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monzamash · 2 years ago

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say yes to life — daniel ricciardo

daniel ricciardo x you (femreader) | 2.2k summary – a trip down memory lane. warnings – 18+ (sex, coarse language) prompt – 'you look good like this' from @percervall 💖 a/n – the third instalment of the #monzamashspecial and exists in the red desert universe (throwback to where this little blog began) x title inspired by the gang of youths song. masterlist

You wanted so badly to go back to the place you fell in love with him. Missing the way the campfire smoke blowing in the wind made your eyes water and the screams of elation coming from the water out in the distance. Daniel loved so freely; pottering around the campsite making sure everyone was happy, content, having the time of their lives. Especially you.

The two of you had only been seeing each other for a few months, a whirlwind romance turning all the traditional rules of dating on their head. He wanted to see you in his world, away from the lavish hotels and the fast-paced lifestyle that you both hated so much. Away from civilisation as you knew it, with him, alone in the wilderness with a case of Dry, singing around bonfires and sharing kisses hidden under the stars.

No manmade structures as far as the eye could see – just the handsome man who had picked you up and swept you off your feet to the other side of the world. Returning home.

“It’s so serene out here… Peaceful.”

Your unspoken wish was to stay out here forever with him, tasting the sea salt on his lips and feeling the sand beneath your sunburnt feet. Even though it was quintessentially Daniel, right down to the number 3 painted on the side of his buggy, it also felt like you. Like you belonged in his world, the missing part to life's puzzle.

Somehow, he had found you amongst the chaos, in the hoards of people taking everything from him. Every ounce of energy he had to give. But you never took anything. And he knew in that moment that this place would never feel the same without you in it.

You were his home.

“I knew you would love it.”

He whispered it into your windswept hair as you walked along the coast, hand in hand, watching his nieces and nephew splashing in the shallow water; zinc covering every inch of their little faces.

Daniel had promised you a night alone together before you left Perth for your road trip to Coral Bay, wording up his brother in law that the two of you would be sneaking off down the coast for some alone time.

I wanna show her everything, man; he'd confessed, feeling the pressure to make every second count, right down to the minute. You were laid-back and much to his surprise, his exact energy match but he wanted you to know him. Like, really know him. He wanted to tell you all of his silly little stories like the time he nearly cut his toe open on that rock over there, or when he swore he saw the ghost of Harold Holt out beyond the rip. He wanted to share it all with you.

And while he was worried about giving you the full Daniel Ricciardo experience, you were just basking in the chance to get to know him like this. God, it felt personal, intentional the way he pointed out little fishing spots that he and his dad would sit all day in the summer holidays, chasing the shade and shooting the shit; almost always catching nothing.

“One time I caught a crayfish but it was undersize so had to throw it back… Absolute heartbreak and I lied to everyone at school when we got back in Jan – said it was this big.”

Daniel held his arms out as wide as they would go, chest out and a smile as bright as the glowing sun above, “They all saw straight through me.”

Those small, insignificant stories he thought he was telling meant the world to you. It was a glimpse into the life of a man you were falling in love with, getting closer and closer to with each passing moment. They were off the cuff tales of his childhood, mentions of Michelle and his mum making lime cordiale icy-poles, homemade no less and each one made you smile wider. Buzzing with the thought that maybe, right now, you were making memories that you would pass down to your kids.

Someday.

“Are you ready for this?”

“Maybe we should have a safe word…”

“The same one we use when we...”

You didn’t need to stop his sentence, knowing that he knew better than to finish it with his 8-year-old nephew sitting on his lap – the smirking face showing his hand. The deadpanned look you were giving him made him laugh as he leaned down and turned on the van, shoving the gear stick into place so you didn’t plummet to your death down the cliffside.

The feeling was evergreen when you casted your mind back to that day, remembering the way Jonty jumped down from Daniel’s lap and all your travel companions waved you off, hollering I miss you already and don’t get lost as the two of you drove off into the red desert, even further from civilisation. You'd all been joined at the hip for over a week now, the idea of going it alone terrified you - until you remembered that all you needed was sitting right beside you.

Ready to show you what real adventure meant.

And boy, was it an adventure, weaving through saltbushes and spotting kangaroos from the passenger seat.

“Reckon you could fight one?” You’d ask Daniel, curious to know where the boundaries of his confidence lie, “Easy.” And part of you believed him – he could do it all, fearless as he drove up and over salt plains, making you squeal as the van hopped up a 90 degree cliff, all you could see was the clear blue sky above.

“You trust me, yeah?” He asked, looking down at your hand white knuckling his thigh, long nails digging into his bare skin. I do, you whispered with conviction because you did. Wholeheartedly, but that didn’t mean your heart wasn’t in your throat the entire time, wheels screeching as the van bumped it’s way over the ledge, revving red dirt and creating a cloud of dust.

“We’re here,” Daniel cheekily announced as the dust settled and you were met with a picturesque view of the ocean – waves crashing into the cliff side, already lulling your racing heart. It was adrenaline, pure and simple. You were dazed and confused until you felt Daniel’s hand on yours, clasping your fingers with his and asking if you were okay.

You were more than okay.

“I am… that was exhilarating.”

You were wide-eyed, stunned at how beautiful it all was; how beautiful he was. You didn’t even think twice, frantically unbuckling your belt and launching yourself over the console into Daniel’s body. He could see in your eyes how charged up you were when he grasped your face in his hands, desperate to have you close after a couple of long hours of driving. You melted into his kiss until your knee accidentally nudged the gear stick, lurching the van forward.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Daniel gasped, a loud laugh following closely behind as you held onto him for dear life. Whoops, he chuckled as he turned the van off and grabbed a handful of the flannel material hanging loosely over your shoulders, matching his. In one smooth motion, he was dragging you over the gear stick again; carefully this time and making sure you were settled in his lap before he captured your lips in a strong kiss, continuing what you started.

“What a view.”

Daniel’s compliments always made you blush, still to this day but back then they washed over you like a wave of reassurance, that he felt the same way – desperately in love. Almost. They were never obnoxious or over the top, just small little words of affirmation sealed with a kiss to some inch of your skin, noses brushing from the nearness. And now every time you felt the tip of his nose tracing down your neck, breath hot on your skin, you remember that day. Like it was yesterday. The way his hands pushed up your shirt, fingertips searing across your hips and holding you up so you could really feel him.

“Thought about this all week,” He whispered as your hand made quick work of his jeans, shimming him out of the thick denim and the boxers hugging his delicious hips. Me too, you barely hummed as you arched your back and tried to rid yourself of your own shorts, accidentally pushing back on the horn and making the two of you erupt in laughter.

Daniel wrapped one arm around your waist and leaned to look under his seat, roughly pulling a lever that sent him backwards and you forward over his shoulder, a quiet squeak slipping from your lips. He could do it all and looked even sexier doing it.

“That’s better, ey?” He asked, grinning from ear to ear as he leaned back in his seat and slid his warm hands under your shirt, squeezing your sides so that you knew he had you. Always.

“Much,” You simply sighed as your fingers danced down his own buttoned up flannel shirt. One by one, each button revealed more and more of his strong chest, mouth agape at the sight of the man you were falling for, head over heels. He did the same to yours, pushing the soft material from your shoulders and reaching behind your back, unclasping the latch on your cotton bra, the feeling of his fingertips sliding it from your warm skin sending chills down your spine.

“You look good like this.”

That was the first time he muttered those words to you but now it was something he told you every single day. They were the first words he would whisper in your ear in the morning as the dawning sun-rays stretched across your rosy cheeks and they were sometimes the last words he’d groan into your neck as he came undone above you, shortly before you fell asleep wrapped up in his arms. “You look so good.”

“Show me,” You whispered against his parted lips, “Show me how good I look.” It was a simple request, one you hoped to god he would fulfil. It was your first time having sex in the driver’s seat of a car, but not your last as it happened. Daniel was nimble, able to shimmy himself into the perfect position, teasing you with his slick tip, glazed with the promise of you wrapped around him. It turned out that he loved taking you like this; in a van, in his HiLux, on the back of a motorbike but especially in his Porsche. Seats back, windows steamy.

You were two pieces of a puzzle, cut from the same cloth and it made you emotional thinking back to the early days. The way his cologne mixed with your perfume was like an amalgamation of pure love, the scent to this day making your heart flutter. And it always transported you back to that day in the van, so many years ago now. The taste of his tongue colliding with yours as he swallowed you whispered moans, hyper aware of how pin-drop quiet your surroundings were. There was nothing but ocean and desolate land each way – solus.

“No ones here, darlin’ – we can be as loud as we want,” Daniel reassured you, circling you back and forth on his cock, filling you to the absolute limit as you held onto the steering wheel behind you, needing to grip something as he set your body alight.

“Don’t think I can be quiet when you touch me like that.”

A moan slipped from your lips as Daniel licked the pads of his fingers and found your clit. Visions of that day come swirling back every time you touched yourself, conjuring a memory of him pushing you to the edge to help you along on those lonely nights without him. The angle, the intensity, the intention to get you off as quickly as humanely possible, knowing round two would be taking place in the back of the van shortly after – desperation spurred you on.

The darkness in his eyes as he watched you squirm, rutting on his dick without a single care in the world but to make yourself feel good. That vision of you above him inspired his own high to build, the knotting in his stomach undeniable as you lurched forward and licked the soft skin below his ear, curls damp from sweat, skin salty and freckled from your day spent under the sun. It was unforgiving, the way your orgasm began to crescendo, riding it out slow.

Wanting this moment to last. Etched in your memory forever.

“I’m coming, Dan.”

You didn’t really need to say it because he knew. He knew from the way you gripped the roof of the car and controlled the way his hips moved with yours, holding your ground and keeping that toe curling pace he’d been teasing you with. He also knew from the violent blush creeping up your bare chest and the way your eyebrows stitched together in concentration. Identical to his, mouth left agape and in complete awe of how fucking unreal it all felt. Heavenly.

“I’m coming too, baby. Fuck, right there...” Daniel’s breath was jagged, curls unkempt from your fingertips doing their worst. Tangled and dark, a mess pressed between your foreheads as you leaned down and kissed him through your high, aching to have him close as you came undone, hips rolling and squeezing everything you had to give and taking back just as much. He always had a lotta love to give.

“I love you.” You whimpered in the afterglow. And it was the first time you’d ever said that to someone like him, someone you genuinely loved with your entire heart. Someone who, without a second thought, said it back; I love you more.

There were a lot of firsts on that trip to Coral Bay, ones that you cherished until this very day, standing in the spot where it all happened. 10 years of memories all rolled into a camper van and a couple of swags. Reams of sheets messy from reliving it all, indulging like you did as young twenty-something’s, now with real life responsibilities and on the precipice of your whole life changing.

“I can’t wait to bring her here.”

Daniel swept your hair behind your ear as you cuddled into his side, the same sound of the waves lapping against the cliff below like they did back then, lulling you into serenity again. He smiled and cradled your cheek with one hand, and your growing belly with the other. Enamoured beyond comprehension, speechless by how strongly he felt and content with where his future was headed. With you and the family you were starting together.

“I know she’s going to love it. Just like her mum.”

But for now, you could be those kids again. Dumb and falling in love. Sharing kisses under the starry night sky, holding each other close, reliving the good times and most importantly, saying yes to life.

Just like you did back where it all began.

a//n – it's danny ric week so it felt fitting to release this on the eve of the ausgp. thank you to mar and the anon who requested the prompts used in this fic. love ya's x masterlist | askbox

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 smut #daniel ricciardo one shot #monzamashmasterlist #the monzamash special #dr3 #f1 writing

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bestworstcase · 8 months ago

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tin hats on. let’s talk about the great war.

first, a general point about the relevant world of remnant spots: qrow narrates all of them. i think this is important to keep in mind when assessing the information provided, because he editorializes constantly, and i do not believe that we are meant to take qrow’s obvious biases at face value. rather, this is a narrative choice to introduce us to this history through a very distorted lens; qrow is ozpin’s man, loyal to the bone before to the revelation of ozpin’s lies, and it is also very likely that he had no formal education prior to his enrollment at beacon academy.

#1: the pre-war kingdoms.

vale sits on the northwestern coast of sanus, sandwiched between “steep mountains” and “waters too shallow for any real monsters to pop out of.” throughout the kingdom’s history, every attempt to expand the kingdom’s borders past the mountain range has ended in “colossal failures”—the most recent of which is mountain glenn, in the post-war period.

however, vale was also engaged in a different expansionist effort in the century preceding the great war: the kingdom was building settlements on “the small islands and peninsulas” of the northeastern coast.

to the north of vale lay the kingdom of mantle. qrow does not give a lot of detail regarding the settlement of solitas, just that “at some point, a group of settlers were crazy enough to venture out into the northernmost continent,” but i submit that the founders of mantle came from northern sanus. why?

mantle’s location at the southwestern tip of solitas is geographically closest to the island of vytal, just off the north coast of sanus; had the settlers come from northern anima, they would have more likely landed on the eastern side of the continent.

qrow says this: “the harsh weather conditions proved to be just as useful as the mountain ranges when it came to keeping the creatures of grimm at bay,” and while anima does have mountain ranges, they’re not remarked upon in WOR: mistral. it is vale that depends upon “steep mountains” to bulwark its eastern flank against the grimm, and vale that has made repeated, unsuccessful attempts throughout its history to expand its borders beyond those mountains.

it is unclear how long mantle existed as an independent state prior to the great war, but we know that it’s not very old; qrow also states that the century preceding the great was “filled with so much tension” that it might as well be “lumped together” with the great war. meaning almost certainly that there were smaller-scale conflicts throughout the whole period. sometime during that century, vale began to build settlements in northeastern sanus. mantle was settled “at some point” by “a crazy group of settlers”—and “i guess when you’re that desperate,” qrow opines, “a frozen hunk of rock doesn’t seem like such a bad place to call home.” mantle is geographically closest to northeastern sanus. there are—there have always been—people living outside the kingdoms, who do not want to be part of the kingdoms.

you do the math. or i will: mantle was founded by people displaced from northeastern sanus by valean expansion, probably in the neighborhood of a hundred years prior to the great war.

meanwhile, mistral was conquering anima. notably—because qrow doesn’t like mistral, particularly—there is less ambiguity on this point than on vale’s settlement of northeast sanus: this expansion was an imperial project. a conquest. mistral was (and based on the language used in the present, still is) an empire, meaning its “territories” are all conquered people or polities from whom the imperial core extracts resources, which—both historically and in the text of this story—includes slaves.

so, argus. during the century preceding the great war, mistral’s attention turned to northern anima. according to jaune and ren in 6.7, mistral’s expansion into the region was stymied by the cold until forming an alliance with mantle; qrow describes mantle as an “unlikely friend” to the empire. the goliath in the room that none of these characters acknowledge (and may not know, given their upbringings—bandit, orphaned young, & very sheltered) is that the region was probably not uninhabited at the time.

empire. conquest. controlled territories. you cannot have these things without also having conquered people. what stymied mistral’s expansion into the region was likely not the cold per se but the logistical burden the cold imposed upon military action here; invading a cold region with an army in the wintertime is famously not a good idea. and, if mantle was founded by people displaced by valean imperialism… well, that explains both qrow’s view of it as an “unlikely friend” and why mantle would make such an overture of alliance to mistral in the first place; vale and mistral were the great world powers, and for mantle—a small, vulnerable, dust-rich but otherwise resource-poor state with every reason to fear its closer southern neighbor—cozying up to mistral would have been just rational politics; hug one great power to insure against invasion by the other.

and then there’s vacuo.

WOR: vacuo is easily the least factually trustworthy episode in the series to the point that i think it is probably all but worthless in terms of the historical narrative given; it’s worldbuilding the modern day cultural narratives about the conquest of vacuo, not the actual history.

