#Italian Linen Tops

[br3akfestattiffanys]

I edited this top by Fait Par Foutch pink ༅:*･❀໋༘ࣧ

[fangirl-dot-com]

🧠Fake Amnesia

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fan!Reader Genre: Fluff/Humor/SMAU Summary: There was a saying that if you knew a celebrity existed, your chances of meeting them out and about decreased significantly. Is it true? No clue. But, you weren't about to let that stop you from finding Lando Norris in Imola.

*I am so so sorry for the very late and delayed chapter. I hope you all like it! I switched out this one to write it before the next as "Love Triangle" was supposed to come out first, but we've had a lot of Lestappen for now! But here we go!"

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Were you a bit stupid? 

Yes. Yes you were. Did you more money than your budget allowed just to get to Imola a few days early to possibly not even find Lando? You didn’t want to talk about it. 

But right now as you perused through the local shopping area, you didn’t take the time to really dwell on your past choices. Only finding Lando could save you now. Which that seemed like a faraway dream. 

Whatever that one reddit post said about having a higher chance of meeting a celebrity if you didn’t know them was absolute bullshit. You couldn’t go back in time to stop yourself from liking a thirst trap of Lando on TikTok. And now because of that, your chances of meeting the British driver seriously decreased. 

How on earth were you supposed to find one of the most popular men alive, on a race weekend, where everyone was already looking to spot the driver in a more relaxed setting? You had no clue. But the shopping center felt like a good idea. 

You had been drawn in by one of the jewelry sections, eyes glazing over the number of zeros that followed every first number. Your heart winced at the thought of even buying one. To be honest, you didn’t even know how you got into this mall in the first place. Everyone around you was dressed in the highest European fashion. 

Your outfit wasn’t terrible per say, but it didn’t reflect the Italian area either. You were wearing some cream baggy linen pants that matched the light orange top that you had thrown on after scrambling to find a shirt. You didn’t really know exactly what shirt you were wearing, except that it was comfortable and went well with the pants. The giant number 4 on the back went completely unnoticed. Sandals adorned your feet and sunglass sat as though a crown on your head. Your cross-body bag dangled a bit against your side. 

You had just cringed once again at a price tag when your eyes landed on some brown curly hair. Your eyes followed the coils down to the face and you wanted to scream (but held it in because you were not about to get kicked out). 

There was no way that Lando Norris was standing about 10 feet away from you. 

There was no way. 

Except your hands automatically opened your phone and the twitter app popped up. You were too busy looking down at your phone, fingers moving at the speed of light, to notice that some hazel eyes had landed on your figure. 

Lando, on the other hand, wanted to sigh. Could he go one day without having to get stopped by fans? The giant 4 on your shirt seemed to mock him. Internally, he was wishing that the girl was a Max or Charles fan. 

But, he was going to be the bigger person and approach the nice looking girl before she could bring more attention to him. He decreased the space between them and tapped her shoulder, getting her attention. 

You were not expecting a tap on the shoulder. And you were definitely not expecting that tap to come from Lando Norris’s finger. 

“Can I sign something for you?” he asked. The sound of his voice must have put some type of spell on you since you felt as though you couldn’t speak. 

Lando huffed. “Please? I don’t need other people finding out that I’m here and then I’ll have to leave.” 

You blinked twice at him before you finally found your voice. “I’m sorry. Who are you exactly?” 

Stupid reddit post. 

The McLaren driver wanted to smack himself. Were you a fan? Or maybe you were wearing a papaya colored shirt that supported another person, who happened to have the same number? Or maybe if was your friend’s shirt? Or one you thrifted?

He winced. “I am so sorry. I thought. . . ” 

You shifted on your feet, brain trying to come up with an idea for what happens next. You were standing in front of thee Lando Norris. You couldn’t miss this opportunity. 

Lando watched your eyes widen and he wanted to hide. Maybe you were just shocked that it was him? 

Your eyes then squinted. “You look really familiar. Oh, I know where you’re from.” 

The Briton wanted to run and hide. This was it, you were going to start squealing, and then other people will look that way, see Lando, cause a giant crowd, and then he wouldn’t be able to do anything for the rest of the weekend. 

He was doomed. 

“You’re that actor right? From Spiderman.” 

This time, Lando blinked while staying silent. 

“No, I believe that’s Tom Holland.” 

“Oh.” 

Now it was getting awkward with the two of you just looking at each other. Which, this gave you the perfect opportunity to memorize the different shades of blue, green, and brown in his eyes. You looked to the side and chewed on you bottom lip. 

Lando looked stuck. 

“I am so sorry for interrupting your shopping,” he started out. 

You waved your hands, trying to act nonchalant. “It’s fine. Wasn’t like I could buy anything here. Way too many zeros for my liking.” 

Lando giggled at that and you internally melted. 

Time to add “got Lando Norris to giggle like a schoolgirl” on your resume. 

“Yeah. Bit too posh for me as well.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? You look like you fit in a bit more than I do.” 

He rolled his eyes before huffing. “I’d rather spend time playing video games at my house instead.” 

Now this is what you could get behind. When you first started following Lando, gaming started to interest you. Because of him, you were able to meet a bunch of friends through gaming. Your notifications were specifically set up to let you know when Lando was streaming. 

Your eyes lit up with some excitement, which Lando thought was adorable. 

“I like to game too! It’s fun playing weird simulator games. Me and my friends tried this goat game one time and we couldn’t stop laughing.” 

This time, Lando’s eyes sparkled. 

“I’ve played goat simulator too with my friends! Charles . . .” he caught himself, not wanting to give out more names. “Uh my friends Carl, Alec, and Jord really liked it during the pandemic. And then we got Dax in on it too.” 

You wanted to absolutely start laughing, since you actually watched that stream live back in 2020. The cute names he gave to Charles, Alex, George, and Max were adorable. Your friends, although knowing you were watching the stream, had sent you the link and asked if you’d want to play the same simulator. Let’s just say, your laugh rivaled teapot-Charles. 

“They sound like fun,” you said, a warm tone in your voice that had Lando melting like chocolate under a hot summer’s sun. 

There was a bit of silence before Lando spoke up again. “Do you maybe, this sounds so weird, but there’s a game store farther down, would you want to join me?” 

There was no way in hell that you’d tell him no. 

You smiled up at him. “Sure! Lead the way! By the way, I’m Y/n.” 

Lando went to say something but stopped. You could tell he almost said his name, and you’d bet money on the name that was about to come out of his mouth. 

“I’m Bob.”

Bingo. 

You snorted. “You don’t look like a Bob. But what would I know?” 

The two of you laughed as you started walking farther into the shopping center. You exchanged laughs here and there, sharing stories about your lives with Lando being very vague about his day job. 

“I work as an Uber driver,” he had said after you confessed that you were now working as a part-time gamer and then part-time relator. The work was hard, but that job allowed you to spend your hard-earned money on fun things like: coming to Imola early to try to find Lando. 

Low-and-behold, you did. 

Spending the afternoon with him felt so comfortable, as if you had known each other your entire lives. And Lando, to his surprise, felt the same. After the gaming store, he even invited you to lunch. 

“You know you don’t have to do that,” you told him, but kept stride alongside him as he walked toward the small restaurants. 

He shrugged. “I know. But I like spending time with you.” 

A deep blush formed on your face as you kept walking. The bright red caused Lando to smirk just a bit. 

As you ate and made conversation, you suddenly felt the urge to use the bathroom. You quickly excused yourself and left, leaving Lando at the table along. 

He hadn’t meant to look, but your phone kept going off and his eyes just barely looked at your screen. They widened with he noticed his exact points in the season along with McLaren’s and the race schedule. And the picture of him from Miami after his first win as your lockscreen.

The Box-Box app. 

He pursed his lips for a moment, briefly feeling played. But as he sat and thought about the past few hours that he spent with you, he felt content. At any point, you could have screamed his name, asked for a picture, and ruin his shopping trip. You could have tweeted his location and hordes of people would have shown up. 

But you didn’t.  

The McLaren driver was so caught up in his head that he didn’t heard you coming. Thankfully, your screen had gone dark, still giving the effect that you “didn’t know” who he really way. 

“Everything ok Bob?” you asked as you sat back down, stealing one of his French fries from his tray. 

Lando shook his head, ridding the “betrayal” from his thoughts. 

“Just perfect. Trying to figure out who might win the Formula 1 race this weekend.” 

He wanted to smirk at you froze for just a second before leaning back just a bit, arms crossed over your chest. 

“What is that? Some type of NASCAR thing?” 

Oh, so you knew how to play. 

Luckily for Lando, so did he. 

“It’s a bit different,” he said as he took a sip of his drink. 

You were internally freaking out. 

Did he know? If he knew then he might say something. And then he’ll call his security team and get you a ban from the paddock. And you might even go to jail for stalking. Could you even go to Italian jail for that? You didn’t know and didn’t want to find out. 

However, Lando kept silent as the two of you finished your lunches. Easy conversation did flow once again when you steered it back to gaming. You had a giant smile as the two of you walked out of the shopping area. 

However, your heart dropped when you realized that the time with the Briton was coming to a quick end. Lando was feeling the same. 

You let out a sigh as you turned to look him in the eyes. “Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun! Like I said, you didn’t have to.” 

Lando scoffed. “Of course I did. I interrupted your shopping. It was the least I could do.” 

There was a lingering silence before you broke it. 

“I guess this is the end then Bob.” You held out a hand for him to shake, but he rolled his eyes and brought you into a hug. You parted after a bit and started to walk toward the little Fiat you had rented for the weekend. 

Lando felt torn until he realized he could definitely see you again. 

“Y/n! Wait!” 

You turned around to see Lando running up to you, phone out. 

“Can I have your number?” 

Yep, this is how you were going to die. Y/n L/n found dead in a parking lot after Lando Norris asked for her number. What an amazing way to go out in the end. 

You didn’t say anything, but quickly opened your phone and handed it to him, new contact ready to be filled out. The driver was smirking to himself as he filled out his information. He handed your phone back to you, only to lean down and kiss your cheek.

The familiar bright red once again filled them in as he leaned back. 

“I had a lot of fun today. Maybe I’ll see you soon?” he quietly said as he started to walk away. 

“Maybe,” you said back, biting your bottom lip after. 

Lando swore that if the two of you weren’t in the parking lot, he’d bite it for you. 

When he was a bit away, he turned back and waved at you, happy to see that you were still staring at him. But who wouldn’t stare at Lando Norris though. Definitely not you, you could stare all day long if you could. 

“Bye Y/n!”

“Bye Lando!” 

Your hands clapped over your mouth as you watched him lean back in a full laugh. You even had him hunching over in a fit of giggles. You still watched as his shoulders shake as he got into what looked to be an Uber. 

Your phone buzzed, causing you to look down at it. There was an email and a text message. One from McLaren and one from “Lando 🧡” 

“Maybe next time I can sign your shirt. I think it’s cute that you follow my points :)”

You turned around quickly, trying to see the back of your shirt in the reflection of your rental car. There it was, in all it’s glory. 

The giant-ass “4.” 

“Shit.” 

y/n_l/n has posted

y/n_y/n kinda confused about 20 guys driving around in circles. someone know what this is called?

also ran into this really cute guy. says he drives for a living. didn't know uber drivers could be hot

liked by friend1, bestie, landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 3,204 others

friend1 ayo is that the guy that you will not shut up about?

landonorris awww you don't shut up about me??

y/n_l/n STOP EXPOSING ME

bestie ok I see the appeal, can you ask someone for that brunet in the red's number??

maxverstappen1 🤺🤺🤺

y/n_l/n i think he's taken

charles_leclerc I am??

maxverstappen1 ☹️

charles_leclerc I AM TAKEN

friend2 so luckyyyyyyy

friend4 glad you had fun!

oscarpiastri I think it's called Formula 1

y/n_l/n finally someone who knows something @.landonorris you've been replaced

landonorris osc, we've talked about this

fan1 what the heck is going on

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[shopsofiacollection]

Explore Our Collection Of Essential Fine Italian Linen. || ShopSofia

In addition to being well-known for its fine craftsmanship and high-quality products, Italy is also well-known for its fashion.

Making a good impression is significant to Italian culture, and beauty is found everywhere, from breathtaking buildings to exquisitely made clothes. Italians take great pride in how they present themselves and like dressing well. This is not surprising given the romanticism of their surroundings: if the Trevi Fountain were the setting for our Sunday grocery run, we probably would be more motivated to dress up!

So what do ShopSofia and Italian fashion have in common?

Since we are italy’s top linen retailer and take great satisfaction in our linen selection, you fashionistas visit our website in the summer to fill out your wardrobe with relaxed linen tunics and throw-on-and-go linen frocks. At the height of summer, linen clothing is not only necessary but also lovely to wear. No other natural fiber dries as rapidly when you suddenly go from perspiring to air conditioning, is as lightweight, or is as breathable (or, let's be honest, both).

Because we are firm believers in dressing up our linen and transforming it from day to night by adding a heel and statement jewelry, we stock a variety of essential fine Italian linen.

 The linen dress by Ella

On those steamy summer days, you'll want to have this dress in your closet! The quality of the fabric and the extensive pocket detailing ensure that even with its short sleeve style, it maintains the highest level of refinement.

And this one was made with comfort in mind; it has a light, laid-back balloon silhouette for a casually cool aesthetic.

 The Fay Jumpsuit in Linen

The days of arranging your vacation attire in advance are past. Instead, wear the Fay Linen Jumpsuit over your swimsuit while lounging by the pool, or accessorize with a beaded necklace and a summer sandal for a day spent browsing the boutiques along the coast with friends.

Make sure you step out in comfort AND style this season with a dress that features a classic wide-leg flare and a lovely floaty silhouette.

 The linen dress from Tosca

This one is for you if you're seeking a versatile look. The Tosca is the ideal transitional garment since it drapes elegantly over the body and can be styled as a tunic top with a pair of white trousers in spring or early fall.

 The Courtney Shirt in Linen

This isn't your usual button-up shirt; it's made of lovely linen. The silky finish and gracefully aged appearance of delicate garment-dyed cotton exude the carefree vibe that summer is all about. For warmer days, unbutton your favorite bottoms and wear them with a tank top.

Shorts in linen by Fraser

Want to look stylish and put together but are prone to hopping from beach to bar? Putting on a pair of Fraser Linen Shorts is basically the easiest thing you can do. All you need to do then is add a cute, flowy top and you're set to order your next margarita (don't forget to invite us).

The perfect linen shorts that you can dress up or down with frayed edges that give off a casual vibe and a moderately longer length. In addition to being really comfy, you'll want a pair in each shade!

Italian linen clothing from a well-known brand is available here in both quality and style. To step in style, visit with confidence to buy women's Italian silk dresses online.

To reach us out in offline mode do not forget to visit

Sofia Collections

2515 Washington Ave #1502, Houston, TX 77007, US

Email: sofiacustomerservice@gmail.com

Visit Our website - https://www.shop-sofia.com/

[wreckedandpolemic]

thinking about white and gold and their first holiday together... they have at least a fortnight (knowing matty) all to themselves, freedom to do anything they want... what's the vibe

ooh yes this is good mads i love your mind !!! this happening relatively early into your relationship because we know how fast these two move lmfao maybe that couple of weeks after new year’s where it’s kind of just bitter and miserable outside. you’re in matty’s lap in the living room, sighing wistfully at the pool outside. what’s the matter, darling?

s’just a bit shit outside, you mutter. i miss the summer. matty’s typing away at his laptop out of your view, his free hand rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. you got anything important planned in the next few weeks? you shrug, don’t think so.

good, matty beams, turning his laptop screen to you happily, a confirmation email displayed on the screen. two weeks in the mediterranean enough to cheer you up? and of course, you roll on top of him, thanking and kissing him excitedly. pack light, okay? wanna spoil you while we’re there. immediately, you proceed to show him just how grateful you are (and maybe join the mile high club on the way there teehee)

the cottage matty’s booked for the two of you in rural southern italy is absolutely gorgeous, light and airy, all white stone walls and tiled floor. you change out of your airport clothes into something more fitting; a tiny, white sundress and nothing else but a pair of alexander mcqueen sunglasses. draping yourself in matty’s lap, you all but moan at the sight of him in just a pair of loose linen trousers.

mmm, what are you feeling like getting up to today? matty asks, cupping your jaw and kissing you softly. oh, a nice walk on the beach, a candlelit dinner, getting fucked dumb by my daddy, maybe a little swim? you tease, savouring matty’s sharp intake of breath. in no particular order.

needy girl, christ, matty mutters, shifting his hips under you. grabbing his hand, you slide his fingers up your thigh to your naked core. made it easy for you, daddy, you grin. he pulls the straps of your dress down, kisses, licks, sucks at your tits and slowly frees his cock, lets you bounce on it just how he likes. that’s it, sweet girl. make daddy feel good, yeah? your eyes are rolling back in your head in pleasure, matty’s fingers digging into your hips as he circles your clit. you come with a wail, matty following a second later.

sweaty and panting, you laugh into matty’s neck. think we need a shower, now. obviously, you fuck in the shower, then matty eats his cum out of you, then you suck him off as thanks. so, all in all, you only really have time for dinner before it gets too dark. it’s lovely, perfect really, matty gazing at you adoringly over the rim of his wine glass (despite your scolding him for ordering red wine and fish.) your italian is… passable, and you apologise profusely for his faux pas.

you go for a moonlit walk along the beach, his hand warm in yours and the sand soft under your feet. you stop for a little kiss by the water, trading murmured i love you’s before wandering back to your cottage… where matty eats you until you literally cannot take it any longer and absolutely soak his face.

the next day, you’re intending on getting an early-morning swim in before you start your day - there’s a practically private beach next to where you’re staying, so you might as well take advantage. matty foils your plans by being so fucking turned on at the sight of you in a red bikini that’s more string than anything that he begs for you. so you have a fun little morning with him at your mercy instead <3

then, you go for a wine tasting, heading home a little tipsy and laden with every bottle you’d even nodded at. you finally get to go for a swim, teasingly splashing matty when he joins you for a bit. not fair, you’re tanned already, you pout. you look so fucking sexy, you add, and he grins wickedly. that grin is fatal, and you end up blowing him in broad daylight on the beach teehee

so yeah it’s a lovely, slutty, sun-filled holiday that you wish would never end <3

[narryffdreaming]

A TOAST TO THE FUTURE — FOUR (II)

Summary: Aurora and Harry used to be friends, but life happened and they grew apart. Now, 6 years later, they meet again.

Rating: +18

WARNINGS: The story contains explicit language and mentions a past abusive relationship (mostly the consequences of psychological/emotional abuse). Some chapters also contain explicit sexual content.

PART FOUR: 21k words (I) - 11,2k words (II) - 9,8k words

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE || PART FOUR (I)

"Okay, I'm good," Aurora says, standing next to Megan and behind the couch. 

Ahead of them, all of their friends are already out there, near the water. Listening to music, drinking, and chit chatting while soaking under the Italian weather. 

"And thank you, by the way," she adds. "I'll owe you for the rest of my life."

Megan laughs and shakes her head, then turns to look at her. "Don't be silly, it was nothing."

It wasn't, though. 

Because when Aurora hesitated to leave the bedroom, Megan was quick to catch on her nervousness and stay behind with her. And she was also kind and sweet when asking if Aurora wanted to talk about it, or if there was anything she could do to help. 

Then, when Aurora shared that she was self-conscious about how she'll look in her clothes, Megan was also empathetic of her situation. She seemed to understand it isn't just about her body, but also about what all those clothes represent to her. Because Aurora doesn't feel the same as when she was in her twenties and started dating Zack, so she doesn't want to wear clothes that will make her feel like that old version of her. She wants to move forwards, not backwards. She wants to be better, not go back to being the same. 

So Megan stood behind and helped her feel more comfortable about herself, supporting her decision of wearing the colorful one-piece she'd bought instead of the bikini Maddie had packed for her, and then even offering her own linen shirt for Aurora to wear on top of it. Which, as it turns out, ended up being a great idea, and the last push she needed to feel that boost of confidence inside her. 

"You look incredible, by the way," Megan says.

Aurora looks down at her feet — her bare feet — and smiles. "Thanks."

And she means it. Because, truth be told, right now Aurora feels good about herself. Her legs are out and her boobs are definitely about to get some sun — as they deserve — but that doesn't mean she's half-naked. Her stomach is still covered, and her bum isn't completely out in the open. Besides, that shirt's making everything way more comfortable.

"Shall we?" Megan asks. 

"Yes." Aurora nods. "Let's go, c'mon." 

Megan leads the way, then, while Aurora follows her closely. 

Once they step outside, it's easy to say that it's the most breathtaking view Aurora's ever seen. Despite the coastline being at sight, it feels like they're completely by themselves, surrounded by nothing but water while facing the sun and the different shades of blue that blend in the horizon. 

Lucy, Ava and Maddie are sitting by the pool, while the boys stand by the swim platform — Theo and Niall facing the yacht, while Jayden, Daniel and Harry face the horizon. 

A shirtless Harry, though. 

A shirtless Harry facing the horizon, with his bare back fully exposed to her. 

And although Aurora tries her best to appear nonchalant and unaffected, it's hard not to feel her legs wobbling, or her mouth watering up. Because those black shorts he's wearing are really short, and there are so many muscles popping out that she wouldn't believe him if he said his body is built the same way as anyone else.

"Baby! Moonshine!" Niall cheers, raising his hands. "Finally!"

Everyone turns to look at them, and Aurora slows down slightly, almost hiding behind Megan. 

"Took you long enough," he adds, opening his arms for his girlfriend. 

Aurora watches as Megan smiles and rushes to him, hugging his waist while he holds her shoulders and kisses her temple. 

It's cute. 

They're cute. 

So Aurora smiles, too.

And then she just stands there.

Awkwardly. Not really knowing what to do with her legs. Or with her hands. Or with herself. 

She glances to one side, admiring the blue horizon, and to the other one, appreciating the coastline one more time. And then, she faces forward, and her eyes automatically land on Harry. Again. 

He's turned half-way towards her, drinking beer while glancing at her feet, then running his eyes up her legs, drifting from her knees, to her thighs, and her hips. She doesn't know if it's intentional, like before, but it doesn't seem so, because when he gets past her chest and neck, then finally meets her stare, he widens his eyes and chokes. 

He actually chokes — just like when they were in the car and she teased him about speaking Italian. Coughing and leaning forward while hitting his chest. 

And yet… It's not just like when they were in the car, is it? Because now the boys are quick to tease him and laugh at him. And because now Aurora feels the heat spreading through her cheeks, and the nervousness taking over her belly. And because now it doesn't feel like just a friendly joke, because apparently Harry got flustered for getting caught. And because he got caught checking her out. Checking her body out. 

So instead of acknowledging what happened, now Aurora pretends not to see it. And not to hear what's being said. And as she pretends everything is normal, she turns around and walks towards the girls. Knowing very damn well that, at the same time, there's a new feeling lingering inside her. Like a tingling. A feeling that's running through her veins, and that's making her anxious to see what could come next. Or where it could end. 

That tingling is growing. And it's getting serious.

Aurora can't explain it, or put it in words, but she feels it in her bones.

She's sitting on one of the steps leading to the swim platform, where everyone is just hanging around. 

Her lungs are full from ocean air, and the wind keeps whipping her hair, but it also makes the sun on her face feel less aggressive than it felt earlier in the afternoon.

