#skin lump removal london

[jorichingsuk]

Details Presentation The Marylebone Clinic

As medical professionals we keep on top of the latest evidence-based research, so that we can offer our patients the best service. Here we share our knowledge and advice to help you understand certain conditions and procedures.

152 Harley Street,Third Floor,London W1G 7LH

secretary@themaryleboneclinic.co.uk

0208 051 3255

[houseofbrat]

Did Kate have emergency brain surgery?

Remember this?

Back in 2011, Kate was suspected of wearing hair extensions.

The spokesmen at St. James Palace--clearly better than the current crop at Kensington Palace--said it was a scar.

Shimmering in silver, the Duchess of Cambridge conducted her first solo engagement as a royal yesterday – and displayed a hitherto unknown childhood secret. Underneath Kate’s stylish half-up, half-down hairstyle a prominent three-inch scar could be seen on the side of her left temple. A spokesman for the Duchess at St James’s Palace confirmed last night that it was the result of surgery as a young child. ‘The scar related to a childhood operation,’ they said. The palace declined to discuss what kind of operation because it was, they said, a private matter.  Senior royal sources also confirmed that it had been ‘a very serious operation’ but declined to comment further.

Some people speculate that Kate had a VP shunt placed during this surgery.

What Is a VP Shunt? A ventriculoperitoneal (VP) shunt is a thin plastic tube that helps drain extra cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) from the brain. CSF is the saltwater that surrounds and cushions the brain and spinal cord. Why Are VP Shunts Placed? VP shunts are placed to treat hydrocephalus. Hydrocephalus (hi-droh-SEF-eh-less) happens when CSF does not drain out of the hollow spaces inside the brain (called ventricles) as it should. VP shunts drain the extra fluid and help prevent pressure from getting too high in the brain.

How Do VP Shunts Work? Most shunts have two catheters (small, thin tubes) connected by a valve. One end of the upstream catheter is in a ventricle. The other end of the downstream catheter is in the peritoneal (pair-et-NEE-ul) cavity. This is the space inside the belly where the stomach and the bowels are. The shunt is all inside the body, under the skin. The valve opens when the pressure in the brain gets too high. This lets fluid drain from the brain into the peritoneal space. From there, the extra fluid is absorbed into the bloodstream.

[...]

Are There Any Risks From VP Shunts? VP shunts are generally safe, but there are some risks during and after the surgery. There can be bleeding, or an infection can develop. VP shunts do not work forever. When the shunt stops working: * The child can have another buildup of fluid in the brain. * Another surgery is needed to fix it. Problems with a VP shunt happen even with regular care and at unpredictable times. The shunt can get worn out or move as a child grows. A shunt also can get infected, which can be very serious. It's important for families to follow the surgeon's instructions for when to call and when to go to the ER. This way, treatment for an infected or worn-out shunt can start as soon as possible.

Rebecca English's article continues:

John Scurr, consultant surgeon at the Lister Hospital in London, said it was unlikely to have been the result of a tumour. ‘I really doubt it was any serious medical condition and I would say it is as a result of an arteriovenous malformation – a birthmark – being removed, ‘ he said. ‘It is remarkable, given the measurement, that no-one has noticed before.’

Katie Nicholl has a different surgery story regarding Kate when she was at Marlborough:

In her book Kate: The Future Queen, royal expert and biographer Katie Nicholl relays the story, which is just terrifying. Apparently, during Kate's time at Marlborough, she discovered a lump on the left side of her head. The school called Kate's mom, who promptly took her to the doctor. That doctor ordered an emergency operation to remove the lump. "I can remember the incident and her having an operation," Ann Patching, who worked at Marlborough for years, told Nicholl. "I don’t recall anything happening on the hockey pitch [field] that had anything to do with the lump. Catherine had the operation during her term time. She was back at school very soon afterwards. As usual, nothing was too much of a big deal for her. You could never accuse Catherine of being a drama queen, but Carole was very worried, as any mother would be." The evidence of Kate's emergency operation is still around today, in the form of a scar on her hairline that you can still spot in pictures of the Duchess.

So, is the real medical issue that Kate had an emergency admission to a hospital on 28 December 2023? Had an emergency operation and then went home thinking everything was fine.

Then a few weeks later she had serious, post-op complications and had to go back into have things re-done at The London Clinic? In an emergency situation?

That the Spanish reporter was correct she was in a coma, intubated, and with doctors fearing that she would die?

"Water on the brain," aka hydrocephalus is a serious issue and can kill.

Of course, still have to wonder if there were prior contributing factors such as "overwork."

[rhosmeinir]

Fictober 2023 #10

Prompt #10 - "It's alright, I'm here now."

Fanfiction: Good Omens

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands/Aziracrow

Other Notes: In which Crowley is cold. 728 words!

It was winter in London, and that meant freezing sleet, howling winds, and inadequate radiators in any building not constructed in the current millennium (and a fair few of those, too). For Aziraphale, it also meant the delight of bundling up in various jumpers, scarves, hats, mittens, and heavy coats when he needed to venture outdoors, and curling up next to the fire in the rooms above the bookshop at night in a deep cozy chair, with a book and a cup of chocolate or spiced hot cider. It meant merriment and joy, and a heightening of all the sensations that made corporeal life so fascinating. Aziraphale, nose and cheeks pink with cold, whistled to himself as he strolled the final few blocks back to Whickber street, and the silver sleigh-bells he had installed in place of the usual brass instrument sang cheerfully as he entered the bookshop. 

“Crowley!” he called, wanting to show his demon what he had procured: Aziraphale’s favorite chocolatier had been having a special, so of course he’d gone to take advantage, and found that the gentleman was also doing a package that included whisky pairings. Ah yes I know just who will enjoy that, he had remarked, then blushed when the chocolatier winked. But there was no response, and the angel tilted his head slightly, listening. There was not a sound to be heard in the slight chill of the bookshop, but he could feel that Crowley was there. Shedding his outdoor layers onto the coatrack by his desk, Aziraphale made his way upstairs.

As he approached the bedroom, he could see a light under the door, and feel a change in temperature. His lips pursed in slight concern. Crowley always did feel the cold so deeply, what with the leanness of his corporation, and his serpent-like tendencies. He must be bundled up next to the fire, Aziraphale assumed. There were times when the demon simply could not get warm, in fact sometimes it was so severe that he would—

Aziraphale opened the door, and at once cried,

“Oh, Crowley!” 

Beneath the duvet, quilt, and sheets, and indeed beneath two throw blankets which had been thrown haphazardly on top of the bed, lay a large, shivering lump. At once Aziraphale deposited his parcels on top of the chest of drawers, and made haste to remove his outer layers. Divested of jumper, shirt, socks, shoes, and trousers, the angel crossed to the bed and threw back the covers. Beneath them, coiled up tightly on himself so that his scarlet underbelly was scarcely visible, was the large black snake that was Crowley, yellow eyes staring up at Aziraphale plaintively.

“It’s alright, dear,” Aziraphale soothed as he climbed into the bed, Crowley’s coils rustling to make room for him, “I’m here now.” Though he had come through the door with a chilled face, Aziraphale was naturally a warm being, and beneath the many layers beneath which Crowley had burrowed, instantly began to radiate heat. Crowley uncoiled himself as Aziraphale shifted into position, then began to re-wind himself: this time, around his angel’s body and limbs, spreading every inch of his scaly underbelly against Aziraphale’s skin.

“I’m here now,” Aziraphale murmured again, wrapping his arms across his own torso to embrace the thick coils that curled about his chest and arms, one hand coming to rest on the back of the snake’s head as it slid around his neck. Crowley squeezed his whole body slightly, and Aziraphale sighed, squeezing back to every part of his demon he could reach. Fortunately for Aziraphale, he had long since miracled the bed so that he wouldn’t sweat when it got too warm, merely able to enjoy the pleasant heat. It did, however, have the tendency to make him extremely sleepy, and it was hardly any time at all before he drifted off.

When Aziraphale awoke, the room was much darker: the fire had burned down significantly, and the light from a streetlamp drifted in through the window, illuminating the snowflakes that had begun to fall outside. But between the still-smoldering fire and the two beings in the room, it was still toasty-warm. At some point, Crowley had resumed his human form, and now lay, limbs-entangled, with Aziraphale. The angel smiled.

“Better, my dear?”

“Ngk,” Crowley replied from within the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, where his lips formed a grateful kiss.

[quinnverse]

"Really? I think it rolls off the tongue nicely. Princess sounds childish in comparison. Though, the amount of ladies in London who wish to be princesses is quite alarming. I never understood what's so nice about being royalty." She shook her head, using any excuse of distraction she could to not meet his gaze. But when he began to deflect, Emma snapped to attention and smirked.

"No, no," She waved a finger, pretending to scold him. "You said you wanted me to kiss you. No use taking it back now. The damage is already done."

Emma's cheeks flushed and she averted her gaze as he pulled off his coat, a lump rising in her throat. She turned slightly, moving her eyes to rest upon the fireplace. Removing his outer garments was hardly enough to make her swoon, but it still felt strange to sit and watch him. Especially when she couldn't ignore the yearning to reach forward and tear the clothes off of him herself.

Silently, she scolded herself as she listened to the sound of ruffling fabric and when she finally dared to turn her attention back to him, she was surprised--pleasantly? unpleasantly?-- to see his skin still covered. A heat crept up her chest, and despite the warmth growing too much for her own comfort, she used her free hand to pull the blanket tighter around herself.

I'm rather eager for all those kisses you'll be surrendering. If the redness in her cheeks hadn't been so vibrant, Emma might've offered a wittier retort. But her mind was caught up on his words. Knuckles, cheek, neck, or lips. All of them sounded like dangerous options. And the thought of any of them created a fluttering sensation in her stomach. She just had to win. The sooner she won, the sooner this nightmare would be over. Attempting to wear an expression of nonchalance, she shook her head.

"Keep dreaming, peasant." She rolled her eyes and watched him contemplate his turn. A six was easy to beat, but she had a feeling he wasn't going to play to his best ability right off the bat. Men never did. They always thought it was charming to let a lady win, when in reality all it ever did was annoy Emma. How was she supposed to get better if they let her win? How was she supposed to learn how to play better if they never gave her a proper chance? If the terms of this game were any different, she might've nagged him about going easy on her. But with the threat of kissing and undressing lingering in the forefront of her mind, she didn't think it wise to tempt fate more than she already was.

A wave of relief washes over her when he places his card down, letting a soft breath escape from her nose. The first trick was a win for her. That had to be a good sign. Or at least she hoped it would be. For now, it seemed he was playing cautious, but Emma was trying not to think about how much worse it would get once the game progressed further.

"Oh, how very generous of you." Rolling her eyes, she leaned back and pretended to consider the choices. Removing any article of clothing would prove to be a thorough distraction, but Emma was braced for a challenge. It would be a survival of the fittest. If she could survive the rest of the game with her wits intact, she wouldn't be concerned about any other tricks he might have up his sleeve. If she could survive the rest of this game without faltering, there was no way she could lose the overall bet.

"Your shirt." She demanded with a subtle smirk. She fought to keep her gaze locked on to his face as her brows raised expectantly. She was trying her best to not look as eager as she felt, but it would only prove harder to do so if he went through with it. Would he actually do it? Or would it take more to embarrass him? And how long would it take before one of them tapped out from shame. "Unless you wish to admit you're a coward and go with the hair ribbon instead. I'll let you choose this once."

Benjamin barely fought off a smile. "Ah. Well, I'm afraid Your Royal Highness isn't nearly as charming, and is also quite the mouthful. Please forgive my refusal to acquiesce."

“You want me to kiss you?” Despite Emma's prior smugness, she seemed completely thrown by his terms.

"Well, I wouldn't say I want you to, no -- there's no sense in getting a big head about it -- but I think you should," Benjamin deflected.

She winced, appearing as if she'd swallowed something sour. “I think we both know I will never want to, but we might as well make it high stakes. Avoiding your lips will be good motivation for winning.”

Benjamin huffed. "I told you that was unnecessary...a mere peck to my knuckles, or cheek, or even my neck should suffice. But if you're that dead-set on snogging me, then who am I to stop you?"

“You wish.”

While Emma scowled at him, he flashed a cheeky grin in return. Sometimes, it was rather easy to ruffle this woman -- so much so that the desire to touch, to tease, to consume alarmed him.

“Are we counting per trick, or per round?” All at once, her confidence returned and she snidely asked, “How eager are you to strip for me, Mister Bolton?”

He smiled. "Oh, I intend to be a gentleman and level the playing field." Here, he shrugged free of his tan brocade frock coat, then carefully draped it over the back of his chair. Not deeming it necessary to stop, Benjamin also unfastened the intricate knot of his cravat, then unwound the strip of fabric from his throat before setting it onto the table between them.

"There," he said. "I figured I should make this fair."

It was in poor taste, immodest to be so brazen, yet Benjamin was oddly unruffled sitting there in his underthings. Hooking his right foot behind his left, he leaned onto his elbows and added, "Per trick might be the best way to settle this. I'm rather eager for all those kisses you'll be surrendering."

With a scoff, Emma laid down her six of diamonds and fixed him with a sharp glare. "Your turn, swine."

"If you insist, princess." Tonguing the corner of his mouth, Benjamin appraised his hand and hummed. He had several cards that were better than her six of diamonds, but he knew his best bluff was to undersell himself. So, rather than reward himself with an immediate win, he set down his four of clubs with a live-easy shrug. "Alas, it would seem I'm not yet victorious."

Lifting his eyes to hers, he smiled. "So, what will it be, Miss Dunster? I'll be even kinder and allow you to choose the garment I remove. That way, I can't cheat by opting for a hair ribbon, or one of my shoes...though I do think those should eventually count."

[uchihajason69]

Understanding Lipomas: Causes, Symptoms, and Treatment Options

Introduction

Lipomas are common benign tumors characterized by the growth of soft, rubbery lumps under the skin. These non-cancerous growths typically develop in the subcutaneous fatty tissue, often found on the neck, shoulders, back, abdomen, and limbs. While Lipomas Treatment in North London  are usually harmless, their presence can cause discomfort or cosmetic concerns for some individuals. In this article, we will delve into the causes, symptoms, and various treatment options available for lipomas.

Causes and Symptoms

The exact cause of lipomas remains unclear, but they are believed to be the result of an overgrowth of fat cells. Some potential factors that may contribute to their development include genetics, hormonal imbalances, and certain medical conditions such as adiposis dolorosa and Gardner syndrome.

Lipomas are usually painless and slow-growing, ranging in size from a few millimeters to several centimeters in diameter. They are often noticeable as soft, movable lumps beneath the skin. In some cases,  Lipomas Surgery in North London  can increase in size over time or multiply, causing discomfort, pressure on nearby tissues, or aesthetic concerns.

Treatment Options

Observation:

In many instances, lipomas may not require any treatment and can be left alone if they are not causing any symptoms or functional impairment. Regular monitoring by a healthcare professional is recommended to ensure they do not grow significantly or change in appearance.

Surgical Excision:

For symptomatic or cosmetically bothersome lipomas, surgical removal is a common treatment option. The procedure involves making a small incision over the lump and removing the tumor along with surrounding fat tissue. Surgical excision is generally straightforward, and it is often done under local anesthesia as an outpatient procedure.

Liposuction:

Larger lipomas may be suitable for removal through liposuction, a less invasive procedure that involves using a thin tube to suction out the fatty tissue. Liposuction can be an effective option for multiple or larger lipomas, resulting in smaller scars and reduced recovery time compared to traditional surgical excision.

Steroid Injections:

In some cases, healthcare providers may opt for corticosteroid injections into the lipoma. These injections can help shrink the size of the lipoma, but their effectiveness may vary from person to person. This treatment option is usually preferred for individuals who are not suitable candidates for surgery.

Lipoma Dissolving Injections:

Emerging treatment options involve injecting enzymes that can dissolve the fatty tissue of the lipoma. These injections are still being researched and are not widely available yet.

Conclusion

Lipomas are generally harmless growths, but their presence can cause discomfort and aesthetic concerns for some individuals. Treatment options for Lipomas Surgeon in North London range from observation to surgical excision or less invasive procedures like liposuction and steroid injections. The choice of treatment depends on various factors such as the size, location, and symptoms associated with the lipoma.

If you have a Lipomas Clinic in North London that is causing you concern, it is essential to consult with a qualified healthcare professional who can assess the lump, discuss your options, and recommend the most appropriate course of action. As research and medical advancements continue, new and improved treatment methods may become available to further enhance the management of lipomas in the future.

[hadaad]

season 6+ divergence

Zaf is still sent on an operation to Tehran, he is still ordered to both plant and detonate a bomb on a train within city limits. Upon his return to England, episode events play out the same way. He is shot in the stomach, kidnapped and stays behind when Adam is freed. All six mercenaries are attacked by the Redbacks and burned to death, including an unknown male that the redbacks hope will serve to convince MI5 of Zaf's death. He is held in London for 5 days inside a small flat that (ironically) is not far from where he, adam and wes call home while his captors contact potential buyers of information. When a buyer is found, Zaf's stomach wound is further treated. He is given water, food and antibiotics - essentially healed enough to make the show worth it. Tortured for two days, entertainment fodder for the international criminals who have paid to sit in on an MI5 officer's interrogation, he holds on to the hope that The Grid will find him. The first time he breaks, that first time he begs for it to stop, screams as loud as he can to give himself something to focus on, anything to focus on .. he tells himself he's doing it to be found. He thinks of the small window in that room where he's kept, the glimpses of the neighborhood that is so familiar. He imagines Adam and Wes in the flat a few roads over, allows himself to scream louder, whispers to himself at night that he's not a coward .. he's just trying to let them hear him. On the third day, the screaming stops. His burns are treated, his wounds are cleaned and he is once again given a dose of antibiotics. On day 6, a new buyer has been found - international. The Redbacks drug him and take him to a small private airport in the outskirts of London where he will be smuggled out of the UK. By day 8 of his disappearance, Zaf awakes in a new cell. He is frightened, alone and the view out this particular window holds nothing familiar. The echoes of his screams haunt his nightmares, a never ending plea for mercy from one place to the next ... every night before exhaustion takes him he tells himself to scream louder, to never stay quiet, to help Adam find him. By day 28 Zaf has been sold to the highest bidder four more times. A never ending cycle of recordings and watching numbers flash across screens. It's with a fascinated disinterest that he learns the level of worth he holds to the world and he wonders if he'll ever be able to share it. One month since being taken, Zaf is being offered for sale in what he knows to be the last time. His current interrogators are not keen on spending the money for medical care and an officer in his condition will not be able to withstand great amounts of further treatment. This time, his sale ad is direct and final.

Buy for information. And death.

Instead of being sold to terrorists in Pakistan, Zaf is bought by an anonymous bidder who claims to have a deep hatred for MI5. The bidder pays his current owners an extra amount of money to keep Zaf alive and away from other potential threats until their arrival and they agree. When Adam (the bidder) arrives with a small team, he finds Zaf malnourished and half alive. All fingers on his left hand have been broken, there is a lump in his thigh that looks suspiciously like the head of a bone pressing against skin, the bones in his right ankle are shattered, his nose is broken, there are fractures around his eyes and he is missing six teeth. The original gunshot wound, though not infected, was allowed to heal improperly.. this resulted in a scar tissue build up around his intestines that eventually requires extensive surgery to correct. Wounds heal, bones are set, new teeth come in the mail (kidding, but he does get implants) and the scar tissue from the gunshot is removed (along with a small section of his small intestines that had been cut off and diseased due to said tissue). He loses the ability to see anything but vague shadows in his left eye and he is forever slightly deaf in that ear as well. Upon his return to England, Zaf spends about three to four months in hospital between treatment and physical therapy before once again returning home. He has no plans to go back to MI5, though he's told the position of senior analyst is always open.

[thetaoofzoe]

Fic: A Wild Woman 1/1

Title: A Wild Woman

Summary: By Victorian Standards, you are considered the dreaded Wild Woman! Your aunt and uncle threaten to disown you and turn you out into the streets unless you agree to a little re-education on how to be a proper lady.

Rating: Mature, fluff, Soft Dom Sherlock!Henry, sex, unconventional

Pairing: Sherlock x YOU

Note: This was inspired by  "A wild woman brought up a wild child. We'll make her acceptable for society." from the EH trailer.

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

Your Aunt and Uncle had had enough of you. They were fed up with your lack of female decorum and your absolute insistence to star gaze, associate with male aeronauts and start fires from chemistry experiments gone awry. But you couldn't help yourself. After the scandal of the woman who attempted to join the Chemistry Society a few years back, you had been forever changed. Women could do anything and you were intent on grabbing that elusive gold ring. If that meant attending boisterous underground resistance meetings, or not wearing your corset, then so be it.

Unfortunately, your family did not see it that way. To them, you were a wild woman who had no place in decent Victorian society.

One gloomy autumn evening, when your uncle returned from the gentleman's club, he sat both you and your aunt down at the dining room table for a talk.

Your uncle then gave you a choice.

Well, it was a choice between scylla and charybdis, but a choice nonetheless.

You were either to be turned out into the street to fend for yourself, with no money and no prospects and definitely no husband, or you were to travel to London to be kept, re-educated and made acceptable to be returned to society by a pair of reputable brothers who promised to produce reputable ladies.

What could you do, but agree to the latter, as the former was a nightmare you never wanted to experience.

So you made the long involuntary train-trek cross country to London.

The man who met you at the train station was tall, and slim with a well-manicured moustache that curled up at the ends in the most fashionable way. When he reached for your single suitcase and turned to walk away, you followed without protest.

**

Baker Street was a short narrow avenue that seemed unnecessarily busy for so early in the morning, and when the Hansom slowed, your companion opened the door and hopped out. He offered his gloved hand, which you took and followed him to the ground.

The cab rode off and gently taking you by the arm, the man guided you across the road. He walked up the steps to a dark painted door with the numbers 221b etched on a half-moon of glass above it.  He led you inside and up the stairs to a room at the end of a long corridor.

It was a well-appointed room. Against the wall was a large bed with a patchwork cover flanked by two low dark wood tables upon which sat twin lamps with beaded green lampshades. To the left, a tall window brought in the hazy morning light and illuminating the small writing desk beneath it.  There was also a large wardrobe stood in one corner opposite a bookshelf which was crammed with books.

'Your room, for the duration of your stay. I expect that it will be maintained without clutter.'

He then looked at you and slowly perused your form. You felt scandalised! No man had ever dared make his inspection of your body so plain before. Scandalised, yes, but a slow simmer of heat in your belly belied your inner outrage.

He humphed, and his  eyes moved to meet yours again.

'Sloppy,' he said. 'That you expect to be taken seriously, dressed like this is insulting.'

You opened your mouth and he lifted his brows, waiting for you to speak.

'I expect, sir, for you to watch your tongue when addressing me.'

He laughed quietly.

'My brother will be home shortly,' he said ignoring your protest. 'I believe you will be spending the evening in his company. Granted, he is less strict than I am, so don't get used to his...'

The man pinwheeled his hand in the air as if searching for the most appropriate word, but the opening and then the closing of the front door distracted him.

'Ah,' he murmured. 'He's come home early. Please wash thoroughly and change your clothes. I expect that you have something better than this?'

You narrowed your eyes.

'I will give you one hour and then come downstairs and into the study for inspection. The study is to the right at the bottom of the stairs. Have you... questions?'

'Do you intend to stand here and watch me wash and dress?'

He smiled and wordlessly turned to leave you to your task.

'We'll break you of that attitude,' he promised and closed the door behind him.

You wavered on your feet and collapsed on the fainting couch at the foot of the bed. You were breathless, excited, astounded that you were aroused by the man's quiet dominance.

'This is ridiculous girl!' you chided yourself aloud. 'This whole thing is ridiculous.'

But at least you were in London. You had promised your aunt and uncle that you would be 're-educated' and that you were going to come home the niece they always wanted so that you could be married off to the local farmer's son. What they didn't know, was that you were going to use the little stipend they'd provided and run away into the arms of the big city.

