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vroomvro0mferrari · 2 months ago

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LN4 | Vexing Vacation – Part 1

Summary: When you agreed to join your brother on his vacation, sharing a room with his best friend wasn’t part of the plan. Now, that you’re constantly stuck with Lando and his relentless teasing, you’re not sure whether you want to strangle him or kiss him.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader, one-bed trope, a lot of banter and a hint of forced proximity :)

WC: 3.1K

Warnings: mentions of sex/sexual insinuations, and cursing (as always)

Masterlist | Part 2

Y/N sighed as she stared at her suitcase. She would never get it closed without breaking the zipper. She opened it again, going through the selection of clothes while she asked herself which of her items weren’t absolutely necessary. The unfortunate answer was that she needed everything.

She had wild plans for the short vacation her brother had invited her on. According to him, she had been too stressed the last couple of months, and she desperately needed some time off. Along with the promise that he’d take care of everything, she had agreed to join his trip. She could use a one-night stand, or two and a little flirting to get her mind off her busy job.

However, there was the small nuisance of Lando coming along. Ever since he gained some confidence after his career took off and girls started herding him, he had been mocking her and making extremely inappropriate comments. He had changed over the years and Max had told her all about it. He told her about his new endeavours with the ladies; how he brought a different girl home every weekend and never spoke to them again. The attention was feeding his ever-growing ego, and it annoyed Y/N endlessly. He needed someone to put him in his place, and she would volunteer every time.

She smiled triumphantly when she finally zipped her suitcase closed with half an hour to spare. Sitting on her couch and scrolling on her phone, she waited for her brother to pick her up on his way to the airport. They greeted each other quickly before they took off, Y/N and Pietra catching up and discussing their plans for the week as Max drove.

Once they arrived at the airport, she spotted Lando all too quickly, casually leaning against a pillar near the check-in. He was wearing sunglasses (inside – like some lunatic) and a cocky smile on his face when he saw them approaching.

“Y/N Fewtrell. It’s been a while…”

“If only it lasted longer,” She responded.

Lando smiled at her reply, enjoying her feisty character whereas Max hissed into her ear, “Play nice.”

“Let’s board?” Lando asked. “The jet’s ready, I think.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Private?”

“Yes. Are you impressed?”

“Hardly,” she scoffed before rolling her suitcase to the plane.

The group arrived at their destination in no time – flying private really did have its perks – and drove the rental car to the resort. Taxis were a no-go when half of the people on the trip were professional drivers, and apparently, so were ordinary cars.

The porter took the bags out of the trunk and Lando handed the keys to the valet driver before they entered the hotel. Y/N took a seat in one of the luxurious chairs in the hotel lobby while she let her brother manage the check-in. She was people-watching when the group joined her.

“Okay… So, there’s been a little mishap…” Y/N looked at her brother with narrowed eyes.

“What did you do?” She said in a low tone.

“So, I may have forgotten to book an extra room for you…” Max admitted.

“What?”

“And they have no other rooms left, even the most expensive ones are taken.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not,” he paused, “but, you can share with Lando.”

Of course, Lando would oh-so-heroically offer to share his room with her. She could just smack the smirk right off his face.

“Max, can I talk to you for a minute – in private?” Y/N asked, an innocent smile on her face, before forcefully pulling her brother aside.

“I can’t sleep in the same room as Lando, Max. I had plans for this vacation, plans that can’t happen if I’m sharing a room with Lando.”

Max raised an eyebrow at her insinuation but didn’t comment on it. “Well, what other option do you have?” He said, crossing his arms.

“I could share a room with Pietra, and you can share with Lando…” she suggested, smiling up at her brother sweetly. “Please?”

Max sighed. “I don’t know about that, Y/N. Pietra and I have plans too, you know. Plans that include nightly activities. In bed,” He clarified.

Y/N pulled a face of disgust but offered her brother the same courteousness of ignoring the comment. “Are you serious, Max? You’re okay with me, your little baby sister, sharing a room – a bed, with Lando Norris? You know well enough that he’s always trying to get into my pants. This is your fault, you know. You told me you had taken care of everything.”

“I don’t like this as much as you do, but there’s not really another choice, is there?”

“Yes, there is. I told you, I can room with—”

“Y/N. Don’t be childish, you’ll be fine sharing a room for a few nights.”

“He’s going to try to take my innocence, Max. You can’t let that happen. You’re my big brother. You’re supposed to protect me, not throw me into the lion’s den.” Y/N tried, pulling out all the stops in the hope Max would change his mind. There was no other card she could play. She was tugging on his arm, practically begging him in the middle of the hotel lobby. If Lando and Pietra didn’t already know what was going on, they sure would know now.

Max rolled his eyes. “Your innocence has been gone for years, I’m sure,” Y/N gasped in offence, “It’s not going to work, make the best of it, yeah?” He concluded, patting her back before walking back to the group.

She watched as her brother walked away, frustration clear on her face, but she joined him only a couple of seconds later; she needed to make the best of this, after all, and it was too late to go home now.

As her eyes met Lando’s, she could already feel a wave of irritation come over her. He was standing casually, the stupid sunglasses still perched on his nose, hands tucked in his pockets, and a smirk plastered on his face as if he knew exactly how her conversation had gone.

“You really don’t want to share a bed with me, do you?” He asked her as soon as she was near enough.

Y/N crossed her arms, glaring at him. “What gave it away?”

“Could’ve been the part where you begged your brother not to throw you into the lion’s den,” Lando said, raising his eyebrows playfully. “Or maybe the part where you said I’m always trying to get into your pants.” He feigned hurt, putting a hand over his chest. “All those years of flirting down the drain…”

He chuckled softly at her angry expression, the sound infuriatingly smug. “Look, you’re making this into a bigger deal than it is. But don’t worry,” he added, his voice dropped as he leaned closer, “I’ll be the gentleman here. You can take the couch.”

Y/N blinked. “What?” She hissed.

“The couch, it’s all yours. I’ll suffer through the luxury of the bed.” He sighed dramatically before turning toward the elevator, casually slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“See you upstairs, roommate,” he winked, stepping inside as the doors slid shut.

Her jaw was slack as she watched him disappear behind the sliding doors. She turned to Max angrily, “What the fuck is wrong with him? Did he fall on his head as a child or something?”

Pietra laughed softly as she wrapped her arms around Max’s waist. “He’s just teasing you, Y/N. It’ll be fine. Come on, let’s go up.”

– – – – –

“I’m not sleeping on the couch,” Y/N said as soon as she entered the room.

“Oh, hello. Good to see you.” Lando smiled smugly from his position on the bed.

She glared at him – if looks could kill he’d be dead ten times over by now. “Get. Off. My. Bed.” She forced out through her gritted teeth.

Lando stretched out even further on the bed, hands behind his head. “Your bed? If I’m not mistaken, you were an afterthought to this vacation. This room was originally mine. You should be glad I’m kind enough to share it with you.”

Y/N stared at him. She wanted to rebuke him and tell him to stay on the couch, but he was right – although she’d never admit it to his face. He was doing her a favour by sharing his room, but he would never be chivalrous enough to sacrifice his bed. She took a deep breath. “Fine,” she said, her voice cold and direct. “I guess we’ll share the bed.”

“Fine with me,” Lando said offhandedly as he messed with the remote control.

“Alright, then. I’ll go get ready for dinner.”

The silence that settled over the room was awkward, at best. Y/N felt Lando’s eyes pricking in her back as she did her makeup, and the eye contact through the mirror didn’t make it any better.

“What?” She asked, hoping for some conversation to fill the quiet.

“Nothing,” Lando responded, averting his eyes and continuing to browse through the series and movies on the TV.

Y/N frowned at the response. She’ll have to raise a topic of conversation herself, then. “Why is it so cold in here?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” Lando retorted.

“Do you think it’s cold or are you okay with the temperature?” She continued, but Lando merely shrugged in response.

Y/N sighed, setting down her brush and powder before getting up to look at the air-conditioning setting. In contrast to the rest of the room, it was an old-fashioned system with a disk with a pointer to set the temperature. She turned the disk, but the pointer didn’t move.

“Are you getting hotter?” She asked confused, not feeling a temperature difference in the air blowing out of the air conditioner.

“Don’t even try,” she added quickly before Lando could respond, already seeing the smirk form on his face.

It quickly changed into an innocent smile, “What? I was just going to say I don’t feel a difference.”

“Mhm, sure. I think the air conditioner is broken. I turned the temperature up, but it’s not getting any warmer…”

Lando got up from the bed with a sigh and walked closer to look at the buttons himself.

“You don’t have to get so close…” Y/N commented when she felt his breath hitting her neck.

“I’m trying to see what the buttons say, Y/N. I have to get close in order to do that.”

“You’re getting in my personal space.”

“Personal space? What’s that? I thought we were past the formalities.”

Y/N huffed, crossing her arms.

“I don’t know why it’s not working,” Lando continued, “It must be broken,” he concluded before walking back to the bed.

“What? Can’t you fix it?”

Lando looked at Y/N incredulously, “How am I supposed to fix it?”

“I don’t know… Aren’t you good with technology and stuff?”

“That thing is ancient, Y/N.”

She huffed. She’d just have to deal, then. She quickly changed into one of her dresses and finished her hair.