Harry's sitting right in front of her, by the edge of the platform. Bending one leg at the knee and the other falling to the water while he hooks his arms around his thigh. His stunning smile seems to shine brighter than the sun, and once in a while she can see him slightly turning his head to look at her, or maybe just peeking through the corner of his eyes.

And as she talks to her friends by her side, or as she watches Lucy, Maddie, Ava, and Theo finally jump into the water, she knows she's been glancing at him non-stop, too. Because she can't help it. It's like someone casted a spell on her and she's now hypnotized.

The worst part is that Harry isn't even trying. He just keeps listening and nodding at whatever Daniel and Jayden are talking about, occasionally throwing his head back in laughter or being loud and goofy for apparently no reason. His dimples keep showing up as he speaks and smiles, and every time he laughs, his mouth falls open and his eyes wrinkle. 

The image of him being that happy is breathtaking, but the sound of his laughter astonishes her. It makes her heart beat faster, and to hope for him to sit next to her and give her all of his undivided attention. 

Earlier that day, Aurora fell asleep on his chest. Harry held her between his arms, and gently took care of her. She melted into him, more than once. She felt his fingers against her skin, and his lips on the top of her head. She remembered how tender and affectionate he could be, and she's still aware that everything she could think about when she woke up from her nap on the plane, was how cozy and warm she'd felt when cuddled by him.

However, hours later, Aurora finds herself watching him from a new perspective. One that doesn't take away what she already knows about him, but only adds more valuable information. It just makes him look even better in her eyes. 

And she knows she's never paid this much attention to Harry's body. Not like this, anyway. In all the years they spent together, she never observed him too much to actually know what anything besides his face looked like. Not only because the opportunity never came up, but also because she never thought about looking at him like that. So she has no idea if this is how he's always looked or not, but right then and there, Aurora is convinced Harry is bloody fucking hot. 

He is drinking beer, and everytime he takes the bottle to his mouth the muscles on his arm flex. He is also chewing gum, and the movements of his jaw are absorbing. The veins on his neck keep popping out, and his broad shoulders keep bringing up the memories of the many times she has hugged him and rested her chin on top of them. 

In all of those "many times", not even once it crossed through Aurora's mind the idea of hiding her face into his neck, breathing him in and kissing every inch of skin she could reach. But right then and there, it is all she can think about.

For the first time in too long, Aurora feels flushed. 

Actually flushed. 

And she has no idea what to do with that. Because it's becoming very clear to her that different parts of her body are suddenly awake, and that's all because of him. 

All because of Harry. 

Harry!

"Can I ask you something?" Megan asks, taking a seat next to her. 

Aurora jolts slightly, blinking as she shifts her eyes to her friend and nods. "Yeah, sure." 

Megan bends her legs and hugs her knees, turning her face towards Aurora and murmuring as she asks, "Is there something going on between you and Harry?"

Aurora widens her eyes. "What? I mean, why?"

"I don't know," Megan murmurs, making sure the conversation stays only between them. "I hear him and Niall on the phone sometimes, so I kinda figured something was up. But then today I saw the way you look at each other, and y'know, everyone's just been joking about it all day… So I thought… Y"know."

She shrugs.

Aurora bites the inside of her cheek and nods, taking the information in. She doesn't know how they look at each other, but she's aware that they've been doing it a lot. And she didn't actually hear what the boys said when they were teasing him, but she knows it happened. Just like she knows the girls were teasing her. So, yeah, she gets where she's coming from. 

And yet, there's one piece from that weird and unexpected puzzle that Aurora can't make sense of, so she asks, "He talks to Niall about me?" 

Megan smiles, and nods. "I mean, they're always talking about you… But… You didn't know that, right?"

Aurora shakes her head.

"Yeah, I should've figured… I mean, from what I heard and—Oh my God!" Megan widens her eyes and grabs Aurora's arm. "Rory, I don't usually go around telling people's secrets, ok? Especially Niall's. I'd never do that. I swear."

Aurora chuckles, stretching her legs and crossing one ankle over the other. She takes the opportunity to glance at Harry, who still seems pretty entertained with whatever Daniel is saying to him.

"Don't worry about it," she says, looking back at Megan. "What do they talk about, tho? I mean, what is there to talk about me?

Megan withdraws her hand and places it back on her lap, then peeks at Harry and curves her lips into a smile.

"I find it very sweet, actually," she says quietly and softly, then looks back at Aurora. "He always asks Niall if he heard anything from you, or how you are, and how's Noah… Those kinds of things. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything, but… I don't know. I don't really know you guys that well, but Harry seems to really care about you, and from what I've heard today, you deserve to get over your ex, so… I don't know… I guess I thought you should know… Because… Yeah… I don't know why."

They both laugh, and Aurora nods at her.

"Thanks for letting me know. I'm really confused about the whole thing, but thanks anyway."

"Do you want something to happen? Like, have you ever thought about it?"

"What? Me and Harry?" Aurora practically mouths. And when Megan rolls her eyes, she laughs and shakes her head. "God, no… Never. I mean… I haven't thought about anyone since Zack, to be honest."

"Hmm." Megan nods. "But you're single now, and Zack isn't in the picture anymore, right?"

"Right."

"Wouldn't it be nice if something happened between you and Harry, then?"

Yes.

Aurora shrugs. "I… I don't know. I feel very weird about it."

"Why?"

Exactly, why?

Why would it be weird? 

If everything around him feels so natural and effortless… Why would it be weird?

Aurora chuckles and groans, looking at her feet and shaking her head. When she speaks again, she lowers her voice as much as she can. "I just saw him again, Meg. Literally. Like, after years without seeing or even talking to each other, y'know? So it's just… Weird."

"Do you find him attractive?"

Fuck yes.

Aurora rolls her eyes, and shrugs. 

"Oh my God, you totally do!" Megan claps her hands together, giggling before tapping her fingers on her knees. "You find him attractive and you're shy to admit it!"

"Shhhhh," Aurora whispers, clenching her teeth and widening her eyes.

"Sorry, sorry." Megan giggles. "I just love this!"

The way Megan radiates joyness at the whole thing makes Aurora chuckle, and she shakes her head, then scratches the tip of her nose.

"I think you should go for it," Megan adds.

Maybe…

But no.

Mostly because Aurora doesn't know how to do that anymore. There used to be a time when she had fun flirting with guys, and when she didn't doubt her instincts. Now, though? Now it's like she doesn't even have instincts anymore. It's like her mind isn't telling her what to do anymore. Or her body isn't reacting by itself anymore.

Besides, they've just seen each other. After six years. 

Aurora reaches for her necklace, then. "Wouldn't it be too fast, tho?" 

"I don't know…" Megan shrugs. "I'm hardly one to talk, tho. I met Niall at a bar on a Friday night, went back to his place and didn't leave until Sunday morning, so…" She shrugs again. "We clicked, and that was it. Was it fast with your ex-husband, too?"

Aurora snorts. "No, not at all. We were co-workers first, and we were friends for months before Zack asked me out on a date. It also took him months to officially ask me to be his girlfriend."

"Mhmm…" Megan nods, half-smiling while glancing at Harry, then back at her. "So… You took your time getting to know each other, and yet you still divorced him."

Aurora scoffs, then narrows her eyes. "Yeah, okay. I see where you're getting at." 

Megan shrugs and beams at her. "Yep. I'm getting at the fact that maybe it's not about time, it's about the person."

She looks so proud of herself for coming up with that conclusion, that Aurora ends up laughing. And maybe her laughter is a little bit louder than it should be, because it seems to get Harry's attention. She notices it when he turns his head and looks at her, and when she really needs to hold herself from looking back at him. 

"God," she breathes out, looking down at her thighs and grabbing her necklace between her fingers. "I feel like this is too much information… Like, my head can't get around this. We literally just saw each other. This morning. After six years." 

Aurora laughs, and the incredulous tone gives away the nervousness behind her thoughts. And behind her feelings.

"Like I said, I think you should go for it. He's totally into you… I mean, there's absolutely no way he isn't."

That's the thing, though… Absolutely no way? Really? What if they're wrong?

"Right… Well… I don't know." Aurora sighs. "I need some time to process this."

"Okay, yeah. So let's stop talking about it. Let's just… Y'know… Enjoy the view… The sun, the water… Also," — Megan leans in, and hides her mouth from any potential pryers —  "you should think about it while you stare at those tattoos. And those mind-blowing abs."

Aurora laughs loudly again, mostly at the fact that Megan is suddenly comfortable enough to joke like that around her. 

"I mean," Megan adds. "If Niall asks, I find them ridiculous, ok? Not my type. Ew. But… Y'know… I truly, truly hope you get to enjoy… That."

"Y'know," Ava says, standing near the couch and placing her hands on her hips. "Those colors look really nice on you." 

Aurora stops walking and looks down at her body, meanwhile taking a sip from her piña colada. Her breasts are right there, popping out at her, Megan's shirt long forgotten after she decided to spend a few minutes in the pool with Lucy. And she had missed showing them off. They used to be her favorite part of her body. 

"You think so?" she asks. 

"Totally!" 

Aurora giggles. She walks down the steps to the outdoor lounge, smiling while getting closer to her friend.

"Where did you get it?" Ava asks. 

Aurora takes another sip of her drink and closes her eyes. Tasting the pineapple, coconut, and rum inside her mouth. 

"God, this is delicious…" She opens her eyes and glances back at Ava, then giggles. "Sorry… Hmm… It's actually Mara Hoffman, I got it on sale."

"Wow!" Ava smirks. "I love fancy Rory! It's perfect for the occasion."

"Shut up." Aurora laughs, waving her off. "It was the first thing I bought after I signed the divorce papers." She shrugs. "Felt kinda liberating."

"Ohhh, let's toast to that, then!" Ava runs closer to Aurora, raising the hand holding her drink.

They giggle while clicking their glasses together, each taking a one-long sip right after.

"Wait, no!" Ava cries. "We skipped the speech!" 

"We don't need a speech." 

"Yes, we do! Every toast needs a speech," Ava says, but proceeds to take another sip of her drink anyway. 

"Okay, lemme hear it, then."

"Okay, so," Ava says, and rolls her shoulders.

Aurora takes another sip, enjoying her drink while she listens to the unnecessary speech. 

"Here we go." Ava clears her throat, and raises her glass. "To our newly divorced, incredible, breathtaking, hot, sexy mama, who's—"

Aurora chokes, spitting half of her drink out of her mouth before she can even try to cover it up. Part of it goes down Aurora's chin, and the rest directly to Ava's chest and belly. 

There is a short silent pause, then loud laughter takes over the two of them. 

"Oh my God!" Aurora yells, whipping her chin with the back of her hand. She hunches down, laughing and putting one hand over her stomach.

"Moonshine!" Niall shouts from where he is sitting, next to the pool. "Are you drunk without me?!"

"'M not drunk!" Aurora shouts back, still laughing at the way the drink sneaked out between her lips. "Ava is just… Oh my God… She's just being stupid!"

Ava gasps, then shoves Aurora's shoulder. "Hey! I'm not stupid! What did I do?"

Aurora's still laughing, but she lowers her voice to make sure nobody listens when she explains, "You called me sexy mama." 

"Ohhh! Well that's just 'cause I think you are a sexy mamma!" Ava finishes her drink, glancing over Aurora's shoulder before smirking and looking back at her. "Besides, I know for a fact that I'm not the only one who thinks that."

Aurora sips her drink, and narrows her eyes. "What?"

Ava puts her empty glass on the table, then turns her back to the water, forcing Aurora to turn around too, standing in front of her and facing the opposite side. "Harry won't stop looking at you."

Aurora rolls her eyes. "That's not true."

It is, though. She knows that.

"Yes, it is. C'mon, it's so obvious… He doesn't even try to hide it anymore." 

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mhmm… Okay then." She wiggles her eyebrows and leans closer to her. "Auriiii."

Aurora purses her lips, doing her best to keep a straight face. It only lasts three seconds before laughter comes out of her chest, though, and she shakes her head. "Shut up…"

"Ah!" Ava squeals. "See?! You know!"

"Stop…" she practically cries, raising her arms and hiding behind her hand — and her drink. "I feel so silly about this!"

"No! Why? Rory, oh my God. It's so sweet. Really. I'd truly love that for you. He's such a great guy."

Aurora puts her hands down from her face, then shakes her head. 

"I don't think it's the right time to be thinking about this."

Ava snaps her eyebrows together. "Why not?"

"I just got divorced and—"

"Na-na-na!" Ava shakes her head, waving her hands in front of Aurora's face. "Don't give me that bullshit again. It's been months now, Rory! C'monnn… How long since you've had sex? Huh?"

Aurora shrugs. "I don't know."

Ava rolls her eyes. 

"Yeah, right," she snorts. "Of course you know. Just tell me, c'mon."

Aurora takes a sip of her drink, shuffling on her feet while gathering enough courage to speak. 

"I mean… We ended things over a year ago, and before that it had already been a while, so…"

"So…" Ava smiles, wiggling her eyebrows again. "It's time to get laid." 

Aurora snorts. "No it's not."

"Yes it is. You deserve to get laid."

"Stop."

"Roryyy…"

Aurora chuckles, shaking her head. "Why are you so excited about this, anyway?"

"Because you deserve to feel good, Rory," Ava says. "And because you deserve someone who'll care about making you feel good."

Aurora raises her left eyebrow. "And you think Harry's that person?" 

Ava nods. "I know for a fact he is."

"How—"

"Look, don't think too much about this, okay? Just enjoy it."

Aurora sighs, rubbing her forehead and shaking her head. 

"Don't you think it's nice?" Ava asks, then, placing one hand on her shoulder. "That excitement of meeting someone? That tension before something happens?"

Aurora looks over Ava's shoulder, seeing Harry climb back to the yacht. 

He is soaked. His entire body is dripping water, his shorts are heavy and stuck against his skin, and there are no traces of his curls as his hair is pulled back.

She knows that the excitement Harry makes her feel is, in fact, "nice". He makes her feel safe, he makes her laugh, and he makes it seem easy. However, the problem right now isn't him, or what he's making her feel, but how she's reacting to all that. 

So inexperienced and… Childish. Shy. Unsure of herself. 

And she hates that. So much! Because it's not who she wants to be. It's not who she used to be.

Then once again, Harry turns his head to where she is, and locks eyes with her. He pulls his hair back and blinks, then tilts his head slightly and frowns. Almost as if he's asking if she's okay, or what's going on. 

"Are you looking at him right now?" Ava asks. 

Aurora doesn't stop staring at him, but she still nods, then takes the last sip of her piña colada. "Mhm."

"God." Ava snorts. "I swear to God Aurora, it's written all over your face. It's written all over both of your faces. So if you don't go for it… I don't know. I think I'll just kill you both." 

Aurora snorts. Then laughs. 

And Harry smiles. 

And Aurora's belly buzzes. And her body tingles. 

And then she shakes her head and looks down, eying the empty glass in her hand. 

"Okay. I think I need another drink now." 

Aurora puts her empty glass on the table and gets up from the couch, finally — finally — walking back to the swim platform.

Niall, Jayden and Megan are standing near each other, having a loud and enthusiastic conversation about something she doesn't understand. Nor cares about. But she stands close to them anyway, listening and waiting for Harry to come back from wherever he went to just minutes ago. 

Megan's sharing a story about her job and softwares, or something along those lines, when Aurora hears the sound of feet against the wooden deck, and then some coughing. 

Her heartbeat picks up inside her chest, and a fuzzy rush of anticipation takes over her body. Knowing exactly who it is. And knowing she's been waiting for that. That she's been thinking about that. About being around him again, about getting closer to him again. About talking to him again. 

So she bites her lip, and waits. Waits for him to finally stand by her side, or maybe just walk past her and stop right across from where she is. Where he's going to be able to look at her face. 

So she waits, and waits. 

And yet she never sees him.  

Instead, she feels him hunching behind her, and then the way he sneaks his hands under her elbows. "What—"

"Hey Auri," he murmurs, curling his arms around her waist and pushing her back against his bare chest.

"Wait—What are you—"

He tightens his hold around her belly, then lifts her feet from the ground. 

"Oh my God…"

She puts her hands on top of his forearms, and Harry steps forward. 

"Harry!" Aurora shouts, and laughs, kicking her legs as he walks towards the edge of the platform. "No, no, no… Stop! Harry! Stop! Oh my—"

Harry jumps, though, and Aurora gasps as he takes her along with him.

She closes her eyes and presses her lips together, holding her breath and scrunching up her face right before the cold water hits her feet and then her entire body. 

Sounds die down as they sink into the Mediterranean Ocean, heaviness pushing them towards the distant bottom and causing Harry's arms to loosen up around her waist. 

He never lets go of her, though. If anything, he reacts by squeezing her even tighter, pulling them back up with the same confidence and strength he just dropped them. 

It only takes a second for Aurora's instincts to kick in as well, forcing her to move her arms and legs in an attempt to reach the surface. 

The fresh air quickly hits her face, and Aurora gasps for air, deeply and loudly. And then she coughs. And coughs. And coughs again. 

Harry's head comes up from under the water right behind her, and she turns around. 

"Harry!" She laughs, and coughs, kicking her legs to keep her body floating and taking her hair out of her face. 

"Hiii." Harry smiles, moving his arms and legs to stay afloat, too. 

"Hi? Hi?!" The smile stays on her face while she splashes him with water, and he jerks away with laughter. "You're such an idiot!" 

He laughs and shakes his head, curls following his movement and making it rain all around him.  

"I know. Just look at the things I gotta do to get your attention, huh?" 

Cold, saline water washes over her face and drops through her lashes, and Aurora takes one hand to wipe her eyes off. 

"Or maybe you could've just talked to me." 

He swims closer, as close as he can get while they're both kicking their legs to avoid submerging again. 

"Guess I could… But what's the fun in that?" 

She gasps, and splashes more water on him. "What's the fun in talking to me?!"

"Wha—No!" Harry laughs louder, jerking his face away and splashing her back. "Shit. That's not what I meant."

Aurora laughs, too. 

"Mhmmmm, but it is what you said." 

"Ohhh, c'mere jellybean." Harry reaches for her, pulling her arm first, then grabbing her waist and turning her around. 

Aurora squeals, and laughs, and when he presses her back against his chest, she feels herself wavering in the blue ocean. Floating with unsteady movements. And just this close to sinking again. So she holds onto his forearm tightly, tilting her chin up to keep her mouth out of the water. 

"Harry," she cries with laughter, automatically searching for his shoulder with the back of her head. "C'monnn."

"What?" he murmurs, holding half of her weight with one arm while moving the other and kicking his legs.

"My legs are getting tired," she murmurs as well. Feeling the way his body is moving behind her. Too fast for her to actually feel him, but too firm for her not to notice it. 

"Mine aren't," he says, surely of himself. "I've got you, yeah? Just look at the—" 

"Oi!" Niall shouts. "Lovebirds!" 

Harry whirls towards the yacht, pulling Aurora along with him. 

She gasps from the sudden movement, her legs getting tangled with his as they both keep working to stay afloat. 

"This is for you!" Niall adds. 

Aurora faces forward, only now aware that they've drifted to the side of the yacht and that their friends aren't on sight anymore. Niall is there, though, holding a beer while Theo throws something large and orange to the water.

It falls right under the swim platform, and Theo points at it. 

"Take this!" He shouts. "Don't want anyone drowning at my engagement party."

"Thanks!" Harry shouts back, and both Theo and Niall give him a thumbs up before walking away. 

Aurora blinks. Trying to process all the information. 

"Can you swim there? Or want me to get it?"

"Uhm… I guess… I can swim?"

Harry chuckles. "You don't sound very sure." 

"Sorry, I'm just… Confused, I think. Let's go tho, my thighs are burning." 

"Ok, c'mon. I'm right behind ya if you need me." 

He lets go of her waist, and Aurora takes a deep breath in, diving into the water and kicking her legs to swim towards whatever that orange thing is. 

It's not far away, but it takes some effort from someone who doesn't frequently swim. When she finally reaches it, and realizes it seems to be a floating mat, Harry's hands are already on her waist, smoothly helping her climb on it before he does the same. 

She crawls on the orange thick mat, exhaling what to others might sound like a heavy and annoyed grunt, but inside her it just feels like she's pushing all the exhaustion out of her body. 

There's enough room to fit at least five people on that mat, so she pushes herself a little bit further, trying to reach a place that at least feels like the middle. Once she's there, she turns around and sits on her bum, then drops her weight back. 

"Oh my God," Aurora drags out of her mouth, laying on her back and facing the darkening sky while her thighs prickle with soreness. She closes her eyes and places her hands on her belly, trying to catch up her breath. "That was just… Wow… Like a whole… Y'know… Like a whole workout for me..." 

Harry chuckles, dropping his back right next to her. Close enough that Aurora can feel the hair on his arm brushing her own.

"It was good tho," he murmurs, turning his head to look at her. "Wasn't it?" 

His gaze heats up her face, and Aurora blinks, then turns her head and looks at him, too.

Despite the steadiness of his stare, there's some insecurity on his face. Maybe it's the way he furrows his brows, or the way he seems to be biting the skin inside his cheek. Or maybe the way he so intensely waits for her to answer his simple question. 

And yes, Aurora's arms are tired. And yes, Aurora didn't plan to get into the water today. And yes, her legs are sore. And yes she's still out of breath and her heart is thumping heavily. 

But she can't deny how refreshing and invigorating the whole thing felt. Or how she would do it all over again if she could. Or how much she appreciates his spontaneity. And his boldness. Or how happy he makes her.

So she nods, and murmurs back to him, "Yeah… It was."

"Ok," he whispers, taking one hand to rub water out of his eye before settling into her stare again. "Good."

And just like that, it's like once again she's stuck inside a green spell, because she can't pull away from him. 

Drops of water cover his face, his tanned skin glistens under what's left of the sun, and his hair is all over the place. He's breathing in and out heavily, just like her, and she can see through the corner of her eyes the way his chest moves up and down. 

It's tempting, to be honest. And the idea to look down even crosses her mind, but there's one particular curl falling onto his forehead that truly gets her attention. That feels more important right now. So Aurora raises her hand, not even trying to resist the instant urge to touch him as she reaches for his face and pulls it away for him. 

Harry curls his lips into a smile and closes his eyes, and Aurora's heart skips a beat. 

She turns on her side, then, bending her other arm by the elbow and resting on it while she runs her fingers even further through his head. Gently combing his wet hair around his ear, moving up near his temple, and then to the top of his forehead. Curling her legs and making herself comfortable. Losing herself in time as seconds — and maybe even minutes — go by. As the sun sets around them and the sky changes its colors. 

Everything's naturally quiet around them. The mat waves them softly, following the motion of the sea, and although the weather is keeping her warm, a soft breeze from the late hour runs through her body. Making her shiver, and spreading goosebumps all over her skin.

She pulls away, then, but Harry is quick to raise his own hand and grab her wrist, slowing her down. With his eyes still closed, he guides her touch and drives her to slide her palm across his cheek and towards his mouth. And she lets him, biting her lip and watching him in awe. Allowing him to move her as he pleases. Feeling the brush of his facial hair, and also the contrasting combination from the cold water and his blazing skin. 

He only stops when the center of her palm meets his lips, and then he presses a long and wet kiss to it. And another one. 

Aurora sighs, and drops the weight of her hand, spreading it open and placing her thumb on his nose while she strokes her other four fingers up and down his cheek. 

It only lasts a moment, and then Harry finally turns on his side, too, mimicking her position and using one arm as a pillow as he keeps holding her wrist with his other hand. 

