#Alessandro Bares

[marcogiovenale]

fondazione primoli: il mese delle donne, dal 7 marzo

Venerdì 7 marzo, ore 18:00 Sconfinate. Venti donne raccontano lo spostarsi altrove A cura di Martina Manfredi Selvaggi e Lorenza Moretti Castelvecchi, 2024 Ne discutono Cristina Comencini Camilla Miglio con Maria Serena Sapegno Martina Manfredi Selvaggi Lorenza Moretti Potrete seguirci anche in diretta sul nostro Canale…

[weirdlookindog]

Alessandro Biffignandi - Le Bare (The Coffins)

cover art for Frankenstein #7, August 1976.

[onetouchparadise]

[blueiscoool]

Stunning Frescoes of a Mysterious Dionysian Cult Discovered in Ancient Pompeii

Created more than a century before the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 C.E., the wall paintings provide rare insights into secret rituals conducted in the Roman city.

Archaeologists in Pompeii have uncovered a series of nearly life-size frescoes spanning three walls of an ancient banquet hall. Set against a ruby-red backdrop, the wall paintings depict female followers of Dionysus—the Greek god of wine and ecstasy—engaged in secretive cult rituals.

Also known as maenads or bacchantes, the women have swords in their hands and slaughtered animals draped across their bare shoulders. Alongside flute-piping satyrs, they’re engaged in a wild, ritualistic dance, while shellfish, eels, squid and poultry dangle above them. In the center of it all, a clothed woman awaits her initiation into the cult.

Pompeii is full of colorful frescoes, but this one is particularly rare. The only other large wall painting depicting a Dionysian ceremony was unearthed in the so-called Villa of the Mysteries in the ancient city’s suburbs in 1909, according to a statement from the Pompeii Archaeological Park.

Known as a megalography—a Greek term for a large-scale painting—the banquet hall fresco was uncovered at the newly excavated House of Thiasus. It dates to the first century B.C.E., more than 100 years before Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 C.E. and cast pumice and ash down upon Pompeii.

“In 100 years’ time, today will be remembered as historic,” Alessandro Giuli, the Italian culture minister, told reporters at the unveiling of the wall paintings on Wednesday, per Reuters’ Crispian Balmer. “Alongside the Villa of the Mysteries, this fresco forms an unparalleled testament to the lesser-known aspects of ancient Mediterranean life.”

As Giuli suggests, the festivals depicted in the frescoes were thoroughly secretive, even in antiquity.

“These were mystery cults, so what they did remains a mystery, even in the ancient written sources,” Sophie Hay, an archaeologist at Pompeii, tells the London Times’ Philip Willan.

Even so, the frescoes at Pompeii offer valuable insights into what worship of Dionysus, also known as the Roman god Bacchus, entailed.

Wine, of course, was central to these festivities. But researchers think cult members may have also consumed other substances, like opium, to enter “trance-like states,” Live Science’s Kristina Killgrove writes.

The women in the fresco are both hunters and dancers, suggesting that the duality of slaughter and revelry was a central tenet. The clothed, mortal woman who is awaiting initiation is depicted as “oscillating between these two extremes, two forms of the female being at the time,” Gabriel Zuchtriegel, director of the archaeological park, says in the statement.

“For the ancients, the bacchante or maenad expressed the wild, untameable side of women; the woman who abandons her children, the house and the city, who breaks free from male order to dance freely, go hunting and eat raw meat in the mountains and the woods,” he adds. In contrast, Zuchtriegel explains, were the women who emulated the goddess Venus and lived by the dictates of Roman society.

“The question is, what do you want to be in life, the hunter or the prey?” Zuchtriegel told reporters at the unveiling.

The hunting scenes may also stand as analogues for life and death. In the House of Thiasus, one woman eats raw meat. At the Villa of Mysteries, one breastfeeds a young goat.

“It’s the double function of death and rebirth. Dionysus dies and is reborn. Through initiation into the cult, you are born again,” Zuchtriegel says to the London Times.

By 186 B.C.E., these festivals were at risk of dying out, as Roman authorities attempted to crack down on the scandalous ceremonies. But the presence of the paintings in the House of Thiasus and the Villa of Mysteries suggest that the secret rituals survived.

Although archaeological work continues, the frescoes are now on public display.

By Eli Wizevich.

[without-ado]

Comet Pons-Brooks l Alessandro Cipolat Bares

[italian-lit-tournament]

Italian literature tournament - Third round.

Propaganda in support of the authors is accepted, you can write it both in the tag if reblog the poll (explaining maybe that is propaganda and you want to see posted) or in the comments. Every few days it will be recollected and posted here under the cut.

First, propaganda for Ludovico Ariosto, then for Guido Cavalcanti. The quantity of material will be colossal, so just scroll down for more.

For the Ludovico Ariosto stans:

by @larmegliamori

The opposing party has brought on the big guns, I see: us Ariosto girlies, gays and they must bare our teeth and ambitions.

So, here's my two cent on why you should vote Ludovico Ariosto!

Extreme relatability: Deeply entrenched into the politics of his time (as the firstborn of ten children, of which one was disabled and other five were women), but at the same time just wanting to stay home to live of his poetry? Dare I say iconic. Perfect representation of us literature kids.

He actually managed to marry his muse, Alessandra Benucci, and did it respectfully!

Working various jobs for patron(s) he didn't particularly like? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.

Not to mention his most widely known work, the poem "Orlando Furioso" (The rage of Roland), has all the goos stuff us modern audiences would like! It features:

A wide, diverse cast, spanning from Ireland to India, stretching probably to the (by then) newly discovered Americas;

Fantasy elements: faeries, sorcerers, giants, orcs, the first modern iteration of the hippogryph and even a fantastical voyage to the Moon!

Citations and references galore: from Virgil to Ovid, from old chansons de geste to Boccaccio!

Proto-feminism and gender studies: Ariosto's female characters, although often very feminine, are actively involved in their story arcs. The poem also features two warrior women, Bradamante and Marfisa, the former of which is the protagonist of her own subplot. Said subplot heavily relies on gender, may it be appearances or not. And let's not forget the famous tirade at beginning of the fifth canto, where the author berates femicide! If you're willing to open your heart to his writing, Ludovico Ariosto reveals himself to be a compelling, layered, modern author, and yet there's a levity to his writing that works like a balm. Vote for Ludovico Ariosto (even if only for the memes)!

I'd also like to add that Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, in the 70s, got a theatrical AND television adaptation that was too campy for its own good.

It featured, amongst other things:

- 1500s inspired costuming (it sure was... A choice but I'm not complaining)

- Mechanic horses (that literally ran on rails) and hippogryph:

- Olympia of Holland, one of the most tragic characters in all the poem, as a vamp (slay):

(Posing with Orlando/Roland in on the left, with her lover Bireno on the right)

- Astolfo literally ENTERING INTO A HOLE TO GET TO THE MOON:

The television adaptation was partly shot in the famous Baths of Caracalla, in Rome. If you want to witness this masterpiece yourself, it's on YouTube! In two parts.

