#Aldo Busi
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Photo
Aldo Busi
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Gay
DOB: 25 February 1948 Â
Ethnicity: White - Italian
Occupation: Writer, translator
35 notes
¡
View notes
Text
A volte penso di essere un sogno che qualcuno si è dimenticato di fare, il sogno nel cassetto aperto nel momento sbagliato, il dormiveglia di una dalia dâinverno che lascia i suoi petali alla brina che lâuccide grata di conservare intatto il suo cuore, il cuore del cuore per la primavera alle porte: Ă prile tu, o tu, o tu, aprimi tu, o tu, o tu⌠Tu?
Che come me, pensi a volte di essere un sogno che qualcuno si è dimenticato di fare, unâaltalena occupata che qualcuno si è dimenticato di spingere: spingila tu, o tu, o tu, spingimi tu, o tu⌠Tu?
A volte penso di essere una foto con lâautoscatto venuta fuori trasparente che non si vede bene, che si vede niente, un nastro dimenticato annodato sul letto che da solo non sa sciogliere questo nodo: scioglilo tu, o tu, o tu, scioglimi tu, o tu, o tu⌠Tu?
Io non ricordo piÚ come fu, che tu, o tu, possiedi le dita delle mie mani, le labbra della mia bocca, il cuore che usa me, per battere in se, per battere in te⌠O tu, o tu, o tu⌠Tu? Pulsalo tu, o tu, o tu, pulsami tu⌠Tu?
A volte penso di essere un sogno che qualcuno si è dimenticato di fare, o tu, o tu, o tu⌠Tu?
Ma poi non ci penso piĂšâŚ
Aldo Busi, da âLâamore trasparenteâ
8 notes
¡
View notes
Text
A volte penso di essere un sogno che qualcuno si è dimenticato di fare, il sogno nel cassetto aperto nel momento sbagliato, il dormiveglia di una dalia d'inverno che lascia i suoi petali alla brina che l'uccide, grata, di conservare intatto il suo cuore, il cuore del cuore per la primavera alle porte: aprile tu, o tu, o tu, aprimi tu, o tu, o tu, o tu, o tu...o tu? che come me pensi a volte di essere un sogno che qualcuno si è dimenticato di fare, un'altalena occupata che qualcuno si è dimenticato di spingere: spingila tu, o tu, o tu, spingimi tu, o tu, o tu, o tu, o tu...o tu? A volte penso di essere una foto con l'autoscatto venuta fuori trasparente, che non si vede bene, che si vede niente, un nastro dimenticato annodato sul letto che da solo non sa sciogliere questo nodo, scioglilo tu, o tu, o tu, scioglimi tu, o tu, o tu, o tu, o tu...o tu? Non ricordo piÚ come fu che tu, o tu, possiedi le dita delle mie mani, le labbra della mia bocca, il cuore che usa me per battere in sè, per battere in te, o tu, o tu, o tu... o tu? pulsalo tu, o tu, o tu, pulsami tu... tu? A volte penso di essere un sogno che qualcuno si è dimenticato di fare, o tu, o tu, o tu...o tu? ma poi non penso piÚ...
.đŚ.
đ¸Aldo Busi
7 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Per la scrittura io ho fatto tutto, mi sono ridotto persino a vivere.
Aldo Busi, Sodomie in corpo 11.
1 note
¡
View note
Text
John Ashbery - Autoritratto in uno specchio convesso
Parmigianino, Self Portrait in a Convex Mirror, 1524, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna Autoritratto in uno specchio convesso Come lo fece Parmigianino, la mano destrapiĂš grossa della testa, spinta verso lâosservatore e graziosamente in rientranza, come a proteggere ciò che mostra. Qualche lastra piombata, vecchie travi, pelliccia, mussola arricciata, un anello di corallo concorrono in unâŚ
View On WordPress
#Aldo Busi#Giorgio De Chirico#Henri Matisse#John Ashbery#Massimo Bagicalupo#Parmigianino#poesia americana#Wystan Hugh Auden
0 notes
Note
could you draw earthspark soundwave in your style?
listen Ive tried for 3 days but I keep getting distracted or drawing something else
You must pray now
34 notes
¡
View notes
Text
oh dear
#fear im falling down a shame spiral or skmetjing and my brain feels too busy amd i need to go for a walk but aldo eat and tidy the house#and the one friend i could maybe talk to about this is away for the next two weeks basically#it shouldnt be that deep god#i just dont understand how im supposed to wade through past trauma and transgenderism and figure out if i like sex
2 notes
¡
View notes
Text
đđđ
THE COUNT | {vamprry} a preview
Series Summary: Count Styles lives on an island youâll not find on any map. Heâs lived in relative solitude for ages and is happy to have the rare occasional guest who accidentally runs into his small slice of the world, though they may not be as thrilled by his intentions once they find out what he is.
When Y/n's weather vessel crashes into his island one stormy night he greets her and offers her shelter in his castle while she waits for someone to help repair her boat. She soon comes to adore the strange and charming man and grows a worrying attachment. But she cannot help herself. No matter how much she learns about the Count and how strange her world has become she cannot seem to pull herself out of the haze of his alluring spell.
Even when her life depends on it.
..
Short preview below.
NOTE: this is from part 2 (which has not yet been posted on Patreon)
. . .
Pressing her ear closer to the door she closed her eyes and there was a distinct male voice, a sobbed moan that, after a loud thud, turned into something like a pitiful crying. But then she heard another voice and there was something familiar in the way it cooed and teased almost. She could not make out words but the sentiment was clear. There were two people in that room having sex and one of them was Harry. The other sounded to be a man.
Stepping back from the door she realized her mouth was hung open in surprise. Perhaps the Count was into men. Well, he was quite pretty. She could imagine that she supposed. Before she could even turn around the sounds behind the door stopped and the silence that suddenly surrounded her had her heart picking up a beat. Had she made a noise?
She swallowed and turned her head to see her door open down the hallway and wondered if she could make it quickly before anyone knew that sheâd been listening in.
But the moment that thought popped into her head the door opened up and there was Harry in a long white cotton pijama, the top unbuttoned and nearly draped off his shoulder. She glanced over his frame and back up to his eyes but he was different. His irises were almost black and his mouth was set strangely, like he had swollen gums, âWould you like something, Y/n?â
Shaking her head she stepped back, âNo. Sorry. I⌠heard something⌠nothing. Iâm going back to bed. Sorry!â
She turned to move away but he stopped her, his hand wrapped around her upper arm, making her twist back to face him, âAre you sure donât want anything?â
She darted her eyes behind him to the room heâd been in and it appeared to be lit by a fireplace. She saw something move across the doorway but couldnât make out what (or who) it was.
âIâm sorry for disturbing you. That⌠I was just worriedâŚâ
He smiled, his lips covering his teeth as he closed the door behind him and stepped in dangerously close, holding her arm to keep her from inching away. He looked down at the dirtied material tucked under her arm and he grunted softly, âOh my. What is this?â
Letting go of her arm he plucked the defiled sheets and nightgown from her and dropped the sheet to the floor, his hands crumpling around the white fabric, thumb dragging into the slippery wetness where her arousal had dripped.
She felt herself flush hot with embarrassment as she watched the Count inspect the damage sheâd done to her nightgown. It was obvious what it was he was looking at.
âPoor, Y/n,â his dark eyes met hers as he lifted his thumb to his mouth and ran the pad of his digit against his tongue, eyes fluttering closed when he swallowed.
All of the breath in her lungs was caught and now the flush of heat was forming in her tummy as she watched him enjoy the taste. Her taste.
His jaw clenched as he opened his eyes and looked down at her, dark irises raking over her frame and then back up to her face, a deep exhale escaping his chest, âWeâre all carnal beings, Y/n. Thereâs no shame in the bodyâs natural reaction to an arousing dream. All you have to do is call for me next time and Iâll make the emptiness go away. Iâll do whatever you ask.â
She couldnât blink or look away from him. She was trapped by his haunting gaze as he drew a finger from her jaw up to her temple and then back down until heâd gently scraped his nail over her pulse point, pressing in just enough to make a small indent bite into her flesh, before lifting and pushing his nail in crosswise against the same spot.
âX marks the spot. Doesnât it, Y/n?â
She gulped, âWhatâs that mean?â
Harry lowered his face close to hers. He was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, âIf you ask politely,â he wrapped his hand around the side of her neck, thumb dragging against her jaw, âIâll show you what it means.â
. . .
Part 1 of this series is out now on Patreon only. If you liked this preview, consider joining my Patreon for more exclusive content like this.
xoxo
#big reveals in this one#and cannot wait for another time for that storyđ#thatâs okay you might remember this⌠I wasđŽ#i donât think Harryâs gonna like Aldo if they cross paths đŤŁđ¤#new characters and what did Silas get up toâŚor who#she went right to business I help you you help me đ¤#but will he keep his promise ??!!??!#my little đ§#you can tell heâs feeling deeply for her and wants her to want him backkkkkkk ahhhhhhh#okay and whatâs the tea with Genevieve I gotta know#every time I start a new part I am so locked in#itâs so immersive I feel like Iâm there watching it all go down#and so much happens in each part that I wouldnât even think to happen which makes it so fun and exciting#so excited to see what happens next#highly highly recommend#harry styles fic rec#fic rec#harry styles smut#vampire!harry#the count#so good so good#love love love#guru always delivers
235 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Macron's fiery Sorbonne speech targets summering American Millennials
Itâs no coincidence that Emmanuel Macron gave a fiery speech about the threats facing Europe the same week that American Millennials in New York, LA, and Miami began talking about booking their one-way flights to the continent. "There is a risk our Europe could die - we are not equipped to face the risks," Macron said, referring to the dietary allergies, alternative milk needs, and tedious conversations of trust-funded, unemployed young adults who will begin their summer in Paris to attend a museum benefit that spills into a large dinner party with several professional photographers before traveling to Puglia, Comporta, or Ibiza where they will subsist on âbeautiful tomatoes,â flat whites, and MDMA.Â
Europe has struggled with illegal immigration for decades, and there is no more pressing illegal immigration threat than American Millennials who have decided that being unemployed in Europe is less distressing for their parents than being unemployed in Williamsburg. Google searches for âhow long can I stay in EU without passportâ spiked in late-April among Americans who have not yet bought a Portuguese passport from a guy who used to run a turnkey Burning Man camp who is now running a Golden Visa scheme in Lisbon. âOur Europe today is mortal,â Macron said. âIt can die and that depends solely on our choices,â the choices being whether or not to search and detain for ketamine at customs and how to clearly define tipping protocol in restaurants.Â
âIt used to be enough to spend a couple weeks in Italy in July,â observes Coco, a 34-year-old retired gallery founder who is on the board of several art-related non-profits that she instructed her unpaid interns to start. âBut now it gets so hot in Europe in July that everyone is going in June and even like, May.â Coco has several weddings and dinner parties in various coastal destinations in Europe in June, but she has not yet RSVPâd nor has she booked any travel. âI know Iâm going to go, but Iâve just been too busy to look at the dates or book anything,â she says, absently picking some kind of beige matter from the left eye of her toy goldendoodle. Macron at one point asserts in his speech that Europe is âtoo slow and lacks ambition,â referring directly to Cocoâs ambivalent European travel plans.Â
Uncertainty permeates the vibe in Europe right now, not because of a military threat posed by a giant, angry country with cocked nukes driven by a weak-minded Cold War relic, but because every Millennial in New York, Miami and Los Angeles has expressed their intention to occupy Europe without declaring the targets.Â
âIs very stressful,â says Aldo Melpignano, the proprietor of Borgo Egnazia, a trendy boutique hotel in Puglia that for Europeans costs âŹ120 a night and charges 30something Americans visiting from coastal zipcodes $970. âI see the hashtags on the Instagram, like, Iâm coming for your @borgoegnazia,â he says. âVa bene, Allison, when you gonna come for us, and are you gonna come with that stupid capello?â says Aldo while making a pinched-fingers emoji with one hand and pointing to his head with the other. Hotel, coffee shop, organic market, and narcotics purveyors all over Italy, France, Spain, and Portugal have echoed this desire for more resolute planning and fewer hats from the demographic that funds the less productive but more desirable EU countries. Â
"We must produce more, we must produce faster, and we must produce as Europeans," Macron said, a rallying cry to European DJs to sample only vocals that were recorded in native European languages. Â
âEurope must show that it is never a vassal of the United States and that it also knows how to talk to all the other regions of the world," Macron said, refuting the irrefutable fact that Europe has become a summer camp for unproductive younger Americans and suggesting that they be immediately deported to Bodrum or Izmir upon landing at CDG, MXP, and LIS.Â
âThis is a betrayal of our values that ultimately leads us to dependency on other counties,â Macron said, making an observation about Europeâs frustration with having to work between May and August in order to show American Millennials how to correctly tap their credit card on puzzling European payment terminals.