“Aren’t you going to change?” She asked Lando, who was still lying on the bed in his plane clothes.

“Hm?”

“We’re leaving any minute now. It’d be nice if you changed into something decent for dinner. We’re not eating at some dive bar, you know.”

Lando rolled his eyes and sighed, “Don’t you ever get tired of yourself?”

“Excuse me?” she retorted, crossing her arms as she stared him down, about to scold him when there was a knock on the door.

“You’re lucky this time,” she added, before letting Max and Pietra in.

She plastered a sweet smile on her face and complimented Pietra on her outfit.

“I can say the same about you,” Pietra responded kindly, pulling Y/N in for a hug.

“Oh, you’re too sweet,” Y/N waved off her comment.

“Are you ready to leave?” Max cuts in.

“Yes, don’t know about Lando though. He wouldn’t change.”

“I’m ready,” he interjected. “I don’t need as much time as some people here,” he said with a teasing smile.

“Okay, let’s go.” Max pulled her out of the room before Y/N could respond, her mouth already open to rebut his rude comment.

“Did you hear that, Max? How on earth am I supposed to get through the night – let alone the entire vacation – when he talks to me like that? I swear, I’m going to strangle him in his sleep—”

“Let’s not do that. You just need to adjust a little bit.”

“Did you hear what he said before? He asked me if I never get tired of myself. Do you know how insulting that is? He’s absolutely insufferable! His ego’s way too big, he could use someone to knock it down for him,” Y/N kept rambling as Max led her to the elevator, basically pushing her in before she quieted down.

Pietra and Lando joined them only a few seconds later, and the cocky grin on Lando’s face showed he knew exactly how much he had ticked her off, and the enjoyment he took from it. Y/N glared at him throughout the elevator ride. However, despite his earlier comments and the way he had annoyed her all day – if not all her life – she couldn’t deny he looked good.

The white shirt he had changed into, with the top buttons open and the sleeves rolled up, accentuated his muscled arms, and allowed her to see the glimmer of the silver chain around his neck – she had to admit he was attractive. When Lando caught her looking she quickly averted her gaze, looking at her nails as she picked at them. But he had already noticed, his grin only becoming cockier. The confidence with which he carried himself, although extremely frustrating and unnecessary, had caught her eye along with all the other girls’, but it wasn’t enough to make up for his annoying behaviour.

– – – – –

The dinner was uncomfortable.

Of course, Y/N and Lando had to be seated across from each other. And if the discussions earlier that day didn’t display their dislike for each other, the lack of conversation at the dinner table certainly did. They didn’t exchange a single word until Y/N snapped at him.

“Would you stop looking at me?”

Her patience had worn thin after feeling his eyes on her every other second, but Lando merely smirked at the annoyance in her voice, “Where else am I supposed to look?” he asked innocently.

“I don’t know. Your food, maybe?” She shot back.

Lando raised his hands in surrender, before turning his attention to Max and Pietra, who were deep in conversation. Y/N tried to focus on their discussion, but the persistent feeling of Lando’s gaze on her was impossible to ignore. Every time their eyes met, his smirk only grew, making her jaw clench tighter.

When the meal came to an end, Y/N was more than ready to leave. She quickly collected her bag and jacket before joining Pietra on the walk back. With Lando far away from her, she could finally relax and talk comfortably, without being distracted by a pair of eyes burning holes in her face. The group quickly made their way back to the hotel, and after the elevator ride, Y/N and Lando were once again left alone.

“It’s cold in here,” she mumbled, switching the lights on as she entered the hotel room.

“You don’t say,” he responded sarcastically.

Y/N sighed, deciding to ignore the comment and rather focus on the problem at hand. “Okay, we should probably discuss how we’re going to do this…” Lando looked at her confusedly, so she continued, “As concluded earlier today, we’ll share the bed. I’ll take the left side if that’s okay?”

Lando nodded, so she continued, “The bed is big, so if you dare cross over to my side, I’ll choke you in your sleep—”

“Ooh, kinky,” he interjected, and Y/N flashed him a fake smile, “or I’ll tell Max, and he’ll handle it for me,” she finished.

Now, usually, Lando wouldn’t care much for her threats, but he knew Max was protective over his sister and from experience, Lando also knew that Max would indeed fuck him up if he crossed Y/N’s boundaries. He was actually surprised that Max was okay with him and Y/N sharing a room; he was usually up her ass whenever she so much as stood near a man. He didn’t know whether to be glad about it or not; did Max think Lando was like a brother to his sister, that nothing would ever happen between them, or did he trust him enough not to do anything without her permission?

“Fine, fine. I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” he told her.

Y/N squinted her eyes at him.

“I will,” he repeated.

She wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not, but the sincerity in his voice suited her a bit. She nodded and quickly changed into her pyjamas in the bathroom before slipping under the covers on the left side of the bed – as promised. She lay on her side, facing away from the right side where Lando would soon settle. She stayed as close to the edge as she could without falling off, so much so that Lando raised an eyebrow at her when he returned.

“You okay over there? Not lonely or cold or anything? I could warm you up if you like,” he suggested, the amusement evident in his tone.

“I’m fine,” she muttered. She wasn’t really, though. The room was freezing with the air conditioner still blasting cold air, and the thin comforter, which would normally be fine for the temperatures outside, wasn’t helping much.

She felt the bed move as Lando shifted, but she stayed silent, quietly staring out the window where she could just barely make out the street lanterns through the thin curtains. Although she pretended not to care (and would continue to do so), being this close to him made her uneasy – not because she didn’t trust him, although she wasn’t entirely convinced yet, but because of how aware she was of him. His presence, the warmth radiating from his body, and the faint scent of his cologne were all impossible to ignore in this proximity.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep, but her mind refused to quiet. Despite everything, she couldn’t stop thinking about how he had actually been pretty decent at dinner – apart from his frustrating staring habit – and how relaxed, confident, and hot he looked in that shirt… She hated how easily he affected her and how only he could wind her up without any effort at all.

– – – – –

Part 2

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adore-laur · 1 year ago

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PINK VELVET

— an italian getaway full of sunshine & surprises 💗

——

SALERNO, ITALY

Crystalline blue waters sparkling under the sunshine, ornate architecture standing high among the cliffsides, and mopeds burning rubber on the cobblestone streets—it's all pure, unadulterated bliss.

Sharing that bliss with your boyfriend enhances the experience. Both of you have been staying at a villa rental for a few days already, and the surrounding greenery and stucco buildings on the precipice rocks of the Tyrrhenian Sea bring a much-needed sense of privacy. It's a getaway for your third anniversary with Harry, and while it's a more extended vacation than usual—two weeks to be exact—the mellow atmosphere makes you feel like you could stay in Italy forever.

Harry said he plans on wooing you with the foreign language, having bought a book filled with romantic phrases at the airport's souvenir shop. You're dreading it because once he starts, he won't stop.

It's four in the afternoon, and you're getting ready to kayak off the Amalfi Coast. The heat will be sweltering, especially out on the open water, so you put on jean shorts over your swim bottoms, leaving just your bikini top on. Harry is standing in the doorway of the master bathroom and tying the strings of his swim trunks. He's wearing a white tank top that you know will be taken off eventually.

A cooler packed with snacks and drinks is by the front door. Once you reach downtown, the journey to the kayak launch takes about fifteen minutes, so you and Harry will drive in the vintage Cadillac he insisted on renting and park on the street before walking the rest of the way.

"Ready?" Harry asks, giving your ass two pats as he walks by.

"I guess," you say flatly.

He smirks and steals a scrunchie from your makeup bag to put around his wrist. "That's enough out of you."

You hoist the cooler over your shoulder, sling a beach towel over the other, and then stroll through the spacious villa rooms toward the door. When you open it, a blast of humid air immediately hits you. Harry brushes past you while jingling the car keys, a drawstring backpack on his back. You lock the door before heading toward the luxurious car you don't want to know the cost of.

Harry swings the passenger door open for you like a gentleman, but you decide to mess with him by ignoring his gesture. You open the driver's side door and smoothly crawl over the console until you're in the passenger seat. Harry slowly shakes his head, reaching forward to pluck your bikini strap with his fingers and lightly snap it against your skin. He throws his backpack under the seat before sliding behind the steering wheel.

The engine roars to life. Harry's hand places itself on your headrest, his body twisting around so he can carefully reverse down the circular driveway. You take his hand and set your interlocked fingers in your lap. He glances at you and smiles, his hair blowing beautifully in the wind and the sun casting a golden hue over his face.

When you arrive downtown, Harry parks along a random street. He removes his hand from yours and claps once. "Okay, here's the game plan. I reckon we should rent one kayak for both of us. It'll be cheaper and more fun, and we can work together like—"

"Absolutely not."

"Pardon?"

"I'm sorry, but being stuck in a kayak with you sounds like my personal hell. You'll somehow manage to tip us over or get us lost." Harry can live in a world of his own sometimes. You really want to avoid ending up stranded in the deep, expansive ocean.

"Baby," he says, looking at you with wounded eyes. "What if I drift away and we lose each other? I need you. I'll do all the work while you sit back and relax."

You can't possibly say no to him when he looks like a literal Greek god basking in the Italian sun, his lips irresistibly pink against his tanned skin.