(the CFVY novels, i believe, support this reading: in the present, many city vacuans believe the narrative qrow offers here that the old kingdom of vacuo was a “paradise,” but “comfort breeds weakness” and its people were complacent, soft, helpless to defend themselves from invaders from more hardened kingdoms… but the first king of vacuo was a man called malik the sunderer, shade’s history teacher states that it’s been centuries since vacuo was conquered and the real history has been so obscured and distorted by myth that it’s impossible to know what it was truly like, and desert vacuans—the nomadic peoples who don’t live in the kingdom—have a starkly different cultural outlook on hardship that is much more in line with the story’s themes and also reality, valuing community, hospitality, and resilience over “strength.”)

but there is one kernel of very interesting information in this episode: “after the great war, a formal government was finally established.” meaning there wasn’t a formal vacuan government before the great war.

vacuo was not a state before the great war.

of vacuo’s entry into the great war, qrow says this:

Up to this point, Vacuo had done its best to stay out of the fight. Mantle and Mistral, having both already established a small presence in Vacuo territory years before promised to leave them alone, provided they didn't interfere. Soon, those talks evolved. It went from "Don't side with them" to "Side with us and you'll be safe". Vacuo did not much care for that, and they came to the conclusion that if Vale were to fall, there'd be no one left to stop Mistral and Mantle from conquering them next. So they did what they considered to be the logical thing. They drove Mantle and Mistral out of Vacuo and told Vale they had their backs.

at this point in history, vacuo did not have a government. at this point in history, vacuo was not a state. the kingdom of vacuo had been conquered centuries ago (by “more developed kingdoms,” qrow says—by whom?), and according to rumpole (<- an actual authoritative source, given she teaches history at shade!), “few documented accounts or records remain from that far back.”

the conquest of vacuo predated the conflicts of the prewar century (and probably predate the existence of mantle). this illustration in WOR: vacuo implicates all three of the other kingdoms—blue for mistral, white for mantle, green for vale:

so there is no question that vale participated in the butchering of vacuo; it did. but this illustration is also impressionistic, ahistorical, not a literal representation of how vacuo was conquered.

by the time of the great war, vacuo was a territory occupied by mantle and mistral, but vale does not seem to have had a significant presence there. in the present, vacuans harbor a lot of resentment for mistral and atlas, less for vale. vale is also, by virtue of being located on the same continent, the kingdom best positioned to invade vacuo if it so chose.

(qrow asserts that vacuo was conquered by “more developed” kingdoms, but it was also dust-rich—the CFVY novels confirm this—and there is a clear correlation between technological innovation and access to an abundant source of dust. it’s possible that a scarcity of, say, iron inhibited ancient vacuo’s technological development and put it at a military disadvantage, but generally i think it’s more likely that qrow is regurgitating historical propaganda there.)

the point being: vale conquered the kingdom of vacuo and then either withdrew or lost a war with mistral for control over the territory at some point prior to the great war.

regardless of the finer details, the historicity of qrow’s account regarding vacuo’s entrance into the war seems… pretty suspect given that vacuo did not have a government. what sort of “talks” do you suppose the mantle-mistrali bloc was having with the non-state actors of vacuo? what kind of “presence” did mistral, the empire that conquered all of anima, actually have in the vacuan territory?

hmm. i wonder.

vacuo “drove mistral and mantle out” and threw in their lot with vale; meaning, the vacuan side of this war was really a war of independence. vacuo wasn’t “doing its best to stay out of the fight” so much as it was under mistrali control until the vacuan people rebelled, then sided with mistral’s enemy.

#2: salem?? ?

ozpin—and qrow by extension—believes that salem ignited the war with a false-flag op in northeastern sanus (“to this day, no one knows who shot first” + “salem’s smart. she works in the shadows, using others to get what she wants, so that when it comes time to place the blame, we can only point at each other”). much of the fandom not only takes this at face value but also assumes without… really any basis at all that salem was responsible for the “incident” in mantle that the mantelian government used to justify a raft of draconian censorship laws.

but… authoritarian regimes can and will use any pretext to justify repressive new laws whose real purpose is to punish dissenters and strengthen control over the populace; banning art and all forms of self-expression is not a move that anyone would think with any seriousness would protect people from the grimm. qrow is either being disingenuous in purpose or (more likely) just doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about because four years at the monster-hunting college is the sum total of his education: “the people of mantle had come to believe that they would be much safer from the grimm if they could only keep the emotions of the masses in check” is the kind of bullshit nonsense you would expect if the guy doesn’t know how government works, either the modern-day democratic councils or whatever system prewar mantle had; what is the distinction between “the people” and “the masses?”

in. the. unreliable. narrators. show.

mantle’s autocratic government found a pretext to crack down on subversive speech and pumped out a massive body of propaganda to the tune of “we’re just doing what we must for the good of the people :)”—that’s what happened. that’s why mistral imposed the same laws on its territories but not in the imperial core, and why mantle didn’t have a problem with that “selective” enforcement.

maybe salem sent some grimm to attack mantle, maybe she didn’t. maybe there was a public protest that got angry enough to attract grimm. maybe there was a protest that got too rowdy, and who’s going to openly question the government officials claiming that officers on the scene opened fire into the crowd because a grimm jumped out of the sewers? grimm evaporate when they die. kind of a hard thing to fact check.

and in a similar vein… vale’s king rolled out a welcome mat for mistrali colonists who came to colonize valean settlements. it is beyond nonsensical to think that there was no violence involved. colonization is an inescapably and inherently violent process. and remember, the rioting began shortly after mistral imposed draconian censorship laws on its occupied territories, which absolutely would have included parts of eastern vale.

it was inevitable and completely predictable that this situation would explode. might salem have sent someone to fire the first shot? sure? but why would she bother, when the fuse was burning down all on its own?

(and that’s assuming she even had an interest in provoking a massive war at all, which seems rather unlikely given her apparent disinclination to engage in wanton destruction; see also her consistent choices to limit civilian casualties by pulling out of vale quickly / planning a surgical strike on haven academy / not attacking mantle / not sending grimm into the subways of atlas.)

but. but–

they did put her in the thumbnail. the point of this is presumably to imply that she did, in fact, do something to influence these events.

specifically.

they put her in the thumbnail superimposed over the leader of the vacuan rebellion, who:

led what must have been a pretty desperate fight against steep odds to drive an industrialized global power out of vacuo,

kept that coalition together after they won and formed an alliance with vale, and

was a faunus.

ozpin is superimposed over the king of vale because he was the king of vale. so: is the choice to position salem in this way similarly non-arbitrary?

looks into the camera like i’m on the office.

salem is a faunus. she identifies herself as such (“your grace” is the mode of address for menagerie’s chieftain) and she has been socially understood as a faunus for thousands of years (in a time when faunus were hunted and caged like animals, the stories about the witch who lived in the woods among “beasts and monsters” were, uh, probably not referring to wild animals; “beasts” was a euphemism for the people the ones telling those stories hunted and caged.)

to this day, ozpin associates the faunus with salem. he suspects blake of being her spy; he similarly singles out velvet after the massacre of lower cairn (and we don’t get to see what he actually says, only that velvet is in tears by the end). at haven, leo more or less says “the council overruled me and my hands are tied,” and ozpin immediately decides to freeze him out and insinuates to the kids that he suspects leo might be a traitor; meanwhile james “two votes” ironwood is closing atlas’ borders, cutting off the global supply of dust, recalling his troops from an allied state, and behaving so erratically that mistral is evidently anticipating a fucking invasion, and ozpin instructs qrow to take the lamp to atlas anyway. lionheart is a faunus; ironwood is human. the tea set ozpin gifted to lionheart is a replica of salem’s tea set. math.

so the fact that salem is superimposed over the faunus leader here does not seem coincidental; the narrative is very consistent in linking salem to the faunus because she is herself a faunus.

in WOR: faunus, qrow describes the appalling treatment of faunus by humans throughout history (first ostracized and hunted down, later enslaved and exploited) before to the great war and states that, after the great war, “the world was desperate to find compromises that would ensure they'd never see the likes of it again; the faunus were awarded equal rights as citizens of remnant, and as an apology, they were given an entire continent of their own to do with as they pleased. there were some that saw this as fair and just, but many saw it for what it really was: a slap in the face from a nation of sore losers. and so menagerie was born.”

and from the great war:

But whatever the reasoning, everyone bowed to the King of Vale by the time it was over. The Great War had ended. The world was ready to live under the rule of Vale. But the King refused. The leaders of the four Kingdoms met on the island of Vytal, and it was there that they worked together to form a treaty and establish the future of Remnant. Territories were redistributed, slavery was abolished, governments were restructured, and the Warrior King, the last king Vale would ever have, founded the Huntsman Academies and placed his most trusted followers in command of each Kingdom's school.

a few things to unpack here.

first: ozma as the king of vale would have had quite a lot of power to drive the vytal negotiations in the direction he wanted them to go; the other three leaders were given at least a notional say, but these were people who had just seen ozma unleash the horrifying powers of the sword of destruction upon their armies and bowed to him in abject terror—and that’s before getting into the possibility that ozma may have used the crown of choice to compel agreement.

second: “territories were redistributed” mostly appears to mean that mistral was forced to relinquish control over conquered territories that did not want to be part of mistral; vacuan sovereignty was formally restored (…on paper) (shade academy is the de facto government and has been since the war ended, which is worth raising an eyebrow at), parts of western anima were liberated, and… menagerie was given to the faunus.

(menagerie had to have been a mistrali colony before the great war ended, otherwise the framing of “a slap in the face from a nation of sore losers” is nonsensical.)

third: note the implication that awarding the faunus equal rights and giving them an island was a desperate compromise to insure against the perceived threat of a second war. it’s of a piece with ozma’s attempt to appease mistral and avoid war by “sharing” eastern vale with mistrali colonists.

the vacuan leader—his ally in the war—was a faunus, but it sounds very much as though ozma saw her kind as adversaries, at least in potentia, whom he made it a point to appease in the hope of avoiding a war. which is irrational on its face but does make sense in conjunction with ozpin’s clear inclination to imagine connections between salem and faunus, however baseless that suspicion might be.

and on that note, qrow also says this: “a lot of settlements were lost during those years, and most were never reclaimed. rations on food and dust were put into effect, development of technology accelerated, humans and faunus who fought alongside one another became closer and every day, mankind grew more and more efficient at destroying itself.”

pay attention to that rhetorical structure.

many settlements were wiped out

food and dust were strictly rationed

technological (military) development boomed

humans and faunus grew closer

mankind grew ever more efficient at destroying itself

one of these is not like the others.

qrow’s framing of these events likely comes from ozpin, whether directly (things ozpin told him) or indirectly (ozpin’s influence as headmaster over beacon’s curriculum). so the inclusion of “humans and faunus who fought side by side grew closer” into what is otherwise a list of ways mankind “destroyed itself” is perhaps telling of ozma’s mindset at the time; which in turn supports the implication that ozma perceived the faunus as a potential threat to appease after the war.

now!

the question is, how was salem involved—and why?

well. we know that salem is inclined to revolution; she rallied people to rebellion against the brothers millions of years ago, and in her war against the academies in the present, she aligns herself with groups like the white fang. she refers to the global order ozma established through the vytal accords derisively as “your so-called ‘free’ world.”

and we know that salem herself is a faunus, and thousands of years ago she was present enough in faunus culture that their creation myth is just a refraction of her story—transformation into something new by a choice to leap into magical waters.

we know that the faunus did not have rights in any of the four kingdoms before the great war, and mistral in particular is noted for its reliance on (presumably, mainly faunus) slave labor. reading between the lines of qrow’s slanted narration, vacuo was a mistrali territory back then, and in the CFVY novels it’s mentioned that vacuan faunus were regularly enslaved in mistrali-operated mines within that territory.

and we can guess, based on their leader being a faunus, that the vacuan rebels who drove mistral and mantle out of vacuo were predominantly faunus, plus humans willing to follow and fight for the faunus.

in the present, salem preferred sienna khan over adam and dropped adam like a hot potato after he assassinated sienna; she also clearly has no intention to attack menagerie, where the grimm notably do not seem to be a serious problem. salem also implicitly identifies herself as a faunus (“your grace”). so there are grounds for thinking that she does consider the faunus to be her people.

vacuo’s part in the great war was a war for independence. salem is both pragmatic and ruthless; she understands that nothing forces people to cooperate quite like the threat of a common enemy; she has the means to turn the tide of any war by the simple expedient of directing her grimm against the side she wants to lose. if she was in communication with the vacuan rebels—or just had spies—she could have coordinated grimm raids to sever supply lines or winnow defending forces in advance of attacks planned by the rebels, tipping the odds in their favor.

she knows ozma. if she was paying attention to the war, she would have known it began with his futile effort to appease mistral by giving away parts of vale; she has to know he sees her in the shadow of every faunus. the vacuan rebels—most of them faunus, led by a faunus—saved his bacon by joining the war he very much seems to have been losing (the frontlines were in vacuo by the end of the war; all of eastern vale was destroyed, and the king of vale and his army made their final stand in vacuo; vale itself was… probably under mistrali occupation at the time).

i am sure salem did not want, particularly, to throw ozma a lifeline. but she does care about freedom in the abstract—“your so-called ‘free’ world”—and she may think of the faunus as her people. once the war began, once it became clear that vale was losing… well, either vale would fall and mistral would rule the world, which would be undeniably worse for the faunus, or she could grit her teeth and accept helping ozma as a fair price for a shot at liberating the faunus.

and the only thing she would have to do to influence the war’s outcome is use her grimm to disrupt mantelian/mistrali supply lines and specifically target their forces on the battlefield. such attacks wouldn’t stand out against the backdrop of regular grimm activity—there are a lot of grimm in the world beyond her control—but a sustained, deliberate campaign of grimm attacks focused on one side would absolutely add up over time to a significant advantage for the other. especially given that the logistical burden of waging war on a foreign continent is already so much higher than defending your home.

if salem could also keep wild grimm off the backs of vacuo’s and vale’s armies to some extent, a la the apparent absence of a grimm problem in menagerie, that advantage would be even sharper.

…although she probably did not anticipate that ozma would use the sword of destruction to crush everyone who opposed him, or the crown of choice to do… whatever it is he did with it. you win some, you lose some.

#does the god of animals answer prayers for deliverance do you think.

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kandisheek · 4 months ago

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Cap-Ironman Rec Week 2024

Better Together Monday: July 22nd

Prompt: Tell us all about those fanworks where Tony and Steve are better teammates, are more competent, complete missions more efficiently and are just overall better for working and being together!

We all know that Steve and Tony are better together than apart, and this is the perfect time to celebrate it! Here are some of my favorite fics where teamwork makes the dream work:

-- Kludged Together by Veldeia

When he cut his morning jog short to join Tony Stark on a reconnaissance mission off the East Coast, Steve sure wasn’t expecting to end up stuck on a life raft in the middle of the ocean, his hand knuckle-deep in Stark's chest.

-- Danger Mouse by isozyme

First step: get both Tony and the pieces of Tony’s suit into some kind of shelter. It’s not raining now, but it’s only a matter of time. The passenger bay of the jet is sitting at a thirty degree angle and pretty banged up, but the doors are accessible and, hey, it’s got a roof. Step two after shelter: make a fire. That’s wilderness 101. Steve pats around his belt pouches for his matches. He comes up with a pack of tissues (wet), a couple of business cards (wet), his guilty pack of cigarettes (also wet), and finally a book of matches. It’s wet.

-- If Through a Door by jibrailis

Tony is accused of murder on an alien planet; Steve marries him to bring him home.

MORE RECS BELOW THE CUT:

-- Symmetry Breaking by Annie D (scaramouche)

After the Battle of New York, Steve rode off on his motorbike. That's how it went the first time. This time he rides back, all the way to Stark Tower, where he asks Tony for help.

-- Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happy Hour by BladeoftheNebula

“What is your problem?” Steve finally asked, annoyed at the way Stark was acting like there was a storm cloud over his head. Stark reeled back. “My problem? My fucking problem? You walk around this place with a stick jammed so far up your ass I’m surprised you can even bend over to suture!” Steve’s jaw dropped. “At least my head isn’t so big it barely fits through the OR doors.” Dr Steve Rogers is finally assigned to work at the MASH 107 army hospital in Korea, just like he’s been wanting since he was drafted. Too bad the Chief Surgeon is such an ass.

-- Senseless by Scavenge4Dreams

Blinded, deafened, exhausted, injured and afraid, Tony raised himself up into a defensive position, the knife coming up just like Nat had taught him. “That had better fucking be you, Steve Rogers- it had better be you. Fucking disarm me. If you let me kill you, I swear I will be very, very pissed.” Tony snarled, sure it was Steve approaching. Had to be. Had. To. Be. What if it wasn’t?

-- Trust Fall by Sineala

Tony needs someone who cares about him, bandages, a jacket, ibuprofen, dinner, a lasting romantic relationship, a nice time in bed, and assistance committing federal crimes. He gets them. In that order.

-- Love among the Hydrothermal Vents by DevilDoll

In which Namor has a thing for Steve, an octopus has a thing for Tony, and Steve and Tony eventually have a thing for each other.

And two of my own fics:

-- Flipping Through Channels

When Loki hits Tony and Steve with an illusion spell during their fight, Tony is prepared for torture, nightmares, the whole shebang. What he's not prepared for is being trapped in a kitschy eighties rom-com with him and Steve as the protagonist and love interest. And why the hell does Loki want them to kiss so badly?

-- Some More Equal Than Others

Steve split from SHIELD years ago, but when Fury approaches him with a rescue mission that goes beyond anything they've ever done before, Steve knows that he can't turn a blind eye to it. Those animals need his help, and if he has to go undercover to save them, then he'll do it gladly. He never expects to find what he does, a tiger hybrid who seems to understand him and yet pretend to be an animal. Steve knows that even more than any of the other animals in this illegal zoo, this man was never meant to belong in a cage. No matter what, Steve won't rest until the man is free.