In the meantime, this was what you needed to do to get to where you needed to go.

You got up, stripped out of your travel clothes and inspected the pitcher and basin on the wash stand in the corner. There was water in the pitcher and a clean cloth hanging on the railing. There was also a lump of lanolin soap sitting on the side of the basin and you went about washing the dirt from your travels off of your skin. You didn't bother with a corset, or your stockings. You merely shrugged into your chemise, dress and shoes and went down to the study.

You stood at the closed door, humming with excitement and terror. What if this brother was a hunchback, with a mutilated face and was only gentle because his looks terrified everyone. What if he was old and decrepit and smelled of liniment! You wrinkled your nose at the thought and opened the door.

The study was beautiful, quiet and a fire burned in the small hearth. The walls were covered with dark tapestries and old maps. Books and newspapers were stacked everywhere, but it did not appear to be done in a chaotic manner. There was an order to this room and your heart clenched when your eyes fell on the man who was rising from the high wing-backed chair.

If Gods walked the earth, on a regular basis, you would not have been surprised by his appearance. He too was tall, like his brother, broad across the chest with a narrow waist and sturdy thighs.  He was in his shirtsleeves with a high starched white collar and dark brown tweed waistcoat and matching dress trousers.

And the curls. Oh the soft mass of chocolatey brown curls were stylish and clipped short and nicely complimented his handsome chiselled face.

'Turn around, please,' he said, his voice all honey and milk and you obeyed immediately.

'Face me again.'

You did so and he approached, hands clasped behind his back. He shook his head.

'You know this is unacceptable, don't you.'

It wasn't a question.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go, you thought. You had practised on the long train ride to London. You knew exactly how you were going to respond and exactly what you were going to say. But your mind had gone blank and only silence came out of your sweet quivering mouth.

You lowered your gaze.

His dark shoes were buttoned neatly and had been shined carefully. He was obviously a man who cared about his appearance.

'I expect things from you, when you're under my roof. This shabbiness and unruly nature will not be permitted and if you continue to pursue these avenues, you will be...'

He trailed off, and began to walk in a slow circle around you, prowling, like a sleek beast and you couldn't help feeling helpless.

Like you were prey.

He stopped after one revolution and stood at your back. He was so close that the heat and scent of him engulfed you. You closed your eyes, and sweat broke out across your upper lip and brow.

He 'humphed', sounding just like his brother and stuck a finger against your side. You didn't dare squirm away from his examination and you held yourself taut.

'No corset,' he said, finding you soft and unrestrained beneath your clothes. 'And I wager, no stockings or combinations.'

You were silent and it seemed that the very silence was a living creature, pricking your skin.

'Answer me.'

'No, none of that.'

He took in a long breath and let it out slowly.

'Upstairs, now. Gather your undergarments and bring them here.'

You turned so fast that you nearly banged into him. But you managed to scurry round him, and dart up the stairs as fast as your legs beneath your full skirts would carry you. You blindly grabbed everything that you had and nearly tumbled back down the stairs in your haste to please this man, this stranger, who within moments of meeting him made you want to drop to your knees and worship his masculinity.

He was still standing in the same place where you left him, back straight, head up, elegant hands clasped behind his back.

Out of breath, you stood before him, arms full of undergarments and he smiled. That smile took your breath away. He directed you to dump your clothes on the nearby desk.

'Now,' he began, scholarly. 'The makings of a society appropriate lady, begins at her skin. Do you understand?'

You swallowed hard and nodded.

'Good. Now, remove your clothing. We have to start from the skin.'

There was heat in his voice, filled with a demand that brooked no argument, and with trembling hands, you unbuttoned your waistcoat, unpinned your skirt and shrugged out of your rough collared shirt until you stood there bare beneath your chemise.

You worked your hands together in front of you feeling damp between your legs and ready to show him everything that was private about you.You unlaced the chemise at the collar and let it fall.

He looked at you for a long time, appreciating you, drinking you in and he was very obviously pleased with you.

He pointed to the combinations lying in a heap on the desk.

'Combinations.'

Your combinations were in two pieces so you stepped into the split bottoms and pulled on the top.

'Now corset.'

You went back to the table. You had two corsets, and you looked to him for his opinion.

'Blue,' he said. 'It laces in the back.'

Normally, as you dressed yourself, your corsets (when you wore them) laced in the front. But this one, he chose purposefully. He wanted to have control over dressing you.

The blue one was already partially laced so all you had to do was pull it over your head and hold it in place. You turned your back to him and waited. He began to slowly tighten your laces, starting from the top and working his way down, one after the other after the other he pulled the narrow fabric through the eyelets closing the boned corset around you, trussing you like a tart and stealing your breath.

The corset was tight, but not overly so, just enough to make you realise that you liked it. He tied the remainder of the cord round your waist and tucked in the excess.

'Will you take it off me when it's time?' you breathed, lightheaded with arousal.

And he hummed a soft response.

Then followed your simple cream and blue coloured dress, which you stepped into with his help. It buttoned up the back and he took his time doing so.

After what seemed an eternity, he stepped away from you and mourning the loss of his heat, you watched him walk to the chair, turn and sit down.

'Come here, and bring your stockings and ribbon.'

Like a puppy, you followed and stood at his knee.

He took the stockings and thin blue ribbons and laid them across his lap.

'Right foot,' he murmured and patted the spot on his thigh where he wanted you to put it. 'Balance yourself on the chair if needed.'

You put a hand on the top of the wing back and sighed softly when he rolled up the first stocking and slid it on your foot and up your leg. You bit your lip, but you couldn't look away from the deft fingers that trailed fire along your skin. He tied the ribbon just below your knee and folded the top of the stocking over it.

'Left.'

You switched legs and he repeated the process, only this time after he had tied the ribbon and folded the stocking down, he held your calf with both hands and looked up at you.

'Now you are finished. Is there anything that I did that you did not understand?'

You shook your head, not trusting your voice to come out as anything but a squeak. He nodded to acknowledge your answer, paused, and then slid one hand up your calf, to your thigh and over the material of your combinations to where they split to reveal your tender sex. He lightly brushed his fingertips over your naked mound and you made a noise that was quite unbecoming of a society lady. Clapping a hand over your mouth, you did the only thing you ever wanted to do the moment you laid eyes on him; you widened your legs.

'I prefer an unruly woman,' he said, sliding one finger into your slick wet cunt. 'I think they have spirit.'

Whining, you grabbed onto the other side of the chair and leaned on it for support. He stroked your clit slowly, carefully, pushing back the swollen little hood and pinched it between his fingers. You squeezed your eyes shut and stars burst against the darkness. You were going to scream if he continued.

'Please,' you whispered, jerking your hips forward, encouraging his further exploration. 'Please... just please!'

He slid his fingers out of you and with his eyes still on your, he put those same fingers into his mouth.

A cry of frustration escaped you. You hiked your skirts and climbed onto his lap, giving him just enough room to unbutton the opening of his trousers and draw out his leaking cock. You took him in hand and he grabbed your hips and pressed back into the chair as you positioned yourself enough to sink slowly down onto him.

You leaned back into his hands, tipping your chin up and moaning loudly, voluptuously, clenching tightly around him, circling your hips to feel all of him filling you completely. He groaned quietly, much more subdued, but no less aroused and he looked up just as you looked down at him. You grabbed his exquisite face between your hands and kissed him, lapping eagerly into his delectable mouth, letting your body rise and fall as your cunt greedily devoured him.

You pushed your fingers into his soft curls, and held his head up, kissing and biting at his plush lips, riding him slowly at first, and then faster as the crescendo of desire and lust and pleasure crested then exploded inside you. Every part of you clamped down hard on him and you rocked and back and forth, milking the shuddering orgasm out of him.

It took a moment before the two of you finally relaxed from your shared high. Still holding his face, you kissed his cheeks and his forehead and his lips over and over until his softening cock slipped out of you. You sat back on his thighs and imagined his cum leaking out of you and onto your combinations.  You giggled at the dirty thought.

'I'm Sherlock,' he said after a long silence, looking up to meet your gaze.

'I'm... smitten,' you answered.

Maybe a little re-education wasn't such a bad thing.

-End

I hope you enjoyed it. Please like, share comment reblog all that good stuff. :)

[jorichingsuk]

The Marylebone Clinic

As medical professionals we keep on top of the latest evidence-based research, so that we can offer our patients the best service. Here we share our knowledge and advice to help you understand certain conditions and procedures.

[edelwoodsouls]

i still pick up at the sound of your call [fic]

"Is that a dalek on tv?" [or: Martha has some choice questions for the Doctor regarding the new Prime Minister's addess]

Inspired by this post

Word Count: 1,799 | Also on Ao3

"Oi, what the fuck is going on?"

The Doctor blinks. Pulls the phone away from her ear, to check the number again, check she isn't hallucinating. She'd hardly believed it when she saw it, hasn't seen those numbers strung together in years, though they're still burned into her mind.

Another life, another time.

Another friend burned to ashes.

She hesitates, for just a moment. Takes a deep breath. "Hey, Martha," she cringes instantly at the hollow lightness of her tone, only drawing attention to the lifetimes between their last words. "What's up?"

A heavy pause on the other end. The Doctor tries to imagine her old companion, for just a moment. She'd promised herself she would check up on her friends from time to time, make sure they were okay, if she could help them from the shadows in any way - but that promise has fallen between the cracks, lost along the way with everything she ever thought was true.

The last time she saw Martha, she saved her life. Moments before her own - his own, back then - had slipped between her fingers.

She'd looked happy. The Doctor could never have predicted Martha and Mickey of all people, but she was glad for them. She had ruined their lives in so many ways by crashing through them, by falling in love with Rose - this was the least they deserved.

So she imagines Martha like that. Curled up on the sofa, cornrowed hair and sparkling eyes. Legs tangled up with Mickey as they watch tv in the burnt orange glow of a dying London afternoon.

Oh, fuck. The tv.

"Uh, hi," Martha answers finally, wrong-footed and uncertain. "I wanted to speak to the Doctor, could you put him on, please? Sorry, I- uh, I'm Martha. Jones. I used to travel with him. I'm guessing you're the new companion? What happened to Donna?"

An unexpected lump rises in the Doctor's throat. Thousands of years - thousands - have passed since she last bothered to check in on Martha Jones. How many companions have been and gone in that time? How many have crumbled to ash beneath her fingers?

She swallows it down, files it under Compartmentalise, and Never Think of Again.

Sunshine. Enthusiasm. Energy. The tenets she's founded herself on this go around. She plasters a bright smile on her face, as if contorting her muscles will trick her tone into believing she means it.

"Just me, I'm afraid," she grins, skipping around the TARDIS to fiddle with the controls to keep her hands busy. "Had a bit of a change of face since you last saw me."

Furious whispers on the other side of the phone, far enough away from the receiver that even she can't hear them. She imagines Martha and Mickey, confusion and surprise warring with each other.

This reveal never gets old.

"Sooo, how've you been? How's Mickey? It's been, what, nearly ten years since you last saw me?"

"Uh, yeah," Martha returns to the phone, hesitant. She's never had to deal with regeneration, really. "I didn't know you could- I mean, when you said you change, I didn't realise that-"

"I can be anything I like! It's great, innit? I could have two heads or green skin if I felt like it. First time I've been a woman, though. Well, first time I remember, I guess. Still haven't been ginger, though. Maybe one day."

"Different face, same amount of energy," Martha laughs, and the sound lifts a weight from the Doctor's chest she didn't even know was there. "Mickey says hi."

"Yeah- hi!" A more distant voice echoes through the phone, startled at being addressed.

"Hi! It's great to hear from you!" She twirls the phone cord around a finger. If there's one thing she always regrets in her lives, it's the way her previous selves treated their companions. Each one with a different idea of relationships, of how things should be done.

This version of her thinks Mickey would be a great companion, if not for her Rose-tinted blinders.

"So, to what do I owe this call? Hope you kids have been keeping out of trouble, though somehow, I doubt it."

"Right!" Martha yelps. The whole regeneration thing definitely threw her for a loop. "Yeah, Doctor, what the fuck is going on? Is that a dalek we just saw on tv?"

"Ah, yeah... it is, yeah."

"And?"

"And I'm sorting it out?" The Doctor glances over her shoulder, towards the corridor the fam disappeared down a few minutes ago to get ready. They'll be back any second.

It's not that the Doctor doesn't want the fam to know about her old companions. They've met Jack, know she hasn't been on her own all this time, but- still.

Her companions don't have the best survival rate. It's selfish, probably, to keep having them, and yet she somehow never goes without them for long.

(She's lonely, she knows it. She's not a good person on her own. She clings to these fragments of knowledge and calls it reason.)

"But why is there a dalek on tv, Doctor? New security drones, that's what they're saying. Do they not remember the whole Earth-moving, twenty-seven planets, dalek invasion thing?"

"Or the Battle of Canary Wharf?" Mickey adds, words heavy with an underlying anger. Rose was lost to save the world from daleks, after all.

The least she deserves is to have her sacrifice remembered.

"I'm not sure, to be honest," the Doctor admits, flinging herself onto one of the crystalline seats near the console. "It's incredibly weird, actually. As far as I can tell, the entire human race has forgotten that aliens exist at all. No stolen Earth, no Titanic flying over London or Racnoss star at Christmas. No Battle of Canary Wharf."

"That's- I mean, how does that even happen?"

"I have no idea. Something to do with collective consciousness, I'd guess. Some manipulation from another race wanting to remove Earth's knowledge and wariness of aliens. The Arkangel network is still flying strong in your orbit, after all. It wouldn't be so hard to harness the technology. Maybe even your own governments, or some rogue branch of Torchwood. I never did find Torchwood 2 or 4."

"Then how the hell do we still remember?"

"Probably my fault. You're still keyed into the TARDIS's neural network, so she's protecting you from the effects. Sorry about that."

"No, it's- it's good," Martha splutters. "Are you going to try and fix it?"

"Maybe," the Doctor leans back in her chair, pulling the phone cord as far as it will go. "Once all of this is over, I might look into it. Just to check if it's malevolent or not. It's not a bad thing, necessarily. To forget. Some of things they must have seen..."

She shakes her head to clear it. Can't let herself stop and think for too long, or she might never escape the whirlpool's tide.

"Anyway," Martha says - she always was good at noticing her spirals, circumventing them. "How's Donna?"

Nevermind. She speaks the words lightly, but in a tone that says she noticed the Doctor's avoidance earlier and is bracing for bad news.

"She's great!" the Doctor manages a smile, glad to have something, anything to latch onto that isn't her own thoughts. "Happily married, actually. Won the lottery a few years ago, doing very well for herself."

"That's- that's really good to hear."

"She doesn't remember me." She lets the words fall, as much as she wishes she could hold them close and buried and gone. But Donna needs to be kept safe, and Martha reaching out to her would be- not good. "She doesn't remember anything that happened. I- I had to wipe her memory, after the daleks. It was killing her."

The silence stretches longer this time, and for a moment the Doctor is sure she's broken everything.

"Well, I'm glad she's happy," Martha says eventually. "There are worse fates, right?"

So many of your companions have had worse fates, she doesn't say, but the Doctor reads between the lines anyway.

"Yeah," she breathes.

"And how are you doing, Doctor? You're not alone, are you?"

"No! I'm great, actually. Got my fam. Yaz is really cool, you'd love her. Ryan and Graham are great. Jack's back in town right now, helped me out of prison-"

"Helped you out of where?"

"-and we're just sorting out this whole dalek thing! Should be all over pretty soon. Just, stay where you are."

"You know we can't do that, Doctor." If anything, Martha sounds amused. Determined. Ready to pick up her sword once again, defend the Earth from whatever might be coming.

In this second, everything is right with the world, and she misses Martha Jones in a way that hurts both her hearts at once.

"Well, stay safe at least. I'll call you back when this is done, to let you know."

"Thank you, Doctor. Maybe we could, I don't know- grab a drink, or something. Catch up."

"I'd like that," she replies, and they both know she has very little intent on following through.

Yaz appears at the end of the corridor, eyes bright, smile warm. She's chattering to someone, probably Ryan, completely oblivious, no weight on her shoulders.

The Doctor wishes she could keep Yaz like that, happy, delighted, laughing. Wishes that smile was just for her.

But she might have ruined it forever.

She's learnt to trust the TARDIS over the years, learnt that the TARDIS arrives when she thinks the Doctor should be rather than where the Doctor wants to be. She wants to trust that this, too, was for a good reason. The TARDIS has never led her wrong, in the end.

She has to believe.

"Well, I'll let you crazy kids go be heroes. Beat up some daleks for me, will you?"

"Of course, Doctor," Martha says. The Doctor imagines her smiling, linking fingers with Mickey. "Stay safe out there."

"Always," the Doctor grins. As Yaz and Ryan approach, she jumps up, throws the phone back on its hook and grabs hold of the TARDIS's controls.

"Who was that?" Yaz asks, wary, unsure of how to act around her. They need to sit down and talk, hash out the last ten months - and nineteen years - but now isn't the time.

Unfortunately, the time rarely seems to appear.

"Just an old friend checking in," the Doctor shrugs, avoiding her new companions' eyes. "There's daleks on the tv, haven't you heard? Let's fix that."

She throws the TARDIS into flight with a delighted whoop - after all these years, the thrill of flight never quite fades.

She's lost companions before, but as Martha’s call has reminded her, not all of them have met bad ends.

She refuses to let the fam down on that one, too.

[theasstour]

𝓜𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓡𝓮𝓯𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓘𝓷 𝓪 𝓣𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓟𝓸𝓸𝓵 𝓫𝔂 𝓜𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓮 𝓝𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓱

𝓯𝓲𝓬 𝓹𝓪𝓰𝓮 | 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 15k 𝓝𝓑: 𝓪𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓱𝓸𝓵, 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮, 𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮

A/N: biggest thanks to @shepherald for being bb’s italian auntie! ilysm!

Friday, 9 August 2019

First thing Y/N realised when she woke up was that she was still wearing her dress. Her thighs and neck were clammy from having slept a full summer night in too many layers. Slowly, she opened her eyes, only to realise that the hard thing she was resting her neck on was an arm. Harry laid on his back, arm outstretched for Y/N while the other one was bent and rested on the pillow above his head. During the night, Viola had gotten into bed with them. She laid comfortably right between them, cosying up in each of their body heat without a care in the world.

The morning outside was sunny as it always was, birds chirping, and an old moped struggling up the hill through Fosdinovo. The sheer white curtains swayed ever so slightly with the wind, swishing along the floor, the motion almost lulling Y/N back to sleep. But then she averted her eyes to look at her companion instead.

Harry’s mouth was open ever so slightly, eyes closed, his short dark eyelashes contrasting starkly with his skin even though he had acquired quite a tan always working outside. He looked so peaceful like that. Nothing bothered him. He was so completely taken by sleep, chest moving in a comforting rhythm, and if you looked close enough, you could just see the slight vibrations of the beating of his heart with the ruffles resting on his chest.

“Know you’re awake.”

His voice was much darker in the mornings. His vocal cords rough, eyes still closed, but Y/N could tell they were a little swollen from a short sleep. At the sound of his voice she blinked a little, watching him breathe steadily for a few seconds before she found her words.

“You’re awake.”

“And you’re not snoring anymore.” He said, eyes fluttering open. They landed on the ceiling right above them but slowly, like he was preparing himself for something, he glanced at her. A curl fell onto his forehead, Y/N was tempted to reach up and place it back where it’d been earlier, but she thought he looked almost prettier like this; a little dishevelled, completely relaxed, not caring about anything but her.

She huffed, readjusting her head so that the pressure of Harry’s arm was on a different spot. “Got a lot of nasal tissue that flops around, makes me snore loads.”

“Know that’s why people snore. I don’t mind you snoring.”

Harry started moving around as well, but his intentions of getting closer to Y/N halted when he noticed Viola placed neatly between them. With his free hand, he reached down and stroked Viola gently, watching as she stretched and leaned into his touch. Y/N watched Harry’s face, the tiniest of smiles tugging at the corners of her lips. Somehow, the fact that Harry didn’t mind her snoring, when it had been something she’d struggled with her whole life, meant more to her than she thought it would.

“Make a lot of noise while you’re awake and while you’re asleep.”

Y/N laughed at this, and seeing Harry giggle as well awoke all the butterflies in her tummy.

“I’m just an early riser.” He continued, looking up at her again. Bloody hell, his eyes… she thought, admiring how they looked golden in the early morning light.

“And if I can sleep till 2pm, I will.” Y/N said, yawning.

“Basically,” Harry started as he lifted his hand off of Viola to touch Y/N. But Viola quickly started moving, demanding his attention. He placed his hand back on her. “You’re saying you don’t like waking up early. Like, at all.”

“I’d rather be sleeping.” She closed her eyes again, cursing Viola for having Harry wrapped around her little finger.

“Do you want me to leave so you can sleep some more?”

“Why can’t I sleep while you’re here?”

She could hear the small smile in his voice as he said, “Thought you might want to be alone.”

Y/N opened her eyes, raising her eyebrows at him. “When do I ever?”

For some reason, the smile that had been on Harry’s lips slowly evaporated. Some kind of seriousness filled his face, it took Y/N a bit by surprise. This time, he didn’t care about Viola’s complaints as he removed his hand. Gently, he placed it on Y/N’s cheek, his thumb caressing her so lightly that she wouldn’t have felt it if all her senses hadn’t focused on Harry in front of her and his touch. She noticed him swallowing, saw his Adam’s apple bob with his struggle to remove the lump from somewhere in his throat.

“Non andartene, celeste.” He mumbled so faintly it was basically a whisper.

“Hm?” her eyes were wide, waiting for Harry to translate for her.

His eyes fell to her shoulder, letting his hand stroke down her cheek, jaw, and neck. Sliding his index finger tenderly over her outline; the crook of her hips, the soft edges of her waist. All she knew in those seconds were his finger, nothing else mattered.

“I’ve painted this landscape multiple times,” he said, eyes on his wandering hand. “Can paint it by memory now.”

Had he? Painted it – her – by memory? Had he thought about her as much outside of work as she had about him? Had they wasted weeks trying to be polar opposites when they weren’t? Had they tried to hate one another longer than they had to because they knew giving in, admitting that there was something there, would hurt more than ignoring it altogether?

“Wonder if I’ll ever be able to visualise the physical pain I feel in my chest when I think about you leaving in six days.”

She didn’t want to think about that. There was a whole life waiting for her back home in England; uni, obligations, her family, friends. But she did not want to leave Italy; did not want to leave Harry. Not after everything they’d just admitted and all the time they had to make up for. Six days wasn’t enough; would never be enough. She was simply not strong enough to lay in her bed, looking at Harry who had promised not to leave her, and think about the fact that she was leaving in under a week.

She got up from the bed, walking over to the wardrobe. She heard Harry sitting up in bed, felt him watch her as she opened the double doors and reached for something laying on the little top shelf.

“When I first moved into the flat, I found a painting in this wardrobe.” She pulled it down, taking a glance at the autumn painting depicting a gravel path leading nowhere into darkness. Turning around, she walked back over to the bed, handing the painting to Harry. “That’s only one of like, two of your paintings I’ve really seen, other was one of the sea back in your house. Mind if I ask what inspired this one?”

Harry held up the painting, eyes taking it in feverishly like he was scanning it for past mistakes. Lips parted, he let out a deep sigh that had been held in for what felt like years. Resting it on his knees he continued to just look at it, clearly not having thought about this exact piece in a long while. Y/N sat down in bed, bringing her feet up with her and leaning on her hand as she joined him in looking at the painting.

“It’s the drive to my house back in Manchester. The drive up to my childhood home, or… this is facing the other way.” He explained, dragging his finger gently along the gravel path. “It’s what you see when you’re leaving.” He shifted the attention of his finger to the trees of different colours. “Autumn, the dull colours…” he trailed off, as if reliving a memory he’d almost suppressed; something he’d pushed so far into the back of his head it had almost vaporised and disappeared into nothingness. “This was when I left home, when I first moved to London.” He pointed at the darkness at the end of the gravel path. “That’s the end of the road, I couldn’t make it out clearly. My future, I mean. It’s all supposed to represent uncertainty.”

