#the Italians did try to invade for a bit longer

[sichore]

Also 23 for the otp prompts!

tagging @nightklok because they asked for this prompt too! it got away from me a bit... like 2K words a bit.

23. Write about your ship supporting each other through a hard time.

MagJam | mention of MagCharles | 2271 words | post s2. ep. 19 Black Fire Upon Us | non-explicit sex

Mordhaus is attacked and the first thing Magnus feels is worry, sick and gnawing in his gut as he tries to go about the shop as usual. Are they okay? Did they make it out? And the anchorman goes on to say no, they did not. 

All the money and fame in the world didn’t stop them from being infiltrated, invaded like the micronation of shit that they are, and now Charles is dead.

Charles is dead.

Time passes in a haze, swirled and blurred images of life moving on regardless. Nairi notices and asks what’s wrong and he can’t bring himself to tell his daughter the truth. “Nothing. I’m fine. How was class?” And Nairi’s furrowed brow is a mirror of his own, but eventually she stops asking, her hands no longer hesitating as she tells him about her day.

Charles is dead and the hate and resentment that’s built up over the past decade is numbed by a wave of grief so deep that Magnus finds himself visiting the liquor store more and more because he can’t bring himself to touch the bottle of arak in his cabinet. He’s far from sober, but he usually doesn’t let beer bottles collect in his recycling bin this fast. They gather like his regrets and dreams, empty and dusty and sometimes broken before he tosses them out, and then the pile grows all over again.

Two weeks go by. Maybe a month. And then Jimi comes back.

“Oh, hey!” She greets him in a scene like an echo of a time past and it takes his breath away. Jimi, standing in his kitchen with Nairi as they put away groceries, smiling as brightly as she did the first time they did this so many years ago when Nairi was much smaller.

“We were gonna make dinner, but we got a bit carried away at the store,” Jimi apologizes, shrugging, and holds up a takeout container. “How’s Italian sound?”

“Good.” Magnus swallows down the lump in his throat and hopes that eases in the hoarseness in his voice. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“Some stuff came up at work, so…” Jimi shrugs, doesn’t exactly meet his eye. “Here I am!”

Dinner comes from a local Italian spot that Magnus and Jimi had gone to once, together, the evening they decided that no, this probably shouldn’t be a thing. The bread is still soft, the pasta exquisite, and the sun-dried tomatoes far, far sweeter than Magnus remembers.

“There were some changes,” Jimi says, once Nairi retreated to her room for the evening to leave the two of them to polish off the bottle of white wine Jimi had picked up ‘for fun’. Her gaze stays focused on her stemless glass, swirling around her drink. “So I’m finally back here for the time being.”

“For how long?” Magnus ventures, trying not to think about how much his world has shrunk since Jimi started spending more time away at this mystery job than her apartment. Since he was left behind, three times now.

“Mmh, not sure.” And Jimi sets her glass down on the coffee table, curls a leg up onto the couch so she can face Magnus. “How ‘bout you? How have you been?”

Terrible. “Fine.” Spiraling. “Same as usual.”

“You look tired, Magnus.”

He doesn’t have an answer for her.

Jimi is home a lot now. His home, which could have been hers, too. Magnus doesn’t realize how much he’s been slacking on groceries until he starts coming home to the fridge constantly being stocked with more than takeout, leftovers, and beer. Nairi is bright and cheery the following weeks after Jimi takes her on a shopping spree, and frequently sports a colorful jacket from one of her shows.

One evening, Magnus comes home after closing shop to find Jimi asleep on his couch, having been in the middle of folding laundry. She’s not even that good about putting away her own clothes from what he recalls.

He reaches down to brush an errant curl, stops himself, and instead moves her glasses to the side table. It’s enough to wake up the artist.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” she says hastily, rubbing her eyes and sitting up. “I was just –”

“Jimi, what are you doing?”

The way she pauses and her eyes widen in embarrassment makes Magnus kick himself for his lack of tact, but he can’t bring himself to stop. “I mean, you’ve been –”

“Weird, ah, I know. It’s weird. Sorry. I’ll just go–”

“No. Shit, I’m sorry, don’t –” Don’t go, please. She starts to rise and he places his hand on her shoulder and the way Jimi looks up at Magnus makes him jolt. A dormant urge sparks to life and he’s not so quick to snuff it out. “I’m sorry. I appreciate everything you’ve done, really. I know I’m not great at showing it.”

And he pauses, the words sending him down a completely different train of thought. He redirects. “And Nairi’s been really happy to see you again.”

Ignoring the protest in his knees, Magnus kneels down to be more at Jimi’s level, and he sees the way she sucks in a breath, hands clasped in her lap. He tosses his hair over his shoulder with a jerk of his head. “You’ve just got me worried, is all.”

The way Jimi presses her lips together and her eyes harden, he expects her to challenge him right back, because he knows the bags under his eyes haven’t gotten much better since she first asked about them. That the recession is hitting everyone hard, the shop hasn’t been doing its best, and Jimi just seems to be biding her time while making sure Nairi has everything she needs.

And Magnus is grateful, even if his pride is wounded a bit. It’s really not a talk either of them wants to have. “Listen, if you need to come back to the shop for a bit, it’s not a problem–”

“It’s not that,” Jimi interrupts, then sighs, looking away. Her hands twist in her lap and this time Magnus doesn’t hesitate to take one. He watches Jimi’s shoulders sag, and the fight leaves her body, replaced with an emotion he can’t identify that’s gone as fast as a ripple. “I’ve just got a lot of time on my hands. Maybe I should go back to school. Actually finish this time.”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“Mmh.”

He forgot how small her hands were compared to his, long and knobby and weathered as they are. Jimi holds his hand much more carefully than he handled all those bottles he knocked back. She looks at him now and her eyes are dark as midnight in the summer. He can see the glitter of stars, feel the warm breeze in his hair, the blades of grass on his skin.

“... hey, Magnus…”

“Yeah?”

Jimi squeezes his hand, worries her lower lip with her teeth. Soft, plush lips that he remembers should be treated delicately. “... Lemme finish up here.”

He’s not sure what he was expecting. He should be used to disappointment. “Right, yeah. Okay.”

Weeks and months pass and Magnus remembers feelings other than grief and monotony and apathy. Even tragedy can’t stop Dethklok from flaunting their wealth before the world and that familiar sneer of disgust curls Magnus’ lip, before he changes the channel away from news of that damn statue.

Charles is dead and Jimi’s back and the need for revenge still burns in his chest and Nairi is healthy and well. It’s not exactly his normal, because he’s missing more than he usually is, and maybe some part of him really did believe that negotiating his royalties wouldn’t be the last time he spoke to Charles. It was the band, the rest of those selfish assholes who cast him out, and Charles wasn’t much better than himself, casting away his heart in favor of reaching his goals.

Magnus feels like he’s on the verge of waking from a dream, like maybe he’s getting to the acceptance phase, when Jimi turns to him and says Nairi’s gone for the weekend.

And he snaps out of whatever haze he was in. “Oh?”

“Yep,” Jimi chirps, shrugging. She’s more relaxed as of late, did actually take up classes again. Went to see her family. Said work had slowed down, but it was fine, apparently. “Told her and Haséyá to go have some fun.”

That would explain the text he got from his daughter. “I see.”

“She won’t be back until Sunday afternoon.”

Jimi smells really nice today. “Uh huh.”

“So… I thought we could watch movies, or something.”

“... Oh.”

She does not want to watch no damn movies.

It’s Friday night and Magnus is not alone and he doesn’t really need to concern himself with opening the shop tomorrow. Or for the whole weekend. Jimi is dressed simply in a shirt and sweats and what seems to be little else, now that he takes a good look at the dips of her chest. Jimi is turned towards him on the couch, same as the first night she returned, only this time she’s not asking how he’s doing.

The offer has stayed open all these years and now she gives him an answer. Yes, now, because if not, when? Magnus’ breath catches, and her fingers brush his knee, and the walls he had started building up again atop his mound of grief come crumbling down.

Jimi’s hand is small against him. Her skull, too, feels tiny cradled in his hands as he threads long fingers into her thick hair to draw her face near. Magnus only sees half as well as he used to, yet he plainly sees that beneath the care and sweetness that is Jimi is a pain he can’t identify. He asks if she’s sure and she nods her consent. The last time they kissed outside of the holiday season was on that doomed date. Kissing her feels like tasting the rain after a long drought, only it pours, and pours, and pours.

Magnus pulls back from the deluge and the whimper Jimi lets out takes the rest of the air from him. He takes her hands in his own, kissing her palms and fingertips, unsure if they are promises or apologies. Jimi accepts them all the same. She accepts his touch everywhere; rough calluses over smooth skin, a vice grip on her soft hip, and his longing into the aching core of her.

For her, he tries to be a gentle lover, but Jimi doesn’t let him. She doesn’t look at him much, but they both have a lot of hair in the way, and with him having only one eye, Magnus isn’t sure if he wants to glimpse anything other than whatever pain drove her back here. This, at least, is familiar territory to him, so when she claws at him and holds him tighter, closer, he ducks his head down, and gives it back tenfold.

He buries himself in her and with it he tries to bury that grief, that guilt, the ‘what-ifs’ and ‘could be’s’ that haunt him every time he looks into the mirror and sees that pale ghost staring back at him. It’s far less than she deserves, but Jimi takes it all the same, and in turn does not allow him to ride the bliss that follows release. No, she drags more from him with biting nails and pleading cries, with a voracity that shatters any illusion of innocence he may have still held towards her.

Jimi’s arduous cries turn to shouts, turn to sobs, and eventually, their mingled, labored breaths. In the wake of the storm there is stillness, and silence, and for a while, there is no loneliness.

It’s been twenty years or more since Magnus has shared a bed with anyone through the night. He never did with Mari, and the last person he remembers doing so with is dead. But Jimi stays with him until morning and it’s not as strange as it could be when he wakes up and she’s smiling at him. Wearing his shirt. Pushing his hair from his face and chiding him for not tying it up.

He doesn’t ask if she was thinking of someone else, too, in the dark. In the morning light, she’s looking at him, kissing him, swinging her legs over his hips and sinking down onto him. Jimi moves like the waves and Magnus lets her pull him under.

Afterwards, once she’s cleaned up and he finally manages to rouse himself from bed and do the same, he finds Jimi in the kitchen. The tea she claimed she’d make is unbrewed. Instead, she stands at the sink, the water running over her fingers as she stares with an unreadable expression.

It’s the crack in the otherwise perfect image of her standing in his kitchen, in his shirt, still wearing his scent. Maybe this will only last the weekend. Maybe this is all he’ll ever have. But he had nothing before, has nothing with Charles dead, so he’ll hold onto what little he has, however long he has.

“Hey,” Magnus says softly, jolting Jimi out of her trance.

“Oh, hey.” Her smile is weary. “Sorry, I guess I just kinda zoned out there.”

Magnus says nothing at first. Just closes their distance and wraps his arms around her. With their height difference, her face presses to the center of his abdomen. “It’s okay.”

Jimi’s arms wind around him, too. For a moment, he feels the gravity of a collapsed star, and his raspy voice fills the void. “It’s okay.”

[Soft OTP Prompts]

[ourwaveofhistory]

My grandfather and World War 2 - a slightly longer conversation with ChatGPT

Following a short conversation with ChatGPT last month, I have managed to find a bit more time to think about questions, interact, respond and ultimately to get a bit more from the internet's new posterchild.

I am trying to trace the movements of my grandfather during world war 2. If I provide you with statements as if written from his point of view, can you help give historical context so I can try and see situations through his eyes?

Of course, I'd be glad to assist you in understanding the historical context and providing insights into your grandfather's experiences during World War II. Please feel free to share the statements from his perspective, and I'll do my best to offer relevant historical information and context to help you gain a deeper understanding of his journey and the events he might have encountered during that time.

I was born in Stara Oselica in Slovenia in 1923 on a farm with brothers and sisters. Was this Slovenia or Yugoslavia at this time?

In 1923, the region of Stara Oselica was part of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, which was later renamed the Kingdom of Yugoslavia in 1929. So, at the time of your birth in 1923, it was known as the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes. This country was created after World War I, when several South Slavic regions, including Slovenia, Croatia, and Serbia, came together to form a new unified state. The name was changed to the Kingdom of Yugoslavia in 1929, and it remained that way until World War II when the country was invaded and disintegrated. Your birthplace, Stara Oselica, would have been part of this larger kingdom during your early years. If you have any more statements or questions, feel free to share them, and I'll continue to provide historical context and help you understand the events during your grandfather's time.

Before Germany invaded, would knowledge of the Nazis and the invasion of Poland etc be common knowledge in Yugoslavia? Would I have been expecting them to invade?

Before Germany invaded Yugoslavia, knowledge of the Nazis and their actions, including the invasion of Poland, would have been relatively limited among the general population. In the 1930s, the rise of Nazi Germany under Adolf Hitler was mostly seen as a distant and foreign phenomenon, and news about the specific events in Germany, such as the annexation of Austria (Anschluss) in 1938 and the invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1939, might have reached Yugoslavia, but not in great detail. During this time, communication and information dissemination were not as advanced as they are today. Newspapers, radio broadcasts, and word-of-mouth were the primary means of information sharing. As a result, the knowledge of international events was somewhat restricted, and the common people in rural areas, like Stara Oselica in Slovenia, might have been less aware of the geopolitical developments in Europe. While there may have been some awareness of tension and instability in Europe, the notion of an imminent German invasion of Yugoslavia would likely not have been a widespread expectation among the general population until the actual invasion began in April 1941. The rapid and unexpected nature of the invasion caught many people by surprise, leading to a swift and chaotic occupation of the country.

In 1941 Germany invaded. Is it likely they did this through Austria and into Slovenia?

Yes, that's correct. In 1941, Germany invaded Yugoslavia during World War II. The invasion took place through Austria and into Slovenia. On April 6, 1941, German forces, along with their Italian and Hungarian allies, launched an offensive against Yugoslavia from multiple directions, including Austria and northern Slovenia. The German invasion of Yugoslavia was swift and overwhelming, leading to the rapid collapse of the Yugoslav defenses. Within a short period, most of the country was under Axis occupation. This invasion marked the beginning of a tumultuous and difficult time for the people living in the region, including those in Slovenia, who had to endure the hardships of occupation and resistance throughout the war.

At age 17 when the Germans invaded, am I too young to sign up to the army either Yugoslav or the German army?

During World War II, the minimum age for military service in Yugoslavia and Germany varied based on specific regulations and circumstances. However, in general, at the age of 17, you would likely have been considered too young to voluntarily join the regular army, both in Yugoslavia and Germany. In Yugoslavia, the legal conscription age during peacetime was typically 21, and it's unlikely that they would have accepted recruits below that age even in the face of an invasion. However, during the chaos of war and occupation, there were instances where younger individuals might have been unofficially enlisted or involved in partisan and resistance activities. In Nazi Germany, the legal conscription age was 18, and those younger than that were generally not eligible for regular military service. However, the Hitler Youth, a paramilitary organization, actively recruited boys aged 10 to 18 for ideological and militaristic training. While it wasn't a regular army, the Hitler Youth played a role in shaping young minds and promoting Nazi ideology. It's important to note that during times of war and occupation, circumstances were often unpredictable, and some individuals, even underage, might have attempted to join military forces due to various factors like the lack of alternatives, pressure from authorities, or ideological beliefs. Nonetheless, the standard legal age for enlistment in both countries was typically higher than 17.

My most likely course of action at first then is to survive. I continue to work on the farm and sell produce locally where we can. Could I have travelled easily into Italy across the border?

During the initial stages of the German invasion and occupation of Yugoslavia, survival and maintaining a sense of normalcy would have been primary concerns for many civilians, including you on your family's farm in Stara Oselica. As for traveling into Italy across the border, it would have been challenging and risky during the early years of the war. After the invasion of Yugoslavia, the country was quickly partitioned among various Axis powers. Italy occupied parts of Slovenia, including areas close to the border, and established a border barrier known as the "Alpine Wall" to prevent unauthorized crossings. Border controls and restrictions would have been tightened, and attempting to cross into Italy without proper authorization or permits would have been perilous. Additionally, the German and Italian occupation authorities were vigilant in monitoring movement, and attempting to escape or cross borders could result in severe consequences, including arrest, deportation, or even execution. During the occupation, the situation for civilians worsened, and many found themselves facing food shortages, forced labor, and other hardships. It's likely that your focus would have been on surviving on the farm and coping with the challenges imposed by the occupiers. As the war progressed and the situation evolved, some individuals did manage to escape and join resistance movements or seek refuge in neighboring countries, but such actions were risky and required careful planning and support from sympathetic individuals or groups.

The Partisan movement had reached out my family and some had signed up. When did the Partisans first become active?

The Partisan movement in Yugoslavia was a significant resistance force during World War II. It was led by the Communist Party of Yugoslavia, under the leadership of Josip Broz Tito. The Partisans were one of the key resistance groups fighting against the Axis powers and their collaborators during the war. The Partisan movement began to take shape shortly after the Axis powers invaded Yugoslavia in April 1941. Initially, the resistance was fragmented and disorganized, but over time, it coalesced into a more unified and effective force under the leadership of Tito. By the summer of 1941, the Partisans had started to gain momentum and become more active in their efforts to resist the occupation. During the early stages, the Partisans engaged in guerrilla warfare, ambushing Axis troops and conducting hit-and-run attacks. They also focused on recruiting and organizing resistance fighters from different parts of Yugoslavia, including rural areas like Stara Oselica. The Partisan movement grew in strength and popularity, especially among the rural population, as they offered an alternative to both the occupying Axis forces and the collaborationist forces of the Independent State of Croatia (a Nazi puppet state established in parts of Yugoslavia). It's important to note that while the Partisans were one of the major resistance forces, there were other resistance groups in Yugoslavia, such as the Chetniks, who had a different approach and sometimes clashed with the Partisans. The resistance movements in Yugoslavia were diverse, and the dynamics between them were complex. If your family had members who signed up with the Partisans, they would have been part of this growing resistance movement, fighting for the liberation of Yugoslavia from Axis control and the establishment of a new socialist Yugoslavia after the war.

At age 17, possibly 18, I am a lookout for the partisans. Years later I will tell my family a story of how I would sit on a high bridge and watch for German tanks. I remember the day clearly when I saw the tanks advancing and had to run and tell others. Is there a bridge near Stara Oselica?

As an AI language model, I don't have access to specific maps or locations, and my knowledge is limited to information available up to September 2021. However, I can provide some general context regarding bridges in the region. Stara Oselica is a small village in Slovenia, and Slovenia, as a whole, is known for its diverse landscape, with numerous rivers and streams. Given this geographical characteristic, it is likely that there would have been bridges in the area, providing essential crossings over rivers and ravines. As a lookout for the Partisans, being stationed on a high bridge would have offered a strategic advantage, as it allows for a broader view of the surroundings and better surveillance of potential enemy movements. If there was a bridge near Stara Oselica, it could have been an ideal location for a lookout post during the resistance efforts against the Axis forces. If you are looking for a specific bridge in the vicinity of Stara Oselica, I recommend consulting local historical records, maps, or reaching out to historical societies or experts in Slovenian history and geography. They might be able to provide more detailed information on the location of bridges and their relevance during World War II in the region. Remember that historical records, especially from the wartime period, can be fragmented and sometimes difficult to access, but local historians and enthusiasts may have valuable insights that could help you piece together your grandfather's experiences.

Our involvement with the partisan movememnt means that we are at higher risk of being caught and severely punished. Would the punishment have been internment camps in Italy, Yugoslavia, Austria or Germany? Is there one of these camps which would have been more commonly used?

During World War II, individuals involved with the Partisan movement in Yugoslavia were indeed at higher risk of being caught and facing severe punishment if captured by the Axis forces or their collaborators. The specific punishment and treatment of captured Partisans varied depending on the circumstances and the policies of the occupying forces. Internment camps were one of the forms of punishment used by the Axis powers for captured resistance fighters, including Partisans. These camps were established in various locations across the occupied territories, including Italy, Yugoslavia, Austria, and Germany. In Yugoslavia, the Axis powers and the collaborationist authorities operated several internment camps for captured Partisans and other resistance members. These camps were known for their harsh conditions, and prisoners often faced forced labor, malnutrition, and abuse. In Italy, the occupiers maintained internment camps for captured Partisans and Allied prisoners of war. Some of the well-known camps in Italy included Camp PG 29 in Servigliano and Camp PG 57 in Grupignano. In Austria and Germany, captured Partisans and resistance members were sometimes transported to concentration camps, such as Mauthausen-Gusen in Austria or camps like Dachau and Buchenwald in Germany. These concentration camps were notorious for their brutal treatment of prisoners and high mortality rates. It's important to note that the treatment of Partisan prisoners was often brutal and inhumane, and many faced the risk of execution, torture, or being sent to forced labor camps. As the war progressed and the Partisan movement grew stronger, the Axis forces intensified their efforts to suppress the resistance, making the risk of capture and punishment even higher. Many Partisans chose to live in hiding, engage in guerrilla warfare, or seek refuge in remote areas to avoid detection and capture.

Again years later, I will tell my family of my escape from an internment camp. I even have a photograph of me from inside a camp. Were escapes frequent?

Escapes from internment camps, especially during World War II, were relatively rare and challenging endeavors. Internment camps were designed to be heavily guarded and escape-proof, making it difficult for prisoners to break out. However, despite the formidable obstacles, there were instances of courageous and daring escape attempts by prisoners, including Partisans and other resistance members. The frequency of successful escapes varied from camp to camp and depended on several factors, such as the camp's security measures, the determination and resourcefulness of the prisoners, and sometimes, favorable external circumstances that created opportunities for escape. In many cases, escape attempts were met with severe consequences if caught, including execution or harsher conditions for those remaining in the camp. As a result, prisoners often carefully planned escape attempts, sometimes with the help of fellow inmates or sympathetic individuals outside the camp. The determination to escape was often driven by a desire to rejoin the resistance, continue the fight against the occupiers, or simply regain freedom. Escapes could be carried out individually or as part of larger organized efforts, depending on the circumstances. While successful escapes were not common, they did occur, and each escapee's story represents an extraordinary tale of courage and resilience. These stories have become part of the collective memory of resistance movements during World War II, highlighting the strength of the human spirit and the lengths people were willing to go to resist oppression. If your grandfather had a photograph from inside an internment camp and shared stories of his escape, it would be a testament to his bravery and determination in the face of adversity.

Other than the photo from an unknown camp, there are no records of my location or activity between 1941 and 1945, when I am picked up in Naples by Allied forces and am asked to join the British RAF as an Aircrafthand. If I have been in Italy most or all of this time, how will I have survived?

If there are no specific records of your location or activities between 1941 and 1945, and you were indeed in Italy during this time, your survival would have been a testament to your ability to adapt, evade detection, and navigate through the challenging circumstances of war. Here are some possible ways you might have survived in Italy during World War II: Underground Activities: As a member of the Partisan movement, you might have operated covertly, engaging in clandestine activities, and avoiding capture by the Axis forces and their collaborators. The Partisans were known for their ability to hide in remote areas, organize in secret cells, and carry out hit-and-run attacks. Living in Hiding: You could have gone into hiding in rural areas or small villages, seeking refuge with sympathetic locals who were willing to help and protect resistance members. Disguise and False Identity: To avoid detection, you might have adopted false identities or changed your appearance to blend in with the civilian population. Avoiding Main Roads and Checkpoints: You might have traveled on backroads and avoided main highways and checkpoints where Axis forces were more likely to be present. Connections with the Local Population: Having support and assistance from locals who were sympathetic to the resistance cause would have been crucial for survival. Local networks of support often provided food, shelter, and information to resistance members. Escape from Internment Camp: If your escape from the internment camp was successful, you might have gone into hiding or sought refuge with the Partisans or other resistance groups. Moving Between Safe Houses: Resistance members often moved between safe houses to avoid detection and ensure their safety. It's important to remember that surviving during wartime required resourcefulness, courage, and the ability to adapt to ever-changing circumstances. Many individuals who were involved in resistance activities during World War II faced significant risks but managed to survive through their determination and the support of others in similar situations. As a survivor who eventually gets picked up by the Allied forces and asked to join the British RAF, your experiences would likely have shaped you in ways that made you a valuable asset for the Allies in their efforts to defeat the Axis powers.

I read somewhere that there were over 40,000 camps at the peak of World War 2. Are there any official figures on this, and is it known how many were in Italy?

The number of camps during World War II was indeed substantial, but it's challenging to pinpoint an exact figure due to the sheer scale of the conflict and the diverse types of camps that existed. Many of these camps served different purposes, ranging from concentration camps, prisoner of war (POW) camps, internment camps, labor camps, and more. While the number of camps might have reached tens of thousands globally, it's essential to differentiate between major camps, satellite camps, and smaller temporary facilities. Some sources estimate that there were over 40,000 camps or detention sites in various parts of Europe during the war, but this number includes both major camps and smaller, temporary facilities. As for Italy, the country had its share of camps, including POW camps, concentration camps, and internment camps. The Italian government established internment camps for individuals considered to be a threat to the regime, and the Axis occupiers also operated camps for prisoners of war and other detainees. One notable concentration camp in Italy was the Risiera di San Sabba, located in Trieste. This camp was used by the Nazis and the Italian Fascist forces to detain and execute prisoners, particularly during the latter part of the war. The number of camps and their locations in Italy can be challenging to determine precisely, as historical records might be fragmented or incomplete. Additionally, some of the smaller camps and temporary facilities might not have been well-documented. If you're interested in exploring more about specific camps in Italy or seeking official figures, I recommend consulting historical archives, research institutions, or experts in Italian history and World War II. They might have more detailed information and can guide you in your research.

There are a couple of things of note in the above conversation which I will investigate further once I have completed the RAF/Military Service investigations. I have felt for a while that my grandfather may have given a false name when in Italy and during any captivity, so it is interesting that ChatGPT presents the same theory.

I have slightly jumped ahead by thinking about the conflict & Prisoner of War period, but these questions had been buzzing around my brain for a while, and following my disappointment after contacting official sources, I personally needed some new theories and angles to investigate further.

ChatGPT is becoming an invaluable resource. Even if you take some of this information at face value, the ability to ask questions of something and get some reflections, albeit AI generated, is massively helpful for me as I struggle for time whilst juggling this research with a family and full time demanding job.

But it is this last sentence from ChatGPT which rings very true. It is both a reminder of what I have taken on and an unlikely source of motivation;

Remember that genealogical research can be both rewarding and challenging, and the journey to uncovering your family's history often requires time, patience, and persistence.

[flawedamythyst]

On The Tenth Day of Christmas

Thanks to @kangofu-cb for giving me an idea of how to incorporate lords a leaping, I’m sorry I took your cute trip to the ballet and made it about European colonialism.

There are probably 50 things wrong with this, historically speaking, not least of which is that Ethiopia was known as Abyssinia then, but I was trying to simplify things so I didn’t have to put in a huge amount of exposition. instead I just have to put in an apology A/N at the start. Historical fic, the gift that keeps giving.

1896

Joe was never really sure if he liked ballet. It always seemed like a very sanitised version of dancing, and just sitting back and watching without being able to join in, or at the very least have a little jig to the music, felt wrong somehow.

That said, it was incredible to watch the beauty and grace that the dancers could move with, and to see a story unfurl through just the movements of their bodies.

Besides, it was dark in the auditorium and Nicky had reached over to take his hand only a few minutes into the first scene. As long as Joe had Nicky beside him, he could happily sit through anything.

The scene they were currently watching featured four princes and an ensemble of their retinues dancing for the princess. Joe eyed the tight fit of the dancer’s outfits over their bums and wondered if they would come into fashion for men off-stage as well, and if he could persuade Nicky into a pair of them.

“That’s him,” said Nicky quietly in his ear and Joe drew his attention away to follow Nicky’s nod up at one of the boxes. A group of men were sat in it but Joe recognised the one he was looking for immediately from the photos Andy had found for them. Joe had to admit that for all he liked the classic cleanness of a sketch, photos made identifying people a lot easier.

“Do you think we can persuade him?” he asked, and got shushed by someone behind them. Nicky just shrugged back.

“We have to try,” he said, quieter than Joe had been.

It was a long ballet and although there were several intermissions, Joe wasn’t too surprised when he saw their target getting up midway through one of the acts to shuffle out of the box. He’d been knocking back champagne like water and almost certainly needed to pee.

“Now,” said Nicky, and they both got up, creeping out of the auditorium as quietly as possible, then moving fast to get up to the next level and the corridor that ran along behind the boxes.

Their target was still in the bathroom when they walked in, washing his hands and frowning at himself in the mirror. Joe carefully shut the door behind them and stood in front of it, letting Nicky go along and check that all the stalls were empty.

The target ignored them until he turned away to head for the door and Joe didn't move, just smiling at him and rather pointedly pulling the revolver out of his jacket pocket.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Blanc, backing up a few steps and glancing around for a way out.

There wasn't one.

"You don't need to worry," said Nicky, having made sure they were alone in the bathroom. "We just want to have a little talk with you. No one is going to get hurt."

Blanc clearly didn't believe a word of it. "Help!" he shouted. "Someone! Help!"

"These walls are very thick," said Joe, cheerfully. "They wanted to make sure no noise got through into the auditorium to ruin the show for other people."

"You don't want to ruin the show for anyone, do you, Alberto?" asked Nicky.

Blanc gave them both a terrified look, then took a deep breath and straightened up, and Joe could see him pulling the dignity of his office around him. He had been a diplomat for many years before joining the cabinet, and had almost certainly been in some tricky situations before.

"If I'm not back in my seat soon, someone will come looking."

"Don't worry, this won't take long," said Nicky. "We just wanted to talk to you about the invasion of Ethiopia."

Blanc blinked several times. "What?" That was clearly the last thing he'd been expecting.

"You are the minister for foreign affairs," said Nicky. "I'm sure you spend a great deal of time talking about Ethiopia, and the invasion."

"The unwarranted invasion," Joe added. “The invasion based on a cruel trick and a nasty lie.”

"The one that's going very badly for you at the moment," finished Nicky.

Blanc stared at them both, then his eyes fixed on Joe. "I won't tell you anything about our plans."

"You don't need to," said Joe. "You're already losing."