Remember to always stan Zio Ludo, and vote for him! ✨

Hello everyone! For today's Ariosto Propaganda Piece, I'd like to talk about the Satire.

Those seven pieces written in terzina dantesca (because our boy Ludo knew how to pick his role models) are an interesting insight about early 1500s society and Ariosto's character and private life. They all start from an actual event in his life and enlarge towards society as a whole, often with a critical eye towards it.

The first one, destined to his brother Alessandro and a friend, starts these absolutely iconic lines:

[Quick translation: Ruggiero, if you make me so ungrateful in the eyes of your descendants, and it bears me no advantage to have sung your worth and your mighty deeds, why should I stay here, since I don't know how to cut huns on a fork, nor how to hunt games with hawks or dogs?]

A bit of context: Ariosto's first patron, bishop Ippolito d'Este, had to move from Italy to Hungary and wanted all his court to follow him. Ariosto refused because of health and family matters, and he was threatened with the loss of all the benefits he had previously granted him. Note that Ariosto was basically a kind of personal secretary to Ippolito, carrying out different important missions for him, and even risked his life a couple times to carry them out. So it's understandable he feels disappointed at his patron's reaction... and that's why, in this more "private" writings, he complains with Ippolito's ancestor, the hero Ruggiero he had extensively wrote about in his main poem.

Honestly, a genius move. Not something you see often in poetry, is it? Another reason why you need to vote for this man ;)

For the Guido Cavalcanti stans:

Propaganda in favor of Guido Cavalcanti by @eresia-catara

May I add further propaganda for Guido: He's a noble, he disdains aristocrats, he was Florence's number one Server of Cunt, he was the city's faggot, he was heretical, he went on a random pilgrimage but interrupted it and managed to be buried in a church anyway, he had an archenemy who sent some men to murder him on said pilgrimage, he came back and tried to murder him back in plain daylight, he gave zero fucks about politics, he got exiled because he was considered a menace for the city. He SAW DANTE's poetical talent, encouraged it, shaped it, and through him the whole of italian literature. Think about it. Also they became besties until they evolved to a tormented psychosexual haunting dynamic (see break-up poem) where Dante himself actually exiled him. In the 13th century his poetry anticipates so many of the literary themes of the XXth century, going from fragmentation of the self (his is basically vivisection and dispersion of his parts), to dissociation from one's own mind and body, lack of identity, irony, desecration, his poetry is full of schizophrenic-like hallucinations, reading them is truly a trip, and yet his language is profoundly meoldic and sweet. And there's also gender-fuckery. and theater, of course, because his poems develop like a scene from a theater (adding layers to the dissociation). So really he has it all guys.

The thing is, Ariosto feels very contemporary but Guido is the og relativist and unreliable narrator. His poetry offers NO truth whatsoever you only have a sequence of schizophrenic hallucinations and what he describes only seems like it's real but who knows, the narrator is dead, how can he even speak or if he's alive he's not because he has dissociated himself from his body and is only coldly contemplating his own murder. He's not reliable because he has lost his reason, his soul has crubled into pieces and each piece has fled his body. Also he hears voices, and feels a sadistic presence in his mind in the form of a woman watching him die. This man was too ahead of his time, he was too dramatic, too eccentric, but also too acute and sensible, he must have looked deranged and we love him for it. and deserves to be voted!

Guido Cavalcanti propaganda by @girldante

GUIDO CAVALCANTI PROPAGANDA ABBIAMO:

LA DISSOCIAZIONE SCHIZOFRENICA:

IL COMICO, IL SIMPATICO BURLONE, IL MEMATORE ANTE LITTERAM:

IL MACABRO, IL GORE, I SINTOMI™

IL BREAKUP TOSSICO PASSIVO AGGRESSIVO CON DANTE

in conclusione

you can find my old propaganda here, but listen, while i do respect zio ludo's rizz, a vote for guido cavalcanti is a vote for gender roles reversal, death-life liminality, medieval atheism, antisocial freaks obsessed with philosphy who imagine their pens are talking to people about their owner's suffering (what is wrong with him), eye carving enjoyers (what the FUCK is wrong with him), sons who are sacrifical lambs, people who have long swinging necks like geese (allegedly???), and gay breakups involving dante alighieri. and also, well, I don't recall ariosto wearing a miku binder. twice.

in conclusion

Guido Cavalcanti propaganda by @apis-vergilii

Here’s my Guido propaganda: @girldante and @eresia-catara have already covered the poetry reasons, and I’m here to get metatextual about the whole thing.

Simply put, this is the Weird Niche Hellsite, and Guido is the Weird Niche Hellcandidate.

We live in an era of the cynical enshittification of the internet. In a sickened sea of dying social platforms, AI slop, and every last pixel being for sale, THIS is still the webbed site where a bunch of strangers can rediscover a lesser-known medieval poet in all his angsty, gothy glory, abandon all pretense of ironic detachment or mature indifference and go absolutely apeshit over his life and work, breathlessly and deliriously creating everything from exhaustively researched essays with footnotes, to anime fan art and inexplicable photoshops. This is the place where Goncharov happened. This is the place where we stole the president’s shoelaces. This is the place where a heretical medieval Tuscan stilnovista got himself a full-on Fandom, and we are all so much the better/worse for it.

So vote for the spirit of the old internet in all its dorky glory. Vote for the joy of learning things for fun and not for school. Vote for the bizarre Florentine emo goth. A vote for Guido Cavalcanti…is a vote for all of us.

if all else fails to convince you, well, i don't recall ariosto having an historical fantasy saga centered around him where he gains clairvoyance and gets increasingly more and more manipulated by the manifestation of his generational trauma. also he gets out of his body to have epic fights with spiritual creatures.

this should be a testimony to how his cuntserving echoed through time

Propaganda by @girldante and @eresia-catara that I guess should be read together:

well. seeing as we're on topic. Was Ariosto ever described as having

les bras d'Hercule avec des mains de nymphe by a 19th century french story? It is not made up guys, he served androgynous cunt so hard it didn't go unnoticed. Guido simply suggests fluidity.

Like. Arms like Hercules and hands like a nymph.

And Lorenzo il Magnifico also Fangirled over him in a letter to the Federico of Aragon

he (Lorenzo il Magnifico!!) was simply begging him to read his poems, and that's because they are absolutely eatable in all their irreverent, elegant, goth glory.