“I can see that.” Y/N nodded, studying the painting as Harry removed his hand. “You lived in London before you moved to Italy?”

“Yeah,” Harry studied the painting. “Moved out when I was 18, had some money from working retail since I was 15. Saved up and all that. Moved to London where I sold my first painting, and quickly started painting more for more people. After three years of that, I felt like I was drained, I needed to find someplace else where I could find inspiration. Life in London wasn’t it anymore. So, I moved to Italy.” He took a deep breath. “Had some idea of what I was getting myself into, knew the language some, so I went to Milan. Lived there till I was around 23, doing the same I did in London; selling paintings till I was drained and tired of the place.”

“How can you get tired of Milan?”

Harry huffed. “There’s enough to do in Milan and the city’s beautiful, but the people on the other hand…”

Y/N chuckled. “What?”

“Let’s just say some of the entitled twat millionaires I painted for made it easy to leave.”

She smiled, glancing at the painting as Harry continued to talk.

“Didn’t want to leave Italy, though, so I moved to Rome, did the same there for about a year. City drained me, as you can tell by the previous pattern.”

She giggled.

“And then I moved up North to Tuscany; to Fosdinovo. Thought maybe a small village would do me good as I’d only ever lived in major cities my entire life.” Harry fell quiet, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows. “For the first time since Jamie, I made a genuine friend. Or I thought I did.” He fell quiet, taking a breath. “Salvatore and I got on right away. He taught me some Italian, I showed him how to paint and draw, and I let him in, didn’t hold anything back. I got to be part of his friend group; Carina, Rin, and Meo. The five of us hung out all the time, and some of those days were the best of my life.” He rested his hands on top of the canvas. “Suddenly though, I realised I’d taken a proper fancy to Carina. Gotten myself a little crush. Got all blushy when she was around and all that stuff. Somehow managed to ask her out on a date and she accepted. I was excited about this, so I went to my closest friend in Fosdinovo to ask advice on where to take her. When Salvatore heard those news, he didn’t seem as excited as I thought he was gonna be. Two of his mates were dating, wasn’t that something to be happy about?”

Harry rose from the bed, walking over to the wardrobe and placing the painting back where Y/N had kept it all summer.

“But I went on the date, and Carina… she didn’t seem that interested. She looked around all the time, which was fair, everyone’s allowed to look wherever they wanna.” Harry scratched at his jaw. “Kind of broke my heart a little, ‘cause I’d gone through the trouble of asking her out, but she didn’t fancy me like that after all. But it’s fine. It was worth a shot, I guess. Even though it made me look like a right fool. I walked her home and apologised if I’d made this awkward, though she assured me I hadn’t.”

Harry sat down on the floor before the bed so he was facing Y/N properly. Viola suddenly jumped down and snuggled into his leg, he immediately started petting her.

“When I got back to my house… Salvatore was sat on my steps, very clearly drunk, and insisted that he needed to tell me something. He said we had to take it inside ‘cause someone could overhear and he didn’t want that…” Harry frowned, eyes on Viola. “I feel like I’ve got no business saying this because it’s Salvatore’s right to say it out loud, not me but… he told me he was in love with me, that… that he knew I loved him, too. When I told him I loved him as a brother, he got quiet for like a minute before he told me he was only joking around, and then left in a hurry.”

Y/N was about to say something but stopped herself.

“Salvatore isn’t out yet, and I don’t even know what he identifies as – not that I need to -, so I shouldn’t have said that… but it’s part of the whole story and why living here the past year or so has been shit.” Harry sighed. “We didn’t talk to each other for a week, and when I finally met with the gang again, Sal and Carina sat very close. She… she pulled me aside and told me she hoped it was fine that she was dating Salvatore.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. It all made so much more sense now, and she understood the awkward tension at the pub the week prior.

“Told her she was free to date whoever she wanted to.” Harry continued, scratching Viola behind her ears. Y/N saw his shoulders move with a deep sigh. “I was the newest member of the little group, and now also the most controversial as being there only made things unpleasant and tense with Sal and Carina and I. So, I took a step back and slowly isolated myself from the whole friend group.”

Y/N wanted to reach over and take Harry’s hand. Wanted to show him that no matter what, he didn’t have to feel as shitty as he once had. She was there.

“Suddenly the whole town knew, as it always does, and I just stayed in my house. When I finally left It, people were looking at me funny and it was… embarrassing. I felt proper stupid. I had already put up a wall from my past experiences back home, growing up basically without parents and always being the second choice every time, I’ve never really had anyone close, but this… being left and being alone again… it hurt.”

There was a heaviness in Y/N’s chest after hearing Harry talk. Hearing how bad he’d felt, how bad the people he considered to be his closest companions had treated him, it made her feel so incredibly sad. She never wanted him to feel like that. Never again.

She didn’t take her eyes off him as she said, “Carina was in love with Salvatore the whole time? While she was on a date with you?”

Harry nodded. “Think she tried to date me to get a reaction out of Salvatore, and though that’s a shitty move, she’s not a bad person, I swear.”

Y/N sighed, dragging a hand through her hair. “Yeah, I know. She seems very nice.”

Harry glanced at her for a few moments, eyes scanning her face. Once he figured she was being sincere with her compliment to Carina, he glanced back down at Viola. Y/N bit her lip, trying not to ask the question that was resting at the tip of her tongue. Though she had always found it very hard to resist talking.

“Is that why you fall in love so easily?”

Harry looked up at her again. “How do you mean?”

“With Carina being so nice and all…”

“You mean if I fall in love easily because people are nice to me?”

“Dunno,” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “That’s how I fell for Noah. He treated me better than others, he was very nice to me, so I fell in love.”

“Think there’s more to falling in love than that,” Harry said, letting a small chuckle leave his lips before he lifted his gaze to look at her. “I mean, I’ve-“ Just as their eyes met, he stopped talking. It was as if his brain had built a protective wall somewhere in his throat, refusing him to say whatever his heart wanted him to.

Y/N felt her body grow hot and she looked away, just as Harry cleared his throat, still looking at her.

“Look,” he started, clearly eager to forget what had just happened. “Do you still wanna go to the wedding after what happened last night? We don’t have to.”

She huffed, picking at some fluff on her duvet. “Harry, you can still go-“

“-I’m not going without you.”

Her fingers tingled, Harry’s words doing wonders as they always did when he used them right. He sounded genuinely desperate, something that made her very happy, as she wanted him to want her around like she wanted him around. Mutually crazy about one another.

She sighed. “I’ll feel bad for Marco if I don’t show up and taste his cake. Could we maybe only attend the reception?”

“Got it.” Harry gave Viola a small boop to her nose before he got up from the floor. “I’ll pick you up around seven, yeah?”

“You’re leaving?”

As he reached the front door, he turned around. A hand on the door handle and the other one in his pocket. “I… I have to deal with something. I’ve been postponing the meeting all morning ‘cause I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

Y/N furrowed her brows at him, ignoring Viola as she started meowing for Harry to cpme back so he could cuddle her. “I woke up before you.”

A crooked smile appeared on his face. “No.”

She bit her lips together, refusing to let herself burst out into fists of giggled because she thought Harry looked fit with that wry smile on his face. Besides, he had stayed in bed, not moved a single muscle, because he didn’t want to wake her.

“And I also promised to tell you everything last night. I don’t break a promise.”

Fuck it, she thought, grinning at him.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.” Harry repeated, turning the handle and opening the door.

“Rin told me the other day that Italian wedding receptions start around 3pm.” Y/N blurted out; Harry stopped. “If we’re skipping the church bit, won’t we have to show up at 3pm?”

Harry shook his head. “I couldn’t give less of a fuck, to be honest. We show up when we want to.”

Y/N smiled a little.

“If we’re going to go by Italian wedding rules, we also have to show up and give the couple money as a wedding gift.”

She furrowed her brows. “Money? Not anything else? You can’t be creative?”

“It’s called la busta. Basically you give the couple money so you can pay for your part in the reception, if it makes sense?” Harry shrugged his shoulders. “They put the money together at the end and pay the restaurant back, and all that. The remaining sum is used on their honeymoon. But since Fosdinovo is basically just a huge family, I doubt Salvatore and Carina have to pay much.”

“Ahh,” Y/N nodded. “Can you give normal gifts as well?”

“Probably, but it’s not normal for people to. Think if you’re a close friend and you had money problems, for example, you could give another gift to the couple.”

Y/N nodded again, giving him a smile. “Alright. I won’t keep you from your meeting.”

“See ya then.”

He nodded, taking a final look at her sitting on her bed, the bright morning sun shining in on her. “Have a good day, Y/N.” And then he closed the door.

Y/N quickly looked down at Viola who was sleeping on the floor now, just where Harry had left her. Sighing, she ran a hand over her cat’s fur, nodding her head a little.

“I know, Viola. I know.”

Y/N loved dressing up. Putting on nice clothes made her feel good about herself, it made her feel fancy and pretty. She liked feeling that way. So she usually made an effort when she woke up in the mornings, just because she knew she herself would appreciate it.

For the reception, Y/N had put on a black satin pleated midi dress along with her knee socks. Though the Italian summer was humid and hot, she knew Harry would like her wearing them, and she’d put them on just to see his reaction. She was sat doing her makeup when her phone buzzed with a text. Eager to see who wanted to get a hold of her, Y/N checked her phone, though she had to take a little double take at first to make sure she got the name correctly.

Rin Where are you?

Y/N was flattered that Rin had waited for her arrival, but confused as to why she thought she’d show up after everything.

Y/N Home.

Rin Why? You were invited to the wedding, weren’t you?

This had her frowning and she quickly typed out a response.

Y/N Yes, but I didn’t want to go.

Rin What’s going on?

Y/N It’s Salvatore innit? He didn’t tell me he was getting married.

This caused Rin to halt for a few seconds.

Rin He never told you?

Y/N No, does he act like he did with me around other girls too? Is that why you didn’t stop him at the pub?

Rin He flirts harmlessly, but that was way over the line. I didn’t know how to properly react.

Y/N ran a hand through her hair, hating this whole situation. Rin had become her mate and she should’ve told her she wasn’t coming. But at the same time, why had Rin expected her to?

Y/N That’s okay, it wasn’t your fault. I’ll see you at the reception.

Rin Can’t wait!

Y/N smiled a little, putting her phone down to finish her makeup. However, she was very rudely interrupted not long after by a pebble hitting her window. Immediately, she knew who it was. She looked outside, seeing Harry stand on the street below, looking up at her with a soft smile on his face. He was wearing a skinny velvet tuxedo blazer in navy blue, a black turtleneck under it, tucked into skinny trousers that were held in place by a black belt. Though he had dressed all elegantly the night before, Harry had chosen a more relaxed look for a wedding he obviously did not want to be part of.

“You’re taking too bloody long.” He complained, making Y/N roll her eyes at him.

“Why couldn’t you just knock on my door like a normal person?”

“Because I’m not a normal person.”

“No, you’re not.” Y/N shook her head some. “I’ll be down in a sec.”

So she put everything she needed in her little purse, made sure she looked good, and then turned to Viola, giving her a peck to her forehead before she left. She was shoving her keys into her purse when she reached the ground floor, just looking up at Harry as she came outside. He looked even better from up close, very well put-together and incredibly fit. As he always was.

“You’re quite chilled for the occasion.” She remarked, giving him a smile. “You look good.”

“And you…” Harry let his eyes scan her body, caressing her like his hands had done the night before. She suddenly felt very flustered, but in the very best way. She never wanted him to stop looking at her like that. Their eyes met again, and still, Harry didn’t know what words to use.

“Viola got your tongue?”

Harry blinked.

“’Cause she’s a cat.”

Harry quickly shook his head twice, as if he was suddenly coming back down to earth from an intense daydream. “I… I didn’t hear what you just said… but yes. Cat.”

Y/N laughed, starting to walk up the street. “Let’s get to this wedding, yeah?”

It didn’t take long for them to reach the city centre where the reception was held. The restaurants around the town square had put out all their tables, white tablecloth and white roses in elegant vases on each one. Veins of green with white roses and the occasional light hung across the square, giving it a dim lighting so people could dance to the music and see properly. Fosdinovo wasn’t very well lit usually, most likely because of its rural positioning and the few people that lived there. They had simply not bothered putting up that many streetlights. But all the houses around the square and the lights that were hung up across it lit everything, and it was easy to make out everyone in the warm yellow illumination now.

As they approached the square, they were quick to find a place to sit, both scanning the crowd for any familiar faces they didn’t particularly want to encounter that night. Namely Salvatore. While looking around, Y/N’s eyes fell on a familiar figure that was waving enthusiastically, a huge grin on his face that made his small eyes disappear behind his layers of wrinkles. She waved back at Marco, seeing him gesture at the table with all the desserts, then at the huge wedding cake that there wasn’t much left of.

“I’ll go say hi to Marco quick.” Y/N said, getting up from her seat.

“Right.” Harry nodded, still looking around for anyone that might want to cause him and or both of them harm.

“Hey,” Y/N laid her hand on his resting on the table. “It’ll be fine. Swear I’ll be back in 5 minutes.”

He nodded again and she gave him a tiny squeeze before she walked off. Marco was greeting her with his sunshine smile when she approached, pointing at his cake and then at himself.

“Not bad, no?” he said, smiling at someone who came over to treat themselves to a slice.

“It looks amazing, and I bet it tastes even better.”

“It does, it does. You have to taste it and bring a piece to signor Styles as well.” Marco busied himself then with cutting two slices, putting them on two plates. “But first, you try.”

Y/N smiled at him, getting herself a fork as Marco held the plate out to her. She dug into it, taking her time to chew to get all the flavour and to really savour the cake. Widening her eyes and nodding, she let Marco know it tasted amazing before she swallowed and had an opportunity to speak for herself.

“It’s delicious.”

“Well, of course!” He laughed, handing her the other plate. “You two have fun, yes?”

“We came for the cake.”

Marco laughed, not detecting the truth that was clothed as a lie, something Y/N was very thankful for because she hadn’t been able to stop herself from saying that and it could’ve ended very badly. Giving each other one last smile, Y/N trotted off toward Harry again who was now sitting at their table with two drinks.

“You plan on getting drunk?” she asked, sitting down and placing the cake in front of him.

Harry nodded before gesturing with glass at where Marco and Y/N had stood talking. “Made loads, did he?”

“Yes, and he wanted us to taste the cake.”

“Thank you.” Harry said as Y/N handed him a spoon.

They both took a bite and Y/N sighed deeply, leaning back against the back of the chair. “It’s delicious, innit? Didn’t expect anything less from Marco, he owns the bakery after all.”

Harry nodded as he swallowed, dipping the spoon in for another bite. “Just because you own it doesn’t mean you gotta know how to bake proper.”

“Right,” she held a hand up. “Shut up.”

Harry looked at her through his eyelashes, smiling a little before he swallowed his bite and went in for another one. “Because I’m right?”

“Because Marco made a great cake and we should give him all the praise in the world for it.” She said matter-of-factly, reaching for the glass Harry had placed before her.

“Yeah, alright.”

“What’s this?”

“Sex on the beach.” He reached for his own glass then, taking a huge gulp of it. “Loads of vodka.”

Y/N brought the drink up to her lips, taking a sip of it. “Lovely.”

He smiled and the two ate and drank in silence. People were dancing, some were eating, and others were just standing around talking. It felt right that the whole village was there, celebrating someone’s union and forgetting everything bad for just a single night. Everyone’s spirits were so high and Y/N really liked it this way, feeling part of something small yet big; part of something very positive. Harry got up some time later, getting them both a refill before he came back to her. They just sat there drinking for a bit, talking when they felt like it, but for the most part either staring at one another or looking around. It felt comfortable – safe – having the other there; their presence alone made the whole situation a whole lot better. It was when he came back with their third refill, both tipsy and already eager to leave, it was then that the two other chairs at their table were dragged along the cobblestone and two people sat down with them.

“Hi.” Rin said, folding her hands on the table before her.

“What’s up?” Meo smiled, looking far less serious than Rin. Something he always did. He looked at Harry, and Harry looked right back at him, not really knowing what to make of the situation that was unfolding itself before him. Meo gave him a small pat to the back. “Good to see you.”

Harry just nodded in response.

“Salvatore and Carina haven’t seen you two yet and maybe that’s for the best.” Rin said, looking from Y/N to Harry.

Y/N blinked. “You’re saying…?”

“That something will undoubtedly go down when Salvatore sees you two, yes.” Rin sighed, meeting Harry’s eyes. “Especially if he sees you.”

“Let him.” Harry said, taking a large sip of his drink.

“Why?” Rin frowned, clearly annoyed with men’s willingness to square up all the time. “So you can cause a scene?”

“So I can give the wanker what he deserves.”

“Harry.” It was Meo who spoke now, his voice much softer than it usually was. He wasn’t the confrontational type, Y/N had guessed that much, so when he suddenly spoke, it took both Harry and Rin by surprise. “Sal wants a reaction out of you.”

Harry breathed harshly through his nose, getting properly aggravated. “Then he finally gets what he wants from me for once.”

Sensing Harry’s racing heart and rising anger, Y/N placed her hand on his thigh. His warm, muscular thigh. Telling him she was there, that it was all going to be alright if he just calmed down. She noticed him closing his eyes for a second, his heavy breathing slowed. He glanced at Y/N for a second before looking back at Meo once he started talking again.

“Whatever happened between you two, know that Rin and I never wanted you to stop hanging out with us.” He explained, taking Harry by surprise it seemed. “We quite enjoyed your company; thought you were fun to hang out with. Got quite bummed out when you pushed us away.”

“Sal never told us what happened, and we don’t expect you to tell us either, but we want you to know that we miss you.” Rin smiled, telling him that she didn’t mean to come across harsh earlier, she just wanted what was best for him.

“It’s almost been a year now.” Meo reminded him.

Harry’s eyes fell to the table. “I don’t… I don’t want to force you to hang out with me.”

Meo smiled. “We befriended you for a reason.”

Harry smiled a little back, his shoulders visibly relaxing. Hearing a verbal confirmation that he could be friends with Meo and Rin without Salvatore getting in the way meant more to him than either of them would ever understand. “I didn’t want to make you choose, ‘cause I know you lot have been mates with Salvatore longer than me. So, If there was even a choice to begin with – which I didn’t want to know if there was -, I wanted to spare you lot the choosing so I just… isolated myself. I knew you’d choose him over me.”

“It’s not about who you’ve known longest,” Rin said, voice hard as to make Harry properly understand now. “It’s about who’s better for each of us to be around and who’s the least shitty person.”

Harry chuckled a little, taking another sip of his drink.

“I would’ve chosen you, just so you know.” Rin said, no shame in her voice or her straight back. Harry just looked at her, completely dumbfounded.

Meo sighed. “Don’t make it a choice, Rin.”

“Well, I just did.”

“Anyway,” Meo glanced back at Harry, shaking his head some. “Remember when we went to Lerici and we stole that old moped? Drove it till there was no more gas left?”

“And we ended up in the middle of nowhere trying to figure out how we were going to get back to Fosdinovo ‘cause we didn’t know where the fuck we were.”

The three of them laughed, grateful to be reminiscing back to a time all of them appreciated and liked looking back on. Y/N smiled at Harry, she very much enjoyed seeing Harry this at ease.

“You shouldn’t have driven that moped, Meo.” Harry said, giving him a pointed look.

“What?” Meo looked offended, making Rin howl. “Someone should’ve tackled me to the ground and told me not to.”

“Harry should’ve. You don’t stand a chance against a gymnast.” Rin said as Y/N took a sip of her drink.

Meo narrowed his eyes. “And you do?”

“I’m stronger than you.”

Meo didn’t even bother arguing with that.

Harry glanced at them both. “Neither of you can take me, let’s leave it at that.”

They laughed again, and Y/N was so happy to see the three of them back to how they had obviously been before everything had gone down a year ago. Slowly, she removed her hand from his thigh, he was busy having fun with his friends and she wanted him to have this moment to himself. This was what she had waited for for a long time; to see him smiling without being ashamed of it in anyway, talking amongst people he obviously liked the company of. If someone had told her the first week she arrived that this would be her on one of her last days in Italy, she would never have believed them.

Just as her fingers slipped off him, she felt Harry grip her hand, placing it back where it had first been. When she looked up at him again, their eyes met and all those very familiar and very warm butterflies began swarming around her stomach again. Just by sliding the tips of his nails against her palm, spreading her fingers and opening her hand fully for him, he intertwined their fingers so sensually, like he had to brace himself a little before he laid his skin completely against hers. She watched their hands as he did and when he held hers, each of his fingers between each of hers, she felt like whatever he was ever to go through, he’d want her there.

“Don’t.” He whispered so only Y/N could hear.

And then he looked back at Rin and Meo, re-joining the conversation. Y/N smiled a little, loving the feeling of being needed. She focused on the conversation as well. It was fun just being the four of them, talking and not caring about anything else. At some point, Rin saw someone she recognised, and so she left the little group, promising to be back in a minute. But she ended up not coming back, so the rest sat talking till Meo also thought he might mingle for a bit, leaving Y/N and Harry to themselves once again. Y/N watched as Meo approached a small group of older men, one of them his dad it seemed, and when she looked back at Harry, he was already staring at her. She cocked her head to the side.

“What?”

“I’m about to do something that might put us both at risk of embarrassment.”

She couldn’t help her giggle. “Oh no.”

“Dance with me.”

Y/N laughed, squeezing his hand that was still resting on his thigh. She held a hand to her eyes, watching as a smile spread out over Harry’s lips. Dimples showed and he suddenly looked very adorable, contrasting with the turtleneck and the navy blue velvet suit jacket that made him look very hot.

“Unless you don’t want to-“ Harry started, but he stopped himself when Y/N rose, dragging their joined hands off his thigh.

“If you’re ever in doubt, just know I’m always in the mood to embarrass myself. Drunk or not.”

He smiled at her, taking a few seconds to properly take her in before he got to his feet as well. The two walked to the middle of the square where a fair share of others were dancing as well. As they made their way over, The Greatest by Lana Del Rey started playing over the speakers. Harry’s wry smile broke into a proper one as he tugged at Y/N’s hand, bringing her to his chest. He guided her other hand to lay on his shoulder and placed his own on her hip. Together they started swaying to the music.

“I miss Long Beach and I miss you, babe. I miss dancing with you most of all.”

Y/N brought herself closer to Harry, wanting to be as close him as she could. While she was here, she wanted to be with him in every way, wanted to be so close to him so she could remember every single little detail about him. The freckles across his nose, cheeks, and upper lip, the little scar he had under his left eye, how silky smooth his hair was and how it always fell before his eyes. His little giggle and his broad shoulders; his soft skin and hard biceps and abs.

“Those nights were on fire, we couldn’t get higher.”

Harry pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes for a few seconds as he brought her closer to him. She let her eyes wander across his skin, taking in all of him now that she had a chance.

“We didn’t know that we had it all, but nobody warns you before the fall.”

With her thumb on the pulse on his wrist, she felt his heartbeat. Felt it direct all blood through his body, felt it quicken, felt it keep him alive. As he opened his eyes, glancing at her, she could hear her own heartbeat in her ears and feel Harry’s on her finger. He tightened his hold on her, she felt each of his fingers on her back.

“And I pray that you stay, don’t leave I just need a wake-up call.”

She felt his breath against her lips, heating up her entire body.

“I’m facing the greatest.”

He detached his forehead from hers, looking at her so intensely she felt like everything around them stopped existing. They were made of stardust, so who’s to say if their souls can’t be intertwined and make one incandescent body? She knew magic existed, felt it swimming in her veins and wrap itself around her heart when she was with Harry. Surely their bodies could merge and make a star; stay together forever like they were supposed to.

“The greatest loss of them all.”