#capimrecweek #better together monday #stony #fanfic recs #ficrec #marvel #stevetony

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sortasirius · 6 months ago

Text

Frail State of Mind

Fandom: 911

Pairing: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Words: 1630

Rating: T

Summary:

It's a strange thing, when Eddie realizes how he feels about Buck. For a while, he thinks it's indigestion.

Title comes from this song.

Also on AO3 here

Eddie was laughing. Really laughing too, that kind of laugh that stretches across your chest, makes your face hurt and your breath catch in your throat.

They were all sitting around the dining table in the firehouse, finishing off Bobby's famous lasagna, and laughing uproariously at a story that Bobby was telling about his figure skating days.

"You just don't understand...the art of the dance," Bobby said, waggling his eyebrows, sending the entire table into another wave of hysteria. He smiled at all of them, standing up and walking around to deposit his dish in the sink. "Clean this up so we don't come back to a pile of dirty dishes after the bell rings."

Chim and Hen got up, clearing Buck and Eddie's plates,

"You two are useless at dishes," Chim informed them, "Let the professionals take it from here."

"And you can do the bathrooms," Hen smiled at them sweetly, ignoring their shared groaning.

"You want to come over later?" Eddie was pleasantly warm, probably from the fact that Buck was a certifiable furnace, and their thighs were pressed together on the firehouse couch, digesting after dinner watching Hen and Chim argue over the dishes, "Chris has some new game he wants to show you. We could order takeout."

"Thanks man, but I'm seeing Tommy later," Buck's smile was mega-watt, so bright that it could probably power the entire west coast, "Tell Chris I'll take a rain check."

Something undefined settled in Eddie's stomach. Something strangely heavy that went from his stomach all the way up his chest...

Before he could spend too much time thinking about it, the bell rang, and he and Buck sprang up.

"Oh come on!" Chim gestured up to the alarm with soapy hands, and Buck laughed, sprinting down the stairs three at a time.

Eddie decided to chalk the strange feeling up to indigestion. He would have to start taking tums after lasagna now, he guessed.

At the end of their shift, when morning had just broken over the city, Eddie was sitting next to Buck again, this time in the locker room. They were pulling on their socks in tandem, chatting idly about the call they had taken that night, which involved a couple and an extra large jar of peanut butter of all things.

"It's just gross," Buck was saying, pulling his sock on his right foot. His socks were always mismatched, he said he didn't see the point of sorting them. Eddie had always thought it was strangely charming, if a little silly. "Not to mention a waste of peanut butter."

"The waste of peanut butter was the problem for you?" Eddie asked him, eyebrows raised, "Not...everything else?"

"Everything else was definitely a problem too," Buck shook his head violently, like he was trying to rid himself of the mental image of the call, "Ugh. Gross."

"Breakfast?" Chim poked his head around the corner, "Bobby said he's buying. Peanut butter pancakes for all."

Buck gave a huge fake heave that Eddie couldn't help but snort at.

"Sorry," he grinned at Chimney, "I have a ride."

"Buck, turning down plans for breakfast that Bobby's buying?" Chim looked stunned, "It really is the end days."

Buck ducked his head, a blush creeping across his cheeks.

"Tommy's taking me out for breakfast."

"And so we're nothing to you?" Chim covered his heart with one hand, "I'm hurt, Buckley, really."

"Whatever," he shrugged his shoulders, pulling on his shoes and giving a shifty sort of look to Eddie, "I really hope you don't eat peanut butter pancakes for breakfast."

Eddie shook his head, still grinning.

"Captain's orders, I can't disobey them."

Buck wrinkled his nose.

"Gross."

They finished getting dressed in a comfortable silence, swinging their bags over their shoulders and bumping into each other as usual, making their way into the bay where Hen and Chim were arguing over what the superior breakfast item was.

"Evan!" Eddie nearly jumped at Buck's given name, looking up to see Tommy striding towards them, a wide smile on his face, but with eyes only for Buck, who seemed to shoot up two feet besides him, striding forward to wrap Tommy in a tight hug.

That feeling in his chest was back, that indigestion from the lasagna. Maybe he had GERD or something. He should ask Hen about it.

"Ready to go?" Tommy asked, his hand skating down Buck's forearm.

Eddie swallowed, not sure why he felt so sick to his stomach all of a sudden.

"Sure am," Buck turned around, that bright smile back on his face, giving Eddie a wave, "See ya, tell Chris I'll be around."

"Later, Eddie," Tommy waved at him, before slinging an arm around Buck's shoulders and placing a soft kiss to the side of his face

Eddie swallowed with an audible click. He felt hot all over, like he was about to be sick.

Man, that lasagna had really done a number on him.

He watched them walk away, until they thought no one was watching them. He watched Buck spin Tommy around, kissing him full on the mouth this time. He thought he should look away. It was weird, after all, to watch anyone kissing, but especially two of his friends. Especially his best friend.

He sat with that heavy feeling in his chest long after Buck and Tommy had split apart and disappeared, willing himself to understand it, understand why he felt like this, why looking at Buck made it worse.

He considered the worst case scenario: that looking at Buck and Tommy made him so uncomfortable it made him nauseous.

How could he even be thinking this way? He was an ally! He had been an ally for years! Hen was one of his best friends!

"You okay, Eddie?" Hen's voice came right by his ear, and he jumped, blinking.

"What? Oh. Yeah. Yeah I just...did that lasagna earlier do a number on you too? I've felt off for a few hours."

Immediately, he watched her stance shift from concerned friend to Doctor Wilson mode. If he hadn't felt so crappy, he would have laughed.

"What are you feeling?" she asked him, looking over the thick rims of her glasses.

Eddie shrugged, feeling almost dejected. Normally he would have brushed it off, but Hen was probably the best fountain of knowledge for little ailments like this.

"Just...heavy in my chest and my stomach. Not all the time just- Just..." he trailed off, staring blankly into space.

It was like someone had just moved something from the recesses of his head, pulling forward a tiny box in an abandoned corner of the back of his mind, a place he never bothered to go, and had opened it.

Buck.

A man who had shaped his life from the moment he entered it. The only other person he would really trust Chris with long term. The only person he would trust to make medical decisions about himself. A man who had slotted himself so easily into his and Chris' routine it was like he was meant to be there.

He knew his pizza order, he knew how he liked his eggs. He knew what it felt like when his heart stopped beating for three minutes and seventeen seconds.

He couldn't live without him.

The reality of that came crashing down on Eddie like a tidal wave, like a California riptide. He felt like he couldn't breathe, like he was back to having panic attacks.

"Eddie," he felt Hen shaking his shoulder, "Eddie!"

The truth of the matter, that he was just realizing now, that it may be too late, made him feel like he was caught in a whirlpool, spinning endlessly, unable to catch his breath. That image of Tommy and Buck, so unbelievably happy, so utterly adoring of one another was burned into his brain, he could see it when he blinked, when he closed his eyes.

Had he lost the opportunity for something more real than he may have ever had before he even realized that he wanted it.

"Eddie!"

Bobby was standing in front of him, both hands on his shoulders, craning his neck down to look into his face.

Eddie came to enough to look up, shaking his head back and forth experimentally, knowing how completely insane he must look to the others.

"Yeah," he finally croaked, knowing that this would do nothing to help his case, "Sorry I- I'm fine."

"You sure about that?" Bobby looked him up and down, "Doesn't seem that way."

"I just..." he searched wildly for an excuse. It's not like he could tell them about this revelation. "Got tired all of a sudden. I think- I think I'm gonna skip breakfast. Go home."

"Eddie-" Hen started, but Eddie had already pushed his way past them and headed towards his truck, pulling out of the lot immediately, not daring to look back.

It wasn't until he parked in his driveway that he took a shuddering breath, resting his forehead on the steering wheel.

He wished he could just force this new knowledge about himself back into its little box. It had lived there for so long, what was a little more time? Save himself the embarrassment of pining over his best friend. Who was happily taken by his other friend.

What a nightmare.

His phone lit up in the cupholder next to him. He picked it up, his heart leaping into his throat when he saw the message was from Buck.

Hey, Hen just texted me. You okay?

No. He was decidedly not okay.

He sighed. He could do this. He wouldn't ruin what he had with Buck. He refused to ruin it.

Yeah, totally fine. That lasagna, you know?

Fuck. He was so fucked.

#buddie #my writing #911 #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie fanfic

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kabie-whump · 8 months ago

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✧･ﾟRipe, About to Fall - Part 10 ✧･ﾟ

This is an 18+ slowish burn pet-whump story with added romance.

Title from 'Liquid Smooth' by Mitski

Series First | Previous Summary: Onthyes and Theodore talk. Ventis doesn't. Content: whipping, degradation, trauma-induced muteness?, drugs, drug overdose mention

Onthyes does not belong to me. He was created by my wonderful gf @sapphicccici and I have kidnapped him.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Onthyes was… not what Theodore had been expecting.

He’d had this mental image of a strong, steadfast heir. A perfect fit to be captain of the guard some day. And while Onthyes fit the part at first glance, Theodore quickly began to realize that he was far more gentle than he looked. Still, he was determined to do what he came here for - to learn from one of the finest fighters on the coast.

Hefting his warhammer over his back and a sword on his belt, Theodore sought Onthyes out in the vast gardens behind Ventura manor.

He found him lying in a shady patch of clover, staring up at the swaying branches of a willow tree.

“Here.” Theodore tossed the sword, and it landed with a soft thump next to Onthyes.

Onthyes’s gaze turned to the sword slowly. “Why do I need that?”

“We’re sparring. Come on, pick it up.”

Onthyes sighed, his eyes falling closed. “No thank you, Theodore.”

A growl bubbled up in Theodore’s throat before he quickly cut it off. His father was very clear that he needed to keep his draconic impulses at bay, especially in front of others. No growling or hissing or baring fangs. (Maybe he still secretly hoarded gemstones and pretty rocks in a chest under his bed, but that wasn’t anyone else’s business.)

“Why not? Why are you always just lying around? I thought you were supposed to be some great swordsman.”

Onthyes sat up, shrugging. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Are you a fraud or something? Are you afraid I’ll find you out?”

“No, I’m not a fraud. I just don’t want to.”

Theodore did growl this time. Without really thinking, he retrieved his warhammer from his back and lunged forward, swinging it at Onthyes.

Onthyes moved faster than Theodore could comprehend at first, rolling out of the way to get behind Theodore and then kicking his legs out from under him. Theodore hit the ground with a grunt and Onthyes was quick to tear the hammer from his hands, tossing it away.

“Are you happy now?”

Theodore pushed himself to his feet, catching his breath. “No, not at all! How did you beat me so fast? I had the jump on you.”

“You thought you had the jump on me,” Onthyes corrected. “That was your mistake. Any fool with eyes could tell what you were doing. It’s hard not to with such a bulky weapon.”

Theodore huffed. “That hammer belonged to my great-great-great-great grandfather. I must learn to wield it, just as my father did.”

“Then maybe you should learn to fight with it well enough so that you don’t have to rely on surprising your opponent.”

“I’m trying! You won’t practice with me!”

“I’m sorry Theodore,” Onthyes said, sitting down again. “I have a lot on my mind.”

With a dramatic sigh, Theodore flopped down next to him. “Tell me about it, then. Get it off your mind.”

Onthyes picked at the clovers as he spoke. “Well, I used to be a guard in Athos Landleigh’s manor…”

~~~Ventis’s POV~~~

Ventis woke up to the familiar rush of nightspill in his veins. He sighed sleepily, curling into the blankets. His whole body felt pleasantly heavy, his thoughts foggy.

“Good morning, treasure.”

Some of the dreamy happiness drained away at the sound of that voice. Athos. He’d almost managed to forget.

Ventis opened his eyes, forcing himself to look up at his master. He held a whip in one hand and Ventis flinched at the sight of it.

“I figured we would just get it over with,” he said with a smile. “You earned one hundred lashes, remember?”

Ventis nodded, dragging himself out of bed so he could kneel at the edge, his hands braced on the mattress and knees sinking into the carpet.

“You’ve never taken more than fifty at once. Am I correct?”

Ventis nodded again.

“Speak.”

Ventis’s mouth opened, but a wave of fear rushed over him and he snapped his jaw shut. What if it was another trick? What if Athos added more lashes?

"I order you to speak," Athos growled, grabbing Ventis’s hair in a tight fist and pulling his head back sharply. Ventis gasped but still he said nothing. “Stubborn little slut,” Athos hissed, releasing his hold and backing up, hefting the whip. “You’ll talk after your punishment, I’m sure.”

Ventis buried his face in the blankets in front of him, tense with anticipation. He’s been whipped plenty of times - sometimes as a punishment and sometimes just because Athos was bored. But one hundred lashes was unheard of.

The first ten weren’t too bad. Athos was still warming up and Ventis managed to keep quiet aside from a few grunts and hisses of pain.

After twenty Ventis found it hard to suppress his cries and whimpers. After thirty he started yelping and squirming, his body arching away from each strike of the whip.

The fortieth lash had Ventis crying openly, tears soaking the blanket. His legs shook and ached from the effort of holding himself up when all he wanted to do was collapse onto the floor.

Athos knelt next to him, grabbing him by a horn to get a good look at his face. Ventis whimpered, shame filling him as he felt how wet his face was with tears and drool and snot. “Pathetic,” he chided. “We’re not even halfway there.”

Ventis sniffed, trying to convince himself to stop crying, but it didn’t work. He hated when Athos got like this; calling him degrading things. He always was a prideful person, and calling him pathetic or dumb or a slut was a sure way to get him worked up.

“Let’s make a deal, darling. Ask me to stop - with words - and we’ll end it at fifty.”

Ventis wanted to say it. He really did. But he just couldn’t make the words leave his mouth. What if Athos was lying again?

“Really? Are you this stupid? You’d rather take one hundred lashes than speak to me? I’m hurt.”

The lashes started again. Ventis sobbed through the next twenty, ashamed of himself for not just saying the words that would make it stop.

“Maybe you just enjoy the pain. Is that it? Do you like it when I hurt you?”

Ventis shook his head but he couldn’t say it. He could only scream mentally.

Please, no! I don't like it! Stop!

After seventy lashes Ventis couldn’t hold back his screams anymore. He’d crumbled multiple times until Athos had resorted to cuffing his wrists to the bedposts to keep him somewhat upright. He hated himself for being so weak, for being so afraid of his master that he couldn’t even speak.

But after eighty lashes, the hatred turned towards Athos. He did this. He was the one who’d made all of this happen. He was the reason Ventis couldn’t speak, and he was the one hurting him for it.

And what was he fucking thinking, having Ventis’s family over for dinner last night? Ventis had never been that humiliated in his entire life. It was evil. Athos was evil.

And Onthyes… Sweet, strong, gentle Onthyes was probably in a grave by now, assuming his family found his body. He didn’t deserve that. He was good. Possibly the only good person Ventis had ever met. But Athos had had him killed.

Ninety lashes. Ventis screamed, his back arching. His vision was filled with dark spots. He choked on his sobs, sinking his fangs into the duvet until wet feathers tickled at his lips.

One hundred. Ventis panted and sobbed, relieved for it to finally be over.

“That was fun, wasn’t it, pet?”

Athos unlocked the cuffs around Ventis’s wrists and he sild to the floor.

A long, expectant silence.

“Answer me.”

Ventis curled into himself, covering his face with his hands. He couldn’t answer. He wouldn’t. Athos had demanded silence, and that’s what Ventis was giving to him.

A harsh kick to his stomach. “You stupid little-”

Ventis just whimpered, trying to block out the world.

~~~Onthyes’s POV~~~

“You’re really Ventis’s brother?”

Onthyes struggled to wrap his head around it. He could see the draconic features they shared: sharp canines, horns, patches of scales on their skin, but the similarities ended there. Theodore’s skin was tanned, his hair a reddish brown, his eyes deep blue. He was taller, stockier, a far cry from Ventis’s thin and wispy frame.

“Half-brother,” Theodore corrected. “We share a father, but my mother’s human. That’s why I look relatively normal and he…” Theodore shook his head, chuckling to himself.

“And you really had no idea he was here?”

“None at all. Honestly I sort of assumed he’d overdosed on nightspill in some alley by now.”

“That’s a mean thing to say.”

Theodore shrugged dismissively. “It’s always been his vice. It’s what got him disowned, so I figured it would be what kills him as well.”

“And now it’s what Athos uses to keep him obedient. I’ll need to get him off of it once I rescue him.”

“You’re really going to keep trying to save him? It sounds like your first attempt ended disastrously enough to discourage you.”

“It was really bad, but I can’t just give up on him. I just…” Onthyes shook his head. “I can’t think of a plan that doesn’t risk him getting hurt if I mess up again.”

It was really getting to him. Every potential rescue plan Onthyes could think of had too much risk, too high of a chance of Ventis getting hurt. He couldn’t put him in danger again. He already felt guilty enough for whatever Athos had done to him as punishment.

“What if I help you?”