âEurope must become capable of defending its interests, with its allies by our side whenever they are willing, and alone if necessary,â said Macron, in defense of French baristas who do not like working with oat milk. Taking a hands-on approach to ensuring the EUâs âability to ensure our securityâ Macron and his wife will begin their Summer at a wedding in the Aeolian Islands in early June, float around Sicily or Puglia the following week, head to Bonjuk Bay for an appearance of prominent LA-based DJ, RICHE, and then couch-surf in Santa Gertrudis de Fruitera the rest of the summer.
351 notes
¡
View notes
Text
One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds. Much of the damage inflicted on land is quite invisible to laymen. An ecologist must either harden his shell and make believe that the consequences of science are none of his business, or he must be the doctor who sees the marks of death in a community that believes itself well and does not want to be told otherwise.
Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac
189 notes
¡
View notes
Text
cruel summer - ross x reader ËË��ִŕť`đ:â§Ë.đâđ§§đ
a/n: sufjan stevens summer?? maybe?? slightly, if you squint. cw: CHEATING (if you have problems with it, this one's really not for you), brief mentions of the death of a parent, one extremely brief mention of a slap, SMUT wc: 12.6k (wtf!)
the first day of summer is always dull at the villa.Â
itâs the summer solsticeâsomething the owner used to believe in, and so you keep the tradition, moving all your belongings to the little caretakerâs cottage for the next three months. itâs hard work, taking care of the guests, taking care of the villa, but itâs fun. thereâs your seventy year old fisherman aldo who greets you with all the grandfatherly warmth in the world. he promises help should you need it. (you suspect you do, itâs your first year doing this alone after all)Â
thereâs marta, the cook whoâs worked here since before you were even born, excited to get back to work and try out some of the new recipes sheâs perfected over the course of the rest of the year. her son helps out too. enzo helps with the cleaning and the more manual tasks, helps you make sure the place is spotless. then there's the more seasonal staff, people who want to spend a summer abroad doing menial jobs and traveling. they never stay long but they're good help.
all in all by the time the villa is open for business, youâre confident that itâs going to be the perfect getaway for any couple that chooses to rent it, specifically the one who has chosen to rent itâfor four whole weeks. not that you donât get long stays from people, itâs an absolutely gorgeous property after all. but four weeks is rare.Â
you suspect itâs someone on their honeymoonâhigh on newlywed bliss and disgustingly in love.Â
mr and mrs macdonald.
âwe have a booking under macdonald?â is the first thing he says to you.Â
hastily you look up from your phone (which you shouldnât have been on in the first place, but the only people youâve seen here today are a few tourists dining at the restaurant adjacent to the villa and the locals dropping by for a catch up) and nod.
macdonald. yes. thatâs a name you know.Â
you stand up to your full height and come up to about his chest, craning until you can meet his eyesâŚor well, the sunglasses, in his case. he looks like every other tourist youâve seenâa white linen shirt, sunglasses, suitcases, slightly pink in the face. but thatâs not all.Â
a chain peeks from under his collar, resting delicately around his neck. his sleeves are folded up to the elbows, forearms littered with tattoos, and you suspect thereâs more of them that you canât see. the top two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned, giving you a generous view of his chest.Â
not that you should be noticing any of that.Â
he is holding hands with his wife right in front of you after all⌠a wife that has her eyebrow raised at you at the moment.Â
âright!â you clap, putting on your best customer service voice, âthe honeymoon couple.â
she makes a sound at the back of her throat, something thatâs almost like an incredulous laugh. the man, however, smiles and shakes his head.Â
ânot honeymoon, no. just a vacation.â
inwardly you cringe. the owner would have never outright assumed something like that. the owner, incidentally, would have also had the perfect comeback. you awkwardly toe the rug under your feet.
âoh, sorry about that. let me just, uh, let me get you checked in.â
mercifully they say nothing after that. they wait, holding hands and looking around the lobby of the villa, making little comments about the decor and the vibe. from the corner of your eye you see him rub his thumb on the back of her hand, then you see her put her thumb on his, stopping his motion entirely. he doesnât try again after that.Â
âleave your bags here, iâll send enzo to get them. heâs our helper, by the way.â you look around for any sign of enzo and find him gone, probably helping around with other things. quickly you explain some general things, let them know where to find stuff they might possibly need.Â
âand do you live here?â the man asks, catching you off guard. it clearly catches his wife off guard too because she stops looking around and stares right at you. you suspect if it werenât for her sunglasses, sheâd be openly glaring daggers at you.Â
ânot here,â you laugh, slightly awkward, âthe cottage adjacent. itâs right by the edge of the property if you take the back entrance.â
âah! weâre neighbours.â itâs the first time the wife speaks directly to you, startling you a little. you nod dumbly.Â
âi guess we are. have a good stay mr and mrs macdonald!â
the wife is about to thank you when the man waves his hand, âplease! itâs ross and ava. weâre staying in your house, after all.â
âross and ava,â you repeat weakly. any other time you would have quickly corrected him, not my house, but with all his attention on you itâs like youâre tongue-tied and on auto-pilot. only capable of nodding and smiling.Â
âthank you,â the wifeâavaâsays softly, and then she holds her husbandâs hand, pulling him along with her. ross gives you one last nod and follows her inside.Â
you make your way outside, trying to find enzo, and ignore the âseriously?!â that echoes from inside.Â
âhandsome man,â marta side eyes you while making a breakfast spread the next morning. you sit on the counter next to her, legs swinging, swiping a fresh muffin while you wait for the coffee to brew.Â
âhandsome married man,â you deadpan.Â
she tuts. âthey donât seem that much in love.â
ânonna!â you jump off the counter, a little flabbergasted, but she only shrugs. ânone of our business, okay?â
flustered, you gather the breakfast trays, balancing one in each hand and pushing the door open with your hip. the villa has old servant's passageways, still functional albeit dimly lit, but itâs faster to use the main hallways.Â
besides, itâs seven in the morning, you doubt either of them is awake.Â
quickly, you make your way to the dining hall, balancing the trays at each turn and making sure to dodge furniture and other decor until you take one more turn and feel your foot getting caught up in the rug.Â
fuck how did you not see that?! your eyes widen, body struggling to not flail and drop the traysâthe muffins and frittatas canât fall, thereâs no time to replace them if they fall.Â
panic surges in your body as you lose your balance entirely untilâ
âcareful!â an unfamiliar voice calls out. an equally unfamiliar arm wraps around your waist, his other hand coming up to stop the trays from falling. somehow you manage to salvage the other, and quickly set it down. he follows suit and sets the other down next to it.Â
âfuck, you alright?â his voice comes from right next to your earâross. here. with his arm around your waist.Â
and like a starstruck idiot you do absolutely nothing to step away.Â
âsorry! yeah, yes!â you mumble quickly, scrunching your eyes shut and taking in gulps of air. a moment later, heâs the one to step away.Â
you open your eyes and smile tightly at him but the moment you look at him properly, itâs like all the air in the room vanishes. suddenly, itâs a million degrees hotter. his hair is in the same bun they were yesterday, but now there are a couple flyaways, plastered to his sweaty forehead. his t-shirt sticks to his body, damp with sweat and perfectly moulded to the contours of his chest. itâs not hard to make out the precise shape of his arms and shoulders and chest.Â
the gold chain is only half visible, resting comfortably on his collarbone.Â
he looks like a statue carved out of marble.Â
âth-thanks,â you stutter, belatedly kicking yourself for checking him out so blatantly, something thatâs definitely not gone unnoticed. his mouth curls up into a smirk, his dark eyes that you hadnât seen yesterday, stare at you with a kind of intensity that makes you want to melt away right there on the floor.Â
âyouâre welcome. it wouldâve been a shame to let all that go to waste.â
âit would have.â
ross points at the muffins. âyou made them?â
âme? oh no, i can hardly cook much less bake. marta, our cookâŚâ
âahâŚâ he nods an wipes the bead of sweat from his forehead. an errant thought enters your headâone that contains your tongue and his chest and sweaty bodies moving against each other. you cough and bite your tongue. hard.Â
âiâm sure youâre hungry afterâŚâ
âmy run? yeah,â he smiles, âstarving. have you had breakfast yet?â
âwhat?â
âhave you had breakfast? or do you notâŚ?â
âno no,â you take another step back, wondering if itâs wise to stand that close to him, âi mean yes, fuck. sorry.â
he snickers, ââs alright, love. breathe. i was only asking if youâd like to have breakfast with me if you havenât already had it yet.â
if your jaw hadnât dropped before, it sure does now, eyes wide and trained on him to make sure heâs not making fun of you for some reason. he wants to have breakfast withâŚyou.Â
âmrs macdonaldââ
âava wonât be up for another two hours.â his voice is firm, it leaves no room for argument. âbesides, she doesnât really have breakfast. and i think⌠if itâs okay with you, that is, iâd like to have company while eating.â
the cacophony of thoughts rages on in your head. this is so improper! god, what would the owner say?! but then again your job is to keep the guests happy, isnât it? itâs not like youâre inserting yourself in other peopleâs businesses. he askedâ
âwell?â
his expectant gaze makes you realise youâve been staring at him absently for the last minute. heâs clearly waiting for an answer.
and it should be no, you should say no.Â
but when you look at his dark eyes and alluring smile somehow the ânoâ gets lost on your tongue. all you can manage is to pick the trays back up and murmur a quiet âyes��.
ârome? thatâs your favourite?â
âyeah, whatâs wrong with that?â he crosses his arms in front of him, playfully defensive. you observe more keenly than you should. the black tee stretches over his arms, emphasising the precise shape of them. satisfaction runs through you when you see the tattoos on his armsâthe ones you hadnât seen yesterday. you were right, there are so many moreâŚ
âitâs just soâŚclichĂŠ,â you giggle and take a sip of your coffee. itâs lukewarm now, thatâs how long youâve been sitting together. âso touristy!â
âi am a tourist!â he retorts.Â
âyouâre right, youâre right. i just⌠thereâs better places, yâknow? smaller, hidden gems that get overlooked so often, itâs unfair. and romeâs beautiful, donât get me wrong, thereâs a reason itâs such a tourist destination butâŚâ
âbut?â
âit feelsâŚsynthetic? i think thatâs the case with a lot of big cities though, so i canât blame rome solely.â
ross leans forward and rests his chin on his palm. his coffee cup sits on the table, long forgotten, and his gaze is focussed solely on you, studying, curious.Â
âso what feels like home then? if not rome⌠donât get me wrong, i donât mean it in a bad way but you donât soundâŚitalian?â
you take another sip of your coffee and set the mug aside, a little further away from his. this is not a conversation you were prepared to have, not with someone whoâs virtually a stranger. not with someone youâve known for a grand total of one day.Â
âi amâŚitalian,â you pause, feeling your way around the words youâve just spoken. âbut also not really? i have grown up all around the world essentially, whatever struck my mumâs fancy. but iâve always spent my summers here in the villa. with her.â
âdid she work here?â
you trace the rim of the mug, nodding slowly. âsomething like thatâŚâ
âand your dad?â
ânot in the picture. never knew him really,â you interject quickly before ross can assume. âbit of a mamma mia situation. my mum had her fun, i suppose. good for her.â
heâs quiet for a bit, letting his eyes roam all over your faceânot in a way that would suggest anything, but you suspect heâs thinking, ruminating over the information you just gave him.Â
âyou didnât answer my question. what feels like home?â
âthatâs a bit personal,â you scoff and immediately go red in the face. heâs a guest not your friend. âiâm sorry, i didnâtâŚthatâs notâŚâ
ââs alright, love,â he laughs and leans back once again. âit was a bit personal. someone needs to call me out on my nosiness every once in a while.â
still, you sputter out a couple more apologies until ross places his hand on top of yours, startling you into silence. âstop with the apologies, will you? you havenât saidââ
âross?âÂ
if you werenât mortified before, you certainly feel it now. your face, red just a moment ago, pales quickly, as avaâmrs macdonaldâcomes into the dining room.Â
her hair is in the same loose curls it was yesterday, perhaps slightly messy, and even then it looks effortless and gorgeous. her pyjamas are monogrammed with her initials. and her platinum band glints on her finger when the sunlight hits it directly.Â
worst on all, sheâs staring at you, at your hand under her husbandâsâwho looks barely fazed at the moment. all calm and collected.Â
âgood morning, sweetheart,â he gets up from his chair and walks up to her. your skin buzzes where his hand just was, and you look away as they kiss, mortified of intruding on them like this. sheâs the first to pull away.Â
âyou had breakfast,â she says, her tone flat and matter of fact.Â
quickly, you scramble off your seat. âlet me get you something to eat, mrs macdonald.â
âno need,â she smiles at you, but itâs almost as icy as her glareâmechanical and devoid of any warmth. âi don't have any appetite.â
you nod and smile, keeping your eyes locked on a vague spot on the wall behind her. itâs only when youâre about to leave that you see him from the corner of your eye, grinding his jaw and looking nothing like he was just a few moments ago.Â
âi have a favour to ask of you.â itâs ava who approaches you a week later.Â
the entire week youâve stayed away, only talking to them in the capacity of a hostâmaking sure theyâve had all the meals they requested and given them any and all information about the town they might need. youâve even made sure to speak directly to ava when you can help it. ross, for his part hasnât made it any easier.Â
every morning you run into him in the hallwayâsome days heâs in the same black tee, others heâs in a tank top that shows off his toned and (now) tanned arms. itâs the same time every day, and yet you do nothing to change your route and take the servantsâ passages for once. this is easier, you tell yourself. itâs the faster route.Â
fortunately, you donât trip on the rug again. rather, you make it a point not to.Â
he asks you to be his breakfast companion again, and once again the next day. you waffle off some excuse and hurry away before he can protest. on the third day he stops asking. when he passes you in the hallway, he greets you with a polite smile and a nod and then keeps walking towards his balcony.Â
âa favour?â you ask, and ava nods.Â
this close, sheâs absolutely gorgeous, like a face straight out of a magazine. âi wanted to plan something special for ross. a nice dinner perhaps?â
âthatâsâŚâ you swallow a strange emotion, âthatâs a great idea. how can i help?â
âis there a way i can rent a boat for the day?â
âforâŚdinner?â
âyeah, iâve, um, i think the ocean looks quite nice out here. peaceful. ross would love to have a romantic dinner out on the ocean instead of just on the beach.â
âright, yeah.â
âoh, and moneyâs not an object,â she interjects quickly. âiâm willing to pay well for it.â
money is the last thing on your mind, but you nod and smile at her.Â
âiâll get you the details by tomorrow.â
she nods and smiles too, much more excited that you, granted. but you expect her to thank you and leave it at at. what you donât expect is for her to grab your hand in hers and hold it tight.Â
âthank you. thisâŚthis holiday is important to us, to meâŚâ her smile turns mechanical once again and she nods some more. like sheâs trying to convince you and herself. âi need this to be perfect.â
âit will be, mrs macdonald. iâll make sure of it.âÂ
itâs only when she leaves that you have to resist the urge to bash your head through the wall. who the fuck promises something like that to a stranger, to a guest?! without even bothering to make sure you have the resources you just promised.Â
thereâs only one person you know who even has access to a boat. (even though itâs nowhere near the right type of boat but at this point whatâs the harm?)
