#i dont think i ever heard one in italy so.

[slightly-gay-pogohammer]

okay im rewatching goose boose’s traumathon and like.

are emergency alerts tests like, a normal, everyday thing in america? fr? like every now and then the tv just stops and theres this loud sound and they go “dw we’re just testing teehe uwu”

[mydearesthrry]

debriefing - h.s.

a/n: hey lol this is really shit honestly and i dont like the end but i wanted 2 get smth out. enjoy, love you

wc: 851

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

warnings: none, a couple f bombs

summary: a small debrief with your boyfriend, harry.

“Harry!” Y/N called to her boyfriend, her legs tucked underneath her as she scrolled on her phone with a shocked look on her face. “Baby, come down here right now, holy fuck!” 

Harry’s loud footsteps were heard as he bounced down the stairs, clad in nothing but a baggy pair of gray sweatpants and fuzzy socks on his feet. “Wha’ happened, lovie?” 

“Debrief.” Was the only thing she said before Harry widened his eyes, running over to the kitchen and grabbing two wine glasses and a bottle of Prosecco they’d gotten the last time they were in Italy. She hopped up from her spot on the couch as well, skipping over to the pantry to grab their big bag of popcorn and the smaller bag of peanut m&ms. They got back to the living room at the same time, placing everything down on their glass coffee table, trying to be careful as to not knock down the picture frames that housed pictures of them over the years. 

Harry sat down first, his long legs splayed out on the couch, one falling down over the edge to plant his foot up on the floor, leaving a gap of space for Y/N to slide between. She took the message and sat right between his legs, both of hers hiking on his left thigh. Harry’s hand rested on the full of her thighs, his thumb tracing tiny patterns onto the soft skin. She leaned forward to fill their glasses, handing one to Harry and grabbing hers to nurse on her lap. 

“Okay, you’ll never fucking believe what I just saw,” Pulling out her phone from her waistband, she pulled up the Instagram post that had been the reasoning for the debrief in the first place. “Andrew and Ivy are together.” 

Harry’s jaw dropped. “What?! Didn’t Ivy jus’ get a divorce, like, 3 months ago?” 

She nodded. “Yes! That’s why this is so fucking weird! I know they had a weird fling back in 2019, but I didn’t think that it was that serious!” 

“Tha’ is s’weird… D’you… Do y’think that they…” He approached the subject carefully, not wanting to seem dickish. 

“Do I think they fucked while she was with Isaiah? Yes, yes I do,” She giggled, turning a bit more to face her boyfriend fully. “Wasn't Andrew also with that girl Leah? I think I remember you telling me about that.” 

Harry nods, taking a sip of his wine. “Yeah, he told me ‘bout her last time we went back to London. Didn’t seem too serious about her, if ‘M honest… He described her like she was jus’ a quick fuck to him.” 

They sighed, disappointed looks on their face. “That sucks.” 

He hummed. “Yeah… But— wait, did I ever tell y’about those two crew members who got caught having sex in the porta potties back at the Forum?” 

“What the fuck? No?!” Y/N gasped, reaching forward to grab the bag of popcorn to put on her lap. 

“Yeah, yeah! Apparently, there were these two workers, honestly don’t have a clue what they did, but I think their supervisor had come t’check if they were doing okay since they hadn’t been answering the radios, and when the supervisor passed by, the guy came out the loo with his pants down!” He explained, handing her his glass so he could gesticulate with his hands as he talked (something he loved to do which Y/N found so cute— then again, she thought everything he did was cute so this wasn’t entirely a surprise). 

“No fucking way,” She gasps, placing her wine glass on the floor next to his sock covered foot to hold a hand over her mouth in shock. “Did they get fired?” 

Harry nods. “Oh, instantly. I actually didn’t even know about it until we had a crew dinner and a roadie mentioned it to his friend.” 

“That’s so crazy. I wonder what they’re doing now.” 

A beat passes, both of them thinking in silence. 

Another beat. 

As if they were telepathically connected, they cock their heads to each other at the same time. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” 

Harry’s eyes are wide. “We find their social media accounts?” 

“Yes!” She screams, moving to place the wine glasses onto the coffee table, swiveling in her place to lay against Harry’s chest. Harry budges up a little, moving the both of them forward and leaning back to lay them down in a relaxed position. He winds his arms around her waist, hands resting on her stomach. 

After scrolling through the accounts for a little bit, Y/N’s breath began to even out slightly, her arms falling down toward her stomach. The second her hands made contact with her stomach, she startled awake, moving a bit with the way Harry’s chest bellowed as he breathed a laugh. “Okay, time f’a nap, m’baby.” 

She hums, twisting in place to lay her chest on Harry’s, her head resting on his shoulder. She weaved one hand up into his hair and twisted his chestnut waves in her fingers. “I love you, baby.”

[wandas-lunchbox]

so sick of you (chapter 3)

series summary: you and natasha have ended your relationship due to her cheating on you. it's been 5 years now. what happens when you bump into her at a bar on your birthday?

warnings: some swearing, but otherwise none

a/n: omg guys i’m acc so sorry this took 2 whole years to write. we’re gonna pretend that never happened…. you may end up having to wait another 5 years for the next chapter

finally i was on the plane. it felt like it took forever. it was an overnight flight which was good because i could finally get some sleep. wanda like the rich ass she is got us business class so we were pretty comfortable throughout the plane journey.

a couple hours had past and we were still mid air, wanda and i were sat next to eachother and in the chair next to me was a fairly pretty woman. ok i lied she was gorgeous. her hair was brunette with waves, she wore these black rimmed glasses and her lips looked so beautiful. i dont know why i noticed her lips but i guess i just did.

oh well.

i decided to get up and strech my legs for a bit, i felt some cramps in my legs so i needed to walk. wanda was snoring next to me while when harry met sally was playing in the background. i took a photo of her for evidence later. i walk up and head to the bathroom. it was occupied.

i stood there for a good whole 5 minutes till i heard faint moans coming from the bathroom. what the fuck. why are people having sex in an airplane bathroom, thats the most disgusting thing ever. they needed to hurry up bc a girls got to piss.

the beautiful brunette girl walks up to me, or well i guess to the bathroom. i admire her face.

“are people seriously having sex in an airplane bathroom”

i laugh and continue to look at her.

“honestly, like i understand doing it in your seat but the bathroom? seriously? thats the dirtiest place on the whole plane,” i said

“she laughs, are you headed to italy or is it a stop before another flight?” she asks

“yeah i’m going to italy, a friend actually planned this as a birthday trip, what about you?”

“oh, i live in italy, sorry let me rephrase i am italian and i used to live there, just visiting some family” she says

“oh nice, you’ll have to tell me some of the great places to go”

“of course!” she smiles at me

suddenly the bathroom door opens and a lady and a man walk out. both of them fixing their hair snd their clothes.

“after you,” the brunette says

“wait, i never ended up getting your name”

“we still have a whole 2 hours left of this flight, don’t worry you’ll figure it out” she laughs

i lock the door and began to do my buiness. i look at myself and i think i’ve seen death. my hair was a mess, and eye bags darker than ever.

i fixed it as a quick as possible before returning to my seat.

i smile at the girl before she goes in. when i sit at my seat i slap wanda a couple times trying to tell her what happened just now. she just slaps me back harder and starts snoring.

this girl could cause an avalanche with her snoring.

suddenly the girl returns to her seat and we continue to converse as if nothing had stopped us before.

we spoke as if we had known eachother forever. maybe we did?

the flight started to come to an end but our conversation definitely didn’t.

“you got a number or something?”

“yeah here let me type it for you.

i type in my number and write “your plain gf ;)” misspelling plane.

she laughs and points it out. “guess you’re a basic girlfriend then”

i look at her confused, only for her to show me i misspelled plane. i laugh and blush akwardly.

when the plane lands it takes forever for me to wake up wanda. this bitch just wouldn’t wake up.

after what felt like 3 trillion years, i get her up and we start to get ready to leave the plane.

we were in italy…

a/n: omg finally chapter 3 is out

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist making a new one

new year new me 😜

[harryfeatgaga]

going out for dinner with Harry's friends in Italy and it's great and everyone is so nice except they're speaking mostly Italian which you don't understand 😭 and you really don't mind too much you're just chilling at Harry's side drinking expensive wine but then he realized you probably don't understand anything that's being said so he's leaning over and translating everything for you 😭if there's ever something he doesn't fully know or know how to translate he asks them to repeat it and he always blames himself saying stuff like "haven't heard that word yet!" he never tells them it's bc you don't speak Italian at all bc he knows you don't like being the center of attention and you would get embarrassed 😭 ofc everyone knows why he's asking so many questions since he usually just follows along with the conversation as best he can but he wants to make sure you don't feel left out at all 😭 and ofc all his friends think it's so cute that's he's putting in so much effort to make you feel like a part of the group 😔 when you excuse yourself to the ladies room they're all gently teasing him for having such a crush and being so sweet on you but they're all very happy for him 😔when you come back his cheeks are very pink and you dont mention it but one of the girls leans over to you and whispers "he was a telling us all about how much he likea you" and that only makes him blush more 😭 you lean into his side and kiss his warm cheek saying "good thing i like him too" and he puts his arm around you😔

NOOOOOOONOONONONONOOOOO PLEASEEEEE OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDD IM GOING TO CRY THIS IS SO SOFT AND SWEEETTHFBHUJNFHUJI

[maddsmallow]

was tagged by @phoenixspencer to do these questions!

3 ships i like: hankcon, spirk, and sdv farmer x shane !!

first ever ship: i dont want to say it, so i'll tell you the next one which is minimally less embarrassing—gerita. like, hetalia germany and n italy. leave me aLONE THEY'RE GENUINELY A GOOD SHIP

last song you heard: some shit that was playin in my husband's phone while he scrolled facebook videos lmao. on spotify tho, it was "bang on the drum all day" by todd rundgren. totally fuckin random

favorite childhood book: hmmm tough question, i read a lot as a kid but my memory is so bad so i dont remember a lot of names of the books i read! i read a whole lot of the redwall series, and i really liked this one version of romeo and juliet that took place in the mid 00s and had romiette and julio, a black girl and a hispanic guy. they live at the end lmao, it's all good, i just remember thinking all the characters in it were so charming. oh, and also really liked "from the mixed up files of mrs. basil e frankweiler"! i remember reading that whole thing in one sitting back in like fourth grade or something

currently reading: probably hankcon shit on ao3 LMAO

currently watching: nexpo's video on gemini home entertainment. i'm too much if a wuss to watch horror stuff myself, but i was tired of hearing about that series and not knowing what the fuck it was about, so. if not nightmind, then nexpo it is haha

currently consuming: just had a burger date w the hubs uwu

currently craving: water honestly lmao

that's about it! i taaaaaag @glxyqst @ormurinnstutti @subway-dove >:3c

[twopoppies]

have you listen to the audio of harry saying, I'm Harry san. so cutee. Anyway, when i heard harry speaking other languages i think of how he learns the language when he's interesented in certain country's culture (ex. italy or japan) but then i dont think he ever learn any french more than je suis allé au cinema avec ma famille et ..., even if he "had" a french gf for over a year, someone who he supposedly heard on the phone speaking french enough times so that one time was recorded organically and then added to a song, wonder how.

I’ve seen him speak a tiny bit of French at concerts, but you’re very right. For someone who supposedly had a French gf, it’s a bit odd. 🙃

[hourcat]

Hii phoebe!! sorry to have another piarles breakdown in your inbox but imagine power rangers piarles au

where charles is a DISASTER magnet, who's always at the worst place at the worst time (he's still a ferrari f1 driver) and pierre is the red power ranger who keeps having to save him (while eventually also falling in love)

maybe arthur is the yellow power ranger or something so charles gets introduced to pierre as pierre (I'm trying so hard not to make this like peter & mj but fail) (the rest of the power rangers can be anyone from the grid)

anyways they're both idiots in love with each other, but they're idiots so neither of them make a move until the bad guys figure out charles must mean something special to the rangers because he happens to be at like 3/8 of the crime scenes and red ranger is actually tender with him in a way he isn't with anyone else, they think charles can be the rangers weakness

fast forward a few weeks, the bad guys have finally figured out a plan of attack, that they'll leverage charles for the jewel of power or whatever and they plan to carry it out at some ferrari event in Italy EXCEPT pierre (and arthur) are already there. not as rangers but just as the charles leclerc support squad. and they both fight dirty but somehow thwart the bad guys plan anyways and then it's just the three of them in an empty building and they end up revealing their identities to charles and when charles calms himself down enough to not kill his baby bro (who sheepishly takes his leave and runs the hell away from there but not before giving a suggestive wink towards them both and pierre makes a reminder to give him the worst tasks from now on because that little shit.)

then it's just pierre and charles and charles and pierre and charles comes and stands so close to pierre that their toes are touching and he looks furious but also so concerned and a little worried and maybe even hurt and it looks like he's about to either slap pierre or kiss him and pierre can't decide when charles snatches him by his collar and their mouths collide but since they're both idiots they lose their balance and fall on top of each other before bursting into hysterical laughter that turns a little too emotional and charles says the deepest, most emotional poetic thing pierre has ever heard in his life with that teary look in his eyes and pierre is like "fuck I am in love KISS KISS KISS"

anyways they become boyfriends after that and nobody ever let's them live it down especially arthur

(I am sorry for yet another piarles breakdown but you and katie indulge me so much and I am spoiled, thank you for being some of the most amazing piarlies ever)

KSBSKDNSHDBKDKD ANON IM LITERALLY GOING TO KISS YOU SO HARD

first things first. oh my god. never apologize ever. i feed off of people having piarles breakdowns it is my LIFE BLOOD please ALWAYS come tell me every piarles thought you have always im so serious this goes for every single one of you

secondly, baby are you kidding me. are you KIDDING ME. area woman who never got over power rangers (2017, dir. dean israelite) IS GOING TO START EATING HER ARM ABOUT THIS

ok deep breaths. literally this is so sososososososo so good im gonna die. like?!?!?!? charles being a disaster magnet just feels right (in the green lantern au that lives vaguely in my head that is exactly how he is too so 🤝🤝) and pierre being the one to constantly rescue him is soooo. Yeah. arthur makes fun of him so much for being the Knight In Shining (Red) Armor and pierre is like "i dont care if we both have ranger strength. i am going to kick your god damn ass." arthur just laughs bc pierre would never, he's too fond of the leclercs no matter how annoying they are.

BAD GUYS TAKING NOTICE OF PIERRE'S AFFECTIONS FOR CHARLESSSSSS AJDBSGHDKDNDKFKA yeah. yes. yes bc its so obvious of COURSE the red ranger has a weakness. of course. everyone can see it. EVEN CHARLES KNOWS. he tells pierre sometimes he has a thing for the red ranger and it makes pierre insane every single time. like he has to repeatedly Take A Walk and charles thinks it's bc he hates the idea of the power rangers but in actuality it's "he can't see me get maybe turned on by this so i have to get out of here"

also also also. oh god. oh my god. charles after he finds out the red ranger is pierre?!?!? would be so worried immediately after the battle bc pierre is bloodied and beaten a little, mostly okay but also definitely a lil fucked up. he's touching pierre's face, are you okay, pierre, you could've fucking died--and that devolves into the How Could You Not Tell Me and he starts to get mad and pierre just. is so relieved charles is ok and he knows that he just grabs charles to pull him close for a hug, but charles has other plans and kisses him instead. and he's like oh yeah you do have a crush on the red ranger don't you🤭😏 and charles is like "you're actually the worst person in the world bar none"

ANYWAY @cerona14 BESTIE. COME LOOK. PIARLES PR AU

[white-eyed-girl]

My personal top 37 for Eurovision 2023 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 I dont' even know what to say anymore, it has been the most exhausting ESC season ever for me and I just want this Saturday to come and go

11) Italy - song is alright (it actually grew on me in these weeks), Marco is a great singer and a cool guy, but half because I didn't want it to win Sanremo and half because I have actual favourites I'm spending the season worrying to death about, I have exactly zero interest about what happens to Due Vite in Liverpool

10) Moldova - how often does it happen to have two returning artists from the same year? Seeing Pasha and Loreen meet again was so cute! (and the fact that Ivi Adamou was there as well made the whole thing even better asdfghjffg) Anyway lol the song is awesome, Moldova incredibly managed to find a middle ground between genuine ethnodance and the amateurish country fair performance from last year, and I'm happy about it Lautar is also one of the few songs I actually love from 2012 btw, just as an add-on :'' He looks hella fine too but shh

9) United Kingdom - purely and simply a bop, it almost makes me forget how much of a tamarrata* it is asdfghjk As for its chances in Liverpool, if the pre-parties are of any indication, there's no way in hell this will get a top10 like many seem to predict, more like it will be lucky to get out of the bottom 5 :'' (*tamarrata = something camp and cringy and excessive, that sometimes you like exactly because of that lol)

8) Czechia - I usually adore songs with a women-supporting-women narrative, this one is no exception, and it also has a double reading which makes it even cooler I was a bit afraid that if they kept the aesthetic of the video on stage it could end up looking messy and uncoordinated, but luckily they decided to make it tidier and in fact their performance on Tuesday was amazing

7) Austria - This, this is how you do clever and funny This could have ended up being an apocalyptic level of trash but, ironically, the nonsense narrative keeps its feet on the ground Thankfully it seems like it's not a Halo 2.0, though the performance could have used being a lil bit more whimsical and energetic

6) France - I love how this starts tango-ish and then catches rhythm! I have no idea how it will go, France was my winner last year and I never would have imagined an almost last place for them, so yeah :'' I don't think they can snatch the win but I'd be on board with them trying purely because that would mean a new Sweden vs France death match which, like, AAAAAAAAAAAAA

5) Norway - this is the first song from this year I listened to and I'm still bobbing my head from that first time ahah This sounds like a song KEiiNO could have sung, which in my book is always a compliment We'll give her a wagon of points as soon as the commentators let it slip that she's Italian lol

4) Finland - This is me having a drunken dream while also never having been drunk in my whole life :'' Look, I love this song, or it wouldn't be in my top 5, it's a banger, it's fun and it's been stuck in my head since the first time I heard it in the studio version (the live rendition sucks, I know you all know but choose not to acknowledge it c:), I actually like the way it has two very different styles and the moment it leaves the rappish part to basically become the Carameldansen makes me fall from the chair every time It does deserve to do well. Does it deserve to win though? Ehhhh personally no, I don't think this is enough

3) Serbia - This year every time I think I have listened to the most feverdream-ish song of the line-up there comes another right after to prove me wrong lmao This is so weirdly composed, it pulls my nerves right out of me but like in a good way?? The part where Luke starts ''unplugging'' the dancers and his voice becomes low and rough gives me such a fine tingle in the stomach AHHHHH Serbia wants a win and it damn well shows, and maybe it won't happen this year but if they keep this up I don't think they will have to wait for much longer

2) Spain - this is genuinely amazing and I think it grew to be the only song that wouldn't make me want to set fire to the universe if it won in Sweden's place lol just because it's so ethnically artsy and well-sung and it has such sad melancholic good lyrics, plus I think Blanca would actually make a good winner ''Ay child, when I die let them bury me on the moon so that I'll see you every night, every night except one'' Best damn lyrics of the year hands down! This >>>>>>>>>>>>>> booty hypnotic

1) Sweden - The way she claims exactly every bit of the stage that she needs to, the way she shapes sound between her teeth, the desperation in her voice in the final part, the actual tattoo element which is important in her Berber culture, the creativity in the desert environment with both sand and sky, the double reference to the Atlas myth and the Atlas mountains, there's so much cool shit around this even if you don't like the song and so much to be happy about her participating again and so many people are choosing to stay mad for some of the most ridiculous reasons I've ever heard Unbelievable Not to mention that ''it's a song contest!!'' only when it fits their narrative I know she probably won't, it would be way too perfect and eurofans this year have decided that making literal history isn't cool, but IF she does…

[autisticbokutoenthusiast]

olympic volleyball round-up

sad that this is possibly my last olympic vball post :(

my predictions:

following vnl i felt italy and brazil were strong contenders for gold and i maintained that thru semis

for bronze i was thinking poland or china tbh so it was surprising these teams didnt make it past qfs. i also had hopes for japan and turkiye- turkiye did indeed make it to the bronze medal match. usa i wasnt sure about because we havent seen a stable squad from them until the olympic games and even then they were still messing around with their outsides, but as former gold medalists i knew they had it in them

quarters and semis

italy and brazil making it to semis was obvious but i was surprised the usa beat poland and was undecided about china/turkiye.

for semis, i kinda knew italy would win but i really thought brazil was gonna take it- and they almost did.

thoughts on our top 4 teams:

4. turkiye: this team has had an interesting year. they got gold at 2023 vnls but weren't able to defend it in 2024. their biggest asset right now is melissa vargas joining them, but one player alone cant carry the team. i think the injury of gunes, baladin, and then ozbay hurt them, but we got to see more of their bench! i personally liked seeing how different the chemistry could be with different outsides, even if it didn't always lead to the results they wanted. speaking of outsides i wonder how they will use karakurt moving forward, at first they had her continue in opposite with that double switch but then moved to playing her outside and then the last few matches just not at all. if nothing else she is the teams mood maker! ive heard rumors but seen no confirmation but if erdem retires well be looking at a fairly young team going forward, it will be interesting to watch.