"Don't stop," he murmurs.

And Aurora doesn't. She brushes his cheek, gently and steadily. 

Harry breathes out, hotly and heavily into her palm, then draws gentle circles on her wrist with his thumb. Lastly, he folds his legs, and his knees bump into her. And before she knows it, he's tangling their feet together and covering her coldness with his warmth. 

That's when he finally opens his eyes, going straight to her gaze.

"Is this ok?" he murmurs. 

Aurora's heart thuds densely, her chest moves up and down heavily, and her stomach feels like twisting and swirling. 

"Yes," she answers, not giving herself any time to overthink it as she pulls her wrist out of his hold and moves her hand along his jaw. 

Harry smiles, then drops his hand between them. "Promise? Because I can pull away if you want. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

She bites the insides of her bottom lip, watching him carefully before she finds the words to speak. Focusing on how she's pretty sure she's never been so close to him. Not like this, at least. Being able to point out the smallest details on his face. Or to catch the different shades in his irises. Or even to count the hairs across his jaw. 

She doesn't really know what's happening. She doesn't really know how they got there. She doesn't really know how they went from accidentally bumping into each other at the airport, to floating in the middle of the sea and being so focused on each other that they completely ignore the beautiful sight of the sun setting right in front of them. 

But she knows she doesn't want him to pull away. And she knows he's the furthest from making her feel uncomfortable. And she knows she wants to see where that whole interaction is going to take them. 

Saying that to him doesn't feel enough, though. Like it doesn't represent how much he's meaning to her right now and there. 

So instead, she offers, "You made today a lot easier for me. Y'know that, right?" 

There's a flicker of shock in his eyes, she sees it when he widens them slightly and then blinks rapidly. And she feels it when his voice falters. "I did?"

"Mhm." She nods, then drops her hand on the mat. Right next to his. "I'm just… I'm really happy we met at the airport. And that you're here now. It wouldn't've been the same without you." 

Harry stares blankly at her, and then he swallows. It's clear that he doesn't know what to say, and that he wasn't expecting to hear that. 

And to be honest Aurora doesn't know what to say, either. Not beyond what she's already shared, anyway. 

So she waits, and waits. 

Until Harry closes his eyes and sighs, and then he tilts his face to hide in his own arm and chuckles. 

"Jesus," he groans, unable to hide the grin from his face. And when he looks at her, there's nothing but joy, softness and affection surrounding him. "Can't believe how good that felt."

Aurora's belly flutters, and even though she's still out of words, she feels her lips curving into a smile, too. 

Harry clears his throat, then, and whilst he doesn't lift his arm from the mat, he spreads his hand open and shifts it even closer. Enough for him to stretch his pinky finger and softly brush it against hers. 

Aurora holds her breath, and drifts her eyes over his face. 

"I think about this a lot, y'know?" he says, changing his tone into a lower and softer one. "About you."

Oh God. 

"And these past years weren't the same without you, either," he adds, never pausing the touching path of his finger. "So yeah… I'm really happy we bumped into each other today. I'm happy that we're here now."

Her heartbeat echoes from her chest to her head, and then vibrates to all over her body. Making it impossible for her to find something — anything — inside her brain to say back to him. 

So she shuffles a little, lifting her head and taking her hand to her face just to scratch her nose and bring herself back down to earth. And then she lays on top of her arm again, dropping her other hand next to his and moving back into his eyes. 

Once she's settled, she admits, "I don't know what to say." 

He smiles and shrugs, opening and closing his hand into a fist. "It's ok… Will you let me know if I ever cross a line with you, tho? Or if I make you uncomfortable?"

"I don't think you need to worry about that."

His fingers seem to twitch next to her hand, as if he can't keep them still, and yet he keeps forcing himself to.

"I do, tho," he says, and the way he smiles doesn't reach his eyes anymore. "Will you let me know?"

"Of course."

"Promise?"

"Promise." 

"Ok."

Aurora furrows her brows. She doesn't like that. She doesn't want him to be afraid of making her uncomfortable, because she doesn't want him holding himself back. So whatever made him suddenly doubt himself, she wants to change it. She wants to take it back. 

And yet, she doesn't know how to, because she doesn't know what it was. And she doesn't really know how to ask him. Or how to bring it up. 

To be fair, she doesn't even want to talk about it. She's done talking. What she wants and needs right now, it's different. 

It's inevitable, then, to fully glance at him. At the few droplets still covering his tanned and inked skin. His body hair. His necklaces hanging from his chest into the mat. His defined muscles, and also the rolls on his tummy resulting from the position he's in. His still wet swimming shorts. His thighs. His knees, still touching hers. His feet, still tangled with hers. 

He feels like a magnet, pulling her in even though she doesn't intend to move. Even if she knows she shouldn't move. It's like he ignites something inside her. Similarly to when he bought her that caramel coffee and memories from the past crashed against her. Making her stumble, and lose her feet, and fall apart in front of him.

However, this time she doesn't feel like breaking down. She doesn't feel like she's about to cry or embarrass herself. Because the emotions he's bringing out on her aren't bad, nor something to be ashamed of. He's taking her back to a time when, given the exact same circumstance, she wouldn't have thought twice before making a move on him. 

That's probably why she ends up moving her hand to his chest and drawing his collarbone with her fingertips. Or why she picks the tag from his chest and fidgets with it, waiting for something else to happen. Waiting for him to do something next. Waiting for a sign. Something. Anything.

"It's getting dark," Harry murmurs, then clears his throat. "Wanna go back inside?" 

Fuck no. If after everything that happened during the day she just goes back inside with even more questions and less answers than before, she's pretty sure she's going to combust. She'd rather know she's been wrong and misinterpreting things all along, then to go to bed wondering about it.

"Do we have to go?"

"Only if you want to." 

"I don't."

Harry curls one side of his mouth up, offering her half a smile, and nods. 

"Ok then."

She fidgets with the tag between her fingertips, conscious of how darkness is quickly engulfing them. And that they're still laying on a floating mat, by the yacht, in the middle of Italian seawater. 

That being said, it only takes another second for tiny white lights to turn on right above them and all around the yacht. Brightening up not only their faces, but also all the water surrounding them. 

Aurora narrows her eyes and blinks, then glances up at the empty swim platform. "How long do you think it'll take for them to come looking for us?" 

"They won't." 

She furrows her brows, then purses her lips to hold back a smile and looks at him. "You sound really sure of yourself."

He smiles wider, then. "'Cause I am. Unless something bad happens up there or we have to anchor somewhere else, they won't come here." 

"Hm. And how do you know that?" 

"'Cause I do." 

"Harry." She rolls her eyes and chuckles. Desperate for him to give her something — anything — that will give her the confirmation she needs to move forward. "C'mon." 

He chuckles softly, too, then shrugs. "Because they don't want to interrupt, that's all."

"Interrupt what?" 

"Us." 

"Us?" 

"Mhm."

Aurora's heart comes back to life, then. 

She holds her breath, and drags her eyes down to his lips, then to his chin. And then back to his eyes. 

She shuffles closer, but it's so discreet and barely that she isn't even sure he'll notice. And she wants him to notice. So she moves her foot up and down. Stroking his ankle, and his shin. Up and down. Again. And again. 

Harry closes his eyes and breathes out heavily, and the hot air that comes through his nose hits her face warmly and impatiently. 

"What's there to interrupt, tho?" Aurora murmurs, letting go of his necklace and dropping her hand next to his. 

He blinks, staring back at her before he murmurs back, "I don't know."

Aurora mimics his previous move, stretching her pinky and brushing it against his. 

Harry responds by lifting his own finger and hooking it around hers. Holding her tightly and stopping her movements. 

"Whatever you want," he adds.

"What about what you want?" 

Harry smirks. Or smiles. Or maybe it's just a mix between both. "What about it?"

"I don't know."

Harry chuckles. 

Fuck that's getting so confusing. 

"Do you know what I want?" he asks.

Aurora shakes her head, then brushes her foot up and down again.

"Do you know what you want?" he tries again, albeit differently. 

And this time, Aurora nods. 

"And what's that?"

"That you stop confusing me and leading me on."

Harry widens his eyes, then blinks once. And twice.

"And… I also want you to finally make a move," she adds. "Like, an actual move. Something. Anything. I don't know." 

There's a beat of silence.

And another one.

And another one.

And then, Harry cackles. 

He just turns around and bursts out laughing. Loudly and openly. Laying on his back and covering his face with both hands while laughter and more laughter breaks out from his chest. 

Aurora frowns, and suddenly there are just so many things happening inside her. And they are all just happening at the same time. And it's just so much and so intense, that she isn't even sure what she's feeling anymore. What she knows, though, it's that she doesn't like that. And that it isn't fun or amusing anymore. 

"Okay," Aurora says, sitting and then kneeling on the mat. Trying to balance herself while clenching her teeth. "Forget what I said." 

She shuffles and turns around carefully, feeling the water under the mat but also desperate to see the yacht. Desperate to get out of there. 

Harry is still laughing, beaming, when he pulls his hands from his face and looks at her. 

"Oh for fucks sake just c'mere," he says, grabbing her arm and yanking her on top of him. 

Aurora yelps, but doesn't fight him. And as she falls down, Harry takes his free hand to her face and cradles her cheek, then hunches forward and smashes their mouths together. Aurora whines from pure shock, feeling herself flopping into his chest until Harry spins them around and he's halfway on top of her.

He pulls away, then, slotting one leg between hers while holding his upper body on one arm. 

"You're so impatient," he murmurs, looking into her eyes while he brings his free hand back to cradle her face. "Couldn't even give me a minute to react."

She frowns, aware of how her arms are squeezed in between their chests and closing her hands into fist just so she won't touch him. "Your reaction was to laugh at what I said, so yeah. I'm sorry if I didn't enjoy that."

"Wasn't laughing at what you said," he says, brushing his thumb up and down her cheek. "'M sorry. I just laugh when I'm happy, that's all."

Aurora sighs, unable to stay mad or annoyed at him, then rolls her eyes and shifts on her back, pulling her arms up and freeing them out from their chests.

"That was a shitty first kiss," she murmurs, hugging his neck and pulling him closer. 

Harry snorts, then eases more of his weight into her. His bare body finally crushing her covered breasts. 

"I know." Smiling, he brushes the tip of his nose up and down her other cheek, where his hand isn't already touching her. "Was afraid you'd change your mind and leave."

She takes one hand to the back of his head, twisting and twirling his curls while trying to stare at him despite them being so close to each other. "Well… Didn't leave. And didn't change my mind, so…" 

He kisses her cheek, then a little bit to the side, closer to her nose. "So… Still want me to make a move?"

She nods and lifts her leg, hooking it around his thigh and moving her foot up and down. "This time do it properly, though." 

Harry smirks, kissing a little bit further down, and again near the corner of her mouth. 

"'Mkay," he murmurs, and moves to the other corner of her mouth, slightly brushing their lips on his way there. "I'll try my best." 

He slides his hand down, from her cheek to her jaw, then brushes his thumb from side to side at the same time he presses another kiss to her skin. Aurora sighs and closes her eyes, making her hands comfortable in between his curls while she waits for him to finally fully kiss her mouth. Except when he does, he does it softly and barely. A feather-touch that has her puckering her lips and waiting for more. 

"God you're so pretty," he whispers, almost like a secret, then pecks her lips again with the same lightness. Caressing her mouth way more than kissing it. "Can't believe this is happening." 

He slides his hand down from her face to her shoulder, then through her side. Squeezing her waist while pressing another feathery kiss, and another one. Making her body tingle and shiver. Just like the Italian summer breeze did to her earlier that day. 

"Do you have any idea how long I waited for this?" he asks, keeping his mouth close enough that their lips brush against hers as he speaks. Pressing their mouths together just for a gentle second, then pulling away and leaving her longing for more. "How many times I thought about it?" 

Aurora is kind of dizzy, kind of woozy, but his revelation feels too important to ignore. So she opens her eyes, and slides her hands from the back of his head to his cheeks. Guiding him to look at her. Demanding his full attention. "What?"

Harry blinks, the green of his eyes burying into her soul even in the darkness.  

"I just…" He squeezes her side, a little bit tighter this time. As if his words were coming out of his fingertips, instead of his mouth. "Fuck I can't believe 'm about to do this."

He squeezes her again and leans in, then finally fully kisses her. Capturing her lips and not waiting any other second before sneaking his tongue into her mouth. Dragging his hand down to her thigh, then back to her hips, then around her back. Going from gentle to desperate in a blink of an eye. As if he suddenly opened the gates to a lot of piled up needs. 

Yes. Fucking finally. 

Aurora shuts her eyes closed and whines, or maybe it's just a moan. She doesn't know. It just melts out of her throat while she goes numb and dizzy into the kiss. Instinctively throwing her arms back around his neck and tasting his tongue with her own and then pulling him closer, and closer, and closer. Every inch of him. From his head, to his chest, to his leg locked inside her own.

She never knew she would be so relieved to kiss him. Or that her body would just restore to life as soon as she tasted her lips. Or that everything inside her would just buzz and itch for him. 

And they're both just so, so desperate. Squeezing here, pulling there. Tilting heads to one side, and to the other. Licking tongues. Sucking lips. Sighing into each other's mouths. Trying to grab more, and more, and more.

Always more. 

"Fucking hell," he mumbles, then tilts his head to the other side and leans in for another wet, sloppy, and delicious kiss. 

Aurora moans, sweetly and weakly. Almost like she's about to beg for him. And then she drags her hands up through the back of his head and threads her fingers around his curls, holding tightly onto him while Harry kisses the hell out of her. While he drifts his short nails from her back to her ass, then stops where the swimsuit doesn't cover her skin and strokes her up and down. While he squeezes her. And then while he sneaks his hand under the fabric and fills his hand with her cheek, then squeezes her again. Harshly — so harshly and so wildly that his own fingers burn in pain. 

Aurora gasps and jolts closer, and Harry deepens even more to kiss her even more. And more. And more. 

Always so much fucking more. And it's just so, so good.

Harry moves from her ass to her thigh, then grips her flesh tightly before encouraging her to properly hook her leg around him. And she does it. Happily. Eagerly. Pressing her heel on his back and pushing him closer at the same time she tugs his curls and sighs into the kiss. 

He lays on top of her, settling between her legs while holding his weight on one elbow and gripping the back of her thigh. Digging his fingertips into her as he breaks the kiss and pulls away, opening his eyes to look at her. 

He presses himself between her legs, then, and Aurora loses what's left of her mind. Because although he isn't fully hard yet, it's clear he's getting there. Firm and heavy between her legs. Pressing into her. Forcing into her. 

"Oh my God," Aurora breathes out, widening her eyes as she opens them and stares at him. 

Harry pants. 

Aurora pants.

And they both just look at each other. They look, and they look. Meanwhile trying to catch up with their breaths. Meanwhile trying to slow down. Meanwhile trying to control themselves. 

And then Harry moves up and down, and she gasps. Then he rolls again, and again, and again. 

She squeezes her eyes shut while arching her back and hooking both legs around his waist. And she's painfully conscious of how wet and thirsty her body is between her legs. 

"Holy fuck," Harry murmurs, then places both elbows on each side of her face. "Auri?"

"Hm?"

Fuck he feels so fucking good.

"You need… You need to stop me." 

She shakes her head and opens her eyes, then brings her hands to cradle his cheeks. "No. Why?" 

He kisses her, and he kisses her. And he kisses her. And he fucking kisses her. So, so well.

"Because I'm about to get to a point where I won't be able to stop anymore." 

"Then don't."

Harry chuckles, and she feels his pain in his voice, and also his reluctance when he closes his eyes and has to force himself to stop rolling up and down against her desperate center. 

"Not here," he breathes out, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly that it makes her uncomfortable for him. "Not like this."

She hates it, but she knows he's right. So she licks her lips, and brushes her thumbs up and down his cheeks, then unhooks her legs from around his waist. "We'll stop, then."

"It's not that I don't want to," he murmurs, dropping his weight on top of her and pressing their foreheads together.

"I know. I can feel that."

Harry chuckles, then kisses her cheek, and the corner of her mouth. And then, as desperately and urgently as he started, he finds a way to subtly and delicately kiss her again. Slowing them down. Tasting her mouth with more affection, with more time, with more intention. Actually savoring her lips, and actually caressing her skin. Dropping his hand back down to her ass and covering her properly again, then sliding it all up through her side.

Aurora finds herself happily following his new pace. Threading her fingers through his curls and stroking his scalp, then giving little nibbles to his lips, and cute, sweet licks to his tongue.

He hums, and cools off. Losing his strength and dropping his weight to the side. More and more. Until he's fully turning on his back, and pulling her along with him. 

And Aurora moves, turning and holding herself on one elbow while she keeps her other hand on his face. Holding, brushing, caring for him. And when she pulls away, the loud mwah of their lips breaking apart seems to reverberate through both of them, and also through the ocean. 

They both blink, and whilst Aurora rests her hand on his bare chest, Harry takes his own to her face, pulling her hair behind her ear before brushing his thumb up and down her cheek. 

"Hi," he whispers, tilting his head slightly to the side just to stare straight into her eyes.

"Hi," she whispers back, finding the string of his necklace and grabbing it between her fingertips.

The bright lights from the yacht reflect on the beautiful green of his eyes. Besides that, though, everything about Harry looks like a complete mess. 

But a hot mess, still. Because he looks like a mess that was made by her. He looks like she kissed him so hard that she left his lips swollen. Like she tugged his hair so harshly that she left him completely disheveled. And like she grabbed him so tightly that she left tiny spots all over his cheeks. 

Does she look like that, too?

Like he just kissed the soul out of her? 

And then brought her back to life?

"How was that for a move, huh?" 

Aurora rolls her eyes, but then drops her forehead to his shoulder and laughs.

Harry smiles, sliding his hand to the back of her head and kissing her temple. Once, and twice. "Is it ok that I'm already thinking about doing this again?"

She takes a moment, but ends up holding herself up and looking at him. "Is it okay that I wish we didn't have to stop and go back to our friends right now?"

He slides his hand back to her face, then brushes his thumb up and down her cheek. "Thank God 's not just me."

He leans in, then, pecking her lips just once. Softly and shortly. Puffy lips sweetly puckering against hers and leaving her craving for more. 

Aurora smiles, and fidgets with the string between her fingers. 

Even the mat underneath them seems to wake up, because it's suddenly waving their bodies again. 

(Although Aurora it's pretty sure it never stopped moving, she just stopped paying attention to it.)

"Can we go somewhere more comfortable next time, tho?" she asks, and Harry laughs. 

"Yeah… We can go wherever you want, Auri. Whenever you want. I don't care, as long as I get to be there, too. As long as I get to be there with you."

Hi! If you've made it here, thank you for reading. You have absolutely no idea how much it means to me.

PART 5

[vinvantae]

Unmasked

Part 11/16

<<< previous part

Word count - 4.1k

warnings - minor injury. lots of social media posts. chapter starts off in first person!!

***

It’s a comfortably warm morning in Monaco, the café I’ve been asked to go to is quaint - tucked away in a narrow street off of the beaten path but you get a perfect view of anyone coming towards you. A waiting game to see which of the people who cross my path is going to be her. I can’t help but study every woman who steps onto the cobblestones, but as soon as I see none other than Charles Leclerc come around the corner, hand in hand with a woman - it all clicks into place.

Y/n y/l/n is Thirty.

Both of them greet me with a smile and a warm handshake as they step inside the cafe - bringing a cool breeze in as they open the door. Charles looks smart in a linen shirt, chain around his neck, and a watch more expensive than a regular person’s annual salary on his wrist. And y/n looks effortlessly beautiful in a sundress to complement the warm weather, before I can start digging into her being Thirty I have to ask about her perfume - her signature smell is to die for. She laughs, pulling out a travel size from her purse to offer it to me, swearing she has a full size at home.

As you can imagine, I have a lot of questions. But let’s just start at the beginning, how did the whole Faceless driver idea come about?

Y/n leans back in her seat a little, Charles’ tanned arm is draped lazily across the back and he uses his hand to squeeze her shoulder.

Ferrari were really interested in having me as part of the team but it was risky y’know? A woman, let alone an 18 year old woman in one of the top teams was unheard of.

She pauses as the waiter takes our order, Charles ordering for us all in Italian - I can’t help but notice the way y/n studies him, a soft sparkle in her eye. Their relationship seems easy and when she turns her attention back to me, she seems a little more sure of herself.

I was part of the Ferrari academy since I joined GP3, but that and then F2 just never felt truly challenging to me and I craved more. F1 was where I belonged, it was just about getting there. I believe it was Maurizio Arrivabene who ended up suggesting keeping my identity a secret. The press from that alone brought in more sponsors than the team had ever seen and as you know, Ferrari has never had much difficulty with that.

Her answers are rehearsed, not in a media trained way, but in a way of a woman who has had to keep her identity a secret for her whole career and is finally getting to speak the truth. I understand why she would want Charles here, her teammate and boyfriend is a calming presence - keeping quiet as he knows she deserves the spotlight after all these years.

You never won a championship in F2, how did you convince them that you were good enough for F1?

She takes a sip of her drink, taking a deep breath before softly shrugging her shoulders as if she’s not entirely sure herself.

I spent a lot of time in simulators and they could see what I could do on track from the races in F2 and GP3 that I did win. I like to think it was never a question of if I was talented enough for F1, not to be cocky, but I knew I was - it was whether or not it was worth risking me in Ferrari or if maybe I should start in a sister team. But in the end, it was for the best. I won them two championships after all, so I’d like to think that it was worth it.

Speaking of championships, not only are you the only woman to win the WDC but also the youngest overall, how did you feel?

A fond smile tugs at her lips and she reaches into her bag to pull out a small stack of photos. She slides one across the table to me - it’s of her in her driver’s room, helmet off but still in her full kit with her arms wrapped around the trophy that won her the title. I asked her who took it and she told me it was ‘Seb’ - Sebastian Vettel.

I was so overwhelmed. Everything I had ever dreamed of had come true but I couldn’t share it with anyone outside of Team Thirty and, of course, Seb. He brought a bottle of champagne up to my room and we drank the whole thing. It was one of the best days of my life, wouldn’t change it. If being faceless was what gave me the opportunity to accomplish my dream? Then I’m grateful for it.

And then you won your second in 2018, how was that?

Even better than the first time. Lewis and I had such an intense rivalry for those couple of years that it was such a strong feeling of victory. We raced so well against each other and really brought out the best in each other, I think. I’m not sure if he feels the same but I’m glad that we got to share that experience.

The couple both offer me another drink in unison when they notice I’ve finished mine, sharing a soft laugh when they realise. Charles leans over and presses a gentle kiss to her temple before taking our empty cups up to the counter to get us some more coffees. The two seemed so in sync as teammates, it’s no surprise that they work well as a couple too.

How was the transition when Charles joined the team? You’d been teammates with Sebastian for your entire career up until that point.

Honestly? It was a little scary at first. Seb was a mentor for me and when I had to meet Charles properly for the first time I was worried about how he would react. But, he’s been nothing but good to me. Before we started dating he’d always sneak into my driver’s room to keep me company and made sure that no matter how my race went - I had someone to talk to about it. He’s become my rock and I’m so lucky to have him.

He pushes me to be better, but has never let me be anything but myself.