aldo is laughing along with the other fishermen when you reach the dock. the sky is darkening, almost dark blue with just a tinge of red and orange. aldo greets you with open arms.Â
âi need a boat!â you pant, panicked and half out of breath.Â
he laughs wholeheartedly. âtake your pick!â
âno, not that! i needâŚi need a romantic boat.â
the gaggle of seventy-odd-year-old fishermen giggle like a bunch of teenagers. âwe romanced our wives plenty on these boats,â one of them pipes up, another round of raucous laughter follows suit.Â
you wait for it to die down before you practically beg aldo. âitâs for the guests at the villa, please. i donât know anyone elseââ
âcarissimaâŚâ he puts a hand on your shoulder, âi was joking. i know what you mean and yes, i can ask a few friends if they have something available. iâm sure they do.â
relief floods through your veins, and you practically sink to your knees onto the cobblestones. instead you pull the old man into a tight hug. âthank you, thank you, thank youâŚâ
âyouâre handling it well,â he declares in a tone that leaves no room for argument. âyour mother would be proud.â
you pull away at the mention of her, giving him one last tight smile. âthank you, aldo. call me with the details please.â
once he nods you leave, trying not to dwell too much on what he said.Â
that night you lie in bed, staring up at the same plain ceiling youâve stared at every summer and you think.Â
you think about ross and his wife.Â
you think about ava and what this holiday means to her.Â
and you think about the owner, wonder if she ever slept in this exact bed and thought of things she shouldnât, thought of people she really shouldnât.Â
and when you do eventually fall asleep, much past your bedtime, you dream of himâon a boat in the middle of the ocean, kissing you by the candlelight.Â
itâs a beautiful summer evening, perhaps the best one of the season, when you wait for the macdonalds at the beach. itâs warm but not unbearably so, the light is still golden, almost angelic, and the boat looks perfect. you hope itâs exactly what ava had imagined, hope that it wonât leave her wanting for anything.Â
you check your watch. 6:37 pmâŚ
itâs fine, really, itâs not super uncommon for guests to be running a bit behind. theyâre on a holiday after all, but you would have hoped for a call or a text or something. besides, youâve been busy enough today to not know whether ross and ava went out or stayed inânot that you should be dwelling on it too much. and yet, here you are, checking your watch once again, wondering where heâtheyâgot caught up.Â
you look out at the ocean, calm and quiet for tonight, and then up at the golden horizon. it should be beautiful, everything should be perfect.Â
exactly nine minutes later there are footsteps.Â
one set of them.Â
eagerly, you turn, your face ready with the polite yet friendly customer service smile, but it drops the moment you see ross.Â
heâs alone. the sleeves of his linen shirt are rolled up to his elbow, his hair is down tooâit comes up to about his shoulders. itâ
somethingâs wrong. you realise it about two seconds before he comes to a stop right in front of you. too close, heâs so close. and yet you donât take a step back. you simply crane your neck up to stare at him and part your mouth, about to say something but the look on his face stops you in your tracks.
his eyes are cold, flat. his mouth is pressed into a straight, unimpressed line. his hair is all over the place tooâmessy and tangled like heâs almost been pulling at them out of frustration.Â
this is not the time to let your mind wander, but for once you let yourself imagine what he might do to get rid of his anger, his frustration. how he mightâŚtake care of things.Â
âyouâre alone,â you blurt out, voice barely above a whisper.
âavaâs not coming,â he swallows roughly. for one insane moment you think his gaze dips to your lips, but thatâs a desperate thought. one that is strictly not real. âi want to use the boat.â
âwâwhat?â
âi want.â he stops between each word, âto use. the boat.â
âi thought it wasââ
âa surprise? please!â he laughs, sardonic and borderline cruel. heat rises up your cheeks. âi want to go and have that dinner that was planned for me. i refuse to waste any more good evenings.â
âyeah,â you swallow roughly, âyes, of course. right this way, itâs allââ
âand i want you to join me.â
itâs like the sand beneath your feet shifts with one sentence. your jaw drops into a gape, eyebrows flying into your hairline. you imagine if ross werenât so angry, heâd be laughing at you. still, this is wrong. on so many levels.Â
âi canât!â
âwill you get in trouble for it?â he challenges, and you shake your head dumbly. no, nothing of that sort. not anymore really. âthen i insist. i donât like eating alone, love. donât sentence me to that, not when itâs so gorgeous outside.â
the image sharpens in front of you then, ross out on the calm, peaceful ocean, watching the golden sunset, drinking straight from the bottle of champagne thatâs on board. the food behind him would grow cold eventually. you donât think heâd eat it if you sent him out there alone now.Â
âyour wifeââ
âdoesnât care,â he says firmly. âsheâd be here if she did.â
and thatâs not something you can argue with really. so you nod. itâs just to keep him company, you tell yourself, itâs good service which is what youâre supposed to do. the owner would have done the same, she would have gone above and beyond.
âare you sure about this?âÂ
âyes.â the one word answer leaves no room for argument.Â
you look down at yourselfâa cotton t-shirt and a pair or breezy shorts, comfort over style for when you have to constantly run around. if ross notices this inner dilemma, he doesnât let it on. he simply gestures for you to walk.Â
âafter you,â he says and gives you something that vaguely resembles a smile. on him, itâs still gorgeous, still makes his dimples appear and his eyes crinkle, and for a brief second you simply want to stand here and stare at him in the dying light of the sun.Â
instead you nod and turn towards the boat, trying not to wring your hands together.Â
itâs only a couple hours. it wonât change anything.Â
itâs excruciatingly awkward in the beginning.Â
you suspect if ross were in a better mood, heâd be up for a good conversationâand youâve had those, at least once you have. a good conversation over food while heâs all sweaty and his t-shirt sticks to his body.Â
you suspect if ross were in a better mood, heâd be here with his wife.Â
âyou wonât ask me what happened?â his question startles you. because of course, you want to ask! you just didnât think heâd appreciate it.
âi didnât want to pryâŚâ
âyou wonât,â he sighs. âyouâd be doing me a favour.â
âso iâll act as your therapist then?â you quirk and eyebrow and ross cracks a tiny smile. âbreakfast companion, therapist, makeshift date, whatâs next?â
you regret it as soon as the words tumble out of you. what were you fucking thinking?! this is not a date. you and ross, on a boat in the ocean, with fancy champagne and a candlelit table⌠itâs not a date. itâs two people having dinner so it wonât go to waste. youâve worked too hard on it to throw it away like this.Â
âiâm sorry iââ you sputter, shaking your head wildly, âthatâs not what i meant, thatâsââ
âweâre separating.âÂ
it shocks you so much that you gape at him. itâs a sudden confession, one that you would have never expected him to say out loud. not to you, a complete stranger. then again, maybe itâs better to talk to a stranger anyway.Â
âbut you seem so happy,â you hesitate, wondering if thatâs something heâd even want to hear.Â
it turns out not. ross rolls his eyes. âoh come on, darling, letâs not lie. we have been here two weeks and weâve already fought thrice. this was supposed to be a last ditch effort, did you know that? this holiday. after this,â he swallows, looking off into the ocean, âwhen we go back to london⌠iâll call my lawyers and sheâll call hers.â
âohâŚâ
âyeah.âÂ
silence settles over you, uncomfortable and sticky. you wonder if he wants comfort, sympathy. if he wants you to agree with him or challenge him, if he wants you to be a sounding board and just let him vent, if he wants this to be a conversation.Â
âsorry,â he shakes his head, âa lot to dump on you isnât it?âÂ
âyesâŚâ you turn to him, taking your time to look over his face. itâs so much more tanned than before, a bit more freckled too. thereâs a hint of sunburn poking through his shirt collar and suddenly your mind flashes images of ross on the beach in front of you. ross, shirtless, lying in the sun with those annoyingly hot sunglasses covering his eyes, ross coming out of the water, dripping wet and fucking dreamy. âbut i donât mind.â
you clear your throat quickly, cursing in your head for sounding so breathy.Â
ross raises an eyebrow. âyou tell me something.â he turns and grabs a bottle of expensive champagne. you expect him to get the glasses next, instead he opens the bottle and takes a swig directly from it.
âa secret,â he winks, âfor a secret.â then he extends his hand and offers you the bottle.Â
at first, you hesitate. it isnât for you, none of this is for you. but youâre here now, arenât you? so you grab the bottle from him, trying your hardest not to dwell on the brush of his fingers, how you both linger for just a moment too long.Â
you take a sip of the champagne and think, feeling the bubbles all the way down.Â
âthis is my first year running the villa aloneâŚâ
âis it?â ross sounds surprised. you wonders if he means it as a compliment.Â
âit was, um, it was shut, last year. my mother used to run it. sheâs notâŚalive anymore.â
his eyes widen. âoh, thatâsâiâm sorââ
âno please,â you interrupt before heâs had the chance to finish it. âiâve heard that far too much. iâd rather not be offered condolences ever again.â
for a moment he is quiet, then he nods like he understands something. âyouâre a natural at it. everything has been so good for us so far. i mean look at this fucking boat, this food. youâve planned everything so well.â
a wave of uncharacteristic shyness floods your brain. âitâs not just me,â you smile bashfully, âthe entire staff she trained still works here. they do more than i ever could, honestly. iâm justâŚlearning the ropes.â
âand do you like it?â ross takes a sip of the champagne and leans against the railing. you mimic his pose, looking off at the horizon.Â
âhonestly? yes! i never thought i would and now⌠itâs like i know why she loved doing this. growing up, iâd always feel like a ghost haunting a mansion, and now i finally get it.â
âa ghost haunting a mansion,â he smiles and hands you the bottle, âyou were pretty dramatic as a child.â
a laugh bubbles up in your throat because heâs right, you were dramatic. perhaps you still are deep down under all the grief. ross must have sensed the sudden shift in your thoughts because he expertly changes the subject.Â
âhave you always had the villa in your family?â
âoh thatâs a funny story, if my mum is to believe anyway.â
ross turns, his back pressed to the railing and his eyes focused entirely on you. heâs so close. golden light reflects on his skin, in the hollow of his throat and over every bit of exposed skin. with his hair tied up now, you can once again see that gold chain, dainty and pretty, and you wish you could trace it with your fingertips, feel it against you somehow. you watch ross swallow some of the champagne, how his adamâs apple bobs and a drop of it clings to his lips and suddenly itâs like your cheeks, no, your whole body is on fire. you look away and continue.
âso the story goes, and mind you i donât know how true it is, she was travelling around england. my father was, turns out, some minor aristocrat with a useless title, no one important really. but he had an estate, a whole lot of money and an ego the size of britain.Â
âhis mother never liked that he was with a âfilthy commonerâ like my mother and oh she made that very knownâŚâ ross makes a face and you laugh, feeling a bit lighter than before.Â
âand then she fell pregnant, my mum. she was so happy, wondering how to tell him, getting scans to show him and whatnot. somehow his mother got the news first,â you wince and ross leans forward, his face rife with interest and so much closer than before. âthat woman made her a dealâleave now and never contact my father again, they will set her up with a small house and some money in any country of her choice so she wonât have to worry, as long as she stays far far away.â
âgenerous,â he whistles low.Â
âit is, isnât it? she didnât take it though, she fancied herself in love. that night she told him about me. turns out he was only âfucking aroundâ and âdid not want a childâ. he told her to get rid of it, she said no and they fought. and when she raised her voice, he slapped her. my father slapped my pregnant motherâŚâ
ross gives you his rapt attention.