3. brazil: they played so well in vnl and so well in pool phases that i was almost sure theyd win the semis. i think it was down to gabi not scoring as highly as she usually has and the unforced errors that sometimes pile up for them. i still maintain that i wish they were in the gold medal match cause i think brazil was the only team that could have stretched it to at least 4 sets if not a 5 set thriller. they did go home with bronze so cant be too sad for them lol. the team was interesting considering the age and experiance mixed with players like ana christina and bergmann. despite the drama with the fans i really do like watching brazil play, especially gabi- the peoples princess of volleyball. i wonder how much of the national team will continue on and how many will retire.

2. usa: did NOT see them getting silver coming based on their performance the last few years. usa has a lot of star players but the past few seasons it felt like they werent working together as a team, and i dont mean this as in mentality they clearly have good comraderie, just in their play style. some of this might come from them not having the steady starting roster other teams have, but im not a professional. still to be able to get it together and make it to the final round is impressive, they couldnt defend their gold but silver is still something! im excited for the next generation thats coming up and to see if the lovb league changes how the national team plays

1. italy: going into this tournament i think we all knew who would get gold, and not jut because they got it 2 months ago at vnl. this italian team is the strongest ive ever seen them. they werent bad in 2023, but i think they were missing egonu and her returning has brought everything we knew she could bring! idk if it was having to play without her or something in the water or what but this italian team all around is much stronger from the setting to blocking to defense they just play like the best team in the world should. lets see if anyone can challenge them next year.

edit: I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT DREAM TEAM

dream team

egonu as best opposite and mvp, ikdfr. orro best setter again was earned! de gennaro best libero makes sense. danesi and ogbogu best middles was earned! SYLLA AND GABI BEST OUTSIDES IS LIKE MY DREAM COME TRUE was literally thinking during the game id want them as my opposites asdjfaklsfj.

i dont have a lot a lot to say, just that this tournament is bittersweet. 1- its over too fast. 2- were saying goodbye to a lot of really talented players (some will continue on with club tho!) and its always sad when you realize that the teams you just watched will never play that way again. looking forward to club starting soon tho!

to anyone who actually reads these i hope you enjoy them, and learn to enjoy the wonders of live volleyball too. im really excited that the us is getting its own league and i hope to see a game in person even tho ill have to drive 12+ hours or 20+ hours by train (amtrak wtf). im also excited that the college volleyball scene is picking up in my area, i hope to go support them as well.

until next tournament 🫡

[lostacelonnie]

Truly. School festival? Wild i dont think ive ever been to one of those. Not sure mine ever had them but im glad you had so much fun! Its not completely finished yet i get that done next week but its very cool i love it. I have like. 12 piercings now with still more i want. They were a slippery slope from getting two to all the ones i have & want but i hope you're able to get some in the future. I think i like my eyebrow & lip piercings best. Thats a wild difference damn. Its been sunny mostly cool days right now but we keep going from warmer days to rain/snow warnings here. Oh hell yeah congrats! Strange but positive is the best combination to have honestly. Id also love to check out carnivale if that still happens in italy or mardi gras over here down in louisiana if i had time. Just love the idea of big celebration with cool stuff. Oh sparkle is quantum support with action advance & crit damage (?) boost. She's real good for seele or many teams really. I got archeron! Just need to get her light cone but damn was she cool in the 2.1 story. Not gonna spoil if you havent played through yet. Congrats on your archeron pulls! I think i might save for topaz now & get adventurine later? I do like how he plays but ill grab him later i don't think i have use for him yet. Swarm is so annoying i gave up on it for now terrible fuckin enemies. Mood what set are you usin on archeron? I love her talent too just. Insta enemy kill what a time saver. Really did give her a great & interesting kit. Hm ill have to continue & see how complex she is. Been busy with other games & like. Cosmodyssey & the bartender event in star rail. Oh thats fun i love it keep doin that. Ohh congrats on the writing energy!

yeah school festivals are also pretty rare over here but [thanks to a complete coincidence, i didnt even Know we had those] i ended up in a school that actually organizes one JSDKFJG. would tell you what it is but i feel doxxing my school on tumblr.com is not a terribly good idea. AND HEY THATS AWESOME!!! also yeah i heard it Really Is Like That with piercings shdjfg all my friends said so at least. tbh the only reason i dont have any yet is bc when i was the age when everyone gets their first one [around 8-9 among my peers] i was very physically active and didnt wanna deal with the whole healing process while trying to not get the shit beaten out of me in aikido. so thanks!!! i REAAALLLY wanna get snake bites theyre So cool. AND FOR REAL LIKE???? can the weather Please decide what it wants to do with its life. it was literally raining the whole day today and yesterday i cannot keep dealing with this. esp since today was my first day back to school after the easter break so waiting for my bus was just. miserable. And my classbestie didnt come to school today so i guess i cant have nice things. Oh Well. and for real for real im actually so glad my school doesnt seem to have a single normal person in it because everything is just so much more. chill. and the gossip is Insane i tell you. ever since this year i befriended a bunch of cool alt girls my life had been so much more interesting because they know like everything about everyone. and oh good luck with all that!! i totally agree, tho i definitely have to be mentally prepared for such occasions. Due To The Autism. but yeah theyre SO fun. and oh that sounds like. a very good kit actually. might get her in the future but ahh i still cant quite decide who im gonna pull for next..... only time can tell i suppose. CONGRATS ON GETTING MEI #3!!!!! i maxed out her talents already [thank god for how little time that calyx takes] so i just need to get relics for her now. Auugghhhg. but i decided im just gonna wait for the triple drop event to save myself some sanity and am currently focusing on ruan mei's talents rn since i run her with acheron <- guy who has no welt and his pela is lvl 50 not built. ah thats understandable!!! i was initially Completely uninterested in aventurine but used his trial as a march replacement in my clara team and it all fits together so nicely. speaking of which i literally got clara TWICE yesterday, one pull apart, without pity on standard. the universe loves me i guess. so shes e4 now. FOR FUCKING REAL but at least using acheron in sim uni lets one skip the non boss battles so thats a massive timesaver and also makes dealing with the swarm a lot less problematic. since you only have to deal with the big guy at the end and not trouble yourself with the occasional encounter on the way. seriously tho acheron is so cracked in sim uni. she let me get the achievement for finishing every battle with all allies at 100% hp. im currently using band of sizzling thunder + inert salsotto [LOL] on her!!! as i said. scuffed but does the job for now. but im gonna get her pioneer diver of dead waters + izumo gensei and takama divine realm since i heard thats whats best on her. and yeah her kit is super fun!! and have fun with that!! honestly fair, tho im just stuck in my holy trinity of hi3 - hsr - noita. also i love the bartender event a lot both story and gameplay wise. very very cool. and thankies!!!!!!!

[c03xistentw01]

ight i have a lot on my mind i gotta write it all up real good real fast before i forget.

last night i went to some random ass town called Gorizia on the border with slovania for work. The whole region was so slovanian that even in the market where we worked the signs and shit they were all bilingual in italian and slovanian.

slovanian lowkey gives off turkish vibes.

not so many of us came from padova so we just hoped on a black van and left. the driver who gave off strong leonardo vibes was playing twenty one pilots for the good portion of the time. i liked him kinda. i was lowkey admiring his long neck the entire time of the trip when i was sitting behind him liKE A FUCKING PERV YES IKR.

i didn't get to have much convo with him. i actually got none. except for the time when after legit 6 hours of work in the market he saw me and was like "lets go lets go lets go" without even looking at me for a sec thinking well since I'm speaking english the lil bitch is supposed to I'm talking to her ight?

there was this other guy from pd who i legit got to have a convo in italian with which felt nice and ... weird? cuz I'm never mentally prepared to speak italian?

and oh my god I'll never forget 'Vlad'. My team leader there.

he would see me across the hall miles away and shout my name "Paaaaaaaria" with theatrical eye rollings. And then see my work and be like "Maaaaarvelous. If you ever need any assistance (except for of course boyfriend material stuff) just call me. I'm used to be called with any consonant".

he once moved some stuff which made a loud noise i looked at him he was like im sorry i didnt mean to be this much dramatic *followed by yet another theatrical eye roll".

basta. when i got home and to my bed i was so tired i couldn't even sleep. i woke up at 11 am tho. went to mensa. got anxious. felt short (about that i was walking in portello some other day with hilal when a tall girl was walking towards us with her friend i heard her say "bassa" looking at me and the other "si sente" and looking down.

yes.

ladies and gentlemen. this happened. people are mean dead-inside assholes. They say whatever shit they want, making more space in your mind to wonder whether other people have always thought the same but never mentioned it.

although the pain the bitch inflicted was soon oddly compensated when hilal said "but girl you are average".

later that night when we were already drunk we decided to go to hilal's house and get more booze on the way because why not and also because hilal left italy to turkey on the following day.

we got there got more drunk. ade joined. we got high. I started speaking italian ade was like wtf you're at least B1.

before that hilal was talking about berfin and sometimes i get this feeling when other people are opening up to me deeply that okay but why do i not do that with them? like why do i find it so freaking difficult to open up about something that happened to me and was way more brutal but there my friends. is exactly where you start losing friends. so you keep your mouth shut.

but anyway. that night i realized it's different with hilal. when she opens up mi sento piu leggere invece.

i saw fatima today at mensa after a longass time cuz she was in cividale and i was just ... busy surviving the shitwave of shit of which I've had nothing but recently. She told me about this weirdass roomie of her who according to her has been hacked by some creepy dude for the past 12 fucking years. the dude even deleted his thesis and stuff. Fatima said i even once asked her to share her internet with me through hotspot and she was like no this is how my sister got hacked as well i dont recommend u do the same. i mean the whole fucking situation is so fucking creepily stupid we all dont know whether to feel pity whether to laugh cuz shit looks so fucking um .... surreal? or to call the police asap cuz i mean cmon.

[tobesolonely]

sweet as honey

A/n: beekeeper fic is finally done!! shoutout to @taintedwonder for being an amazing beta :) @harryysstyless​ i love u for the support and great ideas <3

summary: y/n is as sweet as the honey she sells!

warnings: smut! (oral f receiving, some exhibitionism, some slight teasing i think, unprotected sex on a balcony in italy!!) dont be silly, wrap ur willy! ☺️

word count: ~6k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

It did not surprise Harry that the sweetest girl he’s ever met (arguably in his entire life) is a beekeeper.

A beekeeper!

He thinks it might be the coolest job title he’s ever heard in his life––he decides it’s even cooler than his own title of “famous person”, as y/n likes to call him.

Harry didn’t mean to fall in love with y/n, he really didn’t, but it was so hard not to. Her energy is utterly electric––Harry’s skin feels like it’s on fire when she wraps herself around him and cuddles, and his cheeks heat to the temperature of an oven whenever she compliments him. He didn’t think that could happen around most people anymore.

Y/n is eccentric and extroverted while also being loving and gentle. Her patience constantly floors him. Harry wasn’t sure exactly what it took to become a beekeeper, some sort of qualification he supposes, but he figures you at least have all of her qualities and even then sum.

It starts with Harry admiring her from a distance every time he sees her. He spends entirely too long fawning over the different apples from the booth across from hers when he is just trying to stay in her vicinity for as long as possible. Once he works up the courage to approach her, it relieves him immensely when they immediately click. She has a voice as sweet as the honey she sells. Harry is drawn like a moth to a flame. Their friendship quickly intensifies from only seeing each other two days a week, to seeing each other nearly every day, to basically living together. (Not that Harry was complaining).

Harry always tries to remember the exact moment he realized he liked y/n as more than a friend, but he can never recall it. The truth is, he’s felt this way since the second he saw her. Anyone with a set of eyes and half a brain knew this; except y/n, he supposes. Harry’s known she is the one for him since he met her. She was fresh out of a relationship, however, with some idiot who had gone and absolutely ripped her heart to shreds, and Harry is just some health nut who visits y/n’s booth at the market every Tuesday and Saturday morning. Their paths crossing was inevitable, but neither one ever thought their relationship would blossom into what it is.

Although y/n constantly asks him not to, Harry always clears his schedule every Monday and Friday night so he can spend the evening helping y/n prepare for the farmer’s market the next morning. There’s a lot of labeling, and moving boxes, and packing, and double-checking––but Harry loves it! Lives for it, actually. Anything is fun if he’s doing it with y/n.  

Harry often tries extending his help to work her booth (she could get very busy very quickly, and Harry knows she is easily overwhelmed) but she’s a stubborn person who has a hard time accepting help from anyone. So every Tuesday and Saturday Harry rides to the farmer’s market before the sun’s up, helps set up her booth, then spends the whole four hours the market is open shopping for himself (and walking laps around the park when he needs a break from inspecting pieces of fruit).

When all the other vendors pack up their booths and load their trucks, Harry would make his way back to y/n to help her do the same. She’d tell him all about the people she spoke to that day and all the praises her regulars sang to her as they loaded the car, and Harry can never contain the smile on his face. She always tells him how proud she was of him but Harry can’t even express in words how proud y/n made him. At least not without the words ‘I love you’ tumbling out his mouth in the middle of it. She is incredible, and it always makes Harry’s heart soar when she believes it; even if it’s only for a little while.

The ride back to y/n’s small farm is always Harry’s favorite part of the entire ordeal. The combination of lack of sleep from the night before plus the long day she just had finally caught up to her, and she always falls asleep mid-conversation with him. He never minds it one bit––always says it's the most adorable thing he gets to witness.

He’ll always wake her when they’re about ten minutes out from her house because he knows she hates being woken abruptly. Harry will reach over while driving her old, rusty, rattling truck (she doesn’t care how rich Harry is; he is not allowed to buy her a new car under any circumstances) and gently rouse her from her dreams, promising to make her a nice, warm cup of decaf coffee while she showers. If Harry doesn't have to head out he’ll stay for a hot shower and chat with her over a cup of tea before eventually luring her off to bed with the promise of cuddles and Real Housewives reruns.

This is their relationship, their friendship, and Harry cherishes it. He can’t help but wonder though, when the pretty little beekeeper that instantaneously stole his heart all that time ago is cuddled up in his arms, what it would be like to be more than y/n’s friend. He falls asleep with a smile on his face and thoughts of y/n in his head.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Why d'ya put that one away?”

“They’re not quite done working on this one yet,” y/n tells him when he asks about a large honeycomb. Her voice is so soft when she speaks that Harry has to lean in to hear her over the buzzing of the bees; any excuse he can find to get closer to y/n works for him. “We wouldn’t wanna cut their job short before they finish with it.”

Harry loves days like these. He loves canceling meetings when he shouldn’t just so he can spend the day helping y/n around her farm. It’s especially fun when she lets him wear one of the big white suits she’s always wearing and can watch her do her thing with her bees. Right now, she’s teaching him how to harvest honey.

“What happens if we do?” Harry would fire fifty million questions in a row at her if it meant she never stopped talking.

“Well, you wouldn’t like it if you got kicked off stage while you were in the middle of performing, would you?”

Harry grins and chuckles at the thought. Only y/ can explain something as complex as beekeeping in a way that Harry immediately understands––just one of the many things he loves about her.

“I would not.” Harry looks on as she gently replaces the honeycomb they were just inspecting. The smoker y/n asked him to hold sits limply in his hand as he simply stares at her, admiring how confident she is when she’s in her element.

Comfortable silence falls between the pair as y/n works and he follows along with the exception of Harry following her requests to position the smoker in certain spots when the bees are a little in the way. The sweet girl beside him usually never stops talking, but when she works, her full attention is on the task and she’s too focused to speak. The silence is always warm and comforting, like y/n.

“All done,” y/n announces with an air of finality after working in silence for what had to have been at least an hour. “That didn’t take too long, did it?”

“No. What are we doing next?”

Y/n let out a laugh—a sound so beautiful he can only equate it to the jingling of a bell. “What’s next? Harry, you’ve been here for two days! Don’t you have things to do?”

Far too embarrassed to admit that he pushes all his responsibilities back whenever he wants to see her, he just shakes his head quickly.

“Nope. Nothing.”

Y/n gives Harry one of her looks that tells him she doesn’t quite believe him, but she shrugs. “Do you wanna sing to my plants? I read somewhere that it would help ‘em grow…”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Although Harry is sure y/n thinks otherwise, he does, in fact, still has a job, though he isn’t sure how Jeff hasn’t dropped him as a client by now.

He’s currently fiddling in a chair at a large conference table, going over tour logistics and plans, and only half paying attention. His mind is on y/n, as it always constantly seems to be. He wonders if she ate lunch (she sometimes forgets) and how much time she’s spent working today. He hopes she’s remembering to take breaks. Harry always called y/n his little bee—she’ll just  go, go, go! until someone physically reminds her to slow down. That “someone” usually is Harry.

“Harry? What do you think about that?” Jeff’s voice breaks Harry out of his y/n-filled thoughts. Harry tries to hide his annoyance when he answers, though he doesn’t think he’s particularly successful.

“What was tha’? I zoned out a bit, sorry.”

“A dinner? With the tour crew, tonight.”

“Can y/n come?” Harry doesn’t miss a beat in asking. Anyone else would have rolled their eyes at him, but he just sighs and nods his head. Jeff knows better than anyone that his best shot at convincing Harry to do something is allowing the involvement of y/n.

“Yes, Harry. Y/n can come.”

So that was how y/n ends up sitting next to Harry at a table with all the magical people who help make his tours possible and chatting with Harry Lambert like they’re old pals. It’s just another thing Harry loves about y/n––she has the ability to make friends wherever she goes and Harry is amazed about it. Harry thinks that’s so cool. She always tells him that she wishes she could light up a room like he can. Harry thinks that if she thinks he “lights up a room”, then she absolutely blinds everyone in it.

“Feelin’ good, lil’ bee?” Harry takes a sip of his drink after he asks his question. He rests his right hand on y/n’s left knee and checks the time on his wristwatch. “Lemme know when ‘ve gotta get you home and we can leave this thing.”

“Harry!” she whisper-shouts. “These people are here because of you! We can’t just leave, you goof.”

“Eh,” Harry waves his hand dismissively. “They’re not here for me. More excited to see each other, I think. Besides, everyone knows I’m only capable of givin’ my attention to you when you’re around.”

Y/n blushes, looking down at her hands and around them like she always does when she doesn’t know what to say, then nods. “Whenever you’re ready, I am. Oh- I wanna show you the honeycombs from today! They’re huge!”

Just like that, Harry wants nothing more than to leave the steakhouse they’re at (he can’t remember the name) and go see honeycombs. He nods and clears his throat, then stands up. “I’ve got to get goin’, everyone. Y/n’s not feelin’ too good. Thank you for all you do. I’ll be seein’ you all real soon, yeah?”

The occupants of the dinner are far too intoxicated to hear him, and he chuckles to himself. A few wish y/n well, but many don’t even hear Harry’s parting words. He likes it this way. Sometimes it's easier to just slip out. Harry already knows that y/n will unleash on him when they reach the car; tell him he can’t just use her as an excuse anytime he wants to get out of something.

“I can’t believe you did that,” y/n groans loudly once they’re in front of the restaurant, waiting for Harry’s car to be brought out of the valet. “You’re embarrassing!”

“S’my job as your best friend to embarrass ya now and then, innit?”

“Says who?”

“Says me!” Harry was in the process of pulling y/n more into his side while they wait in the cold for his car. She’s putty in his hands and Harry loves when she’s pliant and feeling as touchy as he always is. Harry’s hands only leave y/n’s body when he opens her door and jogs around to the driver’s side.

The hand that’s not gripping the steering wheel is in y/n’s, sneaking quick glances from the corner of his eye while he feels her playing with his rings.

“Do you wanna hear a fact you may or may not know about bees?”

Harry nods. Of course he did. He’d listen to y/n recite the phone book if she asked him to. Y/n nods and continues.

“Bees have four wings.”

Harry can hear how proud she sounds to share that—he reckons she thought she was about to blow his mind. So, he pretends he didn’t already know that.

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not,” y/n retorts, letting go of his hand to dig her phone out of her clutch. “I can show you.”

Harry hates that she lets go of his hand, even if just for a moment to show him something. He always wants to touch her. Y/n holds her phone up to Harry’s face at every red light to show him pictures of bees' wings, and he pretends to be mind-blown. He’s certain it’s one of the best performances of his life (he thinks Christopher Nolan would be impressed).

