniacally, and he all but throws himself at the glass. “Derek!” he yells, and the knot that’s been in Derek’s stomach since Colorado vanishes. “What are you doing here?”

Derek grins back helplessly, and the words come easy in the wake of Stiles’ obvious joy. “I missed you,” he calls back.

Some of the exuberance slips off Stiles’ face, and Derek is suddenly looking at a smile that’s softer, much more private. “I missed you, too,” Stiles says.

—

Stiles Stilinski [1:38am]: You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me

Derek Hale [7:35am]: I know

Stiles Stilinski [10:16am]: Nvm I take it back

Derek laughs when he picks his phone up, leaning back when he feels Stiles slide in behind him in line for coffee, a kiss being placed on the back of his neck.

You’re the best thing that’s happened to me too, he writes, and hits send.