"Fine," you surrender. "I'm not letting you do all the work, though, because we'll probably end up in a different country. Also, I'm sitting in the front seat. Deal?"

"Sì, amore mio," he says, passion dripping off his tongue. "And, um... I may have already paid for just one kayak when I booked the reservation yesterday. Well, singular ticket."

"You're unbelievable." Stepping out of the car, you stretch your limbs while Harry puts his backpack on and grabs the cooler. You hold onto his free hand and begin walking to the beach. Many people are out and about—vendors selling gourmet cuisine, kids riding bicycles through the alleyways, and tourists stopping at attractions.

At the waterfront, kayaks are stacked on racks, shimmering under the sun. Since Harry booked a reservation ahead of time, he walks toward the man who appears to be running the operation. You watch them shake hands and converse. Harry knows enough basic Italian to navigate through any language barrier yet to come.

Eventually, they both wander over to you, and the man caresses your hand and kisses your cheek. You smile and shyly mutter an Italian greeting. The man then excitedly leads you to the kayaks, taking a maroon two-seater from the bottom rack and dragging it toward the water. While following him, you notice only a few people are on the beach today. Only a couple of other occupied kayaks drift in the ocean, looking like mere silhouettes from where you stand.

"You know the rules, yes?" asks the man as he pushes the front of the kayak into the shallow water.

"Yes, I've done this before. I'll teach this guy," you say, pointing at Harry while draping your towel over the seat.

Harry smiles mindlessly, placing the cooler and backpack between the two seats. The man briefly leaves to grab life jackets and oars, leaving you and Harry to get into the kayak. You let him go first since he's sitting in the back. As you grip the side so it doesn't rock, he removes his tank top and hands it to you before steadily climbing in and bending his long legs to fit in the restrictive space.

You're next. Harry plants his foot in the sand to keep the kayak balanced and then offers his hand to grasp. Once you're situated, you sigh relievedly.

"This sucks," Harry mutters, nudging his knee against your back. "I can't even see your face."

"You could've solved that problem if you got us two kayaks."

"Yeah, but I wanted to be close to you," he says, sliding his shoes off. "Just look behind you every once in a while so I can get my fix."

You laugh, looking at the water that endlessly expands past the horizon. The man comes back with two life jackets, and you clip one to your body as sturdy oars are placed across your and Harry's laps. The man gives a thumbs up and slowly maneuvers the kayak away from the shoreline.

"Grazie!" Harry shouts, waving to him as the both of you drift further from land.

"Ciao! Stai al sicuro!" he shouts back.

The destination of the cliffs is a short one; their imminent height is visible far out to the left of the coastal village. You begin paddling, alternating sides to stay on a straight path, while Harry opens the cooler to take out a package of crackers and a bottle of water.

"Please tell me you know how to properly paddle," you say, taking a break to sip some water while the kayak naturally rides the ripples.

"Obviously. I'm kind of the backbone of this kayak, so I know what I'm doing," Harry replies with faux confidence, still not picking up the paddle.

"That's funny, considering I'm literally doing all the work right now. Get to paddling, or I won't turn around so you can get your fix."

"Calmati, bellissima," he murmurs, snatching a handful of crackers before finally helping.

A comfortable silence ensues, with only the sound of water splashing and the slight creak of the kayak that comes with each movement. Harry whistles a tune every so often. A content smile pulls at your lips.

However, it doesn't last long because if there's one thing Harry loves to do, it's acting like a child sometimes. He disrupts the long stretch of peace by pretending to tip over the kayak by rocking slightly back and forth in his seat, gasping like he's not doing it.

"Harry, I swear," you say with a nervous undertone, holding on to the edge of the kayak so you don't actually tip over into the vast ocean, infested with who knows what. "You're like a five-year-old!"

He listens immediately, apparently noticing your anxiousness. He settles back in his seat, stretching his legs next to your body and nudging his foot against your thigh as a silent apology.

"It wasn't me. I think there's an animal under us," he says, playing with your hair to distract you. It doesn't help, because you know that there are probably massive creatures swimming below you. He knows one of your biggest fears is drowning, so he should feel like a jerk now after his little charade.

"Are you going to sit there and braid my hair, or can you help me get to our destination before it gets dark?"

"Sorry," he murmurs, grabbing his paddle and helping you turn left toward the rock formations. They aren't too far away now.

"We're almost there," you encourage softly, dialing back your slight attitude. Harry is quiet, so you turn around to see him pouting softly. "Why are you sulking?"

"Am I being annoying? You sound annoyed with me," he says, avoiding eye contact and setting his paddle down.

"No, honey. I just want to get there as quickly as we can and swim for a bit. We have wine tasting after this, so we can't dilly-dally."

"Dilly-dally," he repeats, laughing at your chosen phrase. "Okay, I'll behave. Kiss?"

You capture his lips with yours, tasting the tomato and basil crackers he's been munching on. He kisses you back and reaches out his hand to push some hair behind your ear. Pulling away, you see the cliffs only about two hundred feet away. You both begin paddling again in serene silence.

At the side of the cliff, you stop the kayak by a large, flat rock that peeks out of the water and appears safe to stand on. You hold onto it; the waves are more active in this area, and you tie some rope around the post provided. You assume it's there for other kayakers and cliff divers to take advantage of.

Once you climb onto the rock, you offer your hand to assist Harry and pull him up. "We made it!" you exclaim, lifting your arms. Harry high-fives both of your hands and bends down to kiss you.

You unclip your life jacket, then do the same for Harry. Free from obstruction, your arms naturally loop around his waist for a hug. He embraces you, his large hand cradling the back of your head. You stay like that for a while, watching waves crash against the rocks as the sun starts painting the sky with blue and orange streaks.

"Wanna do something stupid?" you say into his chest before lifting your chin to look at him mischievously. He has more freckles due to the hours spent sunbathing.

Harry peers at you with furrowed brows. "What?"

"Let's jump off that rock," you say, pointing your finger behind him.

He turns you both around, still trapping you in his arms. A tall, cliff-like rock surrounded by several smaller rocks makes it easy to reach the top. You don't wait for Harry's answer and pull your shorts down, revealing your cherry-red bikini bottoms. Venturing your way up, you glance back at Harry. He grins and immediately follows suit, walking behind you with outreached arms in case you slip.

At the top, you both stare at each other with knowing smiles. This is exactly where you're supposed to be.

Out of nowhere, Harry experiences a burst of spontaneity and quickly lunges forward, cannonballing off the cliff and into the water. He emerges after a few seconds, shaking his hair and letting out a loud holler, probably caused by adrenaline or the cold water.

You shuffle toward the edge and get ready to jump. Harry's gaze never wavers as you daintily leap off, plugging your nose and closing your eyes on the long way down. When you hit the water, a powerful sensation rushes through your body. You glide to the surface and find Harry swimming toward you, his drenched hair plastered to his skin.

The water is at an uncomfortable temperature, so you move briskly to climb back up on the rock the kayak is tied to. Shortly after, Harry lifts himself up, droplets dripping from his body. You dry off with the towel, then hand it to him. Once he finishes, you take your phone out of the backpack and tell him to pose. He presents both middle fingers, sticking his tongue out with a smile. The breathtaking evening view in the background makes the picture ten times more perfect.

"Let's head back," you say after soaking in the skyline. "The wine tasting is at six, and it's a little after five right now."

Harry nods, and you both put your life jackets back on before situating yourselves in the kayak. You untie the knotted rope, push off the rock, and then head toward the coastline. He helps paddle the whole way there, kissing the back of your neck every so often.

Bliss, bliss, bliss.

——

After returning the kayak and packing all the stuff in the car's trunk, Harry says he's going to find a nearby bathroom so he can change into his outfit for the wine tasting. He hands you one of his sweaters out of the bag—a gray crewneck. It's your favorite and still smells like him, no matter how often you've worn it.

You have no idea what outfit he brought; he manages to take it out and quickly runs into a shop while you're distracted by the lively village. Waiting with anticipation in the car, you cozy up, growing tired from the strenuous paddling and calming atmosphere around you.

Five minutes pass before Harry appears, and you immediately laugh at the sight of him. Not because he looks silly, but because his outfit is too fancy for less than an hour of wine tasting in some restaurant's cellar.

"Harry," you say breathily, taking in his outfit. "I'm wearing a sweater, and you're wearing a suit. Where did you even get that?"

It's a bubblegum pink suit left open over a plain white button-up. White dress shoes are on his feet, and he must've fixed his hair in the bathroom mirror.

"Eh?" He spins around. "You like it?"

"You look very handsome, but now I feel severely underdressed. Why didn't you tell me to pack a dress?" You obviously don't have the time to go back to the villa and change, but you're curious as to why Harry didn't say anything about the apparent dress code for tonight.

"I wanted to surprise you, darling. Plus, I know you would be worried about spilling wine on something nice. It's a private tasting, so no one will see you but me and the chef I mentioned."

Harry had booked a wine tasting with a man he'd met when he last visited Italy, the friendly owner of a family-owned restaurant in the village. He has always been able to leave unforgettable impressions on everyone he meets, so the man gladly moved some things around so that he could have you two come to the cellar for an intimate experience.

You sigh, realizing there's no point in arguing. They won't care, so why should you? You have no doubt that Harry will make you feel comfortable once you get there.