Finally, Boccaccio wrote about him in his Decameron (VI,9) and, truly, can you say no to him:

this little ballerina? look at how sad he looks!

would you look at that! Guido Cavalcanti propaganda is publicly sponsored by thee Lorenzo De' Medici himself!!!

as for the last bit, Boccaccio's novella from Decameron, where Guido calls out a bunch of idiots through a riddle that said idiots will take a bunch of time to understand and then proceeds to abandon them jumping over a grave, was cited by thee Italo Calvino in his Lezioni Americane as an example of his conception of lightness, as in the ability to lift oneself over the heaviness of the world.

In conclusion: Guido Cavalcanti is literally your fave's fave.

[enchanting-chit-chat]

Beetlejuice's Backstory and the Black Plague 💚🕷️🥀💀 PART 1

I went and watched the new Beetlejuice movie twice already, can’t wait to share my thoughts! I’ve decided to make a series of posts mainly dedicated to people that are curious about the Black Plague era and BJ's past life. Join me for a historical dive that might make you appreciate Tim Burton’s work even more!

Warning: This post contains SPOILERS for the 2024 movie Beetlejuice Beetlejuice.

Premise

In European countries, we often study the Black Plague in schools. In Italy specifically, the disease spread multiple times throughout the Middle Ages, with the two worst pandemics occurring around 1350 and 1630. The first one alone spread in many countries and caused a total of 20 million deaths - a THIRD of the population of the whole European continent at the time.

However, the 1630 outbreak is the one we know about the most, thanks to author Alessandro Manzoni (1785-1873), who described it meticulously in his masterpiece, ‘I promessi sposi' (The Betrothed): This book is one of the most important works in Italian literature. Although it is a novel, it is often treated as historical evidence because Manzoni actually shaped the story referring to archival documents and chronicles of the time.

Introducing: Monatti, the corpse carriers

In his book, Manzoni recalls a group of people called 'monatti' - the only ones allowed to practice public services such as collecting the dead and washing roads during those hellish times. This concession was motivated by the fact that monatti were considered immune to the disease.

However, they were feared and hated by the rest of the population, because they often misused their ‘privileged’ position: they were untouchable. They often extorted money from the living and stole the belongings of the dead and the sick alike, without repercussions. What made them special was the fact that monatti typically gained immunity after surviving the disease themselves.

“Farewell to Cecilia,” one of the most heart-wrenching moments in Manzoni’s novel, beautifully captured by Francesco Gonin.

In fact, the Black Plague typically spread in three ways: through skin contact (bubonic plague), lungs (pneumonic plague) or blood infection (septicemic plague). The Bubonic form was, and still is, the most common and had the highest survival rate, though it was still quite low. It was easily identifiable because it caused the lymph nodes to swell and become infected, forming characteristic 'buboes'.

It was believed that if a plague victim survived five days, the fever would subside, and they would recover within two weeks. This is what usually happened to the monatti. Similarly, Renzo, the protagonist in Manzoni’s book, recovers, though he never becomes a public worker.

Now, let’s dive back into Beetlejuice’s backstory.

Amidst the eerie glow of moonlight, he's depicted among corpses, at night, behind a wagon, stealing from the dead that were just thrown into a communal pit by plague doctors.

Notice how he’s directly touching the bodies with his bare hands, without any protection: usually, that was considered a death sentence.

In Manzoni’s book, there is a character that meets their end in a similar way, simply by touching the clothes of an infected person. During that era, the danger was so great that people used to burn the bodies of the plague victims along with their clothes, beds, and other possessions.

It is also worth mentioning that, during plague outbreaks, some city governments (particularly in Italy and Poland) imposed strict limitations on the movement of people and goods. In some areas, a nighttime curfew was also enforced (Yes, we invented the lockdown centuries ago!). Under those circumstances, being caught outside your own house at the wrong hour could mean instant death. But guess who had the freedom to roam as they pleased? Yes, monatti and plague doctors (and those with special permits).

Conclusion: Beetlejuice wasn’t just 'a humble grave robber', as he claims. He was definitely a plague survivor and, most likely, a monatto.

The fact that this scene was unveiled and narrated in Italian during the Venice Film Festival further convinces me that this is the correct interpretation of the sequence.

So, what do we think? Have you ever heard or read about The Betrothed before? Anyways, if you liked this analysis, make sure to check out PART 2, in which we can delve even deeper into Beetlejuice’s mysterious past!

Until then, have a fantastic week! ✨

[world-beauty]

Stars and Dust across Corona Australis

Credits: Alessandro Cipolat Bares

[honeyangelkiwi]

Coachella Weekend 2 | H.S.

Plot: A bet is made on whether Harry will address his album being leaked during his second set at Coachella…

Sexual content: fingeringish (f receiving), grinding, teasing, subrry

Word count: 3.1k

I started writing this the day after this performance and then set it aside and got distracted haha. I don’t remember exactly what he said on stage, and quite frankly I don’t care to look it up. You’ll get the gist, it’s only a few words here and there. Maybe posting this here will finally get me to finish the second part.

I wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to top last weekend. His performance for weekend one completely blew me away. He wouldn’t let me see anything, saying it had to be just as much of a surprise to me as it would be for everyone else, which was very annoying. I’ll admit though, it made the performance so much better.

I almost forgot how much of a flirt he can be on stage. The little smirks, smiles, and not so subtle touches that drove me to so much pent up frustration that I jumped right on him when he came off the stage. I have a feeling tonight will be much more exciting.

The vibe from the crowd tonight is so much better. It’s been vibrant and buzzing all day and we all know why. Weekend two is nothing but harries. The lineup hadn’t been announced yet when weekend one tickets went on sale. However, as soon as the lineup dropped and everyone realized H was headlining, they came in full force. Nothing impresses me more than his fans and their dedication to him.

That leads us up to right now. H and I are sitting in his trailer in the artist village just lounging around while everyone else is out watching artists across the site. We wanted to stay back though, knowing he would get too much attention no matter where we were out there.

We’re sitting on the couch, watching the piece of shit YouTube live stream, but not really paying any attention to it. He’s laying back against the arm of the couch with one leg up on the couch and the other on the floor, my back pressed to his chest while he rubs soft circles into my left hip.

Both of us lay in robes, too lazy to get fully dressed even though he is on in two hours. That wouldn’t matter anyways because he, again, won’t let me see what he’s going to be wearing tonight. Knowing Lambert and Alessandro it will be nothing short of amazing and mouth watering.

“What do you think you’re doing H?” I question when I feel his left hand start to pull my robe open a bit and slip under it. He doesn’t say anything and continues his hand up, gripping the thin band of my barely existent panties.

Just the feeling of the pads of his fingertips on my skin heats up my body like a wildfire. I know the game he’s playing, he does it often. The game where he loves to work us both up, teasing not just me, but both of us, to the point it almost physically hurts. Just for him to go on stage and act like a whore in front of the world.