Onthyes looked at Theodore, hope bubbling up in his chest for the first time in days. The way Theodore spoke about Ventis, Onthyes got the impression that he didn’t care much for his brother, but if he’s willing to help rescue him it would change everything. “Really?”

“If worrying about Jas- Ventis is what’s stealing all of your attention, I’ll help you resolve it. Then you can spar with me,” Theodore said with a shrug. “Besides, he’s my brother. It’s… the right thing to do, even if we’ve never gotten along.”

With that they start planning Ventis’s rescue.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet @rainydaywhump @sleepyiswhumping @bitchaknso @unicornbeck

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thebayclans · 2 years ago

Text

A map of the clans’s territories marking significant locations.

Location descriptions under cut:

1. The Moon Glacier

Said to be a piece of the moon itself, fallen from the sky onto the earth below. This massive chunk of ice slowly creeps across the ground, carved deep with crevices that glow blue from within. Traveling across this glacier will lead a cat to the Great Ice Sea, a stretch of cold, barren waste that no one but a god could survive on alone.

2. Iceclan’s Camp

If one scales the mountain that lies south of the glacier’s maw, they will find the narrow entrance to a cave between where ice and stone meet. Within this small cave lies the denizens of Iceclan, who all bed down together in the middle of the cavern.

3. The Moonlight Cavern

Deep in the cave where Iceclan makes their camp lies the entrance to a tunnel that extends into the mountain. This tunnel serves as the resting place for Iceclan’s dead, but also leads across the width of the mountain to where the glacier runs against the other side. A traveling cat is greeted with a wall of ice that stretches the far side of the cavern, and the sound of dripping water and the creaking groan of the glacier echoes off the walls. Light filters through the ice, flooding the cave with a haunting blue light. But in this stunning cavern, the first thing that will catch a cat’s eye is a dark shape suspended in the ice. Backed by a blue glow, the clear silhouette of an ancient cat skeleton sits frozen in the middle of the wall. A fallen god, preserved forever in moonlight, a link between cosmic beings and the cats of the mortal world.

4. The River

Fed by the meltwaters of the glacier, the River runs southeast through the mountains for several miles before joining the Bay. The land around it is flat, bordered by broad stretches of gravelly terrain.

5. Brookclan’s Camp

At the base of the north mountain, alongside a chilly stream fed by runoff and snowmelt, lies the Brookclan camp. To the camp’s north, a small waterfall leaps off the mountainface, continuing down south where it eventually meets the river. The ground here is slightly sloped, and clusters of bushes line the stream, in which the cats make their dens.

6. Gathering Rock

Resting just next to the river, surrounded by a wide swath of flat, pebbled ground, a huge flat stone rests alone in the valley. The cats of the clans gather here every full moon, spending the entire day feasting, playing games, and catching up with loved ones from across the clans. The clans’ leaders also use this time to coordinate with each other, gathering close to discuss strategic, survival, and spiritual matters.

7. The Bay

Stretching wide and blue toward the distant horizon, ringed by jagged mountains, the Bay lies at the heart of the surrounding region. Its shores are lined with a diverse array of fauna and flora, and its waters teem equally with nutrients and hazards.

8. Oceanclan’s Camp

Just inland of the Bay’s shore, through a tidal marsh into the hemlock woods, one can find the Oceanclan camp. The camp is pressed against the stony clifface and surrounded by dense, old-growth forest. In the middle of the clearing, a shallow freshwater pool is fed by a small waterfall, providing fresh water to Oceanclan’s denizens.

9. Stoneclan Camp South

Where a small stream runs between the south mountain and the edge of the town, the cat’s of Stoneclan have established their southern camp. The camp is often bustling with activity from passing couriers, hunting parties traveling from the North camp, and cats slipping into town to scavenge human goods.

10. The Town

Nestled between the surrounding mountain ranges, spreading out from the coast into the valley, one can find the hub of local human activity. Here lies much danger, in the form of humans, with their prying eyes, their grasping paws, their chemicals and roaring deadly machines. But where there is danger there is also resource: fish from the harbor, stolen human trinkets, information and news from local housecats. Here is where the domestic cats of the clans can return to their roots, a refuge from nature’s ruthless grasp.

11. Stoneclan Camp North

Stoneclan’s North camp sits within a small grassy meadow, settled beside a wide stream, only a stones throw away from the humans’ railroad tracks. The cats here make dens using scraps of human metal and other industrial waste, and will sometimes make fires for warmth, the smoke plumes hidden under the cover of night.

12. Bear Lake

If one goes inland, a few miles northeast of the clans’ territories, a cat may spot a break in the dense forest. There, one can step onto the shore of Bear Lake, gazing across the impressive expanse of water. The lake and the surrounding woods provide an abundance of herbs and wildlife (both passive and hostile). Due to its distance from the clans’ center, the lake is not frequented often, but serves as a location for summer fishing trips by cats from Brookclan and Stoneclan.

13. Captain’s Shack

Deep within the woods a few miles south of Bear Lake, a small, dilapidated cabin sits alone in a clearing. A narrow stream runs beside it, and a tiny, well-kept garden lies between. This is the home of Captain, an old cat who has lived here for decades. She enjoys crafting and collecting, and will often trade her wares with Clan cats in exchange for food or assistance with her garden. She’s also known to brew a special drink out of valerian and silver vine that often leaves cats with a pleasant buzz.

#foregoing the location images for now since they’re taking a while to draw #will add them later #shout out to google earth for serving as the base for this map lol #hopefully its not too hard to read this #map #brookclan #oceanclan #iceclan #stoneclan #locations #info

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only-lonely-stars · 3 months ago

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Orange is the New Black (Chapter 3 - L-L-O-Y-D!)

[Chapter 2] // [Chapter 3 - you are here!] // [Chapter 4] – (FFN) (AO3)

Part of @ninjago-fic-fest!

Summary:

A rift opens in the sky above Ninjago City just as Cole continues his track record of falling from tall places. The place he wakes up in isn't the same as the one in which he fell... and who's the kid with a man bun who looks just like him?

Chapter summary:

Cole experiences a number of small yet confusing moments and questions his sanity.

Things in this alternate Ninjago City seemed to move both faster and slower than Cole expected they would.

Wu had offered him a cabin on the Bounty, inadvertently the one where Cole had once lived with his brothers back when Lord Garmadon had been their biggest threat. He’d settled into his old cot with a sigh, the mattress just as hard as he remembered, and slept as well as the earth he mastered.

He woke late in the morning, remembering the last wisps of dreams. He’d been somewhere lush and green, not unlike Hiroshi’s Labyrinth. Princess Vania had been with him, doing… something…

He tried to remember it, but couldn’t… and with the absence came a painful homesickness.

Wu had nearly knocked down the door a minute later, balancing an entire tray of breakfast food on his staff, and they had breakfasted right there on the floor. Wu didn’t answer any of his questions, instead telling him to be patient, and the clipped tone of his voice made Cole remember that this wasn’t his Wu.

They finished their meal quickly, so with an entire day to kill, Cole went for a long walk around the city.

—

The Ninjago City Tour began at the bay where the Destiny’s Bounty was docked. Cole could see the whole city without having to turn his head! It was small, yet reaching high into the sky, and extremely colorful.

It wasn’t like the Ninjago City he remembered, or anything in his Ninjago.

He began to walk toward what he thought was east, toward where he thought the sun must have risen from. It was already nearing its zenith.

Cole smiled and shielded his eyes, appreciating the heat.

It felt like home.

East took him toward the coast of the bay, where it was sandy and populated. While there weren’t many waterfront properties, the skyscrapers even came up to the edge of the sand, as if taunting the very geography.

Wasn’t that a safety concern?

Why was this place so strange?

Cole was so distracted that he didn’t realize what was happening until he walked right into someone and knocked them over.

“Ow!” The person fell backward, landing on the sidewalk. “Watch it!”

“I’m sorry!” He reached down and offered a hand to help the person up. She was middle-aged, with long, platinum blond hair tied into a high ponytail.

She gave him a dirty look and got up on her own, brushing herself off. “Thanks. Now I’ve got dirt on me, right before my Pilates class.”

“I said I was sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going, it was a complete accident.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m fine.”

She walked on, and Cole stood still in amazement.

What was that all about?

He looked around again. There was nobody else around– not even anyone on the boardwalk he’d somehow found himself on. How had he managed to run into someone?

This place got stranger and stranger…

—

A few hours later, Cole stood in the shallows at the beach. He’d discarded his tabi boots a few meters back and rolled up his pant legs. The water was just a little warmer than the air, and he smiled as it lapped against his shins. The relaxing rush of water was still something familiar, not unlike when Nya was meditating and practicing her elemental skills. If he closed his eyes, he could envision Kai playing with fire, taking videos for his social media. Jay would be messing with some device, trying to wire it in a way that could possibly start an electrical fire. Zane would sit nearby, supposedly to relax, but really so he could quench Jay’s project if needed.

Oh, how Cole already missed them… but he had to look on the bright side. This was a good place! It was still Ninjago, after all.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be in another realm, listening to unfamiliar radio playing through loudspeakers and children shouting excitedly. The beach was crowded enough that he only had a little space to himself, but Cole didn’t want to isolate himself. He’d done enough of that when he was a teenager.

A teenager like Hence, who walked around with headphones on all the time, who wore all-black and tried to be cool but obviously wasn’t happy.

If he was as similar to Cole as he appeared, Hence was struggling, and Cole probably knew why.

But how did you help the alternate version of yourself? It was like those stupid interview questions from the Ninja’s celebrity days. What would you tell your younger self? Any advice?

I’d tell him to be brave, and to talk to his dad earlier. To ask about his mom, to not worry so much about other people’s opinions. To not let himself be talked into stupid interviews on live TV so people could poke at a non-existent relationship.

A fish swam up by Cole’s toes, investigating. He wiggled them, scaring the little minnow off.

Maybe he shouldn’t say anything.

But what if it helped? Wasn’t that the job of a ninja?

The radio blared on. “That was ‘Everything is Awesome’ by Tegan and Sara, featuring The Lonely Island! Now Davy, wasn’t that something?”

“It sure was! I’m telling you, this is a beautiful day in Ninjago City. A full two days since Garmadon’s last attack! So you all know we’re overdue, but still.”

Overdue? Cole scoffed. What was Garmadon, a volcano that was ready to blow? Never mind the actual volcano Garmadon supposedly lived in, not even three kilometers away from shore.

“Well let’s get back to the music! Next up, it’s Chen’s newest hit, ‘Boo Lloyd!’ Hit it, Davy!”

The lyrics floated down the beach to Cole. At first, he didn't pay attention, but a few words were familiar made him listen out of disbelief.

Cheerful drum beats and synths heralded the baffling chorus. “L-L-O-Y-D, his dad is bad and so is he! Boo Lloyd!”

No. Surely he was imagining the earworm he was currently being subjected to, which called Lloyd out by name and mocked him openly.

Lloyd was just a kid here! The son of a famous warlord, yes, but an innocent teenager all the same.

Never mind what he’d thought about this being a nice realm. What was wrong with these people?!

—

Cole burst into the bridge of the Destiny’s Bounty, panting from a flat-out run. “Master Wu!”

The ninja master looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. He sat at a short table, sipping tea and eating what looked like crab cakes. “That is my name. Don’t wear it out.”

Cole sighed in relief, closing the door behind him. “I’m glad I found you. I– I need to talk to you about something.”

“So much is obvious. Sit down.” Wu took out a second teacup and filled it, offering it to Cole as soon as he was seated. Cole took it and sipped, and while he drank, Wu watched him expectantly.

“Master, something’s wrong here. I was out on a walk in the city, and I– well, I was all over, but I was at the beach for this part. They were playing the radio, and this crazy song was playing. I almost thought I was going crazy!”

Wu hummed and sipped his tea, taking so long that he ended in a drawn-out slurp. “I do not know if you are crazy. What song was it?”

“I don’t even know what it was,” Cole admitted. “I felt like I was hallucinating. The announcer said it was called ‘Boo Lloyd’? Which is exactly why I felt like I was crazy! Am I crazy?”

Wu watched him.

Cole waited.

The ninja master sighed. “No. You are not crazy.”

“Oh, thank goodness. But then–?”

“Yes, it is a real song.” Wu sipped again, slurping loudly. “..It is my nephew’s burden to bear.”

“But– but it’s bullying! He’s never done anything to them! He’s even protected them!”

“They do not know that. His identity is a secret, as is every ninja’s. Perhaps your realm does not take secrecy seriously?”

“Well– we never really needed to keep anything secret.” Cole looked down at his teacup, feeling ashamed. “I just… didn’t think anybody would go after Lloyd like that. Our Lloyd never got treated that way, and his dad was so much worse. No offense.”

“Perhaps he had other lessons to learn.”

“Lessons? What does anyone learn from bullying?”

Wu raised one eyebrow. “Resilience, perhaps patience. He will not learn them if someone else solves his problems for him.”

Cole gaped, struggling for words. “Wh– that’s not– you’re letting him be bullied?”

They stared at one another, the sound of slurping barely registering in Cole’s mind. When Wu finally moved, it was to set his teacup down and pour another, then to slurp from it instead.

It was time to change the subject. “Why are their identities secret, anyway? They wouldn’t be hurt by anyone as their civilian selves, except maybe Garmadon, and they can take him. Right?”

This time, Wu glared at him. “...They are children.”

“I wasn’t any older than them when I started.”

“And your master wanted your enemies to know that?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say he wanted it, but it couldn’t be helped! We had to stop Lord Garmadon before the prophecy could come true.” Cole crossed his arms. “So we were a little young. Big deal. Your ninja will have to defeat him before the Overlord comes into play, right?”

Now it was Wu’s turn to look confused. “What overlord?”

“The Overlord. The greatest force of evil in the whole realm?”

“This sounds like something out of a children’s story,” he commented, matter-of-fact. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“No? You don’t have a prophecy?”

“No. Only the five elements…” Wu shook his head. “They are too young for them. The Ultimate Ultimate Weapon cannot be used. They will have the elements when they are ready.”

“And when will that be? When Garmadon has already been defeated?” The very idea made Cole sad. “Come on, Wu. You’re not letting them stretch their wings.”

The way Wu shifted was enough for him to know that the comment landed, so Cole continued. “You have to let them grow up. They’re not children, they’re teenagers. Soon they’ll be adult ninja. What if they can’t be your students anymore? You can’t keep big secrets like the elements from them.”

Wu set down his teacup, emptied for the second time, with a sharp clack. “You do not know what I’ve seen–”

“I can guess,” Cole interrupted, “and that’s good enough. They don’t know. You need to tell them.”

“It is too much for them. They deserve innocence.”

“Then start small! Start with the elements, or– or leading themselves, or choosing whether or not to stay secret. They should be able to be real ninja, not just pretend to be ninja in front of the rest of the world. If you don’t let them choose their own paths, they’ll be haunted by past failures.”

Wu stood up, suddenly looking very old and very tired. He looked at Cole with aging eyes. “You know too much.”

Cole frowned, heart aching– he missed his Wu, and this doppelgänger just wasn’t him. “So do you.”

They watched each other, and deep down, Cole knew he wouldn’t understand why this Wu was so different. He’d tried to understand his own Master Wu, and that had been under extenuating circumstances.

No one would ever understand his relationship with Wu… not unless they’d seen it grow. No one else would ever know how it felt to be someone’s student, son, and father.

No one would understand why Cole knew so much, or hurt so much.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push.”

Wu shook his head, exhausted. “...We leave early tomorrow,” he said, as if it was a dismissal.

Cole stood and bowed to him, feeling oddly ceremonial. “Sure. See you later, Master.”

He left the bridge, head spinning and heart aching, wondering how he’d gotten to the position he was in. Somehow, he felt just as old as Wu–

His reverie was broken by the sound of a blaring alarm. “Garmadon alert! This is not a drill. Garmadon alert!”

#ninjago #ninjago cole #cole brookstone #ninjago fanfiction #OLST fanfic #OLST writing #ninjago fic fest #tlnm #the lego ninjago movie #dragons rising #ninjago dragons rising #crossover AU #ninjago wu #master wu

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stinalotte · 1 year ago

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Why San Francisco is the worst possible place to park a giant flying city ship: A critical analysis

This is incredibly specific and pedantic, but it bothers me. So now I will bother you.

A lot of people, me included, didn't like the thought of Atlantis sitting in San Francisco Bay at the end of the series. Most fix-it fics center around getting the city back to the Pegasus Galaxy. Joe Malozzi said that they eventually parked Atlantis on the moon, which, yeah, right. Never mind.

But apart from the emotional knee-jerk reaction of "WRONG" to have her just hanging out off the coast of California, it's also wildly impractical. Here's why.

We know canonically that the tallest spire of Atlantis is 800 meters tall. From that, people have estimated the width and length of the city to be anything between 3.6 and 5 kilometers. Let's say 4 km on the conservative side.

From this screenshot, they're not in San Francisco bay, but outside, looking in. The ocean is at their backs.