"You're right. Hopefully, he doesn't care that I look like I just crawled out of a lake."

"Basta. Sembri un sogno," Harry says, grabbing your hand and tugging you out of the car.

You assume he said something incredibly charming. Your face naturally warms as you distract yourself by picking nonexistent lint off your sleeve before walking the bustling street toward a restaurant called Dahlia. The man Harry knows is waiting by the arched front door with a jovial smile.

"Ciao, Signore Styles!" he greets enthusiastically. "Ah, la tua ragazza. Benvenuto!"

Harry shakes his hand. "Che bello rivederti. Questa è la mia ragazza, sì. Cominciamo, va bene?"

"Yes, yes. Seguitemi, cari."

The two of you follow him through the small, packed restaurant and descend a narrow flight of stairs that leads to a wine cellar. Harry is behind you, his hands on your shoulders to ensure you don't take a tumble. His dress shoes click against the polished wood with each step.

At the bottom, you turn down a dim hallway. Endless wine bottles are meticulously stacked on shelves against the walls. There's a table and chairs, and two wine glasses and napkins are already set neatly on the surface. There's even a plate of bread.

You sit, and Harry does the same. He immediately begins shaking the napkin out and placing it in his lap, like he's done this a million times before. You cross your legs and angle your body toward him, admiring his features in the low, yellowish lighting from the antique wall sconces. He grins handsomely.

The man brings over two bottles of expensive-looking wine, and you think of your preconceived notion of what wine tasting would be like—rolling hills and vineyards in the countryside, getting wine drunk with middle-aged moms wearing patterned blouses, gossiping about their cheating husbands.

Where you are right now is undeniably better. Who wouldn't want to be in a cramped room with their boyfriend, who's wearing a pink suit and looking at you like you're the only thing that exists?

The man fills the wine glasses with an adequate amount of blood-red liquid, then stands back to observe your reactions. Harry spins it around in his glass and sniffs it, acting like he's all fancy. You want to laugh at him, but keep it inside so you don't seem disrespectful. Instead, you bring your glass up to your mouth and take a small sip, tasting wild berries and a hint of an unknown aromatic herb. Harry sips his next, eyes locked on yours the entire time. He smacks his lips after swallowing and exhales, obviously pleased. You roll your eyes at him secretively. He's acting like he owns the place, and it's shameful that you find it attractive.

You rip off a piece of bread from the loaf in front of you and eat it, the buttery dough instantly melting on your tongue. Harry smiles at you, resting his hand on your chair as you rip some more off and offer it to him. He puts it in his mouth and mouths a silent swear, then picks up the entire loaf of bread and inspects it like he's Gordon Ramsey.

"I need the recipe for that," you whisper humorously.

Harry, of course, takes it literally. He beckons the man to come closer and places a friendly hand on his shoulder. "La mia ragazza adora cucinare il pane. Potrei avere questa ricetta per favore? Questo è sorprendente."

"Ovviamente! Tornerò," says the man while hurriedly going upstairs.

You turn to Harry with confusion, needing help understanding the exchange.

"He's getting the recipe for it," he explains. "You can make it before we go home."

"Harry," you say with a sigh. "Stop being so nice. I could've just found an online recipe. What if it's a family recipe that's super important to him?"

"Stop worrying, my love. He doesn't mind."

Before you can respond, the man returns with a tattered recipe book. He opens it to a bookmarked page and sets it in front of you. "Fai una photo, caro. Fammi sapere com'è quando lo fai," he says, pointing at the bread drawing—not a picture—on the weathered page. Was this recipe from medieval times? Goodness gracious.

You can't understand him, so Harry takes your phone out of your pocket and snaps a picture of the handwritten words on the paper. You can't believe this man you just met is so willing to give you a recipe from his own restaurant.

"Grazie," you say shyly. Harry smiles at your sudden bashfulness, scooting closer to you and kissing your head.

The wine tasting continues for the next hour. Throughout the various sips of eclectic flavors, Harry amps up his lovable antics—slowly and dramatically reeling off flavors he gets from the wine and spinning the liquid in the glass so quickly that it spills onto the napkin in his lap.

Anything to see you smile.

After what feels like gallons of wine, you and Harry thank the man for his graciousness and ask if he could drive the car back to the villa since driving back yourselves while tipsy would be idiotic. Harry offers to pay a hefty amount for the favor, and the man happily obliges, saying he will drive it back when he finishes closing the restaurant. Harry hands him the keys before you leave, shaking hands and kissing cheeks with the other chefs on the way out.

You're both wine-drunk—arguably the best kind of drunk—and stumbling on clumsy feet with cheeks that won't stop smiling. It's dark out now, and the streetlights guide you to the Corvette. Harry calls for a taxi, speaking in full Italian, which makes you weak in the knees.

Harry removes his suit jacket after hanging up the phone, leaving the white button-up in all its glory, his tattoos and chest hair peeking out from the few buttons undone. You take your belongings out of the trunk, set them on the ground, and then stand beside Harry. You kiss his chest, nuzzling your cheek against it and closing your eyes. He rubs his hand along your back and begins swaying with you under the streetlight.

You look up at him with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, admiring his matching appearance. "How do you say 'pretty' in Italian?" you ask, getting lost in his gaze.

Harry pouts, thinking. "Patatina," he replies after a few seconds.

"You're patatina," you say lovingly.

He snorts at your cluelessness, smearing a kiss on your forehead.

"What?" you ask, looking at him with confusion. "Is that not what it means? That's not nice, Harry. What did you just make me say?" You gasp. "Is it something dirty?"

He's still giggling, with crinkled eyes and deep dimples carving his face. You poke his ribs to get him to answer. "Sorry," he says, breathing out a final laugh. "No, it's not dirty. Patatina is a term of endearment I read about in the book I bought. It means little potato."

You stare at him with a deadpan expression, thoughts about why you decided to date this boy running through your head. "Little potato... it's actually kind of cute," you admit, shuffling closer to Harry's warm body. "If you're a patatina, what am I?"

"Cipollino," he murmurs, cradling your face. It translates to 'little onion.' The book said it pairs well with patatina, and we're, like, a pair."

Your nose scrunches. "But an onion, out of everything? That's probably the least romantic vegetable. I want to be rhubarb or something, you know? They taste sweet, and I think... I think I'm pretty sweet. Right, Harry?" The wine is making its way to your dizzy head.

"Correct," he says. "And I'm patatina, not Harry."

"Shut up."

"Kiss me, then. Shut me right up."

You don't question him, lurching forward to give him a searing kiss, fingers hooking in his belt loops. He returns the kiss with the same, if not more, passion. You can taste the residue of wine on his cherry-colored lips, opening his mouth with your tongue to suck on his.

You suddenly hear tires rolling up and turn to see headlights shining on your figures. Great timing, taxi. You part from Harry's swollen lips, short of breath, and hastily pick up your stuff. You hope no one witnessed anything too wild.

Harry hands the driver a wad of cash before he climbs in the backseat. You follow suit. The vehicle drives off into the night, and your head rests on your lover's shoulder the whole way back.

——

The villa looms exquisitely under the starlit sky. You're relatively sure you fell asleep five minutes into the drive. Harry helps your sleepy body out of the car after grabbing all your belongings, then walks you up the driveway. He sets you on the outdoor sofa surrounding the fire pit before disappearing through the sliding door. The whispering breeze makes you shiver and burrow deeper into his sweater, which still clings to your figure.

Harry returns with two wine glasses and a bottle of... cranberry juice?

"If I have any more wine, I'll puke. So, cranberry juice?" he says, his voice rising to a higher octave.

"Sitting by the fire and drinking cranberry juice out of a wine glass with you," you say dreamily while scooting over to make room for him. "I can't think of anything better."

You soak up his company. When he went inside, he changed into grey sweatpants and a matching hoodie, and he looked like such a boyfriend. It's ridiculous. He's always so inviting and lovely. You find yourself wanting to touch him and absorb the warmth he exudes.

Sleep overtakes you again while you're tucked into his side. The next thing you wake up to are silk sheets on the king-size bed. You instinctively curl up to Harry's body beside you. He must have opened the vast bay window that provides an impossible sea view because a beautiful breeze flows over your skin. It has you sinking further into the mattress.

"Want me to get your pajamas?" Harry asks quietly.

You sleepily shake your head, perfectly fine with sleeping in his sweater. However, you do slide off your shorts and bikini bottoms.

You're dozing again when Harry clears his throat. You open your eyes, feeling his heart rate speed up under your cheek.

"I have something special planned for our anniversary tomorrow. It's in the evening, so we have time to do other things. Just letting you know."

"That makes me nervous, but I trust you."

"Tomorrow will be even better than today. I promise."

"Can't wait." You yawn. "Goodnight. Love you."

"I love you more than anything," he says, lightly scratching your back.

You grumble an incoherent response, drifting off to your dreams, which always pale compared to life with the man next to you.

——

The following morning's ambiance consists of Harry's snoring and glorious sunshine pouring through the wind-blown curtains. You must've slept like a rock because the bedside clock reads nine-thirty. You decide to abandon the soft sheets and let Harry get more sleep.