âshe didnât run though. she stayed there the night, shared a bed with him even though they stuck to their corners. in the morning she went back to his mother and accepted the offer.â
ross laughs, sharp and surprised, and then clamps his mouth shut. âsorry iâitâs not funny, i know, itâs justââ
âno, it is,â you interrupt quickly, âwe used to laugh about it.â
âand the houseâŚ?â
âis the villa, yes. the small âhouseâ they promised her.â
âseems like his mother had more integrity than him.â ross extends you the bottle of champagne again. gratefully, you take it.Â
itâs half-empty now, gone in the flow of the conversation. you feel it too, the bubbles flowing through your blood, buzzing through your head in a way that almost feels soothing. that, combined with the gentle rocking of the boat⌠you close your eyes and inhale the ocean breeze, take another swig of the champagne.Â
âthis is nice, isnât it?â you speak, eyes still closed and tipping your head towards the champagne.
ââs amazing,â he murmurs. his voice surrounds you like itâs floating on the breeze, like heâs so close and so far away at the same time. his cologne, too, is suddenly so much stronger.Â
your heart beats in your throat. you know what you will find when you open your eyesâross, so close and irresistible, in the dying light of the sun, more tempting than the damned apple. an involuntary gasp escapes you when you feel his breath on your face, feel the fabric of his trousers brushes against your leg. his breath quivers.Â
âif i kiss you right now, would you kiss me back?â
you swallow, wondering if itâs a yes or a no. âwhy donât you find out?âÂ
a moment later you feel his hand on your waist, holding you just tight enough to send butterflies fluttering in your stomach. itâs slightly cold from holding the champagne bottle, not that you particularly care. a second later, ross crashes his lips against yours.Â
itâs not soft like in the movies, itâs not a kiss of love or tenderness.Â
it takes you precisely one second of hesitation to give into your instincts and kiss him backâyou hand in his hair and the other fisting his shirt, wrinkling it, leaving your mark on him even if itâs insignificant and ephemeral. you kiss him back with just as much hungerâall tongue and teeth and roaming hands.Â
rossâ hands moves from your waist and comes to rest on your ass, hitching your leg up, wrapping it around him. his hand spray across the back of your thigh, rough fingers trailing up smooth skin, itâs all too much, too much for you to hold back a moan.Â
you moan into the kiss and somehow that undoes him completely.Â
air whooshes out of your lungs as ross flips you both, trapping you between him and the railing. the bottle of champagne falls and rolls away, dripping the last of its contents on the floor, but itâs so insignificant, so inconsequential⌠not when you have this burning need coursing through you to feel him everywhere all at once.Â
involuntarily your fingers fidget with his trousers just as his mouth moves to your jaw. he stops you though, lightly swats your hand away and pops open the buttons of your shorts instead. you let him, mostly because when they touch your stomach itâs like lightning exploding right under your skin, crackling, buzzing, you simply want to feel so much more of him, of his fingers.Â
ârossâŚâ you moan, not sure if you want to beg him or stop or let him take charge completely.Â
âi know, darling,â he breathes, kissing you again. tentatively he dips a finger inside the waistband of your underwear, asking for permission.
âplease, fuck, plâplease.â
you throw your head back, whimpering when his teeth graze your neck and his finger presses into your clit. itâs heady and intoxicating and all you want to do is be greedy and ask for more and more and more. you donât have to ask though. his fingers work against your clit, creating a rhythm just perfect enough to weaken your knees, and you hold on to him tight, your nails digging into his back.Â
would they leave crescent moon marks on his skin? just dark enough to stand out, just dark enough to be distinct. will his wife look at them and know what they are?
his wifeâŚ
and just like that all your ecstasy turns into nausea.Â
you falter, a small hesitant movement. and thatâs all it takes to shatter the moment entirely.Â
âwe canât,â he pulls his hand away abruptly just as heâs about to push his fingers inside you. you stare at him in surprise, gripping the railing to stay upright. itâs hard not to pant and breathe hard, especially when heâs breathing heavily too, guilt written all over his face.Â
his lips are swollen, wet. red enough to almost make you go back to him and kiss him all over again, thread your fingers through his hairâit looks so lovely and effortlessly messy. the top three buttons of his shirt are undone, gold chain fully on display, gleaming against tanned skin. you swallow. fuck.Â
âwe canâtâŚâ he repeats, and steps away completely.Â
you imagine what you must look likeât-shirt almost off your shoulder and the buttons of your shorts undone. not naked and yet so exposed and vulnerable. you wonder if his mouth left any marks against your neck.Â
âwhatâŚâ humiliation burns through you. what the fuck were you thinking, throwing yourself at him like this?!
ross looks like heâs trying hard not to lose control, jaw set, eyes firmly on you and pupils blown out so wide you resolve almost weakens. but the ring on his finger glints and just like that the nausea is back. the guilt, the self loathing, all of it is back with a vengeance.
âiâm married.â
and that shuts you up thoroughly. surely the captain of the boat heard everything that happened just now. surelyâŚ
you hurry as far away from ross as possible, turning around and fixing your clothes. ross stays where he is, his back towards you, hand trembling by his side.
the food stays untouched.Â
the awkwardness from before is nothing compared to what you feel now, completely unable to meet his eyes or even turn around to look at him, not even to check if heâs still facing the other way. maybe throwing yourself into the ocean is the best course of action right now.
in a moment, you will gather strength again and tell the captain to take you back to the shore. in a moment you wonât have to share the space with him, you will finally be able to get a full breath into your lungs. for now you stay still, ignoring the fire still burning low under your skin and right in your belly, lust coiled like a snake. for now you simply look out into the ocean and will your body to stop shaking.
âenzo, would you set up breakfast today?â you find him in the gardens bright and early the next day. not that it matters how early it is anyway, not to you who hasnât slept a wink the whole night. youâre sure there are dark circles under your eyes to give that away instantly.Â
enzo looks down at his hands and then back up at you, slightly apologetic. they are covered in soil, of course. heâs been helping with repotting some plants. of course he canât just leave all of that and do your job instead because youâve fucked up and made a giant mess. of course not.Â
ârightâŚâ you trail off and back away.Â
âitâs okay, i canââ
âno,â you cut him off, a little sharper than you intended, âthatâs alright. iâll do it.â
and you will. you can act like a professional and do your fucking job. you will be in and out as quickly as possible and not look anyone in the eye. you will nod and smile and get the fuck out of there.Â
absently, your hand trails over the faint hickeys on your neck. hopefully, theyâre well covered by the concealer you slathered on at 5 in the morning, hopefully the collar of your shirt helps disguise it too. not like ava would be there to see it, sheâs yet to be in the dining room for breakfast. and yet you donât know what would be more mortifying, her seeing it or ross seeing it.Â
âgood morning,â a voice greets you the moment you step foot into the dining room. a pit opens in your stomach.Â
ava sits at the head of the dining table, still in her night clothes with a dressing gown loosely wrapped around her body. itâs⌠sheâsâŚ
âi know iâm up early, and in hereâ she laughs, ânot very much like me.â
her fingers are curled around a fork in a tight grip, knuckles almost white, tines digging into the place mat. it takes you a second to find your voice.
âmorning, mrs macdonald.â the words burn like acid on their way out, and for the first time you look at her properly. she looks exactly how you feelâcircles under her eyes, a sallowness to her face, like her skin is stretched thinly over her face. she looks like sheâs been up all night, tossing and turning. âis râmr macdonald joining you?â
âno,â her voice turns sharp. âhe says he has a migraine. just me today.â
âahâŚâ you nod, rooted in the spot awkwardly.Â
âchampagne hangover, i suspect.âÂ
a quick hot and cold flash runs through you, like sheâs caught you directly in a lie. and maybe she hasâŚhow much did ross tell her exactly? did he tell her?Â
ava smiles, cold and hollow. âiâm starving, though.â
âyes, of course,â you avert your gaze, eyes firmly on the ground. fuck fuck fuck. she knows. bile churns in your stomach as you move on autopilot, doing the same thing youâve done every day for the last three weeks. except this time there will be no joining ross for breakfast.Â
through some miracle of fate, ava doesnât bring up the boat or the dinner or the champagne again. she just thanks you and digs into her breakfast, eating like absolutely nothing is wrong. the ring on her finger is still there, just as shiny as before.Â
you leave her be and get out of the dining room. thereâs no air in there anymore, thereâs no air in this entire villa anymore. your breaths turn into pants, footsteps echoing in your ears and the rush of blood almost drowning them out as you run run run through the corridors. you need to get out of here, out of this place but thereâs nowhere private enough to go but back to your own cottage, and so thatâs where you turn.Â
soundlessly, you slip out of the back door and run on the little cobblestone path until you get to the door to your cottage. itâs unlocked, to your utter relief. silently, you thank your past self for forgetting to lock it because all you need right now is to shut the world out and rot in bed.Â
the moment the door thuds shut, you feel your lungs filling with air again. itâs quiet here, itâs silent.Â
and your bed looks cosy at least.Â
you close your eyes and release a deep sigh once you settle on top of the covers. does ava know? you wonder if sheâs somehow guessed it⌠if she somehow saw the marks you left behindâŚÂ
the memory comes back to haunt in full forceâyour thigh hitched around rossâ waist, your hand in his hair and his in your underwear, touching and teasing and making you taste insanity. against your better judgement you close your eyes and clench your thighs together, wondering if your hand can replicate the feel of his. it canât, you know it canât. nothing ever will. and yetâŚ
slowly you hitch your dress up, bringing it up to your thigh and all the way past your hips until itâs bunched on your stomach. your pale pink underwear is next to go, discarded carelessly somewhere in the room.Â
thereâs not much ceremony to it, just your fingers gently pressing against the bundle of nerves as you close your eyes and think back to yesterday, to the roughness of his hand and the hardness of his body⌠fuck. it doesnât feel the same, it feels nothing like it did, no matter how hard you try. the only thing you manage to do is get frustrated finding the right angle.Â
fuck this, a pillow should work just fine if not your hand.Â
and it does, itâs better once you have a white pillow clenched between your thighs, slowly moving your hips against it, feeling the friction, the familiar feeling. itâs a slow build, but itâs there, itâs something.Â
inside your own bedroom, you barely hold back moans. unintelligible, lustful sounds, maybe his name slips out once or twice too. if anything, the thrill of it adds to the feeling. youâre sure thereâs a wet spot on the pillow now, a slick little stain where youâve been grinding onto it. your thighs tremble from the effort and itâs only just starting to feel good, feel so so goodâ
a sharp rap on the door scares a yelp out of you.Â
shit shit shit, what were you thinking?! itâs probably enzo or marta coming to check on you, wondering why you werenât in the villa.Â
âcoming!â you yell out, voice shaking, hands shaking even more.Â
the person doesnât go away. instead, another knock follows.Â
cursing to yourself, you get off the bed, and smooth down your dress again. youâll find the fucking underwear in a minute, the dress isnât transparent.Â
âwhatâsââ you stop abruptly, coming face to face with ross who looks like he hasnât had a momentâs worth of peace all night. great, thatâs all three of you then.Â
âlet me come in,â he breathes, almost urgent. âplease.â
your heart's in your throat, thudding and thudding, fast enough that it might just leap out of you completely. and here you are in front of him, trying to stay cool like you werenât just touching yourself to the thought of him mere seconds ago.Â
rossâ eyes scan you, from your messy hair to your wrinkled dress. can he tell somethingâs wrong?Â
wordlessly you step aside and he enters, closing the door behind him.Â
âyour wife knows.â
âshe suspects.â
âand?â
âand what?â he whirls to look at you. âwhat if i said i no longer care if she does.â
âross!â your voice rises. your back is pressed to the wall, as far away from his as possible even though the room feels like itâs a tiny cardboard box at the moment, âyou canât say things like that. not afterânotâŚâ
âafter what i said yesterday?â he takes a steps towards you, you stay rooted in your spot. âwhat if i changed my mind?â
another step, heâs barely four steps away from you now.Â
âwhat if i changed mine?â you challenge, which is perhaps not the wisest thing to do right now butâŚ
âhave you?â he asks, boldly taking two more steps.
