#maneskin/reader

[pjisskullourful]

𝑴𝒚 𝑫𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚

🗝️Måneskin × reader

NSFW🔥 absolutely filthy, 5 horny bastards in a bed

° Thomas Raggi/Ethan Torchio/Victoria De Angelis/Damiano David/female reader insert

° long-distance relationships are hard, but your partners are back in town & whisking you away for a secluded reunion [based october 2022]

wordcount:: 10,583

° commissioned by my sister beth(@bethanysnow)💋 merry christmas queeeeeeeeen [commissions get priority-there are 3 fics in cue, secure your own spot right here]

° lyrics stolen from björk

° [ITA:] amore: love - cazzo: fuck - caffè: coffee

It was a long overdue reunion. You should have been bursting with excitement - that was how it typically went when you got to see your partners after any length of time apart.

But you weren’t feeling very good, just as it had been for the majority of the time that they had been out of the country. While the four of them were busy with touring and working in recording studios, you had been facing down one essay after another. College had been feeling like a hard slog, neverending assignments with very intimidating minimum word counts. Your job ate into most of your downtime, keeping you from getting to plan anything fun.

Your life was seemingly only about your responsibilities and commitments. You were always either in the middle of some important task, or hyping yourself up to start a new one. There was no time for self-care or other things that could help bring the stress down.

With every day passing in a busy blur, it was easy for rotten moods to rise up. The kind of bad mood that couldn’t be alleviated by a Facetime call with any of your partners when they had a spare minute in their schedules. You were left feeling far from your best, a lingering dark cloud that affected so much of your current experience.

It wasn’t that you weren’t happy to be in the same city as Victoria, Ethan, Thomas and Damiano again, but it had potentially been too long. The distance had been felt even more this time around, making you feel separated by more than just miles, you were so out of sync with them. It had been too long of you stewing in negativity, no backup to help you cut through all the bullshit in your own head.

You felt a sense of pressure at having to be in a great mood for them, even though you knew there was no magical switch for improvement inside of yourself. You had to make the most of your time with them, it was only going to be a brief visit, feeling down wasn’t going to help you enjoy every second.

You had been pleased when a call with Damiano had given you the insight that their plan was just for a private couple of days in a nice hotel. You didn’t have to stress about finding the perfect thing to wear to a restaurant in case your partners were recognised, opening you up to the criticisms of strangers as had happened in the past. It would just be the five of you and that felt like the ideal fit to you right now.

Ethan drove to your apartment to pick you up. Because you weren’t allowed to drive yourself, or even organise an Uber. All four of them loved surprising you, from small gestures to larger experiences. And so it had been decided that your destination would be kept a secret. You were to just get in the car and trust Ethan.

And you did trust him, you had always trusted him. That was how your relationship had evolved from just the two of you, to include his three friends with benefits. You didn’t imagine it working as well with anyone else - certainly none of the relationships that had preceded him. The trust that had naturally developed between the two of you had made you comfortable enough to admit you felt more than a sexual attraction to the other members of Måneskin. For the past six months you had all been exploring your connections and the incredible potential of this unconventional setup. Ethan trusted your honesty and you trusted he would tell you if he stopped enjoying it, wanting to be an exclusive pair, as you had been in the beginning.

After a while, you stopped trying to guess at where he was whisking you off to - you just let the familiar sights of Rome fall behind you. You got especially distracted from the road when he asked you how work had been. It felt like a wave, far more powerful than you had expected, so many words coming out. You didn’t have to pause and consider your sentences, seemingly they had been ready to be shared.

The concerned furrow in his brow had grown more pronounced the longer that you talked. When he spoke, it was a very sober tone. “I had no idea it was this bad.”

“It sounds way worse when I say it all at once like that. But in reality, it’s just a lot of little things.” You said, instantly regretting the worry you had prompted in him - this wasn’t how your time together was supposed to go.

“But they add up- all those little things.” He said.

You paused, taking note of the subtle changes in his expression, you knew how to read him. You began smiling. “Did you just quote One Direction at me?”

His cheeks gave a slight twitch, he was amused with himself. “I sure did.”

You began laughing, as you did so you felt yourself releasing some of the tension that had been built up. It was like you were unclenching your fists for the first time. He laughed too, it was a sight that you savoured, he was cute enough that you could forget about your issues.

But he didn’t. And he was back to pensive very quickly - it was a switch Victoria would label as ‘typical Ethan’, she had seen it so many times that it no longer surprised her.

“I wish you had told me sooner.” He said, all the way back to serious.

“It’s not like I was purposefully trying to keep it secret from you, amore.” You said, reaching your hand out to rest on his thigh as you studied the side of his face. “But when you call, I don’t want to spend the whole time just complaining, that’s not very fun for you. And I know you’ve got great things you wanna tell me about and I want to hear about your adventures.

“It’s not fair of me to unload so much garbage on you when you’re too far away to give me tangible help. You’re my solutions guy, I know how you take stuff on like it’s all your responsibility and you beat yourself up when you can’t fix everything for everyone. I don’t want you to do that here.

“It’s just a little rough patch at work, it will be over and seemingly insignificant soon.” You said, trying to convince him as much as yourself.

“I want you to tell me all your stuff.” His tone made it an earnest request, nothing like the commands he could make your heart race with.

“You’re right, and I would feel the same if the roles were reversed.” You said.

But you didn’t add anymore venting - you didn’t want to launch into a tangent about the way college was a consistent time and energy thief. He wanted to be kept in the loop about what was going on in your life, but how much could he truly listen to? Realistically, everyone had a limit and when would he get sick of hearing it? You didn’t want to find out, so you went quiet and let Björk’s singing fill this uneasy silence.

‘Calm, calm down, you’re exhausted- come lie down…’ The serene music floated through the cab of the car, offering some comfort.

He brought the car to a stop at the next red light, taking one of his hands off the wheel. He picked up your hand from resting on his leg, looking at you with those eyes that seemed to see more than anyone else. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it and you gave his fingers a squeeze.

‘You know that I adore you, you know that I love you…’

You didn’t recognise anything beyond the windows. You were completely out of the city, seeing more trees and less tall buildings.

He drove along a quaint main road, pulling into the parking lot next to a modest hotel. Not recognising the name on the sign, you assumed this was an independent hotel. It was nothing like those hotels that the touring company could afford to put the four of them in. It wasn’t a skyscraper that bore the logo of any franchise. It was low-key, another invitation for you to stop stressing.

He took your hand in his as you walked for the lobby entrance. “Everyone can’t wait to see you.”

You couldn’t think of anything to say, you just hoped that you wouldn’t let them down.

Victoria didn’t wait until you were across the threshold of the suite to grab you. Her greeting was as enthusiastic as what you had come to expect from her. If you were a lighter woman, her full-force collision into you could have knocked you off your feet. But your centre of gravity wasn’t disrupted and you just wrapped your arms around your chipper girlfriend.

You saw the delight lighting up her eyes for only a second. Then she was too close, claiming your lips with a kiss. The scent of her perfume filled your nostrils and she cupped your face in her hands, taking full advantage of this reclaimed proximity.

That sense of pressure and worry went away, because you knew how to kiss her. You let your lips part, deepening the kiss as you concentrated on this moment.

“Alright, let’s actually get her in the room before you get too carried away in the hall, you fuckin’ freak.” Thomas said and you felt extra hands on you, gently guiding you forward.

She sucked on your lower lip before letting the kiss end. “What, did you really expect me to wait? I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks.”

“What makes you think you’re the only one?” Thomas asked and his hand slid into yours as you walked further into the room. He turned to stand in front of you, his eyes taking in the features of your face. “Hi, amore…”

“Hey.” You said, easing in to meet him in the middle.

He kissed you softly, then paused so he could look at you. Another kiss came, lingering a little longer, allowing you to feel the moisture on his mouth. Then a silent break passed and you felt so disarmed by those hazel eyes. He took his time to recommit your face to memory in between his unhurried kisses, not wanting to miss a single detail, like always. You blushed under his thorough gaze and the look on his face made you want to kiss him more.

“Okay, let’s all line up for our turn to kiss her.” Damiano joked.

Thomas took the hint, wrapping up one last tender kiss before beginning to move aside. You licked your lips and kept your fingers curled around his for a moment longer as Damiano stepped into the available space in front of you.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, bringing you in closer. His hand went beneath your chin, easing your head back so you would look at him. “I missed you, sweetheart.”

You didn’t have time to respond, his lips crashed against yours so fast. You put your hands on his shoulders as you kissed him back, feeling the beginnings of that intensity he could tap into at the drop of a hat. His tongue teased against the seam of your lips.

Then he moved his focus to just your bottom lip, kissing you here - a spot that would certainly see some swelling before this visit was through. His lips moved lower, giving you a chance to somewhat catch your breath as he kissed across your chin.

“Missed you too.” You said as his trail of kisses led him onto your neck. “I missed all of you.”

“I missed all of you.” He said with his own emphasis. He paused, pretending as if he had only just realised his error. “Oh, you meant the four of us. Well, I meant that I missed every bit of my beautiful girlfriend.” His compliments had more impact when he was directly in front of you. “I missed the feel of these arms. And your hands.” He linked his fingers with yours before applying a quick kiss to your lips. “It should be obvious beyond words that I missed these lips.

“But do you know where I really missed?” He asked, his arms still very tight around you. He extended his index finger, touching it to the side of your throat. Your smile grew as he stroked his fingertip up-and-down. “This spot right here.” He furthered his point by kissing you here, an enthusiastic appreciation that soon had you giggling, sensitivities rising up after being partially-forgotten in their absence. “Yep, here.

“I’m gonna-” His words were stalled as he prioritised kissing your neck. “-live right-” His lips moved all over his small area of focus. “-here. So that I can always be kissing you and hearing that gorgeous giggling.”

You felt yourself melting into his embrace as his mouth continued getting reacquainted with your neck. How many days had you dressed yourself in turtleneck sweaters in his absence? When in video calls, you were always careful of how you held your phone - vigilant to keep your neck from looking any wider than it already was. But he had all the time and dedication to enjoy all of it, bringing giddiness from a source of insecurities.

“If you’re gonna live there, I will have to charge you rent, sweetie.” You said.

He barely broke contact with your skin to respond. “Don’t care, it’s worth it.”

Victoria had approached where the two of you stood, arms wrapped around one another. The way she looked you up-and-down didn’t bring self-consciousness as it typically did with others, because you could see the hungry look in her eyes. She wasn’t about to disrupt the wonderful safety you felt in this relationship.

He continued to lavish kisses upon the side of your throat, not noticing how close she was, starting to play with your hair. You licked your lips as you looked at her, your heart racing just as the thought of what she might do next. The potential was enough to have you feeling a greater heat in your cheeks, and in your cunt.

“Have I complimented your outfit yet? ‘Cause you look stunning. I love you in leopard print.” She said - you had picked the linen overcoat for her, putting more thought into this ensemble in the hopes of bringing confidence with it. “But you’ve gotta know- our smart girl, you probably knew all along that you won’t be keeping it on for very long.

“Is that okay?” She asked.

“Totally.” You responded without hesitation.

She smiled as she moved in to secure more kisses from you, with Damiano still concentrating on the side of your throat. You removed your arms from around him when you felt her pushing the fabric off of your shoulders.

The intentions of your partners were clear and you realised that any talking, catching up with one another, would happen later. And this was okay with you.

You pulled your arms out of the coat. Her lips left yours so that she could see what she was doing. You could see Thomas getting a drink from the mini-fridge while Ethan watched the three of you, casually leaning against an armchair.

She pushed Damiano a little out of the way. But his kissing went on as her hands went to the front of your black top, pulling the material out of where you had tucked it into your high-waisted jeans. She started to take the shirt off of you, prompting him to move back slightly and you lifted your arms above your head.

You felt something like a present being unwrapped when his fingers went to the fly of your jeans. Her hands moved to your newly-exposed bra and you were feeling the warmth of her touch through the lacy fabric. You began to kiss her, putting one hand to the back of her head because you were craving so much more than a peck. Your other hand moved under her top, feeling her smooth skin as he worked the pants down.

“Again?” Ethan asked. “Did you forget that you would need her shoes off to remove her pants, again? I swear, you clowns make that same mistake every time.”

“How do you guys expect to get anywhere in life if you don’t learn from your mistakes?” Thomas teased.

Ethan secured your attention by saying your name, then he gestured to the sapphire-coloured chair. “Why don’t you come and sit down, baby? We can eliminate the risk of you tripping entirely.”

Victoria and Damiano released you. You walked in Ethan’s direction as he stood beside the tall-backed chair.

“So, who’s gonna tell her?” Thomas asked.

You pushed your jeans down off of your ass, making them easier for your partners to remove, before sitting on the chair. “Tell me what?”

“That chair is from the lobby.” Victoria said. “We noticed how regal it looked. And, well, you deserve a throne to sit on.”

“Wait, what are you saying? Did you steal this chair?” You asked, looking at where Damiano had begun to loosen the laces of your boots. “Because that’s a very sweet gesture, but I’m not worth getting into trouble like-...”

“No, no, we didn’t commit any crimes. We just used our charms.” He said.

“And cash.” Ethan said. “Probably one of the most generous tips they’ve ever gotten. So they brought it up for us and everything.”

“And we took a couple of photos with the staff. We played the celebrity card to get what we wanted.” She said. “We’ve truly changed.”

You were amazed, looking at each of them in awed silence. This was their vacation, the relaxing time away from the spotlight. You knew how tiring they all found it to be constantly curating the perfect public persona, Damiano had phrased it to you that he wished fame came with a switch off option. But they had sacrificed a bit of their anonymity just so you could have the best chair to sit in? It filled your heart, and warmth blossomed into your belly.

You lifted your ass from the cushioned seat, allowing Damiano to pull your underwear off of your body. You could see that Thomas had an arm around Victoria’s shoulders, both of them looking you all over and probably planning wicked things. Ethan was the closest to you, so you grabbed him for a kiss, which quickly developed into a series of passionate kisses.

As you were caressing his cheeks, his hands moved around to your back. He made quick work of unclasping your bra, drawing the lingerie away from your chest and discarding it. Your entire body exposed, you felt your skin responding to the touch of the air, and electric anticipation filled the suite.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, angling your body a little more towards him. As you were plunging your tongue into his mouth, you felt Victoria coming at you from the other side, going for your neck. This sensitive area was just as reactive to her mouth, tingles sweeping through your body with slightly more power than what Damiano had prompted because everything was feeling more serious now, the intensity inescapable, and only growing.

The serial-hickey-creator of the group, you were unsurprised when you felt her sucking on your skin. She was always the first one to bite. The others teased her, and sometimes complained about it. But you were flattered that she cared enough to leave such marks on you. You loved carrying a mark of her lust on your body.

Her mouth moved across your skin, finding different spots to secure her lips around as her hand discovered your bare chest. She held your breast in her hand, her fingers stroking the soft skin. Your erect nipple awaited her attention, firmly pressed against the palm of her hand. But she made you wait for that teasing, at the moment your focus went to the way her teeth grazed against your neck, brief but so tantalising.

Ethan was concentrating on your neck too, holding a hand at the nape of your neck. As you worked your tongue against the roof of his mouth, he reciprocated with his fingertips tenderly massaging your skin. It gave you the feeling of being on the verge of melting, your whole body heating up.

Your thighs were already parted before Thomas put his hands to them, but you pushed them further apart for him. He kneeled down on the floor before your chair, seeking to fill this space and you couldn’t help squirming a little in your anticipation.

He didn’t immediately dive for your pussy, finding other parts of your body to appreciate. You felt his first kiss on your belly, his lips tenderly caressing the area just below your navel. At the same time, she applied her fingers to your nipple and transferred her mouth to your earlobe. You moaned lightly into Ethan’s mouth, enjoying this group effort to get you worked up.

As she lazily played with your nipple, Thomas’ hands gradually moved lower. He massaged down, his fingers moving across the part of your body you always strived to hide. Slowly he kissed a trail down, his lips savouring what his hands had been appreciating. His attention was so dedicated, every movement so luxurious.

When she lightly nibbled on your earlobe, you parted from Ethan’s lips with a whimper. Your pussy was throbbing, and when your eyes met his, you felt certain that he knew this without saying. His eyes stared into yours and all of your neediness was on display for him.

“Are you ready to find out just how much we all missed you? ‘Cause we’ve got plans for you, our special girl.” She said directly into your ear. “That time apart- well, that was just ample opportunity for fantasising.” Your hand gripped to Ethan’s as the way she squeezed your nipple affected you more-and-more. “And there’s no distractions, there’s nothing more important than you being worshipped.”

You let out a surprised whine when she suddenly nipped at your ear. This was instantly followed by Thomas’ hand going lower, his fingers pressing into the squishy skin of your pubic mound. He applied more pressure, his touch sinking beneath the surface and your cravings grew more insistent, more noticeable tingles filling your pussy.

She returned her lips to your throat, with as much vigour as before. Your eyes moved to him, finding his eyes open and on you as he continued to drag his lips across your round belly. From your body, he was drawing more inspiration, pressing harder with the slow circles on your mound.

Your breath got stuck in your throat when his thorough fingers explored lower, taking his tender touch onto your labia. You didn’t have the words to match your desires as you stared into his light eyes, frozen on this peak he had eased you up to.

His lips caught up to his hands - he eased your folds back and, in the same second, kissed your already moist clit. Watching for your reactions, he continued to explore your clit. Sweet but firm kisses were applied to the hood and your eyes started to flutter shut as you leaned into her for some more support.

Ethan’s hand slipped out of yours as he left your side. He walked around, standing behind where Thomas was positioned, gaining a greater view. Your pleasure was being showcased for the entire room to enjoy.

She readjusted, placing her mouth to yours again. You let her take the lead as you kissed her back. The way he started to work his tongue up-and-down soon had you moaning into her mouth.

As you started to reach your hand out for his hair, he pulled away. Before you could raise any complaints, he was swiftly replaced by Ethan.

He used a different tactic, starting with your entrance. The tip of his tongue moved in a swirl, gathering the moisture that had accumulated during this wonderful teasing. Her tongue slid into your mouth, inviting you deeper into this sensual rhythm. They worked their tongues slowly, with a great amount of control as they continued to enjoy building you up. You had the time to enjoy and marvel in every sensation as it arose.

He dove his tongue into you, tasting your excitement directly from the source. At the same time, she was dragging her tongue out of your mouth, so that she could recalibrate, bringing her attention to just your lower lip. Her kisses quickly developed into sucking as you were enjoying how he wiggled his tongue between your pussy walls. The moans that this brought from you were hardly muffled, but you were too close to ecstasy to feel any kind of shame over your reactions.

Her teeth grazed your lip a couple of times before she pulled back, making a noise similar to a purr. “Fuck, it’s my turn. I’ve gotta find out if you taste as good as you sound.”

“She does.” You heard Thomas comment.

Ethan wasn’t greedy, moving aside to let her get at your pussy. But he remained close, his hand massaging your thigh as he maintained his view from the front row. Thomas was slightly further back, sitting on the ground to the side of you. He watched the unfolding events with his mouth hanging open a bit.

She got in close to your cunt, pressing one hand to the top of your thigh to ensure you kept it where she wanted it. Despite what she had said, she didn’t instantly go in with her mouth. At first you were just feeling two of her fingers, running up-and-down your swollen labia minora. She slowly stroked you here as she moved her lips to your thigh, kissing and beginning the work of creating a hickey. 

You ran your fingers lovingly through her hair, your other hand grasping the armrest as you tried to prepare for what was to come next. You let your eyes wander and when you looked Ethan over, you noticed how pronounced the bulge at the front of his pants had become. Looking at Thomas next, you could see that his cock was also clearly seeking freedom from his jeans. What did they plan to do to you with those dicks?

As she kept sucking and lightly nibbling your wide thigh, you looked in Damiano’s direction. He was the furthest from you, but that wasn’t due to any disinterest, with him watching as carefully as the others. Sitting on the edge of one of the beds, his hand was positioned at his dick. Over the material of his pants, he was intermittently giving his cock some tame squeezes.

When he noticed you watching, he just smiled and kept going. “Don’t mind me sweetheart, I’m just being a pervert back here.”

She broke contact with your leg so that she could respond. “What else is new?”

You laughed at this, but the sound was quickly mangled when she attached her mouth to your clitoris. You gave an incoherent stutter as she applied zealous kisses to the hood. She set her lips into place, perfectly cradling the tight bundle of nerves. Her fingers were still working your labia up-and-down, getting coated with wetness as you spent every second being dazzled by spectacular tingles.

She sucked your clitoris between her lips, to where she could get at it with her tongue. This left you reeling, so much of your body tensing as you moaned louder than before. You tightly wrapped your fingers around Ethan’s as your writhing grew more intense because your control was greatly weakening. Your cunt was aching, so sensitive despite not receiving the touches it craved. It was thrilling to just anticipate, knowing that you were gradually getting closer to the destruction you wanted.

“Come on amore, it must be your turn to take this Holy Communion.” Thomas said to Damiano.

This set you off laughing, it was potentially the most blasphemous thing you had ever heard. But it fit. The way they were all taking turns to consume at this special seat, which could certainly fill the role of an altar - it wasn’t unlike the Eucharist. You weren’t the only one to laugh.

As you pondered this, it made the set up feel even more dirty - in the most wonderful way possible. You were worthy of a truly depraved scene. The blush marking your cheeks grew darker and you began to place your hands over your face.

“No, no, no.” Thomas gently said as he got to his feet and started to approach. “Don’t you dare cover your face.” You could feel the heat from your face before your hands were actually touching the skin. He stood beside the seat and you looked up at him. “You can’t deprive me of seeing you when you’re like this, ‘cause you are so sexy when you’re overwhelmed and needy.”

“‘m so needy.” You said, your composure being thoroughly disrupted by her treatment of your clit.

He leaned in closer and you could smell your arousal on his breath as he caressed his fingers over your forehead. “I know, but we’re gonna take care of you, we’re gonna take care of every need you’ve got.”

You nodded, showing your consent, but also your understanding that this was a guarantee. He wasn’t just saying this to be sexy and contribute to the dirty talk, you knew that he meant it.

He moved his hand to your cheek and you tilted your head back so that your mouths could meet. You didn’t let her moving away from your cunt distract you, you were too caught up in his kisses. He stroked the side of your throat and you put an arm around his shoulders, remaining so turned on as you gave this intimacy the spotlight.

You felt some movement between your legs, but you weren’t even slightly ready for Damiano and all of the fire he instantly brought with him. He pushed his hands in under your legs so that he could grab a handful each of your generous butt straight away. Then he was using this to change the angle of your hips, getting you to lift your cunt.

His tongue sought out what Victoria had so thoroughly warmed up, powering between your walls. You gasped, your lips momentarily leaving Thomas’ as you couldn’t control the way your hips thrusted up. Your inner-walls clenched on Damiano’s tongue as you arched your back.

Thomas’ eyes swept all over your face, savouring every response, and they were only getting bigger. He kissed you slowly, giving you the opportunity to catch your breath. But you never took it, remaining in this elevated, unpredictable state.

Your eyes shut and you let your head rest against the chair as you began to get lost in all of this. As Damiano tirelessly wiggled his tongue all around inside of you, Thomas continued to treat you with sweet kisses. You pushed one of your hands in under his shirt, your fingers experiencing his warm skin as this feast for your senses raged on.

It took a moment for you to notice that Damiano had withdrawn, the pumping of blood through your sensitive pussy keeping you feeling stimulated in the absence of a touch.

But you weren’t left waiting long (not granted the time to calm yourself down and away from that edge). Ethan took up another turn at devouring your pussy. The tender explorations of his tongue created a stark contrast to Damiano’s zealous efforts. You returned your butt to the seat as more strength left your body.

Gradually, you identified a third noise source in the room, existing beyond what you could feel. Damiano and Victoria were kissing, exchanging words that you couldn’t quite hear. You didn’t try to eavesdrop, letting your attention stay on Thomas’ lips and Ethan’s tongue.

Soon enough, they were bringing their conversation to you. Damiano stroked your arm and said your name, a quiet request. “Sorry to interrupt…”

You drew back from Thomas, finding Damiano and Victoria standing at your other side. While you hadn’t been looking, he had taken off his shirt and, similarly, she was no longer wearing her pants.

“He’s dying to tell you about something we saw on OnlyFans.” She said, smirking.

“Me? It was your idea to come over here and tell her right this second.” He said.

“You guys and your designated OnlyFans time, is there really no other way for you to bond?” Thomas asked.

“Sure there is, it’s called me handing his ass to him in Smash Brothers, like, every day.” She said over the occasional noises of Ethan’s slurping, trying to keep all of the moisture in his mouth.

“Anyway, we saw this thing that I’ve never seen before, I don’t even know if there’s an official term for it. But as soon as I saw it, I knew I had to try it the next time I got the two of you together again.” Damiano said, indicating to you and her. You nodded, hoping that he didn’t expect any of your usual wit - your word choices currently limited as Ethan did nothing to help you focus. “I lay on my back and, facing each other, you both sit on my face.

“So you two can be making out and playing with each other while I’m eating up- back-and-forth, just multitasking like my whole life depends on it.” He said. “But only if you’re into it. Do you think you would wanna try that with us, sweetheart?”

Ethan pulled back from your cunt and you let out a shaky sigh as he answered first. “That sounds really hot, you should do it, baby.”

“Yeah. Not to add to any kind of peer pressure- but I would love to watch something like that.” Thomas said.

“But there’s plenty of other things we can do if you don’t feel like trying that.” Ethan said, with the other three immediately voicing their agreement.

You smiled, looking up at Victoria and Damiano. “It does sound hot, let’s see if we can pull it off.”

Everyone moved over to one of the king beds. You were keeping your wariness to yourself. You wanted to trust the process and go along with your most adventurous partners. But this wasn’t the first time you had worried about the unrealistic ideas that OnlyFans could spread - there wasn’t a lot of media that you truly trusted.

As he placed his head on a pillow, you and she determined your positions. It was decided that you would be closest to the headboard, facing out to the rest of the room, while her back would be to the others. She started to take the last of her clothes off and Ethan got to work getting Damiano out of his jeans.

Thomas offered you his hands, seeking to help you maintain your balance as you considered the best way to get into position. You watched your movements, determined to not knee Damiano’s face in the process. You placed one knee on either side of his head, your pussy hovering a few inches above his nose.