Harry leaned down, eyes on Y/N’s lips to show her he wanted to kiss her. She cocked her head to match his, about to close her eyes and lose herself in Harry once again, but then a shout was heard and the two of them stopped dead. Y/N looked to her right to see the crowd parting, revealing an enraged Salvatore making his way toward them. Harry let go of Y/N instantly, standing in front of her to protect her from whatever was coming. She took a step to the side, wanting to see Salvatore as he came at them. He lifted his hands when he was close enough, bringing them up to Harry’s chest and pushing him hard.

“Che cazzo ci fai al mio matrimonio?”

Harry took a few steps back, telling Salvatore not to follow by holding a hand up. “I was invited.”

“Who invited you here?”

Harry nodded toward Marco. “Your father.”

For some reason, this shocked Y/N, but it also made a lot of sense. Of course Marco was Salvatore’s father. Salvatore got to leave work whenever he wanted, and got multiple days off whenever he wanted. Looking closely and realising they shared some mannerism, Y/N wondered how this hadn’t clicked earlier.

“Perché lo hai fatto?” Salvatore asked Marco, clearly so mad he could barely stand still.

“Ho solo invitato lui e Y/N, la sua musa.” Marco answered, not seeing anything wrong with that.

Salvatore formed his hands into fists before he looked back at Harry. “I need you to leave.”

“Alright, we will.” Harry nodded, and Y/N could instantly tell by the slow nodding he was doing that he was still tipsy, which might better explain what he said next in front of all the villagers of Fosdinovo. “But first I need you to apologise to Y/N.”

Y/N felt everything within her grow cold.

“Why?” Salvatore was frowning, glancing at Y/N before looking back at Harry.

“I think you know exactly why.”

A pair of heels broke the silence that had taken over the square, and Y/N realised they’d turned the music off. Carina approached them, looking absolutely magnificent in her wedding dress and Y/N wanted to tell her congratulations and well wishes, but stopped herself before she opened her mouth.

Carina stood a few steps behind Salvatore. “Salvatore-“

“-Harry, leave.”

Harry didn’t seem to flinch or draw back at Salvatore’s reply, it looked like he had expected a reply like that. He glanced over at Y/N, who gave him a little nod, telling him it was smart of them to leave before anything happened. She started walking backwards and Harry turned around, following. He didn’t take his eyes off her, shoulders moving with a heavy sigh as if to calm himself down.

“Leave Fosdinovo while you’re at it!” Salvatore yelled after them. “No one wants you here!”

This made Y/N stop, though Harry continued to walk, taking a light grip of her wrist as he passed her. But she didn’t care, she stood her ground, feeling the anger inside her grow to new heights. She didn’t think she had ever been this mad at anyone before.

“At some point you have to give up on being so bloody petty.” Y/N said, a few gasps could be heard from the crowd surrounding them. “There’s no need to hold a grudge against Harry, he can’t change who he is. However,” she took a few steps toward Salvatore, hearing Harry mumble her name, but she didn’t care about anything but to get back at the person who had caused both her and Harry pain. “You can change who you are. You can stop flirting with other people while you’re in a relationship with someone else, stop being petty and bitter, start forgiving people and moving the fuck on. You’re getting married, at least be a good husband to your wife if nothing else.”

Salvatore watched her, neither him nor Carina fully knowing what to say. By the look on Carina’s face, this was not something she wanted to hear at her wedding reception, but right in that moment, Y/N didn’t give much of a fuck.

“I don’t know why you flirted with me or why you even thought it was a good idea, but Carina deserves better than that. Change for her.”

Salvatore opened his mouth slowly, his rage visible on his face. “You thought the flirting was genuine?”

She couldn’t be arsed. She was about to turn around and walk away this time, but then Salvatore started talking again, making her stop abruptly.

“I would never flirt with a fat person.”

This caused people to gasp again and Y/N could hear Harry walking closer, could hear his heavy breathing and feel his entire being grow hotter with fury. Though Y/N hadn’t appreciated the comment, she found herself more repulsed by the person than the actual remark. Growing up, she had gotten so used to people throwing that word at her. Fat. Big. Large. Society associates these words with something negative, gives them a meaning that shouldn’t be; that isn’t supposed to be. You hear it when skinny girls call themselves fat, when they buy themselves something unhealthy to eat, when they buy a bigger size at the store. “I’m fat.” No, you’re not, Y/N would think, and if you were, what’s so bad about being fat? When did the word ‘fat’ get a negative meaning? And why are people afraid of being fat? Of being called fat? Of being associated with ‘fat’? It’s because we have been taught that fat equals ugly. Regardless of what you look like, regardless of your personality, regardless of all the good deeds you’ve ever done; if you’re fat, you’re immediately ugly.

But Y/N wasn’t ugly. She liked her face, liked her personality, liked herself. She loved that if she wiggled her arms fast enough, the fat on her arms would jiggle and it tickled, causing her to laugh. She loved the stretchmarks on her stomach and thighs and tits, because when she was younger and she’d seen her mum’s, she’d always thought her mum looked like a tigress, and now she was one herself. It had taken her a while to get here. Had taken her countless of nights of sleeping naked, and waking up naked as well, looking at herself in the mirror and just studying herself without judgement. It had taken endless walks through the streets of Maldon and London in clothes that showcased her curves instead of hiding them. It had taken years, but she was happy with her fat, big, large, colossal body. And no one, not Salvatore or any other hateful person, was allowed to ruin that. Eight words could never compare to the monumental amount of love she had for herself and everything she’d ever been through.

She gave him a little smile. “No, instead you tried making someone who is larger than you feel bad about themselves because you think being fat means I’m less than you, therefore you can walk all over me. That’s how insecure you are.” She shook her head. “At the end of the day, Salvatore, it’s not the amount of fat on my body that determines my worth or if I’m a good person or not. The good inside of me just takes up more space than it does to you. And thank God for that.”

Y/N was about to turn around and walk away this time, but Harry shot in front of her, on his way toward Salvatore. Quickly, people around her started talking, some even started making their way toward them to stop whatever was about to go down. Harry was about to raise his arm and give Salvatore a firm punch straight to the mouth, but he stopped himself. The whole square fell quiet for a few moments as Harry stood still, lowering his arm. He walked past Salvatore and to the gift table behind him.

“What the fuck…” He said, reaching for something Y/N couldn’t quite see until he’d picked it up and turned around. Harry looked up from the possession in his hand and around at everyone surrounding him. “Who?” he asked, but the town remained quiet. “Who did this?”

“Don’t touch our wedding gifts.” Salvatore said, about to walk toward Harry but when he gave Salvatore the most hateful and enraged look Y/N had ever seen on Harry’s face, he stopped.

Harry kept his eyes on Salvatore as he spoke the next words, making Y/N and everyone else gasp. “This is my painting. It was stolen from my house a few weeks ago.”

Y/N’s entire body went cold and she felt like she couldn’t move, the news had taken her so by surprise. The villagers talked amongst themselves, clearly trying to work out who could’ve given the newlyweds such a disgraceful present.

“Who stole my painting?! Who broke into my home and stole my painting?!” Harry yelled, holding the canvas up with one arm as to show it off to everyone. It was the back of a house. It was white, an elegant winter garden was depicted along with a colourful garden, forest surrounding all of it. The sky was a light blue, fitting the white of the house and the contrasting stark colours of the nature surrounding it. It was so beautiful Y/N almost lost her breath.

“Harry, calm down-“ It was Rin who had tried to break in, but Harry quickly shot down her attempt.

“-No, this person blackmailed me into giving them money or else they’d leak the entire collection I’m currently working on.”

This caused even more uproar and the crowd around seemed to be looking around and discussing as if they could figure out who was the brain behind the crime. Harry glanced over at Salvatore for the first time, pointing the canvas at him.

“Were you in on this, you inbred rat?”

“No! And don’t call me-“

“-Then the absolute brainless wanker who was, who wanted me to give them 800 000 euros in cash or else they’d ruin everything I’ve worked for and all my clients’ trust in me,” Harry looked around at everyone around him. “Can that person speak the fuck up so I can get them arrested?”

It all suddenly made so much sense now. Seeing Harry in that alleyway during her second week here, all those phone calls he made and had to take, Meo saying he’d seen him talk to the police. It was all for this. This had been going on this whole time. That must also have been a reason why he was so cold towards her, maybe he had suspected her at one point. She’d managed to get up into his loft after all, she knew where he kept all his paintings.

“Harry, you’re causing a scene.” Carina said, holding onto the skirt of her long wedding dress.

“Someone stole my painting and gave it to you as a wedding gift.” He said, narrowing his eyes at her as if he couldn’t possibly understand how she didn’t take this more seriously.

“No one would do that!” Salvatore yelled.

“Obviously someone would ‘cause someone did!”

“Don’t talk to me like that this is my wed-“

“-You know, you’re the only one who’s really fighting me on this, do you have something to hide, Salvatore?!”

“Are you accusing me of committing a crime-“

“-Stop.”

And everyone did. The square fell quiet as everyone looked at the person who had just spoken. As Y/N’s landed on them, she felt her heart sink and everything within her hurt. No no no, this couldn’t be true. She looked to Harry and then back at the person, afraid of what the painter’s reaction would be. Harry held the painting in one hand, resting it at his feet, his entire body almost slumping as he saw who had spoken.

“Gioele.” He said, voice sounding so small and taken off guard that it made everything within Y/N scream. Harry just looked shocked, distressed, and mostly he seemed heartbroken. “What…” He shook his head, not really knowing what to make of all of this. The two stared at each other for a while, waiting for the other to say something. Y/N didn’t know what to do. She wanted to help in some way, but she also knew Harry would want to do this by himself. “You… you did this?” When the old man didn’t answer, Harry continued, “Why?”

“It wasn’t hard.” Retorted the old man, not taking his eyes off Harry.

“That wasn’t an answer to the bloody question I asked, was it?” Harry said through gritted teeth, beginning to walk toward Gioele. Thankfully, Meo and Jamie ran forth, stopping Harry from getting any closer. Y/N hadn’t known Jamie would even show up to the wedding, she hadn’t seen them till now, but it was great to see them. They had clearly been invited and asked not to bring their client and best mate. Which would probably have been for the best. “Why did you do it?”

“You live in the house!” Gioele said, raising his voice.

“In what house?”

“The house I used to live in!” Gioele sounded furious now, and as he looked at Harry, it was so obvious he hated him that Y/N was surprised he’d managed to keep a mask on for so long. She would never have thought he hated Harry before. He seemed to have loved him. But it was a lie. “Where I proposed to my wife, where she gave birth to our children, where they grew up. That was our dream home.”

A woman walked over to Gioele, placing a hand on his shoulder as a sign of support, and Y/N could only assume this was his wife. Then Leonardo appeared as well, Gioele’s brother, and Y/N was immediately taken back to visiting his restaurant with Gioele and the nasty stare he had given her. He must’ve known her relationship to Harry and had to hate her.

“We could not afford to live there, so we moved out. Just as we were starting to save up more money, you show up.”

Y/N walked over to Harry now, standing beside Jamie who gave her a confused look, as if they couldn’t bloody believe this was true.

“You never lock your door.” Gioele said, and Y/N felt such a hatred for the old man after he said that, it made her entire body hurt.

“I trust people not to enter my house, we live in a small fucking village. Everyone knows everyone, everyone relies on everyone else.” Harry said, sounding so mad and hurt it was a wonder he hadn’t ran past Jamie and Meo. “I never locked my door ever since I came here.”

“You have so many paintings in your loft.” Gioele said, eyes flickering to Y/N before he looked back at Harry again. He meant the collection. Harry just stared at him.

“Gioele, did you steal any of my other paintings?” he asked, trying to contain his anger.

No answer.

Harry started making moves to walk toward Gioele, and Y/N could tell by his heavy breathing that he wasn’t about to give him a cuddly hug. “Se hai rubato qualcos’altro dalla collezione - Se ne hai rubato uno di Y/N io…”

“Cosa?”

For a few moments, the two just stared daggers at one another, both so mad that Y/N could basically see smoke leaving their nostrils and ears. She understood Harry wanting to hurt Gioele. He had trusted him; fully, completely, and rightfully so. Gioele had been his employee, and Harry had given him a job when he clearly did not have anything else. And the driver had just taken advantage of his position, of knowing when Harry was in his house and when he wasn’t, of driving him everywhere, becoming the least likely subject.

“Harry,” Meo said, squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “I think it may be best if you leave.”

Harry didn’t look away from Gioele, not finished with him till he’d gotten his hands on him.

“I’ll contact the police and tell them Gioele stole your paintings, everyone here are witnesses. You go home and calm down.” Meo continued, trying to best to get Harry in a better mood. “Take your painting, take Y/N, and go home. I’ll update you on the situation.”

Harry nodded, taking a step away from Meo and Jamie. Jamie gave him a pat to the chest and a smile, neither which Harry could return with any kind of gratitude because he was so drained from this whole situation. Harry and Y/N’s eyes met. She just nodded in the direction of his house and Harry sighed heavily, following her on their way out of the square. Carefully, she took the painting from his hands, thinking he might want to walk without it. She didn’t look at it.

“Finalmente,” Salvatore suddenly exclaimed. “Possiamo tornare a festeggiare il matrimonio. Grazie a Dio non dovremmo vedere mai più nessuno di quei due-“

Harry disappeared from Y/N’s side, and before she knew it, she heard a grunt and someone falling. Turning around, she saw Salvatore on the ground, clutching the back of his head, and looking up at Harry like he was crazy.

“For once will you just shut the fuck up?” he said before he turned around walking toward Y/N and shaking his already red hand with a grimace on his face.

Salvatore wiped the blood from the corner of his lip, watching as the two of them walked off. The two didn’t exchange a single word as they made their way back to Harry’s, both thinking back to what had just happened. Y/N couldn’t get over Harry punching Salvatore, or that Gioele had stolen Harry’s painting, or that Harry had been blackmailed this whole time. It all made her head spin and she made a mental note to pour herself a glass of water when they reached the house.

Harry opened the door for her as they reached his house, slamming the door shut after and locking it. The house was so quiet compared to the festivities in the square, but compared to the rushed and blurry way back, it felt like a sort of safe haven. It was peaceful, empty, and the only sound was both of their breathing. She felt him watching her, eyes scanning her for any injuries or anything that would indicate distress. But she was completely fine. She was just mad on Harry’s behalf, infuriated that people had used him so.

He walked over to her, taking the canvas from her hands, and making his way toward the stairs, obviously on his way up to his loft.

“Harry-“

“-I can’t fucking believe this I just… I just can’t.” He said, taking two steps at a time up the stairs.

Y/N followed him. “What’s been going on? Did someone steal… your paintings?”

“Gioele.” Harry said, and Y/N could tell his jaw was tense as he spoke. “Gioele stole my paintings.”

“To get money from you?” she asked, looking overhead to see Harry had just reached the very top of the stairs.

“Yes.” Harry answered, raising his voice as he walked further into the room and away from Y/N, who was still making her way upstairs. “He’s been blackmailing me for weeks now.”

“If you didn’t give him 800 000 euros, he would leak your collection?” she reached the loft as well, suddenly thrown right back to that first time she had seen it. The walls were still white, two French windows and a glass door at the opposite end leading out to a balcony that she knew displayed the countryside surrounding the Fosdinovo mountain. Canvases were still lined up along the walls, there was not a blank one on the easel this time around though. There was no painting where she saw herself, which made her believe he kept those somewhere else now. Smart after what had been going on.

“Yes.” Harry put the painting down, hunching down before it to make sure there wasn’t a scratch on it or any changes done.

“And that painting was part of the collection?”

“Yes.” He ran a finger over it, trying to feel for any change.

“When did this happen?”

He straightened to a standing position, running both hands over his face before he turned around to face her again. “The week after you arrived. Someone stole one of my paintings while I was out on my own filling colours on one of the pieces for the collection. Had an interview with a detective so he could look into it and figure out who it could be.” He paused, furrowing his brows before he looked away from her. “We thought it might’ve been you at first.”

Y/N nodded and her calmness took Harry by surprise, he quickly glanced back at her. “I understand why you’d think that.”

He let out a breath. “Okay. Wicked.”

“But… can you tell me what specifically made you suspect me?”

He looked at her for a bit before he said, “We didn’t have a good tone. Thought you might want to fuck around.”

She let out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, I know.” Harry smiled, eyes running over her body. “My suspicions were debunked when you said you were a veterinarian. Especially when you took care of Viola.”

“Why?”

“You take care of people. You care about others.” He said simply, like it didn’t need more explanation than that.

She just looked at him, sensing there was more. Harry licked his bottom lip, biting into it before he let out an almost nervous chuckle.

“Also around then that I kinda…” he motioned with his hand. “When I started falling in love with you.”

She tried not to let it show how much that answer made her feel like she was floating, hoped he couldn’t tell how her chest ached a small bit as her heart reached out for his, wanting to tell him that she felt that way too. She was in love with him. In every way you could fall in love with another person, she was falling for Harry.

“Anyway,” Harry cleared his throat, bringing Y/N out of her yearning to be closer to him. “I met with the detective and we discussed. Told him two weeks in that you weren’t a suspect anymore, and that was that on that.”

Y/N nodded. “That’s why I saw you walking out of that kinda dodgy building and talking to someone in an alleyway.”

Harry frowned.

“Gioele showed me around town one of my first days, and we saw you talking to this guy in an alleyway. That must’ve been the detective.”

“Signor Palagi did a great job, but not good enough clearly.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, looking back on the painting. He was standing right in front of it so Y/N couldn’t get quite a good look at it.

“And we met Gioele’s brother and he acted all strange.” Y/N recalled, trying to think of everything she had seen and thought over the last few weeks. “He must’ve acted like that ‘cause he knew who I was and what Gioele was gonna do.”

“He acted like that because of what you represent.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms. “Which is?”

“How I’m successful enough to hire someone to be my model. That I have enough money to live somewhere his brother can’t anymore.” Harry sighed, walking forward and leaning both hands against his paint-littered work bench. “You’re just another reminder that I’m somewhere he’s not.”

“Why would Gioele even do this?” Y/N groaned. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes perfect sense. Get close to me so I won’t suspect him, blackmail me, I give him the money, and since I’m going on tour and moving away after my collection, I won’t see him again and he’ll get the house. He also doesn’t have loads of money, so giving them my painting was probably the only thing he could afford to do.” Harry studied the paint under his fingers, how it had permanently stained the wood. He seemed to have calmed down now, having talked it out with her, but she could still see his frustration in how he was picking at the paint that would never come off.

“Harry, I’m so…” he looked up at her and she sighed. “So sorry this happened to you.”

“Not your fault.”

“I know, but I’m still sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

There was no one in the streets of Fosdinovo that night, so it didn’t matter that Harry had kept his window open to let some air in, because the night was just as quiet outside as it was inside. But Y/N simply did not really care where she was – outside, inside, or floating through space –, as long as she was with Harry, she couldn’t care less about anything else. Most important part was that he was there.

“I don’t let anyone in my loft.” Harry said, shocking even himself when he said it.

Y/N wanted to look around then, study everything in more detail, but she also knew that Harry liked his stuff to be just his. So she didn’t take a peek. This was his, and she didn’t want to take that away from him.

“It’s my office, like to keep it ‘me’ only.”

Y/N just looked at him, sensing where this was going but not wanting to jump the gun.

“I don’t mind you being here.”

She giggled a little, pinching both her thumbs as to tell herself to keep it together. She was not to act giddy, or to get so flustered that Harry could tell she was getting shy. She wasn’t shy, but when Harry said stuff like that, he brought it out of her.

“Seems you don’t mind me as much as you used to.”

“Is it that obvious?”

She giggled again, and Harry joined in, watching her the entire time. He pushed away from the bench, kneading the knuckles on his right hand that Y/N could now see were starting to get red. Grimacing, Harry looked down at his hand.

“I need to forget about tonight. I… I don’t want to… So many people turned their backs on me.” Harry said, voice almost breaking.

“Not everyone.”

“But those that did were people I trusted.”

“Hey,” she walked closer to him, placing a comforting hand on his forearm. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true-“

“-You have so many other people in your life. Your sister, your nephew and niece, Jamie, Meo, Rin…” She trailed off and Harry looked up at her. “Me.”

Harry’s eye flicked to her lips for a split second before looking up into her eyes again. Her heart skipped a beat, always finding him so incredibly hot when he did that. Moving her hand from his arm and on top of his, Harry hissed, glancing down at it just as Y/N did.

“Should clean this up a bit. Touching Salvatore voluntarily is gonna give you an infection.”

Harry laughed, grinning up at her.

“Do you have some ice and cleaning solution?” Y/N asked, taking his swollen and red knuckles into her hand.

“Bathroom.”

“Lead the way.”

Harry walked past Y/N and down the stairs, walking into his bedroom and to the small ensuite bathroom. His bedroom was as minimalistic as the rest of his house. He had his queen-sized bed, white blinds over his windows, a wardrobe, and two nightstands, but that was it. For someone who was so such a good painter and so amazing with colours, he didn’t know the first thing about decorating.

She followed him into the small bathroom, taking the pads and cleaning solution from him. Applying some of it to the cotton, she took his hand and gently started to dab it along the cut he had. He must’ve somehow managed to hit Salvatore’s teeth. Harry hissed as the cleaning solution started working, frowning down at his hand.

“It’s not that bad.” Y/N said.

“Easy for you to say, you didn’t bloody punch someone.”

Y/N chuckled, investigating the cut some as to make sure it was clean enough. “You should get some ice on it, get some of the swelling away-“

He kissed her. Lips right on hers, heart pounding hard all the way out to his fingers. She gripped onto his collar right away, pad and cleaning solution falling to the floor, and she begged him not to stop this. Their lips widened, wanting to taste more of the other, to feel them wholly and truly there with them. Harry hummed into her, sending a vibration through her lips and tongue that tickled. He cupped her cheek with his injured hand, other hand squeezing her waist and pulling her toward him. There was no reason to hold back any longer. Next week, Y/N wouldn’t even be here and neither knew when, where, or if they’d ever see each other again.

This same thought seemed to hit Harry as he clung to her a little harder, breathing harshly against her cheek. Right then and there, they both wanted to make up for lost time. The time they had already lost to indecisive tendencies and confusion, and the time they would lose because of miles upon miles of separation and their unknown and unreachable destiny. They tugged at one another, stroked one another, gripped one another hard as to remind themselves and the other person that this was real. Y/N knew that it was now or never. Harry rarely spoke his mind, rarely took the first step, so she had to.

Lightly, she pushed him down on his bed, watching as he fell back onto his elbows. His eyes were wide open, scared to look away for even a second in case she somehow would disappear like a dream does when you wake up. Positioning both her knees on either side of him, Y/N sank down onto his lap and Harry instantly sat upright, placing his hands on either of her knees and gradually sliding them up her thigh, needing for her dress to be further up her body so he could see all of her. Their lips found each other again, hungry for more. She felt his hands on her bum, hot long fingers spread out over each her cheeks, feeling fantastic against her skin. He slid them under the hem of her knickers, getting a good grip on them before he squeezed her firmly, pulling her to him and moaning into her mouth. She rocked her hips slowly against him, causing both of their breathing to grow heavier and their hearts to pick up speed.

He fell backward onto the bed, dragging her with him. As he made impact with the mattress, lips not detaching, their foreheads bumped into one another.

“Shit.” Harry hissed, though it was quickly followed by laughter as he saw Y/N chuckling above him. “Gonna have a bloody bump there tomorrow, ain’t I?”

“Dunno,” she answered, readjusting her position and wiggling her hips against Harry’s, causing his lips to part as a shock went through him. “We’ll just have to see tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to.” He said, gripping her bum harder, forcing her to slide her core against his again. They both gasped. “I don’t want tomorrow, or a day after tomorrow, or after that. All I want is you, here, with me.”

“I’ll be here tomorrow.”

“It’s a day closer to all those other days when you won’t be. I don’t want tomorrow. I want you and time. But not tomorrow.” Harry watched her intently as he continued to push her hips, her eyes fluttering shut as her core arousal grew rapidly like his. “All those days till I see you next, it’ll be like waiting for sunrise. Waiting for that small hour when I get a glimpse of you and then you slip away from me again.”