"We just wanted to make sure that when the cabinet reconvenes after the New Year break, you will tell the prime minister that you believe you should end the war now," said Nicky. "After all, you have been chased beyond Ethiopia's borders, and any further aggression will be met with similar humiliating defeats. Why would you want to keep going through that?"

"It does make your shiny new country look very silly," said Joe.

"I remember when the Italian states had some dignity," added Nicky, then he made a face, because no matter how many years it had been since he had lived in Genoa, he still held so many of the prejudices of his youth. "Well, some of them. Don't you want that again?"

"Or what?" asked Blanc, lifting his chin. "Or you will murder me?"

"No," said Joe, "we're not that kind of men. But we are going to go to Ethiopia as soon as we leave here, to join our companions. And let me tell you, none of your armed forces want to face us across a battlefield."

"Look," said Nicky, taking on the calm and reasonable tone that always ended with Joe agreeing with whatever he said. "I care about the Italian nation as much as you do. I want it to succeed into the future. Wasting resources on a war that you cannot win when you could be building something new at home, creating a better society for the whole country, is madness."

"Madness like fighting against your own nation?" asked Blanc, staring at Nicky. "What kind of Italian are you, to think you could talk me into surrender?"

"A hopeful one," said Nicky. "I don't want the Italian nation to be known for any part of this cruel colonialism, this desire to invade other countries for no better reason than that they are there, but I am afraid it is too late for that. This is the line I am drawing, though. Tell your prime minister that enough is enough. It's time to give in."

Blanco stared at him for a long time, then shook his head. "I don't think you understand. Even if I did say any of that to the prime minister, he would merely disregard me. He won't let us be defeated, not by Africans. We will press on and take Ethiopia, and give Italy the beginnings of an empire that we deserve. A second Roman empire."

Nicky sighed and looked at Joe. “I tried.”

“I know, habibi,” said Joe, tucking away his gun. “I can only hope that other, wiser heads will prevail.”

Nicky snorted. “When do they ever?”

He looked at Blanc one last time. “Think about what I have said. You will only face further defeat if you press on.”

Blanc didn’t bother responding and Joe and Nicky slipped out of the bathroom, running for the exit of La Scala before Blanc could summon his security to come after them.

“Damnit,” said Nicky as they burst out a side entrance and started to head back towards their hotel. “Andy is going to be so smug. She said this wouldn’t work.”

“That’s because Andy doesn’t have the faith in humanity that you do,” said Joe, and grabbed Nicky’s hand, pulling him to a stop so he could press a kiss to the back of it. “You tried. That is all we can do. And I love you for it, for wanting to end this without further bloodshed.”

“I don’t understand why so many European nations are always set on destroying and killing,” said Nicky tiredly. “Eight hundred years, and nothing has changed.”

He looked so sad and worn down that Joe couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss him properly, and damn the public streets they were on, It was quiet and dark, no one was going to pay attention.

“One day they will,” he said softly, hand cupped around Nicky’s cheek. “One day we will see humanity change for the better.”

“Even if we have to live as long as Andy to see it?” asked Nicky with a half-smile.

“Even if,” said Joe.

There was a shout from behind them and they both pulled apart. “And until then, we might need to do a bit of running,” said Joe, and they both took off, away from the security chasing after them.

[ethanesimp]

WHEN YOU’RE GONE // D.D.

Pairing: Mob Boss! Damiano David x Mob GN! Reader (it was originally written with a fem! reader so please let me know if you spot any slip ups on my part)

Summary: Soulmates are already a difficult concept to grasp and things don’t seem to get any easier when you like a person who already has a soulmate.

Word Count: 9.8k (it’s so long lakjd)

Warnings: Swearing, death and mentions of it, injuries, angst -lots of it-, it’s a mob fic so violence, smoking, Damiano being kind of an asshole? Me probably using swear words in italian wrong... Just read with caution pls

Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

A/N: If you’ve seen this before, it’s probably because this has been written and posted on my other blog @pparkersbitch as a Tom Holland fanfiction at the beginning of the year (which has now been deleted). It’s the same person and I’m not stealing anyone’s work :) I just like it and wanted to bring it back. I did add/modify some tiny details though. The idea is probably dumb, but I’m sharing anyways.

Taglist: @gretavanfleetlove​ @superchrystaldrug​ @reputationdamiano​​

“This isn’t how I wanted to start my morning,” Your best friend mumbled in a tired voice. You could barely hear him from where you were standing over the sounds the old -and surely broken- coffee machine kept making and the music playing from his phone.

“Well, sucks to be us, huh?” You chuckled and poured coffee on both of your cups as you did a small dance to try and shake the tiredness off your body. You handed Damiano his cup after preparing his coffee the way he liked it, a teaspoon of sugar with a splash of milk, and walked with him to the large office down the hall, “I don’t get why Ethan and Thomas can’t do this instead of us.”

The room was always cold and you seemed to forget about it most of the time since it still slipped your mind to wear a sweater or hoodie over your thin pajama shirt. You grabbed one of the blankets from the small black couch on the corner of the room and wrapped it around your body as best as you could with your free hand. 

You sat down on the chair next to him to have a better look at all the papers and files he had spread out on the desk, “What exactly are we looking for?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows. All those documents were enough to keep you occupied for the whole day if you didn’t work fast enough.

“We are looking for any leads to the drug cartel or its leader. Really anything that can help us find them,” Damiano explained and took a sip of his coffee as he opened the first file. 

You had been trying to track a drug cartel ever since they infiltrated your warehouse and stole some of your products. Damiano’s father had been at both of your necks ever since it happened as if it had been your fault instead of the incompetent guards that were supposed to be guarding the entrance at all times, “I’m sure these are people we’ve made deals with in the past, they wouldn’t have been able to break in otherwise. We’ve always been far too careful for this to be a mere coincidence.”

He removed the gold ring from his ring finger and left it on the jewelry bowl you had placed on his desk. You had known Damiano David and his family for years. For as long as you had known him, the band on his ring finger had been gold, and you hated it. 

That stupid little gold band was a silent reminder that he had met his soulmate and there was nothing to be done about it. For months you had silently hoped and prayed for Damiano to be your soulmate, but any illusion or wish you had of it happening, had vanished the moment you saw the gold ring on his finger for the first time. You later discovered he avoided wearing it on his hand because it put his soulmate at risk of being found, but he still kept it close to him at all times by using it as a necklace.

You avoided wearing yours for an entirely different reason. The black ring and all the stares and words of pity that came with it were saddening and something you didn’t need. While gold was a reminder of love and good luck, black was a reminder that your soulmate was no longer alive and you were doomed to spend the rest of your life alone. You were sure the band had been black for most of your life, or at least that’s how you remembered it.

It was safe to say you were jealous of Damiano’s soulmate, Marlee. Not only was she one of the most beautiful women you had ever met, but she got to have perhaps the most amazing man by her side until her dying day, something you could never have in any way that wasn’t platonic.

You successfully ignored it most days, which wasn’t so hard to do since you had better things to think about most of the time, but nights were always the hardest. In your loud and chaotic life, there was a speck in time where everything quieted and calmed down. During those few hours was when you’d break down and grieve for the person whose name you didn’t even get to know. You’d cry for being stupid enough to fall for someone who wasn’t only your best friend, but who also had a girlfriend.

“Damiano, Y/N?” Marlee’s sweet voice interrupted your train of thoughts. You had been reading the files consciously enough to notice anything unusual, but you had paid no mind to anything else until she walked into the room. You smiled politely at her and waved. 

She walked up to Damiano and he immediately closed all files with any sort of photo that might be too graphic for her to look at. Marlee cupped his face and pressed her lips to his for a few moments that felt like an eternity to you, watching everything from the side as a feeling of jealousy invaded your senses. You did nothing but look at the painting on the wall until they stopped locking lips, which took a bit longer than you would’ve liked.

“Did you two find anything?” Marlee asked once she pulled away from Damiano. He gave her a look you knew as ‘I cannot tell you anything about the mob to keep you safe’. She had been involved with the mob’s administration for most of her life, only after she met Damiano and her father united his mob with Damiano’s did she stop working. 

You had been brought in as a replacement of sorts once Marlee stopped doing any mob business per Damiano’s request. His parents had saved yours from a legal accident, which left you in debt with his family, so you didn’t have much say on whether you’d join the mob or not. 

Something you were grateful for was that Damiano always kept your hands clean. No matter what business it was, he made sure to keep you out of any sort of situation in which you’d have to hurt or get hurt by another member of the mob. Most people that worked for Damiano didn’t have the pleasure of knowing him as the lenient and caring individual he was around you.

You excused yourself after spending a few more minutes flipping through the files in search of something but ultimately found nothing. It was supposed to be your free day, or at least that was what Damiano had promised. Apart from that impromptu search for information at 5 am, he promised he’d have Ethan, Vic, or Thomas help with anything he needed. 

That was why you took the liberty to lock yourself inside your room and put your phone on silent. You desperately wanted to catch up on all the hours of sleep you had lost in between those early morning duty calls and coffee runs. No matter how much you enjoyed spending time with Damiano, you still missed your normal sleep schedule.

-

When you woke up a few hours later, the house was completely silent. The usual chatter coming from the kitchen wasn’t there, neither was the noise of Vic repeatedly firing bullets at the targets in the garden to practice her aim like she did every morning or the soft sound of Thomas softly strumming his guitar as he tried to piece an unplanned melody together with the assistance of Ethan’s drumming.

It wasn’t a Sunday, which meant they weren’t away visiting their families. They were all supposed to be home. That last thought made you nervous and you couldn’t help but wonder if something had happened while you were asleep. Being in the mob, you knew a lot of unexpected things happened all the time and you had to be prepared for them all.

You walked to the door, determined to investigate what was wrong. Your hand was already firmly grasping the doorknob and you were about to undo the lock when someone knocked harshly on the door, startling you. 

Without hesitation, you jumped back and reached for the gun stuffed in one of the drawers nearby, “Y/N? You awake?” 

You let go of the drawer’s handle and your tense body relaxed at the sound of Victoria’s raspy voice, “Fuck, Vic, you scared me,” You spoke as you opened the door to be met with her panicked blue eyes. Your eyebrows furrowed at her worried expression, but before you could ask, she grabbed you by the arm softly and dragged you out of the room.

Once you were in the hallway, you finally heard everything with a lot more clarity. The faint sound of glass clinking before falling to the floor, Thomas’s exasperated shouts, and Damiano’s complaints. You looked at Victoria, expecting an explanation.

“I don’t know what happened,” She began, “One second he was alright, then at like 9 AM Ethan and I heard them fighting. She’s gone and Damiano’s locked in his room, won’t let anyone in. Thomas is trying to get him to talk while Ethan looks for the keys.”

You walked past Victoria and ran up the stairs. Damiano’s room was right above yours. Upon walking up to the third floor of the house, you saw Thomas repeatedly knocking on Damiano’s door. Once he heard footsteps and spotted you, it was like relief washed all over him at the sight of you.

“Do you mind trying?” He asked, “He’s been asking for you,” Thomas added with a sigh as he brushed his messy hair out of his forehead. You nodded and got closer to the door once he got out of the way.

With hesitation, you knocked on the door and patiently waited for a response, which arrived only after you knocked once again, “Vaffanculo, Thomas! Which part of your tiny fucking brain cannot understand that I want to be left alone?”

You flinched at his words and took a long breath as you gathered the confidence to speak up, “I-It’s Y/N, Dami,” You said, loud enough for him to hear you from where he was. You were expecting rejection; if Damiano didn’t want to talk to people who were as close to him as siblings, why would he talk to you? Sure, you were one of his best friends, but he’d known Thomas for longer than he—

Your thoughts were interrupted when Damiano opened the door and quickly dragged you in before slamming it shut once more. For the first few minutes, you stood in silence while Damiano faced the door. You couldn’t see his face or his eyes, so you had no idea what could be going through his mind, so you focused on your surroundings instead. 

The room was a mess, but not more than it usually was. What alarmed you was the shattered glass on the floor as well as the drops of blood that stained the white floor. You looked back at your best friend and noticed that it was dripping from his hand. 

“Damiano,” You called, “Amore, your hand,” He turned to look at you and that’s when you finally saw his red and swollen eyes as well his tear-stained cheeks. His gaze softened once his eyes fell on yours. He choked back a sob and turned away from you once again.

If his hand hadn’t been bleeding, you wouldn’t have hesitated on wrapping your arms around his neck and trying to comfort him. Instead, you ran to his bathroom to grab the first-aid kit. After years of being in the business, treating Damiano’s cuts and injuries wasn’t anything new to you, but you were oblivious as to why he was in such a state in the first place.

Being the person he was, Damiano had learned to conceal his emotions incredibly well to protect himself, even around the people he trusted the most. You had only seen him that shaken once when something had gone terribly wrong. The fact that Marlee was gone too only gave you a worse feeling. The fact that her clothes were all gone from the closet didn’t ease your worried mind either.

Damiano was sitting on the bed patiently waiting for you to return. Once you did, he avoided your gaze and said nothing as you examined his hand. The cuts were all superficial and would surely cure on their own in a few days, which was why you only focused on removing the tiny shards of glass that had stuck to his skin with a pair of tweezers.

Once that was done and you had cleaned the cuts, you wrapped a bandage around his hand once and secured it with a small piece of tape. You sat in silence for a while, you didn’t comment on the sobs that would escape his lips every once in a while or the tears that had started falling down his cheeks.

Instead, you waited until he was ready to say something, “I don’t even know how to tell you this,” Damiano mumbled. His eyes stayed glued to the floor. He seemed… embarrassed to look you in the eye.

“I was finally going to do it this morning, N/N,” He said as a sigh escaped past his lips and he took a small velvet box out of his pocket. He didn’t have to say what was inside the box because you knew exactly what it was. Damiano had been planning on proposing for months, but there was always something that managed to get in the way of completing his goal.

“She went to the bathroom and had left her phone on my bedside table. I was going to get the ring and Y/N… I-I swear to God I didn’t want to look but the messages kept coming, one after the other, the fucking phone wouldn’t stop making noise. Cazzo, she was the one feeding information to the drug cartel and Lord knows to who else,” He said those words in one breath and you had barely been able to catch them all. Damiano threw the box at the wall angrily and from the noise, you didn’t doubt there’d be an indent there.

“I asked her about it and you have no idea how much I wished she’d deny it, but she didn’t even try,” Damiano cried. Unexpectedly, Damiano turned his body around to face yours and wrapped his arms around your waist while he buried his face on your neck.

It took you by surprise, but you said nothing. Instead, you focused on rubbing circles on his back and whispering soothing words into his ear. Part of you knew there was something else going on, even if you didn’t ask. You hadn’t seen Damiano cry in a long time and even then you saw nothing more than just a few tears rolling down his cheeks. What happened with Marlee had truly driven him right to the edge and he couldn’t keep in everything he had been trying so hard to hide.

-

In the four months that followed, you didn’t see Marlee once. She never had the guts to return after Damiano found out about everything she had been doing behind his back. At first, he had been utterly destroyed by her absence, it pained you to see him shut everything and everyone out with the lame excuse that he had work to do. Every single time he did so, you’d quietly sit down and help him despite his complaints. 

He got better though. Once enough time passed, he healed, but all that love he had once felt for her was now nothing more than pure hatred every single time her name was mentioned. You knew better than anyone that it wasn’t the healthiest thing to do, but it didn’t matter how many times you told him so because it never truly changed much.

As for the mob, things seemed to calm down once Damiano and Ethan were able to track down the leader of the drug cartel and get the stolen products back. Everything was too good and too quiet. While your four friends enjoyed all that peace, you couldn’t help but worry about something being wrong. It was a silly thing anyway, there was nothing that gave you even the slightest confirmation that your worry wasn’t just fueled by paranoia, not a single thing.

You should’ve been grateful instead. Your sleep schedule had gotten acceptably regular and there was no more working from 5 am to 10 pm every single day. You also had time to finally sit down and read the books that had been sitting on your untouched shelf ever since the start of the year, just like you were doing at that very moment while the boys were playing poker in the basement and Vic was on a date.

Damiano walked into your room eventually, still smelling like the cigarette he had just been smoking minutes back. He couldn’t help but scrunch up his nose as the smell of lemon incense burning hit his nostrils.

You looked up and giggled at his disgusted expression, “You cannot be disgusted when you were the one who walked into my room smelling like cigar and beer,” Damiano rolled his eyes and plopped down on the bed next to you.

“Incense is bad for you,” You shot Damiano a killer look and closed your book. He gave you a funny look back and then put his attention on your book, “What are you reading anyway?”

You hummed and showed him the cover. It had a beautiful yet simple design, which accurately represented the story hidden in between those pages, “Okay so, it’s the story of these people that all get invited to this island. They’re all summoned there for different reasons but it turns out they all have this common enemy. It’s terrifying because they get killed off one by one when a children’s lullaby plays. I truly cannot explain it enough to do justice to how intense this book is.”

“Oh and before that I got to read the most wonderful romance book! It was apparently the first book written where soulmates weren’t a thing and it was just a piece of art. Beautifully written, made me cry for hours too.”

Damiano smiled and you could almost see all the gears turning inside his brain, “Wouldn’t it be amazing?”

“What would?”

He shrugged and propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you, “A world without soulmates, where you’re not bound to someone since birth.”

You sighed and turned to look at him, “It’s our own fault… being bound, I mean. No angel from the heavens came down to tell us we have to love our soulmate as anything more than a close friend, you know? It can be purely platonic, we’re just stupid.”

“Were you ever able to fall in love with your soulmate or was it just platonic?” Damiano asked. You never talked much about soulmates with him. He still didn’t know your soulmate had been dead for as long as you could remember.

“I never got to know them,” You smiled sadly and showed him the black ring you had gotten used to wearing around your neck, carefully tucked under your shirt to stay unseen. His mouth fell open as he grabbed the ring and inspected it closely. It was the first time he had seen a black ring.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry,” Damiano let the ring go. You shrugged and waved your hand to silently show it wasn’t too important, “I thought you guys were separated or something.”

You shook your head, “Mom says the ring turned black when I was six, but I don’t really remember so I just like to pretend I never had one in the first place… I don’t know.”

There was a question on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t want to ask it, as intrigued as you were to know the answer. You hadn’t talked about her ever since she left and he’d most likely avoid the question because he truly wanted to keep her name out of his mouth. Nonetheless, he noticed your hesitance because you suddenly got too silent. 

“You can ask, you know? I know I just touched on a sensitive topic, so…” You nodded. Both of you were lying on your backs, looking up at the ceiling which had some of those glow-in-the-dark stars and planets you had glued when you first moved in to feel less lonely.

You hummed softly as you tried to find the right words. You didn’t want to be too straightforward with your question in fear of upsetting your best friend even though he had asked you the same question minutes earlier, “Did-did you ever… you know, fall in love with her?” 

Damiano thought about it in silence, you had probably caught him off-guard with your question, “No, not really. Not in the way I was expecting at least. You know truth be told, I was a bit disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, she had this angelic look to her, she was a stunning girl. I just- there was nothing we had in common other than being soulmates. For years I had seen my parents act like they shared one mind and just thought the same things. I always imagined it’d be like that for me too.

“My expectations couldn’t have been further from what it truly was like. Honestly, I’m not even sure which part of our relationship was true anymore. Now that I look back on it, I’ve realized most of the things she did or said were just to get information out of me.” 

It was weird to hear him say all that. As a person who always got to look at the way Marlee and Damiano interacted with one another, you would’ve never expected Damiano to feel that way, “And,” He continued, “I was expecting it to be someone else.”

His last confession made you turn around to look at him. It was the first time he had admitted that, probably because of the beer he had been drinking while playing with his friends.

“I know it sounds terrible but… I met her and this other person on the same day, almost at the same time. I didn’t notice my ring had turned gold until much later. I had only been with them both and people I already knew. I thought it had been the other person until she told me her ring had changed too. Meanwhile, the other one said nothing. Now I realize it would’ve been impossible for them to be my soulmate.”

It might’ve been because he was telling you all those things and you felt safe to admit what you felt, or maybe because you were tired of bottling it up for so long. Either way, you spoke up, not caring if you’d regret it later, “It’s not as terrible as you might think.”

“Look, I’m not bound to anyone. The black ring gives me the freedom of loving someone else. I never met my soulmate so there’s no guilt in being with someone else. It’s supposed to be a perfect thing, Dami, only it isn’t. I know a lot of people who’re also blacksouled,” You hated using the word. It was usually how people would refer to those who didn’t have a soulmate anymore, “And I fell in love.”

“T-that’s great!” Damiano replied, “Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, not like you’re obliged to tell me anything just because we’re friends but I-”

You interrupted his rant, “I fell in love with someone whose soulmate’s still alive.”

“So what? You said it yourself. Are they together?” He asked. You told him they weren’t. If only he knew you were talking about him… He’d probably run away and never speak to you again, “Then fuck it. Fuck the rules and everything else society has to say.”

“It’s not that simple, Dami. I truly wish it was, but it isn’t,” You wanted nothing more than for the conversation to be over. If it went any further, you knew you’d spill every single thing. It had gotten far too hard to conceal your feelings when you were close to him. Now that you were talking about them, it’d be even harder.

You got up and walked to your bookshelf, where you started accommodating your books as an excuse to avoid being so close to him, to avoid his curious gaze. Even if they weren’t together anymore, you knew Damiano would reject you, that was far too obvious. Even if he felt the same, after what happened, it’d take Damiano a lot of effort to ever trust someone in such an intimate way, even if that someone was you, his best friend.

“Why? It is that simple. If they’re not together, what’s stopping you? You’ll never know what could happen if you don’t try,” You turned around to look at him, fists clenched by your sides, “Listen Y/N, I know you’re scared of relationships and everything they involve but you cannot let that sto—” 

“Fine then, I’m in love with you! I can barely breathe when I’m around you because my love for you is so suffocatingly strong, and I can’t think straight either! You and your stupidly handsome face drive me insane. How’s that?” You admitted, interrupting his small speech midway, too irritated to process what you had just said. Once you did, your hand flew to your mouth and you shook your head. You wanted to say it wasn’t true, no, it was nothing more than a lie to get him to stop poking his nose into your love life. Except it wasn’t and, if you were being honest, no part of you wanted to hide it anymore.

Just like you expected, he said nothing. Damiano stayed silent for a few seconds before getting up and walking out without another word. He slammed the door on the way out so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if the door separated from its hinges.

For the weeks that followed, Damiano avoided you as much as possible. You were still his right-hand person and needed to be present at every meeting and would have to discuss any type of business with him. It used to be your favorite part of the day when you got to sit in the meeting room with Damiano and discuss plans to make the mob prosper, now it was nothing but uncomfortable because you’d do all the talking while he looked at you as if his biggest desire was to carve your heart out with his pocket knife. 

While you understood that he was still mad at Marlee and wanted nothing to do with her, you didn’t understand why he was treating you that way when you had nothing to do with it and weren’t to blame for the stupid shit his ex had tried to pull. You thought he knew that you loved him far too much to ever do anything to jeopardize his safety. Yet again, he might’ve assumed the same thing about Marlee.

You walked out of yet another unsuccessful meeting with Damiano and slammed the door as hard as you could to let him know how much his childish behavior annoyed you. Ethan was standing close to the door and you could see the shadow of a smile that was threatening to break out and illuminate his face, “Don’t you dare,” He raised his hands in defense and bit his lip to try and hide the smile that would just annoy you further.

“You two are starting to act like two teenagers and it’s fucking pathetic,” Thomas chimed in from where he was sitting on one of the couches.

“Yeah? Tell that to your friend who is giving me the silent treatment like a fucking toddler! I just want- I need to have a serious conversation with him,” You admitted and sighed as you fell on the couch right next to Thomas, head in your hands to try and cover up the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheeks.

Both men stayed silent as they watched you, Even though you could feel their stares, you decided to focus on not crying instead. The truth was, the longer Damiano spent ignoring you, the more you regretted telling him what you had been bottling up for years, it had been a mistake there was no coming back from. Unless he decided to stop acting like a kindergartener, things would never go back to the way they were.

It was frustrating to think that your friendship would go to shit just because of your confession. Being rejected by him wouldn’t have been a big deal if he had actually stayed in your room and spoken like the adult he was.

“For the record, I think he’s acting like an idiot because he’s scared,” Sighed Victoria, who had just walked into the room with an ice pack placed over her hand, “I know it’s been a while but, give him time. He’ll come around or I’ll make him, I promise.”

You gave Victoria a tight-lipped smile and nodded. You hoped more than anything that it wouldn’t have to come to getting locked up in the same room as Damiano to get him to speak to you.

Except… as more days passed, you feared it would most likely have to be that way because he was still saying nothing to you. He had only spoken once and it had been to call you out for being doing everything wrong while looking through some important documents when you were, in fact, doing everything just like he had initially requested. Now, not only had he been giving you the cold shoulder, but he had started acting like a complete jerk around you too.

You tried to distract yourself by focusing on all the work you had pending, but it wasn’t working. Every single day, no matter what you were doing, your mind still wandered back to the brown-eyed man and his stupid face, his stupid hair, and stupid smile.

Even as you stood in the middle of the kitchen, your thoughts made it difficult to bake the cookies you had been craving all week. You had started to work on the second batch after the first one came out disgustingly salty because somewhere along the process you had mistaken the salt for the sugar.  

You hated how bothered you were by the whole situation. It had affected you way more than you would’ve liked to admit. Truth be told, you had never felt sad about his rejection because it was something you had expected ever since that attraction for him first settled on your brain. It was the way he was treating you that got on your nerves. 

That was mainly the reason why you were so thankful for being alone in the house at that very moment. Apart from a few security guards here and there, you were completely alone. You allowed yourself to relax for a split second and connected your phone to the speaker system in the kitchen. You started playing one of your favorite playlists before getting back to making cookies the right way this time.

You softly swayed your body along to the music as you dumped all the ingredients on the large bowl in front of you. As you poured the flour in the bowl and mixed it with your hands, you noticed Damiano standing by the door. For some unknown reason, he scared you so bad you accidentally tipped the bowl and made a mess of the counter. 

A frustrated sigh escaped past your lips and you threw your head back, feeling defeated and irritated, “I’m sorry,” Damiano spoke up hesitantly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head and wiped your hands on the apron you had tied around your waist, “It’s fine,” You turned around so your back was to him and started wiping the counter with a damp towel. 

“You deserve so much better…” You heard him speak up over the music. His words caught you by surprise. You turned around to look at him but said nothing. You could tell he was nervous by the way his hands trembled by his sides and the way his jaw was firmly clenched.

After a few minutes of hesitation, Damiano started walking to where you were. He placed his hands on the counter by your sides, leaving you trapped in between the counter and his body. You looked into his dark eyes to maybe try and guess what was going through his mind. 

You breathed in so deeply your chest hit his. You gulped at that and tried to control your trembling hands without looking away.

“What you said the other day, did you mean it?” Damiano asked, without hesitation this time around. Your eyes widened.

“I-I… What?”

“Just answer me Y/N, please,” Damiano pleaded. He looked so desperate to know the answer, which only made your blood boil. After weeks of silence, of glares and being a jerk, he dared to just show up and demand answers?

You shook your head and pointed your finger at his chest, “How dare you?” You took a step towards him, which made Damiano take a step back, “You have no right to show up like this and ask me to give you answers after how much of an asshole you’ve been.”

He seemed taken aback by your truthful words, but you didn’t care. If he wanted to know how much truth had been behind your words that night, he’d have to hear it all, “You know I’m your best friend and you also know I’d keep up with anything you do because that’s how much I care about you, but can you stop it? I know I was stupid for telling you because of what you just went through and I’m sorry, but please don’t keep giving me the cold shoulder. I just want to fix this.”

After a few minutes of silence, you shrugged and, like it was the simplest thing in the world, spoke up, “And yeah, I meant every word.”

Your expression softened as you waited for any sort of reaction from Damiano. You expected something similar to what had happened the day you first told him. No part of you expected him to cup your face with his warm, calloused palms to bring your face closer to him once again. 

Neither did you expect to feel his soft lips pressed against yours, or the feeling of his soft hair as you brushed it back with your fingers and your eyes slowly closing as you basked on the joy and pleasure his soft touches caused.

Damiano was gentle as he held your face in between his hands, almost as if you were made of glass and he was afraid of breaking you into pieces if he didn’t hold you delicately enough. That kiss felt so intimate, like nothing you had ever felt before. Everything from the way he held you to his slow movements and touches was so much better than you could’ve ever imagined.

When he pulled away, he left you completely breathless, wordless. There was nothing you could possibly say after the way he had kissed you, so you waited for him to find the right words instead.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Damiano mumbled. He still hadn’t let go of your face, “You truly deserve better. You are so beautiful, so perfect. I’m so sorry for being such an idiot and hurting you, ignoring you. I just- I know I cannot love you as you deserve. Believe me, I want nothing more than to have you close to me all the time, to kiss your lips until you grow sick of me, but I can’t,” His voice was starting to crack as he said those words to you and you knew it was because of how he saw your face fall.

“No, no, shut up and listen to me,” You pleaded and placed your hands on top of his. You gave them a soft squeeze and let your forehead rest against his, “I know it’s hard for you to trust after what happened with her and I know it’s not going to be easy, but believe me, I’m willing to try if you are, Damiano.”

“You were that other person,” He confessed and got closer to kiss you once more, with as much passion as the last time. You were too concentrated on the smell of his musky cologne and the faint taste of vanilla chapstick he had surely stolen from your room to respond to his comment.

His hands fell from your face and comfortably rested on your hips as his lips attacked yours. Damiano pushed you against the counter and kept savoring the moment as if it were the first and last time he’d kiss you like that. You hoped for your sake it wouldn’t be the last.

Damiano pulled away reluctantly and unexpectedly lifted you up so you’d sit on the counter. He stood in between your legs and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Remember when I told you about the person I met the day I met Marlee?” You nodded, “That was you... Ever since I met you I’ve felt this inexplicable attraction towards you and it’s been driving me insane. I couldn’t believe it when you told me you loved me because I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

“You’ve done so much to deserve it, so so much,” You mumbled and brought him close to you to kiss him for the third time. It was such an addicting feeling and both your heart and mind were screaming to feel it again.