The result usually ends with me begging him to fuck me as soon as he gets off of stage, dragging him to the nearest secluded…ish spot so he can finger fuck me until we can get somewhere more private. He may act like a whore on stage, but behind closed doors we’re both filthy.

I gasp sharply when his fingers dip down to brush my clit lightly. My hips involuntarily shifting up to chase his fingers when he starts pulling his hand away. “Harry, please don’t do this tonight. I have a feeling I won’t be able to handle it.” I plead softly, knowing that since he’s already started I don’t want him to stop.

I feel his chest move as he chuckles at me. “C’mon babe, I know you don’t want me to stop. You were wet before I even started.” He whispers into my ear. His lips brushing up and down my neck with his breath tickling me, sending goosebumps erupting across my entire body.

I let my head fall back onto his shoulder, exposing more of myself to him. His lips start planting soft kisses up and down my neck, stopping to suck a bruise where it meets my shoulder.

His left hand moves up my body to my breasts, taking a handful while his free hand pulls the tie of my robe and lets it fall open, completely exposing me to him. I only had on panties, and a shiver ran through my body when my hot skin was met with the cool air conditioning of the trailer.

While his left hand starts playing with my freed nipples his right pulls my underwear to the side, and he runs his fingers from my opening up to my clit, spreading the arousal around between my legs. I couldn’t help the whimper that fell from my lips at the all of the stimulation he was giving me across my body. Enough to start a knot forming in my belly, but not enough to be chasing a release.

The soft sounds coming from me cause his hips to shift up and grind into my backside, allowing me to feel how hard he was from the little bit of work he was doing. Knowing this is what he loves doing I open my eyes to glance at the clock and see he has to leave shortly.

Mad at myself that I let him play his game I grab his hand that's still running up and down my heat and press his fingers to my clit, forcing them to rub in quick, harsh circles. Immediately my eyes shut again and a loud moan fell from my lips, drowning myself in the pressure that I needed to push me towards my end.

Harry, being the man he is, let me do what I wanted for all of a minute before pulling his hands away from my body. I wanted to scream, but before I could he was already flipping me over to straddle his lap, slamming his lips to mine.

I couldn’t help the moan that escaped passed my lips and into his mouth, the way he tastes never getting old to me. His hands grip tightly onto my hips, pulling them further into his lap, allowing me to feel how hard he is through the little barrier between us.

I weave my fingers into his hair and tug on the roots as I roll my hips into his to get some more friction. I know he can feel the wetness seeping through my panties. The slippery fluid dampened his briefs and surely let him feel how much he’s worked me up.

He groans into my mouth, pushing his tongue into mine and licking into it like he’s searching for more of the taste. A hand comes up to the back of my neck pulling me into him more and he obscenely starts sucking my tongue between his lips.

He pulls his mouth from mine and moves his face into my neck, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses, and starting to suck a bruise into my sweet spot. “Baby, please.” I beg, knowing and not knowing what I’m asking for.

My head is so far into the clouds that I don’t realize he’s pulled his mouth off of my skin until he’s gently pushing me off him. As he stands up he looks down at me with a smirk I could slap right off his face.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me H!!” I huffed angrily at him. I know I’m more angry at myself for falling into his trap again, but I could help it. He’s irresistible.

“Sorry babe. It’s about time for me to go get changed and make sure Lizzo gets her coat for tonight.” He shrugs like he hasn’t also worked himself up. I raise an eyebrow at him and glance down at his hard cock before looking back up at him.

He just smiles at me, popping those dimples out laughing. “Nothing I can’t take care of love.” And truly, fuck you, Harry Styles. As I’m about to snark back some quirky comment an idea pops into my head, and now I’m the one smirking.

“Are you gonna mention the leaks tonight?” I ask and watch his eyebrows furrow. “I am, why?” He responds back, confused because we’ve already talked about this yesterday.

“I bet you won’t. You’ll get up there and chicken out.” I taunt him. He’s too predictable. I know what I’m doing. If he wants to play games, then we’ll play games.

“Babe, I’ve told you already. I’m going to bring it up. I would never be rude to them, but I want to say something.” He sighs, rolling his eyes. He’s probably tired of me bringing it up, but I know he won't say anything. He would never make his fans feel bad, even if they did listened to the leaks.

“How about if you say something you fuck me and if you don’t… I fuck you tonight.” I say with the biggest smirk on my face. I know Harry can’t turn this down. Mister cocky and confident until he’s the one under me.

The shock on his face is something I wish I could have gotten a picture of. He stands speechless for a minute, mouth falling open and snapping shut a few times before he finally answers… or whimpers. From that alone I know I’ll be winning this bet, but it’ll be fun to see how he attempts to win anyways.

He walks up to me with a big smile on his face, like he didn’t just let it slip how much he would like to be the one bent over tonight. However, I also know he can’t deny a good competition between us. “Looks like we have a deal baby. I hope you’re ready for what I’ve already got planned.” He says and gives me a soft peck on the lips.

He steps away and turns towards the bathroom, undoubtedly to take care of the issue he caused himself and to get dressed and meet Lambert. I sit myself back down on the couch, thinking about the ways in which I will have him begging for me.

I’m pulled from my thoughts as he comes back fully clothed… kind of, in small shorts with a tee shirt layered over a long sleeve shirt. His hair is hidden under a bucket hat and his clip firmly attached to his shirt. It never ceases to amaze me how good he looks in something so simple.

Without any shame I slowly drag my eyes down his body, letting him see the look I’m giving him. When I get back up to his face he simply smirks, steps up to me and gives me a kiss to the forehead. “I’ll see you in an hour, love.” He states and heads out the door.

********

Harry Lambert and Alessandro have really outdone themselves this weekend. The pink leather, the cherries and strawberries… and the initials on Harry’s ass have me ready to drop everything and suck his dick right on stage in front of everyone.

He truly has no business looking as good as he does. The way his abs have been flexing as he dances around on stage is disgustingly attractive. During Carolina he came over to the side of the side stage where VIP was and gave me a big, teasing, cheesy grin.

“This is for you baby!” He yells at me. I couldn’t hear him since he yelled it away from the mic, but I could make out what he said. He does that often when he’s on stage. He turns around and gives his focus back to the crowd and continues on into Woman.

After Woman the high energy dies down a bit as Elin, Sarah, and Nyoh come up to the front of the stage to sing Boyfriends with Harry. His little speech last night ran through my head and made me laugh.

He steps up to the mic with his guitar and clears his throat. He takes a glance over at me and smirks, raising his brows playfully. I gulped nervously because I really didn’t think he would be saying anything. I catch Sarah nudging Elin and giving her a look with wide eyes. I guess I’m not the only one surprised by him.

“Respectful kings and queens…” he starts and trails off a bit as the crowd goes insane by the way he addresses them. As they continue screaming I see it. The hesitation flashes across his face and he looks over at me again with wide eyes and a nervous twitch of the lips. I feel the smirk spread across my face realizing that, even though there is still half of the show to go, I’ve won this bet.