As Thomas moved away (giving you a parting kiss first), your naked girlfriend joined you. You grinned, reaching a hand out for her as you admired her perfect body. She placed herself close to you, her cunt ready to meet Damiano’s mouth as she put her knees in line with yours.

She cradled your round face in her hands, guiding you to look up and meet her gaze. She was wearing an excited smile and you were pleased to be part of bringing a fantasy into reality.

The fact that you should feature in any level of fantasy for the four of them was still hard for you to believe, even after months of assurances. If you thought about it for too long it might just blow your mind.

You tilted your head as she leaned in closer, lips coming together in a flawless moment. The longer that you kissed her, the more of her new taste that you experienced. A snapshot of this encounter, this taste was unique and curated just for you. You were happy to indulge and you wrapped some of her golden hair around your fingers.

The tempo that the two of you had been moving into was interrupted when the first swipe of Damiano’s tongue drew a surprised sputter from you. Without any warning, he had begun - the tip of his tongue at your entrance, before pushing down. As he went in the direction of your clitoral hood, he pressed the flat of his tongue to your cunt, seeking to stimulate more than just one spot.

You were breathless when she drew your attention back to kissing. He had begun to use his talented tongue in circles all around your swollen clit. As you kissed her back, you couldn’t help wiggling your hips a little, adding to the wonderful treatment you were receiving from his tongue.

When his tongue bumped against the face of your clitoral hood, it sent thrilling shockwaves through the core of your being. Your hands went to her arms, holding on for support as the pleasure shot up again. He grabbed your ass and the way that he squeezed made you feel so desired as you started to rock with a little more consistency.

He flicked his tongue against your clitoris before relocating and getting to work on her. A whimper accompanied her tongue sliding in between your lips. She put her hand to the back of your head, keeping you here so that she could explore more of this closeness. You wrapped your arms around her, feeling each skipped breath and twitch of her body.

The two of you had never shared cunnilingus in this style before. There had been successful experiments with various positions. But there was something about this setup that allowed you to feel so very connected to your girlfriend and you loved it. You were glad to have given it a chance.

From beneath you, you heard him take in a gasp of air. Then you were feeling his mouth, covering your clit in quick kisses. He parted his lips so that he could get at you with his tongue again. He was done teasing around your clitoris, now he let you feel his tongue on the tight bundle of nerves straight away. He played his tongue up-and-down on it, stroking your sensitivities to the next level.

As he settled into a thorough tempo, you tightened your arms around her. Neediness rose up as your dominant emotion as their tongues each appreciated you in their own way. You tapped into his momentum, moving your hips in time to ride his tongue. It was all feeling so promising, you started getting invested in the prospect of getting off like this - it seemed to be within your grasp.

But before you could get too carried away with it, he broke away so that he could gasp. “Cazzo, keep your mouth just like that please, baby.”

Too curious to help yourselves, you and she drew apart. You found that his words had been directed to Ethan, who had made room for himself between Damiano’s legs. While the other man was occupied, Ethan had started sucking his dick.

“Good boy.” She praised before turning back to you.

“How long has he been waiting to do that?” Thomas asked, he was taking in the whole scene from his spot lying beside Damiano.

Damiano’s hand was gripping your ass even tighter, surely he would leave indents. You could clearly feel each of his fingers, impossible to forget or not notice, even when he sought to return attention to your clit. Despite how shaky his breathing had become, the way that he licked your clitoris didn’t suffer from inconsistency.

He lapped his tongue up-and-down, inviting you deeper into the desires. She resumed kissing you and you got to feel like the centre of the universe again.

Even when he took his mouth away, your nerves continued to dance. You heard him rapidly moving his tongue on her cunt as you enjoyed the quivers in your aftermath. You placed your hands to her tits, enjoying what you had only been able to look at for so many months. Your fingers caressed the supple skin while your thumbs toyed with her very firm nipples. This earned you a suck on your bottom lip from her. Hearing her ragged breaths, you were pleased to get to play a part in her arousal.

“This position straight-up rocks.” Thomas admired.

You pulled back from her kisses to respond. “There isn’t much straight about it right now.”

“True.” He said as she giggled. “There must be a name for it. But if I wanted to Google it- I would have to look away. And that’s just not something I’m willing to do.”

“Imagine it from my perspective, sweetie.” Damiano said, and a second later you were feeling his mouth.

“Oh, I am.” Thomas said.

“We’ve just been calling it tandem, ‘cause like with a tandem bike, we’re riding the same thing at the same time.” She said and if you weren’t so preoccupied by the swirling of Damiano’s tongue, you would have laughed.

“That’s actually genius.” Thomas said.

“Yeah, I’ve got a way with words when it comes to fucking.” She said.

The way Damiano had secured his lips around your clit made your elbows continuously tremor through your efforts to grope her chest. As your eyes fluttered shut, you lost track of everything else, getting overwhelmed by the pleasure. All of these stimulations were going directly to your core, where your climax could be unlocked - it was even closer now.

He started to bob his head, moving into a pacing that had you feeling the impacts in different spots. The stimulation was shared through your entire clitoris, the receptors sending the excitement far and wide. Until it was feeling like every nerve in your body was responding to his sucking.

Moving your hips opened you up to even more intensity. Strangled noises accompanied your pumps as you harnessed the friction. You were in a high greater than anything you could capture on your own.

“Please.” You whimpered - you didn’t know if this would be loud enough to be heard over the other activity, but you felt incapable of getting your voice any louder. “Please don’t stop, please.”

Grinding on his mouth was set to make you complete. As your body was overtaken by powerful shivers, you felt yourself arriving at the threshold of how much you could take. More pleas fell from your lips, but you had no idea if they made sense.

It didn’t matter because you were ascending. You threw your head back and let the wave of pleasure overtake you.

There was a smile on your face as you climbed off of him, his fingers finally releasing from your butt. You were feeling a little dazed, letting Thomas guide you to a spot to sit on the bed. You were trying to regain your breath as you sat down next to him. He applied kisses to your cheek as he loosely wrapped his arms around you.

“You looked really amazing.” He said, nuzzling against your skin. “Like, I thought I was hard before you climbed up on his face…”

Aside from this mention, he wasn’t rushing you into the next thing. There was time allowed before you could start to think about feeding his desires. He just held you as you gradually came back down to reality. No one was going to show you any pushiness in this moment, you knew that for sure and it felt good.

As you steadily regained your bearings, you checked the progress of your partners. Both of Damiano’s hands were occupied - one on the back of Ethan’s head to keep him bobbing, the other on Victoria’s chest, showing her nipple rougher treatment than what she had received by your hand.

You leaned into Thomas more-and-more, savouring this embrace as more of your limbs overlapped with his. He held you firmer and slightly increased the frequency of the kisses he gave you. You didn’t meet every one of his kisses, but you didn’t need to, it was enough to simply feel grounded with him. You stroked his thigh as you both gave the majority of your attention to the other three.

You recognised the look on her face, from the deep furrow in her brow to the way she incessantly nibbled on her lower lip. It all told you that she was close, concentrating on getting her release. Another sign of this came from how quiet she was being, it was often joked about how the only way to shut her up was to make her come.

Most of the sounds were coming from Damiano, his little ecstatic cries muffled as he kept his tongue buried deep inside of her. Ethan worked his mouth up-and-down the other man’s shaft and occasionally took his mouth off of it altogether, allowing him to thoroughly lick Damiano all over. It was quite clear that he was in favour of everything Ethan was doing.

It would have been impossible to not feel turned on when you were this close to so much passion. The next time Thomas kissed you, you found yourself craving more than before, you wanted to experience more of those lips. You wrapped your arm around his shoulder, turning to face him as you pursued less distance between your bodies, your hands exploring everything within reach.

“Babe…” You whispered against his lips. “Why are you still wearing so damn much?”

He allowed you to push the shirt up his chest. “I have no idea. But we can fix that.” He helped you get the item off before hurriedly swooping in for more kisses. “We can fix that right now.” As you shared kisses, he undid the fly of his jeans and began to work the pants down.

All too soon this took him out of your grasp as he stood up to remove them. But you admired from afar, your eyes greedily sweeping up-and-down his body, lingering at certain spots.

Meanwhile, he was nodding in the direction of Ethan. “You could ask him the same thing.”

“Hey, Ethan…” You said, crawling a little further down the bed to gain a clearer view of him. “What’s the deal- are you about to head out to a ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ kind of place?”

He drew his mouth away from Damiano and pushed his hair back so he could look at you. “Huh?”

Thomas cupped his hands to either side of his mouth as he directed his voice at Ethan. “Take your fucking clothes off.”

“Oh, right. Sorry Dami- to be continued…” He said, leaving his position between the other man’s legs.

You were distracted from watching Ethan undress by Thomas coming in for more kisses. You happily went along with this, wrapping your arms around him and bringing him closer than before. The combination of fast kisses and skin-on-skin had your thoughts jumping to new conclusions.

And it seemed that you weren’t the only one, with her voicing a desire for a new position. “-you to fuck me.”

“Okay, yeah, I mean, yeah for sure…” Damiano’s response was a little stilted.

“Okay?” She repeated. “I ask you to fuck me and you say okay?”

“Jesus, give me a second to catch my breath. Maybe my mouth is a little tired after eating two pussies at the same time.” He said. “Of course my answer is Hell yeah, and please, and thank you. Let me get a condom, baby.”

You pulled yourself away from Thomas, as the moment dictated. “Could you actually get three condoms?”

“I’m only gonna need one- you know how they work, right?” Damiano asked, pausing on his way over to the corner all of the luggage had been sent to.

Thomas secured your attention, kissing you on the cheek. “Have you got something planned?”

“Maybe.” You said. “I’ve gotta keep the two of you busy while they’re taking care of each other, don’t I?”

Ethan’s fingertips ghosted over your shoulders, making you smile. “Busy, how?”

“How about you lie down and I’ll show you what I mean- answer your questions that way, hm?” You offered.

He showed his approval by lying down immediately. Victoria was also lying down, flat on her back. They greeted each other with a ‘fancy seeing you here’, before sharing more tongue-in-cheek banter.

You asked Thomas to remain where he was standing for the moment, then you progressed to placing yourself on top of Ethan. You trapped him down to the mattress, straddling him at the waist.

Thomas followed your instruction, climbing atop Ethan’s legs to fill the space behind you. He didn’t hesitate to put his arms around your middle.

“Any further questions?” You asked of your boyfriends.

“Nope, you’ve answered everything for me.” Ethan said.

Damiano joined the rest of you on the mattress, handing out the condoms. She didn’t have any further complaints about his word choice as he climbed on top of her.

After applying his condom, Thomas began covering his shaft and your hole with lubricant. As he did this, you leaned down, kissing Ethan. His hands lovingly stroked up-and-down your sides, appreciating across every curve, like he always did.

Thomas’ capable fingers gently exploring and massaging between your cheeks was building the anticipation inside of you. So much so that you couldn’t simply hold still as you kissed Ethan. You readjusted (doing your best to not disturb Thomas’ important process) until you could line your cunt up with his hard dick. You didn’t take him in just yet. Working your hips, you rubbed your slit on the side of his cock. His hands stopped caressing you, now holding you with a set grip, encouraging you to continue without taking his lips off of yours.

This process of warming you up (the prelude to penetration) was dreamy, the lack of rush giving you time to notice all of your body’s reactions. Your inner-walls were ready to clench. Your asshole was getting more sensitive with each passover of Thomas’ fingers.

“Please…” Ethan moaned, grinding back against you as his own cravings evidently grew.

Maybe under different circumstances, you would have possessed the strength necessary to make him wait and put him through more teasing. But Ethan could make you needy like no one else. And seeing all of the effort they had gone through for you, you knew that he deserved to feel good (and then some).

You gave him a parting kiss (it was difficult to not linger) and began sitting up, shifting your body weight back in the process. Your back met Thomas’ chest as you got yourself into the right position on top of Ethan. His eyes were fixed on you, not distracted by Victoria and Damiano directly beside him, as he admired each of your movements.

Tensing your thighs, you got yourself to the spot where his head could start spreading you open. His fingers clamped down on your ample hips and you saw his nostrils flare as his sensitive head gradually moved deeper into you.

As you were easing yourself down, Thomas moved in closer, beginning to kiss you on the cheek. More of his body was lining up with yours - the perfect embrace almost complete.

“Are you ready for me, love?” He asked.

You grinned, positively buzzing in your eagerness. “Absolutely.”

His slicked dick travelled toward your prepped hole, carefully sinking into you. Your breath momentarily halted, the beginning of being filled already felt so good. You let your eyes shut, taking in all of the sensations as you knew you were safe to surrender your body to them.

Beside you, you could hear the consistent collisions of her body with Damiano’s. They had found the ideal momentum to serve their desires, getting caught up in one another with all of the excitement as if it were the very first time.

Thomas didn’t try to replicate what they were doing. When he started to move, it was in a way that hinted at more to come - but that wasn’t where the three of you were up to just yet.

He held you to him with one arm around your middle while his other hand gripped the top of your thigh - it wasn’t just his dick in your asshole that was making you feel claimed in the most wonderful way possible. Ethan’s hands were on you too, holding onto you like his life depended on it. One of his hands fondled your chest, beneath your breast, where the rib cage would be visible on a thinner woman, like Victoria. His other hand held lower, on your hip, where stretch marks (both old and new) decorated the skin.

It made your heart flutter, the way they sought out the parts of you that you tirelessly worked to keep hidden on a daily basis.

Before they were going to set about ruining it, they celebrated your body. It was the appreciation you had never learnt how to show yourself.

Thomas moved his hips into you, getting you to slide down a little further on Ethan’s shaft. His body responded with a gentle rock, sending you back towards Thomas. Trapped between them, you went with the tempo he was establishing, feeling the tension rising in the process.

You reached behind you, stroking one of your hands up and into his hair. You opened your eyes, discovering that he was close as he watched your reactions. You kissed him, your fingers twisting around his blonde hair as he kissed you back. You felt more power coming into his pumps and your heart started racing accordingly.

Your body stretched to accommodate both of their cocks, your clitoris quivering as you continued to feel the after-effects of earlier treatment. You were going back up, electricity running through more of your body with each determined swing of your hips. Through the mounting pressure, you slipped into a consistent tempo. You didn’t know how long you would be able to maintain it, but for the moment you gave it your all.

On the next pump forward, your pussy claimed the last inches of Ethan’s cock. This was a sharp increase in intensity that you had been pitifully unprepared for. You broke away from Thomas with a whine and you heard Ethan panting in response to bottoming out. Feeling him at this deepest point had you spellbound, your walls fluttering as you did your best to adjust.

You let Thomas keep you in the promising momentum, even as you struggled to catch your breath. He took his mouth down to your neck, dancing kisses across the skin until there was a smile growing on your face. Your hand in his hair gripped into a fist as your greediness took over the threats of being overwhelmed, demanding more.

When your eyes steadily opened, it was to find Damiano mostly blocking your view of Ethan. The singer had leaned down, capturing Ethan’s lips in a series of passionate kisses. Over one of Damiano’s shoulders, you could see her watching the two men making out. There was a satisfied smile on her lips, with her seemingly taking this as inspiration for how she kept at snapping her hips into him.

You stuck with Thomas as he picked up a little speed, chasing greater friction as he lessened the pause between thrusts. Ethan writhed beneath you. Thomas was pushing you closer to that magnificent edge, his hand gripping the curve of your belly as it bounced with every single collision.

“Unf…” Ethan moaned and he threw an arm around Damiano’s shoulders, clinging to him for support.

You felt the quaking of Ethan’s body as more noises came from him. He arched his back, his head massaging you as the clamping of your walls began to spell his end. His fingers gripped you as he gave you as much as he could. Desperation marked his movements, keeping him going.

Until he was overcome by the dawning of his climax. He fell apart with gasps and whines, all from the safety of Damiano’s arms.

“Good boy.” She cooed.

Ethan fell back onto the bed, swearing through his efforts to regain his breath. As he slid out of your cunt, the activity in the room resumed.

You leaned forward, grabbing the mattress with one hand and Ethan with the other in an attempt to keep yourself steady against Thomas’ quick jolting. As your hole clamped around the inches of his dick, you felt the tension inside of you hitting its peak. You choked back sobs as you surrendered into the sensations caused by each monumental-feeling impact.

Beside you, she had gotten quiet in the face of escalating pleasure. Ethan had reached out, playing with her clitoris as she and Damiano continued to move together. She had one leg raised, draped over his shoulder, providing him with an efficient and deep angle. He didn’t need to watch her to keep in time with her bucking, the synergy remained even though his eyes were glued to you and Thomas.

You had lost all track of time, and even your own thoughts. You were floating away on the stimulations as your world was rocked again-and-again on a continuous loop.

With your whole body given over to his incredible pacing, spasms began to occur at your very core. It was too much to resist and the tension was bursting (along with everything else) inside of you.

Thomas crossed the line at almost the same second as you. He jolted forward to finish inside of you. His incoherent, strangled noises accompanied your uncontrolled moaning. This release brought your loudest sounds out, basking in all of the triumph of this moment.

You slumped forward, while trying to not collapse all of your weight onto Ethan. He wrapped you up in his arms as Thomas pulled away from you.

You laid down with Ethan and, for the moment, you were daunted by how widespread the after-effects of your climax were. After so long of being worked up, everything had reached its conclusion.

Even as you enjoyed the sight of it, watching Damiano and Victoria fucking didn’t feel entirely real. It was almost like there was a screen between you and them, putting you in the role of passive viewer.

“Fuck yes.” He rejoiced as she threw her head back, almost levitating off of the bed in her efforts to grind against him. “Yea-ah-ah, fuck yes, yes… ah…”

It appeared that he captured his climax first. But mere seconds later, you were seeing seemingly every muscle in her body clench. Then she began to twitch and convulse in an unfakeable display of overload, promptly followed by her panting into her release.

She wasn’t very responsive to his kisses and soon he was leaving her alone altogether - as was her preferred way to come down. He climbed over to the closeby bed and Thomas joined him on the other king-sized bed. He took up the position of little spoon, both of them facing the bed you occupied.

“Do you get it now- how much we missed you, was that point made clear?” She asked.

You reached out, taking her hand that was lying on the mattress. “Inescapably clear, absolutely nobody needs to try and make that point again.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that being on the menu any time soon.” Ethan said, dragging his fingers slowly up-and-down your back.

“Menu.” Damiano repeated, perking up from an inexplicable boost of energy. “Has she seen the menu yet?”

“You left it on the coffee table.” Thomas told him.

He was soon getting up in pursuit of this item. “Thanks, babe.”

“Prepare to never hear the end of how perfect this menu is.” She warned.

“He picked this hotel out of all of the other low-key options we had, specifically due to the room service menu.” Ethan said. “He got one look at that and instantly started picking out the things he knew you would love. After that, it was pretty obvious that none of the other hotels stood a chance.”

You sat up, excited to go over the menu with Damiano. You were more than flattered that this had been the driving factor in choosing this hotel to stay in. They were so concerned with giving you the perfect experience that they had curated it down to the last detail. You knew that you were incredibly lucky to get this. They were showing you the appreciation that you had been failing to show yourself.

The way they were treating you made you forget about the time apart. When they were on the road, all of the effort in your relationship went to finding time for each other. But today, the effort had gone to reaffirming your bond as a fivesome.

And maybe there was still some work to do (catching up with words, getting more thorough with details). But you were definitely back on the right track. You were feeling much better than you had been coming into this, you had been brought to a place where the fact that you belonged with them was beyond doubt.

“Sweetheart, come look at this- they have three different styles of garlic bread.” Damiano said.

You joined him sitting at the end of the bed. “No way.”

After you and he had poured over all of the dishes listed, the menu was passed to the other three. They made their selections and, as usual, the responsibility of calling to place the order fell to Ethan.

As everyone waited for the food to arrive, you looked around at your partners. You could have taken a nap after all of that exertion. But you were feeling energised at being in the same room as them, knowing no one was on the verge of dragging them out to fulfil an important commitment.

You turned to who was closest to you, Damiano. “Okay, catch me up on all the inside jokes I’ve missed.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but Thomas beat him to the punch. “Why would you ask him? He’s the least funny of all of us, it’s literally been documented.”

“Splash.” Victoria contributed, quoting Damiano back to him.

“Fuckin’ splash.” Thomas said.

They were referring back to a word-play joke Damiano had attempted to make when they were featured on one of YouTube’s most watched beauty channels. ‘A guy steps into a caffé… splash’, he had delivered, to a polite but lukewarm response. These days it was used when the others wanted to laugh at him.

His mouth dropped open in exaggerated hurt before he jumped to defend himself. “I was put on the spot, it was the best I could do. I’m funnier in Italian anyway.”

“Are you sure about that?” Thomas asked.

“You’re about to be sure of the back of my hand upside your head.” Damiano play-threatened, getting to his feet.

A new energy came into the suite and you savoured every second of getting to participate with them.

»»————-　♡　————-««  

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[formula-ghost]

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 1: Honey, Are U Coming?

SERIES SUMMARY: You’re Franco Colapinto’s best friend in the entire world, and you’ve agreed to accompany him along for the ride in his races with Williams. He finds it endearing how, per your therapist’s recommendation, you’ve started always bringing your diary everywhere you go, even the paddock. But when he crosses the line and turns the page, he never expected what’s inside… (Based on the song Read Your Diary by Måneskin).

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

WARNINGS: therapy heavily mentioned, reader is emotionally constipated, use of YN, reader is a lil FREAK in later chapters (affectionate because we don’t kink shame here), eventual angst and smut

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Meet me there where it never closes

Meet me there where it’s never hopeless

All is fair in love, oh

Honey, are you coming?

If you had to blame anyone for this whole ordeal, it would be your therapist. After all, she was the one who had given you the idea to start journaling in the first place.

The session had, frustratingly, gone like all of the others; you’d tell her about something you thought was innocuous and she’d ask you how that made you feel, and you wouldn’t be able to answer. You could feel your feelings all day long, but when asked to explain them, the words never came out.

Maybe it was a fear of being misunderstood or judged for your feelings. Maybe it was the fact that no one had ever taught you what to do with that bundle of emotions that rested in your stomach like a ball of yarn to be unraveled, except to avoid it altogether and stuff it down. Or maybe you just know how you actually felt, deep down, and this was your mind’s way of making it known.

Whatever the case was, your therapist suggested, in addition to your usual sessions, of course, that you start a journal. “It’ll be for your eyes only,” she assured, “you don’t have to tell me a single word of what’s in it. Just write whatever comes to mind, no matter what that is, as long as you get it out.”

So you took her advice. Worst case scenario, you thought, you’d just stop after a week or two if it didn’t make it better. But you couldn’t help feeling a little immature, like a little girl hiding a diary, when you went to the airport shop and bought a small, unassuming leather journal at a heavily marked up price and stuffed it into the bottom of your carry on.

Your therapist had suggested customizing the journal as you write your way through it—making it a safe place for your feelings and words. But for now, this would have to do. Traveling this much recently had been difficult, and you didn’t want to add the journal into the mix of your already chaotic life for the past few weeks.

Of course, you wouldn’t have had it any other way. The recent chaos and jet setting around the world was all due to the hard work and incredible luck of your best friend, Franco. He had finally made it to Formula 1, even if just for the remainder of the season, and when he had excitedly run over to your apartment to tell you the news, you had practically crushed him to death with the enormous hug you gave him. Despite his rookie status, he had somehow managed to get you paddock passes, flights, and accommodations all arranged for each of the races so you could spend your next few months flying around the world and waltzing around the Williams paddock with your best friend in the entire world.

You and Franco had met when you were younger and he had just moved to Italy to pursue his racing career. He had moved in right next to your family, and it felt like you were instantly connected. You introduced him to the country and he introduced you to the world of racing, and your friendship was a match made in Heaven. When he went to Spain, you followed, and now with his entry into Formula 1, you were still tagging along for the ride.

Of course, Franco wanted you there just as much as you wanted to be there. At first you had been hesitant to do it. You didn’t want to impose, and to this day Franco refused to tell you what strings he had to pull to get you access to the paddock, let alone flights and accommodations. “Cmon, come with me,” he had pleaded. “Think of the stories we’ll be able to tell one day! Besides, I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else by my side.”

“Franco, you sound like the protagonist of a cheesy rom com,” you laughed. “Don’t you think this is all… too much?”

“The tickets or my audition for the next Hallmark movie?” he teased, eliciting a small laugh from you. “No, I’m serious, YN. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I want you there with me, for every part of it.” He paused and looked down at his shoes, as if choosing his next words carefully. It was unusual of him, to be so worried about saying the right thing instead of just saying something. The grid had caught on soon that Franco was a talker. He continued, “I understand if you can’t come to all of them. But at least come to a few. It won’t be the same without you.”

There was a heaviness to his words that made you the slightest bit uncomfortable. Like his request was something deeper than just wanting the support of a friend. “Since when have you gotten so sentimental?” you teased, cracking a smile to lighting the tension.

He smiled back, “Since I achieved my dreams.”

Your slight smile stretched ear to ear at the reminder of how monumental a moment this was for him, and you enveloped him in another hug. “Oh Franco, I’m so happy for you!” you exclaimed.

“Happy enough to come with me?” He asked as you all broke the hug.

You lightheartedly exhaled at his instance. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The smile on his face was electric. You just couldn’t say no to him, so that’s how you ended up here, unable to say no to the steep markup on your airport shop journal, waiting for your unfortunately delayed flight from Azerbaijan to Singapore.

Even at only 4 races in, you had gotten used to doing your remote work in airports, but trying to open this journal and pour your heart out onto the pages right next to traveling strangers was… difficult, to say the least. It couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes that you stared at the blank page, but it felt like an eternity. You didn’t know what to write.

So you just began by writing how you felt physically. Tired. Nervous. Excited for Franco. Very excited for Franco.

This was supposed to be your journal, but as you got into the rhythm of filling page after page, the words were all about your best friend, the newest Formula 1 driver. You used to think that words couldn’t even describe how proud you were of him. You’d seen his hard work pay off with just a little bit of luck, and your heart seemed to swell into your chest when you thought of him in his Williams race suit ready to show the world what he could do. He’d gotten points in Baku, and you remembered your frantic heartbeat as you watched from the Williams garage and cheered in excitement at his performance. After the race he ran to you and you all practically crashed into each other going for a bear hug.