That time around, Damiano didn’t hesitate to lift you up once more, he carried you to his room and locked the door.

— 

It had been a few weeks since your conversation in the kitchen. Things returned back to normal after that night. Other than your relationship with Damiano, things were the same again. You had to go back to working at ungodly hours of the morning thanks to some suspicious activity Ethan had noticed. Apparently, one of the oldest members of Damiano’s mob had tried to establish a deal with an unknown subject but had been caught before he could accomplish it. 

This put you both on edge because there was someone out there desperate to break into the mob and finish it for good. At first, you thought it wasn’t more serious than whatever had happened with Marlee, but Damiano’s father proved you wrong the moment he brought you, their most loyal employee, in for questioning. 

It had been nothing too serious, at least not in comparison to what you had heard others say. In your case, it had been done mostly as a standardized protocol, to stop others from thinking there was some sort of preference or special treatment towards you just because you worked so close to Damiano. You knew almost everything Damiano did, so you were possibly the greatest source of information outside the David family and their small circle of friends.

“Amore?” Damiano asked softly as his hand caressed the exposed skin of your waist. You had been cuddling in bed for almost two hours with the excuse that you needed a break after all the hard work you’d done, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You turned around to be face to face with him and pressed a kiss to his freckled nose, “Not much. I was just remembering I need to get my ring resized again. I tried putting it on a few days ago and it didn’t fit anymore.

Damiano frowned at your words, “Your soulmate ring?”

“Mhm,” You responded simply and let your head rest on his chest. You enjoyed the feeling of warmth his body irradiated, it was soothing and the soft sound of his rhythmic heartbeat never failed to make you feel calmer.

“Soulmate rings don’t need to be resized, ever. Not that I know of, at least,” Now it was your turn to frown because, as far as you remembered, you had always gone to get your ring resized by a family friend who didn’t live too far away. No one had ever told you it wasn’t necessary.

You pulled away from his embrace and reached for the bedside table where you had been keeping the ring for the past few days. Once you turned back around, Damiano looked confused and almost scared, “Just, out of curiosity, tesoro. Have you ever taken off the ring and left it like far away for longer than a few hours?”

A giggle escaped past your lips at his silly question, “It’s just a piece of jewelry, Dami. Of course, I have, several times.”

You laughed nervously once you saw his horrified expression. Damiano was starting to scare you, but you knew better than to say something because you’d end up looking like a fool if he started laughing and told you it was all a joke. Except, it didn’t seem like one.

“Please get dressed and meet me in room five, okay? I might be going insane but I just need to make sure I’m not,” Before you could ask any questions, Damiano had already grabbed a pair of pants and a t-shirt and disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed.

You tried not to think much about his weird questions and got dressed quickly instead. You grabbed your cup of tea, which had already gone cold, and walked to meeting room five.

You opened the door and were surprised to see all your friends already sitting around the small table you’d use for informal meetings. Thomas and Victoria looked tired and Ethan’s long hair was tangled and messy. That gave you the impression that Damiano had most likely woken them all up for your impromptu meeting. 

They all looked just as confused as you felt. There were a lot of questions you wanted to ask, but Ethan beat you to it, “Okay, now that we’re all here can you fucking explain why you had to wake me up? Please.”

“Have any of you three—,” Started Damiano, referring to Thomas, Victoria and Ethan, “—tried to take off your ring for a while but have started feeling sick and weird?”

Thomas and Victoria looked at each other, confused, but nodded. Ethan did after a few seconds of thinking about it, “Yeah, there was actually this one time I went on a date and I didn’t want the girl to see the ring had turned gold, so I left it at home. Thirty minutes later I was puking everywhere. I didn’t really understand why but someone at the Soulmate Centre explained rings are an extension of the soul and they need to be close to us at all times and there are actually records of people dying after losing their rings. Why?”

Damiano looked at you and raised his eyebrows to silently ask if he could share the information with the other three guys. Once you nodded, Damiano spoke up, “Y/N doesn’t need to have it close to them and they need to get it resized every once in a while.”

Ethan shrugged his shoulders, “That’s as far as my knowledge goes. I don’t know. I think the best thing you can do is go to the SC.”

You sighed but nodded. Ethan’s explanation had started to freak you out. What if there was something terribly wrong with you? What if you were born without a ring and your parents lied to you all your life?

— 

After having a short conversation with Damiano in private, you decided to follow Ethan’s advice and go to the Soulmate Centre that was only a few minutes away from your house. He wanted to go with you or send someone to watch over you but had accepted your petition to go alone after you told him it was a private matter and you'd tell him all about it once you got back.

So there you were, on the reception of the SC, with your sweaty hands intertwined together as you tried to ignore all the dirty looks people were giving you. Everyone around knew exactly who you were and most weren't one bit pleased to see you there. While some didn't hesitate to look at you like they wanted to kill you, others were afraid to do so.

Those few minutes that passed until the lady at the desk called your name were some of the most uncomfortable of your life. Some part of you hated having the mobster title because that usually gave people the wrong idea and drove them to hate you even if you could proudly say you had done nothing illegal or violent in your whole life. You had to admit the mob wasn’t an ideal job to have morally wise, but you had found a family inside those four walls others doomed to be cursed.

You walked up to the lady. She had what you could interpret as a nervous smile as she stood behind the desk, patiently waiting for you to tell her what had brought you there in the first place. You were hesitant to communicate your issue because you were mortified of finding out a truth that should probably stay hidden.

You reached back and unclasped the chain the ring was looped through. You left it on the counter and smiled softly as you shyly spoke, “So uh, good morning, ma’am. I was hoping you could take a look at my ring, I’m slightly concerned there was something wrong with it.”

The lady nodded and removed the ring from the chain. She inspected it closely for a few minutes before nodding her head towards one of the rooms that said ‘only employees allowed’. She started walking towards it with a quick step and you saw no other choice but to follow right behind her.

She opened the door and quickly closed it with a lock once she verified you were inside, “Listen, the only reason I’m not turning you over to the authorities is because you don’t strike me as someone stupid enough to walk into an SC with a soulmate ring like this.”

Your jaw dropped in surprise at how direct she was being. For a second, you noticed her face fall before she realized it was best to keep a face that communicated seriousness instead of begging for your forgiveness or whatever people did when they pissed Damiano off.

“I don’t know who gave this to you or in which illegal market you bought this but if a higher authority sees you with this, not even Damiano David could save you from the consequences of sporting a fake ring,” She said. You honestly didn’t know how to respond because panic had started to drown out any coherent thought that tried to form on your mind.

You didn’t even try to disguise your panicked expression that time around. Instead, you focused on regulating your breathing and trying to keep all your emotions at bay before you lost control and began to hyperventilate. The other woman noticed your distress almost immediately and led you to sit down on one of the couches.

After you took a few deep breaths, you looked back at her, eager to ask thousands of questions, “How can you know they are fake?”

She sat down next to you and put the ring on your palm, “Look at the inside,” She demanded while pointing her finger to a spot on the inside edge of the ring, “They usually have something engraved inside, a code that only repeats itself twice. Whenever one loses their soulmate, this code vanishes. Your code is still there. I also used a detector to confirm my suspicions and it detected nothing.”

“And with… with that code, can you tell me if my soulmate’s still alive? Or who they are?” The older lady looked at you with pity in her green eyes and shook her head.

“Unless this is the original code engraved on the real ring, there’s not much I can do for you other than telling you how your soulmate is. I need so much more information to ever give you a name,” You nodded in understanding. All you needed to know was if they were alive, that’s all you wanted.

She took your nod as a sign of approval and disappeared into another room. While you waited, you couldn’t help but secretly hope they were dead. You wanted all those weeks of bliss you had spent with Damiano to last a lifetime. He knew everything about you, from the number of scars scattered around your body to what book you had read the most times. No soulmate could learn that about you until years after meeting each other. Besides, it wouldn’t feel right. The Gods had already been too cruel for not making him your soulmate, but now that he wasn’t with Marlee and you knew he loved you just as much as you loved him… 

She walked out of the room and cleared her throat to catch your attention. You were thankful for her interruption because you were mere seconds away from bursting into tears of distress. She looked nervous to tell you what she had found out, but the way you looked at her made her spill the truth without any warning.

“Your soulmate is still somewhere out there, alive.”

— 

Damiano clutched his side with his hands as every type of curse word spilled from his mouth, “Thomas! Dammit Thomas, where the fuck are you?” He screamed and pushed the ache in his throat and side to the back of his mind as he limped towards the table where his loaded gun was placed, ready to be grabbed and shot. 

Things had been perfectly fine just ten minutes back. He had been drinking and playing pool with the boys in the basement. They were all laughing and messing around when Victoria heard the first gunshot. Thomas had been quick to dismiss it as one of the guards practicing his accuracy like they did every once in a while, so they went back to playing the game.

Then they heard it again and again and again. In that time it took the four men to walk up the stairs, people had already successfully broken into the house and they were shooting at anything that moved. The blood-red snake symbol all these people had on the masks that were covering their faces was one he had grown far too familiar with. These were the people Marlee had been conspiring with and they had managed to overthrow every single line of defense in between them and the front door.

Damiano had been in his room fetching a gun when a smoke bomb was thrown into the room. It had stopped him from seeing the person who shot him. Thankfully enough, their vision wasn’t much better either, because the bullet only grazed his side. It was still painful as hell and blood was pouring out of the wound, but it wasn’t going to be anything deadly. 

He finally got ahold of his gun after minutes of feeling around the table to try and spot it with the low amount of vision he still had. Once Damiano had it in his hands, he raised the scarf he was wearing to cover the lower part of his face to try and lower the quantity of smoke he inhaled.

He walked out of his room and into the hallway, still holding the gun firmly ready to shoot it at the first person he saw with that red symbol. Damiano opened the door to every room on the third floor. He had to shoot at one or two people before walking down to the floor below. The first room he opened was yours. His eyes went wide as he remembered you were still supposed to be at the SC. Damiano cursed under his breath. He needed to warn you not to come back but to go to your parents’ instead. Damiano opened the tracking app first, a precaution he had been insistent on taking just to make sure you both knew the other was safe. 

“Fucking hell,” Damiano mumbled as he saw that blue dot with your name above it was right on the same spot as his. You were back home.

Every thought of investigating each and every room to make sure there was no intruder flew out the window and instead he focused on trying to find you. Everything had turned chaotic on those few minutes he had been in your room, which was why it had gotten harder to get around without finding someone waiting on almost every corner for him to appear.

Damiano heard a piercing scream that made his blood go cold. You were in danger somewhere inside the large home and he desperately needed to get to you, to make sure you were safe from any danger. He knew his friends would be perfectly fine, they had their guns and several types of weaponry close-by, but he knew you didn’t. You always refused to take a gun or dagger with you whenever you went out and if they had caught you right when you had just gotten back… you’d most likely have nothing to defend yourself with.

There was no doubt in his mind that you were witty and incredibly smart, not to mention agile and great at coming up with plans on the spot, but he still needed to make sure you were alright. 

He got down on the first floor and his eyes met with a pair of blue ones he knew far too well. He let his eyes trail down to her carmine-tinted shirt. Marlee smiled at him and trailed her thumb along her jawline. That’s when he noticed her hands were also red and she had also left a trail of bloody footsteps from his office to where she was standing. His office.

Damiano didn’t hesitate to point the gun at her leg and pull the trigger. He then aimed for her other leg and shot it. She fell to the floor as an agonizing scream fell from her parted lips. Damiano was satisfied now that her stupid smile had been wiped right off her face.

He quickly ran to the office and opened the door. What he saw inside made time stop. It made all those sounds go silent. It made him feel like there was no floor beneath him to stand on. You were lying on the floor, a dagger piercing your chest.

You looked panicked, sad, like you wanted to do nothing but scream and cry, which you had started doing the moment you saw Damiano walked into the room. He didn’t know if your reaction was out of relief or if there was something else that concerned you, apart from the obvious.

“Damiano,” You spoke up weakly, The sound of your raspy voice was like a slap back into reality. He didn’t waste a second to fall to his knees right by your side. Damiano cupped your face with his trembling hands and brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“Shh. I’m here amore, I’m here,” He responded voice barely above a whisper, “I just need to find something to press against this wound I— something…” He stood up, ready to look for a rag, bandages, anything to stop the blood from rushing out of your body so quickly, but you stopped him.

You wrapped your hand around his arm and with all the strength you had brought him back down, “No hey, stop,” You mumbled, “Unless she happened to study every major artery, vein or has awfully perfect aim, I’ll be dead in minutes.”

He shook his head and wiped the tears that were starting to fall with the back of his hand. He was not giving up. Damiano was not going to let you die, “Wait, no, no. I can do this,” Damiano took his sweater and scarf off. With the help of his scarf, he applied pressure to the wound, careful not to move or dig the dagger further with his movements.

You shook your head and Damiano couldn’t help but cry harder at the desperation and panic in your eyes, “Please, Dami. Stop it, there’s no use. I-I just want you to hold me, please.”

He wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand and nodded repeatedly as he careful cradled you in his arms and moved your head to rest on his lap, “Everything’s going to be okay,” Damiano mumbled and left a long kiss on your forehead, then another one on your cheek and a last one on your lips.

You cupped his face with one of your hands and wiped the tears with your thumb. There wasn’t much left to say, not like you’d be able to talk even if you tried. Instead, you offered him one last sincere smile with all the energy you had left. 

He watched in horror as life slowly started to drain out of you as his ring simultaneously turned black. Damiano sat there for minutes after you were gone. He cried and let every frustration, confusion, and pain escape his body with a loud scream.

Damiano didn’t let go of your body until Victoria and Thomas had to forcefully pull him away and let someone else take care of you.

— 

Ethan didn’t walk into the room until he made sure every single intruder had been killed, except for Marlee, because Damiano had asked to keep her alive. When he did walk in, all he saw was Damiano with a folder in his hand and multiple pieces of paper scattered around the desk in his room. He looked pale, mortified by everything he was reading. The long-haired man didn’t understand what had gotten his friend in such a state of shock until he walked closer and looked at what seemed to be a contract.

You were Damiano’s soulmate. All your lives you had been tricked into believing you weren’t meant for each other. Your parents had made you believe you had no soulmate and Damiano had been fooled into thinking Marlee was his. You had gotten right to the bottom of it all and the secret would’ve gone to the grave with you if you hadn’t left the papers lying on his desk and if he had left his ring on the pocket of his jeans like he usually would. But now it was far too late to do anything about it.

[wallwriterstuff]

Still Learning ||Demetri Volturi x Female Reader||

Part 1: Little Rabbit 

Warnings: None, this is fairly fluffy for once. 

Words: 3161

Summary: A part 2 to Little Rabbit as requested by @clowence. 

It’s been a few months since Demetri took you in now, and you’re starting to realise he’s more than just a mentor to you. 

3 secretaries, 2 weeks in the dungeons for each one, and 1 one very patient man.

That was the brief version of your time with the Volturi so far. Demetri had been enraged when the Masters’ sent you to the dungeons the first time, though he had reluctantly let you go without a fight when it happened twice more. You had tried your best to be good, really you had, but the secretaries had just smelled so good and you were so thirsty all the damn time...

“And that is why you never lose focus in a fight.” Felix’s fist was like a sledgehammer against your jaw, shattering the porcelain skin. You hit the floor hard, a hiss escaping your throat. Felix had been assigned to train you by Demetri himself, since he trusted very few people to be around you, but Felix trained you hard. Your daily routine consisted of being his punch bag for a few hours, but it gave you something else to focus on other than the grating thirst. It was like a constant itch in the back of your throat, one that grew worse and made your throat raw when you were thirsty but was slowly dimming to background noise as the months passed.

Demetri had kept a close eye on you for the nine months you had been with him. Not once in all that time had decided to tell you you were his mate of course, seeing your obvious struggle with day to day existence and not wanting to add to that. The Volturi was not a place for newborns. It was a coven of much older, experienced vampires who had harnessed their gifts and their thirst – you were very much an outsider. Constantly teased, constantly under siege by your own instincts, and yet…you made him proud every single day. He made sure you had the room next to his, Aro not denying you that privilege of living amongst the higher guard after seeing Demetri’s thoughts on the matter.

Silently, he had watched you try to adjust to your new life, and after seeing your evenings were the hardest to deal with he had set up a nightly routine of visiting you when he didn’t have a duty assigned to him or something to do. You quickly picked up the Italian he taught you, your new mind quick to recall everything you had ever thought or seen from the moment you had awoken in this life, and he had been pleasantly surprised by your eagerness to learn some Greek from him to, completely oblivious that it was an attempt on your part simply to show him a little gratitude and interest.

The truth was, he knew you better than you knew yourself in this life. The moment you started to have a little wobble Demetri was at your side like he had never left it, and the intensity of the flurry of emotions he invoked was too much for you to bear some nights. After months spent in his company, nights where reading together became nights you spent curled up next to him as he read to you, casual touches began to linger, his hand on your waist as you moved past one another in the halls or your hand touching his as you passed books between you. He no longer held you back by the shoulders as he tried to teach you some restraint as you fed (your weekly trips to Florence something you very much looked forward to as it meant a bit of alone time with him) but by the hips instead, his lips playing along your hairline distracting you more than anything so you weren’t always sure if it was your actual self-control getting better or if you were just growing more aware of Demetri.

Felix had your back pressed into the floor once more, his hands gripping your head lightly.

“And now I can take your head off of your shoulders. What is distracting you today?” he asked. You groaned, struggling weakly until Felix let you up.

“I just am.” You grumbled. How was you supposed to tell him his best friend was invading your thoughts? You couldn’t. Felix would absolutely rip you apart.

“Distractions always have a root cause.” He pointed out neutrally. A flash of irritation made you hiss quietly before you took a breath to collect yourself. Felix smirked ever so slightly, sensing your frustration and silently lowering into a half-crouch to try and tempt you to take it out on him. You ignored him and ran a hand through your hair.

“I’m making no progress.” You huffed, a complete lie. Felix seemed to know it was a lie to but he let you get away with it, tilting his head slightly in what you thought was going to be a nod before it became a shake. You frowned.

“You have made a lot of progress, even if you don’t think that you have. I have been fighting newborns for over two millenia Y/N, most would not stand up to me like you can,” He assured you, “When your heads in the right place.” He added with a smirk.

“You’ll have a chance to prove you’ve made progress tonight.” Alec’s voice was a welcome one, even if you didn’t quite get on with the twins all the time. Jane was nowhere to be seen today but Alec stood tall in the doorway, arms folded over his chest. Your frown only deepened, mind racing a million miles ahead as to what that might mean. Did they want you to fight Felix in front of them? A mission maybe? Newborns didn’t go on missions, you were told so by a very upset Caius when you had first come to Volterra and asked what you might be doing to repay them for giving you a room.

“Put the poor girl out of her misery Alec, her mind is wandering today.” Felix chuckled.

“Heidi will be returning early today, Master Aro has extended an invitation to you to join us for feeding time.” Alec informed you. If you weren’t tense before you were now, your entire body freezing up a little. Feed with them? In the main hall? You had so little experience feeding around other vampires, your control still not perfect, what if you made a fool out of yourself in front of the entire guard?

“If vampires could go pale…”Felix grinned wickedly, obviously enjoying your discomfort. You shot him a glare.

“I’m hardly a pro at any of this!” you protested. Part of you were sure this was a test, or maybe a punishment. Caius had been very upset with you for killing their pilot and every secretary you had accidentally slaughtered had only kept you further and further out of his good graces. This had to be some sort of test for you, and you feared the dungeons more than anything. The smell was awful and the dark was constant, the groans of fellow prisoners a constant echo in your ears. You didn’t want to go back there.

“Y/N stop panicking, I’m sure with all the hard work you and Demetri have put in you’ll be fine.” Felix promised.

“I need to shower.” You murmured, fleeing the room before either of them could stop you. It was a lie, of course, vampires couldn’t sweat, but there was still something so calming about the hot water flowing over your frozen skin that for a few moments, you could simply escape your troubled thoughts. When you were done you sat on your bed in nothing more than your towel, staring distractedly at the door you were sure someone would come through to fetch you when Heidi arrived. Sulu didn’t let your mind drift too long, hopping up onto your bed and nosing at your hands in an effort to get you to stroke him.

Sulu’s tongue lolled out of his mouth, tongue wagging and pounding the mattress. What was Aro playing at? What could he possibly gain from making you feed with the others tonight? Was Demetri aware of this plan? Did he think you could do it? Would he be with you? Sulu licked at your hand, his big brown eyes questioning even if he couldn’t physically ask you anything. With a quiet sigh you leaned down to nuzzle him before crossing to your wardrobe, picking something appropriate to see the Masters’ in. You didn’t want to let Demetri down today, that was your biggest fear. He had helped you so much, given you so much of your life back when you thought it had been lost to you forever. The soft sound of scratching made you look up, slipping some socks on as you padded back to your room. Demetri lay on his side, fingers scratching at Sulu’s tummy.

“Heidi will be here any moment.” He said by way of greeting. You internally flinched. Not the news you wanted to hear. Apparently your silence was disconcerting to him and Demetri looked up with a frown, his eyes raking your body slightly while you avoided the dark burgundy irises, knowing they would see through every façade you put on.

“Great.” You murmured, moving towards your shoes by the door. You had barely jammed your feet into them when warm hands pulled you into a sturdy chest. The familiar softness of his lips found your temple, and you unwittingly relaxed into his grip.

“Stop worrying so much, you will be fine.” He promised. The affection was a tad overwhelming to your already overworking mind but you let yourself drown in it anyway.

“What if I mess up? I don’t want to go back to the dungeons.” You whispered, voice wavering slightly. Demetri squeezed your hips.

“You have nothing to fear. I will be right there with you.” His reassurances were sweet in your ear and before you knew it he had led you hand in hand to the throne room. Exchanging a long look with him, you squeezed his hand tighter in the hopes he’d know not to let go. The rest of the guard had already assembled, the Masters’ stood waiting to greet their tourists. Alec and Jane glanced towards you, Felix sending you the briefest of smiles. A few murmurs went up around the room and Demetri silenced them with a fierce glare.

“Ah, young Y/N. How wonderful to see you again. I have heard good things from the others.” Aro greeted you with an extended hand and you silently wished he hadn’t, wanting to keep your worries private. Still, you knew it wasn’t a request. Aro rifled through your thoughts like it was a slideshow put on just for him, and you dared not make eye contact as he chuckled. He neither confirmed nor denied your fears, simply let Demetri lead you away towards his station in the room. His hand was tight around your own.

“You will be fine darling, just remember all you have learned. No one is expecting perfection.” He promised you.

“I am.” Caius muttered, a sadistic grin spreading on his lips. You tensed up, hearing the familiar click of Heidi’s heels. It was followed by a gaggle of voices, a thousand beats of thudding hearts and the crash of blood rushing through veins, a similar sound to what your hazy mind could recall hearing at the Niagara Falls once when you visited. You tightened your grip on Demetri’s hand, holding your breath as he had taught you to do. His thumb moved in slow circles over the back of your hand. It felt like a small stretch of eternity had passed before Heidi even opened the doors, flashing you a bright grin as she went and introducing the end of the tour. Aro stood, all beaming smiles and clapping hands.

“Welcome! Welcome friends, to Volterra!” he cried, spreading his arms wide. You could shut off your lungs but not your ears. A cacophony of heartbeats and breathing and shuffling feet grated on your ears, every little sound rattling against your already frayed nerves. It was difficult to focus on Aro’s speech as it rambled on and on, Demetri squeezing your hand every now and then the only thing really grounding you – that and your fierce determination to prove every smug guard looking your way wrong. Clearly nobody expected you to last, and you couldn’t honestly blame them. Your patience was wearing thin, your throat feeling like someone had shoved a red hot poker down into its depths.

“Easy, Y/N, try to think past your thirst,” Demetri murmured. You hadn’t even realised you’d leaned forward until you were pulled back against his chest, his arms wrapped around you tightly. “Do not let them win, you are stronger than this.” He whispered, so low only you would hear. You grit your teeth, tearing your eyes away from the throbbing skin of a woman’s pulse.

“I can’t.” you hissed.

“You can.” He said firmly, tightening his grip on you. It was a horrific feeling, being unable to stop your mind from slipping away from you, but you could feel the frenzy taking hold, taking root in your mind. It was impossible to think past the roaring in your head and you instinctively began to struggle against Demetri’s hold, the warmth of his embrace starting to feel suffocating.  There was a man across from you, a living, breathing human, with blood flowing beneath the surface of sweat dewed skin and a heart that was pounding in your ears, a tattoo in your brain you couldn’t seem to get rid of.

“And so concludes your tour…I do hope you enjoyed your stay.” You could hear him, but Aro’s words had no meaning in your head, no definition connected to any of them. They were empty, meaningless. Demetri’s grip suddenly disappeared and your head snapped around, teeth bared. He smiled slightly, giving you a nod.

“Now?” you ground out.

“Go ahead my love.”

You were away like a bullet from a gun, turning and launching yourself at the human opposite you. You’d never fed in such a public space, so many people around you, so many onlookers, but it didn’t seem to matter to you in that moment as instinct took over. You were lost to that first, hot burst of blood, drowning in complete ecstasy as a maelstrom of violence erupted around you. Your mind slowly filtered back to you as you drank, the fire clearing and conscious thought becoming easier. Picking your next target was more strategic than the first, since you had to avoid Santiago’s deadly glare as you did so, and by the time your woman of choice was limp in your arms there was a warm body behind yours.  You sank into him immediately, falling back against his chest. His breath was still warm on your ear from the blood of his chosen victim.

“How bad do I look on a scale of one to ten?” you mumbled as the last of the screams died away. Demetri chuckled.

“To me, cara mia, you are always Aphrodite personified.” He promised. You smiled slightly, sure you would blush if you still could. Demetri was always dropping little compliments like that, and they almost always succeeded in making you forget where you were. It wasn’t until Aro’s slow applause echoed about the room that you remembered exactly where you were. Your head snapped toward him and you swallowed, glancing down at your shirt. You weren’t…messy, per say, but you certainly weren’t as spotless as the others.

“Well done young one, it seems Demetri has taught you well; I expected nothing less, of course.” He glanced to the tracker who stood a bit taller behind you.

“She is wearing half of her victim.” Caius sneered. You ducked your gaze a bit in embarrassment.

“But her control was applaudable, I admit I was betting against you.” Alec’s voice was warmer than usual and that mischievous sparkle was in his eye once more – he clearly enjoyed proving Caius wrong.

“Er…thanks?” you replied uncertainly. Demetri chuckled.

“If you would excuse us, Masters’, I think someone needs a fresh change of clothes.” He teased. You groaned softly but let him lead you from the room when Aro granted permission to do so. The walk back to your quarters was silent, but the air between you was charged. There were so many thoughts and feelings you had accrued in your head over the past 8 months, so many things you hadn’t actually said to him.

“Thank you.” You figured it was a good place to start. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“For what? You did that all on your own.” He pointed out. You shook your head, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear and grimacing when your hand came back bloody.

“But you taught me to do that. You’ve taught me a lot, actually. I just...thank you, for giving me a chance to learn and not just…you know.” You trailed off awkwardly. Demetri paused, seemingly deliberating what he wanted to say before with a quiet sigh, he clasped the back of your neck, pulling you closer so he could press a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You were the only one to survive you know, the only newborn that lived that day, because I selfishly could not imagine a world without you in it. Everything I do I do to keep you by my side, my motivations are the most selfish…you have no reason to thank me.” He murmured, his expression soft and adoring. You blinked, sure you were seeing and hearing wrong, but his thumb stroked your cheek tenderly as if to confirm his words. So he wanted you huh? The news warmed your soul, or whatever was left of it. It felt like the right moment.

“I love you.” You whispered. A hint of a smile crossed his lips.

“I have waited for those words.” He confessed, moving his lips from your forehead to his own.

“I love you.” You mumbled, already intoxicated by the merest brush of his lips on yours. Demetri hummed.

“One more time.”

“I love you.” You smiled, winding your arms around his neck. Demetri’s kiss was all consuming, deep and desperate in his effort to show you exactly how he had felt for the past 8 months since the day you had met. It was an outpouring of love and devotion and all the good kinds of things that made your toes curl, your heart soar.

“You need another shower.” He murmured, but his lips didn’t relinquish yours. You giggled, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck. His low growl made your knees weak.

“In another moment of selfishness, are you planning on offering me yours?” you questioned. Demetri had lifted you off of the floor in a matter of seconds, grinning now.

“I’ll be as selfish as you let me my love.”

[outofsstyles]

WHEN IN ROME - part 1

a/n: Ciao ragazzi!! So this is the part 1 of my friends to lovers featuring italy!Harry. Also a special thanks to my dear friend Giorgia for helping me with this, love her very much!! Hope everyone enjoys it!! Pease feel more than welcome to leave feedback (or just chat if you’d like) :)

Word count: 7k                                  Rated: M,mature

You visit your best friend in Rome and some old feeling may start to resurface.

You struggle with your luggage after one of the wheels got caught on a loose tile, making it jerk across the airport floor. 

The other passengers from your flight stroll along the illuminated hallway, towards the arrival gate exit. Looking around, you notice their tired faces; half-open eyelids and pouted lips, often opening in small yawns. You probably didn’t look much different, considering flying always tends to make you sleepy, which is why you preferred the night ones. 

This one, in particular, was supposed to have landed around sunset, giving you enough time to enjoy your Harry’s company before settling in the hotel room. What no one was expecting, however, was to hear a muffled voice announce through the speakers that your flight was expected to be delayed for about 3 hours. The news was annoying, sure, but you knew there was not much to be done about it. So you simply snuggled further on the uncomfortable metal seat as you rolled your eyes at some angry man who was trying to argue with the poor attendant.

The warm Italian weather was a refreshing change of settings when you finally got to step out of the aircraft, making you take off your cardigan and tie it firmly around your waist. It sent a sparkle of energy down your spine, knowing you arrived after what felt like such a dragged-out flight. But despite your tired state, you feel a warm feeling settling itself in your tummy. One that makes you fight back a smile and jump on your heels in excitement as you walk maybe a bit faster than you should. 

Going through the exit doors, it almost feels as if your heart wants to escape from your ribcage. The nervous anticipation filling every inch of your mind. 