He visibly gulps and shakes his head chuckling. “We’re going to play a new song for you, one that I’ve only performed once. Here’s Boyfriends.” He spares another glance my way, this one being much darker with his face on fire.

I quick a look towards Sarah and Elin and see them trying not to laugh and I know for sure that they had a bet on if he would say something or not also. The rest of the show goes by fairly quickly and the anticipation to get my hands on him has been growing and spreading like wildfire through my body.

The stage goes red and the old Kiwi intro starts. I am so glad he brought it back because there is no other feeling of the build up during this. He goes to grab a water bottle and all of the fans start going crazy knowing what’s to come.

He looks at me as he comes running down the catwalk, smirking and pointing at me. “You better not throw that water on me Harry!” I shout at him. I know he can’t hear because of the in ears, but he can read my lips. He simply laughs and turns to throw it on the fans opposite of me.

As the bridge comes around I take it as my cue to head to the side stage to meet him as he runs off. 10 minutes later and he’s finishing Sign of The Times and running off stage. As he approaches me I open my arms and let him pick me up, swinging us in a circle.

“I still can’t believe that was my first festival!” He shouts over the still screaming crowd. He leans in to kiss me but I pull back. When I look up to his face and see him pouting I chuckle at him. “I think you need to go shower and change baby, you’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

His face drops even more, eyebrows raising and lips parted slightly, wet and shining from having licked them. “Oh haha, you remember that little bet.” He speaks lowly, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact.

“Mhm baby, I do remember. It seems like the band thought the same thing.” I say laughing and sliding my arms down to his hips, giving them a squeeze. “What happened? Why’d you back out at the last minute?” I ask, rubbing circles into his ferns.

“I don’t know. Just kind of choked up I guess.” He shyly mutters and I can’t help but give him a quick peck to the lips. He may seem overly confident on stage, but he's still just a cute little baby most of the time. He smiles down at me and kisses my forehead, wrapping his hands around me to pull me in for a hug.

For a moment we just stand like that backstage, embracing each other, forgetting that there are 50 people around us running around to deconstruct the stage and get everything set up for tomorrow. His face is buried in my hair, his sweat is sticking to my skin and he smells, but I don’t complain. Moments like these are meant to just live in for a bit.

After a few moments I slip my hands from his hips to his plump ass and give a firm squeeze. The whimper that came from his lips was low enough that only I heard, and it went straight to my core. I could feel him harden against my lower stomach already.

“Go get showered baby. Be a good boy and wait for me on the bed naked.” I whisper into his ear. His hips shift and rub against me and he moans softly, only for me to hear. “Hm, maybe you purposefully didn’t say anything because you wanted me to fuck you tonight.” I say to him, my voice having dipped down and dripping in honey.

“And if I did?” He says and steps back with a smirk. I cock an eyebrow at him, glancing down to the bulge in his pants. He unashamedly looks down and rubs his hand over himself. “I would say you better do what I say if you want my cock in your ass tonight.” I snapped at him.

His mouth drops open and his hand snaps back to his side. He turns around and starts walking away, but not before looking back at me with eyes blown in lust to tell me loves me. I look around and catch eyes with Sarah and Elin and see them laughing, knowing they saw the encounter.

“See you guys tomorrow!” I yell over to them and we all share a look. They know how H and I are. Not by choice initially, but when Harry came into rehearsal the first time a few months back with red cheeks and a limp, the whole band kind of guessed and teased him about it.

They waved back and I turned to make my way back to the trailer. Taking my time knowing how worked up he’s gonna be by the time I get there.

bully me to finish the second part

[toppamplemousse]

I would be very happy if you could write a fic about Charles being used by mechanics

ok kind of obsessed with this ask and the absolute lack of direction here. was going to summarize and then what do you know there's 1.5k words in the google doc.

the votes were in for post-monza gangbang so......hope this is more or less what you were after. happy chwin!

explicit ferrari garage (+ max) using charles under the cut <3

By the time Max finally gets out of the debrief, he isn’t sure what he expects to see from the Ferrari garage. It’s hard to explain to outsiders what it means to win for Ferrari – what they do for their winners. To their winners. Words couldn’t possibly encapsulate how they celebrate, how much it means to them all. Max has seen it before, but not in Monza, not at their home. 

He slinks into the back entrance of Ferrari, just as Carlos is leaving.

“Hey, mate,” Carlos barely looks at him, clapping him on the shoulder. “They’re in there.”

Carlos barely nods in the direction of the garage. Max smiles, says thanks. It’s funny, really, that Carlos can’t look him in the eye after all this. Clearly Charles wants it, clearly Max gave permission. Yet Carlos still acts like it’s something covert, a clandestine happening. Something that makes his hands dirty, that he needs to repent. And it’s not like Carlos doesn’t enjoy it. Max knows he can’t resist the offer. 

It would be much easier to look straight Max, say thanks, and tell him Charles is waiting, face dripping with come. 

And that’s about the scene Max walks into – Bryan is there, of course, leaning over Charles, who rests against the side of the SF-24. He’s carding a hand through Charles’ hair, talking softly to him. Max can hear the Italian consonants bounce off his tongue. Alessandro is there too, though in a more compromising position, if Max cared. Leaning against the car, cock still in his hand, trying to catch his breath. He sees Max and raises his eyebrows, and Max thinks, that’s right. You should be fucking thanking me, worshipping the ground I walk on, for this. 

Bryan stands up. “Ciao, Max, what a race. He’s been so good, so perfect. Better than usual, ovviamente. He is begging for it, but we will let you have that.”

Max nods. It’s a routine affair, truly. Bryan only gets to come inside if Charles fucks up. Otherwise, he’s all Max’s.

And when Max finally gets a good look at Charles, it’s far better than he could have expected.

Charles’ eyes are slightly open, the unmissable green still there, but it’s foggy. He is so, so gone, more than usual, it seems. Max crouches down next to him, tilting his face up with a finger on his chin. Charles’ skin, his rosy cheeks and golden glow, are obscured by the flush that spreads across his face, down his neck. His lips are swollen, red and used, and Charles flinches as Max runs a finger along them. Fuck, he is so beautiful like this. 

And the evidence from this evening does not go unnoticed. Spurts of come, staining his beautiful face, catching on his eyelashes and dripping down his cheeks. Carlos, Ale, Bryan, for sure, and anyone else Bryan deemed worthy. Max feels the electric rush, straight for his groin, at the sight. It’s obscene. Filthy.

“Baby,” Max coos, watching Charles slightly stir, “Did you have fun?”

A smile spreads slowly across Charles’ face. God, he’s so fucked out. Max has rarely ever seen him like this, not even after Monaco. 