You had squeezed him with all your strength. “Franco, I’m so proud of you!”

He released you and smiled. It was a rare moment, seeing you this vulnerable. You were so happy that tears had formed at the edges of your eyes, and for a split second he looked at you and knew the true depth of those words. “So proud that you’re crying tears of joy?” he joked.

He had ruined the moment. You were so caught up in your raw emotion that you didn’t even notice the tears until he pointed them out, and your defenses kicked it as you replied, “I wasn’t crying.” Franco saw your walls go up again and cursed himself internally for talking without thinking, as he almost always did.

As you penned this memory, you felt all the emotions rushing back to you. That feeling of pride in your chest, the chaos of the garage, and Franco’s hands wrapped around you in a celebratory embrace—no, that made it sound weird. You looked down at the page. Why did that sound so… weird?

Once again, the moment had been ruined. Your flight was about to board anyway, so you exhaled and put the journal back in your bag, telling yourself you’d deal with that later. For now, you had a race to get to.

Singapore was humid and buzzing with life. Practices had gone well. On Saturday, you  hoped that the usual chaos of the paddock would distract you from your thoughts, but it was the opposite. The drone of noise—reporters talking, mechanics laughing, the purr of the car—all faded away, just background noise to your painful confusion.

Something was just…off. Before your flight you had written about your best friend and his first few races in F1. That was it. Then why did you feel like your skin was crawling every time you glanced at him on the other side of the garage? He had his headset on, talking to some race engineer about something you couldn’t even begin to understand. His gaze was so focused, his attention fully captured by the screen in front of him. He raised his hand to his mouth, thinking, before turning to the engineer and saying something.

You were enraptured by him. His passion was infectious, his determination admirable. Clad in his white race suit, he looked like he belonged here, like he had always belonged here. His hair gently curled over the top bar of his headset. His race engineer said something and Franco laughed, and again you noticed those little details that had become so usual to you; the way his eyes crinkled when he truly smiled, the scrunch of his nose, the blush that danced across his cheeks—whether from the warmth of the garage or the words of his engineer, you couldn’t tell.

Your observation (or, rather, staring) was interrupted by Franco’s gaze shifting from his engineer to you. He sent you a soft smile, and you gave him a weak one in return. You felt sick to your stomach as he politely excused himself from the conversation and made his way over to you.

“Hey YN, you good? You’ve been staring off into space for, like, five whole minutes.”

You brought your hands to rub your face, trying to bring some life into you. “Have I?”

“Yeah, thought you were checking me out or something.”

“Huh?” You felt a pang of anxiety at his insinuation.

“Well, I can’t help it that I’m so irresistible,” he replied with a smirk.

“Oh, Lord,” you laughed, exhaling in relief at his usual banter. “I just feel weird, but I’ll be okay.” You weren’t exactly lying.

The brow furrowed with concern. “You’re not feeling well? You want to go lay down for a bit?”

As much as you wanted to protest that you really were fine, the opportunity to get away for a few minutes felt like a godsend. You answered, “That’s sounds nice, actually.”

“Here, come with me,” he said as he gestured for you to follow him through the back of the garage and into the Williams motorhome.

You ended up in his driver’s room, a quiet haven away from the overwhelming chaos of the paddock. As you stepped inside it hit you just how awful you truly felt: your head was pounding, your stomach turning in flips, and your heart beating outside your chest. You practically slumped down onto the small couch, hunched over, covering your eyes with your arm to shield away the harsh fluorescent light.

You felt Franco settle beside you, breaking the silence with a soft, “You alright?” You just hummed in response, until you felt his hand meet your upper back, gently rubbing your shoulder blades as if his touch could smooth away your discomfort. But all it did was make it worse; you didn’t think your heart could beat any faster, and the turning of your stomach threatened to bring up your breakfast.

A knock at the door interrupted the moment. “Franco, need you at the media tent in five!”

Franco grumbled a reply that he’d be right there. Then he turned back to you, “You want to go back to the hotel? I can have someone take you.”

“No, I’ll be okay. I don’t want to miss qualifying.”

“YN, you look horrible.”

You laughed. “Thanks for the confidence boost.”

“No, I just… you don’t have to be there if you’re not feeling well, it’s okay.” Franco knew how stubborn you were. Never the type to admit any weakness, you could be on your death bed and still make it to the paddock to watch him race.

“No, really, I’m fine. Just give me a few minutes…”

He huffed, knowing it was no use arguing with you. He kneeled down to where you head was laid against the small table next to the couch, looking in your eyes. “Shit, YN, you’re

shivering—I’ve got a hoodie around here somewhere…” he began rummaging through his locker when another knock came at the door.

“Franco, media tent, NOW,” said the clearly agitated voice behind the door.

“Yeah, coming!” he replied.

He looked back nervous scratched the back of his neck, unsure of how far to push.

“I’ve got to go. Grab a hoodie and warm up, and if you feel any worse you come straight back here or I’ll end you,” he said, in an attempt to lighten the concern he felt for his best friend who sat before him, looking like a zombie.

“Understood,” you said, giving him a weak thumbs up.

He left the room and you sat there alone, taking deep breaths in an attempt to bring yourself back down to earth. You had truly believed it when you told Franco that you thought a few minutes in the quiet would fix you up, but your thoughts just kept racing, and your body reacted with it. The gentle comforting touch of his hand on your back left you spinning. It didn’t make sense—you two had been friends so long, the touch was nothing unusual. Just a friendly gesture. Then why did it feel like your skin was on fire?

Franco had been right, you were shivering, and to distract yourself from your thoughts you heeded his advice to find a hoodie to wear. You stepped over to the locker and found the one he brought—one purchased for him by one of his ex girlfriends, some blonde model who was nice enough but clearly wanted nothing to do with you. You didn’t blame her; you were nothing special, and your company paled in comparison to the excitements of dating a race car driver. Or at least, you assumed. It’s not like you’d ever date Franco.

Wait, what were you thinking? Dating Franco. The thought should bring disgust to your mouth. It did. Sort of. You weren’t shivering any more.

You put the hoodie back in the closet and took a deep breath. You decided to take the time between now and qualifying to see if writing in the journal could make you feel a little better. But when you opened the pages again, you just found what you had written last time and your feelings stuck.

You remembered a tactic your therapist taught you: sometimes your feelings can manifest physically. To calm down, ground yourself in your surroundings. Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, one thing you can taste. You brought your pen to paper.

I can see: The hoodie that Franco’s ex gave him. It’s crumpled in the corner of his locker. He wears it a lot, and it makes me wonder if he misses her. I don’t ask him stuff like that. That would be weird.

I can touch: The smooth plastic of the VIP pass around my neck. Franco refuses to tell me how he got it. I can’t believe he’d go through all this for me.

I can hear: The quiet silence of the room. Feet shuffling outside the door. Does anyone know I’m in here, hidden away like a secret? Did Franco tell anyone about me—about us? What even is us—why would he tell the paddock about a friend?

I can smell: Franco’s cologne, everywhere. It smells familiar, like home and a warm hug.

I can taste: the bitter taste of the maté I had this morning. Franco put me on to it when we were younger.

You went back and read through everything you’d written, seeing how many times his name came up—Franco, Franco, Franco.

And so you wrote it again. Franco, Franco, Franco. God, I feel like a little girl having a crush on the boy who sits next to her in class.

Wait. A crush? No, you were too old for that. That’s ridiculous. But reading the words you had written over and over and over again—what else could it be?

Of course I love Franco. He’s my best friend.

Reading and writing seemed to blur. Yes, you loved Franco. So you wrote it again.

I love Franco Colapinto.

Finally, you stopped. Your headache, stomach pain, and that stubborn heartbeat had all faded to calmness. You read it, no, wrote it, no—did it even matter anymore?

I love Franco Colapinto.

No. You scribbled it out and closed the diary. No, no, no no no no no.

You checked your phone. It was almost time for quali. You threw the journal to the bottom of your bag, took a deep breath, and made your way back out to the Williams garage.

On the way there you ran into a familiar face—Franco’s mother. You had heard she would be here for the weekend, but you hadn’t run into her yet, with everything going on. Upon seeing you her face lit up in a smile. “YN! Franquito just sent me to check on you, said you were feeling well?”

You cringed a bit internally at her knowing your situation, but smiled anyway. “Oh, I was, but I’m doing okay now. Ready for quali.”

So the two of you made your way back to the garage, making idle chat about your lives back at your respective homes outside of Franco. The more you all talked, though, the more it became apparent that both of your lives seemed to revolve around him; but it made sense for his mother, of course, even if he didn’t live in Argentina anymore. But you? You couldn’t shake the feeling that your connection to Franco was deeper and more problematic than ever now. His mother’s voice faded into the background sounds of the garage as your mind returned again to again to the words you had written: I love Franco Colapinto. It felt so childish, like it belonged in a pink diary, written in a glittering gel pen, surrounded by little hearts. It made you sick to your stomach.

“You know, YN,” his mother said, breaking you from your spiraling thoughts, “I’m so glad he has you. I was so worried when he left home, but when you all met it helped me sleep better at night knowing someone was looking out for him. And look where we are now! Oh, I’m so proud of him.”

“I am too,” you smiled, somewhat pained but still genuine.

She laughed, “Now I just keep telling him he needs to find a girl like you! Stay away from all those actresses and models, they’re always trouble.”

You laughed in response, though your heart skipped a beat. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll find a good one. But I think he’s more focused on the racing.”

“Well, I hope so,” she replied, a hint of lighthearted criticism in her voice.

The conversation came to a natural end with qualifying about to start any second. Franco, suited up and putting on his helmet, glanced to you and his mother behind the barriers, throwing you a wink before stepping in the car. You rolled your eyes. Everyone who had ever met Franco knew how much of a flirt he was, it was just part of his personality. It had never bothered you before. But to be the girl he was flirting with? To have it mean something? That was something else entirely, something you’d stuffed deep down. You told yourself it meant nothing, because it didn’t. Franco was just…like that. He was just your friend. Nothing more.

Franco had a respectable qualifying—P12—and the rest of the day went by as usual before your dinner plans with him, his mother, and the rest of the Williams team. It was awkward at first. You were sat by Franco and his mother on one side, who were talking to each other in Spanish, far away mentally from the dinner; and on the other was Alex Albon's girlfriend, Lily. Thankfully, Lily seemed very kind and made conversation.

“Oh hi, YN isn’t it? I’ve been meaning to say hello! I’m Lily, it’s nice to meet you, welcome to the wag club,” she joked.

“The wag club?” You were confused, was this some motorsports term you’d never heard of?

“Oh, you know, wives and girlfriends. The fans just call us wags,” she smiled. You were grateful that at least one person's girlfriend was kind to you. But her assumption brought a blush to your cheeks.

“Oh, I’m not—“

Lily wasn’t quite paying attention, or maybe you were too quiet compared to the busy atmosphere of the restaurant. “You know, it’s really great to have you here, you and Franco are so cute! It’s a shame what happened with Logan, but on the bright side so get to make new friends. I can introduce you to the rest of the girls too, it’s hard being in a garage full of guys so we have to stick together, you know.”

You cut her off, unable to handle her mistake any longer. “Oh, uh, I’m not… Franco’s girlfriend. We’re just friends.” 

Lily paused for a moment. “Oh! Um… sorry about that.” She nervously laughed. “I just thought, you know, since you’ve been at all his races so far…”

“Oh yeah, I’m not sure how, but he got me paddock passes for the rest of the season. I mean, once in a lifetime opportunity, right?”

“Yeah, that’s… I mean, wow. Alex can’t even get me that many passes.” Lily left the implication of her comment unsaid. Franco had gone above and beyond—he wanted you here more than anything. “Well, anyway, I’m sure the girls would still love to meet you!” she smiled. 

It was nice to have a friend other than Franco in the paddock. You passed the dinner telling funny stories back and forth about Franco and Alex’s embarrassing karting moments. The Williams team was beginning to feel like family.

Back in your hotel room, the chaos of the day faded away into a calm silence. You opened your journal and wrote about everything that had happened since you had left his drivers room. Again and again you returned to that sentence, now scratched out, but finally, you had to accept what you had so long avoided, what everyone around you could see plainly.

So you took your pen and wrote one last sentence of the night:

I am in love with my best friend, Franco Colapinto. 

[lovemomhatepolice]

NO NUT NOVEMBER 24’

starting today, daily stories will appear here to celebrate No Nut November! if you have any ideas for a chapter, please send me inbox, I hope you like it :) fandoms that will appear here - formula 1, harry potter, maneskin and outer banks, as well as footballers

1. nswf alphabet drew starkey (part 2) 2. nswf alphabet jude bellingham (part 2) 3. 31' [drew starkey] 4. nswf alphabet jj maybank (part 1) 5. nswf alphabet max verstappen (part 1) 6. i'll make it fit [rafe cameron] 7. slice of paradise [lando norris] 8. nswf alphabet draco malfoy (part 1) 9. cravings [carlos sainz jr]10. between your thighs [jj maybank] 11. nswf alphabet oscar piastri (part 2) 12. steam [mattheo riddle] 13. gladiator [charles leclerc] 14. nswf alphabet lewis hamilton (part 1) 15. lost match [jude bellingham] 16. nswf alphabet max verstappen (part 2) 17. nswf alphabet jj maybank (part 2) 18. (my) world champion [max verstappen] 19. silk robe [theodore nott]

[urfavleo777]

Riccardo Calafiori x reader inspired by lana del rey's lyrics

The hotel room was huge. Basically big enough to be an apartment, which made sense because it was the price of rent for an average apartment in Rome. You were lying next to your boyfriend on a double bed, he was leaning on his elbow, and staring at you with a smile. At that moment, it was just you and the sound of the fire burning in the fireplace next to you. It was perfect.

Riccardo decided to turn on some random playlist on your phone. It was a song by an Italian band, Måneskin, which you idolized and couldn't keep silent while listening to it. If not because of your tears, then because of your squawking while singing.

That's why you started trying your best at following the lyrics of the song, but in the end you only made the Italian smile wider.

“C’mon, say something, Ricky” you snapped, cupping his cheek with your hand.

“You are the one woman who means the most to me in this world. You are my everything, my love, my universe. Everything I do, I do it for you. So let me just look at you.”

You loved him. You’d love him ‘til the end of time.

It was wonderful to just cut yourself off from the world, lie on the bed with him, cover yourself with the duvet and live with the knowledge that someone felt what you felt, that someone was lying a few centimeters away from you and planning a future with you.

If there were words to describe this feeling, they would be the most beautiful words ever spoken. Because it wasn't pleasant, happy or beautiful. It was above and beyond everything.

He was charismatic, magnetic, electric and everybody knew it. When he walked in every woman's head turned, everyone stood up to talk to him. He was like this hybrid, this mix of a man who couldn't contain himself. Whether it was his charming smile, his captivating eyes, or his confident stance, people just couldn't help but be attracted to him. He carried himself with an alluring aura that made him a formidable presence in any room, causing both men and women to sit up and take notice.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you asked, unable to stop smiling.

“You know, I could be a better boyfriend. Spend more time with you, buy you gifts, take you on dates more often, treat you with even more respect.”

“I swear It's perfect the way it is. You don't have to-”

“Wait, let me finish,” he interrupted, raising his hand, and for a few seconds you saw something unusual on his face, uncertainty. “You really do mean everything to me, totally, absolutely everything. You blew my mind years ago, and nothing has changed since then, nothing to diminish my feelings for you. Well, I guess it's just time.”

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, and you watched his every move, confused. You didn't know what he was talking about until he pulled out a box with an engagement ring from under the covers.

“Mi vuoi sposare?” His hand reached out to touch your face, his touch gentle and reverent as he whispered the question that would change both of your lives forever. “Will you marry me? Will you make my life even more beautiful by becoming my wife?”

You were surprised, touched, and more than a little bit overwhelmed. You were sitting there in your joggers, devoid of any makeup, and yet here he was, looking at you with hope, waiting for your answer.

“You should kneel, idiot.” You just said, to which he sighed dramatically and got off the bed, doing exactly what you said.

And still fixing his eyes in love on you. You froze for a moment, it— he was beautiful.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts, before finally speaking up. “Yes,” you said, a smile slowly spreading across your face. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Be my once in a lifetime”

Rolling his eyes, he returned to the bed, never taking his lips from yours. He positioned himself above you on the bed, his body pressing against yours as he continued to devour your lips with a fierce intensity. 

You couldn’t believe what just happened.

When you calmed down and your emotions subsided, you only realized what was on your finger and why Riccardo was so happy.

“You didn't expect that, did you?” A sly smile played at the corners of his lips as he looked down at you, his body still pressed against yours. He was clearly proud of himself, reveling in the fact that he had managed to surprise you once again.

“No, I didn't,” you admitted with a small laugh, still reeling from the intensity of his kiss.

“I was going to do it tomorrow over a big dinner with candles, but I don't know. I guess I felt that this moment was less hackneyed, more real, more ours.”

“You really are full of surprises.” you dragged out the last letters, while he pulled your phone out from under him and switched the song. Unlike you, he hated rock music, and you listened to a few rock songs regularly. He chose “Without You” by Lana and placed the phone on the night stand.

He chuckled softly, his eyes glittering with mischief. “Of course I am,” he teased. “And I have plenty more surprises up my sleeve just you wait and see, amore.” He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours, a tantalizing distance away. “But for now, I think I'd like to show you just how much I want you right now.”

His hands began to wander over your body, his touch gentle yet possessive, the heat between you growing with every moment. He kissed you again, his mouth moving over yours with a primal hunger, as if he couldn't get enough of you. “All my dreams and all the lights mean,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “Nothing without you.”

[artpoplibrary]

TIMEZONE

Ken Sato x GN!Reader

Angst?, Reader isn’t actually in this; he’s just thinking about them, reader may seem more AFAB (I swear it was an accident), Post-Ultraman: Rising, Ken’s OOC in this - blame the fact I wrote this when my brain was frying off in a heatwave 6 months ago, brief alcohol mention and depiction of a drunk character

It went to voicemail. Again. It was what? The fifth call in the past hour, honestly he deserved a medal for his self control. His thumb hovered over the call button once again, he knew you wouldn’t pick up but the sound of you on the voicemail made his heart break just a bit less.

It had been weeks since he’d seen you, the Giants were playing internationally and you hadn’t been able to join him. It was times like this that made him question if all this was worth it. He’d always dreamed of this, playing in the big leagues, and he’d done it. He had the trophies to prove it hanging on his wall, yet there had been something cracking in him for over a year now, since he’d met you, hell, since he’d taken in Emi.

Rather than hit the call button once more he pressed on your contact photo, it was a picture Mina had taken without either of you knowing. Your hair was wild. The three of you; you, him, and Emi had fallen asleep in her room, only for you to wake up snuggled into the grasp of the 20-foot-tall baby kaiju. Despite the circumstances, you were stunning; soft and sweet and his. The photo was zoomed in on you and Emi, his family. 

A smile tugged at his lips and he instantly winced. He’d not been sleeping well recently, it was hard to sleep without you there and your FaceTime calls could only do so much for him. The sleep deprivation had led to his coordination being less than stellar, not quite enough to affect him during the games but enough that he had tripped down the steps of the plane and landed on a pile of luggage, leading to a large black eye and several other cuts and bruises across his face.

God, he hadn’t even had the chance to tell you about it. His chest hurt the more he thought of it, 7000 kilometres, that was the only thing keeping him from you. He couldn’t believe he had to keep this up for another month and a half, 47 days. 47 days ‘till he could see you, ‘till he could hold you in his arms again. 47 days, 5 hours, and approximately 30 minutes if there were no delays in his flights. 

He could do this, it would all be worth it, your smile when he finally came home victorious would be more than enough. Of course he knew that it didn’t truly matter, you’d smile like that at him no matter what, and he loved that about you, but it didn’t feel right to him. Getting that smile even though he’d failed, running home with his tail between his legs simply because he couldn’t go a month or two without seeing you. But who could truly blame him? You were the best thing that could ever have happened to him.

He drifted off to sleep with a drink pressed against his cheek and your picture in his hands, wishing for a third option.

“Sato’s off his game, it’s sad, really.”

The TV blared in the back of his hotel room, it did what it could to block out the noise of his teammates and the loud music blasting from the room two down from his. He couldn’t stomach the party, they’d won with him barely doing a thing. 

“But we all know the saying, the bigger they are the harder they fall, will this be the case for the Giants player?”

He clicked off the remote, the flatscreen turning to black. That was enough of that, your voice echoed in his head. God, was he hallucinating? He could practically feel your soft touch on his face, brushing gently against the bruises, still yet to heal. 43 days now, 43 days and 12 hours. It was late, most days you would have been able to call but you’d been asked to work early  and wouldn’t be back until nearly 8 am his time. He wished he could strangle your boss, it wasn’t like you needed the extra cash, you were just too kind and your boss knew it, that’s why she’d always go out of her way to ask you to work overtime. 

Maybe you should just quit your job, he made enough for the both of you by a wide margin, being the worlds sweetheart, both as Ken Sato; famed baseball player, and Ultraman; Japan’s hero has its perks. He knew you’d never agree to it, much too dedicated to your job, a quality he both hated and adored, but a man could dream.

It was the sudden jolt at his door that roused him from his thoughts, opening it only to see the very red, exceedingly drunk face of one of his teammates. Which one, he wasn’t sure —though his jersey read 27— what he was sure of though was that whatever he wanted couldn’t be good. He was proved right when a moment later the man, 27, spoke.

“‘Ey, t’Shato,” his words slurred. How drunk was this guy? “Why don’ you c’me join ush?”

The woman on 27’s arm moved towards him, putting a hand on Kenji’s arm. He hadn’t paid her much mind so far, assuming she was a groupie or such. She didn’t look like any of his teammates' steady girlfriends, of which there were, unsurprisingly, very few. He’d been lucky enough to be graced with you, the same can’t be said for his teammates.

“Yeah, doll,” the woman spoke. “Why don’t you join us?” 

He flushed a bit, more with anger than embarrassment, at what she was implying, snatching his arm back and away. He needed to get out of here. 

“I’m happily taken,” he turned to 27’, “something you should know by now, rook’.”

He spat out the last word, more a taunt than a nickname, before closing the door fast. He needed to see you, feel you, if he did this much longer he might crack. The Giants weren’t playing for the next few days, no doubt the only reason that Coach had let them get wasted. 

He pulled out his phone, checking for the soonest flight back to Tokyo. 4:30 am, 1600$ a ticket, that was in less than 3 hours. Who gives a shit. He quickly grabbed a change of clothes, his passport, and a toothbrush, scrawling down a hasty note to leave by the Coach’s door and calling a cab while he paced around the elevator. Was this the right choice? Would you be okay with it, that was the real question. Kenji didn’t really give a shit about his contracts or the scandal, but you, would you be disappointed in him? Only one way to find out, really.

He booked the ticket on the cab ride, getting to the airport with an hour to spare. He pulled up your photo as soon as he was through TSA, you at one of his games. He hadn’t taken it, he didn’t really know who did, just some random paparazzi, but the photo was as nearly as famous as he was at this point. It was of the two of you, your hands thrown around his neck after one of the games. His back was to the camera, but he could see your face plain as day, hair wild with movement and your beautiful, wide grin.

 Your eyes were squeezed shut, it looked like you were laughing. The camera had caught you as you were pulling away from his lips, and the next day it was all over the papers. He didn’t mind, he’d wanted to go public with you for a few months at that point, this was just another reason he should. He remembered the way you called him panicked when you saw it, not out of worry for yourself but for him. God he loved you, stupid, beautiful, kind you. He couldn’t wait to see you, the photo still on screen as he boarded the flight, sending you one last text before going up in the air.

‘I’m coming home’

Author’s Note(s):

It’s so bad forgive meeeeee— this has been sitting in my notes app since August, I swear my writing has gotten better T.T

Anyway, the ending seems blunt now that I’ve reread it, so I might do a continuation in the future. I also have an old Vi songfic from a *slightly* later writing era I might post, but I don’t want to get into the habit of writing existing characters ‘cause I feel like they’re always so ooc—

Song this was based on —

[celefrfr]

unpopular opinion: eurovision ruins artists, they make english songs just because of the international Fandom, like baby lasagna's new song in english is ass, same for måneskin after eurovision, joker out, käärijä fell off too, like fantastista was so good but the new songs are kinda ew,

[baddestbittyontheblock]

måneskin fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

måneskin x reader: blurbs+headcannons+fics

୨୧ 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

୨୧ 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧

୨୧ a headcanon with må with you being a successful model

-they're wearing earbuds, blasting music into their ears when they remember the they left their phone charger in the bathroom. they don't know you're showering and can't hear you over the music...

୨୧ headcanons with må x fashiondesigner!reader

୨୧ a valentine’s surprise | SMUT, orgy, oral sex, anal play, double penetration, food play, spit play, alcohol  

-You’ve been feeling a little left out in your relationship so your four partners show their love to you with a surprise for Valentine’s Day. 

୨୧ Gettin’ Frisky With The Måneskin Members  | explicit content, gender neutral reader, switch!damiano, hard domme!victoria, vanilla!thomas, sub!ethan, freaky stuff, toys and s/m, oral (both ways), degradation, spit, pain play, brat taming, bondage, sinning cuz rock’n’roll never dies

୨୧ our favourite band with an S/O with bad menstrual periods

| talk abt periods, so dyphoria warning (we'll get back on the totally GN shit tmrw, just filling requests rn), lil bit of swearing and NSFW on Ethan

୨୧ how the members of Måneskin confess their feelings for you måneskin x gn!reader

victoria de angelis

·。🍓 my sweet valentine vic de angelis x fem! reader | Fluff

-Victoria's first Valentine's day celebrating with you is a bit chaotic but turns out better than expected.

·。🍓 date night vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut, fingering, oral (female receiving) and bdsm dynamics

-you and vic go on a date and it ends with fun at the hotel

·。🍓 hush, hush, cucciola. vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-you’re were asked to come over and help to calm Vic down after another disagreement during creating new song, and you find just the way to make her happy and peaceful again

·。🍓 pillow talk vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-your night trip to the kitchen gets interrupted by a strange noise, the results of your investigation are more pleasant then you could expect.