“Are you stayin’ over at mine tonight?”

“I don’t have my skincare.”

If Harry was speaking to anyone else, he might’ve been embarrassed by what he was about to admit. “I bought all the things you use so you couldn’t use that as an excuse not to sleep over anymore.”

“Harry!”

“What?”

“You can’t do stuff like that!” Y/n sounds a teensy bit upset, but Harry knows she isn’t. “I told you that you’re not allowed to buy me things!”

Harry isn’t a fan of her response - he doesn’t ever remember agreeing to that.  “Why not?”

“Save your money, Harry.”

“I have more money than I know what to do with,” he responds quickly, eyes focused on the road. “Let me spoil you now and then, yeah?”

Harry hears y/n let out a quiet sigh, but she argues no further and he is happy to have won this battle. A comfortable silence falls over the car for the duration of the trip as headlights pass them every so often. Harry doesn’t mind it—he’s just glad she decided she was in the mood to play with his fingers again.

Once Harry gets them home, he immediately starts a pot of decaf coffee and puts their towels, a pair of boxers, and one of his t-shirts she always likes to wear in the dryer. Y/n once told Harry she loved warm towels and clothes and he’s never forgotten it. While waiting for her coffee to brew, he puts on the kettle to make himself a cup of tea, quickly reaching for her favorite set of mugs. Even though y/n is more than capable of doing these things for herself, Harry loves taking care of her, even if it’s only for a little bit.

Harry has both of their drinks (y/n’s made just the way she likes it) on the coffee table and a movie queued up by the time she rejoins him in the front of his house, skin glowing from the skincare routine she just completed.

“I found the stuff! How does my skin look?” Y/n flops down beside Harry, reaching for her mug of coffee.

Harry looks up from his phone. “Dewey. I made your coffee jus’ the way you like it… unless your taste buds have changed in the last twenty-four hours.” Y/n rolls her eyes at his cheesy attempt at a joke.

He loved when she was over at his house. It was usually the only time Harry ever saw her truly relaxed. Even when they were meant to be taking it easy at hers (whether that be by cuddling and watching movies, baking together, or simply just falling asleep beside one another) her mind was always in work mode.

“You’re not funny, H.”

He smirks at her from the corner of his eyes. “Then why are you smiling?”

“I’m always smiling! Now, can you please go take a shower so we can watch the movie?”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/n was burnt out––Harry could tell.

He always knew when she needed a break because she would get upset for seemingly no reason at all. Earlier when Harry asked her if he should cook dinner or order in, she promptly told him she didn’t care what they ate and went back to researching hive health.

Ouch.

When Harry made the executive decision to make them lentil soup (as much as y/n tried to deny it, he knew she was developing a small cold, too) she scrunched up her nose and said,” No, thanks.”, deciding to take a nap instead.

Harry did his best to remind her to take care of herself, but she was his lil’ bee, after all. She wouldn’t take a break unless someone forced her to. So, he decided to plan a getaway for them.

“H, I don’t have time for a vacation,” y/n snaps at him when he broaches the topic of a trip later that evening. “You out of all people should know how hard it is to get away sometimes.”

“Y’need one though,” Harry replies. “We could both use one.”

“Who’s gonna watch my bees?”

“Already took care of that. Took care of everything,” he shrugs. “Only thing you have to do is pack a bag and we can go…’n if you don’t feel like packin’ it yourself I can get that taken care of, too.”

“Who did you hire, though? Where did you find them?” Y/n seems doubtful. Harry should’ve known she wouldn’t agree to just anyone watching her bees as she is way too attached to them.

“You really think I’d hire just anyone to watch your bees?” Harry raises an eyebrow. “I’ve got the best of the best for them, don’t you worry about that.”

Y/n giggles, which makes Harry blush. He loved being the reason for her laughter. “I’m going to hold you to that... I can pack my suitcase by the way, H. We can’t leave until tomorrow though... I need time to say bye to all my bees.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Harry loved to travel with y/n.

He loves the look of awe when he takes her to a new place. He loves seeing her so carefree, so at peace. Y/n’s beautiful all the time, of course, but especially like this. Stress-free and happy.

They're sitting on the balcony of the Italian villa Harry arranged for them to stay at, bellies full and tongues stained purple from working through a bottle of expensive red wine. The sun had set not long ago, and there’s a nice, warm breeze that ripples through their hair and tickles their skin.

“What are we gonna do tomorrow?” Y/n questions, glancing at Harry through hooded eyes. Her words are slightly slurred due to her intoxicated state, but not so much that he can’t understand her.

“It’s a surprise,” Harry takes a sip of his wine, then moves closer to y/n. “You’ll like it though.”

“Can I try to guess what it is?”

“Sure, y/n.”

“Is it the beach?”

“Nope,” Harry shakes his head. “For another day.”

“Leaning Tower of Pisa?”

He laughs. “We’re nowhere near it, but we can squeeze tha’ in if you really wanna see it.”

“Okay, then I’m out of guesses.” y/n pours herself another glass of wine. “Tell me.”

“‘M gonna take you shopping.”

Y/n pouts. “I thought you said we were gonna do something I’d like!”

“Oh, did I say something you’d like? I meant something I’d like…”

Y/n doesn’t say anything, and he’s glad she doesn’t argue with him. Harry takes the lull in conversation to just admire her––admire the way the moonlight is reflecting off her skin, the way her eyes are a little glossy from the wine, and the way the robe she was wearing hung slightly off her shoulders (and Harry was well aware that she was wearing nothing under it).

“Harry, can I ask you something?” y/n’s voice is so soft that Harry would struggle to hear her had they not been sitting so close.

“Anything, lil’ bee.”

“Do you ever wish you had a girlfriend to take on trips like this? Instead of me? Like, I imagine you’d be having a way better time if you were here with your girlfriend and not just me.” Her chest heaves as she takes in a breath, sucking in air after rushing through what she just said.

“Why would I have a better time with a girlfriend than I could have with you?” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather go on a trip like this with.

“Because,” she takes her bottom lip in between her teeth. “You could… yanno- you could have sex and stuff? I just feel like Italy is so romantic.”

Harry chokes on his wine, and it takes a few moments of coughing to clear it out. “Really? Tha’s what you’re thinkin’ bout right now?”

“I’m just saying,” she takes a long sip of wine. “It’s okay if that’s what you’re thinking about, you know? ‘Cus I am too. I mean, I’m not thinking it, I just mean, like, I don’t think it’s weird or anything. I mean, I’m also pretty drunk right now so––”

“I’m thinkin’ about it, puppy,” Harry cuts y/n off because she tends to ramble once she gets about two drinks in, every time. “‘M thinkin’ about it with you, because I wish you were my girlfriend-”

The words that come out of his own mouth surprise him equally since he’s been careful about keeping it quiet. Okay, so maybe Harry’s just as drunk as y/n.

“What?” Y/n pouts, her wine-stained lips look plump and soft. Harry wants nothing more than to tug her over to him and kiss her. “Harry, you can’t say that- can’t say that ‘cus we’re good the way we are. We’re good as friends––best friends! Right?”

He takes a steadying breath so he can get his words together. “Don’t wanna be only best friends,” Harry whispers, so close to y/n now that she feels his breath on her neck and smells the wine on his breath. “S’not enough. I wanna be your lover...wanna love on you so badly-”

“Harry…”

“...Y/n…”

“I care about you so much––just–– I want us to be okay no matter what, yeah?”

“We’ll be okay.” Harry’s words come out quickly.

“Stuff like this always changes things…” Y/n is doubtful, unsure.

“Don’t think much else would change. I already treat you like you’re the only girl in the world…” Harry trails off, running his fingers along the collar of her bathrobe.

“I want us to be just as good,” y/n searches Harry’s eyes to see if they possess the same hunger as hers––she’s glad to see they do. “Nothing will change.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry’s rushing to get his words out pressing his lips against y/n’s exposed shoulder, thoughts tumbling quickly down a rabbit hole “Wasn’t sure if you’ve ever felt the same way because you’re so bloody hard to read sometimes-”

Y/n gently tugs at the front of her robe so it falls open, allowing Harry newfound access to her neck and collarbone. “Of course I feel the same way, wasn’t it obvious?” She lets out a loud moan when Harry nips and sucks particularly hard at one spot; it’s music to his ears.

“Not at all, or else I would’ve been kissin’ on ya like this a lot sooner.” Harry pecks her cheek, then the corner of her mouth, and finally her lips. “I swear everyone knew I was proper obsessed with ya, except you.”

Y/n smiles against Harry’s lips, melting into the kiss as she grows used to the feeling of kissing him. “How long?”

Harry tilts his head to the side in confusion. “‘How long’ what?”

“Have you liked me?” y/n dips her head, too shy to make direct eye contact with Harry. He rests his fingers under her chin and gently tilts her head upwards.

“You really wanna know?” Harry’s not ashamed to admit he’s liked her since the second he laid eyes on her at the farmer’s market. She nods, and Harry can see how blown out her pupils are in the moonlight. He continues, peppering more kisses against y/n’s exposed patches of skin.

“I reckon I’ve liked you ever since I first saw you,” Harry’s voice drops to a whisper even though they are the only ones on the balcony. “Had to know you...see if you were as sweet as the honey you were sellin’.”

“Am I?” Y/n questions, pushing Harry away from her softly to pause his movements. Harry slides out of the chair he’s in, positioning himself so he’s on his knees in front of y/n. He hums, untying her robe a bit more so that her belly and breasts are exposed to him.

“I’m not sure, pet,” Harry ghosts his hand over her core, not ready to touch her just yet. He knows he can get her more worked up––really make her beg for it. “I’ve gotta taste ya first.”

“You can!” she blurts out, lifting her bottom off the chair slightly. “You can taste me Harry, ‘m givin’ you permission-”

“Yeah, but what fun would that be?” As much as Harry wants to mouth at her pretty cunt and hear her moan and whine for him, he also thought he’d quite like to hear what she sounds like begging for his mouth, tongue, and cock. He looks up at his sweet girl from the rather uncomfortable position on his knees he’s put himself in, thoroughly pleased by how absolutely fucked out she looks. He hasn’t even touched her yet!

Harry decides he has let her squirm and anticipate his touch long enough, finally placing one digit to her covered heat. She bucks her hips up slightly, his light touch doing nothing to quell the fire he ignited in her tummy.

“Don’t tease me, please,” y/n says quietly, eyes screwed shut. “I want it, like, so badly. It’s ok- oh!”

Y/n’s tense body sinks back into the chair as Harry pulls her underwear to the side in one swift motion, exposing her warm cunt to the cool, Italian air. He notices her body shaking (he’s not sure if it’s from the cold or excitement) but he makes a mental note to draw her a warm bath after he’s made her cum on his tongue. Without warning, Harry licks a long stripe from the entrance of her cunt to her clit, taking the small button in his mouth once he reaches it. He moans in pleasure, loving the way she reacted to his mouth and the sweet sounds that leave her.

Harry stretches his arms up to reach for y/n’s hands, wanting nothing more than to see what they would feel like tugging at his curls. She immediately understands what he’s asking and wastes no time slotting her fingers into his hair.

“How’s tha’ feel?” Harry lifts his head from her clit to take a breath of air and check to see if what they are doing is still okay—he’s delighted when she begs for him to “get back to it”.

“Don’t stop, feels really nice,” y/n’s plea ends with a loud moan; Harry’s cock swells.

“Do you want me to keep goin’, puppy?” He takes his index finger in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before he lowers it to circle her entrance. “Y’like how my tongue feels on your clit, hmm?” He sinks it in, causing y/n to let out a quiet gasp.

“Yeah, you’re really, really, good at this, H,” y/n struggles to catch her breath so Harry takes this as his sign to slow down. Y/n grinds her hips against Harry’s tongue once he lets up, now having to work harder to chase her orgasm. “W-why’d you slow down?”

She tugs particularly hard on Harry’s hair, causing him to yelp in surprise. He can feel the pre-cum leaking from the head of his cock and onto his stomach, and he thinks he may cum without even having to touch himself. Harry takes her desperation as a green light to resume his previous pace, finger slipping easily back into her cunt.

“Thought it was becoming a little too much for you,” Harry mumbles, mesmerized by how easily her cunt takes his finger. He thinks she can easily take at least two more. “Can I add more? Get ya all stretched out so y’can take me alright?” Y/n clenches around his fingers at his words and Harry knows that if he’s inside her and she does that again, he’ll be a goner.

“Yes, H,” she lifts her bottom off the chair. “I can take more, give me more-”

Harry sinks his middle finger into her, shuddering when his cock dances in his sweatpants. He decides he needs them off (or at least needs his cock out) and uses his free hand to pull them down. He hisses when his cock slaps against his stomach, more pre-cum leaking out of the neglected, red head.

“Takin’ my fingers so good, angel,” Harry whispers, speeding up the pace in which he is pumping into her. “I can feel y’squeezin’ on ‘em––are y’gonna squeeze my cock like that?” All y/n can do is nod, not trusting her voice to answer him.

Who would’ve thought the man who was always so sweet to her had such a dirty mouth?

Y/n can feel that familiar fire igniting in her belly, knows that she needs Harry to angle his fingers just so and hit that spot that would have her seeing stars. She reaches for his wrist and tries to angle him how she wants him, but it’s not working. She needs more––needs his cock.

“Harry, need more- please, need it, need you-” her pleas come out choppy and short as she struggles to articulate exactly what she needs. Harry’s her best friend, though––he knows exactly what she’s asking for.

“You want my cock, lil’ bee? S’that what you want?” he pulls his fingers out and rubs at her clit while he frees himself completely from the confines of his sweatpants. She nods, but that’s not good enough for Harry. “Lemme hear you say it.”

“I want you, H,” she’s panting. “I want you to fuck me...”

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Harry teases, giving himself a few quick pumps. He knows once he’s inside of her he probably won’t last more than a few quick sloppy thrusts––especially if she squeezes round his cock like she’s been doing with his fingers. Harry guides her from the chair and to the railing of the balcony so they’re looking down at the bustling city below them. Harry was grateful they were so high up and it was fairly dark, although not pitch black. The thought of someone only having to look up to see him and the woman he loves in such a vulnerable state ignited a flame in him.

He begins slowly inching his way inside of her, looking at her while she adjusted to the size of him. Y/n tells him she’s ready for more way quicker than Harry thought she would, and he’s pleased to feel her pushing herself down on him while he pushes up into her. It takes all his willpower not to cum immediately. 

“Look at you fuckin’ yourself with my cock,” Harry says smugly, standing still while y/n bounces down on him. “Take what you need, sweet girl. Make yourself cum round me-”

“So big, H,” y/n puts the hand not gripping onto the rail in her mouth, biting back her moans. 

“I wanna hear you, puppy. Want all those people down there to know how good ‘m makin’ ya feel,” Harry pulls her hand out of her mouth and wraps his arms tightly around her before fucking up into her relentlessly.

“Oh, fuck,” y/n moans quietly. “Fuck, right there...”

“C’mon, angel. I know you can be louder than that, let me hear you-” Harry uses one hand to let go of y/n’s plushy hips and instead lowers it to her clit, rubbing small, quick circles at the hardened nub. She lets out a loud squeal that quickly turns into a giggle, causing her to clench around Harry’s cock. He lets out a loud moan, not caring at all who heard. He was going to give the pretty beekeeper begging for his cock the hardest, most intense orgasm of her life.

“Harry, I’m so close...”

“I know, I can feel it baby,” Harry’s curls are sticking to his forehead from sweat. “I’m close too, where do you want-”

“Inside,” y/n turns around, so she’s looking at Harry. “I’m on birth control-”

Harry speeds up the pace, moving faster than he even thought possible. He was fucking his best friend in Italy, at an Italian villa on a balcony. Could his life get any better?

“‘M gonna cum, y/n,” Harry’s thrusts are growing sloppy, his wrist tired from rubbing circles on y/n’s clit. He wants her to cum first, though––needs her to. “Cum for me, sweet girl. I want you to cum.”

Y/n lets out a loud cry if Harry’s eyes weren’t shut, he would’ve checked to see if she drew any attention to themselves. However, he was too far gone, right on the brink of his own orgasm. With two more sloppy thrusts, Harry is finishing right behind her. If they weren’t so close to the edge of a balcony, he would’ve collapsed atop her, completely exhausted from the good fuck he just gave y/n.

They both slowly come down from their highs together, giggling at how good their orgasms made them feel. Harry slowly pulls out of her and stuffs his softening cock back in his pants before grabbing his sweet girl and pulling her to sit in his lap.

“You are as sweet as the honey you sell, lil’ bee.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

thanks for reading!! ☺️

[nikethestatue]

La Dolce Vita

Summary: Elain Archeron and Azriel - in love, in lust, in Italy

Modern AU *slight TOG crossover. If you read my stuff, you know it’s LONG

Warnings: bad language and THIS IS NSFW (not kidding, this is a story, not just sex, but there is a LOT of explicit material here. You can still read the story, but if you are sensitive or underage, skip the naughty bits)

Comments are always appreciated/wanted/needed. Anon or not, just do it! Obviously, reblogs are appreciated. 

Part I (Flowers)

 La Vie En Rose

De l'homme auquel j'appartiens (Of the man to whom I belong)  Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle l'a tout bas (He speaks to me softly) Je vois la vie en rose (And I see life in pink) Il me dit des mots d'amour (He speaks words of love to me) Des mots de tous les jours (They are every day words) Et ça m' fait quelque chose (And they do something to me) Il est entré dans mon coeur (He has entered into my heart) Une part de bonheur (A bit of happiness) Dont je connais la cause (That I know the cause of) C'est lui pour moi (It's only him for me) Moi pour lui dans la vie (And me for him, for life)

Now

Riding in a Ferrari, being enveloped in its supple, buttery leather, gulping in the cypress and cedar-scented air of Tuscany was everything that Elain Archeron had ever wanted. She never knew that this is what she wanted, because riding in very fast, very expensive, sleek Italian cars wasn’t on her ‘fantasy radar’, but now that she was in one, she suddenly came to the realization that this was perhaps one of the best experiences of her life.

The whole thing, so far, has been the best experience of her life.

Well…maybe not the best-best.

Her happiness was deeply intertwined with and caused by the man in the driver seat of the said Ferrari—Azriel. Azriel Archeron, as he loved calling himself. Even if this wasn’t his last name, he preferred using it over his family name, for a variety of personal reasons. There was nothing better, more sublime, more beautiful and more loving than Azriel. The perfect male specimen, if she could say so herself. No one would argue with her assessment either.

Elain

 They were introduced by her sister’s then-boyfriend Cass, who was giving her a lift one afternoon, and then suggested that they stop by Azriel’s car atelier, because he needed to pick something up.

Elain’s heard of the mysterious Azriel from her sisters, both of whom had claimed that he was the most handsome man that either one of them had ever seen. Elain chuckled at the exuberant praise, doubting its truthfulness. There was no such thing as the ‘most handsome’ man. Beauty was in the eyes of the beholder.

She wasn’t sure what a car atelier was, and when Cassian pulled up to a modern-looking building, she said that she’d stay in the car and wait.

“Come on, petal, don’t be shy,” Cassian urged her, holding the car door open for her in a way that indicated that she’d have to get out and follow him.

They entered the foyer, a vast space with racing stripes painted on the polished cement floor, and a sea of model cars dropping from the ceiling. Behind a wall of glass, Elain spied a row of gorgeous cars, none of which were familiar to her. Some unique European models, fit for James Bond’s consumption. There were also neat antique cars, probably from the 50s. She immediately had visions of Grace Kelly and Cary Grant riding in one of these along the Riviera coast.

“What’s this place?” she inquired, looking around at the mid-century modern building that resembled a spaceship.

“This is Az’s baby,” Cass explained vaguely. “Conceived, conceptualized, restored, outfitted—all by the brilliant mind of one Azriel Bagarat.”

“Are you bragging?”

A deep, sensual voice, that could only be called ‘midnight’ sounded behind them, and Cassian’s handsome, tanned face broke in a mischievous smile. “Only about you, brother!”

When Elain turned around, her breath was knocked out from her lungs.

She didn’t know that it was possible, to be actually stunned by someone’s beauty, but there she stood, gaping, feeling the world slow and move in a different manner for a few moments.

Standing at a towering 6”4 or so, the man was at least as tall as Cassian, and Cassian was the tallest man Elain’d ever met. She was just as muscular, but not as bulky. Clad in all black, from expensive, well-tailored Diesel jeans, to a soft t-shirt that stretched over his sharply cut torso, emphasizing the thick muscles of his arms and shoulders, and the narrow waist, true to her sisters’ word, this Azriel was simply exquisite.