See where it says "Golden Gate" in the ocean just before the bridge? That's approximately their location, maybe a bit further out - but not as far out as Point Bonita. The bay is 4 km wide at its widest point. Meaning that if you plop down a city, it will completely block the entryway to San Francisco bay and displace enough water to flood the north and south shores. Forget cloaking. There are hundreds of cruise ships, container ships, tourist boats and smaller vessels in that shipping lane every day. Cloak all you want, after five minutes the first fishing trawler is gonna go "BONK" and they'll have some explaining to do.

The view towards the bridge. If they decloaked, the view would be completely blocked.

So, in conclusion, keeping her there for any longer than a week (in which you would have to suspend ALL ship traffic and probably close the air space too because of the spires) would lead to the need to disclose it.

(Then again, we've seen how the internet reacts to disclosure - there would be memes and some half-hearted Twitter threads and then we'd move on to the next thing. Heh.)

I know it was basically an emergency landing, but oof, at least park her 10 km further outside?

The best fanfic I have read when it comes to logistics of getting the city back is A Place of Safety by McParrot. The focus is on John and his recovery after a failed first attempt to retake the city, but there is so much great planning in the background. It really shows what an undertaking it would be to plan a heist like that under the eyes of the IOA. The story ends before their attempt, but on a very hopeful note.

[If anyone knows good fics where they steal Atlantis back and return home, hook me up!]

#stargate atlantis #s5e20: Enemy at the Gate #yes I have FEELINGS about the finale #and I also have OPINIONS #and I wanted to write a fic myself where they go home but dear god the LOGISTICS #it would need lots of planning and at least five whiteboards full of storyline

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xappetites · 1 year ago

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jouissance

Phillip Graves x Reader | political marriage, i saw a hc about Graves being old money and thought: that tracks, reader is a menace and Graves radiates youngest sibling energy so they realize they make a great team | word count: 2,118

The girl is pretty, at the very least. Sensible jeans and a simple sweater, white sneakers as the only indication of the likely tennis lessons she must’ve taken every weekend. Scuffed, against his expectations. All in all, a very East Coast kinda look that almost makes Phillip roll his eyes.

Money’s not the same in Texas as it is in the Hamptons, which is why Phil’s been saying that this is a bad idea from the start, kept dodging this particular ball and chain long as he could. Spent all his time away, off with his Shadows. Busy, busy, busy.

Too fucking busy to be offered up in the altar of the Graves’ family need for strong allies in the Senate.

In simpler words, Phil really, really doesn’t want to marry a pretty little senator’s daughter, but he’s run out of rope and if he struggles too hard, he’s sure his father will not hesitate to garrotte him to get what he wants.

So, he sits there, staring at the ridiculous picture the senator’s boating loafers paint against his old man’s boots and pretending he can’t feel Pete’s eyes on him —golden, first born, married correctly and spitting out grandsons, fucking Pete—, laughing at his misfortune on the other side of the big bay windows.

He’s still a soldier though, he keeps hyper aware of the room, even against his will. So it’s mostly instinctual to follow the movement in his peripheral, an accident to make eye contact when the senator’s girl shifts. Track as she moves in, across the no man’s land of old fashioneds and pigs in blankets scattered over every available surface, until she’s half perched on the armrest of his loveseat.

“What’s so funny?”

Her voice is surprisingly neutral, not a finishing school affectation in sight. And Phil won’t admit to tensing up, won’t —on his life— cop to the rush of liquid heat that has him edging his hips forward at just having her pretty fucking eyes on him.

“Your brother,” she clarifies, looking back out to the yard for a split second of relief. “He seems tickled pink out there.”

“Don’t mind him, he’s just an asshole.”

“He looks it.”

She leans back, casual and relaxed and close. Too close. Enough that Phil’s fingers could dig into the soft flesh of her thigh, could pull her into his lap and taste the bitters on her tongue.

The fantasy shakes a smile out of him. He won’t have to worry about not finding his wife sexually enticing, if this goes the way his father planned it.

Silver linings, he tells himself, and he can’t help teasing her. Testing her confidence against the Graves’ family resemblance that makes Phillip a shadowbox copy of his older brother.

“That mean I look like an asshole too?”

Her laughter shakes her shoulders; she smells like the orange peel in her glass and a solid undercurrent of musk and vanilla that must be her perfume, the scent of an afternoon bumming it out on the lake and cocktails after dinner. She doesn’t answer, but her eyes take on a playful glint, pulling up at the corners until they match her crooked grin.

Then the minute is over. She’s whisked away to dazzle the eldest Graves, tucked under her father’s arm. And it occurs to Phil that she might be a soldier of sorts too, a hostile caught in the same trench.

…

Phil doesn’t linger on it because, again, he has more important matters to attend to on a daily basis. Sure, he doesn’t need to have his proverbial boots in the proverbial ground that his actual boots on the actual ground are currently working on, but things just go smoother when he’s there. And he does so love to see whichever motherfuckers get in his way go up in flames; quite literally on occasion.

So, by the time his father asks, faux casual as all hell: How’s it going with the senator’s girl? Phil’s pretty much forgotten about her.

And he could, all things considered, tell the old man to kick rocks. It’s an itty bitty spark of rebellion, though he’s not gonna do it. Not with the inheritance that could make the Shadow Company into an empire on the line.

What he does do, then, is make a call posthaste, begging for this not to be another fuck up he has to bury, because he’s had enough of those in his career and he never fucking likes them. But she does answer, bless her heart, voice as unbothered on the phone as it was in person; giving him a date and time with as much excitement to see him as a DMV employee.

Consequently, he doesn’t expect much from the meeting. Maybe to get the brush off, officially. Or that she’ll want him to grovel, which isn’t gonna happen.

He’s not braced for the slow drag of a cigarette as she waits, reading a print paper, of all things. And, for sure, not for the smile that lights up her face when Phil finally takes his seat across from her.

“Blink twice if you’re here against your will.”

Her comment comes on the tail of a smoke plume that rises and rises, past him, missing him completely. He hates that he didn’t want it to, that for a single millisecond he wished to take her in his fucking lungs, smoke and black coffee and all of her.

“I look that bad, huh?”

“You look coerced,” she crushes filter against ashtray until it stops glowing. Lets the thing sit between them like a flag, claiming territory.

The whole scene —the pretend familiarity, the friendliness he can’t tell if it’s fake or not, the sexual attraction he can’t quite ignore— makes Phillip snap. He rides the delightful rush of adrenaline before he fully realizes he’s leaning forward, with his elbows on this very polite coffee shop table at eleven in the morning.

“You’re a smart one. So you have to know exactly what they want from us, right?”

Silence stretches for a long moment and then she’s slouching with that same lopsided grin she’d graced him with at his father’s. One of her knees knocks his apart, her foot settling inside the bracket of his own shoes.

Phil’s not an innocent man and he sure as hell ain’t a virgin, but out of the field he’s used to keeping a degree of distance when it comes to intimacy. Sure, he fucks, and he might groan a little praise straight into the mouth of whoever he’s inside of; he doesn’t just sit with someone —someone who hasn’t covered his back in a fire fight or helped him figure out whether the blood on his vest is actually his— this close, legs intertwined while fully clothed. The thing that’s so easy for this woman that it makes him prickle, tightening his stance until he’s sure she’ll need a sharp tug to free herself.

“Political marriage?”

“You see, it’s this blasé attitude that makes me wonder,” he pushes further into her personal space, settles his hand over one of hers just to show her he isn’t intimidated by the way she takes and takes from him. He’s good at this, keeping it civilized even when his intentions are decidedly not. “Why isn’t a girl like you bothered by it? What’s the damage that won’t let you get a husband the normal way?”

“I’m just not the kind of person that falls in love. And Dad’s always made it clear that there’s a suitable husband out there for me, like it or not.”

This is the most honest Phil’s ever seen her look. There’s no mockery in her smile now, at least not at anyone’s expense but herself. And her hand twists until his hold looks natural, affectionate, taking his threat and making it into something no one would look twice at.

He doesn’t ask what she means. He wonders, not to get him wrong; he’s simply trying to pinpoint the exact moment when his annoyance turns into the thrill of the game. When he looks back on this, Phil figures it might be the way she squeezes his hand, giving him nothing more than a hint of nails to prove that he isn’t the only one capable of causing pain or willing to do it.

That or the way her mouth forms the words that seal him as an unlucky sucker, too addicted to the battle high to stop himself.

“You’re easy to look at, Graves. You don’t give much of a damn about me, you’re gone most of the year and you won’t expect me to miss you. You’re the perfect husband.”

And the answer he can’t bite back, all madness and the familiar ache of rising to a challenge, the sting of the muscles before the jump.

“You wanna bet on that, sweetheart? Not missing me?”

“Do your worst.” She laughs at him, straight up giggles at the suggestion, like it’s a dare she’s come out on top of before.

He chuckles along, takes it in stride, because she doesn’t know what it’s like playing against him; not yet.

…

“Sex?”

If Phil was a liar he’d say that he doesn’t know why he asks it. But he does, and he means it. He stands there on the sidewalk, offering his hand for her to dismount the decorative step outside the restaurant, completely possessed by the urge to try and crack her open. Irredeemably charmed by the fact that she just gave her implicit permission for him to do it.

“Right now?”

He gives her a genuine bark of a laugh, stepping into her until she’s left in a halfway state of touch. The kind Phil is good at: strategic, purposeful. His arm hovering around her, his chest barely close enough for him to feel her breath where it disturbs the collar of his shirt.

“So it is on the table?” Philip words his response as a question, but the tone is wrong: statement-steady, as he watches her slowly submitting to the gravity of this position.

And fuck the entryway they’re pretty much blocking when she leans her weight into his forearm, angling herself to look him in the eye.

“I just told you, I find you attractive.”

She does. Goddamn she does. It’s crystal clear in the sleepy sort of look she hits him with. Unashamed. No faux demureness or power games or self protective bullshit; just the way he flexes, nudging her closer still and she goes without complaint, eager for the hip to hip contact, the warm pressure pooling at the base of his cock.

“Oh, we’re gonna get along just fine, ain’t we, sweetpea?”

“As long as you don’t cheat on me.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes this time, those stay sharp. And he’s almost offended.

He knows Pete does it, his father too. Now this raises the possibility that the senator might be fond of keeping a mistress too. It’s normal for Phil, all things considered, though he’s never had to give it serious thought. Not a soul that’s shared his bed has expected him to be faithful, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of it.

Doesn’t mean that he won’t broker his own sexual exclusivity against her shark’s grin, all bared teeth and malice, just to demand the same consideration from her in return.

The notion is whiskey gold on his tongue. Fills him with a rabid, territorial joy.

“Any other rules of engagement?”

“Between us? It’d be code of conduct, right? We’re on the same side.”

The clarification pulls his eyes away from her mouth, to look at her.

“Against the world?” Phil attempts to make a joke of it, he has to. Hiding the way he preens at the thought behind arrogance and a mocking tone.

“Against your fucking brother at the very least,” she leans in, brushes her lips to the corner of his. Soothing, as if he could be mad about her bad mouthing Pete, “I don’t like anyone laughing at me and getting away with it.”

His traitor heart beats double time with the secret core conviction that this is exactly what he deserves, after having to forcefully drag himself out from his brother’s fucking shadow for his entire goddamn life.

Orange twists and honey gold, the hidden fire in her eyes she’s only let him glimpse.

“Right.”

Phil’s first kiss tests the waters, a second of caution while he figures out what someone likes to do with their mouth. Then pressing forward, close, a solid enough contact to have her making a satisfied noise in her throat.

“Let’s make him regret it then, shall we?”

#m: cod #r: smut #ish???#phillip graves x reader #personal #tell me this man isn’t someone’s baby brother #there’s also a very vague reference to reader being aro but you can ignore it if you want

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bucci-cookies · 2 years ago

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A Trip To Naples - Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

Here is a commission piece I did where the reader goes on a trip to Italy and falls in love with a lovely stranger :)

Naples: the birthplace of pizza, home of the famous Amalfi Coast and, of course, the destination of your impulsive getaway. With the stress of work pushing down on your shoulders, you needed some sort of break; those winning tickets couldn’t have come at a better time. Three weeks living in the bustling Campanian city in an all-expenses paid hotel was a perfect way to spend your annual vacation time.

One of the highlights of Naples was its colourful markets: picturesque stalls and shops lining the cobblestoned streets selling various trinkets, clothing and flowers. You found yourself in the Market of Antignano, deep in the centre of Vomero. The jovial sellers beckoned you over to look at the various slippers, cosmetics and linen sitting on the displays, eager to squeeze some money out of you before lunch. An elderly woman with thick black hair selling keyrings waved at you, shaking one of them in her hand. It was a cute little thing, a brown plastic bear holding a red heart between its paws, all connected to the metal ring. You figured that you might as well replace your old worn-out one with a new souvenir.

“Questo è perfetto per voi zucca!” She smiled, placing the ring in your hand. To your knowledge, she said it was perfect for you.

“Il mio Italiano…non è buono” You laughed awkwardly. The only fault in this seemingly perfect holiday was that you only had very little knowledge of the language. You could say enough to scrape by, but in this case, you found it easier to say you don’t know the language well.

“Ah! You speak English, zucca?” The woman asked, not phased by your inability to speak her Italian.

You sighed loudly, thankful that you could converse in a language you understood. “Yes, I do. Sorry, this is my first time in Italy.”

“Oh? How lovely!” She beamed, giving you a toothy grin. She looked down at her watch, 1 pm, almost time to close up for today. "Have you got somewhere to go for lunch?"

"Nowhere, in particular. I'll just walk around and see what looks nice." You had researched local places to eat earlier. Most of them were within the same vicinity so you planned to go to whatever seemed less busy to avoid long queues.

"Zucca, you must go to Libeccio!" She shook your hand, almost like her life depended on you going there. "It's marvellous, oh you'll love it!" She squealed. "Plus," She said with a smirk, "it's owned by such a sweet young man, Bucciarati. He's so graceful and kind, you’ll love him!”

You remember searching up Libeccio - it was a beautiful restaurant, though you were worried it was a little out of your price range. It screamed expensive from the pictures you saw online. Well, you were on holiday, you might as well allow a little bit of luxury. You paid for the keyring, placing it in the side pocket of your bag before waving the kind woman off as she packed up her stall for the day.

Libeccio was about a ten-minute walk away, allowing you to explore parts of the region a bit more. You took note of some stylish boutiques along the way, thinking about how your wardrobe could do with a revamp. As well as some grocery stores for if you ever needed a snack.

Libeccio, unsurprisingly, was an Italianate-style building. Bay windows with pink and shamrock-like decorative window trims along both stories of the tawny-coloured building. The inside had half-cream half-dark oak walls, and a soft crimson carpet covering the entire dining area. It was a little intimidating to see so many well-dressed people sitting together. Eating meals you probably couldn’t pronounce and drinking wines you had never heard of. You felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb. You swallowed the lump in your throat and made your way to the waiting table where one of the floor workers stood, writing some notes in a large black book. He greeted you with a wide smile as his hazel eyes and tanned skin shone under the bright lights that reflected off his silver name badge that read ‘Alejandro’. He held up a finger, presumably asking you if you were the only diner, to which you nodded. Before you could get a word in, he placed you on a two-seater table near one of the windows with a menu and a glass of water to get you started.

You opened the sleek black booklet, revealing extensive lists of appetisers, starters, mains and desserts, all in clean, fancy, Italian writing. The best thing you could do was whip out Google and try to search for all these meals. You tried to note what sounded best, whittling down the list as best as you could, but you barely scratched the surface of the menu when the waiter returned, asking if you would like to order. With an embarrassed blush, you tried to explain how you were struggling to read the menu. But it seemed like he couldn’t understand you, especially over the noisy restaurant.

You didn’t notice that this interaction had caught the attention of a group of men who sat a couple of tables down from yours. “Scusi.” A sultry voice said. You looked up to see a tall man with darker skin standing next to the waiter. The mas w `A`1as dressed in a cropped sweater and sleek black jeans, offering a perfect view of his toned abdomen. His hair was thick and curly, framing his roundish face and drawing attention to his dark eyes. The man whispered something to the waiter, making him run off, before pulling a chair next to you.

“Buongiorno signora. Are you having trouble with your menu? I see you switching between it and your phone.” Before you could begin to question who this man was and how he knew you would speak English, he took the menu from your hands and began flicking through the pages before tapping one of the options. “This is gravlax bella, it's just cured salmon, comes in thin slices.” He turned over the page. “Ah and capricciosa! You’ve got mushroom, artichokes, baked ham, olives, my absolute favourite!” He said with gusto as he scooched a little closer to you. Truth be told, you didn’t feel too comfortable in this situation, a strange man in a strange country acting so familiar with you made you uneasy. And the way he so easily managed to get rid of the waiter rubbed you the wrong way, who knows what his intentions were? You simply tucked your lips in and nodded at his rambling about the menu, thankful that you at least had some options to order.