·。🍓 long stormy night damiano x fem!reader x vic | SMUT!!!, degradation, corruption kink, wax play, knife play, blood play, spanking, bit of fear play, unprotected sex, it’s just wild ok, i wanted to treat y/n

-It’s a last day of your small, a bit disappointing  gateway trip. The big storm is approaching, yet your evening takes an interesting turn when you bump into two hot Italians in the hotel bar

·。🍓 cold breeze, hot cheeks vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst, fluff 

-a rather cold October makes your blood boil as you and Vic attend Ethan's birthday party

·。🍓 i think I wanna hold you, but I'm not sure i'm allowed

vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst with tiny hint of smut

·。🍓 I'll show the  lovin' that you'll never get from a man. vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst, fluff, smut

-your friends finally meet your boyfriend, and even though nothing goes according to the plan, your night ends up being better than you could hope for, thanks to Vic

·。🍓 sweat and good grips vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

·。🍓 the one with victoria’s boobs. victoria x gn!reader | fluff

-Victoria needs help taping her boobs for an upcoming performance. You get more than you bargained for.

·。🍓 the one where victoria wants to watch victoria x fem!reader x ethan | smut

·。🍓 “OPEN YOUR MOUTH.” victoria x gn!reader | soft smut

-along the lines of The one where victoria is patient.

·。🍓 “YEAH, WELL, IF YOU WEREN’T SO DRUNK MAYBE I WOULD.” vic de angelis x fem! reader

·。🍓 “I KNOW YOU CAN BE LOUDER THAN THAT.” vic de angelis x fem! reader

·。🍓 “GIVE ME ATTENTION.” vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

·。🍓 say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams vic de angelis xfem!reader | fluff, smut

-You're an up-and-coming actress, and Vic's best friend since high school. You have been friends and in love with each other for as long as you can remember. So when you have the chance to be together, it's magical.

·。🍓 baby said vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-you've been on a few dates with Victoria and you think things are going really well. You just wish you had known where the night was going beforehand- maybe you would have picked a table with longer tablecloths.

·。🍓 latenight devil vic de angelis x fem! reader

-victoria covers for you after you sneak backstage ahead of a Måneskin gig & invites you into her dressing room for an unusual encounter

·。🍓 forgive me father vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut, basically porn

·。🍓 the ocean's daughter swearing, alcohol consumption, drowning as a metaphor, smut

-while on holiday in italy, an encounter derails your life enough to make you pack up on a whim and move to the very city in which you first saw her — the ocean's daughter.

·。🍓 vic blurb

-doing domestic stuff with Victoria

·。🍓 a threesome with victoria and damiano! damiano x fem!reader x vic | smut

-reader is victoria’s partner and starts to develop a certain ‘obsession’ for dami, until vic decides to fix it.

·。🍓 vic de angelis fic victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-y/n is the other female member of the band, who has had feelings for vic for a while now, but was too nervous to say anything. one night after a concert in new york changes that after the bassist overhears a conversation between damiano and y/n.

·。🍓 thorns victoria de angelis x fem!reader | Mentions of smoking. Mentions of panic. Swearing.

-victoria meets her ex-girlfriend (Ava). The unplanned “date” upsets her and she decides to drink and smoke to cope. When she wakes up in the morning her best friend Y/N (who she also happens to have a crush on) is there to try and reason with her. 

·。🍓 lucid victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-It started with a spilled drink and ended with a clumsy kiss on the dance floor. A night out with friends takes an unexpected turn when you bump into the one person that's been on your mind for the better part of a year- the same stranger who stole both your chapstick and your heart.

·。🍓 nightmares victoria de angelis x fem!reader | A description of a nightmare. Other than that all is fluff and comfort.

-When Y/N has a terrifying nightmare and wakes up screaming, Victoria is there to comfort her.

·。🍓 kisses and cake vic de angelis x reader | very fluffy, a little spicy

·。🍓 vic blurb vic de angelis x reader

-being in a punk band and having vic feature in a show (you know like thomas recently did with starcrawler) and her doing her scissoring thing on top of me and then when she extends and after extending a hand to help me up and pulling me into a very gay gay gay kiss smearing her lipstick on my lipstick and leaving a big lipstick stain on my cheek as well

·。🍓 birthday wish victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut

-little birthday blurb

·。🍓 church crush vic de angelis x reader | kinky as kink abba; innocent/corruption kink, and idk, sacrilege?

-good girl!reader having a massive obsession on a not-so-good girl from her church.

·。🍓 proficiency test victoria de angelis x gn!reader | a bit of swearing + one (1) explicit and one (1) implicit mention of sex + i'm very much projecting (who doesn't) + shitty german

-vic decides to help you study. chaos ensues.

·。🍓 coming home victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-vic has had a long day but coming home to you lifts the uneasiness from her shoulders and she vocalizes just how lucky she feels that you are in her life.

·。🍓 because of you idiot! victoria de angelis x gn!reader | angst(I guess), romantic fluff

-Victoria suddenly comes distance, and you try to find out why.

·。🍓 fluffy blurb vic de angelis x reader

-(it's something about getting matching tattoos with vic)

·。🍓 fuffly/smut with victoria victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-fluffy morning/half smut with victoria. nipples playing.

·。🍓 your camera roll while dating vic vic de angelis x reader | fluff, smut

·。🍓 knowing your worth vic x fem/gn! reader | hurt, comfort

-Vic is there for you after a conflict with your parents.

·。🍓 the first happiest birthday vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 crawling back to you vic de angelis x reader

-Vic once again finds her way back to you.

·。🍓 one of a kind vic de angelis x reader | fluff, mentions of sex

-Vic finds out just how rich the feeling of love can be.

·。🍓 “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretend that it’s you!” vic de angelis x reader | fluff, angst

·。🍓 pt 2 hospital vic fic. vic de angelis x reader

·。🍓 “everything before the word ‘but’ is horseshit.” vic de angelis x reader | smut

·。🍓 the one where victoria is patient. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut

-you've been with Victoria for half a year. Maybe it's about time you pushed your fears away.

·。🍓 “Yeah, well, if you weren’t so drunk maybe I would.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 “Give me attention.” vic de angelis x reader | smut

·。🍓 “We’re in public, you know.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 “Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 "Take off your clothes, but leave the heels on." vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 vic fic vic de angelis x reader

-A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party

·。🍓 vic blurb vic de angelis x reader

-Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.

·。🍓 l'amore è più forte di ogni segreto: Part 1. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | angst, swearing, bad google translate translations, overuse of italics, mention of someone called ‘A’ - Damiano’s girlfriend

-unbeknownst to you both, paparazzi photograph you and Victoria while on your way back from a date night. When you find out in the morning, the two of you have very different ideas of how to handle the situation.

·。🍓 l'amore è più forte di ogni segreto - Part 2. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | angst, swearing, bad google translate translations, overuse of italics.

·。🍓 k is for kisses vic de angelis x reader

-You and your girlfriend, Victoria, both like to tease each other. Kisses ensue.

·。🍓 peculiar and beautiful victoria de angelis x gn!reader | angsty but also fluffy

-reader finds themself in a emotional rut. A few comments online, the constant youtube recommendations on how to be “perfect” have been making them feel some type of way, hiding away from the one person that can help them; Victoria

·。🍓 amalfi nights victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut, pretty vanilla, softdom!vic, servicetop!vic, praise, kind of fluffy smut

-reader and victoria are for vacation in Amalfi. After a candle-lit dinner at the restaurant, after a long day of swimming and sunbathing, victoria just wants to show you her love.

·。🍓 afterglow victoria de angelis x gn!reader | mentions of sex

-reader meets victoria while traveling with friends. The two create a lovely summer fling and reader can not help but bask in the afterglow of victorias influence hoping to encounter her again.

·。🍓 homesick vic de angelis x reader | tw sickness, vomitting

-vic and the reader being on a long vacation together. One night the reader wakes up homesick and ends up being sick in the toilet, trying to be as quiet as they can not to worry vic too much. To no use, of course, as vic wakes up alarmed by the sounds of someone being ill in the bathroom and then goes to comfort the sick, guilty, crying reader?

·。🍓 vic fic vic de angelis x reader

-An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

damiano david

✧*: i want to dance on your body damiano david x fem!reader | smut 

-you and your bestie hit up a party when you start grooving with Damiano, and the dance floor chemistry carries over to his hotel room. That's where the magic unfolds, and you both go to cloud as he compares you to an angel.

✧*: i'm gonna fly straight to you damiano david x fem!reader | fluff

-you and Damiano are cuddled up in bed, brainstorming epic future adventures together.

✧*: i wanna paint your face like you're my Mona Lisa. damiano david x fem!reader | smut

-damiano takes you to see his new yacht

✧*: long stormy night damiano x fem!reader x vic | SMUT!!!, degradation, corruption kink, wax play, knife play, blood play, spanking, bit of fear play, unprotected sex, it’s just wild ok, i wanted to treat y/n

-It’s a last day of your small, a bit disappointing  gateway trip. The big storm is approaching, yet your evening takes an interesting turn when you bump into two hot Italians in the hotel bar

✧*: overthinking damiano david x fem!reader | swearing, alcohol, smoking, smut related things in general

-Your relationship with Damiano is going through a crisis and some jealousy. All becomes clear after a filed party and a steamy night. There is a bit sad, angsty beginning, smut in the middle and a bit of fluff in the end. So, we have the whole package.

✧*: welcome home damiano david x fem!reader | surprisingly fluffy but also smut

-after a long week all you need is a loving touch of your currently absent boyfriend. Luckily in the morning there is a very handsome surprise waiting for you, and this allows you to start your day in best way you could possibly imagine

✧*: 300,000 hearts damiano david x fem!girlfriend!reader

-where damiano sings a song about you he wrote in highschool, to a full arena

ethan torchio

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ blush ethan torchio x reader | pure fluff

-a blurb of Ethan meeting his new makeup artist who's really kind and bubbly and he instantly gets a crush on them?

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ a night in paris ethan torchio x fem!reader | smut+swearing

-you went on a tour with the band and Ethan enjoyed Paris the most. Having your boyfriend all happy and excited turned out to be better then you expected.

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ "The way your eyes get darker when you get aroused, is making me lose my mind." ethan torchio x fem!reader | smut

-If acting unwise get's you places, maybe you're just pushing it to be on your knees.

thomas raggi

❤︎ ❥ "We passed 'just friends' about 20 fucks ago." thomas raggi x reader | angst, fluff, smut

❤︎ ❥ sanremo. thomas raggi x gn!reader | swearing, slightly sugggestive

-ever the supportive boyfriend, thomas indulges you in a sanremo 2023 watch party.

[izzylicious]

Kinktober Day 3: MHA Edition Dom! Tamaki Amajiki X Sub! Reader

Warnings: Viewer discretion is highly advised! Dom! Tamaki, Sub! Reader, quirkplay, tentacles (oop), pet name usage (bunny), size kink, slight bondage, mention of a safe word but not used.

“Are you sure…?”

Your boyfriend is shocked with how rough you’ve told him you want him to be. You honestly don’t know if he’ll be able to handle it. And your fantasies you shared were so… dirty.

“I’m sure. If it makes you feel better, our safe word will be takoyaki.” You assure him gently.

Tamaki’s face shifts and something inside him snaps. He rips your clothing from your body with tentacled fingers.

“Hey!” You whine, “That was my favorite shirt!”

In a flash your hands are bound above your head. Two more tentacles spread your legs and one shoves its way inside of you, setting a ruthless pace as one more tentacle finds your clit and sucks on it. Another two tentacles trail up your body until they reach your boobs, grasping them desperately.

You let out a broken moan from the new sensations, overstimulated and overwhelmed already.

Your boyfriend smirks, “You’re enjoying yourself, Bunny. Such a dirty girl for me…” His voice is low and smooth.

Squelching sounds have you squeezing around the tentacle, juices leaking from you. Suddenly, you feel his suckers attach themselves to your walls and you’re screaming as you cum all over the tentacle. He pulls it out of you and you cry out, disappointed with the sudden empty feeling.

Tamaki tears his clothes off. He lifts you into the air and makes you sit in his lap, two strong tentacles holding your body to him. Your eyes widen as you watch his cock grow to an inhuman size.

“What did you eat?” You question.

He doesn’t respond, but instead sinks you onto his huge length inch by inch. There’s a bulge in your stomach, shifting with Tamaki’s movements. It splits you open with an agonizing stretch, but you’re soon moaning for more. You try to scratch his back, but he restrains your hands behind you.

Tamaki taunts, “Naughty, naughty. I say when you can move.”

Your boyfriend slams inside of you, brutally rearranging your insides. You feel the pressure in your stomach building as one of the suckers on his tentacle sucks at your clit. Another two grip each of your breasts, fondling at your nipples. You tighten around his fat dick and scream his name as you climax. You’re panting and overstimulated as he continues wrecking you. He swells inside of you and he thrusts sporadically before stuffing himself to the hilt and cumming deep. Tamaki pants as he slowly pulls out, his spend dripping out of you.

“Did… did I do good for you, Bunny? Was I too rough? Are you hurt?”

You reassure. “It was wonderful and I enjoyed every minute of it. I like that side of you.” You wink.

I love the idea of Tamaki having such duality. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, my lovelies! Song because I’d be Tamaki’s slave. 😍 ~Izzylicious

[writersblockiskillingme]

Can you please do a Damiano fell in love with his long time friend/band mate (reader) who is the backup singer (bc their voices complement each others perfectly) and writes a song about her and sings it to her on stage, confessing his love. (the other band mates know abt it).

I’m in my delusional era

Only Angel | Damiano David

Pairing: Damiano David x fem!reader (Måneskin bandmate)

Summary: You were in love with him for a very long time, but you didn't know that he loved you back. Until he decided to do something about it.

Warning/s: pet name (angel), just a little bit of good all angst, smut +18, degradation, teasing, prising, dom/sub, few curse words, mentions of alcohol and weed, cigarettes, mentions of one night stands, grammar and spelling mistakes, Google translated Italian (sorry, please tell me in the comments if I made any mistakes so I can fix them)

Author's note: This one's been a long time coming, but enjoy!

I saw this angel

I really saw an angel

Open up your eyes, shut your mouth and see

That I'm still the only one who's been in love with me

I'm just happy getting you stuck in between my teeth

And there's nothing I can do about it

Damiano could still remember the first time he met her.

She was the first singer that Måneskin (Back then just Victoria and Thomas) recruited for the band. He could remember it as if it was yesterday.

His hands were sweating as hell as he walked through the hallway of a "made up", improved studio that belongs to the future, back-then-still-in-making, rock band Måneskin. He remembered how nervous he was, but that nervousness compared to the one he experienced as he walked into the studio was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not a big deal at all.

As he reached his stop, he looked up and saw a guy with blonde hair messing with his guitar, and he saw a blonde haired girl standing next to him, watching him. They didn't notice him just yet.

Damiano turned his head away from them and decided to focus his gaze on a girl sitting in a chair with a pen and journal in her hands, ashtray sitting on the armrest of the chair. She was lightly gripping the pen as she wrote and crossed and scrambled the words on a piece of paper in the journal. Her (h/l) (h/c) covered her eyes slightly. He could clearly see her red lips moving, even tho she had a half finished cigarette in her mouth. She was probably mumbling the word of the, what was probably, a song she was writing.

She was mumbling so quietly, but somehow he could still hear her voice. It was beautiful, he felt like he was falling into a trans. He felt himself freezing like a deer in headlights when he saw her look up at him.

Her face steached into a smile, cigarette no longer lingering on her lips as she reached out and placed it on an ashtray. Her (e/c) shining like the sun, her hair no longer covering them from him. She stood up and started to walk up to him. That's the moment when Vic and Thomas noticed him, too.

He noticed the grace she was carrying herself with. It was as if she was floating. It was a sight to behold for sure.

"Ciao! Tu devi essere Damiano David." [Hi! You must be Damiano David.] She said and he felt like his breath was knocked out of his lungs when he heard her angelic voice speak to him.

"SÌ. Quello... sono io." [Yes. That's me.] He stuttered for a bit and that shocked him to his core. He never stuttered before, it felt weird. He didn't like that.

"Sorprendente. Io sono (Y/N) e loro sono Thomas e Victoria." [Amazing. I'm (Y/N) and this is Thomas and Victoria.] She introduced herself, Thomas and Vic.

And so, after a few quick hellos were exchanged, they pulled him in front of the mic and they preformed one song with him and one where he had to sing alone. It turned out that (Y/N) and he sing together perfectly. Their voices simply sound so good together. However, since that day something followed Damiano. Something that he couldn't quite place for a little bit.

Broke a finger knocking on your bedroom door

I got splinters in my knuckles crawling across the floor

Couldn't take you home to mother in a skirt that short

But I think that's what I like about it

She's an angel

Only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

Over the years Damiano and (Y/N) started to get closer and closer to each other.

At first it was innocent, truly. The two of them would talk with each other more than they would with Vic, Thomas or Ethan. Everyone soon noticed how close they were. They started to become very good friends. They had a lot of thing in common. They liked the same music, the same artists, everything! They somehow never ran out of topics to have a conversation about. It was amazing, really.

They would go out to get coffee, pizza, they went to bars and local parties together. They would come to each other's houses and just watch TV and get drunk or, sometimes even, high. They would drink some shitty wine that they would find in some shitty liquor store and would fall asleep on top of each other on the couch.

They would write and sing songs with each other. They liked each other's voices, but most of all, they liked how they sounded together. A match made in heaven, indeed.

However, over the years something changed. As they grew, the band did, too and so did their feelings for one another. Damiano watched everything she did whenever she was in his presence. He practically adored the ground she was walking on. It was amazing to experience. And to watch, too.

Vic was the first one to notice, of course. She would easily notice the longing glances that they would send each other while they thought that nobody was looking. She tried to talk to them about it. They would just brush it off.

"She is just my best friend, come on, Vic!"

"He's just a friend to me. Nothing more!"

Of course, Vic wasn't stupid, and neither were Thomas and Ethan. They soon figured what was up, too. The three musicians really tried everything in their power to get them to know what the other was feeling, but it felt like it was impossible to do that.

The problem was that Damiano and (Y/N) thought that the other didn't like them like that. And so from one problem, another one was born.

One night stands.

They both thought that if they see other people they could push their feelings away. However, when did that work out?

Damiano could still remember it. He walked down the hallway of the hotel that they were staying in because of their performance in New York. He watched her and some random guy practically eat each other's faces as she started to push him into her hotel room.

The last thing that he saw were the stains of red lipstick before he started doing it two.

I must admit I thought I'd like to make you mine

As I went about my business through the warning signs

End up meeting in the hallway every single time

And there's nothing we can do about it

Damiano had officially had enough. Watching her bringing guy after guy in her hotel room, him bringing girl after girl. It was too much. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't just stand aside as he watched and heard everything those guys did when it should be him doing it to his angel.

So one night he gathered his courage and knocked on her door so hard he almost got splinters in his knuckles from the wooden door. The moment she opened the door he spilled his feelings to her and so this is how they ended up there.

Damiano was quick to notice a bruise in the corner of her neck. Her pathetic attempt to cover it with her hair was not doing it. He felt anger fill his body to the brim. He knew that he had no reason to be angry, she wasn't his. Perhaps that was what angered him.

"You seem angry." (Y/N) was quick to point it out, her face forming a concerned look. "Why are you mad?"

"I'm not mad." Damiano spat out, proving her point. "I just think that you can choose better people to share spit with, angel. That's all."

"Excuse me?!" (Y/N) couldn't help but to yell in his face in the middle of the hallway. "What the hell is wrong with you, Damiano?"

"Was it worth it?" He asked her, his voice dangerously low. It send shivers down her spine.

"Is you hating me right now your new personality trait?"

She knew that that wasn't justified. She knew how bold of her that was. She knew that he didn't actually hate her, at least she hoped that he didn't. The truth was that she grew nervous under his gaze. His gaze, his tone, sudden realization of what he was talking about... it made her nervous as hell. She didn't know what to do.

"Was it worth it?" He kept his voice low and she knew that she couldn't avoid the topic any longer as much as she wanted to.

"I don't know what to say, Damiano."

"Oh, don't bullshit me, (Y/N)!" Damiano's voice rang in the hallway of the huge hotel in the middle of New York. He didn't give a flying fuck that it was night. That her "neighbors" were probably asleep. He didn't care about anything but his angel.

"Watcing you with so many guys who can't give you what I can... it draw me crazy." He finally confessed as he watched her in science of the hallway, frozen, confused. "You still don't get it, do you? It's because I love you."

"Now I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't feel the same way." Damiano told her as he pinned her against the door of her bedroom. Her breath getting stuck in her throat as she listened to his rough voice speak. "Just then I will leave you alone."

"I can't." She whispered, feeling so small compared to him right now.

"And why is that, angel."

"Because... I'm not even gonna lie, I'm just so fucking obsessed with you, you have no idea."

That's all he needed.

Told it to her brother and she told it to me

That she's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see

When it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets

And there's nothing she can do about it

Hey, hey

His lips felt so familiar yet so unknown to her. His breathing had become more strained.

"Damn it all to hell, if I don't get to have you tonight then I'm never going to be able to have you."

"Who says it has to be that way." (Y/N) said as she gasped in pleasure as he started to suck the skin on her neck.

His muscles tensed with every thrust. She finally allowed herself to sink into the mattress, into her pillow. She finally allowed herself to have him and for him to have her. She felt his hands flattering against her spine as he drew her closer to him as if that was physically possible.

"Arch your back for me, angel."

She felt herself gasping in pleasure as she did what he asked her to do. It was hard for him to contain his own sounds, too, as he pumped his thick throbbing cock into her at a constant pace.

"Please..." she was getting overwhelmed with him continuously hitting the right spot deep inside of her.

He grabbed her ankles and lifted her ankles to place them around his waist. She was practically screaming as he continued to split her wet pussy at rapid speed. She continued to shudder as he sped up his pace.

"Bet you they don't make you sound like that, do they, angel?"

"Ah- I-"

"Do they!?"

"NOO!" She barely gasped. "They don't... only you can do- ahh- this to mee!"

She openly moaned, screaming as Damiano's cock started swelling and stretching her tight pussy even more then before. And as her orgasm hit, she began to cry. He didn't care, he continued to thrust repeatedly, no signs of stopping or at least slowing down.

"I want you to remember everything fucking seconds of this."

She was overstimulated, but the tears of pleasure continued to flow.

He suddenly pulled out, erotic sound of cum mixed together filled the deafening silence in her room. He's fiery kisses started to trail down to her soaked pussy. Soon he started to suck her clit, but he moved away when he felt your hands on his head. He removed his tongue as he repositioned himself near your ass.

"Mhh!" (Y/N) tried to gain her voice back so she could speak again. "Don't! Too much!"

"Shhh... my beautiful angel." He cooed to her. "I'm sure that you've got one more in you. Will you be a good little angel and take what I have to give you?" His words were mocking and teasing at the same time as she nodded her head as much as she could before she pushed herself further into her pillow.

"Good girl."

He slowly began to enter her again, he was lubricated by her dripping juices. The thrusts began to increase again as she screamed his name, shaking. However, soon she found herself moving to meet his rough, pleasurable thrusts, which synchronized.

She was drowning in pleasure, she couldn't comprehend what was happening anymore. However she knew one thing, every time that fat cock hit her cervix, she got closer and closer to her much needed release.

She's an angel

Only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

She's an angel

Only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight

Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight

Wanna die, wanna die, wanna die tonight

The stadium was big. The light were truly blinging (Y/N). The adrenaline was pumping through your veins. She was so happy, so full of euphoria even tho her throat felt so sore from all the singing and her muscles were hurting her.

On the other hand Damiano felt like he was going to faint. Yes, he was euphoric and happy, too. He was so happy and excited for the even bigger future of Måneskin, but he felt nervous.

For years he was in love with this girl. He always gave his best to express it as best as he possibly could. But nothing felt good enough. His angel deserved the world, even more so. He loved her so much the fraze "to the moon and back" simply couldn't cut it.

So he decided to express his love for her in a way that he did best. He wrote her a song. And so with a deep breath, and Victoria's pep talk before he went on the stage, he stepped forward.

"How are we feeling tonight, LA!?" Damiano shouted and his shout was followed by screaming and clapping of the fans.

"So tonight you are going to hear a song you have never heard before!! You excited!!??"

Damiano had to cover his ears a little because the screaming of the fans became a little bit too much. Still he found himself laughing with excitement. Like he always did. He looked a little to the side where (Y/N) was standing so he could take a little peak at her face. Confused was not a good enough word to explain the look on her face when she heard what Damiano had said and Vic, Thomas nor Ethan didn't say anything. He wrote a song? Without me? (Y/N) though to herself.

"This song I will sing alone." Damiano said and (Y/N) got even more confused.

"You see, I met this girl a long time ago and I felt like I loved her the moment I saw her. I wanted to express my love to her and to the entire world so I wrote this song for her." Damiano continued.

The crowd was already loosing their minds as Damiano stepped took the microphone form it's stand, but when Damiano said the next words and started singing all hell broke loose.

"This song is for you, (Y/N). My only angel."

She's an angel

Only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

She's an angel

My only angel

She's an angel

My-my-my only angel

->

->

->

TAGLIST

@opal-rugger

[haveatthee83]

My last few days:

Thank you guys so fucking much. None of you know how much it means to me that I can make anyone a little bit happier/have a little fun with my writing/art. Thank you all for making my absolute year over these last few days. It's insane, thank you, thank you, thank you!

Ps: My regular readers and followers, you guys are noticed and appreciated and I'm so happy you're here. Thank you so much.

[here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can]

what if I write unrequited rosekiller based on this song

just an idea

[pjisskullourful]

·.★·.·´¯ 🅱🅰🅲🅺🆂🆃🅰🅶🅴 🅳🅾🅾🆁🆂 ´¯·.·★.·

🚪Damiano × reader

18+ readers only! 🔥 very explicit feral schenanigans, shamelessly dirty& degrading

° Damiano David/female reader insert

° Everyone wants to fuck him. This wasn't a brand new concept to you. But tonight the knowledge came with some extra weight. -- watching the audience lust after your boyfriend puts you in a proactive mood

wordcount::: 3,185

° anon request: Y/n giving him a blow job after a show and he's all sweaty and panting and he's making the best sounds and is just loving it- thankyou for sharing your ideas with me 💋 requests are soo open! but commissions get priority, secure your spot in my priority list here!