Cassian draped his heavy arm around her shoulders and nudged her forward, just a bit, and said,

“Petal, say hello! This is my brother, Azriel. Az, this is my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, the one and only Elain Archeron.”

At the words ‘sister-in-law’ Elain whipped her head to Cassian, who grinned maniacally at her, nodding and answering her silent question.

“When? What are you talking about?” she exclaimed, Azriel momentarily forgotten. “What do you mean? You’ve only been seeing each other for like three months?!?”

“Baby girl, I don’t need three years to decide…Nes is Nes and she is the one for me.”

He shrugged with his usual ease, acting like they were discussing the weather or a good burger that he just ate.

“If Nes hears even a whiff of this, I will know it’s you, petal, and well, I am not sure what I will do,” he decided upon reflection, but then pleaded, “please, don’t tell her. This one,” he nodded towards Azriel, who was standing still, green eyes peeled to Elain, “I can trust. He hardly ever talks,”

“That’s because you talk for all of us,” noted Azriel with a smirk.

Elain chuckled, and turned back to face him.

He extended his hand to her, with an odd, tentative movement, and when she looked down, she saw old, mottled scars that covered his palm and part of his wrist and forearm. A vintage Patek Phillipe on his wrist.

“Beautiful,” she murmured, and he gave her a surprised look, unsure of what she was referring to.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet another Archeron sister,” he said with a soft smile, which made Elain lose her ability to speak for a good few moments, because she was finally able to take in that face that defied description. The sharp cheekbones and the mesmerizing amber and emerald eyes, almond-shaped and slanted hinted at a varied heritage, and unfairly, the man also possessed a perfect nose, and a full, sensuous mouth. He was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome, with skin of burnished bronze, which was so in contrast to his bright eyes and raven-black hair, cut in a fashionable undercut. The physique, as she already noted, quickly skimming over the body, matched the face.

“Yes, me too,” she said stupidly.

Graceful, like a courtier, he offered her his arm and said,

“Would you like me to show you around?”

She didn’t want to be impolite, though she suddenly felt sweaty and nervous, and completely out of her league. But she threaded her hand through his arm and lightly squeezed the firm, alarmingly thick bicep.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

She wasn’t sure what she was thinking him for, so she added, “yes, I’d love to see it.”

“Why haven’t we met?” he inquired, those green eyes watching her with such intensity that she felt almost undressed, bared under the gaze. It wasn’t unpleasant, because it wasn’t lascivious, and he didn’t strike her as someone who’d be disrespectful to women.

“I’ve been busy for the past half a year,” she explained.

“Doing what?”

They walked down the wide passage, past all the cars, which Azriel pointed out with a wave of his scarred hand, and dropped names like Pagani, BMW I8, Bugatti Divo, Bugatti Centodieci, Lamborghini Veneto, Koenigsegg CCXR Trevita and so forth. Elain might not have known a ton about cars, but she was not so unaware not to know that a Bugatti and a Lambo were expensive cars.

Cassian fell behind, gawking at the display.

“I was opening my own business,” Elain said, her head thrown back, looking at an entire toy racetrack mounted to the ceiling, with cars zooming by, and somehow, not falling on patrons’ heads.

“What sort of business?”

“Flowers,” she said absently, once they reached another space—a two story-restaurant, bar, and a patio outside as well.

“Flowers?”

“Oh, a flower shop,” she explained at last. Then muttered, awed, “this is really incredible!”

“A car enthusiast?” he smirked.

She didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, her hand migrated from the crook of his arm to his hand, and now, they walked along the walls lined with Ferrari posters, memorabilia and expensive everything. Walking and holding hands.

“I wouldn’t call myself one,” she admitted, “but I find cars aesthetically pleasing…Never got to ride in anything fancier than a Mercedes or a Lexus,”

“Well, we should remedy that at once!” he decided easily and then said, “pick you up on Friday at seven?”

That sobered her up a bit and she turned to face him. They stopped at the long, chrome-lined bar, and he said, “An espresso?”

“Um,”

But before she could respond, he was behind the counter, playing with a very fancy coffee machine that required a PhD to operate with all the levers and hooks and buttons, and in a few minutes, he poured her a tiny cup of coffee, thick with natural foam, and heady with its enticing scent.

He chugged his own in one go and she followed him, gulping her espresso in two sips. It was better than anything she’d ever drunk in her life.

“Like a date?” she finally asked, truly confused by the offer.

“Would you like it to be a date?” he leaned on the bar, biceps flexing, his arms covered in tattoo sleeves that reached all the way to his fingers. They were quite beautiful, the tattoos, the placement and the design, and Elain recognized the style, since Cassian and Rhysand wore the same kinds of tattoos, if not so extensive.

“Did you draw these?” she asked bluntly, touching her finger to a thick snaking black line, which was shaded with cobalt.

He looked down, at her hand and his arm and nodded, following her finger with his eyes.

“I did. For the three of us. When we made Navy Seals,”

“You are a Seal, too?” she exclaimed.

He smiled and nodded, “Well, we all grew up in foster care—not all, Cass and I,”

“I heard,”

“Until Rhys’s parents adopted us. But we weren’t the…best of boys,” he chortled, “so to get our heads straight, we were sent to the Navy after school. We figured we’d only stay a bit, but we stayed for a while.”

“So, you are retired?”

“We are vets,”

“How old are you?” she blurted. Then blushed and said, “I am sorry. I am usually not so impolite,”

He laughed, “I figured. But that’s alright. I’ll tell you on Friday, though. If you don’t mind?”

“I mean, I don’t mind,” she murmured, her eyes dropping to her espresso cup, “but,”

“How about this—I take you on a drive in one of these fancy cars—and then you can brag to everyone that you’d driven in a,”

He paused and rubbed his chin,

“Any preference?”

“For what?”

“What car you’d like to go in?”

“I don’t know,”

“Throw something at me,” he urged, eyes glinting with feral delight.

Elain, blush deepening, finally said, “Do you have a Ferrari? I’ve always wanted to drive in a Ferrari.”

“Ahhh, a Ferrarista at heart!” he nodded with approval, folding his arms on his chest, “stick with the classic and the best. And yes, gorgeous, I do have a Ferrari or two.”

Gorgeous.

Azriel

The girl who’d arrived with Cassian, was not Nesta, but there was something vaguely familiar about her. The girl who’d arrived with Cassian was the most gorgeous creature that Azriel had ever seen. Gorgeous and completely unaware.

Women like her, if they were smart and cunning and ambitious, used their beauty for all things good and terrible. But this exquisite creature that Cassian was so blatantly hugging and teasing wasn’t one of those women. Azriel was all too familiar with the types—the maneaters, who hounded him like sharks. He was wealthy, and good-looking, and a decent person, if not exactly a saint. He hobnobbed with celebrities who came to order his cars, which he designed and outfitted based on their specifications and desires.

He was finnicky when it came to taste though. No matter how much rappers asked him to clad their Maybach in gold or some vapid Gucci print, no matter how many heiresses pouted and asked for a bubblegum or Barbie-pink Ferraris, he did not betray the essence and soul of the vehicle. Modify, define, sharpen, stylize—he did it all with precision and skill which was unparalleled. But Azriel Bagarat was known for rejecting even the juiciest of offers, if the request did not coincide with his aesthetic or the history of the car.

He was at his shop—that’s what he called it, though atelier sounded infinitely better and more expensive—that afternoon, knowing that Cassian was going to drop by and select a car for his grandiose proposal to Nesta. There was some concern that Cassian would not fit his 6”5 form into an Aston Martin or a Bentley, so they needed to make sure that the car was appropriate for the occasion and the occupant. Cass insisted on a British vehicle, feeling that Nesta would like something classic and timeless. So be it.

What Azriel did not expect to see that Tuesday afternoon was a girl--because he hesitated to call her a ‘woman’, since she looked so lovely and perfect and innocent--who took his breath away.

His breath had been taken away only once before, by Rhys’s cousin, who strolled like a ray of sunshine into their broken lives.

However, Morrigan chose Cassian. And then Cassian promptly impregnated her, causing a great discontent and strife between everyone. Morrigan, or rather Morgana d’Adda, though she anglicized her name, even if Morrigan d’Adda sounded funny, was just about disavowed by her family for tumbling, and being so stupid and blind as to get knocked up by a hulking nobody mulatto, as her father Keir called Cassian. Rather, sneered, at Cassian.

Even if Azriel didn’t impregnate anybody, he somehow got looped into the family bullshit and once he and Cassian turned 18, they were both shipped off to the navy. To the dismay of the entire Darling clan, Rhys followed them, tossing away his guaranteed admittance to Brown. An Ivy League school for rich stupid heirs. Only Rhys wasn’t stupid. Neither was Cassian a hulking nobody mulatto. And Azriel wasn’t just the ‘fucking weird kid, who might be a serial killer’. They served and they passed the insane Navy Seal training, and they proved themselves.

Nowadays, Cassian now ran security for the Darling conglomerate, while Rhys took over the reins when his father was killed in a car accident. Azriel found his own path, though the association with the Darling name certainly helped his exposure and in building relationships and meeting all the right people. And meeting all the women. The three brothers had gone through their share of wild times, but in the past 3 years, things began to calm down for them.

It began with Rhys meeting Feyre Archeron at an art gallery, where she was exhibiting some of her pieces. Azriel had tugged along with Rhys to see the exhibit, because Rhys was looking for some art for his new office, and he trusted Azriel’s taste and knowledge, and wanted a second pair of eyes.

Rhys followed Feyre like a dog throughout the evening—Azriel was there to witness the pathetic display—and then they ended up at a bar, doing shots and feeding Feyre virgin Cosmos, since she wasn’t even 21 yet. They went to some dance club, Azriel playing the third-wheel and ‘chaperone’, though by the end of the night, Rhys and Feyre disappeared together and weren’t heard from for the next three days.

… “What if he killed her?” proposed Cassian for 100th time, pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his long black hair. “Or what if she killed him?”

“I thought that I was the serial killer among the three of us,” drawled Azriel, sprawled on a sofa, watching a game. He wasn’t as concerned, having seen Rhys dripping with intense lust at the sight of the brown-haired teen. It was unusual, since at that time Rhys was almost 25, and Feyre only 19, and the three of them typically tried to avoid teenagers like the plague. But Rhysand Darling seemed genuinely enthralled.

“No, you are the guy with the sex dungeon,” corrected Cassian.

Azriel rolled his eyes, “serial killer with a sex dungeon, huh? Sounds like an interesting story. Alas, much as I’d like to, I don’t have a sex dungeon.”

“Aren’t you building one? In that new garage of yours?” Cassian shrugged.

“Only cars. No sex toys,” sighed Azriel, looking like that might have been an omission on his part.

“Gents, I think I am in love!” the door burst open and a wild-eyed Rhys appeared, his normally pristine hair in disarray, his cheeks flushed, wearing only a white t-shirt and jeans.

“Where the fuck were you for three days?” growled Cassian, showing considerable relief at the sight of his brother.

“Falling in love,” crooned Rhys, falling into a chair, a stupid, dazed look on his face.

“You look like Audrey Hepburn in ‘Sabrina’,” noted Azriel.

“I feel like Audrey Hepburn!” exclaimed Rhys. “She is perfect. Feyre is perfect.”

What the fuck? Mouthed Cassian in confusion.

“Feyre Darling,” whispered Rhys with delight, eyes closed, tasting the sound of the name on his tongue. “Feyre Archeron Darling. Or Feyre Darling Archeron?”

“You alright there, buddy?” Cassian frowned. “A little early to be talking last names?”

“She’ll be my wife,” announced Rhysand with his usually unwavering confidence.

And that was that.

Now, the ‘society wedding of the year’ was coming up in three months. Rhysand Darling and Feyre Archeron, the toast of the town, the power couple, the young and beautiful billionaires.

 Now, Azriel stood in front of the most stunning female he’d ever seen and for once, he felt like Rhys. His brain turned into a soupy mess, and he found himself tongue-tied and concentrating was suddenly difficult. He wanted to be a gracious host and a confident, formidable man, who had a reputation to uphold—though he wasn’t sure if Elain was aware of his reputation—but inside, he was a mess. All his insecurities, doubts and self-hate rose to the surface at once, and he hesitated to extend his hand in greeting to her. His mangled, horrible, revolting hand, which was sullied beyond its extensive scars. A hand that killed, and touched way too women, some of whom he probably shouldn’t have been touching at all.

“Beautiful,” she murmured softly, that gorgeous blush spreading over her rose-petal cheeks.

He was so taken aback by the comment, he was nearly flabbergasted when she didn’t pull away, didn’t frown or grimace in disgust, didn’t display any of the usual signs of revulsion that most women did when they saw his hands. Perhaps it was the Patek Phillipe, he tried to convince himself, but deep down he knew—she called his scars ‘beautiful’.

And then she took his arm, her hand strong, surprisingly calloused, if light, and small.

And from that moment on, Azriel became obsessed with that touch.

His body heated and as he led her to the bar, and showed her around his pride and joy, watching for the subtle reactions, for the gleam of wonder and appreciation in her eyes, he couldn’t release…wouldn’t release her hand from his. She asked questions, took in all the memorabilia and gawked at the cars, and then the guest area, and finally, when he sat her down at the bar and made her a coffee, he stepped closer. Trying not to scare her, or seem obnoxious, he couldn’t help invading her personal space, and stood next to her, pretending to take interest in his drink, while hoping that her arm would brush against his own. Skin to skin.

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t shy away.

He didn’t expect himself to ask her on what amounted to a date, because he wasn’t even sure how dates worked. His usual ammo consisted of a brief introduction, an even quicker seduction and then a hook up. That’s how he liked it. He preferred no-strings-attached approach to his involvement with women, and it’s been working rather well for him. He never had to sleep with anyone in the same bed, he never had to make anyone breakfast, there was no room for idle chitchat, and usually no second or third dates. It was so easy.

This fucking girl, with her caramel-brown eyes, her golden-amber curls, her soft lips and that damn blush on her cheeks—she was driving him veritably insane with her unique mix of immaculate beauty and a friendly, almost naïve, strangely innocent disposition. And he wanted to go on a date with her. Without an ulterior motive, because at it stood right now, he didn’t care to even get her in bed. That would come later. He was absolutely determined to have this happen later. But…later.

Cassian

“Alrighty, I think I am going with the Bentley,” Cassian sidled to the bar, and interrupted.

If Azriel was annoyed, he didn’t show it.

Cassian spied them at last, making his way through the cavernous entrails of the garage, with all its gleaming cars, the beautiful patrons who were discussing options with no-less beautiful sales people,  and even on-premises tattoo shop, which specialized in Azriel’s sketches and catered to those who didn’t have money to actually outfit their Bugatti to their heart’s desire, but could at least claim that they got a Bagarat tattoo inked on their skin.

Elain and Azriel were standing side by side, somehow melding together nicely, her pretty dress and high-heeled sandals and piles of loose hair in drastic contrast with Azriel’s all-black ensemble, his massive height and the span of his shoulders. But she did not balk from him. Cassian also noticed that she didn’t react to the scars, which Azriel was very self-conscious about, and seemed genuinely interested in the garage.

It was inevitable that the two would eventually meet, especially with the wedding coming up and all the wedding related brouhaha. However, Cassian wanted to have the dibs on gloating down the line, and reminding the two of them, forever, about how it was he who introduced them. Yes, Azriel fucked a lot of models and rich girls, for whom he, strangely, was a riff on a ‘bit of rough’, while being hardly ‘rough’ at all. Azriel was elegant and possessed excellent taste in everything, and he probably had the best manners out of the lot of them. But the tattoos, the cars, the aura of brooding mystery about him, and his generally quiet ways were like honey to the throngs of women who lusted after him.  

About Azriel, Cassian had no doubts.

Cassian knew Azriel probably better than anyone alive, and even that wasn’t saying much, but he was very aware of Azriel’s ‘secret type’ of woman. Basically, it was Elain. Everything about Elain Azriel would like—of that Cassian was certain. Elain was the elusive ‘ideal woman’ of whom Azriel dreamt, but never actually pursued. Slightly unconventional, soft, kind, generous—lovely, would be a good word—Elain was everything that Azriel never had with any other women.

Cassian could already see the hunger and flicker of completely besotted adoration in Azriel’s normally cold eyes.

He was less certain about Elain, having never seen her with a boyfriend. When he had asked Nesta about Elain’s situation, Nesta shrugged and said that Elain was beautiful, but naïve, dreamy and rarely dated.

“A Bentley it is then,” Azriel turned around, though his elbow still touched Elain’s arm. “You’ll fit, big boy?”

Elain giggled.

“I am not Rowan,” Cassian muttered. “I am human sized.”

“Only just.”

“You are the same height,” Cassian reminded him coolly.

“I am a little more human-shaped too.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and said, “Come on, petal. While I love to stand here and listen to his insults, we gotta go.”

Elain’s face dropped into a sad frown only for a second, but she recovered immediately. Cassian noticed it, nevertheless. His petal of a girl didn’t want to leave his brother’s side.

“Bye Azriel,” she said, taking his hand in hers again, of her own volition, and squeezing it lightly. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said. His fingers wrapped over her palm, and he said, “I’ll walk you two out.”

So, his brooding brother didn’t want to release the newfound petal of a girl.

How interesting.

Once they were in Cassian’s Jeep, Elain looked out the window, a dreamy look on her face.

“Oh-oh,” Cassian chuckled, as he navigated the narrow NYC streets.

“What?”

“I know that look,” he winked.

“What look?” she frowned.

“The ‘oh gods, Azriel is so handsome!’ look. Oh, he is so gorgeous look. Oh, he is so sexy look.”

“He is handsome,” she agreed blandly, knowing that arguing would be silly.

“I hope that you gave him your number,” he said. “Because if you didn’t, I will.”

“It’s none of your business,” she crossed her arms on her chest, and Cass howled loudly.

“You are welcome, by the way,”

“You are ridiculous,” she muttered. “I don’t know how Nesta tolerates you!”

“Oh, Nes tolerates me and then some,” and winked again.

Now

“My love, slow down a bit,” Elain requested, as the road zigzagged among rows of cypresses.

“I thought that you wanted to make it to Florence before traffic hit?” Azriel squeezed her fingers and brought her hand to his lips.

“Seeing that we are already running late, we might as well enjoy the drive,” she shrugged.

A honey-coloured strand of her hair fell out from under the gauzy wrap that she wore around her head a-la Grace Kelley.

“Good.”

“Good what?” she turned her face to him and knocked him out all over again. By the Mother she was superb in every way, and she was his. He couldn’t believe his absurd luck. Things like these didn’t happen to him. Elain was not meant to be his. Yet, here she was, his lovely gentle girl, who loved him with incomprehensible passion and devotion. His.

The hefty, borderline outlandish ring on her finger was proof of that.

He’d worked hard on that ring, designing it himself, wanting to incorporate everything that he loved about her and about the two of them into the design. The result was this stunner that glittered madly in the Italian sun, sitting on her manicured finger, the skin of her arm kissed by a golden tan.

His beautiful girl loved flowers, and she loved him, so her ring, in its platinum setting was a remarkable rose, reflecting Elain’s green thumb and life’s work. He selected the diamond himself, and the amethysts that comprised the petals, even the tiny onyx inserts, to signify him and the black ink of his tattoos. The ring was both extravagant—especially in carats—but intimate as well, a flower that spoke of his eternal love for this woman.

“I am going to take you somewhere, which I think you’d like,” he teased.

“Where?”

“How does lots of flowers sound?”

She smiled. 

Azriel

For gods’ sake, he was nervous. Azriel was not prone to nervousness or panic or discomfort, but this date, or whatever it was, filled him with dread.

He shouldn’t have asked her.

He was stupid and blinded by her beauty, by her deliciously voluptuous body, by the long, slender legs, by her shy, sweet smile. Those blushes. For the love of everything, those fine, adorable, sexy blushes.

She was part of the family network—both of his brothers were now in love with her sisters. It was cliché and unrealistic and unbelievable that she and he would end up in the same boat. Besides, he wasn’t so lucky as to have someone like her accept him. So, he was making a huge fucking mistake. If this was all going to go sour—which inevitably it would, of that he had no doubt—he’d mess up the delicate balance that existed between the Darling, Bagarat and Cavalhe brothers and the Archeron sisters. She’d reject him and then it would be awkward. Awkward for the upcoming wedding, in which he and Elain were supposed to couple up and be together in the wedding party. Rhys said, ‘fuck it’ and asked both him and Cassian to be best men, while Feyre had both of her sisters as maids-on-honour. There was no escaping it. Therefore, it would be awkward for the wedding, and then for Christmas and all the summer BBQs and pool parties and…well, he might just have to find excuses to never attend anything, ever.