You walk past the group of people gathered around the gate, politely declining the ones who approached you offering taxi rides in a strong accent. Peering around the busy area, it doesn’t take long until you spot the curly mop you were looking for, as he calls out your name.

You don’t hold back the smile that breaks into your face as you watch him approach you with open arms, his dimples marking his cheeks. Not giving a second thought, you let go of the handle of your suitcase, rushing to his direction. You find your place between his arms as he pulled you into a tight hug, arching his back a bit to make your feet leave the ground just barely. 

The scent of his cologne makes your eyes water just slightly, not realizing how much you had missed his presence until that moment. You nuzzle your face deeper into his neck, his arms tightening around you once more.

“Missed you so much, love,” he blurts, his voice muffled as his face squishes into your shoulder blades. 

Placing a quick kiss to the side of your face he pulls away, allowing you to take in his appearance up close for the first time in months. His hair was still short, but longer than it was the last time you’d seen him in person, some locks falling charmingly along with his face. 

You place your hands on his smooth face, rubbing it lightly, “you shaved!” You exclaim, referencing the last picture he had sent you, which showed a scruff growing along his upper lip and jawline. At the time, you were quick to text him to playfully let him know you were not the biggest fan of it. 

He rolls his eyes at you, shaking his head slightly as he pushes your hands away from his face. “‘m very happy to see you too, knobhead,” he mumbles, moving to retrieve your forgotten bag lying on the floor behind you.

“I’m just teasing, silly,” you pinch his chin jokingly as he comes back by your side, guiding you through the airport, “You know I support all your decisions, even the bad ones.”

“Okay, I get it, it’s a no for the beard,” he chuckles, “mum hated it too.”

“I’ve always trusted Anne’s good taste,” you provoke, making him poke you playfully before reaching to put his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into a side hug as you two walk. 

“‘S too bad your flight got delayed,” he says, “was planning on grabbing a bite and show you around fo’ a bit.”

Your heart grows a bit at his words, you reach your arm around his waist as to hug him back. “Yeah, it’s too bad,” you gaze up at him, meeting his eyes for a moment before he looked up again, “sorry for making you wait so long.”

“Stop that, don’t have to apologize,” he assures, “‘s not your fault.” He squeezes you against him gently, “‘sides we have the entire week to make it up fo’ it.”

When Harry broke in the news that he would be moving to Rome to pursue a photography degree you obviously felt heartbroken. You two were inseparable at the time and knowing you wouldn’t be able to see him every day anymore made your heartache. It couldn’t have come at a worse time either, you had just broken up with your boyfriend, and suddenly it felt like you were losing everyone you loved the most at the same time.

But still you swallowed back your selfish feelings to show him your support, promising to visit as soon as possible. 

In your ideal world, you would drop everything and pack your bags with him to start a fresh life somewhere else. But realistically speaking, you had too much tying you up to your home, and not nearly enough money to pay for tickets to Italy every weekend so you could visit your best friend as regularly as you wish.

So you hugged him goodbye with tearful eyes and shaky hands, watching him walk towards the departure gate as he waved back one last time.

That had been eight months ago. 

You never expected to take this long to finally be able to see him again, but life sometimes just doesn’t line up the way you want it to. Harry never let you lose contact, though, and for that, you were eternally grateful. He always made sure to call you at least once a week to catch up on each other’s lives. 

It was the highlight of your weeks if you were honest. Getting the comfort of seeing his face even if it was just to talk about trivial things like his recipe of vegan brownies or a new boutique shop that opened on the corner of your street.

But now you don’t have a screen separating the two of you anymore. You can see his smile without it being a pixelated image. You can hear his voice clear next to you. You can hug him back and feel his arms squeezing your waist. You can smell the faint lavender scent on his shirt, mixing with his cologne.

You definitely missed him much more than you’d realized.

**

The sound of your alarm clock rang softly through the compact hotel room. You sigh contentedly, reaching to turn it off before rolling on your back and blinking your eyes open with little internal fight. 

It wasn’t often you could feel this well-rested, especially after sleeping on a strange bed. But thinking about how tired you were the previous night, it didn’t take long for you to fall into a deep slumber as soon as you finally got to lie down. 

The sunlight invaded your small room through the cracks of the nearly closed curtains, making you realize you might’ve been too sleepy to bother on closing them all the way the previous night. Usually, in regular days, you’d lay back in bed and steal a few more minutes of sleep, which would eventually lead to maybe another hour or two of snoozing your alarm clock. But this wasn’t just a regular day, you were in Italy, and Harry would probably be waiting for you down in the lobby in just a few minutes. 

He had revealed none of the plans he made for the day, wanting to keep most of the trip a surprise for you. This habit of his of trying to keep a mysterious front usually makes you tease him with a roll of your eyes, but on this occasion you accepted it. You didn’t really care about what activities you’d do on your stay, as long as you can do it with him.

You check your bag to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything as you wait for the elevator to go down. Running your hands over your summer dress as the doors opened.

Walking into the lobby, you expected Harry to be late, considering he would always be the last one to arrive on any kind of social gathering you’d go before he moved. But to your surprise, you find him leaning against the reception counter, speaking excitedly to the sweet old lady that had welcomed you when you checked in. 

As you get closer to them, you can identify that they’re speaking Italian, making you smile softly at how easily the words flew through Harry’s lips as he speaks.

The lady notices you first, smiling at you as you approach the counter, making Harry check over his shoulder to find you standing behind him. His smile grows, his eyes traveling down your body so subtly it almost felt like your mind was making it up. He greets you with a small hug, looking back at the woman behind the counter one last time and saying something you don’t understand.

“She looks beautiful!” she speaks, her word flowing with a strong accent, “bellissima!” 

You feel a blush creeping to your cheeks as you thank her, wishing her a nice day before Harry and you make your way to leave through the front door. The hotel you’re staying in isn’t the fanciest, but it makes up with the cozy feel and charm you could only find in a small, old building. You chose it specifically for being located just a block away from Harry’s apartment, allowing you two to be closer to him.

“She seems nice,” you say once you turn into the street.

“She’s lovely,” he agrees, shooting you a quick look with a smirk on his face, “was telling me about her husband.”

“Oh,” you say, “What did she tell you?”

“Told me about how they met and all that, they’ve been married fo’ forty years!”

“You love those stories, don’t you?” You chuckle.

He rolls his eyes, “they’re sweet, okay?” he argues. “Not my fault you have a cold heart.”

You gasp, poking him playfully. “I don’t!” you exclaim, earning a knowingly look from him.

You walk a few more blocks along on the small sidewalk; the closeness making your hands brush slightly every so often. The day was nice, ideal for staying outside and enjoying the clear sky. A morning breeze messes up your hair a bit and the sounds of birds singing take over the empty street, along with Harry’s low hums to a tune you’re not familiar with.

He guides you to a small bakery, barely noticeable amongst the surrounding buildings. As you approach the entrance he explains how it’s one of his favorite places to go for what he says is “the best Italian breakfast in Rome!”

Walking inside you are met with the delicious smell of fresh-baked bread. The place is filled with quiet chatter as a few people sit on a long couch located by the back. An older man wearing an apron with various spots of flour on it greets Harry happily as you come in, pulling him into a small conversation you, once again, can’t really pick much of. 

Soon, you two are sitting at a small table by one of the large windows that overlook the street you came from. You bite into the sandwich as a pair of green irises watches you carefully, trying to catch a glimpse of your reaction. 

“So, what are we doing today?” You ask as you pick a few crumbles of bread left on your plate.

“You’re very impatient, haven’t changed a bit,” Harry replies, taking one last sip of his coffee. 

You roll your eyes at him, “you say that as if we haven’t talked in eight months.” 

He chuckles lightly as he leans back on his chair, his arms reaching over his head in a stretch. You try not to notice how his shirt rides up just barely, but enough for your eyes to wander a bit lower than you should’ve. When you meet his gaze again, he has a smirk adorning his face, knowing he just caught you not-so-subtly checking him out.

You clear your throat, praying the warmth you feel creeping on your cheeks isn’t noticeable as you try to think of how to cover up.

“Nice fit, by the way,” you motion towards his blue shirt with an imprint of Mickey Mouse on it, to which he matched with floral shorts. 

This was the kind of clothing combination that would most definitely look silly on anyone else, but Harry was the kind of person who could pull off wearing a potato sack. He just looked good in anything, it was almost aggravating if it wasn’t also endearing in a way. But you’d never say that out loud.

“D’you like it?” He asks as he moved his hands to pull at the hem, looking down at it before meeting your eyes with a smug look on his face. “‘S my tourist outfit.”

“Is it now?” You chuckled, “does that mean we’re being tourists today?”

“I mean, you are a tourist, but yes,” he said, “we’re sightseeing, baby.”

**

Walking around the historical neighborhood in Rome was an overwhelming feeling in every sense of the word. You knew choosing to visit the city at the peak of summer would come with tourist-filled streets so it didn’t surprise you to be met with congested crowds as you got closer to the historical sites. 

But as much as you were not the biggest fan of crowds, you couldn’t even feel bothered in the slightest by the masses of people surrounding you. The feeling of the city itself was ethereal, something that seemed right out of a movie screen. Timeless buildings stood tall above you, with the perfect combination of old-fashioned and modern. 

Harry is having fun with his camera, teasing you at the amazed expressions you made at every corner you turned. But you couldn’t help but feel like that. 

The day only helped to enhance the enchanting feeling of the place. With the sun shining proudly in the clear blue sky, but still catching a light breeze that relieved the heat that formed a light coat of sweat on your body, making you take big gulps out of your water bottle every so often. 

Even the air around you feels different. Something you couldn’t really explain, it was lighter. Harry said it was Italy’s perfect mixture of great food and great people - to which you can’t deny - but you know having him with you is also a big factor.

“Harry, please, I’m scared I’ll bump into someone,” you say,  moving your hands blindly in front of you.

“You won’t,” he replied, keeping his hand firmly above your eyes as he guides you. 

“What if I run over a child?”

“I find your lack of trust incredibly hurtful,” he says from behind, pulling you closer to him. “We’re almost there.”

“Do we really have to do this?” You chuckle.

“Yes, now shush.”

You walk a bit more before he stops. His chest meets your back as he leans in, the ends of his hair tickling your ear slightly. You mindlessly hold your breath, grabbing his wrists anxiously as you wait for him to remove his hands.

“Ready?” He asks. His low voice causing goosebumps to form on the back of your neck.

You nod quickly into his hands, bouncing on your feet slightly as you wait for him to pull out his hands from your eyes. 

It takes a second until your vision can get used to the sunlight after being in the dark, but as soon as you focus on the sight in front of you, it’s like all the air escapes from your lungs. The colosseum stands in all its glory, centered in the open area. A place you have only seen in pages of history books or through a screen. You bring your hand to cover your mouth mindlessly as you gasp at the gigantic monument. 

“How does it feel?” Harry bites his lip, grinning as he gazes quickly at the construction before looking back at you. “Seeing it fo’ the first time?”

“It’s incredible,” you gasp, your eyes still wandering around the sight in front of you. 

“It’s two thousand years old, you know,” he explains. “‘S why it kinda looks like a swiss cheese f’you look at it closely.”

“Oh my god,” you giggle, shaking your head at him. “Did you just compare one of humanity’s most historical monuments to cheese?”

Harry rolls his eyes playfully, “‘s a metaphor, darling, you wouldn’t get it.”

“Of course, I’m sorry for being so illiterate.” You joke, bumping your hip against his.

“‘S fine I’m used to it,” he provokes back. “So, are you just gonna stand there with your mouth open or are we going in?”

Your eyes widen at his question. “Wait.” you grab his arm as he looks at you with the most amused expression.”So we actually get to go inside?”

“Course we get to go inside, love.” He throws an arm above your shoulder, squeezing it gently. “What kind of tour guide d’you think I am?”

It warms your heart how much thought he clearly put into planning this trip for you. Not just planning it, but also making sure you’re enjoying all the aspects that Italy has to offer in your limited time here. Truthfully, the biggest reason that brought you here was him. Getting to visit one of the grandest cities in the world is just a bonus. A wonderful bonus. And you are glad to do it with him.

**

Okay, maybe you finally realize what people meant when they described Rome as “enchanting, yet congested” on the many traveling websites you had researched before packing your bags.

Harry warned you about it before you entered the small square - that isn’t even that small but the packed crowd makes it seem much enclosed. He keeps his hand holding securely onto your waist, pulling you close as you walk towards the fountain.

The fountain, yes, the whole reason you are here. Fontana di Trevi. One of Rome’s most prized monuments, and just taking one look at it you could see why. It’s gorgeous, not like any other fountain you’ve ever seen in your life. 

That seems to be a repeating theme in this place, finding the beauty in the most minimal details, like the flowers blooming on a building’s wall, but also on the obvious ones, like the carefully crafted statues posing forever on top of the marble stones.

As you get closer, your eyes never leave the artwork standing in front of you. You’re thankful for Harry’s grip on your waist, otherwise, you’d probably trip down the steps as you make your way through the crowd. 

You find a spot by the edge of the fountain surprisingly easily. Harry lets go of your waist to reach into his back pocket, retrieving a few coins and offering to you.

“Here.” 

“Do I make a wish?” you asked, picking a couple from his palm.

“No, there’s this whole thing,” he began, “f’you throw one means you’ll return to Rome,”  he held up a coin as he explained, “two, means you’ll get married, and three, s’to get a divorce.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, “that’s a nice way to break the news, I guess.”

You looked down at your palm, quickly picking up a cent and throwing it at the fountain, watching it descend slowly into the clear water.

“There.”

“Just one, love?” Harry asked, making you look up at him to meet his gaze.

“Don’t really have anyone to get married to, do I?” you joked, “What about you?”

“Already made my wish when I first got here,” he replied, “not gonna risk throwing more.”

“How many did you throw?”

He simply grins down at you, letting your question linger in the air for a moment. You can feel his hand making its way on your waist again, pulling you closer to him.

.

**

You’re received at the bar table with excited cheers from the small group already gathered there. 

There’s an already annoying knot settling at the pit of your stomach. It’s something that has been bothering you throughout the day from the moment Harry mentioned you’d be meeting his friends for dinner. Even with his assurance that you’d be fine, telling you how excited they are to meet you, it still makes you a bit anxious. Of course you want to make a good impression, they are his friends after all. His new friends. 

What helps with your nerves a bit, is the fact that it’s not a massive amount of people, in fact, you are a bit surprised to see there’s only four of them. 

They all seem like they’ve just walked right out of a Vogue issue photoshoot, which makes you fidget with the fabric of your dress nervously. Harry keeps his hand placed on your lower back soothingly as he introduces you to everyone.

The two girls don’t even bat an eye in his direction, getting up to make their way directly to you. The first one pulls you into a tight hug immediately, the unexpected gesture causes you to take a second before hugging her back. She’s shorter than you, but she gives you a big smile as she introduces herself as Giorgia with an excited voice. Her look is very classy which stands out from the more laid-back outfits of the rest of the group.

You barely have time to separate from her before you’re being pulled into another hug. 

“I’m Francesca!” She says before pulling back, her blonde hair a bit messy on top of her head. “It’s very nice to finally meet you!”

You laugh softly at the warm welcome, “It’s lovely to meet you too.”

“We were all so excited to meet you,” Giorgia says, as you sit on the chair across from her. “Harry talks about you all the time.”

You glance at Harry who’s pulling the chair next to yours, arching your eyebrows at him. “Oh, does he now?”

“Alright, alright.” He scratches the tip of his nose, letting out a light chuckle. “Knew she’d do that as soon as you got here.”

“It’s my personal job to tease you at any given opportunity, H.” She reaches for the wine bottle, pouring it into a glass and handing it to you.

You give her a slight smile. “Think we’ll get along then.” You chuckle, moving the wine glass to your lips.

“Wait!” Giorgia stops you, “there’s a saying here in Italy that if you drink without toasting, you have seven years of bad sex, so.” 

“Oh,” you move the glass away from your mouth, raising it. “We don’t want that.”

“No, we don’t.” You hear Harry say from his spot next to you, moving his own glass to meet yours in a light click.

The night progresses bringing a warm feeling in all the pleasant ways. 

A light chatter fills the table, mixing with the sound of the other loud conversations from other young groups surrounding you. You risk learning a bit of Italian from the girls, as they tell excitedly stories about Harry’s first months not knowing the language.  It makes you feel silly for ever thinking they wouldn’t welcome you, seeing how they are treating you as if you are friends for years. 

But what makes your heart swell is seeing Harry so comfortable and laid-back amongst them. 

It may be the effect of the alcohol settling itself on your bloodstream, but as time passes, you find it harder to keep your eyes off of him. 

The crinkle in his eyes as he throws his head back with laughter brings an inevitable smile to your face. His hand squeezing your knee reassuringly, every so often, makes your breath catch in your throat. His eyes never leaving yours as you ramble about something you don’t even pay much attention to.

He’s listening closely to the words coming out of your mouth, his own lips forming a soft grin. You can feel your words start to get confusing as you become much aware of the distance between the two of you. It was close enough so you can notice the cloudy look in his eyes, but till not as close as you wish. 

Your mind seems to erase everything around you as you can see his eyes moving down, so quickly it almost seems like it’s part of your imagination. 

“You two look so cute together.” You hear Francesca’s sudden voice from the other side of the table, reminding that you’re not alone. “You’d make such a cute couple”

It catches you off guard, making you glance over to Harry before shaking your head. “Oh, I mean, I- Well- We’re not- We’ve never-”

“Francie!” Giorgia - thankfully - interrupts your nervous stutter, poking her friend gently in the arm. “You don’t just say stuff like that.”

“What? But it’s true!” Francesca says defensively, “they must get this all the time.” She turns back to you.”Right?”

You quickly bring your glass to your lips, taking a long sip as you decide to let Harry deal with the situation. You feel grateful for the dim lighting of the place, knowing it will cover the undeniable blush that you can tell is already covering your cheeks.

“I mean, yeah, we used to,” he begins, wrapping an arm over your shoulder. “But that’s just cause we slept together.”

You choke on your wine at his words, making him laugh at your clear affected state. “Harry!” You exclaim, hitting his chest lightly before gazing at the amused expressions watching the two of you. “We just slept together, literally. As in just sleep. And that was years ago!”

“I feel like I should take offense at your horror,” he teases.

“Wait- No! I- I didn’t mean it like that-” you try to explain.

“I enjoyed sleeping with you. Thought it was special.” He throws his head back dramatically.

You shake your head at him. “You’re having way too much fun with this.”

He looks back at you with a smug look on his face, “maybe I’m just flattered.”

You look away from him, taking a sip of your wine as you hear laughter taking over the table.

“Told you, you are cute!” Francesca says once again.

**

The walk back to the hotel was filled with giggles and rushed whispers as to not disturb anyone, considering Harry’s warning about the loud acoustic of the narrow streets. Your minds were hazy and your chests warm as you stumbled along the way.

“Madame, you’re home.” He says, motioning dramatically towards the entrance door.

“Well, sir thank you for your company on this dark night,” you giggle, bowing slightly. “Seems like you’re a proper gentleman now, aren’t you?”

“Now?” he questions, an offended look taking over his face, making you giggle again. “Was I not before?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Of course you were!” you bring a hand over your mouth as an attempt to quiet your laughter.

“Well on that note, I’ll leave.” He turns on his heels.

You reach for his arms pulling him back to you. “No! Stop! I’m sorry, come back.”

He glances over his shoulder, allowing you to drag him towards you. His grin was visible on his face, dimples deep on his cheeks, as he wraps his arms around your waist, drawing you in. Your laugh stops on your throat when you gaze up to meet his eyes, realizing how close you were. 

Even in the poor lighting, you can still see the green of his irises as he brings his hand up to cup your cheek. The alcohol dancing in your mind making it seem like you were watching it from the outside, as you hold your breath, too afraid to make any kind of movement.

Your heart was loud on your chest. You wish you could read his mind, know his next move. His eyes looked at you almost as if they wanted to tell you something, but your head was too blurry to understand it.

You swallow dryly, “thank you for today, H.” You break the silence. “Was really nice.”

“‘F course, love.” He whispers, caressing his thumb gently over your cheekbone. “Should get some rest,” he says, “got another early day tomorrow.”

“Sure,” you breathe. “Good night, Harry.”

He leans in, your breath catching on your throat as he places a soft kiss on your forehead before pulling away completely.

“Buonanotte.”

**

“Gelatto!” You hold up the two ice cream cups before handing one to Harry and moving down to sit next to him on the steps, carefully avoiding the handlebar of your bike laying on the ground.

“Look at you!” He giggles, “by the end of the week you’ll be a proper Italian.”

You chuckle, “I mean, it’s not like this word is not written all over the store or anything.” you lick the ice cream off your spoon. “But I do have the best tour guide in Rome, so that helps a lot.”

“Is that so?”

You hum with your spoon between your lips, nodding at him.

“Should get his number then, heard he’s a pretty cool bloke.” He smirks, “heard he’s quite handsome as well.”

You roll your eyes at him, “he’s got a big head too.”

He scoffs, nuzzling you as you giggle. “You’re a pest.”

“I am?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Yes, you are.” He shakes his head, playing with the spoon on his ice cream before scooping a bit. 

You fall into a comfortable silence enjoying each other’s company with the soft sound of nature surrounding you. 

The day was thankfully cooler than the ones before, allowing you to sit underneath the sun without feeling like your skin was boiling. The light breeze helped to chill your hot skin, caused by all the cycling you did to get to the island.  

“Y’know,” Harry’s voice breaks into the silence. “I’m very happy that you’re here.”

You gaze up at him, smiling softly. “I’m very happy that I’m here too.”

“No, like really I-” he begins, meeting your eyes. “Thank you fo’ coming.”

“Of course I’d come, silly.” You say, “promised I would.”

“Yeah, I know but-” he looks down at his shoes, a frown forming between his eyebrows. “‘S just,” he sighs, almost in frustration, as if he doesn’t know how to say it. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, H.” Your eyebrows knit together - you can tell there’s something on his mind. “Where’s this coming from?”

“‘S nothing,” he brushes off, still not meeting your eyes.

“Almost fooled me there,” you say, bumping your shoulder on his softly. “You can talk to me, you know?”

“I know.” He looks at you, “was just thinking back to right before I moved. When I told you about it.” He shakes his head, gazing up to the river in front of you. “Felt like the worst friend in the world.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, “‘s just-” he begins, his eyebrow still in a frown - as if he’s searching for the right word to say.  “You just were in a bad place back then, felt so bad fo’ just leaving you like that.” He admits, glancing at you. “I’m sorry.”

You can feel your heart sink as the words come out of his mouth, knowing what he’s referencing to. Your breakup. 

It’s something you don’t really enjoy thinking about but still seems to come back to your mind occasionally, as if to haunt you. 

The entire relationship was a mess, to begin with, and it’s something you can only look back now and realize. From the start, you only accepted going out with him as a form of distraction from your genuine feelings - to which you assume now it’s incredibly unfair not only to him but to yourself. Truth to be told, you never loved him the way you were supposed to.

But as the months went by you learned to get used to it, telling yourself that maybe with time you would forget about who your heart yearned for. So you swallowed back that ache.

When it finally happened, it didn’t come as a surprise to you. You felt like it was inevitable that you wouldn’t last. What did surprise you were how harder the aftermath would be when you learned your biggest support was leaving.

So you look at Harry apologizing for it, not knowing how to express in words that the primary reason you were a mess back then, wasn’t because of the breakup at all.

“I’m sorry, shouldn’t have brought it up.” He apologizes after your lack of response.

“No, it’s fine.” You reassure, “just haven’t thought about it for a while.”

You can feel him watching you from the side of your vision.

“It killed me to see you with him.”

The sentence makes you freeze a bit. You’ve always known Harry wasn’t a big fan of ex. It wasn’t something explicit, considering he never spoke about his dislike of him. But you know Harry. You could tell from his dry words and uninterested eyes every time your boyfriend came up, that he disapproved. So hearing him admit it straightforwardly shocked you a bit, to say the least. 

“I-” You begin, but stop, not knowing how to end the sentence.

“‘m sorry, shouldn't’ve said that.”

“No. Harry-” you pause for a moment, his eyes never leaving you as you think how to say it. “He was a dick.”

“Yeah.” He agrees. “He really was, love.” His gaze moves forward, breaking the eye contact. “You deserve much better than that.”

Like who? You want to ask. Even if you already know the answer. Well, you think you know the answer.

The words get caught in your throat, screaming so loud inside your mind you physically shake your head, trying to stop thinking them. It’s that unsaid confession. The one you’ve been meaning to say long before you even dated your ex..

There’s an awkward pause in the air. One you created without even realizing, because of your lack of response. Harry clears his throat, getting up before offering one hand to help you do the same which you take it.

“We should go,” he says, his eyes still not meeting yours. “Still got to return the bikes.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” 

**

You let out a content hum as the orangy taste hits your tongue, scrunching your nose slightly at the bitter aftertaste, due to the alcohol in it.

“You don’t like it? Harry chuckles at your expression, pulling his glass back to his side of the table.

“It’s good,” you say, “Just looks like orange soda.”

Harry wraps his lips around the straw, taking a sip. “Suppose it does.”

The sound of a small boat passing by the river next you call your attention, making you gaze at it as it moved lazily across the water. You take a moment to appreciate the view from your table, feeling grateful for finding one right by the edge of the sidewalk, allowing you to look at it without lots of people serving as obstacles.

A pinkish and golden tone paints the sky, as the sun goes down to give space for the nighttime. The sound of someone playing the piano took over as background noise. The lights are already turned on though, reflecting beautifully by the water. You can see the masses of people strolling on the other edge where the expo was set up.

You were there earlier in the day, going through the small businesses and gazing at the artworks exposed on the tents. 

There was a particular rose necklace that caught your eye, making you run your finger through the delicate piece for a moment before deciding it was best to leave it be. To your surprise, a few minutes later, as you stopped to watch someone plays a ukulele version of Riptide, you feel a cold chain being wrapped around your neck. 

You looked back to find Harry smiling at you, muttering a shy “Surprise,” as you reach to your neck, only to find the same necklace you had been eyeing before.

The recent thought brings a smile to your face, causing you to play with the pendant.

“D’you remember,” Harry’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. “When we went to that friend of yours birthday party.”

“Alice?” 

“I think so,” he says. “That party was shit.”

You laugh, “God, it really was.” You shake your head slightly at the memory. “We left after, like, ten minutes.”

“We did, yeah,” he says fondly. “Went to that petrol station at midnight to get those awful chips you like and ate them at that empty parking lot.”

“The one with the broken sign.”

“The one with the broken sign,” he smiles. “‘S one of my favorite memories.”

“Really?” You incline.

“Really.” He says, “can still picture you laughing at my terrible attempt at making jokes.” He looks down, poking his finger at the tablecloth. “Almost kissed you that day.”

You blink at him. Feeling your heart skip a beat at his confession. His eyes moving up to meet yours with a gleam to them.

Maybe it was the ethereal feeling that had settled into your mind from the first moment you got here. The one that made it seem like you were in one of those cheesy romcoms Harry loves so much. One where you found yourself in a breathtaking place along with your best friend, where you two slowly would come to the realization that maybe you felt like being more than just friends.

You tried your best to keep those thoughts away. Locking them down in the back of your mind and trying to forget they even exist. But like an annoying ich you can’t quite seem to reach, they would come back to you, almost in a provoking way, to remind you you couldn’t get rid of old feelings. No matter how hard you tried.

It was in the small moments when those thoughts came back to life. When he holds onto your waist in a crowded space so you wouldn’t get lost. Or how he always found a way to compliment you. 

Or even when he’s not even doing anything, but the string of lights above you just hit his face perfectly as he looks at you with the most affectionate eyes. His thumb finding your hand over the table, caressing it so gently that brought the most beautiful butterflies on your stomach.

Maybe the wine has gotten to your head but those unspoken words weigh so heavily on your tongue you can almost taste them.

But it was a little voice inside your head that makes you swallow them back. One that screams that this has become something too important to be thrown away in a failed attempt at a relationship. Whatever window that was of becoming more than friends had already been closed years ago. 

And with one look at his glistening eyes, you take a sip of your wine, deciding that those past feelings should stay in the past.

~*~

{PART 2}

[etoileholland]

I’m not half the man I used to be

Pairing: Tom x female reader

Warnings: alcohol and drinking, a wee bit of angst with a fluffy ending 

Word count: 4.4k 

Summary: in the span of two years, you and Tom went from being inseparable, to him being someone you heavily detested. What happens when one drunken night rolls around and he wants to reconcile? 

A/N: this is a piece that I wrote for @spider-pxrkers​ writing challenge, which is the first ever one I’ve participated in! The flashbacks are in « » and the writing prompt I used, which is “say something, please, say anything” is bolded and italicised.

(gif not mine, all credit goes to its respective owner)

—

“Listen, I know I haven’t been the best, b-but I need you. More than ever.” He slurred into the phone, while you just sighed on the other end.

Tom was right in the middle of going through his very public heartbreak, which ultimately resulted in him frequenting a lot of pubs. He usually went alone, but the paparazzi photos proved that someone always had to come and rescue him. His usual saviour was Harrison, but tonight it would be you who would be called to save him.

He was right though, he hadn’t been the best to you. You two had a long history, and it was quite messy.

Two years had passed since you’ve spoken to him, and you knew he was only calling you because he needed the attention.

Two years prior to hating Tom, you were in love with him. You remember the fallout, all too well.

« You and Tom had spent the whole day together at his trailer, on his day off from filming. You were cuddled up watching a movie together, your chest touching his back, his arm around your waist. 

You two were more than friends, but when the public asked about the both of you, he always shrugged it off as a friendship. You both knew that he wasn’t exactly telling the truth, but it was for the best so that you could still keep some anonymity.  

As the both of you lay there perfectly content, he heard a knocking at his trailer door. He didn’t bother to get up, ignoring whoever was on the other side of the door. 

“It’s probably just Harrison, he’ll get the hint soon enough.” He remarked. 

The knocks on the door became a bit more frequent and urgent. You looked up at Tom, wondering if he was gonna do something. Before you could say anything, a voice from outside said, “Tommy, are you there?” 