° lyrics stolen from michael jackson

.·.★·.·´¯·.·★.

.★·.·´¯·.·★.·

she waits at backstage doors for those who have prestige

This wasn't the first time you had watched a Måneskin concert, in the six months that you had been dating Damiano you had seen a bunch of their live shows.

But you were still surprised by how the crowd responded to him. He could keep them so consistently excited, they were captivated by every move, screaming with complete abandon. From your spot backstage, you could see some signs being held up, and most of them were explicit in nature. Then the bras went flying at him, launched through the air to land at his feet, unprompted. How much had those bras cost?

It was a strange notion to think that yours wasn't the only bra he would touch tonight. This intimate act was offered so freely to him and by a large number of people (you imagined there were more pieces of lingerie that hadn't been thrown hard enough to make it to the stage). They were willing to part with their possessions for a shot at intimacy with him.

Everyone wants to fuck him. This wasn't a brand new concept to you. But tonight the knowledge came with some extra weight. Your fingers curled into your palms until you could feel the nails pressing on the skin as you wondered what they were doing to him in their fantasies.

You had the rest of the gig to move away from this jealousy. Eventually you could keep your eyes off of the crowd, instead watching for the fun little subtleties in his performance. You kept reminding yourself that you were the only one who got to have him. But simply thinking it didn't feel good enough after a while, you needed to act.

You were upon him as soon as he got off stage, coming into this private area, covered in so much sweat that his bare torso glistened. Usually you greeted him with a bottle of water, but that wasn't going to cut it tonight. You threw your arms around him, feeling like you had been waiting days to kiss him. He didn't resist, his arms moving around you as he kissed you back. He didn't prioritise catching his breath, just letting you enjoy his mouth. The activity of so many people backstage carried on without any input from either of you.

“It was a good show?” He asked, stealing more kisses in the quick pauses between words. “Did you have fun?”

You nodded, dragging your fingers over his scalp. “Uh-huh. But the real fun is just starting.”

He had gotten his breath back, but his cheeks were still filled with a bright blush. “What are you talking about?”

You grinned, sparing only quick glances to either side to make sure no one was close enough to hear. You moved in, speaking into his ear. “I wanna blow you.”

He was looking around to see how much privacy you currently had, a nervous smile on his face. He put his hands over yours, gently guiding them away from his head. “We should be able to leave for the hotel soon.” He kissed the palm of your hand. “Real soon.” He kissed the other. “There's no plans for the rest of the night ‘cause we have to be up so early for recording and…”

“I don't think you understand.” You said with a little extra firmness of tone. “I want it right now. I've been thinking of little spots that we could sneak off to. 'Cause I'm not gonna be able to think clearly until your cum is in my throat.”

His eyes grew very wide and for a moment he was just frozen, seeming like he didn't know how to process this. He looked all around the two of you again.

“Baby…”

“Oh, are you shy now?” You asked with a teasing smile, interlacing your fingers with his.

“No, not shy. You’ve really caught me by surprise, that’s all.” He said.

“Do you want to hear about the private spots I’ve found, or do you want to wait until we’re back at the hotel?” You asked.

He relaxed enough to show you a smile. “Let's go hide, my little fucktoy.”

A strong heat coursed through your veins at hearing that and you grabbed him to give him more kisses. But you didn't let yourself become distracted by this indulgence. You pulled away before too long and started off, away from this main hub of activity.

You held his hand as you led the way. He kept up with you, only occasionally slowing so that he could speak to someone as you were passing, quickly telling them that he would be back in five minutes. No one questioned him for more details, so you didn't have to give any attention to them, they were just part of the scenery.

You took him down a hallway, past the door to his individual dressing room. You left the carpeted floor, no longer hearing the conversations of others, in addition to seeing no other members of the Måneskin entourage. You walked down a small flight of stairs, turning left instead of going through a double fire exit door. You sought out the shadows beneath the stairs, going into this grimy area.

You turned to face him as you backed up to the rough concrete wall. He allowed you to pull him in, but he wore an unsure expression.

“I’ve definitely seen more romantic places.” He said.

“I didn’t say it was gonna be romantic, I said it was private.” You said.

He still didn’t appear impressed, checking around over his shoulder. “Are you sure? If someone goes looking for me ‘cause they think I’m having a smoke, they’re going to check out that door.”

“We can go back to your dressing room. But that’s the first place anyone is gonna look for you.” You said. “If they see that door is shut, they’ll assume you’re getting changed or something, they’ll wait, which gives us more time.”

“Getting blown in a dressing room is kinda basic.” He said, smiling again.

You used both of your hands on his arm, tugging like it was a length of rope. “So basic and my daddy isn’t basic.”

The look on his face told you that no further convincing was required. You had made use of his private nickname at the right time and now he was on board, coming even closer to you in this unremarkable space.

You put your hand to his cheek, which was still a little moist with sweat. As you kissed him, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders, gripping his body to you. His hands went to your back as you eased your tongue into his mouth. You worked the front of your body against his, working towards your goal of getting him to forget about the existence of everyone but you.

He was starting to show you how receptive he was, leaning into you more. But you broke off the kiss, rather than letting him settle into a rhythm. His hands gripped your back harder, clearly wanting to pull you in. Instead you lowered yourself down and his eyes got a little wider as he watched you progress to the ground.

Your dress didn’t protect your knees, but you didn’t care to consider how long it had been since this section of the floor had been cleaned. He side-stepped further under the stairs, barely any light touching him as he put his back to the wall. You turned to face him, kneeling directly in front of his feet.

His hands began to play with your hair as you reached for the waistband of his pants. There was a quiver in your thighs, you were so excited to get to just concentrate on your desires (they kept multiplying).

You saw the way he was smiling before you lowered your eyes to what was directly in front of your face. Your hands went to the buckle of his belt. As you started to undo this you leaned in, your mouth open. You dragged your tongue along his happy trail, collecting some of the sweat that remained amongst the hairs. This gave you a taste different to what you could draw from his mouth - saltier, more primal. You heard him let out a sigh as he curled some of your hair around his fingers.

You got the belt and pants open, pulling them down about an inch. You took his underwear down a little, pulling the waistband away from his body so you could reach inside. His fingers tensed around your hair as you secured his length in your hand, freeing it from the confines of his clothes.

He was already stiffening, maybe his mind was racing just as much as yours. You licked your lips as you kept your fingers loosely wrapped around his cock. You slowly stroked up-and-down, just feeling how warm he was getting as more blood flowed to this area.

You took your hand down towards his base, using this to hold the shaft steady. Then you opened your mouth, extending your tongue. This time you applied it to his head, feeling even more heat. His desires were becoming clearer as he slightly pulled on your hair, holding the strands taut now, a long way from causing any pain yet.

Your tastebuds were graced by this intimate flavour as you worked your tongue up-and-down his tip. You progressed to spreading your saliva all over the crown of his dick, twirling your tongue all around the bulb.

As you teased this concentrated area, you applied your unoccupied hand to his balls. You held them firmly, your fingers conforming to their shape.

You wrapped your lips around his tip, taking this sensitive part into your mouth. Rather than sucking, you continued to play your tongue against the head. This was coordinated to how you began to caress his balls.

“I’ve been trying to listen out for footsteps or whatever.” He told you, his voice containing none of the power that he had used to command the entire audience from his stage. “But you’re making it hard to care if someone’s coming or not.” He chuckled breathlessly. “Amongst the other things you’re making hard, baby…”

He had grown to the state of being fully erect, the firmness was impossible for you to not notice. You slipped your tongue under him and parted your lips a little wider. Then you moved and took more of him into your mouth, his shaft so hot as it almost filled your mouth.

You set your lips into a firm ring around him and started to work yourself back-and-forth. You established a rhythm, not rushing or trying to guide him into your throat yet. Even though he was moaning quietly, you knew he could get more worked up for you.

You gradually eased yourself back, until his dick slipped out of your mouth with a little pop sound. You hovered your mouth just above his cock and made a new sound as you spat onto him. He gasped and flinched, you loved how it felt to surprise him.

You used your hand to spread this new moisture across his length. You stroked him, faster than before. As you maintained this different tempo you leaned in and started to kiss his skin, exploring the area above his crotch.

He rubbed his fingers against your scalp, the other hand keeping your hair held taut. “You just have to make a mess, don't you, dirty whore?”

You kissed your way up, stopping about halfway between his crotch and his navel. At this spot you began to suck. You worked the skin between your teeth, not letting your tempo on his dick falter. He gasped in more ragged breaths.

As you were sucking on his skin, you were thinking about what he would be wearing on stage tomorrow night.

It was already picked: a pair of black, vinyl pants, which were very low rise. This area you were ravaging would be uncovered by the pants. Every audience member tomorrow night would be seeing your hickey. And he was too dazzled by your stroking to tell you to stop marking him.

“You really missed Daddy this much?” He asked. “I wasn’t even gone that long, but it’s turned you feral.”

You didn’t disagree with his perception, instead keeping your mouth occupied by creating a second hickey. You moved lower, and a little to the left this time. Closer to his cock, you sucked harder, feeling like you were getting away with something.

At the same time you were starting to give his balls brief squeezes, repeatedly tightening your hold then relaxing. You also showed him more intensity by going faster on his length. Occasionally you passed your fingers over his tip.

When you started to feel extra moisture and heat on his tip, you detached your mouth from his skin. Tasting his precum felt more important than making a really dark hickey.

You held your hand still on his cock, feeling it twitch in anticipation. You rubbed the flat of your tongue slowly across his tip, thoroughly collecting what was beading up here. You wrapped your lips around the head and he tried to stabilize himself by reaching a hand back for the wall.

“That’s good.” He quietly whined as you sucked on the tip.

Your hand on his dick went back into motion, stroking up-and-down his length while you kept your lips secured around the tip. He rocked back on his heels, now needing the complete support of the wall.

“Please don’t stop, please toy.” He said amongst other strangled noises.

The hand on your head gripped tighter, his fingers pressing firmly against your skin. You lifted your eyes, taking in the sight of him with his head tossed back. He was desperate now - all worked up and all yours. You savoured this view of him that only existed for you, because you had helped to create it.

Pride and lust combined inside of you, joining to create something more powerful. It was a cocktail that went straight to your head, inspiring you to stroke him faster.

“Fuck, you were right, you were so right, this couldn’t wait until we got back to the hotel.” He said. “I’ll never doubt you again.”

You relaxed your jaw and powered him into your mouth, delivering him quickly to the opening of your throat. You had been moving too fast for him to keep up with. Once he realised what had happened he made a surprised sound, not unlike a squeak.

“Oh my God, that’s good, that’s so, so good. Daddy’s girl knows exactly how to treat that cock.” He said, the compliments only adding to your current high.

You began to work your lips back-and-forth, sacrificing full lungs in the pursuit of hearing more private and needy sounds from him. You didn’t struggle to find a rhythm, establishing a motion you knew would keep him reduced down to just his primal desires. You clenched your thighs together, his passion so prevalent that it was affecting you, too.

Occasionally, you would end a pump by plunging him into your throat. You could give him brief but sharp increases in intensity. Each time this was greeted by him stringing together some curse words as you felt his dick pulse in your throat.

“Goddamn.” He groaned. “You’re going to be the… uh, ah- end of me.”

You knew that you were making a complete mess of your face. Your lipstick would be smeared beyond recognition, probably on your chin, thanks to his balls repeatedly making contact with it. The sporadic way your eyes started to water would be ruining the concealer placed under your eyes. Then there was the sweat and the adrenaline-fuelled blush.

So you had to make sure this was worth it. You bobbed your head at your fastest pace yet, your slicked lips keeping every movement smooth.

He desperately rasped. “You said you needed my cum in your throat and… yuh-you are gonna get it.” He snatched up a handful each of your hair. “Oh God, you’re gonna… I’m guh-... this load is going straight down your fuckin’ throat.”

Your heart was hammering, so high in your chest, as if his anticipation was contagious. You were thoroughly invested in getting to that moment where he fell apart for you.

Your scalp stung when he began to pull on your hair. He tugged the strands, controlling you to take him back to that deep point again-and-again. But the hints of pain didn’t distract or bother you. In fact, it only added to the keen heat between your thighs.

You guessed that now was the time to try for the big finish. You hollowed your cheeks around his length, sucking determinedly. You plunged his head into your throat at the same time. As his hands pulled on your hair, you kept yourself like this, uninterested in easing off.

“Oh, you little slut, you fucking slut, you… oh g-God.” He babbled and you could feel his legs were shaking.

Your lungs were burning for air. The pressure in your throat was treading up to the territory of being too much to take. Your throat involuntarily spasmed, but you didn’t quit sucking, even when tears beaded in the corners of your eyes.

All too soon another spasm was happening. Feeling your throat clamp around him made you want to cough.

But before any action was required from you, he reached the orgasmic peak. You relaxed your cheeks when you felt the prize of his thick cum sliding into your throat. You eased yourself back ever-so-slightly as he continued to hold your hair taut.

“Oh my God, oh God, oh God.” He was moaning as his body stilled.

You opened your eyes, studying his reactions as you swallowed everything his cock shot out. Immense relief was flooding into you as you drew in deep breaths through your nostrils. Watching the tension snap for him gave you a sense of release - surely miniscule compared to what he was experiencing. Nevertheless, there was satisfaction for you to enjoy.

“Wow, baby. You brought out my feral side.” He said as you gradually eased his cock out of your mouth. “I guess I needed that more than I realised. You have a power over me like that.”

You were smiling as you used both hands to collect the moisture around your mouth. “And I didn’t have to try to make it romantic.”

“I can’t believe we didn’t get caught.” He said, hurrying to pull his pants up and conceal his dick again.

“Yep, the whole thing went down without a hitch.” You said.

He offered you a hand and you started to stand up. Once you were high enough, he made an attempt at smoothing your hair. “Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Uh-uh.” You said with a shake of your head. “And you better still have more of that feral energy, because it’s my fuckin’ turn when we get back to the hotel.”

»»————-　♡　————-««  

🍑  taglist: @floral-recs - @gr8rainbowpunk -   @idyllicbutterfly - @maneskindiva - @maneslut - @saschenkaaa   -   @slavicgoddess13 - @elvirabelle - @maneskintifoso     - @thegeminisgirl     - @ha-la-ansia - @butkutee   - @ursulalurks - @itsmaneskinbitch -   @icarodamiano -   @crwnnjules - @paralianeyes - @fand0mskullfa1ry -   @lizzylynch1 - @kammerstx - @myleftsock - @tellmesomething01   -    @adoredamianos - @vittoriaisfuckingpathetic - @gay-for-victoria-de-angelis - @shinshans - @lonnybunnys - @lyricalliz - @lifeofa-fangirl - @chemical-killjoy [join here!]

[formula-ghost]

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 3: Gossip

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You’ve always felt like you belonged right at Franco’s side, but as he begins to grow in popularity, you begin to wonder if his world has any place for you. 

WORD COUNT: 7.7k

WARNINGS: Hurt/comfort. Use of YN, mentions of anxiety disorders/therapy, reader has major self esteem issues and panic attacks. Appearance of Christian Horner (that man needs his own CW). There is a “manager” character that is not a reference to any of Franco’s IRL managers!

TAGLIST: @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse @xivilivix

A/N: I can’t thank you all enough for all the love you’ve shown on this fic 💙 It’s been incredible. I do want to sincerely apologize for leaving you with all this cliffhanger before I have to take a small hiatus with the holidays haha. I played around a bit with perspective in this chapter, so I hope it still reads clearly! Also, if you want to be added to the tag list, make sure your blog isn’t set to hidden and that you allow tags or else I’ll be unable to do that on my end. As always I hope you enjoy it :)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Sip the gossip, drink ‘til you choke

Sip the gossip, burn down your throat

You’re not iconic, you are just like them all

Don’t act like you don’t know 

Austin had been beautiful, and you had written down every word you could describing it. Mexico, however, was a race you wouldn’t exactly want to document.

It started out okay. Franco’s Forbes cover shoot was released, and, as predicted, it blew up the internet. Of course, you were happy for him. But to see the entire world want him almost as much as you wanted him was…disheartening.

For a long time, it had just been you and Franco. He had clawed his way up and earned everything he had achieved through hard work and unmatchable determination. You were his biggest fan and supporter. And it was just you and him against the odds.

You had been so happy for him to make it to F1 after all he’d worked for. And to see the world embrace him so wholeheartedly was beautiful. But you were scared, deep down, that you’d lose him in the glitz and glamor of pilot stardom. 

His place at Williams was only temporary, of course, but you knew that when he did eventually get a secure seat, your friendship would have to change. After all, you couldn’t fly around the world with him forever. But you figured you’d adapt, like you always did. It would all be okay in the end. Franco never gave you any reason to believe that you’d get left behind. 

That is, until Mexico. 

You barely saw him at the beginning of the week, with him being so busy filming for brand sponsorships. Come the weekend, a phone call from home had soured his mood. You let it be, knowing that now was the time to just support him in any way you could, even if that was just giving him space.

But on Saturday he had woken up feeling better, and you were happy, thinking that he’d turn this weekend around for the better. Mexico was full of Argentine fans, and again, you were both ecstatic for him and feeling a bit left behind. You weren’t from Argentina. You didn’t really speak Spanish. These random fans had that connection with him that you’d never have. 

You pushed it down—for now. You’d write about it later. 

But now you were on your way to Williams hospitality to meet Franco. He was beaming when you’d seen him at breakfast that morning. Some big Argentine musicians were coming to the paddock.

You would have been happier for him if he had introduced you to them. But now you sat in hospitality with Franco and the group, and they all completely ignored you. Franco hadn’t even introduced you.

Yes, you were naturally on the quieter side. Yes, you didn’t speak Spanish, which they now all excitedly talked in, laughing about something you’d never know. But did that really mean that you deserved to sit there, awkwardly glancing at your phone as your best friend ignored you?

And all the while, he was glancing over to the female singer sat opposite him. God, she was beautiful. And from Franco’s tone, you could tell he thought so too. He was flirting with her right in front of you.

Yes, you were just friends. But you had slept in his bed with him curled up into your side. He had celebrated every win with you since you were teenagers. But right now, you were nothing.

You just kind of stared off into the distance until you saw a familiar face. Lily to the rescue! She came over and waved to Franco and the group, who stopped their conversation for a brief second to wave back. 

“Hey YN, wanna come help us film a video?” she asked. Clearly this was just an out to help you escape the torture of being ignored. 

“Sure,” you agreed. When you got up to leave, Franco didn’t even acknowledge you. 

You and Lily walked into the garage. “Thank you for helping me out there.”

“Yeah, you looked like you were going through it. Were they that bad?”

“Well, I don’t know. Franco never even introduced me and I don’t speak Spanish.”

“So he just ignored you? That’s so rude,” he said, her face grimacing, “I’m sorry.”

You just shrugged and offered her a weak smile. There was that unspoken recognition from both of you; Franco had ignored you to flirt with the singer. She was everything you weren’t: beautiful, popular, confident. 

“Well, come hang with me and Alex. I’ll teach you how to make a tiktok,” she said.

You were surprised that her excuse hadn’t been an excuse at all—she actually wanted your company, unlike someone else. 

You went out to the pit lane to meet Alex. Fans were cheering from the sidelines. They were all screaming for Alex, of course, but a few yelled for Lily too. And one yelled for you. 

“YN! YN!” the girl yelled, Argentine flag in her grasp. Your head turned.  “YN! Can I get a picture with you?” she asked. 

You paused. “You want a picture with me?” 

She smiled. “Yes, if that’s okay.” You laughed, not mocking her, but just unsure to do with the absurdity of it all. 

“Of course,” you said, smiling for the camera. “I wasn’t trying to be rude,” you explained, “I’m just surprised you knew me.”

“Oh, we all know you. Everyone’s seen the videos of you and Franco. You all are so cute!” You knew what she meant—your friendship with him was endearing, you had to admit. But the reminder of him felt like a sharp dagger to the heart. Lily called you over, so you bid goodbye to the fan, an odd feeling settling in your chest. That could be unpacked later.

But later was sooner than you anticipated. You had a great time making videos with Lily and Alex, but they had gone to get lunch before qualifying, and you couldn’t find Franco anywhere. So you went to his driver’s room, and finding that even empty, you just gave up and stayed there. He had told you that his room was fair game to hide in if you ever felt overwhelmed, and you definitely did. Now that you were alone, all the emotions were rushing to the surface. 

So you opened your notebook to write.

I can’t believe Franco didn’t even introduce me to anyone this morning. I get it, I’m not like them. I’m not talented or famous or as beautiful as that girl is. God, she’s perfect. She’s everything a man could want. Why would Franco ever want someone like me? I’m just an anxious, dependent mess. I don’t blame him for flirting with her. I just wish he wouldn’t do it in front of me. 

You were spiraling, and soon enough tears came to your eyes. You tried to blink them away but it was futile. You felt like you were losing your best friend.

But, speak of the devil, he was at the door. 

“Oh, YN, I was looking for you,” he said absentmindedly as he walked in the room and fiddled with his helmet. “You left your phone in the garage, Lily has it.”

“Oh, shit,” you muttered. It seemed like you were developing a habit of losing things. You got up to meet Lily in the garage, making a mental note to stop at the bathroom to take a breather. You prayed that Franco wouldn't look at you, but today was your unlucky day, it seemed. As you walked out, he looked up and his eyes met yours, and you saw the concern dawn in his eyes. He moved to say something, but you just quickened your pace, and ignored him when you did hear him call after you. 

You found the nearest bathroom and broke down, allowing yourself to just cry it out for a few minutes. Your thoughts kept spiraling. You were ridiculous, you thought, breaking down over something so small. You were pathetic. No wonder he didn’t want you. Why would anyone? 

After a few minutes, you took a few deep breaths and steadied yourself and tried to make it look as if you hadn’t been crying. Qualifying would be starting soon. You quickly grabbed your phone from Lily, who thankfully didn’t say anything about your clearly post-sobbing session face, and you found a comfortable spot in the back of the garage to watch qualifying. 

He qualified 15th. Not great. Nothing to elicit a celebratory hug, though, God, you needed one right now. 

You were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel and sleep away the weariness. So that’s what you did, skillfully avoiding Franco’s eye scanning the paddock for you.

When you got back to the hotel, you could barely change into your pajamas and get in the bed. You felt heavy like a block of lead. You checked your phone before bed, seeing that Franco had taken a photo with the musicians and posted it to Instagram. 

It was taken after you left, of course. As if you were never there at all.

The sight brought another wave of tears. You sighed in frustration and cried until the weight of it all lulled you to sleep.

The next morning, you didn’t even want to go to the grand prix. As you got up and tidied where you had gotten back and just thrown things around last night, you contemplated what to do.

On one hand, you wanted to support Franco even if you were upset. On the other hand, you thought you might burst into tears if you saw him again.

You just needed to write it out, and then you’d be able to face him. You grabbed your bag and fished around for your journal.

It was gone.

Shit.

Then you remembered, you had left it in his driver’s room yesterday. You groaned.

You checked your phone, intending to text him about it, only to find that he had already texted you last night while you were asleep. Just a simple, You okay? but you hadn’t answered. 

Frantic, you called him. He answered immediately. 

“Hey YN, you—”

“Have you seen my journal?”

“What?”

“My journal. I accidentally left it in your driver’s room yesterday.”

“No? I don’t remember seeing it.”

“Shit…” you whispered. Tears pricked in your eyes yet again. 

“I’m on my way to the track, I’ll check when I get there and ask the team about it,” he assured. “We’ll find it.”

“Thanks,” you said, your voice dry. 

“Look, are you okay? You just disappeared yesterday—”

“I’m fine,” you lied. He knew you were lying. 

“YN, talk to me. Please.” His voice was soft with genuine concern, but it pissed you off. There was no way he could know he was the cause of your upset if you didn’t tell him. But you just couldn’t. Not now, at least.

“Can I just meet you at your driver’s room to look for it?”

He sighed. “Yeah. I’ll be there in ten.” You hung up the call.

You had calmed yourself down a bit before you reached the track, but it was no use when you met Franco at his room and found it empty. The desk where you had set yesterday to write looked strangely devoid of life. 

You all wordlessly continued to look for a while, and even went around asking the Williams employees about it, but it was no use. It was gone. 

When you returned back to the room, defeated, you couldn’t help but cry. 

For fear of embarrassment, you'd never cried in front of Franco before, but you didn’t even have the capacity to try and hide it anymore. At first he looked startled, like he didn’t know what to do. But as you crumpled onto the small couch and he saw your body wracked with sobs, he knew all he could do was hold you.

So that’s what he did. 

His touch was warm and comforting, but it just made you weep all the more. He just held you tighter, and you were enveloped in the smell of his cologne. “It’s okay,” he whispered gently to you, “I’m here.”

When the sobs finally left you, he looked in your tear-stained eyes and asked, “Will you talk to me?”

You had never wanted to do anything less. But you knew that these were the moments that counted. Your journal had become a crutch rather than a tool—now was the time to actually do the hard work to get better. 

You began, “It’s stupid—” 

“I want to know anyway,” he assured.

You paused, then resumed, “It just really hurt me yesterday when you didn’t introduce me to anyone.”

He made a confused face at you. “I didn’t?” 

“No, Franco, you didn’t,” you said, your tone getting angrier. “You were too busy flirting with that singer to notice that I was sitting there alone.”

“She asked about you, though. I told her you were just a friend.”

Ouch. Just a friend. 

“I thought I was your best friend.”

“You are,” he assured, but it felt hollow. 

“It doesn’t feel like it when Lily has to come rescue me from being ignored all day.”

“I’m sorry, YN. I didn’t even realize it, I was just caught up in the conversation. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Because I just felt like an intruder. I mean… I’m not a famous musician or anyone important in Formula 1. I’m not from Argentina, I don’t speak Spanish—”

He cut you off, “So? And you know my mother would adopt you in a heartbeat.”

You were unamused by his attempt at banter. “So, it just hurts because I don’t belong here. And when you ignore me, I’m just alone.”

He paused. “YN, I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t know what to say.

He continued, “But for the record, I was not flirting with anyone. You know the main reason I spend time with all these people is for the brand, right?”

You looked confused. “The brand? Since when do you care about your brand?” Franco was known for being impossible to media train. Why was he suddenly so concerned with his public reputation?