You avoided eye contact with the strange man until suddenly his voice stopped. You looked over to see another man standing behind him, one with lighter skin and short black hair. “Mista,” He sighed, his voice a smooth baritone, “la stai mettendo a disagio.” He whispered with a smile, squeezing the man’s shoulder. Instantly he looked back at you, bowing his head.

“I’m so sorry signora, I’ll get out of your way!” He dropped the menu back on the table and walked back to his original seat. He was met with the disapproving headshakes of the third man on the table. The new man moved the chair back to its original place opposite you before holding out a hand.

“Bruno Bucciarati, I’m the owner.” He shot you a dazzling smile. Thankful that he was at least affiliated with the restaurant and not another stranger, you calmly shook his hand. You had to admit, the woman from the market was right, he was handsome. His frame was tall and lean and he had a certain youthful essence in his speech and gestures. His hair was cut to his shoulders, neatly styled to form bangs that reached his thin black eyebrows. His eyes were the most noticeable feature on his face, soft blue ones surrounded by long lashes. If you had to guess, he was probably in his mid 20s. Part of you wondered how a young man like him could own such a lavish restaurant. “You’ll have to forgive my friend, he was only trying to help and he got a bit carried away.” Bruno turned around to face the man you now know to be Mista, presumably staring him down, before facing you again and rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward laugh.

“It’s fine, thank you for clarifying.” You smiled back. “I’m really glad we can speak in English, my Italian isn’t good at all.”

He cocked his head to the side, thin eyebrows furrowed. “You weren’t able to request a menu in English?”

Your jaw dropped slightly, realising this could have been resolved if you simply asked for a different menu. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know I could!” You pressed your hands against your cheeks in shame.

Bruno laughed gently, his shoulder relaxing, grateful that this wasn’t a staff complaint in the works. “It’s okay, I’m glad you know for next time, I will go get you one.” He came back shortly with an identical menu, this time with everything in English. “We get a lot of tourists here, so we print a couple menus in different languages, mainly English and French.”

“Thank you so much sir, it helps a lot.” You waved him goodbye as you flicked through the new one, picking up all of the meals you had missed out on earlier. You decided to give Mista’s suggestion a go, after all, he was just trying to be nice. A different waiter met you this time, a woman with her hair tied back in a long, blonde ponytail and an exuberant expression across on her face, ready to take your order: the capricciosa pizza, and a slice of chocolate cake with gelato for dessert.

By now the restaurant had more customers, different groups of people huddled around the tables, filling the room with the smell of their meals and another layer of noise above the soft music in the background. Couples, families and friends chuckled and chatted together, enjoying the lively mood that the Naples summer put into them as they shared glasses of wine and scrumptious desserts. It didn’t take long for your waitress to return with a piping hot thin crust pizza on a large round plate with a rich cheesy and meaty aroma exuding from it as she placed it in front of your nose. She refilled your glass of water, adding a few blocks of ice to cool you down as the weather had begun to increase, before leaving you to enjoy your meal.

You took a bite from one of the slices, enjoying how the base crunched in your mouth and sighed, it was incredible. The meat was perfectly seasoned and paired wonderfully with the assortment of vegetables. This particular version had an additional drizzle of olive oil, but to your delight, it didn’t make the dish greasy at all. You had never had a pizza as wonderful as this, you saw why that nice old lady recommended Libeccio to you, as well as why Naples is known as the pizza hotspot. It’s like the meal had some sort of hold on you, its smell wrapped around your body, making you focus on the rich ham and savoury sauce. You ordered one of the smaller sizes, making sure you had enough space for dessert, which was just as delightful. The cool vanilla gelato was a perfect pair for the thick, warm chocolate cake. You always tried to limit your sugar intake, not wanting to sacrifice your health for a few treats, but it didn’t take long for your sweet tooth to activate and completely devour the rich cake.

“Did you enjoy your meal?” Mr Bucciarati returned once your plates had been cleared, sitting on the chair opposite you. “I hope everything was to your taste?” He placed his elbow on the table, resting his head on his hand.

While wiping your lips with a napkin, you nodded enthusiastically. “I did! I guess your friend was right about the capricciosa, it’s really amazing!” You definitely planned to return to Libeccio soon, especially since it wasn’t as expensive as you thought it would be.

His cerulean eyes lit up as a toothy grin formed. Libeccio had been his favourite restaurant since he was young. When he bought the establishment from the previous owner, he spared no expense to continue to do its name justice, not wanting to cut any corners regarding the quality of service or food as some would do. “Well I’m glad you liked it, it’s one of my favourites too.” He leaned in a little towards you, clearing his throat. “Can I ask, is this your first time in Italy?”

You paused a little before replying. “Yes. I never travel much, it’s far too expensive these days. I actually won these tickets in a lottery.”

He gave an understanding nod before switching to another beaming smile. “Ahh well that’s lucky, Naples is one of the best cities here. Call me biased since I grew up here, but I thoroughly prefer it to cities up north.” He folded his arms against his chest with a jokingly smug expression on his face. To Bruno, no amount of glitz and glam in Florence or Milan could match the warm pleasure that Naples made in his heart.

“Well, I’m glad I’m in the right place.” You smiled, turning to face him a little more.

“May I ask where you’re from?”

With slight hesitation, you revealed your home country to the kind stranger, watching his eyes light up at your words.

He leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table. “Oh? I hear how beautiful it is there, especially in the Spring. I have an old friend who moved to,” He snapped his fingers as he tried to recall the name. “It’s escaped me now, but you know the small town in the south, the one with all the mountains and forests? I had a friend who moved there when we were younger. We would send each other postcards when we were little.” Bruno didn’t have many friends his age, especially as he grew up in a quieter area with an older population. This meant he cherished the few he had greatly. When his friend Mikhail moved away due to his father getting a job abroad, they vowed to always send each other letters and postcards. Sadly, this was cut short when he was twelve. You were familiar with the town he was referring to having visited there several times. It was a gorgeous area, filled with a lively artistic and historical culture, as well as being one of the largest cities from your home.

“Were you given any sort of activity list? Things to do here?” Bruno asked, fiddling with his fingers.

You shook your head. “Nothing, in particular, I don’t really know where to start.” You simply planned to rely on whatever the Internet suggested.

“If you would like anyone to go with you or show you some nice places, I’d be more than happy to show you around.”

“Oh no that’s completely fine! I don’t want to intrude on your schedule.” You grit your teeth, not wanting to inconvenience the lovely owner.

He scoffed with a light-hearted tone, shaking his head. “No, it's fine! You won’t be interrupting anything, I promise.” He paused, briefly before pulling a pen out of his shirt pocket and writing something on a napkin. “Here, this is my number. If you would like to go anywhere or need an idea, I would be more than willing to help.” He neatly folded it and handed it to you. “You don’t have to agree, this is just a suggestion! I know that being in a new country can be hard and sometimes daunting.” He quickly explained, holding his hands up as if to prove that this was just an innocent suggestion. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel as overwhelmed by a stranger as you did when Mista approached you.

You took the napkin from him, placing it in your purse. “Thank you Mr Bucciarati.” There was something about him that made it easy to talk to him: maybe it was his calm body language or his soft facial expressions, but it felt nice talking to him. In your gut, he seemed like a good guy. Besides, it would be nice to have a native speaker around to guide you.

“You can just call me Bruno by the way.” Usually, he was fine with being referred to as Bucciarati, but something in him felt like being less formal with you. “What can I call you?”

“y/n.”

He smiled and tilted his head to the side, causing his hair to fall slightly as he slowly repeated your name. “That’s such a beautiful name.”

**************************************************

It had been two days since you visited Libeccio, and still, the kind man’s napkin sat in your bag, stuffed underneath your purse. Bruno did seem nice, and at least he was the well-known owner of Libeccio, so he wasn’t a completely random stranger. It would be nice to have a personal tour guide, especially someone native to the area, it would also make your trip a lot less lonely. You pulled out the napkin and used the hotel phone to call him. After two rings, he picked up.

“Salve, Bucciarati parla.” He said, his voice was deep and groggy like he had just woken up and you could hear the sizzling of a frying pan in the background.

“Mr Bucciarati - Bruno?” You cleared your throat. “It’s y/n, I hope I didn’t call at a bad time.” You heard ceramic plates clanging against each other as well as the opening and closing of wooden drawers.

Bruno yawned before replying, rubbing his neck, soothing it after an uncomfortable night’s rest. “From Libeccio right?” His voice sounded a little chippier as he placed some bread in the toaster. He couldn’t deny that he was hoping you would call, at least this was something pleasant to start off his otherwise boring day.

“Mhm…I’m sorry I responded so late I-”

“It’s fine, it was a bold move on my part.” He cut you off with a light chuckle as he spread some butter on a crisp slice of toast. He was never usually so forward, especially with new people, the last thing he wanted was to make you feel pressured or preyed on. “Does this mean that you’ve decided to take up my offer?”

“Yes.” You nodded, perching on the end of your double bed.

He was thankful that you couldn’t see the wide grin that spread across his face. “How do you feel about pasta making?” The kettle whistled in the background, steam bursting out of the spout before settling. “There’s a place in the Spanish Quarter, they do pasta-making sessions for pretty much anyone, they’re supposedly quite fun.” Bruno poured himself his usual morning drink, a cup of coffee with a little milk and a dash of honey. He had visited his area several times before, though never to attend a class.

The opportunity to be taught how to make a true Italian pizza did sound intriguing, and a public session would be a safe option to go with a stranger. You concluded that this would be a decent idea. “That sounds great! How much does it cost?” You eyed your purse, knowing that you put yourself on a reasonably tight budget.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll cover you.” He said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his warm coffee.

“No no, I can’t just let you pay for me!”

Bruno let out another soft chuckle as took his usual seat on the sofa. “Don’t worry, the owner owes me anyways. So how does this afternoon sound?” He asked before taking a bite out of the soft buttered bread.

You turned to face the clock on the nightstand. “I can do two o’clock if that’s okay.”

“Meet me at Libeccio then.”

Bruno sat on a long wooden bench just outside the restaurant, arms resting on the back with his head tilted backwards. He wore a blue button-up shirt, opting to leave the top few buttons, exposing the top of his toned chest. Today was a lot warmer than the rest of the week, hence the cool lemonade sitting next to him with already melted ice cubes.

“Sorry I’m late!” You waved shyly, placing a hand on the bench. “I took a wrong turn and ended up at a marketplace.” An awkward laugh left your lips as Bruno sat up to face you, holding a hand above his eyes to avoid the glare of the Sun.

“No problem, the next bus will be here in a few minutes.” He smiled, looking down at his watch. You took a seat next to him, crossing your legs as you waited for the next bus to arrive. Libeccio was even busier than the last time you were there, the chatter from inside the restaurant poured out into the busy streets. This particular street seemed to be the centre of food service in the area, with cafes, bakeries and restaurants lining the road. Across from you was a small coffee shop with outdoor seating, while a dessert parlour with a white and lilac interior sat beside it. Through the window, you could see a group of kids and adults sitting in a booth enjoying an array of ice-creams and milkshakes, the perfect treat for such a hot day.

“That place does incredible cheesecakes,” Bruno’s voice caught your attention. “Probably the best you can get in Naples.” He pointed to the dessert place you were staring at.

“Do you go there often?” You asked, turning to face the man as he sipped his drink.

“Sometimes, when I have the chance. You should try it one day!” He gave you an enthusiastic grin. Libeccio only had limited dessert options, mainly a couple variations of cake with a simple scoop of vanilla gelato, but that wasn’t enough to soothe his sweet tooth. His usual order was a chocolate milkshake with a slice of either cheesecake or a brownie. The positions of Libeccio and Più Golosi (Sweet Tooth) complimented each other well, a savoury and sweet place just across the street from each other, a perfect, tempting pair for customers.

Before you could respond, the small yellow bus pulled up to the stop, stuffed to the brim with a flood of travellers. The double doors swung open, releasing a swarm of people as they rushed to jump off the stuffy vehicle. As Libeccio was in the city centre, the majority of the travellers were ending their journeys here, leaving the bus nice and spacious for the two of you. Bruno led you to a seat in the middle of the bus, slightly behind a group of teenagers chatting away about whatever trip they were on. The bus drove slowly along the street, giving you a chance to gaze at the array of bright and beautiful buildings lining the road. Naples really was a gorgeous city, decorated in bright buildings of various styles: gothic, classical, italiante, modern. Its proximity to the water not only guaranteed you a few nice days at the beautiful beach, but it also meant that you would get some of the best seafood around. As schools were closed for the holidays, you weren’t surprised to see so many kids and teens walking around. Some were in swimwear, most likely from the aforementioned beach, while others were in various summer wear, laughing with friends over smoothies as they moved from shop to shop.

It didn’t take long to reach the place, a large stone building with several cars parked in front. Near one of the entrances was a tall man with cropped black hair, treating himself to a smoke break. “Cardinale.” Bruno waved at the man, causing him to look up from his lighter. On closer inspection, the man, Cardinale, had a large tattoo on his forearm reading “Frederica.”

“Bucciarati.” Cardinale nodded with a smile, walking towards the two of you. “Oh, you brought a friend?” He faced you, looking you up and down before reaching out a hand towards you. “Cardinale, as you have heard.”

You took his hand, noting his strong grip on your hand. “Y/n, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Lovely to meet you too,” He let go of your hand, looking down at his watch. “If you’re here for a class, the next one is in about five minutes, Angelica is leading. Just put on an apron and wait in the hall with the rest of the group.” He pointed you in the direction of the large entrance next to him. “Don’t worry about a fee.” He took a puff of his cigarette as he waved the two of you off.

Contrary to its rustic exterior, the inside of the culinary school was extremely modern and polished. In the long hallway stood a group of about ten people, presumably the other people joining the class, chatting amongst themselves. Along the wall was a line of aprons, well, what would have been a line of aprons if they hadn’t been taken by the rest of the group, you and Bruno helped yourselves to the last two.

The wooden door at the end of the hall swung open, revealing a young woman with thick curly hair, beckoning everyone in. “Welcome welcome! Come inside!” She held the door open for everyone, greeting each member as they entered the pristine kitchen. She was quite tall, with dark skin and hazel eyes, all complimenting the friendly smile spread across her face, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. “Two people to a bench, please wash your hands before you touch anything.”

By default, you and Bruno stayed as a pair, choosing one of the benches near the large arched windows. The woman introduced herself as Angelica, explaining that she was a final-year culinary student and would be leading this session. She took you through all the steps, from making the dough, to forming the various shapes and preparing the sauce. Bruno seemed to be a master already, calmly forming little portions of perfect gnocchi, enough to get some praise from Angelica as she walked around the benches. At first, you were dreading this, worried that you would be the only one to mess up the shapes. The first few pieces of garganelli came out rather flat or irregularly folded, but after the fourth one, you started to get the hang of it. You decided to mix it up with some gemelli, they were much easier than the radiatori which Bruno made.

“You’re so good at this.” You laughed awkwardly, eyeing the array of styles Bruno had made.

He scoffed in return. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, trust me when I say that I was worse than you when I first started.” He tutted loudly, realising he had squashed the riccioli in his hands. “As you can see, I still make mistakes.”

“I don’t think I’ll even attempt the ruote or the spighe.” Angelica had a camera set up at her station, it projected a birds-eye view of her work onto the screen slightly to the left of her. On her board were roughly thirty different types of pasta she made on the spot, ready to be cooked. They were all perfectly shaped with no sign of imperfections.

“Well, maybe when you return from your holiday you can continue practising. Being able to make pasta from home can save a lot of money sometimes.”

“Do you make all of yours from scratch then?” You asked, using the pasta machine to flatten out a new section of dough.

“I try to if I have the time.”

You shook your head. “Owning a restaurant must take a lot of your time, I can’t imagine how much work goes into it.” You began sectioning out the dough for a batch of casarecce.

“Well yes…sort of.” Owning a restaurant was time-consuming, Bruno wouldn’t deny it. But it wasn’t the only thing that limited his time and availability. His position with Passione didn’t concern you, after all, you were a tourist and a stranger. Before the conversation could continue any further, Angelica called everyone’s attention to the front where she took everyone through the sauce.

It was a simple cream sauce with bacon, parmesan and swiss cheese, a perfect match for the pasta. While the food simmered in the separate posts, the opportunity arose for the group members to mingle with each other, only for a few minutes. You ended up conversing with the couple behind you, a pair of 19-year-old university students on a date. The four of you talked about the summer, they shared their plans to travel around Naples before returning to Rome for their studies. While you and Bruno explained that you were also on holiday here and he was showing you around.

Once everything was cooked and plated to Angelica’s standards, everyone made their way to the dining area just down the hall from the kitchen. You both sat by a round wooden table situated by a window, helping yourselves to the freshly squeezed juice offered. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the worst as you took a bite of your dish. To your surprise it was delightful! The thick creamy sauce paired wonderfully with the light pasta, and the bacon gave an extra savoury crunch to the dish.