But here he was, standing in front of an old-fashioned, cute corner storefront in the Village. Flower displays spilled on the sidewalk, and the windows, along with the marble edifice reminded him of Paris. This was exactly how he’d picture Elain’ store—slightly whimsical, elegant, classic, but modern. Au Nom de la Rose – The Name of the Rose—perfectly appropriate for Elain’s store name.

She wasn’t waiting for him outside, and he circled the block three times before, by some miracle, finding a parking space and leaving the silver Ferrari, and then made his way back to the store, arriving 4 minutes late, which was completely unacceptable. The store was technically closed at this hour, but he knocked and heard Elain’s voice telling him to come in. Some internal pressure inside of him released at the sound of her voice.

He entered and whistled,

“That’s a lot of flowers!”

Yep, definitely a glamourized 50’s Paris vibe.

“Azriel, I am so sorry, I am not ready,” Elain came from behind the counter, looking a bit frazzled.

“It’s alright I will wait,” he assured her, but she shook her head and said,

“No…I just received a huge order. An emergency order for an anniversary party. Azriel, it’s my biggest order ever!”

“That’s excellent!” he found himself feeling genuinely happy for her, if not for her concerned expression. “What’s up?”

“I…I,” she stumbled. “Feyre or Nesta would usually come and help out if I need them, but Feyre is in LA, and Nesta…” she swallowed, “Nesta is indisposed.”

Nes is on her period and is feeling like crap, read Cassian’s text from earlier today. I am going fishing. Care to join? Or are you busy romancing a certain Archeron sister?

Nesta was indisposed indeed, though Azriel didn’t feel like he needed to know the details.

“It’s a 25th Anniversary, and I have to make 25 bouquets and 15 centerpieces. The couple’s original florist fell through and they contacted me, in a panic, and I agreed,” she babbled, tugging on her long braid nervously. “And it’s for tomorrow,”

“Alright then,” he shrugged, “what’s the problem then? I am here.”

She looked up at him, her gaze both hopeful and confused.

“You? What are you going to do? I am sorry, Azriel, I am so sorry, we’d have to postpone,”

“We’d have to postpone our drive, but I am here. Use me.”

“Use you?”

“Use my body,” he chuckled, and she giggled an amused laugh.

“I appreciate the offer,” and when he thought that she’d continue rejecting his offer of help, she did the right thing and was a smart girl, nodding at last, and said, “will you truly help?”

“I am not a flower expert,”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” she grinned.

He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and said, “Teach me, Archeron. I am an apt pupil.”

He was. Elain showed him model bouquets and thankfully, he wasn’t dumb or clumsy enough to screw them up, once he began copying the originals.

Night fell, and they ordered pizza and he went to get a bottle of wine from the store across the street.

Sitting on the floor of the store, surrounded by piles of flowers, vases, ribbons and twine, they ate pizza, laughing throughout the evening. She stretched her long, bare legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankles, and he couldn’t get enough—the pretty toes, the pale golden skin and the sexy pink nail polish. He didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he snuck more than a few glances at her feet when she wasn’t looking.

It was well past midnight when they were finally done.

He stretched on the floor and tucked his arm behind his head.

She kneeled above him, at his side, and said, “Azriel, thank you. I can’t, honestly, thank you enough. You saved me. Maybe my business too!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he retorted gently, “but this was fun…and educational.”

“How can I repay you?” she asked.

“Well, well,” he drummed his fingers on the floor, pretending to think. “So many possibilities,”

At that, she flushed, and he licked his lips, loving the sight of that pink on her cheeks.

“Let’s make a bargain,” he proposed at last.

“A bargain?” her brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“For my exceptional assistance during your time of trouble and despair, you will agree to an outing with me, of my choosing. To do whatever I want.”

Elain stared at him, biting her plump lower lip.

“Are we going to do something bad?” she finally asked uncertainly.

He grinned and without thinking, cupped her cheek.

She didn’t recoil.

He drew his thumb over her soft skin and she leaned into his palm just a little bit. Gods it felt good. So good. So good to have her so near, so receptive, so unafraid. But he dropped his hand.

“You think I will take you to knock off a couple of 7-11s?”

“Well, if I am entering this death bargain with you, then who the hell knows?” she shrugged.

He laughed, “Death bargain? A little dramatic, are we?”

She was still sitting there, biting her lip, and all he wanted to do was drag his tongue over it. Kiss her large, brown eyes. Fist his hand around the thick mass of her hair, tilt her head and kiss her until she was breathless.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He never acted like this!

He never thought like this.

He was a rational, controlled, some said, cold man.

Not to say that he wasn’t able to find a woman immediately attractive, or want to fuck her, but this was different. This was unknown.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

“Fine?” he repeated, smiling.

“Don’t make me do anything bad,” she warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” he promised. “I wouldn’t lead you astray. But,” he sat up, draping his forearms over his knees, “where do you live? Let me take you home,”

“I can take an Uber,”

He gave her an incredulous look and she nodded without further arguments.

“Where do you live?” he asked, once they were outside, somehow internally thrilled that perhaps, she’d invite him inside. He wouldn’t expect anything, obviously, but it would be nice see where she lived, what her private space looked like. So far, he couldn’t pinpoint her style with any accuracy, an interesting mixture of vintage and modern, of flowers and thorns.

“Just two blocks down,” she said, as she locked up the shop.

He gave her his arm, and it seemed like she almost expected it, because she immediately thrust her hand into the loop and he smiled softly.

The little white shorts and the flowery top did things to him, and he was glad to walk side by side, so to prevent himself from staring at her long legs and her neat, lush ass. He was already a mess over her legs, over her bending and squatting in front of him for the past four-five hours.

It was dark and quiet on the street, and they walked in a comfortable silence, each thinking of something of their own.

And then,

Elain sprawled face down on the pavement.

She cried out, landing on her knees on the asphalt, just barely having the time to brace herself on her hand, and ripping the skin of her palm.

Azriel was instantly on his knees in front of her.

Tears glistened in her eyes. Possibly from pain, because as she flipped on her butt, they saw that her knees were torn and bleeding, as was her palm, or maybe from shock, as well as embarrassment.

“Shhh,” he cooed gently to her, “are you okay?”

She shook her head. A lonely tear spilled from her eyes.

“Tissues?” he asked quickly, surveying the damage. Bruises were already blossoming on her scuffed kneecaps, all around the wounds.

She wordlessly handed him her bag, allowing him to rummage through it and he found a packet of old tissues, which he gingerly pressed to her bleeding knees.

“My ankle hurts,” she muttered, reaching down to inspect it.

“Let me,” he took her legs and looked over her ankle. She glared questioningly at him, still in some sort of stupor, not understanding what had occurred, and why she was now sitting on the ground, bleeding.

“You broke your heel,” he nodded to her foot and she glanced down, finally realizing that her heel caught in a crack in the pavement. The impact was so strong, it actually fully detached from the sole of the shoe.

“I am sorry,” she mumbled.

“You should be,” he chuckled, “you gave me quite a scare. I thought you were shot; you went down so quickly!”

She pushed at his arm, half laughing, and have crying.

“Stop making me laugh!” she ordered, sniffling and giggling. “Auuu, it hurts...”

He was lightly pressing on her ankle, and then said, “it’s just twisted. You’ll need ice, but it should be okay…”

“Ok, Doctor Azriel,” she even rolled her eyes slightly and he laughed, flicking her nose.

“I am trained on how to treat combat wounds and catastrophic field injuries, I’ll have you know,” he said and then gave her his hand. “On your feet, soldier! Let me see if you can stand.”

Moaning and groaning, she managed to stand up, but putting any weight on her foot caused a yelp to escape her lips.

“Alright, come on now,” he stepped and opened his arms, “jump in.”

“Jump in where?”

“Jump into my arms, of course.”

“What are you planning to do? Swing me around?”

“I could swing you around, but I was planning on carrying you home, and then making you an ice pack and disinfecting all your cuts.”

Without waiting for her to decide, he scooped her off the ground and she gasped, and he wasn’t sure what the little huff meant.

“But it’s like two blocks!” she protested feebly, and unconvincingly, “I am heavy.”

“Ooohhh,” he groaned dramatically, hefting her to his chest, as they started off. “Sooo, so heavy!”

“I am the fattest of my sisters,” she argued, and even in the darkness he saw that she was blushing realizing how silly her comment was.

“Well, considering that Nesta is like 90 lbs. and Feyre 110 lbs., that’s not saying much,” he assured her.

She was soft and warm in his arms, and when, without prompting, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, he felt utterly at peace. Because the pieces of them fit. She fit him.

Blood still dripping, and her arms thrown over his neck, Azriel walked steadily, cradling her to his chest, until they finally reached a pre-War building, and she said, “There is no elevator.”

“Don’t tell me you are on the 6th floor!” he laughed, looking up.

“The third.”

“Guess I will have to haul the fattest of the Archeron sisters to the 3rd floor!” he sighed, and she smacked his arm, protesting,

“You can’t say that!”

He was laughing and she began to laugh as well.

“You said it first,” he reminded her.

 Her apartment was small, but she’d arranged the furniture in such a way that everything seemed more spacious, and orderly, without unnecessary frills. Mostly grays, turquoise, cobalt and creamy-white. For some reason, he thought that there would be much more pink and general fluff. This though, this he liked.

He sat her down on the sofa and went to the bathroom to find bandages and plasters and other items. She called out from her spot, telling him where to find things and he finally emerged and began working on all her wounds.

“Haven’t lost a soldier yet,” he told her with a chuckle. He kneeled in front of her, and his touch was firm, but surprisingly gentle, as he thoroughly washed every scuff and tear, and then disinfected and decided what needed bandages and what didn’t.

Elain remained mostly silent throughout the procedure, watching him from under her lashes.

“You are nice,” she said suddenly.

He looked at her and smirked.

“Not with anyone.”

“Everyone just says how handsome you are,” she lay her head on the back cushion, watching him. He gave her a painkiller, and it was making her drowsy. It was also late. She rarely stayed up this late. “But you are also very nice,” she added.

Elain

She woke up that morning, and was struck by the unfamiliar environment. And pain.

Her knees ached and screamed and hurt, as did her palm.

Light poured through the windows; the curtains still open.

She found herself on her sofa, haphazardly covered by a throw, and with her legs resting on Azriel’s lap.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He was here. With her.

He never left after last night’s debacle.

She was a clumsy cow, as always, but the incident was unusually embarrassing, even for her. She always spilled or dropped stuff on herself, tripped, stumbled, and fell on her ass at inopportune times, but last night…By the Mother!

The man was gosh darn saint. Not only did she screw up their evening plans, made him work and make bouquets with her, which, probably wasn’t the most exciting thing for him to spend the evening on, but she also almost ate the pavement, and then he carried her for half a mile! And cared for her when they came here. And spent, what must have been a horribly uncomfortable night in a half-seated position, with her, no doubt, pushing at him with her feet.

Yep, she was never going to see him again.

Good going, Elain. Fine job you did of this ‘relationship’. Now, for the rest of her life, she’d be forced to see him at family gatherings, probably with some stunning model of a wife, and he’d always remember her as the girl who tore her heel on the pavement.

She wanted to cry.

Not that she ever, even for a second, believed that this would go anywhere. Her and Azriel. That wasn’t possible. Things like these didn’t happen to her. She was strange and solitary and even if others claimed that she was pretty, going so far as to call her ‘beautiful’, she never felt like that. When Nesta got mad at her, she’d call her a ‘petty idiot’ and Elain felt like that more frequently than she cared to admit. And Azriel…he was cut from a different cloth. He was…

She looked at his face, still perfect, but ever so slightly relaxed and softened in sleep, his eyelids heavy and enviably long, thick lashes fanned over his golden-brown cheeks. He was funny, with a quick, dry sense of humour, intelligent and interesting, and when they talked last night, she couldn’t get enough! He told her fascinating stories from his time in the Navy, about his dream, which resulted in the creation of his beloved garage. It took him three years to open the place—conceptualize what he wanted, how to deliver it, the items to showcase. The result was not just the ‘garage’, but also the popular bar, and recently, a restaurant as well.

Scarred fingers touched her hand and he opened his eyes.

“Good morning,” he whispered, squinting at her. “How are you? How’s the pain?”

“Azriel,” she murmured, not even knowing how to thank him, but she attempted, “I want to,”

“Pancakes?” he asked eagerly.

She glanced at him with incomprehension.

“May I make you, or us, pancakes?” he proposed. “I’ve been sort of thinking about this all night. How I’d like to make you pancakes,”

“I want to thank,”

He lifted his finger and shook his head,

“No, no. My Italian mother would tell you that you should never thank anyone for providing medical help,”

“Why?”

“According to my psychotically superstitious Italian side of the family, the remedy or healing won’t take, if you offer thanks. Imagine, I was forbidden from ever saying ‘thank you’ to a doctor,”

She chuckled.

“So, you are Italian?”

“Mom’s side is half Neapolitan and half from Lazio—near Rome.”

He sat up and rolled his neck.

“Can I at least say that I am sorry that you had to be so uncomfortable and sleep on the couch?” she asked.

“It’s alright. Not the best night I’ve ever had, but not the worst one either. The company was nice too,” and he patted her legs.

A tiny flare of hope lit in her belly.

But she didn’t allow herself to have it take root.

Maybe not until he gathered her legs together on his lap and drew his fingers up and down her calf.

“But really, how is the pain?” he asked at last, watching her with his intense, warm eyes. The eyes didn’t warm frequently, it seemed, but when they looked at her—

He was different somehow.

Kind. Approachable.

“It’s fine,” she waved her hand, not wanting to burden him any longer with her dumb injuries.

Those long, scarred fingers glided over her skin, and a small smirk touched his lips, “May I kiss it better?”

She blinked at him.

“I hear that I am very good at making pain go away,” he added proudly, and then, his lips descended on her scuffed and bruised knees. She kissed each one, tenderly, and then took her hand and brought it to his lips, and pressed his mouth to the inside of her palm. Her breath hitched and she stared at him, wide-eyed, as he watched her, unblinking, gaging every minute reaction. He kissed her hand, inside and then out, and then kissed the other, even though it wasn’t injured, and then returned to her knees and kissed them again.

At last, “Better?” he asked.

She only mooed incoherently.

…Azriel, by the stove, flipping pancakes was the sexiest thing Elain had ever seen in her life.

Clad in dark slacks, in his white shirt from last night, with sleeves rolled up and the tattoo sleeves on full display, he stood in her kitchen, barefoot and flipped pancakes like a pro.

“You cook too?” she asked incredulously.

He laughed.

“Too? In addition to what?”

“I don’t know,” she was still perched on the sofa, like an invalid, but after she washed her face and brushed her hair, he ordered her to sit and not make unnecessary moves. “Everything?”

“My repertoire is limited, when it comes to the kitchen, but what I know how to make, I make well. Cassian is a better cook.”

“Cass?” she smiled.

“Nesta is lucky to have him,” Azriel added, somewhat wistfully.

Elain looked at him and nodded. “I think so too.”

“He is a good man. Maybe the best man I’ve ever known. Where my own family failed, he stepped in, though he is a year younger than me. But he taught me…how to be. Accepted me. Unconditionally. Taught me how to swim, how to ride a bike, how to fight.”

“And you?”

“I? I helped him with his reading,” Azriel rubbed his chin, his stance a little tense.

She didn’t say anything, waiting to see if he felt like sharing more.

“It was neglected,” he said at last. “His reading and writing. So, we sat together, late at night, at our foster parents’ house and read.”

He then asked, “coffee?”

The moment of reminiscing was over, and Elain did not press.

She nodded to one of the cupboards and he pulled out a tub of coffee and grimaced.

“This is what you drink?”

“Hey, it’s good coffee! I buy it at Trader Joe’s!” she laughed defensively.

“Baby, we are drinking Italian coffee in this house,” he decided, and there was no arguing with that logic.

 That’s how Elain became Azriel’s ‘baby’.

In their house, they always drank Italian coffee.

 Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Thanks Nu,” Azriel greeted a lanky, very thin, very tall girl, who handed him two packages and then winked at him and disappeared wordlessly.

“My assistant, Nuala,” he explained, showing Elain two packages of Lavazza coffee. “This will do for now.”

Elain hobbled to the small butcher block island that she’d restored from a console that she found at a flea market. “You text someone and they just appear?”

He grinned and shrugged innocently.

“I know a guy.”

“Of course you do. Are you in the mafia?”

“First of all, rude,” he placed a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of her and then poured her coffee, “second of all, I just know a guy.”

“Who knows where to buy Lavazza on a Saturday morning?” she wondered, tucking into the pancakes.

“I have a network of spies,” he winked at her.

She sipped on the coffee, perhaps not as good a cup as he’d made her at his garage, but glorious nevertheless. “Are you in the CIA?”

“Not in the mafia or the CIA. Just a lowly car guy.”

“Uh-uh.”

They toasted with their coffee cups and Azriel said, “not bad for a first date. Blood and flowers. Very romantic.”

It was that morning, that sunny Saturday morning, over a plate of pancakes and some Italian coffee that Elain Archeron fell in love.

She fell in love completely.

Utterly.

Irreversibly.

And forever.

Now

Azriel turned off to some side road and how he knew where to go, Elain had no idea, but she just enjoyed the scents and warmth of the day.

“You know,” she laughed. “We are literally under the Tuscan sun right now!”

“All your dreams are coming true,” he ran a loving hand over her bare arm and she tore her gaze from the scenery around her.

“My dreams came true when I met you,” she confessed. “That was the day.”

“So easily impressed!” he teased, but she saw that her words touched something in him. His face softened with happiness.

“Az, slow down,” she whispered, an almost painful pull to kiss him spreading over her. “I want to kiss you.”

He looked at her, eyes hidden behind his Aviator shades, but slowed down and she leaned towards him and planted her mouth on his cheek.

“Lips,” she murmured with audible desperation.

“Baby, I don’t want to bust up this nice Ferrari,” he laughed. “And you, who is riding in it.”

Pouting, she ordered, “Then pull over so I can kiss you!”

He laughed louder, throwing his head back, his gorgeous tanned neck annoyingly desirable.

She wanted to bite his vein, lick the salty skin of his neck, and then sink her teeth into his shoulder. Elain was a biter. And a scratcher. Good thing that Azriel was a benevolent lover, who didn’t care if she left his body marked with her love, and didn’t mind the pain. In fact, he encouraged it.

His heavy brown hand lay on her knee, under the hem of her summer dress and he said,

“Why don’t I do something nice for you… then you can kiss me…”

“But I want to kiss you now,” she frowned playfully.

His hand slid a little higher, up her bare thigh, and he pressed his scarred palm into her thin, tender skin, rubbing slowly, indulgently. This was just as much for her as it was for him.

She threw her head into the back of the seat, eyes closed.

Until she yelped softly, when his wicked hand slipped higher and higher, pushing her dress up as well.

“Azriel Bagarat,” she murmured, “what am I going to do with you? And your love for public nudity and lovemaking…”

He shrugged oh so innocently and said, “firstly, it’s Archeron to you, and,”

“Not just yet,” she wiggled her ring-clad hand in front of him, “not until we got the paper and all, to make us official,”

They rolled their eyes at the same time and then laughed.

“And secondly, who can blame me?” he leaned and kissed her shoulder. “You are very hot. And I sort of want to fuck you all the time.”

His long, very experienced fingers made their way even higher, until he drew them along the cotton of her underwear, lightly pressing into the cleft, teasing ever so lightly. She shifted against the fingertips, her thighs falling apart in silent encouragement.

Elain was a giving and a receptive lover, innately knowing what he wanted and accommodating both of their needs thoughtfully, and easily.

“What do you want, baby?” he murmured.

“To kiss you,” she insisted stubbornly.

He huffed his amusement, and then pushed his finger deeper, firmer against the cotton, whispering,

“How about this?”

“This is nice, I suppose,”

“Only nice?” he withdrew his finger in warning and she grabbed his wrist, and thrust it back in place.

“Maybe a little better than ‘nice’, huh?” he teased.

“A little,” she agreed, gasping when he cupped her fully, swiping his heel of his palm against the length of her folds, feeling the dampness against his skin. Bold, as he always was, he moved the strip of cotton to the side, and hiked up her dress ever higher, exposing her to his exploration.

He snuck a glance at her perfectly peachy, pink pussy, bare and succulent, like a ripe fruit dripping with its sweet juices.

He groaned and then hissed, “I am stopping, right now. I want you coming on my tongue in the next four minutes,”

“So confident, ombre?”

She took to calling him ombre or ‘shadow’, when, early in their relationship, he kept materializing in front of her out of nowhere, stepping out of the shadows. He laughed, but didn’t mind the endearment. What’s more, it became a private thing between the two of them—he’d call her ‘rose’ and she’d call him ‘ombre’. It wasn’t nauseatingly sugary sweet and could be used in public without making people gag. Unlike, for example, the Darlings, who, for whatever reason called each other ‘my darkness’. Or Cassian, who sometimes went with ‘schmoopie’, braving Nesta’s wrath.