“Harry.” Y/N panted, cupping his cheek gently before he turned them so he was on top. He leaned down, kissing her jawline.

“You’ll be gone.” He said between kisses, humming into her, and causing everything within her to vibrate with him.

“Harry, I’m here.” She said, though she felt the pain of her leaving in her chest already. “Look at me.”

He continued to leave pecks down her neck, her chest, breast.

“Harry,” she took a light grip of both his cheeks, lifting his head from her. “Look at me.”

He leaned his forehead against her chest, eyelashes fluttering against her skin as he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath.

“Hey,” gently, she placed her index under his chin, gradually bringing his face up so they could look at one another. As their eyes met, she took his hand. “I’m here.” She gave his hand a squeeze before placing it on her breast. She felt his shaky his chin moving with a shaky breath. Slowly, she moved his hand down her front, making him feel all of her before he reached the place between her legs that had missed him so. All the while, they didn’t break eye contact. “I’m here.” She repeated as her knuckles brushed the bulge of his trousers.

He moved his arm so that his elbow rested by her head, hand stroking through her hair till he got to her scalp. There was such seduction in his movements as he ran his fingers over her covered up core, she wished to drown in it. Lust in his eyes, desire on his tongue, and an intense need for her in every single one of his calculated movements. She simply could not keep still as he ran his fingers over her sensitive spot, moaning for him not to stop; do it harder, faster. She wrapped her legs around him, and Harry stopped abruptly. Looking down on her, his eyes were wide.

“What?”

“Are you wearing bloody knee socks?”

The urge to laugh right in his face was huge, but she stopped herself. She stroked her legs up and down his back. “Obvious?”

He sat up on his knees, taking his suit jacket off and throwing it somewhere behind him. Biting her lip, Y/N watched as he dragged his jumper over his head, not taking his eyes off her as he exposed his delicious abs for her eyes only. She bent her knees more, bringing them further up so the knee socks were properly exposed to him. Faintly, she ran a few fingers down his front, loving how her fingers moved along with the soft and hard bumps of his torso. He placed both hands on each of her calves, sliding them up to her knees where he gave her a little squeeze.

“You’re keeping those on.”

“Oh?”

Harry slid his hands down the inside of her thighs, spreading them open further for him. Lowering himself into her, she felt him pressing hard against her and she gasped.

“You’re keeping those on.” He repeated as a raspy mumble against her open mouth, wet and swollen lips moving against hers.

He reached under her, searching for the zip of her dress. She let him; she liked seeing him and the feeling of him being so desperate to get her naked beneath him.

“Fuck.” He groaned, getting the zip stuck.

Giggling into his neck she felt Harry go a little limp, chuckling as well. He rested his forehead against her shoulder before giving it a tender peck.

“Turn around.” He mumbled.

“Hard when you’re between my legs like this. You’ll have to get off.”

“Hmm.” Harry hummed, stroking his hardness against her heat. “Won’t be long till I’m back, baby. Just gotta do something first.”

He got on his knees again, looking at Y/N as she rolled over to lay on her stomach. Looking over her shoulder, she watched as Harry crawled closer to her again, the zip finally properly exposed to him now. He puckered his lips, placing a soft kiss to her shoulder again as he took a grip of the zip. He pulled it down slowly, the top of his thumb sliding along her spine till he stopped at her lower back. Sliding his hands along her exposed back, he pushed the dress off her shoulders, letting it fall down on the bed. He kissed her shoulder blade, then slowly, tenderly leaving small pecks along her back, taking his time to make his way downward. From each one, Y/N felt a swarm of new butterflies enter her stomach, her entire body buzzing with the effect of what felt like thousands of butterflies. Good thing Harry’s hand was on her shoulder or else she was sure she would’ve flown away.

With some help, Harry got her dress off, tossing it behind him. He slid his hands up her body, and Y/N bit her lip, loving the feeling of his skin against hers. His soft painter hands; the long fingers that could create incredible pieces of art caressing her like she was more precious than anything he’d ever touched before. As he reached for her bra, unhooking it, she felt him against the back of her thigh and it immediately sent hot electricity down to the spot between her legs. She felt herself inhale sharply at the pressure of him against her, a warm wave of anticipation ran up her spine.

He pushed the bra off her, letting her throw it to the floor as he watched. She heard him take a big breath before he hooked two fingers round the hem of her knickers. He dragged them down, exposing her bare ass to him. Though he had eaten her out the night before and though it had been lovely to be close to each other like that, this was completely different. She was about to be completely exposed to him, wearing nothing but her white knee socks and his gaze.

She could feel his weight lifting off the bed before he said a raspy, “Turn around for me.”

And she did. She let her back hit the mattress, looking over at Harry as she laid there completely naked and all for him. Knees bent and pushed together so he’d see her knee socks, she cocked her head a little to the side, resting her hands by her hair. He slid his hands from over his lips and down his jaw, taking in all of her before him. She felt her cheeks heat up, not getting insecure, but rather loving how he was looking at her. It was like she could see the painting he was envisioning in his head as he looked at her, as if she could see him mix his colours and paint her. He was quick to get a condom before he came back to stand at the foot of the bed. Letting her eyes drop down his body, she saw his toned torso and the bulge of his trousers. The sight made her wriggle her hips a little, press her legs together, desperate for friction of any kind.

“Sei bellissima.”

Y/N just watched him, loving the sound of him unbuckling his belt. He pulled his boxers down along with his trousers, revealing himself to her. She bit her lip, unapologetically looking at his cock as he stood there looking right back at her. Carefully, he placed a hand on each her knees, spreading her legs open for him. She let him, her entire being buzzing with all kinds of different feelings.

Anticipation, lust, love. There had never been a time before this where she had wanted someone as much as she wanted Harry, and by the hunger she had tasted on his lips earlier and what she could see and feel now, she thought the feeling might be mutual.

He lowered himself onto her and she could finally feel his erection against her wetness, making her gasp slightly.

“Mi lasci senza parole. Dimentico come si parla quando sono con te.”

“What?” she asked, a little breathless.

Harry stroked both hands over either of her cheeks. “You… I completely lose my ability to think clearly around you.”

Y/N huffed a little smiling up at him. She ran her hands up his back, forcing him to put more of his weight on her so she could feel more of him. Their lips connected again, having missed the time they had spent not entwined like this. As their tongues found one another again, desperate and lustful, Harry ran a hand down her front. Caressing her breast, her soft tummy, her wide hips, before he reached for his cock. He stroked himself over her, wanting her to get a good feel of him, not wanting to overwhelm her in any way. She kissed him harder, moaning into him, and Harry took that as answer enough it seemed. He brought himself to her entrance, and slowly slid into her. She gasped as she felt him inside her, a pressure so heavenly consumed her, and she held onto him tighter.

He took a grip of her knee, bringing her leg up further as to spread her legs wider and to get better access. At this, she moaned, and his grip tightened. He started moving in and out of her at a steady pace, not too fast, but not too slow either. Their eyes locked, both suddenly realising what they were doing and what this would mean to their relationship. Y/N knew that whether she liked it or not, she always formed an emotional attachment to those she had sex with, and this one would undoubtedly be even more powerful than all the ones before it. Because it was Harry. And because she was falling in love with him. Because she knew she would never get over him if they had sex. And yet she couldn’t help herself.

She could already feel the climax building up between her thighs, having gone a while without sex. By the looks of it and the sound of Harry’s rapid breathing, she imagined Harry was in the same position. He held onto her knee as he rocked into her, their bodies colliding hard and loud. The sound of flesh against flesh, their heavy breathing, and the occasional moan was their entire universe for those few minutes.

Harry’s hand slid down Y/N’s thigh, giving her bum a firm squeeze before he dragged it up her side and to her neck. He didn’t take his eyes off her, wanting to savour every second he had with her like this like she did with him. With a trembling hand, he brought his fingers to her cheek, caressing it so tenderly Y/N almost felt tears press on. There was so much love in the way he treated her, like he was afraid of loving her too much and then losing her. But it seemed he had stopped caring about that and rather give her everything while he could. He slid his thumb over her lip just as he thrust into her, causing her to moan. Over her bottom lip, slowly stroking his way to her upper as well. She gently poked her tongue out, licking his finger. She could see the colour of his eyes darken, could tell what she’d just done had gotten to him.

He slid his thumb into her mouth and she instantly wrapped her lips around him. A shaky breath left Harry’s lips as she swirled her tongue seductively around his finger. Completely entranced and turned on, Harry quickened his speed, eager to please her as well as he could. This had Y/N closing her eyes, moaning onto his finger. Harry slowly pulled his finger out of her mouth and in again, not able to help the moan that escaped him as he watched her suck his thumb.

She reached between them, needing clitoral stimulation in order to come hard and properly. Harry sensed what she was doing, though, and he quickly stopped her.

“No,” he said, and Y/N almost thought he was stopping her from touching herself. “Let me.”

He pulled his finger out of her mouth and slid his hand down her front, resting his hand over her centre. She gasped, realising just then how much she felt for him and that with everything he was doing, she found it a little harder to accept the fact she was leaving. He started flicking his finger over her bud, and Y/N’s body instantly heat up, the bubble of fire in her core threatening to burst at any moment.

She arched her back, feeling Harry’s free hand sink into her hair, tugging at her roots lightly. He fucked her harder, deeper, stroked his fingers over her clit faster. He buried his face in her neck, letting out a low growl that reverberated through every single one of her cells. She gripped his shoulders, gasping for air as everything grew hotter, hotter, hotter.

“Don’t stop.” She moaned, nails digging into his skin. “Harry, don’t stop.”

In response he kissed the nape of her neck, bringing his lips up to that spot right under her ear. She heard all his small whimpers, moans, and intakes of breath, felt them against her skin, felt them tattoo themselves onto her memory forever. Their bodies coming together, slamming into one another in erotic desperation to get closer to the high they were both seeking to reach together. Something happened between them as they worked toward their climax; like all that yearning, all that waiting, all those times Y/N had felt her soul, sells, and heart reaching for his, it all came together now. She felt every inch of her body content; felt whole in a way she’d never felt before. And looking into Harry’s eyes, she realised she’d found peace in him. She couldn’t remember feeling peaceful, like everything in the world was finally right, but she was now.

Her grip on him tightened as she got closer to the edge, the heat between her legs picking up at a rapid speed. He must’ve sensed her nearing her orgasm, because he let go of her hair and urged her hand free from gripping his shoulder. He pinned it above her head, sliding his up her forearm till he reached her hand, intertwining his fingers with her. Harry continued to fuck her at the same pace, and would sometimes draw a stroke out slowly and thrust back into her hard just so he could feel her thighs tighten around him, the material of her knee highs against his sides. As everything blurred together and she felt her orgasm coming on, her whimpers and moans grew more frequent, and it seemed just knowing he was pleasing her this well, brought him closer too.

He moaned her name into her ear, the grip on her hand tightening. Harry fell harder into her, got deeper as she slid her legs further up his back. Nothing else existed in those moment leading up to her orgasm. She felt her legs trembling. Felt his fingers on her clit and his cock between her legs. Felt her control dwindle.

“Harry.” She moaned, placing her hand at his neck, gripping him harder.

She came. Hot whips across her entire body, she felt like she was on fire. She was gasping, repeating his name, and moaning as pure ecstasy washed over her. She shook under him as he pressed his forehead against hers, watching her intently as she came down from everything. Just as she felt her heartbeat slowing some, she heard Harry’s gasp and moans intensifying, felt his movements halting. She reached down and took his hand, bringing it up above her head with the other one. He gripped her hands hard, whimpering and sweating onto her.

“Fuck.” He said, closing his eyes hard before he opened them again, wanting to look at her as he came. His thrusts were irregular, some harder than others, and she felt him spilling into the condom. She moved her hips with him, needing to help him through his orgasm. His neck vein was visible, and no sound left his mouth other than his harsh and quick intakes of breath. She found him hypnotising, so beautiful and so hot. A small furrow to his brows, eyes concentrated on her, plump and wet lips parted.

They stayed like that for a little while, just looking at one another as everything came back to them. She suddenly smiled up at him, letting a breathy chuckle leave her lips. He leaned down, pressing his lips against hers. Drawn-out, lazy, and both smiling.

“I’ll get you something to get washed up with.” He said, slipping out of her before he shuffled down the bed, took the condom off, and walked to the ensuite bathroom. Y/N laid on her side, studying his back, his bum, and his muscular legs. She could not believe she’d just had sex with Harry. Mind-blowing, won’t-be-able-to-ever-get-over-this sex. Nothing would ever be the same now, she realised, they would always be linked in some way. They had been before this, she felt it, but sex always made this that much more complicated.

Harry came back with a wet cloth, handing it to her before laying down in bed beside her. He watched as she got herself cleaned up, studying her more intensely than he had ever done before. Placing the cloth on the nightstand, she laid back down in bed, looking over at Harry as he reached for her hand again. Still keeping eye contact, Harry brought it up to his lips pressing a kiss to her hand. Slowly, he turned it back around, closing his eyes as he kissed her palm. She rested her hand at his cheek, watching as he leaned into her touch.

“Please stay.” He whispered, and she did.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday 9th February 2020, 9PM GMT

a huge thanks to my lovely beta readers! 💙 @aileenacoustic​ 💙 @tpwkceline​ 💙 @emotionally-imbruised​  💙 @shepherald​ 💙 

[itstittycitybaby]

From the Ashes we are Born (Part 8)

A/N: Thank you for the request @lazy-potato-author​! I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy it also. 

TW: some violence and maybe a little gore. Not too bad though.

The window closed behind you with a soft ‘click’. Little puffs of cool air left your lips as you exhaled and the moon shone its light on the cobblestone roads. London was quiet; its people sleeping; their dreams filled with a better life and a better country. You, however, left the shadow gallery and snuck out past curfew. You could already feel V’s disappointment and hear his argument drilled into your head. Luckily for you, he passed out as soon as he got home which left you to your own devices. You felt guilty about leaving your boyfriend alone tonight. He had been  coming home later and later, crashing on the sofa. You’d shake him awake and help him to bed every time, giggling at his sleep filled words full of adoration for you. Shaking yourself out of your thoughts you crept around the empty streets of London. There were no fingermen in sight, thankfully, but that didn’t mean they weren’t lurking in the shadows. A switchblade hid in your combat boots for protection so you weren’t too afraid. Confidence was surging in as you peaked through the windows of the empty shops. The cold air filled your lungs and it numbed your fingertips. The skirt you wore hugged your legs nicely and the tights you wore underneath helped shield your legs from the cold. You strayed further from the windows and to the park that was a short distance away from the gallery. Just in case, you thought as you hurried to the park.

V’s eyes were groggy as he opened them. His head lulled with sleep as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The clock beside him read 11:11pm. ‘Odd’, he thought, ‘I never tend to wake up this late.’ Turning, he reached his arm out to you. Nothing. The spot was bare and the sheets were pulled back. They were a bit crinkled as well. Anxiety bubbled in V’s chest. ‘She must be in the bathroom then,’ he tried reassuring himself. V watched the clock; five minutes to ten minutes and still nothing. Surely, you had to be in the living room. Something ate away at V’s gut. He felt the dread and something awful wash over him at once. V was a rational man, he didn’t listen to his heart as much as his brain. But god did he know something was wrong. Flinging the covers off of him he quickly strapped on his belt of knives and grabbed his mask. V straightened his wig in the mirror and perched his hat on his head. His ears perked up when he heard a soft whine. Snapping towards the noise there sat Klaus, whining at the window and scratching at it. V cursed himself; he had been so tired he had forgotten to lock the window more securely. You wouldn’t leave him like this, you wouldn’t disobey him like this. You knew the rules and the consequences. So why would you do this to him?

The gallery was empty save for V and Klaus. He figured you had left through the window again, but wanted to double check. It seemed like you had disappeared out of thin air. But he knew better. Oh, you were a devil alright. Rage flared in his veins at the thought of you in possible danger. He could never be angry with you, but he was very disappointed and hurt nonetheless. It was dangerous out there especially without him and you knew that. Your boots were gone along with the switchblade he had given you as a gift after training sessions on how to protect yourself. V knew you could hold your own, there was a fire in you every time the two of you sparred. But, there was still so much for you to learn. “Get yourself together,” V mumbled to himself. Worry turned into adrenaline;the insides of his body felt fuzzy and numb. With a flurry he dashed into the bedroom with Klaus on his heels. “Stay,” V commanded halfway through the window. Klaus stared at him and whined. His brown eyes looked so sad as he watched V climb through the window. V sighed, “Alright boy, come with me.” Klaus perked up and rabbit hopped out of the window. Once V shut it the both of them made their way to find you.

You regretted it. You should’ve stayed inside like a good girl and snuggled up to V and Klaus. It was so warm in the gallery compared to the cold harsh streets of London. Four fingermen circled around you in an alleyway but thankfully they hadn’t backed you up against the wall. Yet. God, how could you be so stupid. The trees at the park were comforting along with the soft glow of the street lights but you had been so distracted. The switchblade V had given you was clenched tightly in your fist. The fingermen made some snide remarks about the outfit you wore. Disgusting. Getting into a battle stance you twisted the blade sideways. One of the men trying lunging at you with his knife but you dodged it with a side step. He stumbled and his movements were untrained. Good. You kicked him in the groin causing him to trip backwards, creating an opening to his stomach. The others flashed their eyes with rage as their comrade had fallen over after a good swift kick to his ribs. Your stamina had decreased after trying to outrun them and dodge their attacks. Two lunged at you; one slashed your shoulder and the side of your face while you avoided the taser the other had. You cried out as your tights ripped from another slash of the guy’s dagger. The blood on your hand looked black in the moonlight. Your side stung terribly and you were bleeding fast. Great, now I’m dead, you thought bitterly. 

Growl. You lifted your head immediately. Klaus? There, stood the white giant dog as it tore into one of the guy’s legs. A yelp left his lips as Klaus’ teeth sunk into his calf. A dagger sliced through the air; it hit the guy on your left square in the forehead. V. You knew those daggers from anywhere. The guy to your right with the taser looked nervous as he faced the infamous vigilante. V’s shoulder’s were tense and his poster was rigid. His mask never looked more terrifying than when he was angry. The guy that Klaus had tore into had a dagger stuck in his back. He had sunk onto the floor not that you noticed. V twirled a dagger into his hands and it danced through the air. If you weren’t so terrified you would’ve stared in awe. V’s swordsmanship always amazed you. The blade sunk into the guy's heart. His eyes rolled in the back of his head. Four bodies laid on the dirty alley floor. Dead or alive you weren’t sure.

V didn’t say anything as he removed his daggers from the fingermen. There were blood splatters on his mask. Klaus looked happy to see you, though. He wagged his tail and gave you kisses. It helped soften your nerves a bit. “I’m s-,” V stretched out his hand to silence you. “Please. Hold your words for now,” he said, softly, saying your name at the end of his sentence. You felt tears well up in your eyes. You deserved his anger, you really did. Foolishly, you wanted to have a bit of fun. A sense of freedom away from the gallery. “You’re hurt,” V said sadly, scanning over you. “It’s what I deserve for being so stupid,” you laughed bitterly. V sighed; yes you did something foolish and betrayed his trust, but he understood your want for freedom. Being cooped in the shadow gallery for so long without company did help people go crazy. A squeak left your throat as V scooped you up in his arms. “V-,” “Hush my dear, you shouldn’t be walking right now. You’re wounded.” You fell silent. The least you could do was let him take you home. “Come,” V directed towards Klaus. The three of you stalked back home away from the dangerous streets.

You hissed through your clenched teeth. The rubbing alcohol stung. “If you hadn’t snuck out we wouldn’t be here,” V muttered as he gently applied the alcohol to the cut on your arm. “Yea yea,” you replied tightly, “I know.” He just hummed in reply as he looked at your wound once more. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, just needed a bandage. V set the cotton ball down on the kitchen table. The two of you had been there for a while now. Your eyes felt dreary and your body ached. V’s fingers carefully applied the bandage to your arm. He hovered over you as he focused on the wound, making sure it was all good. V was careful to not brush his mask against any of the wounds he nursed to. You appreciated the sentiment although you felt horrible. You didn’t deserve V. “Look at me.” Your head snapped up to V. Gently, he held your face as he looked at the nick on your jaw. V’s gloves felt smooth against your sensitive skin The urge to nuzzle into his pal was strong but after your stupid decision you felt like V wasn’t in the mood of affection.. “Is there a reason you felt like you had to leave tonight?” Finally, the unbearable silence broke. You shifted uncomfortably, wincing at the gauze V had put around your side. A hiss left your lips at the sting of the alcohol. V chuckled, much to your dismay. I deserve this. “I don’t know I just... wanted to be free I guess. I can’t stand not having some sense of control anymore. It was stupid of me and I regret it.” “Yes, yes it was,” he replied. Looking over to the floor a few feet away, Klaus laid there snoring away.

 “If you wanted to go out all you had to do was ask. You know I’d do anything you’d ask of me to,” V said, tenderly cleaning the nick at your jaw. “I didn’t want to wake you. You’ve been busy, you need rest.” “Yes, but it’s better than you getting caught late at night and hurt. What if...I hadn’t gotten there in time.” You didn’t miss the slight crack at the end of V’s sentence. “Oh V,” you whispered. “You did get there in time. You and Klaus. I’m alright and fine because of you, V.” He set the cotton ball on the table and let out a shaky breath. “I know, my love. I know.” Slowly and tenderly, you held his hands in yours. You gave them a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sorry V. I really am. I promise I won’t do it again or I’ll ask next time.” V nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I was so..scared. I thought maybe someone had taken you or...you’d left me here alone again.” Shakily you stood up. You grimaced as your side burned. Your thigh hurt from the cut the guy had given you but V held your arms to steady you. “I wasn’t thinking at all. I wasn’t thinking of the consequences or what could have happened to me. I was arrogant to think a switchblade could keep me safe. I’m really sorry V.” V let out a laugh, his nose sniffling in the process. “You managed to strike down one enemy and injure the other. You’re getting better.” You smiled and replied with a thanks. A grunt of pain left you as you stood on your tippy toes, giving your masked boyfriend a kiss. “Darling you really shouldn’t be on your feet,” V said once the both of you pulled away. “Hey it gives you an excuse to carry me around now.” V laughed, scooping you in his arms. “That my dear, you are very right about.” 

V’s arms held you protectively against his chest. His mask was off, but it was too dark for you to see his face. Baby steps were still being made in the progress of seeing him underneath the cheshire grin the mask held. You stroked his chest with his fingers, drawing soft circles on his tunic. He hummed in content, sleep evident in his voice. Klaus slept at the foot of the bed snoring away. “What is it my darling,” V’s voice grumbled with sleep. You giggled. His voice sounded cute when he was sleepy. “I was thinking right..” you trailed off. “Oh no.” You swatted V’s chest playfully. V let out a soft laugh as he brought your knuckles to his lips. “Go on love,” he said, swiping his finger across your hand as he held it. “How’d Klaus even manage to bite that guy anyway.” V’s eyes twinkled with mischief (not that you could see anyway). “He’s a very smart dog, although his thought process is very slow.” “Wait.. you taught him that?” Your cheeks flushed as V’s thumb gently rubbed circles on the back of your hand. “Yes my songbird. I taught him some very important tricks.” “Like?” “Well for starters he can play dead.” 

Laughter bubbled from your chest. V watched with affection, leaning down to give your cheek a soft kiss. “I love you,” you whispered, folding your fingers in his. “I love you too my darling. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate-” Your lips cut V off. Your hands grasped his shoulders for more leverage as he kissed you back. The hold V had  on your waist tightened. V’s voice sounded muffled beneath your lips. “Are you still going?” V laughed, “Of course my cunning nymph! Nothing can stop me from proclaiming my love for you. Not even on the brink of death would I not stop loving you.” You chuckled. “You’re so cheesy V,” you said, giving him a peck on the lips one more time. “Only for you my dear. Only for you.” Snuggling into his side, your body forced you into a deep slumber. Nothing could disturb the peace that V and Klaus gave you wholeheartedly.  

[oksana-moods]

Ghost of you - Part 14

Summary: The Octopus has Ghost wrapped around its legs.