“See, I knew you weren’t as bad as you thought.” Bruno asked, topping up his glass of juice.

“I surprised myself honestly.” You laughed, collecting another forkful of food. “How is yours?” You noticed that he had already eaten half of his plate.

“As you can see, I thoroughly enjoyed it, it was lovely if I do say so myself.” He smirked proudly, his expression making you giggle. “Though I think I’ll add more vegetables to it if I remake it.” He ate another forkful.

The two of you conversed a little more as you cleaned up your plates and washed them up. Bruno was a real gentleman, even with the smallest things like holding the door open for you, he was a good listener and showed genuine interest in your stories about back home. There was something about him that made you very comfortable, he genuinely seemed like a friend to you, despite how little time you had known him for.

“Thank you so much for inviting me,” You said as you walked towards the bus stop. “I’m very grateful that you did this.” You rubbed the back of your neck shyly.

Bruno gave you a smile as he dug his hands into his pocket, “It’s no problem.” The bus back to Libeccio arrived and you both got on board. It was just as empty as it was when you got on it earlier, allowing the two of you to speak openly. “Y/n? While I enjoy your company and would love to show you more interesting places, I just hope you don’t pressured to meet with me. I know that being in a new country can be daunting and I don’t want you to feel unsafe around me.” Bruno said, squeezing the fabric of his trousers.

“Well, I’m thankful that you appreciate boundaries. I’d like to think I can trust you, I would like to see more places, its better than travelling all alone. You replied, resting your back against the window so you faced him.

The corners of his lips upturned lightly. “I would like that too.” He cocked his head to the side. “Just give me a call whenever you feel like meeting again.”

**************************************************

Today marked two weeks of your trip, and of those fourteen days, ten of them had been spent with Mr Bruno Bucciarati. After the success of the pasta-making class, you met up the next day to try out that dessert place you were looking at, Più Golosi. He treated you to an ice cream sundae with a fluffy waffle, while he had a tall glass of hot chocolate with a slice of carrot cake. The day after that, he took you through the underground world of the Napoli Sotteranea, through the ancient labyrinth of aqueducts, passages and cisterns, weaving through the narrow passages by candlelight. Later you visited some of the other marketplaces, trying out some of the local street food like cuoppo and graffa. Graffa was a kind of fried fluffy, potato-based doughnut covered with sugar. Cuoppo came in land and sea variations, with the land version consisting of potato crocché stuffed with cheese and ham, pasta zeppole, zucchini flowers, ricotta and scagliuozz, arancini rice and more. With the sea version contains squid and shrimp rings, seaweed fritters and fried fravaglietti. You both shared a love for music and art and expressed these through trips to the Museo e Real Bosco di Capodimonte and the busy busking-rich streets where guitarists and pianists were often found entertaining crowds dotting the area.

You and Bruno had grown closer over time, sharing more intimate sides of you over cups of coffee and walks through the shopping centres. You ended up meeting some of his friends, Giorno, Fugo and Mista. The latter you had already met through the awkward encounter in Libeccio, but you were thankful that now you had a more pleasant encounter with him. Mista was quite the comedian, loud and unhinged, while Giorno and Fugo were more mellow and casual like Bruno. You hit it off with them immediately, you bounced off each other quite well. You learnt about his childhood, how his parents were separated and he bought Libeccio just a couple of years ago; while letting him in on details of your life back in your home country. Bruno never pried into your personal affairs, always tiptoeing around anything that could seem intrusive (he didn’t even know which hotel you were staying at), respecting the boundaries set as new companions while remaining amicable. That little connection you felt to him when you first met had increased over time, and something inside you wanted to see him more and more. Maybe it was just a silly little crush, after all, having a handsome Italian gentleman showing you around the city would make anyone blush. And besides, you were on holiday, maybe the new scenery had changed you in a way. Regardless, you were not going to act on anything, you’d had enough bad luck with past relationships, no need to cripple yourself with a fantasy-like ordeal with a strange man in another country, and it’s not like you knew if Bruno felt the same.

Today you were at the beach again, for the third time this trip, basking in the Sun and soaking up a nice tan.

“Fancy a drink?” You pulled off your sunglasses, looking up at Bruno as he stood beside you, holding out a chilled can of Coca-Cola. You thanked him for the beverage and cracked it open, enjoying the refreshing drink. “I have to leave soon, a friend is coming to pick me up in a few minutes.” He said with an apologetic tone as he packed up his belongings. “We can drop you off at Libeccio if you would like us to?” He folded his towel, placing it in his small travel bag.

You had grown a little tired of today’s beach trip anyways, with it being a Saturday, more families were free to visit the beach making it more crowded and louder than normal. “If you could that would be great.” You began packing up your own items, making sure to not leave anything behind like your water bottle or sunscreen. The two of you walked over to the parking lot after changing, where a black Honda sat with the driver resting his head on the open window.

“Who’s that.” The man looked up, pointing to you.

“She’s a friend, y/n, I need you to drop her off at Libeccio.” Bruno opened the back door for you to get in, before making his way to the front passenger seat.

“I’m not your personal driver Bucciarati.” The man scowled, starting the car and pulling out of the parking space. Bruno scoffed and leaned on the window.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve done a lot more favours for you Abbacchio,” He turned around you face you, “don’t mind him, he’s just bitter for no reason.” He gave you a reassuring smile before facing forward once more.

The journey was short, just a few minutes of driving with very little traffic. Bruno and Abbacchio talked for most of the journey, presumably about something important as they only spoke in Italian, despite them speaking in English earlier. The man Bruno was with looked about your age with pale skin, long greyish hair tied back and a few bruises on the back of his hands. You assumed this was just a friend, or maybe someone he worked with at Libeccio. They dropped you off outside of the restaurant and Bruno waved you goodbye as the car drove off.

“So are we not going to address her?” Abbacchio asked, a sly smile creeping onto his face. “I didn’t know you liked picking up foreign girls, I guess this is the person you show around.”

Bruno rolled his eyes at the teasing, refusing to let it get to him.

“Oh? Trying to act like the bigger man now?” Leone turned into the next street. “I thought you’d given up on dating after Ambra? Or Esta? Or even Genevieve?” He looked at Bruno through the corner of his eye. He picked up on the way Bruno’s jaw clenched slightly after hearing his exes' names brought into the conversation. Despite what many people would assume, Bruno Bucciarati never had any luck with girlfriends. Yes he was sweet, outgoing, polite, a great cook, loving, he checked most if not all boxes on the typical ‘perfect boyfriend’ list; but his involvement with Passione was enough to render his pros useless. Ambra and Genevieve were both frightened by this connection, cutting the relationship short and eventually just ending communication with him as a whole, while Esta ended up using him for his money, despite knowing that Bruno was in love with her. These three relationships were enough to crush his spirit and deter him from dating as a whole, not wanting to have his heart shattered by anyone else. His coping mechanisms were focussing more on Passione and buying a restaurant close to his heart, Libeccio.

“She is just a friend, that’s all.” Bruno shrugged, eyes focused on the traffic lights up ahead.

“Ha! That’s rich!” Leone snorted, stopping for the red light, he paused, considering his words before saying them. “Does she know you’re in Passione?” Abbacchio had known Bruno through two of his relationships, and as one of his closest friends, he could also tell that Bruno was already interested in you and he didn’t want him to make another mistake.

“No, she doesn’t.”

Leone sighed, his skepticism growing. “Why not?”

“Because she doesn’t need to know.” Bruno snapped, winding down the window slightly for air. In his gut, he was sure that Leone knew his feelings for you, he was good at reading people. But still, Bruno was stubborn and would rather avoid such an intrusive conversation.

They had reached their destination, an old motel on the outskirts of the city. “It’s very clear that you like her Bucciarati, she’s the one you’ve been touring the city with right?” Leone sighed, knowing that he would be treading on an uncomfortable, but necessary conversation. “How do you know she’s not using you? Taking advantage of a rich guy to improve her time here, how much have you spent on her?”

“Not much.” This was technically true, anytime Bruno paid for anything, you paid him back or simply split the fee.

Abbacchio grunted, stepping out of the car and making his way to the motel room with Bruno right behind him. “Jeez, you never learn do you?” He scoffed, trying to find the right key for the room. “Don’t give me any of that ‘I don’t like her’ crap, you know you do that’s why you spent all your time with her.” He managed to unlock the door. “Just don’t let her break your heart again, I can’t say I’m expecting anything good from this.”

**************************************************

“Do you know the Amalfi Coast?” Bruno asked, poking you lightly.

You tapped your chin. “I’ve seen a few pictures, it looks beautiful.” You turned back to your plate of lasagne, cutting another piece of the dish and piling some salad on top.

Bruno cleared his throat, poking his carbonara as he tried to figure out how to word his next comment. His words were stuck in his throat leading him to continue tiptoeing around the topic as he had before. “There’s a very nice hotel that I go to sometimes, its so close to the water.” He looked up at you, trying to gauge your interest. You simply nodded and sipped your water, humming in response. “I think it's the kind of place to go with someone.” His voice upturned slightly, almost like he was asking a question. You still didn’t react much as you sipped your lemonade. Bruno huffed and placed his fork down, leaning towards you. “Y/n, I’m asking if you would like to join me.” He blurted out, making your eyes widen.

“Oh.” That was all you said as your hands paused in the middle of loading another forkful. There was an awkward pause and the air grew thicker. A bead of sweat trailed down the back of Bruno’s neck as the regret pooled at the bottom of his stomach. How could he think you would even agree to this? You had only known each other for just over two weeks, him suddenly inviting you to a hotel in another area just made him look like a creep. Now you knew he had some sort of interest in you and there was no backtracking.

‘I just want to curl up in a ball and-’

“I would love to go with you Bruno.” You said, cutting off his thoughts. You folded your lips in, fiddling with your thumbs as you stared at your plate bashfully. With such close proximity, Bruno could see the slight redness of your cheeks. So it looked like you both shared similar feelings towards each other, Bruno wondered how long the two of you had been in this state without knowing.

“I’ll drive us there tomorrow then.” He smiled, refilling his mocktail.

It felt like forever for Saturday morning to arrive, you spent hours fretting over what to wear. You hadn’t been on a date in a while (was this a date?), even longer since you went on a trip with someone you were interested in, and that most certainly didn’t end well. But you felt like Bruno was different. Despite his classy sense of style or his popularity among the locals, he never came across as judgemental or arrogant and that made it easier to get ready for the trip.

At 10 am, Bruno arrived at your hotel. This was the first time you ever told him where you were staying and you would rather he picked you up than you took a suitcase with you to meet at Libeccio. This was also the first time you ever saw his car. It looked expensive, a shiny black convertible that people kept looking at as they walked in and out of the hotel’s front doors. He wore a plain white t-shirt and had a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses on his head. He shot you a confident smile as he waved at you, getting out to help you put your suitcase in the back.

The journey was a little longer than expected, around three and a half hours with the traffic that clogged the highway. Bruno had a designated travel playlist, burned onto a CD which he played for any long journey. It was a mix of American and Italian songs, mainly different variations of jazz or romantic songs, he made sure to sing along to most of them, even when he fumbled the lyrics. Bruno had a very smooth singing voice, his baritone voice made every word sound like honey as he sang, you could listen to it for hours.

You and Bruno conversed for a while, passing the time as you sat in traffic once more between Trecase and Torre Annunziata. Bruno told you how Mista and Giorno had asked about you, hoping to see you again before you leave, carefully excluding how they teased him for planning this trip to Amalfi, well aware of your shared interest in each other. Abbacchio was still skeptical, this spontaneous trip to Amalfi, which was completely covered by Bruno, didn’t help his gut feeling about you using him. But seeing how the two of you acted around the rest of the group made him a little more optimistic about the situation. He just hoped you wouldn’t run back home and block his number instantly.

“We’re here!” Bruno pulled up in front of a grand hotel, ‘’. It was a large classical building with pillars along the front, all coated in bright white. The inside was a soft gold colour with a gorgeous chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Being here was breathtaking, you always thought your hotel in Naples was fabulous, but this was extraordinary, does Bruno really make so much money to afford this just through restaurant owning?

After Bruno checked you in, he handed you the key to your room. You and Bruno were staying in separate large rooms next to each other on the sixth floor which gave you the perfect view of the water. After a couple hours of settling in, you took a tour around the coast. Amalfi was an interesting place, it was made up of thirteen towns, all clinging to the cliffs, reaching all the way down to the beautiful shore. Tourists traipsed up and down the area, some hiking on the Path of the Gods, while others explored the Blue Grotto caves in Capri. Bruno told you that when he was younger, he assisted his father with his duties as a fisherman: from gathering bait, to fishing, to following him on deliveries to the local fishmongers. He arranged a boat for recreational fishing just off the coast of Postiano, but for the sake of preserving the natural ecosystem, participants were asked to just catch and release.

The small boat rocked slowly on the water as Bruno guided you through fishing, holding your hands in the right position to be able to reel the fish in properly. It took a couple of tries, but you managed to catch a few small sardines.

That evening, Bruno had arranged dinner at a small restaurant near the hotel.

**************************************************

La Galleria was a cosy little place specialising in seafood from the local fishing ports. Your table was on the roof with a breathtaking view of the water below as the cooler evening breeze hit the back of your neck. You wore a simple red dress, while Bruno wore a red turtleneck with a black blazer. You both had bowls of chicken caesar salad, drizzled in a rich sauce, followed by a miso-glazed black cod on white rice for Bruno, and shrimp scampi with pasta for you. As the soft jazz from below wafted up to the roof, you and Bruno reminisced on your time together these past couple weeks, from strangers in Libeccio to sharing a meal in Amalfi. Your knee brushed against Bruno’s innocently as you talked, the close proximity making your heart race. Bruno was so handsome, and even though you told yourself that you wouldn’t let a crush grow to anything more, you couldn't help but feel the urge to have his muscular arms wrapped around you or run your fingers through his soft black hair made your stomach twist. You could listen to his voice for hours on end, enjoying his cute hand gestures and his rich accent. He was so kind to you too, planning so many trips, including paying for this one. He was way too generous to you and the last thing you wanted was to come across as a golddigger of some sort, Bruno was a genuinely nice guy, so patient and attentive.

Bruno’s heart was racing too, worried he would trip on his words or forget how to say something in English as he had before when talking to you. You always looked so beautiful to him, no matter what, you always took his breath away. He couldn’t imagine the last time he had felt so at ease around someone, much less a stranger he met a couple of weeks ago.

“Thank you so much Bruno, for tonight, for everything.” You said, your fingers lightly brushing against his on the table. He wanted to hold your hand badly, to kiss it again like he had before and tell you how much you meant to him.

“You’re welcome bella, I’ve really enjoyed these past-” He was cut off by the ringing of his phone, “please excuse me.” He got up immediately, excusing himself downstairs in a rush. You didn’t see the caller ID, but usually, Bruno was fine with answering calls around you, but his behaviour made you worry. The call was short and Bruno returned within a few minutes, facing his meal as if nothing happened. Ordinarily this would be normal, but it seemed like something was on his mind, like his mood was suddenly soured. You noticed how the space between you had grown slightly bigger than before, you were no longer lightly brushing against his knuckles, and nor were your knees connected.

“Bruno, is everything okay?” You mustered up the courage to ask, worried that you would be prying too much into private affairs. You hoped he would just tell you everything was fine, that it wasn’t anything serious, but you knew it must have been.

“Y/n…” He sighed, biting on his bottom lip, “there’s something I need to tell you. I haven’t been completely honest about myself.” He avoided making eye contact with you, which was more than enough to elevate your worry. Your stomach dropped, a million possibilities racing through your head. Maybe he didn’t really like you, maybe he was using you for attention, reeling you in with a charming persona? Maybe he had a partner and was using you to cheat?

Bruno turned to face you, clutching your hand in his as he looked earnestly into your eyes. “I’m still Bruno, bella, I’m still the same person who owns Libeccio, and likes fishing. And I do like you, so much, but I can’t keep hiding this from you and I understand if this means you don’t want to be around me anymore.” His breathing was rapid as he squeezed your hand tightly. His mind was prepared for the worst scenario, he was ready for you to scream or run away from him, locking yourself in your room and finding your way back to Naples without him. He was ready for you to get angry or upset at him for not telling you sooner. Part of him regretted bringing it up already, feeling like he had thwarted his best attempt at love, but it wouldn’t be fair to keep you in the dark if he genuinely cared.

“Y/n, do you know what Passione is?”

You exhaled deeply, yes, you had heard of Passione, a hub for organised crime in the south of Italy. Was Bruno really part of them? When you think of mafiosi you imagine much older men, using laundered money for drugs, weapons, and exploiting women, at least that is the stereotype, was Bruno really one of them? Sweet, kind, generous, optimistic Bruno who you adored being around? The same Bruno who always helped anyone he saw? Who showed the utmost respect for all the older citizens and acted with integrity? You 100% believed that not everyone involved in crime is inherently bad, many people fall into it at low points of their lives, you knew that Bruno was a good man, regardless of his affiliation with the group.