Azriel laughed, while incessantly dragging his finger back and forth over the wet slit, without doing much else, and making her gasp and squirm.

“That I can make you come on my tongue in 4 minutes? Fuck yeah! Want me to prove it?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she shook her head, “you don’t get to just do whatever the hell you want, when you want it. If I don’t get my kiss, you don’t get to,”

“What? Lick your pussy? I feel like the punishment is unreasonable,” he protested.

She gave him a sultry look, a look that only he was privy to, and then murmured, spreading her legs a little wider for him,

“Maybe I want to lick something of yours?” she proposed, her voice husky, pouring like honey over his ear.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” he choked out, finally parting the soft cushions of her folds and dragging his knuckles over the wet spread of her. The intoxicating scent of her arousal, mixed with the Italian sunshine and the smell of grass, flowers and cypresses was so heady, he almost swerved, stopping only quick enough to grip the steering wheel tightly in his left hand.

Gods, if he was going to make it to their next destination, he would be impressed with himself. But it was close.

Azriel

Elain loved getting fingered. That was the first thing he learned about her sexually—kissing and fingering.

In the privacy of their world, he fingered her constantly.

It was almost an obligation on his part by now, to have her wake up, tucked into his side, while gently, but thoroughly pumping her soft, indescribably tight center. No matter how many times he’d been inside of her, she remained tight, as tight as the first time. That was a blessing, but a curse as well, for all he could typically think about throughout the day, was sinking into that glorious tightness.

When she was finally semi-awake, she rolled on her back and spread her legs in front of him, so he could finger her in earnest. Two fingers first, nice and deep inside of her, as he knelt in front of her and watched her come undone before him. And then, there was always a moment when her eyes flew open, and her back arched, and he slipped the third one in. The plush, warm walls of her sex stretched and pulled to accommodate him, but he went slow and deep, only grazing the sensitive spot in her, making her moan low and begging, the pressure of his hand steady and firm.

She cried and cried into the pillow, head thrown back in utter extasy, her hair a tangled halo about her. She wasn’t permitted to move her hips, his only order in that early-morning game of theirs, therefore she was wholly dependent on him for her pleasure. If she ever did begin a sensual undulation of her hips around his hand, he’d allow her to continue for a few moments, aware that she was lost in her own pleasure, before cruelly yanking his hand out of her.

“Was my girl allowed to do that?” he’d ask simply, and amidst her disappointed panting, her pleading for more, her sweet, innocent “sorry. I am sorry,” she’d beg him to fill her again.

Then she’d lay still, eyes wide and pleading, her little opening vibrating at the loss, before he placed her feet on his shoulders and thrust in her anew. This time, his scarred, rough, brown, inked fingers disappeared in her completely. She buckled and let out a wild moan that reverberated from the very depth of her, because all four fingers were inside, and his thumb finally, finally began a gorgeously slow torment around her clit. She just lay there, tense and unmoving, watching him, the slurping, obscene sounds of his hand inside of her filling the sleepy morning air around them.

Elain came quietly. She moaned and twisted and gasped as he rubbed her clit, but when the waves finally descended upon her, when he felt the tight, silky flesh grip and pump all four of his fingers, which were now pressing up into her perfect spot, the exhale was soft and intimate. Only for him.

Now

“Don’t wreck the car,” Elain muttered, eyes barely open.

“Will this be the second one?” Azriel asked, while Elain wrapped her hand around his wrist and forcefully jammed his hand inside of her.

Four.

Four orgasms daily. That was his promise.

He’d provide her with at least four daily orgasms. So far, he typically exceeded expectations. It wasn’t particularly difficult, because he often played with her at odd times—when they were watching TV, he’d slip a finger onto her clitty and rub her slowly and leisurely, until she melted from the stimulation. She enjoyed it when he bent her over counters or sinks, and sunk his fingers deep and hard into her perpetually ready hole.

Elain, to his complete delight and fascination, was always just a bit aroused. Always, always just a bit wet, just a little damp for him. He’d make an unscheduled stop at her shop and if it was empty, he’d step behind the counter with her, and soon, she’d be splayed over the counter, his hand between her legs. Yes, they’ve been almost caught plenty of times, but Azriel had the ability to disappear into shadows as soon as he sensed someone coming. Sometimes, when someone would walk in the store, Azriel even pretended that he was a customer, buying flowers, watching her patiently, while she got his bouquet ready for him. Never mind that his hand might have been soaked with her slick, or that he smirked, watching her press her thighs together, while she wrapped the flowers, as she avoided eye contact with him, and handed him the bouquet which he’d inevitably bring home for her.

When he was around her, she jokingly complained that she was of constant need for him, and it was his very enviable and pleasant task to soothe the ache inside of her.

 Azriel

Their friends, family, found their relationship perplexing. But Elain kept her sisters firmly at an arm’s length when it came to the discussion of their sex life. No matter how they tried to pry, she gently, but firmly rebuffed them. Nesta complained and said that they were too obsessed with each other. That Elain was too in love and that Azriel was too dependent on Elain’s love for this to be normal. Elain only shrugged and didn’t argue.

 “It’s not normal!” seethed Nesta, watching Elain and Azriel wrapped around each other on the dance floor, Elain’s body shimmying and swaying around her, arms raised in the air, her hips swooshing to the beat, bumping into his pelvis.

“You think they are gonna do it right on the dancefloor?” Cassian contemplated quietly, not sure if this was outside the realm of possibilities.

“He would!” she spat and gulped down her Aperol spritz aggressively. “I am surprised he is not bending her over…more surprised she isn’t agreeing!”

“They never argue,” Cassian nodded.

“They never—never—argue. It’s not normal!”

The way Cassian saw it, as long as the two were happy, he had no right to judge.

Nesta was a hot pepper. Feyre, an apple—solid, tasty, dependable. Elain—whipped cream—a delicious topping over anything, but especially Azriel.

 Nevertheless, the word got around.

One day, Azriel, Rowan and Cassian were sitting in Elain’s flower shop, toiling diligently over a huge order of flowers.

They wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not to each other, or their women, but they quite enjoyed hiding in that flower shop and arranging flowers. They claimed that they were doing it for Elain’s sake, to help her out, so she didn’t have to hire additional help just yet, but,

Well, they liked it.

At first, Elain wasn’t sure if Cassian was cut out for the task, because the very first try was a little rough.

“Cass, these are not your enemies that you are about to smite,” Elain instructed gently, prying his fingers from the stems of irises, which he was clutching like he was about to throw a lance.

“Pfff, you look like you are about to choke a chicken,” Nesta teased. And promptly realised her mistake, biting her lip.

Cassian cocked his brow and murmured seductively,

“What chicken am I choking, sweetheart? My own,”

“Oh no,” Elain stepped in between them, hands on her hips. “No. No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Lainey, don’t allow Cass to choke his chicken in front of us,” begged Azriel, working quickly and deftly, and soliciting an envious look from Cassian, whose flowers were in complete disarray, compared to Azriel’s neat piles and methodical assembly line.

“Yes, no one is choking chickens, penises or each other in here,” ordered Elain sternly, while Nesta and Azriel were laughing silently.

“Hehe,” smirked Cassian, “Elain said ‘penis’!”

“Take your dirty talk and deeds,”

Dirty deeds done dirt cheap, dirty deeds done dirt cheap

Cassian began rocking to his own singing, imitating the gravel of Brian Johnson’s voice rather successfully, headbanging over his babybreath, bluebells and irises.

Chicken choking forgotten for a moment.

 As Cassian fussed over a vase, working on each stem and arranging them just so, wearing a little white apron no less, he asked casually, “So, brother, four?”

Azriel was in his own headspace, and he didn’t even hear Cassian, as he was busy with his own flower arrangement.

There was, expectedly, a competition going on—who’d complete the most arrangements in an hour. Rowan, a veritable giant, and Cassian’s best friend, also wore an apron, but a long one, like a butcher, and was significantly ahead of the pack. That bothered Azriel more than he cared to admit. So, he was re-strategizing his strategy.

“Four what?” Rowan inquired, not taking his eyes off the flowers, working like a machine.

“Ask Az here,” Cassian suggested. He was catching up to Azriel with an alarming speed.

Azriel had never lost, so far. He wasn’t going to lose today.

“Stop speaking in riddles. What are you talking about?”

“Word on the street is that our Az here provides the flower girl with a minimum of four orgasms on the daily,”

Azriel started and finally tore his eyes from the flowers.

Both Rowan and Cassian were watching him, smirking.

“I guess it’s true then,”

“Fuck off.”

“If that’s true,” Rowan drawled, “good for you, man. Though you are putting us to shame with this ridiculous offer of yours. How do you keep up?”

“Easily,” Azriel shrugged. “But it’s freaking me out that you two are talking about my sex life so casually.”

“But fucking four? Daily?” repeated Cassian, shaking his head.

“Yeah, Elain, man,” Rowan rubbed the back of his head, mussing his silver hair, “who would’ve thought?”

Cassian nodded, “No offense, brother, but Elain doesn’t strike anyone as particularly adventurous in the bedroom,”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Azriel said simply.

“Very beautiful,” offered Rowan pacifically, “but…you know…Kind of like Elide, I guess. You wouldn’t know it, looking at her,”

Cassian was nodding. “Yeah, she looks like she eats macaroons and reads Jane Austen,”

“Macarons,” said Azriel.

“What?”

“It’s macaron. Not macaroon.”

“What the hell is the difference?”

“One is a French biscuit, made with almond flour and filled with a creamy filling. The other, is a coconut concoction that one usually eats at Passover.”

Rowan was chuckling. Cassian was shaking his head, grunting, “you would know. So, does she? Eat maca--,”

“No, she doesn’t even like macarons. And she doesn’t read Jane Austen. She reads espionage novels. She likes Daniel Silva. Any more stupid questions?”

Elide. Of course. He should’ve guessed.

Elain and Elide met through Rowan and it was friendship at first sight.

Azriel couldn’t argue—the two women were similar in many ways. Both were on a quiet side, polite, well-mannered. Elain—a ray of sunshine, tall, slender and curvaceous, smiling and affable, with piles of golden-brown locks and warm brown eyes. Elide—the opposite—small, pale, with perfectly straight, silky black hair and dark, midnight eyes. Both—crafty in the ways of the world, charming, when needed, capable of getting into everyone’s good graces, and therefore, getting what they wanted.

“No, no more stupid questions,” said Cassian. “Just don’t know how you two grumps attracted such lively girls,”

“Lorcan and I aren’t ‘grumps’. We just talk when we need to and don’t have the need for instant gratification or to be the center of attention. Something I can’t say about you,”

“It’s not about me,” Cassian protested, but Azriel stopped him, by raising his finger,

 “Now, if you are not going to shut the fuck up about my woman and me, I will spread a rumour amongst your women, that it’s not four, but six. Daily. Let’s see how you measure up then.”

Silence fell.

Azriel won.

His 36th win.

 Now

 “Yes, the second,” Elain nodded with a satisfied smile.

 Azriel

 Naturally, today, he woke her up properly, as he always did.

They stayed in an adorable little villa, near Montepulciano. It was everything a Tuscan villa was supposed to be…

including the dust that settled in its 800-year-old walls. And Elain coughed and coughed and coughed, surprisingly not coughing up a lung.

“We can’t stay here,” Azriel said, frowning.

“Where are going to go? We are in the middle of Tuscany and it’s 10 pm,” she reminded him.

Ever resourceful, he dragged the mattress off the antique bed and plopped it down on the floor of their small balcony.

“We sleep here. Under the night Tuscan sky.”

It was a lovely, if chilly night, and Elain would’ve enjoyed it if she didn’t fall asleep almost immediately and slept through the night.

She was still asleep, when the birds began their morning song and Azriel positioned her on her hands and knees, and carefully removed her nightgown, baring her to the dry, cool morning air.

“Someone will see us,” she murmured sleepily.

She tucked her hands under her cheek, and followed the direction of Azriel’s hand on her hip, rising her butt high up, and arching her back for him.

Azriel loved having sex out in the open. Especially if she was completely naked. He wasn’t overt about it, but the thrill of being found out, the titillating desire to be watched was always present. She knew it. She indulged his fantasies.

“I don’t think anyone would mind watching you,” he whispered hotly in her ear and lightly bit the apple of her cheek. “But it’s also like 4:15 in the morning. So maybe they are still sleeping.”

He settled behind her and she felt his hands on her back, smoothing over the sharp cut of her tight waist and then the soft curve of her hips.

“Spread your legs for me, my love, I want to play with you a little bit,” he guided her, and she followed his direction, squatting inelegantly on her knees, thighs wide apart for him. He cupped her fully in his palm and then pinched her clit, hard, twisting it and rubbing it between his two fingers, until she bit her forearm, trying to stifle her cries of instant pleasure.  He pinched again, then again, rubbing tightly, while he bit her buttock playfully, but hard enough to leave a pink mark.

“Mmmm,” she groaned, when he nibbled on her flesh again, tugging on the swollen clit with relentless dedication. She managed to twist enough to kiss his knee and whispered, eyes still closed, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my beautiful girl,” he leaned forward and kissed her wet, stretched opening, dragging his tongue around and around the rim, “and you are so nice and wet for me in the morning. My good girl, what do you want?”

“Only you,” she vowed. “Only you, my Az.”

“Let’s fill your pretty little hole then,” he licked on it again, and then slid one strong, long finger inside. As he began to pump her slowly, he proposed, “When I fill you with my cock later on,”

“Uh oh,” she moaned dreamily, smiling a loving smile, enjoying his finger to the fullest.

“I think I’d like to add a finger or two as well. What do you think?”

“I’d like that, I think,” she complied easily.

Elain was not a particularly imaginative lover, but Azriel was the opposite—he had too much imagination when it came to everything. Especially Elain, and what he liked to do with her sexually. What was absolutely fantastic, and he thanked all the gods for this phenomenon, was that Elain was willing to try anything. She was an absolutely willing and eager lover, who learned from him and learned of her body with readiness and joy. He dominated her completely, but that was the nature of their relationship, and they easily fell into their roles, from the very beginning. She was submissive, loved praise, and loved being guided and told what to do. More than anything else, she loved pleasing him. There was never any pull and push, no competition, no power struggles. Elain was made for him, created and carved from something that was innately his, whether it was his body or his mind, and they lived and loved harmoniously. He complimented her perfectly: her temperament, her needs, her wants. He treated her with admiration, gentleness, adoration and respect, and while his own expectations were high, she met them all with ease. She took control when she needed to. Received what she wanted from him, however she needed to. And he gave and gave.

Some, or many, called them soulmates.

Perhaps that’s what they were. Or maybe, they were even more than that.

Azriel stretched his legs on either side of her curved body and then added another finger inside of her sopping, slippery opening, reaching deep into her and pumping her firmly.

“Auuuu, babe, it’s good…” she squealed, “it’s so good.”

Unable to wait any longer, he pulled her buttocks apart with his available hand and swept his tongue over the tiny opening, causing her to seize with surprise and pleasure. Instinctively, she moved her hips against his tongue, pushing her backside into his lips. He licked the little hole in earnest, dragging his tongue back and forth between both of her openings, making her tremble and shudder every time his tongue reached one or the other.

As he sat to the task of licking and sucking her tight hole, he thrust a third finger into her dripping passage, feeling her shift against his face to accommodate the stretch. It was a lot, and she whimpered and moaned from the pressure, but he knew that she could take four, though he wasn’t in a hurry, and worked her diligently and steadily, his tongue laving the other hole just as eagerly.

She was shaking between his legs, her toes curling beneath her, rapid pants escaping into the morning mists, her hair draping the tiled floor in front of her, even spilling through the balcony rails.

Somewhere they heard sheep bleating and Elain laughed softly, before arching her back even further, not caring how splayed she looked. There wasn’t a part of her that he hasn’t seen, hasn’t touched or licked or kissed, not an inch of her that wasn’t caressed by his rough hands, not an orifice that he hasn’t penetrated with his magnificent cock. He’d burrowed inside of her so deeply, so wholly, he possessed all of her and she knew what it’s like to truly be part of another person, to be loved with egregious passion.

He fed another finger inside of her and she cried out, trembling and grunting, as she grabbed and squeezed his foot with mighty strength.

He tore his lips away from her bottom and grinned,

“Love, when you are in labour with our baby, I am fully prepared for the fact that you will break my fingers, maybe even my hand.”

“I am sorry,” she laughed, and kissed his foot, dragging her tongue over his toes.

There wasn’t a part of him that she did not love, did not worship with everything she had. No part of his body remained un-kissed, un-touched, un-caressed. A lazy Sunday, especially if the weather was crap and they had no plans to go out, was her favourite time—she could spend the day loving her Azriel. On those days, she pleasured him. And if she spent hours with his cock buried in her throat, or his balls between her lips, or her tongue in his ass, she was only too happy.

The tips of his fingers crawled into that hidden spot inside of her, curling just so, so he could massage and rub her into a frenzy. He stilled for a moment, to allow her to adjust to the fullness and the stretch, as she bit his foot, trying to stifle her screams. She leaked slowly over his hand, as most of it was situated in her clutching, hungry tightness.

“Very good, my baby,” he praised, kissing her buttocks and then giving her anus a few approving licks, “taking all four inside of you,”

“Oh my god, oh,” she groaned, “it’s so tight…Az, my love, I am so full,”

“I know, love,” he coaxed evenly, his hand beginning a steady, firm barrage of deep, pounding thrusts, “but it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeess,” she only managed, voice thin, pleading. She could barely hold herself up, so he wrapped his arm around her hips, keeping her ass up. She grabbed the balcony wrought-iron spindles, squeezing them tightly, forehead pressed into the mattress, as he pumped her harshly, keeping her on the verge of constant climax, but pulling back just so, for her to moan and beg him in a never ending litany.

“Baby, you want to come?” he teased, still busy with her butthole, which softened under his furious sucking and if they had more time and privacy, Elain would be ready to take him anally soon enough.

“Yes,” she grunted, “yes,”

“Ask nicely, and maybe,”

“Ugh, you are such a horrible tease,” she complained, biting his foot in spite, and he laughed, before slapping her firm, soft buttock.

“Biting a person who is making you come so nicely?” he slapped her again, and she yelped with pleasure, wiggling her ass, silently asking for more.

The walls of her passage clenched desperately over his fingers, and she made a choking, frantic sound in her chest, now beyond pleading or even moaning. He sucked, and slapped, and bit, and thrust, pumping her open, the sounds of the wet and the skin inside of her completely obscene, and music to both of their ears.

Azriel noticed a man, either a delivery guy or a grounds keeper, watching them wide eyed and shocked from a distance. Probably not something he expected to see at 4:40 in the morning. Not that he made a move to leave.

Azriel opted not to alarm Elain, who was coming violently on his hand, her body trembling and jerking, her beautiful, quiet orgasm sweeping everything in its path. His girl deserved a proper wake up, deserved and needed her climaxes, and deserved to be watched, because she was so beautiful. Her teeth and tongue clamped tightly on his foot, his toes, as she bit and licked, completely undone, turned inside out by his expert hand.

He still worked her hand in her, his thrusts shallow and not as strong, when she collapsed on the mattress at last, eyes closed, panting.

He smiled and finally slipped on the mattress alongside her, though he kept a finger between her folds, rubbing soothingly. She’d bite his head off if he removed his hand from her this quickly.

“Good morning my love,” he whispered at last, kissing her cheek.

“Mmmm, good morning,” she sighed with satiated pleasure.

“Some guy caught an eyeful,” he whispered, but she only snuggled to his chest.

“I don’t care…As long as you were watching me, that’s all that matters.”

“I wouldn’t mind sliding into your little bum right now,” he confessed, stroking her hip and her curvy backside.

“Do you want to take me?” she offered sweetly, eyes fluttering open.

He kissed her head and smiled, “So tempting, but not here and not now. Let’s jump in the shower and then be on our way. We’ve got a decent amount of driving to do today.”

She nodded.

“Did I tell you that I love you?” she stroked his cheek, the sharp, angular cut of it, the dark bronze skin.

“You did, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“I love you, Azriel.”

“I love you, Elain.”

 Elain

Their day was long.

They had their cappuccino and cornetti at some café on the road.

Their trip had a purpose—they were actually driving to Maranello, to the Ferrari headquarters where Azriel had 3 days of business meetings.

When Az told her that he was thinking of going to Italy, it was no brainer to say ‘yes’.

It was the first time she was going to leave her business, her shop, for an extended period of time, but Feyre promised to oversee the operations, while Cerridwen, whom Elain recently hired as a full-time employee and who was Nuala’s sister, was going to be responsible for the day-to-day.