if you had, you wouldnât be standing there right now without any underwear on, desperately wishing heâd find out and fucking do something about it. use his hands again, use his mouth too maybe.Â
you turn your face to the side, trying not to whimper as he finally closes the distance between you and stands close enough that you feel the warmth radiating off his body again.Â
âcan i find out?â
saying no would be wise, you know it. and yet⌠itâs you who kisses him first. unlike last time he lets your hand roam wherever you wish. unlike last time his t-shirt is first to goâthe only time you briefly break the kiss to get it off him and somewhere on the floor. his tanned skin is warm under your hands, freckled chest that you instantly touch all over.Â
his kisses turn feverish as his lips move along the hollow of your throat, your collarbone. âyou are so perfect, fuck.âÂ
his words, spoken in a low whisper, travel straight to your core. heat pools, or rather intensifies, as his hand comes to rest on the back of your neck. ross doesnât need much strength to hold you in place, to stop you from squirming and firmly against him, tits brushing against his naked chest.
his mouth travels lower, ghostly kisses trailed to as much of your cleavage as the dress offers.Â
âross,â your fingers tighten on his shirt, âplease, i needâfuck, need you.â
he can most definitely hear the blatant desperation in your voice, whiny and practically begging to be touched, to be fucked.Â
âanything you want,â ross groans. âjump.â
it doesnât take you another second before your legs are around his middle and his big hands are gripping your thighs, under your ass. rough, calloused fingers digging into soft flesh while you tug at the hair at the nape of his neck and make him groan. he really is fucking beautiful, especially in the morning sunlight streaming into your room.
you kiss again, urgent and desperate. somewhere at the back of your mind youâre aware heâs walking, taking you to the bedroom, but youâre too engrossed with how his tongue feels inside your mouth. how his tongue might feel between your legs.Â
but a foot inside the room and ross comes to a stop, his eyes widening.Â
he takes the room in and you wonder what he sees, craning your neck to look around as well. and there it is, your pale pink underwear dangling carelessly from the bedpost, the pillow in the middle of the bed, sheets wrinkled. itâs not that hard to guess what happened in hereâŚ
that much is confirmed when you meet his eyes again and see pure lust in them. they look so much darker than before, so much dilated. ross all but throws you on the bed, climbing up after and practically on top of you.Â
âwhat was happening hereâŚbefore?â
âdoes it matter?â you raise an eyebrow, hoping he doesnât see the flush growing rapidly on your cheeks. the chain dangles from his neck, so close now, practically touching your skin. you hook a finger in it and tug him closer.Â
âdid it feel good at least?â ross smirks, and you suspect he already knows the answer.Â
ânot even close.â
âand what do you want now?â
everything, really.Â
you want to feel his fingers like yesterday and his mouth between your legs. you need him inside you and in your mouth and everything in between.Â
âwhy donât you get on your knees first?â
ross raises an eyebrow. so this is how itâs going to be thenâŚÂ
the anticipation of it makes your pulse raise, makes goosebumps scatter all over your body. he can definitely see you trembling on the bed, back slightly arched, nipples peaking out from the thin cotton of the dress, hair a complete mess. the room burns a million degrees hotter now or maybe itâs just you, dying to be touched.
âlet me take care of you then,â he whispers, âjust relax for meâŚâ
his words affect you immediately. your toes curls and hands fist the sheets in anticipation of the sounds you know he will draw out from you.Â
âwas thinking about you,â you confess as he trails a finger over your leg, starting from your ankles and up your shin and thigh until his fingers at your hip, resting where the band of your underwear should have been.Â
involuntarily, you lift your hips up, making the fabric of your dress slide away a little more.Â
âi could tellâ ross teases, a cocky tinge to his voice. then he leans down, his lips dangerously close to your stomach. "come on, darling," he purrs, âspread your legs for me.â
something like a whimper and a moan echoes around the room and ross drags a finger through your slit, lazily collecting the wetness, coaxing you and spreading you open while his mouth presses kisses all over. your lower stomach first, then your thighs. meanwhile, his thumb finds your clit, and just like yesterday, he works it up in a lazy rhythm.Â
âshit, ross,â you whimper as a jolt goes through your spine, skin burning wherever his hands touch. the build up is a sweet torture.Â
you gasp when he sucks on your clit, unexpected and quick, letting his teeth graze it gently every once in a while. your thighs tremble under his hands, your muscles shift and ross doesnât stop you at all when you squeeze your thighs together trapping his head between them. his hair is already a mess, all over the place, and his beard tickles the inside of your thighs.Â
âoh god,â you moan loudly. âfuck, just like thatâŚâ your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging and pulling while you squirm and against his face and ross takes it all. his tongue laps at your folds, his nose pushing against your clit.Â
his hand pushes under your dress, pinching and squeezing your nipples at almost a bruising pace, itâs all too much. and yet thereâs no way in hell youâd stop him when he meets your eyes from between your legsâeyes dark and intense, beard glistening with your slick.Â
you clench around nothing then and for a moment ross looks like heâs going to come undone right there, staring at your with his mouth parted. his eyes have a little glazed-over quality to them, like heâs in a trance.Â
youâre so close now, rocking your hips against his face, and your thighs squeeze his head harder. youâre so close you can almost taste your release in the air. Â
âso perfect,â he urges and lets his teeth drag over your clit again. âlet me taste you, darling, yeah? i know youâre close.â
âso, so closeâŚâ your trail off and ross places a kiss on your thigh, utterly out of place from everything heâs been doing so far. in the middle of everything filthy, that one soft kiss feels chasteâa request maybe or even a way to coax you.Â
âlet go for me then,â he breathes and pushes his thumb against your clit. his tongue thrusts inside you again and you mewl his name. louder than before.
âdonât stop, ross, donâtââ and you feel it then, feel yourself drenching his lips and his chin. feel the spasm of your thighs and your ragged breaths reverberating through your body.Â
just like you requested, he doesnât stop. he laps up every last drop you have to over, fucks you with his tongue till youâre completely done riding out your orgasm.Â
once ross straightens youâre met with the loveliest sight youâve ever seenâhis lips raw and red, his beard wet. his hair is almost out of his bun now and that damn gold chain around his neck. itâs all so beautiful, you almost beg him to come up to you. and ross obliges, his arms on either side of you and his body between your legs while he kisses you so thoroughly, you can taste all of you on his tongueâevery want, every desire, down to the last drop of lust running through your blood.Â
âi need to be inside you or i will die,â he says, his voice more like a growl. and yes itâs so full of want and desperation but that just eggs you on more, makes the heat in your belly flare up all over again.Â
âthereâs condoms in the drawer,â you moan, trying not to whine when ross gets off your for two seconds to find them, and comes back with the silver square.Â
it doesnât take another second before your legs are around his middle again and his big hands are gripping your thighs. rough, calloused fingers digging into soft flesh while you run your hand through his hair and make him groan.Â
âfuck, loveâ he breathes on your skin and lets you pull the trousers off him. âi couldnât think of anything else all night. just youâŚâ
âme too,â you confess, a shameful secret, but ross tilts your chin up and kisses you all over again, slow and gentle.Â
your hands trace his spine and ross shivers
âwant to be inside you,â he groans, letting you hook a finger in his boxers. he wraps his hand around yours too, getting rid of them completely.Â
once theyâre off him you canât hold back the shameless gawking. heâs big, fucking huge and hard and leaking with precum already, youâd die to get a taste of him but thatâs not whatâs important right now. right now you need him to destroy your insides until you canât remember your own name.Â
âlike what you see?â he sounds smug, tearing the foil with his teeth and spitting it aside. you blush, and pry your gaze back to his face.Â
âlet me,â you take the condom off his hands, dying to touch him first. and he reacts just the way you want him tooâa hiss when you wrap your hand around base and a moan when you twist it, run it all the way to his tip and back down.Â
âstop being a tease,â he grunts, and you decide itâs enough, decide to finally roll the condom down on him.Â
thereâs barely any words after that. the room is far from silent thoughâit echoes with moans and sighs and the sound of your laughter when ross nips at your skin. itâs like a little rhythmâhe bites softly and chases away the sting with a kiss. he leaves a mark and rewards you with a kiss. he even sees the marks he left before, kisses over them like heâs appreciating his own art.Â
his hand inches between your legs and finds your clit once again, fingers rubbing lazily over it, almost in circles, slow at first and growing faster until youâre squirming for moreâmore friction and more of him and this and ecstasy and ross definitely knows whatever heâs doing isnât enough but just this once you arenât opposed to begging.Â
âstop being a tease,â you whine, repeating his words from before, and he laughs at your desperation.
finally, ross decides to end this misery. for you and for him. the need is probably driving him insane too.Â
when the first thrust comes, hard and fastâand without warningâyour eyes roll back in your head. you whimper something, curse softly and hold onto him, legs locking around him so you can take him in deeper.
âshit babyâŚâ he moans too.Â
heâs stretching you open with his cock, thrusting into you again and again until the buzz in your head grows so loud, it drowns out any other thought. all you can focus on is his breath and the chain brushing against your chest, cold metal against sweaty bodies.Â
that errant image from that first day comes back to you, your tongue against his chest, and before you can over think you do exactly thatâtrail kisses against his collarbone, his neck, letting your tongue roam over his skin too. you donât dare use teeth though, you donât dare leave a mark. no matter how tempting it is.Â
your eyes flutter shut, unable to stay open any longer as his hips slam into yours, his hands grip onto your waist tighter. ross tuts.
âopen your eyes,â he nudges, âi want you to look at me when you cum.â
and so you oblige, looking him in the eye and moaning his name softly with each thrust, lifting your hips to meet his and grinding your clit on his pelvis.Â
the pressure inside you builds with each thrust, your entire body feels charged and taut and a current runs right under your skin. on top of you, heâs as electric as a live wire.Â
âlook at what you do to me,â he breathes and you feel your thighs begin to tremble.Â
he can probably tell youâre close now; youâre certainly acting like itânails scratching his back, teeth softly sinking into his shoulder so you don't scream loud enough for everyone to hear. (if it werenât mid morning, you would have liked to scream out his name though.)
your hips thrust upwards, trying and failing to match him. youâre erratic, almost manic. thereâs no rhythm to any of your movements, only lust and desire and so much want for him that you feel a wave of it run between your bodies.Â
you shudder and gasp, trying to keep your eyes open, to keep looking at him still âgonna cum, f-fuck!â
he opens his mouth to speak too, about to say something but youâre already there. your body goes tense as you squeeze around ross, so tight it practically sends him into a frenzy, fucking into you faster and faster, rougher, harsher. you take it all, trying and failing to keep your voice down to a minimum. ross thrusts into you as the orgasm hits you hard. a second later you hide your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in and feeling him practically emptying himself into the condom. ross doesnât stop you, he holds you just as close, for just as long as you want him to.
itâs almost 10 in the morning when you lift your head off his chest in a sleepy haze. ross tries to protest but you kiss him quickly until all his complaints die on his lips.Â
âyou should go,â you bite your lip, guilty, and thumb the chain around his neck again. if heâs noted this particular fascination with it, he doesnât mention it.Â
âi donât want to.â
âbutâŚâ
âi have to, yes, i know,â he sighs, deep and almost sad.Â
itâs a silly thought to want to stop him. the cottage might feel like itâs detached from reality entirely but itâs not. once you step foot outside of it, everything will come crashing down on you. you can easily explain your disappearance awayâthe farmers market in town, some other errand, whatever excuse that comes to mind. what does ross plan on saying?
you donât ask, mostly because you donât want to manufacture and discuss one more thing and make this more morally depraved than it already is.Â
wordlessly he gets up and walks around the room in search of his clothes. his nudity doesnât bother him in the slightest, doesnât bother you eitherâfor one, you finally know all the tattoos on his body, something youâve been dying to find out since day one. you let your eyes roam over them for as long as you can, try to commit them to memory before they get covered by his clothes.Â
he finds his t-shirt in the living room and comes back to the bedroom wearing it, fully clothed now while youâre naked under the sheets still.Â
âright thenâŚâ
you smile, a little sad. is this the first and the last time? do you want there to be more?