When Charles returns to the table with a tray with fresh cups of coffee, he hands them out to us before sitting down - shuffling his chair closer to y/n so he can fully drape his arm across her shoulders. She relaxes in his hold, looking away from me for a moment to thank him for the drinks.

I know we’re interviewing y/n, but Charles, what was it like having to keep formula one’s biggest secret?

Difficult. He frowns a little. The amount of times I wanted to properly congratulate y/n or correct people when they said he was insane. I know I may get in trouble for this but I think keeping her hidden for so long was a mistake. Other women and girls should’ve been able to know that one of them was a formula 1 racer and a champion. She’s one of the greatest of our generation and she should’ve been celebrated properly.

I can see she’s touched by Charles’ words, despite - I’m sure - he’s said them to her before. This article is about learning about Thirty, yes, but I don’t think I can truly do that justice without talking about how the pair of them interact. I’m not sure whether it’s the years they’ve been teammates or the time they’ve been a couple but they just complement each other so easily.

So, you were teammates through 2020 and 2021, how did this relationship happen and why now?

The two of them share a look, one - as a journalist - I’m familiar with; whilst they do truly seem to care for each other, I have a suspicion there’s something they can’t tell me. But I don’t press.

I think during 2020 we were still just strangers, getting to know each other as people and as teammates. We didn’t spend a whole lot of time together outside of Team Thirty meetings or on the track y’know? And then 2021 I was in that title fight right up to the end so it just didn’t seem like the right time as I couldn’t really give him the attention he deserved.

We did begin to really become friends during 2021, he would make the extra effort to see me outside of meetings. And whilst Charles has since told me that he’s had these feelings for a long time, it took me a little longer. We’re definitely a case of he fell first, but I fell harder. I’m so smitten with this boy, you have no idea.

Charles was watching her as she spoke, the undeniable pink tinge of his cheeks was hard to miss. No matter what they were keeping to themselves, it was clear the two of them were very happy together. But it was time for more questions about the Thirty of it all.

So, why now? You’ve been faceless for nearly 6 years, what changed?

Well, after it leaked that I was a woman and I won the race in Imola - Team Thirty and I had a very big meeting about it. I’ve been ready to face the world for a while but with the team determined for another championship win this year, it was originally put on the back burner. But, I knew it was time. This year I could win my 3rd title and I wanted to do it with my face, my name not just a number.

I’ve also had so much support from both Charles and Sebastian with this. They helped me figure out just what to say to the team to convince them that now is the right time. I don’t know how long I’ve got left in this sport but I want to be here as y/n for at least some of it.

She excuses herself from the table to go to the restroom, that same fragrance from before following her as she walks past me. Charles sips at his coffee before leaning forward a little as if he’s got something juicy to share. I can’t help but be intrigued, leaning in also to listen.

She’s gonna do it, you know. The WDC is hers this year.

What about you? I ask. Shocked that he’d admit it about his teammate, he’s the Tifosi’s golden boy and is ahead of her in terms of points. He simply smiles and shrugs his shoulders.

I think now she’s got this out in the open, there’s truly nothing holding her back. She’s going to be unstoppable behind the wheel- this weight of her secret won’t weigh her down anymore. Yes, I want to be world champion, and you bet I’m going to fight for it until the very end… but I would be lying if I didn’t think she deserved it.

He straightens up in his seat as she returns, smiling as she leans down to kiss him before taking her seat - asking if she missed anything important. I know she’ll read what Charles said when the article is released but for now I keep it to myself, simply shaking my head.

Okay, let’s mix it up, get to know y/n a little more. What is your favourite track and why?

I think Bahrain is always going to hold a special place in my heart, I got my first win there. But, if I had to choose an all time favourite…I think it has to be a tie between Imola and Monza. Being surrounded by the Tifosi in such hoards really makes you want to do your best. Seeing oceans of red as you drive around is inspiring knowing all these people are in your corner. Now, I know in recent years, they’ve taken a particular liking to a certain Monaco native but they always showed me nothing but support and I hope they continue to do so now they know who I am.

Speaking of the Tifosi, do you have anything you want to say to them?

I mostly want to thank them for being my biggest supporters despite not knowing who was beneath the helmet. Thank you a million over Tifosi, I love you guys more than you’ll ever know.

Who was your racing hero growing up?

Oh there’s so many drivers out there I love but Susie Wolff for sure - she’s such an inspiration to women everywhere. And I know it’s probably silly but Lella Lombardi too, I know she only got half a point in her career but she made it into formula one when everything was against her and other women. But as a kid, it had to be Michael Schumacher. I met him a couple of times and he was nothing but kind to me. He was always honest with me that it was going to be tougher being a girl but he always believed in me and that… that was everything.

We’ve also heard through the grapevine that you’ve been approached by several other teams for next season, anything we should know there?

She smiles softly before shaking her head. Ferrari have actually matched the best offer I received, but at the end of the day they’re the team I want to race with so we’ve extended my contract for at least one more season - hopefully more. Besides, I’ve got the best teammate a girl could ask for.

Charles chuckled softly. Back at you, mon amour.

I think that’s all I really have to ask for now, thank you both so much for meeting with me. I’m not sure what I expected but you exceeded my expectations.

Oh wow, thank you so much. Thank you for being so kind… If I ever need to do another interview, you’ll be the first person I call. That’s for sure.

So there you have it, y/n y/ln is our mystery driver. I don’t know about you but I cannot wait to see what she does now that she’s been unmasked. This season has just got very interesting.

***

***

You weren’t a fool, you knew there was going to be a little push-back to your reveal - but there was a very loud minority who made it abundantly clear just how much they hated you, that they just didn’t believe you could possibly be the driver they had been supporting all these years. Within an hour of GQ releasing the article, #NotMyThirty was trending within the F1 community. They’d called you every insult under the sun and it was hard to focus on the praise when they were so loud and the press focused so much on the criticism. It didn’t help that once you’d been revealed, a certain Redbull team principal decided you weren’t worth the offer they made and he very publicly retracted it.

“Y/n, cherie.” You felt the mattress sink next to you as Charles sat beside you on the bed - the duvet pulled over your head. “We need to go soon, have a plane to catch.”

“...why don’t they just get Jenson to do it. Or better yet, get Michael up and on his feet so he can get in the car when I couldn’t possibly be a two time world champion.” You grumbled. “I’m just a stupid paddock-bunny.”

Charles frowned softly. “Hey. Those idiots have no idea what they’re talking about. You’re one of the greatest talents of our generation, they’re just jealous fools who couldn’t get into the sport if they tried.”

The Monegasque smiled softly as you peeked over the top of the duvet. It was hard for you to believe him but you knew he was going to sit there until he got you out of bed - so you put on your best fake smile. “You always know just what to say, huh?”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, pulling a gentle hum from you. “Mhmm hmm, I’ve got a talent for it. Now seriously, get your beautiful butt out of bed… we’ve got a flight to catch.”

You weren’t sure what to expect when you arrived in Miami, Charles’ hand wrapped around yours as you both stepped into the paddock. The cameras and press were on you in a literal flash, you simply smiled and waved a little. “Hey, y/n, look.”

When you followed the direction of Charles’ finger, your heart skipped a beat when you saw fans at the barrier with signs for you. The loud minority who despised you were currently nowhere to be seen - people shouting and cheering. Your boyfriend was positively beaming as he tugged you over to them, you couldn’t believe people actually wanted your autograph and pictures with you.

You could feel tears prickling in your eyes when a young girl told you just how much it meant to her that she had a female idol in the sport. It was hard not wrap your arms around her and never let go so instead you took a photo with her. “I got you a present… made it as soon as I found out you were a girl like me, it’s a bit messy ‘cus I didn’t have a lot of time.”

As you held your hand out, she slipped a bracelet around your wrist - it was made out of chunky plastic beads; flowers, fake pearls and the word Thirty written out in pink. It was the girliest thing you had ever seen but you could tell just how much it meant to the girl - her little eyes sparkling as she waited for your response.

“I love it! Thank you so much!” You grinned. “Hey, I’ve got something for you as well.”

You took your cap off of your head and scribbled your signature on the brim before sitting it atop her head. “Think this suits you much better.”

Your heart felt full as she turned to her Dad and bounced with glee, showing off her brand new present. You smiled softly and as you turned to Charles, you were suddenly hit with a sharp pain in the side of the head, right by your eyebrow - making you wince and reach up, eyes widening when you pulled your hand back and you saw blood on your fingers. You only just saw a glimpse of security dragging a man shouting expletives away from the crowd. “Oh my god, y/n, are you okay?”

“Yeah uh… what..” You blinked a few times, feeling a little dizzy, eyes scanning the floor to see what he’d hit you with - eyes landing on a crumpled up can, as you pushed your toe against it, you could feel there was still some liquid in it. “I… I uh…I think I should probably go to the medical centre, just to be safe.”

“Of course, shit, yeah.” Charles looped an arm around your waist and helped you through the paddock. Before you left, you caught the eyes of the young girl again and the look on her face broke you - she looked terrified. She was the walking personification of how you felt in that moment.

You had to fight back the tears as the two of you walked through the paddock - the memory of meeting some of your fans for the first time, tainted forever by that one dickhead in a Redbull cap. You were expecting some hatred, but you weren’t expecting physical violence. As you stepped into the medical centre, you were immediately ushered into a room and patched up.

“I can’t believe he did that, cherie. I’m so sorry… I-I should’ve been paying better attention.”

Your brow furrowed as you got up from the exam table, the medic having left the two of you alone. Charles stood against the wall, head lowered as you crossed the room to join him.

“Hey, hey.” You took his face in your hands. “Don’t you dare, you couldn’t have known he was going to do that… I… I’m starting to think this was a mistake.”

“Y/n-”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, I just… I knew there was going to be some backlash but, I’m not sure I’m cut out for this…”

“Cherie-”

“Can I just be alone for a little while, please? I’ll catch up with you later.”

Your teammate’s eyes flickered across you, you could tell he wanted to protest but instead he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before leaving you alone. The lights in the room hummed softly as you sat down in the empty chair beside the exam table, covering your face with your hands and letting out a soft sob.

Being unmasked was what you’ve wanted for as long as you could remember, but you hadn’t taken the time to really think about exactly what that meant. That your face, your name would be out there for everyone to pick apart. You wanted to put on a brave face and go out there, pretend it didn’t bother you but it did.

None of your achievements mattered - all that they cared about is that you were a woman, a fake, the drivers’ personal mattress. And your relationship with Charles was thrown right back in your face, the defending Ferrari was supposed to be doing didn’t seem to be helping at all. Any time the PR team spoke to the press, people always had some sort of comeback - another reason to add to the list of why you didn’t deserve any of it.

You rubbed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to shove all of the cruel accusations to the back of your head as you left the medical centre. As you turned towards the Ferrari motorhome, you saw Lewis leant against the wall - foot propped up against the wall as he scrolled on his phone, no one even batting an eye at him. He looked up at the sound of the door closing and gave you a gentle smile, pushing his phone into his pocket. “Hey, I just came to check if you’re okay. I heard what happened.”

“Said it was gonna come up as a bit of a black-eye but I’ll be alright.” You shrugged.

“I’m more worried about how you’re feeling, y/n. I know no one knows what you’re going through right now but I’ve been through similar enough crap to know that it’s not fun being singled out for something you can’t help.” His voice was soft as he stepped closer. “And I know it’s easier said than done but you just gotta try and ignore it.”

“...I don’t know if I can.” Your voice cracked. “Th-They’re attacking insecurities I didn’t even know I had. I’m not sure I’m cut out for this, Lewis.”

He looked around the paddock before checking his watch. “We’ve got some time, come with me.”

You lowered your head and followed your fellow driver into the Mercedes motorhome through a back entrance and up to his room - his dark eyes flickering back to you to make sure you were following close behind him. With a hand on the small of your back he ushered you into his room, closing the door behind. “You should probably text Charles, let him know you’re here.”

“Uh yeah… Yeah, good idea.”After texting your boyfriend, you sat beside your rival on the sofa, his arm draped across the back. “They’re going to crucify me if I have any bad races. Any mistake, any slip up… they’re going to drag me to hell and back. I just… I know I should ignore it, I do, but it’s hard to ignore when it’s smacking me in the side of the face.”

“”I know, I get it. I’ve been there… you just need to try and remember you’re not alone. I’ve got your back, so do Charles, Max and Sebastian. Don’t disappear into yourself, okay?” His voice was gentle but firm, but it just felt so quiet compared to the throbbing pain you felt in your temple.

You nodded. “Yeah, I know. Thank you… I should get going.”

You were taken a little aback when you were pulled into a hug as you stood, his strong arms would’ve made you feel safe in any other circumstance you were sure - but you just felt so defeated by it all. You gave him a gentle squeeze before heading towards your own garage, Charles throwing you a worried look from his side - still unsure how you’d ended up with Lewis. You simply nodded at him before popping into a side room to get into your racegear, ready to get into the car for the first time without your mask on.

“Hey, how’s the suit fit?” Your trainer approached you, a gentle smile on his face. “Must feel good that it’s finally got your name on it, right?”

“Uh yeah, it fits good.” To the untrained eye, the smile on your face was simply of a distracted person - getting ready to race, but Charles could read you like a book and he just knew something was wrong. Something more than a slight headache and the bruise blossoming around your eye was weighing you down and getting into the car in the mental headspace you were in was trouble waiting to happen.

But before he could cross over to you, try and clear your head just a little bit, he was summoned for first practice - one of his mechanics ushering him over to his car, allowing the driver to get one final glance at you as you pulled your helmet over your head.

All he could do now was hope that you wouldn’t get in your own way - as having a bad weekend would just sink you deeper into the feeling you weren’t good enough. You were a champion for a reason. But the minority who despised you were tearing you down, blocking your view from who you truly were and he hated that.

You took a deep breath from inside the cockpit, trying your best to block out the voices bouncing around your head as your engineer went over the programmes you would be running during the session. You just had to do well this weekend, no, not just well… you had to win. Everything was resting on your shoulders, they expected results now you were unmasked.

And you were terrified of what they’d do if you didn't.

***

************************

Next part >>>

Really hope you guys enjoyed this one!! There will be no chapter next weekend because I’m going to Silverstone 🏎️

Thank you for all your support on this fic!

Want to be notified when I post? Join our discord, head over to #reaction-roles and click the sunflower 🌻

[poppy-metal]

not you wanting the details re:ball sucking 😳 ngl it was the tip of the iceberg bc now he puts his fingers in my mouth while he eats my cunt and wraps his hand around my throat when he fucks me 🙂‍↕️ in my pampered princess era ✨

but now i’m thinking about citygirl!reader’s return to the small town to care for her ailing grandma, the ranch, and her one year old blonde baby girl. her rich husband ofc has to stay in connecticut doing what rich men do and as much as he loves her, he cannot imagine giving up their estate for farmland, golfing with the bros for a hard’s day work with the ranch hands, and vintage italian reds for american brewed ales. so with a kiss to the top of your head and continued access to his bank to care for the farm and granny, he sends you off with his daughter—the second love of his life.

you, on the other hand, are about to burst into tears at the idea of your little girl being near her daddy for the first time. the daddy that wants nothing to do with you and nothing to do with her. but as granny taught you, grit your teeth and keep straight on.

art can’t even begin to describe the whirlwind of emotions plaguing his every being when he sees you on that front porch, white linen dress billowing in the wind, a pitcher of peach iced tea in one hand, and a baby that’s the spitting image of him on the other hip. the bright smile on your face as you pour the tea into every ranch hand’s cup. the laugh that travels straight into his ears whenever a ranch hand makes a fool of themselves trying to make his baby smile. when he makes his way up to you, glass in hand, he tries to avert your eyes, but that means he’s looking right down at his daughter. he can feel your gaze on him. “hi, little one,” he says quietly, using his pointer finger to softly rub her cheek. she coos and nuzzles into his touch. “just like mama,” he says softly, just loud enough for only you to hear.

“you’re the first one to make her smile all day,” you say. art can’t quite place the tone of your voice: outwardly genial, but there’s a touch of apprehension, sadness, and wonder. he can’t help but feel himself open that box he tucked away two years ago and taste that familiar bittersweetness of loving you all over again, and he sees the future he could’ve had.

there’s a certain shyness in your interactions over the course of this summer; with your husband back east and lucy off in cambodia on a mission, it’s so easy to pretend the two of you aren’t married to other people. it’s almost silly. this man has fucked you every way imaginable, broken your heart more times you can count, but the way he cares for you, granny, and your—and his—daughter makes it feel all more new, more intimate.

he doesn’t touch you until the middle of june. it’s an especially rough heatwave that ravages the town, and you give the entire ranch a break for the day. granny is getting better, stronger. the single window a/c unit was moved to her bedroom, so your daughter sleeps in a crib with her grandma. your room is sweltering, but that doesn’t stop you and art from being entangled with each other. it was innocent at first: you and him kissing for hours, hands roaming but never reaching for the places that could escalate it. his body is sticky against yours, but you like the feeling of knowing that you can’t distinguish where you end and where he begins. and when it does escalate?

he doesn’t even fuck you. he just licks at your cunt until the sun rises; his fingers are in you, in your mouth, wrapped around your neck. your pillowcase are wet from your tears. his chin and your sheets are wet from you. and not once this entire night did he let you touch him, let him touch himself.

(finished my first week of teacher training and began setting up my classroom and the chairs and tables are sooooo itty bitty for my three year olds 🥺 but dw ranchhand!art will be making appearances in your inbox even once i’m teaching full time bc citygirl!reader and him deserve it 🙂‍↕️)

- 🤠

cowboy anon whenever I am down you came to pick me up, I swear <///////33333 I love mutual cheating. sigh. so romantic. art eating your cunt like a starved man because he's missed this - it's the his pussy. Jim looking up at you from between your legs, not letting you cum until you tell him who your pussy belongs to - it's reminiscent of the time he fucked you in the haystack the day before you fled, when he made you admit you loved him and couldn't even say it back - you'd thought he was the cruelst man alive at the time, but now you can see how much he needs to hear it.

like he's drowning and your confessions are the air in his lungs. you grip his hair and tell him you've always been his, always will be - and despite how much he's hurt you, your body will always be his too. his to do with what he wants. you couldn't deny him if you tried.

[fishwithtitz]

Was It Worth It? (Cardinal Terzo x Reader)

Summary: Worth (n.) - the value equivalent to that of someone or something under consideration; the level at which someone or something deserves to be valued or rated.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Cardinal Terzo x AFAB reader / 6.2k words

Warnings: language, graphic description of piv sex, religious trauma, alcohol, poorly translated Italian, angst

aO3 link

Part One: What Goes Up...

Sometimes, when the sun was low in the sky like this, and you could still feel the occasional pitter of droplets dispersing against your skin, you took the risk of abandoning your responsibilities and popping outside for the evening. It was peculiar how the salmon rays of the sun peeked through heavy, sodden clouds. The beams heated the water in the air and made it sticky and heavy. “Hot rain” your Granddad had called it. It reminded you of simplicity. Of home. 

You stepped right outside the cloister on the farthest corner of the abbey to soak the weighted air and shafts of light inward as self-anointing. The grass was springy under your feet, verdant, and you lost track of your steps as you meandered out into the less-manicured side of the grounds towards the wooded border of the property’s boundaries. 

It had been two years since you decided to join the order. Your family, long gone at the prospect of you choosing a life of sin and vulgarity, and your friends feigning happiness that slowly dripped away as time wore on and contact faded into simple memories. You didn’t mind it. If being a part of the ministry had taught you anything, it was that change was normal - healthy, even - and that embracing and adapting was necessary to find self-fulfillment and true absolution.

The first year as a Sister of Sin proved a heady challenge. With scripture and philosophy to study, on top of a laundry list of new procedures and rituals and ways of living to memorize, you had your hands full. There were some nights where sleep was truly a blessing from below and you started to understand the pull of addiction as you filled your coffee for what seemed like the umpteenth time at breakfast before starting your shift washing the ministry’s linens. 

Uncertainty and impulsivity had inspired you to join. Desperation had encouraged you to stay. Like a mid-life crisis happening 20 years too soon, you clung to any open window to find purpose and opportunity. You longed for a defined path outlined in thick black marker on a map with an ‘x marks the spot’. 

It wasn’t until a year and a half into your tenure as a Sister of Sin, fresh out of novitiate, that you met a young Cardinal Terzo (as he liked to be called) and your outlook on this new life began to shift. You couldn’t exactly point to why he had chosen you out of all the other sisters. You didn’t feel as though you were the most attractive, or the most seductive, or the most educated or intelligent. You didn’t feel secure in any specific talents and you didn’t feel a drive to accomplish anything specific. If anything, your energy was spent on yearning for direction. 

Perhaps he had noticed your propensity to velcro into anything novel or interesting. Or maybe it was your enthrallment and willingness to engage. Whatever the reason, Terzo had chosen you to devote his time to. 

You had been assigned to his detail as a temporary member of his small team of siblings. Though your past experience noted a range of clerical skills and literary study, you had instead been chosen to keep his chambers. It had taken all but a few days to learn Cardinal Terzo’s particulars. His sheets, which were a stereotypical black satin, had to be positioned just right (heaven forbid the fitted sheet have a loose corner…one would think that Papa himself had been murdered). Because of their color and Terzo’s…life choices, both the top sheet and the fitted sheet had to be changed nearly daily to save them from resembling Pollock’s “Lavender Mist”. His clothing had to be organized by occasion and style (and as you quickly found out, by random personal preference that seemed to change on a whim). Terzo required his wine fridges (plural) to be stocked twice weekly (including the large collection of reds that rested atop each fridge at room temperature), and it wasn’t uncommon to fulfill last minute requests for antipasto, fruit, candles, or other carnal delicacies to be brought to his room for later that evening. 

Completing tasks was a nightmare. You never knew if your assigned shift would lead you into an empty (and disarrayed) room with Terzo having been up and out early in the morning, or an occupied suite that stayed inhabited up into the early afternoon. The latter still caught you off-guard and you made frequent mental notes to work on your stuttered apologies as you awkwardly left his bedroom to wait until it was empty to resume your duties.

However, one day that seemed all but special, you entered his bedroom to change his linens and refresh his wardrobe, only to find Cardinal Terzo hunched over the mantel in front of the fireplace. His head hung low, browbeaten, and a rocks glass of scotch was perched between heavy fingers while his fist was clasped to his right. If you listened closely enough, you swore you could hear his aggravated breathing laced with tears. You froze at the sight. 

“I’m sorry, Cardinal. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you eventually peeped out, trying your best to keep your tone even as to not portray any perceived judgment. 

Terzo hadn’t turned to face you, but was quick in his reply — his voice gravely and gruff. “It’s best if you go, Sorella,” he responded, gripping even tighter onto the glass. The air felt thick and you could feel your own sweat (whether from the heat of the fire or the anxiety of catching Terzo at an inopportune moment, you weren’t sure) pooling on your forehead. 

Despite his request, you stayed stationary. 

You couldn’t help but look over the way his hair hung down to frame his painted eyes, tracks of tears threatening to wash away the intricate circular design and painted bow, and how his lips pursed in the firelight. Do you dare overstep your professional boundaries to show a touch of common humanity? To show that despite his role as a prominent Cardinal in the church, he was still a human being that deserved empathy and kindness? It was then that you decided to be bold. You took a deep breath. 

“Do you need a hug?”

Your words seemed to catch Terzo off guard, and he suddenly raised his head and craned his neck to look at you, eyebrows furrowed. You gently set down the basket of clean laundry and took a step towards him, wringing your hands in apprehension as you approached him. 