A/N: Keeping my promise, here we are.

Trigger Warnings: Violence, language, mentions of death and blood… tell me if I need to add any.

 “As the stars begin to gather And the light begins to fade.”

#not my picture

“My God, Lara.” Carol ran to me right after I opened the door. “You said you’d call me. Dammit, Lara, you promised.” Her eyes were so sad that I felt guilty. “I’m sorry. I had everything under control.” She snorted. “You’re drenched in blood; you call this control?” I looked at my state and I was horrible, with a frown in my brows I let a soft ‘yeah’ scape my lips. “What happened?” She asked. “Greene was waiting for me.” I licked my lips and sighed. “Come, let me help you with your wounds.” I picked some clothes. “I’ll take a shower first.”

After a long hot shower, I got myself rid from all the blood in me, the literal blood, at least. The figurative one? Not quite, for Greene’s words were running wild through my mind, I could feel a headache coming. The good news was that I saw through the mirror that my shoulder plates already healed there was only one wound to be healed. When I got out of the bathroom, I saw that Carol had a medical kit in her lap at the balcony, I set in front of her and lifted the hem of the tank top I was wearing, showing to her were the gunshot pierced my stomach, and I felt myself awfully uncomfortable under her gaze. “You lost a lot of blood. Don’t you think we need to go to the hospital?” Her voice made Greene’s voice disappear from my head, for now. “It’s not safe.” I replied. “I can take care of this, if…” She was shaking her head in disagreement. “I’ll take care of you.” She softly spoke and I just nodded. “This might hurt” She said with a grimace in her face while holding the forceps and the scalpel close to my skin, she looked up as if asking permission for start her work. I just nodded at her and emptied my glass of scotch in one go. I hissed when she started to remove the bullet, “Sorry.” She whispered and I just shook my head, concentrating in not cursing out loud. After a while, she managed to get the bullet out and she looked up to meet my eyes. I don’t know how, but the tag with our names was above my shirt and that piece of metal caught her attention. Instinctively, her hands shot up to touch the plaques, and her eyes became impossibly softer. “You still wear it.” Her voice was barely a whisper, as if we were sharing a secret, and it was indeed a secret to her, until now. “How do you have it?” She asked and I felt a lump forming in my throat, right now wasn’t the time to talk about this. I sighed. “Maria gave it to me… few years ago.” Her gaze was so intense that I felt intimidated, she was looking at me like she could pull the answers with her eyes. “Why?” It was a simple question that could mean tons of things, but I knew exactly what she meant, and she knew I knew. She had powers over me that she doesn’t even know, and maybe her eyes did have the power to rip the truth out of me. “The same as before… I guess.” I softly replied after a deep breath. There was no use in deny or try to lie to her, not with her eyes shining like they are right now. Suddenly, all the stars she had imprisoned in her eyes were shining closer than ever, like the whole universe were glittering in her orbs and that alone made me want to touch her and feel her skin, just like I had a lifetime ago. “After this whole time?” Her whisper was so, so low that I thought I had imagined, but her eyes were boring into my soul waiting for a reply, indicating that I haven’t. There was no use in try to keep this at bay anymore, hell, my feelings for her were always in the way throughout this whole mission. I screwed things up and I don’t even know when. I sighed and I felt her hand cupping my cheek with a oh so soft touch that I leaned in her palm without even thinking. “Bold of you to assume I ever stopped.”  She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, a gloomy smile flashed in her lips then faded when she whispered. “Our destinies dance around each other like spirals.” She replied while opening her eyes, and they were so, so gentle that I felt unworthy. She too, by saying that we were like spirals, spirals that never touch. Fuck. Greene was right, I longed for her, wish things could be different, but reality is all that I have. I wrapped my hand around her wrist and pushed her hand away from my face, sadly, realizing that I don’t deserve her touch, no matter how much I craved for this. I kissed her palm before letting her hand go and got up to my feet.

“Lara…” Before she could even begin whatever excuses or pity-speech, I cut her off. “We don’t have time to talk about this now.” I said walking to the wardrobe and picked my suit for the night. A smoking and a tie. Seeing this, Carol came inside the room too, but her face had a frown. “What do you think you’re doing? We have a plane to catch.” I sighed; this would be hard. “I’m not going in that plane, Carol. You may go, but I won’t.” I walked to the restroom so I could start to change my clothes. “You are going to Chateau de Mercues.” She spoke in a way that made it clear that it wasn’t a question. “They are going to discuss the attack in London.” I opened my arms as if there was no option, and if I squint a little, we truly have no option here. “I need to go and stop them, or maybe learn everything about the attack, so we could prevent it.” I licked my lips. “Look, you can go. This is on me and I’ll take the responsibility, but I can’t step back now.” She let a distressed breath and shook her head, as if trying to make a child learn something obvious. “If you’re going to that meeting, then I’m going with you.” This made my eyes widen. “Of course not, I don’t know what might happen there, they can hurt you or…” She walked so fast that I was startled by her hands touching mine. “No way that I’m going to let you go by yourself. I can’t sit and wait for you to come with another missing piece, or don’t come back at all.” She was shaking her head, and when she saw me opening my mouth her eyes were so hard, and I knew that there was no talking her out of this. I sighed. “Alright. We’ll keep this Philipps façade, at least while we can. I’ll change quickly.” She nodded and let my hand go and I closed the door. When Carol came out of the restroom in her dress for the night, I had to remind myself that I need to keep breathing. She glided towards me with a perfect white silk dress with thin straps over her shoulders and her hair was flat down. She was beyond flawlessness. My heart was begging for me to take her by the hand, run with her to the nearest church and offer my life to her. “What?”  Her voice brought me out of my daze. I used my fingers to dry the corners of my lips. “Wow Carol you are…” I smile delicately at her. “Darling, you give perfection a run for its money.” I could knee and ask for her hand right here, despite knowing that I couldn’t, no matter how much I wanted. A bright smile adorned her lips and my stomach dropped when she looked me up and down, as if she were scrutinizing me. “I thought you looked good in dresses. But with this suit… I could marry you right now.” Oh, please Carol. I do. I walked to the door and offered my hand to her. “Loved the stilettos, by the way.” She completed with a soft giggle and I felt my cheeks burning. I think I believe in angels now.  

 Almost two hours driving took us to the top of a hill where we could see an imposing building like an old castle, only there was nothing old about it. Chateau de Mercues, usually, was a luxury five-star hotel, but tonight was completely reserved and prepared to accommodate all Spectre’s members. I was amazed with such beauty. We got ourselves inside the building easy and fast since I was wearing my ring and Carol her bracelet. After few instructions, we found our seats at the main hall, which was beautifully decorated. While expensive champagne was served, I let my eyes wander around the room looking for any familiar faces or someone standing out that could be their leader. Following the drinks came dinner, then the meeting started. People talked about numbers, goals… everything that they’d obtain with the contract with UN. A man, whose name is George Steinfeld, introduced himself as a new officer member due to Beauffort’s death. I met him at Greene’s boat when he invited us for lunch. Since he was replacing Jean, he’d be working with immigration and was now responsible for London situation, in his words. Like giving a speech, he declared to the group few details about the attack. Under the table, I sent a message to Natasha with everything he had shared: Piccadilly Circus in three days, around rush hours. This was everything we need, so I made a signal to Carol that we’d leave this place at the first opportunity. We were walking in a very rushed pace towards the entrance, when Steinfeld approached us. “Lara, good evening.” He offered his hand to me. “George, hi. I wish you great success now as head of immigration field.” I politely said while shaking his hand. “Of course, thank you. However, I think I might need a strong hand to help me…” He slightly scratched his temple with his index finger. “And I can’t think about anybody else but you. I think he’d like this. Jean told me he’d make you his second in command.” I was at loss. We need to get out of here, but I can just run away now. “Why. George, this is flattering. I’d love to.” I looked around and saw that Carol had already been pulled into a conversation group and shot me an apologetic smile. “Thought you’d say that. Come, there is a few people that I want you to meet.” He said and I started to follow him since he was leading the way. “Actually, let me show you the wine house, they have an aged bourbon that you’d die for.” I looked at my cellphone and realized that my message to Natasha never left my device, because there was no signal here. Fuck. Something is not right.

 ------

“Leave us.” A voice startled me. I stopped my wine tasting and turned to see who was talking and my eyes widened seeing Georges Batroc, in the flesh, in one piece, in front of me. No, is not possible, I killed him earlier. He walked slowly in my direction and opened his arms. “What? It looks like you saw a ghost.” His wicked grin appeared in his mouth. “I killed you.” I spat at him, and Steinfeld widened his eyes at me, quickly reading the room so he fled away. “I’m not that easy to kill, sister.” Sister? What. The. fuck? Lara doesn’t have any siblings. “I’m not your sister.” His smile was wide open now. “Sure? I have your blood in me.” That confused me, what does he meant with that? “You’re bluffing.” But he never answered me. Taking advantage of my distraction, he charged at me and my back hit an oak barrel, instantly breaking it, causing the wine to spread on the floor. Before he could land his hands on me, I kicked his legs and tried to get up, but he still picked me by the lapel of my jacket and tossed me around, my back hitting another oak barrel. In this pace we’d be drowning in wine by the end of the night. I took off my jacket and tie and dropped then by my side and ran to him. Like two boxers, we exchanged blow after blow. He tried to control the fight and I was trying to take advantage, but he dodged most of my hits, until I kicked his right leg twice and he leaned a bit more to the side, then my metal arm found his jaw and I mercilessly punched his face till I saw his head tilted backwards. I pushed his tie and used my legs to wrap myself around him and brought us both to the ground, my arms around his neck while my legs stopped his arms from moving.

I had Batroc in a chokehold and was about to snap his neck when a voice startled me “ah kids, this way there will be no more bourbon to enjoy during the next winter”. A man that I never saw before walked inside the partially destroyed wine house. When I saw the party behind him my bones froze and my stomach knotted around itself, because I saw Carol being tugged between two henchmen. Maybe my hold faltered, or I should blame my lack of concentration, but Batroc managed to turn himself in my hold and kick me in the face, having me pinned to the ground with my face touching the floor in milliseconds. I was about to move my arm to get him off me, but the man caught my attention by clearing his throat and pointing at Carol with his head. I saw that someone was holding a gun aiming at Carol’s head. Her eyes found mine and they conveyed how helpless she was, and my body ached seeing so much sorrow in them. But I was still confused, why isn’t she fighting? Why is she tied in this metal wrapping her hands and wrist and, mostly important why is she not using her fists to blow everything already? I was still trying to figure out what was going on when the man’s voice found my ears. “Ah you’re wondering why she is powerless?” The man said and had a wicked grin, maybe Batroc learned with him, because that smile sent shivers down my spine. “We studied the tesseract for years through Zola’s mind, and of course, through you.” He crouched down few steps away from me. “With a little help from some friends, it became possible to inhibit her powers. They are numb inside her, so she’s just like a normal person now.” I tried to move under Batroc’s body, but to no avail. “I don’t believe you.” He stood to his feet. “Of course.” Then, he shows he’s telling the truth by signaling for one of his minions and the brute guy slaps her cheek with the back of his hand and I can see her face turning to the side with the impact, a shade of red painting her perfect skin. “You will lose your hand for that.” I growled at the man. And this wasn’t a threat, no. This was a promise. He smiled at me like he knew that this wasn’t a possibility, and that made me nervous. “Ah, isn’t this beautiful? I missed you, Ghost.” He said to me still wearing that smile and I was confused. Who was this man? “Who are you?” He put a hand in his chest mocking being wounded by my lack of memory. “Oh I should be offended by you not recognizing me, but this only shows that I did my job right by erasing your memory.” I was totally lost. So, he was Hydra? Wasn’t he Spectre? What the fuck is going on here? Were they playing under another name this whole time just to fool us around? “What, are you Hydra?” He clicked his tongue and spoke. “Thought I taught you better. You’re supposed to be smarter, faster… and, especially, to be a Ghost, to play in the shadows. But look at the mess you made…” He picked a chair and set crossing his legs, as if he were waiting for his afternoon tea. This man was unnerving, his eyes only screamed how sociopathic he was. “Please, could you enlighten me, then, what I’ve missed?” He laughed. He genuinely laughed at me and clasp his hands together. “God. You were my favorite. Always sassy with your comebacks” He spoke pointing a finger at me. “While Barnes was always so grumpy. I missed you.” My mouth was hanging open. He moved his hands like dismissing my lost expression and straighten himself at the chair. “I’m Ernst Blofeld, head of Spectre and I created you! I erased your memory for the first time, and I gave you your previous arm! I loved this new one, by the way. Such an art.” He said pointing his hand to my arm, a smile in his face like this was somewhat amusing. “Then, Pierce became too greedy and decided to take you with him, both of you. Therefore, he could run the world that he claimed was his.” I was mildly aware that Batroc had loosened his grip around my body, but I was too entranced by Blofeld’s words to try anything. “That’s precisely the difference between Spectre and Hydra. They wanted audience, they wanted to be revered and recognized as mighty rulers. That’s when we became different things. They wanted the praise more than the power, and that’s exactly why they were crushed.” His wicked grin never left his mouth. “Because I value power more than anything. Knowledge, information, resources… that’s power, that’s Spectre, and we are everywhere.” My mind was running wild with this new revelation. I didn’t even know what to think. But if I squint a bit, it kinda makes sense. This whole time they were playing us, but what for, though? “You knew who I was!” It was a statement, not a question. “Even before you left the compound, dear. You were so cute creating Philipps’s profile. Of course, I had to let Beauffort and Greene in the dark about your intentions. Only today I told Greene that you were my Ghost.” He shrugged his shoulders and the way he spoke the word my made me wary. “I needed you to think that you were really succeeding with your quest.” He finished his sentence with a half-smile in his lips, but his eyes were cold and sent shivers down my spine, once more. Make no mistake here, he can be playful but he’s the devil. Suddenly, Greene’s words made sense: Blofeld was Devil. The one who created me. “Why?” I licked my lips, realizing that my limbs were starting to become numb. “Why let me do all of this only to show up now?” “Well, not everything is about you, dear. I really needed new investors; we lost a lot of good people with this Thanos thing.” He got up from his chair, making me turn my neck even more so I could still make eye contact, and it hurt like hell. “But I let you do this whole ordeal because I needed you back. I wanted you back.” He sent that wicked smile at me again. “You’re my Ghost. Always will be.” He made a movement with his head towards the Batroc and before I could say or try anything, I felt something like a needle to pierce the skin in the back of my neck, then darkness embraced me.

taglist: @yourtaletotell​

[dazed-universe]

Now the pain is my pleasure...*

DO NOT REPOST. THE PIECE BELOW WAS WRITTEN BY ME.

"Have you ever been in handcuffs?"

"Yes."

~ handcuffed Harry, blowjob, riding, pain kink, submissive Harry, desperate Harry, slight overstimulation ~

~

Nights out with Harry in London aren't beaten by much except the proposition to try something new in the bedroom. As we're approaching six months together, there's still so much we have to learn, including those dirty little secrets. Instead of sitting in the, albeit comfortable, silence upon returning from dinner with a few of his friends, I turn the tv on as Fifty Shades of Grey pops up on the screen. "Come on, we are not watching this. Let's go to bed," Harry pipes up from behind the sofa and I look up at him, smirking. "Why not?"

He shoots me a questioning look, raising his eyebrows, closing his eyes and sighing before taking a seat next to me, lifting my legs over his lap. "Fine. Continue, let's watch," He sits, staring at the tv, waiting for me to unmute it as I stare at him, amused at how easily he gives in. A smile creeps onto his face as he feels my eyes on him, letting out a light chuckle. "You know, I thought you wanted to watch this, not me," I roll my eyes at him and turn the volume up, resting my head on his shoulder.

As we approach the scene of Christian tying Anna's wrists together, he clears his throat and shifts in his seat diverting his focus to his hands that are resting over my ankles. "My feet are more interesting than BDSM? That's a first," I tease his awkwardness before pausing the film and turning to face him, kneeling and towering above his slouching frame. "Now, why don't you tell me what's going through that pretty, little head of yours?" He swallows the lump in his throat before biting his lip and looking up at me as I twirl a piece of his fallen hair.

"Nothing. Nothing important, anyway," He says with a quiet voice as I lean down, pressing a kiss to his neck as he exhales shakily, trailing my lips just below his ear. "You're always important, now tell me," I whisper, wrapping my arm around the back of his neck and moving to sit across his lap. Harry's lip wobbles as our eyes meet, almost immediately looking away again. "I just realized, we've never really had, you know," He pauses,  swallowing again as I hum, urging him to continue. "You know.. The kinks conversation. What we're into," He finally says.

I look down towards our laps to hide the smirk on my face, recomposing myself and looking at him through my eyelashes. "Let's go to bed," I repeat his earlier request, standing from my seat on top of him, grabbing his hand in the process and gently pulling him up with me. He turns the tv off and follows, his fingers loosely laced with mine as I lead him up the stairs. We get into his room and begin undressing to get into bed as he clears his throat. "Maybe we could, um, try something," His voice softly rattles through the room.

I turn to look at him as his shirt falls over my frame, my underwear just shy of the hem. "What do you have in mind?" I question him as I sit on the edge of the bed. He looks towards a drawer in the bedside table, which, come to think of it, I'd never seen opened. Wrapping his hand around the handle, he looks over at me with softened eyes. "You can say no," He reassures me, lifting the strange tension in the air slightly. He pulls the drawer open before looping something around his finger, the sound of clanging metal following.

My eyebrows raise as he lifts up two pairs of handcuffs, swinging them on one finger in the air whilst giving me a tight-lipped smile. "This is what you were so nervous about? Wanting to put me in handcuffs?" I asked, trying to not laugh. Humour leaving my mind as his head shakes. "I want you to put me in handcuffs." He says, no louder than a heavy breath. Goosebumps covering my body as the words hit me, images of Harry cuffed to the bed, moaning beneath me run throughout my head. "Oh," Being all I can say.

He waits for something else to leave my lips, his brows furrowing as he realizes there's nothing more to come. "Is that "Oh" like "Oh my god, no way" or like," his chest begins to rise and fall quickly. "Oh my god, please," coming out more moan-like than the previous suggestion. I lick my lips before tugging the bottom one between my teeth. "That one," I move from the edge of the bed to standing in front of him, taking the cold accessories from his hand. "Lie down," I tell him as his eyes widen, flicking between mine and the cuffs.

He scoots back into the middle of the bed, resting his head against the pillows and his eyes pour into mine with wild anticipation. I return to my position of being seated across his lap as his hands grab onto my thighs, a newly developed instinct. Harry lets out a deep breath as he removes them and looks into my eyes before placing them above his head, resting them against the four-poster bed frame. I bite my lip to stop myself from moaning at the purely obscene sight in front of me as his lips part. "Cuff me," he breathes out.

I lean over him, placing one cuff around his wrist and then to the, thankfully, sturdy, wooden frame before repeating it to his other one. His fists clench within the freezing cold metal as I move off of his lap and kneel between his legs instead. His head lifts off of the pillows to watch me, his pushed back fringe falling over his face and resting just above his eyes. I hook my fingers below the band of his boxers as his hips rise off the bed, already so needy for my touch.

I look up into his hungry eyes as I start pulling them down, his cock already leaking against his stomach as he lets out a quiet moan at the feeling of final freedom. I throw his boxers to the floor, along with the rest of his clothes from this evening and press a kiss to his hip as I hear the metal rattle a little, my eyes darting up to see his closed and his lips pouted. I run my hands up his thighs, my fingers lightly tracing over his tiger and California tattoos as his face screws up.

I wrap my hand around him as his lips part into a broken moan and his head rests against his arm, refusing to fall back into the pillow to watch me play with him and his emotions. I start moving slowly, watching him get overwhelmed already, the entire situation being more than arousing and his hair beginning to stick to his forehead as his body gets covered in a sheer layer of sweat and desperation. I lean my head down, my eyes watching his face with every move I make, waiting for his attention to return to me instead of the thoughts, or lack thereof, inside his head.

His eyes shoot open as he feels my tongue dance around his tip and he chokes out something between a moan and a sob. "Please. Please give me more. I want your mouth, please," he rambles out as his wrist tugs against one of the cuffs. "It's a shame you can't push my head down to get what you want, isn't it?" I ask as I kiss the base of his cock and his legs thrash around the bed. "Please," He whispers, looking at me with teary eyes, red, bitten lips and need written all over his face.

I look up at him in awe, shocked by this completely submissive side of Harry as his eyes droop and he breathes rapidly before a smirk takes over my face. "Well, if you're that desperate..." I say before wrapping my lips around his tip and moving my hand back around the rest. He lets out a whine and bites into his bicep, stopping any more from filling the room. I take him further into my mouth until my nose is pressed against his stomach and his eyes are closed as tightly as they could possibly be.

I suck him off until a string of broken moans leaves his spit-soaked lips along with hitching breaths and squeaks. "I'm gonna cum. Please don't stop. Please," I pull my mouth off and rest his tip against my tongue, replacing it with my hand once more and bringing him to the first orgasm of the night. His chin is flush against his chest as his mouth lays open, producing noises so soft and beautiful, they could pass as music themselves. His body stills as he releases into my mouth, finishing with a breathy chuckle and a moan of relief before looking down at me with a soft smile and glassy eyes.

"Thank you, for trying this with me," He mumbles out as I make my way back up the bed to straddle him. "But you can uncuff me now, let's do it as normal," I could tell by the way his cock twitches when I put my hands on his stomach and his wrists pull against the cuffs that he's more than happy to stay locked to the bed. "But, we're having so much fun..." I say with a smirk as I grind my hips down onto his naked body. His eyes close briefly before his head leans back, looking up at his now cuff-dented wrists and moaning.

He lifts it back up, resting against his arm and looking at me for a second, letting out a chuckle and biting his lip as he looks my body up and down. "You always do look the sexiest in my shirts, messy hair, on top. Leave it on," He says as my hands start playing with the hem, getting ready to ride him. I get off of the bed to remove my underwear, taking in the view before me and then returning to sit across his waist.  

He grinds his hips into mine at the contact of our skin, his head turning further into his arm out of frustration to not be able to pull me closer to him, messing his sweaty fringe up as he does so. I lean down to kiss him for the first time since we started this, his teeth immediately tugging at my bottom lip followed by a swipe of his tongue. "Please fuck me," His whispers against them, the metal rattling again in the background. "I need you, please. I can't do this anymore. I'm so hard, please fuck me," He wasn't lying.

I sit back against his raised legs, his thighs pushing against my back as his body adjusts to the pressure that me moving put on his cock. "You got it, loverboy," I say before raising my hips and finally wrapping my hand around his cock to line him up with my entrance and slowly sinking down as his wrists pull on the handcuffs, his head slamming back into the pillows, choked up. I press my hands to his stomach to support myself before moving my hips, riding him faster than I normally would, knowing he won't last.

He looks down at me through his eyelashes with a big, blissed-out grin on his face as his hands twist in the cuffs, applying pressure to where they've marked his wrists. "Hurts so good," he quietly moans out as his hips lift up, working against mine. Harry keeps fucking into me the best he can, given the circumstances, as we both approach our orgasms, getting off on each other's desperation. He positions his head against his bicep for the last time, just to watch the finale, his fringe stuck to his forehead whilst the rest of it is thrown around in slight, messy curls.

"I'm so close, please. Just like that," He moans into his arm, his eyes scrunching closed as I roll my hips harder into his, feeling him as deep as he can be. I lean forward, wrapping my arms under his and pressing my head to his shoulder before bouncing myself on his cock as he rests his head against mine. "I'm gonna cum. Cum with me," he moans into my hair and that's all it takes. I gently bite down into his neck which, of course, sets him off. His hands grab hold of the bed frame as he releases into me, moaning my name.

We lay there for a minute, listening to the occasional metal clang and shaky breath before I lift myself off of him and press a kiss to his lips. I pick the key up from the bedside table and undo the handcuffs, a little gasp leaving my mouth when I see how red and dented his wrists are but he places his hands upon my cheeks and pulls me in for a kiss. "I'm fine, it's fine. I promise, I loved it," he tells me with a shy smile and rolling us over to sleep for the night.