Even though you were alone in his driver’s room, he looked over his shoulder, listening out for any approaching footsteps. But you all were truly alone in the quiet morning at the paddock. “You have to promise to keep it quiet,” he said.

“I promise,” you whispered.

He leaned in closer. “There’s a chance, a very small chance, but a chance…that I could get a contract with Redbull next year.”

Your eyes widened. He continued, “Checo has been driving so bad that they want him out. But he brings in a lot of money and it’ll cost a lot to break my Williams contract. I need to show them that I can have just as much backing in Argentina as Checo has in Mexico.”

You were practically speechless. “Oh my God, Franco, that’s…”

But Franco was more worried about you. “The people are all nice enough, but I’d prefer your company over theirs any day. You’re still my best friend.”

The tears that threatened to fall now were happy ones, from pride in your best friend and the love you felt for him. 

You confessed, “I hope you get it. But I’m so scared that I’ll be left behind and forgotten.”

He reached to hold you again and you let him. “Never,” he said, “never. You’ve been here since the beginning, you’re not getting rid of me any time soon.”

You both broke the embrace and he wiped a tear from your cheek. The soft touch sent shivers down your spine.

“Thank you,” you said. 

He smiled at you. “No, thank you for opening up to me. You ready for the race today?”

You nodded, “Always.”

He didn’t score any points, but the points weren’t the point anymore. Your conversation earlier had made you feel so close to him in a way you never had before. You watched the screens in the garage with a religious reverence, looking into his eyes when the camera switched to face him. They were focused, like the only things in the world were him, the car, and the track ahead. And for you, that was all there was in the world, too.

Your celebration after the race was more subdued, but nonetheless supportive. As he walked to the media tent, you all glanced at each other and you mouthed to him proud of you. He winked back.

You all had fallen into a familiar routine of dinner together and winding down in his hotel room, and tonight was no different. Again you all found yourselves in the same positions: him, cross legged on the bed, and you in the chair near him. 

The atmosphere was a bit tense though. Being back at the hotel, you couldn’t help but remember the horrible morning, and what you had lost—your journal. Who would have thrown away a journal from his driver's room? You had asked around the paddock again after the race and no one had seen it.

Or maybe it hadn’t been thrown away. Maybe someone took it.

Your mind wandered back to the last few conversations with Franco: your “stolen” lipstick, his asking to read the journal…

No. He wouldn’t. That’d cross a line.

But weren’t the contents of the journal crossing a line themselves?

Franco noticed how you’d gone quieter since you got home from the paddock. You all were both exhausted.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, lazily tracing circles in the comforter.

You responded with your own question. “Franco, will you be honest with me?”

He looked up at you, his face hardened with concern. “Of course.” He looked nervous. 

“Do you have my journal?”

He shifted his gaze away from you. “No,” he said, simple as that. 

“Franco,” you began, “listen to me. I’m not mad, but you understand how this looks, right? I know we joke about this kind of stuff a lot, but you asked to read it and then it suddenly disappears after I left it in your driver’s room.”

“I didn’t even go back to the room after you left,” he said.

“Maybe not. But you got there this morning before I did. And now it’s gone.”

He paused. “You really think I’d steal your diary?”

The situation had become too tense for your liking. “I’m not trying to accuse you of anything,” you explained, “and I promise, I’m not mad. I just… there’s some things in there that are too personal for me to share with anyone, even you.”

“YN, I don’t have it.”

“Okay. I’m just saying, if you happen to find it, please promise me that you won’t read it. Please,” you quite literally begged. 

“I wouldn’t do that to you, YN. You know I was joking when I asked to read it, right?”

He wasn’t joking. Both of you knew that. And both of you knew that he had taken the diary.

You hoped that he would understand what you asked and respect your wishes. In a few days he’d text you saying that a Williams employee had randomly found it—another lie—and he would give it back to you, unread. And your friendship would go on like nothing had ever happened.

But what if it didn’t? What if he read every filthy word you had written about him?

You thought it through over and over later that night, back in your own room but unable to sleep. So you made a plan.

You and Franco, thankfully, would be on the same flight to Brazil. When you landed and went to the hotel, you’d swap out your room keys and go to his room while he did his media duties. Then, you’d find the journal in his room and take it back.

A few problems with the plan. One, It gave him the first 3 days of the week to read it, and two, it was fucking unhinged of you to go through your best friend’s stuff. 

You rolled over and angrily groaned into the pillow. 

Brazil was going to be an interesting time. 

Well, interesting was the understatement of the century.

It began on the flight, a flight that was way too fucking long. Thankfully, Franco had arranged for you to take this one together, so at least you had his company. 

You could never sleep on planes, they were too loud and uncomfortable. Franco usually did, but today it seemed he couldn’t; he bounced his legs and darted his eyes around the plane.

“Nervous?” you asked.

“Very,” he answered honestly. “There’s just so much going on this weekend.”

“I know,” you said reassuringly rather than condescendingly. “You really should try to get some rest though. It’s been a long few weeks for you.”

“I can’t. I’m too wired up.”

You felt an unexpected boldness come over you. “Close your eyes,” you directed, “and take a few deep breaths. Stay still.” 

He obeyed, and you grabbed his hand from the armrest between you and held it in yours. You felt him tense at the unexpected touch, but you slowly began to trace circles into his palm with your thumb, and he relaxed into it. With his own boldness, he placed his head on your shoulder and exhaled. Within minutes, he was fast asleep. You knew from experience that he’d be asleep for the rest of the flight, so you let yourself get comfortable with the familiar weight of your sleeping best friend pressing into your side.

Slivers of sunlight from the window traced the soft edges of his sleeping form. Even when unconscious, he was beautiful. If you truly wanted to, you could have turned ever so slightly and kissed his forehead without waking him. And God, you truly wanted to.

So you did, gently pressing your lips to the smooth surface of his skin. Maybe this was crossing a line, but it seemed like, at this point, all lines had been crossed between you two.

His presence calmed you enough that you were able to fall asleep, too. When you woke a few hours later, he was still fast asleep by your side, and you savored the moment.

But deep down you wondered how long this would last. You were head over heels in love with him. He was… well, you didn’t know how he felt. But he was your best friend in the entire world. He knew almost everything there was to know about you. 

He had four races left in F1. Four races until you would go back to your day to day lives; still intertwined, but not this close. And if he did get the seat, that you so desperately wanted for him? He’d be gone even more than he already was. You couldn’t follow him around the world forever. He’d go from city to city, race to race, club to club, woman to woman.

You felt your stomach drop at the thought of him with another woman. You remembered the singer in Austin, how he said he wasn’t flirting with her, it was for the brand, whatever excuse he could come up with. You guessed it was true. Or maybe he meant that it didn’t really mean anything to him. Just playing up that side of him that the media absolutely loved. His Argentine charm was undeniable. 

Okay, then maybe it was true. Everyone knew Franco was a flirt, you especially. But it made it so much harder to determine, then, what was truly meaningful to him and what wasn’t. 

But your friendship meant something to him, right? He had asked you to come along to all his races. He made time for you in the midst of the paddock’s chaos. You had slept in the same bed. He held you when you cried. And now, he slept peacefully on your shoulder, hands still intertwined. How could that not mean something?

You didn’t want your fears of the future to make you miss out on the present. At some point you’d have to open up to him. But that moment wasn’t right now. 

And you were determined that you’d be the one in control, so when you landed and made it to the hotel, you enacted your plan you’d concocted earlier. When the receptionist handed you the keys, you waited until Franco was fiddling with your luggage to switch out two, making sure to hand him the correct key. He would never need to know that the other key in the little paper pocket was the key to your room, and if he did, he’d just assume there was an issue. A natural cover.

Okay, maybe you were smart and smooth with it. 

You knew you wouldn’t see much of Franco in Brazil. With stakes this high, he had an overwhelming amount of team meetings and media duties. Still, as usual, you all made your way to the paddock together. 

The energy was electric—in good ways and bad. Good: there were so many Argentine fans that you often found yourself questioning what country you were in. The amount of support was unreal. And each one of them were proud of Franco—but not as proud as you were.

Bad: Literally everything else.

But that was yet to come. You entered the paddock to a flurry of camera shots and a cacophony of voices yelling for Franco. 

Usually you liked to stay out of the shot of cameras, but it was impossible here. Franco did his best to draw their attention towards him and away from you, but it was overwhelming nonetheless.

As you all passed a group of fans, one in particular caught your eye. She was holding out two bracelets. “Franco, YN!” she called out. 

You both stopped to speak to her. “I made you all bracelets,” she said, handing one to you and the other to Franco. You read the beads: it had Franco’s name, number, and blue hearts. You smiled at the adorable gesture. 

“Oh,” Franco said, looking at you, “This one has your name on it. Let’s switch.”

As he moved his hand to do so, the fan said, “No, they’re supposed to be like that. They’re friendship bracelets for you all!”

“Thank you,” you said, unsure if the warmth of your cheeks was a soft blush forming or from the chaos around you. The fan had wanted you to wear each other’s names.

You kept walking, but when you were out of eyeshot, you offered to switch the bracelets around again, thinking the implication was a little too much for him. He refused, keeping your name around his wrist.

He went off to wherever he needed to be, and you went to William’s hospitality to find Lily, but unfortunately, she wasn’t in Brazil at all.

Maybe, in hindsight, what you did next was a terrible decision. But you did it anyway. 

You made your way to Franco’s drivers room for some privacy and pulled up your social media, looking to see what people were saying about him. 

Ever since he had confided about his potential for a seat next year, you had also cared about his brand, too. And, officially or unofficially, you were a part of that. Like Lily had told you, people were speculating. You just hoped that what she said about the people loving you was true. 

Fortunately, it was. 

Franco and YN being obliviously in love with each other; a thread

You tapped on the post, reading your way through the comments.

Does YN know that she’s living our dream?

Oh to be YN, being loved by Franco like that.

Need someone to look at me the way YN and Franco look at each other.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love YN, but Franco should be with an Argentine girl. They’d be a power couple. 

The comment soured your mood. You kept reading anyway.

Guys, I met YN in Austin and she was so sweet! Our girl is chronically offline because she was so surprised that I even knew who she was and like, girl, WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WE ARE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU!!

You smiled, the memory of the girl in Austin coming back to your mind. 

I love how we have all collectively decided to adopt YN as the newest wag even though her and Franco aren’t even dating 

You laughed to yourself, remembering how Lily had mistaken you for a wag when you first talked. Maybe that was the reason why.

You read the replies: 

To be fair, you don’t look at someone like that unless you LOVE LOVE them

Does anyone else think this is weird tho? I mean, they're just friends but the entire internet wants them to get together, must make things so awkward…

Honestly I’m glad they’re not together because if my bf flirted with other women the way Franco flirts with reporters, I’d throw the whole man away

You snorted. Of course, these random people on the internet didn’t know you, but they seemed to get inside your head a little too much for comfort. Or maybe you just weren’t as good at hiding your emotions as you always thought you were. 

Speaking of hiding your emotions, you had a job to do. Checking your clock, you knew that Franco was going to be busy for the next 3 hours before you all had planned to meet up again. He had a very important meeting with Christian Horner. Your heart skipped a beat and you said a silent prayer for your friend.

But now, you have a mission. You were going to get your journal back.

It would have been an easy task, if not for the fans. Thankfully you got out and into an uber undetected, but upon opening the door to his room, you cursed them in your head.

Gifts were everywhere. His team must have been gathering them all week, and Franco clearly wasn’t organizing them. 

You thought 3 hours would be more than enough to leave, find your journal, return it to your room, and get back to the paddock unnoticed. Maybe, you thought wrong. This was going to be a long 3 hours. 

As you searched, back at the paddock, Franco sat in the meeting that would decide the course of the rest of his life. His leg bounced uncontrollably, his mouth was dry, and he felt like he was going to throw up his breakfast. 

He wished you were here. Your presence always calmed him in moments like these; he had no idea where you were, and the intimidating presence of Christian Horner across the table did nothing to ease his nerves. 

“I’ve got to admit,” Horner said, “he’s exceeded everyone’s expectations. But a couple good races doesn’t tell us much.”

Franco’s manager replied, “Of course, we understand. But he’s got more than enough of a fanbase to rival any driver. I mean, just look outside and it’s a sea of Argentine flags!”

“Fans are good, but does that translate to sponsors? I mean, you’ve got to compete with Disney here. Not every driver can bring in that level of support.”

“We’ve gotten some strong sponsors recently, and a lot more in the works currently. Franco’s future is promising.”

“What about his PR? Any disasters there?” Horner laughed.  

Franco’s manager, however, did not. “He’s good. The fans love him, and he knows when to shut up.”

Franco suppressed a laugh. Anyone who had been around him for more than 5 minutes knew that he was a PR nightmare. And it seemed Horner knew it too.

“Now, that’s not what I’ve heard,” he said. “I’ve seen the videos. You strike the balance well for the most part, but you can’t be telling people not to buy Redbull merch.” They all laughed. “And you can’t be bringing your girlfriend to every race.”

Franco’s manager began to speak, but not before Franco cut her off. “My girlfriend?” 

“Yeah, YN isn’t it? As far as I’ve seen, the fans like her, but if she’s constantly around they’ll get fatigued. Again, it’s a delicate balance.”

“YN isn’t my girlfriend.” The sentence felt…odd, as Franco said it with a matter of fact tone.

“Oh, even better. We can get you with an Argentinian woman, then. Maximize that market.”

“A PR relationship? Those are real?” Franco questioned, and Horner laughed, as if Franco was the dumbest one in the room, and he certainly felt like it. 

“Not really. Just be seen a few times, like some posts, maybe go to events together if you wanna really get serious about it. Generate talk, you know.”

“Isn’t that what happens with YN now anyway? I mean, everyone already thinks we’re dating.”

“Yeah, but she’s nobody. No offense,” Horner said, as if his comment held no weight. “But with a celebrity or model? That really gets people talking. A little controversy is good.”

Franco felt sick to his stomach. She’s nobody. But she was somebody, to him. She was his best friend. 

“Look, kid,” Horner began, “I agree that you’ve got promise, but it’s too early to make any decisions right now. Show us what you’ve got in these last few races, and maybe we can work something out.”

Everyone rose to exchange polite goodbyes and handshakes. Franco felt like he was in a totally different plane of existence.

His manager came over to him afterwards. “You did well, Franco. We’ll just do as he said—keep focused, get results, and keep your head down. Seriously, watch it with the media.”

Franco nodded absentmindedly, but his manager wasn’t happy with that response. “What’s wrong?” she asked. 

Franco began, “Look, a PR relationship, seriously? And he’s telling me I can’t have my best friend in the paddock?”

“I think YN will survive if she doesn’t come to every single race.”

“But I want her here with me. I don’t want to hurt her.” He remembered Austin, holding you while you cried, afraid that he’d leave you behind. And here push had come to shove. 

His manager looked at him, incredulous. “Seriously, Franco, this is what you're focused on? You have a shot at a seat with Redbull, and you’re more focused on not hurting YN’s feelings? How do you expect to achieve this with that attitude?” 

Franco was upset now. “Don’t say that. Even Horner said I’ve been exceeding expectations.”

“I know you have, and we’re all proud of you. But you need to stay focused. Leave the women alone.”

“YN is not just a random woman, she’s my best friend.”

His manager’s frustration was growing by the second. “I know Franco. I know you love her, we all love her. But she is not your priority right now. Your future is, okay?” 

Hearing those words felt like a rollercoaster, complete with the euphoric highs and stomach churning lows. I know you love her—well, it was true, you were his best friend. But what kind of love? He didn’t know, and besides, the low—she is not your priority right now—he didn’t have the time or space to find out. 

He had a job to do.

All the while, you also had a job to do, but you were failing spectacularly. You had searched every square inch of that fucking room. You looked in every nook and cranny, every pocket and pouch, under the covers and even in the bathroom. Your journal wasn’t there. 

There was no way Franco was this good at hiding anything (other than emotions, maybe). You now had to entertain the possibility that you had been wrong all along.

Maybe he didn’t have the journal. Maybe you had just accused him of lying and shown that you don’t really trust your best friend. 

You let out a frustrated groan as you put everything back in place. You couldn’t believe it. 

If he didn’t have the journal, then where was it?

It was a question you’d have to answer later, because right now you were racing to reconfigure his room and get back to the paddock before anyone noticed that you were gone. 

You barely made it in time, arriving at the Williams garage with your body in fight or flight mode. You spotted Franco instantly.

“YN! There you are,” he said. “I thought I lost you.”

“Oh yeah, I was with some fans.” The lie just slipped out without you having to think about it. You’d never done that before—who were you becoming?

Franco looked confused. “You were? Since when do you willingly leave the paddock?” he questioned, clearly joking.

“Since I have to help the brand,” you smiled. “By the way, how did the meeting go?”

He just replied, “Good.” 

Franco was never a man of few words, so his hesitancy to speak was a red flag.

“Top secret?” you asked, thankfully giving him an out.

“Yeah, it’s… complicated.” 

“Well, you know I’m always here rooting for you,” you said, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand. The gesture sent shivers down your spine.

Seriously, who were you becoming?

The next day didn’t make the situation any easier. The morning sprint had granted Franco another 12th place finish—no points, but still respectable. At least, it was to you. You could tell that he wasn’t happy. You knew that he pushed himself too hard, because how else would he be able to achieve, but it still broke your heart. You assumed that the meeting yesterday hadn’t been the greatest, and you wished that Franco would talk to you about it. But he didn’t. That was okay, you’d done the same to him before. You just wanted to be there to support him, even if it meant being on the sidelines, in the dark both physically and metaphorically.

And the darkness was looming over Interlagos. The forecast was horrific. The reality was even more horrific. 

As the rain poured down in sheets, you silently said a prayer for all the poor souls with General Admission tickets who must be swimming right now. You were nice and dry under the paddock, thankfully, but outside it was practically a monsoon.

Everyone knew qualifying would get postponed, it was just a matter of time until a final decision would be made. The atmosphere was tense—a championship battle loomed in the distance between Max and Lando, and Franco would be driving for his life. 

But as the hours passed and the rain continued, the energy around the paddock loosened up. You saw Lando and Oscar at the gates waving to fans, George jumping in puddles, Ollie taking naps against the warm tires. 

So, of course, Franco would enjoy his time too.

His manager stood in the back corner of the garage, talking with one of the media interns. Looking at her, Franco felt his frustration return. He had never been the stubborn type. But since making it to Formula 1, he had been told what to do left and right. Go here, say this, don’t do that. It pissed him off. 

He was going to do what he wanted to, at least this once. 

Of course, you were oblivious to all of this. You didn’t know what to make of it when he walked onto the pit lane, exposing himself to the elements. Within seconds his fluffy curls were flattened and he would be dripping in rainwater when he came back into the garage. 

“YN!” he called into the garage. “Come dance with me!” 

You looked up from your phone, and the garage around you was still buzzing, but you could feel everyone’s necks craning to listen and look upon whatever antics Franco was up to.

You just laughed and shook your head. You weren’t getting out in that mess.

But you didn’t have a choice. Franco marched his way up to the garage and yanked you out. 

You yelped his name playfully as he dragged you to the middle of the pitlane and put his arms around your waist. 

“What are you doing?” you asked him through your widening smile.

“Dancing. Having fun,” he answered. His arms stayed around your waist, too close to be platonic.

You turned to the crowd of fans in the grandstand in the distance. “We have an audience. Is this good for the brand?” 

It would seem ‘the brand’ was becoming a running bit, until Franco shut it down. “Fuck the brand. Dance with me.”

He pulled you closer, the only thing separating you being the layers of clothes that were thinning with the rain. He spun you and you all danced back and forth, giggling when you splashed in the  puddles swiftly gathering around you. 

And then he dipped you. The world felt like it stopped for a moment. You were suspended in air, an electric warmth between you and your best friend, the only two people in the world.

He brought you back up and you both stopped. Your eyes met for what must have only been a split second. It was like all at once, all the love you had for him flooded your heart, stronger than the unrelenting rain. 

Everything about him was beautiful. His arms wrapped around your waist, his eyes now looking at your lips—

He was going to kiss you.

That is, until his manager yelled at you both from inside the garage. “Franco! Quit fucking around and get in here!”

The moment was ruined.

You both sheepishly returned to the garage. Your anxiety had faded in that perfect moment with him, but had now returned with a vengeance upon hearing the frustration of his manager. Luckily, everyone else in the garage seemed to not care. But Franco looked like a kid getting called to the principal’s office at school.

Before you even got back in the garage, you turned to him and said, “Franco, I’m sorry for getting you in trouble, I—”

He cut you off. “You didn’t get me in trouble,” he joked, “I got myself in trouble. Don’t worry about it. You can shower in my driver’s room, I should have a spare sweater in there. I’ll try to meet you there.”

You nodded as you went your separate ways.

You did as Franco said, having a quick shower and doing your best to dry your hair in his driver’s room. You grabbed the spare Williams quarter zip he had and slid it on, relishing in the warmth and the smell of his cologne. You felt safe here, quiet and alone, knowing that he’d come meet you when he could. You scrolled on your phone to pass the time.

Of course, it had only been minutes and you all had already gone viral.  

You tapped on the post of a gossip page.

Williams driver Franco Colapinto and friend YN seen in Interlagos having a sweet moment dancing in the rain! Although the pair are quoted calling each other just friends, fans continue to speculate about the true nature of their relationship. What do you think? Sound off below!

You scrolled to the comments.

Might as well just make out with her in parc ferme smh

Why are they actually the main characters of a rom com

Sooooooo when is he proposing

YN the woman that you are. I’d ask what we are after being held like that

You smiled. Maybe the internet was starting to grow on you. 

Back in the paddock, Franco was soaked to the bone, shivering, and being scolded by his manager.

“I told you to keep a low profile. What was that stunt?”

“I was just having fun—”

“I know. That’s the problem. You are not here to have fun. You are here to compete.”

“Having fun doesn’t impact my ability to drive,” he said, his voice sharp with anger. “Look, I get that you want what is best for me. But I’m not stupid. Fans love this kind of stuff, they eat it up. And I’m improving every day with my driving. Just let me do what I do best.”

“And you’re doing this purely for the fans?” she asked. They both knew the answer. Franco was silent. She continued, “Franco, she’ll be here at the end of the season no matter what. But this opportunity won't if you don’t focus. You’re distracted.”

“This will be good publicity. The fans like it when I’m flirty.”

“You’re not here to be flirty. You’re here to drive,” she said with a forceful and final tone. She sighed. “The FIA just announced that quali is postponed until tomorrow morning. Go back to the hotel, get some rest, and come back tomorrow ready to perform, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed. 

When he finally made it back to his driver’s room, he found you asleep on the small couch. He thought his heart would burst.

Quietly, he took a shower and changed into dry clothes. He sat down and just watched your sleeping frame, taking in how beautiful you were.

But you couldn’t stay here all night. He woke you up by gently brushing your hair out of your face, and you stirred at his touch.

“YN,” he whispered. “Quali is postponed. Time to go.” You sleepily rose and followed him out of the paddock, only fully waking up on the Uber ride back to the hotel.

The drive was quiet, but peaceful. It was dark out, and the rain scattered the light from the street lamps of Sao Paulo. Franco looked out the window, contemplative. It was a side of him you'd never seen before.

You placed your hand in the middle between you two, and wordlessly, he held it in his own.

It was unspoken, this new…thing, between you two. You both knew that something had fundamentally changed. It was a question of who would crack first. 

Franco knew, though, that his manager was right. He needed to focus. He needed to deliver. And you’d be here at the end.

But when he laid in his bed alone later that night, he couldn’t rest. All he could think about was that moment you both had felt, and his eyes that had focused on the soft skin of your lips. How badly he had wanted you in that moment. 

A line had been crossed, yes, but that wasn’t the only one. 

In his backpack, there had been a weight that had hung over him the past few days. A metaphorical one. He had kept it on his person at all times for safekeeping, not wanting to risk anyone finding out what he’d done.

He told himself he wouldn’t do it. But he needed more of you that he couldn’t have—not now, at least. 

But he could have this, right now.

So he sat up in bed, grabbing the small leather diary from the bag, and opened the first page.  

[noralia20]

Midnight encounter- Part 1

So here's a little mafia AU, I couldn't see anything else when I saw him in the maserati ad (oh mah god).

I did that last may, I don’t know if I’ll do a second part for now. I don’t have time, plus I wanna see if it reaches a public.

Anyway, enjoy !

Words count : 11k

Being a student wasn't too tough, especially when you adored what you were studying. As a French student specializing in pathology, it always raised a few eyebrows when you introduced yourself as someone fixated on uncovering the stories of the deceased. But for you, it was a passion, especially when it involved unraveling the mysteries behind crimes. You had a unique background; born in Florencia, you were half French and half Italian. Shortly after your birth, your mother persuaded your father to relocate to Paris, where her family resided. Despite the emotional strain it placed on your father to leave his homeland, he agreed, and thus, you grew up as a French girl with a sprinkle of Italian influence, thanks to your father's heritage. Summers were spent in Italy, soaking up the culture and basking in the warmth of your Italian roots. Lately, however, you found yourself succumbing to a creeping sense of burnout, a consequence of pushing yourself too hard. Recognizing the signs, your parents intervened and decided it was time for a change of scenery. Reluctantly, you accepted their decision, grumbling all the way, but secretly acknowledging the necessity of a break. So, with a mix of protest and resignation, you boarded a plane in Paris bound for Rome, where your sweet grandmother awaited. Despite your initial resistance, deep down, you knew that this trip held the promise of much-needed rejuvenation and a chance to reconnect with your Italian heritage.

As you scanned the bustling crowd of people eagerly awaiting their loved ones at the gates, your heart quickened with anticipation. Amidst the sea of faces, you finally spotted her, your grandmother, her hand waving above the throng as she pushed through the crowd, calling out your name in that unmistakable Italian tone that echoed with memories of your father. It had been five long years since you last saw her, the summers of your youth now overshadowed by the demands of your studies. You navigated your way through the crowd, dragging your luggage behind you, and soon found yourself enveloped in her warm embrace. Beside her stood one of your dad's cousins, ready to assist with your luggage. With a smile, he took your bags, and your grandmother immediately took your hand, leading you through the bustling airport towards her car.There it was, the familiar sight of her sweet little red car, a relic from your childhood that had somehow defied the odds and continued to run. You chuckled to yourself, thinking that surely by now the old motor would have given out, but it seemed to possess a stubborn resilience, much like your grandmother herself. Together, you all climbed into the car, settling into the well-worn seats as your grandmother embarked on a flurry of questions, each one delivered in rapid-fire Italian. Gratefully, you responded, slipping effortlessly back into the rhythms of the language, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you as you embarked on the journey towards your grandmother's house.