Upon seeing you, soft-faced and vulnerable in the dim light, his own expression dampened and he turned his body to face yours. “I think I would like that, Sorella,” he replied. 

It was from the moment that your small frame enveloped him, your head tucking in against his chest while your hands moved comfortingly against the smooth fabric of his jacket that hugged against his back, that you felt your heart beam against his. And maybe, you reasoned, you weren’t crazy in thinking that you felt his beam back against your own.

Over the next week or so, your daily visits to his chambers began to change. You could almost bet on him being present for your visits now, and while it had made you nervous before, you had begun to look forward to seeing him lounging about in his chambers, coffee in hand as he greeted you with a warm, “Good Morning, Sorella.” Dinner in the refectory had been previously uneventful, but now was punctuated by stolen glances from (and to) the head table, with Terzo occasionally lifting his ever-present glass of red in your direction — a subtle, yet definite nod to your existence. You couldn’t help but internally swoon. 

The second week after your fireside interaction, after replacing the linens, replenishing the firewood, and restocking a few choice wines in Terzo’s chambers, you were met with a personal request from the Cardinal. 

Like many nights during weeks prior, Terzo had left his room with a special request for the evening. “A sensuous feast” he had called it, and having fulfilled his wishes before, you knew exactly the way it was to be done. 

Ignoring your disappointment (and the pang in your chest when you read the note), you worked with the kitchen ghouls to create a charcuterie board to remember, rife with various fruits, cheeses, nuts, and the homemade rosemary focaccia you knew he enjoyed at dinner. A bottle of prosecco sat on ice in a marble wine chiller on the low mahogany coffee table (and you made sure to stock a couple extra in the nearby wine fridge for good measure), and two glasses were perfectly polished beside it, waiting for eventual effervescence. A low fire was kindled and warmed the plush rug that lay in front of it as it waited for its future occupants. 

Swallowing the sharp spasms that assaulted your chest, you gave the room a small, unreturned smile and surveyed your work. 

“Beautiful job, Dolcezza.” Terzo’s silken voice frightened you as it broke the quietude in the room. You let out a breath, a chuckle laced between it and your words, and you replied with your same gentle smile. 

“Thank you. Will that be all, Your Eminence?”

You had been prepared for the Cardinal to shoo you away, possibly thanking you with another one of his thousand-yard smirks, but to your surprise, he didn’t. Instead, he wrinkled his brows in thought, walking slowly over to the velvet-tufted loveseat across from the mantel. His gloved hand stroked the back, fingertips brushing so lightly that they didn’t even leave a mark. 

“Actually, no, Sorella,” he said, eyes fixed on the raspberry-hued fabric. You felt your lungs tighten. Had you forgotten something? You’d be the first to admit that you’d been distracted in your work lately, and it wouldn’t have surprised you to see that you missed something crucial. Terzo interrupted your worried visage, his duochromatic eyes flickering up to you with a sultry gaze. “...would you like to stay?”

His words had hit you square in the jaw, which you were sure was now hanging open just slightly at your surprise. You swallowed and stammered out, “I-I don’t want to intrude on your company, Cardinal.”

“I was hoping you would be my company tonight, Dolcezza.”

It was the first of many evenings spent with Terzo. The debut of your time together, if you will — and it was not at all what you had expected. 

Tentatively, you agreed to the invitation, only doing so because you knew that his room was the last on your list to freshen and you were now technically done with your duties. You had watched as Terzo held his hand out to motion towards the seating by the fire, and you hesitantly moved to take a seat on the plump leather couch across from the loveseat. 

To say that you had been nervous would be a gross understatement. Your senses drank in the stimulus around you — the pop of the bottle of sweet wine, the fizz of the bubbles blooming in the glass, the spicy, floral musk of Terzo’s cologne drifting through the air as he held out the flute for you to timidly accept — they all became cataloged in your mind as sensory memories of this first excursion. 

If Terzo’s smooth, charming attitude hadn’t calmed you down, the prosecco surely had. Not long after you’d taken your first sip, Terzo had sat on the other side of the couch with his own glass in his gloved hand, his cardinal cassock floating down over his crossed legs like sin, and he had struck up a conversation. His body was turned towards yours, eyes always drinking in your form like it was the preferred spirit of the evening, as he asked you more about who you were. 

He was easy to talk to (far easier to talk to than you’d expected). You divulged your history with the church and briefly described your one and a half year commitment with a peaceful pride. As a Cardinal, you were sure he spent the majority of the time discussing the intimacies of the ministry and you didn’t want to bore him. 

“And what led you to the light bringer, Sorella?” he had asked you, fingertips stroking the stem of the champagne flute delicately, tenderly. 

Even though you’d initially fabricated walls to guard you from revealing your past, Terzo’s soothing yet fascinating energy knocked them down almost instantaneously. You explained the falling out with your parents over your decisions for your career and lifestyle, how they’d refused to support you following your passions as it didn’t seem “financially prudent” to do so. With forlorn fondness, you recalled your relationship with your Granddad that had ended abruptly with his unforeseen death and how it had cracked your mother’s inward countenance and plastered it back up with vodka and Valium. The final straw, you explained, was your decision to openly renounce your faith and begin the exploration into different forms of spirituality. Terzo had listened intently, his face bleeding sympathy and compassion as you unraveled your past in a way you hadn’t since joining the order.  

But despite the heavy conversation, the night turned to one of true connection as you both polished off the first bottle of prosecco (and eventually, most of the charcuterie). Laughter frequently permeated the air after the second bottle had been opened, and you giggled over shared stories of gossip about the ministry — Terzo even letting a few more secretive and scandalous pieces about the clergy loose after his fourth glass of bubbles. 

By the end of the evening, you began to see Terzo in a new light. Before, he’d been the suave, debonair Cardinal with a reputation of philandry.  But now, Terzo felt like a true kindred spirit. As you’d gotten up to leave (sea-legged from the alcohol, you might add) the Cardinal had offered you his hand to steady you. After helping you up, he continued holding onto your hand, his body advancing closer to you with a half-step.

You remember the light of the fire reflecting off the yin-yang black and white eye as he took in your features. You remember the notes of apple and pear on his breath. Most of all, you remember the words he purred out in a low, dulcet hum. 

“I’m going to kiss you now, Dolcezza.”

And he had. Searingly slow, his lips lingered on yours for countless seconds before he pulled away completely. 

It was the beginning of the downfall.  

🜏🜏🜏

A mere two days after your memorable night with the Cardinal, you arrived at the workroom connecting the laundry to the housekeeping stores in increased anticipation to start your duties. Yesterday was your day off, and as such, you hadn’t had the opportunity to see Cardinal Terzo. 

As soon as you set down your coffee thermos, Sister Teresa, a senior Sister of Sin, approached you with a jollied clap on her hands. She explained that the sister you’d been covering for had healed quite nicely from her surgery and was returning to work early — today, in fact — and your services in housekeeping would no longer be needed. With a chuckle, she reached out to touch your arm, saying, “It’s a blessing of timing from the Dark One. We have been running behind ever since you left!”

Outwardly, you nodded and thanked the sister for letting you know before heading through the connecting door to the laundry. Once out of sight, you sighed, turning to make your way down the walkway towards the oncoming chutes, closed fist lightly pounding against a pile of folded bedsheets as you passed. You weren’t exactly sure when you’d get to speak with Terzo again, which of course disappointed you, but you were arguably more disappointed that you’d spent the time shaving your legs and fussing over the exact flavor of lip balm before leaving for work today — all for naught. 

That evening, you took your usual seat in the refectory with a slogged posture. Your hands smelled of bleach and detergent, and your skin felt dry from the dryer sheets you’d spent the afternoon picking from the dryer vent. After pouring yourself a healthy glug of table red from the decanter, you sighed and leaned back, watching as other siblings filled the room. After a few lengthy sips and more disassociation than you’d care to admit, you saw a flash of a black cassock from the corner of your eye. Towards the front of the refectory, seated at the clergy table, was Cardinal Terzo. He was mid conversation with one of the bishops and looked surprisingly pleased as he took a seat and accepted a glass of red similar to yours. His glance turned to your direction by chance and he met your eyes, smirking before raising his glass as he had so many times before. You raised yours back. 

And on this went for the remainder of the week — you, successfully seeking out his gaze and him acknowledging you with a raised glass, a smile, or as of the night before, a wink. Each time made your heart patter so high in your chest that you could taste it in your throat (or maybe that was the pinot noir). 

This particular night, after placing your napkin on the table and sipping the last drop of wine from the globe of the drink ware, you realized that this week put you into a state of melancholy. You’d felt trapped (an odd feeling in a church based on free will) and you craved a break in your monotonous routine. A walk would do you good, you'd decided. You breezed past a group of siblings and out the refectory doors so quickly that you hadn’t heard the voice calling your name from the other end of the room. 

Down the cloister and to the gravel path your feet traveled, and just after you felt the crunch of the rocks beneath your shoes, a hand reached out to cup your shoulder. You’d turned with an inward huff, nearly frightened, but each muscle seemed to relax when you’d seen that it was just him, just Terzo, and a smile crept across your cheeks.

From an outward observer, the walk would have seemed ordinary. It wasn’t out of character for siblings to peruse the gardens in the evening, and members of the clergy indulged too, of course. But as you made your way through the carefully pruned rhododendrons and lilac-lined pathways, Terzo admitted something that made the stroll all but ordinary. 

“I miss seeing you in my chambers, Dolcezza. I hope our kiss did not frighten you away.”

And of course you had assured him that it was anything but, explaining the predicament that brought you to the housekeeping staff in the first place, along with the reassignment to the ministry laundry earlier in the week. 

As time wore on, you kept to your work in the laundry and he to his in the clergy, but both you and il Cardinale continued your joint traditions — the hushed glances at dinner, the occasional stretch through the church’s gardens. You shared the stories of your respective days, with the conversations always morphing into a mishmosh of memories or past experiences, with the occasional smattering of theological conversation. Sometimes you sealed the evening with a kiss, sometimes you didn’t. However, regardless of how the night ended, you always thought of the taste of his lips on yours (wine-bathed and smoky and soft). 

Luckily, on occasion, the senior Sisters of Sin pulled the laundry staff to help out with housekeeping duties in the event of someone falling ill or needing to take time off. Each time this was proffered, you quickly volunteered, buttering the situation with the explanation that you had already filled in before and knew the routines and procedures, including the particulars of the clergy members. It made you appear as if you were flexible, hardworking, and willing to help the ministry in any way needed. Deep down, however, you knew that your real motivation was the off-chance that you’d get to see your raven-haired Cardinal. 

One of these days you had all but physically jumped at the opportunity to help out with housekeeping. Your enthusiasm was nearly crushed when you found out that not only were they short staffed, but they had fallen behind due to a fairly extensive disaster left behind in an upper clergymen’s room by what appeared to be an entire pack of ghouls. In spite of your utter exhaustion at the end of the day (and shudders at the recollection of all the oddly sticky surfaces you had to wipe down while tidying up the ghoul pack’s aftermath), you found yourself 

making the familiar trek to Terzo’s chambers. Ghoul juices aside, you had a slight jaunt in your step. The day’s unfortunate proclivities wouldn’t put a damper on your excitement of seeing the Cardinal. As soon as you entered his room, however, you noticed something felt strange. 

Hoping to finish your more formal duties quickly, you beelined into the bathroom to replace the towels and gather the dirty laundry before passing through to his bedchambers. Removing and replenishing his sheets was like child's play now, and after a couple of minutes you had already balled up the used linens and placed them in the basket with the other laundry before turning to exit his bedroom. 

You heard the crackling of the fireplace in his living space before you saw the dim flames, and the occasional scribbling sound of a pen against paper was even more of a telltale hint that you were not alone. Setting the basket down, you padded over to the leathered couch that reminded you of your first visit with the Cardinal and rested your hands against the back of it. Terzo was sitting against the rug, feet outstretched by the fire, with a notepad in hand. It had indeed been him slugging the fountain tip across the page, and from the balled up sheets of paper littering the floor, you gathered that whatever he was getting at was not a success. 

“Your Eminence?” you rasped out softly, so quietly that he didn’t hear you. “Cardinal?”

With your slightly louder inquest, Terzo’s head shot up and his pen dropped against the paper pad with an audible clunk. The delighted expression on your face dimmed, though, when you noticed his own. 

His usually slicked-back hair hung down in messy strands across his forehead, barely covering the lines that had formed there undoubtedly from a frequently furrowed brow. His eyes looked a little glassy, and although the paint around his eyes and upper lip didn’t seem to be tear-scathed, you could tell that he had rubbed at his face more than once by the blurry edges of the black makeup. In sum, Terzo looked doggedly stressed. 

“Dolcezza,” his voice perked up with a hint of surprise, “What a treat it is to see you here.” 

You could feel the color creeping into the apples of your cheeks like ripened fruit. “They needed a little extra assistance and I offered to help,” you explained, your voice calm and surprisingly steady at the scene in front of you. 

“Ahh, bene.” Terzo threw the notepad down to the floor with a little more oomph than you expected, stretching his feet out in front of him. You noted that they were dangerously close to the fire.

“Is everything alright?” you asked as you came closer, rounding the couch to sit down next to him on the floor, “you seem a little —” you paused, unsure of whether to continue lest you come off insulting, yet decided to risk it, “ —stressed.”

The Cardinal sighed. “SÌ,” he breathed out, slipping his hand through his hair for what had to have been the dozenth time that evening. “I am to give the sermon at black mass tomorrow.”

Your lips curved into a proud smile. “Black mass? That’s…well, an honor, really.”

Terzo nodded. “SÌ… however, I have yet to finish it. I keep coming to a stop, like a eh—” he paused, his hand motioning in circles as if to demonstrate that he was searching for the correct word, “ —barrier, in my mind.”

Folding your legs underneath you (and being careful to adjust the skirt of your habit), you turned to face him. “You have writer’s block?”

“If I am to be completely honest, I have never delivered a sermon at Black Mass before.” He sighed again and you noted that there was a lot of weight in that sigh. He looked down, flipping the pen to and fro between his slender fingers. “A lot is riding on this performance and I fear I will be nothing but a disappointment.”

At this, your body stiffened. Terzo had always seemed so confident, so demure, and you were taken aback by his insecurity. “Cardinal,” you began, inching just a bit closer, “you are anything but a disappointment.”

At this, the painted man beside you laughed. “Ahh, yes, il stronzo, perhaps…”

You rolled your eyes at his self-deprecation. “Based on our conversations during our walks, I think you will do beautifully. You have quite the mind for theology, and you speak eloquently and with conviction.” You licked the curve of your lips, craning a bit to try to see his downtrodden eyes. “Maybe it’s yourself you should have some faith in?”

At your kind words, Terzo raised his head, his hair partially hiding the milky white eye that you had never quite become accustomed to. “I’m afraid I will just disappoint you, cara. As well as the congregation.” At this, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his fist clenching as he softly pounded the ground in frustration. “Figlio di puttana…”

The way he looked right now reminded you of the first moment you approached him: vulnerable, closed in on himself, raw, and before you knew it, you reached out your hand to gently touch his left arm, your own fingertips brazenly trailing up and down the wool-covered limb. Your touch surprised the Cardinal, and his eyes  met yours once more — this time, the widened emerald one peering straight through you. 

What you didn’t know was how touched Terzo was by your compassion at this moment. Of course, he knew how much you cared and sacrificed for others, but you never ceased to amaze him with your empathy and tenderness. His heart beamed in a way he hadn’t felt since childhood, and as he drank in your alluring stare, he couldn’t resist the urge to study your beauty in the firelight. He noted the way the flames etched against the contours of your cheeks and jaw, shadows drawn across bone. 

Putting his gloved hand on your own, he found himself leaning towards you, his fingers squeezing yours as his breath stilled in his throat. Warm lips — one painted and one bare — pressed against your own and you felt at home again. Your kisses with Terzo had always felt this way, and although they were a bit of an unconstant, you relished in the moments you’d get to feel him like this. 

Your eyes fluttered closed. Head tilting ever so slightly, your body mirrored his own as you melted into the touch. Faint wine and the bitter tang of paint touched your tongue while you moved your lips against his, the slower series of pecks diverging into something a little more heated, urgent, needy. 

As you sat like this, all you could hear was the crackling of the fire in front of you, the light smacking of your lips moving in unison, and the intakes and exhales of shared breath. It felt much more intimate than you were used to with Terzo. But most of all, it felt right. 

His hand trailed from yours and danced across the flesh of your neck to your jawline, cupping it gently as he tilted to deepen your connection, tongue tasting your lips (for self-gratification or permission, you weren’t sure). You also weren’t exactly sure how you ended up lateral on the thick rug, or how your hand had found purchase in his slicked back hair, or how his own had pushed the fabric of your skirt up around your bare thigh, or even how your bodies had been pulled so impossibly close. Nevertheless, you found yourself wrapped in air thickened with firewood and his cologne and the humid heat of your kisses and exhales, and Satan below the way his trouser covered leg had parted your own to tangle you both into one being had your mind swimming.

“Let me take you,” he had whispered to you, his breath warm against the corner of your lip and the curve of your cheek, “let me have you here, like I’ve always wanted to.”

That was all it took. The look in his eyes had been flooded with desire and it overcame your ability to do anything but completely submit to his request.

He moved over top of you, his arms lifting up criss-crossed to pull his jacket and button up off his slender, muscular frame. Flamed illumination danced across the ridges of the muscles of his chest, the smooth, lightly tanned skin that still seemed so deliciously pale for an Italian man, and your eyes took in stills to catalog in your memory while he slid his hands up and under your dress uniform. 

Terzo mimicked the action with your dress, pulling it over your head quickly before tossing it casually to the side. His hand slipped underneath you and before you realized it, the tension of your bra loosened and the garment was quickly abandoned. As cool air pricked the skin of your breasts, the Cardinal’s eyes wandered down to stare at them in the dim light. He bit at the tips of his gloved fingers to loosen the silken material, pulling them off to reveal slender, strong hands that reached for your soft skin. 

He must have noticed he look of insecurity that painted your face, of shyness, because he began to trace your curves with his fingertips, just barely, butterfly wings against the surface, and murmured out “Cosi bella…” as they shimmered across the peak of your nipples. 

Far back in the recesses of your mind, you felt dips of worry. Was this something that he said to everyone he was with? Was this how he treated all the women he’d brought back to his quarters — the quarters that you’d cleaned and prepared? But each time your mind wandered there, you pulled it back with a yank of a leash to the present. You were here, this was now, and you were going to enjoy what was happening in this moment. 

Your mouths connected again, this time more wantonly, and all you could taste was the uniqueness that was simply Terzo — the wine, the smokiness, the dark face paint. A groan escaped his lips into your own and he moved to box you in with his thighs on either side of your body. One hand found room just by your head against the ground and held him above you, while the other clutched to your left breast, kneading and squeezing at you with a mix of adoration and longing. 

When he brought his hips down to press against your own, you let forth your own series of moans into his mouth, and he all but combusted as he ripped your lips apart, hands hurriedly unbuckling his pants to shimmy them down his legs. Your reaches crossed one another’s as you both grasped at each other’s undergarments and tandemly pulled them down over hips and skin, revealing your bare forms in communion. 

From there you lie naked on the rug, Terzo on top of you, with sweat-slicked skin osculating as tongues and teeth gnashed passionately. Veil and shoes were long forgotten. You could feel his hard length pressing against the space between your sex and your thigh and it made a chill wash over the expanse of your body. As his hips rutted against your pelvis, he slid between your folds, slick coating him with delicious friction, and your arms wound under his own to curl around the strong muscles of his back and shoulders. You broke the kiss with a whimper and crooked your neck to the side. 

“Cardinal,” you hummed out, a little more needy than you had intended to, “don’t make me wait any more.”

He lifted his head to look in your eyes, a chuckle reaching past his lips as his hair nearly dripped across your forehead. 

“The virtue of patience isn’t something we celebrate in our faith, Dolcezza,” he purred as he brought his face close to yours, breath pricking across your lips and cheek as he moved his mouth to ghost your earlobe, “ —and I think you’ve waited long enough.”

With that, he pulled his hips back and you whined at the brief loss, your breath stilted as he pushed forward almost immediately, his cock pushing past your folds and into you firmly. You let out a choked groan and your eyes ripped open, watching the darkness of his pupils overtake his unmatched irises as he sank into you to the hilt. 

Your leg came up to hook around his hip and thigh as he pistoned in and out of you. Your hand gripped the furry fibers of the rug below, the other still curved around his back to hang onto his shoulder like he’d disintegrate if you let go. With every thrust you found God, and every retreat you went searching for redemption. 

Your Cardinal found solace in the arch of your neck, teeth nipping at skin and tendon as he grunted along with each forward movement. 

“Così buono con me. Sei così buono con me.”

Tension built up inside of your core, tugging at the muscles of your abdomen, and you felt your grip tighten around Terzo. Despite the stricture, you could feel your core blooming, softening taking everything he had as he worked himself inside of you, hips rolling and grinding. 

The smell of the sweat on his skin and the burning wood of the fire lit your own flames deep within you and you could feel your impending release begin to blossom. “More,” you cried, the noise so sweet in taste and sound to Terzo that he couldn’t help but obey. 

He pressed his lips to your neck in a series of wet marks. Your hand abandoned the rug and came up to card through his air, fingertips winding around the strands with a needy tug as you felt your pussy begin to contract around his thick cock. He knew you were close because he kept going, never faltering in his pace or touch, moaning little praises into the skin of your clavicle until lightening rushed through your veins. 

You came and it felt like everything and nothing all at once. You weren’t sure if you’d made any noise at all, but as your jaw hung open, eyes fluttering back into your skull, you were certain that within the Cardinal’s arms was the only place you were meant to be. Here, now, releasing yourself to him completely, with the firelight plaguing the walls as a reminder of your devotion to him, your Cardinal, and to the flames of hell and the one below. 

Terzo was soon to follow with his own orgasm. You could sense him tensing, his length twitching as his hips began to jolt against your own unrhythmically, throaty growls punctuating his movements. And as he filled you, you trembled against him from the fiery char of your release, your own inner muscles twitching as you welcomed his spend as sacrament.

Breath stilted and waned as he lay collapsed against you, skin slick with the proof of your union, and your fingertips found purchase soothingly stroking against his scalp. A beat passed and you relaxed in the aftermath of just the two of you. Terzo was the first to speak. 

“Was it worth it?” he hummed out, eyes peering up at you from his head that rested against your soft breasts. 

You furrowed your brows with a small smile. “What do you mean?” you asked.

He tittered and brought his hand to trace along the line of your jaw. “The wait,” he clarified, thumb rubbing sweetly over your chin, “Was it worth it?”

You felt warmth course through your chest and leak into your limbs. It was different than before. It was new, yet oddly familiar — like remembrance, uncovering a dusted memory. Your hand came up to clasp over his own on your chin, and you brought it to your lips, pressing them slowly, repeatedly against his skin. 

“You’re always worth it.”

🜏🜏🜏

Yet now, as you soak in the humidity that paints your skin while you move across the courtyard and to a lesser occupied area of the Ministry gardens, your mind replays your words from that night. “You’re always worth it.” Always. So finite, so absolute. 

You continued to walk, searching for a prayer, a sign from the one below that everything will click into place and the grand plan will be revealed over time. And as you settled down onto an earthen stone bench overlooking an old statue of the Emeritus family, eyes cast towards the statue that partially formed the man you’d fallen from grace for, you realized that there was no hot rain.