When you didn’t respond, Bruno let go of you. “I knew this was a mistake, I should have just listened to Abbacchio and stopp-”

“Bruno,” You placed a hand on his, making him lose his train of thought, “I’m not upset that you’re in Passione.” You whispered, interlocking your fingers with his. “I don’t think less of you for it, I know that people can be put in situations that make them choose that path,” your eyes darted to the side, “but I believe you’re a good person Bruno, I really do. I’m not exactly in the safest position as a woman in a foreign country, but I feel so safe with you Bruno, regardless of Passione.” You meant everything you said, keeping your eyes locked on him to show your sincerity. “I-”

Before you could speak, Bruno’s lips were on yours.

His hand remained holding yours, though squeezing slightly tighter now, while his free hand held the side of your face. His lips were soft against yours as his thumb pressed against your cheekbone. Slowly he pulled away, rubbing his nose against yours slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologise, really.” You squeezed his hand gently.

Bruno’s hand found itself fitting perfectly in the curve of your waist. “I want to be with you y/n, not just for this trip.” His voice was shaky, he tried his best to not push too hard. “It’s okay for you to say no, it is.”

“I want to be with you too Bruno, I really do.” Without thinking, your hand moved up to hold the side of his neck, feeling the heat radiating off him before moving down to his shoulder. “Can I ask, Bruno…why are you with them?”

He took a deep breath, already regretting what he was about to say. Bruno never liked talking about this incident, he never told anyone this story, not even his old girlfriends. “My father was in an accident when he was 12. He was in the hospital and one night some people tried to…to kill him.” The sympathetic look in your eyes made it easier for him to talk. “He wasn’t in a gang or anything, he was just an ordinary person. I was in the room when they snuck in, two men, I-” His words got trapped in his throat. “I killed them.” He could tell from the small changes in your breathing, your posture, the glint in your eyes, that despite keeping an open mind about Passione, you couldn’t fully wrap your head around him being tied to murder. “If I didn’t they would have killed my father and come after me, there was nothing else I could do.” He begged, pleading for you to at least hear him out, scared that you would leave him after such a confession. “I had to go underground, I can’t do anything with something like that on my record.” The silence that followed was deafening, the sound of his heartbeat rang through his ears as his chest heaved slowly.

“It’s okay Bruno…it really is.” You whispered, “You’re the first person to know this and not run away or use me.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, I’ve had my fair share of bad relationships. You’re the first person I’ve been able to actually feel happy with, Bruno, the first person to actually make me feel like you care.”

“Of course, I care about you bella, you mean the most to me. I hate that people have treated you that way, you deserve everything I could possibly give you and more…everything.”

The rest of dinner carried on smoothly, with Bruno’s seat much closer to yours and his hand resting on your knee. His eyes were more focused on you than the delicious food in front of him. His heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest as your leg brushed up against him and your perfume wafted into his nose. Bruno really did think you were beautiful, the way your dark hair fell to your shoulders, contrasting your crimson dress. How your cheeks turned rosy when you laughed, or your tendency to fiddle with the hem of your clothing when you were tired. There had always been something in him that knew he had feelings towards you, but kissing you, even though it was brief, solidified his feelings.

Neither of you pushed any further about the kiss, nor did you talk about your beat-around-the-bush confessions. Instead, once dinner was over, you made your way back to the hotel silently.

“I guess I will see you in the morning then?” Bruno asked, letting out a soft laugh as you stood in front of your respective doors.

“Yeah, I guess I will.” You smiled as you waved each other goodbye. It wasn’t until you had both returned to your rooms that you were able to release the tension in your body. The kiss still lingered on your lips as you pulled your night shirt over your head and you could feel your face get warmer. You couldn’t deny that the idea of him kissing you was something buried in the back of your mind, especially when he would hold you in close embraces and his natural scent would waft into your nose. There was a part of you that wanted to continue, that wanted to go to his room and lie with him on this warm evening in Amalfi. To feel what it would be like for him to hold you in his arms as more than just a friend. You shook your head, feeling like a young teenager having their first kiss.

With a heavy sigh, you turned your attention to the TV opposite your bed and flicked through the channels, landing on what looked like a random soap opera. By your bed was a small menu with all the items available for room service and decided on a jug of lemonade to cool you down. When there was a knock just two minutes later, you were a little surprised by the speed of service. You were even more surprised by seeing Bruno standing by your door.

Bruno had been standing outside your door for the past five minutes, contemplating knocking on your door. Would he be intruding? Jumping to conclusions over a simple kiss?

Ah, but it wasn’t a simple kiss was it, you had confessed your feelings to each other.

But you only had three more days in Naples, maybe this was your way of getting some sort of closure, getting your feelings out on the table before you disappear and never cross paths again. Even on the off chance that anything came from this, it doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be weird for him to approach you like this.

While Bruno reasoned this in his head, his body had other plans. It wasn’t until you swung the door open that he realised he had already knocked.

“Hi,” He swallowed, awkwardly placing his hands behind his back. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

You shook your head as you opened the door wider, welcoming him into your room. “No no, I just haven’t been able to sleep.”

“Me neither.” He perched on the edge of the desk, watching the television next to it. “What are you watching?”

“I have no idea, I couldn’t figure out how to put it in English.” The silence from both of you overpowered the noise from the TV. Usually you would bounce off each other better, but the events at dinner seemed to leave you both somewhat shy. Deep down, you both wanted more, but neither of you had the confidence to make the first move.

Bruno walked over to you, sitting next to you on your bed, knee brushing against yours.

“Y/n…” He started, taking your hand in his, “I meant everything I said earlier, about how I feel about you.” His slender fingers traced the lines of your palm slowly. “In a perfect world, I’d want you to be with you, properly. But I know that you have to go back home soon, I understand if this has to end here.”

“It doesn’t have to.” The words spilt out of your mouth before you could even process them properly. “I mean…I can always come back, maybe sometimes you can visit me.” A long-distance relationship wasn’t something you ever really thought you would find yourself pursuing, but you couldn’t miss this opportunity with Bruno.

“I like that idea.” Bruno smiled, interlocking his fingers with yours before ducked down for another kiss, this one was shorter and sweeter, the type that gives you a warm feeling in yout gut. It was like a bridge had formed between the two of you and any worries about intimacy had been crossed out. “Out of curiosity, when are you next free?” His enthusiasm made you giggle.

You tapped your chin, recalling what you discussed with your boss before you left for Italy. “I have to use up my holidays within the next three months, maybe I can come back before they’re over.” You grinned widely, enjoying the way he his face softened at your words.

“Can’t you stay a little longer? Use up your holidays now?” He pulled you onto his lap, kissing all over your face. His demeanour had suddenly changed, knowing that he might only have to wait a couple of months to see the woman he cared so much about. You giggled as you held his broad shoulders, squeezing them lightly as you tried to pull him away from your face. He ducked down to nibble where your neck connected to your head, trying to coax you into staying.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, “I can’t afford it Bruno, and besides, I signed papers with my boss saying I would be back to work next week.” You felt him sigh against your neck.

“How much more time do you have left to use on holidays?”

“10 days I think.”

“I’ll book you a flight.”

“Bruno!” You pulled away, pinching his soft cheek “Do you not trust me?”

“Of course I do bella, but I just think it’s easier to book now that the prices are cheaper.” He wrapped his arms tighter around your form. It didn’t take long for his lips to fall back on yours, moving between them and your neck, only to be broken by a knock on your door.

“So sorry for the wait signorina, the machine wasn’t working.” The waiter apologised profusely as he placed your lemonade on the table.

“It’s no problem, thank you.” You smiled, closing the door behind him. You both shared a few glasses of the cool drink, talking more about the possibility of you coming back to Naples. Despite his earlier energetic behaviour, Bruno was quite understanding of the situation. He knew that compromises would have to be made and that things may not always work out, but regardless, he chose to be optimistic about the situation.

Once the jug’s contents had been thoroughly depleted, you found yourselves tucked under your bedsheets. You didn’t realise how tired you were until you fell asleep so quickly against his soft t-shirt, to the sound of his heartbeat. Cool air blew through the window, making you press up against him in your sleep as his hands moved down to hold your waist. Bruno’s heart was pounding like it wanted to leap right out of his ribcage. Being here, holding you, this was all he wanted. For the first time in so long, he felt like he was happy again, like you were the one for him. He gave up on this feeling ages ago, not wanting to risk another heartbreak, but now he couldn’t resist it.

He was in love.

**************************************************

Sunday was quite simple. Breakfast at a lovely little cafe, a bike ride through Sorrento and lunch back at the hotel. This was certainly not the first time you and Bruno had gone out together, but this time was different. The way he held your hand, your waist, hugged you, everything felt different now, a good type of different.

This “good different” continued to Monday and Tuesday, with Bruno being even more of a gentleman to you. He made sure to cherish every moment with you like he was making up for lost time.

The sun peeked through the window, highlighting your body as you hummed in your sleep. Bruno had been awake for a while now, the lump in his throat and the twists in his stomach making it harder to enjoy the warm summer morning.

Today was your last day, the last time he would be able to see you for who knows how long. He always knew you would leave, Naples wasn’t your home after all, and there is a chance it may never be. But now that the dreaded day had come, it just made his chest ache to the point where it made his head spin.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your back was pressed against him, allowing him to nuzzle into your neck. You groaned quietly, fidgeting in your sleep before settling once more. Bruno used this as an opportunity to place a kiss on your neck, enjoying the sweet natural scent emanating from your body. He slid his other arm under your body, hugging you properly as your legs tangled together under his sheets.

“Bruno…” You grinned, feeling the pressure of his body against you as he had you in a tight embrace. “I need my sleep you know?” You patted the side of his face lightly, enjoying the warmth emanating from his soft cheek.

His heart hurt even more hearing your voice, knowing this would be the last time he would hear it in person. “y/n…” He whispered, holding your hand gently in his, bringing it down to the soft mattress and interlocking your fingers with his. “When is your flight?” He mumbled into your neck, eyes locked on his thumb stroking your skin.

You inhaled sharply, realising why his tone had been so mellow this morning. “6 pm, there’s been a car arranged.” You bit your bottom lip, feeling Bruno lean away from you with a deep sigh. His arms left your body cold air hit your back.

“I’ll come with you, I’ll see you off at security.” Bruno said, laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. You turned around to face him, watching the sun highlight the lower half of his face and chest, coating them in a pale yellow glaze. His lips were downturned slightly, forming an involuntary frown as his eyebrows furrowed. His expression made your heart sink to your stomach, you knew you would miss him so much.

You scooched closer, resting a head on his flattened shoulder as your fingers traced his chest gently. “I’ll come back Bruno,” You dragged your fingers down to his navel. “I promise.” You looked up at him, catching how his eyes shifted from you as soon as you made eye contact, realising that you caught him staring. His cheekbones were softly dusted with pink as he cleared his throat.

“I know you will, and I’ll find time to visit you.” He cupped the side of your face, “but you can’t blame me for being a little upset that you’re leaving.”

“I know, I am too.” You gave a half-smile, holding his wrist. Seeing you frown made his heart sink even more, it wasn’t his intention to dampen the mood so early in the morning.

“Y/n, why don’t we go to Libeccio? For your last meal here?” Bruno asked. Ending the trip with the place you met seemed perfect. It also gave Bruno the opportunity to make sure you received the best service possible.

“I’d love to.”

You both laid in bed for a while, enjoying each other’s warmth until noon when you finally got up for lunch. You wore a simple sundress with a red flower pattern along it, something that Bruno absolutely adored on you. Hand in hand, you left his home for the restaurant, deciding to have one last walk through the streets you grew to love. Libeccio was slightly quieter than usual, what with it being lunchtime on a Wednesday, this at least made it easier to talk to each other.

“Oh? If it isn’t the two lovebirds!” A familiar voice called, you looked up to see Mista leaning on the back of Bruno’s chair, much to his dismay, poking his nose into his menu. Bruno had made the mistake of being open to the group about his feelings for you, this ultimately left him vulnerable to childish teasing which would surely get worse when you weren’t around. “Y/n, Bucciarati says you’re leaving today?”

“Mhm, I need to leave for the airport in a few hours.”

“Ah, this one will certainly miss you,” He nudged Bruno with his elbow, “he goes on and on about you all the time anyways.” He scoffed.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Bruno asked, not bothering to look up from the menu.

“I actually came to collect an order,” He lifted up the black bag in his hand, that explained the sudden smell of shrimp. “But I might as well give Y/n a goodbye hug.” Mista walked towards you, pulling you out of your seat and hugging you tightly. Bruno knew what Mista was doing by pressing his palms on your lower back and hugging you for much longer than what was needed. But it was in his nature to tease people like that, after all, you and Mista grew to be quite good friends, and you both knew he was playing around. “Make sure to come back soon!” Mista waved as he left the restaurant.

Bruno turned back to you to see a smirk across your lips. “What?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Your face when Mista hugged me, I didn’t think it would get to you.” You laughed, flicking through the calzones section of the menu.

“Can you blame me for being a little jealous?” Bruno sighed, closing his menu and placing it on the table. He waved at one of the waiters, a tall, slender young man with long wavy hair, eager to take your orders.

Over lunch, you discussed plans for when you went back home: how to fit your schedules around each other, the possibility of sending each other gifts, and Bruno travelling to visit you. The thoughts alone brought butterflies to your stomach, the idea of Bruno being in your home, visiting your favourite places, your family and friends even. You already had a list of things to do with him buried at the back of your mind.

Once the plates were cleared and the bill was paid, you found yourselves in a small park, wandering along the footpaths that weaved along the luscious green grass, between the thick oak trees.

“Y/n…we need to get to the airport soon.” Bruno whispered, pulling your waist towards him as he sandwiched you between him and an old tree.

“Mhm.” You rest your head on his shoulder in a warm embrace, his rich cologne flooding your nose with a scent you would soon miss.

“Y/n…mi bella.” The pet name made your heart well up. “I know we haven’t been together for a long time but…the feelings I have for you, it’s like I-”

“I know what you mean Bruno.” You cut him off quietly, tugging his soft cotton shirt. You felt the same way Bruno did, the tingles you got when he held your hand, the way your body perfectly moulded into his, how your stomach twisted and turned anytime he looked you in the eye. Somehow, somewhere, along the line, you realised that you had fallen in love with the kind mafioso that swept you off your feet.

“So you love me too bella?” Bruno asked, a teasing tone to his words as his lips met your forehead.

You rolled your eyes playfully, enjoying how his soft lips felt against your skin. “Well if I have to put it in words, then yes.”

Bruno’s heart pounded in his chest, he could feel the shakiness in his breathing from the relief of knowing that you felt the same way he did. It was almost laughable how quickly the chains around his heart loosened when you appeared. How his vows to never give in to another person were discarded as he got closer and closer to you. You were perfect to him, everything he wanted and more, and he knew he couldn’t just let you leave without letting you know how much power you had over him and his weak heart.

“Bella, I love you so much, more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Please remember that, always, even if I’m not there with you.”

“I love you too Bruno, truly I do. I haven’t felt this way with anyone in so long I-” Bruno’s lips pressed gently against yours, stealing your breath away.

“I’m sorry to cut you off but you just look so cute, why do you have to leave today bella, stay here with me a little longer.” He groaned, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, knowing how much he would miss this.

“Believe me, I want that more than anything, but I have to go back, Bruno.” The thought of not being able to hold him like this, to not stroke his soft black hair or look into his warm eyes, ate away at you.

“We should probably head to the airport soon then.”

Within the hour, you were at the airport, waiting in the busy queue to check in your luggage, while Bruno held you from behind, chin resting on your head. You ended up with one extra bag, filled with gifts for your friends and family: trinkets, snacks, clothing, as well as things that Bruno bought you.

“When you land, let me know okay?” Bruno hugged you one last time, his hands memorising the curve of your body, ingraining everything from your scent to the softness of your skin in his memory. His lips moved to kiss your forehead gently, “Y/n…I won’t pretend like I’m not going to miss you every day. I want us to work out bella, I’ll take time to visit you whenever I can okay?” The slight sniffles and breaks in his voice made your heart sink. Bruno loved you so much, more than he could contain, and you felt the same way about him as you inhaled his rich cologne.

“Bruno, I’ll miss you just as much, if not, more.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’ll call you as soon as I get back mi amore.” Hearing you use that name on him made his stomach twist and turn. Being called that, by you, in your voice that soothed his soul made his heart beat even faster. At that point, he just had to steal another kiss from you, a passionate one that stuck on your lips even after you pulled away.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, letting you cross the barrier to find your gate, and with tears welling in both of your eyes, you waved each other goodbye, thankful for this spontaneous trip that brought the two of you together.

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