Killing two prompts with one stone: 1. Santana gets mad at the paparazzi. 2. Dani gets angry and Santana finds it really hot.
A/N: Keep sending in those prompts y'all! I'm trying to get to most of them when I have time.
It really wasn't so bad at first.
When the two of you had arrived at the airport, you signed the autographs, took some pictures and then got in your rental car. No big deal.
At the hotel, it was a little bit more crowded, but you quickly checked in without attracting too much attention. Even with your red hair, you and Santana managed to walk an entire hallway to your hotel room without someone coming up to you.
But then again, the biggest suite in the entire hotel did basically have its own floor.
When you get inside the room, your girlfriend drops your hand with a sigh and pulls off her sunglasses. Evidently the bellhop had already brought all of your luggage up and now all you had to do was get settled. You kiss the Latina on the cheek and drag her by the arm to the balcony doors, where you can see the small private bay that must be owned by the hotel.
You lean against the railing, staring out at the incredible view while she hugs you from behind, nuzzling her face into the crook between your jaw and shoulder. "I love your hair like this," she breathes, pressing a kiss to your neck.
"What's that?" you tease her, a smile creeping onto your face.
"I said I love your hair, now shut up," she laughs, nipping at your skin as her hands caress your waist.
You just giggle, remembering the unsure look she gave you when you told her you were going red.
The two of you stand there for a while, the only sounds made by the tropical breeze blowing through the palm trees and the small pecks the Latina leaves on your bare shoulder. As you relax in her arms, you allow your eyes to wander around the view; to your left you can see some sort of man-made lagoon and even further than that, a big resort-style pool full of families and their kids. So much for that, you think to yourself quietly. Straight ahead of you there's a private beach with white cabanas dotting the shoreline –– you keep that in mind for later. When you move your gaze to the right, you see a large field of grass with pairs of palm trees scattered around it, between them a sight that elicits a small gasp of excitement.
"Baby, there's hammocks," you say, trying not to sound overly eager.
She just looks at you amused and pokes your cheek, "Well, let's go then."
Ten minutes later, the two of you are heading downstairs in the elevator, sunglasses on and drinks in hand. You're wearing a cute little cover-up and most of your red hair is being held off your face by a white headband. Your girlfriend isn't so modest; her black bikini is only covered by a tiny little crop top, and anything resembling 'shorts' or a 'skirt' doesn't seem to exist.
You're not complaining though (and you thought view from the balcony was nice).
You're thankful when the two of you manage to reach one of the hammocks without being stopped once, although a few curious tourist glances get sent your way. Your girlfriend gestures for you to climb on first, holding the white net still with her toned muscles flexing in the Hawaiian sun.
"Damn, chivalry is not dead."
She smirks at you through her ray-bans, "You do realize I could tip this over at any given moment."
"Alright, alright, get on ya bitch."
She gasps mockingly, setting down her drink in the grass before jumping on you and straddling your waist as the hammock swings dangerously.
"You did not just call me a bitch."
You smirk at her, removing her sunglasses and tossing them to the side, before doing the same to your own. "I don't know, you can get pretty feisty sometimes," you reply, pulling her down slowly so that your stomachs are touching.
She hovers over you for a little, teasing your lips together before capturing your bottom one between her own. You smile into the kiss, slowly pushing your tongue in as you tangle your hand into raven hair. She lays on you for a few more minutes, the two of you giggling between kisses and trying to make sure the hammock doesn't topple over when you hear it –– the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter clicking. She groans, sitting back up to look for the source. To your left you can both see a hat and lens poking from behind another palm tree.
"Baby it's just one," you say, tugging her back down and kissing her again. You pull her bottom lip between your teeth and suck as your hands move lower and lower down her back. You both ignore the one paparazzo, (who is probably going to make a lot of money off this) and get lost in each other, your tongues battling now as you caress her tanned skin. Once your hand reaches her butt she moans, before stopping abruptly and pulling off of you.
"Well shit D, we don't gotta give him a show."
"I can't really help it." She laughs at you and leans back down to kiss you again, until you're both certain that you can hear more than one camera going off.
"Oh for fucks sake." She rests her forehead against yours resignedly, dramatically shuts her eyes and then climbs off you carefully, making sure not to tip over the hammock on her way down. You watch with a sigh as she puts her sunglasses on and marches over to the small group of paps that have gathered behind the tree.
You giggle to yourself when you hear her yell in Spanish before transitioning into a completely exasperated voice, "I am just trying to enjoy my goddamned vacation you bastards, is this for your private collection or are you actually going to sell these to a magazine? Perverts." She says a few more things that you don't quite catch, but you know are nasty and you decide she's made her point by now, so you get up and walk over to where she's standing in her cute little crop top. It's actually kind of funny when you think about it, a tiny little Latina in a bikini yelling at a group of camera men.
You grab her hand and pull her away, just as she finishes telling them to 'get a fucking life' and you smile sweetly at them. "Have a nice day," you say before tossing them the bird and dragging your feisty girlfriend back to your hotel room.
She's mumbling angry comments when you get back into the suite and you stop and face her. "Who cares? Who fucking cares?" you shout, and she stares at you speechless. When she remains silent you continue, "Just because they somehow made their way onto private property, doesn't mean we can't enjoy our vacation! This trip is for you and me, nothing else matters okay?"
She stares at you in awe, not used to you being the one to raise your voice. Then suddenly you're pinned to the wall and her lips are on yours and you finally get to grope some of that delicious ass you were trying to get earlier.
Later, when red hair is tangled in black on a shared pillow and the two of you are wrapped in each others arms, she says, "You getting angry turned me on so much."
"I could tell," you laugh, right hand stroking her cheek, "maybe I should yell more often."
Maybe this vacation will turn out pretty great.