It was a voice you had recognized instantly; it was of his costar, who was acting alongside him in the film.

“Baby, it’s cold out here, please let me in.” She said. 

“Baby?” You asked, watching his face contort into a frown. He ignored your comment, quickly untangling himself from you as he went to open the door. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. You sat there, confused, the shock written all over your face. 

Sure, she and Tom were friends, and you knew they were close, but he didn’t let you in on a pertinent piece of information--that they were actually dating. It was something that you had suspected, but he always seemed to reassure you that he was yours and yours only. Now, you realised that was untrue. 

As they pulled away from their long kiss, Tom turned around to look at you. He looked guilty, but she stood there with a slight smirk on her face. 

“Tommy, I’m guessing you didn’t break the news to her that we were dating.” She cooed, as she wrapped her arm around his. 

“I guess not.” He said in a hushed voice. 

“Right, well I gotta go.” You jumped up from the couch, as you scrambled to find your phone so you could bolt out of there. 

“Wait, I can explain.” Tom pleaded, but you stormed past the both of them and swiftly walked away from the trailer. 

“Hold on one second.” He told his girlfriend, leaving her alone in his trailer so he could follow after you. 

It was pitch black outside, and if it weren’t for your white sneakers he wouldn’t have been able to see you at all. He ran in an effort to catch up with you, the cold wind cutting right through him. It nipped at his cheeks, and he quickly regretted not grabbing a jacket before heading out. 

“Will you please let me explain?” He asked, trailing you. You sped up and nearly began to sprint when you felt a tug on your wrist. The jolt stopped you in your tracks, leaving you no choice but to confront Tom. 

“What is there to explain, huh? The fact that you’ve been leading me on and then decide to date someone else behind my back? I mean c’mon, that hurts.” 

He stood there, silent, unsure of what to say. You were right though, once it was said out loud, it did seem pretty hurtful. 

“Well what was I supposed to do? All this time I’ve been trying to protect your identity, which is what you wanted after all. I like her, and I can actually go public with her and it won’t matter.”

“Bastard.” You said through clenched teeth. 

“That wasn’t the way I meant to word it.” He exhaled, watching the way his cold breath swirled around the night air. “That was uncalled for. I should’ve told you that I was dating her, but I didn’t know how to bring it up.” He admitted, as he looked over at you. You let out a sigh, the air behind exhaled from your lungs visible against the night sky. You didn’t say anything, and he knew you well enough to know that meant you wanted an explanation after all. 

“I should’ve told you that I was with her, but I didn’t want to ruin what I have with you. I love being around you; you make me so happy, but I just didn’t want to put you through the tribulations of dating me.” He paused for a second to look you in the eyes, but you averted his gaze. He took another cold breath in and continued. 

“I know my life isn’t easy and I don’t want you to have to deal with that. You don’t need the paps following you at all times, and you definitely don’t need fans stalking you and your social media. I guess I was trying to do you a favour but now it doesn’t seem like much of one.”

“Yeah it definitely wasn’t much of a favour.” You choked out, as you wiped away a warm tear from your cheek. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just that she understands my life, you know? We run in the same circles, so she’s used to the chaos and whatnot. I don’t want to put you through that misery as well. For you, it’s a choice to not have your privacy invaded, whereas for me it’s part of the job. I was just trying to protect you, sorry.” He took a step closer to you, cupping your cheeks with his hands. 

“I love you, so much. So much in fact that I don’t want to ruin your life.” He let go of your face, and stuffed his frostbitten hands in his pockets. 

“And that’s why I have to leave.” He turned on his heel, a slump in his step as he walked away from you. He didn’t turn back as he walked back towards his trailer, head hung low. 

You watched him walk away, unsure of how to react. You stood outside long enough to watch him open his trailer door and slam it shut, wincing as it closed. 

You turned around, walking off the lot and back to your car. You huffed as you noticed the frost coating the windscreen, shivering as you struggled to open your car door. Sticking the key into the ignition, you waited for the engine to warm up so that you could leave and never come back. A few minutes later, you drove home, hoping to never see Tom again. 

But a few weeks later, you had seen it all over the news. 

“Stay calm everyone- Tom Holland is in a relationship.” TMZ buzzed.

“Okay I know a lot of girls are going to be sad but Tom Holland is in a relationship with his costar.” Entertainment Tonight boasted.

You couldn’t stand it. When you went to the market, his face was plastered everywhere on the magazine covers. The covers varied from “Tom’s new girl?” “Alert! Tom Holland’s no longer single?”, and “Who is this mystery girl that has stolen T. Holland’s heart?”

It was sickening. You hadn’t heard from him since, which left you no choice but to move on. It was difficult when he was everywhere though, from the TV to the movies to the magazines. Even though he was out of your life, he was still lurking around.

But now, time healed that wound, and seeing his face plastered everywhere didn’t evoke any emotions from you. Two years had since passed since that incident, and you had taken the opportunity to better yourself. You finished your degree, learned a few languages and took better care of your health. You were new and improved.

Not long after you had finally gotten over him, it came out in the news that Tom had proposed to her, but apparently she turned him down. Ouch. She mentioned it in an interview with Extra, and it didn’t come as a shock as she announced she was no longer with Tom, and had quickly moved on to an Italian male model.

You had felt really bad for Tom. Sure, you two weren’t together, and he hadn’t contacted you in years, but you still loved him, and cared about him.

You had watched his descent from grace, as he was spotted at more and more pubs, having attended less and less charity events.

“Tom Holland drinks away his sorrows over his painful breakup” was splattered all over the news outlets. His reputation was currently not great, as the photos showed Harrison helping Tom stumble out of the bars and into an Uber.

So it wasn’t really shocking that he had called you. »

You snapped back out of your thoughts as you heard him beg and begin to sob. You really did feel bad for him, except you didn’t really know what to do. You wanted to help him, but he did leave you so long ago, you were torn to say the least.

“P-please, I p-promise that I’ll b-be better, I just need you.” He whispered the last part, and your heart sank.

You let out a long exhale, taking a second to think about your decision. “Okay, where are you at?” You asked, and he let out a sniffle.

“I-I don’t know, I just walked around looking for a bar and I f-found this one.”

“I’ll need you to be a bit more specific, can you ask the bartender where you are?”

“H-hold on.” He held the phone away from his ear, and you heard a faint discussion in the distance. 

“Darling, I’m at t-the Dragon Lounge, in midtown.” He said, and you wrote it down so you could put it into maps.

“Okay, stay there Tommy, don’t leave.” 

“I miss you calling me ‘Tommy’, and I miss you.” He slurred, but you acted like you didn’t hear that part.

“Right, okay. See you soon.” You quickly hung up the phone as you went to go rescue him.

The Dragon Lounge was a twenty minute drive from your apartment, but since it was so late it only took about fifteen. You found a parking spot right out front, locking your car and walking through the large glass doors. It was nearly vacant inside, so it wasn't hard to find Tom, slumped over the bar with his head resting on his hands.

You walked over and tapped him on the shoulder, and he lifted his head slightly.

“Darling, I’m sorry and I miss you.” He pleaded, but you were taken aback by how terrible he looked. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes were wrinkled, his hair was a mess, and he hadn’t shaved in maybe a few days, or maybe even a week. To put it lightly, he looked disheveled.

“Oh thank god you finally came, this guy is a mess.” The bartender said in a heavy Irish accent. “He tried to out drink the other Irish gentleman over there, poor boy’s sloshed. He only had two pints of stout but he was already down for the count.” He remarked, while cleaning the cups that Tom just drank out of.

“Well, thank you for watching over him, I guess.” You responded, grabbing Tom’s waist and helping him get up. It was all dead weight, and he wasn’t helping by trying to kiss your cheek every second he had.

“Alright well be safe you two, I don’t want to see him back for a while, he’s been frequenting the joint for the past week.”

“For the past week? He said he just found this place.” You questioned while the bartender shook his head.

“Oh no, he’s definitely been here every night since last Thursday.” He looked over at you and noticed the deep frown on your face. 

“Like I said, the poor kid needs help. Maybe check him into rehab.” The Irishman retorted as he gave you a little wave.

Maybe he should go there, you thought. 

You pondered the idea as you helped Tom stumble out of the back door of the lounge. You found your car and helped Tom get inside, and you even made sure to buckle him in, as if he was a little child.

The drive home was silent, and Tom had fallen asleep. His head rested on the window and he was snoring slightly. Any other time this would have been adorable, and would have made your heart swell. Now, you detested him.

You pulled up to your house and helped Tom get out of the car. You thought about leaving him in the car, but it’s the middle of winter and he would freeze to death. With his arm around your shoulders, you helped lead him to the front door, unlocking it as you were met with the warm air from the heater.

Tom let go of you as he stumbled to the couch and plopped down, nearly hitting his head on the armrest. You covered him in the throw blanket that was draped over the couch, and you made sure he was laying on his side so he wouldn’t choke. He tried to sit up, but failed as he plopped back down into the couch.

It really did pain you to see him this miserable and haggard. The light in his eyes was gone which was replaced by a dull, red look. His face was slightly swollen from constantly being drunk and his mouth was in a perpetual frown.

“I’ll be right back Tom, okay? You stay here while I get you some water.” You tried to move away from the couch but Tom had grabbed onto your hand.

“Please don’t go.” He whispered, barely audible.

“I’m just going to go to the kitchen, I’ll be back in a second.” You said as he nodded, letting go of your hand as you made your way to the kitchen. You filled up a glass of water and made him a cup of instant coffee, so that his hangover won’t be as excruciating.

You walked back over to Tom, who was holding his head as he sobbed. You saw that he was holding onto a picture frame that you had on your coffee table. You recognised it as an old photo of you two from when you went on a vacation to Paris together. It was a surprise birthday trip that Tom planned, and he had just taken you to see the Eiffel Tower. 

You smiled as you remembered how lovely that day was, but it was quickly replaced with a bittersweet feeling when you realised that the boy you loved then, in the photo, is different than the boy sitting in front of you.

You shook your head slightly to get the memory out of your head, as you set the cups down onto the coffee table. Tom looked up at you with teary eyes, and sniffled before muttering a little “thank you”.

“You’re welcome. Drink the coffee and the water and go to sleep. I’m going to bed now, so goodnight.” You said, making your way to the bedroom. You had babied him enough and it was nearly 1:30am, so you didn’t want to wait up to make sure he was asleep.

About thirty minutes had passed, but you couldn’t sleep. You were worried about Tom, and the worry was keeping you up. A few minutes later, you heard him rinsing out the cups in the kitchen, setting them on the counter before shuffling back to the living room. You wanted to check in on him, but decided that he’s probably okay.

It wasn't long before you heard footsteps approaching your bedroom, and you looked up to see Tom standing in the doorway. The coffee seemed to have sobered him up, as he was standing without swaying.

“Do you think we can talk? I can’t sleep.” He asked quietly, as if not to disturb you.

“I think tomorrow, erm, later today would be better, Tom. It’s 2am.” You said as you covered yourself up in your blankets, trying to hint to him that you don’t want to talk.

“Please? Just for a bit?” He pleaded, “It’ll be really short, I promise.”

“Okay fine, come here then.” You motioned for him to sit down next to you, and he did. “You have five minutes, so use them wisely.”

He took a deep breath before speaking. He looked over at you and hesitated, while you just stared at him with furrowed brows. He knew you didn’t love him anymore; it was evident in the way you treated him, and the way you looked at him with disdain in your eyes. He knew he blew it, but he was hoping he could fix things. He was determined to.

“God, well, where do I even begin? I’m sorry for being a jerk, and I’m sorry for choosing her over you. I made the wrong decision that night, and there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t regret it. I’m still madly in love with you, and I always will be. She didn’t make me happy, not a bit. You did, and still do. I know that you’ll probably never forgive me, and maybe I deserve that, but I just wanted you to know that I still care.” 

He glanced over at you, pausing before continuing. 

“Do you know why she broke up with me? She knew I was still in love with you, and that it wasn’t fair to her to have my heart taken by someone else. That, and I also moaned your name multiple times during sex on many different occasions.” He grimaced, and you broke out into an awkward laughter. 

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, ‘yikes’ indeed.” He laughed. “Anyway she left me, and it was the best decision for the both of us. But the reason I started to go to bars and drinking until I passed out was because I was trying to drown out the thoughts of you. It didn’t work obviously, I could never forget you. I wish I knew what to say other than sorry, but I’m sorry.” He looked down at his clasped hands in his lap, and added, “I would say more but I think my five minutes are up.” 

You sat there, unable to formulate a cohesive thought. All of the words that you were dying to hear have been said, but you didn’t know how to feel. It seemed genuine and sincere, but what if he doesn’t actually mean it? He’s still drunk after all, and he knows that you’re someone who easily forgives, so what if he’s taking advantage of you? 

“Say something, please, say anything.” He pleaded, but you sat there silent. After a minute of silence, you said, “I think you should leave.” 

He got up from the edge of the bed, sighing before walking to the doorway.

“Right, well, um goodnight, and thank you for everything. I don’t deserve you.” He paused again, wanting to give you a minute to process what he just said.

“Oh, je ne veux pas vivre sans toi. I still remember us saying that all the time, and it still holds true. I do not want to live without you.” Tom gave you a small smile before proceeding to go back into the living room.

You sat there speechless, unsure of what to say or do. That phrase replayed repeatedly in your mind as you tried to go to sleep, but you tried to block it out. It worked for a bit, and you managed to get a few hours of sleep, but then you awoke in a panicked state. 

Your mind replayed the memory in your mind, and it was torturing you. He knew how important that phrase was to you both, and it seemed like lifetimes ago when you had last heard that phrase, which was when he took you on holiday for your birthday to Paris. 

« Over two years ago, Tom had surprised you to a trip to Paris for your birthday, a destination that he knew you were dying to see. The night of your birthday, he took you to the top of the illuminated Eiffel Tower. The view of Paris at night was breathtaking, and as you stood there with the love of your life, you knew there was nothing more you’d ever want.

“I have something for you.” He said eagerly as he held onto you from behind. He let go to pull a nicely wrapped box out of his coat pocket, and handed it to you. 

“Tom,” you gasped, “you shouldn’t have. I thought the trip was my gift.” You said, but he nodded his head no. 

“Nope, but now please open it.” He insisted and you did as you were told. You unwrapped the box and saw that it was from Cartier. 

“Tom this is too expensive, I can’t accept it.” You tried to give the box back to him but he pushed it back to you.

“You haven’t even opened it yet, you don’t even know what’s inside!” He exclaimed as you rolled your eyes.

You opened the box and saw two thin gold cuff bracelets. After picking one up and admiring it for a second, you saw that there was an inscription on it inside. It read “je ne veux pas vivre sans toi.” You felt your eyes prick with tears, and Tom smiled as he wiped a tear away. 

“Well, what does it translate to darling?” He asked as he held onto your waist. 

“I don’t want to live without you.” You whispered back to him, smiling as he pulled you close to him. 

“I still don’t understand though, why are there two of them?” You asked against his chest, and he pulled away. Tom reached into the box and grabbed one, grinning as he put it on his wrist. 

“It’s for me to wear, so that we both know that we can’t live without each other.” He was crying too, and you wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him, never wanting this night to end. »

You looked over at your phone on the nightstand near your bed to see what time it was, but you noticed a bracelet and a note that wasn’t there earlier. You picked up the bracelet and noticed that it was the Cartier cuff bracelet, but yours was buried in your junk drawer. Realizing that it was his, you saw a handwritten note underneath it, which read: 

“I meant it when I said that in Paris, I love you and I don’t want to live without you.”

-Tom xx

You let out a sob as you clutched his bracelet, realising that he really did care about you, even after all this time. 

You jumped out of bed and walked into the living room. Tom was snuggled up in a blanket, and his arm was hanging over the edge of the couch. His curls were in his face, and he looked peaceful. It was a stark difference from when you saw him earlier at the bar, but now he looks more like the old Tom, the one you had fallen in love with so long ago.

Carefully, in hopes of not waking him up, you put the bracelet on his arm that was hanging over the couch, but he began to stir a bit.

“Hmm, love? Is that you or Tessa?” He asked as you let a small laugh.

“It’s me.” You smiled as Tom sat up to look at you.

He grinned from ear to ear as he realised that you really were standing in front of him. 

You sat down next to him on the couch, staring at the ground. 

“Look,” you hesitated, “I appreciate the sentiment and all, but I’m still not sure if I can forgive you so easily. I mean, I’ve been hoping and praying that you would come back into my life and say all of these things I’ve been dying to hear you say, but now, it just doesn’t feel right. Especially since we haven’t spoken since, and I never did receive an apology from you or anything, until now. Why did you wait so long anyway?” You asked, watching as he thought of his response. 

“I was a coward, that’s why. I didn’t think you’d ever want me back in your life anyways. When I asked people about how you were doing, they said you were thriving, and I didn’t want to interfere with that.”

“Wait, you asked about me?” You inquired, cutting him off. 

“Of course, quite often actually.” He admitted. He half smiled and you half smiled back at him. “I didn’t deserve someone as amazing as you then, but I promise I’m going to change. For you, of course, I want to be a better man for you and you alone. I promise that on my life.” He smiled as a tear formed in his eyes. “I just want to regain your trust.” 

Your eyes scanned his face, seeing if there was any indication of him lying, but you knew the words were genuine. 

“Okay.” You said.

“Okay?” He questioned, a tinge of happiness laced in his voice. 

“I’m willing to give you another chance, but we obviously have a lot to work on. However, I’m willing to allow you to regain my trust and try to make this work.” 

He grinned, watching as you smiled softly back at him. “Love, I want to be better for you. I promise, whole heartedly. I promise I’ll protect you and never leave you, and I also promise that I won���t break your heart again.” He vowed, the corners of his eyes welling up with tears. 

You grabbed his hand, him grabbing it back while he gently rubbed the top of your hand with his thumb. 

“You better not.” You tearily laughed, watching his face break out into a smile. 

“I won’t, I promise.”

And he kept his promise. It took some time to regain his trust, but he had shown that he could be faithful. Your relationship was smooth and happy since that night, and you had learned to accept his hectic life, fame and all. He was always besides you, checking and making sure that you were always alright.

Exactly two years later, down to the very date that you two reconciled, you and Tom got married right at the top of the Eiffel Tower, exactly where he had first told you that he couldn’t live without you. Now, he never would have to. 

mes petits anges (taglist): @scarletxwidow @sunflowerhollands @fangirlwithasweettooth @taciturnspidey @musicalkeys @harrysleftchelseaboot @quaksonhehe @halfblood-princess-505

[theslashmix]

I didn’t merely see

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31545329

Written for the LLSS prompt  “ Harry Welsh isn't as oblivious as everybody thinks he is. (ft. Winnix and/or Speirton not being that subtle after all)"

beta-read by @thrillingdetectivetales

will publish a translation/ rework of it in Italian

For some reason, people seemed to forget that Harry was an observant man. He was an officer, and in his modest opinion, a decent one. This meant that he must have a good eye for detail and an even better brain to put things together in a coherent manner: it thus surprised him a bit that people seemed to stop at his jovial façade, somehow separating it from the competence that he had shown on the battlefield. It was almost as if there were two of him- good ol’ Harry, always down for drinks and shenanigans, and First Lieutenant Harry Welsh.

He had known that Winters and Nixon were a thing since Toccoa, and had guessed that they had been for a while before that- since OCS, probably. The signs were all there, almost painfully too easy to spot for someone who truly watched, instead of just seeing: the little touches that lingered just a second too long; the brief stretches of time when no one seemed to know where they were; the constant invasion of each other’s personal space that wasn’t an invasion at all, because at some point it had gotten from being my personal space, to you’re welcome in it, and it was slowly morphing into our personal space under Harry’s very eyes.

He had wondered why on Earth Sobel hadn’t picked up on it, what with him hating Winters’ guts and desperately trying to find even the smallest fault in the man. After some more careful observation, Harry had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t so surprising after all, because Sobel, consciously or not, didn’t want to see it. It was glaringly obvious that Sobel was very good at lying to himself, and him hating Winters was a big, fat lie. He was not good enough at lying to himself that he would try to destroy Winters with that particular tactic, though.

 When Sobel was removed from Easy, Harry drew a big sigh of relief.

It had made him uneasy, back then. It was hard to reconcile the stereotype of fairies he had in his head with the reality of how the two officers were. They should have been effeminate, weak, hysterical: they weren’t. Winters was everything that the high brass could want in an officer and a soldier, and Nixon, despite his flaws, was a good man, and a good intelligence officer. Harry wondered for long hours whether he ought to report them: a lifetime of conditioning was hard to shake. In the end he didn’t: D-Day arrived too quickly, and he had other things to think about rather than trying to convince a court martial that Dick Winters and Lewis Nixon were a homosexual couple. Especially since he had nothing more substantial than a lame “well, they are often together” and his own impressions.

After Normandy, Harry actively decided that he would do nothing about it, even if he didn’t approve. After Normandy, the boys would follow the two officers just about anywhere, and Harry couldn’t in good conscience take them from Easy, because that would mean that more of the boys would die in the incompetent hands of Norman Dyke.

 After Bastogne and Foy, after Nixon had decided to stay in that freezing hellhole with them (and with Winters) instead of taking the much sought-after furlough stateside, Harry decided that he would actively cover for them, if that was what it would take to keep Dick and Nix with them. He decided that it was completely wrong that the world had decreed that the two of them shouldn’t stay together, because after the long scrutiny Harry had imposed on them, there was only one conclusion possible: the two fit so well together that God must have made them to be together. Their relationship evolved to its full potential in a way that shouldn’t have been possible, if what was between them was just sinful lust.

 Now it had fully become our personal space, and the two could hold an entire conversation in just a single, prolonged stare, like an old married couple. Even the boys seemed to be always talking about them as a package deal. “Winters and Nixon said that…”, “Yesterday Winters and Nixon…”, “Do you think that Winters and Nixon will…?”, “Where are Winters and Nixon?”

 There could be no doubt whatsoever that Nix belonged with Dick and Dick belonged with Nix, the same way that Harry himself belonged with his beloved Kitty.

He noticed the signs of the very same thing going on between Speirs and Lip in Haguenau. It was nowhere near as long standing as Dick and Nix’s relationship. If he had to pinpoint its starting moment, Harry would have guessed around Bastogne, at the earliest. Probably when Speirs had stopped going to Dyke for updates on Easy and had started to go directly to Lip. There was still a tentativeness around them, the sweet, hesitating exultance of discovering each other, the pressing need to be together and close as much as possible.

It was in the way Lip perked up as soon as he heard Speirs’ steps, and in the way Speirs’ eyes kept turning in the direction of the house where a sick Carwood Lipton was billeted with a worried frown, as if the lieutenant was magnetic north and the captain was the hand of a compass. It was in the way Lip murmured Speirs’ Christian name when they thought that nobody was there to hear them, and in the way Speirs had claimed the right to take care of Lip as if it was his God-given privilege, and woe betide whoever dared to interfere. 

He hadn’t known the true depth of it though, not until one evening in Haguenau when he had decided to go and visit Lip in his billet. The lieutenant had healed from pneumonia in a way that Roe had defined “miraculous”, but was still quite weak and needed rest. Harry hoped that a Hershey bar would lift his spirits a bit, and distract him from his desperate need to mother everything and anything that breathed. They should probably have him infiltrate the German troops, he’d have them tucked up in bed by 2100 sharp, and no sneaking out to invade Poland, is that clear Adolf?

Harry walked softly, making no noise in case Lip was asleep. As he got close to the flimsy door, he realised that Lip wasn’t asleep, and was in fact talking with none other than Speirs.

“- if you die, what good would you be to the boys?” Speirs was saying, with an exasperated tone that indicated that they had had this discussion a few times already.

“There’s no other second lieutenant, Ron. If I don’t take care of my duties, nobody else will, and the boys will go without supplies.”

“Car- you seriously think so little of the other officers that we’d let Easy starve?” There was an obvious subtext there- do you think so little of me?

“No!” Lip’s exclamation was scandalized and filled with frustration. “No, I don’t. But you all have so much to do already. You shouldn’t be doing my job on top of yours.”

“You’re talking as if you were purposefully slacking, Car. You aren’t. You are sick, you didn’t want this, and nobody thinks any less of you because of it.” Speirs’ tone was getting increasingly frustrated.

“But I can’t-”

 “No, I can’t, Car!” Speirs’ voice rose a little before the captain brought it back down. “I can’t stand the thought of you grinding yourself to the nub. I’m scared, Car, for the first time I’m truly scared in this goddamn war because I’ve got something to lose,” he said, and Harry was surprised to hear him admit such a thing. Hearing Captain Ronald “Killer” Speirs so vulnerable, admitting to his fear so openly with a voice raw with emotion, was something Harry had never even dreamed could happen, not in a million years. It must have cost him a lot to admit it.

“It’s hard enough that I have to send you into action knowing that you could die, but I can accept that because it’s out of our control. I can’t accept the thought of losing you to a pneumonia relapse, not when it can be avoided by you simply resting a bit!” Harry had never heard Speirs talk so passionately.

There was a rustle of cloth, and a muffled sob- they had probably embraced, seeking the comfort of touch and closeness in the very real solidity of each other’s body.

“Please, Car. Please. Do your best to live- I just can’t bear it,” murmured Speirs.

There could be no doubt left that the love between them was the real deal and not something wrong or twisted, not after hearing the pain in Speirs’ voice at the thought of losing his lover. It couldn’t be wrong, not when it could give back humanity to a man like Ronald Speirs, giving him something not only to die for, but to live for, which was much, much more important.    

 “Oh, Ron…” said Lip in a voice that was heartbreakingly tender, and Harry decided that it was time to go. He suddenly felt ashamed, as dirty as if he had spied on them having sex- no, not having sex, he amended. They would make love. He shouldn’t have eavesdropped. It had been a moment of deep intimacy between the two men, not only of the body but of the soul, and he couldn’t bear to spy on something so pure for a moment longer. Even though he had to admit that he was glad to know that there was something that had remained pure and unsullied despite the war.

It was a week later or so, when he heard Luz talking about how quickly Lip had bounced back from pneumonia.

“Couldn’t bear the thought of us boys being without their Mama Lip, especially now that he’s got Papa Speirs to take care of him,” he said wisely, and his audience nodded solemnly, unanimously agreeing that Lip and Speirs were a package deal as much as Dick and Nix were.

He knew then, with certainty, that Speirs and Lip belonged to each other the same way Nixon and Winters did.

Of all the things he had expected to change during the war, his perspective on homosexuality hadn’t been one, but he solidly counted it among the few, positive things to come out of that particular bloodbath. When Dick announced at the end of the war that he had decided to accept the job offer at Nixon Nitration, and Speirs that he would go to West Virginia “to see what opportunities I can find there,” Harry felt happy for them.

They belonged together, and they would stay together. Maybe there was some justice, in this world.

[the-cult-of-russo]

Push and Pull (Part 8)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, Canon description of violence, murder and blood.

-----------

Daphne liked to think she was a pretty good PI. The investigation part of it she seemed to be great at. She'd gotten herself a reputation for it. But her people skills still needed some work, Foggy hadn't been wrong about that one. And it was times like this where she doubted herself with her job and wondered how she even got hired in the first place. She was running around her apartment, shimmying into her jeans and tugging a grey long sleeve tee over her head. She'd woken up at 10am to see 5 missed calls from Mr Lee. The client she forgot even existed the past few days. After snooping in his son’s house and coming to the conclusion something was off, other than him fucking his own father’s wife, she forgot to move the meeting up to warn him. With everything Matt and Italian related and then Foggy turning up trying to be friends, she'd forgotten about the old man. 

Their original meeting had been the day before and obviously she hadn't turned up. Now she was stuffing all her picture evidence in her backpack before flying out her door. She felt bad that she'd kept him waiting, especially when she had a bad feeling about his son. She was even considering waving the fee of her investigation for being such a shitty person and forgetting about him. Her hair was shoved up into a messy bun perched high on her head and she didn't have time to dwell on it as she flagged down a cab. Before long she was being dropped off outside a fancy looking house. She made him pull over a few houses down, always being a little precautious and protecting her clients confidentiality. 

"Could you wait for me?" She asked, grabbing the bills from her jeans pocket and passing it to him. With a grunt and nod as a reply, she got out and walked to the house owned by Mr Lee. 

It was a large modern looking house and looked far more expensive than anything she'd ever hope to own. But when she got to the front door she noticed it was open slightly and she got an ice cold feeling of dread slip down her spine.

"Mr Lee?" She called out hesitantly. There was no answer but something in her gut was firing alarm bells off left and right in her brain. With a shaky breath she pushed open the door with a creak. It was quiet, eerily so, as she stepped into a grand looking foyer. She glanced to her left, an archway that led to what looked to be some kind of office and library. She made her way over calling his name again with no answer. As soon as she stepped foot inside the office, her blood ran cold. There crumpled in a heap on the floor was Mr Lee. Very dead and very much covered in a ridiculous amount of blood.

She'd been in a lot of situations but she hadn't ever seen a dead body before. The amount of blood made bile rise in her throat and panic seized her limbs. She knew something was off about this and she could have warned him. He was dead because of her and the guilt hit her like a tonne of bricks. A sudden creak of the floorboards behind her had her whipping around, coming face to face with Mr Lee's son, Keiran. He was covered in his father's blood, looking rumpled and crazed with a sinister grin. A glint drew her eyes to his right hand to see the knife he'd used on his own father glaring back at her. He took a step towards her and she took one back. She didn't know if she'd be able to get out of this one and her heart was beating so fast she was surprised it didn't implode.

"What do we have here? The PI, I presume? How unfortunate that you came," his voice was smooth, no faltering or anything betraying what he had done. That scared her more than anything.

"What do you want?" She bit out, edging to the side a little. Maybe if she could buy some time she'd be able to make a dash for it. 

"Well you see, we have a problem. I know you've been snooping around. Daddy dearest told me before… well, you know," he smirked cruelly at her. Her eyes flit to the lifeless body on the floor and her throat tightened. Mr Lee was a good man. He didn't deserve this. She should have warned him.

"If I let you go, you have a lot of evidence that puts me in a bad situation. So you can see what my issue is here, right? I mean, I can't let you go," he laughed and it was the sound of a crazy person. She knew there would be no reasoning with him. 