“Want it so bad, Max,” Charles whimpers, barely audible. “So bad. Want you– need it.”

Fuck, Max is so hard at his voice. He leans in, connecting their mouths and feeling Charles’ soft lips against his own. He can’t help but groan into the taste, into the way the come mixes in their mouths. Charles is so pliable like this, so willing. Max wants to savor it, but his jeans are so tight and he had to wait through Red Bull’s most uninteresting debrief, when all he could do was think about this. He deserves it. Charles deserves it. 

He reaches a hand down to wrap around Charles’ cock, hard and drooling, and Charles moans at the touch. God, Max could just get him off like this, dirty and quick and lick up every drop from his hand, but he needs so much more. Max lifts him up, kissing down his jaw, onto his neck, tasting everyone who came before him. It’s intoxicating. Charles can barely move on his own, boneless and docile. 

“There you go, baby, so perfect, doing so well,” Max kisses him on his shoulder as he turns him around, pushing against Charles’ back, arching him over the car. “My good boy.”

Charles whines, high in his throat. His legs spread, and Max has to look away, for fear of coming in his pants then and there. Charles’ hole is red, puffy, so thoroughly abused, come streaking across his back. His cock hangs between his legs, and there’s so much Max wants to do to him it’s unreal. With two fingers, he gingerly presses them in, the slide made effortless by the amount of lube inside him. 

“Don’t worry, Max,” Bryan taps his shoulder, “No one finished here. Just for you, we know. Certo.” 

A surge of pride, wrapped in fierce possessiveness courses through Max’s veins. Bryan’s right; Charles is no one’s but his. Mine.

Max adds a third finger, watches Charles thrash a little. It’s too easy.

“Fuck, baby, I’m going to fill you up, yeah? Is that what you want? You want my cock so bad, want me to fuck you,” Max is almost breathless watching Charles squirm on his fingers, loose and used and hot. 

Charles manages to look over his shoulder, eyes glassy. “Yes, please, please, Max, just you, only you. I need it– please.”

Charles has barely gotten the last few words out when Max pulls his fingers out, lining up his cock with Charles’ hole, smearing the lube and precome back and forth with the head of his cock. This is all he’s been thinking about; sinking into Charles, warm and inviting, begging for his touch. Charles is babbling, begging for it, like he hasn’t just had several different men in him for the last hour, pounding him until he can see stars.

Max pushes in and it’s gloriously wet, filthy and messy. Charles’ moans get louder, punctuating each of Max’s thrusts. He takes it slow, at first, relishing in the way there’s barely any resistance, like a perfect little cock sleeve. 

“Race winner, baby,” he murmurs into the skin of Charles’ shoulder, seeing the goosebumps scatter across Charles’ skin. “There’s no one like you, my pretty baby, my champion.”

Max looks up through his eyelashes, and sees some of the crew watching Charles intently, hands wrapped around their cocks as they jerk off. Max picks up the pace, needing to come so desperately, wanting to show off to the garage that Max is the only one who gets to do this, only one who gets to make him come, who gets to experience what it’s like coming inside him. 

“Tell me how much you want it, baby,” Max slaps the meat of Charles’ ass, adding to the hot red handprints already forming there. “Tell me how much you want me to fuck you stupid, fuck a baby into you.”

“Max, please, want your come, please, just fucking–” Charles’ breath is punched out of him as Max shifts his hips, never once relenting. “Fill me up, want it so badly.”

Max is so close to the edge, watching Charles so mindlessly beg for him like this, in front of all his mechanics and engineers. “I’m going to --fuck, Charles-- pump you so full of my come.”

Charles cries out, and Max reaches around, taking Charles’ cock into his hand. Bryan is in front of Charles again, running one hand through his hair, while the other works himself furiously. He’s whispering words of praise again, telling him how good of a race it was, how perfect Charles is for the team. Max sucks a bruise into Charles’ shoulder, and tells him, “You can come baby, come on my cock,” and Charles is coming hard, moaning echoing through the garage as Max works him through it. 

“Good boy, fuck.” 

Charles clenches around him, as hard as Max supposes he can for someone who’s this loose, this overstimulated, and it’s enough for Max. To know how Charles has been idolized, praised, worshiped today to the point of dumb, fucked-out incoherence, begging for him, only him. He fucks in and comes, filling Charles up hot and panting heavily. Bryan comes with a groan, finishing once again across Charles’ face, before smearing the head of his cock on Charles’ mouth. 

There is little left in Charles, moaning at the taste, at the feeling. Max pulls out slowly, rubbing circles onto Charles’ back, and watches the way his come starts to drip out. 

[period-dramallama]

History is other, and the present familiar. The historian's job is often to explain the transition between these states. The historical novelist similarly explores the dissonance and displacement between then and now, making the past recognisable but simultaneously authentically unfamiliar.

To use Alessandro Manzoni's metaphor, the historical novelist is required to give "not just the bare bones of history, but something richer, more complete. In a way you want him to put the flesh back on the skeleton that is history".

Jerome de Groot, The Historical Novel

[ftafp]

A list of assorted crazy things Ive learned studying food for a 7-year-and-counting quagmire of a fantasy novel

Fizzy is the taste of carbon dioxide dissolved in water, not a texture. Lab rats bred to lack sour taste buds cant distinguish sparkling water from tap, and dissolved nitrous oxide lacks the fizzy sensation

The hot dog is the only part of cattails that isnt edible

The recommended way to cold-process acorns for eating at home is to put them in your toilet. really.

imitation vanilla extract is actually sawdust-flavored

apples can be made into flour, but they're not great so they need either a blend of different flours, an egg foam, or bananas as well

your muscles hurt after excercising because they are full of yogurt

any nut milk can be made into cheese (i.e. tofu)

sugar can be mixed with saltpeter to make rocket fuel and smoke bombs. the combination is called rocket candy

sugar substitutes can be produced with a mix of oil or fat, wood ash, and salt

almond and cherry are actually the same flavor. one is just acidified

the formation of potato chips causes them to undergo the same phase transition as glass

milk is not technically a liquid

jello is not technically a solid

soap is a type of salt

cellulose packing peanuts are edible, and were once served on iron chef as part of a winning meal, alongside an edible menu, and an edible photo of the victor drinking the judge's champagne

humans eat more than one kind of rock, including clay, gypsum, saltpeter, sea weed crust, and more

iceland didnt have ovens until the 1800s, because it was easier to just wrap sealed cooking vessels in cloth and dump them in a boiling volcanic mud pit

bees wax is edible, and can be used to poach fish

people in the middle ages put sugar on everthing

the most popular seasoning in ancient roman cuisine was fish sauce

pompeii had drive-thrus that served escargot

chemical analysis of roman sewers suggests giraffes and peacocks were a not-insignificant part of the roman diet

a popular snack used by historical ninja clans was a hard candy that contained LSD

in the west, candy was invented when someone said "what if we made cough drops without the cough medicine"

sugar plums are a type jawbreaker and contain no plums

electrons taste bitter according to the famed electrophysicist Alessandro Volta, who electrocuted his own tongue for science

the sun tastes sour

meat has gotten more tender since the 1700's in part because Benjamin Franklin discovered that electrocuting meat relaxes the muscle fibers

he learned this by electrocuting a turkey to death and then eating it with his bare hands like an animal

[elpislady]

Thomas Barrow and Guy Dexter aka Hollywood Husbands will be back! I'm screaming! Now I can actually start being cautiously optimistic for this film.