âletâs justâŚâ you clear your throat, âiâm going to go use the bathroomâŚâ
âand iâll be gone by the time you come backâŚâ
you nod, already getting up. the sheets fall of your body too but whatâs there to care about? heâs already seen all of it now. still his breath hitches in his throat and a jolt of satisfaction run through you.Â
âkiss me one last time?â you ask, and ross closes the distance between you, pulling you so close to him youâre almost crushed into his chest, held like he doesnât want to let go.Â
you try not to dwell too much on that kissâitâs a fucking kiss, not your first and it wonât be your last, thereâs no point in reading too much into it. itâs not a lovers kiss. itâs a kiss. because you asked for it.Â
and yet his hands cradle your face and you can almost feel him smiling, almost, before he pulls away. then you turn around and practically beeline to the bathroom.Â
by the time youâre out and ready to get dressed once again, the cottage is empty, silent. a silence that almost echoes with lingering sounds, but you stay in for the rest of the morning, only venturing out when you canât ignore your growling stomach any longer.Â
marta looks at you suspiciously before feeding you a bite of her orzo. itâs delicious; it always it, her food. but you still refuse when she offers to make you something. you just want to be alone, not in someoneâs company and answer a million questions.Â
to her credit marta lets you be.Â
you donât see the ross or ava at all for the rest of the day. or the day after.
itâs the end of their third week when ross finds you again, well⌠a handwritten note finds you, a crumpled piece of paper stuffed through the crack in the cottage door.Â
meet me at the beach tomorrow at sunrise?Â
the entire night you toss and turn, wondering if you should even go. you havenât seen him in days, only glimpses of him and his wife. every time heâs in the room your eyes linger on him, stealing glances when heâs stealing them right back. itâs like an unspoken rule between youâno secret meetings. not again.Â
and now he seems to want to break it.Â
you know which beach heâs talking aboutâthe one where you had a boat waiting for him. at 4 in the morning you give up on sleep completely. you should still have about an hour and a half till youâre supposed to meet him. and you still donât have a decision. on autopilot you get up and brush your teeth, take a quick shower. no oneâs awake yet. maybe marta, but she certainly wonât be out of bed this early.Â
by 5, when the mug of coffee in your hands is almost empty, you decide you want to go after all. whatâs the harm? itâs not like youâre going to end up fucking him again so publicly on the beachâŚÂ
and so you leave the cottage, strolling down to the ocean on the sandy path. the twilight is giving way to some light. the sunâs probably almost on the horizon. still, you reach the beach before ross, before the sun comes up. so you linger, sit in the sand and collect the little shells left there overnight.Â
thereâs no one here, just you and waves crashing on the beach. itâs peacefulâperhaps the first time youâve truly felt any peace all summer. and yet somewhere in the back of your mind you canât shake off the anticipation of meeting him. five minutes have already passed. maybe he changed his mind.Â
maybe heâs not coming.Â
just as the thought is about to solidify, you hear a set of footsteps. heâs here. and still you donât turn until ross walks up all the way to you and sits next to you in the sand, his body pressed against yours, thighs touching. you lean your head onto his shoulder, taking in a deep breath.Â
âis this a rendezvous?â you almost laugh. itâs a lame joke but ross cracks a smile anyway. it lasts about a second before his face falls again.Â
âiâm leaving.â
âi know,â you close your eyes, ânext week.â
âno. today.â
a pit opens up in your stomach and you bolt upright. âtoday?! whatâŚ?â
his smile turns sad, and you have a sneaking suspicion that itâs not just because heâs leaving, itâs something else too. you look at his face, properly, at the deep lines etched onto his forehead and the hints of grey in his hair and his beard. his arms, just as gorgeous as usual. his hands, hands that you havenât stopped thinking about, his fingersâŚ
your eyes linger on them. thereâs no ring. heâs not wearing a ring. itâs just pale skin where it used to be.
âour plans changed,â he shrugs like itâs the most normal thing to happen. you remember what heâd said to you all those days ago on the boat. when we go back to london, iâll call my lawyers and sheâll call hers. so thatâs happening then.Â
âwhat time?â
âaround 10.â
around 10⌠five more hours.Â
âokay,â you nod and go back to how you were, resting your head on his shoulder. this time ross rests his head on yours, both of your eyes trained on the horizon where the sun rises slowly and the beach turns golden. the water shimmers, gorgeous and like itâs out of a painting. you canât bring yourself to move.Â
âwill you have breakfast with me one last time?â ross breaks the silence after a while, and you wonder if itâs a good idea. whatâs the point? it wonât lead anywhere, will it?Â
âi donât think itâs such a good idea,â you swallow the lump in your throat, still unable to fully look at him.Â
âi seeâŚâ more silence follows. you wonder when he will decide this is enough. you wonder when he will get up and leave you here to be rooted in this spot until the sun blazes high in the sky and you can no longer sit outside. instead ross presses his warm fingers to your cheek, and gently turns your face to him.Â
âcan i at least kiss you one last time then?â
now that⌠that you canât say no to. and so you press your lips to his. just that, no movement, nothingâjust your face cradled in his hands and your lips against his until you taste salt and realise youâre crying. maybe just a little teary. only then does he properly kiss you, moves his lips against yours until it feels like the sand beneath you is shifting. but itâs going to end anyway, it has to. and so you pull apart, take a deep breath to store his scent in your lungs for as long as you can.Â
âiâm going to go stare at the ocean now,â you laugh, teary-eyed. his eyes are tinged a little pink too.Â
ross chuckles. âand iâll be gone by the time you look back.â
and thatâs where you leave it. no goodbyes, no hugs and promises to come back. just you staring at the blue sky while his footsteps become quieter and quieter until you canât hear him at all.Â
enzo checks them out. you donât know if they say anything to him, and he doesnât mention anything out of the ordinary to you. just that heâll send someone to clean the room, to which you protest, let him know that youâll do it.Â
the room isnât unfamiliar, of course not, youâve been in here a thousand times now and you will a thousand times more. still, something about it looks different. for one thereâs a piece of paper folded on the bedside table. something that looks like a note. you hurry to it, not realising that thereâs something inside in your eagerness to open it until a gold chain falls out. his gold chain⌠the one youâve spent all of summer being fascinated by. and now itâs yours. then you unfold the note.Â
thank you for the summer, itâs the best one iâve had in years.Â
ps: the chain is yours. donât think i didnât notice.
with trembling fingers, you put it around your neck. the metal is cold of course, and yet it reminds you of sun warmed skin and the sweat between your bodies. you clutch the note close, and sit on the bed. it has to be his side, it smells like him. maybe it wonât hurt to curl up there for just a moment. thereâs no one to occupy it for another week after all.Â
and so thatâs what you do.Â
a moment turns to an hour, to several hours until you decide you donât want to strip the linen just yet. until you decide you want to sleep here for the night. for the rest of the week until you have to give up the villa again. marta raises her eyebrow when she finds out, but you wave her off.Â
âitâs my house, nonna, i can sleep wherever i want to,â you say, confident in that statement even though it feels a little foreign. it is your house. it is.Â
she just leaves it at that.Â
the rest of the summer passes just as youâd planned.Â
first there is an actual honeymoon coupleâutterly in love and completely inseparable. you find them making out in all corners of the villa, in nooks and crannies like they canât get enough of each other, like thereâs no one else for them but each other. and maybe there isnât.Â
then thereâs a week long bachelorette party. the girls convince you to get drunk with them too, to let loose a bit. itâs then that youâre most tempted to look up his number in his booking information and call him, wine drunk and slurring, in the middle of the night.Â
what will you say?
what will he say?
itâs a terrible terrible idea. the worst one youâve ever had. worse than sleeping with a married man and letting yourself feel something for him. maybe you even hate him a little then, just a little bit of resentment tinging the memories of your summer.
a summer that ends within the blink of an eye.Â
three months gone just like that.Â
and yet you stay. a ghost haunting a mansion like youâd told him all those months ago. now truly alone. none of the staff stay the rest of the year, just some locals who check up on you once in a while. aldo and his fisherman friends who call you over for dinner some days. other than that itâs just you.Â
alone all over again. untilâŚ
six months later the villaâs phone rings on a cold morning. itâs rare, you think. almost as rare as it is for you to be still here this time of the year, but this year you havenât felt the desire to go anywhere. this year itâs like youâre froze in summer, trying to chase that which is long gone.Â
âhello?â you put on your best customer service voice, cheerful and vacant.Â
âis this the villa?âÂ
the moment you hear it, your heart stops beating. the receiver almost falls. itâs one of those old-fashioned landlines, something you never thought youâd have to change. the chord wraps itself around your finger. a moment later your heart comes back to life, racing twice as fast.Â
âyesâŚâ you breathe, voice almost wobbly.Â
âis it booked out for the summer yet?â
a smile blooms on your face, just as tears threaten to fall from your eyes. itâs ross. itâs his voice, itâs really his voice. all soft and lovely and already making its way around the insides of your skull.Â
ânot yet,â you laugh. itâs a watery sound. âyouâre early. we donât start taking reservations this early in the year.â
âoh?â the smile in his voice is clear. âi was hoping youâd make an exception for me. itâs only a party of oneâŚâ
you grab onto the chord of the receiver, tightly twisted around your fingers.Â
party of one. party of one. party of one.Â
âhello?â
âiâm hereâŚâ
for a few seconds, he doesnât speak. but you imagine heâs smiling on the other end. you imagine his dimples on display and the crinkles around his eyes. âand will you let me come?â
involuntarily you clutch the gold chain around your neck, the one you wear every single day. the one you havenât taken off since that very first day. itâs warm now, just as your skin is. just as his skin once felt under your hands. the tears you were barely holding in fall on your cheeks, and yet your face splits into a wide grin.Â
âparty of one, you say.â
âit could be two,â he laughs a small, secret laugh, âif youâll allow it.â
you do a little jump in place, giddy and practically acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. then you clear your throat and clutch the receiver closer. âwhy donât you come find out?â
taglist: @scooby-doodoo @partoftheairforce @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855 @beachesgetpeaches @you-muppet @mcabister @alexmarie29 @at-her-very-foreign @hfkait @sierraeslaprincesa @harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet @thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @indierockgirrl @tonguepiercedanyway75 @if-my-heart-bleeds @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman @oneluckygirl @starvchaser @noacfapologyst @abouttofillhisshoes @tbhnotthatfunny @wrongendofyourcigarettte
add yourself to / remove yourself from the taglist
#no the villa has no name it's literally just called the villa#summer fics#seasons#the 1975#ross macdonald#ross macdonald x reader#ross macdonald x you#ross x reader#ross x you
151 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Royal Guard Simon Riley x Princess Reader
Part1. Part3.
SFW Part2.
Knight! SimĂłn who is an exceptional watchdog, assists your aldo in all your royal duties by taking the place of your mother as queen. Budgeting for decorations, banquets, festivals, palace maintenance and making appearances when your father was unable or too busy to do so.
He came to all of that.
Even though he knew it would be extremely uncomfortable for him, Simon agreed. Because of you.
He could have sent one of his subordinates or even some of your maids to keep you company.
But he was a selfish bastard who wanted to be there, by your side, to make sure his little princess was okay.
His. Keeping away the gazes of the vultures that watched your tender, calm flesh.
He was willing to put up with your tantrums and tantrums when you asked to go out to tea parties and he denied you.Willing to listen to your little gasps behind the door that only he guarded. Listening to your little discoveries like how ants, no matter how small, would commit more war crimes for an insignificant piece of bread.
He would accept anything just to see your eyes fixed directly into his without fear. Without hesitation.
Your voice although sometimes awkward in connecting your tongue with your thoughts, you never failed to be direct and look at him as.... Perhaps if a terrifying man, but he had understood that you were strangely uncomfortable.
"Stop looking at me like that, princess" he asked quietly, standing in front of your bedroom door, not allowing you to leave. "I said you're not going to the orchard today."
You glared at him, protesting your excuses for going to check on your little new sprouts, downplaying the threat your father had given you for doing things for lower-class people. You didn't mind getting reprimanded by your old dad.
But Simon did. It made his blood boil to see you with your head down. Always.
"Wait until the waters calm down," he asked in a gentler tone. Which definitely confused you, taking the frustration away from your face.....
He liked that expression too.
#simon ghost riley sfw#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost mw2#headcanons#knight! SimĂłn#canon x reader#sfw#medieval#grumpy x sunshine#knight x princess
145 notes
¡
View notes
Text
They Mates - with Y/N Pt 4
Summary - Hybernâs a problem (but when is he not), and this whole Cauldron situation⌠Out. Of. Hand. Based on Ch 19 of ACOMAF
Notes/Other Warnings - âVulgar gesturesâ, language, my grammar. As always lines/plot points directly or heavily inspired by the series itself. 1.4k words. 2nd pov again for a more intimate look into Y/N and Azâs relationship.
Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Masterlist
You stood with Azriel near the window in the sitting room of the townhouse. It was snowing lightly outside, dusting the outside world. Cassian lounged near the fire, next to Mor. He felt tense, like an animal waiting to jump out of its cage after spending too much time cooped up. Amren was not presentâwhere she was, you did not know. You all were waiting for your High Lord and Feyre to return from their trip to the Bone Carver for information.Â
As you watched the snow build up outside your mind wandered back to earlier that morning. Nearly five-hundred years Azriel had been your mate, and still every morning was utter bliss. You could still feel his teeth scraping lightly across the shell of your ear and his lips trailingâ
âAmrenâs right,â Rhysand said.
You snapped out of your thoughts to see him standing in the threshold. Feyre stood next to him.
âYou are like dogs, waiting for me to return home. I ought to buy treats for the lot of you,â Rhys continued.
Cassian flipped him off, the tension in his system still evident. You stepped forward to smack Cassianâs shoulder. The general gave you a withering look. The High Lord of Night narrowed his eyes at the pair of you. You stepped back as Feyre, who looked chilled headed for the armchair near the hearth. You returned to your spot next to your mate who stood in contemplation, a constant for him.
âHowâd it go,â Mor asked to quickly glance between Feyre and Rhys, who had finally stepped into the room.Â
âThe Bone Carver,â Rhys said with a sigh, âhas too much time on his hands considering how often he likes to pry into others peopleâs business.â
You reached for Azrielâs hand, unsure of what to do in the moment. Your mate didnât protest, his shadows swirling around your wrist for a few moments. You could see Feyreâs eyes dart to the sight. The mortal said nothing.