Stepping out of the car, you took a moment to absorb the familiar sights and sounds of your grandmother's neighborhood. The air was filled with the gentle hum of life, the scent of Italian cuisine wafting from nearby kitchens, and the soft chatter of neighbors exchanging pleasantries. It was as if time stood still in this quaint corner of Rome, untouched by the passage of years.Your grandmother tossed you the keys with a knowing smile, urging her nephew to hasten with your luggage. With a grateful nod, you caught the keys and made your way towards the small house that held so many memories. It stood as a testament to your grandmother's resilience and love, where she had raised not only her own children but also helped shape the lives of her grandchildren. Entering the cozy abode, you were greeted by the familiar sights and smells of home. The walls seemed to echo with the laughter of generations past, the worn furniture bearing witness to countless family gatherings and shared meals. This was the place where your father had grown up, where your own roots were firmly planted in the rich soil of family tradition and love.

Ascending the stairs to what used to be the girls' room but was now your vacation sanctuary, you couldn't help but notice how much smaller it seemed now. The bed, though old and well-used, still exuded a comforting coziness that beckoned you to rest. Your eyes wandered to the photos adorning the walls, each one a precious memento of summers spent in the embrace of family and tradition.

A dress lay delicately atop the bed, accompanied by a note from your grandmother. "Spero che sia la tua taglia," it read. You couldn't help but smile at her straightforwardness. The dress, a beautiful floral creation, seemed to beckon to you, offering a reprieve from the mundanity of your current attire. With a quick shower, you slipped into the garment, marveling at how perfectly it fit as if it were tailor-made for you. The fabric flowed around you with effortless grace, just as you liked it. Admiring your reflection in the mirror, you couldn't help but marvel at your grandmother's intuition. How had she known the exact size to choose? Lost in thought, you were startled by her voice calling you downstairs to greet some of her sisters. Descending the stairs, you found yourself enveloped in a whirlwind of Italian hospitality, as cousins and uncles filled every corner of the house. From the kitchen to the living room, the dining room to the garden, the air buzzed with animated conversations and laughter, reminiscent of the familial warmth you had grown accustomed to in France. Embracing each of your relatives in turn, you found yourself slipping effortlessly back into the rhythms of Italian conversation, your language skills returning with each passing moment.

As your grandmother managed to usher out the last of the visiting relatives with her characteristic determination, you both finally found a moment of solitude. Taking a sip of water to quench your thirst, she broached the idea of taking a stroll through the city before the sun set. "Vuoi fare un giro per la città prima che tramonti il sole? Ho alcuni posti da mostrarti," she proposed, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. The idea of exploring Rome with her filled you with excitement, and you readily agreed. Quickly slipping on a pair of shoes, you followed her lead as you ventured out into the bustling streets of Rome. It felt like a journey back in time as she guided you to places you had frequented as a child, from the serene park where you had played to the majestic fountain where you had made countless wishes. Your eyes lit up with delight when you spotted a vendor selling gelato, and before you could protest, your grandmother was already making her way towards the tempting display. "Prendiamone un po'," she declared with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Nonna! Non è necessario..." you began to protest, but she silenced you with a wave of her hand. "Silenzio, voglio anch'io il gelato," she insisted, her infectious energy contagious as she stood there, undeterred by any protestations. You couldn't help but smile at her antics, marveling at her unwavering spirit and zest for life. Despite the passage of time, she remained a beacon of strength and vitality, a reminder of the enduring bonds of family and the joy found in the simple pleasures of life.

An unexpected collision jolted you out of your reverie, and as you turned to voice your protest, you found yourself face to face with a stranger. Taller than you, with long sandy blond hair that cascaded around his tired blue eyes, he cut an enigmatic figure against the backdrop of the bustling street. Dressed in black despite the sweltering heat, he seemed out of place, an anomaly amidst the vibrant colors of Rome. His gaze briefly met yours, sending a shiver down your spine before he uttered a simple "scusi" and continued on his way, leaving you standing there, momentarily stunned. As he disappeared into the nearby alley, a cold chill lingered in the air, and you realized you had been holding your breath without even realizing it. Glancing back at the alley where he had vanished, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of your stomach. Who was he, and why did his presence leave such a lingering sense of disquiet?

Shaking your head to dispel the lingering unease, you turned back to your grandmother, who had paused to wait for you.

"Everything okay, cara?" she asked, her brow furrowing with concern as she noticed the slight tremor in your voice.You nodded, forcing a reassuring smile. "Just a little startled, nonna. Let's keep going," you replied, eager to put the strange encounter behind you. But despite your attempts to brush it off, the memory of the man with the tired blue eyes lingered in the back of your mind, casting a shadow over the rest of your evening stroll through the streets of Rome.

A few days had passed since the unsettling encounter on the street, and now it was Friday evening, and you found yourself dining with your grandmother. When she declared, "Andare fuori stasera," it wasn't a suggestion but a command, and you knew better than to argue. Anticipating your hesitation, she preemptively addressed your concerns, telling you, "Ho lasciato qualcosa sul tuo letto, mettitelo e non svegliarmi quando torni," before whisking away your plate with a playful wink. You couldn't help but smile at her knowing gesture as you hurried upstairs. There, laid out on your bed, was a stunning silver sparkly dress accompanied by matching heels. It wasn't your typical attire, but you knew better than to refuse your grandmother's fashion choices. Trying it on, you marveled once again at how perfectly it fit, as if it were tailor-made for you. With your outfit sorted, you turned your attention to finding a suitable destination for the evening. A quick search led you to The Marlena, a nightclub that seemed both selective and promising. Though your intention wasn't to meet someone, but rather to enjoy the company of friends and lose yourself in the rhythm of the music. Applying makeup, you focused on accentuating your eyes, knowing that the dim lighting of the club would work in your favor. With your preparations complete, you felt a surge of excitement coursing through you as you prepared to embark on a uber towards a night of adventure and possibility.

The sight of The Marlena nightclub left you breathless, its façade a stunning amalgamation of gold, black, and red hues that beckoned to revelers from far and wide. A long queue of eager patrons awaited entry, flanked by imposing bouncers guarding the entrance. However, your moment of awe was abruptly interrupted as someone collided with you, causing you to drop your bag. Turning to confront the source of the disturbance, you were met with a drunken girl who hurled curses at you in Italian before being forcibly ejected from the club by the bouncers. As you stooped to retrieve your bag, you noticed a VIP badge lying next to it. For a moment, you contemplated returning it to the girl, but the combination of the long queue, the insult, and perhaps a bit of sinful temptation led you to reconsider. With a decisive gesture, you pocketed the badge and confidently presented yourself at the VIP line. The bouncer eyed you skeptically, assessing your appearance and the badge you offered. Holding his gaze with unwavering determination, you silently dared him to refuse you entry. After a tense moment, he relented, granting you access with a stern warning: "No photos inside, or out forever." With a nod of acknowledgment, you stepped through the velvet ropes, leaving behind the clamor of the crowd and stepping into the pulsating heart of The Marlene. Tonight, you would embrace the thrill of the forbidden, relishing in the excitement of the unknown as you surrendered yourself to the allure of the night.

As you explored the expansive interior of The Marlena, you couldn't help but be captivated by its grandeur. Multiple levels towered above you, each offering a unique perspective of the bustling nightclub below. Your eyes lingered on the dance floor, where revelers moved in synchrony to the pulsating rhythm of the music, their movements exuding a raw energy that seemed to infuse the very air. However, your newfound VIP status afforded you a glimpse into a world beyond the ordinary. Your gaze was drawn to a staircase marked "VIP," leading to a secluded level adorned with a magnificent glass balcony.

Your eyes followed the staircase that led to the VIP section, tracing its path until they settled on a secluded level with a grand glass balcony. There, perched like an angel surveying the chaos below, was a blond girl with an air of both innocence and mischief. Her gaze met yours, and you found yourself captivated by the intensity of her blue eyes, like she knew people were watching and she was enjoying it. She exuded an otherworldly aura, her wavy blond hair framing her face in a halo of light. Yet, despite her angelic appearance, there was a hint of darkness in the way she carried herself, a subtle defiance that added to her allure. As she smirked in amusement at your mutual acknowledgment, you realized that she, like you, was not a typical Italian but someone from elsewhere. In that fleeting moment of connection, you nodded in acknowledgment, a silent understanding passing between you. However, before you could dwell further on the enigmatic encounter, another woman with short brown hair appeared and kissed the blond girl, breaking the spell. With a determined resolve, you tore your gaze away and made your way towards the VIP section, eager to explore the levels beyond the dance floor and delve deeper into the mysteries of the night. There was an undeniable allure to the ethereal atmosphere of the upper levels, and you were ready to embrace whatever secrets they held.

Ascending the stairs into the VIP section felt like stepping into another realm entirely, one where opulence and extravagance reigned supreme. Every surface was adorned with luxurious materials-leather, velvet, and gold-that spoke of wealth beyond measure. It was a stark contrast to the chaos of the dance floor below, and for a moment, you felt like a mere pauper in comparison. However, you refused to let yourself be intimidated by the grandeur surrounding you. With a determined stride, you entered the lavish space, adorned in your own semblance of elegance with your black lace gloves. Despite your efforts to blend in, you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider in this world where people seemed to care only for themselves. As you observed the elite gathering, you noticed that they were engaged in leisurely pursuits-talking, gambling, smoking, and sipping on expensive drinks. It was a scene straight out of a decadent fantasy, where indulgence knew no bounds and money flowed like water. Yet, amidst the extravagance, there lingered an unspoken question: where did all this wealth come from?Making your way towards the glass balcony, you found yourself drawn to the breathtaking view it offered. From this elevated vantage point, you could see the dance floor below, where the masses moved like mere mortals in comparison to the gods of the VIP section above. It was a stark reminder of the stark divide between the haves and the have-nots, a world where money wielded power beyond measure. Lost in contemplation, you couldn't help but wonder about the origins of this wealth and the true cost of such decadence. But for now, you pushed aside your thoughts and allowed yourself to be swept away by the allure of the night, embracing the intoxicating atmosphere of luxury and excess as you navigated the intricate web of intrigue and desire that surrounded you.

Feeling a sense of detachment from the opulent surroundings of the VIP section, you resolved to immerse yourself in the scene unfolding before you. However, you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place, an intruder in a world where every move seemed orchestrated with precision. As you observed the elite clientele around you, you couldn't help but notice that you were the only one without a drink in hand. Determined to blend in, you made your way to the bar and ordered a Negroni, watching intently as the skilled bartender prepared your drink with practiced expertise. It was as if every action in the room was meticulously calculated, as though everyone was on edge, fearing the gaze of some unseen authority figure-perhaps the owner of this lavish establishment. Your gaze wandered, and you couldn't help but notice a room concealed behind a heavy velvet curtain. Intrigued, you turned to the bartender and inquired about its purpose. His raised eyebrow and teasing tone suggested that you were indeed new to this environment. "It's where the owner hosts his gambling sessions," he explained casually, as if it were an everyday occurrence. You strained to catch a glimpse of the mysterious room, and as someone slipped through the curtain, the bartender warned you against staring too intently. "Don't stare too much, you'll be hypnotized to go in," he remarked with a hint of warning in his voice. Perplexed, you pressed him for more information."People come here with financial troubles, hoping to win against the owner," he elaborated, his voice tinged with a note of caution. "But if they lose, the owner claims a stake in their existence, ensuring that they are forever indebted to him." His words hung in the air, casting a shadow over the seemingly glamorous façade of the nightclub. As he resumed his duties, wiping down a glass with practiced ease, you couldn't help but feel a chill creep down your spine. The allure of the VIP section suddenly seemed less enticing, overshadowed by the darker undercurrents that lurked beneath the surface.

The bartender's words sent a chill down your spine, shattering the illusion of glamour that had initially drawn you into this world of excess. As you attempted to process his warning, he continued, his tone grave and knowing. "Let me tell you, that usually doesn't end well," he cautioned, his words echoing ominously in the air. It was a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of this seemingly opulent world.Lost in thought, you began to study the faces around you, contemplating the hidden struggles and desires that drove these individuals to seek refuge in the intoxicating allure of the nightclub. However, before you could delve deeper into your observations, the bartender interrupted, his voice cutting through your reverie. "Don't get me wrong, most people here know better than to play the owner's game," he explained, his gaze piercing through your facade with unsettling clarity. "The players are usually from your world, the downstairs level." His words struck a nerve, and you felt a surge of panic rising within you as you realized that your cover had been blown. How could he have known? "The downstairs level- how did you-" you began, but the bartender's smirk quickly faded into a sober expression. "I know girls like you," he replied cryptically, his eyes reflecting a lifetime of experiences that you could only begin to imagine. "And trust me, sweetheart, there's only one winner in the game you're currently playing. And right now, you're not winning. Get out of here and don't look back." With a sense of urgency, he slid your drink across the bar towards you, his gesture a silent command to leave before it was too late. "Trust me," he added, his voice tinged with a note of solemnity, "coming from a guy who has seen way too many things around here. On the house." And with that, he turned away, attending to another patron, leaving you to grapple with the unsettling realization that you had stumbled into a world far more dangerous than you had ever imagined.

As you sipped your Negroni, contemplating your next move, you were interrupted by the intrusive presence of a man who seemed to exude entitlement with every fiber of his being. His overly confident smile and condescending tone immediately put you on edge, a reminder of the type of men you had encountered all too often in this world of privilege and excess."Buonasera signorina," he greeted you with a singsong lilt, his words dripping with arrogance. You forced a polite smile in response, though every fiber of your being rebelled against the notion of engaging with him any further. "Good evening, sir," you replied tersely, hoping to convey your lack of interest in further conversation. However, his smile only widened in response, and you cursed yourself for responding at all. "So, you can speak," he remarked, his tone laced with amusement. "I've been watching you, and you haven't spoken a word since you arrived." Your heart sank at the realization that you had become the subject of scrutiny among the elite patrons of the nightclub. It was a stark reminder of the scrutiny and judgment that accompanied every move in this world of wealth and privilege. "It's because I only speak when necessary," you retorted, your words tinged with thinly veiled disdain. "No need to waste oxygen on meaningless conversations."

The man's smile faltered for a moment, his confidence momentarily shaken by your blunt response. However, he quickly regained his composure, his eyes narrowing as he studied you intently. "A woman of few words, I see," he mused, his tone laced with thinly veiled condescension. "Perhaps you're more interesting than you appear." You bristled at his insinuation, but before you could formulate a response, he extended his hand towards you. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Alessandro," he declared, his voice smooth and practiced. Reluctantly, you accepted his handshake, inwardly cursing your predicament. It seemed that the night was far from over, and you found yourself reluctantly drawn into a conversation with a man whose intentions remained shrouded in mystery.

"A negroni ? Usually ladies take some red wine." The man's teasing remark about your choice of drink made you feel even more uneasy, as if he were probing for vulnerabilities to exploit. You tried to maintain your composure, but his proximity and persistent questioning made you feel increasingly uncomfortable. "Maybe because I'm not like any lady," you retorted, hoping to deter his advances, but to your dismay, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Instead of backing off, he leaned in closer, his presence invading your personal space. "Oh really? I'd like to know more about that," he replied, his tone dripping with intrigue as he closed the distance between you. You forced a smile, trying to mask your unease as you reluctantly engaged in conversation. "But you never told me your name, sweet one," he continued, seemingly oblivious to—or perhaps intentionally ignoring—your attempts to create distance. "I'm Y/n," you responded curtly, hoping to maintain a sense of detachment while still playing along with his game. However, his response only served to deepen your discomfort. "Y/n... Well, allow me to share a drink with you," he declared. Before you could protest, he slid into the seat beside you, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Feeling increasingly trapped, you took a sip of your Negroni in an attempt to steady your nerves. His next comment caught you off guard, causing you to almost choke on your drink. "Something on my face?" you asked, trying to maintain a semblance of composure despite the rising sense of panic. "No, you just don't look like you're from around here," he remarked casually, his words sending a chill down your spine. It seemed that everyone in this world had a radar for outsiders, and you were beginning to realize that blending in might be harder than you had initially anticipated.

"What tells you that ?" you try to keep your voice steady. "I don't know, it comes off of your irresistible aura." He answers winking. As Alessandro continued to flirt with you, his words veiled in charm but his intentions unmistakably predatory, you searched desperately for an escape route. The layout of the nightclub offered no respite—the restrooms were located on the opposite side of the room, far from the exit, and you lacked the pretext of meeting friends to justify your departure. Trapped in this unwanted exchange, you struggled to maintain a façade of composure, all the while cursing your predicament.

"Why don't you tell me more about yourself, Alessandro?" you interjected, hoping to redirect the conversation and buy yourself some time. You knew all too well that men like him loved to talk about themselves, and you hoped that indulging his ego might provide you with an opportunity to slip away unnoticed. “Well, I'm the son of a caporegime," he began, his tone casual as if discussing the weather. Mentions of being the son of a "caporegime" left you puzzled, but you dared not ask for clarification, fearing that it might expose your ignorance and blow your cover. Instead, you listened attentively as he regaled you with tales of his family's wealth and influence, boasting of their ownership of Italian vineyards and their esteemed status among the top producers of wine in the world. Throughout his monologue, Alessandro's hand wandered, subtly but persistently, until it came to rest on your knee. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you resisted the urge to recoil, forcing yourself to maintain a neutral expression even as his fingers began to inch upward, tracing a path along your thigh. Despite your mounting discomfort, you knew that any overt rejection or attempt to escape could provoke a dangerous reaction from Alessandro. So, with a sense of resignation, you continued to feign interest in his stories, all the while plotting your next move and praying for an opportunity to extricate yourself from his grasp.

Feeling increasingly cornered by Alessandro's advances, you desperately searched for a way to escape his grasp. The bartender, who had offered a brief respite from Alessandro's unwelcome attention, was nowhere to be found, leaving you feeling utterly alone and vulnerable in this unfamiliar environment. Your heart raced as Alessandro called your name, his voice dripping with arrogance and entitlement. Startled, you turned to face him, hoping to maintain a façade of composure despite the rising sense of panic within you. "I'm sorry?" you replied, your voice trembling slightly as you struggled to find the right words to rebuff his advances. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he repeated his proposition, his hand squeezing your thigh possessively. "You could come and see my manor next to the vines," he murmured, his words laced with a thinly veiled threat. "I'm sure the view would please you." Panic surged through you as he continued to press closer, his proximity suffocating. "N-No, that wouldn't be necessary," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper as you attempted to maintain a semblance of composure. But Alessandro seemed undeterred by your feeble protestations, his confidence only growing as he whispered in your ear, his words sending a shiver of revulsion down your spine. "Don't play hard, bella," he whispered, his hand grazing up your thigh as he insinuated his intentions. "I have a room upstairs, but I don't remember the number. Wanna help me find it?" You recoiled at his touch, feeling utterly helpless and petrified by the realization of your predicament. Trapped in this dangerous game with no means of escape, you struggled to find a way out of this nightmare, praying for a miracle to intervene and rescue you from Alessandro's clutches.

Suddenly, a throat cleared behind you, causing Alessandro to halt his advances and visibly tense. His expression shifted from annoyance to fear as he turned to face the source of the interruption, ready to curse whoever dared to intrude on his plans. But as he caught sight of the figure behind you, his fiery demeanor melted away, leaving him pale and trembling. As Alessandro's demeanor shifted from aggression to abject fear, you felt a surge of relief wash over you at the arrival of this mysterious figure. With Alessandro's attention now diverted, you seized the opportunity to distance yourself from him, discreetly inching away from his grasp.

"D-Don..." he stammered out, his voice barely above a whisper as he retreated from you, his bravado crumbling in the presence of the newcomer. The title sparked a flicker of recognition in your mind, but before you could fully grasp its significance, the man behind you spoke up. "I'm surprised to see you here, Ales," he remarked, his voice grave and tinged with a pronounced Italian accent. "I thought I made it clear to your father that you shouldn't be anywhere near my business. Or would you dare to disobey me?" Alessandro's response was immediate and deferential, his words choked out as if each syllable caused him physical pain. "Of course not, boss! I was only passing by to deliver an envelope to a capo," he explained hastily, his tone betraying a mixture of fear and regret.

You watched in stunned silence as the power dynamics shifted before your eyes, realizing that you had unwittingly stumbled into a confrontation between two powerful figures in this shadowy world. As the gravity of the situation sank in, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief mingled with apprehension, uncertain of what lay ahead in this dangerous game of power and intrigue.

You didn't dare to turn around to face your savior, afraid to intrude on the unfolding confrontation between him and Alessandro. Instead, you remained rooted in place, listening intently as the man's commanding voice filled the air, his words carrying a weight of authority that left no room for argument. "Then what are you still doing here? Bothering one of my guests, I might add," he remarked, his tone dropping to a lower octave, sending a shiver down your spine. Alessandro attempted to stammer out some words of excuse, but his feeble protests were quickly dismissed by the man's stern rebuke. Summoning your courage, you finally turned around to face your savior, your breath catching in your throat as you took in his commanding presence.

He stood before you, tall and statuesque, his dark hair slicked back in a tousled style that added to his rugged charm. His attire exuded an effortless sophistication, a black shirt with a few buttons undone hinting at a casual elegance that suited him perfectly. But it was his eyes that drew you in, pools of molten gold that sparkled with intelligence and depth, captivating you with their intensity. There was a warmth in his gaze, an invitation to trust and confide, that made you feel instantly at ease in his presence. As you observed him, you couldn't help but be struck by his aura of charisma, a magnetic energy that seemed to radiate from every pore. Yet, beneath the surface, there was a hint of vulnerability, a furrowed brow that spoke of inner turmoil and conflict. Despite the gravity of the situation, there was an undeniable magnetism about him, a captivating allure that left you breathless in his presence. And as you met his gaze, you couldn't help but feel a stirring within your soul, a sense of connection that transcended words and spoke to something deeper within you.

As your savior's gaze briefly crossed yours, you detected a subtle shift in his expression, a fleeting glimpse of something indefinable that seemed to flicker and fade in an instant. But before you could decipher the meaning behind the change, his eyes grew dark once more as he assessed the scene before him with a cool detachment. With a nod towards one of the men at his side, he gave a silent command, and they moved swiftly to handle the situation. Alessandro was roughly seized by the shoulder, his protests falling on deaf ears as he was dragged away from the scene. You watched in silence as he disappeared from view, feeling a mixture of relief and unease at the abrupt turn of events. As the commotion died down and the party resumed its festivities, you couldn't help but feel a sense of embarrassment wash over you. All eyes seemed to be on you, and you wished nothing more than to disappear into the shadows and escape the scrutiny of the crowd. Sensing your discomfort, your savior turned his attention back to you, his demeanor softened slightly as he addressed you directly. "I'm sorry he bothered you," he apologized, his voice tinged with genuine concern. "I had made sure my bouncers wouldn't let him in. Turns out I wasn't specific enough." Your savior's steely gaze bore down on one of his bodyguards, who lowered his eyes in shame under the weight of his employer's disapproval.

You felt a pang of sympathy for the man as he apologized, recognizing that he was shouldering the responsibility for his subordinates' oversight. However, you quickly reminded yourself of the role you needed to play and the necessity of leaving as soon as possible without causing offense. "It's no worries, truly," you reassured him, offering a small smile of gratitude for his concern. You reached for your Negroni, intending to take a sip to calm your nerves. As you prepared to take a sip of your Negroni, a hand suddenly snatched the glass from your grasp, causing you to startle in surprise. You looked up to see your savior's concerned expression as he inspected the contents of the drink. "No, it's spiked," he stated firmly, his voice laced with urgency as he gently placed the glass back onto the table. With practiced efficiency, he produced a small vial containing a red powder and poured it into your drink, the telltale sign of an unwanted substance detected.

Your stomach churned with disgust and horror as you realized the implications of his actions. Alessandro must have spiked your drink while you were distracted, a sinister attempt to take advantage of your vulnerability. The thought sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards your savior for intervening before it was too late.With a grimace of disgust, you pushed the tainted drink aside, feeling a wave of revulsion wash over you at the mere thought of consuming it. In that moment, you were acutely aware of the danger lurking in the shadows of this glamorous facade, and you resolved to remain vigilant and cautious in this unfamiliar world of power and intrigue.

You blushed at your own clumsiness, feeling embarrassed by your lack of awareness in such a sophisticated setting. Turning back to your savior, you struggled to find the right words to express your gratitude, stumbling over your words as you realized you didn't even know his name. "Thank you, again... sir, Don..." you began, your voice trailing off uncertainly as you faltered over his title. His reaction caught you off guard, his eyes widening before he erupted into a warm, hearty laugh that filled the air with its infectious warmth. "No need for such formalities, signora," he reassured you, his laughter subsiding into a gentle chuckle as he regarded you with amusement. Your cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of crimson at his easy demeanor, feeling out of place amidst his effortless charm. "You're not used to these kinds of events, are you?" he asked softly, his tone now gentle and understanding, a stark contrast to his previous stern demeanor. You shook your head slightly, feeling a pang of insecurity at being so transparently out of your depth. "No," you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you avoided his gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable in his presence. He simply nodded in understanding, his expression sympathetic as he reassured you with a gentle smile. "I figured. But don't worry, people around us are just putting on airs. They may act like they know what they're doing, but deep down, they're just as unsure as you are." His words offered a small comfort, easing some of the tension that had coiled in your stomach. You met his gaze once more, finding solace in the warmth and kindness reflected in his eyes.

"And I won't bite you, miss..." he trailed off, waiting for you to fill in the blank. And as he waited patiently for your response, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of gratitude towards this enigmatic stranger who had shown you nothing but kindness and understanding in your moment of need.