Only tears. 

Tag list: @copiasghoulfriend @copias-juicebox @the-lisechen @anamelessfool

Image Credit(s): Pinterest

[kryptonitejelly]

HONEYMOON FLY!BOY JAKE!!!!

it is honeymoon flyboy!jake

ugh to be walking around the streets of Italy with him 😭 in summer. it’ll be so warm that all you living in are thin sundresses, that have jake constantly touching some part of you - because you look equal parts sinful and equal parts like an absolute dream. he’ll have his arm wrapped around yours constantly, or around you, or shamelessly throwing a squeeze to your ass - because Italian man be damned, Jake was happy for them to look, but touching or approaching absolutely off limits.

you wanting all the gelato in the world, but deciding half a cup in that it’s too cold for your teeth and palming the cup off to your husband who chuckles because he knows this is going to happen and just accepts it.

nights with jake sitting on some sort of terrace or on a cosy restaurant at the edge of cobblestoned streets, sipping on ice cold prosecco and splitting the most satisfying plate of pasta, or a pizza between you both. topped off with an assortment of antipasti, cold cuts, sun dried tomatos, olives.

jake will be in a tshirt, shorts and sneakers in the day - always with the shades and cap, and you absolutely find yourself adoring it because he looks good in his flight suit and uniform (basically everything or nothing) but something about him so dressed down makes you 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 because this is jake, just your jake - at easy, himself, and those tight tshirts well, you aren’t complaining.

or evenings when he is in a linen shirt of sorts, one too many buttons open - not something you can hate either.

or, or, days at the beach where your husband’s body is just on bull display, abs rippling in the sun. you see all the italian ladies looking on, and so does jake - but all that makes him do is pull you from your beach chair and onto hips lap; leans up to kiss you, as his fingers duck beneath the strings holding your bikini bottoms together at the sides - he mouths at your neck, gaze falling on the people darting glances towards both of you. his way of telling the world that you are his and he, is yours.

and of course, the honeymoon sex - sex with jake is always mindblowing, but the honeymoon sex, boy does he take his time to savour you. slow, languid thrusts, letting you take your time to ride him at your own pace the sheets pooled around your waist, eating you out and make sure you cum at least twice on his mouth before he even enters you. there would for sure be days when most of your day is spent the both of you just naked and in bed, you thoroughly fucked out but your body always ready for more of jake.

i can see jake throwing toys into the mix because the man isn’t insecure in the slightest and honestly just wants you to experience maximum amounts of pleasure.

touches in the restaurant or bar, his hand sneaking up your dress, fingers skimming over your underwear, thumb brushing against your breasts from over your thin sundresses. your hand palming his bulge through his shorts.

and of course there is the fucking you over the balcony of your hotel, dress up and bunched around your hips, underwear pushed to a side, breasts almost spilling out of your dress.

ugh, to be on honeymoon with flyboy!jake 😮‍💨

[kulapti]

Bookbinding (2 copies) of This Thing of Darkness by @maggieandthedragon, spring 2023.

This Thing of Darkness (Fantastic Beasts, Percival Graves x Credence Barebone) is a serious but hopeful look at the difficulties of helping someone face depression, whether it be for intervening in a crisis or the providing support in the long slog of continuing to get up every day. People are messy and difficult, but it is good to be together. As dark as it might be, we can receive help, and sometimes the help we offer each other is the most important thing in the world. It's no wonder this is one of the most popular works in the pairing tag. Recommended also for compelling side characters and interesting magic system additions.

-------------------------------About this project under the cut

This is one of the first fanfics I bound for myself when I started ficbinding last year. TTOD is one of my top ten favorite fics of all time and when I realized I could learn to do typesetting and bind fics I immediately knew I wanted to make a hard copy of this novel. My personal copy has a different spine because it’s part of a matching set of my favorite Percival x Credence fanfics; the set is almost complete.

Materials: text laser printed on archival paper; Italian rayon bookcloth, purple batik-pattern cotton backed with handmade wood pulp paper, bookboard, PVA glue, cotton cheesecloth used as mull. Stitched with cotton thread, beeswax, and linen tapes, plus embroidery thread and hemp cord for the endbands. Endpapers are marbled Italian paper by London-based artist Stephan Parenti (Peacock Paper studio) which I got on Etsy specially for this binding because I wanted it to be fancy.

I learned how to stitch endbands for this book as well. The bindings aren't perfect but I’m still quite pleased with the result. The whole time it’s been on my bookshelf I keep looking at it and going heehee I made a book ✨✨✨✨ Author copy has been mailed to maggiedragon.

[belleloveposts]

As the weather warms up and the days grow longer, many women are looking for versatile and comfortable clothing options to add to their wardrobe. If you’re looking for a chic and stylish way to stay cool this season, look no further than tunic tops. Tunic tops are a versatile addition to any wardrobe, offering a comfortable and breezy style that can be dressed up or down to suit any occasion.

[sweetsweetjellybean]

TW: Smut-tacular 3 way smut. Angst. NSFW. 18+

AN: See end of chapter

Beta'd by @superbcoffeedrinkersubparwriter

Series Masterlist Fic Menu

Last night, you dreamt that you were an acrobat wearing a costume made of white silk inlaid with diamonds that reflected the light and made you shine. Step after careful step, your slippered feet moved along a tightrope stretched high above the earth. Somehow you knew as long as you held your breath, you could make it, you wouldn't fall. A crowd gathered below you yelled things you couldn't understand. The rope creaked, and your lungs screamed for you to breathe, but you were only halfway across, and your fate became clear - you would either suffocate or fall. 

Your lungs still ached with that long-held breath as you walked down the stairs that morning in search of Steve. It was time to step off before you fell. The main floor is quiet, and you thought maybe you were home alone until you caught a glimpse of Steve through the kitchen window.  

"Hi," you say, coming out of the sliding glass door onto the back deck. The usual tidy space was in upheaval. Patio furniture that had been uncovered and scrubbed clean was now drying in the warm sun. There are gallon jugs of chemicals and cleaning tools on the cement apron surrounding the in-ground pool. Steve was in board shorts and a tank top using a long net to skim the debris out of the water.

"Hi," he gives you a quick glance before returning to his task. Some drenched whirligigs and bits of leaves get scooped up in his net before he empties it out into a silver trash can he has waiting.

"Going for a swim?" Your tone is light and breezy, a contrast to the butterflies rioting in your belly.

"Well, I thought if I can't give you the ocean, at least I can give you a pool." His thoughtful gesture only makes this harder.

"It's still a little cold, isn't it?" 

"It's heated," he shrugs before moving toward the house and connecting a garden hose to the spigot.

"Steve, I think we should talk," you blurt out, twisting your fingers.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything," he keeps his back to you as he moves around, dropping the hose into the pool. 

"No. I really think-"

"There's nothing to say. We're friends, right? That's what you came out here to say," he asks as he crouches down to open the cover of the pool filter.

"Yeah, we're friends," you say almost hesitantly. 

"I don't want to hurt you or Eddie. Yesterday, I just got a little carried away. I stopped..we stopped before anything happened. So we can..move on, yeah?" 

When he is met with your silence, he abandons his task and joins you on the deck, where you stand with your eyes lowered, studying the texture of the gray boards. 

"Hey, none of this is your fault," he says, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, "It's me. I just need to…." He trails off and crosses his arms over his chest, "I want you to be happy while you're here. Hopper said you should hear from Enzo soon, and I'll start volunteering at the shelter again during the day. Let me know when your shifts start, and I'll give you a ride if you need one, okay?"

"Yeah, alright. Thanks, Steve," you say, turning back into the house. He returns to the pool to continue with his project. Everything is as it should be, but the disappointment washing over you confuses you even more. 

Steve was right. The phone rang the following afternoon, the voice of a harried older man letting you know you could start work the next week. It was just three shifts to start, but Enzo would schedule you for more once you were trained. The evening shifts would mean relying on the boys for rides since walking late at night wasn't a sensible option. 

"White tops, black bottoms. The men wear ties, girls wear skirts. Got it?" The older man with the Dallas mustache explained as you followed him around the busy Italian restaurant. Candles sat atop the crisp white table linens that covered every table, casting a soft glow on the brick walls and polished wood. 

"Yes, Mr. Enzo," you replied, trying to commit his whirlwind instructions to memory.

"Just call me Enzo. Forget the mister. Now, this is Leigh." He stops in front of a petite girl with dark hair cut in a sharp bob. She smiles kindly at you as Enzo continues, “She is going to show you the ropes. Stick with her tonight, and you'll be on by yourself for your next shift, learn the menu. Yes?" After you answer with a nod, Enzo departs for the kitchen, leaving you with Leigh. 

"Don't worry, you'll get it," she reassures. "There's a way we're supposed to do things, but I'm going to show you the easy way. You'll be a pro by the end of the night. You graduated last year, right?"

"Yeah, that's right," you say as she hands you a stack of menus and some silverware wrapped up in napkins.

"Lucky. I'm still a junior," She says with a sigh. Leigh takes you through table settings and the wine list, and you spend the rest of your shift shadowing her as she takes care of her tables with efficiency and a warm manner. It turns out Enzo's wasn't that different from any other restaurant you've worked at. Sure the menu and table settings were fancier. But in the kitchen, the wait staff still bitched about their tables while hanging halfway out the backdoor sneaking in a quick smoke between filling glasses and serving plates and the cooks still found a way to turn every request into something raunchy while leering at your boobs. By the night's end, your first-day jitters had disappeared, and you felt confident enough to work on your own.

"You have my number. Let me know if you need a ride or if you ever want to hang out," Leigh calls to you as you wait for Eddie to pick you up at the end of the night. 

"Thanks, I will," you wave as she heads to her car. Most of your friends left for college after graduation, and it's nice to meet someone new. The sound of Eddie's van precedes its arrival. The loud engine and equally loud music halt when he pulls up to the curb. He bursts out of the driver's door and sweeps you up into his arms, lifting you off your feet, and you squeal as he swings you around before kissing you like he hasn't seen you in days instead of hours.

"What's all this?" You ask breathlessly. 

"I've got big news, my love. But first, I want to hear about your first day," he says while opening the door and helping you into the van. 

"It was good, but I want to hear your news," you say, caught up in his excitement. 

"Okay. Hold on." He runs around the side of the van and climbs in his seat, "are you ready?" He asks with a smile like a kid on Christmas morning. 

"Yes. Yes. Tell me already," you say, bouncing in your seat.

"Okay. You are looking at the lead guitarist that will be playing with his band at the,” Eddie drums his fingers on the dashboard before continuing, “Metal Showcase Showdown." He says the name like a wrestling announcer, complete with echo.

"Ohmigod!" Stretching across the center console, you wrap your arms around him. For the last two years, corroded Coffin had been trying to get a spot in the showcase. It's a huge annual event at a club in Shelbyville. The winners walk away with a regular gig, a cash prize, and bragging rights.

"That's so amazing. I'm so proud of you," his cheeks tint apple-red at your praise, "I can't believe I'm going to be the girlfriend of a rockstar. That is unless you decide to trade me in for one of your groupies."

"Hmmm," he closes one eye and sticks out his tongue as he taps his chin with one finger. Narrowing your eyes, you give his arm a playful slap as he holds his hand up. "Just give me a minute. I'm picturing the groupies."

That earns him a few more slaps as your mouth drops open in a huff. He catches your hand mid air and kisses your knuckles. "I'm kidding, baby. You're the only one I think about." He reaches out and runs his hand along your jaw. His big doe eyes turn soft, and you can see yourself in their reflection. "After the earthquake, I crawled through hell, and my only thought was getting back to you." 

His words leave your chest aching, and you crawl across the console into his lap, covering his mouth with yours. The memory of the unbearable pain when you thought you'd lost him is still fresh in your mind. His name was a constant prayer on your lips as you cried yourself to sleep at night. But he's here, flesh and blood, with scars that remain a mystery but are easily forgotten with his soft lips moving over yours and the evidence of his passion growing under your lap. 

"Let's go home," he says, breaking the kiss. With one more sweet press of your lips, you move back into your seat as he starts the van and pulls away from the curb.

"Eddie, will you still want to move if things are going well for the band?" You ask tentatively, not wanting to rain on his parade.

"I don't know," he shakes his head as he keeps his eyes on the road, "I'm just trying to get through the rest of high school. Everything else feels too far away to think about. You don't need to worry. We won't win anyway."

"Hey, don't talk like that. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't believe you could win," you say, placing a hand on his thigh, "I was just thinking we can't stay at Steve's forever. If we're staying in Hawkins, we should think about getting our own place."

"You're not happy at Steve's? It's a hell of a lot nicer than anything we could afford."

"I know, but eventually, we will wear out our welcome."

"Look, baby, he's a friend. You've seen the guy. He was almost catatonic before he got laid, and I need a place to live. Wheeler and Buckley would be having kittens worrying about him if we weren't there. If you don't like living in a mansion with a pool, for free I might add, you could always move home for a little while."

"You don't want to live with me?" You ask quietly, pulling your hand away and looking out the window. Eddie hadn't actually asked you to move in. Steve was the one that extended the offer after you had spent a few nights there.

"That's not what I'm saying," he sighs, "I'm broke. I owe Wayne money. I got Rick breathing down my neck. Sales are slow because the cops are still keeping an eye on me. I'm drowning in schoolwork. Then there's the band and the club and you to keep happy. I can't keep stacking more on top of all this shit."

"Okay, I'm sorry," your face is hot, and unshed tears sting your eyes. 

"I might as well tell you now that the band's going to practice more to get ready for the show. I know that's going to mean less time together for a while. Can you cut me a little slack for the next few weeks?" He asks, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. Nodding your head, you swipe at your eyes, trying to calm yourself before the dam bursts. 

"Good girl. I love you."

♡♡

Hugging the throw pillow to your chest, you sit in the dark living room with the tv providing the only light. Your hands are sweating, and your muscles tense as you watch Bruce Willis run around trying to get his life back from the doppelganger that has taken over.

The big quiet house feels empty with Eddie and Steve gone during the day as you wander from room to room, straightening up as needed, gathering laundry to wash, and making up the beds. Eventually, you end up in the kitchen, where you pull out a few ingredients from the fridge and begin to prepare a few meals so that the boys can have something that will heat up quickly while you're at work. The tedium of the last few weeks has given way to loneliness. Sadly, the best part of your day has become the short ride to work, where Eddie's attention isn't occupied with school, music, or campaigns. Even though you are proud of him for following through with his commitments, you can't help but feel you are falling further and further down his list of priorities. When you're finished cooking, you seal the food in Tupperware and put it in the fridge. The containers from yesterday's meals sit clean in the drying rack. Despite Steve's protests against being looked after, he eats the dinners you leave for him. He has made himself scarce whenever Eddie isn't around, choosing to spend time in his room or out of the house, and you miss him.

"What are you watching?" Steve asks from where he's standing just behind the couch, causing you to jump out of your skin.

"Jesus. Holy shit," you say with your hand over your heart, trying to calm down, "I think I almost peed my pants."

"Sorry," he says, trying to hide his laughter, "Watching The Twilight Zone in the dark, huh? You're brave."

"Turns out not so much," you toss the throw pillow at him, and he catches it easily.

"No Eddie tonight?" He tosses the pillow back onto the couch. 

"Nope. Band practice. The showcase is coming up." 

"Ah," He shakes his head, understanding. He hovers hesitantly in the entryway before he coming further into the room. "What did you do with your day off?" He asks, taking a seat on the edge of one of the overstuffed armchairs that flank the couch.

"Not much," you answer, pulling your knees up to your chest and crossing your arms over them, "I made some of the chicken and vegetables you like. I can heat it up for you if you want?"

"I already ate…but I'll have it tomorrow for lunch. Thank you for cooking."

"Sure." 

The narrator's monotone voice wraps up the first half of the show. "A man who lost himself...and found himself...on a lonely battlefield, somewhere...in the Twilight Zone."

"There is still the second story left. You could watch it with me? Protect me from all the scary things in the dark?" You ask, hopefully.

"I’m meeting Robin. Just stopped home to change." He says, standing and pointing back towards the door. 

"Oh, okay. Maybe next time. Tell Robin hey for me," you look away from him, turning back towards the tv, trying to hide your disappointment. He stands there for another moment before moving towards the stairs. He's doing the right thing, the commendable thing, but your heart can't help wanting him. His footsteps fade on the stairway as you try to focus on the screen and not the boy upstairs.

As if he times it perfectly, the commercials are just finishing when he plops beside you wearing sweats and an old t-shirt. "I thought you were going out?" You bite your lip to hide the smile threatening to give away how happy you are to have his company.

"I'm tired," he says, keeping his eyes on the tv, "Besides, I don't want to have to clean pee off the couch."  

Laughing, you bump his shoulder with yours. Circling his elbow with your arm, you lay your head against his shoulder as the announcer appears on the screen. 

"Is this okay?" You ask softly.

"Yeah. It's okay."

"Good morning, beautiful," Eddies whispers early the next morning, his lips lightly brushing the shell of your ear.

He hadn’t been home when you had gone to bed last night. After finishing the episode plus one more curled around him, Steve walked you to your room like the end of date. The two of you lingered in the hall thinking of things to say to keep each other there longer. Eventually saying your good nights before falling asleep in your cold, empty bed alone.

But now you're floating in that dreamy place between wake and sleep. Laying almost on your stomach with your left leg hiked up, the t-shirt you put on last night bunched up around your waist, Eddie’s warm chest pressed against back and his deft fingers stroking softly between your legs.

“Hmmm, Eddie,” you moan softly, eyes still closed, already incredibly wet, your body responding before your mind could catch up. “I’m here,” his breath fans over your jaw. Warm pluses of sleepy arousal radiate from your core, traveling through your body, making every brush of his smooth skin against yours feel electric. Clutching the sheets and blankets to your chest, your hips start to move, grinding against the very ready, very hard cock pressed against your ass. 

“Fuck baby, kiss me,” his mouth desperate for a taste of yours. Turning your head, his lips find you. His tongue dips into your mouth, sliding against yours in a slow wet kiss. The tiny cry that bubbles from your throat is muffled by his mouth as two fingers push into your slick channel, him giving you what you need before you can ask for it. His fingers pump in and out of you dragging against your spongy walls before gliding slowly through your folds to circle your clit, lighting you up like a sparkler before sliding back down, spreading your slick to the tight ring of your ass, and then up to repeat the process. 

"Eddie, shit…I need this…need you," you whine, reaching behind you running your hand up and down the velvety skin of his cock earning you an impassioned groan. 

“I know you do,” he helps you out of your shirt and rolls you on to your back. His beautiful face hovering over you and you realize just how long it’s been but now he’s here, sleepy eyes drunk with desire, lips berry red and swollen from kissing you.

“You are so fucking sexy,” you softly murmur while trailing your hand over his tatoos and lower down the expanse of his chest. His cheeks glow cupid-pink only adding to the effect. “Me?” he chuckles, returning your touch, letting his fingers drift over your hard nipples, “Do you know how much I want you? How much I always want you?”  He dips his head, wetly nipping down the column of your neck. 

“Show me you,” you rasp as his mouth closes over your breast, sucking, his tongue swirling over your nipple. Wandering fingers work their way into your heat, one breaching the tight ring of your ass while two others fill your pussy. Your hips roll, working him deeper inside you. He’s everywhere, filling you, tasting you, worshiping at your altar, pleasure flames through you and you lose control wantonly moaning.

“I need to fuck you.” He growls, his voice rough and strained as his mouth returns to yours sucking in your bottom, gently biting to remind you to answer. "I want you.. Eddie…please fuck me,” you helplessly whimper as pulls away leaving you empty and desperate. Knowing what you both want, you roll to your belly and lift your hips. Looking over your shoulder, you watch as he pumps himself, his eyes trained on your glistening pussy. “I can’t go slow. I’m sorry,” he warns as he lines himself up at your slick entrance. The need for each overpowering any rational thought. He drives into you in one smooth stroke, both of you crying out at the way you fit together. He thrust forward as you work your hips back, meeting each other in a frenzy. His hands run up and down your back, the tender touches a contrast to the hard deep thrusts of his dick, setting you ablaze inside and out as he moves in ceaseless rhythm, both of  you flying towards release.”I’m close,” your inner muscles tighten as that exquisite pressure builds deep inside you. 

"I can feel it, baby," his fingers move to circle your clit, sparking the fuse that has your orgasam exploding through you. A few more thrusts, and he's pulling out of you working himself through his release, spilling his thick, rich cum onto your back. You collapse onto your stomach enjoying the aftershocks and he drops down beside you a grin stretching across his face. Laughing, you lean over and press a small kiss to his cheek.

"I love you," he tells you, as he wipes your back with your discarded t-shirt. He's giving you a few more soft kisses when you hear a door slam and footsteps moving down the stairs. "I think we woke up Steve," Eddie says, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, "Let's clean up, and after breakfast, I'll make you dirty all over again."

Turning off your blow dryer, you study your hair in the mirror, smoothing down any stray locks. Deciding you're pleased with the results, you leave your room to join Eddie for breakfast. The sound of Eddie and Steve talking and laughing in the kitchen brings a smile to your face as you descend the stairs. Their conversation continues as you enter the room. Reaching into the cabinet, you grab an empty mug and fill it with the coffee that sat waiting for you in the half-full pot. When you join them at the table, Eddie's hand moves to your leg, and Steve doesn't so much as glance in your direction. 

"I'm sorry I didn't wait for you." Eddie gestures to the bowl in front of him containing a small amount of colored milk and a few stray Froot Loops, "I'm gonna go smoke. Do you want me to stick some bread in the toaster for you?"

"Yes, please," you reply as you bring the mug to your lips and blow a little steam off before taking a sip. He drops a kiss on your head and stands to start your toast before heading out the sliding door. 

"Do you have plans today?" You ask Steve, keeping your voice light, trying to make conversation. But he doesn't answer you. He stands, taking his empty plate with him. 

"I'm sorry." 

Your words stop him mid-stride. He pauses for only a moment, keeping his back to you. His head lowers and shakes from side to side. 

"What are you sorry for?" The harsh tone of his voice startles you more than the plate breaking into pieces as he throws it into the sink. 

Your lips part but no sound escapes them. The emotions rampaging inside won't let you settle on a thought. 

"I shouldn't have lost my temper," his voice returns to even and normal as he picks up the shards and moves them to the trash, "I'm going to be late tonight. Don't bother with any dinner for me." Without another word, he leaves you alone. 

The new greens of spring are giving way to the vibrant deep hues of summer. There wasn't a cloud to be found in the clear blue sky, and the weather report on the radio promised a full day of perfection. The golden sun feels like a kiss against your skin, its warmth heating you from head to toe as you recline in your two-piece on one of the loungers Steve had set around the pool. Pushing the mirrored aviators higher on your nose, you look beside you at Leigh, lying on her stomach, flipping through a magazine. Deciding the weather was too good to enjoy alone, you called and asked her if she'd like to come over before her shift started. 

"All I'm saying is that Andrew would have been a much better match for Claire than Bender. I mean, how long do you think that's going to actually last?" Leigh muses.

"Don't be such a cynic. It could work out. Besides, Andrew and Ally are cute together." 

"Hello, ladies," Steve says as he slides the glass door shut behind him. Your eyes take in the sharp cut of his muscled shoulder before following the light trail of hair starting below his belly button and disappearing under the hem of his low-slung swim trunks.