He moved quicker than she expected and she ducked, dodging him. But then his large hand grabbed a fistful of the back of her shirt and threw her into the wall. She cried out in pain and suddenly he was standing right in front of her, his knife pointing at her. He still wore the creepy smile painted on his lips and she tried to appear confident despite her trembling hands.

"Where's your phone?" He demanded. She clenched her jaw, eyes glancing between his maniac face and the large knife pointed at her. She hated how it reminded her of what happened with the Russians and how much that had messed her up.

"My front left pocket," she replied reluctantly. She had no choice but to play along until she could try and figure a way out of this. She cringed as he stuffed his hand in her pocket, invading her personal space. He looked at it, then her, and with a smirk he dropped it into a glass of water on the desk with a plop. 

"You really should've minded your own business," he mused softly, still seemingly not perturbed by anything about the whole thing. He took a step back, twirling the knife carelessly as he did. Once his eyes went to look back to his kill, no doubt to admire it, she made a mad dash for the door. He was on her in seconds though. It was a flurry of movements as she tried to dodge his advances and it left slices on both her arms from trying to protect herself. They weren't deep and she tried to ignore them. She kicked his knee, and he went down but on his way he swiped wide and caught her stomach on the side. She cried out as the pain ripped through her. That one hurt like a bitch and would definitely need stitches. If she even got out of this. She lost track of the milder slices he got in as she tried to fight him off with graceless punches and kicks. She wasn't a trained fighter but she was ferocious when she needed to be. 

She managed to disarm him and the knife clattered to the floor. But it only seemed to make him angier as he tackled her to the floor. He was much heavier than her and his large hands wrapped around her delicate throat making her gasp for air. She bucked wildly trying to free herself but he just gripped harder. She wanted to tell him he was a monster for what he'd done. That she hoped he'd rot in hell. But no words came out with her desperate choking gasps as he strangled her. Her right hand darted to the side, desperately trying to find something, anything, to help her. Something cold and hard brushed against her fingertips and she tried to reach it. Her vision was spotting now and she wouldn't have much longer. The blood loss wasn't helping either. But she refused to die by this asshole's hands. 

She managed to grab what felt like a statue and hit him over the head with it. He fell off her, out cold. She scrambled to sit up, big heaving gasps of air filling her now burning lungs. Her bloodied fingers touched her throat gingerly and she winced. She stood on shaky feet, the mix of blood loss and being strangled had her disoriented and dizzy. She shot him a fleeting look and he was still breathing, just knocked out. She couldn't work out if she was disappointed or not. The shock set in then and she looked at Mr Lee. His end would have been brutal and this asshole no doubt dragged it out. It was all her fault. She could have stopped it. A stifled sob left her lips as she stumbled out of the house. Calling the cops didn't even pass her mind just then, she didn’t have a phone anymore anyway. She needed to get help before she died from blood loss. Then this struggle would have been for nothing. She made her way uneasily to the cab and got in.

"Holy shit, lady! You need to get to the hospital!" The cab driver exclaimed as he glanced at her. She was bleeding from the numerous cuts to her arms and bleeding profusely from the big gash on her lower belly.

"No hospitals. Just drive," she rasped with a broken voice. She didn't know where to go really but there was only one person in mind and he owed her anyway. It was still morning but it was Saturday so she just hoped that he wasn't busy. She rattled off Matt’s address before leaning heavily against the window as her breathing got more shallow. She only knew his address because she'd bothered Brett for it not long ago. He and Foggy knew where she lived, she felt like it was only fair. 

The cab driver refused to take any more money after dropping her off. He'd offered to help her inside but she waved him away. The stairs were hard to manage in the state she was in. Spots danced in her vision and she was losing more and more blood by the minute. She was in a state of shock completely now. Both physical and emotional shock. Her chest was heaving with broken sobs and not for her own injuries. She leaned heavily against the wall, no doubt leaving a trail of blood behind her but she was in no state to even consider that. She was lucky no one saw the state she was in as she made her way to the door she was after.

Before she had a chance to raise her weak hand to knock, it swung open anyway. If she was in her right mind she'd consider how weird it was to see Matt in sweats and a vest for once with nothing obscuring his face.

"Daphne? Jesus christ, what happened?" He sounded a mix of shock and panic but she didn't reply in words. Just the strangled sound of a sob she was trying to keep to herself. She swayed on her feet and he was quick to wrap an arm around her, leading her to his sofa. He carefully sat her down and disappeared from her vision for a moment. Everything sounded like it was underwater and she kept getting flashes of Mr Lee's dead body. She didn't realise her whole body was shaking.

The feel of two large hands on either side of her face made her jump, wide startled eyes glancing at the face in front of her.

"Just breathe, you're gonna be okay," Matt soothed. She blinked at him wondering why he sounded so far away. Why did she feel like her body was floating? She kept zoning in and out, only picking up on Matt muttering curse words and murmuring to her that she was safe.

"I need to take this off to help. Is that okay?" He asked softly like he was scared to spook her. She blinked at him dumbly before nodding. He was careful in removing her shirt and she could feel his unseeing eyes surveying the damage. He seemed to settle on the deep gash on her lower left side of her stomach. 

"I need to stitch this, lay down for me," he instructed with a sigh. She tried to lay down but winced. Her whole body was hurting in one way or another. She felt like a train had run her over. He eased her on her back and she stared at the ceiling as she went in and out of it. Everything was so fuzzy and her ears were ringing. She was already in so much pain that it didn't even faze her when he cleaned her wound and started on stitching it.

"Was it the Italians?" He bit out. She just about registered the angry tick in his jaw when she looked at him. Her eyes squeezed shut as she shook her head and inhaled a shaky breath. She felt her lower lip tremble when she thought of Mr Lee. Matt seemed to register she wasn't up for answering questions yet and he continued to fix her up and clean her wounds. When he was done, he helped her back into her sliced up shirt and sat her up. 

"Can… can I use your phone?" She rasped. Her voice was raw and she cleared her throat a little. He nodded tensely, passing over his cell phone. Her hands were trembling though and she felt a wave of hopelessness at not even managing a simple task. She actually found herself relieved when Matt’s large hand rested over hers before delicately taking the phone back.

"Who do you need to call?" He asked softly.

"Brett," she replied simply. She needed to tell him what happened and she hoped the asshole would still be there so they could arrest him.

She heard the beeping as Matt dialled and then held it to her ear. Brett picked up after a few rings.

"Murdock, everything alright?" He asked, no doubt since the call was coming from Matt’s phone.

"Brett, it's Daphne," she hated how bad her voice sounded from the abuse it took. The shock was wearing off and now she was left with guilt that weighed far too heavy on her and complete hopelessness. 

"Daphne, what's wrong?" He asked, concerned. It didn't take a genius to figure out something was wrong with how her voice sounded. She quickly rattled off the address to Mr Lee's house to him.

"He's a client of mine. His son was sleeping with his wife. I had a meeting with him today and… he's dead. His son killed him. I think for the insurance money. I have pictures of the evidence I found about the life insurance and cheating," she stated unemotionally. She was starting to shut down, to keep herself together by a thread. 

"And you're sure the son was the one that killed him?" Brett asked, unsure. Ever the cop.

"He attacked me when I turned up, so yeah I'm sure. You need to be careful. He's got a big knife and he's fucking insane," she bit out. She noticed Matt clenching and unclenching his other fist as she spoke.

"Oh shit. Are you at the hospital?" Brett asked. She heard him calling to some of the other cops, telling them to roll out. 

"No but I'm getting fixed up. I'll come by tomorrow and give a statement. Drop off what I have," she replied monotonously. 

"Alright. Your evidence might be what we need to nail this guy. We'll head out now and keep you updated," Brett said firmly.

"Okay. My phone's broke, should still be at the house. Asshole put it in a glass of water so I couldn't call the cops," she huffed.

"Alright, you with Murdock?" He asked, the sound of a car door shutting on his end of the phone. She couldn't really deny it since she was using his phone.

"Yeah," she said softly.

"Alright. I'll call him when I got news. Be safe, Daphne," with that he hung up and Matt moved the phone from her.

She felt a swirl of emotions surging inside of her after stuffing them down for the phone call. She could feel herself about to snap and she wished she was somewhere alone where she could cry and deal with this in private. She wasn't so lucky.

"Daphne…" Matt said softly. Her breathing hitched, lower lip wobbling a little as she glared at her boots that were splattered with blood.

"This is my fault," she whispered brokenly. 

"No, it's not," he insisted, scooting closer to her from where he was perched on the coffee table.

"Yes it is! You don't get it! I knew. I fucking knew something was wrong, Matt. I checked out this guy's apartment days ago and when I saw the life insurance stuff… I had a bad feeling and I was gonna warn Mr Lee. But I've been so wrapped up in so much bullshit lately that I forgot about him. I forgot he even existed! What kind of person does that?! If I warned him he'd still be alive right now!" she was boarding on hysterical the more she spoke.

 Her chest constricted making her feel like she couldn't breathe. When Matt’s large hands took her own she clung to them like they were the only thing keeping her from floating away.

"You said yourself, this guy's insane. Even if you warned Mr Lee, this guy would find a way. There's nothing you could have done. But what you can do is help put him behind bars. You've got evidence and he attacked you. Use this to get justice for Mr Lee," he murmured patiently. She tried to let his words calm her a little. She knew he was mostly right. Even if she told Mr Lee it was only a matter of time before it happened anyway. And she learnt from her interactions that Mr Lee loved his son despite knowing he was screwing his wife behind his back. She was sure he either wouldn't have believed her or chose to be in denial anyway. But it still hurt her. Knowing she hadn't done enough. 

She sniffled, still gripping his hands as she tried to calm herself down. When she glanced at his face, his unseeing eyes were on her face, a patient and sympathetic look on it.

"Trust me, I know about guilt. Any time someone I let get away hurts someone else, it kills me inside. But one day you have to realise you can't change the past. The what ifs only hurt you," he sighed. She wondered what it must be like for him. Experiencing this kind of guilt all the time. She didn't know how he coped. She took her hands back, wiping the tears that had stained her face.

"Sorry. I'm just… being dramatic," she snorted mirthlessly. 

"No, you're not. You've been through something traumatic, you have every right to feel the way you do. But I want you to know that it's not your fault," he implored. She nodded, inhaling a deep breath to help ground her. She really hadn't expected today to go the way it did. 

With the shock wearing off, the pain was really setting in followed by a large helping of exhaustion. 

"I should uh… probably head home," she yawned with a wince. He just quirked a brow at her from where he sat.

"You can stay here and rest. Just try and sleep most of it off and tomorrow you can talk to Brett," he left no room for argument and it reminded her very much of when he turned up to her apartment with a gunshot wound. 

"Guess we're even now," she smirked weakly. He chuckled with a shake of his head. 

"Let's not make it a habit," he grinned. He stood up and took the first aid kit with him. It wasn't even lunch time yet but she knew she should heed his advice. She'd been through a lot and she needed to rest to help heal. She lay back down carefully, hoping to just have a short nap for a while. As she started dozing off she felt a light blanket being delicately placed on top of her. Her pain started to fade into nothing as she slipped off to sleep.

[kiatheinsomniac]

When the Party’s Over: Ezio M! AU

Part I here

When (Y/n) woke up, she and Ezio were still cuddled up together but he was awake and scrolling through his phone. She wasn't quite aware of her surroundings yet in her sleep-clouded mind as she turned over onto her other side, letting out a few soft moans. What brought her to her senses were two things: the arm that tightened around her waist and the heat that warmed her back.

Her (e/c) eyes burst open and she laid still, looking down. She was still wearing Ezio's shirt (though it had ridden up past her hips) and his arms were wrapped around her waist — the one that went over her was the one that he held his phone with. He was scrolling through stories of his party.

Her heart began beating quickly again — she'd never been this close to anyone before, let alone someone she'd hardly ever spoken to. She felt his low hum vibrate through his chest as he dropped his phone to hold her closer to him, his face being buried in her sweetly smelling hair.

"Buongiorno, (Y/n)." He spoke with a husky and sleepy tone. Usually, after waking up with a girl, he'd be calling them pet names, kissing their neck or shoulders and running his hands over their hips and thighs, as per his friendly/touchy nature. But he didn't want to make his new guest uncomfortable — they'd slept in the same bed, not fucked. They hadn't known each other for very long and he thought it inappropriate to try something on her after seeing how he found her last night. She shyly turned her head to glance at him from the corners of her eyes.

"Morning." She mumbled as she continued to lay in his embrace.

"I'll chase everyone out in a minute then I can make you something to eat." He spoke as he slowly peeled his arms away from her waist to sit up and stretch. (Y/n) turned onto her back to watch how his muscles flexed with the movement; and damn did he have muscles.

"It's ok, really," She spoke politely as he stood up, "I'll start walking home and I'll grab a coffee and a pastry on the way there or something."

"No, no," He spoke as he grabbed a jumper from his closet, throwing it over his head, "I insist." Really, in his mind, this was his time to get to know her, to win her over if he wanted her. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

(Y/n) sat in his bed a while longer before deciding to stretch and get up. She checked her phone but all of the messages were from Anne, Mary and Aya asking if she had stayed at Ezio's with Kassandra. Looks like she did pass out after arm wrestling then.

The (h/c)-haired female placed her phone down before deciding to walk around Ezio's room a little. She was intrigued by all of the Polaroid photos that he had in a grid on the wall above his desk. The (e/c)-eyed young woman leaned over the desk to investigate. A lot of them were clearly taken in Italy — many of them with who she assumed were his little sister and his mother. A lot of others were at parties or on days out with large groups of friends.

(Y/n) left the desk to wander over to his bookshelf. Her face lit up at the main genres — historical non-fiction and Victorian literature. She plucked up his copy of Wuthering Heights in her fingers, having read the book herself and began flipping through the pages. She stopped where he had boxed a quote in pencil and written why he liked it in the margin. She beamed a smile because she did that with her books too. She began flipping through the page numbers to see if he had liked any of the ones that she had too.

When the Italian male returned, she was still flipping through the book and she looked up to meet his gaze before putting the novel back in its place shyly.

"Sorry," she apologised, feeling like she may have invaded his privacy, "it's just: I really like books like these too and it's nice to see someone else that annotates them — I love doing that." She smiled softly. She couldn't lie, looking over Ezio, she wouldn't take him for a reader.

"Really?" He flashed a grin. "We'll have to talk about our favourites later then." He sat down on the bed and beckoned her to sit with him. She sat on the edge and he placed what was in his hand beside him. A packet of makeup wipes. "Do you mind if I. . . ? I mean, it's smudged all over your face." (Y/n) smiled at his generous nature but scrunched up her nose a little.

"Ok but at your own risk." She giggled, "I look nowhere near as good without makeup."

"I'm sure that's not true." He spoke softly as he took her chin in his hand and she closed her eyes. He gently began wiping away her eye makeup, being soft as he cupped her jaw with his large hand. He moved on to getting all the highlight and crumbled mascara off her cheeks before gently swiping her highlight off her nose, making her giggle, leaving her skin free of any cosmetics.

Once he was done, she opened her eyes and tilted her head to the side. Ezio smiled at her as a warmth filled him. God, she looked so cute.

"Told you so." She joked as she got up again. She reached up to take the pins out of her hair, her back facing him. The olive-skinned male couldn't help but watch as her stretching her arms up caused the shirt to lift, giving him a nice view of her thighs and a tiny amount of her ass. But her body was hidden once more when she raked her fingers through her hair and tied her locks up into a ponytail, yesterday's curls beginning to loosen.

"You are just as beautiful without makeup on, though." Ezio complimented. (Y/n) turned over her shoulder to raise a brow at him as she pulled a few hairs out of the ponytail by her ears and temples.

"Sicuro." She hummed sarcastically. Ezio smiled at that.

"I mean it: you're naturally pretty without it and supernaturally pretty with it." That caused her to duck her head away to hide her smile in her palm as her cheeks flushed with heat. She wondered if he was aware of how charming he was. "Come on, let's get something to eat." He led her downstairs once she'd grabbed her phone.

"Wow." (Y/n) puffed out as she looked around the house, "This is a mess."

"My least favourite part of parties: the cleanup." He sighed as he led her to the kitchen and pulled out a chair at the counter for her. She uttered a small thank you before taking a seat. "I was thinking about having some toast, is there anything you want?" He questioned.

"I'll just have some fruit and yoghurt but it's ok, I'll make it myself." She spoke politely.

"No, no, I'll do it. You're a guest here after all." He waved her off. She blushed gently. The two of them sat there eating their breakfast and he had tried to take her bowl for her but she insisted on putting it in the dishwasher herself.

"Do you want a hand with cleaning up?" She offered. Usually, he would decline considering he was trying to win her over but there was a lot to cover and he would appreciate an extra pair of hands.

"If you wouldn't mind. . . ?" He spread his hands and smiled somewhat guiltily.

"Where do you keep the cleaning products?" She smiled as she bounced off the chair and onto her feet. He went over to the cupboard under the sink and opened it. Meanwhile, (Y/n) tapped shuffle on a playlist on her phone and reached under the sink for two rubbish bags. She handed one to him and the two of them began picking up bottles and plastic cups that were littered all over the house.

"So, how often do you throw parties like this?" She quizzed as she chucked cup after cup into the bag, weary to not touch the rims where mouths had been.

"As often as possible. Usually whenever my mother's gone. Claudia used to sit in her room while I threw parties but once a drunk couple jumped on her while she was in her bed so she stays in my room now and upstairs is usually off limits." He paused for a moment, "But if you ever want to show up to one of my parties again, you'll always be an exception to that rule." He winked at her. She rolled her eyes playfully.

"I doubt I'll be coming here again, really." She laughed lightly. Ezio's face dropped sadly.

"Why not?" He tried to stop himself from looking upset about this but failed to chase the sadness from his tone.

"What other reason would I have to come here? And you saw what parties do to me." She shrugged, "I wish that I could enjoy them like everyone else, I really do, but I just can't."

"Who said you had to come here just for the parties?" He proposed. She paused for a moment, standing upright and looking at him from across the room now that there were no more bottles, bottle caps or cups in sight.

"Are you inviting me around to stay another time?" She raised a brow. The Italian tossed his head around a bit, cracking a smile with the faintest of blushes on his cheeks.

"Perhaps. I mean, only if you wanted to." He never usually felt flustered but there was something about the excitement of getting to truly know her that got to him.

"Maybe I do." She spoke softly, turning away to hide her own blush that was a prominent red against her (s/t) cheeks. Ezio smiled triumphantly at this as she walked into the next room to pick up all the litter. He followed her, not being able to help but admire the sway of her hips as she moved in his shirt, nor could he seem to take his eyes away when she bent over to pick up a water bottle from the floor, the shirt riding up and only just covering her assets. He forced himself to look away from her (b/t) body and help her to tidy up. The music stopped playing from her phone as she got a call from Kassandra. She declined the call and put her phone on do not disturb.

Ezio raised his brow at this but (Y/n) merely shrugged her shoulders.

"I'll let them know where I am in a bit. Was Kassandra still here this morning?" The (e/c)-eyed student asked.

"Sì, I told her that you were upstairs but I'm not sure if she was listening." He spoke honestly.

"Sounds like Kass." (Y/n) giggled to herself.

Once the two of them were done and had swept and mopped up anything as well as having tidied the furniture, they sat down on the couch together.

"—Really though, if you like learning about the Borgia and Medici, you'll love to read Machiavelli's The Prince." He spoke. (Y/n) tilted her head back on the sofa as she looked at him.

"I'll have to borrow your copy then." She smiled as she leaned into him. Ezio wrapped an arm around her cautiously before realising she was melting into his embrace. The two of them laid there cuddling while watching movies for the rest of the day.

—————

They were interrupted when Ezio's family returned home. (Y/n) went to sit upright in order to avoid an awkward situation but Ezio gently eased her back into his side, silently assuring her that it would be alright. Ezio's younger sister walked around the sofa to get a better look at the unfamiliar young woman in her house who was cuddled into her big brother - nothing out of the ordinary - but Claudia wanted to meet the (e/c)-eyed female anyway.

"Who's this?" The olive-skinned sister raised a brow, smiling cheekily, shooting her brother a questioning glare as to what they had done after observing that (Y/n) was wearing one of his shirts and seemingly little else underneath.

"Claudia, this is (Y/n); (Y/n), this is my little sister Claudia." The Italian male introduced the two young women to one another.

"It's nice to meet you, Claudia." (Y/n) smiled politely, subtly reaching for Ezio's hand out of comfort of having to try to act so casually when, on the inside, she was panicking about leaving a terrible impression that she would never be able to shake off.

"Did he throw another party?" The chestnut-haired female crossed her arms, looking at her brother smugly. (Y/n) shyly smiled, lowering her voice before answering:

"He did, that's how I ended up staying. Oh, and don't worry, I was the only person who went into your room. But that's just because parties make me uncomfortable. Can I be forgiven for that?" She spoke lightly. The young Auditore laughed, waving it off with her hand.

"Of course." She smiled before glaring ever so slightly at the (h/c)-haired female who cuddled closer into her brother for comfort, finding a sense of security in his warmth and touch. "Providing you're not going to be like the other girlfriends he's had." She added with an edge of bitterness to her tone.

"Claudia. . ." Ezio spoke up warningly, not wanting his sister to make their guest worry.

"Oh, we're not. . .Uh. . . We don't. . ." (Y/n) stuttered at the miscommunication - she'd only really spoken to him that night! They knew of each other beforehand, yes, but they had never spoken before he found her in a state upstairs.

"Oh?" Claudia raised a brow and opened her mouth to speak but Ezio threw a pillow at her, keeping his other arm around (Y/n)'s waist.

"Vaffanculo, Claudia! I see what you're doing!" He exclaimed, making his younger sister giggle devilishly.

"Oh, Ezio may seem like a flirt but he's actually-" She tried to continue.

"Zitta!" He exclaimed before jumping up, ready to tackle her - as would be the natural reaction of any sibling.

"He's spoken about y-" She continued, shrieking as she jumped over the sofa to avoid her brother who was chasing her.

"Ezio! Leave your sister alone!" An older woman's voice snapped. Claudia looked smug as she halted and straightened her back. (Y/n) grabbed a blanket to cover her lap with due to the fact that she didn't fancy being so exposed in front of his mother - especially seeing as it was their first time meeting. "Oh, hello." She greeted.

"Hello." (Y/n) smiled and waved politely over to Ezio's mother. "I'm (Y/n), how are you?"

"I'm quite surprised, in all honesty." She turned to her son, "Ezio did you throw a party?"

"No, mother." He lied quickly.

"He didn't, he just offered to help me with my Italian class project and I ended up staying the night." She covered up for him. She didn't like lying to Maria but she didn't want to lose Ezio's favour either. Ezio smiled happily at her before returning to his place beside her. (Y/n) leaned towards him, "I'm going to get dressed and head back." She spoke quietly before making her way back to his room. Claudia dropped into an armchair.

"So," She began, "This is the famous '(Y/n)'." She smirked, "It's nice to see you actually spoke to her after how many weeks of crushing on  her and stalking her Instagram?"

"Shh!" Ezio hushed his sister in case the (h/c)-haired female upstairs heard her, "And it's not stalking!"

"Oh, sicuro; but, you need to get her to fall in love with you, Fratello." She winked, "Doubtless, I'll be hearing about her even more now."

"Don't do anything to make her uncomfortable, ok? She wasn't just crying when I found her last night, she was having an anxiety attack - I didn't know that about her. I let her stay the night and she seems comfortable around me. I don't want to ruin that." He explained. While the Auditore siblings were often teasing one another, they still confided in each other.

"Alright then. But whoa, there's something about her that you didn't know?" She mocked a shocked face, "Oh, and she was wearing your shirt, did you-"

"No!" Ezio exclaimed, "Wouldn't I be taking advantage of her if I did that after the way I found her?"

"Fair point." Claudia replied before standing up and clapping her brother on the shoulder, "Well, good luck with getting her." And with that (Y/n) returned to say her goodbyes and leave.

She already missed Ezio's warmth and he missed the feeling of holding her.

[disastrousjest]

Slight nsfw tw. Mobile post.

“You do know what today is, don’t you JoJo?” Came the question.

Joseph inclined his head thoughtfully while he contemplated over the question that was being presented to him. He had to count through the mental calendar in his head. Or at least that was the impression that he wanted to give. Moving a single digit up to tap his bottom lip while he feigned the action of pondering over the question. Did he know what day it was? Did he really? Of course, he did, that was the answer. How could he forget? May thirteenth was the same as it always had been, and it came with the utmost importance to him. Well, more so now that he had gotten to know Caesar than before. He wasn’t just about to forget the day of birth of the one person in the world that held his heart so dear. They had their differences, sure and they even bickered often, but that didn’t take away from the love in his heart anymore. Why would he allow himself to forget such an important date for that reason? He could just reassure Caesar and let him know that he hadn’t forgotten that he could never forget when he was born but that would take all the fun out of it. Joseph saw the perfect chance to tease Caesar and pull a prank on him. And while the other often didn’t think his jokes were funny, Joseph knew for a fact that it was one of the many quirky things about him that he loved most. The thought of messing with Caesar almost gave away his plan as a grin wanted to pull at the corners of his lips. Instead, he pressed them together faking a look of confusion and bewilderment. Well as far as Caesar knew, Joseph was clueless about what day it was. And if he had to guess, whenever he confirmed he had no idea, the other would likely get frustrated with him and refuse to tell him.

“Well… it’s Thursday, right?” He asked finally, teals returning to meet greens. He raised a brow as though he wasn’t sure why he was asking him what day it was.

Bingo. Just as he thought he might, Caesar was completely exasperated with that answer. He stared at Joseph with his mouth agape. The look in those greens was something between rage and hurt. He looked like he wanted to scold Joseph for not remembering, but his body language said that he would rather just turn and storm off instead. Shoulders had become tense and his hands curled into fists. Right, Caesar was prideful and above all else, he was stubborn. He loved this man and he knew him like the back of his hand. He was easy to read, even if he didn’t know it. Those loud emotions that shown on his features and in his body, sometimes in his voice. He wouldn’t be able to help himself but be frustrated with Joseph for being clueless, even if Joseph really had forgotten unintentionally. He could only imagine what his reaction would be when he came find out that all of this was just a rouse. A trick that Joseph had decided to play on him. That was the think about jokes though, sometimes they could be taken a little too far. And while he expected Caesar to become agitated and refuse to speak to him or else storm off, leaving Joseph plenty of time to plan for a surprise for him. He was not expecting the tears that welled at the brim of those green eyes. Ones that Caesar dashed away with the back of his hand as he turned on his heel. He wasn’t fast enough though, not for Joseph to catch a glimpse of silver as a single droplet had been caught by the back of Caesar’s hand just before he turned away. Well, he wasn’t expecting this to backfire so bad! He had to think of something quick before Caesar got the wrong idea.

“Wait! Wait! Caesar! I was just kidding!” Joseph said a little frantically, waving his hands in front of his face as thought it might catch his attention. “You really think I could forget that it was your birthday? Caesar, I wouldn’t forget that for anything! I-I didn’t mean to make you upset!”

He watched as his blond beauty froze in place, his back still turned towards him. After several moments seemed to last like an eternity, he finally turned his head enough to just glance over at him over his shoulder. Green eyes were glaring back at him, eyelids now red from the tears he had suppressed a moment ago. There was a fierceness in his gaze. Oh, now he looked like he was ready to punch him and Joseph wouldn’t put it passed him to do that. It wouldn’t be the first time that Caesar’s temper got the better of him, after all. This put Joseph a little on edge, leaving the brunette to take a half step back away from the blond. He still had his hands up as though he was surrendering himself. He knew that that even this gesture wouldn’t be enough to calm the storm that usually raged on within Caesar. If he was angry enough, he would come after Joseph. Honestly, he hadn’t meant anything by it. He had only been wanting to mess with Caesar a little bit and tease him. He didn’t intend for that to actually upset him. It was surprising to see that it had upset him so terribly to begin with. Had he been banking so much on Joseph remembering his birthday that when he feigned ignorance, it had upset his mood? Perhaps they had grown that close to each other’s hearts that it only made sense for them to know about their birthdays. Little too late, did he realize this might have been in bad taste. Then again, it wasn’t unlike Joseph to pull something like this. The question was now, how did he make up for this without having to face the wrath of Caesar’s rage for messing with him like this? He had to think fast because he was sure he didn’t have much time to figure it out. Not with that look that Caesar was giving him at the moment.

Slowly, the blond turned to face him. The rage still clear in those sharp eyes. Even with that temper boiling under the surface, he gave him a smile. Uh oh, he really was in trouble. “JoJo… you’re pretty clever,” Caesar began. He took a step towards him.

“Uh! Hold on now… C-Caesar. I said I was kidding…!” Joseph stammered, taking another step backwards.

“…Do you know what I want for my birthday?” Caesar continued. He gave a tilt of his head as he spoke.

“Uh…?” Joseph turned his gaze away from him. Shit, he had been backed into a wall. There was no where for him to run now. He could try to escape by bolting, but the Italian had moved in too close for him to find an opening without being caught.

To his surprise, he felt a hand on the side of his face, which brought teals back to the other. Joseph’s eyes widened in surprise, his lips parting to speak but before he could say anything they were captured in an aggressive, heated kiss. There was no escape from Caesar now and the moment his lips were taken, he melted into them. His lids fluttered shut while he pressed back into the kiss, still taken aback by how greedy Caesar was being. It was enough that he was stealing his breath away the longer the kiss was allowed to continue. The touch had his heart hammering in his chest as the taste of Caesar’s lips were left to linger on his own. It only grew more intense when the other had decided to press his body against his, causing friction between himself the wall behind him. Before he could protest against the rough surface of the wall painfully scratching along his skin, Caesar pushed his tongue forward to invade his mouth, teasing his own and stealing whatever words he might have tried to speak between their kisses. Now he really was going to melt or so that was what it felt like. He could feel his knees starting to shake and grow weak as a heat rose to his cheeks. All of this was so much. And Caesar was good at this. He always had been such a great kisser, which meant it had always been easy for him to bring Joseph to his knees. There was only one thing that could make this better and he wasn’t really sure if he was going to get anything like that after the stunt he had decided to play. He had no idea what he was planning or if he had decided he was just going to take him like this because Joseph had teased him. It wouldn’t be the first time that their arguing had ended in something so passionate and heated. The thought alone had his heart racing even faster, the heat rising in his cheeks.