The last time Elain’s been to Italy was when she was barely 10 years old. A few years before everything’s went to shit. Back then, her father completed a very lucrative business deal and there was a lot of disposable cash, so the family decided to take a grand trip to Italy.

Little Feyre who was only seven screeched and begged to go to Disneyland, while Nesta and their mother voted for Italy. No one asked Elain, assuming that she’d go wherever she was told.

The trip was extensive, almost four weeks, and they hit all the glamorous Southern parts—the Amalfi coast, with their headquarters in a rented villa near Positano. Then they went to Portofino, and their father rented a yacht for a few days, the trip culminating in Capri. It was a whirlwind on sun and the sea, of lemons, eating grilled squid, at which Feyre stared in horror, though she liked the taste, amazing fruit, endless pastries and gelato. Even their mother yanking a few pastries away from Elain, hissing that she ‘grow fat and not find a husband’ didn’t mar the experience. Elain, always the plumper of the sisters, was used to the warning by then.

 This time around, Elain could eat as much pastry as she wanted.

They landed in Rome, spent four days there, since she insisted on going to the Vatican Museum twice, hear Mass at St. Peter’s, and she didn’t know if she annoyed Azriel with her endless excitement and tales of art, artists, and biblical stories, but she couldn’t help herself.

She was an Art History major in NYU, receiving a full scholarship to attend. She loved it. Didn’t like college all that much as a whole, but loves studying. When everyone was partying, drinking, fucking and skipping classes, she went to the Met and to MOMA and learned and enjoyed herself. She loved history of religion, of other cultures and though not at all religious herself, none of them were, her knowledge on the subject was thorough.

Azriel, it seemed, liked her passion, her excitement, and listened attentively when she went on long explanation of what this or that Saint did and what grizzly death they’d suffered. And what was the significance of the painting or sculpture of the said Saint. Obviously, he was very artistically inclined as well, though his preference lay in design and industrial art, but he enjoyed listening and discussing. They spent hours and hours meandering the halls of the museum, and of the cathedral, and both spent a good half an hour in front of the Pieta, staring in silence and quiet contemplation at the sculpture, holding hands.

It was when they were sitting at a café, sipping some bitter Campari cocktails and watched the sprawling vistas of Rome that Azriel confided to her. Told her of his childhood. She knew some of the details, but he never talked about his childhood, and she opted not to pressure him. It was clear enough that it was horrific in many ways, and bringing up all those memories didn’t make sense to Elain.

Told her how his father, who was rich and vicious, won custody of him from his mother, not because he wanted his son, but out of spite, to torment the mother. And then it was years of solitude and loneliness and emotional and physical abuse. Azriel’s only reprieve was drawing, making designs, sometimes with chalk on the pavement, sometimes on scraps of paper. His stepmother threw everything out as soon as he made it. He languished in his father’s world for 8 years, until a catastrophic event took place—his stepbrothers doused him, his hands, in gasoline and lit him up. They didn’t call the paramedics either, and simply stood there, watching, as he burned. Finally, the neighbors heard his screams and police and ambulance came at last.

Because he was young, he recovered most of the sensations and feeling in his hands, but the skin was permanently scarred and his father refused skin grafts.

He’d met Cassian at the hospital, who came there having been beaten so badly by his foster father, that he had a concussion, broken ribs and a punctured eye socket.

Mrs. Darling, Rhys’s mother, who was one of the biggest benefactors of the children’s hospital where they were recovering, heard their stories and thankfully, her wealth opened every door. Her influence and wealth were no match for Azriel’s father. Hence when she decided that she wanted to adopt the two boys, little could be done to dissuade her. Azriel and Cassian still spent some time in foster care, while the documents were being processed and all the formalities legalized, but at the end, they ended up with the Darlings, as their adopted sons.

Elain wanted to cry for him, for his destroyed childhood, for his tormented youth, for his injuries, for the lack of love in his life. For his sake, though, she didn’t.

Sensing that he needed her support, she didn’t release his hand for the remainder of the day.

And she told him how much she loved him and how happy he made her.

 They left Montepulciano, and then drove for a few hours and stopped at Orvieto, and explored its unnecessary enormous Duomo, which was situated on the hill, amidst the Umbrian lushness. The tiny town did offer spectacular views and great wine, which they enjoyed with lunch.

 Now

Azriel worked his fingers into the supple warmth of her damp pussy and looked down, before ordering, “wider, Lainey”.

She spread her legs wider, her knit dress folded haphazardly over the belly.

“Wider,” he said and she placed one foot on the seat, exposing herself completely to him.

It was never wide enough for him, for he liked to see everything, liked to spread and open and pull her wide apart for his eyes, for his exploration.

He pressed his thumb to her plump pink clit and began to rub.

She whined impatiently and he smiled,

“We are almost there…”

“I need you,” she moaned, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

“I need you too, my beauty,” he nodded, “but I think once we get there, you’ll forget all about me.”

She tsked and announced, “I don’t know if anything will impress me as much as your cock in my mouth,”

He started at the blunt words, her amused grin and then burst out laughing.

“Naughty.”

In a few minutes, he rounded a small green hill and Elain’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, gods…Az…”

He was smiling.

He’d never been here before, but he’d done his research, finally finding the right spot.

A tiny hidden valley, nestled between a few rolling Tuscan hills, with a small turquoise lake sparkling in the late afternoon sun. In the distance, a mandatory Tuscan villa.

And poppies. Fields of poppies, stretching as far as the eye can see. A blanket of ruby-red poppies, gently swaying in the pine-scented air.

This place was a damn Walmart painting come true, and Azriel loved it for its kitsch, its predictability.

“It’s gorgeous!” she gasped. Then chuckled, adding, “Like one of those mass-produced paintings,”

At that, Azriel roared with laughter, killed the engine and they got out of the car.

“My thoughts exactly!” he nodded vigorously.

She ran into the poppies, brushing her palm over the petals, “But it’s worth it! No painting can ever do this justice! Az…it’s so beautiful!” she twirled in the field of red, her white dress a stark contrast to the vibrancy of the colours around her—the cobalt of the cloudless sky, the emerald green of the hills, the blood-red of the poppies.

He folded his arms and said, “I am glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!”

She inspected all the wildflowers that bloomed among the poppies, picking a few purple ones and a daisy and tucking them behind her ear. Another daisy she brought to him and tucked it into his hair.

“There is a blanket in the trunk,” he jerked his head towards the car, and unbuttoned his shirt almost to the navel, “if you want to picnic,”

“I want to picnic!” she squealed and ran to the car to get what she needed.

Soon there was a blanket on the grass and a few bottles of wine in a basket.

He slid down, stretching on the blanket, toeing off his shoes, rolling his shoulders. This was nice. He also relished her happiness, how her high ponytail bounced about as she ran through the field barefoot, and then began twirling, arms outstretched and singing loudly,

The hills are alive with the sound of

Griswold, he helped out.

“Are you coming here?” he called out, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“No,” she yelled, “I am picking flowers!”

“They’ll wilt,” he muttered reasonably, but she didn’t hear him.

Azriel dozed off, surprising himself. But the pleasant heat, the sunshine, the breeze, the birds—all lulled him into sleep. He stirred only when he sensed Elain near, and when he opened his eyes, he was treated by a lovely surprise. He propped himself on his elbows and watched his beautiful girl walk towards him completely naked, with a heap of flowers in the crook of her arm. What she did with her dress he didn’t know and didn’t care. But he drunk in the slim, curvy silhouette of her body, the long, slender legs and the toned thighs. Her smooth, pink sex glistened just a bit with her usual arousal, and full breasts bounced with every step. Her hair flowed behind her, unbound.

“I got hot,” she announced.

He grinned.

“I can see that. I like it when you get hot like this.”

She stood over him, her delicious slit taunting him and he made to touch it, but she dumped all the flowers on him instead and said, “get up”.

“Why?!” he frowned. “I am so comfortable.”

“I can make you a little more comfortable,” she promised, “but for that, you have to get up.”

With a groan, he got on his feet, only to have her slide on her knees in front of him. She looked up and murmured, “by the time you are done with me, I only want to have gelato to soothe my throat.”

He swallowed audibly, watching her unbutton his trousers and then his shirt. She removed the pants completely, but left the white shirt on, before placing a few soft, loving kisses on the thick slabs of muscles on his stomach. The well-defined outline of his Adonis Belt she traced with her tongue, inevitably making her way from his hip towards the final destination.

“And I want my knees bruised,” she added with a wicked smirk.

He flicked her nose and shook his head, “such filthy words coming from this pretty little mouth.”

She licked her lips with impatience, hungrily watching him fist his member and give it a few rough, preliminary strokes.

“Gods, your cock is gorgeous,” she gasped with admiration, watching him work himself with practiced determination.

“You like my cock?” he drew the thick, smooth head of it over her full lips and she whimpered with anticipation, nodding, kissing it affectionately, with slow, open mouth kisses, as he continued to pump it lazily.

She admitted, “more than anything. Az, Az,” she begged impatiently, as he smeared a trickle of liquid that dribbled from the tip over her lips, “please,”

“Please what?”

She rested her hands on his thighs, kneeling close enough so that her breasts brushed against them, “I want it in my mouth. Please.”

He lightly smacked the thick girth of his shaft over her half-opened mouth, making her shake with anticipation, smiling down at her. Her eyes burned with raw, overwhelming desire.

“But I like it when you ask me, baby. Tell me more,”

“That your cock is gorgeous and ridiculously huge?” she chuckled, relishing in his rubbing the tip insistently over her lips, as she licked the little slit.

“Keep going,” he encouraged.

“That I love you and can’t wait to suck it?”

“Alright, babe,” she nodded at last, “I guess you’ll just have to suck my huge dick,” and with that, he slid between her lips.

She smiled around him and pulled on it deeper, dragging her tongue over and under the thick shaft. It was always just a little too big for her, so she gasped, as he filled her mouth more and more, sliding in steadily. She eased her throat as much as she could, accepting the thrust and feeling the smooth head dip down, brushing the back of her throat. He was watching her intently, every bob and swallow of her throat, making sure that she was comfortable enough to hold him in. “Big?” he murmured. Her eyes teared up, but she managed a small nod. Her hands squeezed his thighs nervously, tightly, stroking the backs of them, while he began to pull out slowly, before sliding back in.

Nothing was more exciting than Elain’s ability to mould her throat around his shaft, while those big brown eyes blinked at him, seeking approval. He put his hand over her head, stroking it, then caressing her face, her hollowed cheeks, while giving her mouth a few exploratory thrusts.

She readied herself and pulled back, releasing the cock with an audible pop, and then licking the underside, from the balls to the tip.

“Just like that, my love,” he nodded, watching her tuck her face in the crease of his hip and slide her tongue up and down the sides of his cock. “Is that good?”

“It’s the best,” she vowed, “I love licking!” she added enthusiastically, proceeding to do just that.

He always remembered that she was very innocent and whatever she knew, no matter how sensual, erotic or even perverse, it all came from him. He taught her—gently, firmly and thoroughly the art of the bedroom and whatever they did, he was completely assured that she enjoyed and wanted every moment of it. Thankfully, she was so innocent that she didn’t know how to pretend or fake anything, especially when it came to sex, and didn’t know how to play games. She was eager and loving and excitable because what they did together, with each other, pleased her, and for no other reason. Azriel cherished this level of honesty more than anything.

Therefore, when she said that she loved licking, she showed him just how much she enjoyed it, licking up and down voraciously, over the sides, watching him unblinking. He cupped the pouch of his balls in one hand and carefully eased it into her mouth.

“You are so good to me,” he groaned, as she wrapped her lips around the ball and began to suck eagerly, not caring if she was loud, smacking her lips, tongue working non-stop, caressing the flesh. She hummed appreciatively around the balls, sending a pleasant shiver down his thighs, her mouth completely filled with him. “That’s good, my girl,” he stroked her head, “just like that. Keep going,” his head fell back with satisfaction, and she swallowed hard around his balls, almost moaning at the sight of his neck, the expression of pleasure written on his face.

“Can I tell you a story?” he muttered huskily, looking back down at her, his eyes dark and his face tense. Elain nodded. He gripped his cock and then slid it back in her mouth, almost to the hilt, making her choke and gag at once, watching her eyes widen.

She was drooling, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the pressure of her member in her throat, or from the visual display of his stunning body above her. The thick pectorals, adorned with black and blue ink twitched as he began to pump in and out of her mouth, hard and steady. He held the back of her head, but the clutch of his hand was light and casual, only keeping her in place, as his narrow hips flexed with each deep push. A delicious bead of sweat ran down the cobbled network of his abdominal muscles, slowly making its way to the deep V etched into his hips, towards the thick cock that he was currently ramming into her mouth.

She drooled. She licked and laved and lapped. She didn’t care how messy or ridiculous she looked, because her man loved her and loved her on her knees in front of him.

“I couldn’t stop watching you talk,” he grumbled, “the first time I saw you. Your plump lips…Oh fuck, baby, you feel so, so good,” he rode her smoothly, with deep, expert strokes, “you wore that rose-tinted lipstick…and all I could think of afterward was those lips wrapped around my dick.”

She smiled over his member, lightly shaking her head, as much as her current position would allow.

“I am sorry, honey,” he smiled at her, “this pervy mind couldn’t think of anything else but getting my dick down your throat.”

And demonstrating just that, and the resolution of his dream, he pushed further.

“Alright?” he asked, carefully holding her jaw. She blinked her approval. He was unable to take his eyes off her, her lush lips wrapped tightly around the dark mass of him, her beautiful eyes tearing from pressure. He wiped the tears with his thumbs and then gave a brief nod, “give me those flowers, baby.”

Obviously, she couldn’t glance down, so she blindly grabbed a handful of flowers and handed them to him, her expression amused, a little surprised.

“What’s more romantic,” he murmured, stroking her hollowed cheeks and then pulling out a little, before pushing back in, “than putting pretty flowers into my Lainey’s hair,” and he plucked a small poppy from the heap, and pushed in into her hair, “while she deepthroats me?”

He was heavy and thick in her mouth, salty, delicious and familiar, and as he began thrusting firmly, the thick head hitting the back of her throat, Elain settled in for a ride. She wasn’t kidding when she asked for her throat to be raw by the end of it—she liked being sore somewhere in her body from him, at all times. Between her legs, inside her rectum, in her throat—it didn’t matter, though it was nice if it was everywhere, but she loved being marked by him in some way.

The hum and rumble in Azriel’s throat, that of masculine satisfaction and some kind of primal dominance made her so wet, she leaked down her thighs. But he didn’t tell her to touch herself, so she didn’t. He just fucked her throat steadily, the audible sound of her choking and sputtering around his cock and the satisfied snarls emanating from him, the only sounds around them. His hips rocked hard, pumping deep, as he garbled endearments and praise to her, “is that so good, honey? You feel amazing…”

She squeezed his thighs in affirmation. As he worked on her, he kept putting flowers in her hair, admiring her sucking and his work, “so gorgeous, baby. My beautiful girl…Good cock?”

“Mmmm,” she only managed, saliva bathing her chin and chest, her eyes rolling back with pleasure and exhaustion.

“Can you handle a little more?” he begged, “I don’t want to come yet, my love,” another flower in her hair. “I love you on your knees with my cock in her mouth.”

He set a brutal rhythm, muttered, “choke, baby…” and she did, gagging and panting over his member, the lack of oxygen making her pliant and obliging, her mouth existing for his pleasure. When they played a little rougher, he could request to squeeze her throat a little with his hand, while he choked her with his cock, but today, he was feeling romantic, as was she.

Her hair dripped with flowers of all kinds, as he fashioned her into some kind of Summer Lady. Or maybe a Dusk Lady, since the sun began its descent and shadows spread over the pretty little valley.

“Fuck me, you are so beautiful,” he grunted, looking down at her. “My flower girl, with my cock in her mouth. Bob a little, love, show me how much you like it,” he encouraged and she immediately began to bob her head  up and down on him, drool sliding down his shaft, her eyes pleading for his approval, which he gave generously.

He gently, kindly stroked her face, her throat, feeling his cock deep inside it, moving in her, rubbing at the indentation with his thumb. Then, he cupped her face between his large hands and murmured, “open up”, thumbs brushing over her damp cheeks, as tears slid down when he started to thrust intently, battering her throat. “My girl is sucking so well,” he was relentless now, pounding and pounding, an Elain thought that she might just pass out from the sensation, feeling lightheaded. Azriel had inhuman stamina when he was between her legs, but that also translated to when he was in her mouth, which meant he could ravage her completely. “I’ll feed you all the gelato myself, if you can suck a little more,” he promised with a smirk, pulling out completely. “Breathe,” he ordered, and she gulped in some air, before he thrust back inside, “are you tired?”

She shook her head ‘no’. She was never tired for him. She moaned, though his cock pushed down all sound with brutal, excited enthusiasm, as he cupped his balls tightly in his hand, readying to finally come. “Fuck, baby, you suck so well,” he squeezed her shoulder, stooping over her, the muscled of his abdomen twitching and tensing, his balls tight against her chin. Grabbing her shoulder with one hand, he cupped her under the jaw and kept her head still, as he exploded in her mouth. He poured down her throat with a pleased, blissful moan, throwing his head back, pumping harshly and erratically, filling her mouth over and over. She sucked and drank, swallowing quickly, gluttonously. Azriel always tasted heavenly, but perhaps it was something about being in Italy and all the fruit and wine that they’ve been consuming, but she couldn’t get enough of him now. He shot rope after rope down her throat and she lapped it all with pleasure. He dropped on his knees, exhausted, his cock still in her mouth, and she stroked and caressed his body soothingly, swallowing the last of him.

“Gods, Elain,” was all he managed, as he finally withdrew in an endlessly long pull from her lips.

She gasped, and licked her lips, before placing a loving, playful kiss on the pink, wet head of the shaft.

“Did you have fun, my love?” she cooed tenderly, as Azriel slumped on the blanket, head her on her lap.

“Baby, why do you spoil me like this?” he moaned, reaching for her bare plump breast and cupping lightly.

“Probably because I love you more than it’s prudent,” she smiled, her voice hoarse. “More than anything. Love you like I didn’t know I could love anybody. Also,”

“Yes?”

His chest constricted from her simple admissions, from the pure earnestness of her words, from the love that was shining in her brown eyes. He was undeserving of this woman, of her overwhelming love for him, of everything that she gave him so selflessly. But he listened and listened, because everything she told him was like a balm on all the wounds of his soul, and music to his heart.

Her lips were gorgeously, obscenely swollen, and he dragged his thumb over their plumpness. She added, “you are very hot.”

“Ahhh,” he chuckled. “So you are using me for my body?”

“I’d be stupid not to use you for your body. You got one hell of a body, my mysterious, shadowy Azriel.”

“Well, flower girl, you go ahead and use my body as much as you want, for anything you desire. It’s yours.”

He kissed her hand. Then, reached up and kissed her pretty pink nipple.

“As is my heart,” he added softly. “Anything you want. It’s all yours.”

She lay next to him, both of them sprawled in the blanket of flowers. She picked a poppy and stuck it behind his ear.

“Pretty boy Azriel.”

He propped his cheek and turned to face her. She was still covered in flowers, from all his handiwork.

“We are good together, aren’t we?” she murmured, laying her hand on his neck.

“We are. We are very good together, Lainey.”

She bit her swollen lip and then said, voice quiet, a little uncertain,

“Maybe you want to marry me?” she proposed.

He stilled, waiting for more.

She squeezed the back of his neck a little tighter and continued, no stopping her now, “I know we were thinking later, maybe next y-,”

“Yes,” he nodded, “yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Elain, I want to marry you now.”

She gasped, tears of joy moistening her eyes, “In Florence?” she begged.

“Yes. In Florence,” he cupped her face in his. “Let’s go get married!”

[unabashegirl]

Pax Romana; Part I

Author’s note: Hey everyone, here is the first part of this mini-series. I hope you like it! Let me know if you want to be on the tag list. Also, REQUESTS ARE OPEN only for H. 

DISCLAIMER; I DONT KNOW ITALIAN! (only English, French and Spanish) I clearly used a translator. I am aware their translations are SHIT sometimes. Therefore I am sorry if I butcher it! I didn’t mean to!

masterlist 

----

Harry Styles, can still recall the first day he was enthralled by her conspicuous beauty. At first, he reckoned he had done the unavoidable. He had moved to Italy for the summer, and he had managed to fall in love with an Italian girl; that he had never spoken to. He had only observed her from afar — too shy to ever think of approaching her. Nonetheless, the young woman was a sight to behold.  He promised himself that he would only watch from afar. It felt forbidden and somewhat illegal. The feeling that bubbled within him was enough reason to continue his study of her.