You wrap yourself in your satin robe and pad down the hallway toward the kitchen. One glance at the oven, and you remember the bread recipe from last night. It'd be a pleasant anniversary surprise for Harry, considering his surprise for you is shrouded in mystery. Plus, making bread is oddly therapeutic—the kneading, the delicious smell, the endless possibility of flavors. Luckily, all the simple ingredients are in the pantry, so you can start making the dough.

By the time it's in the oven, Harry is still dead to the world, and the time is nearing eleven. Some days, he'll wake up at the crack of dawn to go on a stupid run, or he'll sleep until noon on the weekends after a long week of work. There's really no in-between.

While the bread bakes, you clean up the mess on the counters before sitting at the kitchen table to aimlessly scroll through your phone. Another twenty minutes pass before you hear feet shuffling against the hardwood floor. You glance up to find a puffy-eyed Harry rubbing his face. He's wearing black swim trunks, and that's about it, except for the sunglasses on top of his head.

He bends down and kisses your cheek. "Buongiorno, mio piccolo cuoco," he says, his voice as raspy as the slight mustache above his lip that seems to have grown overnight.

"More like good afternoon." You shut your phone off and set it aside. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mm, the best I have in ages," he answers, scratching his stomach. He then smiles lazily, his eyes looking more awake. "Happy anniversary."

"Three whole years. I don't know how I've gone putting up with you this long."

"Hey. I can go back to bed if you want," he says, pointing his thumb toward the bedroom.

"No, stay," you plead softly. "By the way, I'm making that bread recipe. It's my present to you for being an average boyfriend."

"Being sassy this morning, are we?"

"You love it."

"Got that right," Harry mutters, nosily peering into the oven. He sniffs the bread dramatically and whistles impressively before shutting the oven door. The mouthwatering aroma reminds you of wandering the Italian streets yesterday.

"Going for a swim?"

"Yeah. Join me?"

"I will once the bread is done." You stand and send him on his way with a peck on his lips. "Go ahead. I'll make you a fruit platter."

"Dragonfruit, please?" he requests, opening the sliding door that leads to the infinity pool.

"Got it. Don't forget to put sunscreen on!"

He gives you a thumbs up, leaving the door open to welcome the pleasant breeze. You grab hot pads and take the finished bread out, setting it on the cooling rack before turning the oven off. While it cools, you change into a swimsuit, tie a chiffon wrap skirt around your hips, and then arrange a platter.

You gather the cubed fruit you've both been eating the past couple of days—cantaloupe, watermelon, strawberries, and, per Harry's request, dragonfruit. He wanted to buy some after his wonderful mother grew it in her garden. Then, you precisely arrange the fruit in a circle on a floating breakfast tray that can go in the pool, keeping the middle open for slices of buttered bread. You sincerely hope it tastes close enough to what you ate yesterday.

Lastly, you fill glasses with orange juice before carefully heading outside to keep Harry company. You see him floating on his back, arms open, and eyes closed. You set the platter down on a table and tiptoe to the edge of the pool.

To hell with it. You're going to scare him to get him back after trying to tip the kayak yesterday. It's only fair, right?

He's oblivious to everything around him, a peaceful glow on his face. You almost feel bad for deciding to disturb it—especially on your anniversary—but what good is a relationship without a bit of havoc?

You mull over what you could possibly do to frighten him. Maybe throw a cantaloupe piece at him or pretend the car came back destroyed. These are two vastly different ends of the mischief spectrum, and ultimately, the latter is the obvious choice—and the most fun.

"Harry?" you say quietly, changing your expression to make it seem like you're distraught.

"Yeah?" he replies, keeping his eyes closed.

"Um, your friend from yesterday just dropped the car off. Harry, it's—"

His eyes snap open, picking up on your wavering and anxious tone. He stops floating and swims over to where you're standing by the edge.

"What's wrong? Talk to me. Did something happen? Are you okay?" he asks worriedly, his eyes darting between your face and body to check for any signs.

"The car," you whisper, mustering up fake tears. Harry instinctively holds your ankle, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. "It's destroyed. It looks like it got into an accident. What are we going to do?"

"Seriously? What the hell? How... I don't..." He heaves himself out of the pool and begins walking around the villa toward the driveway. He looks like he's about to punch something, so you suppress your laughter and decide to end the game.

You grab his wrist, spinning him around. He stares at you with panic, and now you feel bad. "I'm kidding, baby. I'm just messing with you. The car is fine. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you repeat, clasping his cheeks and laughing.

His jaw drops. "You're so mean."

"I'm just getting you back for yesterday. Them's the rules."

"Yeah, but you've been quite sassy all morning, hmm? First, you called me an average boyfriend. Then you didn't even kiss me good morning. That hurts my heart."

"You were completely passed out. How would you have known if I kissed you good morning or not?"

"I can always tell. They bring me back to life."

"Shut up," you scoff, grabbing the platter. "Here's some fruit and homemade bread as a peace offering. Take it or leave it."

"Feed me in the pool, and I'll consider your offer."

"Fine. I'm not getting in, though. I want to sunbathe for a bit.

Harry dramatically rolls his eyes and dives back in. When he emerges, he swims to the edge. You sit down with the platter and let it float next to him before putting your feet in the tepid water. You pick up a slice of bread and hold it to Harry's awaiting mouth. He places your legs over his shoulders, his arms hooking around your upper thighs.

Someone's needy today.

He tosses the bread into his mouth, his eyes rolling back like they did in the wine cellar yesterday. He borderline moans at the taste, his jaw flexing with each chew. After he swallows, he leaves grateful kisses on your thighs. "Deliziosa," he murmurs, paired with more nipping and kissing. You know he's not talking about the bread. The 'a' he added to the end of the word makes it feminine. He's not slick.

Before you both get carried away—wanting to save your pent-up tension for later—you feed him a plethora of fruit before deciding to make both of you an actual meal. You're starving, so you'll catch some sun later.

Harry whines at the loss of contact. You use your foot to push his chest until he's floating on his back again. He throws you a peace sign before you head back inside.

As you whip up a quick breakfast, you watch your boyfriend from the door, appreciating his sunkissed body and tattoos. You smile and think about how time has flown by with him in the most remarkable way.

Three years, and hopefully a lifetime more.

——

You're nervous.

You don't have the faintest idea what Harry's surprise is. All he's said is to dress nicely and not eat anything yet. Maybe he's taking you out to dinner? Or perhaps you'll walk downtown together and stop at vendors. You're stumped. He's annoyingly good at keeping secrets.

It's nearing seven as you add the finishing touches to your makeup. Harry is in the bathroom spraying cologne on his neck, looking casually handsome in a flowing, off-white button-up. He's paired it with matching cotton shorts and sneakers that need washing. You keep telling him to clean them, but he ignores your pleading and claims the dirt gives them character.

A short cherry-colored dress with puffed sleeves adorns your body. Red lipstick to match. Hair loose. The necklace Harry bought you for your last anniversary is glimmering against your neck.

Harry comes behind you in the vanity mirror as you apply a final coat of mascara and starts soothingly scratching your upper back. He can probably sense you're feeling nervous, knowing you don't particularly like surprises. However, you think he looks undeniably handsome, with his new tan and stubble pulling you into his coziness. Somehow, just looking at him eases your nerves.

"Gorgeous," he whispers.

You smooth any remaining wrinkles out of your dress. "Thank you. I'm almost done."

"Take your time," he replies, squeezing your shoulders. "I'll start the car."

You make sure your makeup is smudge-free and then shut the bedroom light off on your way to the front door. Harry is waiting by the passenger side of the Corvette with a distracted look on his face. When he finally sees you coming, he opens the door for you. This time, you accept his gentlemanlike gesture.

He drives to an unknown destination, taking the backroads. You can't even guess where you're headed since everything outside the villa is unfamiliar.

Ten minutes later, Harry slows down and turns right toward what appears to be a small seaside forest. He drives along the path leading through the trees until a hidden beach area eventually reveals itself. He parks the car while you're speechless at the sight before you. The only things on the sand are a round table with two chairs surrounded by tiki torches.

No one else is here. If Harry tells you he rented the entire beach, you'll kill him.

"I rented this portion of the beach for the night."

Of course.

"You're ridiculous," you say, taking in your surroundings. "Thank you, Harry. This is a wonderful surprise."

He ducks his head bashfully. "C'mon, let's eat."

You follow him to the table and sit on the wicker chair across from him. In front of you is a plate of stuffed ravioli with a side of roasted asparagus, cooked just how you like them. Harry has vegan fettuccine Alfredo with peas—a lot of peas. A gagworthy amount.

"I'm floored right now," you say, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. "I can't believe you did all this without me knowing."

"I'm a sneaky guy. There were lots of secret phone calls while you were in the shower or swimming in the pool.

You take your sandals off and enjoy the cool sand between your toes. "Yeah, I bet. I'm not even going to ask how much it costs to rent this part of the beach."

"It's not important," he says. "Let's eat, shall we? And talk me through this little outfit you have on. Why on earth haven't I seen you wear it yet?"

Then, both of you eat, talk, and watch the waves glide on the shore. The sun is dipping past the horizon, turning the sky a violet shade with splashes of fading orange. You talk Harry's ear off about random stuff in your life and humorous anecdotes since the trip started. His body naturally leans toward you to give you his undivided attention. He listens the entire time, eyes on you with his chin in the palm of his hand, except for when he pops some spearmint gum into his mouth after finishing his truckload of peas.