Cassian broke through the silence, his hands falling to brace his knees. âButâŚ?â
âBut, the busybody can be useful, when he chooses,â Rhys replied with another sigh. âHe informed us that the Cauldron was originally hidden at the bottom of the frozen lake in Lapplund, but vanished a while ago. But three of the feet on which the Cauldron used to stand were cleaved from it, in an attempt for power. Each foot was hidden in a different temple.â
You didnât exactly need Rhys to spell out the rest for you. People were after the Cauldron, after its power again. âShit,â you murmured. Cassian, to your surprise said nothing, only sat up a bit straighter.
âCesere, Sangravah, and Itica,â the high lord listed out. âThe King of Hybern seeks to return the Cauldron to its full glory.â
It was a suspicion most everyone in the room had. You could sense the grimness of it all, the way the room shifted even though most were expecting it. You glanced to Mor who looked back at you, giving a well this isnât good look.Â
âThe mortal queens have one part of the Book, Tarquin the other,â Rhys finished.
You sucked in a breath before Azriel stepped forward, his shadows lightening from around his form. âI will contact my sources in the Summer Court about the other half of the Book of Breathings on where it is hidden. I can aldo fly to the human world. See if I can locate their half before we ask them for it.â
The High Lord of Night shook his head. âI donât trust this information, even with your sources, Azriel. Not anyone outside this room, except for Amren.â
âThey can be trusted, Rhysand,â you defend as Azrielâs shadows grew thicker for a moment before lightening up. Az let go of your hand, fists curling slightly, staring at his high lord. It didnât go unnoticed.
âI, we, are not taking risks where the Cauldron or the Book is concerned,â Rhys responded calmly. Rhys returned his spymasterâs stare.Â
You reached for your mateâs hand, and his fingers slowly uncurled, eyes drifting away from Rhysandâs face and back to your own. You gently intertwined your fingers with his.
âSo what do you have planned,â Mor asked.Â
âWell,â Rhys responded as he picked at absolutely nothing on his leathers. A habit you had noticed he got when growing up. âThe King of Hybern sacked one of our temples for a piece of the Cauldron, which, as far as I am concerned, is an act of war.â
âOf course he wants war,â You interjected more strongly than you had anticipated. âFor the Motherâs sake we were an ally to the humans duringâŚthe War. He would never dare sway you at risk of revealing his plans.â
Cassian nodded in agreement before adding, âAmaranthaâs cronies likely reported to him Under the Mountain.â
âHybern and his forces successfully infiltrated our lands, without detection. I have every intention of returning the favor.â Your high lord straightened himself up slightly.
âHow?â Mor asked, before you could.Â
âWe go to Hybern to bring the Cauldron back or go to nullify it.âÂ
You thought you might just laugh at that. âHybern would already have countless wards to protect it.âÂ
You could feel Azâs thumb over the back of your hand, gently rubbing as if to try and ease some of the tension from your body. âY/Nâs right. We would need to find a way to get through them, undetected,â your mate added.
âThen we start, now while we hunt down the Book. We do it swiftly, so by the time we have both halves we can get through without word spreading quickly,â Rhys said like it was the simplest solution possibleâthe simplest task possible.
âAnd how qre you planning to retrieve the Book?â Cassian added.
âThese objects are spelled to each high lord and can only be found using their power.â
You looked to Feyre, almost apologetically. Thrown into this life and world and she was being asked to find pieces of the Book of Breathings itself using powers she received because she died. A shuddering feeling went through you. As if in defense of the girl you looked at Rhys. âYou donât know that it will work.â
Rhys smiled slightly. âTrueâbut there is a way to test it.â
âMotherâs tits! Here we go again,â Cassian grumbled from his place besides Mor.Â
Your eyes danced over to your mate whose eyes had narrowed slightly, your fingers still intimately intertwined.
âWith your abilities, Feyre ,â Rhys began, ignoring his Inner Circles words, âyou might just might be able to find the half of the Book in the Summer Court. To be certain, to make sure when it counts, when we need it, when we need you, weâre going on another trip⌠see if you can find an object that Iâve been missing for quite some time.â
You let out another heavy sigh knowing exactly where this was going, Az still rubbing his thumb over your hand.
âShit,â Mor groaned, covering her face with her hands.
âWhere,â Feyre asked tremulously.
âThe Weaver,â Azriel responded. His thumb stoped rubbing your hand.Â
âWho is the Weaver,â the new fae asked.
âAn ancient and wicked creature,â Azriel responded with a sharp exhale, that tickled the back of your ear. âWho should remain unbothered,â thr spymaster shot in Rhysandâs direction.
Rhys pushed on. âI want to see of Feyre can identify the object amongst the Weaverâs trove.â
âOh! By the Cauldron!!â Mor exclaimed. You couldnât disagree with her.
âThe Weaver,â Feyre began to press, âthe Bone Carver. Can you just call someone by a name?â
You let out a soft chuckle with a slight angling of your head. She had a point. Something in the sound your momenary joy eased the shadowsinger.Â
âWhat about adding another name to that list?â Rhysand asked Feyre who had finally seemed to warm up.
A few grumbles sounded about the room, including your own.
âEmissary,â Rhys said ignoring the room. âFor the human realm,â Rhys clarified, looking to you as if ensuring you werenât about to be fired from your position.
Good, Azriel thought to himself. You neednât make any more travels than you were doing at present as Rhysandâs emissary in every other aspect. One less place for you to be caught in something dangerous. One less thing to pull you from his arms in the morning, and leave half of the bed empty at night. Truth was, even after nearly five-hundred years together, all he wanted to do was lay in bed with you and never leave the comfort of your embrace. Too bad the world had other plans.
Taglist: @lilah-asteria, @5onedirection5, @emryb, @azrielrot
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acomaf#a court of mist and fury#rhysand#feyre#cassian#mor acotar#cassian acotar#amren acotar#2nd person pov
233 notes
¡
View notes
Text
My Heart Lingers in Italy
In which James Potter visits Italy for a school trip just to meet two girls that change him forever.
This is pretty short but it is only my first installment of this series if you want to call it that. It will be part of my summer project for my writing. So updates may be a bit slow but quality over quantity right? Anyway I hope you enjoy, it wasnât beta read this time I wanted to get it out before I rewrite it completely or just scrap the idea. Also when they trade IDs it was supposed to be for Line and such like that but couldnât find a face social media maker for that one, so yeah also English is not my first language so if my grammar or spelling is off I apologize in advance.
âLily, where are we going?â
The two girls held hands as they weaved through a crowd of tourists. The streets of Verona normally werenât so packed but it was tourist season. Smiling Lily tugs Y/N forward as the two girls walk, âRemember you said youâd go to Piazza San Zeno with me. I explicitly remember telling you last week when you were busy talking with Sienna.â
Y/N smiled broadly, âdonât tell me you were jealous again. You know you never have anything to worry about, she just wanted to know if I would be applying to universities outside of Italy. I told her Iâm going wherever you go,â she whispered.
Ducking her head down Lily tried to use her hair to hide her reddened cheeks. âYouâre so annoying sometimes, come on!â
The two girls, one smirking and the other blushing made their way to the open flea market. It was packed with locals and foreigners alike. Y/N waved to any and everyone she knew running different stalls. When Lily stopped walking she bumped into the shorter girlâs back.
âWhatâs the hold-up, Donnina?â Y/N glanced up to notice a group of teenagers. All about the same age as the two of them. But what stuck out the most was a group of boys playing around near a booth. Their playful nature was animated and rather funny.
Grinning she wrapped an arm around Lilyâs shoulder, âoh I see itâs those tourists. Theyâre rather cute Iâll admit,â she commented.
âWhat do you think about that one?â Lily asked pointing at a bespectacled boy with dark hair.
Squinting Y/N finds herself analyzing the boy from his charming behaviors to his handsome looks. âAttractive,â it was simple but for someone like Y/N, it meant a lot.
Lily and Y/N knew each other inside and out better than most people did. So a simple compliment from Y/N meant she wanted to get to know him too.
âShould we talk to him?â
âWhat about that thing we rushed here for?â
âAldo will be here next Sunday with the book I want to look at, should we talk to him?â
The urgency in her voice was clear, it hinted at her fear of passing up on what could be a once-in-a-lifetime deal. Nodding her head Y/N nods her head in his direction, âLetâs go.â
Pulling Lily along she smiled softly when standing in front of the boy. Up close he was much more handsome than she gave him credit for.
James was listening to Remus explain the difference between the two books in his hands to Sirius. He knew Sirius only did this to rile him up. Looking away from his friends he noticed two girls walking towards him. One was short and flushed and the other tall and grinning.
He would be lying if he said that he didnât feel something. They were opposites of each other yet they looked so good together. Like that of sunshine and rain where together they equal out to rainbows. A balance is what they represent one that he wanted to be a part of. It was a strange feeling but it felt meant to be.
âCiao,â he said without thinking.
The tall girl smiled with a laugh, âCiao.â While the shorter one looked away before looking back at him with a smile, âCiao.â
âI, I didnât really pass Italian just enough to end up on this trip,â he explained. He felt as if he had to as if he owned them something.
âNo itâs fine, we know English. Your accent British?â The tall one asked with just as much interest as a puppy. Her accent is thick as she speaks fluently and confidently.
âYes, I guess the accent was very obvious,â he joked.
âThat among other things,â the words from the shorter girl made him grin. Her voice was lithe sneaking up on his ears with agility. While the taller girlâs voice felt like velvet wrapping around his eyes blinding him with mystery. Both were opposite but equal in the effects they were having on his senses.
âOh, what are these other things?â He asked leaning forward enough to smell figs and jasmine on her. A floral and fruity scent that made him lean back some.
âIf I told you so easily it wouldnât be as fun,â she told him.
âSheâs always like this if youâre wondering, youâll have to pry her secrets from her cold little hands to know.â The glint of amusement in the taller girlâs eyes was evident. Just like the smell of mint and lemon when she stepped closer to whisper that to him. The crisp and citrus scent was exhilarating like a cool breeze sweeping over him.
âIâll keep that in mind for the next time we meet,â he tells her.
The confidence in his tone was enough to cause Y/N to look away. Lily found herself squinting at him, âwho said we would meet again?â
âI canât say for sure but I hope so,â he says. âYouâre both really interesting.â
âWeâve said less than five sentences each,â she tells him. All he did was shrug a look of certainty on his face. His expression revealed it all as if he knew they would.
âThen letâs trade IDs?â He asked them.
âHow do you even know we have the app?â
âI donât, but Iâd like to hope you do, red.â
Laying in her bed whilst looking up at her ceiling Lily sighs. Sitting up she glanced over at whom she deemed her other half. The other girl was sculpting something with clay her headphones probably blaring some loud music.
Each time Lily tried to sleep her mind would wander to the bespectacled boy they met. His charisma was refreshing in a way she had not expected. Though she denied it on the trip back home she did enjoy his company.
His words so easily teased and left her cheeks red. She couldnât understand how he so easily did so. Before she could think longer about the British boy she felt arms snake around her waist. A head resting on her chest, âWhat are you thinking so hard about, Donnina?â
Weaving her fingers through the taller girlâs hair the ginger sighs. A look of contemplation on her freckled face. âThat guyâŚthe British boy. Heâs not easy to forget,â she uttered.
Mulling over Lilyâs words she agreed, âI get that..heâs very charismatic in a way. But under all that, there is this heart tug where you canât help but enjoy his company.â
âExactly!â Lily exclaimed as she brushed hair out of the other girlâs face. Her finger trailed down her forehead and along the bridge of her nose. âI wonder if thatâs normalâŚto feel that way about someone you just met.â
Humming softly Y/Nâs fingers ghost over Lilyâs sides before resting on her hips. âMaybe itâs a British thing? To be so charming and have people eager to see them again.â
âI thought that was the French?â
âItâs all relative, or how do people say Greek to me.â
Lily snorted shaking her head, âI think this is why you shouldnât skip out on your literature classes.â
âWhy would I stop when I have such a beautiful tutor to teach me when I donât show up for classes?â
âYouâre such a flirt.â
âYou wouldnât have me any other way, donnina.â
Verona was beautiful at night, James remembered Remus telling him it was the city of Romeo and Juliet. A lovely Italian city where lovers can go and enjoy the sights around them.
Lover or not he had to admit that the city was more than he expected. The town with its medieval architecture and the meandering Adige river. It was hard for him to stop looking out of his window as the moon reflected perfectly upon it.
He could hear Sirius and Remusâ hushed tones within the room. The two had spent the day with James although James made it clear he was okay alone. He didnât want to ruin the time his friends could have in such a romantic place together.
But he was grateful, sighing he glanced down his eyes finally leaving the river. People were still walking about outside conversing. he expected the nightlife to not be as active. From the morning and afternoon being busy with bustling marketplaces, piazzas, shops, and gardens. But from the way people were chattering and laughing it seemed there was more to the city.
For some reason he found himself watching a duo of two women. One tall and the other short both of them laughing and clinging to each other in their drunken state. He wondered if they did similar activities, or rather he wondered what they were doing now.