I still can barely believe they got Dominic to do it (I suspected Rob would agree) and we will get to see both Thomas AND Guy.

Happy and in love, I hope. And let them finally kiss Julian!!

Source:

[stingslikeabee]

plotted starter . @il-mostrc

Americans were deeply interested in the intimate affairs of others, Melissa mused while scrolling through a website full of candid shots and gossip of the worst quality, replacing what the tabloids did for a part of the UK and the ancient social columns of printed newspaper. The fact that certain cable channels were dedicated only to the latest rumor about a famous individual and that so many social media accounts had gone viral was proof of how profitable that seemed to be for those working behind the scenes.

The countess' digits moved over the tablet, zooming in on the relevant picture and re-examining it from a different angle. In her opinion, it was a beautiful thing - the evidence of a truly passionate embrace between lovers who had decided not to wait to make it to the bedroom, instead holding each other near the dining table. Unfortunately, not all curtains had been dutifully drawn - the one overlooked window had been turned into an opportunity by a paparazzi to take the picture that now graced the website along many others of different targets.

Hannibal's face was not visible as Melissa's in that angle - but his other characteristic features left little to be imagined, including the scene (his home was, after all, famous among the local society for the dinner parties he was celebrated for hosting). Humming softly, the countess left the gadget aside once she was satisfied with the visual inspection, producing instead a piece of paper from the nearby purse, neatly folded into four little squares.

"Alessandro tracked this man down - the 'J. Weiss' credited for the pictures seems to be this man, a certain Jonathan Crispin Weiss," the brunette absent-mindedly played with the paper, her focus however remaining solely on Hannibal. The Forteguerri butler was a trusted employee - and a longtime servant of Melissa, even before the deceased count. He was discreet and efficient, and his connections with the local Italian community in Baltimore had not needed long to flourish and yield results.

Now, almost a year after Melissa's arrival, the butler had barely met any obstacles while investigating the identity of the man who had started to publish pictures of his employer and her paramour without authorization. They were not a secret - not after the last seasonal events, at least; but it didn't mean that either of them enjoyed being featured online like that.

Or more accurately - the countess could not care less about what people thought of her, or whatever business she conducted behind closed doors (those surrounding Melissa either enjoyed the freedom she provided or were hypnotized by the allure of her past; perhaps both). But the woman had always been very keen to protect Hannibal's professional standing and place in society - dragging him along was never something that sit well with the countess, and to have now paparazzi after them was a nuisance.

"He is a freelancer... I wonder if one of your friends hired him," the woman said without any judgement in her voice, merely curious. Some of Hannibal's acquaintances had been known to approach Melissa in public with rather pointed questions and obvious interest. Perhaps his private nature (including the way he carried his own relationships) had helped transform the foreigner newcomer into some sort of evil witch, enchanting the desired bachelor and luring him into danger.

The countess smiled pleasantly - if only these people knew the truth; as the doctor himself had said once, she was hardly the lioness in the room.

"He has turned into a considerable annoyance, wouldn't you agree? The fact he has not asked for money or tried to blackmail either of us suggests that he cannot be silenced through financial means," the piece of paper was then handed to Hannibal, almost like a quiet offering. it had the full name of that photographer, as well as his address and license plate number. Alessandro was nothing if not perfectly capable when assisting outside his housekeeping duties.

"Tell me, carissimo. Is this one of them?" Melissa's eyes glinted while watching the psychiatrist at her side, watching him with a mix of curiosity, dedication and hunger, "One of the loathsome 'rude' you have mentioned before?"

[unabashegirl]

Enticing 22 (HS)

Summary: Harry is a young billionaire and CEO of his own company. He mostly keeps to himself, he is stern and very meticulous when it comes to business. He also likes to keep his personal life very private for the sake of his newly born son Oliver Styles. It isn't until he meets Y/N Y/L/N that everything changes. She becomes his new nanny after his previous one quits due to personal reasons. She is young, caring, and sweet. Will they ignore their feelings? Will Harry's girlfriend accept their love and leave them? Will she be able to cope with his busy agenda? What about Oliver's mother? Where is she? Who is she?

— all chapters of enticing —

word count: 1.9K

Author’s note: Hello everyone! I just want to let you all know that I have the workflow already planned out for the rest of the chapters. I’ve decided to do TWO SEASONS of Enticing and I already have the end of this first season planned. I’ve decided to do two seasons because it would give me the chance to post a new series that I’ve been working on, and it would also give me time to get ahead with the second season and get ahead. Anyway, happy reading!

It was a gorgeous day in Lake Como. The night before after arriving, they had gone straight to bed. All five had been exhausted after the trip. Besides the exhaustion, Y/N's mind had been a mess. She had felt how distant Harry had been. He had barely spoken to her and whenever she reached out to hold his hand or kiss him, he would pull away. So, when the morning came, she didn’t lay and wait until Harry woke up, but instead went straight to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

She put on a hot red bikini and threw on a beige linen set. Y/N looked over her shoulder to make sure that Harry was still sleeping before sneaking out of the room with her sandals in her hand, so his sleep wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Good morning!” Chiara was in the kitchen, preparing some coffee and making some fresh juice. “How’d you sleep?”.

“Good! Would you like some help?” She offered, even though she could see that she had it handled. Chiara like all the high society women that Y/N had met, had a chef and a team of helpers. It hadn’t been easy for Chiara. She was a traditional Italian woman who liked to have control of her kitchen, but the house was too big, and she was terribly busy with the store's management.

“No. It’s all right. Alessandro and William are already outside having breakfast. You should join them! I’ll be there in a second”.

“Holy shit! This was a journey” Y/N called out as she approached the table under the trees. “I wasn’t hungry, but I am now.” The table had been set up under a gazebo. It was adorned with fresh flowers and placemats that matched the color of the flowers.

“Good morning!” Alessandro put down his phone and leaned up to kiss her cheeks. “You look gorgeous.”

“This place is a dream” Y/N hugged William and then sat down beside Alessandro. “What time did you get up?” She asked as she started serving herself some food.