As the need for an excuse pressed upon you, the memory of the badge flashed in your mind, providing you with a convenient alias: Bianca Mazzoti. Gathering your wits, you confidently supplied the name to your savior. "Mazzoti, Y/n Mazzoti," you declared, hoping to deflect any further inquiries with a semblance of authority. He nodded thoughtfully, seemingly lost in contemplation. "I had no idea Mazzoti had another daughter. You don't look anything like Bianca," he remarked, his gaze piercing as he studied you intently. You maintained your composure, weaving a web of lies with practiced ease. "Mr. Mazzoti adopted me when I was sixteen. I only take Bianca's place when she cannot attend to certain obligations," you explained smoothly, your words flowing like silk.His curiosity seemed piqued by your revelation, prompting him to delve deeper into your past. "Which explains why you're not used to this. Where were you born? I sense a familiar accent," he inquired, his tone gentle yet probing. The truth was tempting, but you knew better than to reveal your true origins in this precarious situation. Instead, you offered a half-truth, drawing upon your French heritage for a convincing answer. "Florence," you replied, the name slipping effortlessly from your lips. It wasn't a complete lie, but it veiled the truth behind a facade of ambiguity. "La Bella Firenze," he mused in agreement, his expression thoughtful as he contemplated your response. You breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the reprieve as you navigated the delicate dance of deception in this intricate game of intrigue.

As the realization dawned upon you that you still did not know his name, you decided to take a bold step and inquire about it. After all, if he had asked for your name, it seemed only fair that he reciprocate. "You asked me my name. Wouldn't it be formal for you to give me yours?" you ventured cautiously, aware of the potential risk in probing further. His men visibly tensed at your words, their eyes darting nervously as they awaited his response.His gaze intensified, the golden flecks in his eyes shimmering with an otherworldly brilliance as he regarded you with a penetrating stare. For a moment, the air crackled with tension, the weight of his scrutiny bearing down upon you like a heavy cloak. Finally, he spoke, his voice resonating with quiet authority as he revealed his name to you. "You can call me Damiano," he declared, his words carrying a weight of significance that left you breathless with anticipation.You released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at his response. Nodding in acknowledgement, you mentally filed away his name, committing it to memory for future reference.In a swift motion, he flicked his finger, summoning a nearby barman who swiftly brought two cups of champagne to the table. You watched in astonishment as the bartender moved with lightning speed, awed by the seamless efficiency with which Damiano commanded the room.As you sipped your champagne, you couldn't help but marvel at the sheer power and presence that emanated from Damiano. Like Hades presiding over the realm of the underworld, he seemed to wield an invisible authority that permeated every corner of the room. The comparison to Hades sparked a curious thought in your mind, and as you studied Damiano's flawless features—the dark eyes, the tousled hair, the enigmatic smile—you couldn't help but see echoes of the mythical deity in his demeanor. There was a certain allure to him, a magnetic charisma that drew you in and left you captivated by his enigmatic presence.

As you zoned out, lost in your thoughts, Damiano's voice jolted you back to the present moment. You blinked, realizing that you had been staring at him absentmindedly. Flustered, you attempted to regain your composure. "Oh, nothing, just thinking," you stammered out, hoping to mask your momentary lapse in attention. Damiano's lips twitched with amusement, and he coughed lightly to hide a laugh before shifting the conversation to a different topic. "So you're only here to replace Bianca. What do you do in life?" he inquired, his gaze fixed intently on you as he awaited your response. “I-I’m a violinist.” That wasn’t truly a lie. You were one, and was part of an orchestra. But your main life was being a student, but he didn’t need to know that.

Damiano's eyes flicked down to your fingertips, where faint dents marred the skin—a telltale sign of years spent mastering the instrument. His keen observation did not go unnoticed, and you couldn't help but tense slightly at his perceptive gaze. "Which explains the small dents on your fingertips. It could be mistaken for the calluses of a habitual gun holder," he remarked casually, his words sending a chill down your spine. The implication behind his observation was clear, and you found yourself growing increasingly wary of this enigmatic man before you. As a future forensic doctor, you were well-versed in analyzing physical evidence, but to have your own marks scrutinized in such a manner by a simple nightclub CEO left you feeling unsettled.

"Usually, people don't pick up on it," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to mask your unease. "Are you perhaps a musician too?" you ventured, hoping to divert the conversation away from his unsettling observation. Damiano took a sip of his drink, his expression unreadable as he considered your question. "Some of my close friends would say so. My best musical arm would be my voice," he answered cryptically, his words tinged with a hint of mystery. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Damiano than met the eye. As you studied him, you couldn't help but wonder about the secrets that lurked beneath his polished exterior, and the true extent of his power and influence in this shadowy world of intrigue and deception. "Ooh, a singer?" you echoed, the hint of amusement in Damiano's tone contagious as you chuckled softly along with him. His attention remained focused on the crowd, his gaze sweeping over the scene before him with a sense of quiet contemplation.

"What about you? What led you to become the manager of such an intriguing place?" you inquired, curiosity lacing your words as you watched him closely, eager to unravel the mystery behind this enigmatic figure. Damiano didn't bother to look back at you as he spoke, his attention still fixed on the intricate details of the nightclub's structure. A slight smirk tugged at his lips, hinting at a deeper layer of amusement beneath his composed exterior. "I like extravagance, as you may now know," he began, his voice carrying a note of wistfulness as he spoke. "But I also find people of the night more intriguing. The night is a place where despair creeps in, and people let their masks fall. I love to be here and watch. It's like trapping flowers as they close in on themselves."His words sent a shiver down your spine, the imagery of darkness and deception intertwining with a sense of morbid fascination. It brought to mind the hidden rooms behind the curtains, the secrets that lurked within their shadows. "You're talking about the rooms behind the curtains?" you ventured, your gaze flicking back to the concealed alcove that the bartender had mentioned earlier. Damiano's gaze snapped back to you, his eyes darker than ever as a devilish smile played at the corners of his lips. "Precisely. But I'd be pained to find you there," he remarked cryptically, his words tinged with a hint of warning that sent a chill down your spine.You tilted your head in confusion, your mind racing with questions as you tried to decipher the meaning behind his enigmatic words.

"How so?" you pressed, your curiosity piqued by Damiano's cryptic remarks. He took another sip of his drink, his gaze distant as he contemplated his response. "People who go there are despaired, Y/n," he began, his voice tinged with a hint of solemnity. "I've encountered such great sorrow that hides behind the veneer of wealth. Sometimes, they feel they have no other option but to seek me out." You found his words bold, the stark admission of human suffering amidst the opulence of the nightclub's surroundings leaving a bitter taste in your mouth."And you let them lose your challenge?" you couldn't help but ask, your voice tinged with skepticism. Damiano's gaze shifted to meet yours, his eyes taking on a stormy hue as he regarded you with a mixture of intensity and resolve. "I always give them a chance to win, don't ever doubt it," he replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'm not a man who traps." You held back a scoff at his words, unconvinced by his assurances. "So you're a saint?" you couldn't help but challenge him, the skepticism evident in your voice. For a moment, Damiano seemed taken aback by your question, his expression momentarily faltering as he searched for the right words. He opened and closed his mouth, his gaze flicking down to his drink before meeting yours once more."I don't think you could say that," he finally replied, his tone measured as he chose his words carefully. "But I have my own morals and values." His response left you with more questions than answers, the enigma of Damiano's character deepening with each passing moment. As you studied him, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye, and that beneath his composed exterior lay a complexity that defied easy categorization.

As you took a deep breath to calm yourself, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. You realized you had been unfair to Damiano, judging him based on preconceived notions without truly understanding the complexities of his character. With a sense of regret weighing heavily on your shoulders, you turned your attention back to the bustling crowd, allowing yourself a moment to bask in the ambiance of the night."And do people often win?" you asked softly, breaking the silence that had settled between you. Damiano's smile was enigmatic as he met your gaze, his eyes holding a glint of amusement as if he knew something you didn't."Not really. It only happened once, years ago when the club was just new," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia as he spoke. There was a distant look in his eyes, as if he were lost in the memories of times long past."And did it cost you a lot?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued by the hint of mystery in his words.Damiano let out a chuckle, his laughter carrying a warmth that belied the severity of his past. "Ah, that bastard did cost me a lot," he admitted with a wry smile, shaking his head slightly. "But most of all, he became my best friend after this."You couldn't help but smile at the unexpected turn of events, the realization dawning on you that there was more to Damiano than met the eye. Despite the darkness that seemed to surround him, there was a glimmer of humanity beneath the surface, a warmth that shone through in moments of vulnerability.As you looked back at him, you found him staring at you with a gaze that made your heart flutter uncomfortably in your chest. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you averted your gaze, feeling the weight of his scrutiny like a tangible presence in the air.In that moment, you wondered what lay hidden beneath the surface of this enigmatic man, and what secrets he held within the depths of his soul. But one thing was certain—you were inexplicably drawn to him, captivated by the magnetic pull of his presence and the mysteries that surrounded him.

"Did I ever tell you that people of the night fascinate me?" Damiano's smirk held a hint of mischief as he directed his gaze solely at you, his eyes probing yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but feel like he was speaking directly to your soul.You let out a small laugh, attempting to mask the flutter of nerves that danced in your stomach, and took a sip of your champagne in a feeble attempt to regain your composure. "I'm not really a woman of the night. The violin sounds better when you play in the sun," you replied, attempting to deflect his attention away from you.But Damiano's gaze remained fixed on you, studying you like you were a rare and precious discovery. "I'm sure you are. And playing violin in the night makes things more... dramatic," he remarked, his voice dripping with a tantalizing allure that sent a shiver down your spine.You chuckled nervously, feeling the weight of his gaze like a tangible presence in the air. "But who said I'm dramatic?" you quipped, attempting to lighten the mood with a touch of playful banter. "We're Italians," he shot back with a grin, and you couldn't help but laugh at his response. There was a magnetic charm to his presence, an undeniable allure that drew you in despite your better judgment. As he extended his glass to toast with you, you found yourself unable to resist, raising your own glass to meet his in a gesture of camaraderie. The soft tinkling sound of the colliding glasses echoed through the air, a melodic symphony that seemed to encapsulate the magic of the moment.

He was a vision of effortless charm and casual elegance, dons a crisp white shirt, its top buttons left open in a gesture of relaxed sophistication. With every step, he exudes an air of confidence that effortlessly draws admiration. His demeanor speaks volumes of a man comfortable in his own skin, at ease with both himself and the world around him. With his hair gracefully tied back in a loose ponytail, he exudes an air of relaxed confidence, as if effortlessly striding through the currents of life's challenges.His presence commands attention, not through ostentation, but through a magnetic charisma that emanates from within. There's a grace to his movements, a fluidity that mirrors the calm confidence he exudes. It's as if he moves through life with a quiet assurance, navigating its complexities with ease and grace. As he leaned in to whisper something in Damiano's ear, you couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in Damiano's expression, his eyes darkening with a hint of seriousness. "I'm sorry, signora," Damiano's voice broke through the momentary silence, his tone tinged with regret. "It seems our encounter must be cut short. Duty calls me."

You felt a pang of disappointment at the sudden turn of events, but you nodded in understanding, masking your emotions behind a polite smile. "Of course, Damiano. Thank you for the wonderful evening." With a graceful bow, Damiano pressed a kiss to your hand before disappearing into the crowd, followed by the enigmatic stranger and his retinue of men. Left alone once more, you couldn't help but wonder about the mysterious man who had interrupted your conversation with Damiano, his presence leaving an indelible impression on your mind.

You snapped out of it, checking the time and deciding it was late enough. You took your stuff and walked out of the VIP section, not without a last glance where Damiano had disappeared earlier. As you stepped out of the vibrant atmosphere of the nightclub, the cool embrace of the summer night enveloped you, a stark contrast to the pulsating energy you had just left behind. With your phone battery dwindling and your funds depleted, you made the decision to walk back to your grandmother's house, which fortunately wasn't too far away.The streets of Rome at night held a unique charm, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights and adorned with the whispers of history echoing through the ancient cobblestones. Despite the late hour, the city seemed alive, bustling with the occasional passerby and the distant murmur of life.However, as you ventured further from the bustling heart of the city and closer to your grandmother's house, the streets grew quieter, until eventually, you found yourself walking alone in the stillness of the night.With each step, the only sound accompanying you was the echo of your own footsteps against the cobblestones, the rhythmic beat of your heart matching the cadence of your journey homeward. Yet, as you turned onto a small side street, a haunting whimper pierced the silence, sending a shiver down your spine.The sound was so faint, so ethereal, that it could easily be mistaken for the mournful cry of the wind weaving through the narrow alleyways. But deep down, you knew it was something more, something tangible, something that demanded your attention.

Despite the trepidation gnawing at your senses, your innate curiosity propelled you forward, drawing you closer to the source of the haunting whimper. With each cautious step, you called out into the night, your voice trembling slightly with a mixture of apprehension and concern.As you rounded the corner onto the deserted street, your eyes widened in shock and horror at the sight that greeted you. There, sprawled on the ground, lay a man, his form illuminated by the pale moonlight filtering through the dense canopy of trees overhead. Crimson stained the pavement beneath him, a stark contrast to the serene beauty of the night.Reacting on pure instinct, you rushed to his side, your heart pounding in your chest as you assessed the severity of his injuries. Blood seeped from a wound, staining his clothes and pooling ominously on the ground. With trembling hands, you pressed against the source of the bleeding, desperately trying to stem the flow and keep him conscious."Sir! Can you hear me?" you called out, your voice laced with urgency and fear. "Come ti chiami? What's your name?" you continued, hoping to elicit any response from the injured man. But there was only silence, save for the labored rise and fall of his chest as he struggled to cling to consciousness. Frantically, you reached for your phone, your fingers fumbling with the device as you attempted to summon help. But before you could complete the call, a sudden, searing pain erupted at the back of your head, stealing away your senses in a cruel wave of darkness. As the world around you dissolved into blackness, the last thing you felt was the cold embrace of the pavement beneath you, a silent witness to the unfolding drama of the night.

Damiano's pov

Damiano stood in the dimly lit room, flanked by Ethan and Thomas, the weight of their collective concern hanging heavily in the air. They awaited the arrival of Vic, their trusted associate, knowing that her presence would signal the beginning of a crucial discussion that could shape the fate of their organization.As the door swung open, Vic entered, accompanied by Luna, her expression grave and her demeanor tense. The severity etched upon her features spoke volumes, a stark contrast to the warmth and lightness Damiano had observed earlier. They all took their seats around the table, a somber atmosphere settling over them like a shroud."Thomas, tell us," Damiano urged, his voice steady but tinged with a sense of urgency. They leaned in attentively as Thomas began to recount the grim details of their missing soldato's fate."We last heard from him a week ago," Thomas began, his tone heavy with regret. "Initially, I assumed he had either betrayed us or fallen victim to a rival faction. Lavinia and I conducted a thorough search, scouring every corner of the city in search of his body, but we found nothing."He paused, his expression pained as he continued, "According to our sources, he was captured two days prior to his disappearance and subjected to unspeakable torture." With a heavy heart, Thomas played a video that had been sent to them, depicting the brutal murder of their soldato, a chilling reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

Damiano's stomach churned as he watched the gruesome footage, his features hardening with a mixture of anger and determination. He exchanged a grim glance with Ethan and Thomas, their silent communication speaking volumes about the gravity of the situation."Who sent this?" Luna's voice was steely, her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she watched the video unfold. She radiated an aura of authority, her presence commanding attention and respect from everyone in the room."We're not sure yet," Thomas responded, his voice tinged with frustration. "But we're working on tracing the source. It seems like a direct challenge from the other mafia, a blatant act of aggression aimed at provoking us."Damiano's jaw tightened as he absorbed the implications of Thomas's words. This wasn't just an attack on one of their soldati—it was a declaration of war. And war was something they couldn't afford to lose, not when the stakes were this high."We need to respond," Ethan's voice cut through the tense silence, his expression resolute as he met Damiano's gaze. "We can't let them get away with this."Damiano nodded in agreement, his mind already racing with plans and strategies. They needed to strike back, to send a message that they wouldn't tolerate such brazen acts of violence against their own."Prepare a team," he instructed, his voice firm and unwavering. "We're going to find out who's behind this, and when we do, they're going to regret ever crossing us."As the room buzzed with activity, Damiano couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding that lingered in the air. This was just the beginning of a battle that would test their strength, their resolve, and their loyalty to the very core. And he was determined to emerge victorious, no matter the cost.

As the clock ticked past 2 am, the atmosphere in the room was tense with concentration. Vic, Thomas, Ethan, and I had been poring over documents and maps for hours, piecing together information and formulating strategies in response to the recent attack on our soldati. Despite the gravity of the situation, Vic couldn't resist injecting a bit of levity into the proceedings."So... Dami, how was your evening?" Her tone was teasing, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her playful insinuation. "What do you mean by that, Vic?" I replied, trying to maintain a semblance of seriousness. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Vic leaned against the table, her lips curved in a smirk. "Oh, come on, don't play dumb. I saw you flirting with that woman." I narrowed my eyes at her accusation, feeling a slight twinge of irritation. "I wasn't flirting," I insisted, though I knew my protests would likely fall on deaf ears.

But Vic wasn't easily deterred. "You so were!" she countered, her voice laced with amusement. Ethan, ever the voice of reason, chimed in without looking up from his work. "You even laughed," he remarked, his expression neutral. Vic's eyes widened in disbelief, and Thomas, sensing an opportunity for some lighthearted banter, looked up from his spot at the table. "You laughed?!" he exclaimed, his tone incredulous. I winced inwardly at their teasing, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up my neck. It was true that I hadn't been entirely stoic in my interaction with the woman at the club, but to suggest that I had been flirting was an exaggeration.

I found myslef trapped in the playful banter of his colleagues, their teasing relentless as they poked fun at my rare moment of levity. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, feeling the weight of their jests bearing down on me. "Three times," Ethan repeated, his tone laced with amusement. I shot him a glare, silently cursing Ethan for his telltale poker face. Vic's eyes sparkled with mischief as she joined in the ribbing. "You haven't laughed for the past decade, despite my best attempts!" she exclaimed, her teasing tone echoing in the room. "Do you even know how to laugh? The sound of it?" she added, her laughter infectious as it filled the air.

I clenched my jaw in annoyance, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up my neck. "Alright... It was the alcohol working," I admitted begrudgingly, searching for an excuse to deflect their teasing. But Vic wasn't about to let me off the hook so easily. "The alcohol? More like her pretty eyes tantalizing you," she remarked, earning a frustrated sigh from me.

Thomas chimed in with his own brand of mockery. "I still can't believe the boss knows how to laugh," he mused, his tone light but his words carrying a hint of disbelief. I shook his head, trying to regain his composure as Ifocused on my work. I couldn't deny the truth in their words—my encounter at the nightclub had stirred something within my, a flicker of long-forgotten emotion that Ihad buried deep within himself.

I shifted uncomfortably under Vic's scrutinizing gaze, feeling a slight flush creep up my neck. He glanced around the room, hoping to find an escape from the teasing interrogation. "It wasn't like that," Imuttered, my tone defensive. "We were just having a conversation." Vic's eyebrows shot up in mock disbelief, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "A conversation? At a nightclub? At two in the morning?" I sighed, realizing I was fighting a losing battle. "Fine, maybe there was a little bit of... friendly banter," I admitted reluctantly.

"A little bit?" Vic scoffed. "More like you were ready to serenade her with a love ballad." Ethan finally looked up from his work, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I wouldn't go that far," he chimed in, earning a grateful nod from me. Thomas chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Well, I guess it's good to know the boss still has some charm left in him."

I rolled his eyes, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and amusement at the playful teasing from my friends and colleagues. Despite their banter, I couldn't deny that I was grateful for their camaraderie and support, especially in moments like these. As I delved back into my tasks, the memory of her face lingered in my mind, a tantalizing reminder of the unexpected connection I had shared with a stranger in the darkness of the night.

"Ok, sorry Dami," Vic said, her tone softening with genuine remorse. "Could you at least tell us who she was..?" I paused for a moment, considering her question. Despite my reluctance to divulge too much, I couldn't deny the curiosity burning within my friends.

I sighed, realizing I wouldn't be able to escape the relentless questioning from m colleagues. He glanced around the room, noting the amused expressions on their faces, and relented with a resigned chuckle."Her name is Y/n Mazzoti," he confessed, his tone tinged with a hint of sheepishness. "She said she's a musician, a violinist."Vic's eyes lit up with interest, her teasing demeanor momentarily replaced with genuine curiosity. "A musician? Sounds intriguing.""Yeah, and she's not from around here," Damiano added, his thoughts drifting back to the enigmatic woman he had encountered earlier that evening. "She mentioned she was from Florence."Thomas raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Florence, huh? That's quite a distance from Rome."Damiano nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Indeed. She seemed... different. Not like the usual crowd you'd find in a place like that."Ethan leaned back in his chair, studying Damiano with a knowing look. "Well, it sounds like you had an eventful evening, boss."

[sanacore-wp]

PAIRING. victoria de angelis x fem!reader

SUMMARY. y/n is the other female member of the band, who has had feelings for vic for a while now, but was too nervous to say anything. one night after a concert in new york changes that after the bassist overhears a conversation between damiano and y/n.

WORD COUNT. 1,111

Y/N L/N DREAMED about performing from a young age. She started to enjoy the art of singing and music due to her family’s interest in the arts. It was a big part of her childhood and teenage years so the fact that she got to do what she loved with some of her best friends, well it was a huge thing to her.

Going on to win Eurovision in 2021 opened doors for her and her band, giving them opportunities they never thought possible. Måneskin growing as a whole was great but the more time went on, the harder it got for the girl to hide her true feelings. She was in love with her fellow band member and best friend, Victoria de Angelis.

The boys always teased her about it and it scared her honestly. She was always open about her sexuality, like Victoria and Ethan were, but it always felt different when Vic was involved. She would get more shy when alone with the bass player and it started to gain more attention from the public, which is something Y/N kind of wanted to avoid.

The three boys and two girls never hid any affection for one another but everyone knew that it was more friendly where the H/C haired girl was concerned. However, deep down she wanted more with the blonde. How could she not? Vic was stunning and one of the nicest people she knew. Anyone would be lucky to have someone like her.

The band had just finished a concert in New York, Y/N and Damiano being the first two backstage. The two singers did not hesitate to sit down on the couch in the dressing room. The crowd had been wild and the vibe was electric to say the least. It was one of the best crowds they’ve had on this tour so far.

“When are you finally going to tell her how you feel?” Damiano’s question snapped the H/C haired girl out of thought, her eyes moving to focus on her friend.

An unimpressed expression was painted on her features but the L/N remained silent for the next couple of seconds. She did not like the boys mentioning her secret when Victoria could just walk in and hear what was being said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She feigned innocence.

Damiano rolled his eyes at her response. “Yeah, okay. N/N, we all see how you are with her, even the fans have started to see it. You can’t keep this a secret forever and I don’t understand why you would want to. It is obvious that she likes you too.”

Y/N shook her head. “Absolutely not. There is no way that she likes me. Have you seen her? She’s way too good for me. We are just friends so I doubt she sees me as anything different.”

“You can be so stupid sometimes. Vic is in love with you too. It may be hard for you to believe but she does, so you should try to tell her how you feel. You have had these feelings for how long now and still haven’t tried. I can promise you that it will work out in your favor.” Damiano’s words were meant to be encouraging as he just wanted to see his friends happy.

The female sighed. “It’s not that easy. You know this but every time I’m around her, it’s like butterflies are in my stomach and I get so shy. I have things I want to say but I never want to mess anything up in front of her. She is so perfect to me and I want to be able to be equally as great.”

Damiano smiled when he realized that there were people standing in the doorway. The others had come back and had heard everything pretty much, including Victoria, who had a smile of her own. Y/N had not seemed to realize though, her eyes having been closed and her head laid on the back of the couch, trying to calm herself.

It wasn’t until the bassist spoke that she opened her eyes and seemed to freeze. Vic had heard what she said, there was no way she didn’t.

“You have a crush on me? It’s a good thing that I have feelings for you too.” Vic had a slight teasing tone laced in her words but she meant what she said, which really did surprise the other female.

Damiano stood and walked towards the doorway, whispering something the Ethan and Thomas before glancing at his female friends. “We’ll leave you two alone.”

The three walked away from Y/N and Victoria, going to do God knows what. The L/N was shocked to hear Vic’s own confession and it was obvious, which made the blonde laugh. She went to sit on the couch in the same spot that Damiano had just gotten up from.

“Did I hear that right,” Y/N voiced aloud, not really meaning to.

The bassist nodded. “Yes, you heard that correctly. I have had feelings for you for so long. I thought I had been clear about it but I guess my attempts weren’t enough. So, yes, I love you and it’s something I’ve wanted to say for a while. You really thought you were not good enough for me? You are more than that to me.”

Y/N couldn’t help the tears that welled up in her eyes but she didn’t allow them to fall. This was really happening! Vic actually loved her. She had dreamed of this moment but it felt impossible for it to really happen. However, she couldn’t be happier.

She was speechless at first but soon regained control of her brain. “Really? I just thought you were being friendly to me. You are the most amazing person so yeah, I did think that you wouldn’t see me as anything other than a friend.”

Vic glanced down at N/N’s lips before focusing back on her eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

It was such a simple question but it held so much power over the L/N, who was quick to nod and agree. Their lips met and it was better than Y/N imagined. The two pulled away after a couple more seconds and the H/C haired girl smiled.

Vic wrapped her arm around the other girl’s body before asking the important question she had on her mind. “Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

Y/N L/N laughed and her smile never faltered. “Yes, of course! I would love that.”

Victoria brought her now girlfriend closer and rested her head on top of Y/N’s, the two staying like that until they eventually had to get up.

[navybrat817]

Hi Navy!! I hope you're doing well! I love your writing so much, thank you for sharing your stories with us 💕💕

I saw these two and now I cannot stop thinking about a world where Bucky and Steve are NHL players and best friends trying to win over the same girl. Maybe you're an old childhood or college friend that just came back into town and the boys get so competitive wanting to impress you that they start trying to one up each other during games 👀

I'm so glad it's the weekend, lovely! It was a rough work week, but it will get better, and I made it! I hope you had a good week!

I can't help but think of @yenzys-lucky-charm's when hockey is brought up and her Lucky Charms AU!

I've never written Bucky and Steve best friends turned rivals over a reader. Having the attention of both of them? Yes, please. Childhood or college friend, you wouldn't want to come between them (but in a dirty way, yes, you do). Could be fun.

Love and thanks! ❤️