After you finish rambling, you wait for him to start talking your ear off. He can usually drone on and on about anything for hours, but right now, he's just sitting and staring at the sunset.

"You're quiet," you point out, gently poking his arm with your fork.

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

He sighs longingly before saying, "I know we still have more than enough time here, but I kind of don't want to leave. I love it here so much. This is the happiest I've ever been."

Your heart melts. "I feel the same way. I could stay here forever and never get bored of it. Especially with you by my side."

Harry finally looks at you, his eyes holding something unreadable yet powerful. He stands abruptly and reaches his hand out. "Let's walk for a bit," he says with a tone that kicks your anxiety into high gear.

You grasp his hand, and he leads you along the shoreline, your feet getting wet whenever the tide washes up. It's quiet except for the pesky seagulls, crashing waves, and salty breeze. Where you are right now makes you want to bottle up the memory so you can keep the feeling forever, replay this trip, and relive the most joyous moments of your life.

Harry eventually stops, facing you with both hands holding yours tightly. He looks... pale. Are his hands shaking, or are you imagining things? Is he about to pass out from sunstroke? Did he eat too many peas?

He clears his throat and visibly gulps, squinting at the sky and exhaling quickly. His feet shuffle nervously. An incomprehensible thought zings to the front of your brain.

Is he about to do what you think he's about to do?

"I might cry and possibly throw up, so please bear with me," he says, his voice shaky.

You just stare at him, unable to say anything. Then he begins lowering himself on one knee, and you just about go down with him.

He removes his hands from yours and takes something out of his pocket. It's a velvet ring box, pink and delicate.

You gasp as Harry opens his mouth, his watery eyes trained on nothing but you. "I love you with all my heart. I'm weak for the things you do, and it consumes me to the point where I feel like I might burst from loving you so much. Every word you speak or smile you give me makes me fall for you deeper and deeper. And you love me back. You love me better than anyone. And I realized when we first met that you're someone I not only want in this life but also need. You're the only one for me, and I'll take care of you, support you, and love you so thoroughly until you get sick of me. I'm rambling now, so I'll shut up and cut to the chase. I want to be your husband. Will you marry me? Please? Il mio cuore è solo tuo. If you want it, it's yours."

Harry finishes his speech by opening the ring box to reveal a silver oval-cut ring that takes your breath away. A tear trails down your cheek as your lips wobble. You nod your head what feels like a thousand times. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you. Holy shit."

He laughs beautifully, his eyes squinting so much that the captured tears in his waterline spill over. He stands and shakily puts the ring on the correct finger. It fits perfectly.

You cup his cheeks and bring his face toward yours. "I love you," you say while kissing his flushed and tear-stained cheeks. "You're so sneaky. I wasn't expecting this until you looked like you were going to pass out in front of me."

"Be glad I didn't throw up on your dress."

"That's true." Suddenly, everything hits you. Harry, we're going to get married."

He smiles with unbridled happiness, nodding before picking you up and running into the sea. The splashes he makes strike you with cold splatters, and you squeal, but it quickly turns into uncontrollable laughter when Harry spins you around and dips you toward the water. You squirm with resistance and manage to escape his arms. He stumbles from the waves but remains upright, then stares at you intensely for three seconds before kissing your lips like they're his life source.

"My fiancée," he says, kissing down your face to your neck. "I adore you."

"Can we"—you whimper breathily—"go back to the villa and celebrate? Some wine, dessert, and... maybe some other things."

He can't propose to you while looking this good and expect you not to jump his bones.

"Sì, mi amore."

——

At the villa, palpable tension lingers in the air and throughout your body. The adrenaline from what just happened is still coursing through your blood as Harry makes a beeline straight to the master bedroom. It's only right to follow with shallow breaths and a hammering heartbeat.

Approaching the bedroom, you see Harry already taking off his shirt. You walk over and lie on the bed, waiting for him to initiate the celebration. You're usually the one who likes to be in control, but being the sexually dominant type calls for preparation and the right kind of mood. Now, at this moment, all you want is to writhe in pleasure on silk sheets and feel Harry's touch everywhere.

You're already impatiently aroused because of Harry's teasing on the drive back. His fingers were stroking the inside of your thigh, traveling up, up, up until they reached dangerous territory. He'd start to pull away after realizing how wet you already were, but you would trap his hand with your thighs, making him groan. Two could play at that game.

Now, Harry saunters over to you in nothing but his cotton shorts. His tanned skin looks tempting in the muted lamplight. The rest of the lights are off, and the moon is brightly shining in the indigo sky.

"Ready for me?" he asks lowly, hungrily glancing over your body.

You nod and bend your knees. Harry lies on his stomach and gets between your legs, his hands gripping your upper thighs with fervor. He must've put his rings on when you weren't looking. He knows you love the feeling of them. You're not picky as to where.

"Gonna let me take care of you?"

"Please. Please, Harry."

"Patience, my love. Let me see you."

"I'm right here. Do something. Please, I need you."

He shushes you with a soft timbre, scooting closer to where you need him the most. He lifts your dress, bunches the material up by your stomach, and then readjusts his grip on your thighs. His lips trail closer to your lace underwear, and he looks at you under his eyelashes. His eyes ground you, make you nervous, and leave you spellbound. Maintaining eye contact with him is hard when you know you'll come undone way too quickly from just his intense gaze. You're not giving him the benefit of that. Not tonight, at least.

Instead, you stare at the vaulted ceiling and gasp when his lips graze over your underwear. Soft, purposeful movements have you closing your thighs around your head as a reflex. Open-mouthed kisses over your wet lace drive you crazy. You're clenching and internally soliciting for him to just do something.

"Stop teasing," you say firmly, still not looking at him.

"Don't be bossy."

"I'm not being bossy. You're my fiancé, so you're supposed to be nice to me."

He moves your underwear to the side. "Yeah? Does my fiancée want me to be nice to her? I'm always nice, baby. I'm always good for you; you know that."

"You are. It's true. The nicest man I've ever known. No one has even come close." You squirm with impatience. "Just take them off."

Harry doesn't waste any time, propping himself up to slide the material down your legs. You lift your ankles above his head to fling them off, then plant your feet back on the mattress and spread them wide open so he can resume.

His mouth immediately latches onto your clit, sucking it, and his nose fits perfectly above it. You moan loudly, your back arching and your hands grasping his neck. You have to look at him now and watch him take care of you like only he knows how. When you do, it's like a sight straight from heaven. His brows are drawn in, his eyes shut, and his pink lips bring you pleasure in the most intimate way.

Harry continues sucking before soothing his tongue along your entrance. Without warning, he removes his mouth and replaces it with his fingers. He dives two of them in, curling them in a way that makes you inhale sharply. His mouth occupies itself with kissing the inside of your thighs, biting little marks so you can remember this experience.

The feeling of both his fingers and mouth is overwhelming, and your hand can't help but involuntarily pull his hair.

"God," he mumbles against your thigh. "Do that again, baby."

You pull harder, and a deep, raspy moan leaves his mouth. He begins kissing across your body while his fingers continue to bring you to your peak. He adds a third as he nips your waist, his head exploring under your bunched-up dress. He props one arm up to hover himself over you. You look at him with lustful eyes, your mouth parted, and soft moans escape when he hits a particular spot. He smears a messy kiss on your lips, and you try your best to return it as his fingers thrust in and out of you.

An orgasm quickly forms in your lower stomach. Harry massages your clit with the pad of his thumb to bring you there, knowing your body and when you're about to let go like the back of his hand. He grinds against the bed to soothe his own arousal. He's been hard since your act in the car, having felt your thighs clench around his hands, his fingers so close to his favorite spot. He apparently couldn't help himself.

When Harry hits that final spot that has you crying out, you arch your back and let go. Your eyes squeeze shut as you moan from the delightful pressure freely flowing out of your body.

Harry places his mouth back on yours as you finish, removing his fingers from inside you and gripping your hips, leaving a coat of your arousal on the love bites left there. Your body is strong enough to lift yourself on your elbows and leave marks on Harry's neck. He grunts when you bite the sensitive skin below his earlobe and grinds against the bed once more, stilling and then shuddering through a fierce release.

Oh. He came from that one touch.

He falls flat on the bed, cupping himself and breathing heavily. There's a damp spot on his shorts. It's a filthy sight.

"That was embarrassing. I'm sorry," Harry murmurs, his cheek pressed against the pillow. "I thought I'd be able to last."

You brush some sweaty hair off his forehead. "It's fine. I don't have to do any work now."

"Hilarious," he says monotonously. He suddenly jumps up from the bed and shuffles to the bathroom, confusing you. You hear him wash his hands and then turn on the jacuzzi. He returns with a clean pair of boxers and smoothly lifts you from the bed. Your dress covers your exposed state, yet it doesn't hide the slick feeling between your legs. The warm water will feel amazing.

Harry gently sets you on the sink counter as the tub fills up. He grabs a washcloth and dips it under the faucet before cleaning you. It's comfortably silent, with only rushing water in the background.

When the jacuzzi is adequately filled, Harry helps you stand and remove your dress. Once naked, you quickly go to the bathroom while Harry removes his boxers. He then leads you to the jacuzzi to sit down. When he climbs in, you cling onto him for a cuddle as sleepiness washes over you. Harry presses a button to turn the jets on. Everything feels so lovely.