“At five” William sipped on his coffee, “We went out for a jog. I haven’t been able to button my pants since Rome” Alessandro and Y/N laughed. “I am not joking, but do a regret it? Absolutely not”.

“Where are Harry and Michael?”

“Harry is sleeping”

“I haven’t seen Michael.” Alessandro pointed out, “Perhaps he went out?”

“I’ll text him” William quickly texted him, “What are we doing today anyway?”

“I was thinking of just having a chill day by the lake. Does that sound good?”

“That sounds perfect” Y/N just wanted to lay out, read a book and get a tan. She was tired and wasn’t up for dressing up or going out to meet anyone. She was nervous. She thought about confronting Harry and asking why he had been in a mood. However, she was sick of confronting him and tired of trying for him to share his thoughts. Plus, every time she confronted him things got out of hand, and they ended up saying hurtful things to one another.

After breakfast, they all went down by the lake and settled by the dock. Alessandro made sure that food and refreshments were set out for everything they might need. He even made sure to set out sun tanning beds.

“I am seriously now concerned for Michael” Y/N put down her book and pulled her sunglasses down.

“Why?” Harry asked, coming down the dock only wearing his bathing suit. He was drinking a glass of orange juice and holding a pastry.

“Good morning!” Alessandro called out as he turned to look at him.

“I think you mean good afternoon.” William rolled his eyes as he sipped on his beer. “You sick? It’s weird for you to get up this late”.

“Fine. Where is Michael?” He said sharply, as he walked down to Y/N’s tanning bed and sat by her legs.

“That’s what we are trying to figure out” Y/N muttered and pulled her legs away from Harry just as he felt him trying to caress them. Harry turned to look at her momentarily.

William attempted to call Michael, but it went straight to voicemail.

“He is not answering.” Just before William suggested calling the police, he received a text.

I am fine. See you at dinnertime.

“He is alive” William rolled his eyes and threw his phone at Harry, who caught it swiftly.

“What is he hiding?” Y/N asked as she sat up and took her sunglasses off to be able to read the text.

“I don’t know. It better be good” Harry mumbled, “What time did you get up?” He asked Y/N as he ran a hand down her back.

“Early” she shrugged and pulled away from him. She knew she didn’t have to act like it, and it wasn’t going to solve anything. However, Y/N wanted to make him feel like he had made her feel lately. She wanted him to feel the distance that was growing between them.

“What’s wrong?” Harry whispered to her, but she shook her head and opened her book. “Tell me what’s wrong.” He insisted, but her mouth remained shut with her eyes glued to her book. Harry sighed heavily and sat by the edge of the dock with his feet in the lake.

The day passed by them. Alessandro blasted music even though Michael and Y/N were reading. The sun was high in the sky and the wind wasn’t too cold or too hot.

“Beer?” He offered Y/N.

“No thanks”

“Why?”

“Because she gets drunk very easily with beer” Harry responded for her, which only made Alessandro laugh. “I am not kidding”.

“One is not going to hurt her.”

“She is a lightweight”

“Okay, can you stop speaking on my behalf?” Y/N interrupted him, “I’ll have one. One is not going to hurt” She shrugged and reached out.

“Last time by your third beer, I had to basically carry you out of the boat” Harry laughed remembering that night. He had chartered a boat to watch the sunset and had made sure that there was enough alcohol on the boat for them.

“Let her have one” William rolled his eyes, “Shit, you are her boyfriend, not her father”. As soon as the words left his mouth the tension got tense. Harry’s jaw tensed, but he swallowed back his comments and tried his best not to say anything to him.

“Here. Have fun princess” Alessandro popped one open for her and kissed her head before going back to his seat. And so, Y/N drank her beer followed by another one. Alessandro was just about to hand her another one before Y/N stopped him.

“I need to pee” she squeaked, “I’ll be right back” William chuckled as he watched her run down the dock towards the house.

“Y/N” Harry called out as he followed her.

“What?”

“What’s going on with you?” He grabbed her arm and stopped her. “You were fine yesterday, and today you are treating me like a strange— “

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” Y/N interrupted him, “That’s exactly how you make me feel” She pulled her arm out of his grip. “Sick and tired of your on-and-off switch, Harry. It drives me crazy”.

“I’ve done nothin’ wrong!”

“Yes! Yes, you have! Take accountability for your actions” she yelled, poking her chest harshly. “If we keep going like this. This is not going to work” Y/N turned around and walked into the house in search of a bathroom.

“I am sorry,” He said to her as she walked out of the house.

“Sorry is not going to do it anymore, Harry. You can’t keep pushing me away whenever you feel like it. I deserve some stability.” Harry exhaled loudly and reached out for her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and try to meet eyes with her, but she kept looking at everything except at him.

“I know. I was a prick and I pushed you away instead of talking to you. I promise to open more” He pushed some hair out of her face and cupped her face in between his big hands.

“This is it, Harry. I am not going to continue entertaining this if you keep acting like this” She whispered as he pressed his forehead against hers.

“Alright. I understand. Can I hug you and get a kiss?” He had been acting distant and stand-offish, but it had all been because the texts he had read had left his head spinning. Harry had felt like he had been on the verge of losing her to another. He had been so caught up in figuring out his part relationships that he hadn’t noticed another man in the picture. Harry wasn’t self-conscious, he was extremely comfortable in his own skin, but for the first time, his world had been rocked.

Y/N nodded softly and kissed him as he pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I am taking the job” Y/N confessed while Harry gripped her chin.

“Really?” He pulled away with a soft smile. He was surprised. He didn’t think she would ever agree to change her job as a nanny for a corporate job. Harry could see her potential, and he knew that she would thrive especially with the guidance of one of his close friends.

She nodded enthusiastically but was nervous at the same time. When she had gone to college, she had dreamed of a job like the one that Harry was offering her. Harry kissed her lips, hard enough to steal her breath away.

“I am nervous” She whispered against his lips. Harry smiled widely and kissed her forehead.

“You are going to do great. I am sure of it” Y/N smiled feeling all fuzzy inside and excited.

The atmosphere improved significantly when they got back. They finished enjoying their day in the sun and stayed outside to admire the gorgeous sunset. As soon as the sky turned dark, Alessandro encouraged them to get up and head back to the house to get ready. He was starving and wanted to continue enjoying drinking and without food he couldn’t continue.

“This is delicious,” Y/N said as wiped the corners of her mouth. Chiara and Ricardo had joined them which had only made dinner much more entertaining. They had told them embarrassing stories about Alessandro and had also shared how they had met and fallen in love.

“It’s also not hard to prepare. I must give you the recipe” Lamb chops had been served over a bed of pesto pasta. The wine had been as consistent as the amount of bread that they had devoured.

“Where the hell have you been?” William called out to Michael who stood at the archway of the door.

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[without-ado]

Comet Neowise l Alessandro Cipolat Bares