"You're home early," you say, grateful that your sunglasses hide your ogling. No matter how often you see this man shirtless, the sight of his bare chest makes your throat dry. It doesn't help that you know the feeling of the bristly hair that covers his pecs rubbing against your skin. 

"It's too nice of a day to be inside," he walks between the loungers to set his Raybans on the table next to you, and you feel his eyes move over your body before he turns toward Leigh. "Hi. I'm Steve Harrington," he says, extending his hand to her.

"Oh, I know who you are," she says, sitting up to grasp his hand. Her cheeks bloom scarlet, and by the dumbfounded look on her face, one would think it was Emilio Estevez shaking her hand instead of Steve.

"This is Leigh," you tell Steve since the girl is too flustered to give him her name.

"It's nice to meet you, Leigh," he says, giving her a wink.

"Leigh works with me at Enzo's. She's a junior in high school," you say, ignoring the annoyed look that Leigh gives you for pointing that out. 

"Oh yeah? You must be happy that the year is almost over," he says, stepping onto the diving board, "I know Eddie is." He not so subtly reminds you that your boyfriend is also still in high school. With near-perfect form, he dives in and starts swimming laps back and forth across the pool.

"This is his house? You live with Steve Harrington?" Leigh asks you in an excited whisper. 

"Yeah. He's giving us a place to stay for a while," you shrug.

"Does he have a girlfriend?"

'I don't know. Maybe," you try to keep the irritation out of your voice as you watch Steve's long body slicing through the water.

After a few more laps, he pulls himself up the ladder. The water runs off his body, highlighting his fair skin dotted with freckles. He pushes his hair back as he walks over and takes a seat at the end of your lounger, dripping cool water on the heated skin of your legs. 

"If I had known they had such pretty girls working at Enzo's, I'd be eating there more often," he says, flashing Leigh a devastating smile. She giggles in response. 

"I'm going to get something to drink," you say, getting up and slipping on your sandals, not wanting a front-row seat to whatever this is leading to. 

The air in the house feels cool after being in the sun. Your flip-flops slap against the tile of the kitchen floor as you walk to the fridge and take out the pint of strawberries you had washed earlier. Biting into one, you let the sweet juice fill your mouth before taking a glass out of the cabinet and filling it from the tap. Steve comes in a minute later with a towel wrapped around his waist. 

"She's thirsty," he says in the way of explanation as he pulls two glasses from the cabinet. 

"I bet," you mumble, nibbling on another strawberry.

"What was that?" He asks, leaning over to snag one of the berries for himself. You're rendered temporarily speechless as you watch his lips close over the sweet flesh of the berry, leaving the crown between his fingers. 

"Nothing," you say, shaking your head to clear it. He moves to the fridge and pulls out a pitcher of lemonade to fill the glasses. 

"Think I should ask her out?" He takes a butter knife from the drawer and cuts a few strawberries to add to the glasses.

"Do whatever you want," you say, sipping your water, "it might be weird since I have to work with her, though." 

He can see right through your flimsy reasoning and doesn't even try to hide his cocky smile. He's about to say something else when the slider opens, and Leigh comes in from the pool. 

"I didn't realize it was so late. I have to leave for work," she says, grabbing the tote she left on the island earlier. She moves closer to Steve, "Do you want my number?" She asks him, batting her lashes, trying to look coy.

"Sure," he says, pulling out a pen and the pad of paper usually used for grocery lists from the drawer next to the sink. "It was nice meeting you," he says, taking back the pen once she's finished.

"Likewise," she says, walking backward and almost tripping," Thanks for inviting me. I'll see you at work." She waves to you as she leaves the kitchen. Steve waits to say anything else until he hears the click of the front door closing. 

"She's pretty cute, yeah? She certainly seems…eager," he says to you, smiling. 

"Who's eager?" Eddie asks, entering the room. He must have passed Leigh on her way out. 

"Leigh," you say flatly as he gives you a quick peck on the lips. 

"Oh yeah? You gonna ask her out? I say go for it, Harrington. The girl's a fox."

"What?" You raise an eyebrow at him and cross your arms over your chest. 

"Come on, baby. You know you're gorgeous, but I still have eyes," he says, trying to explain.

"She's hot, right?" Steve asks, raising his eyebrows and chuckling.

"Definitely," Eddie says, throwing an arm over your shoulder, "How well do you know this girl, baby? Maybe we can invite her next time we want to...spice it up."

Steve chokes on his lemonade, and you can feel the blood rushing to your face and neck. Fury. That's what you feel about his proposal. 

"I have an idea," you say, knocking Eddie's arm off your shoulder, "how about you two fuck yourselves and leave me out of it."

You can hear both boys giggling as you stomp up the stairs and slam your door.

"He's scorching hot. You are so lucky. You have no idea," Leigh says, practically swooning as she follows you around Enzo's with a stack of menus and hearts in her eyes.

"Yeah. Lucky me," you grumble, collecting the tip and stacking the dirty dishes from your last table onto a tray. It was an oddly quiet Friday night, leaving the staff plenty of time to dish, and apparently, you are on the menu. Twice now, you've approached the swinging kitchen door hearing laughter and excited murmurings from inside, but as soon as you cross the threshold, all conversation comes to a halt. Everyone is suddenly busy and unwilling to meet your eyes. 

"He hasn't mentioned me at all?" Nothing I'm going to tell you about. 

"Nope. Sorry. You know, Steve's just my roommate. I'm trying to focus on my boyfriend," you say in a clipped tone, adding a smile to soften your words. Picking up the tray, you start toward the kitchen.

"Yeah, I guess you would be," she says from behind you.

"What does that mean?" You ask, turning to face her. Her mouth snaps shut, and her eyes go wide. She hugs the menus to her chest while her face turns three shades of red.

"Just tell me, Leigh," you say impatiently, balancing the tray on your hip.

"Well…I don't think this," she stutters, her eyes looking everywhere but at your face. "Everyone is saying…now that everyone knows Eddie didn't kill Chrissy. They're wondering what they were doing together. That's all."

"Is that what everyone's gossiping about?" You ask, rolling your eyes and continuing to the kitchen with Leigh right behind you. The kitchen goes as quiet as a church as soon as you enter. Sighing loudly, you unload your tray. 

"Everyone knows that Eddie sells. That's not news," you say loud enough for the rest of the kitchen to hear, "Obviously, she wanted some weed," not one person in the kitchen looks up, even though they're clearly listening. Grabbing a bottle of cleaner and cloth, you leave the kitchen to finish cleaning your table.

"Hold this," you pass the cleaning supplies to Leigh who is sticking with you like a bad penny. Carefully, you fold the soiled table linens, so the crumbs don't fall to the floor. 

"It's just that..Eddie sells to people in the woods or out of his van, but no one's been to his place before." 

She's not wrong, and it's been on your mind since Eddie's return. At first, you were just happy to have him back, but he refuses to answer any questions about Chrissy or where he had been, or how the heck he wound up being best pals with Steve Harrington, and you don't know what to think.

"I don't know, Leigh," you trade the wrapped linens for the cleaner, "there was an earthquake. Everything was crazy. Why don't you tell me what happened?" Pausing, you wait for her response. 

She steps closer and lowers her voice,"They think Eddie and Chrissy were having an affair, and Jason found out. He caught them at Eddie's trailer, and he killed her. Then he tried to kill Eddie, but he got away, and Jason killed himself."

Bile rises in your throat, as you set down the cloth and cleaner with shaking hands. Your chest and neck heat, and you pause long enough to be sure your voice won't break as you answer. 

"He wouldn't do that. He loves me." 

"Of course, he wouldn't. It's just gossip," Leigh says, placing her hand on your arm. Her assurances sound sticky sweet, but they sour as they reach your ears.

"Can you finish for me? I need the ladies' room."

 Without waiting for an answer, you leave her with the mess. After turning the lock, you slide down the back of the closed door until you're sitting on the tiled floor, ignoring how gross it probably is. A few weeks ago you never would have entertained the idea that Eddie would ever cheat on you, then again you would have never entertained the idea of cheating on him. Despite whatever you feel for Steve, you have no doubt that you love Eddie, and he loves you. But now you understand how quickly feelings can be kindled and how a fire can quickly get out of control. The watch on your wrist tells you the restaurant will be closing in ten minutes, enough time to pull yourself together before Eddie picks you up. The cold water you splash on your face calms your heated cheeks and as you study your reflection in the mirror you wonder if maybe you deserve this. Or maybe he does.

"Are you sure I can't give you a ride?" Leigh asks for the tenth time. 

"I'm sure. Eddie will be here any minute. You don't have to wait," you say, crossing your arms across your chest, standing on the very edge of the curb while looking up and down the deserted street and rechecking your watch. 

"That's what you said forty minutes ago," she points out, "maybe he forgot?"

"He didn't forget. He has Hellfire tonight. He's just running late," the irritation inside you's bubbling like a pot about to boil over. It's clear Leigh's offer is more about her wanting to see Steve than her concern for you. 

"Oh, yeah. That's like a board game, right?"

"Something like that," setting down your purse, you use both hands to run circles on your temples.

"How old is Eddie?"

Before you can say something you may regret, a maroon BMW smoothly pulls up to the curb in front of you. Without another word to Leigh, you round the passenger side and climb into the waiting car. Steve gives her a little wave as he drives off toward home. 

"When did he call you?" You ask Steve after a few minutes of quiet.

"I dunno, about fifteen minutes ago," sinking back into the soft leather seat, you shake your head, "You know how they get when they're playing."

"Don't defend him," the passing lights fade in and out as you study his profile while his eyes stay fixed on the road. 

"Okay, I won't."

♡♡

"Will you come talk with me for a bit?" you ask, tipping your head to the side.

Steve flips the switch, lighting the foyer of the otherwise dark and quiet house. He drops his keys in the small stained glass bowl on the wooden console table just behind the door. A quick, sympathetic smile crosses his face as he lifts the strap of your heavy purse off your shoulder and places it next to his keys. He looks as worn out as you feel. 

"Nah, I'm going to go up," he hitches his thumb toward the stairs before resting his hands on his hips.

"Just for a few minutes," you tell him, grabbing hold of his hand, "Come on, I'll make us some tea," he lets you pull him into the kitchen and makes himself comfortable leaning against the counter as you fill the kettle from the tap. 

"How are things at the shelter?" the blue flame pops and comes to life as you adjust the knob on the cooktop before setting the kettle to boil.

"People are getting what they need. Most of the families have been set up in temporary housing. Soon there won't be much to do but serve meals," he chews thoughtfully on his lip as he watches you move about the kitchen. 

"That's good, right?" 

"Yeah. Definitely. What about you? How was your night?" 

"It was slow," the earthy sweet aroma of the herbal tea hits your nose as you lift the lid of the cardboard box, "Leigh was driving me crazy. She wouldn't stop talking about you," he stays quiet but one side of his mouth lifts into a smirk, "Are you hungry? I can make something to eat?"

The kettle begins to whistle, and you move it to another burner and turn off the flame while you wait for his reply. 

"You don't have to take care of me."

"I like taking care of you," steam rises out of the mugs as you pour the hot water from the kettle over the tea bags. 

"You're good at it. But I shouldn't get used to it," he runs his hands through his hair, "I'm always getting myself into these impossible situations with girls. The ones I take out, they're never right for me. And the ones that I like, I'm never right for them. The first week you were here, and I saw you with Eddie, I thought that's it. That's what I want, someone to give a shit, you know?"

"Steve, plenty of people give a shit. Nancy, Robin, me," you explain, placing your hand on his bicep.

"You have no idea of the irony in that statement," he chuckles and shakes his head.

Moving closer, you slip your arms around his waist, your thumb brushes against his belt loop, and you rest your head against the solid mass of his chest, listening to the thumping of his heart, "I care about you.. so much."

His chest expands as his breathing deepens, and his arms close around you, one big hand tangling in your hair, tipping your head back. His eyes work like a key in a lock, opening your heart so he can climb inside. 

"Not the way I want you to." 

"You're wrong," you shake your head, the truth slipping out so easily.

"It doesn't matter," he says, pulling away. His hands fall to your shoulders to gently loosen your hold. 

"No," panic builds as the word escapes, reminding you of that afternoon you begged him to stay. Knowing now, as you did then, if he leaves, it will be his last goodbye.

"We can't," his grip on your shoulders tightens, and he shakes you, trying to get you to understand.  

"I just want to be close to you. Please," the high pitch of your cracking voice sounds desperate, even to your own ears. 

"It's too hard," pain is visible on his face as he reaches back to unwrap your fingers from where they are digging into the skin of his back. 

Without a second thought, you stretch to your tiptoes and press your lips to his. Tears burn behind your closed eyes, and your heart pauses its beat in the loud silence of the moment, waiting to see if he'll return your kiss. His strong thick fingers smooth over the soft skin of your neck until his thumbs can angle your jaw. A low noise rumbles from his throat, and his decadent mouth opens to you. The kiss begins deep and delves further as he takes control. His plush lips work to taste every curve and dip of your mouth while his tongue slides against yours. Soft hmms and hums float on the air that escapes your hungry mouths as the desperation increases, and you pull him closer. His hands drift down your neck and move lower, lightly grazing your breasts before settling on your waist, where he's tugging the hem of your shirt free from your skirt and inching it up your stomach.

The creak of a heavy door slamming has him pushing you away and turning to face away from where Eddie is entering the room. Picking up your mug of tea, you sip the lukewarm liquid trying to hide your swollen lips. 

"What the fuck? Am I interrupting something?" Eddie asks, his eyes darting around the scene in front of him. 

Placing your mug on the counter, you walk around him without a word heading toward your room with the sound of his heavy footsteps behind you.

"You're mad at me?" Eddie asks incredulously once you shut the door to your room. 

"I'm not mad. I'm disappointed," you say, tucking a leg underneath as you sit on the bed and grab a pillow holding it in your lap like a shield.

"Jesus Christ. Thanks, Wayne," he paces back and forth while he scrubs his face with his hands, "Just because I was a few minutes late?"

"It's not because you were late. It's because I can't rely on you."

"Oh, but you can rely on Steve? Is that why the two of you jump apart and stop talking the minute I come in the fucking kitchen?"

Relief washes through you that he hadn't seen more, "This isn't about Steve. It's about you and me. I'm tired of being the only grown-up in this relationship," you say, keeping your eyes downward. The guilt you haven't even begun to process doesn't wipe away the fact that you and Eddie have problems that have been stacking up.

"The only grown-up…are you fucking kidding me?" he asks with a red face. He's never yelled at you before, and you can't stop the tears from slipping past the rims of your eyes. His voice wavers as he tries to hide his emotion, "I've got responsibilities coming out of my ass here. I don't need this shit from you. You and Steve can play house together. I'll go sleep in my fucking van."

The sound of the door slamming echoes through the house. Slumping forward, you cry into the pillow you've been clutching. Eddie's pillow. Tears soak through the material, and you inhale his scent, tobacco, shampoo, and a hint of old spice. He'd never been perfect, but you loved him anyway, the nervous boy sitting in the diner ordering pie he didn't want-just to be close to you. A short time ago, you thought you'd lost him for good, and now you're giving him up so easily. 

Before you can convince yourself letting him go is the right thing to do, your hand is on the doorknob, and you're running down the stairs. Pausing for only a moment as you reach the front door. Steve stands in the hallway, the air between you full of unspoken words. Turning away from him, you open the door. The pavement is cold and rough under your bare feet as you chase the taillights of Eddie's van down the driveway. But you're too late, or so you think, until brake lights blink on and the van comes to a stop. The driver's door opens, and Eddie steps out to catch you, wrapping you tightly in his arms. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," both of you say, speaking over each other. And you are, for so many things. Things you'll never tell him about.

"Where did we go, baby? We don't feel like us anymore. I'm losing you," he confesses, his voice thick and cracking. 

"No. No. I'm here, and I love you," you cry, pressed against his cheek. 

"Don't give up on me," he pleads.

Your hands grasp the sides of his face, moving him back so he can see your eyes, "I won't. I promise I won't," he pulls you tightly against him, and as you stand there while he slightly rocks you, you hope it's a promise you can keep. 

♡♡

Part 6

AN: Thanks for sticking with this story. I hope to wrap this up in maybe 2 more parts. OC Leigh was a tip of the hat to my good friend @loveshotzz. Congrats on your big milestone, kitten! Thanks for all your help. A big thanks to the rest of the squad all the late night ideas and read throughs. @myobmaya @boomhauer

♡♡

Tag List @boomhauer @onlyangel-444 @breehumbles @myobmaya @arsenicred @kiki17483 @stolen-in-moonlight @sometimesamysometimesjo @ladybug0095 @sammararaven @tlclick73 @munsonology @totally-bogus-timelady @katelyndestini95 @munsonswhore86 @kelsietilley-blog @figmentofquinn @champagne-glamour @ilovecupcakesandtea @bimbobaggins69 @munsonsgirl71 @sidthedollface2 @eddiessweetheart86 @miarosso @micheledawn1975 @eddiescorrodedcoffin86 @takeitsteddie @tiannamortis @sllooney @manda-panda-monium @prestinalove @sunfl0wern1kk1 @pbeckn26 @yogizzz @justmeandmymeanderingthoughts @samunson83 @spidey-fez @loving-and-dreaming

[workingforitallthetime]

lmao i said rule 63 bc line didn't interest me and then @ooohordie said "what if they were con artists?" and now i'm obsessed. 1.5k, nsfw.

Will practically tiptoes in the door of their room, strappy sandals dangling from her hand. It’s almost as if she doesn’t expect Ryan to be waiting up, sitting in the chair by the window for so long that he didn’t notice when the last of the sunset light disappeared.

“How was your evening?” In the dark, he can’t tell if Will startles at the question.

If she does, her voice doesn’t reveal it. “It was nice.” She kneels by her open suitcase to tuck her shoes inside. “There were oysters.” They don’t scatter their things around a hotel room. Sometimes they have to leave in a hurry. “A whole tower of them.”

Ryan pictures Will and Gabe at a cafe on the edge of the water, the lake lapping gently at the shore while the sun sets over the Italian hills that surround them. Will looking up at him from under her eyelashes, Gabe entranced. Probably in a linen shirt that someone else picked out for him. Some kind of nice fish on broad plates in front of them, cooked in butter. Maybe an expensive white wine. Ryan’s stomach growls.

Will twists the switch on the antique lamp next to the dressing table. The light through the milky glass shade turns the corner of the room golden. It doesn’t reach all the way to the high ceiling, or over to where Ryan’s sitting. It’s still dark enough by the window to see the view without a glare from the cavernous room. Tiny lights wink in the distance as the boats on the lake sway gently, anchored for the night. 

Will arranges herself on the fussy little cushioned stool in front of the dressing table. In front of the oval mirror, she tilts her head one way and then the other as she takes out her earrings. The mirror is flecked with age, intended for status rather than function, like the other antiques that fill the room.

Ryan crosses the room. Before Will can lift her hands, he unhooks the clasp of her necklace and lets the strand of pearls slither down into her lap. Will catches the necklace and adds it to the little black velvet bag with the matching earrings. She’s had the pearls since before Ryan met her. Probably a gift, somewhere along the way. A useful one. Pearls give a certain assurance of class.

Will removes the hairpins from her french twist one by one, dropping them onto the dressing table. Ryan rests his hands on her bare shoulders. “How was Gabe?”

The mirror reflects a considering expression on Will’s face. “He’s sweet.” She pulls one last hairpin and her hair tumbles over Ryan’s hands.

“I mean,” Ryan says. He sweeps Will’s hair to one side and takes the zipper pull at the back of her dress between his thumb and fingertip. He repeats himself, more weighted this time. “How was Gabe?”

Will tips her chin up to meet his gaze in the mirror. A smile plays over her lips. “Such an overprotective brother.” 

“Sister dear,” Ryan purrs as he pulls the zipper down slowly. “I’m just looking out for you.” As the zipper opens, the bodice of the dress slumps downward, exposing the tops of Will’s breasts.

Will’s black dress has served them well. An investment, once when they were flush. The expensive fabric can go to any party, any dinner, stunning without being memorable. If Will wants to be looked at, men remember the way the dress clings to her willowy figure. If she doesn’t, she’s got a knack for fading into the background, just another girl in a little black dress. In a pinch, she can pass as the help.

Not tonight. Tonight Will intended to be looked at, and Ryan’s certain that Gabe obliged. Just like Gabe looked at her sunning herself on the deck of the Perreault family yacht, the strings of her bikini untied to preserve the uninterrupted plane of tanned skin from her neck to her waist, and asked her to dinner.

Meanwhile, Ryan was ingratiating himself to Gabe’s father. They talked about golf and boxing and the family shipping business as the lines snapped and the breeze off the water ruffled their hair. It wasn’t difficult. It never is. Men like Yanic like their sons to have friends like Ryan. It reassures them that their pampered little rich boys aren’t soft.

Nobody ever mistakes Ryan for soft. But often they mistake him for rich.

Will stands, letting the dress pool around her feet. Ryan runs a finger over the knobs of her spine down to the triangle of lace at the back of her thong. It’s one of her only expensive pieces of lingerie. Saved for occasions like this one, nights when she has to look the part all the way down to her skin.

Will flicks the dress off one foot, leaving it in a heap to the side. It will survive. It always does, just like them. She turns to face Ryan, wearing nothing but her high-class panties, lace curling toward her hipbones.

Once a billionaire in a golf foursome Ryan had charmed his way into told him that a woman’s breasts should fit into a champagne glass. He might as well have been describing Will. Ryan thinks of it every time he sips a cocktail from a perfect little coupe.

Will perches on the edge of the dressing table, teasing. “What do you want to know?”

“Did you fuck him?” Ryan kicks the stool out of the way and steps between her legs. 

“Of course I did.” Will rolls her eyes. She tugs the hem of Ryan’s undershirt out of his trousers and slips her hands underneath, running her palms up his chest. 

Ryan lets her strip the undershirt over his head. “Was he good?”

“Hmmm.” Will touches his shoulder, walking her fingers from freckle to freckle. Ryan’s freckles are the reason they always pick a vaguely Irish last name. Will probably doesn’t have an Irish bone in her body, but people are always ready to believe that a doe-eyed girl like her is a nice Irish lassie. “He was…” Will's eyes cut to the side, considering and rejecting ways to end the sentence. “...Inexperienced,” she concludes. She giggles. “I think his hands were shaking.”

Ryan cups a hand around her breast. “Did he like these?”

“Seemed to like the taste.” Will’s lips twist in a half-laugh. “Spent enough time with them in his mouth.”

Ryan frames her chest with a thumb and forefinger. “He didn’t even leave a mark?” It’s disappointing. Will’s perfect tits always look better with the evidence of Ryan’s teeth imprinted there. What a waste for Gabe to fuck Will and not even leave behind a bruise for Ryan to press on.

“I told you he was sweet.” She twists a hand in Ryan’s hair as he bends to put his mouth to her breast.

He scrapes his teeth over her nipple, and Will gasps. “No marks.”

“I know.” Ryan sucks a kiss against her skin, stopping before the pressure of his mouth bruises.

He hooks a finger into the lacy string over her hip instead. Will props her hands on the tabletop behind her and arches up so he can slip the underwear down her thighs. Ryan handles the delicate lace with care even though he wants to rip and pull, let the strings dig into Will’s skin until they snap. Someday they’ll have money to burn and he’ll be able to ruin her fancy lingerie, sink his teeth into her, fuck her in a bed that they’re not going to get kicked out of as soon as somebody realizes they’re not paying.