A small ding left his phone, his hand dived into his trousers pocket to retrieve it. A message from Y/N appeared on his phone, eagerly he opened it.
Typos are on purpose because they are messaging in English. To better clarify when itâs just Lily and Y/N speaking together it will be in Italian. Iâll better indicate that in the next installment, but Y/N is terrible at English but she tries. Iâm such a sucker for this trio already.
#x reader#poly!reader#fluff#poly fanfic#pro jily#jily x reader#james potter x reader#lily evans x reader#lily evans#james potter#marauders era#marauders au#marauders#poly jily#poly!jily
143 notes
¡
View notes
Note
I'm using google translate so I'm sorry for any mistakes so could you do another imagine of dieter of inglorious bastards him fucking a spy caught by SS in the car and then he lets her go
A/N: Thank you for the request, sorry for the long wait! Hope you enjoy:)
Warnings: just regular smut, nothing too crazy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Your accent, its terrible."
(Dieter Hellstrom x reader)
It was a hot summer day. People were going on about their business, just as you did. Although your task for today was nothing but seeking into other people's businesses. Today you had one mission and one mission only. To gather as much information about the planned cinema burning and the killing of Hitler.
You and Shosanna had been friends for a long time, and after she told you of her genius plan, you befriended Aldo, who took you under his wing and gave you the task of being a spy for his group.
As you walked through the French streets and desperately tried to find Shosanna, you figured that the best place to find her was indeed, the cinema.
Walking past numerous posters of the Movie premiere and countless Nazis, you turned left and right, and after about 15 minutes finally reached the cinema.
Letting out a sigh of relief as you saw her spelling out 'Stolz der Nation' in black letters on the building, you quickly crossed the road and called out for her.
She turned around carefully on her ladder and recognized your voice: "Y/N! How are you doing?"
Walking closer to the ladder, you gave her a look and spoke quietly, still out of breath from all the running around: "We need to talk."
Shosanna slowly nodded in return, recognizing it must be something regarding future events.
"Listen, Aldo sent me here an-" You were suddenly cut off by an unfamiliar voice: "Emmanuelle Mimieux?"
Silence
You turned around to see two young men, one an SS officer, the other a regular, looking at the two of you seriously and with a hint of curiosity.
Glancing up at Shosanna, realising you were so tempted to reach her you completely discarded your surroundings as The SS officer grabbed you by your shoulder.
Giving a stern look to the other man and then leering his gaze back up to Shosanna: 'tu la fais monter dans la voiture.'
Your friend's breath caught in her throat as she heard his words.
The man motioned to her, obeying The SS officer's orders to get her in the car.
"Deutsch?" He asked you, slightly loosening his grip on your shoulder once he got a good look at your face. All you could do was shake your head, you weren't German, you were American for God's sake! You knew some French, but German? Hell no.
He sighed and put a hand on the small of your back, pushing you into the back seat of the car as Shosanna sat in the front.
The car started and there was dead silence. Both of you were scared, you didn't know why you were there and why they took the two of you, but you knew that resisting an SS officer was like committing the most heinous crime in the German owned lands.
The Officer turned to you and gave you his hand to shake. Taking it as he introduced himself, you felt a pang of unease joit through you, like you were about to throw up from the anxiety. Swallowing hard you used the little French you had to return the gesture.
The more you looked at him, the more you eyed his form in the unifrom, the more handsome he started to become.
Clearing your throat and faking a cough, quickly shaking the thoughts away with slight guilt, you shifted your eyes to the window and waited for the car to finally stop.
After about 20 minutes you arrived at the destination, which appeared to be a fancy restaurant, decorated with swastikas and various plants. As the officer opened the door, you followed him, but he stoped you in your tracks.
"Non," smiling charmingly: "tu restes ici." With that he got out of the car and lead Shosanna into the restaurant, his caullege following shortly behind him.
Your mind was racing, feeling like your brain was about to explode at any second. Why would he let you stay in the car? You figured you could just walk out and leave, but that would be far too risky. In his mind, you hopefully, didn't have any reason to run and hide away. Suspicion would rise and you would soon be heading to your own execution God knows where.
Turning on your spy side of the brain, you decided to stay where you were, as you were barely able to move a muscle from all the stress.
You saw the resturant door open and was met with Dieter stepping outside. He slowly made his way to the car and opened the driver's seat, starting the car and setting off.
Saying you were afraid was an understatement . Gaining the courage to speak up, you asked politely where he was driving to: "Je suis desole, ov vas-tu?
He looked at you in the rear view mirror and announced loudly: "Oh don't worry sweetheart. Were going somewhere you'll enjoy..."
oh shit.
Now you're in deep deep shit.
His accent was almost perfect as he spoke, which caught you off guard, but that wasn't important, your life could be over at any second. Every minute passing by could be your last.
"How did you know?" You question, honestly surprised at how quckly he figured you out.
Dieter laughed out loud, his laugh piercing your ears: "Your accent, darling." He lit a cigarette with one hand, keeping the other on the wheel: "Its terrible, i'm not French and i even know that."
Shaking his head lightly and glancing back at you: "Now tell me," taking a puff of his cigarette and exhaling the smoke: "What's your name name. Not the one you were forced to give me, american doll."
"Y/N." You proclaimed coldly, clearly seeing how much he was enjoying himself: "Y/N Y/L/N."
He stopped the car at a wooded area, out of sight to everyone, except for the few cars driving by now and then. You could immediately sence the coldness of the forest with the windows rolled down. The gentle breeze like a balm to your soul, soothing you while knowing this was your end. He got out of the driver's seat and opened the door to the seat next to you and sat down.
"Listen to me now, little girl." He picked you up from your sit and placed you down onto his lap, you gasped and tried to break away, but he was far stronger than you: "We have quite a... situation going on here. Don't we?"
You give up on trying, just sinking in your own mind as you nodded and looked into his eyes. He was so handsome. It was so hard to admit, but he truly was.
"Now," brushing a stray strand of hair and tucking it behind your ear as he spoke: "Roll down your hips for me, darling..." His voice husky, deep lust growing in his eyes.
You hesitated for a second, before eventually giving in. Rolling down your hips against his bulge, you quickly realised where all this was leading to.
"You feel that, huh?" He whispered into your ear with that same husky tone like before: "You did that, mein Schatz."
With that he firmly placed both of his hands on both sides of your hips and pressed you further into him: "May I?"
Without thinking, you nodded. The way he smelled, the way he looked at you, the way he teased you, it turned you on more than you would like to admit.
Dieter immediately unzipped his uniform pants, revealing his hard cock to you.
You gasped as he suddenly, without any warning, put his hand under your skirt and moved your panties to the side, pushing himself into you and smashing his lips against yours, almost as if he tried to comfort you from the slight pain of the sudden penetration.
Moaning into the kiss, as you slowly got used to his size, Dieter groaned out in a deep and breathless tone: "Ride me, Y/N."
You started riding him at a slower pace first, getting used to the small space of the car and him gasping in your ear. It was so hot to see him completely lose all of his earlier stern demeanor and fall so sensitive to how you feel around his cock.
"Y/N, oh that's good, just like that baby, just like that." Dieter could barely speak, the pleasure of your hips swaying back and forth almost too much for him to handle.
And you were no better than him, moaning his name like a hot mess, feeling confident by the sight of him throwing his head back against the car seat, you started bouncing up and down.
Dieter's response was immediate, groaning out in pleasure louder than before, his breath quickening and his grip on your hips tightening.
The car moved with your hips, the fact that anyone driving by could only imagine what's happening inside made you feel a new level of excitement.
His moans, his hot breath against your ear as he praised you, his grip on your hips, it became too much.
"Dieter!" You cried out: "I'm gonna come!"
With your confession, he felt himself getting close too, his hips matching your rhythm: "Me too, I'm so close- Oh!" With that both of you came at the same time. Your breaths catching in your throat as you rode out both of yall's highs, swaying your hips back and forth again before collapsing onto him.
Your head fell to the crook of his neck and he put a hand in the back of your head as you did that, gently running a hand through your hair as the two of you calmed down together.
Eventually, you raised your head from his neck and looked into his eyes: "Am I free to leave now, officer?"
He gave you a playful slap on the butt and smiled: "Go, and let's hope we meet again soon, Schatzi..."
THE END.
66 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Building A Family
Another peek into the steampunk Copia fic I'm working on because I can't help myself. Check out the previous story here: Clockwork Friends.
A young Copia (probably about 5 or 6 years old) trying to settle in at his new home.
Warnings: angst, sfw, 1k words (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)
Copiaâs oldest clockwork rat is Aldo and he made him when he was just a young boy, barely able to read and write.
After being dropped off to live with his apparent father Nihil, Copia was mostly left to his own devices. His brothers were busy with their own lives and didnât want to deal with the burden of another Emeritus heir. The sprawling estate they lived on was closed off from the rest of the city by high walls that were patrolled by mechanical golems. Not to mention the reputation of the Emeritus family itself. Most of the city was convinced they were more machine than human these days. Â
On a particularly lonely day Copia found himself near tears as he wandered the halls. He spent the beginning of his life in an orphanage surrounded by other children. An endless amount of people to play with and talk to. Here it was just him. It was bad enough his own family didnât seem to want anything to do with him but even the ghouls avoided him. Â
Copia finally stopped when he walked by a strangely silent grandfather clock. It loomed over him much like Nihil had done the day he was picked up from the orphanage. The hands of the clock were still and Copiaâs fingers started twitching, the urge to fix it growing stronger by the second. It wasnât until he had dragged a nearby chair over and started taking the clock face apart that he had an idea for another purpose for it.
âCan you hear me?â
It was hours later, the grandfather clock now just a corpse of its former self. Copia had brought all the parts he needed into his room and spread them out on the floor. A ghoul had come by when it had gotten dark, dropping off a plate of food and getting a fire going. He had lingered for some time after, seemingly content to silently watch Copia work. They had only left when Copia found himself getting frustrated when the tiny creature in front of him remained silent.
Tears began to prick at his eyes again and he struggled to keep them from falling down his cheeks. He was just so lonely, all he wanted was something to keep him company. It didnât matter to him whether it was a machine or not. Right now he had no one. No friendsâŚno familyâŚjust an empty house full of memories he wasnât a part of. With a whimper he dropped his head into his hands, his small shoulders starting to shake as the tears started to come in earnest.Â
âTry this.â Copiaâs head shot up, his eyes meeting that of the ghoul that had managed to sneak back in. The firelight danced across his silver mask and Copia shivered when it made it seem like his eyes were on fire as well. He finally looked down to see a small metal object in its hand, the gold contrasting with the black metal of his fingers. âThis will bring it to life.â
After a few more trips to the destroyed grandfather clock Copia had re-worked his little creation to utilize what the ghoul had brought him. Copiaâs hand shook as he inserted the gold key into its back. He could hear the gears turn as he twisted it, over and over again until he felt confident it was enough. As delicately as possible he lowered it back to the ground, afraid to let go in case it didnât work. Â
In case his new friend remained silent.
âItâs ok.â Â
Copia looked up at the ghoul, forgetting he had stuck around to watch. It was impossible to know what the ghoul was thinking but Copia saw something in his eyes that he had only seen a few other times in his young life. Kindness and understanding shone there, emotions so strong that Copia had to look away quickly lest he got upset again. He took a deep breath and slowly pulled his hands away, trembling as he waited for something to happen.
It was slow at first, timid as it began to move around the rug Copia was sitting on. After a few unsure first steps it gained confidence and crept closer to him on shaky legs. Copia was afraid to touch it, afraid heâd break the spell the small thing might be under. When a tiny metal paw touched his leg Copia finally smiled and reached down to scoop it up in his hands.
âHello.â The small metal rat twitched its nose, as if it could smell whether Copia was a friend or not. âH-how do you feel?â
The door to his room opening and closing made him look up briefly but Copia didnât give the ghoul leaving another thought. He was too enamored by what he had created. The clockwork rat was busy looking around the room, his limbs still shaky against Copiaâs hands. He was already thinking of ways to improve the design, of how he could make his new friend stronger. Â
After a few moments its small body started to stop, the key moving slower and slower on its back. Copia set it back down on the rug and ran a finger up and down its head. It was a comforting gesture for both of them and neither one looked away from each other until the key had completely stopped. Â
Copia sat back on his heels, his eyes quickly looking around the room as he thought of what he would need. He had a responsibility now to his new friend. He needed to take care of it, to make it healthy and happy. Copia was prepared to do whatever he could to make sure that happened. With a grunt he stretched out on his stomach in front of the rat, reaching out and winding the key up again. When it came to life once more it immediately walked forward and bumped noses with him.
âIâm going to name you Aldo, ok?â The rat's nose moved across his face, the small whiskers he had given him tickling his cheek. âWelcome home.â
Some more baby steampunk Copia here đ
If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you đ
My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar
#my fics#my writing#steampunk copia#copia fanfiction#cardinal copia fanfiction#the band ghost fanfiction#ghost band fanfiction#copia fanfic
155 notes
¡
View notes