A well-placed knee between his legs tore a cry of surprise from Joseph. His lips parting from the others with a gasp of air. Teals caught sight of the pleased expression on Ceasar’s face. The blond leaning forward now, until his lips touched his ear. “Voglio scoparti.” He whispered in Italian.

He had no idea what he said, but by the sound of it, he could only guess it was something vulgar. Something he wanted from him because of the way he pressed his body against his, tearing a whimper from the Joestar. He had a good guess as to what he wanted. Joseph was left to shiver under his touch before Caesar took a step away from him, abruptly letting him go. This had him looking to him, truly confused now. The confusion appearing on his features as he watched his face. He simply crossed his arms over his chest, watching him as though he was waiting on something. Joseph was a mess though, crumbling into the wall just about, his body aching all over to be touched. His face was hot, and he could hear his pulse in his ears. If Caesar had been trying to get him all bothered, it had worked because he could hardly compose himself. He hadn’t expected this little joke to backfire on him so terribly. Now all he could think about was Caesar and the things he wanted him to do. Maybe that was the point, for Joseph to end up being the one asking and begging for attention. After all he had upset Caesar with his teasing and now somehow this was how he was going to get his pay back. That wasn’t fair at all. Joseph hadn’t had the intention on hurting his feelings like this. He didn’t have to get him all hot and bothered, say something to him in Italian that he could only imagine was related to his own teasing and then just leave him like this. He had to catch his breath before he could say anything about it though. His words, his touch—it had all taken his breath away.

“C-Caesar… you know I really wasn’t trying to upset you. But this… You did all that on purpose!” He huffed.

“That’s right, stronzo! And if you want to grant me my birthday wish, I guess you better find a way to make it up to me.” He responded.

Well if that was what he wanted. Joseph would find a way to grant that birthday wish, even if he didn’t understand what it meant. It was, after all the one thing that Caesar had indicated he wanted for his birthday.

//Leaving the rest for your imaginations. ;D H A P P Y B I R T H D A Y to Caesar ! Joseph had to give him something and it appears he is the only one who can give it to him. ;3

//Sorry in advance for the bad Italian, Voglio scoparti –per google translates to “I want to fuck you.” You’re welcome~

//Because it's based on my Caesar @shabcn

[xhudgenssistersconfessions]

Hey guys! I’m the one who wrote about the Zanessa ff (about getting back together and having a son named Gregory David). I’m still writting it and it will be huge. I written in italian cause is my native language BUT I will post the ff on Wattpad and I will traslate it in english too (probably this Summer).  But here is one of my fav part that I written from chapther 12. Sorry for the grammar and the errors. I tried my best to traslate it. :) 

-Zac? -.

The girl narrowed her eyes to fight against the darkness of the room. In the twilight of the evening, at the front door, there was Zac: he seemed soaking wet and, for a moment, the girl wondered why. There was no sign of rain outside. Then he came closer and a strong smell of beer mixed with wisky invaded her nostrils.

-Zac, what you want? Are you drank?-.

Vanessa sighed. She didn’t want to be offensive to him, but she didn’t really understand why the hell he had come to her house at that time of night. And the fact that he was her friend aain now and he had been drinking worried her a lot.

-I didn’t drink- he mumbled - it’s all Dylan’s fault-..

The young man clapped his hand and the entrance lights came on revealing a Vanessa in a nightgown and a Zac wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. The boy’s clothes were wet with alcohol.

Vanessa blinked a couple of times like she was giving time to her brain to work out that vision: her ex mumbling meaningless sentences in the living room of her house.

-How … how did you get into my house? - she asked, blushing. She didn’t know why, but she felt uncomfortable wearing just a night robe.

-Your security code-

-My what? -

Zac grinned.

-Van, your gate has had the same security code for almost five years. Don’t you think it’s time to change it? -

-Have you really do… did it? What do you want Zac? - she repeated. How the hell did he remember his security code?

-I’m not drunk, if that’s what you think- he stated firmly, completely ignoring her previous question.

-You smell like alcohol- she wrinkled her nose, but her heart began to beating fast: she was worried actually. She didn’t want to see Zac again in those conditions. It made her feel bad.

-Dylan and I had a fight- Zac stared at the floor -and he spilled his drink on me. I got angry and he locked me out of my house, so I don’t know … I came here. Sorry I … I couldn’t go to Ash and Chris, they worry too much about me-.

Vanessa’s anger evaporated suddenly: Zac was intimidated by her. She ran into the bathroom and got a couple of clean towels.

-Come here … - she said to Zac, holding out a towel and passing it over his soaked hair.

Zac closed his eyes, getting lost in her touch. How far had it come? He didn’t want to mess up with Vanessa’s life, but he couldn’t help it. He felt he had to justify himself in some way, he felt he had to say anything that made him appear less messed up in the eyes of what he considered the perfect woman.

-I … -  he approached his and hands on hers - I’m not the same person as in the past and not even the one you’ve seen in these months . I’m trying to do my best Nessa. Things didn't go exactly as I wanted . My life is not all roses and flowers-.   

-Zac, you don’t have to prove anything to me-

-Yes but…-

-No … what … why did you fight with Dyl ? -

-Oh- Zac suddenly darkened -he claims that I have to stop wasting time and find a girl, as if it changed things. He knows I won’t find Miss Perfection in a blink of a eye!-. Zac raised with his finger Vanessa’s chin so she could look him in the face - I already met her , and I let her go. And now my life has changed so much that I don’t know how I could ever get her back -. 

Vanessa blinked and looked away from him. She could feel Zac’s electric gaze all over her body. She wasn’t surprised by his words.  But she couldn’t even understand exactly how they made her feel. Zac was obviously talking about her.  About her and him and how they’d changed over the years. Vanessa knew her ex was right. His life had changed… And hers changed too.

“ How do you know you already met the right person?” whispered Vanessa. 

Zac swallowed. 

-I just know it. It’s enough, ok ? -.

Vanessa looked again in his eyes. He was there, in front of her, completely drenched in alcohol blathering meaningless sentences. And  than she was here… her legs went soft and the girl’s heart began to beating fast.

The dark blue in the young man’s eyes had softened somewhat with a color he was most familiar with. Those eyes had drawn his gaze on more occasions than she could count, yet hse remembered each of them. 

-How? - she asked, big tears were forming unexpectedly in her deep dark eyes.

-Destiny- the boy shrugged - faith, God, the Universe. Call it what you want Van. I just know it. I know you were that kind of person and I … and I let you go like an idiot . In all these years there has not been a day when I have not regretted it . I had faith in us. I took it for granted. I lost you and I lost faith in almost everything else . You were the first love of my life and … after you I couldn’t love anyone else. I let you go and cursed myself for it. I know I was in love with you since I saw you at that premiere “Thunderbird”, by the way you treated the fans and your friends. And when I met you again for the audfition of High School Musical I told myself that I would never let you go . Because from the moment I told you the first I love you I knew that nothing would have been so bad in life, that nothing bad would be ever happened to me because I had you. And after that day at Ashley and Chris’ house. Van, after that day I think this is it. I think it is a sign of destiny again -.

He took a deep breath and take a step back away from her. 

Vanessa stared at him as petrified. She didn’t know what to say. She had heard every word, but it was as if her brain refused to accept it. Did Zac really make a declaration of love to her?

-I think … I think you have to go now-.

He moved away from her, squeezing the wet towel tightly .

-Van … Van I ’m so sorry … -.

Zac felt his mouth kneaded. He knew he had ruined everything with his speech. God! It was an idiot. he was a fool for thinking that Vanessa still felt something for him.

-No , you really should go now-.

-Listen … - Zac tried to touch her again, but the girl backed away.

-No you listen- the brunette’s tone of voice suddenly became serious -you can’t go to my house at this hour of the night. You are fucking drunk and you tell me these things. You can’t, it’s not fair. I have been your friend in these months, I made you confidences and your only thought was this? You used me and you used Austin-

“It wasn’t my intention to become his friend,” hissed Zac. Now he was getting nervous.

-I wasn’t the one who dragged you to Ashley’s house that day. I am not the one who called you for hanging out and having dinner wirth your so fucking perfect blonde boyfriend! I’m not the one who wanted to meet Stella again. You give me hope and now do you want to tell me that you haven’t felt anything in these months? -

-You are not my boyfriend anymore! i have Austin now and he makes me happy! Is absurd! It’s absurd! - Vanessa didn’t want to raise her voice, but she was doing it.

The brunette raised her arms in surrender and tried to march towards the door, but Zac stood before her.

-I’m not done … - he hissed through gritted teeth - don’t you remember? Was our five years of relationship a joke for you? Fuck, I was your first time! -

-Zac … no … -

-I was your first time, we grew up together, we bought a house together. We were happy! And for a very disgusting doubt of jealousy we have screwed up everything! -

-It was not a doubt! I have not accused you of anything! I was no longer happy, I felt suffocated! -

-Have you ever thought about how I felt? Have you ever thought about how bad I was at the idea of ​​losing you ?! No! Every time we were away from each other for a movie or theater production my heart literally broke up, but I had to do it! Maybe I was selfish, I thought about the career and not about us! But I was twenty-three! I was young and I was stupid and you practically condemned me and you refused to speak with me since that tall guy came on the scene!-

-You are the one who has practically ignored me for months! I sent you lot of texts and mails and you always refused to answer to me! -

-I didn’t want to see you with …-

-Well, it seems to me that you like my boyfriend a lot now -

Zac bit his tongue, but by now the words were coming out of his mouth like a flooding river. He had to let it out, he had to let it out because he’d been holding it all in for years. 

-I did it for you! Fuck, I only did it to be with you again! To have you back in my life! -.

He had finally said it. For months he had carried that secret inside his chest, for months it had weighed on him like a boulder. Now he had finally got rid of it.

Zac felt himself die at the sight of Vanessa: she was giving him an almost disgusted look.

- So you pretended to be friends with Austin just to get to me ? ! You pretend for months to be his friend just because you wanted to take me to bed! -

-Oh please! That was the least of my thoughts! - he lied, looking down for half a second.

-Oh yeah … - she taunted him - and so why you have prepared all of this? Why did you make sure you were alone with me? -

-Because I missed you!- Zac sighed, approaching her. Now his breath was calm. His eyes were glued to Vanessa’s ones.

-I missed you so much that hurt like hell. So, I said to myself that I would become his friend if this was the only way to get you back in my life. At the beginning I didn’t want it, I hatted him for many reasons … but I understand why you fell in love with him. He’s a good guy … but your eyes … you’ve never looked at him like the way you looked at me .

-Stop it… - Vanessa blushed. She was slowly losing control and she didn't like it at all . She felt a familiar feeling of warmth spread throughout the body.

-I never loved anybody. None one, as I loved you- Zac whispered, getting closer and closer.

Vanessa could mirror herself in her ex’s sapphire blue eyes, she could count and how many breaths she took…. and then they kissed.

Vanessa moved away from the kiss.

-This is wrong…-

-What matter … - Zac whispered ,: his hands slipped in the hair of the girl and he smelled  the sweet scent f lilac and coconut  that he always turned it on -I never expected to meet you again and  Ido not know what will happens tomorrow, but I know that I want to be with you-.

They kissed again, close to each other . Vanessa felt she had lost control as Zac’s powerful arms lifted her off the ground. A moment later they were in the bedroom.

[wickedandthedamned]

Ch.2 Goodbye Morioh

"My name is Yoshikage Kira. I don't remember when or how I died but I know one thing for certain. I am not going to heaven."

That phrase. It had become a mantra to him. It was a chance for him to ground himself and have at least something that makes sense, a way for him to accept the faith he was currently living.

He had been dead for almost four years now (or at least that is how long he thought it had been time gets hazy when one is dead). For the majority of the first year, he roamed around trying to figure out the new world he found himself in. He very quickly realized that this new world was heavily bound by a set of rules. For the most part, they involved staying out of the way of the living which was simple enough. The hard part came with missing what he had when he was alive (at least what he remembered). He could neither taste nor feel any physical object. He never felt hungry but thought it was a shame that he could not enjoy food any longer. He particularly resented this while passing a sandwich stand at the airport.

He figured walking in the airport was going to be a hassle but thankfully Momoko had Scheduled a very late flight meaning there would be fewer people to bump against separating him from his limbs.

He decided that for once he was not going to crumble up the ticket. The little paper read Business class, well he was technically going on a business trip. It was obvious the monk was trying to make amends, not that Kira minded the extra legroom and separation from other passengers. Kira looked around the empty terminal. What exactly was this mission? Momoko had been very vague. He began having second thoughts about coming. She had betrayed him last time after all.

No matter, he had to push his hesitance aside as it was time to board. There only seemed to be a handful of people on the flight and most of them were very old. No children, thank god. If he had to spend the next 13+ hours next to a screaming pile of snot he would crash the plane. Yet again that would probably mean getting stuck with the passengers for a while so maybe that was not the best idea.

He made his way to his seat. Kira looked around and for a second thought, one of the stewardesses looked right at him. He was very relieved to find that was not the case. That was one of the few silver linings of being a ghost, being literally invisible to most people. He never had to deal with uncomfortable small talk or answer questions from annoying tourists. His class was mostly empty so he was able to enjoy using his complimentary headphones to listen to classical music for the entire trip. If only he could enjoy a little bit of champagne…

The plane took off quietly. He saw the small town he had known all his life grow smaller and smaller until it fully disappeared under the clouds. He felt odd. Something inside him shifted but he was not quite able to tell what it was. Kira was not very good at putting a name to his own emotions a lot of times. It definitely did not help that sudden burst of emotions such as these seemed to be tied with flashbacks of his previous life. Most of the time it was simply a small snapshot, a memory of an insignificant moment being triggered by an equally insignificant event such as the smell of someone's perfume reminding him of a store he used to frequent. Other times, he was not so lucky. Other times the memories rushed in and overwhelmed him, knocking him to the ground and making his spectral body ache. He didn't like thinking about those memories and stirred clear of anything he thought might make him remember them.

Kira watched the sunrise as Smetana's Moldau played. He drew a content sigh at the sight of the pinks and oranges of the sky kissing the horizon as the sound of violins swirled in his ear. Despite not wanting to admit it, he was looking forward to the job now or rather the prospect of it being legit.

"How odd" he chuckled to himself as he carelessly flipped through the travel magazines "a ghost on a plane traveling practically across the globe."

…

The Italian airport was much more crowded. He carefully wove through the crowd avoiding any accidental touching. Unfortunately, he found himself almost falling in front of a drug detection dog. The large black German Shepherd snarled its teeth and lunged at him pulling its distracted handler so close to Kira he almost went right through him. Kira managed to scurry away and hid behind a wall.

"That was a close call. I ought to be more careful if I want to arrive in one piece"

He closed his eyes and composed himself. There was a rather pleasant smell in the air. Freshly baked bread. His heart sank slightly but he quickly shook his self-pity aside.

"Focus, there is a job to do…hopefully"

He walked down the streets of the Italian town admiring the way old architecture blended in seamlessly with the new one. He didn't care much for travel when he was alive but now he thought that maybe he should have volunteered for more business trips.

… A couple of streets away a man sat at a table impatiently tapping his foot against the floor. His heel making an angry click against the pavement. Leaning against the adjacent wall, was a priest with a Bluetooth in one ear. The priest gave the other man an anxious look.

"Will you cut that out already? All that tapping is giving me the heebie-jeebies" "He's late" "Maybe the flight got delayed. Patience is a virtue you know? He probably has a good reason for being late"

The man rolled his eyes and the priest shrugged. …

Kira had wandered on to the flea market. He saw beautifully handcrafted leatherwear, the most exquisite works of art from local artists, and a couple of teenagers playing a delightful tune on the violin. As far as Yoshikage Kira was concerned, this place was everything he had ever dreamed of. He hid behind a market tent and whispered to the man running it.

"Excuse me, could I get the time?" "Oh, of course, it is 13:30" "Thank you" "Anyti-" the old merchant turned as if to see where the voice came from just to find no one there. He looked around in search of the source but quickly gave up when a young woman asked him the price of a handbag.

Kira continued walking down the street, searching for the rendezvous point. He found what he was looking for and approached the shop.

"Finally, the café. Now I just have to find a priest" Before Kira had the opportunity to look around he heard a man in front of him speak.

"Excuse me"

Kira looked over his shoulder to look for the person the man was addressing but found no one behind him. He turned to face the speaker once more. Was the man talking to him?

"Yes, you. I believe you have a message for me" The man pointed directly at Kira and shot him a wink. There was no longer any doubt in his mind this was the person he was supposed to meet. Kira circled him like a shark while looking him up and down.

"You are Momoko's friend, right?" The priest raised an eyebrow seemingly unbothered by having his personal space invaded.

"That's me. I expected you to be a lot... Older" Kira stopped and faced the priest taking a very good look at his face. The priest's white hair was swept to the side boyishly and instead of religious attire, he wore an off the shoulder tunic with a golden cross belt. He looked like he was in his mid 20's.

"Oh, believe me, I am old enough, I just moisturize. Now the code word, if you please"

"Right. Poveglia".

The priest gave Kira a large smile and clapped his hands excitedly.

"Welcome …?"

"Yoshikage"

"Yoshikage! I am Father Pomodoro Fastidio"

Fastidio extended a hand towards Kira who did not shake and instead chose to continue to stare him down.

"Quick question are you-"

"Dead? No."

"I don't really care about that. What I was going to say was "are you the one who I will be working for""

As he had finished that last sentence, a man on the nearest table started coughing loudly. He wore what looked like an extremely expensive suit and had long pink hair neatly held back with a loose ponytail. The priest continued speaking completely disregarding the choking.

"Oh goodness no, I'm simply a helper. I must say you arrived at the perfect time"

The coughing grew louder as the man began thrashing around gathering attention from other patrons. Kira could hardly hear the priest over all the noise.

"You see my friend has a bit of a predicament and he could really use someone in your line of work to.. Er.. help him sort it out"

"So I'm going to be working for a friend of a friend of a friend?" Asked Kira, growing increasingly more irritated with the background noise and everyone’s use of the word ‘friend’.

Other patrons started yelling to call the paramedics. The choking man clawed desperately at his throat in a last attempt to breathe. His lips had turned completely blue and his face was contorted in panic. His mouth foamed and his eyes began rolling to the back of his head.

"And just who is this friend ?" Kira was practically yelling in order to be heard at this point.

Fastidio's face lit up with excitement.

"Him" the priest look pointed at the choking man just as his head slammed against the table and dropped dead.

[tk-writer]

Ticklish, kitten? - Ace Attorney [Mia/Godot]

oh look a random fic where i self projected lksfjghksj dont look at me

WARNING: contains Ace Attorney spoiler for the trilogy!!