[adore-holland]

Under Renovation |T.H.| - Chapter 5

Pairing: Tom Holland x Celeb!Reader

Warning: Actually not a whole lot? Actual fluff?? (Is that even possible?)

Word Count: 3000+

A/N: I know it’s been long! I’m so sorry! School got in the way with lots of tests because of everything going on, and mild writers block and yeah... But it’s here! Also, let me know if a Tom’s POV chapter is wanted! <3 

Series Masterlist

Chapter 5:

It’s always seemed weird to you how time always seems to move quicker when you don’t really want it to. It had been two months now, since your breakup with Tom, seven weeks since you moved to the states, and yet time had gone by so fast it barely felt like any had passed at all. Your last seven weeks had been scheduled down to the minute. The producers had assigned you an assistant, Jessica, who brought you your meals right on time, made sure a car was always ready to take you to your next location and so on. You hadn’t really had a moment to yourself. You would wake up in the morning to go train with a personal trainer to get in proper shape for the movie, after that you barely had time to shower and eat breakfast before you had to go practice new choreographies with Mena for a couple hours, after that it was meetings and readings and all the other things that kind of just melts together in your brain. Fortunately filming starts tomorrow, and it’s been a while since you’ve been this excited for a project.

 Not today though, today you actually have a day off for just yourself, and hopefully some time with Dan. He had been quite busy too, having gotten a job as an assistant photographer at some fancy magazine you couldn’t really remember the name of.

 Life had kept you busy, and you can’t figure out whether you’re grateful or annoyed. It’s not that you don’t like being busy. You are back to dancing every day, getting back in shape and in general just feeling better and better and more like yourself for every day that passes. At the same time, it’s weird to think that it’s already been so long since you left your life in London behind. You haven’t seen Tom in two months, and the fact that you’re slowly becoming okay with that fact freaks you out, just a tiny bit.

 It’s always hard to explain how one processes a breakup. Easily is not a good word to describe it, but you had just slowly begun to think less and less about him. Your life had kind of just taken over, and the spaces that would usually have been reserved for him had been filled by something else. Weekly date nights or phone calls had turned to going out with Ashley and Chrissy. Dancing in the kitchen at 3 am had turned to dancing in the studio with Mena and so on and so forth. Life just kind of seemed to move on without him.

 Strangely, you weren’t really sad anymore so much as confused. You still had no idea why he broke up with you, of course there was that girl people now suspected was his girlfriend, but that would make no sense considering he tried to kiss you. But you can’t really do anything about that confusion. Of course, you could reach out to him and ask him why, but life seemed calm now, the nights really being the only time you had time to think about him, and he is very much still in your dreams, but life was still. Reaching out to him would be like removing the cast way before the bone is set again or packing up the puzzle with pieces still not placed.

 When you had called him, he had tried to say something, but you had hung up. A part of you kind of hoped that he would try harder to reach you. Somewhere deep inside you wanted him to chase you, but you also knew that wasn’t going to happen. You don’t chase someone you broke up with.

 But despite the confusion, you’ve begun thinking about him in a different light again. Despite the heartache, he was with you through the most transformative years of your life, played a huge role in who you are today and the way you view love and relationships. Despite the pain you’ve felt these last two months, you not only still love him, but also all the memories you have involving him.

 You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, looking out of the large windows that cover the entire wall, just watching the place you now call home. Dan is downstairs cooking up his famous pancakes, but you can’t quite bring yourself to go down there yet. You lie back down on the bed, closing your eyes and just feeling the comforter welcome you.

 :)-(:

~Three years ago~

 “That is literally so cliché!” Tom exclaims loudly as he points to the people on screen. “That would so never happen in real life.” He runs a frustrated hand over his face, before brushing his hair back, and you swallow a thick lump in your throat at the sight of his muscles slowly flexing and relaxing under his shirt, and his luscious curls that swallow his fingers and god you want to run your fingers through his hair in a much less innocent way.

 “You don’t believe in clichés?” You ask, chuckling when he turns to you with furrowed brows and puckered lips. “You are literally a walking cliché, mate.” You can’t help it, so you reach over and mess up his hair, noticing the way his brown eyes stay on your face, watching the small smile on your lips.

 “What are you on about?” He smirks now, and you hum before letting your hand fall to his bicep, resting it there, because you really just can’t help yourself. The tight white t-shirt and his low-hanging sweatpants and perfect pinkish lips, and oh god... You’re staring. You let your hand fall back down into your lap.

 “You’re literally the world’s golden boy, Tom. Everyone adores you, every single girl on this planet would run naked down Oxford street if that meant just a chance at meeting you.” With a sigh you scoot a bit closer to him, almost sitting impossibly close now. You breathe out, watching a thoughtful look settle on his beautiful face. There is no chance in hell you would ever admit it, but you would probably run naked down Oxford Street for him to even think of you as something different than just his best friend.

 “Right, and how many guys do you have thirsting over you every day?” He winks at you, and you’re suddenly sitting too close to him, a space much too intimate for you and him, and there’s a line. A line that’s keeping you from what you truly want, but also one that’s keeping you from losing someone you barely know if you can live without - and now you’re scooting back away from him.

“You know how many of my mates have asked me to set them up with you? I’m your first line of defense against those tossers, you should be thankful.” He chuckles and grabs your waist to prevent you from removing yourself from him any further.

 “Thank you? What if I wanted a guy in my life? What if you’re the reason I’m gonna end up as an old maid?” A surprised squeal leaves you when you feel Tom’s fingers beginning to tickle your sides. “Don’t you dare” you warn, but the huge grin on his face softens you up. Big mistake.

 “You don’t need any guy, y/n. And if you need someone to reach the higher shelves, I’m here.” He looks at you intently, his hands slowly making their way down and up under your shirt to settle on your waist again. This is a very dangerous game. The heat from his hands is spreading all throughout your body, to places he probably wasn’t intending to reach, but here you are, flexing your thighs slightly to resist clenching them together. Falling for your best friend was the worst idea you had ever had.

 “Like you could ever reach that high,” It’s your turn to wink at him, and a blush bursts out on his cheeks before he starts moving his fingers against your sides again, forcing you to lay down on the couch, in an effort to get away from his skillful fingers.  

 Your entire body is bubbling with laughter as tears begin to make their way down your flushed cheeks. Your soft grey sweater has ridden up to just under your bra, and Tom’s soft fingers brush against your sides mercilessly while he hovers above you, a huge grin plastered on his beautiful face.

 It’s a typical movie night. You, Tom and Harrison had scheduled movie nights every last Friday in the month. When you had told your friend Marie about it, she had warned you that your crush on Tom wouldn’t go away if you kept snuggling into him all the time, and while you knew she was right, you also couldn’t help but crave the safe feeling that came from being tucked under his arm and against his chest. The amount of times you had fallen asleep on him was getting ridiculous at this point, but he didn’t seem to mind so you kept on. In truth, it was breaking your heart, to know that one day he would get in a relationship with someone that wasn’t you, and it wouldn’t be acceptable for you to cuddle with someone’s boyfriend.

 Your laughter halts when Tom’s fingers stop moving. He glances down at you, a smirk playing on his lips before he nods his head in the direction of the TV, where a couple is making out, heavily. With a squeak you reach your hands up to cover your eyes, thankful that Harrison is in the bathroom so he can’t tease you about the very compromising position you are currently in, along with the heavy breathing and moaning from the movie.

 “Oh god, make them stop!” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but Tom obviously hears it. His face is suddenly nuzzled into your neck, his laughter making his breath puff out onto your skin, and you swear your heart stops. He’s not even hovering over you anymore, just straight up laying on top of you, while you can hear the couple on the TV getting it on.

 “Tommy?” You ask softly, slowly removing your hands from his face, and instead placing one of them between his shoulder blades, and the other on his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling slightly. With your hand resting on his neck, you feel his pulse quicken, almost matching your own at this point.

 Carefully he hoists himself up so he’s resting on his forearms, head right over yours.

 “Y/n, I could do more than just reach shelves for you.” Another surge rushes downwards in your body at the sound of his husky voice. He has never spoken to you like that before, and the way his eyes are staring into your soul right now, along with the feeling of his breath on your lips and just everything - you have to try your hardest not to let out a desperate whimper. Instead, you furrow your brows, not sure what he’s talking about.

 “What do you mean?” Your voice is so low now, you’re barely even whispering.

 “Y/n…” He looks at you, devastated and confused. You reach one hand up to play with the curls on the back of his neck, and with your other hand you rub soothing circles on his bicep.

“You have no idea how much better I would treat you than any of those wankers out there.” 

You stop breathing, stop moving, stop everything. Did he just say that?

“What did you just say?” Slowly, you let your hand slide down so it’s resting on his cheek, and he nuzzles into it, your breath immediately catching in your throat.

 “You’re right. I am cliché, but that’s your fault.” The way he’s looking at you makes fireworks go off in your brain, happy ones. Like the first time you celebrate New Year’s without your parents, and the first time you don’t need ear plugs. It’s excitement, happiness, new beginnings and so much joy that you barely have enough room for it.

“You made me fall in love with my best friend… And I know this is so fucking cheesy; but be a cliché with me?” He chuckles nervously. His eyes searching your face for any response, but you’re just smiling, new tears brimming in your eyes. You nod.

 “Oh, thank god.” He huffs out, his nervous smile now replaced with a lazy but excited one. “Does that mean I can kiss you now?” You nod again, not trusting your voice to work and the moment he leans down to capture your lips with his, the fireworks stop. The heat is still there, the joy and the adoration is there, but there are no fireworks. Instead, you feel as if you’re coming home from a long night out, a busy work weekend, a terrible day spent mostly in traffic. You’re home and you can finally relax, every worry of the day ripples off you as his lips move gently against yours - it’s the comfort of a warm shower before going to bed, a homemade meal with the people you love, handpicked flowers instead of a store-bought bouquet. As he kisses you, gently and carefully like you’re gonna slip away any second, you realize that this right here is home. Not his apartment, not London, not even England. He is home.

 :)-(:

~Present~

 This is home now, you remind yourself. LA is home now. Without further thought you stand up and make your way downstairs to Dan.

 “Morning Moviestar, did ya’ sleep well?” Dan greets you with a side hug and a kiss on the top of your head. You just nod into his chest before walking over to plop yourself down on the kitchen island.

 “I was thinking we could go shoot some photos today. I really want to add some to my portfolio, and you’re literally the perfect model.” He watches you as you snuggle into your cropped hoodie before letting out a deep breath.

 “We could do that, and then maybe board games tonight? Oooh and tea, it’s been so long since I’ve done anything remotely british,” you laugh.

 “Deal, but first! Breaktfast! The most important meal of the day!” And with that he turns back around to continue his cooking. As if on cue, your phone starts buzzing from its place beside you. A photo of a very drunk Mena from your first night out pops up on your screen.

 You and Mena have gotten close over the last weeks. You’re bound to given all the time you’ve spent together, and he’s been a pillar of support for you. There are no romantic feelings between you, and it’s been fantastic to have a guy you can talk straight relationship problems with, no offence to Dan of course. You pick up the phone.

 “Hi! You’re up early,” you chuckle. 9 am on a day with no work sounds about impossible for the Mena you’ve come to know.

 “Well! All the good vegan breakfast places all get overrun if I don’t get to them fast enough.” You can basically hear the smile in his voice.

 “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Dan smiles before flipping the pancakes. He would never admit it to you while sober, but he has definitely garnered a slight crush on your new friend. Mena knows, and to be honest he’s flattered. But honestly, it’s no wonder. One look at Mena and most girls fawning over Tom would fawn over him too. They’re very very similar with their dark hair, dark eyes, height and just all-around happy personalities. The only reason you’re not interested in him, as far as you can tell, is that despite all the similarities, Mena isn’t Tom.

 “Remember our rebound date plan? Could we do that tomorrow night? My ex texted me last night and I damn near wrote that I missed her. I need the rebound y/n!” He chuckles, and you smile. After everything you’ve heard about his ex, you know just how similar your situations are. Except of course, you didn’t get cheated on. Or… at least you hope you didn’t.

 “I should have time then, where do you wanna go?” You watch your feet dangling above the ground. Just thinking about feeling any semblance of romance makes you giddy. You’re a sucker for romance and anything that has to do with that intimate bond you get with someone, and while you will admit you’re not all the way over Tom, it will be nice to do something romantic again.

 “Fantastic! If you’re up for it, there’s this vegan restaurant I think you might enjoy. If not we can find somewhere and just make sure they have some options for me.”

 After discussing the last details of the date-thing, you hang up and glance back up at Dan, who is now nearly done with his batter, a beautiful stack of pancakes teasing you from beside him.

 It is going to be weird, going on a date again. Your first date with Tom was perfect, every single aspect of it. Same goes for the second and third. All of your dates with Tom were perfect. The thought saddens you a bit. Despite your efforts, you just can’t get him out of you head. But to be fair to yourself, you did think he was it for you. Even if he wasn’t it for you, he was still good for you, you remind yourself.

 “Hey, you alright?” Dan nudges your knee with his hand

 “Yeah, was just thinking about Tom again.” You watch carefully as the confusion flickers across Dan’s face. “In a good way though.” A smile falls on your lips when Dan sighs in relief.

 “Yeah, how so?” He returns to the pans, quickly checking the consistency of the pancakes before humming with approval.

 “You know, just all the good times we had together, how much he changed me for the better? I was thinking about our first kiss earlier. It’s kind of crazy to think about now.”

 “Very true. I still can’t believe Harrison managed to walk in on that without freaking out.” Dan chuckles pouring a new batch of batter onto the pan. “Didn’t he manage to get a picture of you?”

 Your blood rushes to your cheeks. Harrison had walked in and caught you, and as you found out later, he had grabbed his phone and taken a very lovely picture of the two of you. Your families found it adorable, but the three of you all new what scene was playing on TV and couldn’t take the romantic atmosphere seriously because of it.

 “Yeah, it should be in the box I brought with me.” With a hum you reach over and grab one of the banana pieces Dan has cut for the pancakes, but not without getting a slap on your hand first.

 “Wait.. A box with pictures?” He asks, halting his actions. “Like, a shoebox with ‘Tom’ written on it?”

 You hum, going to grab another banana slice.

 “Y/n.. Don’t hate me. But when Tom came over, I kinda figured you were gonna give him his stuff, and I thought that box was meant for him, so I put it down with the rest of his stuff…”

“You did what now?” Fuck.

Taglist:

@spider-manholland @cinna-minseok @trumpettay @racewife2004 @paradisiacalsparks @farfromshawn @lovely-geek @plutoneu @primadonnasdream @panicattheeverywherekid

[something-tofightfor]

Tipping Point - 6

Pairing: Benjamin Greene x Reader (friendship)

Word Count: 7094

Rating: M (language, marital issues)

Summary: His marriage to Julia over (for the most part), Benjamin decides to take control of his life... and of his future. 

Author’s Note: Things are happening. The next few chapters are rapid-fire change... hold on to your butts. 

“Benjamin.” He felt someone nudging his shoulder. “Wake up.” He opened his eyes, blinking slowly and fighting the urge to stretch, though he desperately needed to. My legs weren’t meant to bend like this for so long. He turned to face the man next to him, fighting back a yawn. “You were out.” I was. He rubbed at his eyes, nodding. 

 “Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep on a plane, but…” He stifled another yawn. “Nine hours will do it, I guess.” Eric laughed, the outline of his face just visible in the dim lighting. “We landing?” 

 “Yeah, just about.” Eric cracked his neck, pointing at the window. “You might be able to see the lights if you open the window, it’s gonna be dark when we land.” Benjamin reached up, pushing the window shade slowly, and peered through the small window. Nothing yet. Just clouds. Keeping his eyes on the glass, he thought back to the previous six weeks - and the series of events that had led him to his current situation: on a plane with Eric and about to land in Chicago for a three week holiday.

 --- 

 He’d met Julia the following day in front of the law office that they’d initially gone to, the woman dressed casually. “I’m meeting the kids for lunch afterward.” She sniffed, looking him up and down. “See that you didn’t bother to -”

 “I came from work, Julia. I’m on my lunch break.” He shook his head. “Can we just… enough with the attitude for once?” His tone softened. “This isn’t what either of us wants, but it’s what is, and we don’t have to…” He coughed, trying to hide the hitch in his voice. “We’re both dealing with this in our own ways, Julia.” She laughed at that, leaning in. 

 “Yeah, you’re sure dealing with it, Benjamin.” What’s that supposed to mean? “With that little American that’s been popping up on your page?” He groaned, gritting his teeth. Guess not. 

 “Fuck’s sake, Julia. She’s Eric’s sister, and she’s seeing someone. I’m sure that that’s apparent to you by the man she’s posing with in her profile picture?” He gestured toward the building. “You’re allowed to talk about all of this publicly with your friends and family, so why am I not allowed to make a new friend?” He swallowed hard. “Especially one that’s indirectly involved in my life via the roommate I wouldn’t need if you’d been willing to swallow your pride and see a fucking marriage counsellor with me.” I’m done mincing my words. I’m done trying to stay civil since you so obviously won’t. 

 She seemed surprised at his outburst, unable to respond aside from mumbling his name a few times, her eyes flashing in the sunlight. Good. 

 “Let’s get this done with, Julia. Sign these papers and…” He stopped, feeling a lump rise in his throat. “And get you on your way to lunch.” She turned on her heel and walked toward the building, Benjamin a few steps behind. It took only a few minutes to finish adding signatures where they were needed, and Benjamin was surprised to hear that the actual processing of the final paperwork would take weeks if not months, depending on the backlog. The representative had told them that there was nothing more that was needed - and as soon as they received the official decrees in the mail, it would be as if they were never married in the first place; as if the previous 40 months of their lives hadn’t happened. But they did. They … 

 They paused on the sidewalk, staring at each other, and Benjamin didn’t know what to say. I won’t see her again. Not after this. This is the last time I… He stared at her face, the way the lines in her skin had deepend; seemingly over the last few months. Maybe she’s just as upset as I am. “Julia, I…” He thought back to seeing her in the museum for the first time, the way that only a few friendly words of conversation had changed his life. 

 “Goodbye, Benjamin.” She shook her head and turned away from him, but his hand shot out, gripping her elbow and forcing her to turn back. “What.” 

 “Julia, I…” Keep it together. “I don’t regret it. None of it.” He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs. “I lo-”

 “I do.” She spat the words out, tearing her arm from his grasp. “All of it.” She walked away from him, but all Benjamin could think about was that the wavering of her voice had given her away. She’s lying. 

 But he let her go, watching the back of her head as it disappeared into the crowd of people, and then he turned in the opposite direction, opting to walk the ten blocks back to work. I need the air. Surprisingly, he hadn’t thought about Julia while he walked, instead focusing on other things; work deadlines, reminding himself to pay his mobile bill, what he was going to have for dinner that evening, meeting Zac and Bianca for drinks later in the week. Stay busy. Stay preoccupied. 

 He texted you after arriving back at the office, letting you know that he’d signed the last bit of paperwork, and even though you’d taken some time to respond, he appreciated the simple honesty of your message: Onward and upward, Benjamin. You’ll be alright. 

 And he had been - carrying on with his life and trying to move past the time he’d spent with Julia. He wasn’t interested in dating, and though both Zac and Bianca had suggested people that they knew would be willing rebounds, not looking for anything serious, Benjamin declined. Focus on myself. It’s what I need. He’d met Leo just over a week after signing the papers with Julia, and the two had spent a few hours at the bar, the youngest Day apologizing profusely for his initial treatment of Benjamin and promising to keep in touch, now that they were both in London and seeing Benjamin didn’t always mean seeing Julia. “She’s best in small doses, Benjamin. You know that as well as I do.” Leo’s name started popping up in his notifications much more often - while yours began appearing less. 

 He’d asked you why one night, near the end of May, and you’d laughed it off at first, but Benjamin had persisted. “Please tell me. If I did something wrong, I -” He watched as the expression on your face changed, the wood of your headboard visible behind you as you shifted on the mattress. 

 “You didn’t. It’s Noah.” Benjamin’s stomach dropped, but he stayed quiet. “He thinks...he thinks that it’s strange that we talk so much.” Is it? “You’re in another country, Benjamin, but he just…” 

 “I’ve only met you once, and I’m.. was... married.” You rolled your eyes, tongue poking into your cheek. 

 “I know, and that’s what I’ve told him, it’s not like…” You paused. “I told him you were going through a divorce, and you just wanted someone to talk to that had nothing to do with that situation, and I think that made it worse. He said…” You frowned. Said what? “He thinks you’re just trying to keep me close in case I come back out there, so you can…” Benjamin said your name, sitting up straight. 

 “That’s ridiculous. You’re my friend, I’m not…” What a prick. “You’re too smart to let that happen.” He decided to make a joke, wanting to remove the worried expression from your face. “Besides, you know what a fuckup I am, you wouldn’t ever let yourself get involved with someone like me.” You didn’t know everything, but you knew basics, and though Benjamin would have told you what he’d gone through if you’d asked, you never had. Do I want her to?

 “Yeah, you’re downright awful, Benjamin Greene.” You sat up, too, frowning. Sometimes I feel like I am. “You know I don’t mean that, right? I even told him that you were the one that encouraged me to give him a chance, but it didn’t matter.” 

 “I don’t want to come between you two.” Benjamin shifted the phone into both hands, making sure that you could see his whole face. “I’m serious, especially if you’re happy.” He saw you flinch at that, but before he could say anything else, you cut in. 

 “It’s still new, Benjamin. I’ve only been seeing him for like two months, so I don’t know if I’m happy yet, but I do know that I’m glad I didn’t just turn him down without even seeing.” He nodded, but he was slightly thrown off. You’d know if you were happy. You’d know immediately. He thought back to the pictures he’d seen of you at the game, the images where there was a slight distance between you and Noah. She’d know. “Anyway,” you continued. “I’m just trying to -”

 “Don’t explain yourself. Not necessary.” He rolled his eyes before speaking again, putting the topic to rest. “Besides, we know the truth, right?” You agreed. “I like talking to you.” A lot. “But I’m not going to let you risk ruining a relationship for me, so do what you need to do.” 

 A few days later, Eric had come home from work, grinning from ear to ear, and Benjamin had been curious as to why. “I’m going home for a few weeks.” He flopped onto the couch, putting his feet up. “Got approved for leave at work, and I’m leaving the second week of July. I won’t be back ‘til August.” Three weeks by myself? I haven’t had that in...Benjamin shook his head back and forth slowly. 

 “That’s great Eric.” He thought, an idea popping into his head. “Maybe I’ll request some time off then, too. Summer’s usually not too busy - or so I’ve heard - it would be a good time for me to get away, enjoy some time by -”

 “Come home with me.” Eric leaned in. “My sister’s house is plenty big enough for both of us to stay, and I’m sure she’d love to show you around the city.” 

 “I can’t do that, there’s no way…” Benjamin quickly turned the offer down. “I can’t intrude on that, you’re going home to see you fam-” Eric waved him off. 

 “You could meet all of my friends. They’ve all been curious about the people I’ve met while over here.” What? “Just think about it, Benjamin. There’s plenty of room, and flights are cheap as hell right now.” I can’t. He’d told Eric that he’d think about it, already mentally running through the reasons why it was a terrible idea in his head. It’s not … I can’t… I don’t want… 

 But four days later, Benjamin had the same three week period as Eric requested off and approved as vacation time - and round trip airline tickets booked. 

--- 

 He blinked, watching as the lights of Chicago became visible through the low-hanging clouds. “It’s massive.” He spoke quietly, but Eric laughed, agreeing. Benjamin felt the man settle back into the seat next to him. “And you live outside of -”

 “About 40 minutes outside the city, but everyone does.” He sighed. “You’ll see.” And she’s coming to get us in the middle of the night. Thinking about you made Benjamin smile, and he remembered the change in your tone of voice as soon as you’d learned he’d be coming home with Eric, the way you’d immediately started planning things for the three of you to do. We’ll see if anything actually comes of it. Benjamin was familiar with canceled plans, and so until he was actually doing the things you’d suggested, he wouldn’t count on them happening. “I’m going to sleep the whole way back in the car.” Eric was grumbling. “Didn’t sleep for shit on this plane.” 