"I can't believe you said yes," he says.

"You knew I would. How could I possibly say no to you after a speech like that?"

"Dunno. We're, like, together forever now." He rubs the ring on your finger. "Well, not yet. But when we actually get married, it's a lifetime with each other. It's wild to think about, but I want nothing more."

"I get what you mean," you say, scrubbing the red lipstick stains on his neck with the pads of your fingers. "I want this with you too."

When you softly rub around his lips, he kisses your finger and looks at you with disbelief. You pluck his swollen bottom lip with your thumb, then lean in to plant a truthful kiss there.

Everything with him is so simple. Every touch is meaningful. Every unspoken word holds the weight of a million words. Every laugh leaves you teary-eyed with a heart full of love.

He is pure love. What he gives so naturally is exactly what he is.

Once your skin turns wrinkly and the water becomes lukewarm, you and Harry get out and dry yourselves off. He retreats to the bedroom to grab pajamas. When he returns, you put on an oversized shirt and walk out of the bathroom after draining the tub, running toward the bed and bellyflopping on it like a kid. Harry shuts the bedroom light off and flops beside you, letting out a long and blissful sigh.

"I'm hungry," he says.

You snort. "You ate a million peas not even an hour ago. How are you still hungry?"

"Sex makes me hungry. And stop making fun of my love of peas. Hey, can you get the cantaloupe? I'm knackered."

His rapid change of topics makes you laugh. "Anything for you, pea boy."

You hear him faintly whine at your new nickname for him as you stroll into the kitchen. You open the refrigerator to grab a bowl of cantaloupe cubes and then return. Harry's eyes are fluttering shut, and his limbs are spread out on the mattress. You climb over him, sitting against the headboard, as he blindly reaches his hand for some fruit. He chews against the pillow, his cheeks squishing adorably.

"Thanks," he mumbles with his mouth full.

"Mm-hmm. I'm going to sleep. I'll put the bowl on the nightstand for you."

Once you've moved the cantaloupe, you scoot down and lie on your back. Harry keeps reaching for the bowl without moving his head, sometimes missing entirely and waving his hand around to find it. You eventually close your eyes, a smile making its way to your face when you realize you'll wake up tomorrow as an engaged woman next to your future husband.

Harry finishes all the fruit in the bowl and then turns off the lamp. He tugs you against his chest, and you exhale happily, his warmth effortlessly pulling you under into a deep sleep.

——

Two Weeks Later

After situating yourself in the airplane seat, you pull out your phone and open Instagram. You and Harry are on your way back from Italy. It was an unforgettable two weeks together, and not one day went by without you making new memories.

You had told only the closest people to you about the engagement—your parents and Harry's. No one else knows, so you decided to announce the news with an Instagram post. You wanted to wait until after vacation to worry about making phone calls and giving details about how it happened.

Now, you start creating a post on the fourteen-hour flight to California. You already know what picture to use—Harry cutely holding a bottle of wine along the lusciously green countryside, ready for a picnic date in a park. Also with an impressive mustache. Throughout the ten days after the engagement, Harry decided to grow his faint mustache into a full-fledged one. You don't know how it grew so fast, honestly. You also didn't know how to feel about it at first, but you're accustomed to liking it now. It makes him look mature.

How it feels between your thighs—well, that's a story for another day.

Harry has chosen to post a picture of the ring, gleaming brilliantly in the pink velvet box. And with him being the artsy, moderately strange social media poster, he had to add something extra to the picture—a paint swatch. Both of you spontaneously went paint shopping one day when you got bored in the villa. You had been talking to him for months about redoing the bathroom at the house, so you went to a local paint store to look at different options. Harry, being the sentimental and cheesy man he is, suggested painting it the color of the ring box he proposed with. You remember thinking the diluted pink would complement the white tiles and granite counter of the master bathroom perfectly.

You couldn't possibly refuse the idea, especially since it would always remind you of that special evening on the beach.

You had searched with him to find a color that resembled the box, all while goofing around and laughing at the bizarrely specific names of the swatches. You pointed to a light green swatch appropriately named Peapod and told Harry he should paint the kitchen that color since he loves peas so much. He pouted at you and dramatically walked down another aisle. Typical. And so sensitive about his peas!

Harry is sleeping beside you, his head snugly settled on a pillow propped against the airplane window while soft snores escape his mouth. You'll wait for him to wake up so you can both post at the same time. As for now, you rest your head on his shoulder to also take a nap. Harry stirs and drowsily slaps his hand onto your knee to keep you close.

You'll miss Italy's golden sunsets, good-natured people, and ethereal views. However, the thought of going home and beginning a new chapter with your fiancé doesn't sound too bad.

Bliss, in all its glory, takes hold once again.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles #adore-laur #pink velvet

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lifeofpriya · 5 months ago

Text

Romance in The Hamptons - Alexis Lafrenière imagine

[gif credit goes to @alexislafreniere]

author's note: this is my submission for @wyattjohnston's summer 2k24 fic exchange, and i had the amazing pleasure of writing for @wildrangers! a quick shoutout to @2manytabsopen for helping me with Laf's characterization -- love you, bestie 🫶🏼. but yeah, i hope y'all enjoy the fic!

summary: summertime in The Hamptons leads to a budding romance...

wc: 3,028 words

"I still can't believe you managed to find us such a swanky rental," you giggled at your friend, Jamie, as you stepped into the luxury house that was nestled away in The Hamptons. The walls were painted in a cool, beachy white, and the smell of freshly cut grass and lemon cleaner filled the space. The floorboards groaned slightly underfoot, echoing the promise of lazy days and wild nights ahead.

Jamie shot you a knowing smile. "What can I say? Sometimes, being a travel agent has its perks." The house was indeed a steal for the season, boasting an expansive backyard that led directly to the beach, a hot tub that was already bubbling invitingly, and a fully stocked kitchen that made you want to throw a dinner party every night.

You set down your bags and took a moment to appreciate the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. The sun was setting over the ocean, casting a warm, golden glow across the waves. The horizon looked like a canvas painted with a watercolor wash of pinks and oranges. You felt a gentle breeze waft in, carrying the salty scent of the sea. It was the perfect escape from the stifling city heat.

"Let's grab some drinks and hit the beach," Jamie suggested, tossing you a beach towel. You nodded eagerly, feeling the excitement of the vacation bubble up inside you. The two of you walked out the back door and down the short wooden staircase to the sand. The grains felt warm and soft underfoot as you laid your towel on the sand and pulled out a novel you'd been dying to read. The waves rolled in, a rhythmic soundtrack to the quiet evening that was quickly filling with the distant laughter of other vacationers.

As you settled in, you could hear the faint sounds of laughter and a beach ball bouncing in the distance. You glanced over to see a group of people playing beach volleyball, their shadows stretching long across the sand.

Shrugging your shoulders, you diverted your attention back to your novel, eager to dive into the story between the pages. Well, all was going well until you heard someone yell out, "Heads up!"

You looked up just in time to see a beach ball flying towards you. Instinctively, you reached out and caught it, feeling the rough texture and coolness against your palms.

You turned to see who had thrown it, and that's when you saw him: Alexis Lafreniere. He was jogging over, a sheepish grin on his face, with a group of friends in tow. "Sorry about that," he said, his French-Canadian accent making your heart skip a beat. "Are you okay?”

You felt your cheeks flush as you nodded, holding onto the beach ball. "Yeah, I'm fine," you replied, trying to sound calmer than you felt.

Alexis looked relieved and chuckled. "Good catch," he said, closing the distance between you. His eyes were a warm brown, and his brown hair was a wild mess from the wind. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Alexis.”

You took his hand, feeling the firm grip and the warmth that radiated from his skin. "Nice to meet you," you said, your voice a tad shakier than you'd have liked. "I'm…" But before you could say your name, one of his friends called out, "Laf, come on! We need you back!”

With an apologetic look, Alexis took the beach ball from you. "I'd love to chat more, but we're in the middle of a game. Maybe I'll catch you around?" He didn't wait for your response before he turned and sprinted back to the volleyball match.

You watched him go, his athletic build moving with ease across the sand. As the game resumed, you couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that he didn't ask for your name. You shrugged it off, telling yourself it was probably for the best.

The days in the Hamptons passed in a blur of sunscreen, salt water, and late-night bonfires. You and Jamie had made a pact to enjoy every moment, and you both stuck to it. The group playing beach volleyball every evening grew familiar, their laughter a comforting background to your own adventures. But Alexis remained elusive, always disappearing before you had the chance to approach him again.

\\\

One sun-kissed afternoon, you found yourself at the local ice cream shop, the bell jingling as you stepped inside. The walls were adorned with vintage posters of surfers and sailboats, and the smell of fresh waffle cones filled the air. You scanned the flavors, feeling the anticipation of choosing the perfect one to cool off with. That's when you heard it again - that accent. You turned around to see Alexis standing behind you, a sheepish look on his face as he realized you'd caught him.

"Hey," he said, running a hand through his hair. "It's you. From the beach. With the good catch." His smile was as warm as the day outside, and you felt your heart do a little flip. "I've been hoping to run into you again.”

You couldn't help but return the smile. "Well, you found me," you said, trying to play it cool. "What brings you here?”