word count: 2199

~~~

Mia Fey flicked on the lights as soon as she entered her empty condo.

Home, at last. A sigh escaped her smudged red lips as she finally felt solace for the first time since 5 AM that morning. Her heels were off in a matter of milliseconds; she was thankful to have some relief after being on her feet for nearly sixteen hours. The court had shown no mercy that day, not even to a novice like her. Not that she had expected any differently.

However, the trial was the last thing on her mind.

She glanced around her dimly lit living room. The emptiness that echoed back was deafening, shoving a reminder of her constant solitude in her face. Normally she wouldn’t care of such trivial matters; she was a woman who enjoyed her privacy and independence, after all.

But things were different now. Now that she had met him.

She made her way to the bathroom, leaving her confining work clothes behind in absent-minded piles on the oak wood floors. I’ll pick them up later, I swear, she lied to herself. She stood in the hot water and let it roll over her weary skin, thankful to feel something after what felt like a lifetime of depravity. Ten, twenty, thirty minutes passed. She didn’t get out until her skin was flushed red and on the verge of blistering.

She slipped into a pair of cotton shorts and a T shirt. Chuckling inwardly, she wondered what her colleagues would think if they saw her dressed in such a way. Mia didn’t step foot outside unless she was donned in designer wear, no matter if she was inside or outside the court. It was just who she was, or at least the image she had created for herself.

No one saw her after hours, when the lights were low and the darkness invaded. Nobody knew of her nightly routine, which consisted of hunching over a half-filled coffee mug and a thick file of court papers until the wee hours of the morning, an amalgamate of decaf medium roast and milk and tears.

Nobody ever did.

Until now.

An uproarious buzz jolted her out of her headspace and back to reality. She furrowed her brows, wondering who the hell would pay a visit at such a late hour. She stood up and walked to the front, punching the display button on her security screen a little too hard.

“Hey, kitten.”

An arrogant, pearly white smile gazed back at her from the outside camera. Mia’s entire body tensed. For a moment she stayed frozen, unsure of which action to take. She had never expected him to come, especially not this late. He was still dressed in his suit; he must have come directly from his office. That was so much like him to work this late, even on a weeknight.

“Mr. Armando? Sorry, but what the hell are you doing here exactly? Do you know what time it is?”

“Of course. I’m simply checking in on my protégé. Wanted to make sure my apprentice was doing alright after getting chewed up and spit out in court today.”

Irritation coursed through her veins, but she sighed when she realized he was right. No use getting angry at the truth.

“So, are you going to let me in?”

She said nothing at first, peering down at her frumpy pajamas and her bare feet. Without looking in the mirror she knew her eyes were red and strained from the past hour or so of crying. There was no way she wanted Diego Armando to witness her in such a state.

“Now’s not really a good time.”

He put his hands in his pockets and exhaled deeply. She knew he hated being rejected, but he wasn’t the aggressive type. At least not behind closed doors. At least not with her.

Perhaps that’s why she liked him so much.

“… Alright then. I’ll see ya tomorrow. Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself, okay?”

He turned around and almost disappeared as quickly as he had come. Mia immediately regretted being so short.

“Wait!”

He paused, looking back directly at the camera.

“Hmm?”

A few moments passed. Mia gingerly pressed the ‘unlock’ button without another word and waited patiently for her guest to arrive.

She didn’t have to wait long. He was at her door in a few short minutes, looming over the novice lawyer with that typical smug look on his face. He looked her up and down, obviously taken aback by her choice of sleepwear. A wave of insecurity washed over her, which didn’t help when she compared the difference between their current clothing.

Mia held back the urge to slug him.

“Don’t look at me like I’m a piece of meat.”

Diego blinked in confusion, his apparent ignorance causing more rage to build within her.

“It’s not that. You just look…”

“What? What do I look like, Mr. Armando?”

She crossed her arms and glared at him defensively, but was met with softness and pity. His eyes held a tinge of sadness to them that she had never seen before.

“You look… down.”

Mia turned away, embarrassed that her superior could read her so easily.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired, is all.”

He hesitantly took a step closer, careful not to cross any more boundaries than he already had. He gently took her face into his palm, smoothing his thumb across her wettened cheek.

“You’ve been crying.”

She responded by wiping her face with one palm ungracefully.

“Like I said. I’m fine. Just a little tired, is all.”

Not wanting to meet his gaze, her eyes drifted to the floor in an uncharacteristic display of meekness.

“Come on now, kitten. This isn’t like you. Something’s on your mind and I gotta hunch it’s got nothin’ to do with the case.”

Damn. He read her like a book. Realizing there was no use denying it any longer, she gestured to her leather couch and barked an order.

“Sit.”

Without waiting to hear his response, Mia marched to the kitchen. He slipped off his loafers and plopped himself near the armrest. A variety of bumps and clangs could be heard as she rummaged through her cabinets in search of something. He detected running water. The clink of glass. Within a few minutes, an aroma of Italian press floated across the room and onto the couch where Diego sat. The darkest roast of all. She knew him so well.

Perhaps that’s why he liked her so much.

Mia returned promptly, coffee mug in hand and free of any additions Diego would consider abominable. She sat about a foot away, putting a noticeable amount of distance between them.

He clutched the mug in his hands and took a few large gulps before speaking.

“Talk to me, kitten. What’s going on?”

Mia sat cross-legged, her arms folded and resting in her lap. She made small circles with her ankle, back and forth as if stretching the tendons.

“Don’t you dare tell a soul or I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Easy, easy. Put those claws away. You know me better than that.”

His subordinate sighed and bit her lower lip.

“It’s... I’m lonely, Diego.”

Not the answer he had expected to hear. Nor the name he was usually called. His mouth dropped open slightly in surprise, but he decided against addressing that fact… for now.

“Everyone gets lonely. Unfortunately it comes with the job.”

“I know.”

Nice going, asshole, He thought to himself. Better try again. He wasn’t the type to let a woman down, especially not Mia.

“Kitten. Come here.”

She stared at him in confusion, startled by his sudden request.

“… What?”

“Come. I want to hold you.”

His last statement hung in the air. Mia fell silent for a few seconds too long. Shit, maybe he messed up. Time to backtrack.

“If you don’t want to I understand,” He said reassuringly, careful to keep his tone even and smooth. “I’m not gonna force ya. I’ll leave and we don’t have to talk about this ever-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. She moved quickly and quietly and was in his arms sooner than he could have ever hoped. Her back pressed against his chest, slightly timid but with a hint of eagerness. She didn’t say a word; the silence allowed him to listen to her nervous, staggered breathing. He slowly wrapped his arms around her waist. Pulling her in closer. Burying his face in her freshly shampooed hair. It smelled like roses. Fitting for someone like Mia.

They laid there for some time as the night ticked on. He pulled her chestnut hair behind her ear and kissed it tenderly. His lips pursed as he gave her small pecks on the back of her head, at the base of her skull, moving towards her jawline. She twitched at the light caresses but didn’t protest. Soon, he found his hands moving up and down her sides, tracing random patterns through the fabric of her T shirt.

She squirmed a little. Muffled noises that sounded like weak coughs. He smirked, unbeknownst to her, adding a little more pressure to her stomach and sides. Her wiggling became a lot more pronounced, the noises a little more recognizable as giggles.

“Ticklish, kitten?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“No… not at a-haaa-ll!”

He pinched her lower ribs and relished when she squeaked, proving his claim true.

“Is that so?”

His tanned, calloused hands kept up their ministrations, his touches getting more purposeful and teasy. He softly clawed her midsection and focused on a patch of extra sensitive skin he had just discovered right below her belly button. Mia jerked her knees upward and clamped her hands on his, a weak attempt to fight off the tickling. The lack of touch in her life had made her more reactive than usual, and she was not happy about it.

“Diego! – ahahahaha! – WHYYYY!”

His response was more light clawing at her sides. She bucked and twisted left to right, laughing joyfully as if he’d told the funniest joke she’d ever heard. He clung onto her, never letting go no matter how violent her struggles got. His fingers drifted upward, settling in her crevices of her underarms and scritching away at them endlessly. Mia howled in a high-pitched tone and jolted her arms down, which only trapped his hands in place and made escape impossible.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA – oh nooooo! – Diego! – EEEEEEK!”

“The little kitten is so ticklish. How adorable.”

She could only giggle in response.

He kept it up for awhile longer, inwardly promising to stop if Mia asked, but surprisingly she never did. She thrashed and kicked and fought wildly, but never once did the word “stop” leave her lips. However, he had enough experience to know when a woman had had enough, and when her face was crimson red and her breathing shallow he let up and allowed his poor subordinate to collect herself. She took in large gulps of air and laid limp in his embrace.

“Haaa… haa… what was… that for…”

“My own amusement, mostly. Doesn’t hurt that you’ve got a killer laugh, too.”

Mia turned around with an exasperated (but affectionate) expression.

“You know, that was highly inappropriate.”

“So was inviting your colleague into your private abode after midnight.”

“You- you-!”

Rage spread across her face but melted into a smile as he clamped his hands around her ribcage, digging in a little more than before and reigniting her hysterical cackles. Too weak to fight, she succumbed to the tickles and buried her face in his chest until he once again showed her mercy.

“Quit hiding, kitten. Let me see that flustered face of yours one more time.”

He gently coaxed her out of hiding by placing a single finger under her chin and pulling upwards. Their eyes met, and for once Diego Armando was speechless. Seeing the stoic Mia Fey with such vulnerability and affection in her eyes was enough to turn him to putty. If he had the ability to speak, he would have been nothing but a babbling mess.

She leaned in closer, slow as honey that dripped from the comb, until their lips met in a cautious kiss.

Neither one knew how long they stayed like that. Mia draped over his chest. Diego’s hands rested on her lower back. When they finally pulled away, both felt warm and giddy.

“Mia…” he managed to croak out.

“Sorry.”

She seemed out of it. Not regretful, but definitely embarrassed. He half smiled in amusement.

“Don’t be.”

She shifted a little. A question sat on the edge of her mouth, and he waited patiently for it to fall. She rested her lips against his shirt and mumbled.

“Will you… st… ere… ight…?”

“Hmm? Speak up kitten, can’t hear ya.”

He heard her. But he wanted to hear it again. It took everything in him not to grin like an idiot, and everything in her not to smack him.

She lifted her head and scowled.

“Will you stay. Here. The night.”

He kissed her on the forehead and broke out in a victorious smile.

“Of course. Anything for you, kitten.”

[wallwriterstuff]

The Little Ways You Say I Love You  ||Demetri Volturi x Reader||

Summary: Demetri is well aware how fragile humans can be and needs a little reminder that to touch you isn’t to kill you. Loving a vampire isn’t easy, but you find a way to compromise that suits both your needs. 

Warnings: None, for once it’s nice and fluffy

Words: 4071

There were certain things humans did that were very endearing. The way you scrunched your nose for example when you were confused or showing your distaste for something, and that sweet way you snuggled down into your duvet when you slept. It was also incredibly cute how excited you got when exploring somewhere/something new, eyes shining as you bounced about. Your sleepy confusion when you first got up or had been up too long, your sweet little sneezes and sniffles when the flowers in the garden invaded your nose, your habit of fidgeting – it was all still so new to him and Demetri would be lying if he said he didn’t find it absolutely adorable. Your humanity was something he had originally not batted an eye at – you were going to be a vampire in the end after all so what was the point – until you had started showing these little traits that left him falling a little harder for you every time he saw them. Then, of course, there were the downsides to mortality.

You got sick. You couldn’t go without eating lest you become sluggish and nauseated. You sometimes had nightmares when you slept and terrified him when you woke with a gasp or a scream. Your skin turned shades of black, yellow and blue when you hit your limbs off of inanimate objects - and Felix’s abdomen but you had both sworn a pact to never tell Demetri that was how your knuckles had ended up bruised – that Demetri never seemed to be able to steer you clear of despite his speed. If you tripped or hit them just right your skin also, heaven forbid, tore like tissue paper, tempting him with your sweet sweet blood. He was grateful that didn’t happen as often as you added to your collection of bruises. He was also well aware of how fragile your bones were, susceptible to shatter from the slightest pressure. In short, all the things he found so endearing could very easily be wiped out by illness, injury, and the common flaw of mortality that was, simply, that it wasn’t built to last.

Demetri was painfully aware of all of these things when it came to you, having accidentally left his fingerprints on your wrist for days after trying to make sure you didn’t step into the way of an oncoming car once. He had felt awful; it was almost painful to watch how slowly your skin faded back to it’s normal colouring, and he’d honestly had no idea you’d get so sick when he ran with you for the first time, feeling immensely guilty as he dared not put his hands on your heaving form lest he make it any worse. It was a pattern you’d noticed for a few weeks now and you hated it. Demetri had been nothing but good to you from the day you’d met him, a bit dismissive at first perhaps but very attentive when it came to your needs so you were never uncomfortable in your new home. You’d not had much choice once you’d been pulled from the tour group but to stay with him, especially after hearing the screams you should have been contributing to – nobody of sound mind would let you go with what you knew.

It was very obvious that Demetri had never really expected to meet you, and the sudden appearance of his mate had left him at a bit of a loss, especially when he realised you were human. You could almost see inside his mind in the early days as he watched you explore your new home with a mystified but doting expression, looking very much like a parent watching their child toddle about after finding their feet for the first time. What do I do with a human? The answer was very simple and you let him know soon enough, that if he expected you to fall hopelessly in love with him then you’d like to see the real him doing things he loved. He’d taken you out a lot after that, having to learn to balance your need for rest with his fun-packed dates. In all that time, from the first moment he’d accidentally bruised you (and consequently saved you from the wrath of a very angry Italian woman who was clearly in a hurry that day) pulling you out of the way of that car, he’d not touched you since.

You weren’t expecting the world from him, you knew it took a lot of self-control for him to even be near you some days, but you were only human. You were never one of those people who preferred their own company and had grown up in a family were physical touch was common place, whether it be from hugs or from cousins poking you constantly, you naturally craved physical contact and Demetri seemed to naturally withhold it. You knew it was out of fear for your safety, and you didn’t want to force him to spend long hours snuggling with you or do anything extravagant if it meant putting him through any sort of discomfort, but would it really kill him to hold your hand when you went out and about to places? Was it really the end of the world if he gave you a brief hug when you were upset? He seemed to think you’d collapse if he so much as breathed on you, or at least, that’s how it felt.

At first it had just been a bit annoying. It was a quirk of his you’d tried to learn to live with until it began to wear you down some. You had been given a three-month grace period to settle in, and time was very quickly passing you by. The longer it went on the less desirable you felt. Logically you were well aware your thinking was stupid, that Demetri was refraining from touching you for any other reason than simply wanting to ensure he didn’t hurt you, but the lack of contact forewent all logic to that lingering anxiety that perhaps your human self wasn’t enough to attract him. Maybe he didn’t want to touch you. You’d subconsciously tried dressing a little nicer and being a little more flirty just to see if it would encourage him to touch you, even if it was just his hand on your arm briefly, and you were disappointed to find that it didn’t work.

He’d been on a mission for his masters for the last few days, leaving you alone to wallow in your thoughts. You’d been lonely with all your usual friends gone from the castle and you knew full well you couldn’t expect him to greet you with a hug when he returned, though he would, in his own way, still greet you warmly. Vampires, you had learned, were eerily quiet, though you supposed they had no reason to be loud, so consequently when they weren’t around to make conversation with the castle was silent. Creepily silent. In an effort to chase away that silence, you’d turned to music. Demetri’s quarters were on the floor reserved specifically for the high-ranking guardsmen, and since they were all out there would be no Jane to pound on the door and demand you turn it down, or Felix shouting from his own room that her taste in music was horrible.

So you cranked the volume up.

High.

Then turned it back down because Caius’s face had unwittingly entered your mind and he looked even more irritated with you than usual.

After a few minutes of altering the volume to what you considered the optimum level, you finally settled back onto the sofa with the intention of just enjoying the music as you continued to read one of Demetri’s many books. By the bottom of the first page you were tapping your toe along to the beat. By the bottom of the third you were bobbing your head. By the time you hit page number five you were bopping side to side in your seat. You had abandoned your book entirely by page number seven in favour of grabbing the TV remote and using it as microphone, and you had an absolute blast. You imagined yourself on stage, a thousand adoring hands reaching for you as you sang your heart out and danced around the room, switching between air guitars and pillow dance partners. You could practically feel the way your mood shifted, the beginnings of your sulking long gone as your face flushed and your smile widened, nothing but the light, euphoric love for good music filling you from head to toe.

Then the ultimate karaoke song came on, and you squealed in delight as you uncaringly turned the music up far louder than you knew any of the ancient masters would like. You danced about the room, trotting like a pony and waving your arms to the beat as the intro played itself out, and then your microphone lifted, the fans went wild and you turned to point at them all, only to freeze. Demetri’s vibrantly red eyes were filled with mirth, his lips spread into a wide grin as he stood in the doorway, cloak draped over his arm. Mouth frozen open, you took a moment to feel the sheer horror at being caught red-handed.

“Please, don’t stop on my account.” He insisted, turning to hang his cloak up on the coat stand near his door. It hung neatly beside your own jacket and coat. He looked unfairly good considering he’d probably crossed hundreds of thousands of miles on foot in the past few days, not a hair out of place and pearl white teeth gleaming at you. You, on the other hand, were flushed bright red, hair falling in your eyes thanks to your dancing knocking it out of your neat style, and probably sweating a little.

“You…are back.” You said. Demetri tilted his head slightly, discarding his jacket next and rolling up the sleeves of his button up shirt.

“I am back.” He confirmed. You bit your lip, your embarrassment lingering still as he crossed to turn the music down slightly, to a more bearable volume for his sensitive ears.

“I missed you.” You told him honestly, fingers itching. You wanted to reach for him but couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Demetri seemed to sense your change in attitude, his amusement fading and being replaced instead by something that seemed to be an odd mix of confusion and concern. He came to stand before you, hand almost reaching for your arm before he retracted it.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you my love, you looked like you were having fun.” He said. You couldn’t quite bring your eyes to move from his hand, the hand that had almost answered your silent prayers, that had very almost touched you. He’d been gone for three days, would he really deny you the contact you wanted if you were just honest with him?

“I was.” You agreed softly, tossing your remote control microphone aside and trying to pluck up the bravery to just do it. His hand was right there, loose and open. You could easily slip your palm against his. What was the worst that could happen? Well he could always snatch his hand away and reaffirm your ridiculous beliefs about being undesirable in every way shape and form but, what were the odds of that? You quickly stopped letting yourself think when your brain tried to work out the statistics.

“I need to shower, you’ll have some more time to yourself while I’m in there if that’s what you would like.” He assured you. You shook your head immediately, the last thing you wanted was for him to leave you so soon after he’d just gotten back. You took a breath and quickly reached for his hand, looking up at him with pleading eyes while he visibly stiffened at your touch.

“Dance with me?” you pleaded. Demetri’s crimson irises flickered to your joined hands briefly, his grip was non-existent, and you could almost feel him trying to pull away. Your heart quietly shattered.

“I’m not entirely sure how you would dance to this music.” He admitted. It wasn’t a resounding no at least and he still hadn’t forced you to let go. You bit your lip, a small flicker of hope igniting in your chest that must have shown on your face.

“Please try?” you asked, slowly lifting your joined hands so you could twirl beneath his arm. Demetri’s grip remained awfully loose and he almost seemed to flinch when you reached for his other hand, carefully moving your arms back and forth, hips swinging. You had no clue what you were doing either, you were simply compiling dance moves one on top of the other with no rhyme or reason, speeding up as you went. It was…honestly hilarious. Your discontent was very quickly forgotten seeing the effort Demetri was putting into this ridiculous dancing for you. His movements were gracefully awkward, his vampirism not letting him look stupid despite the fact that he very clearly should given the mismatched way his top and bottom halves were moving. You giggled at him and Demetri shot you a playful glare in response.

“What? You think this is funny? I am the height of trendy. My moves are so fashionable they’re ahead of their time.” He teased, letting you go in favour of pulling a ridiculous John Travolta pose, his head bobbing as he did the classic disco moves you were sure the human race had tried to bury in the film Footloose. You laughed, happily mimicking him with far less grace as the pair of you utilised the space in your room to full advantage. Demetri made no attempt to stop you whenever you grabbed him, your smile only widening whenever he let you take his hand to twist him one way or spin yourself about the next. You were exhausted, barely able to breathe through your laughter when you inevitably tripped over your own feet, colliding with his chest as the cliché moment demanded.

Panting and still giggling to yourself you were completely unaware he even had his arms around you until you tried to pull back and found yourself trapped in his embrace. Your giggles stopped abruptly, the shock clogging up your throat. With wide eyes, you looked up at him, slowly lifting your own arms to wrap back around him as he stared down at you with the most soft, vulnerable expression you’d ever seen on him. He looked entirely uncertain, his arms not quite loose but not tightly wrapped around your body either, as if he was fighting with himself to simply keep hold of you.

“Demetri…” you whispered. It was all you had wanted now for weeks, and here you were finally, home. There was a sense of contentment growing within you the longer he held you, a rightness that his embrace offered that made it feel like he’d locked all of your troubles and insecurities outside of the little bubble he’d created. You snuggled closer, determined to make the most of it while it lasted, but quickly felt guilty for the selfish move when he stiffened, muscles rigid with tenseness. “I’m sorry.” You said, attempting to squirm backwards out of his grasp. He let go immediately, his eyes widening.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked immediately, eyes a little frantic.

“No!” you groaned, sounding more exasperated than you wanted to. Demetri frowned, picking up on it and looking equal parts confused and wounded. You sighed, crossing to the speaker and turning it off. The silence between you was deafening for a long moment as you organised your thoughts, trying to figure out what to say to him next.

“What’s wrong my love?” he asked quietly, “Please, talk to me.” He looked so earnest, like he really wanted to listen and figure out how to fix the problem. He was like a big puppy sometimes, desperate to give you love but unsure how to do it in an acceptable way. It made your heart ache and your cheeks flush simultaneously because you knew it was really your own problem, your own silly insecurities. Playing with your fingers, you ducked your gaze and took a deep breath, exhaling in a huff before looking back up at him.

“I need you to know you’re not going to hurt me just by touching me.” You said finally, “I’m not made of glass Demetri, I’m not going to shatter at the slightest touch.” Demetri’s brows tugged down into a frown.

“I am very capable of hurting you my love, I’m only careful with you to avoid that.” He answered.

“But you don’t avoid that, you avoid me.” You retorted, eyes dropping to the floor again, “I know you mean well and I don’t want to make you do anything you’re not comfortable with but…isn’t there a way to compromise? Something little we could do that just, that makes me feel like…” you stumbled over the words, knowing they’d hurt him greatly. Demetri was nothing if not dedicated to you and to suggest he wasn’t was practically blasphemy.

“Like…”he prompted. You swallowed, risking a quick glance up at him and feeling your stomach curl at the anxious expression on his face.

“Like you actually want me.” You said softly. The way his entire expression crumpled made you feel intensely guilty, so much so you felt tears spring to your eyes. You forced yourself to blink them back. You’d had such a good afternoon, you’d been laughing together without a care in the world not ten minutes ago and you’d just had to go and spill your guts to ruin it hadn’t you? You really hadn’t been expecting his cold hand to envelope yours, his eyes watching your expression carefully as he tested the smallest amount of pressure he could possibly exert to tighten his grip on your palm.

“I am careful with you because of how badly I want you.” He said, his voice quiet and earnest, “Please believe me, it was never my intention to make you feel undesirable. I still can’t honestly say I feel entirely comfortable with the idea of embracing you but…maybe, we could start with this?” he suggested, lifting your hands slightly. Your heart swelled, eye shining as you stared down at his fingers curled around yours, relished in the strangely warm coolness of his skin. You nodded earnestly.

“Please. I’m happy with just this.” You promised, squeezing his hand lightly. Demetri sucked in a breath.

“Are you sure?” he questioned. You nodded vigorously, unable to keep the smile from spreading across your face. You hadn’t wanted the world from him, just a small amount of contact comfort every now and then. Demetri looked utterly relieved you weren’t pushing him further, quietly content with his own brave leap.

“I’m sure…didn’t you need a shower?” you asked, cocking your head to the side. His lips twitched into the smuggest little smirk you’d ever seen on him.

“Maybe I’m not done holding your hand?” he suggested.

“Then maybe you can keep on holding it?” you smiled.

Demetri kept true to his word to, trying his best to introduce a little bit of physical contact throughout your day. He kept it at hand holding for a while, slowly testing the waters with a hug or two here and there. He had developed a nice little system of taps for his worse days, where the fear he’d hurt you was just a little too much, and you came to cherish the small but meaningful touch between you both that only the two of you ever understood.

Suddenly, three months were up. Demetri had prepared you well for what you’d face during the change theoretically, but nothing he could have said or done would have ever prepared you for the sheer agony of it all. You burned constantly, a raging inferno consuming every cell and every fibre of your being. You dared not scream though. You knew better than anyone how deep his fear of hurting you ran, that the anxiety in his eyes when he had pulled his teeth from your skin was nothing to do with whether or not you’d make it but had everything to do with the fact he knew he was causing you an intense, immeasurable amount of agony. He had never wished to do that at all, so you pursed your lips so hard your teeth cut your lips and you tasted blood, determined not to make him feel any worse for this than he probably already felt. Your fortitude was admirable all things considered and every time you envisioned Demetri’s heartbroken face it was renewed, your lips clamping once more after the agony had slowly worn them down and loosened the seal holding back your screams.

By the time the fire rescinded, you were so ready for it to be over you had considered, selfishly, begging for Alec to take the pain away, Demetri be damned. You went from the odd sensation of floating on fire to being lowered deeper and deeper in a cool lake, soothing the ache and the burn that had ravaged your body. Once the cold lake had stole your breath, you were catapulted to the surface, and your eyes snapped open. You were acutely aware of every little detail surrounding you. You could count the threads in the curtains surrounding the four-poster bed you lay on, trace the grooves in the wooden bed frame with your eyes. You could feel every stitch in the duvet beneath you, the softness of the interwoven threads leaving you in awe. Then there was the sound, the far off sounds of something scurrying in the castle gardens, of people talking and laughing, of music. Your nose twitched to life then to, a mixture of fruit and flora and cologne and fresh breeze and –

“Y/N?”

Your head snapped right, lip curling back over your teeth as a warning growl slipped up from your chest and rumbled in your throat. It took you a fraction of a second to place the features of the man before you, the dark red eyes, the sharp jawline, the chestnut brown hair…

“Demetri.” You said, blinking in shock at your new, melodic voice. He chuckled slightly, but his eyes remained somewhat sad. He was in awe of you as you zoomed to an abrupt stop in front of him, giggling at your newfound speed like a child, but there was something in his eyes that spoke of an intense amount of guilt you had trouble placing. His hand was soft and warm against your cheek, nothing like the cool temperature you were used to feeling from his flesh, but you leaned into his touch regardless, surprised he’d so willingly given it. Then you remembered, you were a lot more durable now, weren’t you? He was far less afraid of breaking you and probably more wary that if you weren’t careful, you could break him. You almost flinched, the sudden, intense stab of terror that you might accidentally crush him both ironic and bringing a level of understanding you’d struggled with before.

“I am…awestruck. You are magnificent my love,” He said, voice soft and wistful, “Can you forgive me?” Forgive him? Your face fell into a frown? Forgive him for what? For changing you? You’d already forgiven him for taking you out of that tour group long ago, happy beyond belief to be with your mate and not six feet under somewhere, even if you did miss home. You felt it even more acutely now, how right it was to be with him, to be near him, to be touched by him. You decided whatever he wanted forgiveness for didn’t matter. You wouldn’t even ask him to qualify what he meant. This was a fresh start for both of you now and you were ready to take it, to start eternity with him by your side. So, you reached up to the hand cradling your face and gently tapped the back of his hand twice. Demetri’s lips twitched, and they pulled higher and higher until his face had split into an adoring smile.

There were many things he had found endearing about your humanity, but the little ways you said I love you were perhaps his favourite.

[eternityunicorn]

Elijah’s Eternity: New Orleans Part Fourteen

Author: eternityunicorn 

Genre: Romance/Drama/AU

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x OC

Warnings: Violance, Smut (*Smut chapters marked +18)

Summary: Sequel to the AU Elijah’s Eternity - Ten years have passed, a mournful Elijah has finally started to move on without his lady. In that time, he has gained a reunited family and has also found a new lady love. Yet, all is not well as danger comes for the smallest member of the Mikaelson family: Hope, and it prompts Niklaus to call upon the white goddess, drawing her back into Elijah’s life. As they reunite, can Elijah really say he’s truly moved on?

NOTE: OC and original elements are from my up and coming novel series!

———————————————————————————————————

The newly engaged pair headed down into the courtyard where they heard the voices of Kol, Rebekah, and Freya. The three of them were surrounding one of the outdoor couches and there was a young woman sitting before them, speaking in a language that they didn’t know. Elijah’s siblings were arguing over what language the woman could be speaking, as he and Eternity came to join them.

“Ah, finally through shagging long enough to help out, eh?” Kol said crossly, upon noticing the new arrivals. “Well, it’s about bloody time,” the younger Original shouted. Then he leaned over closer to his big brother and his brother’s lady to whisper lecherously, “Good show though. Quick the riveting performance.” He winked at them, earning a smirk from Eternity and a deep, murderous scowl from Elijah.

Kol immediately straightened at the sight of the latter’s reaction and had enough sense to look down sheepishly in response to it. 

“We’ve been trying to figure out what this young woman is saying,” Rebekah explained as she turned to Elijah, after having effectively ignored Kol completely. “She stumbled into the compound deliriously, shouting bloody murder in a language we can’t recognize. We thought it might be a dialect of Spanish or perhaps Italian, but when we tried to speak in those languages to her, she just stared at us strangely before carrying on as if we hadn’t even bothered.”

Eternity stepped up to get a closer look and gazed at the strange woman contemplatively. It wasn’t long before she became alert and taunt. “Everyone get back!” She shouted quickly, in that authoritative way of hers.

The moment she said that, the stranger began to twist and snarl as if she were possessed. Then her eyes fell upon Eternity, whom had pulled Elijah,  Kol, Freya, and Rebekah all behind her protectively. Before their very eyes, the woman turned into a gross, grotesque creature. Having had experience with these types of things, Elijah recognized that the woman had transformed into a demon right away.

“What the bloody hell is that thing?” Rebekah shouted in alarm, as she backed away with the rest of her siblings. 

“It’s a possession demon,” Eternity replied calmly. “A parasite that attaches itself to it’s host, in order to hide in plain sight, while feeding on the host’s life force.”

“Fascinating,” Kol chimes in. “How do you kill it?”

The immortal queen turned to look back at him, “You don’t, not unless you wish to kill the innocent host too. No, an exorcism is required here. Just keep back and let me handle this.”

“Be careful, Sweetheart,” Elijah called to her, just as Eternity took steps toward the possessed woman. 

The queen nodded back at him, before zeroing in on the enemy before her. She moved cautiously toward the fiend, as it snarled and hissed at her in response. It could instinctually sense the threat, knowing that Eternity meant to harm it.

“If you try to kill me,” the creature hissed in a voice blended of the host’s and that of the demon itself, “I will simply jump into a new host. Perhaps one of your supernatural friends, of whom you protect? What power I would have, if I take control of one of their bodies. Excuse me, while I drool over the very idea.”

“You were sent by your master Bruno,” replied Eternity in an almost bored tone, “as a threat to those I care for in a temper tantrum because I outmaneuvered him, keeping the child out of his reach. Rather pathetic really. Besides, do you, demon, actually think that I haven’t dealt with one of your kind before? That I don’t know how to dispose of you before you can jump bodies?”

The creature grinned toothily, “Well, what if I take control of you, queenie? How would you deal with me then?”

Eternity scoffed, “You are not at all intelligent at all, are you? If you were to invade me, you’d be torn apart, if not by my sheer power, then by the demon that already occupies this vessel. No, to possess me wouldn’t be a good idea at all.”

The creature’s grin faded into a snarling hiss again. 

“Perhaps, it is best that you simply...disappear,” she told it.

As if those words were a cue, the demon attacked Eternity, grabbing hold of her and throwing her across the courtyard against the wall. It wasn’t by miscalculation that this happened. The immortal queen allowed rage demon to throw her, Elijah realized as he watched the fight unfold. It had been strategy, he knew, because the direction in which the demon threw her was away from him and his family. 

Smart, he thought proudly.

The throw had been quick hard. It had caused a large cloud of dust and debris from the impact against the stone walls of the compound. For a moment, Elijah couldn’t make out anything. There was nothing but the heavy cloud. 

With anticipation, he waited and waited and waited some more to see Eternity come back. 

Then finally she came through. At first, she was just a shadowy figure, but quickly did she materialize out of the dust cloud. Eternity was no longer in her dress, but her warrior’s garb of corsets and leather leggings. She remained weaponless however, as she wasn’t trying to slay the beast. She was also dirty from the dust, but it seemed that she otherwise remained unmarred. 

Elijah’s lady moved with speed that was nearly impossible to follow, as she engaged the demon in a round of hand to hand combat. She moved with precision, while the demon was more wild and animalistic in it’s movements. There wasn’t as much focus in the beast, which Eternity used to her advantage, swiftly knocking the demon onto it’s back with her booted heel in it’s throat in a short sequence of moves. 

As the creature struggled beneath her, the queen leaned over and growled, “Be gone, demon.”

Instantaneously, the demon was extracted from the human woman in a cloud of green gas. It floated there above it’s former host’s form, as of it stubbornly refused to leave. Then without another word from Eternity, the gas suddenly combusted in a small, controlled explosion. The immortal queen quickly removed her foot from the unconscious young woman’s throat and healed any wounds that had been inflicted in the confrontation before the girl could waken.

The vessel had been returned to her normal human self, as if she had never been possessed in the first place. It only took a few moments for the girl to regain consciousness, dazed and confused as she sat up and looked around her fearfully. 

Eternity, in a rather motherly way, interacted with the frightened woman, telling her that she had fainted on the streets, but the nice people around her had helped keep her safe until she awoke. The girl wasn’t sure if she bought the words of the kind immortal, but she did relax a bit, giving thanks in Spanish to them, if a bit hesitant to do so.

Elijah couldn’t blame the young woman. He wasn’t sure if ‘nice’ would be the word he would use when describing his family, especially where humans were concerned, but he supposed it was for the best to do so, in this case. Frightening the already frightened wasn’t exactly good manners, at least not in his opinion. Kol might feel differently on the matter, which was why it was good that it wasn’t up to him to deal with the little human whom had stumbled into their compound. 

After sending the frantic human on her way, Eternity rejoined Elijah’s side, taking hold of his hand as she did. There was a tension in her hold that had him worried immediately. He turned to look at her profile, noticing the worry there upon her delicate and somewhat dirty face.

“What is it, Sweetheart?” He asked her.

“I cannot stay here,” she replied quietly. “It’s too dangerous. Bruno is angry with me over ensuring young Hope was out of his reach. This attack of his, I fear it is only the beginning of his retaliation. I cannot stay and let your family potentially pay the price. He sent a possession demon to turn one of them against me so that I might have to kill them.”

Elijah felt his heart drop into his stomach with dread at her somewhat frantic words. “You’re not leaving me again, are you? Not after you just -.”

“I’m not leaving you,” smiled Eternity reassuringly. “Never, ever again, will I be doing that. No, but we can’t stay here. I suggest a new location. Perhaps one near your family, but distant enough not to put them in harm’s way, at least for a time? It won’t necessarily keep us safe from Bruno’s antics, but it’ll be better for everyone else. We do still have other business as well to tend to.” She looked pointedly at him, and her knew that meant she was talking about Céleste’s ghost.

He felt relieved that she wasn’t going to disappear on him. He also felt a little foolish for thinking she might, especially after their incredible night and morning together. She did just agree to become his wife, after all. It was a pretty good indication that she wasn’t going anywhere. 

“I have a place across the river that we can go to,” he told her.

“Ah yes, the loft where you went to sulk when Hayley chose Nik over you,” Kol chimed in with a mischievous grin, having listened to their little conversation, along with their sisters. The younger Mikaelson laughed a little and turned to Eternity, “You should have seen it. He was the biggest pouting ba-.”

“And that’s enough out of you,” Rebekah moved to intervene, simply by putting her hands on Kol’s arms from behind to get him to stop talking. “I really do not want to have to clean up the mess our brother would make with your insides, should you decide to keep talking, Kol.”

Kol looked at her and then at Elijah, who was unamused by his little brother’s amusement. He looked at them both with confusion, as if he didn’t understand. “But I was just -.”

Rebekah interjected again, “You were doing nothing, but going somewhere else. Anywhere else.”

Eternity grinned and giggled slightly in an amusement of her own at the scene. 

Kol went to protest, but Rebekah was having none of it. She showed him away and they all watched as their brother obeyed disappointedly, going to stand by Freya to sulk. 

“So, you two are going across the river,” Rebekah said to both Elijah and Eternity. 

“Aye, it’s the only way to keep you lot safe from forces you cannot contend with,” nodded Eternity. “That incident just now could have gone sideways very fast, had I not been here to intervene. What comes next will only be much worse, I fear, but the target is not any of you. It’s me he seeks to reign his anger down upon. Therefore, wherever I go, the danger will follow.”

“And wherever she goes, I follow,” Elijah interjected, smiling at his lady.

Rebekah looked between them with happiness, “Well then, I suggest you two get a move on. If it’s as bad as you say, you shouldn’t dawdle.” 

“There is one thing I wish to tell you all before we go across river,” he said, just as Freya and Kol came closer to here what he had to say. With a deep breath and a quick flash of a smile at his lady, Elijah told his present family, “I have asked Eternity to marry me and she has accepted.”

Elijah looked down at Eternity happily, while she beamed up at him in return. 

The rest of the Mikaelson siblings looked at each other with surprise, having not expected him to make such an announcement, especially so soon after parting ways with Gia. It probably seemed sudden to them, and maybe it was. However, to Elijah, it had been anything but sudden. He had pinned for Eternity for ten years, he wasn’t about to let her go again and marriage was one way he could ensure that she’d stay with him this time. Still, he could understand their surprise about the situation. They hadn’t been the ones pinning for ten years.

“Well, congratulations to you both,” Kol stepped in with a grin. “Does this mean that you’re going to be a king, Elijah? Better yet, does that mean that we’re going to be considered royalty of the highest order? Is this marriage going to turn me into a prince? Am I going to have a castle and servants and a court of my own?”

Eternity laughed and shook her head at Elijah’s little brother, “Well, the Universal Kingdom is rather matriarchal. We haven’t ever had a king, only a queen. So, no, Elijah won’t be a king, but he will have great influence over others as my spouse. As to your other point, you lot will certainly move up in status, though not as princes and princesses. More like lords and ladies. Again, your influence will be great, so long as you don’t abuse it, of course.” She looked pointedly at Kol in warning. 

The younger Mikaelson threw his hands up in surrender, “Hey, I promise to be on my best behavior.”

“Aye, you will, because if not? You’ll deal with me and you don’t want that, my friend. Trust me,” Eternity responded.

Elijah’s brother swallowed thickly in nervousness, “Message received. Do not piss off the queen.”

Eternity shrugged and smirked, “That is the first rule when dealing with me.”

Kol grinned at her and chuckled a bit, relaxing. “Well, isn’t that the truth for all of us here. You’re going to fit in just nicely, I think. So, welcome to the family, love.”

“Thank you, Kol,” she replied with a genuine smile.

“Yes, welcome and congratulations to you both,” Freya echoed those sentiments. 

“Bloody time, I’d say,” Rebekah added happily.

It was after the circulatory congratulations from his siblings, and more annoying questions from Kol about his raised status-to-be, that Elijah pulled Eternity away from them. It was time to get going, he had decided. They had to repair the study before they left. He didn’t want to leave the mess for his siblings to deal with, especially knowing what has caused such disarray. After all, Eternity had said she’d repair the room, after their adventures the night prior.

They went to the upper level of the compound and returned to the study, observing the mess there together with admiration. They both reminisced pleasantly about all that had transpired there, grinning filthily at each other as they took in the sight. Each broken or overturned piece of furniture held a special memory, the same was true of the scattered books, the claw marks in the hardwoods, and the broken curtains.

Yes, it had been a great night indeed. Alas, it was time to put it all back together, as if their escapades hadn’t happened at all.

Elijah allowed his lady to use her magic to right everything broken or out of place in the room. It was an easy fix. She did this with a simple wave of her hand; nothing more, nothing less. Everything in the study was back where it should be with swiftness, without any evidence left of their wild intimacy the night before. 

He was rather disappointed by the fix, more than he thought he would be. He had been rather proud of the wreckage and how it had happened, feeling as if precious memories had been wiped away. However, he knew well enough that they could do it all over again across the river, if they so chose, a most likely endeavor to be sure.

Once the room was back in order, Elijah lead his lady away. It was time for them to leave the Mikaelson compound, something he hadn’t expected they would be doing this morning when they had gotten up. Yet, desperate times called for desperate measures sometimes and this move was for the best, if his siblings would be made all the more safer with their absence.

It was only for a time, he reminded himself, and it wasn’t as if they were leaving the city. 

After they had said their goodbyes to the other Mikaelsons one last time, Elijah and Eternity left the family home. Elijah helped his lady get into his Bentley that he had stored away, and from there, they headed across river where they could keep watch out for trouble without the distraction of having to keep the others safe as well.

To Be Continued....