 By the time the wheels touched down on the tarmac, Benjamin was almost giddy with excitement. First time in the United States,and I get to see a city like this. As they deplaned, Benjamin separated from Eric, promising to meet him at baggage claim after going through customs. The process was always nerve wracking, and though he’d traveled plenty after changing his name, Benjamin felt a nagging sense of worry that he’d be stopped at the border and detained. But he answered the bored sounding woman’s questions, had his passport stamped, and was on his way toward the luggage carousels much faster than he’d anticipated. He saw Eric waiting next to one of them after only a few seconds of searching, and Benjamin readjusted his bag over his shoulder, heading in that direction. 

 He called out Eric’s name just as the conveyor belt began to move, but before he got an answer, he felt two arms wrapping around his waist, your voice excitedly saying his name. Oh, well. Hello. He hugged you back, leaning into it, and when you raised your head to meet his eyes, Benjamin felt his chest get tight. What? “Welcome to the United States, Benjamin Greene.” You ginned up at him, giving him one final squeeze before you let go and stepped back. “I hope your bags come off the plane first, because I don’t want to be here all night.” He laughed with you - as did Eric - and luckily, you got your wish. The three of you headed out the doors and to the parking garage within ten minutes, you and Eric talking excitedly between the two of you, and Benjamin simply looking around. 

 He went to climb in the backseat of your car, but you stopped him, pointing at the front. “What? Eric should -” Eric snorted and shook his head, pointing at himself. 

 “Eric is going to fall asleep in a few minutes, so he needs the whole back seat.” You laughed as your brother said your name. “Benjamin slept for the last few hours, so he’ll be able to stay awake to get you home.” I will? Still trying to process the sudden jolt of emotion that he’d felt when you hugged him, Benjamin took his place next to you, buckling his seatbelt. “Just don’t freak out because everything’s backwards,” Eric mumbled as he stretched out. “Wanna get home in one piece.” 

 “I’ll get you there, you dick.” You replied to your brother with mock anger, turning your head to look at Benjamin. “But seriously, it was super weird for me to be in a car in London, so if you -”

 “I’ll be fine.” Benjamin leaned back in his seat, turning his head toward you. “I’ve been to countries where they drive like you do.” Both of you were quiet for a few minutes as you exited the garage, paying and then navigating back to the freeway. “How far away are we? Eric said…”

 “Well it’ll be faster right now because there’s no traffic,” you told him as you smoothly merged into a new lane. “Maybe 25 minutes. Probably less.” That’s so much time. “How was your flight?” You started out asking him simple questions, and without much prompting, you and Benjamin fell into conversation as if you’d been having them in person for years instead of only for a few months with the aid of technology. It shouldn’t be this easy. Eric had been true to his word, falling asleep in only a few minutes, soft snores coming from the back seat. “He always sleeps on car trips. He has since he was a kid.” You glanced over at him, Benjamin taking the opportunity to watch your movements in the darkened interior of the vehicle. “You can sleep too if you want. I slept for most of the flight back here in December, and then I fell asleep in the car on the way home.” 

 “Nah.” He raised one arm, scratching the side of his head. “Not gonna leave you alone to drive all this way.” Benjamin went silent, waiting. What else is there to say? “You didn’t have to come get us.”

 “Oh, but I did.” You jerked one thumb at your sleeping brother before settling your hand on the gearshift. “I never woulda heard the end of it from him if I didn’t.” True. “It’s… it’s good to see you, Benjamin.” He heard the hesitation in your voice. “I was surprised when Eric … when you said you were coming.” He kept his eyes on the road in front of him, watching as the lights illuminating the road flicked by. I was too. 

 “I haven’t been on holiday in years.” He rubbed one thigh with the palm of his hand, fighting not to reach out and place it over yours. “Seemed like the perfect time.” What is wrong with you, Benjamin? “And…” He turned his head fully toward you, watching as you briefly met his eyes. “You did promise me pizza a while ago.” The sound of your quiet laughter and agreement filled the car, and Benjamin again felt his chest tighten. What is happening? 

---

 Though you did have plenty of room in your house, it turned out that there was only one spare room with an actual bed in it, which Eric had claimed. The man carried his suitcase into the house and immediately went up the stairs, mumbling about how he couldn’t wait to pass out, leaving you and Benjamin standing in the front hall. “Well.” He turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen him like this before.” You laughed, tossing your keys and bag onto the kitchen counter. 

 “He’s always like this when he travels. Complains the first night, sleeps for about 8 hours straight as soon as possible, and then he’s fine.” You flipped the light switch, illuminating your kitchen in a soft light. It’s cozy in here, looks lived in. He glanced around the room, not wanting to look too nosy, but you said his name, calling his attention back to you. “I went shopping earlier, got some things for you guys - mostly stuff that I know Eric likes, but he also sent me a couple things he said you keep in the apartment for yourself?” You did what? “ You moved through the kitchen, placing your hands on cupboards and drawers, telling him where things were. “Anything in the house is fair game. You see something, go ahead and eat or drink it - or use it.” Crossing your arms, you leaned against the counter. “I mean it. You’re a guest here, but you don’t have to ask before -”

 “You didn’t have to do any of that.” Benjamin stepped forward. “I would have sorted a trip to the grocery out, I -”

 “You flew thousands of miles to see m- to see Chicago. I’m not going to let you go hungry… or thirsty.” You straightened up, beckoning him over to where you stood. “Don’t tell Eric.” Tell him what? You waited until Benjamin was next to you to open a drawer, pointing out a small but familiar tin. “I remembered you said that was your favorite tea, and so I had some shipped in for you.” You looked up at him, and Benjamin was acutely aware of how close he was standing to you and the way your arm felt, brushing up against his. Stop it, Benjamin. Not the time. “Problem is that Eric also loves it, but I didn’t get it for him, I got it for you because I…” Your jaw worked, words trailing off as you stared at him. You what? “I wanted you to feel at home here, even though…” At home? He stayed quiet and after what felt like forever, tore his gaze away from yours to look at the tin, the tip of one finger resting on it. “I hope it’s enough, I didn’t know how much you’d drink, but…”

 “It’s perfect.” He felt a lump in his throat that he quickly swallowed, reaching up with one hand to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Thank you. It’s really… unnecessary.” You laughed, turning toward him, and taking a deep breath. 

 “It’s also kind of an …” You wrinkled your nose, rolling your eyes. “An “I’m sorry you have to sleep on a pull out couch in the rec room for three weeks’ present.” Quickly stepping away from him, you moved back through the kitchen, grabbing the handle of his suitcase as you passed it and dragging it behind you. Why is she… Benjamin shut the drawer, following you, and only a few seconds later - after pointing out the bathroom on the main floor - you were in the room where he’d be staying. “It’s not much, but it’s…” You sat down on the edge of the bed - blankets and pillows already arranged on it -  and looked up at him. “I spend a lot of time in this room, and it’s comfortable. Quiet, you’ll be able to sleep, and it gets dark, the curtains…I thought you’d like it more than a blow up mattress in the second spare bedroom.”

 “It’s great.” He looked around, eyeing the bookshelves and desk, the TV that was mounted above a stand on the wall. “You won’t miss it while I’m here?” 

 “No.” You remained seated, using one hand to stifle a yawn. “No, I can still come in here and grab what I need, and we can always fold the couch up if we want to be in here.” You rubbed at your eyes. “Big TV’s in the other room anyway, this one’s…” He said your name quietly, and you stopped speaking. 

 “Go to sleep. It’s late, and you’ve done a lot of driving.” He inhaled, a thought crossing his mind. “You don’t have  to work tomorrow, do you?” You stood, stretching, and Benjamin fought to keep his expression neutral as he watched the arch of your back, the way your neck looked as you turned your head to the side, eyes closing, another yawn escaping your lips. 

 “Nope.” You opened your eyes, looking back at him. “That’s the other surprise.” Surprise? For who? “I’m off for the next two weeks, so I can spend plenty of time with you ...and Eric.”  She paused. She paused after… You said goodnight after that, explaining where all of the light switches were, where the plugs were for his phone and any other devices he’d brought with him, pointing out the whiteboard where you’d written the wifi information down for him and then paused in the doorway. “Sleep as late as you want, Benjamin. We won’t bother you if the door’s closed.” You watched him for a few seconds, and though he would have sworn you wanted to say something else, you turned and left the room, your quiet footsteps fading as you made it back to the stairs. 

 On autopilot, Benjamin opened his suitcase and pulled out a fresh pair of pajama pants and a clean t shirt along with his toiletries before heading down the hallway and into the bathroom. It didn’t take him long to change and get ready for bed, and after he plugged his phone in, Benjamin wandered around the small room, fingers trailing over the spines of the books on the shelves, eyes moving over all of your knickknacks and pictures. “Stop it.” He spoke out loud to himself after a few minutes, running a hand through his hair and turning back toward the bed. “Whatever you’re thinking, Benjamin, it needs to stop right now. This isn’t a good idea.” 

 But he was unable to sleep for a long time that night, tossing and turning on the mattress as he thought about what you’d said - and had almost said to him. Did I come here to visit her, or did I come here to visit the city? 

 --- 

 True to your word, you spent a lot of time with the two of them over the following few days, taking both him and Eric grocery shopping the next afternoon, cooking dinner when the three of you got home. It was nice to relax, and even though it was warm and humid outside, Benjamin enjoyed it. The three of you sat in your small backyard as you ate, Eric catching you up on his life since January, and Benjamin giving both of you a quick recap of his situation. 

 It felt good to talk about what he’d been through and how he was feeling, and even though he didn’t go into a large amount of detail, he could tell you were listening intently, not just to placate him. It’s like I’ve been friends with these two for years, I can’t believe it’s only been a few months. You went out with Noah on the second day, apologizing profusely for abandoning them, but Eric took Benjamin to visit with a few of his friends, introducing him to some of the bars in Northbrook. This is so much different than home. 

 He enjoyed himself, though he allowed his mind to wander to you a few times, even when Eric’s female friends were talking to him, asking about what he did and whether or not he’d ever been to America before. It’s all the same. He was polite but held back from allowing any of them to pull him away from the group, preferring to drink his beer and keep an eye on the various sports that were being broadcast. He’d contemplated the merits of an American fling; there was no harm in it, nothing holding him back. Benjamin wanted to experience everything that he possibly could while on holiday, and despite the fact that he was still reeling from the end of his marriage, he’d promised himself that he would stay open to any opportunity that presented itself. 

 Though still waiting on the paperwork to come through, for what it was worth, he and Julia were no longer married. His ring was sitting in a box in the flat in London, and when people asked, he told them that he was single, which got him more than a few appraising looks from the other people in the bars. He was a few years older than both you and Eric, as well as many of Eric’s friends, but Benjamin had never found that a focus on age was important to him. Julia had been proof of that, and Allie before her - but was wary of the very young women that seemed most interested in him. That’s not worth it. Not at all. Eric’s personality attracted many people to their tables, and after not having gone out with large groups for such a long time, Benjamin was slightly overwhelmed by the time he and his friend were back in an Uber and headed back to your place. 

 “You’re gonna go home with an American girlfriend, Greene.” Eric wasn’t drunk but he was toeing the line, the happiness of being home with his friends coupled with cheap drinks making it easy. “Any of ‘em give you their number?” Benjamin laughed, leaning back against the seat. 

 “Couple of them asked, but I declined. I don’t know that I want to meet someone in a bar, Eric… it’s not my…” 

 “You’re goin’ home in a couple weeks, Benjamin.” Eric sniffed. “Look, all I’m saying is that you’re here for a while, and not everyone is looking for something long term.” He squeezed Benjamin’s shoulder. “You came here to have fun, right?” I did. He nodded. “Then let yourself have fun. There’s nothing wrong with flirting, nothing wrong with being friendly.” Eric closed his eyes, tilting his head back. “But my sister would probably kill you if you tried to bring someone back to her place, so…” What? Why? Benjamin blinked rapidly. “I tried that once, told the girl all about what my situation was and then tried to sneak her into the bedroom, and… Jesus, Benjamin, I’ve never heard someone yell so loud.” Eric opened his eyes. “So if you do end up meeting someone, I wouldn’t try to -” So it’s just about a stranger in her house, not about me. Got it. 

 “Wouldn’t dream of it, Eric. That’s just disrespectful.” The thought of seeing any sort of disappointment on your face made him anxious, though Benjamin didn’t know why. “I’ll keep that in mind, though.” Change the topic. “So you dated the one girl, Ashley?” Eric began talking, the conversation lasting until they’d been dropped off in your driveway. The first thing Benjamin noticed was that there was a second car parked there, and it wasn’t Eric’s. 

 “Oh, it looks like you get to meet Noah, Benjamin.” Eric scratched the side of his head. “Still a little weird that they’re dating if you ask me, but he always had a thing for her so…we’ll see what happens.” Eric led him to the front door, and Benjamin found himself taking deep, slow breaths. This will be good. It’ll make him see that there’s no reason for him to worry. “Noah! You and my sister better be decent!” Eric unlocked the front door, pushing it open and calling out, even as Benjamin winced. “Where are you?” 

 “Living room.” The man’s reply was deeper than Benjamin had expected, and they walked toward the sound of it. “Watching a movie.” He thought about turning and walking straight into his room, but Benjamin steeled himself, stepping into the darkened room where you and Noah were sitting together on the couch, your legs stretched out across his lap. “What’s up, Eric?” Benjamin’s eyes went immediately to the TV to see what you were watching, but before could figure it out, the screen paused. “And you must be Ben.” Here we go. 

 “And you’re Noah.” Benjamin turned toward the man, watching as he moved your legs, his fingers curling around your bare calves. “I’ve heard a -”

 “He goes by Benjamin, Noah.” Your voice was quiet, and Benjamin’s eyes moved to you briefly, watching as you reached out to put a hand on his arm. “Doesn’t like -” It’s not worth it. Eric flipped the light on, and Noah walked over, reaching out to shake Eric’s hand before pulling him into a quick hug. “Did you guys have fun?” You stood too, stepping closer to where the three men stood, and Benjamin watched as you eyed your brother, one eye narrowed. “Eric did, I can see that.” You turned your gaze to him. “What about you? How was your first American bar?” Would have been better if you w- 

 “Well, we went to a couple.” He laughed, shrugging his shoulder. “Lots of sports, lots of beer, lots of people.” He paused, but before he could speak again, Noah had stepped closer, blocking you from Benjamin’s line of sight. 

 “Good to meet you, Benjamin.” Noah stuck his hand out and Benjamin took it, his eyes moving slightly downward, as the man was a few inches shorter than him. “I’ve heard a lot about you - from both of ‘em.” 

 “Good things, I hope.” He kept his speech clipped, following Noah’s lead and sizing the man up before dropping his hand. Play nice, Benjamin. She likes him, don’t ruin this for her. “It’s good to meet another one of Eric’s friends.” He motioned toward you with his chin, wetting his lips. “And it’s nice to meet you, not just see you in her pictures.” This feels like a standoff. Why does it… there’s no reason. “I’m sure, “ he continued, rolling his neck from side to side. “I’m sure that we’ll see more of each other while we’re here, but I’m still a little jet lagged, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to head to bed.” He nodded once at Noah before turning to Eric. “See you tomorrow?” Eric tapped his forehead with one finger in a mock salute and then Benjamin finally let his gaze fall on you, noticing that you were tense. Oh no. “G’night.” 

 “‘Night, Benjamin.” You paused. “Let us know if the TV’s too loud.” He assured you that he would before turning and walking from the room, heading down the short hallway and into his bedroom. He again changed quickly, grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen after brushing his teeth. Laying down, Benjamin scrolled through his phone aimlessly, ears trained to the door and the faint sounds of the TV. This is ridiculous. It only took twenty minutes for him to climb off of the bed and dig through his bag, pulling out headphones and connecting them to his phone. Won’t be able to hear anything now. 

 But after ten minutes of a podcast, Benjamin realized that he wasn’t paying attention. This is a problem. Despite being tired, it took Benjamin a long time to fall asleep - even after switching to music, as his thoughts ran wild. 

--- 

 He woke up before both you and Eric the following morning, shuffling to the kitchen and starting to cook breakfast without bothering to get dressed. Focused on what he was doing and deep in thought, he didn’t hear you come into the room until you’d taken a seat on the counter behind him. “Smells good, Benjamin.” Shit. He turned to face you, glancing up and watching you smirk, eyes bright. “I’m taller than you for once.” You are. You hadn’t bothered to change either, and though you were wearing a t shirt like you had been the first night he’d met you, your legs were again bare, a pair of shorts replacing the sweats. “Are you cooking for yourself, or…” 

 “I’ll make you breakfast.” I haven’t cooked for anyone else in months. “Hope you like French toast.” You assured him that you did, and he busied himself adding eggs and a little more milk to the bowl, long fingers moving through your spice rack as he found cinnamon and vanilla, adding them to the liquid. “Do you think Eric will -”

 “No.” You sighed. “He’s still out, I looked into the room on my way down here..” Ask the real question. 

 “Did Noah stay? Should I -”

 “He left, Benjamin.” He heard you shifting behind him as you hopped off the counter and moved to the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of juice. “Can you grab me a cup? I don’t want to -” He moved quickly, glancing up and opening the correct cupboard on the first try, handing you a cup without breaking stride. “Thanks.” You poured yourself a drink and then instead of staying where you were, you got back onto the counter, sitting almost directly behind him. “We finished the movie and then he left. Said it felt weird to stay with you guys in the house.” Good. He had the thought before he could stop it, and though he was almost positive you hadn’t seen it, he felt his shoulders stiffen.  “What did you think of him? I know you only -” 

 Benjamin stared down at the bread in the pan, watching as the egg bubbled and browned. He’s … I don’t know. “I can’t really answer that.” Flipping the pieces over, Benjamin adjusted the heat, giving himself a few extra seconds to turn and look at you. “He didn’t say much, and I had a couple drinks, I don’t… it’s not fair to judge based on that.” I don’t like him. The truth was that Noah - being Eric’s friend - was probably a perfectly nice man, and Benjamin didn’t want to assume anything. “I’d have to actually sit down and talk with him before I... “ He cocked his head to the side, watching as you drank from the cup, your eyes never leaving his face. She sleeps on her right side, there’s marks from the pillow on her face. “Why? Why does my opinion matter? I’m -”

 “Because I trust your judgement.” You set the cup down, crossing your legs at the ankle. “Eric and I have known him for years, but you… your opinion is new.” You don’t want my opinion. Part of his revelation the night before was that he was attracted to you, and had been for months. He wouldn’t act on it - especially with you being involved with someone else - but Benjamin knew that he had to be honest with himself. It didn’t start out this way. He reminded himself of that as you waited for his answer. It was just nice to talk to someone new, but it… things changed after I knew Julia and I weren’t going to… “Shit, Benjamin!” You jumped off the counter, pushing past him and interrupting his thoughts. 

 “What?” He quickly turned, silently cursing himself for getting distracted and watched as you shoved the pan off the hot burner and onto the back one, twisting the knob back to ‘off’.

 “You must have bumped the…” You laughed, peering into the pan. “I think I saved it, but that could have been bad.” He looked down, reaching for the spatula and lifting the edge of one of the pieces of bread. It’s a little dark, but not ruined. You nudged him with your elbow, Benjamin sucking in a breath at the contact. “What would you do without me?” He waited a beat and then answered. 

 “Not sure. Probably burn your house down.” Though you moved away from him after he answered, stepping over to get plates out of another cupboard, the sound of your laughter ringing through the kitchen was well worth the loss of proximity.

 --- 

 The rest of the first week passed quickly, and though you didn’t ask him what he thought of Noah again, Benjamin could tell that you wanted an answer. I don’t know what to say. He’d come over again, the four of you eating dinner outside together, and though he tried not to, Benjamin watched the two of you closely, trying to assess the situation. She said she didn’t know if she was happy, but that was months ago, and… she seems alright now. The closer Benjamin watched, the more he saw similarities between his relationship with Julia and yours with Noah. But is it real, or am I just imagining things? 

 Though the man had warmed up slightly after the first meeting, Benjamin noticed that Noah was much more hands on with you when he knew Benjamin was near. This seemed to surprise both you and Eric, but neither of you commented on it, though Benjamin watched you shift away from Noah on your outdoor couch, putting a few inches of space between you on more than one occasion. The man was more often than not the one to initiate anything physical, too. Hugs, kisses - even touching each other all seemed to stem from Noah’s side of things, and although it made him feel smug, Benjamin couldn’t help the smile from appearing on his face when you called him out on it, raising your voice slightly and  telling him to give you some space. “It’s hot as fuck out here, Noah, Jesus.” You stood from the couch, moving back over to where Benjamin and Eric were seated at the table. “Give me like four seconds of…” Everyone had laughed, Eric muttering about you and the heat, but Benjamin had seen the flash of annoyance in Noah’s eyes. 

 The other man talked a great deal, too. It wasn’t just about his interests or current events; even Eric had made a comment one morning after the four of you had spent time together, asking you if Noah made it a point to rehash the past and talk himself up all the time, or if that was new. “Honestly?” You were stretched out on the couch, Eric in the living room recliner and Benjamin at the other end of the sectional, your feet only a few inches from his thigh. “It’s only been recently, Eric.” You sat up, wrapping your arms around your knees, eyes on Benjamin, who was focused on the TV, though it was only to keep up appearances. Don’t say anything. Let them talk this out. “It’s like he’s trying to… prove something.” 

 “Maybe he’s threatened by Benjamin.” Eric swung his head to the side and Benjamin met his gaze, waiting. “You know, good looking Englishman staying in his girlfriend’s house?” He heard you groan, muttering the word ‘girlfriend’ under your breath. “Single, literally sleeping directly below you every night?” I didn’t know that. Benjamin hadn’t ventured up to the top floor of the house, since all that was up there were bedrooms. “He’s gotta be sure you know what a catch he is.” 

 “He’s your friend, asshole. Why don’t you ask him.” Benjamin ducked as one of the couch pillows went sailing by his head, Eric laughing as he caught it. “Whatever it is, it’s strange, and I don’t like it. It’s like he doesn’t trust me.” At that, alarm bells went off in Benjamin’s head. 

 “He’s got no reason not to trust you, or me.” Benjamin reached over, tentatively touching your knee. “Look, I know it’s not the same, but it turned into Julia acting as if she didn’t trust me either - and for no reason. I’d smile at someone in a shop or a restaurant, or someone on the street, and she’d blow up about it. It got to the point where I just… resented her for it.” He realized that he was still touching you and pulled his hand back, sitting up straight. “Do you want me to say anything to him? Tell him he has nothing to worry about, that -” That he’s acting like a peacock for no reason? “That I’ll be gone in two weeks, and then he won’t have anything to worry about?” 

 “No.” You shook your head, stretching out again, this time on your side. “No point. Maybe if I just act like it’s not happening, he’ll drop it.” Benjamin’s heart thudded in his chest. That’s not at all what you should do. It doesn’t work. 

 --- 

 To Benjamin’s surprise, you knocked on his door a few nights later, Noah standing behind you. “Hey. Noah’s got something to ask you.” Though you sounded fine, Benjamin saw the worry in your eyes. What’s going on? He stood from the couch - which he’d folded back up for the day - and walked toward the door. 

 “Want to come out and have a couple drinks with me, Benjamin?” What? “I work tomorrow, so it won’t  be late, but there’s a place we can go that’s pretty close.” That’s the last thing I want to do. 

 “Sure. Just let me…” He glanced down. “Do I need to change?” You laughed, covering your mouth. “What?” 

 “No, believe me, you’ll be one of the best dressed people in this place…” Even Noah chuckled at that. “It’s just a dive bar, Benjamin.” You sighed. “Jeans and a t shirt are fine.”  

--- 

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