That’s incentive enough to keep Will’s smooth skin and her fanciest underwear pristine for Gabe.

Will opens her legs to him and Ryan slides a finger between them. “Were you this wet for him?”

“That’s for family only.” Will’s laugh stutters into a moan as Ryan presses the heel of his hand against her clit. She tips her head back. The tanned column of her throat accentuates the long line down her breastbone, over her flat stomach, all the way to where Ryan’s working his fingers inside her. 

“That’s right.” Ryan yanks open his belt one-handed and shoves down his trousers. He takes Will by the hips. She cries out when he thrusts into her, and then reaches for him, wrapping her legs around his waist and crooking an arm around his neck.

Ryan kisses her roughly, his tongue scouring any taste of Gabe out of her mouth. He presses his forehead against Will’s. “I’m being so nice to Gabe,” he murmurs, punctuating nice with a snap of his hips. “Letting him fuck my little sister.”

Will’s body tightens around him, inside and out. “Such a generous brother.” She ducks her head and her sharp little teeth sting his neck. The mirror rattles in its frame and the hairpins scatter across the dressing table as Ryan fucks her harder, deeper, better than Gabe ever will. Her fingernails dig into his back as her voice goes high and breathless against his ear. “Best brother I’ve ever had.”

[mytheoristavenue]

wsg im back again , was wondering if i could request again ! i love yr work very very much — anyway , donnie x reader ( fem or gn ) dancing in the rain together ? :D thought it would be cutee thank thank u if ya do this <3

Sure thing, thanks for the ask! Also, sorry for the long wait!

TMNT 2012 Donatello x Reader - Will you marry me?

Summary: You, now bedridden with an awful cold, recall the events that lead to your illness- a ironically warm memory.

Warnings: Aged up Donnie and reader (early twenties), pure fluff.

You sniffled, eyes watery and nose stinging, before sneezing into the tissue you'd been clinging to for dear life. You're now fiancé gave you a sympathetic smile, bringing your a steaming mug, identifying it as a special brew of herbal tea that ought to shorten the length of your cold. You thank him and he turns and leaves you to rest, and you can't help but grin, recalling the night before last.

-----

"Donnie, where are we going?" you giggled, trailing behind your boyfriend, keeping in the shadows right behind him.

"You'll see," he answers, peaking around the corner of a brick building. "Up here." he directs, nodding to a fire escape ladder that lead to the roof top of some apartment building. You playfully rolled your eyes as his secretiveness but did as he desired, ascending the ladder.

The sight before you made you want to faint before even stepping up onto the rooftop. The plain was thoughtfully decorated with a old wooden crates, linens, lit lanterns, and even a telescope, radio, and picnic. "God, Donnie this is..." you instantly threw yourself into his arms as soon as you were sure he was far enough from the edge, trailing off as you couldn't find the words to express your awe.

He laughed nervously, guiding you over to a comfy pallet he'd fashioned from cushions and blankets beside the telescope, and motioned for you to sit. "There's supposed to be a really rare meteor shower tonight." he said softly, peering through the instrument. "I thought it'd make for a nice date."

"You were right." you confirmed, beaming. "Could we eat first? I'm famished." you giggled peering into the picnic basket. Inside was some take out from a local Italian hole in the wall, pasta and bread sticks from the look of it. Honestly, you were just proud he didn't order pizza.

-----

As you both shared a tin of penne, you blinked, looking up at the sky. "What?" he asked, following your gaze.

You thought for a moment before shrugging. "Thought I felt a drop of rain." you wondered aloud. You were about to return to your food before you felt it again, two fat drops hitting your scalp. Before either of you knew it, you were both trapped under a steady down pour of night rain.

"Oh, no!" Donnie groaned, frustrated by the crashing of his plans. "there wasn't any chance of rain tonight!" his shoulders slumped with disappointment. "I'm so sorry, (Y/N). I doubt we'll even be able to see the meteor shower now, it's too cloudy." He finally sighed, feeling defeated. "Let's just go home."

"Wait," you called with a small smile. "This is still some kind of shower, we can still enjoy it." you suggested, grabbing his hands and pulling him over to you, swaying to the gentle jazz music that the radio played. You hoped it was water resistant.

The pair of you began slow dancing under the rain, while staring deeply into one another's eyes. You beamed under his loving gaze before laying your head on just plastron, letting him guide your movements.

"Hey, honeybun?" he asked, voice cracking a bit more than he would've liked. You glanced up at him, innocence in every batted lash, looking directly into his soul, unknowingly of course. "Uhm, I had planned this to play out differently..." he began, seemingly forgetting his words as fast as they came to him. "I had intended to do this during the meteor shower but..." He broke away form you, leaving you puzzled as you watched him dig through the basket to retrieve something you couldn't see. When he came back to you, he cupped your cheek in his hand, taking a second to adore the way your hair clung to your face, soaked by now. With a deep breath, he lowered himself on one knee.

"Oh my gosh," you gasped, finally understand what's happening.

"(Y/N) (L/N), when you first fell into my life, I was in the midst of my first heartbreak, and it was you that convinced me that I was more than my worth to one person." he paused to take a shaky breath before looking back up at you, more determined that before. You, on the other had you reduced to tears. "Ever since then, you've always been by my side, my number one support, and I want to be there for you, the same way you have me....(Y/N), will you marry me?"

You instantly tackled him, causing him to panic a bit to make sure the ring was secure in his fist. "Yes, yes, a million times, yes!" you peppered his face with joyful kisses, tears streaming down your face as he laughed, holding your left hand and sliding the band onto your finger. You laid against him, fingers curved to the clouds, admiring your new ring. It was a simple one, made of a white metal with a piece of lilac glass in oval cut. It wasn't anything expensive, most likely hand made, but you loved it all the same.

-----

You carefully sipped your tea before setting it down, the shine of light refracting off your gemstone, catching your attention. You brought your hand closer to your gaze, smiling down at it lovingly. You may be sick now, but to you, a little runny nose is well worth spending the rest of your life with the one you love.

Taglist:

@thelaundrybitchh

[malina-33]

Single choice

Summary: It’s summer 2022, Nortern Italy, Miles and Alex are on vacation before The Car tour.

And they are happier than ever.

Word count: 3,5k

A/N: I missed the everyday cozy life of their relationship, so I wrote this :) Creative-crisis conversations presented as well, but they don’t take far away from the happy ending. Inspired by "Call me by your name", so for a better atmosphere, I advise you to include this playlist in the background.

Also, English is not my first language, so if you find grammar mistakes, feel free to point them out to me!

Enjoy these two sweeties💕

The wide shirt's hem fluttered in the warm wind, three buttons at the top were casually undone, and the sleeves were carelessly rolled up to the elbows. Alex, covering his eyes, lay on a soft sun lounger under the shade of the terrace's arches of their small villa in Portofino, stretching out his long legs. His chest rose and fell slowly in sleep, while his hands rested relaxed on the armrests. Silken curls played with the gusts of breeze, but surrendering, they fell onto his face and tickled his nose, causing the man to unconsciously wrinkle it like a child.

Miles couldn't take his eyes off this literally biblical scene. "Taking Al away to the Italian Riviera for two weeks before the tour started was my best decision" the man thought smugly. Only God knew when they would be able to spend such peaceful time alone again, without rushing anywhere and hiding from anyone. And now, leaning against a marble column with his hands folded on his chest, Kane smiled until wrinkles formed around his eyes, unable to believe what he was witnessing. These sprawling palm trees in their backyard, the deafening trills of southern birds, the sweet sea air, and a serene tanned Alex in a milky linen suit, quietly dozing off after lunch - all of this was now accessible only to him, Miles, and he savored every second of this vacation that sometimes seemed surreal, like a calm before the storm. But he persistently pushed away such thoughts, continuing to revel in his own paradise.

They had already spent 10 days here, the first 3 of which they didn't venture beyond their plot on the hill, which offered a breathtaking view of the coast and emerald water. They were lingering in bed for a long time under the biting rays of the sun, plucking mandarins straight from the tree, and listening to vinyl records of Celentano on the veranda in the evenings, intertwining in each other's arms, merging and becoming the one. Then, finally realizing that missing the opportunity to stroll through such picturesque streets would be a crime, they started going out in town under the mountain after the sunset, when the heat subsided and the cicadas began their twilight concert. Every time they ordered a new pasta dish in local restaurants, hoping to try them all, but that was Italy...

In the mornings, they descend to the pebble beach, where Alex could lie for hours, reading books, while Miles were snorkeling in the Ligurian Sea, growing tired of waiting for his lover and retaliating by playfully splashing him with cool droplets. They would play in the water like teenagers, dunking each other or taking turns piggybacking. When the sun would started to scorch their skin, they would go to the local deli for ready-made lasagna with eggplant, always getting a few types of cannoli, new bottle of wine, olives and fruits. They would then retreat to their villa for the rest of the day, either playing the guitar, the only one they brought from their stuffy LA studio, or playing board games (for which Miles constantly called Alex "nonno," while he calmly continued to roll the dice), or falling asleep under the shade of the leafy trees right on the grass.

Miles hadn't laughed so often and so loudly, and more importantly, so genuinely, since their last joint tour. He felt an immense universal joy that was bursting from his chest, causing his cheeks to ache from the ever-present smile on his face. He felt alive next to the dearest and only person who truly understood him, which Alex had been for the past 17 years.

"How have we put up with each other for so long, Milo?" Turner laughed, finishing his glass of semi-sweet red wine.

And Kane replied seriously, capturing his alcohol-glistening gaze: "I no longer know how to live without you, Al."

And it was the absolute truth. They often had conversations like this, but Alex never actually put up with Miles, he did love him. He only put up with being apart from him. And it was always important for both of them to hear this small confession, like a spark of a cricket in the foliage, but a heart-wrenching one, even after a year, or 10, or 20 years of their relationship.

Relationship? Friendship, love, presence by each other's side, support, musical inspirations, passionate desires, care, hurt, forgiveness, kisses, hugs backstage and on stage, touches all over their bodies, eloquent glances, and ending with a single word proposals. That's what their relationship was. And if Miles were offered to never be a musician but to love Alex, he would still agree without any hint of hesitation, somewhere deep inside bitterly realizing that if Alex were faced with such a choice, he would have to think about it.

But at this moment, Miles didn't want to think about it at all, he only wanted to listen to his lover's steady breathing and bask in the fading sunlight with him. Miles walked around the column and silently sat down on the edge of the lounge chair. He lightly ran his hand over Turner's knee, not wanting to disturb, and then traced chiseled fingers slightly higher, along his thigh. However, even these gentle movements made Alex squirm, furrowing his brow and rolling over to the other side.

"Shh, sleep, my dear, I didn't mean to wake you," Miles whispered, soothingly continuing to stroke the man's leg.

"But I'm already awake," mumbled Alex sleepily, opening his eyes and immediately squinting in the bright light.

"What a shame," Kane sang mockingly, secretly delighted by this fact because he had missed Alex during the silence at their villa and mindless wandering through the rooms while he slept in the fresh air, "Will you move over?".

Alex squeezed himself into the corner of the lounge chair, making space as much as the single bed allowed. Miles approached him with a cunning smile, lying on his side, unable to fit his broad shoulders on the mattress even if he was alone, and invitingly opened his palms. Turner simply snorted and muttered something about a smug cat, pressing his back against Miles' contrasting cool chest compared to the scorching heat outside, covering man's hand that rested peacefully on his waist with his own, and intertwining their legs.

"So, you woke me up just to sleep together all cramped up? I don't want to anymore," Alex slowly stroked Miles' wrists, who closed his eyes in pleasure.

"Mmm, I just got bored being alone, you've been sleeping forever!"

"Mi, maybe an hour and a half at most," Turner said in a lecturing tone, turning slightly to give Kane a disapproving look.

"Well, I call that forever. Anyway, since you're already awake, let's think about our plans for the evening," Kane quickly changed the subject, kissing Alex's back of the neck, "I saw a poster for a local concert in the neighboring town. We can rent a scooter to get there, it's just a few kilometers away."

Alex burst out laughing at the last words, turning in his lover's embrace and almost touching noses with him.

"Oh, Kane, you don't even have a driver's license! And the fact that I rode 100 meters on it in a clip means nothing."

"We'll figure it out somehow, it can't be more difficult than tuning a guitar for the first time."

"Well, since I have such an experienced and confident driver, I can't deny myself the pleasure," Turner teased, pouting his lips and furrowing his brows like a college girl.

"Gosh, how cheap that sounds, Al. Those are second-rate tricks from middle school. Did I teach you to flirt like that?" Miles rolled his eyes, hiding a smile in the corners of his mouth.

"No, I think we just fucked right away," Alex retorted, immediately receiving a playful jab in the ribs, "Hey! Am I lying?"

"Do I need to remind you who first put his knee between my legs in the dressing room, huh?" Miles smirked, tucking Alex's overgrown locks behind his ear and stroking his slightly stubbled cheek. He looked angelically peaceful now, despite his unholy words.

"And do you regret it?" Seeing the silent denial, he continued, "Well, neither do I. So you don't need to teach me how to flirt, maestro. If we want to find a free scooter before sunset, we need to start getting ready. I was also planning to take a shower," Alex casually mentioned, slyly avoiding eye contact and running his hand suggestively along Miles' waist.

"Well, that's better already, at least the hints are subtler, but you've lost your touch. I'll have to remind you."

"Oi, you better do it indeed" Turner whispered in his ear. Honestly, he was amused at how they, two grown adults, were behaving as soon as intimacy was mentioned - it was like they were back in 10th grade of the school.

Once he calmed down, he reluctantly slipped out of the warm embrace and gracefully got up from the sun lounger, stretching and rising on tiptoes to better loosen his stiff limbs. Miles settled himself more comfortably, royally occupying the vacant spot and propping his head on his hand, watching Turner's toned body with a hungry gaze. He could do this for hours, knowing every mole, wrinkle, and scar.

"What are you looking at? Trying to find gray hairs?" Unable to withstand his scrutinizing eyes, the frontman softly spoke. Now he had his hands in the pockets, exposing his face to the sun and wind, which cautiously peeked onto the veranda through massive columns. Somewhere far below, the sound of the waves and children's laughter could be heard. Idyllic.

"It's too early for you to worry about that. I just can't get enough of looking at you. Clearly, this lifestyle suits you well, even though I fattened you up a bit, considering you were all skin and bones when you arrived."

"Afraid of breaking me?"

"I am," Miles admitted, not completely sure if he interpreted the question correctly. Turner smiled disarmingingly, the way he only smiled at him, leaned in, still keeping his hands in pockets, and planted a chaste kiss on the man's forehead before disappearing through the door.

"Catch up, or I'll manage without you," Alex said over the shoulder, fully aware that he wouldn't be able to handle anything without Miles. Not in life, not in the shower.

***

Comparing guitar tuning and riding a scooter turned out to be inappropriate, as Miles pointed out rather immodestly, getting behind the wheel, because the second one was elementary. During their short ride along the coast, Alex couldn't stop capturing breathtaking views with his vintage Canon. The peach-colored waves gently licked the shore, competing with each other for ownership of every stone on the beach, while the numerous bushes along the road swayed in the wind.

The neighboring town turned out to be Santa-Margherita-Ligure, welcoming the men with the warm glow of lights strung between each café and the loud Italian laughter that didn't quiet down until late at night. Leaving their mean of transport on the waterfront, they headed towards the main square, where light jazz melodies could already be heard. Ordinary chairs stood right on the historical cobblestones, occupying almost all the space, and a small mobile stage had been set up in the center, where musicians were tuning their instruments.

Taking seats in the corner of the front row, the men waited for the performance to begin.

"Have you forgotten what it's like to be on the other side of the stage?" Miles whispered, his lips almost touching Alex's ear.

"Sometimes I even prefer it here," Turner sadly smiled, "no obligations, masks, rehearsed lines, or unjustified expectations. You just exist in the music without thinking about how to reproduce it. I miss that."

Kane anxiously studied Alex's face from the side, trying to understand if he was speaking in a state of creative melancholy inspired by the upcoming concert or if he was simply revealing his deep pain that had burdened him all this time.

"Hey, I didn't mean to put you into existential ponderings. We can talk about it if it really bothers you, but not now. I purposely brought you here to relax and spend these last days with an empty mind, not to reflect on one careless question"

Miles didn't condemn him, but rather tried to hide his own anxiety behind a feigned admonition. He gently squeezed Alex's hand, caressing his knuckles with his thumb, and warmly smiled, knowing that this was the only support he could offer in public.

"Sorry-sorry-sorry," Alex babbled, running his hands forcefully over his face and organizing his thoughts, "forget about those words, we'll come back to it another time. You can hit me if I utter another sad-philosophical phrase that upsets you tonight."

Miles only laughed at that, patting his friend's knee, and, unable to resist, left an unnoticed kiss on his cheek, indicating that he would never fulfill his request in their lifetime.

Lost in conversations, they hadn't noticed that all the chairs had been taken and the band on stage was counting down seconds until the performance began, tightly gripping their bows in their hands. The increasingly suspenseful sound of the violin filled the entire square, eliciting sudden shivers from the audience and instantly isolating them from the rest of the world. Alex's full attention was now focused on the five people on stage, the sound that seemed to exist right in his head, and the melting night air. Rarely could he simply enjoy the melody without trying to dissect it into notes or analyze the lyrics.

Miles usually smoothed out the crease between his eyebrows that arose from such contemplation with a kiss, and he was ready to do it now, but as his gaze slid across the side of the face, he unexpectedly saw a serene smile on partially open lips. Turner leaned back in his chair, holding his hands between his thighs and slightly covering his eyes, which indicated his complete absence in our reality and his presence in his own, understood only by him and undoubtedly bringing him pleasure.

The concert lasted only an hour, not abundant in a wide repertoire. Towards the end, young men and women, children, and even racy grandmothers and grandfathers stood up from their seats to dance right in the square, laughing loudly at their clumsiness. Alex and Miles only watched this scene with warm smiles, tapping their feet rhythmically on the stone pavement, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention to themselves. The clock on the tower, located on the western side of the square, as was customary in all ancient city planning laws, struck 10 o'clock exactly at the moment when the musicians, in the heat of the final chord, sharply raised their bows towards the pitch-black sky, ending the performance. The square drowned in applause and whistling, evoking familiar motives from men's careers.

The air intoxicated their heads, and not wanting to return back so early, they turned into the depths of the city. Turner continued to photograph the local architecture and Miles against its backdrop with mocking skill, not allowing the camera to hang peacefully on his chest for more than two minutes. And when tourists would disappear from their sight, Kane with the agility of a cheetah would press Alex against the nearest wall of another you-know-who-lived-in-this-house-you-lustful-bastard building, pulling him into a tempting kiss and, despite all protests about his indifference to history, smiled contentedly on his lips, feeling Alex pull him closer by the collar of his leopard-print shirt.

They would laugh drunkenly, without drinking a glass, immediately receiving Italian curses from open balconies in response. They would play tag on narrow streets, after which they breathed heavily, resting their elbows on thr knees and joking about their advanced age. They would eat mango ice cream, licking the sweet drips from each other's fingers, and would never stop thinking for a moment about how lucky they are to be loved here and now.

***

They returned to the villa at midnight, exhausted from their long walk, hastily discarding their sticky clothes as they collapsed onto the unmade bed. Alex, resting his chin on Miles' chest, looked at him with such devoted eyes that Miles' heart skipped a beat at the impossibility of resisting those bottomless depths. In the moonlight, his sharp features softened, Alex's fingers gently tracing along the line of his jaw, while a warm smile lingered beneath his closed eyelids, etching itself into Miles' memory with fiery strokes.

"Mi, are you asleep?" Alex asked in a barely audible voice, listening to the rhythm of Miles' heartbeat beneath his cheek.

"No," Miles replied just as softly, shifting slightly on the crisp sheets to find a more comfortable position.

"Do you remember what I told you today about not feeling freedom in music?" Alex continued, as if afraid to disturb his own thoughts, "well, I realized just now that I'm the one closing myself off from it. But you know when? When you're not here. I'm tired of pretending to be someone else without you, tired of feeling not myself without you. And today, there on the square, when you were holding my hand, it hit me that since we met, no one else has come this close to me. You were and still are the only person who truly knows me. Can you imagine?" His voice broke into a hoarse laughter that, truth be told, sounded hauntingly beautiful in the peaceful silence.

"No one really knows me except for you. And I've been afraid to show my true self to anyone but you. But today, for the first time in a long while, I was able to listen to music without thinking about anything else but your fingers on my hands. And I realized," he paused, unconsciously gripping Miles' shoulder tighter, "I realized that I can perform on stage, just thinking about your hands, and then I won't have to try to hide behind a fabricated image to entertain the audience. Damn it, at 36 years old, I've come to the realization that I can simply sing without pouring my own problems into the songs, but instead, just give people the sound. A sound that resonates in their minds, in their feet and hands, a sound that makes them feel alive. I can make at least one of their days truly happy, just like you make my life happy simply by being with me."

Throughout this entire time, Miles never removed his nimble fingers from Alex's head, combing through his hair and soothing him. He could listen to his voice forever, automatically arranging the words into lines for new songs. The sight of Alex — until it stole the air from his lungs, until it brought tears to his eyes, until his pulse faltered in his veins, until a volcano of warmth erupted in his chest. Until he feels alive again.

"Al, if you haven't realized in 20 years of performing what you do for the lives of everyone who attends your concerts, then I'm going to have to enlighten you now," Miles chuckled softly, continuing to massage his head, "everything you've done for the industry is your way of existing in this world. You don't know any other ways, and that's your strength, not weakness. Your music is literally you, it's not about trends or fan requests. It's about how you communicate with others. You have an incredible gift of conveying intangible values through your lyrics. I have no idea how the gears in your mind work, but damn it, you're exceptional. And I swear, anyone who has ever heard any of your songs has pondered the words, thought about what you wanted to say, and ultimately thought about themselves. Your music has meaning, it's not just a string of letters for the sake of rhyme. It's a dictionary of your life. And since the day we first met, I've been carefully studying all your meanings and embodiments, so my music is about you and for you. You are my only inspiration, and if all you need to write a new song is a notebook and an image in your mind, then all I need is you by my side."

Miles may have wanted to add something more, but unable to bear the weight of such declarations of love, Alex impatiently kissed him, exhaling loudly from the fulfillment of a desire that had been building throughout his entire speech. Kane, quickly finding another activity for his tongue besides talking, trailed it along Alex's lower lip, feeling every crack from the salty water.

Alex smiled like a child, whispering 'I lovelovelove you' into his man's lips, continuously running palms along his cheeks. They continued to gaze at each other for a long time, carrying on a quiet conversation interrupted by occasional kisses, shivers down the spine, and tearful thank yous for everything. Even the stars, cautiously peering through the open windows, blushed at their whispers under the thin blanket. Only with the first rays of sunlight, when words ran out and lips swelled from endless contact, men finally fall asleep in a tangle of intertwined arms and legs.

And if Alex were offered to never be a musician but to love Miles, he would without hesitation write a song about it. Because it would be meaningless to confront the person with a choice who made it 17 years ago.

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A/N: I sincerely want to believe that this is how everything really happened for them. All in all, these two deserve a happy ending. I will be incredibly happy if you leave feedback after reading! Everything that was born in my head would very much like to find a response in you💔🥺