After his first visit to Italy, he had fallen in love with the country. Hence, why he had rented out a house in a coastal town. The country’s natural and effortless beauty inspired him to write new music for his upcoming album. The beautiful sunsets, the sunny mornings, the art, and the food brought peace and tranquility to him. It was the perfect place for him to hide — for a while.  It was on one of his morning runs; he first noticed her. 

She wore a bright yellow bikini that exposed most of her olive skin to the sun rays. She sat on a striped towel that she had laid out on the hot sand.  Her hair was slicked back and wet after she had dipped in the ocean to refresh her body. 

Of course, she never caught sight of his dilated pupils or the way he had leaned forward — lured by her beauty.  Her attention was preoccupied with a hardcover of Pride and Prejudice; that she had brought along as a source of entertainment for the day.  The young woman appeared too indulged in the printed words to notice his existence. 

He watched her for a few hours. Now and then he would remind himself of the hundred reasons why he shouldn’t approach. He had even managed to take a few steps towards her. Harry eventually removed himself as soon as it became too much. He had beaten the temptation. 

The first time he spoke to her was at a local restaurant. Harry had taken himself out on a late lunch date. He had dressed up nicely and had walked to the bistro. He noticed her presence after taking his first sip out of his freshly served Chardonnay. She sat on the table across from him. This time she wasn't submerged in a book. He could finally admire her natural beauty up close. The fullness of the apples of her cheeks, her long dark eyelashes, her red-tinted lips, and of course light sunburn on her upper cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. 

A few minutes later, her order had arrived. It was ricotta and mushroom stuffed ravioli in a black truffle sauce. She was stuffing her face when they made eye contact. Harry’s lips curved upwards creating a lopsided smile as she scrambled to clean the creamy sauce off her face. He hadn't said anything to her, but she already felt embarrassed. 

”Sono deliziosa?” He had done it. He couldn’t just watch her and pray she’d take the first step. It was time to put his Italian to the test. He had been practicing his Italian and even though he already had a few weeks on the Amalfi coast; he still struggled to comprehend. Harry only hoped she would be able to understand him.

”E molto deliziosa” She smiled at him for the first time. She beamed, radiating an intoxicating wave of warmth and happiness towards him. Her lips parted open for a split second but before she could utter a word the waiter approached. 

“Hai bisogno di qualcos’ altro?”  He was asking her if she needed anything else. She understood what he was asking, but she couldn’t remember how to say cheese.

“Fuck” she said under her breath. “Queso. Fromage. Cheese” She had forgotten how to speak. All her languages had mixed in one and the wires had crossed. “How do you say it?” She whispered under her breath, her cheeks warmed in embarrassment as the waiter tried to comprehend. 

“Formaggio. Ha bisogno di formaggio parmigiano, per favore” Harry interrupted, noticing her uneasiness and her inevitable embarrassment. He knew that it wasn’t his business and he shouldn’t have been listening to the conversation, but he had to help her. 

The waiter turned his attention to the young celebrity. He was also a bit surprised that Harry had spoken for her. He had seen that Harry kept to himself. He usually attended dinner on his own and hardly even bothered to use his phone. “Inmediatamente”. 

“Thank you” She thanked Harry as soon as the waiter had left in search of the parmesan cheese that she so craved. Harry’s excessive focus on watching the server carrying out her request had prevented him from realizing that she spoke perfect English. He had to stop himself from gasping when processed her delicate voice. She had an accent. Slight. Gentle. Barely-there and it wasn’t Italian. He would later learn that her R’s made it more prominent. 

“It’s alright. It happens” She instantly recognized who he was. Her heart raced for a minute or two, but she restrained herself from making a huge scene. After all, it was Harry Styles. Whom she considered, the most stylish man of her generation. The man could wear a curtain and still pull it off. “I am Harry” He rises a bit from his seat, extending his right hand. 

“Catalina” She shakes his hand with a smile. “So, what brings you here?” Even her name was attractive — he wondered. 

“Is’not obvious?” 

“Not really. Enlighten me” The stranger gives him a small smirk while placing her napkin over her lap after crossing her legs under the table. Harry purges his lips as he uses his index finger and thumb to slightly tug on his bottom lip. 

His whole plan to stay away from her had failed. Did he regret it?. Hell no! He just hoped he had chosen wisely. 

“The art” He reveals as he watches her cut one of her ravioli before putting it in her mouth. She responds by only nodding; too indulged in the explosion of flavors within her mouth. 

“Music?” She hums as she brings the glass of wine up to her mouth. “ I thought you were more of a  dolce far niente type of man” her mouth curved into a smile. Dolce far niente means pleasant relaxation in carefree idleness. Harry instantly identified the phrase from Julia Roberts's famous movie — Eat, Pray, Love. She remembered reading somewhere that he was a rom-com fan. 

“Are you?” He shot back. There was no doubt that he was intrigued by her. 

“Si” She shrugged as she pushed around some ravioli. 

“Then we have more in common than I thought, Catalina” Her name rolled off his tongue without any strain. It was as if he had been practicing for months. She had never heard her name sound so attractively. Sure, he had an accent, but it was still beautifully pronounced. 

Harry’s order arrived moments later. He had ordered the classic spaghetti bolognese. He grabbed his fork and knife and right before digging into the plate, he looked up at her. Catalina had been watching him since silence had fallen upon them. His smirk grew into a soft chuckle as their eyes met. She giggled at him and first noticed his dimples. She now understood everyone's obsession with his smile. 

“Would you join me?” Catalina spluttered after a few minutes of mentally debating with herself. She felt her heart beating in her throat and her hands dripping with sweat as other parts of her body. It was all very hot. 

Catalina wasn’t the type of woman to initiate conversation. She rarely even texts first!. Her excuse is usually that she doesn’t want to bother or interrupt. In reality, she is scared shitless to make a fool out of herself. Therefore, she was quite surprised by herself to have asked him to have dinner together. 

Harry cocked his head with his lips pursed. To her, he looked very pensive as if he was making a big decision. She didn’t blame him. He was on vacation and the last thing he wanted was to be photographed with a random girl and for questions to be asked. Although, he had already agreed in his mind. He just couldn’t come across as desperate. Even though he was. Harry wanted to know more. 

His fingers tucked his clothed napkin into the collar of his shirt. A chuckle left his lips as he pushed his seat back and raised on his feet. He held his plate and utensils with one hand while his glass of wine with the other. 

“So, where are you from?” Harry was first to ask, as he twisted his spaghetti around his folk. Catalina leaned back on her seat, her fingers clenching around her wine glass as she finished swallowing. “I am English” he laughs as if his accent didn’t give it away. 

“Really? Bet my life you were Italian” Catalina bantered 

“What gave it away?” 

“The facial hair and the good head of locks” Harry grinned covering his face with his hands, feeling his cheeks heating up. He felt ridiculous for blushing at such a minuscule compliment. “But anyway, I was born in South America, but raised in Spain by my aunt”. She revealed playing with the small droplets around the cup of ice water that had been forgotten. 

“And what are you doing here?” 

“I study here” She had just finished her first semester. “Well not here, but in Rome. I am majoring in art history”.

The not so strangers sat for hours and indulged in one more bottle of wine. Harry encouraged her to pick but she politely refused. She said that she hadn’t spent enough time in Italy to know what was best. 

She told him about her parents. Her father had walked out on her mother after she had told him that she was expecting. Catalina also shared with him how she felt after losing her mother to cancer when she was only ten. She was quite surprised at herself. She had never shared so much with anyone. Let alone, someone she had met that same night. Harry brought her some kind of comfort that she had no idea she needed. 

Harry listened to her. She hadn’t finished speaking and answering his previous question and he already had another one formulated. He liked hearing her speak. She allowed him to pick at her brain and he liked what he saw. She was driven, independent, somewhat lonely, but incredibly smart. Catalina was also unbelievably wise for her age. 

“What about you? Is fame all you thought it would be?” Catalina asked moments after they had been kicked out of the restaurant. They eventually had to close. Harry held what was left of the bottle as they walked down the isolated streets. 

“That’s a heavily loaded question” He chuckled, “It’s way more complicated and difficult. I think I expected to never feel lonely by the continuous abundance of people around me. But in reality, sometimes it feels lonelier than when I was just Harry” Harry shrugged, masking the pain that the vulnerability that he suddenly felt.

“I get it. The screams and faces don’t match the number of people close to you” Catalina was not famous but she could understand where he was coming from. Sure, her aunt had raised her, but she had felt lonely for most of her life. Her mother's death had felt a gaping hole in her life that no one has ever been able to fulfill. 

“M’not ungrateful for my friends but I do feel lonely. I guess I haven't found what I am looking for” Harry flashed her a reassuring smile as they walked down to the main road. “Let me help yeh” He had seen her struggling to walk over the cobblestone streets. She wore low heel sandals that complemented the white satin dress that she has opted for. Unfortunately, the heels were thin enough to slip through the stones making her overly cautious where she stepped. 

Harry switched the bottle to his other hand and offered his hand for her to take. She stopped momentarily and stared at his massive hands. They were bare. His famous rings were missing as if they had gone on a vacation too. She took his hand and was slightly surprised at their softness. She had expected them to be rough but they were quite the opposite. 

“Thank you” 

“No problem” He wanted to spend more time with her. He wished that the night wasn’t ending. “I would invite you for some gelato, but it’s quite late. I doubt there is any place opened” 

“How long are you staying?” Catalina asked as she noticed them approaching the entrance of her hotel. 

“A few more weeks” the splendor of the lights of the entrance of the hotel illuminated her features. Harry couldn’t help thinking how lovely she looked. 

“I’ve had a lovely time. Will I see you tomorrow?” 

“M’not planning on goin anywhere” Catalina reached up, resting a delicate hand on his shoulder, she kissed his cheek. 

“I’ll see you around then” She gave him a little wave as she walked her way through the doors. She would later realize that she hadn’t only kissed him because it was part of her culture and tradition but because he managed to ignite a flame within her — that one had ever done before. 

[karahalloway]

Sorry this took soooooooooooooooooooooo long! Life has been crazy busy, but I finally have a bit of a breather to catch up! 😇

Lilith sighed, rolling over to face him. “So now that the wedding is over..”

Drake looked at the ceiling, his heart like a lead brick in his chest. “I know.”

Nooooo!! Dont...do... it!! Just move in together!

Lilith sighed and sat up in bed, pulling her knees to her chest. “Drake, I don’t want to fight about this anymore. Please? And we don’t have to live together. I mean, it’s not like we’re..”

Lilith! I thought we were past all this insecurity...!!

“I missed you guys!” Riley said before wrapping Drake in a hug. “I have soooo many pictures to bore you with, it’s not even funny! We went everywhere in Italy!”

I love Riley - she is always so bouncy and fully of happy energy! Hopefully she can convince Lilith to stay...👀👀👀

Lilith reluctantly told Liam and Riley her plans for moving back home.

Riley frowned, looking between her and Drake. “You waited this long to tell me you were moving back home?! Bitch, are you serious?!”

Okay... that... that was funny!

Liam motioned for everyone to sit at the table. “Lilith, we actually called you two here for a reason.. Other than to bore you with our hundreds of honeymoon photos.”

“Thousands, babe.” Riley corrected him with a smirk.

lolololololol 🤣 That said - I want to see these pics!

Liam took a sip of tea before he began speaking. “Recently our art curator retired and, not to be disrespectful but, he was a bit old fashioned with his tastes. We’re interested in updating the palace, making it more modern and less.. stuffy.”

EeeeEEEEEeeee!! Here we go!! The intervention we've been waiting for!!!

Liam gave a slight nod. “That would be one of your duties. That, and deciding what would be showcased at the Cordonian National History Museum. And honestly, I would be remiss if I didn’t request several of your original pieces for the palace and museum. You are a fantastic artist, Lilith. Of course, this position would require you to live in the capital.”

Lilith raised her eyes to Liam and held out her hand. “We’ll discuss terms later, but.. I think this is an offer I could be interested in.”

“Thank God.” Drake blurted out, his entire face flushing immediately after.

Lol! I know exactly how you feel Walker!!

Lilith began learning the basics of her new job, which also put her in charge of overseeing all interior decorating at the palace. If Riley and Liam had no preference, all decisions deferred to Lilith. After a couple months with Lilith in charge, the palace was looking better than ever, and attendance at the Cordonian National History Museum was higher than it had been in years. Lilith was truly in her element, and it showed.  

All the caps! 👏👏👏👏👏

Drake surged forward, meeting her lips in a searing kiss. Lilith brought her hand up to rest in his soft brown locks, while Drake’s hands roamed down her backside, lifting her onto her desk. She wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, leaning her head back while Drake’s lips made their way down her neck, pausing just between the valley of her breasts. 

“Ahem.. uh, L-Lady Nevrakis?” A hesitant voice called from just beyond her open office door.

Drake chuckled as he heard the man exit the building. “I actually like him. Even though he still won’t look me in the eyes.”

“Can you blame him?” Lilith chuckled, “The first time he met you was when you were butt naked, laid across my desk!”

“Can we eat in the studio? I need to check my painting and make sure I don’t hate it now that it’s dry.”

Drake shook his head as he followed Lilith, stooping down to bring the bag of food with him. “You’re so critical of yourself. I’m sure it’s amazing as always.”

“Eh.” Lilith cocked her head to the side, eyeing the painting. “I’m just not feeling it.”

Hahahaha! Of course she hates it 🤣

“You don’t.. Have you ever painted before?”

“How hard can it be?” Drake shrugged, turning to the easel and dragging a pea green blob of paint down into a magenta one, swirling it around.

“That looks like vomit!” Lilith cringed as she watched him drag the now brownish mixture into a golden yellow, then pale blue blob.

Very hard, apparently...🤣🤣🤣

Face flushed and breathing heavily, Lilith paused. She finally realized what Drake was doing. “You cheeky fucker.”

Drake was trying his hardest not to crack a smile. He grabbed a new canvas from the stack and placed it in front of her. “Ok, now paint. But this time, paint it how you want. Not how someone else tells you.”

🥰

Lilith spun around and drew Drake into a long kiss, melting into him. “I love you.” She touched her forehead to his, with a smile. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Anytime.” Drake gave her another peck on the lips before they broke apart. “So, is this your abstract version of Valtoria?”

Lilith snickered. “That’s my abstract version of us fucking in the field in Valtoria.”

Hahahahahah! Love it!

Drake turned away from Lilith and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

The biggest of his life.

YOU BETTER DO WHAT I THINK YOU'RE GOING TO DO, WALKER, OTHERWISE I'M GONNA TAN YOUR HIDE, Y'HEAR??!! 😇

...though I do feel for him - he probably planned this for tonight, but Lilith got caught up with work! 🙈

The Other Nevrakis

Chapter 27 - Stay

Pairings- Drake x OC (Lilith Nevrakis), Liam x Riley

Book- TRR Book One AU

Synopsis- Lilith Nevrakis is the younger sister of Duchess Olivia, and the black sheep of her family. Drake Walker is the best friend of the Crown Prince. Lilith and Drake are similar in that they both prefer random hookups to relationships. Once they meet, something in each of them changes and they both realize they want more out of life. But is what they want, each other?

A/N- This pretty much follows the events of TRR Book 1, but this is an AU where Olivia has a younger sister and Riley is Maxwell’s cousin. The story alternates between Lilith and Drake’s POV, but not in first person.

Series Warnings- Language, Drinking, Sensuality, NSFW (there will be lemons!)

Word count- 2,750

18+ only

Click here to catch up.

*A/N- This is (probably) the second to last chapter of the series. Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out! Also, thanks to @angelasscribbles​​​ for helping me finally choose a career for Lilith. 

Keep reading

[joestarwhore]

Yandere melone imagine please.

Yandere Melone Imagine (NSFW; willing darling, consensual touching, confinement)

——————————————————

Submission - Yandere!Melone x Fem!Reader

It’s been a month since you married Melone, & honestly, your life isn’t that bad. Yes, Melone was insane, keeping you in his giant house & confining you here, but he took care of you. Kept the pantry and kitchen stocked, spent time with you, kept your closet stocked with clothes; it was peaceful here.

When Melone captured you, you were simply an intern from Morioh, coming to Italy to find a new way of life. After having everything you loved ripped away by a serial killer, you said goodbye to your pals at home & bought a one way ticket to Napoli; & it was soon after that you noticed a tall, attractive purple haired man seemed to be everywhere you were. Besides, what could he possibly do to you? You had your stand, Iron Maiden, for a reason. You’d be okay.. right?

That night after checking into a hotel, you noticed your room was already unlocked. You walked in assuming that it was just house keeping. As soon as you crossed the threshold, a cloth smothered your mouth and face, fumes quickly going up your nose.

“Oh good girl, amore, you’re not even struggling!!”

You weren’t for some reason.. why?

You passed out before you could answer.

When you woke up, you were in a giant bed with your hands and feet tied together. & that’s also when you realized that you were being held by two tan muscular arms.

“You didn’t put up a fight when I chloroformed you, amore! Such a willing girl for me, arent you??”

His voice felt like silk in your ears. God, why did you secretly enjoy this?? This man literally fucking kidnapped you, drugged you, bound you in ropes & is holding you in his arms in a giant bed. Some people would be flipping their shit; not you, though.

You both sat in silence, Melone’s gentle rocking providing you with a sense of comfort as you figured out how to approach this situation. Should you say something? Should you scream? Why are you just letting yourself be kidnapped without a fight, & why did this feel so right?

“My name is Melone. I saw you when you left the airport and-“ He let out a needy sigh as his hands slowly crept towards your breasts. “-theres just something about you that i HAD to have. And here you are, my darling!!”

You slowly look up at Melone, his beautiful face structure staring down at you with the most love you’ve ever seen in a person.

“Darling, I know it must be a shock & I know it must be a change, but I promise to worship the ground you walk on, be your provider,” His face nuzzled into your hair, his hand massaging your breast, making tingles shoot down to your core. “I know you probably hate me but i promise, amore, im-“

“I don’t.” you whispered to him, not looking him in the eye. Melones frame froze, careful to not breathe or move to ruin the moment. “W-what did you say, amore?”

You looked up at Melone, gently repositioning yourself to have a better view of his face. You wondered why you didn’t hate him, & the answer was in his eyes- whatever type of love he had for you, you felt. You wanted it. You could tell he did too, & after what you witnessed in Morioh, maybe this was your next challenge. You didn’t know Melone very well, but from the look of the little humanoid computer that keeps manifesting behind him, you knew he was a stand user. After all, stand users attract each other, dont they?

“I-I don’t hate you, sir.” Melone’s eyes seemed to swell with even more love as he looked into your eyes, drinking in every word you said. “I know I should be scared of you, but I think after the last few years of my life, I don’t have much left. You’re the first person t-to look at me with..” You met his eyes once more and smiled a little bit. “With love.”

Melone bit his lips & laid you on your back, working on your bindings. “Oh amore, you have no idea how much i do indeed love you. There’s something about you that i desperately love, & I want that forever, cara.” Melone took off the rest of your bindings, letting you simply sit on the plush bed. He opened his night stand and fished out a small black box, no bigger than his palm.

You already knew it was a ring, to pin point it better- an engagement ring. Melone kneeled in front of you, taking your left hand to his lips, kissing every finger as he gently slid on the ring that somehow fit you perfectly.

“I know we’ve just met, and we don’t have to do this right away, but I want you to wear this ring so anyone who looks at you knows that you’re mine!” Melone took his hands and touched all of you, his hands gracing your chest & thighs, gently squeezing you as he inhaled your scent. “Oh cara, you’re going to be such a good wife to me, i’ll fill you up with our sweet children!!” You gently smiled as he ran his hands over you, secretly enjoying the feeling of being touched like this. If this is what your life was to be like from now on- this would be okay.

Three months later, you had a beautiful wedding in Venezia, followed by your honeymoon spent in his newly refurbished three story home. Your virginity didn’t last the first week you had even arrived, & by the time your honeymoon came around, Melone knew just how he liked you, & how you liked to be touched. It was incredibly mutual, this odd arrangement. Some might call it stockholm syndrome, but you both knew better. Whatever bad intentions or vibes were present in the beginning, was gone. All that’s left was the true, obsessive love he had for you, and the gentle, understanding love you had for him.

You heard the door click open and Melone waltzed through the front door, immediately seeing you in his vision. His eyes lit up as he briskly walked towards you taking you in his arms. He’s so sweet to you. “Amore, I missed you so much”, he’d say as he tangle his hands in your hair.

You smiled & rubbed his temples with your palms. “I missed you even more, honey! Did you have a good day at work?”

Melone smiled & kissed your forehead. “Work is work- but nothing beats being here with my sweet little darling, my sweet obsession!”

Melone kissed your nose and cheeks, making you giggle & scrunch your nose. You married Melone a month ago- and you wouldn’t have it any other way.