Alexis shrugged. "Just needed a break from the heat. You know, the usual." His eyes searched yours, looking for something unspoken. "I've seen you around the beach, but I never got the chance to talk. I've been wanting to apologize for that. I'm usually not so… abrupt.”

You laughed it off, feeling a flutter in your chest. "It's fine. I've been pretty busy enjoying the sun and the waves." You paused, then took a risk. "So, are you staying in the area for long?"

Alexis nodded. "Yeah, l've got a place here for the summer. I try to get out of the city as much as I can." His eyes searched yours for a moment, and you felt a spark of curiosity. He was famous, but here, he was just a guy trying to escape the heat with an ice cream cone.

"What about you?" he asked, breaking the silence. "What brings you to the Hamptons?" You leaned against the counter, feeling the coolness of the marble seep through your shirt.

"Just a summer vacation with my bestie," you replied, gesturing towards Jamie, who was chatting with the cashier. "We wanted to get out of the city and enjoy some beach time.”

Alexis nodded, his gaze lingering on you before looking away. "It's a great place for that," he said, his eyes scanning the ice cream flavors. "So, what's your go-to?”

You pointed to the mint chocolate chip. "Can't go wrong with that," you said with a grin.

Alexis nodded thoughtfully. "Good choice. I'l have the same," he told the cashier, then turned back to you. "Would you like to sit outside?" He gestured to the small patio with a few tables scattered under an umbrella.

You felt a rush of excitement. "Sure," you said, trying to keep your cool. As you stepped outside, the warm sun kissed your skin, and you found yourself hoping it wasn't about to turn into a sweaty mess. Alexis pulled out a chair for you, and you sat down, watching as he did the same.

You both licked at your mint chocolate chip cones, the sweetness a stark contrast to the salty ocean air.

"So, are you guys here for the whole summer?" Alexis asked, breaking the ice between you.

You took a bite of your ice cream, the mint and chocolate a delightful blend on your tongue.

"We're here for a couple of weeks," you replied, hoping you didn't sound too eager. "It's our annual escape from reality.”

Alexis laughed, a deep, rich sound that made you want to lean closer. "I get that," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's nice to just… be, you know?”

You nodded, feeling the beginnings of a connection. "Yeah, I do," you said, your voice a little softer than you intended.

Alexis's eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it was as if the rest of the world had disappeared. "You guys should come to our beach party tonight," he said, his voice low and inviting. "It's nothing crazy, just some friends and a bonfire.”

Your heart raced, and you felt a jolt of excitement. "That sounds amazing," you replied, trying to keep the eagerness from your voice. "What time?”

Alexis leaned back in his chair, his eyes still locked on yours. "It starts around eight. Just follow the sound of the music and the smell of the bonfire. It's not hard to miss." He took a bite of his ice cream, the chocolate chips glinting in the sun.

You couldn't believe your luck. "We'll definitely be there," you said, trying to keep the excitement from spilling over.

Alexis nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Great," he said. "I'l make sure to save you a spot by the fire.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of excitement and preparation. You and Jamie spent hours picking out the perfect outfits and getting ready for the night ahead. The anticipation was palpable, a mix of nerves and excitement that had you checking the time on your phone every few minutes.

\\\

Finally, the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting the sky in a tapestry of oranges and purples. You and Jamie made your way down to the beach, the sound of the waves and distant laughter growing louder with each step. As you approached the bonfire, you could see the flickering flames and the silhouettes of people dancing around it. The smell of roasting marshmallows and woodsmoke filled the air, making your stomach rumble.

Alexis spotted you before you saw him, waving from the edge of the light. He was dressed casually in board shorts and a white t-shirt, his feet buried in the sand. You felt a flutter in your chest as he made his way over, his smile growing wider as he approached. "You came," he said, his eyes lighting up.

You nodded, feeling the heat from the bonfire warming your face. "We couldn't miss it," you replied, trying to sound casual.

Alexis took your hand, leading you through the crowd to a spot he'd reserved. "I'm so happy you're here," he said, his voice sincere. The warmth of his hand sent a thrill down your spine, and you couldn't help but squeeze his fingers gently in return.

The party was in full swing, with music playing from a portable speaker and people of all ages mingling around the fire. You recognized some of the faces from the beach volleyball games, but there were plenty of new faces too. The atmosphere was relaxed and friendly, the kind of gathering that made you feel like you'd been coming here for years.

Alexis introduced you to his friends, who were all welcoming and curious about the newcomer. You chatted and laughed, sharing stories of past summers and the thrill of escaping the city. The fire crackled and popped, casting a warm glow over everyone's faces. As the night grew darker, the stars began to appear, twinkling like diamonds scattered across a velvet sky.

You watched as Alexis interacted with his friends, his ease and charm evident in every gesture and word. When he turned to you, his eyes held a warmth that made you feel seen and appreciated. You found yourself sharing stories of your childhood and hopes for the future more than you usually would with a stranger. His questions were thoughtful, and his laugh was genuine.

The party began to wind down as the night grew later, and the group around the bonfire grew smaller. The stars grew brighter, and the crackling fire painted shadows on the sand. Alexis leaned closer, the heat from his body a comforting warmth against the cooling night air. "Would you like to take a walk?" he asked, his voice a soft whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, unable to hide the smile that had been playing on your lips all evening.

\\\

Hand in hand, you strolled along the beach, the waves whispering secrets as they kissed the shore. The moon was a silver crescent, casting a soft glow that danced on the water's surface. The sound of the party grew faint behind you, replaced by the rhythmic pulse of the ocean.

"This is incredible," you murmured, feeling the cool sand between your toes.

Alexis nodded in agreement, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's one of my favorite things about being out here. The quiet moments when you can just listen to the ocean.”

You let the sound of the waves wash over you, the saltwater breeze playing with your hair. The stars above twinkled with a clarity that was impossible to find in the city, and the darkness of the night wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. The tension between you was palpable, a delicate dance of attraction that neither of you wanted to acknowledge outright.

As you strolled further down the beach, the moonlight reflected off the waves, creating a path of shimmering light that led you to a secluded cove. Alexis stopped, turning to face you, his hand still holding yours. "It's beautiful here," he said, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, feeling the butterflies in your stomach. "It really is," you replied, your voice barely audible over the whispers of the tide.

Alexis took a step closer, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. The air was thick with unspoken words, and the scent of the bonfire lingered on his skin. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he might lean in for a kiss. Instead, he tugged on your hand, leading you closer to the water's edge.

The waves lapped gently at your feet, the cool water a stark contrast to the warm sand. You watched as the moon's reflection danced in the ripples, creating a dazzling pattern that stretched out to the horizon. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with the steady rhythm of the ocean and the occasional call of a night bird. You felt a sense of peace that was rare in the bustling city life you were used to.

Alexis released your hand and took a seat on a piece of driftwood, patting the spot next to him. You sat down, feeling the wood's smoothness against your legs, the salt and sea-worn edges digging in slightly. The warmth of his body was a comforting presence beside you, and you couldn't help but lean in slightly, feeling the electricity in the air.

For a moment, you both just sat there, watching the waves play in the moonlight. The silence stretched out, filled with the sound of the ocean's whispers and the distant laughter from the party. It was as if the universe had paused just for you two, the rest of the world fading away into the background.

Alexis turned to you, his eyes searching yours. "You know," he began, his voice low and earnest, "I've been thinking about you a lot since that first day on the beach.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, unsure of how to respond. "I've… I've thought about you too," you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Alexis's smile grew, reaching his eyes. "I'm really glad to hear that," he said, his voice warm and sincere. He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending a shiver down your neck. "You know, I don't usually do this sort of thing," he began, his gaze dropping to your lips.

You felt your breath hitch, the anticipation building in your chest. "What sort of thing?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Alexis leaned in, his gaze never leaving yours. "This," he murmured, before his lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss. The taste of mint chocolate lingered on his mouth, mingling with the salty tang of the sea air. Your heart raced as you melted into the moment, the feel of his hands on your arms anchoring you to the present. It was a kiss filled with promise and hope, a whisper of what could be.

When you pulled back, the world felt different somehow. The stars seemed closer, the ocean's whispers more intimate. You searched his eyes for reassurance and a sign that this was real. Alexis's gaze was steady, his smile warm and inviting. "I've wanted to do that since the first time I saw you," he admitted, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You felt a blush creep up your neck, your heart racing in your chest. "I've wanted it too," you murmured, your voice barely above the sound of the waves. The air was charged with a tension that was both thrilling and terrifying. You didn't know where this was going but didn't want it to end.

Alexis leaned in again, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss that made your toes curl. His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer, and you melted into him, feeling the heat of his body against yours. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring you to this moment, under the stars with the sound of the ocean as your soundtrack.

When the kiss ended, you both sat there for a moment, the only sound the gentle whoosh of the waves. Alexis's hand remained on the small of your back, his thumb tracing small circles that sent delightful shivers down your spine. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with the scent of the sea and the faint hint of his cologne.

"Thank you for walking with me," he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours.

You nodded, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You felt a strange mix of excitement and fear, knowing that this could be the start of something beautiful or just a fleeting summer fling.

#alexis lafrenière #alexis lafrenière imagine #alexis lafrenière imagines #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fic #nhl fics #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic #hockey fics #new york rangers #the summer fic exchange 2k24

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